While Rand traipsed around in the darkness, she hauled their bag into the bedroom.
A man had died tonight. Because of her. That was two souls on her conscience now.
They had to get the briefcase back. There was no question in her mind that it was a priority. She couldn’t have any more blood on her hands.
Sarah placed the firearm in the nightstand drawer and considered what to do next. She wanted to strip down, crawl in bed and go to sleep. But what made sense? Her mind was so fuzzy, it was hard to think.
She spent a few moments washing her arm in the hall bath, applying a bit of ointment to the skin around her stitches. Rand was right when he said it would be an ugly patch-up. Her scars would be worse, but at least she was alive and the damage superficial.
How was she going to explain that to her family next time she saw them? The old scars had begun to age and fade. The new one was going to be obvious to them.
Sweaters. She needed a large collection of cardigans and long-sleeved shirts so she could just avoid that topic for a while longer.
The side door creaked open. Sarah held her breath.
“It’s me,” Rand said, his voice soft.
She exhaled and met him in the living room.
“High fences. Neighbor’s got a couple dogs. Good spot.” He shrugged out of his coat. “We’ll be safe tonight. Come here.”
She walked into his arms, needing that touch, his support.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Bitsy. I promise.” He kissed the top of her head.
How could it be okay when people were dying? She didn’t see it.
“Come on, let’s get some rest.”
She led him into the bedroom and toed off her shoes. As much as she wanted to get undressed and feel the sheets and Rand’s warm body, she couldn’t. They had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Sarah lay down on top of the comforter, pulling an extra blanket up over her, and stared at the ceiling. She listened to Rand lay his coat on the bench at the foot of the bed, stash his guns, dig in the bag.
This was what she’d signed up for. It wasn’t just the carrying stuff place to place, it was this, too. They’d told her she’d never get into trouble, that stuff like this just didn’t happen… Well, she was ready to call bullshit. If this stuff never happened, why had they insisted she go through training? How had they landed themselves in this mess?
Rand flipped off the lights and lay down next to her, fully dressed save for his shoes. He draped his arm over her waist and kissed the back of her neck.
His presence made her feel safe, but that sensation hadn’t stopped the death so far. It wouldn’t next time, either.
Chapter Thirteen
A long, high-pitched creak woke Sarah from the sleep of the dead.
She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Rand stood with his back to the wall, gun in hand, edging closer to the door. Sunlight streamed through the leaves of the tree outside the window.
Shit.
It was later than Sarah had thought she’d sleep. She got up and shoved her feet in her shoes.
“Rand—wait,” she whispered. “It’s going to be Julie.”
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called out.
“Is that—”
“Julie, hi. It’s Sarah.” She rushed out the door ahead of Rand.
An older woman with honey-blonde hair stood in the doorway. She breathed a sigh of relief, and her shoulders slumped.
“Good God, Sarah. Where have you been? You’ve had everyone worried sick about you. Come here.” Julie wrapped her arms around her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” Her voice was muffled by Julie’s jacket.
“What happened?” Julie held her at arm’s length, deep lines of worry etched into the woman’s face. “The last I heard, you were headed out and then—nothing. No one’s heard from you in days.”
“Oh, uh, I missed my flight and things sort of got crazy.” Sarah shifted her weight. Last night she’d briefly thought up a story, but in the light of day it wasn’t really making sense.
“Ah, hello there.” Julie stared over Sarah’s shoulder, brows arched.
Sarah glanced behind her at Rand. His hair stuck up every which way, he’d removed his jacket, and the threadbare shirt clung to his chest. The way his belt hung half buckled suggested he hadn’t been dressed long.
No. No. No.
Sarah wanted to shove Rand back into the bedroom. This was not the right time to play the “whirlwind lovers” card.
“Julie, this is my friend Rand. We grew up together.”
He pushed off the wall and crossed the living room, offering his hand and an easygoing smile.
“Oh really?” Julie’s smile slowly widened.
Fuck. She’d walked into that one.
Julie was a romantic, always shoving some new book about angsty lovers into everyone’s hands. Sarah had been sucked into them to the point where she just picked up whatever bag of books was up for grabs on her way through the office. She knew what Julie was thinking, because she’d put those books into Sarah’s hands plenty of times.
Only, people didn’t die in Julie’s books.
“It’s my fault she missed her flight,” Rand said with a cheeky smile.
“It was an accident, and then there was a misunderstanding,” Sarah said in a rush.
“I see.” Julie glanced from Rand to Sarah. “Well, make sure to call your family and let them know you’re okay. They’ve just about crawled up Amanda’s butt.”
“Crap.” Sarah scrubbed a hand over her face. Of course. When they couldn’t locate her, they’d start asking around. Trying to find her. Wishing Well was a very connected organization that worked more like an extended family than a company. It’d be all hands on deck trying to find her.
“Okay, well, I’m headed into the office so I can put everyone on notice you’re fine. How long are you staying for?”
“Just until I can arrange a flight back. Maybe a night or two?”
“Don’t rush it. If you can get a better flight in a few days or a week, we can manage.” Julie’s gaze flicked back to Rand.
“Thanks, Julie.”
“All right, I’ve got to go. You know the code for the house still?”
“Yes.”
“There’s food there, help yourselves. You’re family.” Julie pulled Sarah in for a squeeze and whispered, “Seriously, take a little vacation.”
God, everyone was going to know about Rand in the next ten minutes.
This was a disaster.
Rand walked Julie to the door and waved her out, which was likely to make her day. Julie loved the idea of romance, but at her heart she was a workaholic married to her cause. It wouldn’t stop her from perpetuating the idea that Sarah and Rand were a couple. All she’d needed to see was Rand. The shirt and loosened belt were just icing on that piece of brain cake.
“Did you really have to do that?” Sarah groaned.
“Just selling the story a little.” He fastened his belt and peered out the window, no doubt checking the perimeter or whatever he’d called it.
“We have to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because the first thing Julie is going to do when she gets in her car is to call Amanda and tell her she just found me here with a guy. Amanda will tell whoever is in the office, and then they’ll talk about it. Rand, this just became a disaster.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Does Wishing Well give a status update on their employee’s locations?”
“No. So if someone called and asked where I was by name, they’d refer them to Julie, who would refer them to the director, who would stonewall them until there was some sort of legal request for the information. We just have so many people in highly dangerous areas it’s not the kind of thing they give out unless they have to.”
Still, Sarah had nightmares of someone hanging around the office, listening to the gossip.
“Look, we need a base of
operations for the moment. Somewhere the company doesn’t know about. If we can keep our stuff here for a day, maybe two, I think I can get us some reliable support.”
“Reliable support? What’s that supposed to mean?” She rubbed her face, exhaustion still weighing on her.
“How’d they find the surveillance suite? How did they know to come looking for us?”
“Because we were obvious. I told you it was a bad idea to let them see me.”
“If that was the case, why wait so long? Why let us hear what we did?” He shook his head. “I don’t think they knew. I think someone told them to look at us.”
“The mole. You think we’re still being sold out.”
“I do.”
“God, Rand, this is too much.”
“Hey. Look at me.” He cupped her shoulders, running his hands up and down her arms. “Just focus on right now. What we’re doing next. Let me worry about everything else. I’m going to reach out again to my guys. See if we can’t find someone who knows something.”
What would she do without him? He was her life preserver. Her safety net.
…
Irene’s stomach churned as she read the news blip.
Chinese national found dead at hotel.
The Carlyle Hotel.
Why was she just now finding out about this?
Irene pushed to her feet and stalked down the hall toward Hector’s office. They’d agreed to be in on this together. It was both their asses on the line.
Hector’s office was empty, the lights off. There wasn’t even a cold cup of coffee on the desk.
She turned on her heel, pulling out her phone. The last thing she wanted to do was distract Sarah in the field. Hector would have to answer for them. She grabbed her purse and keys and hit dial on her cell, opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
“Yeah?” Hector said.
“What’s going on?”
“Too much. I’ll have to brief you—”
“Now, Hector.”
“I can’t.” His voice was low, a warning.
“Are you at the hotel now?”
“I am.”
“I’m on my way to you.” She hung up and picked up the pace.
What the hell could have happened in the last twenty-four hours that’d led to this?
She wasn’t nearly awake enough yet. After spending several hours last night on a video call with Anna’s doctors and her sister once she woke up, Irene had hoped for a slower day. She wasn’t going to get her wish.
The drive to the hotel didn’t take as long as Irene feared. She entered through the back of the hotel, making use of her credentials to avoid the main areas and media that would no doubt be drawn to a murder.
Just what they needed.
The sixth floor was buzzing with activity. It wasn’t hard to find Hector observing the scene from the hall. Irene peered into the closet, noting the blood on the floor and the evidence markers.
“Well?” she asked.
“Not good,” Hector muttered. “Come on, we’ve got to squash this.” He led her to the stairwell, where they seemed to have some privacy.
“Well?” she eyed Hector.
“I don’t know what the hell happened.” Hector peered out through the window. “Last I heard, they were set up to do surveillance, listen and wait only. Next thing, I get a text from Rand that shit’s hitting the fan, and there’s going to be trouble.”
“What do you think happened?” Irene watched the corners of Hector’s eyes, how his nostrils flared.
“I think either they got into trouble and Rand had to kill the guy to protect them, or this is a set-up. There’s too much evidence linking Rand and Sarah to this. We need a gag order or jurisdiction or something, or our guys are about to become D.C.’s Most Wanted.”
“Wait. If we do that, we might as well tell the Chinese we’re in on this. That’s only going to give them more ammunition to go after Rand and Sarah.”
“And you want the cops to slap them with this?” Hector thumbed over his shoulder.
“Let me think of something.”
“Well you better think fast. We’ve got as long as it takes us to get to the first floor.”
…
Rand handed the bagel over to Sarah. It was still early enough that they blended into the foot traffic. He scanned the crowds, looking for anyone out of place, but most were too intent on their destination or cellular device to care about them.
“Okay, what are we doing here?” Sarah’s nervousness was a palpable undercurrent disrupting his calm.
He couldn’t tell her to take it easy or stop being so jumpy. He’d have to work with it. “Andy. He’s an intel guy. Someone like me.” And a crazy son of a bitch, at that.
“You think he’ll help us?”
“He’s got a funny code of ethics. If he thinks something is the right thing to do, he’ll do it. Put him in hot water a time or two with the company. You have to know how to talk to Andy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Meaning, if you tell him you need someone to disappear, they better be a bad guy. Don’t give him the gray-area jobs, because then he takes it into his head to do the right thing, sometimes for the wrong side.”
“You think he’ll help us?”
“He will.”
“Are we really the good guys in this?”
“We don’t kill our own. Besides, Andy owes me.”
“How are we supposed to meet him?”
“We won’t. He’ll find us.”
“I’m so confused.”
“You’re doing great.” Rand kept his eyes open, scanning the crowd.
He was rather surprised Andy was Stateside. Last Rand had heard, he was in deep somewhere in the Middle East. His mixed heritage allowed him to blend in easier than someone like Rand, who was as white as Casper’s ass. At least in Seoul, there was enough business with America he could pass himself off without much trouble. Still, Rand was grateful. Andy’s ethical code would make him predisposed to helping them. They couldn’t have had a better turn of luck.
A dozen feet away, a guy wearing a ball cap and reflective sunglasses paused. It was the way he glanced in their direction that was…different.
“There.” Rand planted his hand on Sarah’s back, the bulge of the gun under his palm, and propelled her forward. “Move.”
They hoofed it across the courtyard, bisecting the metro traffic and down a side street. Rand didn’t see the cap ahead of them, but he knew the man had gone this way.
The strains to Guns N’ Roses “Sweet Child of Mine” reached his ears. Rand searched the buildings for the source. A beat-up door stood open a dozen or so feet ahead of them. He glanced behind them, but didn’t see anyone out of place.
“Through the door. Go on.” Rand nudged her through the opening and shut it behind them.
Andy was something of a rock and roll nut.
“What is this place?”
They were at the foot of a staircase with no other doors around them.
“Let’s find out.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Andy were squatting in a vacant space.
Rand led the way up the stairs. At the first landing, a door to their left was open, the music louder. “Hello?” he called out.
Andy might be a friend, but Rand wasn’t alive because he threw caution to the wind.
“Was wonderin’ if you’d get it or not.” A man stepped around a half wall partition, a lopsided grin on his face. His skin was tanner since the last time Rand had seen him. His brown-gold eyes were full of curiosity. The one surprise was his hair—longer, streaked with sun-bleached blond and brown. Come to think of it, Rand had never seen Andy with hair.
“That was kind of obvious.” Rand searched Andy’s face, but didn’t see any screws loose, nothing unusual.
“Hi, ma’am.” Andy held out his hand toward Sarah.
“Hi. I’m—”
“Don’t need to know,” he said quickly.
“Oh. Right.”
“It’s okay. You’ll get the hang of it. Or not. Hopefully you don’t have to. Shut the door and come in.”
Rand flipped the lock on the door and followed in Andy’s wake. The space was an open loft, probably a small office, by the looks of it.
“I started digging last night after I got your S.O.S.” Andy sat on a crate pulled up to a desk and tapped at a laptop. Despite the pauper’s furniture finds, the equipment he’d set up wasn’t run of the mill. Three monitors and a stack of units that did…something.
“What’d you find out?” Rand leaned on the adjacent desk, peering over Andy’s shoulder.
“Dark web chatter about an intel auction.” Andy twisted to peer up at Rand. “Now, I don’t know where the auction is going to happen—yet—but judging by the source, it’s Chinese in origin. I don’t need to tell you that this could be real, or a trap to lure you in.”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Can you find out more about it?”
“Maybe. It’ll take time. You know who might have more information?”
“Don’t say it.” Rand groaned.
Noah White.
Pain in Rand’s ass. The nosy motherfucker would have a finger in every pie. That was why he was valuable to the company. Whereas Andy had ethics, Noah was after the rush. An adrenaline junkie funded by the U.S. government.
“You can either wait to find out what I can learn, or you go chat with your old friend.”
Rand flipped Andy the bird.
“I’m sorry. Who?” Sarah glanced between them.
“Your boyfriend’s best friend.” Andy grinned.
“He’s not—”
“We’re not together,” Rand said.
Andy’s brows rose. He shrugged and turned back to the monitors. “Intel on the auction went out this morning. I imagine if we can front a little money, we can find out more. It’s going to be expensive if it’s not a trap entirely.” His fingers flew across the keys.
Used to be they could simply beat answers out of the bad guys. Rand didn’t like the fifty-fifty chances that this was, indeed, a trap. Then again, large-scale political functions were almost always used to cover up the underhanded dealings on the intelligence market.
Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes) Page 17
