Well, hell. So much for more sex. Too bad. He’d been good. Really good.
Thirsty, she padded to her bedroom door. She’d only opened it a crack when she heard rustling in the living room and saw the glow of a light. A flashlight? Had the man she’d just slept with left the door unlocked so a burglar could just waltz right in? Or was it the jerk who’d just been inside her body searching her apartment?
Quietly, she stepped back into her bedroom and removed her gun from the nightstand. Avoiding the board that groaned, she’d crept down the hallway and watched Jonathan search her living room. She had no idea what he was looking for until he made himself comfortable at her breakfast bar and turned on her computer. Lit by the screen, the grin on his face told her what she needed to know.
While waiting for him that evening, she’d reviewed her notes taken from the teenagers’ conversations, trying to determine their target. What she had was only bits, like pieces of a puzzle that had fallen off the table. She needed to see the picture to determine if what she had was important.
Jonathan must have been a speed reader because he’d only seen her notes for a split second that night in the diner. She now had pages of information on the young men, a few names, but no target.
Why should he even care? He certainly didn’t care about her. He’d used her to get to her computer and the information he now perused as he leisurely sat in her favorite spot. That’s where she ate every meal, checked her email, and shopped online. He looked right at home wearing…what was he wearing? His chest was bare, the almost-invisible, light hair casting shadows onto his powerful pecs. Surely he had slipped into his boxer briefs, maybe even his slacks. Only his torso was visible above the granite island top.
Part of Gwen wanted to go over there and crawl into his lap to convince him to come back to bed. The sane part wanted to throw him out of her apartment, and her life. She released her grip on the gun in her hand, thus engaging the safety mechanisms. He wasn’t a burglar there to steal what little of value she had and then rape her. He’d already explored her body, and she’d been a very willing participant. At the moment, he seemed content to discover what she had on her computer.
She leaned against the wall as she carried on an internal war. Should she trust Jonathan to help her get the miniscule amount of information she had collected to the right authorities? Or throw his very fine ass out of her apartment and tell him to stay away from the diner because she never wanted to see him again?
But she did want to see Jonathan again. Their date had been wonderful, up until she’d caught him searching her place. She wanted him to return to her bed and repeat everything they’d done to each other…and more.
Could she trust the man sitting at her counter? He’d told her Guardian wasn’t in the special operations business for Uncle Sam. But, maybe, since he’d once been in Marine SpecOps, he knew who to tell about the terrorist cell she was now convinced existed within a few blocks of her apartment.
Jonathan half stood and dug into his pocket.
So, he’d put on pants. But had he planned on leaving or returning to her bed? And her?
Well, hell. She’d trusted him with her body, she could trust him with the information.
“There’s an empty slot in the back.” Gwen pushed off the wall and walked toward Jonathan.
He froze. “I was—”
“I know what you were doing.” She laid the gun down on the kitchen counter as she passed and strode to the island. “Go ahead. Copy my notes. Maybe you can make sense of them. I sure can’t.”
“Are you involved in—”
Jonathan thought she was tangled in this mess?
“Hell, no!” Furious now, she tried to explain. “There’s a group of refugee teenagers that come into the diner after school. Since they speak Arabic, and have no idea I know the language. They talk. A lot. Their families are involved in something big…like a local terrorist cell, which is planning something really big for next week.”
“Next week?” Jonathan probed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, unfortunately.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t know what they plan to do.”
“Who have you told about this?” His tone was accusatory.
“No one, yet.” She shrugged. “There’s not enough there to tell anyone of authority, and who’s going to believe me?”
“I believe you.” His words shocked her, but it’s what she’d hoped. “And there’s more here than you think. I’m sure Homeland Security has people in Dallas on the Watch List, but with all the new refugees, not to mention the local crazies, they can’t keep up.” He smiled at her, and she wanted to melt into him. “This is the kind of information they need.”
“Should I call them?” Then she thought about it a moment. “How do you get ahold of the terrorism division of Homeland Security? Is there such a thing? Isn’t that the whole purpose of that department?”
“Yes, but I can cut through the bureaucratic bullshit.” He held up the flash drive. “May I?”
She nodded. “You can? How? You told me Guardian wasn’t into black ops.”
He clicked a few keys then looked up at her. “No. What I said was that I didn’t know of any governmental contracts.” He grinned. “That takes place so far above my pay grade that I wouldn’t know about it. On the other hand, I work for a great guy, who knows the right people.”
“Quin?” She couldn’t imagine him being that well connected.
“No, our owner, Alex Wolf.” Jonathan ejected the flash drive and stared at her for what seemed like forever.
She raised her eyebrow, knowing there was more, and silently asked for the truth.
Sheepishly he admitted, “I already talked to Alex about this, right after I saw the notes on this computer that evening in the diner.”
Gwen was no fool. She read between the lines. Heat ignited behind her eyes. She would not cry, no matter how much it hurt. Determined to speak around the tightening fist that choked her throat, she asked anyway, fearing she already knew the answer.
“Is that why you asked me out tonight?” Damn it, her voice had broken. Now he knew how much their date had meant to her. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Yes, but—” He came around the edge of the island and she stepped back.
Grabbing her gun, she pointed it at him. “Get out.”
Chapter 9
“Good morning, Alex,” Jonathan greeted at nine the next day as he sat in Quin’s office, their boss on speaker phone.
“Morning, gentlemen.” Alex jumped right into it. “So, Jonathan, you believe this information to be reliable?”
“Yes, sir.” He trusted Gwen and wished like hell the night hadn’t ended the way it did. Things had been good up until she’d caught him.
He’d seriously considered getting the information then slipping back into bed, and Gwen. He liked her, and yes, it had been far too long since he’d had sex, but it seemed different with her. Better. That’s why he’d wanted her again, to determine if it had been his long dry spell, or the woman.
“According to your report, an unidentified Dallas target will be hit next week.” Alex didn’t give Jonathan time to respond before he asked, “Does your asset have any idea what, where, or how?”
“No, sir.” And this was exactly why Gwen had hesitated. Damn it, they needed details.
“All right,” Alex announced, “this is what we’re going to do. I’m calling USSOCOM with what little we have. You two are headed to a late breakfast and a conversation with Gwen Shaw. Find out when these kids are there and follow them. At least we can get some addresses that may ping Homeland’s data base. I’ll get Bret on events next week that will attract a lot of people and media.”
“Yes, sir,” Jonathan and Quin said at the same time.
“Stay in touch,” their boss ordered, then added, “Good work, Jonathan.”
“Thank you, sir.” But he didn’t feel good about what he’d done. In truth, he felt bad about using Gwen. He liked h
er, probably more than he should. And he’d betrayed her trust. Now she hated him. But the two of them weren’t done. He wondered if she’d pull a gun on him in the diner, or throw him out, refuse to serve him.
Twenty minutes later he found out, when they entered Up In Smoke. On the walk over, Jonathan had filled Quin in as to his late night adventure with Gwen.
“Harsh, man.” Quin smacked him on the shoulder as they approached the door. “Since you fucked up pretty bad, I’ll take the lead.”
It was between the two meals, so the diner was nearly empty. Quin led them to a table in the back, far from anyone else.
“What can I get you two today?” the peppy college-aged waitress asked.
“Coffee, please, and I’d like a western omelet.” Quin looked at Jonathan. That sounded damn good.
He smiled at the young woman. “I’ll have the same, please.” Then he looked at Gwen as she disappeared into the back. “Could you ask Gwen to come over?”
The girl’s smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
Quin jumped in. “Everything is perfect, darling, we just need to ask Gwen something.”
Relief returned the bright smile. “I’ll get this order in then go get her.” She all but trotted off.
Gwen brought over the coffee pot. Without any niceties, she said, “I take it you’re here to talk about my notes?” She poured three cups, glanced around, then sat down. “Well?”
She barely glanced at him and Jonathan knew if he ever wanted to have this woman again, he had a lot of work ahead of him. She was so beautiful with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, barely-there makeup, and an attitude of don’t-mess-with-me that swirled around her. She intrigued him, and he wanted to know her better. At the moment, he couldn’t manage to say hello.
Thank God Quin had his shit together. “Gwen, thank you for sharing this information with Jonathan.”
“Like I had a choice?” She sneered.
“I’m sor—” Jonathan interjected.
“So am I,” she snapped back. “More than you can believe.” She turned her shoulders to face Quin, showing Jonathan as much of her back as she could and still be seated between them. “Can you use any of what’s there?”
“I believe so, and so does Alex, our company’s owner.” Quin changed to interrogation mode. “What can you tell us about these boys? What do they look like?”
She brightened, and Jonathan’s world lit up. Remaining focused on Quin, she stood slightly and reached into her back pocket. Damn, her sweet ass in tight jeans was a foot away. They hadn’t gotten to that fantasy of his, and probably wouldn’t, given that she couldn’t bear to look him.
Extracting her phone, she announced, “I have pictures.”
“You do?” he blurted out. She hadn’t said anything about photographs, but they hadn’t actually discussed the situation last night.
Ignoring him again, Gwen pulled up several shots of the boys and handed her phone to Quin.
“I’m going to send these to my email,” Quin looked from the tiny screen to her, “if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “Anything to help.”
Quin nodded at Jonathan, passing the ball to him, then returned to the task of emailing each picture.
Here goes nothing, or everything. “How often do the boys come in?”
She either didn’t hear him or was ignoring his question completely.
He lightly laid his fingers on her shoulder and she flinched. Fuck. She was so repulsed by him, she couldn’t stand even the lightest of touches.
“Gwen.” He waited for her to look at him.
Moving only her head, she glared at him over her shoulder. “What?”
“How often do the boys come in?” he repeated.
“About two to three times a week.”
Good. He waited for her to continue but she turned back to watch Quin. Well, damn. This was going to be a hostile interrogation.
In a stern, slightly louder voice, he asked, “When were they here last?”
She obviously read him correctly and turned slightly this time. “What you really want to know is when do I expect them next.” Her lips were a tight thin line.
“Do you think they might come in tonight?” Jonathan asked as politely as his tense body would allow.
“Probably.” Her voice lost its sharp edge. “Unless they caught onto me.” Her shoulders fell. “They haven’t been here in a few days.”
“Excellent.” Quin handed her phone back. “What time do they come in? I’d like to have a few of my men around to follow them so we can get addresses. It would really help to know who we’re dealing with.”
“You can do that?” she asked.
Quin’s smile was reassuring. “Yes. They’ll never know they’re being followed.”
“Two Westerns,” the waitress stepped up to the empty side of the table and served. “More coffee?” she asked nodding to the nearly empty pot.
“Yes, please, Mandi,” Gwen instructed as the two men dug into what Jonathan considered the best food in all of Dallas.
When the girl was out of earshot, Gwen said. “After school, around three forty-five.” She sipped her coffee. “Do you want me to call you when they come in?”
“No.” Quin and Jonathan said in unison.
“We’ll take it from here,” Quin explained. “I’ll have my men positioned in the area so the kids will never know they’re being followed.”
Mandi dropped off a fresh pot and tended to Viola and Gladys who had parked their aging bodies in a booth up front.
“What if they don’t come in this afternoon? You’ll have wasted…I’m sure your men have better things to do than hang around—”
“We’ll consider it a training exercise.” Then Quin added, “Until the boys show up. You don’t think those kids are armed, do you?” All three knew that back in the Middle East, especially in areas deep in unrest, they probably had carried rifles and pistols, and knew how to use them.
“No, they talk about older siblings, uncles, fathers, friends of their parents being involved,” she reassured them. She thought for a moment and added, “They almost seem disgruntled that they aren’t part of it.” She huffed out a breath. “That’s what is so frustrating. I have no idea what it is. They all seem to know but won’t say out loud.”
Quin leaned in. “Gwen, you have given us so much more than you will ever believe. As far as we know, a terrorist action happening in Dallas next week wasn’t even on Homeland’s radar.”
Jonathan caught her glancing in his direction.
Apologetically, she said, “I was going to show you what I had and ask what you thought...”
“I’m sorry, Gwen.” And he regretted what he had to do all the way to his boots. He laid his hand over hers and was thrilled when she didn’t jerk it away.
“I need to make arrangements for a surveillance team.” Quin wiped his mouth and rose. “Take your time, Jonathan. I’ll see you back in the office and we’ll strategize.”
“Thanks, Quin.” His boss was a smart man.
When he’d left, Jonathan tried to explain, hoping the knot in his stomach would ease. “I really enjoyed last night, supper, the rooftop, everything.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear, “And especially being with you upstairs.”
She glanced away then back to him. “I had a good time, too.” Then she smiled. “No one has ever romanced me the way you did. You blew me away. Then…”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t sure what…if you were involved—”
She stiffened under his grasp. “I wasn’t, and now you know.”
“Yeah, now I know what a wonderful woman you are, willing to put yourself out there to continue to protect the United States.” He sighed. “Fuck, Gwen, you took one hell of a chance. If those boys knew you were onto them or their families, they’d run home and your name would be at the top of the cell’s kill list.” He wanted to wrap this brave woman in his arms and protect her forever.
> “Do you think I am?” She rolled her hand over and squeezed his.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think they have any idea. So let’s keep it that way. Let us take over from here.” He made his decision right then. He’d be inside the diner when those kids arrived.
“I’ll be back this afternoon.” He looked at their joined hands and felt the heat coursing through his body. “Feel it? The connection we have?”
Staring into her eyes, he saw the moment she admitted it.
Yes. He mentally fist pumped. “I’d like to see you again. Not just this afternoon on the stake out, but to take you out again.”
“We’ll see.” She gave his hand one last squeeze and stood up. “I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
Jonathan stuffed the last bites of his omelet into his mouth. He wasn’t going to let food this good go to waste. Finishing off his coffee, he stood, threw a few bills on the table for Mandi and headed out.
“Is your company doing the security for the American Airlines dedication?” Gladys asked as he passed their table. “American usually hires on a few extra guards when they have an event like that.”
Before he could explain that Guardian didn’t have those kind of guards, it struck him what she’d said.
“Big ta-dos, you know.” Viola leaned toward him and conspiratorially lowered her voice. “They say even the governor is coming but don’t want to announce it. Crowd control, you know.”
“That Greg Abbott is so cute.” Gladys grinned ear to ear. “He looks like Dr. Kildare from that TV show, back in the day.”
“So what’s this about American Airlines?” Jonathan tried to interrupt.
“No,” Viola corrected, “he looks like Richard Chamberlain.”
Gladys rolled her eyes so dramatically Jonathan thought her eyebrows were going to touch her hair, which was…he had to look twice to be sure…yes, that was definitely purple. “Same person. Richard Chamberlain played Dr. Kildare.”
“Excuse me, ladies, but I haven’t heard about this.” He set his hand on the table garnering their attention.
Justice for Gwen (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha): Guardian Elite series novella #2 Page 7
