“That’s me.”
Dude snapped his credentials again and Lynx studied them. Why would Special Agent Kurt Boller of the Drug Enforcement Administration be at his door at the crack of dawn? Probably not a coincidence. He stepped back and waved the agent in. “Come in.”
“Thank you.”
Boller stepped through the doorway and surveyed from wall to wall. Boxes from Lynx’s move still sat in one corner. He’d managed to hang a few pictures, but that was the extent of his decorating on the drab white walls.
He waved Boller to the sofa. “Have a seat.”
Boller slumped on the edge of the cushion and glanced around. Nothing about his appearance telegraphed the command a federal agent, in Lynx’s mind anyway, should possess. Nope. This guy and his homeless man clothes looked like a three-year-old could take him. Then again, maybe that was what he wanted people to think.
Lynx took the chair across from him. “What can I do for you?”
“What’s your interest in Visionary Pharmaceuticals?”
Game on. Boller wanted to catch him off guard and maybe asking about Visionary did that, but he wouldn’t think too long or Boller would get suspicious. “Why?”
Boller sat straighter. “Obviously, I’ve looked into your background. I know you were a decorated army officer who went on to be an aide to the secretary of state. I know twelve months ago you did a stint in rehab for a prescription drug addiction and six months into your recovery left State for the private sector.”
“Information that is all readily available. Why are you here?”
Boller didn’t flinch. “What I don’t know about you is why you’re bumping up against one of my cases.”
One of his cases? In the words of a very wise man Lynx once knew, holy shit. Visionary was not only on the FBI’s radar, they were on the DEA’s.
“Visionary Pharmaceuticals is the subject of one of your investigations?”
Boller sighed.
Sighing? From a DEA agent. What the hell was happening in this world? Lynx sat back and contemplated the man across from him. He didn’t know squat about this guy. Typically he’d be on the phone with half a dozen people getting background. At this hour? Forget it.
“Mr. Lynx?”
“I’m trying to figure out how much I should tell you. No offense here, guy, but I don’t know shit about you.” He rose and walked to the breakfast bar where the phone sat. “What’s your office number?”
Boller smiled and rattled off a New York City number. The call went to an automated message at the New York field office.
“Extension?”
“Five four two four.”
Lynx pressed the buttons. Straight to voice mail. Kurt Boller’s voice mail and—yep—no doubt about it, that voice belonged to the guy sitting in his apartment.
A DEA case. Son of a bitch.
From the hallway, Lynx heard the bedroom door open. Boller’s head swung in the direction of the noise. “I’ve got company,” Lynx said. “Hang on.”
“I’m right here,” Jillian said.
Her gaze shot from Lynx to Boller then back again. Boller stood. For a second, he paused at the stitches and bruises marring her face. Yeah, she looked rough.
He inclined his head. “Ma’am.”
“Agent Boller, this is Jillian Murdoch.” Jillian grabbed hold of Lynx’s hand. “Agent Boller is DEA.” Her shoulders flew back. He turned back to Boller. “Excuse us one minute.”
He led Jillian back to the bedroom, closed the door and pulled her to the far side of the room in case the Special Agent decided to listen in. By the window, Lynx leaned forward, right up against Jillian’s ear. “I’ve made calls about Stennar and now I’ve got a DEA agent sitting in my living room asking why I’m bumping uglies with his case. I shook something loose. And notice he wasn’t surprised at the condition of your face. That should have been his first question.”
As he’d done, she put her lips right to his ear. “You think he knows about the break-in?”
“Yeah. My guess is he went to the P.D. and told them to back off. Feds have priority. They trump locals.”
“What should we do?”
“How comfortable are you telling him what’s happened to you?”
She eased away and her gaze darted back and forth. Panic.
“If you tell me no, that’s fine. I’ll get rid of him. But if my hunch is right, he knows anyway. Plus, he’s got something on Visionary and I’m damned interested if Stennar Pharm is involved in whatever he’s working on.”
“You trust him?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know, but if he screws us, I know enough people that can make his life hell.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He led her back to the living room. Lynx made Boller move to the chair while he and Jillian took the couch. “Agent Boller, we’re going to share information with you. We don’t know what it means. Could be nothing. We’ll leave that to you.”
Boller took a pocket notepad from his jacket and held it up. “Do you mind?”
Lynx turned to Jillian. “That’s fine,” she said. “Since this all started with me, I guess I’ll fill you in.”
It took fifteen minutes to sum up the various facts of what had gone on between Jillian and Stennar Pharm. When she finished, Boller continued to jot notes. He flipped the page and made more notes. “How do you know where the shipment came from?”
“We saw it—”
Lynx grabbed her hand and squeezed. Let’s not tell a government agent about the hacking. “You don’t want to know.”
Boller let out a breath. “Illegally obtained, I presume.”
Silence.
The agent shook his head. “Terrific. Moving on.” With his pen, he gestured to Lynx. “You’re using your contacts to see what they know about Baxtin and Stennar Pharm?”
“I figured if they were suspected of wrongdoing, someone at one of the government agencies had something on them.”
“Well, Mr. Lynx, you need to stop making calls. I have agents working undercover and you’re endangering their safety.”
“Obviously, not my intention.”
Boller sighed again. That sigh could have been a rusty saw working Lynx’s last nerve. He wanted to wrap his hands around this guy’s pencil neck and squeeze. This act of keeping people unsettled had to be Boller’s operating procedure. The guy was a freaking ace at it.
He jotted another note and dotted something with a flourish. Mr. Flamboyant as DEA agent. “Ms. Murdoch, have you seen any information regarding a company in Vanuatu?”
Vanuatu. Now they were getting somewhere. Gavin had mentioned Visionary being incorporated overseas and Stennar Pharm was under Visionary’s umbrella.
“I don’t even know where Vanuatu is.”
“It’s west of Fiji,” Lynx said. “I’m told the islands are gorgeous. They have active volcanoes. And liberal tax laws for companies who want to avoid taxes. Strict privacy laws too.” He turned to Boller. “Right?”
“Correct. The laws offer privacy to offshore companies incorporated there. The names of company owners and directors do not appear on the incorporation documents. None of that information becomes public knowledge. Even government agencies can’t get to it.”
Jillian held her hands out. “Perfect for companies with something to hide.”
“Yes.”
Lynx started mentally putting this puzzle together. Not only did the DEA not want him poking around about Stennar Pharm, they came to his door from halfway across the country to tell him so.
Could they have been the ones putting Taylor Security’s three-hundred-million-dollar contract in play to back him off? Maybe the whole story about Stennar Pharm being a contributor was bull?
No idea.
He sat back and stretched his legs. “Stennar is owned by a holding company in Vanuatu that the DEA is investigating.”
For a second, Boller said nothing. Not even a nod. Lynx waited.
Eventually, Boller flinched. “We’ve been watching a particular company in the U.K. for over a year. I’m not at liberty to give you details. Any cooperation or information you can provide regarding Stennar Pharm’s connection to overseas distributors would be appreciated.”
Jillian sat back and leaned into Lynx. He didn’t so much mind and dropped his arm over her shoulder to give her better access.
“Can you tell us why you’re investigating them?” she asked.
“He won’t tell us,” Lynx said. “Open case. He also won’t admit he told the local P.D. to stop investigating you getting the shit beat out of you in your own home because they’ll bring heat to his case.”
And—whoosh—Boller shot him one hot-ass glare. No words necessary. The ferocity of that stare told Lynx all he needed. Mission complete. Boller stood, pulled his wallet from his jeans and dug out a business card.
“If anything out of the ordinary comes up, please call me. My cell number is on the back.”
Jillian took the card. “Special Agent Boller, it’s all out of the ordinary to me.”
* * *
She threw her head into her hands while Jack showed Special Agent Wacky to the door. The guy looked like something out of a harebrained detective novel. Acted like it too.
Jack dropped onto the couch next to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “You okay?”
“I’m—” She held her hands out, then dropped them. “I don’t know. I took this job thinking it would be a great career move. Now I could be in the middle of a federal investigation. Not where I pictured I’d be.”
“Stennar Pharm might not—”
“Don’t even say it. Of course they’re involved. That shipment was documented in a hidden file for a reason. Someone put it there. And my face didn’t get like this because they’re not involved.”
Jack slouched into the sofa and stacked his hands on his belly. “How involved is Ted Ingrams in the day-to-day stuff?”
“Prior to my boss jumping off a roof, it didn’t seem like he was involved much. Why?”
“Just curious.”
She shook her head. “Please. You have a plan for everything. If you’re curious, there’s a plan behind it.”
He grinned at her and tweaked her nose. “You make me laugh.”
She rested her head back and stared at the ceiling. “What am I doing? I should just quit the job. No matter how bad I want to bring them down, it’s not worth all this.”
Jack hesitated. “You could.”
“Oh, no you don’t.”
“What?”
“You had that if-you-wanted-to-bail-on-saving-the-world tone. “You’re the superhero. Not me. All I want is a quiet life. The DEA should not have a part in that.”
“But they do.”
Again with the tone. She stood. “Screw you.”
He flipped his palms up. “It is what it is. You can quit, but what’s the point? They’ll have scared you off and you’ll be left wondering what’s going on. Then, a few years down the line, Stennar Pharm will get busted—maybe someone dies because the drugs expired or whatever—and you’ll think maybe you could have done something and you’ll feel guilty.”
This guy was good. Master strategist. She had his number, though. “I will not.”
“Yeah, you will. You’re the daughter of an alcoholic. You probably grew up in an environment of extremes. Your mother doted on you to balance the insanity created by your father. As a result, you craved the happiness that came with her approval. The more recognition you got, the harder you worked for it. Face it, you like being the hero as much as I do.”
How did he know these things?
She snorted and slapped her hands on her hips. “And now you think you know me?”
Jack didn’t move. Just sat there on the sofa with his hands resting on his belly like this was no big deal. Two people having a meaningless chat. Or did he know he was reaching inside her, carving up what was left of her emotional scraps and ripping them out?
“I do know you,” he said. “I may not be the son of an alcoholic, but I live and breathe for the approval of others. I understand its pull. It is—in fact—one of the drugs I shouldn’t have.” He turned to her. “And you reek of it.”
Her pulse banged against her neck and she ran her hand over it. Why would she sit here and let him analyze her? Let him remind her just how damaged she was? She’d done enough of that herself and didn’t need the damned superhero laying it out for her. She’d do what she’d done her entire life and sock it away. Just get her things from the bedroom and leave the therapy session behind. “I should go.”
“Now you’re running because I called you out.”
Halfway to the bedroom, she stopped and her mind drifted to the night before when they’d discussed her fears and her need to run from intimacy. She’d promised she’d try harder not to shut him out and already she wasn’t fulfilling her end of their truce.
But she wasn’t ready to be cornered like this. She turned back and their gazes connected. Say something. What could she say? I’m sorry.
She didn’t even know what she was sorry for. This man confused her and as much as she wanted to believe she would learn to be comfortable allowing him to see her vulnerabilities, she couldn’t have that.
He rose from the sofa and walked to her. “You’re mad because I understand you and that’s scary.”
Terrifying. She curled her fingers and her nails dug into her flesh. Admit it. When she opened her mouth, nothing came. The words wouldn’t break free of that part of her that held her secrets in its greedy grasp.
“It’s okay,” Jack said. “Don’t say anything. I get it. You think someone caring about you means you should care too. It’s an obligation and you don’t want to be obligated to anyone.”
That snapped it. He knows. A screaming ball of fury launched up her throat. Nowhere to go but out. “What do you want from me?”
He folded his arms. The epitome of calm as she unraveled. “I want you to be honest with me and admit you’d rather argue instead of thinking about caring. As angry as it makes me, I can’t blame you. Why would you want to care about anyone? Every other time you’ve invested yourself you got a shitload of disappointment.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been through a few thousand hours of therapy. I understand my issues.”
“I know you do. You’re just not willing to share them with me.”
Pressure built behind her eyes and she slammed them shut. Admit it. Her head spun and she pressed her fingertips into her thighs. Hold on. But the whirling continued and her stomach pitched and rolled and nausea took hold. She opened her eyes, stared at Jack’s baby face and kind eyes and wanted to slap him. Just belt him one for making her think about all the reasons she shouldn’t want to love him.
Loving him would break her.
The first time he screwed up, she’d be devastated and she wasn’t sure, after all the years of fighting her way back from heartache, if she’d recover. “You have enough problems, why take mine on?” She threw her hands up. “Oh, wait. I forgot I’m talking to the superhero. How silly of me.”
He unfolded his arms and dropped them to his sides. A few seconds in, he looked at her and his eyes had gone sharp. The look of disgust.
“That’s beneath you,” he said. “And you know it.”
The accusation stung. Fired right through her and settled in her chest. “I’m leaving.”
“Yep.”
She stormed back to the bedroom. Foolish man trying to get inside her head. He was so wrong. About everything. And even if he weren’
t, what business was it of his? She’d spent too many years figuring out that she couldn’t trust people. Why should she? Emotional attachments never did anyone a damned bit of good.
In her world, attachment meant pain.
Every time.
She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door. The hero was back on the couch with his arms stretched across the cushions. Bastard.
She got to the door, grabbed the handle and gave it a yank. Locked. Dammit. So much for her grand exit. Slowly, she flipped the lock and gripped the handle again. Something held her there, kept her frozen in place before she walked out on a man who’d summed up her life in four sentences.
Four sentences.
She rested her head against the door, rolling it back and forth so the cool surface of the door would penetrate.
“You okay?” he asked from somewhere behind her.
Still with her head against the door, she choked out a laugh. “It’s taken me twelve years of therapy to figure out what you said in four sentences.”
He touched her shoulder and she jumped. He held his hands away. “Maybe I figured out a small piece. The piece that keeps you running from people, but that’s not all there is. Not nearly. When things break down, though, that’s all you let yourself see.”
She turned from the door. “You see it.”
“Because I understand it. Maybe my situation is different, but I know what it feels like to want approval. That’s why I see it. For us, we want all or nothing. And then we’re disappointed when our expectations are not met.”
“I don’t like you analyzing me. I’m not comfortable with that.”
“Okay. I won’t analyze you. But you have to stop waiting for me to mess up. Eventually, in some way, it’ll happen. People who care about each other are sometimes disappointed. That’s life. It doesn’t have to be a deal breaker.”
He was right. She always looked for the escape hatch. She’d just never been accused of it. She leaned against the door, hoping for something intelligent to say. Nothing.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
Thank you.
She glanced up at the ceiling and focused on a tiny crack above her head. Settling. Common in structures when the foundation shifts and adjusts to its environment.
Opposing Forces Page 20
