But his country needed him for one last op. In fact, the whole world was relying on him to play this part well.
She wondered if he would wake her up and give her an update when he finally came to bed. That would make sense strategically. He would want to get this vital information about the Brigade to the authorities as soon as possible. Perhaps he’d even want to leave in the middle of the night. But at least he’d want Miranda fully briefed so she’d be ready to leave at first light.
And when he woke her up, he’d still be heady with power from playing the Brigadier so masterfully. The bronze lights in his eyes would be flashing out of control. And Miranda would be warm, and sleepy, and eager to learn from him.
She winced, admitting that the power drug hadn’t completely left her system after all. She was still fantasizing about Ortega, but it was harmless, and would pass without further incident.
But just to be on the safe side, she exchanged her silk pj’s for a warm-up suit before doing an abbreviated version of her breathing exercises, then collapsing gratefully into bed.
Chapter 11
Miranda woke up to a throbbing pain that began at the top of her head and reverberated through every inch of her skull. And even though she suspected it was morning in the world outside her head, the thought of opening her eyes and allowing sunlight to invade them was more than she could bear, so she settled for stretching her hand out to the left, to see if Ortega was there.
When her fingers encountered a familiar wall of chest, she smiled through her misery. Apparently he was a gentleman, or at least enough of one to read the signal sent by her head-to-toe fleece clothing. Lucky for him, because if he had woken her in her present condition, she probably would have clobbered him, even if his only motive had been to brief her.
Briefing would hurt. She was almost sure of that. Her only hope was to keep her mind and stomach empty, and out of direct light, until these pesky waves of nausea subsided.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, she sat up, then buried her face in her hands, pressing on her eye sockets in hopes of numbing them.
“Hey,” Ortega murmured. “How bad is it?”
“Too soon to tell.”
“Jonathan predicted blinding spasms. He had some codeine stashed away. It’s there on your nightstand. Next to the bottle of water.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said. “But I’m never putting a pill in my mouth again. Go back to sleep. My plan is to puke and die. I’ll try not to make much noise.”
His chuckle rumbled reassuringly through the air. “Don’t be a hero. Take the codeine. Then come back to bed.”
She struggled to her feet. “My sinuses are imploding. I need a shower. And absolute silence. If I live, I’ll let you know.”
She stumbled to the bathroom, stripping off her jogging suit and underwear along the way without worrying about the effect on Ortega. If she looked half as bad as she felt, his penis was shrinking in horror. And if by some chance he found pain arousing, he could be her guest. Nothing that happened to her from the neck down mattered at this point. She just needed to make her head stop doing this crazy rumba.
Cranking up the hot water, she waited until steam filled the room, then stepped into the shower, which she remembered from the previous morning, when she had been able to appreciate it, had a rich blend of terra cotta tile and delft-blue glass that lined the walls. Breathtaking. Unfortunately, to see it, she’d have to open her eyes beyond tentative slits, and she still wasn’t ready for that.
“Hey,” said Ortega softly from behind her.
She would have laughed out loud if she didn’t know the vibrations would kill her. “You’ve got to be kidding. Go away.”
“Come on, crazywoman. I’ve got the codeine. Take it. You’ll feel better.”
She sighed as he turned her around and pulled her against himself with one arm while pressing the tablet to her lips. His naked body felt pretty good, and she was about to congratulate him again on the excellent job he had done, converting a naturally great physique into a true work of art.
Then he ruined the mood by insisting, “Consider it an order, Cutler. Take the pill.”
“Well, if you put it that way…” She pulled the pill into her mouth with her tongue, then spat it onto the floor of the shower, hoping she had fouled his bare feet.
“Damn!” He laughed with clear frustration. “You’re nuts, do you know that? I’m trying to take care of you. As the senior agent on this stupid mission-”
“Since when? You resigned, remember? I’m the only agent on this mission at the moment.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Your pretty ass must have been canned by now.” He pressed his lips to her ear. “Take the pill. I need you healthy.”
“No more drugs,” she told him. “The steam helps. Really. And so will the breathing exercises. I’ll always be grateful to you for teaching me those, Ortega. They’ve changed my life.”
“Come here.” He cradled her with one arm, while briskly massaging the top of her head with the fingers of his other, sending therapeutic waves through her skull.
“That feels so-oo good,” she admitted. Then she grimaced as his less lofty, more carnal interest manifested itself against her with rock-hard insistence.
“Ignore him,” Ortega muttered. “He still thinks he’s the Brigadier.”
She laughed out loud, then paid for it immediately with a stab behind her eyes. “Don’t make jokes,” she pleaded, leaning her face against his chest. “Just tell me the plan.”
He massaged her head again. “It’s all set. I told Jonathan I wanted to take you to Geneva. To seduce you into permanent submission with a night of clubbing, drinking and sex. I said we’d be back in time to meet with the others. As soon as we get away from this hell-hole we’ll contact SPIN, and they can set up a meet with international authorities in Geneva, who can take it from there.”
“We’re leaving Jonathan behind?”
“I like the guy, too, but he’s part of this conspiracy.”
“He can’t survive prison. He can’t even survive normal life! And what if something goes wrong? If the Brigade finds out he gave us all this intel, they’ll skin him alive.” She pulled away and opened her eyes fully for the first time, just to fix her stare on Ortega. “Can’t we bring him with us?”
“The guy was willing to murder ten thousand civilians to advance his cause,” he reminded her. But when she just continued to glare, he scowled and nodded. “Yeah, okay. But we need to move quickly. Some of the stuff Jonathan told me is shocking. We’ve got to get the details to SPIN right away. I went for a walk outside last night, trying to get reception on my satellite phone, but Jonathan’s system jammed it. We can’t take the chance of allowing this intel to die with us if something goes wrong.”
She backed out of the shower and wrapped herself in an oversized towel. “Hurry up, then. The sooner we do the exercises, the sooner we can get out of here.”
“Go ahead by yourself. I’ll head downstairs and see what’s going on.”
Miranda frowned. “I thought you did the routine religiously every morning. Dawn, noon and dusk. Remember?”
“For balance,” he agreed. “But balance isn’t what I need at the moment. The edge works for me. Keeps me focused. Sharp.”
“Did it ever occur to you that this is where you make your fatal mistake? Choosing the edge over your instincts when the rubber meets the road?” She located the metronome and wound it up, then set it on a bureau, comforted immediately by its steady beat. “Come on, Ortega,” she called out over her shoulder. “Get with the program. But put some underwear on first. I’m not ready for X-rated breathing. There’s only so much this head of mine can take before it officially explodes.”
