by Becky McGraw
“I’m so damned sorry, Taylor.” He couldn’t keep his eyes on hers, they focused on the purple knot at the center of her forehead, and her hand flew up to cover it.
“That’s your damned fault too,” she hissed.
“I know, and I’m sorry for that too.” He didn’t even try to argue the point that she’d been in his bathroom when it happened, he had too many strikes against him.
“Why do you think they’re trying to kill me?” Taylor asked suddenly, surprising him.
“I don’t know. They’re evidently after Jaxson Thomas too,” he replied. “That’s one of the rea—” he started, but stopped. If he told her that was one of the reasons he believed she’d planted that bomb, he knew he’d lose any ground he’d gained with her. There was no excuse for the assumptions he’d made without being damned sure he was right.
“One of the reasons what?” she filled in, her eyes narrowing.
“One of the reasons we need to figure this out,” he improvised, only breathing again when her shoulders relaxed. God, he felt like he was back in Afghanistan walking through a minefield again. He definitely had to watch his step, and Lola wasn’t going to help him here.
“Okay, so what’s your grand plan here to figure it out?” she asked.
“I don’t have one. I need more pieces to this thousand piece puzzle to come up with one,” he admitted. “Like you said, investigation is not my strong suit.”
Her eyes glided down his chest then flew back up. “No, you’d be the muscle in this organization not the brains, you beefhead.”
“I am a beefhead,” Slade agreed, and was pleased when the anger in her eyes dissipated, and her arms dropped to her sides.
He was more pleased when he noticed the towel had slipped down again, a little lower even than before. She evidently noticed where his eyes were and yanked it back up.
“Eyes are up here, Smiley.” Slade’s eyes locked on hers, and he forced them to stay there. “I want you to apologize to Buddy too,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You want me to apologize to Buddy?” he repeated, and couldn’t stop his laugh.
Her eyebrows crashed together. “Yes, you hurt his feelings last night too. He loves you, and you shoved him out of your room like he was garbage.”
The tone of her voice, her eyes, told him she wasn’t just talking about Buddy. That thought sent pain knifing through him, but it wasn’t in his thigh. It also caused sickness to curl in his gut, because he didn’t want her love. But he didn’t want her to leave either.
“Okay, I’ll apologize to the dog too.” Slade took her shoulders again, and when they didn’t stiffen, he took it as a good sign. “I’d get down on my knees and beg you to forgive me, little bit, but I can’t right now.”
“I told you not to call me that,” she said, but her tone was weak and she moved a little closer.
“What can I say? I’m a beefhead who forgets things.” He pulled her a little closer, wrapped his arms loosely around her back, and his insides finally unclenched when she didn’t pull away. “Will you stay and help me finish this case?”
“It looks like I don’t have much choice. After seeing that tape, the police probably think I’m guilty as hell too. A jury would believe that too, if they arrested me. They would never guess that I dropped my keys under the car parked beside the Mercedes on my way back from picking up lunch.”
Anger mixed with surprise and Slade shoved her back. “You give them a damned pass, but not me?” he growled, his fingers digging into her shoulders. “They can think you’re guilty after looking at that tape, but I have to grovel?”
“No, you have to grovel, because you had the opportunity to talk to me about it, but chose to assume I was guilty and be an asshole to me. Next time use your words and ask me, beefhead.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Slade replied, pulling her to him again, hugging her to his chest, and dammit, kissing the top of her hair. His door opened and his eyes flew there.
“Oh, should I come back?” Cee Cee asked, her tone sparkly with something.
“No, he definitely needs a shower,” Taylor said, pulling away to rub the back of her hand across her face, before wiping it on the towel. “He smells like he had a run-in with a skunk, and looks like he tried to fix that by swimming in a vat of oil.”
“Yeah, he does look kind of greasy. How’d that happen?” Cee Cee asked, wrinkling her pert nose.
“He’s a clumsy beefhead, I guess,” Taylor replied with a giggle.
“I guess since I’m the new grunt around here, he’ll expect me to clean the oil slick out of the shower when he’s done in there,” Cee Cee said, shooting him a glare.
He knew right then exactly why Dave Logan didn’t hire women. His friend must know that they traveled in packs and attacked like wild hyenas when they smelled blood.
“Just give me my damned clothes so I can get cleaned up and talk to Gray.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Logan just called,” Gray said casually, as Slade walked into his office thirty minutes later.
“Grrr—why didn’t you hold him on the phone, until I got here?” Slade ground out as he sat in the chair across from Gray’s desk. He wondered why in the hell Logan hadn’t called him since he’s the one he left in the hot seat. Probably because he knew Slade had more than a few choice words for him.
“Well, he was whispering, so I guess he had to sneak to call in.” Gray shrugged then finally looked up from his computer. “He hung up all of a sudden, so Susan must’ve caught him.”
“Did he say where they were?” If Slade had any idea where they’d gone, he would track him down. This shit had gotten out of control.
“I had him for about two minutes. We barely had a chance to say hello, but he said he’d call back later, if he could.” From the way Gray said it, he knew just as well as Slade did that Logan was not going to be calling back anytime soon.
“Okay, my asshole is unpuckered. A little.” Slade heaved a breath. “What did Winters tell you? He didn’t answer when I called him a few minutes ago.”
And that was going to stop. If he paid that man a hundred grand, he was going to answer the fucking phone when he called.
“The group associated with the Saudi account is not a radical group. It’s an anti-radical group, and Tariq Khalil is one of the leaders.”
Slade sat up straighter in his chair, glad to have his question answered about whether Winters managed to get inside. “That doesn’t make a helluva lot of sense. But nothing in this case has so far. What do you think that means?”
“It means, at a minimum, Tariq Khalil knows about the kidnapping, but there’s more.”
Shoving a hand through his hair, Slade groaned, not sure he could take hearing more.
“What else?” he asked anyway.
“He hates his brother and thinks he’s not fit to be the leader of their family, or their sheikdom, because he’s so hardline. I don’t know how he found out, but Winters also said six of the members of Tariq’s faction used their passports over the last few months to enter the US.” Gray leaned back in his chair to tent his fingers over his chest. “They’re visiting Texas.”
“You’re not done yet though, are you?” He saw it in Gray’s eyes.
“Nope,” he replied, popping the p.
“What else?” Slade asked, his chest tightening, as he added all these pieces to the spaghetti bowl of information he already had.
“He overheard Tariq talking on the phone and he thinks there’s a sleeper terrorist cell here that may have been, or may be, activated by Ahmed. Supposedly, those men are here to help him stop his brother.”
“As in pull off a coup? Maybe assassinate him on American soil?” Slade asked, his heart shooting up to his throat.
That would explain who the car bombers were and what their purpose was. Were they also the ones trying to kill Taylor? She didn’t seem to be any threat to them, because she didn’t know any more than Slade did.
“Wher
e better than the good old USA where he has diplomatic immunity? If Tariq is successful, he assumes control of the sheikdom and he wouldn’t waive immunity for himself, since he’ll the head of state there then. The Saudi government might step in, but it’s highly doubtful. He says there’s been a lot of chatter about something coming down, but nothing specific. Winters thinks you should call Homeland Security. He says he’s not in a position to do that at the moment.”
Slade shot up to his feet and groaned as his thigh muscle jerked. Rubbing it, he sat on the corner of the desk. “That bastard sure is long-winded with you, when I couldn’t get a word out of him.” And I paid him a hundred thousand dollars. Frustration burned his gut.
This operation had just moved beyond his attempt to clear Deep Six’s name. It went beyond saving the contract or even the kidnapping. Yeah, he’d like to save the kid, but now it sounded like the whole damned state, or even the nation, could be in jeopardy.
“I’m the man who wired a hundred thousand dollars into his Swiss bank account, so I guess that had something to do with it. But odd thing...he knew my old boss at the NSA, actually mentioned him. Was this guy a former Spook or something?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Slade replied shortly.
Winters had freaked out badly enough on him for reading his resume. Slade couldn’t imagine how he’d react to him sharing that information. He was not about to mention Winters was Delta Force, not CIA. Just about the same damned thing. Only meaner and more skilled in killing someone without a soul knowing, even the target.
“Huh, he sure sounded like a Spook,” Gray commented, pursing his lips.
Slade thought over the details of what he’d just learned, added in what he already knew to come to one conclusion. “I can’t call Homeland Security.”
Gray frowned. “Why not?”
“Because they’d want to talk to me in person, and would probably recognize me from that parking lot video. I know they’d recognize Taylor. I’d just about bet they’re already involved in that investigation.”
“So call them anonymously,” Gray suggested, and Slade thought about it.
If he did that, they’d be working on the case too, and he wouldn’t know where they were. If somehow their efforts overlapped, both he and Taylor could end up in jail. But how could he not call them if this state, or hell, the whole country was at risk?
If something came down and he didn’t call, he’d be just as guilty as the terrorists for the bloodshed from whatever nastiness those terrorists were cooking up.
“You said you heard from Hawk?” Slade asked.
“Just that last call. I haven’t heard back from him since they landed.”
Slade eased off the desk. “Let me know if you hear from him, I’m going to get a burner phone from Dex, and I’ll be out for a while.”
He needed to get away from the compound if he was going to make that call so the pings wouldn’t be on the only nearby cell tower. The feds were sneaky bastards and that’s the first thing they’d check. They’d be on Deep Six, and in turn Taylor’s doorstep, within hours.
“Oh and don’t call me on the burner, they can trace that back here. I’m not taking my phone either. I’ll just get with you when I get back.” God, he had so damned much to think about, to remember.
“Good luck,” Gray said, looking back down at his computer as if he didn’t have a care in the world. That irritated Slade, because right now? Slade felt like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he didn’t like it one bit.
He would feel a helluva lot better once Dex ran down those license plates and figured out who the car bombers were. At least then, he could turn that over to the feds and prove Taylor wasn’t responsible. That didn’t answer the question of who was trying to kill her though, and why. Or who was trying to kill Jaxson, wherever the hell he was, and why. Maybe if Levi and Caleb captured the guys chasing Jaxon, he could find the answers to both questions.
Slade huffed a breath, as he left Gray’s office to find Dexter.
***
Taylor finally caught up with Slade at the front door of the office. She was damned worried about him, because to her he looked a lot like he had the night of the explosion when he had that major PTSD episode.
“Slade wait!” she yelled, and he stopped.
“I want to go with you wherever you’re going,” she said, but he shook his head.
“I’ll be back in a little while. You just stay put.”
He opened the door, and she noticed he had a box in his other hand that contained one of those disposable-type cellphones. She followed him onto the porch, and Buddy and Lola bounded out behind her.
“Did you lose your cell phone?” she asked, grabbing his arm. “I thought I saw it in your office earlier when I went in there looking for you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and the sun glinted off of the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “I know where it’s at. I have something to do, so just go back inside.”
Taylor let go of his arm to put her hands on her hips. “I’m supposed to be a member of this team, but you won’t tell me anything. Didn’t you learn anything from what happened this morning?” she asked hotly.
This man was so damned frustrating sometimes, she didn’t know why she bothered.
Because for some damned reason you care about him and don’t want him to go off and have an episode and maybe get himself killed.
Taylor would be damned glad when Tuesday came and they could see the EMDR therapist. She was excited to see if it worked as well as the testimonials she’d read on the internet. Those she trusted, even though she didn’t trust Mark’s claims when he tried to get her back.
“I learned plenty, but you need to stay here,” he said gruffly, as he started toward his Humvee again. Taylor followed, and leaned against the door so he couldn’t open it. He glared down at her, but she didn’t move.
“Why can’t I go with you?” she asked stubbornly.
“Because you’re not safe yet.” Slade sighed. “Those guys who tried to shoot you could still be lying in wait for another try. You’re safe here.”
“You’re not safe driving in the condition you’re in right now, as stressed out as you are, but you’re going anyway,” she countered.
“You are stressing me out,” he growled and his eyes narrowed. She folded her arms over her chest, and he huffed a breath. “I promise I won’t be gone long. Now, move!”
Taylor stared at him a moment more, and saw that he wasn’t going to change his mind.
“Fine, go get yourself killed then,” she ground out, emotion tightening her chest as she bent to grab Buddy’s collar. “We’ll just be here making your funeral plans.” Her lower lip quivered and she bit it as she stood and dragged Buddy a couple of feet.
“Taylor?” Slade said, and she stopped.
“Yeah?” She turned around hoping he’d changed his mind.
“I promise I won’t get myself killed.” His fingers tightened on the top of the door and his jaw worked. “But, come give me a kiss just in case, if that will make you feel better.”
Taylor released Buddy’s collar and walked back to the vehicle. Slade grabbed her and pulled her behind the cover of the door, and she slid her hands up his chest to circle his neck. He held her eyes for a second, before his head lowered and his mouth covered hers.
Taylor leaned into his chest and his hands found her ass to lift her against him. They dug in, and Taylor moaned into his mouth. His tongue found hers and her insides went liquid as their souls connected, and she sighed. He lowered her to the ground, came in for one more sweet pass, then pushed her away and got behind the wheel.
“Take care of Lola for me, if I get myself killed,” he said with a smile, after rolling down the window. “She’ll want her pillow moved to the cemetery.”
“Don’t kid about that,” Taylor growled, feeling sick.
“Don’t be so melodramatic, little bit, and I won’t.” He winked at her, then cranked the en
gine and looked over his shoulder to reverse. Taylor grabbed Buddy’s collar when he lunged after the vehicle. The gate opened, Taylor watched him leave and she couldn’t fight the gnawing feeling in her gut that something bad was about to happen.
She turned back toward the office, and saw Dexter step onto the porch. She walked that way and Buddy and Lola followed her.
“Where the heck are you going?” Taylor asked, hoping they weren’t all deserting her.
The only ones left inside were Cee Cee and Gray. Slade said she was safe here, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. Taylor noticed that the woman carried a pistol in a belly band holster under her clothes, and that gave her a level of comfort, but the men in the office weren’t armed.
Gray wouldn’t be much help if shit hit the fan, because he wouldn’t want to get his five-hundred-dollar suit dirty. The most Dex could do would probably be throw a keyboard at any bad buys who decided to pay them a visit.
But there was safety in numbers, and Taylor would feel better if he wasn’t leaving. She was starting to realize the severity of this situation, and didn’t know why she didn’t before.
For some reason it hit her hard when Slade left.
If she had a damned pistol she could protect herself. She needed a pistol and Cee Cee might just be the one to ask, since Slade didn’t think her having one was a priority.
“I’m going to pick up the prisoners,” Dexter said with excitement.
“Prisoners?” she repeated, her heart skidding to a stop. That’s good...bring the bad guys right into the compound and feed them supper before they kill us.
“Yeah, Hawk’s about to land at the pad. They don’t have room to bring them back. Want to come with?” he asked.
“No, I think I’ll stay here, but thanks for asking.” Taylor would probably feel better if she had something to do to occupy herself, so she didn’t worry herself sick before Slade got back and this feeling went away. “Is there anything I can do to help you while you’re gone?”
She’d offered to help Mac earlier with the employee list, but he said he had it under control. Control being the operative part of that statement.
