Dangerous Secrets

by Sidney Bristol

  Despite Joe’s efforts to push for her return he’d run up against a brick wall with the Secretary of State’s office through two administrations. Everyone agreed that it was too risky to try and bring her home when she’d gotten herself into this mess.

  But it was perfectly acceptable to bomb the country and rattle swords?

  Joe stared out at the city of Seattle.

  He’d gone into politics because he didn’t trust anyone else to do the job right. His platform was one of honesty to the point that he’d hurt his ratings more than a few times by speaking his truth. Ethics were important to him. Without a strong, moral compass he couldn’t make the right decisions.

  Time and time again he’d failed his sister because the greater good had to win out.

  Over the last year he’d assumed Jules was dead. She wasn’t young. The people who’d captured her wouldn’t have her best interest at heart. He’d failed her.

  Except now a man who hadn’t even told Joe his name said he could get Jules back, but at the cost of ignoring the rules.

  The system had failed his sister. Could he keep doing the same thing to her?

  While Joe lived a comfortable life with his wife and kids, his sister was hanging on in one of the worst parts of the world. That she was still alive, after all this time, was no doubt a miracle.

  He couldn’t keep failing her.

  Joe flipped the photograph over. Scrawled in neat print was a phone number. Still no name.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

  The line rang. And rang.

  Was it too late? Should he have made the decision to act in the moment?

  “Hallo?” a man said.

  “I’m trying to get a hold of a friend of mine. He gave me this number?”

  “It’s nice to hear from you,” the mysterious voice said.

  “I was thinking about our conversation. Giving it some more thought. I’d like a friend I can count on. One I can trust.”

  Joe closed his eyes, a small part of him withering. This was for his sister.

  BEN PICKED A YOGURT out of Carson’s refrigerator. Three hours and his password breaker was still running. There was no sign of Carson, and judging from the lack of toiletries in the bathroom, she was gone. Which meant he was free to cool his heels here for now.

  Come Monday he’d be in hot water, which meant he needed access to his accounts today. He could fly out tomorrow and be set to retire. Returning funds to clients wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, but they’d rather have the money than be up a creek and in trouble with the FBI.

  He grabbed a spoon from the dishwasher and pealed the top of the yogurt off.

  In the year he’d worked with Carson he hadn’t learned much about her.

  She was professional. Detail oriented. They’d had a few close calls when she looked too closely at things, but overall he’d been pleased with her performance. He could do with another Carson in his life.

  Except he was getting out of this line of business.

  The laptop beeped across the room and the screen threw bright light up against the wall.

  Ben crossed the room and stared at a black and white stripe desktop.

  He was in.

  He sat on the sofa and pulled the laptop toward him.

  This was going to work.

  He plugged the web portal for the bank into a browser bar and hit enter. He then opened a new browser and typed in a web address he’d used when he was an employee. While his official login wouldn’t work, his backup should.

  The user name and password were branded into his mind. He tapped them out, hit enter and held his breath.

  A plain, gray screen with tabs and buttons popped up.

  Holy shit, it’d worked.

  Ben quickly plugged in the numbers for his personal accounts. Those would be the smallest numbers he dealt with. Transferring the funds was a mere handful of keystrokes.

  He had to do this fast if he was going to make a break with it all.

  The list of client accounts were jotted down on a piece of paper. It was the last thing he’d used his cell phone for before ditching it.

  He typed in the largest account currently under his name.

  The resulting account was grayed out.

  What the heck?

  He typed in the account using the generalized search, but the same account was untouchable.

  Shit.

  He tried anther account. And anther. His jabs on the keys grew harder and more frantic.

  Every one of his other accounts were inaccessible.

  Why hadn’t his back door code worked? Was it because his personal account predated the creation? Was it a personal versus business account problem? What was the deal?

  He tried each one last time before admitting defeat.

  Ben was screwed.

  At best, he could run with his savings to try and hide somewhere. How long would that work?

  Which was worse?

  Running from the FBI?

  Or running from his clients?

  The FBI would use him to get to his clients with no regard for Ben’s life. They’d take everything they could get.

  His clients on the other hand, they wouldn’t take kindly to having their money effectively stolen. They would blame Ben. Some might understand that this was the risk of doing business as they did, but the others? They wouldn’t understand.

  “Shit.”

  Ben closed the windows and wiped the browser history. He sat back on the sofa, reeling under the utter lack of direction. He stared at the desktop, the neat lines marching from side to side.

  A single file folder occupied the space. It was marked, Recordings.

  Recordings of what? Homemade sex tapes?

  He wished.

  Ben clicked the folder.

  A half dozen media files, each labeled with the name Walker and a date.

  They were all recent.

  He clicked one out of curiosity. Anything to take the weight off his shoulders.

  The speakers crackled.

  “Hello, Agent Walker,” Carson’s steady voice said.

  “What the fuck?” Ben muttered.

  “Have you considered our offer?” a man, the Agent Walker, asked.

  “It’s not much of an offer,” Carson replied.

  “We’re being awfully generous considering the charges.”

  It was Carson.

  The feds had nailed his ass because of her.

  They’d followed the money, and she’d caved.

  He had to run. Now. If the feds had this much on him, they wouldn’t rest until they’d taken everything Ben had built. His chances were better running than staying.

  CARSON GLANCED UP AND down the street, but nothing stuck out to her as strange. Would she even know what constituted as strange?

  The front door whisked open without her ringing the doorbell of the condo.

  “Who are you and what have you done with Carson?” Jessica stood on the tile floor still in her pajamas in all of her Monday morning glory.

  “Are you seriously skipping work again?” Carson sighed and slid into the condo past her friend.

  “I’m working from home now.”

  “Are you working, or working?” Carson glanced over her shoulder at Jessica.

  “Gah, mom. Ease up, will you?” Jessica gave her a playful shove up the stairs. “Coffee? Hungry? Where are you headed?”

  “Actually, I decided I’m doing half days this week.” Carson figured it would be easier to lie low if she wasn’t at her expected client meetings or the office.

  “To do what?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She swallowed down the mix of emotions. Ever since Ryan had led her into the bedroom last night, she’d been off balance.

  “Yeah?” Jessica sat on the sofa and gestured for Carson to join her.

  This conversation was either going to be a breeze or a nightmare. Jessica had much the same routine as Ryan. Lots of partying and lots of
boyfriends.

  Carson had debated not telling Jessica, to keep this fling with Ryan a secret, but she couldn’t. Jessica was possibly Carson’s only real friend.

  “Do you remember that guy a few weeks ago? Ryan the Marine?” Carson set her things down and perched on the edge of the sofa.

  “Uh, yeah.” Jessica chuckled and her eyes went wide.

  “Were you still into him?”

  “I wish. He’s not that kind of guy though.”

  “Well, I went out with him.” Carson braced herself for the fallout of that admission.

  Jessica stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open. “You—what?”

  “It just kind of happened. I’m sorry.”

  “You went out with him? The guy I hit on at a bar?” Jessica’s face scrunched up. “I don’t know what to say about that.”

  “It’s weird, I know.” Carson closed her eyes. “I can’t not tell you, because—that’s shitty. But I don’t know how you feel about it. I don’t want to hide this from you.”

  “You know he’s a player, right? He might not call you again. He could break your heart. That’s not the kind of guy who is going to go your speed, Car.” Jessica crossed her legs and twisted to fully face Carson. “He’s not my anything. Do I feel weird about this? Yes. I wish you’d have said something. I can totally hook you up with guys. Please, let me do that instead of messing with him.”

  “I wasn’t looking for anything. I’m not looking for anything. This just kind of...happened.”

  “Why can’t that just kind of happen with the right kind of guy?” Jessica laughed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest.

  “You aren’t mad at me?”

  “Shocked, yes. Mad, no. Did you sleep with him?”

  “I—uh...”

  “You did.” Jessica’s eyes went wide. “Any version of this conversation is going to be weird.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Carson slid down on the sofa, relief making her body go lax.

  “Yes, please.” Jessica chuckled. “Wait—how’d you two even hook up?”

  “I left my pen pouch at the bar. It must have come out or something.” Carson had rehearsed this line. Delivering it soured her momentary joy, but that was the nature of the game right now. “He was there. We talked.”

  “And then talking led do... Yeah, I don’t want to have this conversation. You and your planner shit. Of course that’s how you hook a guy.”

  Carson sighed and stared up at the ceiling. She’d come here for some clothes and things that had accumulated at Jessica’s house. The FBI hadn’t yet given her the all clear, and she didn’t have enough to wear for too many more days. Going to her place was possibly the most dangerous thing she could do right now.

  This was all supposed to be over, but she had the sinking feeling it wasn’t.

  How much longer could she keep this ruse going?

  Chapter 6

  Ryan knocked on his boss’ door.

  “You wanted to see me, Zain?” He’d almost made it to the elevator before the office manager called him back.

  “Yes. Sit.” Zain glanced up from his computer. His hair was longer and the stubble on his chin was more of a beard. “Today’s Tuesday, right?”

  “It has been all day, yeah. Working a little too much lately?” Ryan sank into the guest chair.

  “Trying to get ahead so I can go on this vacation.” Zain grimaced.

  “Wow, has hell frozen over?”

  “No.” Zain’s terse replies didn’t invite further questioning.

  If anyone deserved a vacation, it was Zain. He’d developed the Seattle branch of the company and fostered the growth of the teams, but it came with a heavy price. Zain worked twice as hard as any of them and he was still a newlywed. His wife was sweet and terribly understanding, but everyone had their limits. Hell, Ryan wanted out of here so he could go home and maybe surprise Carson.

  “I think I know what your answer will be, but I still need to run this by you.” Zain picked up a piece of paper and slid it across to him.

  Ryan took it and scanned the first paragraph of the email.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” He groaned and shoved it back. “Why would you show me this?”

  “Company policy. I don’t want to lose you, but if a client wants to extend one of you guys a job, I have to show it to you.” Zain shrugged.

  “That guy has no need for personal security. It’s just to make his dick look bigger. No. No, thank you.” Ryan shook his head.

  “I’ll have Merida word your reply and send it on your behalf.” Zain crumpled the paper.

  Ryan hadn’t heard of anyone who’d accepted a permanent position from a client yet, but it was bound to happen someday. They all knew their days as bodyguards and security were limited to their good years. There would come a day when a cushy, pointless job like that might appeal to Ryan, but not right now.

  “Get out of here.” Zain waved him away.

  “You need anything covered while you’re gone?” Ryan stood and stretched. He’d like nothing better than a quiet week off work right now, but Zain deserved it more.

  “No, it should be a quiet week. Nothing major is happening. No one is scheduled to go anywhere dangerous. I’m just going to cross some fingers and hope nothing happens while I’m gone.”

  “I hear you on that. Have a good evening.”

  Ryan left the office and pulled his phone out.

  Finally.

  He had a text from Carson.

  Will be back later. 7ish.

  Well damn. It wasn’t quite five yet. He wasn’t keen ongoing home just to be there.

  Maybe he’d swing by Trinity Hall for a bit. He’d skipped out on the guys all weekend without saying a word to anyone. He wasn’t exactly ready to tell them about Carson’s baby bun.

  He sank behind the wheel of his Mustang and stared out at the road.

  He was going to be a dad.

  That was still so strange to him. That word didn’t bring fond memories with it. It was twisted and a little bitter. But it could be good. He didn’t know. A lot would ride on what he chose to do.

  He mulled that thought over on his drive to Trinity Hall, the pub his usual group of friends haunted. He’d been more or less dragged along by two of his coworkers. The place was owned by the cousin of another guy who worked for Aegis, which made it a common hangout for a lot of guys with nothing better to do.

  Ryan parked the Mustang at a meter, fed it some coins then hit the bar. A few familiar faces were there.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” He slid onto a stool next to Ian Kelly, another Aegis Group guy who made up half of their Private Investigator division.

  “Fuck you.” Ian presented his middle finger to Ryan and grinned. “Nah, with Zain bein’ out for a week me and Travis are goin’ to be coverin’ for him, so we’re takin’ a bit of time off this week.”

  “Shit, I don’t want that job.”

  “Look who finally showed up.” An older woman with icy blonde hair and a brilliant smile stopped across from Ryan and braced her hands on the bar.

  “Hey, Aunt Liv.” He reached across the bar and gave her a hug. “How’s things?”

  “Oh, you know.” She poured him a beer and set it in front of him. “Hungry?”

  “Nah, I’ve got a date.”

  “A date? You mean you spent the whole weekend in bed with one girl?” Ian snorted. “Pity the girl.”

  “No. We watched movies and shit. What are you getting at?” Ryan picked up the beer and stared at the golden liquid. One wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  “It’s just not your style, man.”

  Why couldn’t Ryan have a girlfriend? Why was that so difficult to believe? Couldn’t he change? Or was Ryan supposed to stay in one lane for the rest of his life? What was wrong with him? Why did Carson deserve Ian’s pity?

  Ryan gulped down another drink as those questions rattled around inside of him.

  “Hey, Aunt Liv. Come over here. Y
ou’ve got to hear this.” Ian slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Someone’s got a girlfriend.”

  “Does he now?” Aunt Liv chuckled as she poured someone else a drink.

  That wasn’t the last time Ian called attention to Ryan’s new plight. Every time someone they knew came in Ian announced it once more and Ryan took another drink.

  What was it that Ian, and the others saw that he didn’t? What was Ryan’s problem? Was he broken?

  His phone buzzed, and he peered at the blurry screen.

  What had he gotten on the glass?

  He wiped at the screen but it wasn’t much better.

  What time was it?

  He glanced up at the big digital clock over the bar.

  7:20.

  Fuck.

  Where had the time gone?

  Ryan slid off the bar and onto his feet, but his legs weren’t all that steady. He peered at the mostly empty glass sitting on the coaster. How many times had Aunt Liv refilled that?

  He leaned on the bar and waited for Aunt Liv to glance his way and nod. The bar was past happy hour and into the evening crowd. It was always a busy, happening place, but tonight there seemed to be more people.

  Aunt Liv slid his tab across her bar as she passed.

  It took his eyes a moment to focus on the printed numbers.

  That wasn’t good.

  Ryan dug the last cash out of his wallet and left it with his tab. He didn’t bother to say goodnight to the others. What he needed was fresh air and to call Carson. She was probably sitting in the driveway wondering where he was.

  He slipped outside to the patio area and ambled to the very end as far from the speaker as he could get before sitting down.

  There was no way he could, or should, drive. On a normal night he’d either cut himself off until he was sober or someone would drive his sorry ass home. He’d never had anyone waiting on him before.

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees then tapped Carson’s contact and pressed the phone to his ear. This was exactly the thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do. If he couldn’t handle one beer, he couldn’t handle any.

  CARSON STARED AT THE number on her phone.

  That was Agent Walker.

  Was he calling to say this was over? She was free to go back to her life?