Free On the Job by Beth Kery Page A

trusted friend.”
    The smugness in Jim’s voice made Walker cringe inwardly. He heard the water shut off in the bathroom and walked onto the dark balcony outside his bedroom.
    â€œI’m going out with Tony and Madeline on his yacht this afternoon. I owe it to him to explain things in person. You guys be ready to stage Hallas’s arrest when we return to shore.”
    *   *   *
    Madeline swam in the sweatpants and T-shirt Walker had given her. She looked ridiculous. Chances were that no one would see her and Walker returning, though. Tony was a late riser, and that meant his staff often kept relatively similar hours. She bent and picked up her blue gown and robe from the carpet. They were still damp. She held the gown close to her face and inhaled Walker’s scent. The flash of arousal that tore through her surprised her a little. No thoughts or memories accompanied that surge of heat. Apparently, her body was programmed to respond to the scent of Walker’s semen alone.
    She was smiling as she walked out the door. Walker was still in the shower, and she wanted to take the opportunity to check out his new house before they left.
    A few minutes later she wandered back into the foyer. He’d done well for himself. The house had large, airy rooms, and almost the entire lake-facing side of it was windows. She turned her ear up the stairs and thought she heard the sound of Walker moving around, dressing. She glanced down at her nightgown and robe.
    If someone did happen to see them returning to the mansion, she’d prefer not to be seen holding the incriminating items. Walker’s kitchen seemed completely barren when she’d inspected it earlier—he still hadn’t fully moved into the house—but maybe he had some sort of bag where she could put her nightgown in his trunk?
    She grabbed his car keys off the hook and headed outside.
    Walker came up behind her a moment later as she stared into his lit trunk and shock settled on her slowly like a leaden cape. Through the haze of her bewilderment she noticed him glance into the trunk of the car and then at her face.
    â€œI can explain, Madeline,” he said.
    She flinched slightly like a fly had just landed on her face. She pointed into Walker’s trunk. “A Ramo sniper rifle,” she said in a leaden voice, her eyes still glued to the inscription on the righthand corner of the black leather that encased what was obviously a deadly weapon. She looked up at him. “Russian, I think you said it was?”
    â€œI can explain, Madeline,” he repeated quietly.
    He reached for her shoulder but she stepped back.
    â€œ You shot at me?” she asked incredulously.
    He exhaled in frustration and glanced skyward. After a moment of what appeared to be exasperated indecision on his part, he replied, “Yes. But I’m an excellent shot, Madeline. You were never in danger.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about?” Everything had taken on a dream-like quality—the dark night enveloping them, the trunk with the gun, Walker’s stiff expression in the glow of the trunk light, contrasting with the memory of everything that had come before that moment and her newfound sense of hope.
    â€œI had to do something that would scare Tony enough, something that would motivate him to ask me inside the Aspen Lodge with my team,” Walker said quietly. He looked over at the trunk and briefly shut his eyes. “It was my idea. I suggested it to my boss. I knew Tony would be upset at the idea of you being threatened in any way . . . upset enough to invite me into his private sanctuary.”
    â€œYour boss? I thought you were your own boss.”
    â€œI am. Or I will be, as soon as this operation is finished.”
    â€œOperation?” she whispered.
    He nodded. “I’m technically still under the employ of the Secret Service, Madeline.” He looked at her face and nodded toward the