Dark Rules (The DARK Files Book 3)

by Vaughan,Susan

  DARK RULES

  Daphne Award Finalist

  Susan Vaughan

  Dark Rules (The DARK Files, Book 3)

  Copyright © 2016 Susan Hofstetter Vaughan

  Published by Gullwood Press

  Digital formatting by Nina Pierce at Seaside Publications

  Cover design by Rogenna Brewer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at shvaughan.author@gmail.com. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Revised and Updated. First published as Breaking All the Rules.

  For more information on the author and her works, please visit:

  www.SusanVaughan.com

  Contents

  About Dark Rules * Dedication * Dear Reader * Other Books by Susan Vaughan * Excerpt from Dark Vengeance (DARK series, Book 4) * About the Author * Book Reviews

  Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 * Chapter 19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Chapter 22 * Chapter 23 * Chapter 24 * Chapter 25 * Chapter 26 * Chapter 27 * Chapter 28

  About Dark Rules

  Danger, secrets and lies…

  Maverick DARK officer Simon Byrne, undercover on a Caribbean island, must stop an international arms dealer’s sale of uranium that could trigger a world war. Simon’s mission goes sideways when the woman he once failed to protect is assigned as his tech officer. Vowing to keep her safe, he fights the smoldering heat between them because distraction could cost their lives. But despite his personal rule of no entanglements, she’s in his head…and in his heart.

  By-the-book Janna Harris is determined to prove herself in the field and uncover whether her late husband, who sold to the arms dealer, also betrayed his government. A treason investigation could expose Janna’s own secrets. Her attraction to Simon wars with her pledge never to allow another man into her life. But can she walk away from the only man who could heal her battered soul?

  Emotions and danger collide as the powder-keg deadline ticks down on their mission—and their survival.

  P. S. Amazon has this new feature for Kindle called something like Page Flip, which makes it easier to keep your current page and go back to look at other pages. I think I could get it for my Kindle Paperwhite, but I can’t figure out how. It’s a download but how? Anyway, books that can use the Page Flip need “Enhanced Formatting.” Do you know what that is? Yeah, something more to learn.

  DEDICATION

  To my friends at the Mid-Coast Gym: Ruthie, Nancy and Judy; to Julia Mozingo. And to my husband, my best friend and consultant in “guy” stuff.

  Finally, much appreciation to Glenn Mariani, expert consultant in Cleatian.

  Chapter 1

  WHAT THE HELL am I doing here?

  Simon Byrne knew exactly. Postponing what he ought to be doing. And ogling the woman he’d avoided for over two years. She didn’t notice him at the Technical Support Lab door because whatever gizmo she was fiddling with had her mesmerized.

  Janna Harris wore nondescript pants, white tailored shirt and a jacket, a style she’d adopted after her marriage. No more short skirts or skinny tops. Professional, she insisted.

  Boring, he said. He still thought so, but he didn’t call it nun wear out loud. He kept his trap shut to avoid friction with her new husband. No chance of that now since the man was dead.

  Oblivious to Simon’s presence amid the hum of computers and techs speaking geek to one another, she carried the cigarette-pack-sized gizmo past metal cabinets, cubicles and other technicians to an empty worktable.

  At least this outfit had a short jacket that didn’t hide all the good stuff. He could watch the sway of her hips, the stride of her model-length legs as sleek as a thoroughbred’s. And the jacket was nearly the same gray as her eyes. Eyes he could never forget, witchy eyes that invited a man to drown in them. Happily.

  After gathering small metal tools, she settled on a stool at a worktable. She plied a tiny screwdriver to the gizmo and, after a moment, pressed a button. A light flashed. She smiled.

  The curve of her lips warmed him in inconvenient places. Damn! Time hadn’t dulled her effect on him — one major reason he’d stayed away. He gritted his teeth. She was the wrong woman for him. Why didn’t his body listen to him?

  Keeping her eyes on her work, she spared not even a sideways glance toward the doorway. He might as well have been invisible. Damn straight. As far as Janna was concerned, he preferred invisibility. For over a year, he’d checked on her, watched over her. Guilt kept him at a distance.

  The Domestic Antiterrorism Risk Corps had other ideas. You’re on, turkey. He strode over to her table.

  “How you doin’, Q?” He stretched his lips into a wide grin. “I got a good one for you. How many software engineers does it take to change a light bulb?”

  A couple of other techs glanced up before returning to computer screens and arcane devices.

  Janna slipped on dark-rimmed glasses before she faced him. She pushed them firmly on the bridge of her nose and peered down at him from her perch on the high stool.

  When did she start wearing those things? He’d never seen her in glasses before.

  Hard as granite behind the unexpected lenses, her narrowed eyes pinned him like a bug on flypaper. “If you think you can prance in here after all this time and pick up where you left off with the geek jokes, Simon, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  He deserved that. And worse for what he was going to do over the next few days.

  “I don’t prance” was all he could muster.

  Color bloomed high on her cheeks. “Simon.”

  He swallowed his emotion and another quip. He shoved fingers through his hair in a futile effort at control. “Look, I screwed up. After…”

  “After Gabe’s death,” she prompted.

  “After that, kidding around with you didn’t seem right. He was under my command. I could’ve prevented his death.”

  Her gray eyes widened as she seemed to grasp that truth for the first time. She shook her head, the layers of her hair swaying like silk. “You’re not responsible for Gabe’s death. He was called Hero Harris for a reason. Even if you’d been there, you couldn’t have stopped his reckless action.”

  He didn’t buy it, but her forgiveness winked on a tiny light in the dark space inside him. “Thanks, but protecting my people was part of being the control officer.”

  “So that’s the reason you deserted me.”

  He winced at hearing the truth aloud. He had deserted her, deserted their friendship. “Partly. As time passed, going back was weird … awkward.” But no more awkward than this conversation. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

  He crossed mental fingers that she would let his apology go at that. In fact, he’d eased away from her even before Gabriel Harris. In her eyes, in her body language, he’d seen that she wanted more than friendship. Her come-on at Vanessa Wade’s wedding rang wedding bells in her head and warning bells in his.

  Impossible, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

  If she pushed, what excuse could he give? That she deserved the home-and-family kind of guy, not a one-nig
ht-stand kind of guy like him? That was what he told himself when Gabe asked him to introduce them in the cafeteria. Regret cinched his gut, even though envy made no sense and didn’t change who he was. Or wasn’t. Or the more concrete excuse that, after Gabe began seeing her, he warned Simon off? Once Mr. Perfect had given her the rush, she had no time for Simon anyway.

  “I understand. Really. Let’s forget it.” She offered no smile of encouragement, and wariness lurked in her eyes.

  He’d take what he could get. “Sweet.” He held out a hand. “A new beginning?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she shook his hand. He wanted to hold on and savor her soft skin, but she pulled back and gripped her gizmo like an anchor.

  “What’ve you got there?” He nodded toward the toy.

  “An SC cam.” She held the thing up proudly. “A self-contained video system. Watch.” She slid the slim canister into a slot in a thick hardcover book. The camera’s spy eye blended in with the lettering on the book’s spine. “This baby’s a one-fourth-inch CCD imager with 420 lines of resolution and a high-power 2.45-gigahertz transmitter. The self-charging battery has a run time of eight hours.”

  Janna began working for DARK a few years ago here at its Washington, D.C., headquarters where he was a field officer. She’d been so green then she used the agency’s letters instead of the usual acronym. But green or not, he’d seen her create, modify and repair any low or high-tech equipment an operative could dream up.

  “Outrageous. I know a little about bugs, but the only words you said that sounded like English were camera and battery.” He grinned, a little more at ease. “So what’s with the glasses? It’d be a hell of a shame if working with microscopic bugs is ruining those beautiful eyes.”

  Lines formed between her brows. Setting down the book camera, she hesitated, then shook her head. “Simon, what are you doing in the lab? What do you want?” The corners of her mouth twitched toward a smile he could feel in his chest. “And don’t call me Q.”

  Hot damn, he’d managed to dent her shield a little. She usually didn’t mind the teasing, but he’d drop it. For now. If James Bond ever had this beautiful tech genius instead of the guy, he’d never leave the lab.

  She smoothed her hair, and around her head, toffee-colored layers curved, controlled like the woman. Her hair used to swing behind her like the shining mane of the buckskin horse he’d exercised when he was a kid in Baltimore. But after her husband’s death, she cut it short. He didn’t expect to like the new look, but the sleek cap invited touching.

  He gripped his portfolio. “I’m here officially. Ramsey assigned us to work together for a few days.” He paused to let that sink in.

  She pursed her lips, as though having to work with Simon left a bad taste. It might, if she suspected his other, covert job.

  “The assistant director mentioned he was giving me a field assignment as a tech advisor and translator, but that’s as far as his explanation went.”

  Simon shrugged, relieved she knew that much already. He’d followed her advancement to tech officer. Observed her on the shooting range and in martial arts classes. He hadn’t expected to work with her, but the gig was only for three days.

  “Secrecy is Ramsey’s middle name. Goes with the territory. He’s the control officer for this mission. That says how high priority it is. I’ll fill you in. Where can we talk?”

  Mouth prim and taut, she led him into an empty office.

  The report inside the portfolio had triggered the assignment — at least, the official part. The other part of the assignment was bad news. Ramsey had hinted at evidence, called it checking on Officer Harris’s loyalty. Simon called it spying on Janna. Bunch of crap, but what could he do? Her integrity was rock solid. True to his secretive nature, the AD disclosed nothing more.

  Simon didn’t know what Janna was suspected of — only that DARK’s suspicions somehow tied her to this assignment. Did it have something to do with her dead husband? With some past assignment of Gabe’s?

  He didn’t know much about their marriage except for Gabe’s bragging about how happy they were. They’d moved into a fancy house in Virginia, away from her D.C. friends. Come to think of it, Simon hadn’t seen them at parties or dinners except for those hosted by the director. Could Gabe have dragged her into something dirty?

  The speculation was driving him crazy.

  “We’re to go to New York,” she prompted as she closed the door. She leaned against a desk stacked with files.

  Nodding, he handed her a copy of his summary. “After a two-year undercover operation, the DARK office in Manhattan has Leo Wharton in custody. Picked him up on his yacht in the Virgin Islands.”

  A blank stare. She didn’t know who Wharton was. Good sign.

  He continued. “Wharton is a former U.S. Special Forces colonel. He was booted from the military for having illicit side interests. Went mercenary for a while, then turned to buying arms for terrorist groups. We’ve wanted to nail him for a long time.”

  She glanced at the summary. “It says here that Wharton is suspected of buying weapons from an international arms broker named Viktor Roszca.” She turned her penetrating gaze on Simon. “Why is that name familiar?”

  “Intelligence reports from the NCTC conclude that Roszca was the big supplier to the New Dawn Warriors.” The National Counterterrorism Center was the agency created to coordinate analysis and operations among all intelligence services.

  She paled and a small gasp escaped her lips. “The terrorist group that set up the assassination where—”

  “Yes, where Gabe was killed.”

  Pain flickered across her face before she schooled her expression.

  Dammit. She still loved her husband, was still mourning him, and Simon was supposed to find out if she was dirty. He was the one who felt dirty.

  Her gaze dropped to the report. “Go on.”

  He cleared his throat. “We want this guy. I want this guy. Bad. Roszca’s weapons and explosives have injured or killed countless people, including DARK officers. If we can get evidence that he armed avowed enemies of the U.S., we can convict the bastard in a U.S. federal court.” Simon’s white-hot hatred had been tempered and forged into steely determination.

  “I see. Go on,” she said, her expression thoughtful.

  “Part of New York’s undercover investigation involved surveillance tapes.” He slid out a picture taken from one of the videotapes and passed it to her. “A couple of the tapes show Wharton in meetings with Roszca and other arms buyers — one from August over a year ago and one from last month.”

  Janna let her gaze lift to Simon as she listened to his explanation.

  His diamond earring winked at her, teased her like he used to. Never under control, his brown hair had been styled with something like a Weed-whacker trimmer. His perpetual two-day beard looked soft and touchable.

  Ever the rebel, he wore snug, faded jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with the words Spies Do It Undercover. Not that every man in DARK wore a tie, but at headquarters, most wore dress shirts and pants. Higher-ups like the AD tolerated Simon’s in-your-face attitude because of his sharp intellect and street savvy.

  She and Simon were such opposites. How had they ever managed to be friends?

  Once upon a time. No more.

  When Ramsey announced her first field assignment, anticipation had tingled through her. But why did her partner have to be Simon? Why not someone dull? Married? Safe?

  Simon was describing the arms broker’s history. “Viktor Roszca comes from what is now the independent Republic of Cleatia. Even before the breakup of the Soviet Union, Roszca used his base there to build an arms-dealing empire. Since the Cleatian government exiled him, he’s promoted himself as a respectable international entrepreneur.

  “He moved from small-arms theft from the Soviets and later the Russians to American weaponry, including Stinger shoulder-fired antiaircraft missiles. Word is, he armed Syrian regime loyalists.
”

  “I speak Cleatian fluently. Is that the translating part of it?” She needed the security of knowing her role in the op.

  “After we view the tapes. The last meeting Wharton had with Roszca took place in a New York hotel. Soon after that meeting, Roszca vanished and hasn’t surfaced. Also present were some bottom feeders in Eastern bloc organized crime, guys who’ve played both sides before. There’s a chance they know where Roszca is. We’ll go talk to Wharton and view the tapes. Then I’ll need you to translate for the two goons. I’ll want you to record it.” A beat passed. “Standard procedure.”

  Why did he say that almost apologetically? Her stomach tightened as she began to grasp another implication. “Just the two of us, then? Not a team?”

  “We’re just talking to people, Q, uh, Janna. If we hit trouble, New York can provide backup. You okay with this arrangement? Us working together?”

  Her heart did an anxious flip. How could she work so closely with this man who used to be her friend? He’d begun putting the brakes on their friendship around the time she met Gabe. His assuming responsibility for Gabe’s death explained why he continued to avoid her. The analytical part of her said her stung feelings weren’t rational. The emotional part of her regretted the loss of their friendship.

  But that was in the past. She moved on. So did he. She’d have to remain professional to keep her dignity.

  There was a part of her — a dark part deep inside — that she could never reveal to him. Or to anyone. She would keep her private pain just that — private.

  She squared her shoulders, ready to do her job. “New York. The Big Apple.” Janna forced her voice to an even tone. “Yes, Simon. I can’t wait.”

  Chapter 2

  THE TENSION BETWEEN Simon and his tech-officer-turned-ice-princess made the short shuttle ride from D.C. to LaGuardia sheer torture. At least for him. She spent most of the time ignoring him and organizing report forms on her laptop.