“No. Don’t you dare try to paint my wife out to be someone she wasn’t,” Carter roared. Chris pivoted to find him standing in the double door entrance to the living room, hands fisted at his sides, a murderous look on his face. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Bear abruptly spun around to face Carter and growled menacingly as he stood to block the man’s path. When he peeled back his lips and showed his teeth, Rory whispered a command. Bear hesitantly heeled, but he remained on guard. Ears pointed, eyes on Carter. Chris was on the same page as Bear, but he didn’t think Rory would appreciate him growling and baring his teeth at the man.
“We don’t know anything for certain.” Chris lifted his hand as if his palm might act like a shield and block Carter’s rage.
“I get it, man. I do,” A.J. said, surprising Chris by speaking up. “People thought my wife was a traitor. Well, before she was my wife. And so, I get what it feels like to have someone you care about—”
“Is she dead?” Carter interrupted, then paused for effect. “No, I didn’t think so. So no, you can’t possibly understand.”
A tiny warning growl escaped Bear again—a don’t you think about it sound.
Rory stroked Bear’s head. “I don’t believe Rebecca set me up. There has to be another explanation. She would never do that.”
Chris was impressed at how well Rory was able to maintain a calm and reassuring tone.
Carter’s eyes dipped to Bear, who wasn’t quite calm yet based on his low snarl. “What do we know?”
Jessica removed her black frames and massaged the bridge of her nose, then placed her glasses back on. She was buying herself time. He’d seen her do that about a hundred times over the years. Or more like she was giving everyone a chance to mentally brace themselves.
“If I understand correctly, the list consisted of twenty-five names that were in your open case files. And the CIA denied you permission to pursue them, correct?” Jessica began, and Carter nodded. “At the time, neither Josef nor Santiago were on your radar. From what we have gathered through our contacts at the CIA, MI6, and at Interpol as well as the transcripts they’ve shared, there’s one common denominator—no mention of The Italian in any of their interviews with the apprehended smugglers. Not even Santiago or Josef provided The Italian’s name. Santiago only mentioned him to you.”
That’s right. The CIA didn’t make the deal with Santiago.
“What we do know is that somehow Rebecca gained access to your list and then gave the list to Rory. She also told Rory she strongly believed all of the targets were connected to one person. But you never said as much to Rebecca, did you? You didn’t know your wife had the list. So, why would she have come to that conclusion?” Harper asked and slowly rose, setting her hands to the table, eyes on Carter. “One possibility is that three years ago when Rebecca went to meet with Josef for whatever reason, she happened upon Rory and subsequently told The Italian about Rory and her mission. The other possibility is that Rebecca was aware of Rory and her mission before Rory even went to Cartagena, and it wasn’t fate or chance that brought them together.”
Chris turned to check for Carter’s reaction. In his mind, the second option sounded more realistic to him.
“No.” Carter took one step, which prompted Bear to lift his chin and growl yet again.
Good boy.
“A.J., would you mind taking him out of here for now?” Rory asked, noticing Bear was in no mood to play games with any potential threats. He may not have had much training with Rory and Chris, but his instincts were on point. “I’d prefer he not rip off Carter’s arm. He still needs training.”
“Come on, boy.” A.J. whistled to Bear. When Rory released him with a command, Bear tossed one fierce look Carter’s way before following A.J. out of the room.
“Rory, you said it wasn’t until your second time in Cartagena that you met Rebecca, right?” Jessica asked while Carter went to the window that overlooked the pool and set a palm to the glass. “What exactly did she say to you? Any way she could have been waiting for you there? When you arrived in Colombia, how long did you wait before going to the compound that second time?”
With Carter’s focus elsewhere, Chris allowed himself to ease up on his guarded stance and listen closely to Jessica. He assumed Jessica’s last question was meant to establish a timeline to determine whether Rebecca managed to meet up with Rory outside Josef’s home by chance, or whether the entire incident was arranged on purpose. And if so, how the hell did Rebecca do that?
Rory’s gaze darted to Chris, her hands clenched at her sides. Like Carter, she didn’t want to believe Rebecca had played her. But something sure as hell didn’t add up.
“I arrived in Colombia a week prior to do recon. Check for patterns in Josef’s schedule. Find the best time to make my move. I did the same with the antiquities buyers, too. Every morning, like clockwork, Josef went for a forty-five-minute jog. Five guards surrounded him like he was the president of his country. So, I chose to make my move while he ran on my seventh day in Cartagena.”
“Did you ask Rebecca about her meeting? Why was she there if Josef wasn’t home?” Chris asked, a few unfortunate alarms sounding off in his head.
“Rebecca said it was fate she arrived early to help me. She seemed nervous, though. I mean, she was in disguise like me . . . wig and sunglasses, but I could tell that she was scared. I just assumed it was due to her first time going after a smuggler, and when she saw that I’d been stabbed, she realized the same could’ve happened to her.” Rory carried her focus to Carter, her eyes apologetic, but Carter didn’t turn.
The ruthless man was a grieving widower right now. And Chris refused to place himself in Carter’s shoes because he couldn’t contemplate for one second the idea of losing Rory.
“I snuck out of the hospital the next day, as soon as I was able to walk. The nurses had removed my wig before surgery, and I didn’t want to chance being identified, so on my second day in the hospital, I called the number Rebecca had given me when she dropped me off. Then I slipped out of my room, disguise back on, and Rebecca drove the getaway car.” Rory paused for a breath. “Rebecca brought me back to my hotel but asked to meet up for lunch the next day before I left. Even though I wanted to get out of the city as soon as possible, I was curious to meet another woman like me.”
Carter slowly faced the room. “I know what you all must think, but my wife would never do this. She had political aspirations. Senate in ten years. President after that.” His gaze fell to the floor. “My wife would never consort with a criminal. Do his bidding. What you’re trying to tell me doesn’t make any sense.”
“And you were as shocked as I was to learn she was hunting smugglers,” Rory pointed out, which couldn’t be easy for her since she clearly wanted to believe Rebecca was innocent. “People can surprise us. Do things that don’t make sense.”
Rory certainly surprised the hell out of Chris but in the best possible way.
“Maybe The Italian, or one of his associates, manipulated your wife somehow. Forced her to look into your files. He targeted her because of your job. Blackmail, maybe?” Roman spoke up.
“You stuck to that list, aside from when Carter lured you to France. You stayed the course,” Harper said to Rory after allowing Roman’s comment to stick. “It’s possible The Italian learned of your plan to go after Josef in Cartagena and took the opportunity to make a plan of his own. Let’s just assume The Italian was blackmailing Rebecca. He forced her to steal intel from Carter and then drew up the list of twenty-five smugglers that were on the CIA’s radar. He then instructed her to pass the list on to Rory. Not only as a distraction but to help him build his network out of low-level smuggling rings, which would never be the wiser.”
“And then Rory deviated from the list,” Chris said as understanding dawned on him. “But it took the CIA two months to send us after Santiago. The Italian may not have known it was Rory who helped take down Santiago since Rory had already retired by the time he was picked up.”
> “If The Italian knew about Rory all this time because he was using her, why let her live after she stopped chasing the targets?” Carter challenged, his eyes pinned to Chris as he took one step in his direction.
“It wasn’t until Carter ambushed the CIA’s transport and took Santiago that The Italian went after Rory,” Jessica announced.
“Looks to me like you’re the one who knows The Italian,” Carter said, standing too close to Rory for Chris’s liking.
“Or at least someone close to Rory has been watching out for her, keeping her alive.” Chris’s stomach dropped like the very first time he was about to jump from a plane during training.
“Danny? Could it be him?” Rory brought a hand up and massaged her forehead with her fingertips as if all the shitty news had given her a migraine. “We hunted antiquities smugglers together. He knew my methods.”
“What if he kept an eye on you after you thought you’d parted ways?” Chris proposed and hated that his words might cause her additional pain. “What if he learned you went to Cartagena, and he told Santiago or Cutter that you stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have?”
Now that made the most sense to him. Not fate or some cosmic interference.
“Danny and Andrew might be criminals, but I know they cared about me.” Rory’s lip trembled as she spoke. “Maybe they cut a deal with The Italian to keep me alive as long as I didn’t go after any more of his smugglers.” Her eyes widened a fraction as if a thought had struck her. “That’s why Andrew was insistent upon talking to me at the ball. He wanted to save me. Maybe he arranged for his people to take us. To keep us safe from The Italian. But, oh God, we killed them.”
Chris kept his mouth closed, knowing there was no damn way Andrew was a hero in this scenario. Hell, no.
“Or Andrew was ordered to go after you. Rory, don’t forget, Carter has footage of Danny exiting his house the day before Rebecca was murdered, as well as Santiago’s confession,” Harper whispered the truth Chris also believed.
“I’d go to the ends of the earth to save you,” Chris declared fiercely, unable to keep the emotion from his tone, “but do you really think Andrew would do the same? If he was working for The Italian, would he choose you over himself?”
Rory’s hand fell from her forehead. “How many people have lied to me? Used and manipulated me? How could I be so stupid?”
Chris immediately reached for her and gripped on to her arms. “Hey, this isn’t your fault. What you were up against—”
“Where are you going?” The sound of Liam’s raised voice had Chris turning to see Carter heading for the doors.
Carter tossed a look back over his shoulder. “I’m going to talk to Santiago again.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” Liam said, on the move already.
“I still don’t think Rebecca meant to—”
“Neither do I, and I’ll prove it,” Carter interrupted Rory before striding out of the room like a man on a mission, a man ready to torture a guy.
Chapter Thirty
“He’s in denial,” A.J. said while stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I hate to be on Carter’s side, but you were in denial when it came to Ana,” Chris reminded A.J. as they sat in Carter’s Gulfstream G450 Tuesday morning at 0500.
Carter’s private jet was pretty swanky. A 14-seater divided into five sections: cockpit, forward cabin, mid cabin, aft cabin, and galley. And, of course, a lavatory. No bedroom, but there were comfy leather reclining club chairs, and the couch that stretched the length of the forward cabin folded out into a bed. It was definitely cozier than some of the jets he’d been in, that was for sure.
Roman’s contact at The League had phoned him seconds after Carter had left the room to talk to (more like torture) Santiago. Santiago was at a site two miles from Carter’s rental property. Emilia had requested Roman’s presence in Sicily for an in-person meeting, and Luke had decided Echo Team and Rory should head out.
Jessica had plugged Jensen Fitzpatrick’s face into their facial recognition software program to track his whereabouts in the last two weeks before he died, in hopes of maybe discovering Danny with him at some point.
Danny seemed to be at the center of everything, given his ties to both Cutter and Santiago. If they could question Danny, they might finally get to the truth about The Italian.
Emilia chased down a few possible leads on the “new Danny” Jessica had provided her, and she believed The League had a beat on where Danny Fitzpatrick was currently hiding. Sebastian Renaud, one of the leaders in Ireland, was currently en route to that location.
“Ana was innocent. I’m not so sure about Rebecca, but I’d prefer not to speak ill of the dead.” A.J. shifted the brim of his ball cap to hood his eyes, then folded his arms across his chest.
“You think Carter will kill Santiago during their chat today? Or that he’ll get anything new out of him?” Chris asked.
“Liam and Asher went with him. If anyone can get Santiago to talk, it’s them,” A.J. casually replied. “If they come back empty, that means Santiago doesn’t know anything else.”
“I hate we won’t be there when Bravo and Carter’s people pick up Cutter later today.” He turned his focus to where Rory sat across from Harper, a table and laptop between them in the forward cabin.
Rory had been beating herself up the last several hours about the target list. The way Chris saw it, she’d taken down assholes who needed to be taken down. It wasn’t like she’d gone after innocent people. But to find out The Italian may have pulled her strings, well, yeah, all the more reason he wanted that fucker deader than dead.
She had way too much on her shoulders. To top it off, she was spooked about a cryptic message Elaina had tossed out over the phone last night but hadn’t fully explained. Rory was worried that Elaina’s warning, Don’t let him go to the airport, referred to Chris, and if he flew to Italy with her, something terrible would happen to him.
Yeah, no way in this lifetime or any other would she travel to Italy to meet with some vigilantes without him. And he refused to leave Rory behind, too. Not that he didn’t trust Bravo Team and Bear to look out for her, but Carter . . . he just couldn’t get a read on that man.
He’d lost his wife. Blamed himself for her death. And now, it was looking like his wife might have worked with the enemy. The guy had to be losing his mind, and Chris was slowly coming around to feeling more sorry for him than hating him.
Carter stood by and watched while we were taken on Friday, he reminded himself, deciding he needed a kick in the ass about his opinion on the man.
“How are you not sleeping right now after expending all your energy doing whatever it was y’all were up to before Harper and Jessica dropped the mother of all hammers on us with that news?” A.J. readjusted the brim of his beat-up hat, the American flag still bright and colorful, though, like a testament of hope.
“Expending all my energy, huh?” Chris asked in a low voice, stealing another glimpse of Harper and Rory, both of whom appeared fully awake and caffeinated. Rory lifted her eyes and sent him a tight-lipped smile, and damn if his heart didn’t skip a beat.
She was wearing jeans and a soft gray shirt with sneakers. Chris had accidentally matched his outfit with hers, and Finn hadn’t wasted a second before calling attention to that fact once they were in Carter’s limo and headed for the airport.
Chris peered at Wyatt and Finn sitting in the first row behind the cockpit, already asleep in their club chairs. Roman was MIA. Maybe hitting the head, aka taking a piss.
“Who says I ‘expended’ my anything?” Chris’s air quotes were useless since the hat still hid A.J.’s eyes.
“Come on, brother. You fell for that woman back in Bama. And then you spent all of last week alone with her at your place. Throw in a deserted island and some fancy suite in sexy Puerto Rico, and ya got yourself a recipe for”—A.J. twisted his neck and lifted the brim of his hat to find Chris’s eyes—“expending a lot of energy.”
/> “And are you okay with there being an ‘us’?”
“Sorry to let you down, brother, but I’m taken,” A.J. said solemnly.
Chris smacked A.J.’s bicep. “Asshole.” Then he pitched his voice low to keep from being overheard. “Obviously, I’m talking about Rory and me. You warned me about Jesse back in Alabama, and I . . .”
“You wouldn’t have been bunking with Rory last week if I didn’t approve,” A.J. returned and pulled his cap back down, arms going across his chest. He had on his cowboy boots, jeans, and a plain black tee—his go-to look.
“And Jesse, will he be solid?” Chris wasn’t used to worrying about the opinion of family members of a woman he dated, not that he really ever dated all that much. Before Rory, no one had made him want to take a chance on anything long-term. He was fine with sticking his neck out when bullets were flying, but he’d never considered putting his heart out there until Rory.
“Jesse’s bark is bigger than his bite.” A.J.’s lips flipped into a grin. “Well, sometimes.”
And what was that supposed to mean?
“Speaking of Jesse, did you two really take out those pirates nine years ago? The ones who attacked Rory and gave her those scars?”
A.J. lifted his hat and found Chris’s eyes again. “Damn straight. It was a good thing we went, too. Saved three women they kidnapped from a yacht.” He positioned his ball cap to shield his eyes again.
“Back in New Orleans, Rory sort of mentioned she was in danger, but she begged me to drop it. I should have said something to you,” he confessed.
“Jesse told me something to that effect, so when I learned those people got the drop on y’all at the gala, I for sure beat myself up about it. But if you’re looking to apologize, you keeping Rory alive is more than enough for me. I mean, Jesse would kill you if that woman got a scratch on her while in your company, though.”
Chris looked over to see Roman now sitting next to Rory across from Harper. “Roman got stabbed. Thank God it wasn’t bad, but he lost it when that asshole punched Harper.”
Chasing Fortune (Stealth Ops Book 8) Page 32
