Heart of Gold - By Tami Hoag Page 0,52
catch this person, Faith. The burden of his arrest is on the government, as is your right to protection. As your legal counsel and your friend, I advise against your scheme.”
“Well, I’m with Faith,” Jayne said, always ready to stick up for the underdog. “A person can live in suspense for only so long—about the length of a Hitchcock movie. This has already gone on too long. And if Faith strongly feels it’s her destiny to help capture this man … well, then maybe it’s just her karma,” she said with a decisive nod. She gave Faith her most supportive look. “As long as there’s a hundred cops around and no chance of you getting hurt, I think it’s a good idea.”
Alaina slanted her a look. “This from someone who thought mood rings were a good idea.”
“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