“It was a hired driver. The man paid cash.”
“Did you find out where he was picked up?”
“A hotel in Louisville. The man checked in under an assumed identity.”
“Isn’t Louisville where ROZ is?”
Stone’s eyebrows shot up, and he nodded. “You know it.”
Tennyson let out a sigh, not liking where any of this was going. ROZ was one of the leading manufacturers of guns and other weapons.
This could be Torres. Or this could be a man who was planted to throw everyone off the trail of what was really going on. What better way to pull the wool over someone’s eyes than to distract them with a look-alike? In the meantime, a faceless leader—possibly Sanchez—could be planning these arms deals under the cover of darkness.
He looked up and observed Stone for a moment. Stone was doing the same to him, those cold eyes holding a hint of disdain still. He wasn’t sure that would ever change.
“You heard about the women who’ve been found?” Tennyson asked. “Women who’ve been branded by Torres?”
Stone nodded tightly. “I heard. People keep saying that he became unhinged. Something snapped inside him after Alessandra died. Maybe he’s obsessed with your girl Mallory. Maybe he’s trying to send a message that no one else will do.”
Tennyson’s blood went cold at his theory. Nameless. Could Torres secretly be Nameless? No, he couldn’t believe that a terrorist leader would spend his time on stalking someone. It didn’t fit the bigger picture. Those letters were being sent by an overzealous and possibly unstable fan.
“Certainly if Torres is alive, he has better things to do than to follow Mallory around the country,” Tennyson finally said.
“Who else would be responsible for those dead girls?”
“Someone else in Torres’s network. Maybe someone who despised Mallory because Torres favored her. Maybe someone who feels threatened by Mallory. Someone who fears Mallory knows something, or who doesn’t like leaving things unfinished.”
“No one’s walked away from Torres and kept their life.”
Tennyson stared Stone down. “You did.”
Stone shifted, as if he’d been caught saying more than he intended. Stone was on his side, right? Or had he embedded himself so deeply in the spy world that the man couldn’t tell which end was up anymore?
“They think I died,” Stone said. “But every time I show my face, I put myself at risk. It’s a risk even being here. But I needed to look you in the eye.”
Tennyson decided to drop it. Instead, he held up one of the photos. “You really think this could be him?”
Stone rubbed his jaw, settling against the wall again. “Honestly, I have no idea. This is what I do know. It’s become a matter of national security. That means that whether she likes it or not, Mallory is involved. If Dante or his men are following and threatening her, then Mallory could be the one to lead us right to their nest of vipers.”
Tennyson swung his head back and forth with force. “Absolutely not. You cannot draw her into this.”
Stone raised a hand and tilted his head, as if Tennyson’s reaction had surprised him. “Calm down. I don’t want to draw her into this. I think you and I both know that she’s already a part of this somehow. I just want to trace her. I think she could lead me to Torres.”
The longer this conversation went on, the more uncomfortable Tennyson felt. “How do you plan on doing that?”
“Can you bring me on as extra security?”
That sounded like a terrible idea. Just terrible. “I don’t know if she would go for that.”
“Certainly you’ve got some pull.”
Stone’s words made Tennyson tense and put him on the defensive. “Why would you say that?”
Stone shrugged, as if enjoying the fact that he’d rankled Tennyson. “Just a guess.”
Tennyson stepped toward him, keeping tight control on his emotions before they spun out of control. “Have you been watching us?”
Stone didn’t answer.
Tennyson shook his head and backed up. His emotions were threatening to boil over. He ran a hand through his hair as he realized the truth of the situation. “You didn’t just fly in, did you, Stone? You were in town already.”
Unease flashed through Stone’s eyes, and Tennyson knew he’d nailed it.
“You know that nothing is simple when it comes to terrorism, Ten Man. Nothing. Especially not love.”
The words hung between them. Claire. They’d both been in love with her. They’d both mourned her death. But in her final days, she’d chosen Tennyson.
Stone had never forgiven him.
“I’m not comfortable deceiving Mallory about who you really are,” Tennyson said.
“You’re already deceiving her, aren’t you? You haven’t told her the truth about that raid at Torres’s compound. Am I right?”
Stone’s words felt like a slap in the face. Tennyson’s thoughts reeled, and guilt hit him hard. “That’s not important.”
Stone raised his chin. His gaze was patronizing. “Whatever you say. Listen, I’ll be around.”
Before Tennyson could argue, Stone walked away and disappeared down the stairwell.
CHAPTER 16
The next day, Tennyson stood beside Mallory at another book signing. The store was large—large enough that a high school ensemble had set up in the corner to do a miniconcert. The music hadn’t started yet, but commotion abounded as parents and teachers rushed around to make sure everything was in place. The store had planned to run the events simultaneously to draw more attention and bring in more people. That’s what the manager had told him, apparently not realizing what a security nightmare this was for Tennyson.
Kori stood at the main entrance, keeping watch there. They’d gone over a plan. If any trouble arose, Mallory would be whisked away to the car outside. There weren’t any safe areas within the store.
Tennyson hoped Mallory didn’t have to utilize that plan, though.
He shifted beside Mallory as the line continued to grow. With publicity and attention also came an increased risk factor. He was glad he could be here to help, even though he’d been hesitant at first. But Stone’s words continued to echo in his mind.
He scanned the crowd again, looking for any sign of someone suspicious. A lot of women were in line. Some had kids in tow. A fair share of men stood there also. Did any of them work for Dante? Or could Dante himself be alive and be here?
The thought caused his gut to squeeze.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. After taking one last glance around the room, he pulled it from his pocket, curious to know if Stone had discovered anything new.
It wasn’t Stone. It was a message from Wheaton that read: Look what showed up online.
He quickly clicked it. It was a video of him and Mallory being reunited at Hope House.
He glanced at the details. It had been posted by a user with the name of Eagle Eye. Grant was visible in the background. Grant obviously hadn’t made this, but had he sanctioned it? He wouldn’t put it past the man. Half a million people had already watched it.
Brilliant marketing move, but blatantly disrespectful and lacking boundaries.
He was going to have a long talk with Grant next time he saw him. Not only about this video and if he was behind it, but also about who he was sneaking around with in Atlanta.
At that moment, he sensed Mallory tense beside him. Something subtle in the air changed. What was it?
He surveyed the room but nothing seemed out of place.
Before the next patron made her way toward Mallory, he leaned down. “What’s wrong?”
She leaned close enough that her warm breath hit his ear. “I thought I saw him.”
His spine tightened. “Saw who?”
“Sanchez.”
He bristled at the mention of the man’s name. “Where?”
“By the bookshelf over there.” She pointed across the store.
Tennyson called Kori over to take his pl
ace. Then he cut through the crowd, searching for a familiar face. He knew what Roberto Sanchez looked like. He knew how all of Dante’s right-hand men looked. Their faces had been burned into his mind.
Tennyson rushed to the other side of the store. He quickly surveyed each face he encountered.
He didn’t see Sanchez anywhere.
Was Mallory mistaken? Or had Sanchez gotten away?
Tennyson swung toward the right side of the store. Maybe the man had hidden or tried to slip out.
In the background, the ensemble played a haunting melody, riddled with minor notes, which only added to the pressure on Tennyson’s shoulders.
The shelves of books were high—too high to see over easily. Sanchez could be behind any one of those.
Picking up his pace, he moved between each of them, looking for a sign of anyone suspicious. He still didn’t see Sanchez.
Finally, he reached the back of the store. He bypassed a lounge area where patrons sat reading magazines and books. No Sanchez, though. He followed the back wall.
Movement ahead caught his eye.
A man looked up at him just as Tennyson spotted him.
Sanchez.
Or was it?
Tennyson took off at a sprint. As he did, the man barged out the back door.
An emergency alarm began wailing overhead. Tennyson blocked the sound out. His muscles burned as he propelled himself toward the back door.
He pushed it open, and brisk, cold air surrounded him. He surveyed the alley behind the store; then his eyes froze on a car in the distance.
The Sanchez look-alike paused by the car door, and turned long enough to make eye contact with Tennyson. The man offered a sardonic smile before climbing inside. The next instant, a bullet whizzed through the air.
Tennyson ducked back inside the bookstore just as the bullet hit the brick wall beside him.
Before he could draw his gun, the car sped away.
With every wail of the alarm, Mallory’s muscles coiled tighter and tighter. What was going on? Was Tennyson okay? Had that really been Sanchez?
Kori and Grant stood beside her, but their presence didn’t calm her like Tennyson’s did.
“What’s going on?” Mallory whispered.
Kori surveyed the store. “I’m not sure.”
Grant scanned the store also. When he looked away from his perusal, his gaze fell on her, and Mallory saw the worry there. Grant hardly ever looked worried. Anxiety surged through her like hot lava exploding in waves from a volcano.
Kori took her arm. “Let’s get you somewhere a little more private. I’m sorry, everyone. We’ve got to run, but thank you all for coming out.”
Mallory grabbed her purse from the floor, not even thinking of arguing, and allowed Kori to lead her across the low-pile carpet of the bookstore. Grant followed behind them. As they rushed through the store, Kori craned her neck, looking for any signs of danger.
They stopped in front of the checkout counter. The clerks behind it looked just as confused about the alarms as Mallory felt.
“Stay here until we know something,” Kori said. “I’m still waiting to hear from Tennyson. This could be nothing.”
“Or it could be something.”
Kori remained silent.
Once tucked near the counter, Mallory scanned the store. The line of people at her book-signing table was disbanding. The music in the background had ground to a stop, much like a broken record being jerked from the player. Several people stopped in their tracks, searching for answers as to the commotion around them.
Where was Tennyson? What if Mallory had led him into a trap? What if that really had been Sanchez, and he had wanted her to spot him, just to lure Tennyson away?
She remembered the faces in the photos of those lifeless bodies. Deadly. Whatever game someone was playing, the stakes were life and death. Stakes she didn’t like, in a game she didn’t want to play. But someone had pulled her into it without her permission.
At once, she remembered last night. She remembered hearing Tennyson sneak out of the hotel suite. Out of curiosity, she’d slipped out of her room and peered from the peephole. Tennyson had been meeting with a man dressed in black. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but it had looked intense.
She couldn’t stop wondering what it was about. What had upset Tennyson so much? Why was he meeting with the man in the middle of the night? And why hadn’t he mentioned it to her? When the time was right, she would ask.
Right now, she hoped she would have the opportunity to ask.
Her shoulders tensed as a familiar face appeared in the distance . . . maybe. It was hard to tell from where Mallory was standing. But something about the cadence of the person’s walk told her it was Tennyson.
Her heart pounded in her ears.
Finally, Tennyson appeared around one of the aisles.
Relief filled her, followed by surprise. The stony look on his face and the stiff set of his shoulders clearly stated that he wasn’t happy. What had happened?
“Are you okay?” Mallory rushed out from her place by the counter as he reached them.
She’d never forgive herself if something happened to someone else because of her. Just like she feared had happened to Gabriella. Even though Tennyson clearly looked unharmed, the worry nagged at her subconscious.
He offered a terse nod, his stance making it clear that he’d snapped into military mode. “I’m fine. But the man got away.”
“Where he’d go?”
“He jumped into a car waiting out back before I could reach him.”
“Did he say anything? About why he came here?”
“No, we didn’t speak. I have no idea why he was here, but he’s clearly trying to send a message of some sort.” He peered out the glass front doors and frowned. “We need to get you out of here.”
As Tennyson motioned for them to follow, she noticed that Grant was staring at his phone. A wrinkle had formed between his eyebrows, and the lines on his face deepened.
“What is it?” Tennyson asked.
Grant glanced up from his phone. “Mallory, you just got another e-mail from Nameless.”
Mallory felt the blood drain from her face. That hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear. “Nameless? What did he say this time?”
Grant frowned and hesitated a moment. Finally, he read from the screen, “Don’t look so scared. I’m watching out for you. No one else can help.”
Fear trickled down her spine. “Was he here just now?”
Mallory scanned the store, looking for a familiar face. Certainly she’d recognize the man. Even if she’d never seen him before. If he were here, there’d be something to give away his presence—a look, an odd action, something.
“He could have been.”
She shook her head. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”
CHAPTER 17
When they arrived back at the hotel, Mallory’s mind was still reeling from what had just happened. Sanchez? Could he really be after her? Was he trying to harm Tennyson in order to more easily snatch her again?
They were all quiet as they walked back into the suite. But as soon as the door closed, Tennyson, who’d been exuding tension, turned toward Grant.
“Do you know anything about what’s going on here?” he asked.
Grant’s eyes widened with offense. “No, of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Did you post that video of my reunion with Mallory at Hope House?”
He blanched. “No. Of course not.”
“But you knew about it.”
“It’s my job to monitor these things, so yes, I did know. But I didn’t authorize the production of it. My goal is not to exploit Mallory, just for the record.” Irritation tinged his words.
Tennyson wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “How about the man you met with yesterday? Why all the secrets?”
A flash of surprise shot through Grant’s eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
<
br /> “Stop lying, Grant,” Tennyson said. “I saw you meeting with someone when you were supposed to be at the bank. Someone is leaking information and playing a very dangerous game. I need to know if you’re involved or not.”
“You’re out of line. Of course I’m not involved. I think of Mallory like a daughter.”
Mallory put her purse down on the couch, never taking her attention off the confrontation. She wanted to hear what Grant had to say. If he’d gone against his word, then Mallory wanted to know, because that meant Grant wasn’t trustworthy. She deserved to know.
“Grant?” Mallory said. She’d never seen him look so angry. His eyes flashed. His entire body looked ready to spring. His fists were clenched.
“Why don’t we get to the real heart of the issue: Sanchez is apparently stalking you,” Grant said.
She wanted to argue, but he was right.
Mallory turned to Tennyson. “Are you sure it was Sanchez?”
Tennyson shook his head. “No, I’m not. But why would he want to do this to you?”
“Maybe he resented me because Dante always favored me.”
“Why come at you now?” Tennyson asked.
“I have no idea. Unless . . . Dante really is alive, and he wants me back.”
Tennyson’s jaw flexed, and he looked away.
Mallory’s hands went to her hips. “I need both of you to stop treating me like I’m fragile. If there’s something out there that I should know about, I want to know.”
“You know what we know,” Tennyson said. “There’s too much at stake here. Too many unknowns. And I think you need to cut this tour short.”
“That’s not your call.” Grant’s nostrils flared.
“It needs to be someone’s call. The threats against Mallory are escalating.”
“You’re overstepping your bounds.” Grant edged closer, just daring Tennyson to defy him.
“I’m doing my job.”
“Your job is to do what I tell you to do.”
“Both of you—stop! I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not.”
Grant studied her briefly before turning to Tennyson. “Now see, you’ve upset her. The purpose of having you here is to make her feel better.”
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