The Seduction of Goody Two-Shoes

especially in the wee hours…the worrying hours, as Mom would have called them. She’d gone back over the sequence of events leading up to this moment a hundred times in her mind, giving herself every chance to second- guess her decisions. And it still came up the same: she was doing what she had to do in order to complete her mission. Any other alternative was failure, pure and simple. So what was the problem? She was ready; she’d been trained for this. All possible preparations had been made. Why was she lying here wide awake with the cold and clammy feeling that things were just…not right?

You’re scared, Ellie. Admit it-you’ve got cold feet and a jillion butterflies.

Well, okay. Maybe she was a little scared. Okay, a lot. And why shouldn’t she be, on the eve of the resolution of her first field assignment? It was only natural, surely.

Face it, Ellie. You wouldn’t be this nervous if it was your partner, Ken Burnside, asleep in that bed in there, instead of some stranger named McCall…

And just like that, like the records Gwen used to play on her old phonograph, when there was a flaw in one and the needle would catch in it and repeat the same word or part of a word over and over until somebody came along and bumped it off…just like that her mind caught on that word and replayed it endlessly, McCall… McCall… McCall…

McCall was the unknown. She didn’t know what to expect from him. How could she, when he didn’t know the truth about what was going on? She and Burnside had trained together, gone over every possible scenario, prepared for just about any eventuality. She knew that Ken, a former FBI agent, was capable of handling himself in dangerous situations, and that she could trust him to back her up-and vice versa. But McCall? He was a civilian, for God’s sake! If things got ugly tomorrow he’d be more of a liability than a help to her.

Wouldn’t he? Except…the other day in that cantina, hadn’t he faced down those smugglers without batting an eye? Picked up the ball she’d pitched him out of the blue and run with it, even though he’d had no idea what was going on? And oh, how she remembered the sure, solid feel of his body, the strength in his hands and iron in his voice when he’d put himself without hesitation between her and those thugs. That was when it had really come to her that there might be more to this man named McCall than met the eye.

It would have helped if she could at least be certain he was one hundred percent on her side. But…as far as he was concerned, she was one of the bad guys. He’d tried so hard to talk her out of going through with the meeting, and she was almost certain he’d attempted to derail the whole mission with that little fuel-switch stunt of his-attempting to sabotage the VW. She’d offered him the face-saving way out-for reasons she still didn’t entirely understand-but the truth was, it just wasn’t that easy to turn that fuel switch off by bumping it with a knee. Not impossible…just highly improbable.

Okay, the man had his principles, she could say that for him. Under different circumstances she might even have to admire him. She did admire him, dammit. And more than anything she wished she could tell him the truth. Oh, how she wished…

Admit it, Rose Ellen. It hurts when he looks at you with contempt in his eyes. When he speaks to you so coldly, the way he did this evening. You care what he thinks of you.

Dammit, she did care. More than she’d have imagined possible. More than made any kind of sense, considering how short a time she’d known him. How little she knew about him. She cared a lot.

So, why can’t I tell him who I really am and what I’m really doing? Why not?

Because, the voice of common sense and all her training calmly replied, if he doesn’t know who you are he can’t betray you. Even unwittingly. You can’t tell him until after it’s all over. Don’t even think about it.

Oh, but…

End of story.

It was then that the hammock totally let her down. In a hammock she couldn’t flop onto her stomach and pull a pillow over her head in a futile effort to shut out the din of her own thoughts.

“Where in the world are we, do you know?” Ellie’s voice sounded more than a little uneasy. “I swear, I think we have to be in Belize by now. One thing’s for sure-” and she gave the map spread across her knees a frustrated thump “-this road we’re on isn’t on any map.”

“Road?” McCall said with heavy sarcasm as he tossed his half-smoked cigarette out the window onto the narrow mud-and-gravel track. His stomach was already on fire from the effects of too many cigarettes and not enough food…too little sleep and way too much tension. He was in a sour mood in more ways than one, and thinking that if this kept up he was going to have an ulcer for sure. Live and let live seemed very long ago and far away…

Except for short exchanges like that one, and Ellie calling out directions to him from the written instructions that had been left for them at the hotel, they’d said almost nothing to each other since leaving the resort at Laguna Bacalar. He hadn’t been able to resist, though, when she was coming down the steps from the veranda wearing jeans and those boots and new earrings, and that pink sun visor with Acapulco emblazoned across the headband in rainbow letters.

“Boots?” he’d said in mock surprise. “What happened to your Nikes?”

“Snakes,” she’d returned without batting an eye, giving the boot’s leather upper a thump with her hand.

Good answer, he’d thought, and didn’t know whether to be even angrier with her or just impressed. No doubt about it, the woman was really something. Aloud he’d shot back a gruff, “Got the directions? The money? Chocolate?”

“All here,” she’d serenely replied, holding up the canvas beach bag.

He’d had to bite down hard on the urge to ask her if “all” the money meant both halves or not. Literally. He’d clamped his teeth down on his tongue until tears came to his eyes.

And it had taken just about all his willpower to maintain the lovey-dovey newlyweds charade when they stopped by the hotel lobby to ask the desk clerk to hold their room for them at least one more night-and no, they hadn’t heard a word yet from their “friends.”

In the restaurant they’d ordered a botana of foil-wrapped tacos and garnachas, fresh fruit and bottled water to take with them. Both of them had only nibbled warm tortillas while forcing down sweet black Mexican coffee; neither, apparently, were up to the huevos Montulenos offered as the breakfast special that morning.

The silence and tension seemed to grow thicker, louder, angrier with every second, until it seemed like a living thing…a third person sitting there between them, visible for all to see. And McCall, for one, didn’t care. His head, his chest, his belly were filled with it, leaving no room for anything else-not food, not cigarette smoke, not even thought.

Dammit, McCall did not like being lied to. Never had. Never would.

This would have to stop. Now. He had to ask her. He had to know the truth. Now.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d said that to himself, gripping the gearshift lever until his knuckles went white, thigh muscles clenching, ready to stomp on the brakes…the clutch. And how many times he clenched his teeth together and just kept going…

And then all at once he did stomp the clutch and hit the brakes- hard.

The VW jolted to a halt. Not because of anything he might have wanted to say to her, but because the track ahead had suddenly filled with men wearing jungle-green camouflage and carrying guns.

Chapter 9

“What now?” McCall muttered, and it felt as if he were grinding each word between his teeth.

Ellie’s hand was resting on his forearm, though he’d no memory of her putting it there. “It’s okay…don’t move.” Amazingly, there was only the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice. Then she just kept muttering as if to herself, “I think it’s okay…I think it’s okay…”

He had to hand it to her, he really did. He was so jangled with adrenaline he didn’t