The Specialist Read online

  Sonofabitch.

  It had been her.

  She’d called here.

  That’s why she hadn’t been surprised that he’d continued to follow her. Just as he’d suspected, she had known who he was all along. By placing that call, she’d merely confirmed her own suspicions about where he was staying while in Gettysburg and her hasty retreat the instant Norah mentioned the missed call only increased her guilty behavior.

  Payne didn’t know which he was more—irritated or impressed.

  Or turned on.

  Odd that he should find her duplicitous crafty behavior so damned sexually provoking, but he couldn’t deny the blood hurtling toward his balls or the insane urge he had to take the stairs two at a time, bang on her door until she opened it—and then bang her.

  Until she forgot everyone’s name but his. And she agreed to trade rental cars with him.

  “Mr. Payne?” Norah questioned, her brow wrinkled in a line of concern.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I was lost in my own thoughts.” Lurid ones, he didn’t add. “The room next to Ms. Langsford’s will do nicely, thank you.”

  Norah efficiently checked him into his room, provided him with a key and coupons—the same as she had Emma—then wished him a pleasant stay. “Please let us know if there’s anything at all that you need,” she said. “There are books, movies, magazines and a couple of cable internet connections for our guests’ use in the library.”

  “Excellent, thank you,” Payne told her. So the house might be circa 1808, but thankfully it supported new millennium technology. He shot her a smile, then made his way up the wide staircase.

  She’d put him in the Potomac Suite and, as promised, the Robert E. Lee room was just next door. She was in there now, Payne thought as he inserted his key into the lock. She was in there, plotting and planning and trying to coordinate her next move. Clearly she had an agenda and the sooner he found out what it was, the better off he’d be.

  Payne’s first thought was to place a call to Garrett and demand further details regarding this so-called mission, but rather than do that, he decided to check in with Guy first. Granted, going to his former commanding officer held considerable appeal, but going to him armed with every bit of information he could get his hands on first appealed even more.

  He made a cursory inspection of the room—made sure the linens were fresh, the bathroom clean and the bed to his liking—then sat down in a comfortable chair next to the window and dialed Guy once more.

  “Emma Langsford,” Payne told him without preamble.

  “I know,” Guy told him. “I’ve been on the phone with her mother.”

  Payne sat forward. “Her mother?”

  “Lucky for you she’s chatty,” Guy told him. “I called, pretending that I was an old friend from her military days and she—”

  “Military days?”

  “She did eight years, but didn’t re-up. She was needed at home. Her grandfather was dying.”

  Granted he didn’t know her, but he could definitely see where that would fit into her character. “Go on.”

  “You’re not going to like this,” he warned.

  “I wasn’t expecting to.”

  “According to her mother, she’s on a ‘mission’ for Colonel Hastings.”

  “She told you that?”

  “No, she told me that she was taking care of some business for her old boss. I did some quick digging and filled in Hastings’s name.”

  “So what business is she doing?” He had a grim suspicion, of course, but wanted confirmation.

  “The same business you are. Evidently Garrett and Hastings are both after the watch and they’re in the habit of placing bets. Garrett has pitted you against Hastings’s girl. Without telling you about it.”

  That manipulative old bastard, Payne thought, as a red haze suddenly swam before his gaze. He’d bartered his freedom for a damned bet between friends? He knew why he was doing it—he was repaying a debt. But what was Emma’s angle?

  After a moment he decided to ask. “What’s her motive? Do you know?”

  Guy hesitated. “I don’t know, but I have a suspicion.”

  “And?”

  “The oldest motivator—money.”

  “Hastings is paying her?” Payne asked. Geez God, did everything have to come back to cash? “Did her mother tell you that?”

  “No, but I got the impression that things were pretty tight. Emma’s put off going to college, but her mother was quick to tell me that vet school was in order as soon as she got back. She was quite proud, went on and on about what a fabulous girl her Emma was.”

  So the woman was selling her daughter, Payne thought. Which meant there was no significant other lurking in Emma Langston’s past, otherwise her mother wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of singing her praises. His spirits lifted marginally.

  “Surely to God he’s not paying her enough to put her through vet school,” Payne said, unwilling to believe that the damned watch could be worth that kind of money.

  “Hastings has definitely got it, but no I don’t think he’s giving her that much either. It’s probably enough to get her started, though, which would be a powerful motivator.”

  Yeah. Enough to water her dream.

  Shit.

  “There’s more,” Guy said.

  Another blistering curse singed the telephone line between then. “What?”

  “If the rumors surrounding her character are true, then the reason Hastings chose her is because she’s a tad on the ruthless side.”

  Payne didn’t know if he’d peg her as ruthless—for whatever reason that didn’t seem to fit—but from what he’d seen so far she was definitely crafty. Between the Hummer incident and her phone call to The Dove’s Nest, she’d shown that she was quick and sharp-minded, at the very least.

  “What are you going to do?” Guy asked.

  Payne pushed a hand through his short hair. “I don’t know.”

  “If I were you, I’d call Garrett and tell him to kiss my ass, then I’d get on the first flight back to Atlanta.”

  “I can’t do that,” Payne said. “I gave my word.”

  “And he’s abused it,” Guy retorted. “Honor is one thing, Payne. Being used is another.”

  When it came right down to it, an order was still an order and Payne’s word was still his word. But there was no point in trying to explain the difference to Guy. Even in the military he’d lived by his own terms. He’d just been so good that the powers that be never cared.

  “I’ll call you when I figure out my game plan,” Payne said. “Thanks for checking into this for me.”

  “Watch your back, man,” Guy said. “Sounds like this chick is capable of putting a knife in it. Call me if you need anything else.”

  Payne disconnected, scanned the room for a liquor cabinet and sighed when he realized that there wasn’t one. What he needed right now was a stiff shot of whiskey and a new game plan, because Garrett’s bet-of-omission had certainly thrown a monkey wrench into his plans.

  After all, he’d planned to come to Gettysburg, swiftly locate the pocketwatch—if it even existed, which still remained to be seen—turn the damned thing over to Garrett and go home.

  End of favor.

  Honor intact.

  Debt paid.

  Now…Now securing the pocketwatch for Garrett’s scheming benefit meant that he’d be robbing Emma Langsford—ruthless or not—of her brand-new beginning and her start-up money for vet school. Either way the scenario went down, he was going to wind up the villain.

  Whether it was Garrett’s or Emma’s remained to be seen.

  DESPITE THE DARK CLOUD she could hear moving into the room next door, Emma still loved her room and didn’t regret the B&B choice. The interior had been outfitted with a general in mind and as such had all the amenities. A huge four-poster bed hung with lacy curtains was centered on one wall, the matching antique pieces situated to perfection.

  She had a lovely sitting area, compl
ete with a tea service in front of a window which overlooked the grounds. No doubt it was nicer in the spring when a blanket of green grass and flowers bloomed over the meadow, but something about the stark beauty of the landscape below was equally appealing to her. She had a good view of the barn, of a man she imagined to be her host, Harry, and a pair of beautiful horses—one a strawberry roan and the other a dappled gray—who were munching lazily on a bale of hay.

  She’d inspected the bathroom, delighted over the big claw-foot tub—it was very similar to the one at home—and couldn’t wait to fill it up with hot water and the scented bubble bath which had been left on the counter. A small plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a cool glass of lemonade had arrived at her door within minutes of her checking into her room and Emma currently sat curled up in a comfortable chair by the window, momentarily enjoying the view, the tasty cookies and a chance to simply unwind without being caught in Brian Payne’s crosshairs.

  He was next door, so she knew the sensation would be short-lived. Furthermore, after the way he’d nudged her forward and insisted that she check in first, she’d had no other choice but to give Norah her name…which meant that he had it now, as well. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before he put that considerable brain-power toward finding out what she was doing here.

  Lying wouldn’t be an option, not that she’d ever been all that good at it anyway. She had a hard enough time remembering the truth, much less the ability to keep track of lies. Not to mention, it just simply made her uncomfortable. She liked knowing the truth and couldn’t very well insist on it if she was going to be any less honest, right?

  Emma chased a bite of cookie with a sip of lemonade and resigned herself to the coming week of sheer hell. Once Payne found out what she was after, he’d step up his game and she’d be forced to outpace him or lose, which was out of the question. She needed this too badly to let him take it from her. She had no idea what he’d done with himself when he’d left the military—he and his friends had left after the death of one of their own—but from what little she’d heard, he wasn’t hurting for money.

  Technically that was none of her business and shouldn’t be a factor, but whatever he had riding on this couldn’t mean as much to him as it did to her. He’d been a pawn in a bet and, while she’d never dealt with Colonel Garrett, she didn’t think he was backing Payne with the promise of cash the way that Hastings was backing her. She didn’t have any idea what Payne was getting out of this, but when they cleared the air between them, she had every intention of finding out. It shouldn’t matter—she had to look out for her own interests, after all—and yet it did.

  At any rate, she’d already gone over the initial information Hastings had given her on the watch and planned to get started ASAP. She needed to put a call in to her mother, then mosey downstairs and start pumping Norah for information. Although she longed for a nap, she couldn’t afford the luxury, not with Major Payne next door. The name drew a smile. No doubt he’d taken considerable ribbing in the military for a name like that.

  Letting go a sigh, Emma reluctantly got up from her chair and snagged her cell phone from her purse. She hit one on speed dial and waited for her mother to answer.

  “Lena’s,” came the familiar reply.

  “Hi, Mom. Just wanted to let you know that I made it to the B&B. I left the number on the desk at home, but you’ll have better luck catching me on my cell if you need to.”

  “Oh, honey, I was just about to call you,” her mother said, sounding particularly excited.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You had a call. From a guy,” she added significantly.

  And it would be significant because she hadn’t had a guy call her in months. For whatever reason, Emma’s belly twisted and ballooned with dread.

  “Did he leave a name?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did—Guy McCann. He said he was an old friend from your military days and he was trying to catch up with you. I hope you don’t mind, dear, but he sounded like such a nice boy, I gave him your cell phone number,” she said brightly. “Did he call?”

  Guy McCann. One of Payne’s equally notorious pals. Things had progressed a lot faster than she’d anticipated. Hell, he’d only had her name for ten minutes. Surely to God— “When did he call?” she asked as another suspicion took hold.

  “An hour or so ago. You sound funny. Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Emma lied, unconvincingly as usual. How on earth had he gotten her name? She knew that the car rental clerk had never uttered it aloud and she’d been careful to keep her rental agreement out of Payne’s line of sight. Her gaze swung to her bag—she hadn’t tagged it. How the hell—

  “Emma? What’s—”

  Oh, sweet Lord. If her mother had been charmed enough to give out her cell phone number, God only knows what else she’d told McCann. Another bubble of dread burst in her ever-sickening belly. “Mom, what else did you tell him? You didn’t tell him why I’m in Gettysburg, did you?”

  A telling, horrible pause, then, “Not in so many words. Why?”

  Emma sank back into her chair and massaged the bridge of her nose. “What exactly did you tell him?”

  “Just that you were working on something for your old boss,” her mother said. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, Mom,” Emma told her. She’d just been her breezy, cheerful self, which was all smooth-talking Guy McCann had needed her to be.

  “Who is he?” her mother asked, belatedly catching on to the fact that he wasn’t a potential boyfriend after all.

  Emma brought her mother up to speed. “If anyone else calls, play dumb, Mom.” Not that it would matter now. The cat was out of the bag. He knew her name, he knew that she was working on something for her old boss. Then there’d been the Robert E. Lee room tip-off. Ugh. She was dead in the water. If Payne didn’t know exactly what she was up to yet, he would before long.

  “I’m sorry, Emma,” her mother said, sounding genuinely sorry. “I just thought—”

  “No worries, Mom. It’s all right. It was inevitable, anyway.”

  “That was so sneaky,” her mother said, offended at last. “I’ve got a good mind to call him back and give him a piece of my mind. Of all the low-down, rotten—”

  Emma chuckled, debating the merits of caller ID. “Mom, forget about it,” she insisted. “It’s fine.”

  After multiple assurances, Lena finally calmed down. “If you’re sure, dear,” she said, somewhat mollified.

  “I’m sure. I’ve got to run. I’ll check in with you later, okay?”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will,” Emma promised. She almost told Lena that she wasn’t in any danger, but in another minute that might not be true. Because she was about to go next door and level the playing field with Brian Payne.

  The whole time she’d been trying to calm her mother down, Emma had begun to seethe. He’d had his damned friend call her mother, for pity’s sake. What kind of sportsmanship was that? Was it her fault that Garrett hadn’t leveled with him? What? Was she supposed to owe him some sort of courtesy?

  Horse shit.

  She didn’t owe him a damned thing and nobody—nobody—even a badass former Ranger, was allowed to mess with her mother.

  Emma tossed her cell phone on the bed, then marched out into the hall and abruptly rapped on his door. Irritation straightened her spine and vibrated every muscle in her body. He might have earned the name Major Payne…but she was about to teach him the meaning of the moniker.

  6

  PAYNE WAS IN THE PROCESS of putting his clothes away in the armoire when he heard Emma’s door open. That was fast, he thought, muttering a curse. Either she was much more efficient at unpacking than he was, or she simply hadn’t bothered. For whatever reason—probably stupidity—the knowledge drew a smile. Clearly she had her sights set firmly on the money—on her new beginning—and taking the time to unpack didn’t warrant her attention.

  He grimaced. Given what
he’d just learned, it probably shouldn’t warrant his either, but old habits died hard. He liked order. Everything had a place and Payne’s world was a lot clearer when those things were as they should be. It irritated the hell out of him that he was going to have stop unpacking just to tail her, but it had to be done. Until he figured out how he intended to handle this, he had to keep her close at hand. He had to make sure that she didn’t, by some miracle of chance, get the jump on him. Bested by a woman? Geez God, he’d never live it down.

  He abandoned his shaving kit, grabbed his keys and started for the door. Someone knocked on it before he could grasp the knob. Now this was a surprise, Payne thought. Logic told him that it had to be her, but logic had also told him that she’d most likely avoid him like the plague.

  He’d been wrong.

  Little warning bells sounded in his head at the anomaly, but he scarcely had time to heed them before he opened the door.

  Five feet of pissed-off female greeted him. “Where the hell do you get off having your friend call my mother?” she demanded, advancing angrily into his room.

  Payne could pretend not to know what she was talking about, but decided that would be a waste of time. If she came here for a showdown, he’d give her one. “I didn’t tell my friend to call your mother. I told him to find out who you were and what you were doing here.” He shrugged, watched her interestedly scan his room. “He called your mother in the process.”

  She pivoted, cocked her head and her irritated dark blue gaze found his. “Did it ever occur to you, Boy Genius, to simply ask?”

  Boy Genius? “It occurred to me,” he returned mildly. “It also occurred to me that you would lie. I distinctly recall asking you at the airport if we’d ever met and you said no.”

  “That wasn’t a lie. We haven’t ever met.”

  Payne crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the bedpost. “But you knew who I was.”

  “You didn’t ask me if I knew you—you asked if we’d ever met. The answer was no and that was not a lie.”