The Ultimate Betrayal

by Kat Martin

  Bran clamped down on his irritation. “It’s obvious the theft was well planned and that some of the people involved work right here at the plant.”

  “Perhaps. But someone manipulated our computer systems, which could have been done from anywhere.”

  “You mean it was hacked,” Jessie said. “If that’s the case, what’s to stop these people from doing it again?”

  De La Garza’s shoulders tightened, a sign he was tired of answering questions. “After the theft, we installed new security software that prevents any sort of tampering. We’re confident the munitions are safe until they’re all destroyed and the plant is closed.” He rose, signaling the interview was over.

  Bran and Jessie stood. “Thanks for your help,” she said, though he was beginning to know her well enough to catch the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  He followed her out of the office, where Carol waited in the hall to lead them back to visitor parking. They were supposed to speak to Charles Frazier next, but Carol told them something had come up and Frazier had to cancel. His assistant, Andrew Horton, was also unavailable.

  Conveniently. It was Jessie’s word, but Bran was beginning to see a pattern. It was starting to look like there was a giant cover-up going on that might reach the highest levels.

  Maybe it was just a matter of CYA—cover your ass. In this case, everyone covering his own. Or maybe the theft involved a shit ton of money and everyone wanted a cut.

  “What do we do about Charles Frazier?” Jessie asked, breaking into his thoughts as he drove back to the Holiday Inn. “We really need to speak to him.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Actually, not being able to talk to him right now might work in our favor. If we talk to Frazier at home, he may be more cooperative.”

  Jessie flicked him a sideways glance. “By cooperative, you mean we can press him harder to tell us what we want to know.”

  Press him. That was a polite way to put it. Bran’s jaw hardened as he thought of the man who had brought all-hell down on Colonel Kegan, ultimately leading to his death—or murder.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  * * *

  Jessie swam laps again that night. Since the pool was crowded with kids and their parents well into the evening, she waited until close to ten, just before the area closed.

  After leaving the chemical depot, she had worked on her laptop the rest of the day, writing up notes, putting them into some kind of order.

  She made lists of questions, some for Charles Frazier, some for his assistant. Both of whom had conveniently not been available that day. The implications were beginning to drive her crazy.

  They ordered in Chinese food and Bran turned the TV on in the living room, but neither of them were in the mood to watch. Jessie knew exactly what she was in the mood for. She hadn’t thought about sex this much in the last three years. Now, every time she looked at Bran, having sex with him was all she could think of.

  Everything about him turned her on. The cadence of his voice, the way he laughed, the way he moved. Just watching him amble across the living room sent a curl of heat into the pit of her stomach.

  What would it be like to kiss him? Run her hands over all the lean, hard muscles she had seen and couldn’t get out of her head? What would it be like if he made love to her?

  Would she ruin it the way she had when she had tried before? Start thinking about Ray Cummings and the intimate way he had touched her? Conjure images of the rape he had planned to carry out if she hadn’t managed to escape?

  Fidgety and unable to relax, she headed for the pool, Bran reluctantly accompanying her. Exercising in the warm water was the perfect stress reliever. She glanced over to where he paced the deck at the opposite end of the pool, tall and lean-muscled, blue-eyed, and built. Nothing better than swimming—except for hours of erotic sex with the man of her fantasies.

  It seemed so outrageous she found herself grinning as she stroked to the far end of the pool. She was still smiling when she came up out of the water, dripping and adjusting her swimsuit, just a few feet away from him.

  “What’s so funny?” Bran asked, as grumpy tonight as he had been the night before.

  She looked into his hard, handsome face and some little devil made her say it. “If you really want to know, I was thinking what it might be like to have wild, uninhibited sex with you.”

  Hunger flashed in his eyes so quickly she took a step back. “Is that so,” he drawled, his gaze running over her, assessing every curve her orange-striped bikini displayed.

  Her whole body flushed with heat as she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about sex.

  She swallowed. “I was imagining what it might be like, but I...I know if we tried, I’d screw it up. After Ray, I’ve got, you know, hang-ups.”

  His gaze grew more intense. “What kind of hang-ups?”

  She picked up her towel off the lounge chair and quickly dried off, then slipped on her white terry cloth robe. Fortunately, the overhead lights began to flash, signaling it was time for the pool to close.

  “Time to leave.” She started walking back to the room, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. By the time Bran opened the door and checked inside to be sure it was safe, she was starting to relax.

  “What hang-ups?” Bran asked as he closed the door behind them.

  Jessie’s stomach instantly knotted. What had possessed her to mention it? But Bran had opened up to her yesterday, which meant she owed him the same courtesy today.

  Trying to appear nonchalant, she shrugged. “You know, kissing’s okay, but if a guy starts touching me, my mind flashes back to Ray Cummings and I, um, I start thinking about the way he touched me, where he touched me, and pretty soon sex is the last thing I want to happen.”

  Bran’s jaw looked iron-hard. “Did he rape you?”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “On the third day, just before he got home, I managed to get loose. I couldn’t get out of the basement, so I searched for a weapon.” Her lips trembled as the memory became all too clear. “I found a wooden crate and pried a board loose. The board had a nail in the end so I held it like a bat, and I waited till he came down the stairs.”

  “Go on,” Bran said so softly she felt a chill.

  “He always wore this black knit ski mask with a red ring around the mouth, which made him look even more terrifying. Knowing what he planned to do gave me courage. The minute he stepped off the bottom step, I swung the board as hard as I could and smashed him in the side of the head. As soon as he hit the floor, I starting hitting him over and over with the nail in the end of the board. He was unconscious and bleeding when I took off running.”

  “Finish it,” Bran said when she paused, more a demand than a request.

  Her voice trembled. “The woman in the house next door let me in and called the police. Ray was still unconscious when they got there. Turned out he was a serial rapist. He had abducted four other women and locked them up just like me. Eventually, he released them somewhere, but none of them could identify him or the place he had taken them. I was the only one who escaped.”

  She was shaking. She didn’t realize she had tears in her eyes till Bran pulled her into his arms.

  “Oh, baby,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jessie clung to him. She never cried, but she couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks. “I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me.”

  Bran’s hold subtly tightened. “He’s lucky he’s in prison.” There was such quiet venom in his words she knew that if Bran had his way, Ray Cummings wouldn’t live another day.

  Jessie clung to him a few moments more, soothed by the feel of his hard arms around her and the wall of muscle pressing into her breasts. When her body began to heat from the inside out and her thoughts began to shift in a more intimate direction,
she took a deep breath and stepped away.

  “I’m sorry. I never cry. I don’t know why I did now.”

  He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Maybe because you know you can trust me. I’d never hurt you, honey. I’ll help you any way I can, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  She wiped away the wetness and managed to smile. “I know that. The way Danny talked about you, I knew I could trust you. I knew you would help me. I never doubted it.”

  There was something different in his eyes now, something sober and distant. It occurred to her that the hunger she had seen there before was gone.

  He didn’t want her anymore. He was worried he would somehow hurt her.

  Jessie felt like crying again.

  ELEVEN

  Bran’s mood fluctuated between concern for Jessie and what she had suffered, and fury that he was helpless to do anything about it.

  Fucking Ray Cummings was in prison, exactly where he belonged. He was being punished—not enough as far as Bran was concerned—but punished nonetheless.

  And now, knowing the extent of what she had been through put Jessie even further out of his reach. She didn’t need more heartache, and having sex with him was exactly where that would lead. She wasn’t a one-night hookup kind of girl, and he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy.

  Jessie deserved a man who was gentle and patient, a guy who would help her deal with the trauma she had suffered. Bran was a rough-and-tumble lover. He demanded a lot from a woman, and the women he took to bed liked it exactly that way.

  He sighed as he lay on the lumpy sofa in the living room staring up at the ceiling. If only he could get the look on Jessie’s face out of his head, the heat in her big green eyes when she’d told him she was thinking about having sex with him.

  Sweet Jesus. He’d been so hard he ached with every heartbeat. Then she’d told him about her hang-ups. He wouldn’t have a clue how to deal with that. Though in some weird way, he felt an obligation to try to help her.

  She was Danny’s sister, after all. Or at least that was his rationale for the erotic thoughts he couldn’t seem to banish no matter how hard he tried.

  He had no idea what had possessed him to extend the invitation to join his family for the holidays, except that he owed it to Danny to look after his sister. Hell, in a way, she was already part of the family. He’d never brought a woman to any family gathering, and knowing his brothers would make more of it than it actually was, he was mildly relieved that she had declined.

  He sighed into the darkness. He wished to God this mission was over. Wished he had the evidence they needed to prove Colonel Kegan’s innocence. Wished he knew where to find the missing weapons.

  In the morning, they planned to talk to the CID special agent who had handled the investigation, see if he had come up with anything new since Jessie’s last trip to the base.

  Then tomorrow night they were going to pay a surprise visit to Charles Frazier at his home in Alamo. Bran was looking forward to the conversation. He had a feeling Frazier knew a helluva lot more than he was saying. And if he did, he was going to tell them.

  One way or another.

  Bran rolled over on the lumpy mattress, trying not to listen for sounds of movement in the bedroom, where Jessie slept in a comfortable king-size bed. But the more he tried to banish lustful thoughts of her, the more he failed.

  He kept seeing her in her tempting little orange-striped bikini, remembering the ties that held it in place. All he’d have to do was reach behind her and pull the strings and the top would be gone. Pull the bows on each side of the bottom and the fabric would disappear. Jessie would be his, a willing participant in his every erotic fantasy.

  A soft groan escaped. It wasn’t going to happen. Too many obstacles between them. Instead, it was going to be another long night.

  And another cold shower in the morning.

  * * *

  Their meeting with CID Special Agent Derek Tripp proved fruitless. Or at least it seemed that way to Jessie. Tripp, a man in his forties with blond hair shaved close on the sides and slightly longer on top, brought her up to speed on what they had uncovered since she had spoken to him last.

  Unfortunately, after talking to the medical examiner, to Major Anson, General Holloway, and Robert De La Garza, it was mostly information she already knew.

  “What about the offshore account?” Jessie asked. “There is no way my father opened a bank account in the Cayman Islands then made deposits into the account equaling a hundred thousand dollars. My mom handled all the finances when she was alive. After she died, my dad could barely balance his checking account.”

  Seated behind his desk, Tripp worked the button on his ballpoint pen. “I agree finding the source of the money could be the key to unraveling all of this. It’s something I’m looking into. Unfortunately, with your father gone, my superiors want to put more resources toward finding the missing munitions. Since it’s a matter of national security, we’re working with several other agencies, including counterterrorism.”

  “What about the FBI?” Bran asked.

  “So far we haven’t asked for FBI assistance, but that could happen any day. If those weapons fell into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous.”

  “But you won’t just let the investigation into my father’s innocence drop,” Jessie pressed.

  Sympathy surfaced in the agent’s eyes. “I’ll do what I can, Ms. Kegan. That’s all I can promise.”

  The meeting left Jessie as frustrated as before.

  “Tripp is looking into your dad’s offshore account,” Bran said as they headed back to the Expedition. “Since it isn’t his top priority, I need to talk to Tabby, see if she can find out where the money came from. If anyone can figure it out, it’s Tab.”

  “You think she can trace the money back to the source?”

  “Maybe. Odds are, she can at least come up with a little more info, something that could point us in the right direction.”

  “She sounds pretty amazing.”

  “She is.”

  Curiosity slipped through her. “So...how old is she?”

  Bran’s gaze swung toward her. “Late twenties. If you’re wondering, Tab’s a great girl, but she isn’t my type. Besides, she’s got a boyfriend.”

  Jessie smiled, wishing she didn’t feel a sweep of relief. It was none of her business who Bran dated. One thing for sure—a man who looked as good as Bran didn’t lack for female companionship.

  But the subject of Bran’s women continued to intrigue her even after they were back at the hotel. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious. You said Tabby wasn’t your type. So what kind of woman is?”

  His eyes locked with hers and she was almost sure the heat was back. “Lately I’ve discovered my tastes are flexible.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means, under different circumstances, I might be interested in a pretty little strawberry blonde with the sweetest body I’ve ever seen.”

  Surprise widened her eyes and desire made her breasts ache. She had never felt this overwhelming lust for a man. It was embarrassing.

  “Unfortunately, the circumstances aren’t different,” Bran said flatly. “And the lady is completely out-of-bounds.”

  Jessie fell silent. Out-of-bounds because she was Danny’s sister? Or because of what Ray Cummings had done to her? The thought depressed her. She wished she had the courage to ask, but she had pushed the subject too far already.

  The afternoon slid past. Bran spoke to his tech friend, Tabitha Love, who reported the license plate on the Ford pickup had been “borrowed” from another vehicle. By now, Bran said, it was probably back where it belonged.

  Tabby also promised to see what she could dig up on the offshore accounts, though she cautioned it might take some time.

  As evening approached, the
y prepared for their visit to Charles Frazier, assuming he was home when they arrived unannounced.

  “You ready?” Bran asked as she walked out of the bedroom in a pair of dark brown leggings, a V-necked cashmere sweater in a soft shade of blue with a cashmere scarf to match, and low-heeled brown suede ankle boots. She liked the look, but she hadn’t expected to stay out of town this long and her wardrobe was running thin.

  “I hope Frazier gives us something useful,” she said on her way out the door.

  Bran’s gaze hardened. She could tell he was armed by the slight ridge beneath the brown leather bomber jacket he was wearing with his jeans.

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I got a hunch he will.”

  TWELVE

  Charles Frazier lived in a big two-story beige stucco home in an upper-middle-income neighborhood near the Walking Stick Golf Course in Alamo. It was eight o’clock when Bran pulled up in front of the residence, hopefully after the family had finished supper. Lights burned in a number of windows, both upstairs and down, and the lawn was neatly trimmed.

  According to Frazier’s Facebook page, the computer specialist had a wife named Tina and three kids, a boy fourteen, a girl twelve, and another son just six.

  As Bran climbed out of the SUV and rounded the front to Jessie’s side, he scanned their surroundings. So far there’d been no sign of the two men who had come after them at the resort. He’d been watching for a tail, but seen no trace of one.

  Losing the GPS tracker had clearly set the men back, but he figured it was unlikely they’d given up. He and Jessie had been to the depot asking questions yesterday, then returned to the base this morning to talk to the CID. There was a good chance whoever wanted to stop Jessie’s investigation knew she hadn’t given up her quest to clear her father’s name.

  They were still a threat to her, but things were different now. Now they also had to deal with him.

  Bran clenched his jaw as they walked up the concrete path to the house. They needed answers. Tonight, he planned to get them.