by Dee Davis
“Occupational hazard.” Madison shrugged. “Besides, it’s a pretty impressive career.”
It was Sam’s turn to shrug. “I guess that depends on your point of view. From where I’m sitting, believe me, it doesn’t seem all that extraordinary. But I can handle both ends of an investigation. It’s just that I prefer the side that keeps things from going boom.”
“Adrenaline junky.” Payton as usual had arrived silently, and Sam jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Guilty as charged.” She wasn’t sure why exactly she admitted it, except that maybe she was among kindred spirits. These people obviously didn’t mind living on the edge or they wouldn’t be here doing what they were doing.
“Then you’ll fit in fine.” Payton’s smile was fleeting and guarded at best, but it warmed Sam nevertheless, surprising her with the fact.
She didn’t give a damn what others thought about her. In her business, success wasn’t built on popularity contests. It was built on split-second rational decisions, head emphatically over heart at all times.
And to make sure she could do that, she kept people at arm’s length. Anything more could spell trouble, which made her reaction to Payton not only surprising, but disturbing.
DESPITE BEING HAPPY to see his friends, Payton still wasn’t sure how he felt about their latest assignment or their newest member. Samantha Waters certainly seemed to know her stuff. But it was also clear that Cullen had been right.
She was definitely a loner. And although she didn’t have to love the team, she did have to buy into the concept of working together if they were going to make progress with their latest operation.
She was sitting across from him now, next to Madison, listening as Gabe reviewed what they knew so far about the explosion. She was a tiny thing compared to Madison. Probably a good six inches shorter, and built as if a good wind would blow her away. A fallacy, as he’d seen her at work, and knew that she was stronger than her frame would indicate.
Still there was something fragile about her, almost delicate, a dichotomy that Payton found fascinating. In his world there were generally two kinds of women. Those who used sex to their advantage, and those who couldn’t use it because they didn’t have it.
Sam had it. But apparently no one had sent her the memo.
Payton suppressed a smile. Given his current line of thought, he’d obviously been in the jungle too damn long, suppressed physical need turning his mind to mush. The woman was a team member, pure and simple. And her sexuality was simply not a subject for consideration.
Under any circumstance.
“Our biggest problem here,” Gabe was saying, “is that the facts don’t add up. First off, none of the three men killed gave anyone indication that they were planning to be in San Antonio, let alone meeting with each other. Add to that the fact that one of the three is considered a political enemy and things are even more confusing.”
“It’s not just Farley Keith who’s on the outs. Even though they’re members of the same party, I wouldn’t expect to see Ruckland and Dawson sharing a meal,” Harrison said. He’d set up on his laptop at the far end of the table, as usual more interested in the computer screen than the conversation. “They’re not exactly working on the same platform.”
“I had no idea you were so in touch with our reigning politicos,” Gabe said, grinning.
“It’s just a hobby.” Harrison shrugged. “I like to know who’s in charge of things.”
Cullen laughed. “Sometimes I think it’s better not to know.”
“The point is that the whole thing feels like a setup. I mean why else would these three men have snuck off to San Antonio for a meeting they obviously didn’t want anyone else to know about?”
“Unless they didn’t know who they were meeting,” Sam said, her gaze encompassing them all. “If this was intentional, and at this point I think we have to believe it was, then the only way that the killer could be certain that all three of his targets were present is to have invited them there in the first place. And if he did the inviting, it’s certainly possible the attendees weren’t aware of the other folks attending the party.”
“Still leaves us with a commonality problem,” Madison said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “If someone wanted them dead, there had to be a reason. And you have to admit this is an unlikely group.”
“So we find the link, we find the motive.” Again Sam spoke with authority.
“Shouldn’t be too hard to check out,” Harrison said. “I mean most of what these guys do is public record.”
“It’s a starting place,” Gabe agreed.
“But only one,” Sam interjected. “We’ve also got to consider the bomber. He’s the one person who is most likely to know what this is all about.”
“Sam’s right.” Payton nodded, not sure exactly why he felt the need to come to her defense. “The victims have such notoriety that it would be easy to focus solely on them.”
“So in addition to looking for commonalities among the senators, we also start working backward from the scene.” Madison nodded at Sam. “Were you able to determine much from the rubble at the hotel?”
“Visually it’s a bit overwhelming right now,” Sam admitted. “But the key is to break it down into sections. And with vigilance I think we’ll be able to reconstruct the bomb. From there with a little luck we’ll be able to start moving toward identifying the perpetrator.”
“We’ve already found traces of the explosive device,” Payton said, his gaze meeting Sam’s. “And the seat alone is fairly indicative of what went down.”
Her smile was slight, but rewarding. “Once we cull through the remains, we’ll be able to be even more precise. The problem is that it takes time.”
“And time is not what we have. Washington is breathing down my back for answers yesterday.” Cullen, who had been silent through most of the discussion, leaned forward, his expression brooking no argument. “That’s why this group was called in. We have the latitude to cut through bureaucratic bullshit, and shave corners where necessary. And that’s what I want you to do.”
Payton watched Sam’s hand tighten on the edge of the table.
Apparently she was a stickler for the rules. Which could mean trouble. Cullen wasn’t known for his keen sense of following the rules. Hell, none of them were. Except maybe Madison.
“Working with explosions is tedious work, Mr. Pulaski,” Sam said, her knuckles turning white. “Cut corners and you wind up dead. That applies both before and after the fact. If you want me on the team, then the investigation into the bombing will have to proceed as I see fit or you’ll have to find yourself a new explosives expert.” She sat back, her gaze locked with Cullen’s.
Payton contained a smile.
“Fine.” Cullen wasn’t the type to capitulate, but he also wasn’t a stupid man. Sam was right. This kind of investigation depended on details. Taking things one step at a time. And no matter how much Cullen wanted to hurry things along, it just wasn’t possible.
He liked the fact that she was right. But more than that, he liked the fact that she’d stood up to Cullen Pulaski without so much as a second thought.
Hell, truth was, he liked Samantha Waters. At least he liked what he saw. Trouble was, appearances were deceiving more often than not.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BAR WAS DARK and smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Payton leaned back against the wall, eyeing the joint. It was the kind of place frequented by locals, but then Gabe had always had a nose for dives. Even far behind enemy lines he’d been able to sniff out the local watering hole. Which served a number of purposes simultaneously.
Right now it was the perfect place to decompress. Despite Payton’s change in situation, his thoughts were still back in the jungle.
“Cullen said it was pretty rough out there,” Gabe said, zeroing in on his train of thought.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Payton took a long swig of beer. “Kill or be killed, same old
same old.”
Gabe threw back his head and laughed, the sound loud enough to draw a couple of curious looks. “God, are we a pair or what?”
Payton raised an eyebrow. “California was hairy?”
“No more than usual.” Gabe’s smile hardened, frozen on his face like a shard of ice. “It never ends, does it?”
“It was our choice.” Payton shrugged. “Besides, you’ve climbed out of the pit. You’ve got Madison and a baby on the way.”
“I know.” Gabe nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. “And I feel damn lucky. It’s just that sometimes I worry that it’ll all disappear.”
Payton fought against the bitterness that rose inside, concentrating instead on his friend. “Just because it happened to me doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you.”
“Yes, but it’s always a possibility.”
“Or they could get hit by a bus.” Payton purposefully pitched his voice to keep it light.
“The odds are better actually.” Gabe’s smile was small but genuine. “So, what did you think about Sam Waters?”
It seemed like a complete change of subject, but Payton recognized the look in Gabe’s eyes. “Personally, I don’t have an opinion. But professionally she seems to be on game. I was impressed with the way she handled the bomb site.”
“Cullen says she’s a loner.”
“Couldn’t say for certain. I didn’t spend that much time with her one-on-one. But she’d isolated the site and was working alone when I got there.”
“Doesn’t matter really,” Gabe said, draining the last of his whiskey and signaling a passing waiter for another. “As long as she’s open about what she finds we can deal.”
“Hell.” Payton smiled. “We could deal with it if she wasn’t. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem. She hits me as a straight shooter.”
“She’s not hard on the eyes either.” Gabe grinned, and Payton resisted the urge to throw his beer.
“Look, pal, just because you’ve found marital bliss, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to take the same road.” His mood darkened. “I’ve been there before, and you can believe it when I tell you I’ve no intention of going through it again.”
“Hey,” Gabe held his hands up in defense, “I was only commenting on the woman’s looks, not setting you up for the altar.”
“Yeah, I know.” Payton stared down into the beer bottle, his thoughts tumultuous. Mariam had been dead for a hell of a long time, but some days it seemed like the pain was fresh. Reflexively he ran a hand along his scar.
Gabe noticed. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to open old wounds.”
“They’re not old. That’s the problem. Every time I see Cullen, I remember.” This time there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice.
Gabe opened his mouth, then shut it again, evidently thinking better of whatever the hell he’d been about to say. Payton was grateful. “So what do you think Ruckland and his cronies were doing at the Prager?”
“Cronies isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” Gabe took his whiskey from the waiter, and waited until the man had set a fresh beer in front of Payton and withdrawn. “Hell, enemies is probably an understatement. If it weren’t for the fact that they’re all dead, I’d be looking at them as suspects.”
“So we’re back to the idea of someone else pulling the strings.”
“Maybe. Or maybe our senators were working on something they were trying to keep out of the public eye.”
“And a bomb just happened to go off in the process? Doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Payton pushed aside his first bottle in favor of the colder one.
“I guess not.” Gabe shrugged. “But none of it makes a lot of sense when you get right down to it. We need to find a link between the three of them.”
“And from there we’ll find motive?” Payton sat back, considering the idea.
“A man can hope.” Gabe smiled, the lines around his eyes making him look tired.
“Well if Harrison has anything to do with it, I’m sure we’ll have something in the morning. If not, he’ll still be at his computer trying.” Harrison was a hell of a researcher. Sort of like a safecracker worrying at the mechanism until he finds just the right point of entry, perseverance winning the day.
“If nothing else, the case is bound to be interesting. Three senators dead has got to mean something. Even if only that the balance of power has shifted.”
“You sound like a politico,” Payton replied, eyeing his friend.
“Hardly,” Gabe spat, leaving no question at all to his feelings on the issue. “I just like a good puzzle, and this one is looking like a chart-topper.”
“We’ll see. What does Madison think?”
“That the three of them were in bed together. Despite their political differences, their constituents aren’t all that different. Rural and agricultural for the most part.”
“So maybe there was pork to be had?”
Gabe shrugged. “Madison thinks it’s possible. She’s working that angle while Harrison delves into their personal lives.”
“With her connections, it probably should be the other way around.”
Madison’s father had an industrial pedigree almost as solid as Cullen’s. Between them the two men controlled a hell of a lot of power. Not that you could tell anything from knowing Madison. She’d somehow managed to miss being tainted by all that money.
“You know as well as I do she’d rather spit nails than deal with that kind of crap.”
“Sure.” Payton smiled. “But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t got the power should she choose to use it.”
“True enough. But for the moment I think we’ll rely on old-fashioned legwork to get our answers. Besides if we need any arm-twisting, there’s always Cullen.”
“That and whatever Sam finds.” Payton worried the loose edge of the label on his beer bottle. “Hopefully once she’s able to piece the bomb together there’ll be a signature of some sort.”
“A Hallmark card would be nice.” Gabe raised an eyebrow, his innate cynicism showing.
“You’d be surprised what these guys leave behind. Some of it intentional, some of it as simple as tool marks. There was a guy in Namibia that actually carved lines from scripture into his work.”
“All right then,” Gabe laughed. “We’ll hold onto the hope our man’s a closet poet.”
“Anyone taking credit?” Despite a gut feeling that this was about something more personal, there was no way they could ignore the possibility of terrorists.
“The usual crazies, but nothing substantiated. And I figure if it was a terrorist attack we’d have heard by now. Nothing to be gained in silence.”
“I assume someone is checking the angle out anyway.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been on the phone most of the day. So far not even a murmur of culpability. But I’m still tracking down a couple of folks.”
“Underground, I presume.” Payton smiled. Men in their line of work tended to fly solo, only occasionally working together, but when someone needed something, the network tended to be surprisingly strong. A certain degree of cooperation and available without question.
“It’s a hell of a lot more accurate than what the computers at Langley and Quantico are spewing out.”
“Don’t let Harrison hear you say that.” Payton’s voice held a note of mock horror.
“Hell, he’d be the first to agree.” Gabe grinned. “That’s why he quit the FBI to work for Phoenix.”
“A company that’s contracted by a majority of the world’s law enforcement agencies.”
“They’re respected for their results—not their methodology.”
“My kind of company.” Payton raised his bottle in salute.
“Good. Sounds like we’ve got everything we need except the killer.”
“Yeah, all dressed up and nowhere to go.”
“So might as well settle in here for the duration.” Payton raised his hand to order another beer. Drinking could be dangerous in his
profession, but it was also a good way to let off steam. And at the moment he had more on his plate than he wanted to acknowledge.
SAM WAS TIRED. She’d been working too hard. Of course that was nothing unusual. She’d always found work a solace of sorts, although she’d never figured out exactly what it was that she needed a reprieve from.
Life, maybe.
Although even that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Truth was, she didn’t have a life. At least not apart from her work, which brought her full circle.
She sighed and slid out of the rental car, hitting the button to open the trunk. Most of her gear had already been delivered to her room. Cullen had arranged it. But she’d kept her bomb kit with her. Silly really, but like a doctor, she didn’t like to go anywhere without supplies. Of course it meant getting through airport security was a little bit trickier.
But she’d found that a badge and an attitude cut through a hell of a lot of red tape.
The hotel was a nice one. One of those suite jobs that looked a lot like an apartment complex. Cullen Pulaski’s budget obviously surpassed the government’s. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d set up camp in a motel that more likely rented by the hour than the week.
But at the end of the day, it wasn’t about comfort. If it was, she’d have taken a job in the private sector a long time ago.
Sam slammed the trunk and hoisted the bag. The other members of the team were staying in the same hotel, but the parking lot was almost empty. If they were here, there was no sign of them. Probably out discussing the newest team member.
She shook her head, surprised at the turn of her thoughts. She worked with strangers all the time, jurisdictions crossing to yield a complicated hierarchy of staff and technicians. It had never bothered her before. But then again she’d never worked with men like Gabriel Roarke and Payton Reynolds.
She’d met a few, but never spent any kind of time with them. Unless she counted her father. He’d definitely been a man’s man. Career army, he’d spent the better part of his life undoing the damage others left behind. First in Vietnam, and then in other war-ravaged corners of the world. A certified master blaster, there wasn’t an ordnance out there he couldn’t defuse. He’d spent his life living on the edge, walking a line and surviving, only to have cancer snatch him away at a time when he should have been kicking back and resting on his laurels.
