by Dee Davis
He stopped to take a sip of his tea, and then continued. “He managed to get information that not only thwarted their plan to bomb the London Underground, but gave us hard evidence against the leadership in the cell. We planned a raid. And everything went swimmingly. The threat was averted, the cell taken down. Score one for the good guys.”
“But something happened,” Tyler said, almost afraid to ask.
“Yes.” Owen nodded, anger flashing across his face as he remembered. “The cell had been a splinter of a larger organization. One based out of Pakistan. The leaders there wanted revenge. And somehow they got word that my friend, Bashir, was the traitor. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except that there was political strife in London at the time. And my bosses, who’d promised Bashir protection if necessary, went back on their word. Bashir was kidnapped and tortured. Ultimately, they killed him.”
“Oh, my God, that’s horrible.”
“Yes, well, it was my fault. I’d gotten him involved in the first place.”
“But you had no part in pulling his protection.”
“Maybe I could have fought harder, I don’t know. It all happened so fast. Anyway, I raised holy hell, told anyone who’d listen. And quite clearly, that didn’t sit at all well with my superiors. They couldn’t get rid of me, but they made life as difficult as possible.”
“Why didn’t you just quit?”
“I thought about it. And Angela certainly wanted me to. But before I could make a decision, something else happened. The terrorist group discovered that I’d been behind Bashir’s infiltration. That I was, in fact, MI-5. And as a result, they threatened me. So I went back to my bosses, apologized for my insubordination, and asked for their help.”
“But they considered you a liability.”
“Exactly so. They assured me they’d look into the threat, of course. But they did nothing. I don’t know if they didn’t believe me or if they truly thought they’d be better off if I were dead. But the bottom line is that there was no one there the day the terrorists planted a bomb in my car. And no one there when my family headed out for the day.
“Angela was buckling Jacob into his car seat when I realized I’d forgotten my wallet. I was on my way back into the house when she started the car.” He blew out a breath, his eyes glazed with pain. “It was over in seconds. Angela died instantly—but Jacob was still alive. He was so little, Tyler. And there was nothing I could do. He’d just turned three, and he died in my arms.”
“Owen,” Tyler said, reaching out to take his hands. “I don’t know what to say. It must have been so awful—to be there and to… to—”
“—have lived?” he finished for her, his fingers tightening around hers. “It was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Even now, it eats at me. But at the time all I wanted was revenge. Revenge against the people who killed them.”
“So you went after the leaders of the group in Pakistan.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “And in the process, I managed to upend a long-term operation. MI-6. Two operatives were killed. But I got the bastards who did it. And at the time that’s all I cared about.”
“And MI-5 used the information to run you out of the organization. They issued a burn notice. And played it all up to make it look as if you’d gone rogue.”
“For all practical purposes they were right. Anyway, I didn’t give a damn. I just wanted the pain to go away. So I changed my name—my mother’s, by the way, she’s American—and came to the States. At first I just went underground, but then money started to run out, and I needed to find a job. Unfortunately, thanks to her majesty’s government, I was persona non grata in both Intelligence and academic circles. I couldn’t find legitimate work. So I turned mercenary. And that’s how I met Logan Palmer.”
“And joined IA.”
“Actually, I’m not officially on their rolls. I’m more of a contract player. Someone Logan calls in when he has special projects. You have to understand he was the first person to treat me as if I weren’t a pariah. No matter what else he’s done, I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“Well, I don’t like the man,” Tyler said, still holding Owen’s hands. “But I suppose I’m grateful that he gave you a chance. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“And I wouldn’t have started to feel alive again.”
“Working can do that.” She stood up, moving to the window. There was a light on in the guesthouse. Clearly Harrison wasn’t sleeping either.
“Tyler,” he said, coming to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, “you’re misunderstanding. It wasn’t work that brought me back. It was you. Being with you. But then I screwed it all up by not telling you the whole truth when I had the chance. And now, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me.”
She turned around, placing a finger against his lips. “Stop. It’s me who should be begging forgiveness. I never should have listened to Emmett and Avery.”
“They were just trying to protect you. And they weren’t wrong.”
“No, but Nash was right, I should have trusted my gut. I should have given you the chance to tell me. I should have known that there was an explanation.”
“Could have, would have, should have. Isn’t that what your stepmother used to say? If I’ve learned anything over the past six years it’s that the only way forward is to let go of the past. I have no idea what the future holds, but I do know that I care about you. And I want you in my life. That is, if you still want me.”
“I do,” she whispered, marveling at the power of those two little words. “I do,” she repeated as she felt the familiar sensation beginning to build. Her breath caught in her throat at the fire in his eyes. There was desire there, and something more.
She swallowed, touched by the raw emotion reflected in his gaze. She was hesitant to put a name to it, but hope flashed inside her. Sparks flew between them and she pushed against him, wanting the contact, amazed at the intensity of her need. He smiled and pulled her closer, a tiny smile curling the corners of his lips.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, teasing her with his tongue, their bodies fitting together like pieces of an intricate jigsaw puzzle. Shivers streaked through her as he deepened the kiss, his spirit calling to hers, pulling her deeper and deeper, until she wondered if she would drown in the pure sensation of him—a prospect that, she had to admit, sounded rather appealing.
He slid the strap of her nightshirt off one shoulder, his fingers curving around her smooth skin, massaging lower and lower until he held her breast in his hand, her nipple going tight at his touch. She arched against his hand, driven by her need, and she felt his body harden against hers, desire surging as a tidal wave of emotion threatened to swamp her.
With fumbling hands, they removed their clothes, touching, exploring—the need to be skin to skin driving them both to a frenzy.
Finally, when they were both naked, he kissed her, his tongue leaving trails of hot fire as it traced the contours of her mouth. Their gazes locked, his eyes dark pools, blue on black, deep as the ocean. Eyes a girl could lose herself in. And Tyler knew she was already lost.
With a groan, he picked her up and carried her to the bed, positioning himself on top of her as he looked down into her eyes. “I want you, Tyler,” he whispered, his words full of promise.
And suddenly she knew that this time was different. That this time they would be joining more than just their bodies. She opened her legs, welcoming the feel of him against her skin. Her need burned strong, but this time it was laced with something more—an overriding feeling that this was right; that somehow, here, now, with him, it was meant to be.
Bracing himself above her, he thrust into her and she welcomed him, cradling him deep inside. They rocked together, the rhythm coming naturally, as if it had been specially choreographed just for them. She clung to him, sensation splintering through her, realizing, for the first time in her life, what it meant to be in love.
Nothing had changed. Danger and grief st
ill surrounded them. Her father was dead. Jason had killed himself. And somewhere out there a bomb was waiting. A threat building. But here, in the warmth of her bed, locked in Owen’s arms, Tyler let herself go. Let herself dream. Let herself believe, for the moment at least, that anything was possible.
CHAPTER 22
The war room was completely quiet. Almost eerily so. Everyone was there—except Lara. Tyler sat next to Nash, with Annie on his other side, and Emmett across from her. Hannah was next to Emmett and Avery sat in his customary place at the head of the table. And new to the scenario, at least for Owen, was the man they called Drake. The one who’d battled his way back from the jungles of Colombia. He’d apparently arrived late last night. A show of solidarity, no doubt.
Harrison sat in the back with Owen, the two of them feeling like the outsiders that they were. A-Tac had closed ranks. And Owen knew that if it hadn’t been for Tyler, they probably wouldn’t have been allowed in the meeting. But Tyler had insisted, going toe to toe with Avery, who’d finally relented.
“So by now, I assume everyone knows what’s happened,” Avery said, without further preamble. “Drake, it’s good to have you back. I’m just sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”
“I’m still having a hard time buying the idea of Jason playing mole,” the man said, his expression fierce.
These were warriors, and even though Jason had caused his own demise, they were ready for battle. Ready to find the people who’d brought them to this place. Owen had to admit he admired them. In point of fact, he’d been like them—once. Maybe he could be again. The very fact that he was even entertaining the notion was telling.
“I think we’re all coming from the same place,” Hannah said, her usually over-the-top glasses a subdued brown today. “None of us could have predicted this.”
“Has anyone checked on Lara?” Emmett asked.
“I went over there this morning,” Annie said. “She was still sleeping.”
“They gave her some pretty powerful drugs,” Nash nodded. “I imagine she’ll be out for a while.”
“There’s a nurse with her.” Annie reached out to touch her husband’s hand. “So at least she’s got someone watching over her.”
“Where’s the body?” Tyler asked, looking up from the stack of papers she’d been studying. She’d been up since dawn, going over everything—reports, photos, the note—trying to find answers. To make sense out of the seemingly senseless.
“It’s with the county medical examiner,” Hannah said. “Because it was a suicide, there has to be a cursory investigation and there’s all kinds of paperwork to be filed. Someone at Langley is friendly with the local ME and he’s going to walk it through for us. Make sure Jason is all right.”
“Jason is dead,” Emmett said, his tone bleak. “And while it’s nice that we have strings to pull, I’ve no idea why we’re protecting the son of a bitch. He betrayed every one of us. Hell, some of his stunts could have gotten us all killed.”
“I know you’re right,” Tyler said, with a sigh. “But it’s hard for me to reconcile the Jason I knew with the man you’re describing.”
“Look, this is hard on all of us,” Avery said. “But we need to stay focused. We need to concentrate on what we know and work from there.”
“Any idea why us? I mean why target A-Tac, specifically?” Nash asked.
“With Jason dead, there’s no way to know for certain,” Avery replied. “It could be that our operations coincided with their needs. Or maybe we’re not the only organization to be infiltrated. If we’re really talking about detonating a nuclear bomb, then that’s going to take all kinds of coordination.”
“And that would be a hell of a lot easier with inside help at every step of the way,” Drake frowned.
“But we’re talking a massive undertaking,” Tyler said. “We haven’t seen that kind of recruitment since the Cold War.”
“Look, we’re jumping to conclusions. The reason they used Jason could be as simple as his offering his help. They’d have been foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity. And once he was on board, we’ve seen how easy it was for them to manipulate the situation so that A-Tac, and therefore their eyes and ears, was involved.”
“So what about the note?” Drake asked. “I haven’t had a chance to look at it. Was there anything there that could give us a lead to who these people might be?”
“Nothing substantial,” Tyler said, rummaging through her pile of papers. “Here’s a copy.” She passed it across the table to Drake. “He talks about being disillusioned. And losing faith. Then says he’s taking the only way out.”
“Didn’t he say something about the end being near?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” Avery said, “but he doesn’t clarify what that end might be. It’s possible it’s just a reference to his suicide.”
“Or, if there really is a bomb,” Annie mused, “then it could mean that they’re planning to detonate soon.”
“But wouldn’t we have heard rumblings?” Drake asked, tipping his chair back to lean against the wall. The man was almost as big as Avery, his icy gaze ruthless. “Something in chatter that would hint at an impending attack somewhere?”
“There’s always talk like that. The key is to try to figure out what’s credible and what’s not,” Hannah said.
“So what are we hearing?” Nash asked.
“Nothing that out of the ordinary,” Hannah said, as she scrolled through pages on her computer. “A couple of implausible threats against groups in Israel. A vague reference to London—that everyone agrees is nothing to worry about. And then the usual cluster of threats against the United States. Most of them in or around New York City.”
“Anything there that fits with our scenario?”
“Some of the chatter seems to indicate that there might be something big going down in Manhattan,” Hannah said. “But we always get a flood of that kind of thing this time of year because of 9/11.” She frowned down at the screen. “I’ve been over the intel a couple of times, and I spoke with some of the research people at Langley. And while we agree that some of the language could be interpreted to mean a nuclear strike, there’s nothing that points to it being a legitimate threat. Ninety-nine percent of the time this stuff is just empty talk.”
“Yes, well, it’s the other one percent that comes back to bite us in the ass,” Drake said.
“So is this chatter attributed to anyone?” Emmett asked.
“Not specifically, no.” Hannah shook her head. “Although there is some indication that it’s originating locally. Which probably narrows it down a bit. There aren’t that many active cells in the Northeast. And we’re not seeing any kind of movement from the people we normally track. Both Homeland Security and NSA sources have marked the chatter as low threat, meaning they don’t believe anything will come of it. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re right.”
“Yes, but even if it was a credible threat,” Tyler said, her frustration evident, “there’s no way to verify that it’s related to our situation. I mean, other than what Smitty said, we really don’t even have evidence that there is a bomb.”
“But we do know that they have the means to make one,” Avery said. “And in light of everything that’s been happening here, I’d say things are escalating. So if detonation is the endgame, then my guess is that it’s going to be soon. So while we don’t have anything to specifically confirm our suspicions, I think we’re better off covering our bases. And that means working from worst-case scenario.”
“A suitcase nuke detonated on U.S. soil,” Annie said, putting their fears into words.
“If that’s the plan, they’re certainly setting their standards high. It won’t be easy getting a nuclear weapon into the country.”
“Who says they have to get it in?” Emmett said. “It’s possible they’re building it right here under our noses.”
“Hannah, you’ve been working on compiling information on possible theft or black market sale of part
s needed to build the thing,” Avery said. “Have you got anything?”
“I’ve started, but I haven’t really—” She broke off with a sigh. “It’s just that…”
“Actually,” Harrison said, speaking up for the first time since the meeting began, “I worked on it last night. I had all the stuff Hannah and I’d been culling.” He shrugged, looking a little bit sheepish. “I didn’t mean to overstep bounds. But Owen and I figured you guys had other things on your mind.”
“At this point we can use all the help we can get.” Avery smiled, his gaze including Owen as well. “So tell us what you’ve got.”
“Well, first off,” Harrison said, “it’s important to understand that even for a device as sophisticated as the one Smitty designed, most of the working parts are easily obtained on the open market, no questions asked.”
“But I thought this thing was state of the art,” Drake said.
“It is,” Owen agreed, as Harrison hit a key and the blueprint for the bomb filled the overhead screen. “But sometimes the most sophisticated weaponry is also the simplest. For instance, the early suitcase nukes designed by the Russians were simply a series of three aluminum canisters, each about the size of a coffee can. To work, they simply had to be connected together and then detonated. A battery was used in the meantime to keep the thing powered while in transit or storage.
“This bomb,” he continued, looking up at the diagram, “works off the same principle. It’s just been refined to make everything even more efficient and compact. The whole thing is about half the size of the ones originally designed in Russia. And the lithium battery used today is more reliable and certainly smaller than the ones used during the Cold War.”
“One of the major problems with those old suitcase nukes was a lack of stability. The core material was prone to deterioration. And the components, crude by today’s standards, were prone to misfiring,” Harrison said. “All of which goes to explain why they existed but were never actually used.”
