by Dee Davis
“Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead,” Nash grimaced, “but we probably should check into their backgrounds. Make sure everything was on the up and up. Fisher, too.”
“Mather’s wife was pregnant,” Tyler said to no one in particular, the words making her stomach tighten with regret. “And Gerardi was just a kid. God, I feel so helpless.”
“When I talked to you on the phone, you indicated that there was something more to tell us. Something that needed to be said in person.”
“I know, but that was just me freaking out.” No way was she going to trot out her theories about the scarf and her mother in front of a stranger. An intimate stranger, to be sure, but a stranger nonetheless. And besides, it was probably just her overworked imagination. It would keep until she and Avery had a moment alone. “I’d just been through the debrief with Fisher. And he’d insinuated that I had some part in all of this. And I was feeling guilty about Mather and Gerardi’s deaths. You said it yourself—I was overwrought. I didn’t mean to make it sound like there was some big secret.”
“So what did you mean?” Owen asked, his curiosity clearly roused.
“Just that the whole thing felt off. My involvement. The motorcycle. The serendipity that kept me alive—which seems even more amazing in light of what happened in the parking garage. Anyway, the truth is that I just didn’t want to talk about all of it on the phone.”
“Understandable,” Avery said. “I’d have done the same in your position. I just wish there were something more. Something that would crack this thing wide open.”
“I know,” Tyler sighed. “And I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Avery’s tone was brusque as he pushed her words aside. “What we need to do now is start at the beginning and dig until something shakes loose. Tyler, you and Owen will be in charge of the investigation. Pull whatever resources you need. Hannah will continue to provide support services.”
“Actually,” Owen said, his expression somewhere between a demand and an apology, “I’m bringing in someone of my own. A computer specialist. I think his skills will complement Hannah’s.”
“Why do you need to bring in someone else?” Tyler asked. “Don’t you trust us?” There was a gauntlet in there somewhere, but she wasn’t ready to examine it.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know any of you. And I’m charged with making sure my country’s best interests are served. I’d just feel better with someone I know on the team.”
“So you’re bringing in another Brit?” Hannah asked, her gaze appreciative as she looked over at Owen.
“I’m afraid not.” He smiled, clearly following her train of thought. “He’s an American. Harrison Blake. Former FBI. He’s been working with a friend of mine on a specialized task force. Best of the best. Clandestine stuff. He’ll fit right in. So I trust there won’t be a problem?”
“Not as long as he respects the chain of command,” Avery said.
“Absolutely.”
“When do you expect him?” Hannah asked.
“Tomorrow sometime. I’m sure the two of you will get on famously. He’s got quite a reputation for finding information where there seemingly is none. And he’s great with computers.”
“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Nash teased. “Not that you need any help, Hannah.”
“It could be interesting,” she said, still smiling. “Just don’t tell Jason.”
“Jason?” Owen repeated.
“He’s our computer guru,” Nash explained. “Although Hannah gives him a run for his money. Anyway, he’s a little bit possessive when it comes to his domain.”
“You think?” Hannah laughed. “Seriously, Owen, he’ll be fine. And when the time comes, hopefully we’ll be able to pull him into the project. With something this difficult the more hands on deck, the better.”
“This has nothing to do with expertise, though, does it?” Tyler asked, the truth smacking her upside the head. “You’re doing this because of the problems A-Tac’s been having. You honestly believe one of us had a hand in all of this.”
“I think it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Owen offered.
“That’s a cop-out and you know it. You’ve already implied you think it could be me. Is that why you’ve been sent here?” Suspicion boiled hot and ugly.
“Tyler, I was sent here by my government to help find the detonators and bring the people that stole them to justice. I’ve been charged with doing whatever I think is best, and that includes providing any personnel that I think might be able to help us with the task at hand.”
“Look, Owen’s right,” Nash said. “We need the best team possible. And whether we like it or not, there is a very real possibility that someone within A-Tac has been sabotaging our operations. I don’t want to believe that the inside information about the transport came from our unit. But, until we can prove otherwise, I think Owen is well within his rights to want someone from the outside involved.”
“Not to say that we’re not going to be equally cautious,” Avery added. “Hannah’s running a check on both you and your associate—although I’ve every confidence that our findings will mirror what we already know. So to that end, I’ve arranged for you to officially be here as a visiting professor. We’ll capitalize on your background in physics.”
“My specialization was in nuclear physics. Although I did quite a bit of research in quantum physics as well.”
“You lost me with the word physics,” Nash said, with a grin, clearly already accepting Owen as a member of the team.
“Most people, I’m afraid.” It was Owen’s turn to smile.
“Well, we have graduate students who’d be delighted to hear from a former Oxford fellow,” Avery said. “So I’ve arranged a couple of lectures. It’ll give you cover for being here.”
“And Tyler’s got a guesthouse,” Nash said, still grinning. “Nobody ever uses it.”
Owen’s gaze shifted to Tyler, his expression questioning. “That’d be great, actually. Using a hotel would be somewhat of a security risk.”
“I, um…” Tyler shot Nash a quelling look. “I don’t think—”
“It’s an excellent idea,” Avery said, his tone brooking no argument. “Since the two of you will be working closely together it makes perfect sense.”
“And there’ll be room for Harrison,” Nash added, his expression contrite now.
“Sounds like a plan, then. I’ll just go to my hotel and collect my things.” Owen pushed out of his chair, carefully avoiding her gaze.
“Why don’t I come with you.” Nash rose, too. “I can show you the way back to Tyler’s. She lives next door to us.” There was a warning in his words, and Tyler felt her frustration lessen. Nice to know he still had her back.
“Fine then. I guess it’s all set,” she said, wondering how she’d gotten herself into such a mess.
Somehow she’d gone from a one-night stand to Owen practically moving in. And to add insult to injury, he hadn’t acted as if there were anything between them at all. A part of her was relieved, of course. She didn’t want anyone at A-Tac to know just how careless she’d been. But another part of her, the feminine side, was pissed that their night together had clearly meant so little.
Then again, wasn’t that exactly what she’d wanted?
CHAPTER 5
So what have you got for me?” Logan Palmer asked, his voice reverberating a little with the connection.
“It hasn’t even been twelve hours. They accepted my involvement without question, so I’m in. For now. But they are going to check on my credentials. So you’d better be certain your friend will hold up his end of the bargain.”
“I told you, he was only too happy to acquiesce. What about Tyler Hanson? How’d she take your sudden arrival?”
Actually she’d done pretty well considering the situation, but he wasn’t about to share that with his boss. “She was fine.”
“I assume there’s still nothing concrete to implicate her?”
&nb
sp; “I’m working on it. In fact, I’m going to be staying in her guesthouse. Which ought to make nosing around that much easier. But I’m still not convinced she’s the one we’re looking for. Shortly after she arrived back in New York, someone tried to kill her. Man named Alexander Petrov. You’ve heard of him?”
“Yes. Gun for hire. Can’t say that he’ll be missed.”
“So you know that he’s dead.”
“Word travels quickly in this business. You know that. Anyway, I don’t think that we can use the attack as a reason to clear Tyler. It could have been a set-up. She didn’t know that her associates would ride to the rescue.”
“I don’t know. I find it hard to believe that she wasn’t telling the truth. To hear them talk about it, she damn near died.”
“So maybe the attack wasn’t tied to the detonators being stolen.”
“We talked about that—and I think it’s too big a stretch to believe that someone attacked her independently. The timing is just too suspect.”
“I disagree. It doesn’t make sense that she was spared in Colorado only to be hunted down a day or so later. I still think she’s the one to watch. But as I said before, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than one of them involved.”
“Well, maybe when we figure out who was behind the original request for A-Tac’s involvement it’ll give us some direction. In the meantime, we’re looking at the other people who knew about the transfer. Starting with General Fisher.”
“That’s a slippery slope. Fisher has friends in high places.”
“And so do you. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, keep your eye on the prize. Finding the mole in A-Tac is job one.”
“I hear you. And I’ll keep my eyes open. Anything you can find out from your end would be appreciated as well.”
“I’ll see what I can do. When does Harrison arrive?”
“Tomorrow morning, if everything goes as scheduled.”
“And Solomon was fine with his inclusion on the team?”
“Yes. Tyler was a bit more vocal in her disapproval, but I think it was more about my sudden appearance than anything to do with Harrison. They did make mention of another team member. Jason something.”
“Jason Lawton. He’s been with the team about six years. A whiz at all things IT. I’m sending you dossiers on the rest of the team. Figure it’ll help if you know who’s who.”
“Good. I’ll be glad to have additional information. One thing I’ve observed about A-Tac is that the team is intensely loyal. My guess is that they’re not going to turn on each other easily. In fact, there’s even a possibility that they’d cover for one another if push comes to shove.”
“Well, then, you’ll just have to convince them otherwise.”
“Easier said than done, I’m afraid. I know the loyalty this kind of work can generate. Being on the front lines in stressful situations creates bonds that can’t easily be broken.”
“Perhaps,” Palmer mused. “But you know better than most that friendships forged under fire can often be broken the same way. Look at what happened to you.”
“It wasn’t the same and you know it.”
“Do I?” Palmer’s voice was devoid of inflection, but Owen was clear on his meaning.
“I did what I had to do.”
“Yes, but at what cost?” Silence stretched for a moment. “Look, all I’m saying is that under the right circumstances, with the right incentive, people will do what they perceive is in their own best interest, loyalty be damned.”
“Now whose life are we talking about?” Owen forced himself to breathe. Logan Palmer had his own skeletons, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t right. “Anyway, if I had it to do over, I wouldn’t do anything different. I thought you understood that.”
“I do. But I just wanted to remind you that nothing is absolute. If someone at A-Tac is guilty, I’d make book on the fact that someone else knows about it. Or at least suspects. So all you’ve got to do is get them to talk.”
“There’s always the chance that you’re wrong. That no one here was involved with the theft.”
“Wishful thinking, my boy. They’re involved all right. It’s just a question of how many. And more specifically, who. And as much as you don’t want to hear it, my money is still on Tyler Hanson.”
“Well, if she’s responsible, you can be certain I’ll find out.”
“That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”
The phone went dead as Palmer disconnected the call. Owen flipped his cell closed and stared out into the nighttime shadows, his mind turning to Tyler Hanson. She was definitely the kind of woman who inspired extreme loyalty. Independent. Tough. Drop-dead gorgeous. He closed his eyes, remembering the fire in the depths of her smoky green eyes, her soft cries of ecstasy as he’d plunged deep inside her. God, she was hot. The epitome of everything right with America. The girl next door, with a body to die for.
Quite literally.
He sobered, pulling his thoughts away from the memory of their night together. He stared out the window, across the lawn at the dark windows of her house. She still hadn’t come home, which meant that he had an opportunity. A chance to dig for her secrets. And he knew she had them.
He’d recognized the look in her eyes.
Tyler climbed the steps of her front porch, grateful to be home. Although in truth she’d never really viewed it that way. Still, the cul-de-sac housed all of her friends; Nash and Annie next door, Drake just beyond them—although he’d been on leave for a couple of months now, ostensibly to recuperate from an operation in Colombia, but they all knew that he was really romancing Madeline. Interesting how things worked out.
She smiled, as she looked across the street. Emmett Walsh’s house was dark. But that wasn’t surprising. He was a creature of the night and usually worked late either in his office in the Social Sciences building or somewhere in the labyrinth of A-Tac HQ tinkering with the latest in communication technology. Lara and Jason’s lights were on, spilling out over their meticulously groomed flowerbeds, the blue and pink hydrangeas undulating in the breeze.
Tyler had peonies. They reminded her of her mother, although she hadn’t inherited her mother’s green thumb. Fortunately, one of the perks of living on “professor cove,” as the students had dubbed it, was a set of full-time gardeners.
The lights were on at Annie and Nash’s, too. It was tempting to go over and share a glass of wine. But it was late, and she resisted the urge, moving across the porch to unlock the front door. The house was quiet, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway the only sound. The clock had belonged to her grandmother, a tiny woman with a shock of white hair and a penchant for doing exactly as she pleased.
She’d died when Tyler was still a kid, but she’d left behind the clock and an indelible impression. She’d been the one to encourage Tyler to express herself in whatever way seemed best. Which, the summer Tyler turned nine, had included rerigging the family fireworks. The final result hadn’t been pretty. The gnarly old oak in her grandmother’s backyard had caught fire, and Methuselah, her grandmother’s tabby, hadn’t come out from under the bed for a week.
Still, her grandmother had laughed and said she had spirit. Her father, on the other hand, had grounded her for a month. Although she was certain she’d seen a flash of pride when he’d seen how high her enhanced bottle rockets had flown.
She closed the door, and reached for the foyer light, her hand stopping as she sensed something out of place. Straining into the darkness, she waited, listening. But there was nothing but the slow steady ticking of the clock.
Nerves.
No one could possibly get to her here.
Letting the dappled moonlight from the windows guide her, she walked down the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs to look out the French doors that led to the backyard. There was no light from the cottage. Either Owen had retired already, or he was still with Nash. Either way it was probably for the best. She needed a little distance, some
time to put everything that had happened into context. It wasn’t as if she had married the man. She’d just slept with him. And since they were two consenting adults, it shouldn’t be such a big deal.
But it was.
She sighed, shaking her head. That’s what she got for sleeping with James Bond. She climbed the stairs, stopping on the landing. The hallway was shrouded in darkness, and she reached for the light, then hesitated, her senses going on red alert again.
Something was definitely off.
It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on. Just a feeling. Still, the house remained silent, and so, pushing aside her jitters, she flipped the switch. Light flooded the hallway, the shadows retreating along with her fears. Everything looked exactly as it was supposed to. Clearly, the past few days had her on edge.
She walked into the bedroom and almost tripped on her suitcase. The airline had clearly found her luggage, and Avery or Nash had most likely accepted the delivery, which went a long way toward explaining her feelings of unease. Someone had been in the house. But the context was innocent. She sighed and sank down on the end of the bed, her ribs protesting the movement.
Across the room on the bureau sat a wooden box. It had been her grandmother’s. She’d always referred to it as her secretary, a tabletop holder for envelopes and stationery. There was even an old compartment meant for an inkwell. All of it hidden behind the rich patina of burled walnut.
For a long time she’d kept everything just as her grandmother had left it—embossed stationery, fountain pens, sealing wax, and ancient stamps. But slowly, over time, the box had become the keeper of memories, Tyler’s precious store of the things she held most dear. A letter from her father, the only one he’d ever written her, his words as sure and strong as he had once been. A string of pearls, also her grandmother’s. Tyler had never worn them. She wasn’t the type. But she loved them anyway. There were family photographs, and even a poem some boy had written for her in grade school.
Little pieces of a life.
