Free On Thin Ice by Anne Stuart Page A

wasn’t sure what she wanted to believe, but one thing was absolutely certain. He cared more about staying alive than having sex with someone like her.
    It wasn’t as if she thought she was a dog. She was tall, average weight, a pretty enough face. But she had a touch-me-not quality that scared men off, and she’d never done anything to change that. She wasn’t interested in having a lover or a husband. She’d tried sex, given it a fair shot, and she hadn’t liked it. She could see no reason to change her mind.
    She didn’t want or need a man. She’d perfected her calm demeanor, the one that no one could get past, and for the last few years no one had even tried. MacGowan had made it clear he valued money, but she was pretty sure he valued freedom more. He’d settle for payment for services rendered, despite his threats to the contrary.
    She was cold. Her clothes were wet and clammy, and she considered stripping them off on the remote chance that they might dry, then thought better of it. She had no idea how long it would take MacGowan to get back down to the lake, but she wasn’t going to risk it. Besides, she was already feeling vulnerable enough fully dressed.
    She lay down on the damp earth, wrapping one arm around her body, tucking the other beneath her head to cushion it. He was coming back to get her, and he would see her safely back to the city.
    Nothing else was worth considering.
     
     
    Barringer always sat at the same table in the company dining room, but nowadays he sat alone. His friends, the men he’d started with, had either retired or died, and he disapproved of the new bunch, with their foul language and flashy behavior. He held with an old-fashioned view of covert work, one that had served him well. The more boring, self-effacing you could be, the better you did your job.
    And the women! It appalled him, to listen to their cursing and their brazen behavior. Women had a place in the world of espionage, but it was on their back. They could lure a man in, but it was up to their male counterparts to handle the complicated stuff. Not that women couldn’t kill – he knew that far too well. But in general he didn’t trust them. Part of the reason why he never married.
    He ate the same thing every day, a chicken salad sandwich on white bread. He supposed it was boring, but he liked order and he liked routine. His job was unsettling enough, never predictable, never ordinary. It was little wonder he wanted the rest of his life to be calm.
    Sully’s initial report wasn’t promising. MacGowan had killed a number of his captors in his escape, and they were out for blood. The poor fools had finally realized they could continue to collect the money whether MacGowan was alive or dead, and right now they wanted dead.
    He had complete faith in an old campaigner like Sully, though, and he’d given him a blank check. For enough money the Guiding Light would help him recapture MacGowan and kill the other escapees. If MacGowan died in the firefight then Sully could cover it up, and Isobel Lambert would believe he was alive and well and heading for England to kill whoever was in charge. She wouldn’t just sit back and let that happen, and Killian would be there with her.
    No, things were moving along as well as could be expected. In another week Killian might very well be within his reach. And then he’d be dead, and Barringer could retire in peace.
    But he would miss the chicken salad sandwiches.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    When she woke it was full dark, and she was filled with panic. She could hear nothing past the muffled roar of the waterfall, and she sat up, immediately alert.
    It was much cooler up here at higher elevations. Back in the tiny village of Talaca the nights had been hot and steamy, and she would lie in her tiny nun’s cell in her underwear and pray for a stray breeze. She could hear the wind in the trees overhead, and the night was chilly. Her clothes were still damp and clammy, clinging to her