Stolen (Lucy Kincaid Novels)

by Allison Brennan

  He went up to his fourth-floor corner flat, a spacious, two-room apartment with windows on two walls. He liked the place, which he’d leased under a shell company, but hadn’t spent much time here. Most of the work he did was on the second floor—in the studio the FBI had rented under an assumed name for FBI Special Agent Noah Armstrong.

  Sean grabbed a stack of mail off his counter as a cover, in case he’d been followed. It was clear the level of trust between Evan and Sean was mutual—it didn’t exist. Even though Sean had gone a roundabout way home, he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t followed. He swept continually for any electronic surveillance—but good old-fashioned footwork could be just as effective.

  Sean took the mail and went downstairs to Noah’s studio. It was well after midnight, but Noah wouldn’t sleep until Sean checked in. Sean could have called, but he needed to tell Noah what had happened—much more than what he was willing to share over the phone.

  “Here’s mail that was delivered to my box again,” Sean said when Noah opened his door.

  “Want a beer?”

  “Sounds great.” Sean shut the door behind him. Noah tossed the envelopes on a chair and went back to his desk.

  Sean said, “Didn’t you say beer?”

  Noah gave him a look that Sean couldn’t quite read, then walked over to his refrigerator and grabbed a bottle for each of them. Sean wasn’t surprised that the beer of a “brewer” and “patriot” was Noah’s drink of choice; it suited the former Air Force pilot.

  Sean sat at the table and Noah sat across from him. “What happened?” Noah asked.

  The FBI loft was one large, sparsely furnished room. Functional. The bed and couch were almost incidental—no television, no radio, only a laptop, printer, and tidy desk. Noah did most of the work at the secondhand dining table. The file cabinet was new, and Sean suspected all the drawers were full. He wondered how many of the files related to his past.

  He said, “We have a problem.”

  “Have?”

  “Evan set me up. The museum’s internal security is an RCK design. I had to reroute admin protocols for the duration of the job. I covered my tracks, but I helped design the RCK system. If someone on their end is specifically looking for a breach, they’ll see it and there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Will RCK know it was you?”

  “They won’t have proof, but through the process of elimination Duke will know.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Noah said.

  “I don’t think you understand. My brother knows I’m the only one who can break into the admin system. He may not come to the conclusion immediately, but he’s going to be suspicious. Especially since he’s been trying to keep tabs on me since I quit.”

  “How do you know he’s been tracking you?”

  “He’s been calling Lucy to find out when she talks to me. He tried to get my phone number from her, but she respected my wish not to talk to Duke while I’m working here. I have a trace on my RCK computer in D.C. He’s been pinging it to see if I’ve been logging in remotely and bypassing his servers. And then—”

  Noah put up his hand. “I get it. He wants to know what you’re up to. There’s nothing we can do about it now without reading him in, and Stockton wants to hold off as long as possible. You said yourself you think it’s all going down on Thursday.”

  “It’s only going to end if we have the evidence against Paxton.”

  “It’s going to end when I say it ends.”

  Sean stared at Noah. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies.

  Noah said, “Why do you think your buddy set you up? Maybe he really didn’t know.”

  “Evan is not my buddy,” Sean said.

  “You’re supposed to be on the same team, aren’t you? Working for Thayer?”

  Sean conceded that point. “Evan knew. He denied it, but he knew. It was a test—to see if I would reveal RCK trade secrets as well as embarrass RCK. If it gets out that one of RCK’s key security people has gone to the dark side, it will destroy everything Duke has worked for.”

  “Just Duke? What about you?”

  “Corporate security is all my brother. It’s his division.”

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry.

  “Duke’s not stupid, Noah. Eventually, he’s going to figure out I’m working for Colton. He’ll interfere, thinking he’s protecting me.”

  “Let’s hope it’s after we’re finished.”

  Sean had never pegged Noah as a wait-and-see guy, but even he knew they were in so deep there was no pulling out. It was more his tone that irritated Sean. After everything that happened this past month, now Noah copped his authoritarian nature?

  “What’s your problem?” Sean asked.

  “I don’t have a problem.” Noah was focused on the spreadsheet in front of him.

  Sean grabbed it, and Noah clasped his hand around Sean’s wrist.

  “Let go,” Sean said.

  “Drop it.”

  They stared at each other a moment. Sean let go of the spreadsheet, now wrinkled, and Noah let go of his hand simultaneously.

  “You haven’t liked me from the minute we met,” Sean said. “Though you never told me, I assumed it had something to do with one of my brothers, because we’d never crossed paths before.”

  “You’ve always known I’ve had issues with RCK and the gray areas you play in.”

  Sean shook his head. “This was personal.”

  Noah smiled, but his pale blue eyes turned icy. He sat back in his chair and sipped his beer. “You want to play shrink now.”

  Sean said seriously, “I want to live.” He leaned forward. “What scares me is that you are the only one in a position to protect my ass and sometimes I get the feeling you want to take me out yourself.”

  Noah didn’t blink. “The past isn’t important, Sean.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself. The past is always important. Do you think I’d be here now if it weren’t?”

  Noah said, “You’re here now to earn your get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  Noah didn’t even try to keep the contempt out of his voice.

  Sean abruptly pushed back from the table and stood. His chair fell backwards. “You really don’t know me, Special Agent Armstrong.”

  Sean left the apartment. Why had he let Noah get inside his head like that?

  He needed to talk to Lucy, but it wasn’t safe to do so. But he couldn’t go up to his too-small, too-claustrophobic apartment where he’d just think about the past. The good, the bad, and the very, very ugly.

  He left the building to clear his head but feared he’d made a serious mistake trusting Noah Armstrong.

  * * *

  Noah had baited Sean on purpose, and he regretted it.

  He was letting his personal feelings cloud his interactions. How could he not? Rogan-Caruso Protective Services had a long-standing reputation worldwide, long before “Kincaid” had been added to the masthead. Sean’s three older brothers had built the company from the ground up after the deaths of their parents. They had their fingers in a lot of pies and didn’t always play by the rules. Noah had been an officer in the Air Force for ten years, and rules were there for a reason. Noah had indirectly butted heads with Rogan-Caruso operations, so when he met Sean nearly a year ago he assumed he was just like the others. Especially his brother Liam, whom Noah had dealt with several times overseas. Rogan’s parents were inventors who created gadgets for the military, and after their deaths Liam and his twin sister had taken over the overseas operations until they left RCK to start their own enterprise.

  When Noah had first met Sean, he’d seen Liam in him. Arrogant. Cocky. Manipulative. But Sean had something that Liam didn’t, and it took Noah months to see it.

  Honor. It’s what separated Sean from his brother, what made Noah not despise him. Unlike his brother, Sean had proved he was willing to risk his life for others. Noah didn’t always like how Sean got results; he didn’t like private securit
y companies like Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid taking the law into their own hands. But in the end, Noah reluctantly looked the other way because sometimes the system failed and RCK could right wrongs.

  Besides, he’d wanted Sean as part of this investigation, knowing full well what he was getting into.

  But everything Noah knew about Sean made him wonder if he had really changed. He’d fallen comfortably back into his old gang. There were crimes he’d committed that he could never be prosecuted for because the statute of limitations was up. And these new crimes were protected by Sean’s current immunity agreement with the FBI. Sean was a lucky guy in so many ways, skirting past the law, making his own rules, using his wits and charm to get his way. The potential hiccup in his life plan—going to prison for a nine-year-old crime—was being cleansed as they spoke, simply because there were worse bad guys than Sean.

  For ten months, almost for as long as Noah had known Sean, Noah’d been quietly investigating U.S. Senator Jonathan Paxton. No easy feat considering that Paxton was a senior-ranked member of the Senate Judiciary Committee, which oversaw the FBI. But there were too many questions after two former FBI agents with a connection to Paxton went to jail for running a vigilante group that targeted sex offenders. Paxton had funded the front organization, and while so far the white-collar division hadn’t been able to find any financial evidence that he had paid for hits, Noah’s gut told him Paxton had been involved.

  But neither of the agents was talking, and terms of their plea agreements allowed them to remain silent. Noah thought they’d gotten off far too easy, but he understood the pressure that the U.S. Attorney’s Office was under. The agents had killed known sex offenders—brutal rapists and child molesters who had been released early. The media attention, not to mention finding a jury pool that would convict, were both obstacles the Justice Department didn’t want to deal with during an election year.

  But Noah thought there was far more to the scheme than killing sex offenders. After talking to Paxton in the course of another investigation over the summer, Noah got the feeling that Paxton was involved again in something very shady. Only it was impossible to get a warrant on a hunch and Paxton would use the law to his advantage.

  In the course of his off-book investigation, Noah had learned that Paxton had paid Colton Thayer a substantial sum of money for consulting. Research into Thayer revealed that he’d been the subject of multiple investigations for hacking and high-end cybercrimes. Investigations that had been stalled because of lack of evidence.

  And he had gone to college with Sean Rogan.

  That’s when Noah took his suspicions about Senator Paxton to Assistant Director Rick Stockton. And Rick had decided to bring in Sean.

  Noah wasn’t 100 percent confident that Sean was even now squeaky clean. He feared Sean’s past not only was going to continue to resurface but also would taint the one thing Noah knew Sean cared more about than himself: Lucy.

  And for that reason alone, Noah was willing to do whatever it took to save Sean.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sunday

  If Deanna weren’t so determined to put Sean Rogan in prison, she might have enjoyed Sunday afternoon in Central Park.

  She sat on the bench directly across from the museum and glanced around. She didn’t know what Juan Martinez looked like, but by the name she assumed he was Hispanic. He’d most likely be alone. She was ten minutes early, so she tried to relax and enjoy her surroundings while keeping an eye out for Martinez.

  The leaves in the park were starting to turn, just hints of gold and orange. Autumn happened so fast—it seemed that just yesterday the park had been green. Now it was multi-colored. When was she going to sit still again? When the park was dead in winter?

  Today was even more beautiful because she would have the information she needed to do her job.

  An attractive Hispanic man wearing Dockers and a crisp white polo shirt approached from the north. He sat next to her. Younger than she expected, in his early thirties.

  “Deanna,” he said in greeting.

  “Yes. Juan Martinez?”

  He assessed her, nodded. “Let’s walk.”

  They rose from the bench and started along one of the paths leading into Central Park. It was more crowded than Deanna liked, but what could she expect on a clear autumn day?

  “I almost didn’t come,” Juan said, “except I promised Meredith. And, ultimately, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Deanna had plenty of questions, but she started at the beginning.

  “Meredith told me that you sat with her last year on the D.C. hiring panel.”

  “Correct. From September until March. It was supposed to be a one-year assignment, but they disbanded our panel in March.”

  “Because of Lucy Kincaid.”

  “That wasn’t explicitly stated, but both Meredith and I felt that because we voiced our concerns over the process we were reassigned.”

  “And this was Kincaid’s second panel, correct?”

  Juan nodded. “The first rejected her application on a two-to-one vote; so did we. The third panel member, Nolan Cassidy, was originally from the Sacramento office, where Kincaid’s sister-in-law works as the SSA of Violent Crimes. I don’t believe he was impartial, and I felt he should have recused himself even though he said he’d never met Ms. Kincaid, nor had he worked directly with her sister-in-law.”

  “Still reeks of nepotism.” Deanna stepped aside when two teenage bikers came up the path.

  “I almost quit when Hans Vigo stepped in and over-ruled our decision.”

  “Assistant Director Hans Vigo?” Dr. Vigo was way up the ladder and currently served as liaison between national headquarters and Quantico. He was well known among field agents because of his longtime stint in the Behavorial Science Unit and the three years he taught at Quantico.

  “Dr. Vigo told us our decision was overruled and that we weren’t allowed to discuss the proceedings with each other, or anyone else. It was quite heavy-handed, and left a bad taste in my mouth.”

  “I’d feel the same.”

  “Then, nearly two months ago, an agent from the D.C. office came to both me and Meredith and asked if we’d told anyone about what happened, and then reiterated that we were forbidden from discussing it.”

  “And had you?”

  “I didn’t, but Meredith had. She didn’t admit it, but since I knew I hadn’t talked about it with anyone, and there was no reason for Cassidy to do so, it had to be Meredith. She’s worried about her career. She’s only a couple years from retirement; she shouldn’t have to stress over an upstart newbie agent who gets a pass on the process because of who she knows.”

  “You’re loyal to Meredith.”

  “I’m angry that the process has been perverted. As far as I’m concerned, Lucy Kincaid shouldn’t be a federal agent. I hope the instructors at Quantico see the same problems with her that we saw.” He glanced at Deanna, then motioned toward a bench across from the stone bridge that crossed the north part of the lake near 77th Street. It was quiet here under the shade of an oak tree. The few people who passed them didn’t pay any undue attention.

  “You told Meredith that you were investigating Kincaid’s boyfriend, Sean Rogan.”

  “Yes. I have been tracking him for years, but only recently have I uncovered a solid lead.”

  “Tell me about the investigation,” Juan said.

  Deanna didn’t want to share, because this was where her involvement could get dicey. Deanna’s boss knew she was looking at Colton Thayer for mortgage fraud, but she’d created that cover story so he’d give her some room to work. Technically, Thayer’s crimes would be covered under the cybercrime unit, but every time she’d tried to get back on the squad she’d been stymied—because of what happened at Stanford. So she made up a scam and her boss gave her some room to build a case.

  But there was nothing on Thayer, at least related to white-collar crime. She falsified enough reports to give a hint of something fishy without having enoug
h evidence to turn over the case to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Her boss had bigger cases to manage, so her Thayer investigation slipped under the radar.

  She told Martinez, “There have been a series of thefts in Manhattan that we believe are tied to Colton Thayer, a known computer hacker. He’s hard to track—Cybercrime has been working on him for years. His M.O. is to stay clean for long stretches of time. Because I have a background in accounting, I’ve been kept in the loop.” Mostly true. “Thayer and Rogan were at MIT together and suspected of a whole host of cybercrimes, but nothing was ever proved and the statute of limitations has long since passed. However, Rogan has been in New York for the last three weeks and has been seen at Thayer’s residence.”

  “You suspect they’re working on something together? Like what?”

  “Right before Rogan moved to New York he split from his brother’s security company. The only reason I learned this is because Rogan had high-level government security, which was suspended by RCK. However, Rogan had access to top-secret projects RCK was contracted for with both our government and defense contractors.”

  Juan frowned. “I know a bit about Rogan, from our interviews with Kincaid. He doesn’t seem to be one for treason.”

  Deanna couldn’t lose Juan now, not when she was so close. “But he is one for power and money. Probably not treason, but he can use his skills and knowledge to hack into any system he wants. Without his brother to rein him in, he’s gone rogue. His involvement with Thayer proves it.” That was Deanna’s theory. “And Thayer had a recent influx of cash. It appears to be legit, but my team is going through it with a fine-toothed comb.” Meaning her. She had no team—she was in this all on her own, with Steve Gannon’s help on occasion.

  But she felt in her gut that this was it, this was her last shot. Taking down Rogan would fix her career and rebuild her reputation, which was still damaged even after all these years. She had nightmares about the continuing snickers and comments. How she’d stood on the stage at Stanford, in front of two hundred law enforcement professionals, and right after she had proclaimed that her system was foolproof, Rogan had hacked it and exposed one of his professors as a pedophile.