Behind the Lies (A Montgomery Justice Novel)

by Perini, Robin

  He entered the communications center, booted everything up, and connected his cell to the relay program.

  A flurry of tones sounded after he entered in his access code. This should be interesting.

  “Where have you been?” Theresa shouted through the phone, more concerned than he’d ever heard her.

  Zach pulled the receiver away from his ear. “Lying low.”

  Not exactly the truth. The trip to the clinic and being scoped out by tourists wasn’t exactly covert.

  “They’ve cut you off,” she said tensely. “They discovered you were going through files you weren’t authorized to access, but I don’t know who ordered the block. You’re not helping me keep your job, Zach.”

  He leaned back in his chair. His father’s files. About nine months ago, Luke had told the family that their father hadn’t been forthright about his military service. Zach had wanted to know why. He’d needed to know. He’d thought he’d been careful.

  “I didn’t compromise national security, Theresa. And I already figured out someone cut me off. I tried to get into the system.”

  A sailor’s curse escaped her. “You need to come in. If you stay AWOL too long, I can’t protect you.”

  “I need a bit more than reassurance from the Company. Who got to those two pilots?”

  He allowed the words to settle between them.

  “I don’t know,” she said after a long silence. “I haven’t been able to discover who leaked your location in Turkey or who paid off the pilots, but I’ll keep pushing. It might go high up, Zach. I’m just not sure.”

  He didn’t like the doubt in her voice. A few clicks sounded on the phone. He recognized them. Someone was listening. And not on his end. “Don’t say anything else,” he muttered and cleared his throat, a signal between them from way back. “What would you think if you were me?”

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone,” she said, her voice understanding his hidden signal. “Not even me.”

  She tapped a few keys and a small hum sounded. “Clear,” she said.

  “I need information. Brad Walters. Who is he? I want deep background. ASAP.”

  Silence lingered over the phone, and with no comforting birdcalls or quaking aspens in the background, only busy office mumblings. She muttered under her breath, phrases with so many four-letter words it would’ve caused his mother to rinse out her mouth with soap. The click-click of typing sounded. Zach smiled. Finally he’d get what he needed.

  “What a white-bread guy,” Theresa mused. “Barely a blip. Which in itself is—”

  “Suspicious.” Zach shoved his hand through his hair. “Dig deeper. I need to know who this guy’s contacts are, what he does for a living, his bank balance, and what he likes for breakfast.”

  “You don’t ask for much. How long do I have?”

  Zach glanced at his watch. “Nine in the morning.” Even Theresa couldn’t cut through enough red tape to arrange for transportation, get from DC to Denver and then to his cabin that quickly—if they’d been able to follow his signal. He studied the communication center’s control panel. He still showed green…meaning he hadn’t been tracked yet.

  “What are you into, Zach? You’re not asking for information on who’s out to get you. This guy’s name comes from nowhere.” Her voice lowered. “Have you picked up another stray kitten? That could be as dangerous for your new pet as it was for Pendar.”

  Ouch. She knew just where to hurt him, and she’d done it on purpose. She’d been part of his evaluation team when he’d twisted Seth’s arm into getting Zach into the Company. She knew his buttons. He wouldn’t mention Jenna. He’d keep her invisible until he could get her out of his life. “I’m not taking the bait. Just run Brad Walters.”

  She sighed. “I can’t guarantee your safety. I don’t know who ordered the hit, but I can find out. Let’s meet. You give me the time or the place. I’ll be there.”

  “I have business to deal with before I put myself out in the open as bait. First, find out who Brad Walters is, and then we’ll talk.”

  The clicking of keys sounded through the line. With enough time, Theresa could uncover everything there was to know about Brad Walters.

  “You took a big risk calling me,” Theresa acknowledged. “Hope she’s worth it.”

  He didn’t say a word, just ended the call. Damn she was good.

  The smell of fresh coffee could wake a dead man. Even one dead tired. Zach didn’t open his eyes. He sensed the light through closed lids, knowing the early morning rays would have created a pattern on the quilt his mother gave him. The smell of dew permeated the room and the soft mattress made him not want to move. He hunched to drag the quilt over his head when the door creaked open. His hand slid under his pillow and palmed the 1911. He didn’t move, didn’t reveal he’d heard a thing.

  A small tennis shoe squeaked on the oak floors in a failed attempt to be quiet. Zach released his grip on the weapon. He rolled over and opened one eye, nearly bursting out laughing as Sam froze into place.

  He quirked a brow at the small intruder.

  “Mommy’s cooking breakfast,” the boy whispered loudly. “I’m s’posed to ask if you like pancakes, but I’m not s’posed to bother you.”

  “Pancakes are worth bothering me for,” Zach said, with a groan in appreciation. How long since he’d had a home-cooked meal? Since he’d gone home. At his brother’s wedding almost a year ago, maybe. “Tell your mom I’ll be right there.”

  Sam ran from the room. Zach sat at the edge of the bed and tugged on jeans and a black T-shirt. He rubbed his hands through his hair and yawned. Morning had come too early. He’d searched all the databases he could hack into without using his clearance. The phone call had been risky enough. Brad Walters was too much of a mystery. Assassin, computer salesman. Both? He needed details.

  With his eyes half closed, he tugged open the nightstand’s drawer, drew out another of his spare phones, and dialed the classified number. The tones repeated in his ear, each series clawing his nerves like a cricket stuck in the walls.

  A message came on. “Zach, I have to leave the country. I didn’t finish…” She paused. “…your request. I will. Be careful.”

  “Damn it.” Zach didn’t have time to wait for information about Brad. Jenna and Sam could wind up in the crossfire between him and whoever wanted him dead. By afternoon he needed Jenna and Sam to be gone, and he’d follow their lead—in the opposite direction.

  Depressed, he padded barefoot into the kitchen, assaulted by the heavenly scent of bacon along with the dark roasted coffee he kept in the freezer. “Java and bacon. I may have to marry you,” he said, breathing in the scents, letting them tickle his palate and revive his mind.

  “My mommy belongs to Daddy and me,” Sam said, his voice sharp. “You can’t have her.”

  Zach’s eyelids snapped open. The boy crossed his arms and stood in front of his mother, legs apart, mutinous as a five-year-old warrior.

  “I know, buddy,” Zach said. “But she sure can…cook. I just wished I could have someone cook for me like that all the time.”

  Jenna glanced at him over her shoulder. Her face flushed and she placed a plate on the table. “Eat up, Sam. We have to wash your clothes from yesterday.”

  Zach poured a cup of coffee and wrapped his hands around the hot mug. One taste and he moaned, the smooth flavor bathing his mouth in ecstasy. “What did you do to my coffee maker? It never creates ambrosia like this.”

  He lifted his gaze to Jenna and the blush crept all the way to her ears. He shoved back a rough oak chair and sank behind the table, taking another sip of heaven. “I don’t want to, but we need to go to town later. For a change of clothes and whatever you need for your trip.”

  Jenna turned the bacon over in the skillet. “Is it safe?” Grease crackled as she pushed around the strips with a meat fork.

  “It won’t get safer, and I’m not ordering anything delivered here. You’re leaving today.”

  Sam struggled to pull out the c
hair next to Zach. He sat down and frowned. “But I like it here.”

  “So do I, buddy.” Zach ruffled Sam’s hair. “But sometimes—”

  “We gotta do what we don’t like.” Sam stuck out his lower lip. “I know.”

  “How about after breakfast we find you a movie while your mom and I do some grown-up stuff.”

  “Mommy does grown-up stuff with Daddy a lot. She lets me watch Dark Avenger when they hide in their room.”

  Jenna dropped the meat fork onto the plate where she’d doled out the bacon. Bacon catapulted off the plate. She raced to the sink and tugged a paper towel from its holder to clean up the mess.

  Zach jumped up and grabbed the precariously balanced skillet from her hand and set it in the sink. The hot pan sizzled when it hit the water. With a sidelong glance he studied Jenna’s mortified expression. His entire being urged him to comfort her, even as the images of Brad and Jenna curled together slithered through his brain like deadly serpents. As much as it turned his gut, he prayed Brad had taken her to bed and not used the privacy to create more of the faded bruises he’d seen on her arm.

  He shoved aside the jealousy he had no right to feel and pasted on a fake and shallow smile. “The movie’s in the player in the living room. Give me a half hour to shower and shave and we’ll meet downstairs.” He snagged three strips of bacon and bit down hard. “Man, that’s good.”

  “What are we going to do while Sam’s watching your movie?” she asked, her voice slow and cautious.

  He could smell the caution lacing her words; he abhorred the fear in her eyes. He’d like to castrate Brad Walters just for that. “I’m going to teach you a few ways to crack my balls—and anyone else’s.”

  Jenna hovered at the top of the stairs in trepidation. She glanced over her shoulder. Sam mimicked the Dark Avenger’s moves in front of the television, his little body twisting and kicking. His tongue stuck out in concentration. The familiar expression tugged at her heart. Focused, and without fear. When he tumbled onto his backside, he laughed, stood, and kept right on going. She could learn from her son.

  “Are you just going to stand there, or do you have the courage to venture into my lair?” Zach challenged, using a line from his movie.

  “I have the courage,” Jenna countered. “Do you have chocolate ice cream?”

  He laughed and looked up the stairs at her. “Not bad. You could be an actress.”

  At his words, she paused at the bottom of the oak steps. “I’ve learned to lie and keep secrets for the last year. I didn’t like it.”

  Zach’s smile faded away. “You’ll have to get used to it. Lies can be wearing, but they can also save your life.” The form-fitting black T-shirt hugged Zach’s torso. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. His muscles rippled. He had to spend hours a day working out.

  He crooked his finger at her from the doorway of a room with blinking lights and toys. He did have a superhero’s lair down here. She crossed the spongy mat he’d laid out on the floor.

  “How’s your head?” he asked, probing at the cut just beneath her hairline.

  Surprised that his touch didn’t hurt, she pressed against her wound. “I thought I’d have a headache, but I didn’t even need a pain pill this morning.”

  “Good,” Zach said with a prying gaze. “I don’t want to hold back.”

  She shifted in discomfort. As a distraction, she pointed to the desk, littered with electronics. “What is all this stuff?”

  “A few toys.”

  He pulled out a folder and slapped it down on the wood. “Before we start, are you certain you want to disappear, Jenna?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “The best option is for you to give me the proof that Brad Walters is an assassin. I’ll find an honest government official and Brad goes to prison for the rest of his life.”

  The words sounded good, something from a happy ending, but she knew better. “I tried that with Agent Fallon. I trusted him, but he lied to me. He’s acted really strange ever since they tied Brad to the Chameleon.”

  Zach stilled and faced Jenna. “Your husband is the Chameleon?” He shoved his hand into his hair.

  “That’s the same reaction Fallon had. That’s why he wanted me to stay with Brad until they had proof.”

  Zach kneaded the back of his neck. “Holy hell, Jenna. That guy’s on every agency’s wanted list from here to Istanbul. No one’s been able to catch him. They don’t even know how many people he’s killed. He’s that good. He has no regular modus operandi. The man is an encyclopedia in methods to murder.”

  “I know,” Jenna said, swallowing the churning her stomach. “And he’s killed one hundred and seventy-eight people in the last decade.”

  A long, low whistle escaped from Zach. “You have names, dates, the works?”

  She shook her head. “I have dates, initials, and dollars. A few travel receipts.”

  “And they didn’t run the bastard in.” Lines narrowed on Zach’s forehead. “Right. No FBI.” He faced Jenna, his expression troubled. “You were right not to trust them, Jenna.” His hand stroked her cheek. “If I had more time, I’d work this differently, but I don’t have a choice. Come here.” He reached for a small electronic gadget on the table. “You’ll need communication. Use prepaid phones. Switch them out once a month.” He turned the small device over in his hand. “Hook this to the power source when you’re making a call. It will jam any tracking.”

  Zach set down the phone attachment and picked up a small box. “This will turn your phone into secure Internet access without you ever having to sign up.”

  “That’s not possible,” she said.

  “Really?” He quirked a brow.

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “How’d you get all this? Brad loves his gadgets, and I’ve never seen anything like these,” Jenna said, turning over the items in her hands.

  “Being in high-tech movies gets me access to lots of gizmos,” Zach said, meeting her gaze with his own steady look.

  She recognized the unflinching, deceitful stare, and she hated it. She’d seen it too much after her father died, and now realized how often Brad had pulled it on her, but she’d been too in love to notice. No longer. She placed the items on the table. “You’re lying. Please, Zach. Don’t lie to me. If you can’t tell me, say so, but don’t lie.”

  He tilted his head and studied her. She met his look unblinking, her chin raised, determination vibrating through every cell.

  “You’ve got good instincts,” he said finally, not denying the accusation. “Trust them, no one else.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially not me.”

  Then what was she doing here, with him, alone in his basement?

  He took her hand and pulled her to the mat. “You only have to remember a few things. Pay cash for everything. Don’t fill out any forms requiring an address for at least a year. Lastly, know how to defend yourself and run.”

  “I can’t even rent an apartment without signing my name and allowing a credit check.”

  “You won’t have to. I’ve taken care of everything, Jenna. You’ll have a place to live, money, and food. But be guarded. Always.” He nodded toward the white packet on the table. “It’s all in that envelope. I’ll go through it later. For now, we work on self-defense. Have you taken any classes?”

  She shook her head. “I tried a year ago. Brad found out. He wasn’t happy.” She rubbed her arm. The bruises had taken days to heal that time. “I had a few practical lessons when I was fourteen, though. I can handle myself.”

  “Really?”

  Zach grabbed her by the waist and threw her down to the mat. He pressed his foot against her throat. “You’re dead.”

  Jenna swallowed and gripped his sneaker. She shoved him away. “I wasn’t ready.”

  “You have to always be ready. Get up.”

  She stood and backed away, her legs shaking.

  “Don’t show me fear. I don’t care if you’re scared out of y
our mind, don’t show it. Never show it.”

  Zach didn’t give her time to think. He lunged at her again, his hands moving to her throat. She stumbled back, lost her balance, and hit the ground. Even with the mat, the blow jarred her entire body. She slapped her hand on the vinyl. “Crap.”

  “You’re afraid of me.”

  She glared at him. “You’re bigger than I am.”

  He held out his hand and pulled her up. “Size matters. I won’t say it doesn’t, but you can use it against me. When I come after you this time, cover your head with both hands and duck. Then ram me with your head and shoulder. Use your entire body weight to knock me off balance.”

  Zach charged. Jenna ducked and pushed at him.

  He twisted and had her flat on her back in seconds, his forearm at her throat. “You’re dead because you held back.” He glowered at her. “Never, ever hold back, or you and Sam won’t survive.”

  She sank into the vinyl foam gasping for air. She gripped his arm and heaved at it. “Get off me,” she shouted.

  “That’s it. Be angry. Show me the woman who hot-wired and stole my favorite truck.”

  She bounced up and planted her feet. “Do it again.” Energy rushed into her muscles. Everything slowed down. This time when Zach pounced at her, she ducked and covered, then used all her strength to push him.

  He stumbled back, a big smile on his face. “That’s it. I’m off balance. So, what do you do now?”

  “Run.”

  “If he’s injured or if you have time, run like hell. What if he’s like me? I stumbled, but I can trip you.”

  He swept a leg under hers. She fell to the mat.

  She glared at him.

  “Remember this, Jenna. Whatever happens before you severely injure the guy doesn’t matter. Just like in a boxing match, the first ten rounds don’t matter if the guy who’s getting pummeled lands one lethal blow.” He leaned over her, his gaze intense and deadly. “If he’s hitting you, hurting you, punching you, and you can still fight, you have a chance. Don’t give up. That’s all that matters. One good blow to the eye, the groin, or the throat, you can take him out. That’s all you need. One good hit.”