by Katie Reus
Jack didn’t know why he bothered asking. Now that he’d broken silence, all his boss would have to do was trace his phone. It would take less than forty seconds. “I’m with Sophie right now and she wants proof of who I work for.”
“You told her who you are?”
He cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”
“Put him on speaker.” Sophie’s demanding voice cut through his conversation.
He bit back a smile at that flare of temper he loved. “Hold on, Wesley. I’m putting you on speaker.” Jack changed the setting and placed the phone in the middle of the glass table.
“Ms. Moreno?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Lieutenant General Wesley Burkhart.”
Sophie looked at Jack with raised eyebrows. “So you’re in the Army or something?”
Jack suppressed a smile.
Wesley cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I was in the Navy, but I’m now the deputy director of the NSA.”
Sophie’s eyes widened as she looked at Jack and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t, ma’am. You can look me up online, but I have no way to prove anything to you until we meet in person.”
“What about Jack? Can I look him up online?”
Wesley chuckled softly. “No, ma’am. If you can, we’re not doing our job.”
“What exactly does Jack do?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s classified. However, I can assure you that you’re in good hands.”
She snorted derisively. “You can make all the assurances in the world and it still proves nothing. What do you people want from me?”
Wesley paused and Jack knew it was time to take over the conversation. He hadn’t run anything by his boss yet, but this was Jack’s call. “Your boss, Ronald Weller, is being watched under suspicion of dealing with terrorists. We’ve found a link between terrorist cells with ties in North Africa and a drug cartel in South America. SBMS is that link.”
Jack carefully gauged Sophie’s reaction. Her lips pulled into a slight grimace and all color had fled her pretty face, but she didn’t seem surprised exactly. As if she knew something. “So why did you come into SBMS under the guise of working for Keane? And why did you want to work with me?”
“We weren’t sure of your involvement and figured the easiest way to get to Ronald would be through you.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “What about now? Do you still think I’m involved?”
“No, I don’t.”
Some of the color returned to her cheeks.
Jack glanced at the phone, just to force his gaze away from her piercing one. Staring at her too long was bad for his sanity. “Wesley, send me a complete file on Vargas, including pictures of some of his handiwork.” He was going to show Sophie exactly what kind of man they were trying to stop from unleashing terror on U.S. soil. The file would be encrypted and normally he’d have had the information with him, but he didn’t have much on his current laptop since it was his backup.
“Will do. . . . Jack, I’ve got to take this call.” Wesley disconnected before either of them could respond.
Jack took out the battery as Sophie stood and picked up her plate. She reached out to take his empty one, though her hand slightly shook. “Are you through?”
He nodded and let her take it. He cleared off their glasses and the serving dish and followed her into the kitchen. When she started washing the dishes, he stopped her. “Leave it, Sophie. Please.”
At the word “please,” she dropped the dishrag in the sink and turned to face him. Her expression was wary and he got the feeling that she was still holding something back from him. It was another reason he wanted to show her that file on Vargas. She needed to see that he was being honest with her—as honest as he could be. “What exactly do you want from me?”
Jack hadn’t gone over anything with his boss, but he had no doubt Wesley would be on board with whatever he chose to do. “I know you’re not telling me everything. I want to go over your past few months at SBMS, see if you remember anything out of the ordinary. The fact that you printed out all those logs from Keane tells me you’re suspicious of something. I’d also like to show you a file on the man your boss is in bed with.”
• • •
Leaning against the sink, Sophie clasped her hands in front of her stomach and tried to force herself to stop trembling. It was too hard to believe that Ronald was dirty, but his response to her call earlier had left her rattled. Why the hell would he want her to stay out of town? She might as well glean as much information from Jack as she could. He might not be telling the truth, but she was willing to listen. Mainly because she didn’t have any other option at this point. “What man?”
“Miguel Vargas.”
The name was vaguely familiar, sending off a small warning bell in her head. She frowned, unsure if she was supposed to know it.
Jack continued. “He’s head of a violent South American drug cartel.”
“Vargas . . . I do know the name, if it’s the same man. About a year ago one of the planes we hired was hit before they could deliver supplies. Now there are a few places in Brazil and Chile we can’t hire anyone to fly to for us. I think I heard someone, maybe Ronald, say something about Vargas being involved.”
“I thought Keane flew everything for SBMS.” Jack watched her carefully.
She figured he probably already knew this but was just testing her. Besides, there was no reason to lie. It wasn’t a secret. “Keane Flight flies supplies to different countries, but we often outsource to locals once he’s in-country because they’d rather deal with their own people for the final deliveries. It’s not personal to Keane and we care about getting those supplies to where they’re needed most.”
He nodded once, clearly accepting her answer. Then he nodded toward the living room. “I’d like to show you some files.”
“Okay.” She pushed up from the counter and let him leave the small kitchen first. Sophie needed some space from the man, but there was nowhere to go.
He sat on one end of the longer couch and she sat on the other, trying to put a little space between them. The room seemed to grow smaller in the silence as he turned on his laptop. It was a newer computer, sleek and thin. She watched his hard profile as he typed. His expression was grim as he stared at the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
Suddenly he looked up, those pale eyes pinning her, and she flushed as if she’d been doing something wrong. She couldn’t help staring at him, though. Watching him was like watching a tiger only feet from her. The man just screamed danger, but everything about him begged her to reach out and touch. To see if she’d get bitten. Her mouth and lips were dry, but she forced herself not to lick her lips even if the action was instinctual.
She could almost swear the man read her thoughts, though, because his gaze strayed to her lips for a fraction of a second before he turned back to the screen. He shifted the computer screen toward her.
Scooting closer, she couldn’t ignore that spicy scent or what his mere presence did to her. She moved until their knees almost touched, but she kept a little space between them.
Jack eyed the small distance, frowned as if it annoyed him, then moved until they were touching. The action took her so off guard she didn’t know how to respond. She wondered if he was even aware of what he’d done.
Before she could contemplate it, he handed her the laptop. “Scan the files if you like, but the pictures start on page five.”
When she went to look at what he’d given her, he stopped her with a light touch on her arm.
“Fair warning, the pictures aren’t easy to look at. Everyone in them is dead and . . .” He trailed off, shrugging. “This is what happens when someone crosses Vargas and why he must be stopped. These are his own countrymen and women, and he did what he did because someone went to the authorities because he was using their town as part of his
supply route.”
He stopped talking, but the dark look in his eyes was predatory. It was almost as if she could sense the rage in him even though he wasn’t outwardly reacting. He was so still it was unnerving, as if he was reining in his anger. Sam had been just like that. Whenever he got angry, everything burned deep beneath his surface. And the quieter he’d gotten, the angrier he’d been. The sudden comparison between the two men jarred her enough to tear her gaze away.
Sophie started scrolling through the pages of text. On the third one, she glared at him accusingly. “I can barely read any of this.” There were big paragraphs completely blacked out.
He looked almost apologetic as his broad shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “The classified stuff is redacted.”
Gritting her teeth, she looked back and read what she could. The details were scant and she gleaned bits and pieces basically telling her what Jack had just told her. But when she got to the section of pictures, what little food she had in her stomach roiled. Men, women, and children had been massacred.
There were so many of them wearing threadbare clothes, some with no shoes, and their bodies had been ravaged with bullets. In some, the bodies of the women were missing skirts or they were completely naked, telling another story of the carnage. Some bodies were piled on each other, just dumped in ditches. Some had been left in the street and ripped apart by hungry scavengers. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, but the images remained.
Having seen more than enough, she snapped his computer shut and shoved it at him.
“I told you,” he murmured.
“Vargas did that and he’s supposedly involved with my boss? And Keane?”
“I don’t know for sure about your boss, but it’s more than probable.” Jack’s eyes were unreadable. He just stared at her, as if waiting for something.
Screw it. She reached into the built-in bra of the too-big dress and pulled out the flash drive. She had backups and someone wanted her dead. If Jack wanted to kill her, he could have done so. Multiple times. She handed it to the intimidating man next to her, then wiped her damp palm on her dress. She had no idea what his reaction would be.
His eyes slightly narrowed. “What is this?”
“I stopped by Keane’s hangar—well, I guess I technically broke in—Sunday night and took pictures of some very illegal stuff. Grenades and guns were all I managed to get before some scary-looking thugs showed up and chased me. Luckily I’m a fast runner.” She said the last part semi-jokingly, but even remembering the fear from the other night sent a shiver rippling through her. The thought of what could have happened to her seemed even more real after looking at those pictures.
Jack went impossibly still. “You broke into Keane’s hangar. Alone. With no backup.” His voice vibrated with anger.
She blinked, surprised by the tone. “How is this not a good thing? Well, the weapons aren’t good, but I have proof that Keane is involved in bad stuff. Maybe this will tie him to Vargas. Isn’t that important?”
His jaw clenched and he all but ignored what she’d said. “Anything could have happened to you! Do you realize how dangerous that was?” He cursed, the sound surprisingly savage.
Sophie slowly inched down the couch as a burst of fear detonated inside her. He was seriously angry at her and she couldn’t figure out why.
When he saw her move, his expression really darkened. Shoving up from the couch, he stalked to the love seat, putting distance between them. “I hate that you think I’d ever hurt you.”
The words elicited so much confusion she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Why are you so angry at me?”
He completely ignored her question and picked up his laptop. As he plugged in the flash drive, he said, “So what prompted your break-in?” He wouldn’t even look at her, something she found really annoying.
But she answered, “Ronald has been acting strange the past few months. Agitated, forgetting to do simple things, he’s been blowing off my concerns about the anomalies I found in the Keane flight logs, and this is really small, but he hasn’t asked me over for dinner in months.”
“Why is that strange?”
“I assumed he and his wife were having problems—it would have explained his distraction at work—but after what I found and what you showed me, I don’t know what to think anymore. Then when I just called him, he told me to stay hidden for a few days and that I had to trust him. About what, though, he didn’t explain. He also offered to send me money. That’s not normal behavior for someone with nothing to hide.”
Jack was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Who knew you were going to lunch with me today?”
“Well . . . Mandy, Benson, and Ronald, though I’m sure they could have mentioned it to practically anyone. Why?”
“Just trying to get a feel for the people you work with. Is there anyone you don’t trust?”
“No. Other than Ronald—” She frowned as another thought hit her.
“What is it?”
“Lately I’ve noticed things in my office moved around. It’s not something I’d swear to in court, just a feeling I’ve had.”
“How would you feel about returning to Miami to question Ronald?”
“What about the people who want to kill me?”
“I’m talking about a private meeting. We would name the time and place. You’ll wear a listening device—”
“Wait, what?” Was he crazy? A sniper had tried to kill her and now she was pretty sure that whoever she’d run from at the hangar was probably behind it. Someone knew where she worked and probably where she lived. And he wanted her to go back there? Even Ronald had told her to stay away.
Jack continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “—convince your boss you’re in trouble and need to meet with him. If you can get him to give up his partner or partners and, more important, bring Vargas to Miami for a meeting, we can bring him in immediately.”
Her head swam as she tried to digest his words. “You’re saying all this stuff as if it’s normal. I’m not wearing a freaking wire anywhere. What if those people come after me again? Who’s going to protect me? Where will I be staying? Because it sure as hell won’t be my house.” She instantly regretted the last question because it implied that she’d be going back soon. But if those pictures Jack had shown her were real, they said so much about what Vargas was capable of—and that terrified her.
Jack was silent for a moment; then he shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry—sometimes I forget. . . . Why don’t you turn on the news and see if there’s anything about what happened earlier today?”
“What about you?”
He stood, ready to head back to the kitchen. “I’m going to finish the dishes, then work some stuff up on my computer. I’m also sending those pictures you gave me to my boss.”
She wondered what that would mean for her, but didn’t ask because she didn’t want the answer. Not yet. “I suppose it’s out of the question to ask if I can use your phone?”
“Why?”
“To check on a friend.” Even though she’d told Hannah that she couldn’t have drinks tonight, she still wanted to check on her—especially with everything going on.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure what to make of it. “No, sorry.”
“What about e-mail? Can I use your computer?”
He shook his head. “Someone wants you dead and I’m not going to let that happen.”
Maybe it was stupid, but she felt oddly warmed by the conviction in his voice. As though this was personal for him. Deep down she knew that was wishful thinking, but it evoked a long-buried sensation inside her anyway. “And you think someone can kill me through e-mail?”
“No, but they found us too soon today, which tells me that whoever is after you has government contacts. If they were able to use satellites to track us earlier, they might be monitoring your e-mail, and if you check it, they’ll be able to track your IP address. I have an encrypted router on m
y computer, which would make it difficult, but nothing’s impossible.”
Sophie rubbed her temple. “Okay, no phone and no e-mail. I guess I’m going to watch the news. Could you ask your boss to have someone check in on Hannah Young? She’s my best friend.”
“No problem.” He turned then and strode toward the kitchen.
She tamped down the annoyance that stirred inside her. “Don’t you need to know who she is?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “She grew up in Miami, her family owns two of the best Korean restaurants in the city, she graduated from the University of Miami with honors, she’s the head nurse at Miami Children’s Hospital—the youngest they’ve ever appointed—and she has terrible taste in men.”
Sophie’s jaw went slack, but she recovered quickly. “If you ever meet her, her parents own the best restaurants. Not two of the best.”
“Noted.” He shot her a lopsided grin that sent the butterflies in her stomach into a tailspin.
If he looked at her like that more often, she was so screwed. She already knew how inviting his lips were, but when he smiled it softened his entire face. Which was the last thing she should be thinking about.
Another thought settled inside her. If he knew so much about her friend, he must know a lot about her too. “Do . . . you have a file like that on me?”
He nodded, his expression remote.
She swallowed hard. “How far back does that file date?”
“It covers your whole life.” His quiet words pierced her deep.
That meant he knew things about her he had no right to. What had happened to her growing up should be sealed, but somehow she didn’t think the NSA would have a problem getting those records.
Not wanting to talk anymore, she sat back on the couch. Tucking her feet underneath her, she flipped on the television. Maybe it would take her mind off the past twenty-four hours—though she knew that was impossible. She caught the tail end of the news and sure enough, there was something about the shooting at La Marea. There weren’t any details, though. Just speculation that it was somehow gang-related.
“Do you want a glass of wine or a beer? Or water?” Jack asked through the kitchen archway.
