Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  “I try.”

  “What’s this?” She peered over his shoulder at the screen.

  “Grab a coffee and I’ll tell you.”

  “Mmm. Okay.”

  Wrapped in the hotel robe, she pulled a chair around and propped her feet in his lap. He couldn’t help but study the purplish bruise on her foot. He didn’t touch it though. “Does it hurt?”

  “It’s not happy, but it’ll be fine.”

  “Do you want ice?”

  Her eyes twinkled with a smile over the rim of her coffee cup. “I want to hear what you’ve been up to.”

  God, he was starting to like that sly expression. Especially now that it felt like they were on the same side.

  “I’ve been digging through the email accounts of local reporters on the police beat.”

  She arched an auburn eyebrow.

  “Easier than hacking the hotel security feeds.”

  “If you say so.”

  “With Redding dead it’s past time we find where Frost is hiding.”

  “And who’s giving him the orders and targets.”

  “We’ll get there.” Jason nodded. “One step at a time.”

  She sipped her coffee. “How do the reporter emails help you?”

  He sat back and ran a hand up and down her healthy foot as he explained. “I usually use a police scanner app when I’m working, just to get a pulse on the area. This time it was to keep an ear out for trouble that might involve the agent I was sent to assist.”

  “Not me.”

  “I think we both agree I’ve been sent on a wild-goose chase. By reviewing the incidents that caught my attention on the scanner app against the emails, I’m trying to sort out which events might be Frost.”

  “And...” she prompted.

  He turned the laptop so she could see the incidents he’d highlighted. “Three so far.”

  “Including Redding, who you knew personally.”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s more?”

  “These three incidents loosely mirror my career strikes when I was with Interpol.” The words seemed to drag at him. The memory of who he’d once been weighed heavy on his conscience—even if he’d been one of the good guys, so to speak.

  She gasped and he was sure she’d recoil, but she only rubbed his arm in a soothing pattern. “You can’t blame yourself for a job well done. You have a skill and you applied that skill to the service of your country and the world at large.”

  He smiled, but the weight of those lives he’d ended was heavier than it had ever been. “I used to think so.”

  “I know so. Trust me. You can’t second-guess missions long over. Water under the bridge, right?”

  “Clichés, Gin?”

  “If they fit.” She held his face close to hers, held his gaze. “We do what must be done, what others can’t do. Believe that above all else, Jason, my love.”

  He knew those last two words weren’t the thing to focus on, but he couldn’t help it. It took a long moment for him to regain his composure. “With my service record, the Mission Recovery office should have notified me and asked me to look into it. The local media is talking sniper this morning. I heard the unofficial reports on several stations on the way back over here.”

  “If they haven’t asked you to look into the rumors by now,” she said, her voice somber, “they want you to take the fall.”

  He nodded, unable to say those words out loud himself. The betrayal stung too much. Of all he’d seen and survived through the military, Interpol and in Mission Recovery, this felt like the worst way to go out.

  He shrugged. “I can disappear for a while.”

  “You can’t believe your own office is picking off innocent people to get rid of you.”

  “I don’t want to believe it, but not many people can access my full service record. Re-creating the beach strike at the pool...” He hated revisiting that scene because it filled him with irrational fear for Gin. He rubbed her foot. She was alive and well and they would get through this. “I think you should leave town now that your mission’s accomplished.”

  She froze, her eyes wide. “Where is my phone?” She looked around.

  “Must be in your purse. Why?”

  She scrambled to her feet, sloshing coffee across the hotel robe in her rush to reach the safe. He was about to tell her the code when she typed in his birthday and the door swung open.

  Too bad this wasn’t the time to point out how in tune they were. “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up beside her.

  “I haven’t checked my email. But you’re right. Those incidents would get attention, and any assets nearby would be called in to investigate. They’d never let local law enforcement try to handle you, I mean Frost, alone.”

  She pulled her purse from the safe and sat down right there in the closet doorway. “I don’t have any new emails about a sniper or you in particular. Now that’s weird. If the rumors of a sniper are making the media rounds, they have to know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Only one thing I can think of,” she said. “They must know we’re together.”

  “But who would know that? Who told them?” He looked at her and they said it at the same time.

  “The blonde.”

  “She dressed like me that night, and I don’t think it was coincidence. We have to track her down and find out who hired her.”

  “She’s a pawn.” Jason shook his head. “I’m more concerned about who hired Frost and how they dug up my career history. If I’m right about mimicking the pattern, the next hit will take place somewhere at the Paris.”

  “What?”

  “A club strike in Paris was my next mission after the Riviera.”

  “Same woman?”

  “Still classified.”

  “My clearance is up-to-date and higher than yours, I bet.”

  “I’m not taking the bait.”

  “Then at least take my help.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Jason.” She glared at him. “Having sex doesn’t turn me into something fragile.”

  “I know that.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s just—”

  “Whatever it is, get over it. I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone. Call it jealousy if you like, but I’m not letting that bimbo get her claws into you.”

  He chuckled. “Jealous?”

  She opened her mouth and quickly snapped it shut. He could almost see the tirade ready to trip off her tongue.

  He reached for her, but she dodged him. “Oh, no you don’t.” He faked one way and caught her when she fell for it. Bringing her up against his body ignited his senses. “You accused me of the same last night.”

  “And I believe you denied it.”

  “My mistake.” Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers for a lingering kiss. Reluctantly, he eased back, pleased to see his own emotions reflected in the dazed green pools of hers. “No one but you is invited to get their claws in me.” He wrapped her hair around his finger.

  She swallowed. “Glad to hear it.” She slipped her arms around his waist, linking her hands at his back. “Now, will you accept my assistance graciously, or will I be forced to coerce you?”

  His curiosity piqued. “What methods of coercion are you considering?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She winked at him then stepped back. Her hands went to the tie of her robe and when he followed the movement, she laughed. “Get your mind back on the case, Specialist Grant. I’m going to dress while you tell me about Paris.”

  “Right.” He would be sure to get even for that little bit of teasing later. “It was a night strike outside of a busy club. Night was the only thing that made it possible.”

  “The target?”

  He returned to his computer. It was the only sane move. Watching her dress was far too distracting.

  “Mid-level arms dealer.”

  He knew she’d stopped moving, knew she was thinking th
e same thing he’d thought at the time. The mid-level guys usually gave up their bosses for the right incentives.

  “Can I borrow your computer?”

  He nudged his laptop toward the chair she returned to. “Checking the local registry for arms dealers who like to gamble?”

  “Close.” Her fingertips flew across the keyboard. “You’re not the only one with access to databases.” She finished and leaned back in the chair. “So if you were tasked with replicating Jason Grant’s biggest hits, how would you do that here?”

  “If I’m not after anyone specific...” His voice trailed off as he put his hands on the keyboard. “I could ask the analyst at the office to check the registry at the resorts closest to monorail stops. There might be a bigger fish than Isely taking a holiday, and Frost would have to stay close in order to get in and out.”

  “True.” She stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. “But let’s hold off on that for a few minutes. Follow the nonspecific solution. What would you do in Frost’s place?”

  “Okay.” He sighed, closed his eyes and put himself back in that world. “I’d perch on a rooftop at least a block away and take out the target while he was waiting in line. Chaotic, crowded, instant panic means I get away clean.”

  “So we can go clubbing at the Paris tonight.”

  He slanted her a look that warned he wasn’t so sure that was such a good idea.

  “Don’t argue. I’ll get dressed and then we can go over and poke around, study the skyline, do the tourist thing.”

  “You’re forgetting I have a tee time at eleven and you were going to have a facial.”

  “So we cancel both. You might get lucky and stop Frost before he can get set up.”

  Jason checked the time. “We can walk through, but I have to get some fresh air and sunshine before I lose my mind.”

  “That’s fine, sweetheart. We’ll just pick up some golf clothes.”

  He eyed her suitcase.

  “Don’t judge me. I can hardly go out in that bikini you bought or any of the cocktail dresses I packed.”

  “That sparks a few interesting images. The club would have a fit.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I get it.” The image of her playing golf in that bikini danced through his head, making him smile. “The Paris has stores.”

  “You better believe it.”

  And, oddly enough, he was looking forward to spoiling her. While they searched for Frost’s nest, of course.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gin wasn’t sure what was an act and what was real anymore. Especially since Jason had walked through that door with her luggage and breakfast and been kind enough not to alter her original reservation at the Palace.

  Well, he was turning into a man her mother referred to as a keeper. Until Jason, she’d given up on the idea that men like him even existed anymore.

  But here he was in the flesh, doting on his wife with the best of everything from golf gloves to shoes. The lingering glances and breathtaking kisses made the sales clerks swoon with envy.

  She could get used to this.

  Yesterday she might have thought it was all an act. Today she was all too aware of how real she wanted it to be.

  Oh, she kept an eye out for Isely, the blonde woman or other faces she might recognize from either the criminal world or the spies who tried to counter their moves. Beside her, she knew he did the same.

  Once they finished shopping, they strolled hand in hand through the resort, cruising by the inside entrance of the club. “He could set up in here just as easily,” she observed, looking up at the elaborate architecture.

  “I see that,” he replied. “Let’s go be tourists,” he whispered at her ear.

  “Right.” She should be used to the tiny shivers created by his touch. With sunglasses on, they left the climate-controlled casino for the bright Nevada sunshine. “Wow,” her eyes watered. “I either need more coffee or more sleep.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I vote for more coffee.”

  “You’re greedy.”

  “For you, always.”

  The words shouldn’t matter so much to her, but they did. She jerked her attention back to business. “Look.” She turned their joined hands toward the club entrance.

  “Yeah, I noticed.” He raised his camera and took snapshots of the most famous rooflines and facades in the heart of the Strip.

  She could tell by his tone it didn’t make him happy. “There are a dozen places he could hide and reach anyone waiting in that line tonight.”

  “Uh-huh.” Their reconnaissance complete, he guided her back to their hotel to pick up the car and head out to the golf course.

  “But you’re thinking.”

  “Only about you, sweetheart.”

  “Not buying it,” she said, leaning into him.

  “I’m thinking about the course. It’s a tough nine we’re about to play.” He handed over the valet ticket, and the young man went racing off to find their car.

  “I’ll probably double bogey everything.” She knew he wanted to wait until they were in the car and couldn’t be overheard. They chattered on about golf until they were safely in their vehicle and could speak freely.

  “Weren’t you nervous standing around outside? He might already be in his chosen nest.”

  Jason shook his head, and this time she didn’t have to prompt him into talking. It was progress. “Frost has a routine. He’ll be sleeping or gambling while he waits for nightfall.”

  “Where do you think he’ll set up the nest?”

  “Outside.”

  She snorted. “Obviously.”

  Jason turned off the Strip toward the golf club where he’d booked the tee time. “I’m thinking we find a way to close that inside access for the evening.”

  “You said the club strike was an outside deal.”

  “Yes, out of necessity.” He patted her knee. “The real Paris isn’t self-contained like the Paris”

  “Low blow,” she grumbled. “I’m quite familiar with the real Paris,” she said in flawless French.

  “Impressive.”

  “About time you noticed. Why, if Frost is mimicking you, would he take the shot inside?”

  “This whole business feels rushed to me. Things are accelerating and none of it adds up. I understand who might win if I’m labeled a loose cannon, but who gained from the hit on Redding?”

  “No one has to gain anything—the connection strengthens the case against you.”

  “Only if you don’t know me.”

  She twisted in her seat. “Are you planning to shut me out again?”

  “No.” He scowled at the road ahead, clearly lost in thought. “There’s nothing in my record that would indicate I’d go off the deep end this way.”

  “Except the stigma of being a successful sniper.”

  “Touché.”

  “Redding was at the convention for a reason. Last I heard he was with a defense contractor working on new technology.”

  “So?”

  “So who loses if new tech helps the good guys?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, the bad guys usually adapt faster than the good guys.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Jason, I’m not following your logic, if there is any here. Before we realized the pattern, you suggested Frost was here for me.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “What?”

  “Relax.” He reached across the seat and caught her hand. “I only meant that kind of mission would be cut and dried.”

  “Less than forty-eight hours and my husband already wants me dead.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  She chuckled. “I do. But—wedded bliss aside—having been acquainted for such a short time, I’d think being framed for several sniper shots would put you on the offensive.”

  “This marriage thing rocks.” He turned into the long drive leading to the low stone building of the golf club. “You know me far better than whoever is behind this.
If the woman at the bar succeeded and the sniper succeeded, and my real name and history came up through the course of the investigation and I didn’t have an alibi for Redding’s death, I’d disappear, reverse engineer the shooting and call in a few favors to prove my innocence.”

  “Assuming the woman at the bar hadn’t just killed you.”

  “Well, true. Then all of this speculation is moot. But if they wanted me dead, Frost had the shot at the pool. They want me alive to take the blame.”

  She nodded. It bothered her when she thought of that moment—not just the near miss for herself, but that the shooter might have simply put the bullet through Jason’s head rather than through the deck chair.

  Clearing her throat, she tried to keep it professional. “Aside from you being charged with crimes you didn’t commit, who is the big loser in that scenario?”

  “Mission Recovery.” He pulled into a parking space a couple of rows back from the entrance. “After the rumors last month about the director, a rogue Specialist shooting up Las Vegas would be enough to shut us down.”

  Neither of them moved to get out of the car. “That opens the suspect pool again. Your department must have hundreds of enemies.”

  “But not all of them have access to my file.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Worst case scenario?” He took a deep breath, poking at the key fob and watching it swing from the ignition. “This is an inside job. Someone in Mission Recovery is pulling the strings.”

  “Finally.”

  “Finally?”

  She shook her head. “I thought you were never going to say it out loud, that you were going to give me some line about old enemies.”

  “You knew?”

  “Not officially, and I was trying not to leap to conclusions. There might be an old enemy in your past.”

  “No, I don’t have those. My missions were long distance, practically hands-off. All of them are still classified. Whoever is behind this has full access to my record. There’s no other explanation for the replicated strikes.” He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “We shouldn’t be golfing. We should be turning this over to the authorities.”

  “Later. First you have to stop Frost. You’re the only one who can find him.”