by Tawny Weber
“Discussing this situation.”
She refused to tilt her head back enough to see his entire face, but if she hadn’t gotten a good look on his way in, the dangling dog tags clearly identified him as Lieutenant Ty Louden.
Nic’s second-in-command.
“What do we have to discuss?” she asked, shuffling papers into files and closing them.
“Do you even know who Lieutenant Commander Nic Savino is?”
“Do you?” she countered, her words as cold as ice. “By your own admission, you consider Lieutenant Brandon Ramsey a traitor. You served with him for some time and didn’t notice his treasonous actions. Given that track record, I’d have to believe that your judgment of who a person is might be questionable.”
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Louden warned, biting each word off with a snap of his teeth. “Ramsey killed one of our team. He left another to die in flames. Don’t you dare compare that man to Nic Savino, a decorated leader who has served his country with honor and patriotism. If you had any idea who he was, you wouldn’t be taking part in this witch hunt.”
Darby barely resisted the urge to flinch at the fury all but slapping her in the face. Instead, she focused on keeping her expression calm and her fingers still. As soon as she was sure she had a firm grip on her control, she let her lips shift into a half smile and crossed one knee over the other. The man’s eyes didn’t even shift, despite the amount of leg she was showing.
Interesting.
Apparently the men on Nic’s team were as loyal as she’d heard. It could be training, maybe the guy was gay. But she was pretty sure it was loyalty.
“Gentlemen, I admire your willingness to stand behind your leader. It’s a testament to everything you’ve been through that you believe so strongly in his innocence.”
And despite the evidence on her desk, if she was defending this case, she’d call them all to the stand since she thought their faith weighed heavily in Nic’s favor.
“What we believe is that you have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Lansky snapped from his position guarding the door.
“What I think I’m dealing with are the possibilities of bringing charges of four counts of criminal treason, one count of attempted murder, one count of murder. Oh, and a lousy attempt at damage control.” Darby gave a challenging tilt of her head, daring them to deny her summary. Instead, Louden latched on to one single phrase.
“What the hell do you mean, damage control?”
Ignoring the muttered curse from across the room, Darby kept her gaze on the burly behemoth in front of her. Not only because he appeared to be the leader of the pack, but he also looked like he’d be the first to set flame to her desk, while the others hauled out the roasting rack.
“Damage control. As in carefully laying a trail of evidence that pointed to a dead man instead of anyone on his team. That’s damage control,” she explained, glad her voice wasn’t shaking like her stomach. “Further damage control was employed when an unsanctioned mission was carried out to rescue a kidnapped child. And then there’s the mission that ended in the death of a fellow SEAL. After which, again, accusations and finger-pointing occurred in an effort to steer attention away from those involved.”
She paused, not for effect so much as to gauge the room. Of the six men surrounding her desk, five were glaring, two still had hands fisted at their sides and the one looming over her looked as if he’d like to roast her over a blazing fire, then sprinkle her with bacon bits.
This time her gaze searched deeper as it swept the room, hunting for any hint of guilt, one iota of culpability. What she saw was disgust. Prescott, Lansky and Danby looked like they tasted something so nasty, she hoped they didn’t spit it out on her floor. She could hear Ward grinding his teeth from across the room and Torres appeared ready to put his fist through her wall. Louden just stared, those implacable blue eyes boring into her like lasers.
“So who are you planning to take down in this witch hunt of yours? Savino? Or everyone on Team Poseidon?”
Breathing through her teeth to filter out the heavy waves of testosterone filling the room, Darby resisted the urge to jump to her feet. But she’d kicked off her shoes earlier and figured it’d circumvent her authority if she had to feel around under her desk for them with her toes. Just as it would if her five foot one self tried to face the room of giants with bare feet.
Instead, she wrapped attitude around her like a thick wool blanket and leaned forward to give them all her hardest stare.
“You don’t really think I’d answer a question like that, do you?” Darby laughed. “First off, I’d never jeopardize a case by discussing it with those associated with the accused. Secondly, at this time, treason charges are being considered but haven’t been levied. And thirdly, despite this obvious attempt at intimidation, I’m not afraid of you.”
“That might be a mistake.”
“Are you perhaps threatening me?” she asked, arching her brows. She was pretty damn proud that her voice didn’t shake. Because if there was ever a reason to shake, it was being surrounded by a half-dozen hulking hotties, each one trained to kill and all of them glaring at her.
“Nope.” Louden shook his head. “We’re not here to threaten, intimidate or coerce. We have intel that we don’t believe you’ve accessed. We’re here to bring you up-to-date.”
Sure they were.
And she was intimidated anyway, Darby admitted to herself as she glanced from man to man.
Nic was lucky to have them on his team.
She looked at the list of theories, suppositions and probabilities spread over her desk. Paul had provided a lot of damning evidence. But he had yet to produce his key witness responsible for the claims. Which left his unassailable truth, well, assailable.
She knew Paul. His personal issues made his judgment questionable.
What she didn’t know was whether it was that questionable judgment that made her want him to be wrong. Or if it was her feelings for the defendant.
Maybe whatever these men had to say could help her figure that out.
“Here’s the deal. You want me to listen, it’ll be on my terms,” she snapped.
“What terms?”
“I’ll speak with one—and only one—of you. The rest of you can go do push-ups or swim in the ocean or something.”
That got a snicker or two.
Darby put on her best bitch face, complete with arched eyebrows.
That got her a couple more snickers.
She locked her eyes on Louden and waited.
After a few moments, he jerked his head.
The others filed out without a word.
“Would you like to have a seat for this? Or do you want to keep lurking over me like a mountain, blocking the light?”
“You’ve got moxie,” Louden observed with a nod. He pulled the extra chair into the precise center facing her desk and sat. The chair groaned, fake leather creaking protest. Damn, he was a big man.
Like a wrestler, his muscles were pure bulk, whereas Nic’s build was more like a swimmer. Just as muscular, but sleek.
Deliciously sleek.
Darby blew out a breath.
“Okay. What’s the new information that you feel will affect the case?” She flipped to a clean page in her legal pad and tapped it with her pen.
“Recently we’ve traced key transmissions back to their source. And it ain’t Savino.”
“Are your superiors aware of these sources?”
“The transmissions were erased, the evidence buried deep in the servers. But we’ve been able to piece enough elements together to determine the origin point of three specific transmissions. Three that include orders connected with the specific acts you’re trying Savino for.”
Her stomach jumped. Darby wanted to pretend that it wasn’t joy, bu
t she knew better.
“Again, have you reported this to your superiors?”
“Considering they’re the source, no.”
Darby was a well-trained professional. She was considered to be a badass in court, unbreakable.
And her jaw still dropped.
“No way.”
“Way,” Louden countered with a hint of a grin. “The transmissions came from one specific building within the Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado. The building that houses our commanding officers.”
Her heart was pounding so loud she could barely sit still, but Darby forced herself to try.
“Commander Savino serves on the Coronado base,” she pointed out. “He lives there.”
“At the time of these specific transmissions, Commander Savino was elsewhere. With witnesses. Including, in the second case, a sitting Senator of the United States.”
Oh, damn. This time Darby didn’t bother trying to sit still. She didn’t even try to sit. She pushed to her feet, then glanced at the SEAL.
“I’ll need specifics.”
“You’ll have them.” With that and a nod, Louden got to his feet, inclined his head and, with a murmured thank-you, left.
Her mind racing, Darby stared at the empty door for the longest time after Ty Louden left.
And wondered why her heart felt lighter.
* * *
DARBY USED TO think she was a woman of strong convictions.
She appreciated varying shades of gray in the law. But in her life, things were either black or white. And she preferred to keep it that way.
And speaking of gray, she thought as she stepped into the concrete box that was the prison interview room and glanced around the chilly space, the two chairs and small square table were the same cold shade as the walls.
Proving once again that the line between black and white in this particular case was so thin it was invisible. Especially when it came to the man sitting in front of the small metal table, his wrist manacled to the ring in the wall.
His jumpsuit, like the room, was a dull gray. She knew he’d been a handsome man once. It wasn’t the puckered scar bisecting his cheek that marred his looks, though. It was the bitter hatred emanating from him like a nasty stench.
“Fed lawyer,” he snarled in greeting as soon as the door closed behind her. “I’m not going down for treason, so I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
Darby had heard the same from Hansen, Ramsey’s attorney. Despite assurances to the contrary from the federal prosecutor’s office, they were sure he wouldn’t be charged with treason. Darby wanted to know why.
Gauging her opponent, she silently took the two steps necessary to cross the room, set her briefcase on the table and sat down. She watched Ramsey’s inspection, knowing her youth and looks would relax him. She’d dressed softly, a linen skirt and matching blazer in a feminine shade of salmon. The small gold knots at her ears and simple chain of round links were classic, but she knew to a man from Ramsey’s wealthy background, obviously cheap.
When his eyes met hers again, she saw the combination of triumph and dismissal in his gaze and knew he’d reached the exact conclusion that she wanted.
“I appreciate you seeing me, Mr. Ramsey.”
“Lieutenant,” he snapped. “It’s Lieutenant Ramsey.”
“No. It isn’t,” Darby said easily, folding her hands on the table and giving him a decisive look. “You’ve been convicted of desertion, of conduct unbecoming an officer and assault. You’re due to stand trial next month for the murder of a fellow officer. In addition to your court-martial, the federal government will be charging you with treason.”
“Check your facts, lady,” he snapped, leaning forward as far as he could. “That conviction’s gonna be overturned. I didn’t kill nobody and no one can’t prove different. And I already told you, I’m not going down for treason.”
Darby had studied his case files carefully, just as she’d read every piece of information she could get from his military records. The man was ego-driven, entitled and arrogant. Guys like Ramsey? Their egos tended to climb right over their common sense. She just had to give his ego a reason.
“You sound very sure of that. Almost as if you have access to information that others don’t.” She added a searching look to the observation, wide-eyed enough to make him think she was impressed.
“And you’re here to get that information?”
Instead of answering, Darby simply inclined her head.
“How’s this for information. I’m gonna be cleared. Guaranteed. As soon as they take down the asshole responsible for all of this, my name will be gold again.”
Not guilty of, but responsible for. Darby filed that away.
“The US Attorney’s office is looking at multiple charges of treason,” she pointed out. “It’s not a matter of choosing one or the other. It’s a matter of convicting everyone involved.”
“Which is why I’m gonna be cleared,” he said, leaning back now with a smug grin that gave her a hint at how good-looking he’d once been. “The charges against Nic Savino are gonna stick. As soon as Savino goes down, the rest of those Poseidon pricks will tumble like dominoes.”
“You’re aware of the charges against Commander Savino?”
“My attorney looks out for me.”
That could be it. But Darby didn’t think so.
“And was it your attorney who told you those charges would stick? That’s a strong promise to make. Especially since no charges are being considered at this time against the rest of the men on the Poseidon team.”
“At this time,” he repeated in a telling tone. His eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction. “Look, you’re a hot one. From what I hear, you’re pretty good, too.”
Darby knew innuendo when it oozed over her, but she didn’t blink. She simply waited.
“You’re after a big win, right? The big-ass case? Sure, it looks good to nail one guy to the wall. But one guy? That’s easy. You want to do it right, you nail them all. You take them all down.”
Darby watched his eyes, saw the fervor lighting them and wondered if he realized his words could easily be taken as a confession.
“You believe they should all be convicted? Based on what?”
“Based on the fact that those arrogant assholes think they’re above the law. They think they’re gods. The SEALs, they’re a brotherhood. They’re the best. But these guys? They think they’re so fucking special. Better than anyone else. Them with their exclusive club. Not letting anyone in. Well, let me tell you, sweetheart, they turned down the wrong guy.”
His words rose until, at the end, he was shouting. Spittle bubbled in the corner of his mouth and his eyes flamed with hate.
“You?” Darby put just a hint of derision into the word. Enough that, combined with her quick glance at the manacles holding him in place, made it clear that she didn’t think he was much of a threat.
“I coulda done it. I woulda done it. I damn near did. But lucky for me, those fuckheads turned down plenty. And now they’re gonna pay.”
And there it was. Darby’s instincts hummed with delight and she was careful to keep it off her face.
“You believe they should pay, that they should be tried for treason, based on their exclusivity?”
“They’re going down because they fucked up,” he spluttered. “Then they’re all going to fry in hell. From Savino on down, they’re going to pay.”
He believed that. That was easy to read on his damaged face. But Darby hadn’t come here to confirm Ramsey’s hate. She’d come to find something, anything, that would answer the questions she couldn’t get out of her mind. She’d needed to see what in this huge mess—including the emotional turmoil dogging her heart and mind—was right and what was wrong.
And he’d just given it to her.
Because she didn’t want him to know that, didn’t want him sitting in his cell replaying this conversation and realizing that he’d tipped her off, she took him through a few more questions, let him rant for a while, then thanked him for his time.
“You’ll see,” he said as she rose to leave. “This case is gonna make your name. And it’s gonna set me free.”
Those words were still ringing in her ears as Darby strode out of the building, stopping for a brief second to lift her face to the sun. Breathing in a long gulp of fresh air, she let her thoughts settle.
Ramsey was right.
This case would make her name.
It’d put her on the fast track to even better things. It’d even get her an approving maternal pat on the head.
Multiple military experts believed that her case against Nic Savino was strong enough to bring before a judge.
If the credibility of Paul’s classified witness was as solid as he claimed, there was an excellent chance that he’d be convicted of those charges.
But that didn’t mean he was guilty.
Even with Ramsey confirming her suspicions, she didn’t have proof. All she had was her gut. Her instincts.
Her damn emotions.
Darby slid into her car and, for a brief second, let her head rest on the steering wheel.
There it was again.
An irresistible shade of gray.
She realized she was walking a precarious line.
She knew she risked facing major repercussions.
But even right was right, even when colored by gray.
So Darby grabbed her cell phone. She had to take a deep breath before she punched in the last number. And maybe her finger trembled just the tiniest little bit.
But she still dialed.
And embraced the terror of the gray.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NIC HAD BUILT his career on facing challenges and taking risks. He knew exactly how to assess any threat.
Except this one, he silently admitted as he walked up the stairs to Darby’s apartment.
