at three in the morning,” she added. “It’s probably my imagination. But I don’t know how else the caller could have known I’d talked to Sarah Greene or you.”
“Unless the caller knows about Sarah’s source.” Dane was so alert the air around him fairly vibrated. “Or our caller is the source.”
Our
caller. It was amazing how reassuring that word was for her. But she and Dane weren’t really a team, as much as she’d like tobelieve they were. He could still file a report claiming she’d been negligent.
“The only reason the source would threaten me is to protect his position as a paid informant. But frankly, I can’t see where there’s any real money in it. This isn’t exactly Watergate.”
“Okay. But that still leaves a caller who knows something we don’t. Something he doesn’t want anyone else to know. Something he thinks you already know and doesn’t want to have spread around. To me, or anyone else.”
“All I know,” she said quietly, “is that there was a third plane. It was in exactly the right position to be involved in the collision. I can’t think of anything else that someone would warn me about discussing.”
Dane stiffened. “That third plane had to have had a pilot.”
Adria’s eyes widened. “Who would be solely responsible for almost killing several hundred people.”
Dane swore under his breath. “Which makes you the perfect fall guy.”
She nodded in understanding. “If the controller is proven negligent, no one would ever suspect the third pilot’s culpability. Case closed. Question is,” she went on, “why warn me? It just gives credibility to my story thatthere was something else going on in the sky that night.”
Dane shook his head. “No, the question is: Who knows that you think something else is going on?” He smacked the table with his palm, making Adria jump. He didn’t apologize. When he leaned forward, his eyes were almost glowing. “I’ve got to get my hands on that missing fuselage. If there was a third plane involved, he had two wings clipped. There has to be some evidence of that on the ground.”
Adria gripped her cup so hard she thought it might crack. She peeled her hands off it and forced them into her lap.
He believed her
. Or as close as she was likely to get from him without concrete evidence. She closed her eyes for a second, sending up a quick prayer that the missing fuselage would be found and this whole horrible mess would be over soon.
“Adria?”
Her eyes blinked open. How did he do that? Infuse such intensity into one tiny word? That the tiny word was her name just amplified the effect on her.
“Yes?”
“You need to get some rest. Why don’t I get out of here? I’ll call you as soon as anything is reported from the field.” He clicked his briefcase shut and shoved his chair back.
No
. Adria was half out of her chair, leaning over the table to stop him. “Wait.”
He froze, his gaze fastened on where her hand was gripping his wrist. As if his attention to that area had thrown on a power switch, Adria was immediately aware of the feel of his skin and muscle under her fingers. Without intention, her fingertips exerted additional pressure. His pulse leaped under her touch.
The combination of feeling him hot and alive under her fingers and watching emotions spark just as hot and alive in his eyes made her tremble.
The silence spun out; her will to move was nonexistent. The air between them charged up so fast that when Dane began to slide his gaze slowly from her hand up along her arm, she half expected to see a trail of fire. By the time he lifted his eyes to hers, she was not only trembling, she was burning up.
In less than thirty seconds, she’d felt as if he’d scented her, hunted her down, and trapped her. With nothing more than the beat of his pulse and those electrifying eyes of his.
Which made no sense. She was holding him.
“What?” he asked finally.
The question jerked her back to sanity. She let
“Unless the caller knows about Sarah’s source.” Dane was so alert the air around him fairly vibrated. “Or our caller is the source.”
Our
caller. It was amazing how reassuring that word was for her. But she and Dane weren’t really a team, as much as she’d like tobelieve they were. He could still file a report claiming she’d been negligent.
“The only reason the source would threaten me is to protect his position as a paid informant. But frankly, I can’t see where there’s any real money in it. This isn’t exactly Watergate.”
“Okay. But that still leaves a caller who knows something we don’t. Something he doesn’t want anyone else to know. Something he thinks you already know and doesn’t want to have spread around. To me, or anyone else.”
“All I know,” she said quietly, “is that there was a third plane. It was in exactly the right position to be involved in the collision. I can’t think of anything else that someone would warn me about discussing.”
Dane stiffened. “That third plane had to have had a pilot.”
Adria’s eyes widened. “Who would be solely responsible for almost killing several hundred people.”
Dane swore under his breath. “Which makes you the perfect fall guy.”
She nodded in understanding. “If the controller is proven negligent, no one would ever suspect the third pilot’s culpability. Case closed. Question is,” she went on, “why warn me? It just gives credibility to my story thatthere was something else going on in the sky that night.”
Dane shook his head. “No, the question is: Who knows that you think something else is going on?” He smacked the table with his palm, making Adria jump. He didn’t apologize. When he leaned forward, his eyes were almost glowing. “I’ve got to get my hands on that missing fuselage. If there was a third plane involved, he had two wings clipped. There has to be some evidence of that on the ground.”
Adria gripped her cup so hard she thought it might crack. She peeled her hands off it and forced them into her lap.
He believed her
. Or as close as she was likely to get from him without concrete evidence. She closed her eyes for a second, sending up a quick prayer that the missing fuselage would be found and this whole horrible mess would be over soon.
“Adria?”
Her eyes blinked open. How did he do that? Infuse such intensity into one tiny word? That the tiny word was her name just amplified the effect on her.
“Yes?”
“You need to get some rest. Why don’t I get out of here? I’ll call you as soon as anything is reported from the field.” He clicked his briefcase shut and shoved his chair back.
No
. Adria was half out of her chair, leaning over the table to stop him. “Wait.”
He froze, his gaze fastened on where her hand was gripping his wrist. As if his attention to that area had thrown on a power switch, Adria was immediately aware of the feel of his skin and muscle under her fingers. Without intention, her fingertips exerted additional pressure. His pulse leaped under her touch.
The combination of feeling him hot and alive under her fingers and watching emotions spark just as hot and alive in his eyes made her tremble.
The silence spun out; her will to move was nonexistent. The air between them charged up so fast that when Dane began to slide his gaze slowly from her hand up along her arm, she half expected to see a trail of fire. By the time he lifted his eyes to hers, she was not only trembling, she was burning up.
In less than thirty seconds, she’d felt as if he’d scented her, hunted her down, and trapped her. With nothing more than the beat of his pulse and those electrifying eyes of his.
Which made no sense. She was holding him.
“What?” he asked finally.
The question jerked her back to sanity. She let
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