The Makeover Mission. Mary Buckham
past while he grappled for the right words. As if there could be “right words” in a situation like this. “We need a stand-in for Elena. Until the wedding.”
“A what?” She rose to her feet now, facing him across the cabin, all color drained from her face.
“We need a volunteer to take Elena’s place until the wedding.”
“A volunteer?”
“Just until the wedding.”
“To do what?”
It was getting sticky. “To take over her official duties. To portray her in public.”
The silence thickened until he could have sworn he heard the pilots breathing in the cockpit.
“Portray her in public?”
“Just routine. At this time she has no real duties, but she’s appearing among the people before the wedding so that they feel a part of the process.”
“You want a guinea pig.” Her voice rose an octave. So she wasn’t as calm as he might originally have thought. “No. No, make that a target. A sacrificial lamb.”
He could lie to her. Tell her he’d do everything in his power to protect her, which he planned to do, anyway. But there was something in her gaze that made him hesitate. He could appreciate someone who wanted the truth—the unvarnished truth—rather than platitudes.
“That’s exactly what we need.”
She swayed. He moved to prevent her crumpling to the floor, but at the last second she raised her hands, warding him off. He told himself he deserved her lack of trust. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
She lowered herself to the couch, perching on the very edge of the leather cushions, her fingers curled into the fabric as if she was holding on for dear life. When she glanced at him he saw the confusion, the disbelief in her gaze. If he’d felt like pond scum before, he felt like bottom sludge now.
“Who are you?”
It was a fair question, just not one he had expected so soon. “My name’s McConneghy. Lucius McConneghy.”
“Major McConneghy.”
Yes, he’d definitely have to watch himself around her.
“Major Lucius McConneghy.”
“Which branch of the military?”
This is where things started to really get sticky. “It’s an obscure bureau tucked in a back corner of the Pentagon.”
“But it’s one that allows you to abduct and drug unsuspecting civilians in broad daylight and transfer them, against their will, to small eastern European countries?”
“Something like that.”
“Aren’t there laws against that type of thing? Or do you think yourself above the law?”
He tried to ignore the disdain in her voice, but couldn’t. Then he wondered why it didn’t just slide off his back as it should.
“There are times when laws have to be bent.”
“Semantics.”
“Reality.”
She was glaring at him now. No longer looking as though she’d crumple and fold, for which he was grateful.
“There are people who’re going to notice I’m gone.”
He heard the hope and knew he had no choice but to crush it. Hope might cause her to take unacceptable risks, putting both her life and the lives of his team at risk. So why did it feel as if he was destroying a child’s vision of Santa Claus? Sometimes he hated his job.
“The library has been notified there’s an illness in your family. That you’ll be away for some time.”
“You know I work at a library?” She shook her head, obviously not comprehending the means available to someone like him to meet a strategic objective.
“Of course you know.” She slid back against the cushions, her shoulders slumped, her voice less forceful. “What else have you taken care of?”
“We’ve canceled your speaking engagement for the grant-writing seminar, asked your landlady to look after your cat until you return and have arranged to have your bills automatically paid, courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
If he thought he would interject a little levity into the situation he was dead wrong. Her gaze, when she raised it to his, was as bleak as any he’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot.
“I have friends—”
“Not a lot I’m afraid. And they’ve received word that you’re off to visit an elderly sick aunt. Aunt Dorothy.”
“I don’t have an aunt Dorothy.”
“We know it. Fortunately, from our perspective, you do not have many close friends.” He watched her shoulders slump more and felt like a heel. But she had to know where she stood. “In fact, very few know you outside of your work. Your parents are both dead. No siblings. No lovers.”
She blushed, keeping her gaze averted as she mumbled, “So you’ve made me disappear with no one the wiser?”
“Yes.”
“And what if I don’t want to play stand-in for this Elena? What if I refuse?”
“You have no choice.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
Time to play hardball. He sat back in the chair, making sure he enunciated each word clearly. There’d be no doubt here. Neither one of them could afford it. “You can agree to play the part of Ms. Rostov, attending functions, being seen in public, doing what any young woman would do on the eve of her marriage—”
“Or?”
“Or Elena Rostov can be devastated from her recent ordeal and need to be kept under sedation until she’s feeling better.”
“You’d drug me? Again?”
He couldn’t be swayed by the despair he heard in her voice, nor the silent appeal he read in her gaze.
“Yes, if we had to, we’d drug you. It’s up to you.”
“Even if it meant that, being drugged, I’d have no chance at all against someone trying to kill me?”
She caught on quick.
“You’ll have all the protection we’re able to—”
“Enough.” She shot to her feet, pacing to the far side of the plane as if she wanted to put as much distance as possible between them.
“I might not have a lot of experience in this sort of thing, but I’m not a total idiot, either. If you were so sure you could provide total protection you’d have no problem with Elena continuing as she has been.”
No, this woman was definitely not slow on the uptake.
“I could lie to you.”
She speared him a withering glance. Who’d have thought dark eyes could hold such fire?
He changed his tactics, if not his tone. “Do you want me to tell you what we’re asking doesn’t hold risks?”
“It’d be a lie. And you’re not asking.”
“You have a choice here.”
“Not much of one. You’ve made darn good and sure of that.”
“We didn’t create the situation, Ms. Richards.”
“But you brought me into it. Against my will. Without my knowledge.” She paused, gulping air before she added. “And now you have the audacity to tell me I have a choice.”
Yeah, the lady saw too