Page 1 of Dangerous Protocol

PROLOGUE

A cold, weighty silenceloomed over the darkened room, and Jeffrey Burke knew without looking that she was gone.

He rolled to his side and reached out to click on the bedside lamp. He stared across the luxurious hotel suite at the now-empty chair where her purse and clothes had been haphazardly tossed the night before and where she’d kicked off her spiked heels.

The only things she’d left behind were the lingering scent of her perfume and a million unanswered questions.

He thought back over their evening together.

They’d finished up at the Pentagon and headed to dinner at The Capital Grille, her favorite DC restaurant. She’d ordered a bottle of her favorite red wine for them to share, and they’d enjoyed a leisurely meal while finishing off a second bottle. They’d lingered over coffee and dessert before finally taking a cab to the hotel. In hindsight, it had almost seemed like she was reluctant to leave the restaurant.

His head felt like it was caught in a vice, his mouth was dry as the Mojave, and a bitter taste coated his tongue. He scrubbed his hands down his face, and they scraped over his morning whiskers.

What the hell had she given him? Whatever it was, she must’ve put it in the champagne. The bottle had been waiting for them when they got back to the room.

“A gift from the manager for our repeat business,” she’d said.

Jeffrey was pissed off at himself for making such an unforgivable, rookie mistake. Not only had he willingly drunk champagne from an unknown source, but he’d gotten sucked in to the point of trusting her.

Big mistake.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

She’d stepped into the briefing room, confident, gorgeous, and oozing natural sensuality. Their eyes had connected, and the chemistry between them had been instant and explosive. Like a live electrical wire snapped and popped between them.

A mere four days later, they’d finished up a meeting and, unable to contain their sexual chemistry any longer, had dashed over to this very same hotel. They’d burnt up the sheets for a few hours, and he’d headed to his place outside of Fredericksburg. Jeffrey had been certain their little liaison would scratch the itch they both seemed to feeland that they could then concentrate and move forward as colleagues.

He’d been wrong. So very wrong.

After that night, there were many others filled with quiet conversation and a passion he’d never felt for any woman before. Jeffrey had let his guard down and actually started spending entire nights with her. Nights that rolled into mornings waking up together and making love. Because they’d agreed to keep their relationship private, they would kiss each other goodbye, leave the hotel at different times, and head to their meeting separately.

He wished he could say he was surprised by her disappearance, but that would be a lie. Was he disappointed? Yes. Pissed off? Definitely. But surprised? No.

There had always been an aloofness about her. An urge to run had lingered just beneath the surface. She was like a wild tigress pacing back and forth in a cage just waiting for someone to swing the gate open so she could escape.

But escape from what?

CHAPTER ONE

Twelve years later …

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gionetti.” Maya Corbett smiled across the wide cobblestone path at the seventy-eight-year-old woman sitting in her favorite rocker, a patchwork quilt draped over her lap. “It’s a bit chilly to be sitting outside, don’t you think?”

Relatively speaking, winters in Cefalù were mild with temperatures ranging from the mid-fifties to the mid-eighties. But her neighbor was older, and Maya worried about her.

“Oh, no, the sun is quite warm and so good for the soul.” The lilt of her Italian accent wove around every word. “Sunny days are a gift and are meant to be enjoyed.”

The older woman pulled a crocheted shawl tightly around her shoulders and leaned her head against the back of the chair. She tilted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. The well-loved wooden chair creaked as she slowly rocked back and forth.

Mrs. Gionetti was just over five foot, portly, thanks to her love of pasta, and she had a wonderful face lined from years of smiling and enjoying life.

Fourteen months ago, when Maya first relocated to this small village on the northern coast of Sicily, her sweet neighbor spoke some English but, with Maya’s help, had become much more fluent. Mrs. Gionetti returned the favor by helping Maya improve her Italian.

“Well, I’d better get these things inside.” She raised the mesh bags filled with groceries. “Enjoy the sunshine.”

“Grazie. Ho intenzione di fare proprio questo.”Thank you.I plan to do just that.Her eyes remained closed, and her face tilted upward with a pleasant smile.

Maya pushed open the low iron gate with her hip and navigated the short stone walkway leading to the pristine, white cottage with the bright shutters. She wrestled with the groceries and somehow managed to unlock the door. Once she stepped inside, she used her foot to swing it shut. She quickly set the groceries on a small table nearby and secured the sturdy deadbolt she’d added upon moving in.

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