So. Wolf was familiar with the attendees at the upcoming summit or else he was conversant with Japanese businessmen and could recognize them on sight, even while dead and starting to bloat.
He commented, Doesnt look like any fish have been nibbling on him. Which means he was bagged before he went in the water.
Wolf reached into the bag and around in the variousappendageswhile Paiges gaze slid away.
He rinsed his hand in the surf as he announced, Nothing obvious in the bag with our guy. Odd. Whod ditch a body and not weigh it down?
Her gaze snapped back to him and she blurted, Someone who wanted it found, obviously.
He stared at her speculatively for several seconds. Grab the bag, he abruptly ordered.
She blinked. I beg your pardon?
Help me lift your guy into my ATV.
Distastefully, she grabbed the wet canvas and, between the two of them, they heaved the wet sack onto the back of the vehicle. It landed with a sickening thud. Trying to hide her involuntary shudders, she helped Wolf lash the surfboards across the spare tire mounted on the back of the vehicle. The guy knew his way around ropes and knots. But then, so did she.
He swept his arm toward the passenger seat in invitation. As she climbed in, she asked, What do you suggest we do with him?
Put him on ice.
She frowned over at her companion as he started the engine.
Literally?
Yeah. Unless you want me to help you bury him. Cant leave a body out in this heat and humidity for more than a few hours for obvious reasons.
He flashed her a grin and her breath caught in surprise. Whoa. In the television business, that was known as flesh impact. Normal people might call him charismatic. Shed call him a walking advertisement for raw sex.
She mumbled, The idea is to conceal his death until the summit is well underway. It starts tomorrow. Were only looking at a day or two. Just until someone can get here quietly to take his body home. His family deserves to get his remains.
Where are you staying? he asked.
At the beach cottage of a friend. Its close to the resort the summit is being held at.
Perfect. Well keep him at your place.
No way! Ive got a refrigerator, but the freezer isnt close to big enough to hold our friend.
He shrugged. So, well buy you a freezer.
You cant just walk into a store and say, Excuse me, I need a freezer right away. Something big enough to hold a dead body for a few days.
Sure you can.
Youre nuts.
He glanced over at her. You got a better idea?
She sighed. No.
Technically, he only needs to be refrigerated if were looking at less than a week of storage.
Lovely. They bounced over a high berm of sand and turned onto a paved road, heading south. The ATV accelerated smoothly as she studied her companion surreptitiously. Who was this guy? He obviously worked for Uncle Sam, but in what capacity? And how did he know so much about storing dead bodies? She supposed she should leave it alone and just be grateful hed come so quickly to help out. But she was too much the nosy journalist to let it go.
Of course, she couldnt ask him outright who he was. Special operators told you only what they wanted you to know, which was usually less than nothing about themselves. Everything else was off-limits. Case in point, she had no idea how much or how little Wolf knew about the Medusas. Just because Vanessa had sent him in to back her up didnt mean he was briefed on the Medusa Project. Paige memorized his face carefully. And the license plate of the ATV. And the fact that he surfed. It ought to be enough for her to get a name, at least.
Any idea how he died? he asked without warning.
She answered as emotionlessly as she could muster, I didnt examine his body carefully, but I can tell you this. He was tortured before his death.
How so?
His fingertips were black. He was electrocuted. That blood pooling wouldve had to happen before he died.
Could be the corpse just beat against some rocks before it washed up here.
She replied shortly, Trust me. Ive seen the results of electrical torture before.
He didnt comment, and she had no desire to elaborate. Visions of Jerrys body threatened to steal her composure. She directed Wolf to turn onto the dirt road that led to her place.
The ATV pulled to a stop in front of the whitewashed stucco bungalow. A thick wall of trees blocked it from her neighbors view to the south, and a large rock outcropping separated her from the neighbor to the north. She and Wolf carried the bag around to her back porch without incident.
She opened the door and Wolf followed her inside. The kitchen abruptly felt tinier than it already was. Contained within walls like this, her impromptu companion suddenly lived up to his nickname. His eyes were dark and fierce with a predatory intensity that warned her off in no uncertain terms. Not that she was interested in making a play for the guy while a dead man was lying on her back porch.
He opened her refrigerator, a boxy 1970s model, briskly ordering, Help me empty this out.
He passed her what little food she had inside, some fresh fruit, a half pound of smooth Havarti cheese, a partial container of pâté and two bottles of wine. He stopped to read the labels of those. Good choices. Although, that Merlot is too overpowering for a cheese as mild as the Havarti. You need an aged Stilton to hold up to a wine that robust.
She wrinkled her nose. I hate blue cheeses.
He sighed, passing her a metal shelf he lifted out of the refrigerator. Uneducated palate.
She scowled. I dont need to be sledgehammered by the taste of my food. I appreciate subtle flavors. My palate is refined, thank you very much.
He grinned at her as he pulled out the last shelf. There. That should do it. Lets get your boyfriend in here.
Jerrys dead face flashed through her mind. She snapped, Hes not my boyfriend.
Wolf threw up his hands. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit.
Her anger subsided, leaving her chagrined. Sorry. Touchy subject.
Why. Your boyfriend the kind who kicks butts and takes names?
She snorted. Like Ive got time for a boyfriend with my work schedule?
He closed the refrigerator door abruptly, leaving them standing face-to-face, no more than a foot apart. He was a lot more muscular than he looked at first glance. And lethal looking. Like her instructors back on the island. She thought shed gotten over the whole fluttery female reaction to overwhelmingly alpha males in the past two years, but apparently not.
Belatedly, she realized she was staring at him. She turned abruptly on her heel and headed for the back porch. Wolf didnt comment, but she felt him smiling at her back as clearly as if shed been looking at him. When she reached the door, she tossed a quick glance over her shoulder, but his features were perfectly straight. The smile still danced in his smoking hot gaze, though.
She rolled her eyes. Alpha males. All the same. They knew their effect on women and had the gall to be entertained by it. Just because some instinct left over from the Stone Age drew her to him, that didnt mean she had to act on it. Far from it. Shed learned long ago to run screaming from guys like him.
They lifted the bag and wrestled it through the kitchen door with a minimum of conversation. Getting the dead man into the refrigerator involved standing the bag upright and cramming it into the small space. But eventually the door closed and stayed shut on its own. They tied a rope around the unit to hold the door in place just in case, though.
I wouldnt open that until youre ready to take him out.
Ya think? she asked dryly.
Grinning that thousand-watt smile of his, Wolf slipped out the back door. The screen slammed shut behind him. Thanks! she called.
He touched a finger to his brow in a mock salute. And then he was gone. And her little cottage felt oddly emptydespite the fact there was now a dead man in her refrigerator. She headed for a hot shower to wash off the sweat of her run and the creepiness of handling a body bag.
Talk about two ships passing in the night. Too bad she was never going to see Wolf again. He was hot.
She finished her shower, got dressed and duly reported in to Viper. Vanessa told her that an American forensics team had already been dispatched to collect the body and perform an autopsy. Theyd arrive on Beau Mer around midnight local time.
In the meantime, Vanessa told her to go on with her normal day and act like a reporter covering the upcoming summit.
Sure. No problem. Morning run. Check. Discover dead body. Check. Stow it in refrigerator. Check. Yep. Just another day at the office.
Paige gathered her laptop computer, a notebook and her car keys, and headed out for her nine oclock interview with Thomas Rowe, the reclusive billionaire financial advisor to the American delegation at the summit. Apparently, he was some sort of genius regarding anything to do with money.
Getting this interview had been a coup. Rowe never gave interviews. He was barely ever photographed for that matter. As it was, hed forbidden recordings of any kind during her interview with him. She got to do it the old-fashioned way. Shorthand. Good thing she could take dictation at well over one hundred words per minute and had nearly total audio recall. But what Rowe didnt know wouldnt hurt him. At least, not until she wrote her story.
She parked her rented MINI Cooper and walked into the plush Athenaeum Hotel at six minutes until nine. The past two years in the military had taught her that if she wasnt five minutes early, she was late. She stepped up to the concierges desk.
May I help you, mademoiselle?
Im here to see Mr. Rowe. I have an appointment at nine.
Ill ring his suite and buzz you into the elevator.
She looked around the marble interior of the hotel. It was decorated like a Greek temple, with stone columns and carved wall friezes, which could have been incredibly cheesy. But the decor was so tastefully interspersed with plush Aubusson carpets and luxurious furnishings that the overall effect was impossibly elegant.
Mr. Rowe is not quite ready for you, but his assistant says you may come up now.
She stepped into the elevator the concierge indicated and pushed the button for the top floor. Of course Rowe had a penthouse suite. What else? She stepped out of the elevator into a small hallway and knocked on the last door on the right.
An obnoxiously gorgeous blonde wearing a tight business skirt and tailored silk blouse opened the door immediately. Miss Ellis. Please come in. Im Gretchen, Mr. Rowes personal assistant.
Ha. Shed bet. With a body like that, it didnt take a genius to guess just how personal Gretchen meant. Paige followed the woman into a sunken living room decorated in stark white, with lots of chrome and crystal. But then she caught sight of the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Pacific stretched before her in brilliant shades of turquoise, cobalt and sapphire that stole her breath away. White sailboats bobbed on the waves, and a few brightly painted fishing boats added quaintness to the otherwise surreal picture.
May I get you a cup of coffee or some juice?
Paige wasnt fond of the strong coffee favored in this part of the world. Id love a glass of water. No carbonation and with ice, if you have it.
Of course. If youd like to sit down, Mr. Rowe will be out shortly. He was held up with a private matter earlier and is running a little behind.
As Gretchen strolled away, Paige watched the womans impossibly long legs. Three guesses as to whator whothat private matter was, and the first two didnt count.
Instead of sitting, Paige went over to stand by the windows and gazed at the magnificent ocean below. She didnt like to meet powerful people from a seated position. It gave them too much subliminal control of the interview from the start.
Shed stood there for maybe two minutes when a door opened behind her. Paige turned around and said, Thanks for the water, Gretch
Not Gretchen.
Wolf. He was clean shaven now, his hair dry and stylednot slicked back from his faceand wearing a tailored business suit that mustve cost thousands, but there was no mistaking him. If only shed been able to find a picture of the reclusive billionaire to have recognized him on the beach! The casual surfer dude was gone, and in his place stood this formidable businessman. But the eyes the eyes were the same. Intense. Smoky. Mysterious.
You? You and the surfer are the same pers
Another door opened and Gretchen stepped out, carrying a tray with coffee, croissants and a pitcher of water.
Wolf held out his hand quickly. Im Thomas Rowe. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ellis.
Chapter 3
Tom watched his assistant impassively as she set down the tray on the coffee table in the living room. That will be all, Gretchen.
She nodded and turned silently to leave. Good assistant. Didnt need or want pleasantries from him. Plus, she was the soul of discretion and scary efficient. He made a mental note to give her a raise. The door shut behind Gretchen and he turned to face the imminently less predictable woman still in the room with him. Shed moved again by the window and stood facing him, her posture defensive. Good. He liked reporters back on their heels. This one in particular after shed shocked the hell out of him.
Youre Paige Ellis? he demanded. How in the hell do you know Vanessa Blake?
Gee, I was just about to ask you the same thing, she snapped.
He answered evasively, Were old friends. You?
Ditto.
Riigghhtt. The obvious answer was that the woman in front of him was part of Vanessas secret team
He discarded the idea out of hand. No way was a well-known journalist like Paige Ellis part of the Medusa Project. It was laughable to even think about. Except shed answered to the code name Fire Ant on the beach. A biting insect hadnt Vanessas husband said something a while back about the new Medusa team going for dangerous bugs instead of snakes for their names?
Surely not. She was a civilian for Gods sake. A pampered media princess. No way did she have the stamina, the fortitude, the sheer guts to be a Medusa.
So, tell me, Mr. Rowe. What is an important guy like you doing out at the crack of dawn surfing alone?