Tami Hoag - Heart of Gold

“They were,” Jayne grumbled, crossing her arms over her meager bosom. “Just because yours was always black-”

“May I interject a thought here?” Banks questioned dryly, raising his big square hands in supplication. “After all, I did just fly the width of the continent to be in on this discussion.”

Shane shot his boss a glare of pure annoyance. “What?”

“I think Ms. Kincaid has a point.”

Shane’s answer to that was a rude snort. He slumped back in his chair like a sulky teenager and scowled at Faith. “I think Ms. Kincaid has a screw loose.”

Faith’s temper boiled over abruptly. She was operating on too much anxiety and too little sleep. Her chair scraped back against the polished wood floor as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Just what is your problem?” she demanded, bracing her small hands on the tabletop and leaning over Shane for a change. “You came here perfectly willing to use me as cheese to trap this rat. Now that I’m willing to play an active part in your plan, you suddenly want to put me under lock and key! It doesn’t make any sense!”

Shane shoved his own chair back from the table and stood, regaining his considerable height advantage.

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he declared, his voice a menacing purr as he moved a step closer to her, his hands jammed at the waistband of his gray trousers.

Faith leaned toward him, heedless of the muscle twitching in his rock-solid jaw. They’d been arguing this same point for hours, never getting past it. She’d had it with his wall of arrogant reserve.

“Why?” she prodded, bent on breaking that cool control of his and getting a straight answer out of him. She inched ahead until the toes of her small canvas sneakers butted up against Shane’s black loafers. “Because you’re in charge? Because you’re on some typically male power trip that dictates you have to have control over a mere woman? Because-”

“Because I’m in love with you, dammit!” he bellowed.

The room went suddenly, utterly still. Faith was certain she could hear the dust motes settling on the furniture. She stared at Shane with her mouth hanging open as his words sank in. He was in love with her. He was in love with her, but he didn’t appear to be very happy about it. Well, she thought, her head swimming, that definitely gave them something in common.

John Banks cleared his throat discreetly, breaking the tense silence. Faith hauled a deep breath into her lungs as she stepped away from the confrontation, her cheeks turning pink. Shane’s broad shoulders sagged as he forced the tension from his muscles. He stared down at the floor, not quite able to believe he had just blurted out his deepest feelings-in front of witnesses, no less.

“Agent Callan,” Banks said neutrally as he rose from his chair, brushing ineffectually at his wrinkled suit, “may I speak with you in private?”

Without a word or a glance for anyone, Shane turned on his heel and led the way out through the French doors onto the stone terrace. He stalked to the farthest corner and faced the sea as he lit another cigarette, noting with grim amusement that his hands were shaking.

Dammit, he was losing it completely, losing his edge, losing his perspective… losing his heart… losing his mind.

“I should have taken the R and R,” he said, wryly referring to the advice his boss had given him after the Silvanus bust.

Banks leaned back against the stone wall that surrounded the terrace, his tired eyes calmly studying his best agent. “What? And miss all this fun?”

Shane shot him a venomous look that had the older man chuckling wearily and mumbling under his breath, “The bigger they are…”

Sidestepping the comment, Shane went back to what the professional in him considered the heart of the matter-the case. “I won’t let her play bait in this game.”

“She’s serious about ending this thing, Shane. She wouldn’t have called me in otherwise.”

“I don’t care how serious she is. She’s not calling the shots here; she’s a civilian.”

“Yes, she’s a civilian. Meaning she doesn’t have to take orders from us. If she wants to walk down the main street of Anastasia and invite this creep to take a shot at her, you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously as he said, “You want to make a bet?”

“What are you going to do?” Banks asked with a sarcastic laugh. “Hit her over the head with your dinosaur bone and carry her off to your cave? This is the modern era, pal. Ladies have minds of their own, believe me. Besides, she does have a say in this; it’s her life we’re tinkering with.”

Looking every inch like a cornered panther, Shane wheeled on the man who knew him better than anyone. “I mean it, John. I won’t have her put in any more danger than she’s already in.”

Banks didn’t flinch at the outburst, didn’t blink. “What’s the problem here, Shane? What Faith is proposing is our original scenario taken just one step further. We’re dealing with a single player, a single variable who may or may not be dangerous. So far he’s been long on threats and short on action.”

Shane gave a harsh laugh. “That’s supposed to make it okay? He hasn’t actually killed her yet, so we should give him one good shot at it-just in case he’s really serious?”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Banks pressed on. “We can make certain he won’t have a chance of getting to her.”

Shane’s jaw clenched as he turned to stare out at the ocean again. His voice was low and strained. “There’s always a chance.”

For a long moment the only sound was that of the ocean pounding the shore a hundred feet below. The wind whipped at Banks’s wildly mussed hair as he turned and leaned his forearms on top of the stone wall. “This isn’t Quantico, Shane,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle. “She’s not Ellie.”

Shane’s heart clenched at the comparison. He had loved Ellie Adamson. He had lost her because his emotions had clouded his judgment. Now he prayed his old friend and colleague was right, because he knew with bleak certainty that if he lost Faith, he would lose everything. She was his hope, his salvation, his one slim chance at a future that wasn’t empty. What he felt for her was so intense, it was like a fire in his soul where for so long there had been nothing but cold and darkness.

“We’ll do it her way.” Banks made the announcement, then took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Rumor has it Strauss bought a boat in Mazatlan. Looks like he’s taking his act south after all.”

“Yeah,” Shane commented absently, not really listening. His gaze had fallen on Faith as she came through the French doors and onto the terrace.

He loved her. He’d forgotten how painful love could be. It was a relentless ache inside him-knowing he loved her and being terrified of losing her.

How had such an innocent woman become entangled in such a dangerous situation? Faith didn’t belong in the world of espionage. Of course, Shane acknowledged the irony, he never would have met her otherwise. Bitterly he wondered if they wouldn’t have both been better off. Certainly she would have been.

“If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Kincaid,” Banks said, straightening away from the wall. He smoothed his hands over the lapels of his hopelessly rumpled suit and gave Faith a wry smile. “I believe I’ll go freshen up before we discuss this further.”

“Of course,” Faith murmured, her eyes on Shane as his boss made his exit.

“You’re getting your wish,” he said flatly, tossing down his cigarette and grinding it against the flagstone with his shoe.

Faith wondered if he realized the thing she had wished for most was his love. He was giving her that, albeit begrudgingly-but it was a start at least. The next step was to close the door on her past so they could be free to look for a future together. It was clear by Shane’s stony expression that her idea for achieving that end was the wish he was talking about.