by Dee Davis
It was a ratty old place on the railroad tracks. And they were serving hurricane punch. The kind that you made in trashcans with fruit juice and Everclear. She smiled at the memory. The stuff was pretty damned potent. And before she’d known it, her head was spinning.
She’d looked for her friend, only to find her out back on the picnic table—with the host. Not wanting to ruin a good thing, Jillian had decided to head home on her own. But on her way up the stairs to retrieve her coat, she’d run into Simon. He’d had his fair share of punch, too. And what started with a search for her coat had ended with them kissing, their combustion then every bit as passionate as their exchange last night.
She remembered him pushing her against the wall, his hands everywhere, touching everything. And she remembered the feel of her palms against his chest, his heart beating next to hers. Then they’d moved to a bed, and as things progressed, she’d thought that everything was exactly as it should be.
She hadn’t hesitated for a moment. And she’d had no regrets. Until Ryan had called out from the stairs, and Simon had jerked away, the magic of the moment evaporating just like that. He’d helped her pull her clothes into place with a mumbled apology. And then Ryan had walked in. Even though the two of them had pulled apart, it was fairly obvious what had happened.
The next morning she’d expected Simon to call. Expected him to have felt the way she did. That she and Simon belonged together. But she never heard from him. At least not concerning that night. In fact, from that moment, everything had been different.
They never talked about it, any of them, but the dynamic had changed. Ryan and Simon were still friends, but a wall had gone up between her and Simon. It was as though the whole night had never happened. And even though she knew now her hopes had been naive, she still hadn’t really gotten over the hurt. Her heart had belonged to Simon almost from the moment she’d first met him. And their night together had only served to reinforce the point.
Which made her next move really stupid. Ryan pretended nothing had happened, and, angry at Simon, Jillian had gone along with the ruse. And when he’d asked her to marry him a few months later, she’d said yes. An act of defiance that she’d ridiculously hoped would goad Simon into action.
But nothing had happened, except that she’d become a bride. Simon standing silently next to Ryan as she’d walked to the altar. And somewhere along the way, she’d traded her dreams for a nightmare. Maybe what happened between them had been her fault—at least in part.
Of course, marrying Ryan had meant that Simon was still a part of her life. Albeit a fleeting one. He hardly ever spent time with both of them, and never with her alone. It was as though he’d cut her out of his life as much as he could without losing Ryan.
And for the most part, she’d accepted the fact. Until she finally forced herself to face the truth about Ryan. To accept that her husband was never going to stop hitting her. She’d so desperately needed someone to confide in. But by then, Ryan had cut her off from almost everyone. So she’d called Simon. But he’d shut her down cold. Not even giving her time to explain.
She’d hated him for that. So lost in her own fear and disbelief that she blamed him for what was happening. If he hadn’t rejected her, then she wouldn’t have married Ryan and her life wouldn’t have turned to a living hell.
But that hadn’t been fair. Simon had no idea what was going on. And her choices were certainly hers alone. But from that point on, she’d avoided him. Even at the funeral, she’d kept her distance. Certain that they were better off apart.
And now, here she was, in exactly the same place she’d been in that night at the party, and this time, just as the last, it was Ryan who was standing between them. Only now, she was going to be the one to walk away. She was going to be the one to save herself. Protect her heart.
She didn’t need Simon. Or the memories he evoked. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d survived hell since then. And she wasn’t going to let herself lose what she had gained.
Fortified, she stood up, squaring her shoulders as she walked into the sitting room, determined not to let him change her mind again.
“There you are,” Simon said from the sofa, where he was sitting with a cup of coffee. “I wondered if you were going to stay in there all day.”
His sensual smile sent shivers of heat washing through her, but she bit her lip, the resulting pain helping her to stick to her resolve.
His expression sobered as he studied her face. “I think we need to talk,” he said, motioning to the place next to him on the sofa.
Ignoring the invitation, she shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“But we—” he started, clearly confused by her tone of voice.
“Made a mistake,” she finished for him, struggling to keep her composure. “I told you I can’t do this.” Her voice almost broke, and she clenched her fists, determined to finish the thought. “No matter how good we are in bed, Simon, this just isn’t going to work.”
“Actually, I thought it worked pretty well,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting, even though his gaze remained concerned.
“I’m serious, Simon. We can’t do this again.”
“And what if that’s not what I want?” he asked, his expression turning obstinate.
“Well, maybe it isn’t about you.”
A flash of confusion laced with pain crossed his face, and she hated herself for causing it. But it was for the best. It wasn’t as if he loved her. And she needed to protect herself.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the door behind them opened with a bang.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, frowning as she looked first at Simon, then Jillian, and then back to Simon again, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but something’s come up. Hannah’s found evidence of a new threat. And Avery wants everyone in the war room posthaste.”
Tyler shrugged apologetically and then turned to go, and Jillian practically sprinted after her, but Simon managed to catch up with her at the door.
“Don’t believe for a minute that this discussion is over,” he whispered, his words sending a shiver coursing down Jillian’s spine. Her heart fluttered with hope even as her mind insisted that she keep her distance.
CHAPTER 17
Women were fucking impossible to figure out. Simon dropped into the chair next to Drake, wondering how in the hell he and his wife had ever managed to get together, let alone make a baby.
He understood that there were issues between the two of them—Ryan principally—but that didn’t change what had happened between them last night. And it sure as hell had been about a lot more than sex. He wasn’t certain what he wanted to do exactly, but pretend that it hadn’t happened wasn’t on the list.
He’d let her go once. Out of some sense of loyalty to Ryan. And he’d regretted it pretty much ever since. Then she’d chosen Ryan, and he’d accepted the fact. Even if it meant he’d had to stay away from her for fear that either she or Ryan would figure out how he felt.
And once Ryan had died, he’d accepted the fact that she’d no longer be a part of his life. That she’d never be able to forgive him for what happened to her husband. But based on her comments the other morning, she didn’t blame him. Which certainly didn’t excuse his actions in Somalia. But that wasn’t what was standing in their way. So what the hell was the problem? How was it that Ryan was still keeping them apart? There had to be logic there somewhere, but he’d be damned if he could see it.
Hell, maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off letting it go. Maybe she still loved Ryan too much to let anyone else in.
Jealousy reared its ugly head, but Simon shoved it aside. He’d yielded to Ryan in life. And he’d kept his distance. But last night—and the night before—he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He simply hadn’t had the strength to say no.
Even though he had no idea where they were headed. He damn sure wasn’t going to let Ryan stand between them again. For better or worse, if there was a chance w
ith her, he wanted to take it.
“Dude, you don’t look so hot,” Drake said, with a frown.
“I’m fine,” Simon bit out, the edge in his voice belying the words.
“I can tell.” Drake nodded, his expression growing speculative. “This wouldn’t have to do with a certain blonde, would it?” He nodded across the room at J.J.
“Yeah, maybe,” Simon groused. “I just don’t understand women.”
“Welcome to the club, bro,” Drake said, his grin commiserative. “I’m here to tell you it doesn’t get any easier.”
“Great. That makes it so much better.” Simon sighed, watching as J.J. sat between Nash and Tyler, the three of them in deep conversation about something.
“Hey,” Drake said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “for what it’s worth, I think she’s a keeper. Which makes all the frustration worthwhile. All you’ve got to do is hang in.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that’s an option. There’s a lot of shit in our past. And it may not be something we can get over, you know?” He’d said more than he meant to, but Drake was a good friend. And hell, it was nice not to feel like he was on his own.
“I do, actually. Madeline and I started out on opposite sides of the fence, and it took a lot of work to get us together. But it happened. And now, honest to God, I can’t imagine my life without her. So do what you’ve gotta do.”
“Easier said than done.” Simon sat back, trying not to stare at J.J.
“Okay, people,” Avery said, pulling everyone’s attention to the front of the room. “We’ve got a situation.”
Simon pushed all thoughts of her aside, the familiar prebattle rush of adrenaline surging in the wake of Avery’s words. They’d been right. This wasn’t over.
“I’ve found intel suggesting there may be an attack planned for Yankee Stadium,” Hannah said.
“Something to do with the game, I’m assuming?” Drake asked, leaning forward with interest.
“What game?” J.J. asked. “Isn’t it a little late for baseball?”
“For the normal season, yes,” Avery answered. “But this is the playoffs. American League Championship Series.”
“Yankees against the Rangers,” Drake added. “Although it should have been the Angels. Anyway, the series is tied at three and three which means this game will decide who wins the pennant.”
“The stadium will be filled to the rafters,” Tyler said.
“Something close to fifty thousand people,” Nash agreed. “It could be the perfect storm.”
“Except that there’ll be security out the wazoo,” Simon said. “Especially after what happened at the seaport.”
“That’s true,” Avery agreed. “And the mayor is already ordering more. But since we’ve taken the lead in handling the other attacks, he wants us on board as well. Figures since we’re already up to speed with everything, we’ll be in a better position to spot something off.”
“Well, there are certainly worse things than being assigned to attend a championship baseball game,” Harrison said, exchanging a high-five with Nash.
“When is the game?” Jillian asked, shrugging when both Nash and Drake looked at her in surprise.
“This evening,” Avery answered. “So as you can see, we’re working at a disadvantage timewise.”
“So, Hannah, how credible is your intel?” Simon asked, shooting a glance in Jillian’s direction, frustrated when she ducked his gaze again.
“About as good as it gets,” Hannah was saying. “I’ve got verification from the FBI, Homeland Security, and our people in Langley. And all sources are in agreement.”
“And the specifics?” Tyler asked.
“There’s where it gets a little vague,” Hannah said. “Unfortunately, we only pick up bits and pieces and then try to fit them into some kind of coherent message. We know that there’s been chatter concerning a third wave hitting the city.”
“The first being the hospital and the second the seaport, I take it.” J.J. was chewing her bottom lip, a habit Simon had always found sexy, but it also meant that she was trying to make sense of something.
“That’s what we’re figuring.” Hannah nodded. “And there’s the intel pointing to the possibility of an attack on the stadium. Which would fit the idea of a high-profile target. And then to top it off, we’ve got credible proof that Isaacs is in the state.”
“We found this photo of him,” Harrison said, putting a picture up on the monitor. “This was taken at the border crossing at Trout River coming from Canada into New York.” He hit a button, and the camera lens zeroed in on a man in a sedan being waved through the border crossing. Isaacs looked much the same as he had in the photos with Lester. “It’s a rural area, so the customs procedures tend to be more lax. We’re not sure why there isn’t a paper trail of the entry, but as you can see from the photo, it’s definitely Isaacs.”
“When was this?” Nash asked.
“Just over a week ago,” Hannah replied.
“Have you got anything else?” Jillian asked.
“We’ve got him going through a toll booth near Albany five days ago.” Harrison put another photo up on the screen, this one a lot more grainy than the first, but still clearly Isaacs.
“But after that we’ve got nothing.”
“What about tracking the car license?” Tyler asked, nodding at the sedan pictured on the monitor.
“Seemed like a good approach,” Hannah said, her tone rueful, “until the state police found it abandoned at a roadside rest stop. The place wasn’t manned, and the car was parked out of range of the security cameras at the bathrooms. So it was a dead end. I’ve got people searching the security footage at all the bridges and tunnels into the city, but it’s going to take time, and we’re not even sure what kind of car we’re looking for.”
“Well, given Isaacs’s relationship with Lester, and Lester’s ties to everything else that’s happened,” Harrison mused, “I think it’s safe to assume he’s here in the city somewhere.”
“Quite possibly finalizing plans for an attack on the stadium,” Tyler said. “So why doesn’t the mayor just cancel the game? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“For us, yes. But there’s a hell of a lot of money involved. And unless we can show the mayor definite proof that there’s going to be an attack, he’s willing to take the risk. The financial losses outweigh the potential downside.”
“Our politicians protecting their asses,” Drake said.
“Well, in this case, I think he’s making the right decision.” Avery shrugged. “We get threats like this to the city all the time. And most of them never amount to anything. If he called a stop to major activities every time there was a threat, the city would be constantly shut down.”
“Yeah, but this is different,” Simon said. “There have been two actual attacks over the past week. Not to mention all the shit we’ve been through.”
“Agreed. But I think the mayor believes that we’re on top of it. And that whatever was planned may have been aborted.”
“I wouldn’t want to bet my life on that,” Nash said. “But I get the point. Now it’s our job to make sure that the mayor isn’t wrong to put his faith in us.”
“Well, it’s not as if we won’t have backup,” Drake added. “Like you said, with all the recent activity, the FBI and Homeland Security will be there in force. Not to mention pretty much the entire NYPD. If that isn’t a deterrent, I don’t know what is.”
“So how are we going to handle this?” Tyler asked.
“Hannah and Harrison are going to stay here and keep digging to try to turn up something on Isaacs and his whereabouts. They’ll also monitor the chatter for any other possible suspects.” Avery leaned forward, hands braced on the table, the gold band he wore on his little finger catching the light. “Tyler, I want you and Nash to recheck the warehouse and the storage facility to make sure we didn’t miss anything that might give us a clue to what Isaacs and his people are planning.”
/> “Copy that,” Nash said, already pushing away from the table.
“Drake, you and I will head over to Lester’s gallery and take a last look there in the hopes that maybe there will be some sign of Isaacs. Simon, I want you to head for the stadium. The chief of security will be expecting you. And Jillian. You go with him. I know you’ll want to liaise with the team from Homeland Security. Then, when the rest of us are finished, we’ll head over and meet you both there.”
Simon nodded, already on his feet, striding across the room to catch up with J.J. as the others moved out of earshot. “You going to be all right with this?” he asked, not really certain he wanted to hear the answer.
“Of course,” she said, her gaze questioning.
“Well, after everything you said—” he started but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“I said I didn’t want to sleep with you, not that I didn’t want to work with you. I want to see this through. And there’s no one else I’d rather be paired with. It’s just that I want to keep it professional. Okay?”
It sure as fucking hell wasn’t. But now was definitely not the time to share the thought. There’d be time for talking later. Right now, they had a job to do. And, damn it all to hell, no one was going to mess with the Yankees on his watch.
CHAPTER 18
Okay, I’ve got a confession to make,” Jillian said, eyeing Simon over the top of her soft-drink cup. “I’ve never been to a baseball game before.”
“Seriously?” His surprise was almost priceless.
“Well, if you count Little League, then maybe. Otherwise, no.”
“That’s just un-American,” he said, then flinched, the perilous nature of the present situation giving new emphasis to the sentiment. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
She shrugged and laughed, grateful that despite the tensions of the morning, they’d settled into familiar banter once they’d reached the stadium. At the moment, they were standing at the entrance to section 420C just behind home plate. From this vantage point, they had a bird’s-eye view of the entire stadium.
