by Dawn Ryder
“Clean slate…” she muttered as she took another turn around the house, noting her own footprints in the carpet that had been vacuumed before she arrived.
It was interesting to see how good Dare’s associates were. Everything she needed was there, and the empty space was left for her to build her new life.
Well, she had the funds for that as well and a job. Jenna pulled the little history page from her backpack and looked at the job title again.
Crime-lab specialist.
She was going to be testing evidence samples. It had been an option as a career choice back when she’d been in college, one that hadn’t snared her interest once she’d taken a tour of the Jet Propulsion Laboratories. Blasting things into space was fun. Testing evidence samples was going to be mundane. Important, yes. Boring, you betcha.
You mean life without Dare is mundane.
Well that wasn’t a newsflash.
And she was done crying over it.
Keep telling yourself that …
She snorted and opened the garage door so she could start unloading.
It looked like she was home.
And the damned tears stung her eyes anyway because she’d never felt so utterly alone in her life.
* * *
“Collect your team, I want you back on Kirkland’s tail. Remember, I want him on human trafficking. Don’t haul him in for the small stuff. He’s got too much money for those charges to hold him very long.”
Dare was accustomed to Kagan’s way of launching into business. His section leader did it to reduce the time the call was active and visible to tracking.
“Except Sinclair, I need her on another assignment,” Kagan continued.
The call ended. Dare dropped the phone in his pocket as Greer came into the room and leaned on the doorjamb.
“We’re back on Kirkland,” Dare informed his fellow agent.
Greer grinned. “Good. I didn’t want that bastard to get off the hook.”
“We’re going to need something more concrete to hold him,” Dare muttered. “Let’s hope he’s not smart enough to shut down so we can’t nail him.”
Dare sat down at the chair he’d been using at the table serving as his desk.
“You didn’t ask about her.”
Greer could always be counted on to have his back, which meant his fellow agent knew him well enough to gauge his reactions.
It also meant Greer knew how to read him.
Too well.
“No, I didn’t,” Dare confirmed.
Greer didn’t take the hint to leave well enough alone. “You’re stuck on her.”
“It will pass.” Dare concentrated on finding Zane.
“In your dreams, boy-o … I don’t have a choice when it comes to seeing Sorcha. So don’t expect me to turn a blind eye to what I see when you look at Jenna.”
Dare turned a hard look on his teammate, but Greer had already started back toward his computer.
Which left him alone with Jenna’s ghost.
It pissed him off how much she was on his mind.
“Did you make the fatal error, Servant?”
Dare jumped, the chair flying back as Vitus Hale asked the question. Greer was scrambling from the other room as Dare recognized the ex-SEAL and fellow Shadow Ops agent.
“Isn’t your wife going to give you a kid?” Dare asked as he shoved his gun back into his chest-harness holster. “Maybe you should lay off the jerk moves so you live to see it.”
Vitus only grinned. “Kagan should have told you he was sending me down since you’ll be short Sinclair.”
“Sorry, mate, but you’re just not what I’d call a fair exchange. Sinclair has better legs than you,” Greer muttered. “And Servant did make the fatal error.”
Dare sent Greer a look. The Scot only shrugged and moved off again. Dare picked up his chair and sat back down.
Vitus slowly chuckled. “Never give a shit about the package.”
That was the fatal error as far as Special Ops went. From Seal to Ranger to FBI. It was a rule learned early so it would be ingrained by the time operators became seasoned agents. Men in the field learned to become desensitized to their witnesses and rescue victims because it kept them from forming attachments.
“You don’t get to say shit about it,” Dare muttered. “Because you married your package.”
Dare knew Vitus was grinning behind him. It took a lot to not turn around, but he wasn’t having a conversation about Jenna.
No, she was too personal a topic and admitting it just ticked him off again because he was face-to-face with how obsessed he was with her.
Fatal mistake?
Yeah and yet he realized he wouldn’t trade knowing her for anything. So he’d deal with his lapse in judgment in his own way.
* * *
“Like the new job?”
Jenna put her car keys down on the washing machine as she came in to find Kagan in her house.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” she said.
His lips twitched. Jenna wouldn’t exactly call it a smile but there was a minute curvature.
“Thought I’d take you out for some target practice.” He swept her from head to toe. “Make you feel a little more in control of your situation.”
“I’m fine, but I’m in,” Jenna muttered. “As it happens, my social calendar is a little light this weekend.”
Kagan pointed at the floor just outside the laundry room she was standing in. A military green canvas duffle bag was sitting there.
“Gear up.”
* * *
Kagan was a man of few words.
That didn’t mean the man failed to communicate. Jenna caught the look he sent her and adjusted her grip on the gun.
Actually, rifle was more the word.
As in, fully automatic rifle.
Kagan had started with a hand gun and moved right along to military-grade weapons. Since he’d also brought her to a military base for their weekend adventure, no one even gave them a second glance.
Although compound was really more the word to use. There was a serious lack of buildings. Everything was covered in dirt and nets to make it harder to see from the sky. Men moved about in fatigues and Kagan had included her own set in the canvas gear bag he’d brought along.
Jenna clamped her jaw shut to keep her teeth from rattling and tried again.
“Better,” Kagan offered.
She looked up the field at the target she’d been using but couldn’t really tell if he was humoring her or not.
“Enough work,” Kagan announced. “It’s Saturday of a holiday weekend. Go have some fun.”
Jenna put the rifle down. “Thanks for the lesson.”
He nodded. “You’ll understand later why I brought you out here.”
There was a soft confidence in his voice.
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
Kagan offered her a half chuckle. “It’s a pisser, being in your shoes.”
Jenna kept pace with Kagan as they walked away from the firing line toward where a few vehicles were. She resisted the urge to answer him for a long moment because complaining was only going to make the wound sting.
“I only really care about Sam and Paul,” Jenna admitted. “Friends like those two don’t come along every day.”
“Cutting ties is hard,” Kagan said as he opened the driver side door of the Jeep he’d driven her out to the compound in. “Safer though.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Kagan was a man of few words. He drove back toward where they’d parked her truck. The little tract house was infinitely more welcoming after twenty-four hours out in the dirt. She went inside, grateful to be in a place she could call her own.
It was actually paid off.
A month ago, she’d been twenty-five years from being able to say she owned any piece of property free and clear.
You paid a high price for it though …
That was the truth. Sam’s and Paul’s faces floated throug
h her mind as she took a shower, washing her hair twice to make sure she got the dirt out of it. When she finished, it was almost three in the afternoon.
So what was Kagan about? Fine, she was being paranoid but a man like him didn’t strike her as the bleeding-heart guy who’d showed up because he was worried she was bored.
And gun training?
She didn’t even want to think too long on just why he was making sure she knew how to handle a firearm.
The little house suddenly wasn’t as safe as it’d felt when she got home. She strained to listen, realizing her senses were heightened.
Jenna wandered out of the master bathroom and froze. Sitting on her bed was a packet of papers that she knew for a fact wasn’t there when she’d arrived.
It sent a prickle across her skin.
Okay, and it made her feel strangely better because her suspicions were born of paranoia.
Which was strange too but she’d rather know she could keep up with Dare and his fellow agents instead of knowing she was busy being completely oblivious to what was happening to her.
Pathetic …
Yeah, that was the word for it. She reached for the papers, determined to do something other than dwell on Kagan and the fact that he represented her only familiar face. There was a sticky note on the front of the envelope.
“Have some fun…”
Inside there was a ticket to a concert, along with a hotel reservation.
Kirkland Grog.
She wasn’t a huge fan of the guy but his songs seemed to play everywhere so she knew the name. She flipped the ticket around in her fingers for a moment before dropping the towel she had wrapped around herself.
You’re not sitting home moping …
A little slice of pain went through her as she thought of Sam. It made her move faster, dressing, putting on a light dusting of makeup. None of it took very long. Her wardrobe choices were rather limited.
Another reason you’re going …
Maybe there would be some shopping wherever the hotel was. Jenna used the canvas bag to pack her overnight stuff and headed for her truck.
She was going to have fun.
And not think about Dare Servant.
And that … was … well … that.
Except she was going to keep her eyes open. Because the tingle on the back of her neck was a warning she’d be a fool to dismiss as an over-active imagination.
* * *
“There’s one thing about this Kirkland Rys,” Vitus Hale muttered as he studied a monitor. “He doesn’t seem to have inherited his father’s need to stay hidden.”
“A need that only became a necessity after Marc Grog was set to go to trial for leaking Military secrets to Conrad Mosston,” Zane offered from his own seat.
Dare nodded but didn’t take his eyes off the monitor in front of him. The truth was, a lot of an agent’s life was spent scouring video feed looking for evidence. Today, they were hacked into the security feed from the stadium where Kirkland was getting ready to perform.
“He’s on tour to cover his ass,” Dare growled.
“Agreed,” Vitus said. “But I don’t think he’s smart enough to keep his nose clean.”
“Let’s hope not,” Dare muttered. “We need to cut off the support he’s giving to Carl Davis before Carl gets elected. And shuts us down.”
“Nothing would make me happier than ruining Carl Davis’s day,” Vitus replied.
Dare suddenly stiffened. He blinked and leaned closer to the monitor. “Fuck me.”
His team knew him too well. Profanity wasn’t necessarily cause for concern, but his emotions were bleeding through. He tapped the screen and enlarged a woman sitting in one of the private boxes.
“Jenna Henson,” he muttered.
His team was clustered around his work station.
“Another coincidence?” Greer muttered. “That’s hard to swallow.”
“Impossible for me.” Dare pushed his chair back, unable to stay still. “She’s played us.”
Vitus held up a hand. “Circumstantial.”
Dare faced off with him. “That’s a five-thousand-dollar box seat. More if she’s got backstage passes for after the show.”
“Looks like cheese to me,” Vitus muttered. “Laid out in a trail. It’s too easy, too sloppy.”
Dare tightened his hold on his temper and tried to think. Vitus was someone he respected. The man was an experienced operator in the field, his gut instinct was something Dare respected.
“Or Kirkland thinks that since we were scuttled, he doesn’t have to watch his details. In any case, she shouldn’t be there.” Dare defended his position.
“Agreed,” Vitus responded. “Too many coincidences with the same name attached.”
Dare didn’t care for the way his gut was burning. It was one thing to be pissed, another to be sick over the fact that Jenna might just have been playing him from the start.
“She might have been a plant at the house,” Dare said. “Pull her two buddies in and see what they know.”
“And the girl?” Greer asked.
“I’m going in,” Dare told his team.
There were more than one pair of lowered eyebrows in response. Dare stood up to the scrutiny. “If we haul her in, we’ve got nothing without a confession. Kirkland thinks we’re scuttled. He isn’t the only one who can play the coincidence game.”
“Sure you’re the right man for the assignment?” Greer asked. “I think your objectivity is compromised.”
Dare bristled, his temper spiking.
The problem was, he was honest enough to admit he was pissed off by the idea of another agent playing up to Jenna.
He was jealous.
“I am the logical choice. Sending in another agent will triple the timeline,” Dare said. “We don’t have that sort of time.”
And he was going. But he realized his determination stemmed from the certainty of knowing he was going in to gather enough evidence against Jenna to put her in prison. As far as life lessons went, it was an epic one. Complete crash and burn with no survivors.
Well, he’d walk away from it. Because he was an agent. It was his life, because he’d chosen it.
So why the hell did he hate it so much today?
It wasn’t the first time a beautiful woman was on the wrong side of the law. It wasn’t even the first time he’d gone into an operation knowing it might entail some night maneuvers.
* * *
A box seat.
There was a private attendant to call with the press of a button and a tablet to show her menu options. She scrolled through the items, her eyebrows lifting when she encountered an “intimacy” package.
Condom and tiny tube of lube.
Jeez … the people at the top lived a vastly different life than she did.
Well, she was going to enjoy it. Kirkland might not be her favorite hip-hop man but the box seat was pretty neat.
Except you wish Dare was there to share it …
She felt heat teasing her cheeks and didn’t shy away from the memory of the way he’d kiss her neck.
There had been such an intensity about their encounters. It was a little life lesson because she’d clearly been settling for substandard sex.
Sure it wasn’t more than that?
Now she shied away from her thoughts.
No, she wasn’t sure, but she was very certain she was never going to see Dare Servant again.
And there were going to be no more pity parties.
She’d seized the day, lived in the moment, and wasn’t going to ruin it by sitting around. The light began to flicker, the band starting up. Jenna moved forward, hanging over the edge of the box and screaming out with the rest of the crowd. She let the rush of excitement from the people in the pit along the edge of the stage hit her.
After all, she was alive, and she had a very new appreciation of that state of being.
She wasn’t going to waste any of it.
* * *
Eric G
eyer liked his position.
Truth was, he’d never thought he’d rise above an adolescence full of stupid choices and dumb stunts. As it turned out, those marks were the ones that helped elevate him to his current position.
He owed Tyler Martin a lot.
Tyler had recruited him because of his fearless spirit. The willingness to snatch a prize, even when it wasn’t yours to take a shot at.
Brass balls.
That was what Tyler had called it.
And Tyler was dead. Eric didn’t spend too much time dwelling on his mentor’s demise. Taking chances meant facing the risks. Better to go out in a blaze of glory than die an old feeble man.
Tyler knew it better than anyone else. Eric wasn’t going to turn soft now. Especially when he was the man stepping into the vacancy Tyler Martin had left.
“Tell me personally when you get a fix on her.”
Federal agencies were wonderful little ego-filled things. In this case, Homeland Security didn’t think they needed to answer to anyone else. That made it so much easier for Eric to use them. They had the best face-recognition software on the planet and people who excelled in using it. From social media to traffic cameras, the millions of images captured around the country were being scanned in the interest of making it harder for terrorists to operate.
He was going to use it to snatch a prize. In this case, that reward would be a position next to the President of the United States.
Man, if his buddies could see him now.
Eric stopped outside the door of the office and grinned. If those ass-wipes could see him, at least the ones who were still alive anyway. His face was there, behind Carl Davis’s. Kirkland made sure Carl was everywhere.
It was a sweet place. One that came with all sorts of perks. Like having men at his command. Eric checked in with his subordinates before heading out to the private home where Carl was a guest.
Getting inside was a chore. There were triple layers of security and no one walked around the house, not even Carl’s personal man. Eric made it inside and enjoyed the exclusive look into a world very few knew about. The top floor of the house had rooms inside of rooms where any manner of tastes might be satisfied.
Dope? No problem.
Girls? There were sweet ones and others with pierced nipples.
