Deep Disclosure

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Deep Disclosure Page 17

by Dee Davis


  Tucker had been playing her. Everything he’d said—everything he’d done—it was all a lie.

  “I haven’t been able to connect him to Dryker,” Milo was saying, “but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection somewhere along the line. I’m sorry,” he said. And it took every bit of willpower she possessed to focus on his words. “I know you have feelings for him. I could tell from the way you reacted when I said he was telling the truth. But I was wrong. And you can’t let him sucker you, Alexis. No matter how much you want to believe he’s on your side, he isn’t.”

  She nodded as if Milo could see her, shudders racking her body, her hands shaking as she clasped them together in her lap.

  “Okay,” he said, releasing an audible breath, “so I’ve said my piece, and you can confirm it with the documents I’ve stored on the drive. Maybe the information I’ve included here will make more sense to you than it did to me. All that’s left now is for me to say again how sorry I am.” He swallowed, his regret clearly visible now. “You were my friend, and I abused that privilege. Hopefully, someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  The feed went blank, snow filling the screen. Alexis closed her eyes, her brain screaming to run, her heart wanting to stay, to wake up and find all of this a bad dream. She lifted a trembling hand and forced it to click on one of the files. A dossier appeared. Tucker Flynn. Facts and figures. Everything confirming Milo’s assertion that he was working for the CIA. Originally some kind of deep operative group. Division 5.

  There was a picture too. A photograph of Tucker in camouflage gear at some remote airfield, a jungle in the background. She flipped forward. There were other pictures. Same jungle. Only this time Tucker was gaunt and clearly wounded. Another man was helping him from a helicopter.

  She flipped back to the first picture and frowned, trying to figure out what it was that was teasing her brain. He was clearly healthier here, but something else was different. She toggled back to the other photo, narrowing her eyes as she searched the picture. And then it hit her. The gray streak in his hair was missing in the first photo. Whatever had happened in the jungle, it hadn’t been pretty.

  Her heart twisted for a moment, and then she remembered his lies. Closing the window with the picture, she read through the dossier. His affiliation now was with a group called A-Tac. Another shadow organization within the CIA.

  A government man, paid to do the country’s dirty work. Just like the people who killed her father. Whatever she thought she’d felt for this man, it was based on lies. His lies. The stories he’d told her were created to make her trust him. To believe in him. And she’d fallen for it so deeply that she’d slept with the enemy.

  Her father’s face flashed in her mind: “Trust no one.”

  George and Milo were dead. And someone out there wanted her dead too. And the only man she’d thought she could trust was a liar.

  “Alexis?” Tucker’s voice loomed out of the darkness, and she slammed the computer lid shut and crept toward the window, trying to stay low, using the back of the sofa for cover. The moon was shining brightly now, the clouds having dissipated with the hint of the coming dawn. Somewhere out in the bayou a crane called, the low whooping sound haunting as it floated across the water.

  “Alexis? Are you here?” Tucker strode into the room, his upper body glistening with sweat. She wondered if it had been a nightmare that had awakened him, cursing herself for caring. He turned slowly in a circle, his ice blue eyes probing the darkness. “Alexis?” he called again, his expression unreadable.

  She held her breath, her heart pounding so hard she was certain he would be able to hear it. But after what seemed an eternity he turned and left, his footsteps hollow as he climbed the stairs again.

  Sucking in air, she pushed herself off the floor, careful to stay in the shadows as she crossed the rest of the distance to the window. Two more minutes and she’d be free. She inched the sash upward, moving only a little at a time, fearful that any kind of noise would bring discovery. The wind whistled through the open window, the curtains billowing in the hot, humid breeze. She swallowed a curse and boosted herself up onto the sill.

  Then with a quick look back to be sure she wasn’t being followed, she jumped, hitting the ground hard but holding on to her footing. Her first instinct was to run. But she knew she couldn’t leave her backpack. It had money and identification. And she’d need both if she was going to disappear successfully. Fortunately, the bag was still in the car. She’d been so exhausted she hadn’t bothered to carry it inside.

  She slowed as she reached the corner of the cottage. The car was sitting out front. For the moment it was bathed in darkness, but there was a motion-sensitive light situated on the far corner of the house. If she walked across the drive to the car the light would be triggered and alert Tucker and Harrison that someone was outside.

  So instead of taking the direct route, she moved away from the house, heading for the cover of the trees, circling around until the car was between her and the house. She waited a moment, her heart still beating staccato, listening for any sign of life inside the cottage. But she could hear nothing except for the crane and the wind in the cypresses. Moving slowly, almost in a full crouch, she edged toward the car, stopping every few feet to reassess whether she was still alone.

  Finally, she reached the vehicle. Only a few inches separated her from the backpack now. But it meant opening the car door, which risked motion and noise, both her enemies. Slowly she pressed the door handle and, with equal care, pulled it open. Then, with trembling hands, she reached inside, her fingers closing around the backpack’s straps.

  “Alexis, what the hell are you doing?” Tucker’s voice rang out from behind her and she almost knocked her head against the door frame as she twirled around to face him. Lie, a voice inside her begged. Tell him anything. Just not the truth.

  She swallowed and lifted her gaze to meet his. “I forgot my backpack.” It was the truth, more or less.

  “Yes, I can see that,” he said, his eyes narrowed, voice flat. “What I don’t understand is why you decided to go after it by going through the window in the dark.”

  “I didn’t want to wake anyone,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t believe her. Hell, she didn’t even believe herself.

  “Now why don’t I believe that?” he asked.

  “Believe what you want.” She shrugged, pulling the backpack from the car.

  “Tell me the truth, Alexis. Why are you out here? Are you meeting someone?”

  The question was so ludicrous she wanted to laugh. And cry. “There’s no one to meet,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. “They’re all dead.”

  “So what? You decided to run?”

  Lie, the little voice said again. But words failed her, and instead she averted her gaze, trying to assess the distance from the car to the trees. She could lose him in the bayou.

  “Alexis, talk to me. You know you can trust me with anything.”

  Anger filled her with a fierceness that surprised her, spilling out in rushed words. “Trust you?” It was a question, but she already knew the answer. “After all the lies you’ve told? You’re not a friend of George’s. You didn’t even know him. You set me up, you bastard. You made me believe you cared for me. But it was all a game, wasn’t it? Using me as a means to an end. You’re no better than the people who killed my father. Or was it the CIA who killed him? Is that it, Tucker? Do you work for the men who murdered my family? Have you come to finish the job?”

  “Alexis, this isn’t the time or the place—” he started, taking a step toward her.

  “Stay away from me,” she warned, holding up the bag as if it could protect her. Why the hell hadn’t she listened to George and included a gun with her other stuff in the safe deposit box?

  “We can talk about this inside. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “And then turn me over to some higher-up who’ll hold me prisoner until I tell him everything I know?”
>
  His lips quirked upward at one corner. “I think you’ve been watching too many spy movies.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she whispered, inching farther away from him. “Milo died in my arms today. That wasn’t a movie. It was real, Tucker. My friend is dead.”

  “Your friend betrayed you.”

  “Yes. He did. And he also left me a flash drive asking me to forgive him. Along with files that prove you’re working with the CIA.” Her heart dropped as she realized she’d left the drive in the computer. But there was nothing she could do about it now. All she could do was figure out how to get away. She inched back a little more, but he closed the distance, stopping a few feet away from her, hands extended as if to placate her. She fought the desire to laugh, a bubble of hysteria rising in her throat.

  “I said I’d explain.”

  “Explain what? Why you always seem to be able to come up with a car or a house or money or guns or whatever the hell it is we happen to need? Or why Harrison has the skills to hack into almost any computer using nothing but a laptop? Or maybe why you decided it was a great idea to bed the mark?”

  “It wasn’t like that, and you know it,” he said, his eyes reflecting her anger.

  “It was exactly that. You’ve been using me in every possible way. What I don’t understand is what everyone is so convinced I have. But I’ll tell you right now that if I were to figure it out, you’d be the last man on earth I’d share it with.”

  “Alexis, whatever else has happened, you have to believe that I care about you.”

  “Right. And you have such a lovely way of showing it. Lying to my face about who you are, and using your imaginary past to sucker me into believing in you. And to think I thought that I was…” She stopped, the thought almost too much to bear and certainly more than she was going to share with him.

  “Come back inside and we’ll sort through all of this,” he said as he took another step toward her.

  “What? So you can lie to me some more? I don’t think so,” she said, moving backward again. “I’m done with you and your CIA. So unless you’re going to force me to stay, I’m out of here.”

  She took a step backward, dropping the backpack as he lunged forward. Then, moving on pure adrenaline, she bent to scoop a large rock from the ground, swinging her arm with all her might. The rock connected with the side of his head, and he groaned and fell to his knees. For one instant she considered going to help him, but self-preservation took over, and instead she dropped the rock and ran. Covering the distance to the cypresses in seconds, she sprinted into the undergrowth, the trees closing around her, their arching branches blocking the moonlight and clothing her in darkness.

  On and on she ran, heedless of the tree trunks and branches looming out of the shadows. They cut into her skin and clawed at her hair, but she pressed onward, determined to put as much distance between herself and Tucker as she could. And yet, still some part of her mind revolted, wanting to go back and make sure he was okay. To beg him to tell her that Milo had lied. That he was exactly who he’d told her he was. Someone like her. Someone living on the edge of existence. A shadow person.

  A soul mate.

  Tears ran down her face, leaving the taste of salt at the corners of her mouth, and still she ran until her lungs burned and her body ached. And then, finally, she came to a small clearing, a pool of water in the center shimmering in the moonlight. She knelt and stared down at her reflection, hating the woman she saw. Hating the fact that he’d made her feel as if she’d belonged. As if they were a team.

  It had all been a dream. A terrible lie.

  There’d been no connection. It had all been manufactured, a trick to gain her confidence. And she—Alexis slapped her hand against the water, her image shattering into ripples of moonlight—she had been a fool.

  CHAPTER 18

  There’s no sign of her anywhere in the vicinity,” Drake said as he walked into the cottage, Nash following on his heels. “We tracked her to the highway, and from there, there’s nothing.

  “Son of a bitch.” Tucker wasn’t sure if he was cursing their lack of success or Hannah’s probing fingers as she checked out the bump on his head.

  Once Tucker had come to, he’d made his way to the house and apprised Harrison of the situation, and they’d decided it was time for reinforcements. Hannah, Drake, and Nash had hopped the first plane. He and Harrison had done a cursory search but found nothing. And when his friends arrived, he’d grudgingly ceded the hunt to them when Hannah had insisted on examining his head.

  “We’re thinking she must have hitched a ride,” Nash was saying. “That would explain why the trail goes cold.”

  “Or maybe someone took her,” Hannah offered, still moving her fingers over Tucker’s temple, the swelling there beginning to throb.

  “It’s possible, but it seems unlikely that they could have already traced us here,” Harrison said. “We took precautions. And this place is practically in the middle of nowhere.”

  “But they’ve found her before when it was against the odds.” Drake shrugged, dropping down on the arm of the sofa.

  “When they had a way to trace her,” Tucker added, frustration making it hard to hold still. “But we got rid of the tracker, so I’m with Harrison. I don’t think they could have found her this quickly. Catching a ride seems like the more logical conclusion. But it doesn’t really matter, because either way we don’t have a clue where to start looking.” He leaned back as Hannah peeled off the back of a bandage and stuck it in place over the injury. “She could be anywhere.”

  “Well, in my opinion, you should be in bed.” Hannah stepped back to check her handiwork. “For all you know, you’ve got a concussion.”

  “Oh, come on, it was just a rock. I’ve got a cut and a bruise. Believe me, I’ll survive,” Tucker said, waving off further ministrations. “What we need to do is try and figure out where she might be. Even if they haven’t found her yet, you can bet they’re going to be trying.”

  “Actually, I think they’ve already made their first move,” Harrison said, looking up from his computer, where he’d been studying the files on Alexis’s disk. “I’ve been looking at this documentation, and there’s no way Milo Alozono got it on his own. He had to have had help.”

  “What you mean?” Drake asked, coming over to stand behind Harrison. “What kind of help?”

  “Someone with access to government files,” Harrison answered, tapping the computer screen. “Specifically, CIA. Look, everything in these files is highly protected information. To the point that there aren’t any paper trails out there that could have led him into uncovering this level of data. And even if there were, he still wouldn’t have been able to gain access.”

  “Couldn’t it be that Milo is just one hell of a hacker?” Hannah asked, moving to sit next to Nash on the sofa. “I mean, you always say there’s nothing you can’t access.”

  “Well, I’m a special case,” Harrison said with a smile. “But seriously, there are databases that are almost impossible to hack into. And the CIA’s division files are pretty damn impenetrable. I could probably hack it if I really had to, but only because I already have access to certain levels within the CIA hierarchy. And Milo wouldn’t have had that benefit.” He frowned as he turned from the computer to face them again.

  “So you’re saying it would have to be someone with top-level clearance,” Drake said, eyes narrowed as he considered the option. “But that wouldn’t be limited to the CIA, right? I mean, there are other people with that kind of access. The head of the NSA. Some of the brass at DOD. Homeland Security—hell, even the Oval Office.”

  Harrison nodded. “Of course, it could also be someone with the leverage to access someone with clearance.”

  “Okay, so we’re looking for a bigwig,” Tucker said, impatience rising. None of this was getting them any closer to finding Alexis. “Either one directly involved or one who is open to a blackmail or bribe. So how are we supposed to narrow it down?”

&nb
sp; “I say we start with the Omega Project,” Hannah said. “Everything we do know keeps pointing us back in that direction. Even if there isn’t any paperwork specific to the project, we should be able to access personnel files from DOD at the time. We can cross-check that against all government employees with the right security clearance. And see what—or who—pops.”

  “That could take days.” Tucker pushed out of the chair to pace in front of the window. “We don’t have that kind of time. We need to find Alexis now.”

  “I agree,” Nash said. “So we’ll come at the problem from two sides. Hannah and Harrison can gather the information and run the cross-check. And in the meantime we’ll try and figure out where Alexis might be heading.”

  “My best guess is that she’ll be heading home,” Tucker said, shooting a look at the pink-and-purple backpack sitting on the table next to Harrison. “Her money and identification are in the bag. Without either one, she’s not going to be able to get very far. And if they get to her before we do…”

  The street was quiet, the early morning hours leaving the neighborhood still shrouded in shadows. Alexis crouched in the shrubbery between her house and the neighbor’s, watching and waiting, wanting to be certain there was no one lying in wait. It had been a huge risk coming back here, but she didn’t have a choice. She’d dropped the backpack when she’d grabbed the rock and brained Tucker. She sucked in a breath, fighting her guilt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d only wanted to get away. But desperate times and all that.

  She regretted the loss of her keepsakes, but they were only things. And now more than ever before she realized the importance of putting the past behind her. The only thing standing in her way was getting in and out of her house without running into the men chasing her.

  She’d racked her brains for some other avenue to get money, but short of robbery, the house had presented the best option. George was a great believer in backup plans. That was why she’d kept money both in the safety deposit box and hidden beneath the window seat in the dining room. There was ID as well, prepared by Milo. Her “just in case,” he’d called it. A swell of anger and grief threatened to swamp her, but she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for regret.

 

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