by Dana Volney
“Is there anything else I need to know? I despise lying, Hannah, a lot. Communication is key for a team to function properly.” And stay alive. This could’ve turned in to another Amelia all over again. Or worse.
A weary chuckle escaped from her lips. “You sound like a team-building manual.”
Maybe so, but they were written to keep people alive and successful.
A pink tinge brightened her cheeks. “About last night in the warehouse.”
“Did something in the room upset you?”
“I think it was my active imagination. I haven’t really been thinking straight since Robert died and I took on this case. Or whatever we call it. Mission, I guess. It’s just bringing up memories. That was the first time I’d cried for him.” Her eyes started to glaze over, tears threatening any moment. “I’d never cried before. Not when I identified his body. Not at his funeral. Not ... ever.”
“We all grieve in our own way.”
“It’s weird though, right? I should’ve grieved for my brother a year ago.”
“Nothing is standard when it comes to grief.”
“There are so many emotions sitting below my surface. I can feel them all struggling to get out.”
“Let them.” He shrugged.
“I can’t let them all out. Not now. We have work to do. I might go crazy.”
“We’re all a little crazy.”
A phone buzzed beside them.
“It’s mine. Waters.” Her face scrunched. She pressed the green button. “This is Agent Malone.”
She might not have gotten away with her deception as well as she’d thought. Surely by now, the FBI had been alerted to Redburn’s henchmen being burned alive in an explosion.
The apple of her cheeks fell, and he strained to hear what the man on the other end was actually saying.
Her boss knew she’d gone behind his back. He wasn’t happy. She was in trouble.
“Yes. It’s just me.” She slumped forward, her fingers rubbing her forehead.
“I have him on the hook for counterfeiting.” Definitely a slight twinge of protest laced those words. So, Malcom wasn’t too happy that he’d been deceived, either. Or that she was using her junior agents to question a couple so involved with Redburn. The mixed signals—not wanting her to investigate and preferring she be the only one who handled the case—was Eddie’s opinion of the FBI in a nutshell: a cluster of political choices muddled in with doing the right thing.
Hannah needed to go question the Huntingtons. The bomb changed the game.
“Yes, sir.” She threw her phone on the sheet next to her.
She was definitely in trouble, and rightly so, but she was losing the one thing she’d been holding on to since her brother’s death: hope. It was the thing that kept her going; he’d seen it in her eyes last night as she told him about Robert, as she’d cried in his arms.
He wasn’t going to let the bureau take that hope away from her.
“You need to question the Huntingtons. I think they want Redburn dead,” he said.
“I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Do you want the audio clip from the warehouse this morning?” He moved over to the little table and reached for his laptop.
“Sure.” She didn’t move or look at him, but her gears were turning. “Can you check on the Redburn tape while I’m gone?”
“Yep. I also have some footage in Leo’s case I need your lackeys to check out. Since now they don’t have anything to do.”
“If I still have a job.”
“Oh, please. You’re amazing at what you do, and your boss knows it.”
She was silent.
“Listen. Take your tongue lashing and then come back to me, and we’ll keep going. Don’t forget about Leo.”
She cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at him, glancing toward the bathroom. Right. He was headed for a shower before she’d stopped him dead in his tracks, rocked his world, and then dropped the task force bombshell.
There was no regret in her eyes about their day. Hot damn. A smile nipped at his lips, but he didn’t let it out. He wasn’t over her lying to him. He’d be sleeping with one eye open tonight. That was, if they were still on their little mission and together after Waters got done with her.
Vibrations interrupted their trance. But it wasn’t her phone; it was the Huntingtons’.
“George here,” he greeted the caller.
“What were in those shit bills you gave me?” The spit in Redburn’s words froze Eddie.
“Come again?” He raised his eyebrows at Hannah and tightened his lips. He leaned back in his seat and watched her put her shirt back on. Shit. He finally had something in common with the FBI. He had mixed feelings about her getting dressed. She’d come on to him hard, and he couldn’t help but assume it was to divert his attention because she knew he was close to finding out about the bunk task force.
“My warehouse blew up today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?” Hopefully, that sounded like he gave a shit. Like he hadn’t laughed his ass off for the last two hours at this man’s problem. If Redburn was going to let him help and not continue to blame him, that would be super.
“You expect me to think it’s a coincidence they were checking out your money and a bomb went off?”
“I don’t like the tone of your voice. My wife and I are in town to do business, not kill off business.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. I need another set of bills to verify.”
That was too easy. Redburn’s tone was off. More than likely, this was a trap.
“I’ll leave an envelope at the front counter for you or one of the men in the hotel lobby to pick up.”
“I don’t have men at your hotel.”
“We’re at the Westin. I have a romantic afternoon planned with my beauty, followed by dinner. I trust you can secure the package and test it to your heart’s content, and then we can both get on with our schedules. We’re not staying past tomorrow.”
It was a risky move, sure, but a man like George Huntington was not stupid nor was he going to break his back for a deal the other guy clearly needed more. The risk was calculated, but still, Eddie held his breath waiting for the answer.
“I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead.
Eddie double-checked to make sure the call wasn’t connected before placing the cell phone back on the table.
“I don’t want to state the obvious here, but we need some of that money back. Pronto.”
Hannah rifled around in her bag and produced cash between her index finger and thumb and waved it in the air.
“We can’t give them real money. They were clearly looking for some type of signature or way to know the fake money from the real. Which really is counterintuitive because it’s supposed to look perfectly real.”
“This is from the bust.”
“Agent Malone, you surprise me.” He walked toward her, stopping farther away than he would’ve liked, and took the money.
“I figured we might need some on the fly.” There’s the smarts their relationship was built on.
“You were going to spend it at a gas station, don’t lie.” He winked at her before holding the twenty-dollar bill up to the morning light streaming through the window.
“I trust you can take care of that?”
He arched a brow. Trust, yeah, he wasn’t the one who had the problem in that department.
Chapter Ten
Hannah held her head high as she exited the elevator and went straight for her boss’s office. She’d stopped at her high rise around the corner for a quick shower and to put on professional clothes. She would have burned those stakeout clothes if she’d had time.
She adjusted the earcomm in her right ear before knocking and entering her boss’s office. She’d only agreed to wear the earcomm because of the distrust in Eddie’s eyes. There was no need to bring him into her professional humiliation other than to keep him on her side.
; “Malone. Have a seat.” The burly man who’d long since been in his prime sat at his desk with his reading glasses on and hand prone over a mouse.
“Sir. I had it on good authority that a deal was going down between known criminals and the Redburn organization. I couldn’t do nothing.” She’d made a way better argument an hour ago as she’d soaped her body, and had strung together a better sentence when she rode the elevator up. She’d clearly used up all of her intelligent words for the day on herself and inanimate objects.
“You disobeyed a direct order.”
“I disbanded the task force.”
“You kept investigating.”
“Not the lead from Marty.” Her chin jutted out, silent relief settling in her chest that she’d not sat in one of the oversized leather chairs in Malcom’s office. She wouldn’t be staying long; this conversation was only going to go in circles.
Eddie’s loud whistle sounded like a bomb zeroing in on its target and ripping her eardrum in two. She clenched her teeth together and fought off the urge to rub her ear. “Remind me never to argue with you. It’ll take two days just to have you acquiesce one point.”
Eddie risked her eardrum for that remark? She cleared her throat; hopefully, Eddie would get the point.
“My orders weren’t up for debate.” Malcom’s black eyebrows knitted together.
“I understand, sir, and I apologize for not clearing the newer development with you, but now we have a solid lead. We have known counterfeiters in custody and caught them with the printed money. We’ve made contact with Mr. Redburn as the Huntingtons, and so far, that game is still in play.”
“Don’t forget to tell him about the bugs we’ve planted.” Eddie’s tone was softer this time, distracted. He better be gathering usable intel on the bugs with Redburn or the fire.
Gray eyes watched her from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her boss was two or three years away from retirement. She didn’t want his job, but if someone with a “go-getter” attitude didn’t take over, she was going to rethink her future with the bureau. This old man was too worried about making it to pension age to rock the boat.
“What about this explosion in Ballard?”
“We’re working on it. I need to talk to the couple more about their dealings with Redburn; they’re holding out.”
“We?” His bushy brows rose. He might be past caring about real police work, but he was sharp. She’d give him that.
“Old habits.” She smiled curtly and inched to the door behind her.
“Keep me informed if you have Redburn on the hook. I need to get our team ready for the band of lawyers he’ll have following him here.”
“Yes, sir.” She ducked out before he could say anything more and headed straight for the Huntingtons’.
Along the way, she ordered one of her junior agents, Michael, to examine the footage Eddie mentioned. Leo wasn’t the murderer, but if she didn’t have something to tell Eddie when she got back to the hotel, he might go looking on his own and find out more than she wanted him to for now. You really are a coward. She should go at it like a pro and tell Eddie the complete truth, but she couldn’t afford for her efforts to go to waste now.
Hell, Leo should have told Eddie the truth last year.
She grabbed a file from her office and blew out a long sigh. Closing her eyes for a moment, she was highly aware that Eddie was listening. A chill crept down her spine as she remembered his hands steaming up her body only hours ago. His touch was gentle yet had an air of owning to it, like she was his. And she had been. She had been his for the taking. For the anything.
She’d wanted an escape, and boy, had she gotten one. What was the harm in indulging their adult desires? She was in too far with Redburn and her vengeance to care about the fallout of having sex.
There was a cloud looming over the house of sticks she’d built up over the last twenty-four hours. She was only one word away from everything being brought down all around her. She wanted to catch Warren Redburn and make him pay. She wanted Eddie to help her. She wanted her life back. She wanted to be consumed by the good things in life. Right now, she couldn’t see past Robert. His face haunted her, haunted her dreams. Her guilt drove her. How did she let that go without making Warren pay first? Then she’d be free. And maybe, at the end, Eddie would be there. But probably he wouldn’t. She’d lived in the moment this morning, and it had felt great. She was definitely going to keep that going. No regrets from now on.
She’d opted to interview the Huntingtons together. Separately, they hadn’t said anything at the hands of her junior agents.
She smiled tightly and sat in the chair across the table from them. Their hatred for Redburn was a moot point in building a case against the couple; she just needed to know how far it extended and if there were more plans in place or anything else she could use.
“Your money exploded.” May as well jump in. She didn’t have much time. She wanted to get back to the action.
A faint smile touched George’s eyes, while his wife gave her nothing.
“Who was your target, and I’ll tell you whether or not you were successful.”
Lilia slid her eyes toward George and shifted in her seat. “We’re done. We want our lawyer.”
“I’m on your side. I hate that man.” She’d try anything at this point to get even one morsel out of them that could help her.
“Lawyer,” Lilia persisted.
Hannah nodded. “We can go that route. It’s messier and more unforgiving. But suit yourself.” She stood and slapped the hard edges of the folder down on the metal desk twice. “If I were you, I’d want the sweetest deal possible, and right now is your only chance for that.” She whirled around and headed toward the door. They’d better not let her actually leave.
“How about we talk in hypotheticals for this conversation.” A male voice stopped her from slamming the door shut from the hallway.
“Done.” Hannah sat back down, the tension in her shoulders releasing.
“Hypothetically, if someone were planning on screwing us over, we would deal with them first. That’s why we’re number one in our trade. We’re the best, and no one takes advantage of that.”
“So it was meant for Redburn.” If only these wackos had been successful.
George nodded.
“He wasn’t there when it exploded.” A stupid thought wouldn’t go away: What if she’d listened to her boss and not interfered with the Huntingtons’ plans? Would she be eating a meal right now to celebrate Redburn’s corpse?
And would she feel better?
“Ask him,” Eddie’s focused tone broke into her thoughts, “who makes the kind of tech that made the explosion.” Rapidly tapping keys sounded off for a moment. “I don’t think the Huntingtons made the bomb.”
“Who made the bomb?” Blank stares. “We’re still in this hypothetical world. We already have you on counterfeiting, the bills were on your person, and now people are dead. Your cooperation will help you. And you need the help.”
“I did.” Lilia sprung forward, jabbing her index finger at the table. “And my only regret is that it wasn’t timed better.”
“They set a timer on it?” Eddie came through her earpiece again. “It had to be a microchip. How’d she do that?”
“What was the disk made of?”
“I developed it. There’s nothing out there like it.” A smug smile crossed Lilia’s thin face. “That was the real deal. The tech. My minute disk can be a bomb, a tracker, and a listening device.”
“You’re telling me Redburn knew his people would be blown up?”
“Mr. Redburn requested certain specs for the tech he wanted, and we were supposed to make a deal for a bigger batch if this meeting went well. He has buyers. When we got word he was going to double-cross us, I added an extra surprise. He didn’t know it could be a bomb before today.”
“I’m searching databases and chatter on the dark web.” This time she could hear Eddie’s fingers commanding his keyboard and not stoppin
g. “There are people asking for that type of stunt, but no one has replied that they can deliver. Shit. Wait. Yep. Terrorists. That fucker was going to sell this to terrorists.”
“What was the prime objective of the platform you built him?”
“It can track locations. The microphone is there, but it’s not very strong yet. I was in the process of working out those kinks.”
“Do they have more hidden close by?” Eddie said in a rush.
Hannah rubbed her lips together. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever questioned suspects. She knew the important ones to ask.
“Are there more?”
“Yes.” Lilia answered quickly. “But for that, we need a deal on paper.”
Could Martha Stewart bake a cake? Warren Redburn was going down. The minute she had the Huntingtons’ little disks of terror in her hot palm.
• • •
A green dot in the corner of Eddie’s laptop screen blinked. His facial recognition software had caught one of Redburn’s known associates in the lobby. Perfect timing. He’d just finished making an online deal with Brewster, an old army informant who held no allegiance to any country, on the dark web to sell the Huntingtons’ technology. The people who would put feelers out to Brewster were likely to be the same people in on Redburn’s deal. No one else was looking for those specs and talking in cryptic, threatening ways.
Hannah was on her way back to the hotel, but he wasn’t sure how close she was. He sent her a quick text to use the side door and that he was going after the two guys who were milling around, admiring the Westin’s carpet in the lobby.
It was pretty ballsy of Redburn to send two more people to get something that may or may not blow up in their hands. The goons probably had no idea what was going on. Leo certainly hadn’t known. Little brother thought this was all a counterfeit deal.
The real puzzler wasn’t that Redburn was evil—that was evident—but that he was expanding his quaint operation, one he had down to a science and was virtually untouchable within, into bigger markets like terrorism. It didn’t fit.
Where did that leave Hannah? She was stuck in the middle of this mess, and the more he saw the gears working behind those eyes of hers, the more he feared for her safety and sanity. She was chasing absolution. There was no such thing. When Redburn was arrested, she wasn’t going to feel better. Where would the next thing to absolve her of Robert’s death lead her?
