Ritt

by Anne L. Parks

  Did he want more from this relationship? Did she?

  She dried off and put on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She brushed out her hair and looked at her reflection in the mirror. No one had ever called her a raving beauty. She had been picked on as a child for red hair and freckles. The freckles had faded as she aged, and her hair had darkened a touch. Her eyes were what drew attention. Emerald green that shifted from light and bright to dark and stormy depending on her moods. She brushed out her hair, and wondered if she had any lip gloss. Cursing at herself, she ran chapstick over her lips, and shook her head. She’d never preened for a man—she wasn’t about to start now. Lance either liked her as she was, or he could move on.

  The idea of being more than casual fuck buddies with Lance snuck up on her and bit her in the ass. Hard. What was she expecting from him? A declaration of love? That wasn’t going to happen. From either of them. But she couldn’t deny she wanted to consider the possibility of falling in love with him.

  Good Christ. What the hell was wrong with her? Had Lance fucked her so hard he’d scrambled her brains and opened some locked box of emotions? One minute she was dead set against love and relationships. The next, she was ready to pick out china and settle down.

  Time was not on her side. And, at that moment, she had more pressing matters than whether or not Lance wanted to fuck her or make love to her. Someone was setting her up to look like a traitor, and she wasn’t going to go down for giving secrets to the enemy. Ripper’s death was on her—she accepted that and would forever mourn the man. But there was someone else—one of their own—that had sold out their country.

  And she wanted to know who and why.

  Part of Lance’s purchases the day before had been pita, hummus, and some other Jordanian staples. She set them out on the counter and grabbed a couple of small plates. Her phone lit up with a text from Lance.

  On my way. Tell your guards to let me in.

  She texted back.

  Come into the garage. Not safe to park on the street.

  Last year, just after she had arrived, an agent parked on the street outside another agent’s home. When he came out and started his car, it exploded, and the fireball could be seen all over Amman. The man was reduced to pieces so small, there was nothing to send back to his family to bury. ISIS took responsibility for the death, and a memo was sent out not to park on the streets.

  The door from the garage opened and closed again, and footsteps sounded on the stairs. Lance came around the corner, phone to his ear.

  Tex, he mouthed to her. “Hey, I’m at Riley’s. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” He pressed the button, turned up the volume, and set it on the table. “Go ahead, man. What did you find out?”

  “To begin with, it doesn’t look as if there was a hack.

  “So, we can confirm it was an inside job,” Lance said.

  A ball of fire sat in the center of Riley’s chest. Someone she may have known—trusted—was giving the enemy information that killed a great man. She wanted to find whoever it was, and get revenge for Ripper’s death.

  “I was able to find an IP to IP data transfer. I’ll send you the MAC address.”

  “What do we do with it?” Riley asked, wishing she had gotten a degree in computer science so she understood the significance. “Will it help us find who leaked intel?”

  “I suggest you put in a trouble ticket for that address. Whoever the computer belongs to is your leaker.”

  “Seems so simple,” Riley said.

  “Well, the hard part was going through all the logs to find a needle in a haystack. But, I have a feeling, once your find whoever this is, it will just be the start of the fun.”

  “Discovering one cockroach usually uncovers more of them. I just hope we don’t find out there’s an infestation within the CIA.”

  The idea made Riley sick to her stomach.

  “Thanks for your help, Tex,” Lance said. “When I get stateside again, I’ll visit bearing gifts.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Tex said.

  “Before you go,” Riley said before they disconnected. “Do you know where the other IP address originated from?”

  “The lovely country of Georgia, where Russians are aplenty these days.”

  Chapter 12

  Riley and Lance picked up Mick and Lucas on their way to the Embassy. The four of them made their way to the IT department without bringing attention to themselves. The day was coming to an end, and most people were getting ready to leave for the day. The IT department was manned 24/7, but the computer they were searching for may have already left the building. If that was the case, they would have to wait until the following day.

  The idea of waiting made Riley nervous. What other information was this person providing to the enemy. Clearly they were part of the RRA, not ISIS, and were back-dooring the information to a third party who would then mete out the information to the appropriate enemy states. One night may not seem a long time to wait, but the amount of intel that could be passed in the span of hours could be the difference between life and death.

  A young woman with brown hair and glasses was staring at her computer screen. Riley and Lance waited for her to notice them standing there, but whatever she was looking at completely engrossed her. Riley cleared her throat.

  “Oh,” the girl said, startled. “I didn’t see you.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and Riley thought she and Andrew would make the perfect couple: computer nerds with the same nervous tic.

  “No worries. I need to submit a trouble ticket,” Riley said. “We have a bad NIC card. Do you think you can help?”

  “I can sure try,” she said with a smile. “What information do you have?”

  “Unfortunately, all they gave me was this MAC address.” She handed the woman a slip of paper with the address Tex had provided.

  “Oh, a mystery. I love mysteries.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard at lightning speed. “Once we figure out whose computer it is, we can fix the problem.”

  “We’ll leave you to it, then,” said Lance suddenly, grasping Riley’s elbow and turning her towards the door. “I need to speak with you in private.”

  Lance walked across the hallway to an empty meeting room. He motioned for Lucas and Mick, who were leaning up against the walls outside the IT department, to follow them. Once inside, he closed the door behind them.

  “What is it?” Riley asked. What the hell could be more important than finding out who was behind the leak?

  “She’s going to get suspicious if we stand over her. For now, we wait and watch. When she gets up to leave, we can follow her.”

  They all four sat in silence. Riley stared at the open doorway, waiting for any movement, until her eyes blurred. She blinked them a few times, and glanced around the table at the three men.

  “You guys are heading back stateside?” she asked Lucas and Mick.

  Mick nodded. “Yep, can’t wait to see my wife. We just found out she’s pregnant with our first child.”

  “Congratulations,” Riley said. She meant it. Kids were great. She would never have any, but she was always happy when others were excited by the prospect of being parents.

  “What about you, Lucas?”

  “Married. No kids.” Sadness filled his eyes, but Riley didn’t push it farther. If he didn’t want to tell her about his personal life, that was his choice. But whatever was behind the sadness, it had a profound effect on him. It made Riley’s heart ache for the man.

  Security guards walked passed the windows and stood outside the IT office. The IT specialist walked out and motioned for the men to follow her. Lance kept a safe distance behind so as not to alert the security guards. They turned down the hallway that led to Riley’s team. She glanced at Lance. His face tightened.

  Is he second-guessing himself? Wondering if I’m actually guilty?

  What would happen if they went into her office? She doubted Lance would believe she was set up. She doubted anyone would
. She would be on her own to find who had passed the intel—which would’ve been impossible.

  The IT specialist weaved through the workroom to the farthest corner. Riley halted. Breathing hitched. A sinking feeling doused her like cold water.

  Andrew Kelly’s desk.

  “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

  The guy had been her go-to for all things tech. Anger roared through her. He’d been right under her nose, leaking intel, and she had no fucking clue.

  Several rounds from high powered rifles erupted from outside the building. Lance moved quickly to the windows. Mick and Lucas on his heels.

  “We have a situation. Looks like the compound is under attack,” Lance said. He pointed at Riley. “Stay here and initiate lockdown.”

  Before she could say anything, Lance, Mick, and Lucas headed to the elevators. She looked at the Abbott. “Initiate the protocol for an enemy breach. Don’t let any of our people leave.”

  She took off down the hall to catch up with Lance. No way was she going to watch him leave without her. If he was going into danger, so was she. She couldn’t stand the thought of him risking his life for her and the others, while she sat by doing nothing.

  Besides, she hadn’t told him how she felt about him. She barely knew herself, but she knew whatever was between them was strong. And worth exploring. He had to know so he would see how important it was to stay alive. To come back to her. To see what the future held for them. She didn’t know much, but she did know there was a chance they could have a future together.

  If they both made it out alive.

  * * *

  The elevators were already locked down. Lance, Mick, Lucas and the two security guards took the stairs down to the first floor. As Lance suspected, the barriers were up, and all the doors locked tight. Everything was on a timer. Nothing would unlock for an hour.

  The stairwell door opened. Both security guards pulled out their Glocks, and aimed at the person coming through. Red hair and green eyes slowly walked out.

  Lance darted over to her and grasped Riley’s arm. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs.”

  “You’re not my boss.”

  “You’re not going out there and getting your ass shot off.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And, yes, I am.”

  “Riley—” Lance could feel his blood actually boiling in his veins. God, this woman was exasperating. Why couldn’t she just listen to him and do what she was told. A voice from somewhere deep inside said, because that’s not the woman you fell in love with.

  “These assholes are probably the same ones who killed Ripper. I was helpless to do anything in Syria to stop them. There is no way I’m going to stand by and watch them kill more innocent people.”

  Lance stared into her beautiful green eyes, fierce, challenging him to dare and defy her. “Stay close and do as I say. I know you have CIA training, but mine is a bit more advanced. Got it?”

  She nodded, but the ball of fire that was blazing a trail from his chest to his gut was screaming to do whatever it took to make her stay. Keep her safe. They were going to clear her name, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference if she were dead.

  “We need to find the back door,” Mick said.

  Lance turned to the security guards. “I need weapons and a way out.”

  The guard glanced at Lance’s uniform. “You a SEAL?”

  Lance nodded.

  “No weapons in this building,” the guard said, “but I can show you were the exit is.”

  He took them to the basement and down a long hallway with a heavy gate at the end. Punching in a code, the gate opened. He pointed down the dark tunnel. “That will put you at the side between us and the admin building. Once you’re out, you can’t get back in. The doors lock, and there are no handles on the outside.” He handed Lance a flashlight. “Wish I could give you more, but that’s all I can manage without.”

  Lance would’ve liked to have a weapon, but understood that the man needed his weapon, too. There was no guarantee that terrorists hadn’t invaded this building, and they just didn’t know yet. The guard would be a sitting duck, and would be useless trying to save innocent people inside the CIA building without his gun.

  They made their way down the tunnel. Another stairwell led to a heavy metal door. No one could see them—advantage, but they also couldn’t see out. There was no way of knowing who was on the other side of the door.

  “Okay, as I see, we should assume Ambo is the target. When we get out, we assess what we can of the situation, but head straight for his quarters.” The US Ambassador’s office and residence were in the southeast corner of the compound. If the terrorists wanted to make a statement—that’s who they’d go after.

  It was fucking Benghazi all over again. Lance shook the thoughts from his head. Not this time. Not while he was there with two of the best Marine Raiders the Corps had. They would do whatever it took to keep Ambo safe—even if it meant losing their own lives in the battle. It was their duty. Their calling.

  “What are we doing about weapons?” Lucas asked.

  “There’s bound to be some dead bodies along the way. Pick up stray AR’s as you go.”

  Lance looked at Riley. She had her service Glock. He doubted he would have any better luck getting her to hand the gun over to him than he did convincing her to stay put. “Riley, I’m going to open this and take a look. If anyone shoots, shoot back.”

  She nodded and aimed her weapon toward the door. Lance edged it open enough to look out. People were running by in a large crowd. None had weapons. Civilians. It would be easy enough to blend in with them.

  They emerged and made their way to the center of the compound. The CIA building was locked up tight, as expected. The admin building had people streaming in through the doors. Security must have been breached before protocol initiated. This was not how things were supposed to happen. Didn’t these people drill for these situations? Lance knew it was easy to become complacent with security when there hadn’t been any real issues, but this was still the Middle East. And the rules only work if the protocols are followed. Every. Time.

  Riley gasped, and Lance turned to see what she was looking at.

  “Andrew.” The leaker was hustling into the admin building. He didn’t appear to have a weapon, but Lance was sure the nerdy computer geek had his service weapon holstered under his suit jacket. She bolted toward the admin building. Lance caught her arm, and held her back.

  “Let go, Lance,” she said through a clenched jaw.

  “No, we have to protect Ambo.”

  “I can’t just let him go. He’s the one who can clear my name.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Go do what you have to do. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  He knew as soon as he loosened his grip on her arm, she would take off whether he agreed or not. He couldn’t throw her over his shoulder and carry her with him to the Ambassador’s house. But everything in him wanted to hold tightly to her, and never let her go.

  He pulled her close and crushed his lips to hers. “Don’t die, Bray. I need you.”

  Her eyes glazed, and she opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. He kissed her again, not needing to hear the words, and pushed her away before he changed his mind and went all Neanderthal on her.

  She gave him a smile, turned, and headed into the admin building.

  And Lance’s chest deflated as his heart squeezed like a clamp had been placed on it.

  Please, God, let her make it through this.

  Chapter 13

  Riley nudged between people trying to seek sanctuary inside the admin building. Security was light here, the civilians preferring to trust the gates to keep bad guys out. The CIA didn’t have that problem, and she suspected the Ambo’s building would have better security, as well. Andrew was ahead of her, taking the steps of the large staircase to the second floor two at a time.

  The bastard was not going to get away from her. It pissed her off that he had sold
out his country right under her nose. He caused the death of one an honorable man and Riley was going to make sure this sonofabitch paid.

  She reached the second floor. The wide hallway was deserted. Andrew was trying doorknobs, but everything was locked. Apparently, workers had hunkered down in their offices. Some of the protocols were in place, at least. She took off running toward him, not sure what she was going to do when she caught up with him.

  Go with the flow, and figure it out when you get there.

  He turned and caught sight of her. She launched toward him, tackled him, and they tumbled to the floor. She was on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezed, and then rolled over. His fist landed on her right cheek. Pain burst across her face. White pricks hampered her vision.

  His fist cocked back. She rammed her knee into his groin. He froze, his hands instantly going to his crotch. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  She pushed him off and kicked him as hard as she could in the side. The toe of her shoe must’ve caught him in the chest because air expelled from his mouth in an audible whoosh.

  She kicked him again. His hand grasped her foot and twisted. Balance lost, she fell to the floor on her stomach. She clambered to her knees. Andrew lunged for her. Thrusting her foot back, the sole connected with his nose. The crunch of bone was music to her ears.

  She scrambled away and stood, finally able to draw her weapon. She aimed it at him as he stood. Blood flowed from his nose and he swiped at it with the back of his hand.

  “Why’d you do it, Andrew?” she asked. “Why would you sell out your own country?”

  “I didn’t sell out my country. I stole secrets for my country.” A sick grin played across his mouth, showcasing his blood streaked teeth. “It’s not my fault that your security measures didn’t catch that I was born in Russia. When I was adopted as a baby, my American parents were able to get a new birth certificate through what I can only guess were less-than-legal means. As far as your government was concerned, I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

  The lenses of his glasses were cracked. He tossed them aside, apparently not actually necessary for him to see. A prop. Of course, all in place to create the illusion of the stereotypical computer geek. Andrew had played his role perfectly. She never suspected, which probably said more about her than him. He found the in and exploited it.