THE LONG FLIGHT FROM Minsk put them into San Francisco just before dawn, and as they drove into St. Helena the sun was rising over the countryside, showcasing beautiful green vineyards, oak-lined streets and antique hotels. Callie saw a lot of activity for so early in the morning, but September in Napa was no time to rest, as it was the beginning of the grape harvest.

After they passed through the quaint town of St. Helena, Jammer turned off onto a road that led to a stone castle estate with lush vineyards nestled in the rolling hills beyond. The sign out front read Ceo Draiochta.

“What language is that? Gaelic? Do you have Scottish ancestry?” Callie angled around to look at him.

He made a faint curl of his mouth, not quite a smile. He seemed remote, somewhere far beyond her in his thoughts, even though he was only two feet away. “It’s Gaelic and my background…is complicated.”

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“Magic Mist.”

“Ah, how pretty. For the fog that blankets these hills?” Callie had seen plenty of photos of Napa Valley obscured by thick fog.

“Yes, reminiscent of the hills of Scotland with their mysterious mists,” he said.

“Hmm, very poetic, I’d say.”

“The fog is legendary here. It rolls up the valley or makes its way through the gaps between the Mayacamas from neighboring Sonoma Valley. There are days when I wake up and find the valley ‘was gone; gone were all the lower slopes and the woody foothills of the range; and in their place, not a thousand feet below me, rolled a great level ocean.’”

“Robert Louis Stevenson?”

“I’m impressed,” Jammer said.

“So am I. There aren’t many gunrunners I know who can quote Stevenson. He was, if I’m not mistaken, a Scottish poet and writer.”

“You aren’t mistaken,” he growled.

“Hmm, a pattern here.”

“I would ask that you be cautious of what you say in front of my staff. They don’t know anything about what I really do. They run the winery for me and are good people.”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“Moving on to a different one, that’s all.”

“So, this is a legit business?”

“Yes. I make some of the best cherry brandy and cabernet sauvignon on the market-Craving Cherry Brandy, Brume Reserve, Chimera Estate and Tempest Estate.”

“What name do you go by here?”

“They only know me as Mr. J. I have a manager who handles the staff, since I travel a lot.”

They pulled into a circular paved driveway with a beautiful fountain in the middle and luscious blooms of a wide variety of flowers in a kaleidoscope of shades, all bracketed by verdant greenery.

Then Callie examined the house. It was a castle complete with turrets. “Okay, you’re taking this Scottish theme to the max.”

He laughed as he exited the car.

“Does it have a dungeon?”

“Yes, and if you don’t stop asking questions, I’m going to put you on the rack.”

“Oooh, that sounds way too good. Will you ravish me while I’m helpless?”

“Most decidedly. If only to stop you from talking.”

His gaze slid down her body, touching every part of her with a hot, melting look. Her face, her shoulders, her breasts. She licked dry lips and could almost taste him on them.

He stepped closer to her, that mouth a sensual line of taut beauty. When he captured her lips, she got a thrill of sensation at the feel of his oh-so-soft and oh-so-clever mouth. It was a kiss meant to tease and to tantalize, ending much too quickly.

“Hey, I was just doing as I was told,” he said.

She sighed deeply. “Oh, yes, that’s right. I told you to remind me to keep my big trap shut. Thanks for that.”

He slipped his hand into hers and Callie started at the contact. It seemed more intimate than the kiss they had just shared and more dangerous than the mission she was on.

He pulled her forward onto the small drawbridge that served as the front path to the winery grounds and the castle beyond. A riot of color surrounded them on the short walk.

The house itself was made of stone and included a round tower on its side, making it look truly like a castle.

“The tasting rooms and the winery production is done in those old barns over there,” he said, pointing to the right of the house.

“Not really old, huh?”

“No, just manufactured to look that way.”

“This is an interesting side of you. A legitimate businessman.”

“I have many identities, Gina. This is just one of them.”

“I can’t imagine how you manage to do your…ah…gunrunning right under these people’s noses.”

“I don’t do that kind of business here.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one from that world knows about this place. Well, except for Fudo Miyagi and he’s dead. He was also escorted here without foreknowledge.”

“Why would you bring that man here, to your sanctuary?”

“To garner his trust and put him at ease. It’s a beautiful place.”

“But you brought me here. Does that mean I have to die, too?”

He turned to her, his eyes unreadable. “I wanted us to be untraceable during this deal we have going. I don’t want to entertain any surprises. After all, you have the contacts and I need those. Your welfare is my main concern.”

“Just like you took care of my sister?”

“More,” he said.

He drew her forward again, to the carved mahogany doors. Over the curved archway was a polished coat of arms. More show.

They stepped into a cool foyer, the floor a polished slate gray, the walls a darker gray.

The great room was furnished in deep blues and greens, with comfy sofas and warm wood tables, drawing an appreciative sigh from her. More facets to an already fascinating man.

They passed a large dining room and staircase that led, she presumed, to the second level and the bedrooms, before making their way into the gleaming, state-of-the-art kitchen. “Thirsty?”

“Yes, very.”

He dropped her hand and opened a massive double-door refrigerator, selecting two bottles of sparkling water and handing her one. He opened the other and took a long pull, his throat muscles working.

Callie twisted the top off her bottle and took a sip. She tugged out a chair near the island and sat down, the fatigue of the trip and the sheer act of maintaining her undercover persona catching up with her.

“You’re tired. Let me-”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted him, and he went to answer it. Callie could hear a male voice and Jammer’s deep tones responding. He came back into the kitchen, accompanied by a tall man with a shock of black hair. The newcomer stopped short, his eyes widening as he scanned her sleeveless, pink cotton shirt, which fit like a second skin. That was where the sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice ended. Her many-shades-of-green camo miniskirt hugged her hips and was belted with chain mail. Black tights covered her legs, ending at stiletto-heeled combat boots on her feet. She knew she looked like Lara Croft ready to do battle.

Callie laughed softly and slipped off the stool. Walking over to Jammer’s employee, she curled her index finger under his chin and closed his gaping mouth.

“Gina, don’t harass the help.”

“Oh, but it’s so much fun.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. J. Didn’t realize you had company.” The man looked at her sheepishly and then smiled through his embarrassment, rubbing at the blush on his cheeks.

“It’s no problem, Jim. This is Gina Callahan. She’s going to be staying with us for a few days.”

“That’s great, Mr. J. She’ll get a chance to see a working winery and taste some of our finest wines.”

“Jim was just letting me know that there are some matters that need my attention. Boring for you, Gina.” Jammer turned to Jim. “I’ll just take her upstairs and get her settled. Could you get her bags out of the car?”

“Sure.”

“Come on, sleepy, let’s get you to bed.”