by Trish Loye
And now it was her turn to impersonate a gaping fish. “Are you serious?” Her voice was strangled by some emotion. He thought it might be horror.
He laughed but it held a savage edge. “Fuck, no, I’m not serious. I know how you hate marriage. And especially the idea of marriage to me.” He shrugged, willing himself not to show any emotion, not to let any whisper of the hurt he’d carried these ten years to enter either his face or his voice. “Though that might make you follow the terms. But I know you won’t break the contract. If you do, I’ll hunt you down and put you in jail myself.”
She just studied him. “So we have a truce?”
“Basically.” And he wondered whether he’d lost his fucking mind. But then, Sutton had always made him feel like that, teetering on the edge of insanity. “We share information. We work together to clear your name and find Mark’s killer.”
Her face hardened. “If you’re expecting a kiss to seal the deal, then you’ll have to wait till hell freezes.” She stuck out her hand. “You’re hired.”
10
Sutton sat back in her chair. He wanted her to take pictures of his beach. That meant she would have to go to his beach. What had she gotten herself into?
Something that she’d wanted for too many years.
No!
She wasn’t supposed to want that weekend. Or anything else. She’d made this deal because she needed information that only Ryan could get, and access to his resources. But he didn’t really trust her. So she would keep to their silly contract, prove her innocence, and spend a weekend relaxing with him on a beach and taking photos—something she loved to do, no matter who she was with. And then she would never see him again.
Something inside her wilted at that thought.
“Do we need anything in writing?” she asked as coolly as she could manage.
“No. Just remember the deal, Sunshine. And that you won’t be able to hide anywhere on Earth if you break it.”
“I’m innocent and I won’t run.”
“Then share what you’ve got so far.”
She clenched her fists at his tone, but someone had to go first and she would bring this relationship back to being professional. She waved a hand at Lexi. “I already am.”
“You’ve got nothing else?”
She held in her sigh. “My sister at the police department says there was a print from the struggle at Mark’s apartment. But the DHS took the evidence.”
He nodded and lost himself in thought. “I’ll track that down.”
“I have the pictures of the dead Russians,” she said. “We need to ID them.”
“I’ll send them to a member of my team.”
“You trust them?”
“She’s another member of the FBI who had no connection to this case before being pulled in.
“What else do you have?” he asked.
She showed her empty hands. “That’s it.”
He sighed. “So we don’t have much.”
Sutton looked at Lexi. “We have whatever’s on that flash drive and a connection to the Russians and my unit. And somewhere there’s a print that we need to find.”
Lexi looked up just then and waved them over.
Sutton took her coffee with her.
“You guys finished having your serious discussion?” Lexi asked when they settled into chairs beside the younger woman. Close enough she could see the screen but far enough that she could get away if she needed to.
“What do you mean?” Sutton asked.
Lexi grinned. “Lots of scowling and growling coming from your table. Almost like two cats in heat. Honestly, it was hard to watch.”
Sutton felt her face heat, even as she longed to break the laptop over the other woman’s head. “Did you crack it or not?”
Lexi grinned. “I’m a freaking genius. Of course I cracked it. I finished awhile ago and just wanted to wait until you’d finished flirting with each other.”
“Lexi,” Ryan said in his low listen-to-me-or-I’ll-fuck-you-up voice. “What did you find?”
The smile left her face and she spun the laptop to face them. “It looks like files on CIA missions. I hope it makes sense to you, because it means nothing to me.”
Ryan, Lexi, and Dante walked into their HQ. They’d dropped Sutton off at Ryan’s hotel room. She hadn’t been happy about that, but he really couldn’t see her being of any further use. The best thing she could do was stay under cover until this was over.
“Give the photos of the dead men to Mack, but only to her. I want you two to track down who those men are,” Ryan said to Lexi just before they entered. “Keep this quiet from everyone else.”
“You’re the boss,” Lexi said.
He wondered whether she even cared that he was keeping secrets from the rest of the team. Not that either woman had really bonded with their teammates. Interdepartmental teams always had issues, and for this mission, he was going to use those to his advantage.
Inside, he went straight to the three other men DHS had given him. “Tony, what’s McRaven doing now? Edworthy, what did you find out from the police? “
“We lost her,” Tony said. “The tracker stayed at the apartment she’d been at. A police report called in shots fired. Apparently, four dead bodies have been found at the place we’d tracked her to. We need to send someone over there to go over the scene. I can’t believe she’d kill four innocent men.”
“Why don’t you take Phil and go do that.”
Tony nodded, but didn’t leave; he just stepped back so Edworthy could speak. “The autopsy showed that Rollins had been tortured before he was killed.”
“So the killer wanted information from him,” Ryan said.
“Yes,” Tony said. “But what information? The stolen CIA files?”
“Obviously, Mark had found out about McRaven’s stealing of CIA information,” Edworthy said.
Ryan frowned. “But it was Costa who’d copied the list of agents’ names.” He studied Edworthy. “Was there any other information in the police files? Any hard evidence, like prints from the scene?”
“Nothing useful,” Edworthy said.
“He’s lying,” Mack said quietly from behind him.
Ryan glanced at her and she stared intensely at Edworthy with the focus of a marksman. Human lie detector at work.
“Tell me what was in the report,” Ryan demanded. This had to be about the fingerprint the cops had found.
Edworthy rolled his eyes. “They mentioned a print, but when I checked for it, it wasn’t there. No digital or hard copy of it. It must have gotten lost in the transmission.”
“Why didn’t you mention this?” Ryan demanded.
“Because I didn’t think it was important.” The edge in Edworthy’s voice said he’d been used to command himself and didn’t like being questioned. “We’re hunting McRaven. A random missing fingerprint, that could belong to Mark’s latest girlfriend, is not going to help us.”
It was true that the fingerprint probably wouldn’t have revealed the killer. Anyone in the business of torturing and killing people would wear gloves. “That’s my decision to make,” Ryan said calmly, even though anger gripped him. “If you withhold information again, you’ll be off this team. And that won’t look good for your career.”
Edworthy grimaced. “Sorry. It didn’t seem a priority.”
“Anything else from the report that you’ve forgotten to tell me?” Ryan asked.
“No.”
Mack nodded at him. Truth.
This woman was damn useful. He noticed Dante watching her just as intently as she watched Edworthy. Interesting.
He turned back to Tony, who still stood there.
“I have the report from the fire department,” Tony said. “It looks like it was a grenade thrown into her place. There are no security cameras in her building and the police canvassed the area but no one saw anything.” He took a deep breath and straightened. “I was in contact with McRaven before her apartment was blown up. I don’t beli
eve she killed Mark. She wouldn’t do that. But...it’s not looking good for her. Not with those files on her laptop.”
Mack gave him another nod. Truth.
Damn. Either the killer had cleaned up very well or...or Sutton was lying.
“Keep scanning the police radio for anything about McRaven,” he said. “And put together a list of potential hideouts that she’d use.” He wasn’t ready yet to share with these men that he and Sutton had entered into an agreement.
He made sure Mack, Lexi, and Dante had everything they needed to track down the dead Russians. Then he gave Tony, Edworthy, and Phil more inconsequential tasks that would keep them out of the way. He stepped into the hall and took a moment to call the burner number Sutton had given him. She didn’t answer.
Was she sleeping? He swore silently. More likely she’d gotten an idea and decided to follow it rather than staying in his hotel room, out of sight.
How was he supposed to trust her if she’d broken their contract already?
Sutton prowled around Ryan’s hotel room. She hated being cooped up while other people worked on finding Mark’s killer. She especially hated being in Ryan’s hotel room. It was obvious he hadn’t spent much time here, but his toiletries sat on the bathroom countertop and his duffel was open on the dresser. A binder of notes sat beside it.
She poked through his things without much enthusiasm, knowing she wouldn’t find much. The man defined Spartan. The notes seemed to be from a leadership course and from his scrawled handwriting on the various pages, he was the teacher. It surprised her that he’d ended up teaching, but she suspected he was good at it.
His scent, masculine and spicy, drifted up from the open duffel. Memories of weekends wrapped in each other’s arms floated up as well. She yanked the zipper shut and went back to pacing.
The facts of the case so far didn’t add up to much.
She’d already spent an hour staring at the missions listed on Mark’s drive. Each had been a mission her team had been on. That she had been on.
She couldn’t figure out anything from them. She had no idea why Mark had singled out these missions from the hundreds they’d done over the years. The latest one being the mission where Anna had died. The team consisted of the same ten men and women in each of the named missions, including Mark, Anna, Tony, and herself. She trusted each and every name on that list, including Edworthy, who had been their digital overwatch.
She itched to do something. Going back to Mark’s might yield more information, but she’d told Ryan she wouldn’t do that. Her lips twisted. That had been a stupid move on her part.
She yanked out her phone and called Amelia.
“Detective McRaven.”
“It’s me,” Sutton said. “Got anything new on the case?”
“Hey, Mom,” Amelia said. “I can’t talk now. Can I meet you for coffee later?”
So people could hear Amelia. “Where and when?” Sutton asked.
She named a place. “How about in thirty minutes? Looking forward to catching up.”
“Sounds good and text me an X at this number if it’s not safe.”
“Okay. Bye, Mom.” Amelia cut the connection.
Sutton snagged her pack and walked out. She didn’t feel any guilt about leaving the hotel room. She’d agreed to not go to any crime scenes or anywhere dangerous, but she was just meeting her sister for coffee. Besides, Amelia had information and Sutton needed it.
Sutton found directions to the coffee shop and caught a cab. Within twenty minutes, she was in front of a cute little mom-and-pop coffeehouse. Something that totally fit Amelia’s down-to-earth personality. The place was quiet this late in the afternoon, but had a steady flow of customers. Sutton scanned the ones sitting at tables when she walked in.
Two moms with babies gossiped in the corner, while three white-haired gentlemen drank coffee and chatted by a table near the door. A woman with a laptop and headphones worked away and sipped from a large mug without looking up from her screen. Amelia wasn’t here yet.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The guy behind the counter was young—pimples still decorated his cheeks—but obviously old enough to be out of school. He must be in his early twenties.
“Two lattes.” She gazed through the glass of the counter to the baked goods displayed below. Her stomach rumbled. “And two chocolate croissants.”
She grabbed a table where she could see the door, the exit to the kitchen, and through the front window. She’d finished her pastry by the time Amelia strode through the door. Everyone looked up. Amelia radiated stress with her tense muscles and worried gaze that swept the coffee shop. Sutton waved her over, indicating the coffee and croissant.
“Omigod, thank you.” She held the latte up to her nose and breathed in the smell before taking a sip. “I so needed this.”
Sutton let her take a few sips and relax before pressing her. “What did you find out?”
Amelia took one more sip and then set her coffee down. “I don’t have much, but I was able to track down that print.”
Sutton’s heart leapt. “You did?”
Amelia grimaced. “Don’t get excited. I tracked the paperwork for it going to the lab, but when I checked, it had never gotten there. DHS intercepted it for their labs.”
There was a puppet master at DHS controlling everything now and the itch between her shoulder blades told her she needed to cut the strings fast. “I’ll check with my people but I don’t think it made it to any lab.”
“Your people?” Amelia asked. “You’re working with someone you trust.”
“Mostly,” she said. Did she trust Ryan? Their bizarre deal said no, but her gut trusted him to be honest with her. Either way, she had a problem. “Someone is burying that evidence.”
“Or they’ve destroyed it altogether.”
“Well, you’re a ray of fucking sunshine,” Sutton said.
Amelia shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s what I’d do if I was the killer.”
Damn it. She ran a hand through her hair. “This doesn’t help me, but it does confirm that the killer is part of the DHS. Maybe even a part of the team tracking me.”
“Could someone higher up have ordered the evidence destroyed?”
“No, they’d have to do it themselves; otherwise, there’d be loose ends. I’ll have my friend look into it, just in case.” She looked at her sister. “Do you have anything else?”
“No,” Amelia said. “I just needed to see you to make sure you were okay. Talk around the station is that you’re a traitor. Nobody says it to my face, but I hear the whispers. Fucking pricks.” She set her latte down. “A small task force has been set to track you down.”
Sutton glanced out the glass windows of the cafe. Had someone followed Amelia?
“Please,” Amelia said, as if she’d read Sutton’s mind, or face. “I lost my tail before I came here. But I probably won’t be able to see you again. And they’ll definitely be bugging my phone after this.”
“I won’t call again,” she promised.
“Call if it’s urgent.” She reached her hand across the table and squeezed Sutton’s. “You’re more important than my job. I won’t see you go down for something you didn’t do.”
Sutton squeezed her hand back just as her phone buzzed. Ryan calling. She glanced around. One of the babies cried. An old man at the table by the door laughed too loudly. She’d never be able to pretend she was still safely at the hotel and she didn’t want to fight with him on the phone.
She ignored the call, knowing that he’d go to physically check on her at the hotel next. She probably had thirty minutes before he got there. “Time for me to go.”
They both rose.
“Sorry I didn’t have any good news,” Amelia said. “But I thought you should know it seems like an inside job.”
Sutton nodded. “And now I have to find out why.”
They hugged and Sutton left first. It took her twenty minutes to get back to the hotel using a cab. She’d need to get more cash so
on. Maybe Ryan would lend her some. At least she didn’t have to sleep on the street tonight. Maybe she could even shower in peace.
With those thoughts, she opened the hotel room door and halted when she saw Ryan by the window with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Where the hell have you been?”
11
Ryan waited as Sutton took off her jacket and placed it and her pack carefully on the desk.
“Answer me,” he growled, stalking toward her. “Where the hell were you?”
“You need to cool off,” she said. “I’m not your prisoner.”
Anger shot through him like a rush of adrenaline. “You can be.”
She spun to him. “You won’t be any more successful this time than last.”
He moved closer to her and pulled out his phone. “I only need to make a phone call and this hotel would be surrounded in minutes. Security cameras would monitor everything within blocks. You’d be caught.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
He slammed a hand down on the desk. “Goddammit, Sutton! How the fuck could you take this chance? Everyone is looking for you.”
Sutton gave an exaggerated sigh, and it pissed him off. “They have no clue where to find me, unless you tell them,” she said.
He prowled closer, his breathing taut as he tried to rein in his irritation. Only Sutton could drive him this crazy. “You know how easy it is to make a mistake,” he said. “You’ve tracked tons of terrorists.”
She scowled. “I am not a terrorist.”
He shrugged, but held her gaze. “Semantics.”
Her face flushed. “Yes, I’ve tracked a ton of targets, which is why I know how to avoid detection.”
“Don’t be so fucking cocky,” he snarled and stepped so close their chests almost touched.
“I will not hide. Not while I can do something to fix this mess.”
She was so close, he could smell her. Soap, sunshine, and sea. Don’t lose focus. “You broke our contract,” he said softly. “I can haul you in right now.”
