A Fare To Remember

loves about me.”

She swallowed her wince and forced her expression to remain confident. Love. She’d used the word love. Well, that was presumptuous.

“How do you know he loves anything about you at all? You have too much faith in men, Ms. Marlowe.”

“Actually, until I met Roman, I had none whatsoever.”

Amelie Tremayne took her seat, sliding closer to the table with casual grace. “So you’ve changed your views based on a man who has done nothing but lie to you from the beginning?”

“Ultimately, what he lied to me about was unimportant. When push came to shove, I got the truth. I’m here, aren’t I? And I have information you need. So unless you’re going to try to beat it out of me, I suggest you drop your attitude toward Roman and let’s get down to business.”

A long moment thickened in the air. Rachel had to admit she had no idea if Tremayne would order the information beaten out of her, but she had to trust that she could bluff her way just a little further.

Tremayne’s gaze flicked to Roman and then, after a brief clash with Rachel’s unwavering glare, to the chair beside hers. He sat, a handsomely smug grin on his face. He’d probably pay for it later, but Rachel guessed he didn’t care much. Like her, Roman was a live-for-the-moment kind of guy.

“You win, Ms. Marlowe. So tell me, what do you know about the images you saw?”

“Graphic art is just that-art. There are styles, signatures, sometimes very subtle since the images go by so quickly.”

“We’ve broken down each image frame by frame,” Roman insisted.

“I’m sure you did. Even if you’ve studied every aspect of graphic design, you might not pick up something so insignificant. In fact, I might not have seen it myself if I wasn’t such a geek. I love studying the work of other designers. That’s how I learn and improve. Most working artists don’t really bother.”

“What can you tell us about this person?”

Rachel took a deep breath. “He’s not in New York.”

“It’s a man?”

Rachel nodded.

“Where’s he located?”

She shrugged. “I can give you his name, that’s it. His work is fairly popular. He’s in high demand. Though come to think of it, he’s dropped off the circuit a bit lately. Being really choosy about what he does, from what I hear from production people who wanted to hire him and then got me instead. Our styles are fairly similar.”

Amelie Tremayne’s stare narrowed. “This is a rather convenient coincidence, don’t you think?”

Rachel had considered that, but the truth was the truth. “Perhaps. Or maybe just one hell of a lucky break.”

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT HELD no resemblance whatsoever to what Rachel expected. Even before she’d stopped talking, Roman had dashed out of the room, stopping only to kiss her thoroughly and deeply so that her knees nearly buckled from the overload of pleasure.

Then he was gone.

Tremayne remained for a few minutes more, extending the interrogation until another operative came in and took over. Rachel was given a computer with secure Internet access, and through a portal she was sure wasn’t legal, she was able to tap into her home computer. She pulled up as much information as she could about those old studies, but she didn’t have much more than what she’d told Tremayne and Roman initially. She admired the man’s work.

Then she’d waited. The Agency had put her up in a fairly comfortable room within the same building, provided her with hearty meals and endless entertainment in terms of television, satellite radio and video games. But she hadn’t been interested in anything but the computers.

Surprisingly, she was allowed to continue to study the images she’d seen in the conference room, and after nearly twenty-four hours of trying, she’d perfectly mimicked the messages she’d seen-just to prove she could. Only moments after she’d popped open a can of Diet Dr Pepper to celebrate her success, Director Tremayne knocked on her door.

“You’ve been a busy bee,” she said, walking inside the apartment with a dark-haired, dark-skinned male lackey behind her.

“I’m not good at relaxing,” Rachel said.

“Clearly not. You’ve succeeded at copying the style of the graphic in question. Very clever. We should have asked you initially instead of wasting our own team’s time.”

Rachel took a sip from the soda. “Yes, you should have.”

“Do you think you can replicate the graphic again?”

With a snort, Rachel set the cola can beside the laptop. Every move she’d made had been watched. She wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t creeped out.

“With my eyes closed.”

Tremayne’s eyes narrowed, her expression serious to the point that Rachel felt her stomach roil with dread.

“We’ve intercepted the artist you directed us to. According to the agents on the scene, he was preparing to send a final message to the sleeper cell.”

“But you stopped him?”

Tremayne shook her head slightly, but enough for Rachel to understand that this was not a victory. “If the cell expects a message and receives none, they may take that as an order to attack.”

“What kind of attack?”

Tremayne frowned. “We’re not sure. We haven’t been able to locate the cell, Ms. Marlowe. And at this point, the only way we can find them is by sending another message in the style of their initial contact. They’ve likely been trained to recognize the signature-a signature you’ve succeeded in re-creating.”

Rachel shivered. It was one thing to mess around on the computer, something else to have the safety of the free world on her shoulders. She expected the weight of what Tremayne was asking her to do to stop her dead in her tracks. Instead, a rush of adrenaline shot through her body like a precise line of newly lit gunpowder.

“I’m a civilian,” she said.

“That can be changed,” Tremayne replied. “The communication between terrorist cells through various media forms is becoming more and more common. You’re a freelancer, yes? We’re simply asking you to work for us now.”

Rachel knew Tremayne was one of the good guys-technically. But something in Tremayne’s tone, an underlying sharpness along the edge of her voice, caused Rachel’s skin to prickle in warning.

“Where’s Roman?” she asked.

Poised to help his investigation, the least Rachel could demand was a one-on-one with the lead field operative, or whatever he’d called himself. Besides, she missed him. Deeply. Even now, with a prospect of being able to help avert a tragedy sizzling in her blood, she wanted to share this with him. He’d understand, right? He’d appreciate the importance of what she was about to attempt in order to fight the terrorists.

“Roman Brach is no longer your concern. Concentrate on your new assignment. Once you are done, we’ve arranged for you to leave the country.”

Rachel’s heart slammed against her chest. “What?”

Tremayne laughed lightly, as if she enjoyed toying with Rachel. The woman had a sick streak, nearly making Rachel refuse her offer.

“We’re talking a brief vacation from the city-just until we round up all the men who might have recognized you from your association with Roman.”

Rachel frowned but remained silent. She didn’t want to be sent away, separated from her apartment and friends. She loved to travel-but on her terms and under her own direction. But there was world safety to think of- and the fact that the whole idea of using her skills to help stop terrorists from communicating worked for her in ways she never imagined they would. Even as a dreamy teen, she’d never fantasized about being a spy. She always thought James Bond was sexy, yeah, but the idea of joining up with any suave super-agent gave her hives. She