don’t usually react this way around women. You’re an anomaly. Normally, I’m the soul of nonjealousy. But then, I don’t usually meet the woman I’m planning to marry, either. I plead the novelty of that event to explain my weird behavior.”
He stopped babbling to shift lanes of traffic.
“Are you done yet?” she asked, now truly amused.
That earned her a baleful look.
Chuckling, she took pity and let him off the hook. “Michael helped the Medusas stop a cruise-ship hijacking. It was a dicey mission we couldn’t have pulled off without him. He’s British Intelligence, and he happens to be finishing up an undercover op at Lloyd’s at the moment.” She paused. “He’s engaged to one of my teammates, if that makes you feel better.”
Jeff digested that in silence for several minutes. Then he asked, “So how does it work when one of you ladies wants to get married?”
“Well, the man usually decides to pop the question, then he buys a nice engagement ring, and he thinks up some romantic and creative way to ask the Medusa in question-”
“Very funny. I’m talking about your careers.”
She shrugged. “How do you guys get married and maintain your Special Forces careers?”
He frowned. “It takes a special woman to marry an operator. She has to understand the long absences, the inability to talk about our work, the psychological and emotional residue of missions…”
“It works the same for us. We have to find men with the same qualities. Plus, they have to be okay with being around women who are a wee bit athletic and trained to do violence.”
“So I gather jokes about PMS and mood swings are not recommended around y’all?”
She smiled. “Probably not at the time of the actual mood swing, no.”
“Duly noted.” A pause. “What about kids?”
“I’ll let you know. Our team leader is pregnant right now. She’s the first one of us to cross that bridge.”
“Will she go back out in the field after the baby’s born?”
“I don’t know. The best female marathon runners in the world claim they don’t reach their peak until after they’ve had a child. She should be able to make the physical comeback. I suppose it’ll boil down to whether or not she wants to leave her baby and go back out.”
“What’s the military’s take on it?”
“They’ll work with her. They don’t want to lose her.”
Thankfully, the rather bizarre conversation broke off as they reached the hotel. Jeff took charge of checking them in. It was nice for a change to let someone else take the initiative and do the work. She was so used to being independent, a loner even, and to doing for herself that she almost forgot people occasionally interacted with, and even helped, each other. Her teammates aside, of course. They were family, and they all looked out for each other. It was the Medusa way.
The folks at H.O.T. Watch had arranged for a two-bedroom suite in an elegant hotel and it was ready and waiting for them. Together, she and Jeff did a routine check of the suite for bugs and cameras, and it was clean. Not that she expected otherwise. They hadn’t been on the island long enough to attract that kind of attention.
When they finished, Jeff asked, “Are you up for a little field trip?”
“To the Valliard estate to figure out how the Ghost pulled off last night’s heist?”
“Exactly. I thought we might indulge in a bit of breaking and entering.”
She laughed up at his sparkling gaze. “How romantic. I thought you’d never ask.”
“Hey, do I know how to sweep a girl off her feet or what for a second date?”
Another date? Oh, boy. They both knew it couldn’t really be a date-not after their encounter in the helicopter- but even the mention of one sent her pulse racing. Meditation. She definitely needed some serious meditation. She hadn’t been this jumpy and emotional since she was a kid.
She was a calm human being. Rational. In control.
And one hundred percent in lust with Jeff Steiger.
Besides kissing like a god, the man made her laugh, for crying out loud. How was she supposed to resist that?
Chapter 8
In preparation for their little field trip, Kat changed into a pair of black stretch leggings and a black turtleneck. She almost took a minute to put on a little makeup and brush her hair, until it occurred to her what she was contemplating. Disgusted with herself, she grabbed her utility belt and stuffed it into an oversize purse. Regardless of her determination not to regard this scouting mission as a date, she failed entirely to banish the thought from her mind.
They drove south from Bridgetown to the exclusive, beachfront area where the Valliard estate was located. The mansion was not visible from the road, but shielded by a thick stand of bearded ficus trees and tropical foliage. Jeff parked the car well off the road. They did a quick radio check of their headsets and mouthpieces, and then climbed out.
“I’ll take point,” he murmured.
They made their way swiftly through the trees. Quick electromagnetic emission scans revealed no motion sensors or cameras. The estate’s security must all be concentrated up around the house. Jeff flashed her a hand signal to follow him as he made his way to the edge of the broad lawn surrounding a tall, ultramodern structure of glass and steel. Frankly, it looked like a giant, white shoebox-and was about as ugly as one.
Jeff donned a nifty set of night-vision goggles that allowed him to see infrared light, heat and even look through the home’s walls. He commenced studying the estate.
“What have you got?” Kat murmured.
“Motion-sensing grid all over the lawn. A mouse couldn’t get through there. I’d lay odds there are pressure sensors to match.”
She gazed at the concrete walk leading up to the wide porch and its three-story-high overhang. “Is the sidewalk clean?”
Jeff studied it. “Yup. Just a sec.” He adjusted his lenses. “Rotating cameras are spaced at even intervals covering the walk.”
Kat looked where he pointed, and was able to pick out the small, rotating cameras. “With the right timing, those should be easy enough to slip past.”
“Agreed.”
“What about the house itself?”
Jeff studied the structure at some length. “I see all kinds of mechanical locks and energy sources inside the doors and windows. We’re talking museum-quality security.”
Her gut said the Ghost had approached the house on the sidewalk. It was certainly what she would have done. No need to take the hard way in if the easy path was wide open. As for entrance to the house itself, if the windows and doors were impenetrable, what other means could the Ghost have used to get in? She eyed the industrial- homage building. It even boasted ugly commercial air-conditioning units on the roof.
The roof. If she could get up there, she might find a way in from above. She eyed the trees on either side of the house. Too far away to jump from one to the roof. She eyed the house itself. The Ghost might have used suction cups to scale the walls, but the rough, stucco exterior would have made using them difficult and likely would have left circular scars on the stucco. Surely Detective D’Abeau was competent enough to have spotted something that obvious.
Maybe the Ghost could’ve gone up one of the tall windows with the cups, but not all glass would hold an adult’s weight. It would be a big risk to scale those three-story-high glass panels. How, then?
“I’ve got it,” she announced. “I think I can get in.”
“How?”
“Up the sidewalk, then up one of those porch columns. Across the roof to an air-conditioner vent and inside.”
