Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7)

by Jacki Delecki

  “Well, that was clear. And if your friend is innocent, why so much anger on his behalf?” She glared back.

  She had a glimmer of respect for Reeves. No one ever called her out except for her oldest brother, who was more like a father to her after her father’s death. Reeves wasn’t in the least intimidated by her CIA status. Of course not. He had Richard Dean as his ally.

  He shook his head. “ Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Not when terrorists are holding our country at ransom. And I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your sensibilities. But honestly, your feelings mean shit to me. I’m here to do my job.”

  “Well, that was clear.” Throwing her words back at her, he turned and stared out his window. “Once you ‘interview‘ Tex, you can go on your merry terrorist hunt back to DC.”

  “You don’t care that your game is being used against our country?”

  “Of course, I do. And I plan to stay and work with Tex and solve how they hacked our firewalls. The company that manages the game does some refreshing of the app. They don’t tinker with the source code. It was part of our agreement when we hired them. Have you looked into the employees at our management company?”

  She controlled her urge to tell him that she didn’t need help doing her job. “Yes. So far, everyone looks clear.”

  “If there is anyone who can break the ransomware, it will be Tex and me.”

  She wanted to rail against the man and call him out for his arrogant response, but how could she fault him? She and the CIA needed all the help they could get in solving this fast. And she’d be a fool to turn down his assistance, not to mention her boss’s directive. She’d be watching him closely. She wasn’t ready to give him a pass … yet. But it was getting more difficult to mistrust a man who wanted to protect his shy friend and save the US. And who made her dormant girly parts wake up and pay attention.

  They drove the rest of the way in uncomfortable silence. If she were a different sort of woman, she would try to smooth over the hostility bouncing between them. Women were supposedly peacemakers, but not in her family where it was every man and woman for themselves. The loser got stomped all over if they didn’t know how to fight back. She was well prepared for the CIA since she knew when to negotiate and when to do some stomping of her own.

  She had to find a connection with these two men and the use of their game. She didn’t believe the criminals picked a random game. If Reeves and Thompson were innocent, someone might have wanted revenge.

  “Was there anyone else who worked on the game … like a professor or other students?”

  She might not be glamorous like the women Reeves was used to, but she was good at her job. She was a damn good agent. And her gut was shouting to keep pushing these men. Tex and Reeves might not be behind the attack, but they were key to finding whoever was.

  “No. We developed the game together. It started as a joke, and we were pretty bored with our classes. And writing the game was way more fun and more of a challenge than any of the assignments our professors could come up with. One professor took an interest in our game, but he was interested in all our work since we ended up in his department.”

  The car climbed into the hills, up a twisting road with vineyards on each side. She had never been to this area of the country. She knew from the grocery store tabloids that movie stars had homes here, and now she understood why. The day was clear, the sky an azure blue with a few puffy clouds as if arranged in a Monet landscape painting. And the temperature was perfect, warm with no hint of DC’s unbearable humidity.

  The driver turned into an unmarked driveway. She strained to see over the seat to scout out their approach to the house. The dirt road weaved through trees and bushes as they continued to ascend. Her instincts flared. They were driving into an isolated area. Was this a trap set by Thompson or whoever was behind the attack? It would be easy with Thompson’s skill to use the address to lure them into an ambush. At this moment, she wished she had her Sig Sauer tucked into her skirt.

  As the car scaled the hilly incline, they finally came into a clearing with the house in view. Three police cars and an ambulance and van with a medical examiner surrounded the ranch-style mansion.

  She felt Reeves’s body tighten and his inhaled breath. “What the fuck?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” What an inane thing to say with the ME’s van parked front and center. She hated what was coming next for him. In ten seconds, she had made a lot of deductions, and none of them bode well for Theodore Thompson or his protective friend.

  Reeves was already opening his door before the driver had stopped.

  “Reeves, wait. They’re not going to allow you anywhere near … the crime scene.”

  He strode off, not heeding anything she said. How did she miss that he had a gun tucked into the back of his jeans? What the hell? He wasn’t armed when they were on the plane. He must have armed himself when they deplaned. And why was he expecting trouble?

  She sprinted after him in her high heels on the gravel. Damn her short legs. Damn her need to impress Richard Dean with her professionalism. With the thirty seconds head start, Reeves was already toe-to-toe with a police officer who didn’t look like any of the men who served under her father. The navy-blue short sleeves of his uniform showed his well-formed biceps and his tan skin. With non-regulation long, blond hair, he looked more like a surfer than a uniform who ate donuts as daily sustenance. His posture was relaxed and non-confrontational in the face of Reeves’s aggression. No need for a display of power or good ole boy swagger or pushing back by the surfer dude.

  “I need to get into the house. He’s my friend, damn it.”

  “Officer …” Darcy paused to read the policeman’s badge, “Green.” She flashed her CIA badge. “I’m Officer Darcy Wilson. I apologize for my colleague. This is the last known address of his friend and a suspect in our investigation. Can you tell us what happened?”

  Officer Green whistled. “CIA? Wasn’t expecting that. Does this mean the FBI is going to show up soon too? Should have known. This has professional hit written all over it.”

  “What the fuck? What happened to Tex? Is he dead?” Reeves’s voice cracked.

  “There is a thirty to forty-year-old white male with a GSW to his head. We haven’t identified the body yet.”

  “I can identify him. Let me in to see him.”

  “His face is pretty messed up. It looks as if he was tortured. And the place was tossed.”

  Reeves bristled, his muscles bunching and his eyes turning steely—all signs of male violence about to erupt.

  “Do you have a time of death yet?” Darcy asked.

  It was very convenient for someone to have Thompson out of the picture. Did Reeves alert someone to get rid of Thompson and the evidence before she arrived? She had to search Reeves’s computer. God, she could imagine what the director would do if she tried to get a warrant for Reeves’s computer.

  “No, I didn’t order a hit on him.” Reeves loomed over her, all his hostility now focused on her.

  His aggression hit her smack in the solar plexus. He was hurting, and she should know by now how men reacted when in pain.

  “Officer Green, can you give us a minute, please?” Grinding her teeth together, she smiled pleasantly at the local cop who took the hint and walked off to speak to another officer.

  She grabbed Reeves’s arm and pulled him to face her. “What the hell? Why would you say such a thing in front of the police? You’re making yourself look like a suspect.”

  “You still aren’t convinced that I’m not. What difference does it make if Officer Stud thinks so too?”

  “Because he’s an officer of the law. And despite his hot surfer vibe, he’s paying very close attention to you.” She squeezed her hands together instead of poking him in the chest. “You’re so smug because you have Dean behind you. And you have no idea what I’m thinking. It’s my job to investigate everyone.”

  “Go ahead. Waste your time fabricating theories
about me. But if you could get past your damn mistrustful attitude, we could work together. We’re in sync, XChoco. Surfer Dude isn’t the only one paying attention to you. Your tell is easy. You fold your lower lip under your top one, and you bring your hands together.”

  The breath deflated in her lungs like a flat tire. She had no comeback. All because of this one man who admitted to paying attention to her. Her usual orderly approach to a crime scene was deteriorating right before her eyes.

  “Look. It isn’t necessary for you to go in there. The police can run his prints.”

  “Are you kidding? He was my friend, and I’m going to find the fuckers who did this.”

  “Keep your voice down. First, implying you might have ordered the hit and then making threats in front of the police isn’t helping anything. And you’re going to explain to me why you’re armed. But not right now. You need to pull it together, or Officer Green isn’t going to believe you’re with the CIA.”

  “Don’t treat me like I can’t handle shit. Tex is my friend …” The strong muscles in his throat worked. “Was my friend.”

  “I get it. I really do. But there is nothing to be gained from seeing your friend. And you can never take back the image. You don’t want to remember him this way. Trust me. It will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

  Damn his perceptive gaze. He knew she was speaking from experience. She still woke up some nights with the newspaper images of her father, gunned down in the center of their small town.

  “You realize the longer we’re out here debating this, the local police could be taking Tex’s computer, his phone, gaming devices into custody—everything that may help us—or doing who the hell knows what.”

  “I have jurisdiction here. No one is confiscating anything without my permission. And don’t try to change the subject.”

  He lowered his voice. “I’m no damn ghoul. I don’t want to see Tex, but I might be able to detect anything that is off. I knew him.”

  Why was she trying to protect him? He was a grown man who could handle this in any way he chose.

  “Okay. But I swear if you go off or make any threatening comments, I’ll have Officer Green arrest you.”

  “You like making threats.” He invaded her space. “You want me in cuffs to have your nasty way? You need to work on your control issues.”

  She rolled her eyes. Spare her from arrogant men.

  Chapter Five

  Reeves would have nightmares for years to come. Tex’s face contorted into a barely recognizable bloody, bloated mess; his body in an unnatural position; a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. Rage and horror simmered close to the surface. He considered every uncivilized thing he’d inflict on the bastards.

  He didn’t tell Darcy he was leaving. She was fine on her own. Stud Green could give her a ride back to town. The Santa Barbara policeman could ride her every which way to Sunday. He didn’t give a damn. Fuck his fantasies that he had spun while she slept on the flight. All centered around her wanton and sexy mass of silky hair—his fingers entangled in all those red curls, making her cry out his name.

  Miss CIA found Tex guilty without even meeting him. Any warm feelings for her evaporated the moment Reeves heard her on the phone to the other CIA drones discussing how to get their team out to do the autopsy.

  He was finished with the CIA and Miss Darcy Wilson. He’d hack into the CIA if he needed any information that he couldn’t glean on his own. His skills might be cyber investigation, but he worked with the best. And his team would find who had tortured and murdered an introverted and innocent man.

  Darcy was right about one thing: Reeves could never go back. His worldview had been altered forever when Jordan, Sophie, and Danni had been kidnapped and when the Serbian mafia had come after his sister. Violence was sometimes the only answer.

  As he walked to the waiting car, Reeves’s phone rang.

  “Hey, asshole, not the time to talk. I’ll call you in an hour.” He clicked off. He didn’t care that Nick Jenkins was his future brother-in-law. He was headed to the beach for some time to regroup and think. After listening to the Pacific Ocean with the warm sun on his face and the sea breeze cooling his hot blood, he’d sort out his next move.

  Right as Nick called him again, he heard Darcy yelling at him, “Where the hell are you going?”

  Her anger was fuel for the fire. This was going to be exactly what he needed. And punctilious, pert Darcy Wilson had a bullseye right on her chest. And then he couldn’t look away as her heavy breasts jiggled while she ran in her high heels.

  He strode to her, wanting the showdown.

  “You bastard, you were going to leave.”

  “I’m sure Stud Green will take care of you.”

  “What are you implying?”

  He’d give it to her that Darcy was no pushover. She got right up close, not intimidated by the rage roaring off of him.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “You’re CIA. You have resources to make your way home.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend. It was awful for you to see him like that.”

  “Do you even care that you suspected a good man?” He couldn’t stop himself from being a total douche. “All you care about is getting your next promotion.”

  “Listen, buddy.” She poked her puny finger into his chest. “My job is to save lives … as many lives as possible. I get how angry you are that you couldn’t prevent Tex’s death. I am too. But do you think Tex would hold it against me for trying to find out who hacked your game and made him a possible suspect? Would he have wanted to stop the potential murder of CIA agents and their confidential informants? I think he’d be damn glad to talk with me if he’s the man you believe him to have been.”

  She had been clinical and detached while Reeves had trouble not losing his cookies as she and Green went over the details of Tex’s murder. “I heard you on the phone. Not caring about contacting his parents or his brother, only about his autopsy.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to be the one since you haven’t been in contact with Tex in years. And if a CIA officer called them, it would raise a lot of questions. And the family doesn’t need the added stress. The local police will contact his family, as it should be.”

  So maybe she wasn’t a completely insensitive automaton.

  She looked behind her and then lowered her voice. “If this is a professional hit, I don’t trust anyone but the CIA with Dex’s body. Organized crime has its finger in police departments. We might be able to find trace DNA connecting to the men who hurt him.”

  She was suspicious that the Santa Barbara police were involved? He was a jumble of feelings and not firing in his usual way. Or maybe he wasn’t paranoid enough.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t treat this …” He waved his hand toward the house. “I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Of course not. I would think something was wrong if you weren’t upset and royally pissed. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sorry.”

  She patted his arm. The heat of her skin next to his warmed the chill that had seeped into him from the blank stare in Tex’s eyes, forever imprinted on his brain.

  “Hey, don’t go there.” She hadn’t moved her hand, as if she knew she was helping him find his way back from the darkness, bringing him back to the present.

  He stared at her tiny, pale hand as she gently rubbed his arm. The sunlight captured glimmers of fire and gold hues in her hair.

  “I’ve been here. And although it’s hard to hear, if you didn’t have all the conflicting feelings tearing you up, there’d be something damn wrong with you. It’s because you’re a fine man that this hurts so badly.”

  He was lost for words, which rarely happened for him. “Does this mean I’m not a suspect any longer?” His joke fell flat.

  “No, you couldn’t possibly have killed Tex.”

  “Thanks for the confidence.”

  His phone beeped. He glanced at the screen, expecting it was Nick harassing him. He had a messag
e on his WhatsApp. He opened the app and read the encrypted one-line message. Look into Charlie’s death. Followed by a map of Texas.

  Reeves stared at his phone. Tex had sent him a message … except he was dead. Reeves had seen his motionless body, the hole in his forehead. Tex must have known there was a chance he would be killed and scheduled the message. Reeves reread the words. Charlie’s death was tied to Tex’s.

  Reeves handed Darcy his phone. “Read this.”

  “What the hell?” Darcy reread the message as he had done. “Can you find out when he set up the message? Could it have been on a delay?”

  “I might be able to get into Tex’s WhatsApp account, but it will be difficult. Tex will have set up a lot of firewalls, and he chose WhatsApp to communicate since their encryption is almost impossible to hack.”

  “We need to find out more. Could Charlie’s supposedly accidental death ten years ago be tied to Tex’s?” Darcy’s phone beeped. “I’ve got to take this. Don’t get any ideas of running off. You need to stay close.”

  “And if I don’t? You gonna use those handcuffs on me?” He invaded her space, moving close enough to see the sunlight reflecting on the amber hues in her eyes. “If you ask real nice, I might let you...”

  She rolled her eyes before striding off.

  He tracked her round hips swaying and the way she stiffened before she answered her phone.

  “Sir?”

  Not his usual style of foreplay, but he had a lot of reactions jamming him up, especially around Darcy Wilson. He couldn’t resist pushing this woman, a CIA officer who believed in the chain of command and liked order and control. They were direct opposites, but he couldn’t stop poking—anticipating her outrage, watching the flush across the delicate skin of her collarbone and her graceful neck. The need to bring that rise of color to her chest and face in a much more mutual and pleasurable way was becoming a persistent fantasy. Darcy wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge where the teasing was leading. Not yet. He was ready, had been since he walked into Richard’s office and then realized she was XChoco. He knew how he wanted to forget Lily. Forget the mess he was in with Tex. A short, passionate hook-up would make him feel again. And then she’d be gone. No strings, no regrets.