by Wendy Byrne
It didn't happen often, but was within the realm of possibilities if the men who'd invaded the camp knew her real name. No doubt they'd hypothesized she lived in Virginia, near CIA headquarters at Langley. Alex's plea for leniency might have been the impetus.
Brushing off the fear, she drew in a breath and forced herself to think rationally. It could have been some random burglar who had happened upon her place. Considering there was a patch of woods behind her house, it would make a perfect spot to hide if someone wanted to rob her and be reasonably free from detection. But there were two problems with that scenario. One, she had a sophisticated alarm system that would require some expertise to get past, and, two, would a run-of-the-mill burglar have a guy stationed at her back door with a Glock in his hand? Probably not.
Part of her believed she should have stood her ground and confronted whoever had invaded her place. She had enough firepower to do that but instead chose to run.
Six months ago, running wouldn't have been on her radar, but today it seemed like it was the only logical choice. Taking risks no longer was a viable way to live her life.
But as an adrenaline junkie, how long could that last? Maybe she only needed more time to heal and think through where she might want to go.
She sat in the back of the coffee shop with the hood of her sweatshirt covering her head as she waited out the bad guys. They had to have tripped her second alarm by now. They might have gotten past the first alarm, but no way they could have gotten past the second. If that were true, why hadn't she heard the blare of sirens? She wasn't far away.
There was a reasonable explanation for everything, as Alex had schooled her time and time again.
Why did everything circle back to Alex?
She loved him, but wasn't in love with him. That was how it had always been. He'd always told her that if he ever got married, she would be his best man. And she felt the same way.
All this mindless brain activity allowed the throbbing in her shoulder to seep into her awareness. She pulled one of the pain patches she kept in her purse and applied it across the incision. More than likely it was the placebo effect, but the ache seemed to ease as the metal discs inside did their magic. Even though her body tensed tight inside, she kept the exterior looking casual and fluid as she surfed the Internet with no particular destination in mind and watched every person that walked inside.
At this time of night, most people fell into two categories. Either they were under twenty-one and used this place as their hangout or were middle-aged couples having a decaf latte before heading home.
A guy who didn't look like he belonged to either of those categories strolled inside. His languid walk couldn't disguise the intensity of his perusal. She guessed him to be thirtyish, well over six feet, and probably close to two hundred pounds. With dark hair, stubbled cheeks, and olive-toned skin, he could very well be one of the men who'd broken into her home. He fit the general description circling around her head.
If they'd discovered the bathtub full of water, they would know she'd heard them. But that would also mean they'd made it past the second alarm. Why weren't the Alexandria PD's sirens blaring? Maybe somehow she'd missed the sound, or maybe they were that good.
The next logical conclusion would be to come look for her in town. That set of assumptions nicely followed her paranoid expectation that she was the object of their focus.
A public place gave her a sense of safety. And the guy who entered wouldn't show his hand with people around. She watched as he flirted with the young girl behind the counter while he waited for his coffee, seemingly oblivious to Tessa's presence. But she sensed he knew exactly what she was doing, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
Then again, maybe suspiciousness had overtaken her common sense. Nothing in the way he winked at the counter girl as he walked outside hinted he even knew Tessa was sitting there. But still there was something about him that set off her radar, and it had nothing to do with the sexy vibe he was sending out.
She'd stake her life on the fact he was tracking her.
* * *
Damn, he was good. Jake allowed himself a moment or two of victory before he hunkered in the shadows and called Jennings. "Somebody's after her besides me."
"I was afraid of that. Nobody said keeping her safe was going to be easy."
He shook his head even though he knew Jennings couldn't see him. "Thought I'd give you a heads-up."
"Secure her as soon as possible, and keep me posted."
Jake figured that was easier said than done. Judging by a superficial observation, the woman was skittish as a cat. Then again, having her home invaded would shake anyone's world. Especially a person who would have taken every precaution possible to prevent something like that from occurring in the first place. But if she were guilty of something, wouldn't she be running for the hills instead of sitting around a coffee shop? Maybe there was something at her house she needed that prevented her from leaving. Something she'd hoped the other guys hadn't found. He mulled the possibility.
From what he'd read, she'd had a debriefing at Langley on Wednesday and was scheduled back in the office on Monday. So what had they learned between Wednesday and the time they contacted The Alliance for services? And why wasn't the person who signed the contract and paid the hefty fee more forthcoming with information if he were so suspicious?
Not. His. Problem.
He needed to do what he was contracted to do. His only job was to secure her and figure out what she was up to. Should be easy, but apparently not so much when guys were showing up with guns at her home.
The only logical conclusion was that she had stashed something at her place. Somebody else was looking for it as well. Now it was a waiting game.
Things didn't take as long as he'd anticipated to unfold. He spotted a car inching its way down the street. The way the driver took his time made him believe they were looking for somebody. It wasn't too far of a stretch for him to think it was Tessa Graham.
Speak of the devil. She stood suddenly and stuffed her computer into her backpack. Talk about bad timing.
It would take them seconds to make a beeline for the nearest coffee shop. Since he'd figured it out without too much trouble, he had to assume they would too.
When she yanked open the door and rushed outside, he grabbed her arm. "Tessa, I did not expect to find you here." He pulled her close and whispered, "You're in danger."
He felt the escalation of the pulse through her arm, even as she tried to pull away. "Let me go." She ground her teeth together and tugged. But he held tight.
When she made a quick move toward her left pocket, he snaked his hand around her forearm. No doubt she was reaching for a weapon of some kind. That would be his first reaction as well.
"My car is around the corner. If we hurry, they might—"
"I do not know you. Why on earth would I get in a car with you?" She shuddered her revulsion and gave him the evil eye. "And you're not so stealth if your reconnaissance in the coffee shop was any indication. I had you pegged for trouble the moment you walked inside."
He ignored her jab. "You do know the bad guys have just turned around and are headed our way. They'll spot you, despite your very clever hoodie disguise." Two could play at the I'm-a-better-spy-than-you-are game.
She rolled her eyes. "I can get out of this on my own, like I always do." She pushed at his chest. "Back off, or I'll scream."
Her face was inches from his. His first unprofessional thought was that she was hot. His second thought corrected the first in changing that descriptor to "breathtakingly beautiful." The photos of her didn't do her justice. They didn't display the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They didn't highlight the depth and intelligence hidden in those green eyes of hers. He pressed himself to remember where a beautiful face had led in the past. And reinforced the idea she might very well be up to no good. In the past he'd been sucker-punched by a pretty woman. This time he had been given a heads-up as part of
his assignment—she might be going rogue. He would do well to remember that.
"And then what? The bad guys show some kind of fake badge and say they're putting you under arrest, which we both know means they're dropping you into the nearest landfill."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did they speak Russian?" She shook her head and sighed. "Of course they didn't speak Russian. Why do you think they're after…"
She didn't finish her thought, and he couldn't help but wonder who else might be after her. This wasn't the time to dwell on nuances. He'd figure that out sooner or later.
"I'm making an educated guess based on the way they trashed your place. It wasn't a run-of-the-mill burglary."
"My place is trashed?" she asked and seemed surprised by that information. "Wait a minute. Who are you, and why the hell do you know where I live?"
"I've been contracted to keep you safe." A little white lie sometimes went a long way. "I peeked in the window of your townhome. They were looking for something. The trashing was thorough. They sent you a clear message."
"I heard somebody downstairs while I was taking a bath. I skipped out through the bedroom window." She shook her head as if disgusted in revealing so much to him.
"Someone's breaking into your house and you didn't call the police? Why?" He held up his hand to stop her ready excuse. "Never mind. I already know the answer to that. You're CIA. You don't do mundane things like call the police."
She huffed out a sigh. "Like you'd call the police if it were your place."
"Touché."
"Are you sure you're not one of them trying to lure me into trusting you?"
"Number one, would I admit that to you in the first place? Number two, who says I'm trying to lure you into anything?" He grasped her arm. "Come with me, and I'll explain everything. We don't have time to argue."
To his shock, she didn't resist. She didn't exactly comply either, but he'd take what he could get for the time being.
But they were too late—the guys spotted her and gunned it in their direction. He shoved her into the car as bullets started to fly.
Man, he hated when that happened.
* * *
Tessa was about to go stark raving mad. Why did she ask him if the men spoke Russian? She had no idea why that popped into her brain. Was PTSD giving her flashbacks she had no control of?
Whoever had broken into her house had been skilled. And now she was trapped in a car with somebody who was driving like a bat out of hell. She grabbed the dashboard as he squealed around the corner. He still hadn't told her his name.
"Geez, where did you learn to drive?"
"In Europe, where there's no real speed limits." He grinned and took the next corner on two wheels.
"Well, there are here. Just how many tickets do you have?"
"None. But then again, I have friends in high places." He stomped on the gas and charged through a red light.
Should she call her boss and ask for a safe house or something? She shook her head. No doubt after the fiasco in Afghanistan they'd think she'd gone over that very slippery slope into Crazyland.
Bad idea. No. Colossally bad idea. Hank didn't care for her much, so coming to him with problems wouldn't be met with a positive outcome. And pressing up through the chain of command wouldn't go well either. Alex was the golden child, and no doubt his loss was somehow blamed on her weaknesses.
Why should she trust Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Maybe because the other guys after her had trashed her place. Allegedly. So far he'd done nothing but flirt with her.
She couldn't deny some facts. He knew her name, and he seemed to know her habits, and that could only mean one thingno doubt about it, he meant to kill her, despite the smile on his face.
"Who sent you and why?"
"I'm an extraction specialist."
What was he talking about? "Are you part of the government? A SEAL? Special Forces?"
"No. I'm a for-hire contractor."
"Well, you're not too sly if what just happened is any indication."
He blew out a breath. "Stop busting my balls and listen. Your life is in danger, and I've been sent to rescue you."
She couldn't help but laugh. "I can do my own rescuing, thank you very much."
"I'm sure you can, but somebody must have thought you needed help." He looked into the rearview mirror and winced.
Her heartbeat jumped inside her chest. "You've got to be CIA. Only a moron would think I'd fall for that BS."
"CIA?" It was his turn to laugh. "No way. They don't pay enough. Do you think I could afford these five-hundred-dollar boots on that measly salary? I don't think so."
He was good at lying. She'd give him that. "I guess that would depend on who's supporting your cause. You wouldn't be the first agent to double-dip."
"That's not who I am." Despite the fact they were travelling at a too-fast-to-be-safe rate of speed, he managed to scrutinize her like he was insulted at her insinuation. For the first time she thought badass instead of lightweight. Holy shit. What had she gotten herself into?
"That doesn't mean I'm naïve enough to believe you."
"I could show you my driver's license."
"And what would that prove? Your name? Your address? Besides, it's not like I don't have a string of phony IDs myself. Working for the CIA has its perks, doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't know, since I don't work for the CIA, as I already told you." Before she could respond, tires squealed behind them. "Do you have anything in that backpack that could help us out?" He pointed with his thumb behind them.
Tessa turned around, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. Holy crap! There was a car no more than a half-block behind them and gaining. He wasn't kidding.
She yanked out her gun. But at this speed it wouldn't do much.
What exactly was an extraction specialist? He had skills. She had no doubt about that now. But if he wasn't CIA like he professed, who was he?
"This is a rental, so they won't get anything off the plates." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I used an alias when I rented it. So even if they trace it, they'll come back empty."
She gave him a quick perusal. If she were the type of female to be sucked in by a handsome face, she'd be putty in his hands. But that wasn't her MO. That had never been her MO. His posturing spoke of the confidence she might expect in a federal officer, but his tactics and demeanor…not so much. Whoever paid him—if his story were even true—operated some kind of renegade operation to be sure. They were the worst kind. The unknowns.
"Who are you?"
"I told you. I was paid to keep you safe."
"By who?"
"I'm not privy to that information."
She blew out a breath. Her whole life had gone to hell in a hand basket, and this guy was playing a game. She pointed the gun toward him. "Liar. I need to know who put you up to this. For all I know you could be involved somehow."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess that would be why I just got shot at." He placed his hand on the barrel of the gun and pointed it downward.
She shook her head. No. No. No. This could not be happening to her. After enduring the fiasco in Afghanistan, this should be over and done with. She rubbed at her aching shoulder. "I need to know your name."
"My name is Jake Shaw. I work for a place called The Alliance."
"I've heard about this mythical place called The Alliance. But I'm still not sure it exists, since I've heard that no one has any phone numbers for the place. And it takes a secret handshake to get in."
He laughed despite the fact he was negotiating his way through town at a speed that had to be close to ninety. Whatever training he had must have put ice water in his veins. "Something like that."
"So if you are who you say you are, who hired you or this Alliance place you claim to work for?"
"I told you before. I don't know."
It was her turn to laugh, even while she held on to the door as he took a corner. "All I know is you showed up, and so did a bunch o
f other guys determined to kill me."
"You have no idea why somebody wants to hurt you?" When she nodded, he continued. "Then why would somebody pay a lot of money to protect you? What did they know that you don't?"
She had a big honkin' idea why somebody wanted to hurt her. It had to do with Afghanistan, and what happened there. Too bad she couldn't remember the important details. Instead of responding and giving him any clues, she shrugged.
Telling him about the email she'd pieced together and the gaps in memory she had seemed like a really bad idea. He'd think she was crazy, or if he was out to get her, he'd have another reason to kill her.
"Based on the look on your face, you kind of have an idea but aren't going to tell me 'cause you don't trust me. Is that how this plays out?" he said.
Before she could even think about responding, a car pulled to a stop in front of them, blocking their path. He glanced her way and shrugged, not giving away much in his expression. Could this be where he turned her over to the bad guys?
She had her hand on the door handle, ready and more than willing to bolt, when he grasped her arm. He didn't say a word, but it was clear he had a good idea of what she'd been thinking.
"I knew I should have rented a Hummer." He shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm not liking our odds with the whole sedan-versus-SUV thing." Without uttering another word he made a quick U-turn in the middle of the street, bouncing along the curb to get it accomplished. As expected, another car came around the corner to block them in. The metal parts on the bottom of the car scraped as he ripped across a lawn, circumventing both cars. She held on tight, while the car behind used them for target practice.
"What now?"
"You being CIA and all, I thought I'd let you come up with a plan." He glanced at her and somehow managed to smile.
Did he take anything seriously?
Maybe he was an adrenaline junkie, like she used to be before she lost her mojo. She chewed her lip and thought about what she would have done a couple of weeks ago when her head was on straighter and her mind hadn't turned to guilt mush. Outrunning them was the only thing that came to mind.
