“That photo is Teteruk’s?” Knox asked.
“One of many, I’m afraid.” The president arched his shoulders back and cocked his head, the vein throbbing at the base of his neck.
“We’re not still supporting this son of—” Owen cut himself off, nearly forgetting who he was talking to.
“He left Ukraine last year. We think he had a falling out with his group. We ended the funding to the party with his departure.”
“You said party.” Owen’s eyes locked onto the president, his pulse spiking despite efforts to keep his nostrils from flaring. “Does that mean we’re still paying off this cocksucker?”
“Owen,” Luke warned.
The president held up his hand to Luke. “It’s fine.” He looked back at Owen. “We’ve been regularly monitoring his activity by way of drones since he left Ukraine, and he’s kept to his compound in Georgia.”
President Rydell had dodged Owen’s question, but before he could bring it up again, Liam said with a hint of his normal casual posture, “I’m assuming we’re talking about the country and not the state?”
Owen sure as hell wished the asshole was nearby so he could get to him quicker. Although, a little distance wouldn’t stop Owen when the time came.
Owen tipped his head toward the photo in the president’s hand. “That’s why we didn’t kill the prick? He has goddamn images stashed somewhere, and if anything ever happens to him, he’ll let Russia know what the U.S. did? We’re still channeling funds—just to him, instead of his party, right?”
Sometimes, the truth was ugly. And sometimes, the truth was so ugly it couldn’t ever be exposed.
“Photos can be doctored,” Jess began, “but the U.S. couldn’t give Russia any reason to doubt the story about Iraq, right?”
The president’s eyes journeyed over to her, and he gave a hard nod.
“Does that mean he’s behind all of this? No hacking?” Luke asked.
“But why now?” Jess rubbed her temples before narrowing her eyes on Owen. “Why come after our men? He wouldn’t need to pump them for intel; he knows what happened.”
“And I don’t think he’d want the truth out, anyway. He wouldn’t want anything happening to his country, especially at the hands of Russia,” the president noted.
“But clearly someone got their hands on his blackmail photos.” Asher looked over at Owen and dragged his palms down his face.
“Before you got here today, I commissioned a SEAL Team to infiltrate Teteruk’s place in Georgia. They’ll be dropping in by helo at zero seven hundred tomorrow. We couldn’t take the risk that someone would get to him if JSOC was hacked.”
“Were we planning to protect this guy, or use him as bait?” Owen raised his brows, his pulse still spiking.
“Looks like we won’t be doing either.” Luke’s words drew the attention of everyone in the room. “Clearly, he’s already been taken or killed.” He pointed to the photo in the president’s hand. “How else would someone get ahold of that image?”
“Our guys will still go to Georgia as planned,” the president announced. “We have to be certain.”
Owen gripped the nape of his neck as he considered the possibility someone else beat him to the punch of killing the murdering SOB.
“Let’s assume Cheng hacked JSOC, what kind of intel could he have downloaded and sold?” Luke asked. “And who would know the value of that specific intel?”
The president circled his desk, set the photo down and grabbed a USB off the top of a stack of files. “Teteruk’s name wasn’t in any files, but the longitude and latitude coordinates of his military compound our men infiltrated in Ukraine were listed.”
“If that’s the file Cheng got ahold of, what else could Cheng have learned from it?” Jess asked, as if trying to put the pieces together.
“The names of our fallen guys were in there.”
“Cheng could do a quick search and discover Jason and Brad died in Iraq, and so, why the hell would their names be connected to a location in Ukraine.” Luke eyed Owen, his lids becoming heavier.
“Cheng realized he was sitting on a gold mine that could fuck the U.S.,” Knox said with a shake of the head.
“And if I were Cheng, I’d assume the Russians would be the most interested in buying that kind of intel,” Liam added. “And given the threat Samantha got this morning . . .”
“We need to find out who the hell has our men, and what they plan on doing with the intel. We have to contain the situation before it gets leaked any further.” The president clutched the USB tight in his hand.
“We’re assuming the Russian government didn’t already buy the files from Cheng?” Asher asked.
“No, they can’t be the buyer.” The president shook his head. “Believe me, if they knew the truth, I would’ve heard about it already, and there’s been zero chatter about this.”
“Besides,” Jess began, “with Cheng hacking the Russian servers before, I doubt he’d be speed-dialing Putin for a deal.”
“Whoever bought the intel from Cheng, they’re using it to try and thwart the McCarthys’ plans,” Owen said as Luke accepted the USB from the president and nodded.
“I have every bit of confidence in your team that you’ll figure this out. The event the McCarthys are co-hosting with the Sven Group in Russia is Wednesday, right?” The president went back around behind his desk.
“Yes, sir,” Owen answered. “But we’re not still considering moving forward with it, are we?”
He sat in his seat and leaned back in his chair, eying Owen as he strode closer to his desk. “I’ll need to think about it and assess the risks. I’m not a fan of being bullied into making political decisions or being blackmailed.” His jaw strained with tension. “I don’t want to give these people exactly what they want, do you?”
“I also don’t want Samantha or her father in danger.” No damn way could he let Samantha get on a plane for Russia. “Something could happen to her over there.”
The president looked at his watch. “Then you’re running out of time.”
Owen fought the curse that tried to slip from his lips.
“We set up a secure location, which has all of the equipment you may need to get the job done.” The president pointed to the USB in Luke’s hand. “All the operational details from ten years ago are on that USB. The files are clean. Nothing redacted. Destroy it once you’ve looked at it. Understand?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Luke replied.
“I’ll have some papers drawn up for Samantha McCarthy to sign. We can’t let this information spread further. Please tell me she didn’t share the photo with anyone other than your team.” He scratched at his chin, dark stubble beneath his fingertips. “We’re lucky she came to you guys with this instead of the Feds.”
“Yes, but she did consult an FBI agent about the photo before coming to us,” Jess spoke up.
“I’ll need to have him brought here immediately. Too many people already know about this. The situation needs to be contained.”
Contained? Like his brother’s death was contained ten years ago? His hands instinctively tightened at his sides.
“We pulled an image off the security cameras at Samantha’s office, but it was a shit angle. We’re going to go through the footage tonight from both her apartment and office to see if we can get a better hit. The guy who gave her the photo is our best lead right now.” Jess handed the president a new image after she’d retrieved it from her bag. “You recognize him?”
“Afraid not.”
“What about Samantha’s father?” Owen asked a moment later. “We don’t believe he knows anything, but—”
“Everyone involved in the op ten years ago was already notified and given extra security, but before this meeting, we hadn’t confirmed the extent of the threat.” His nostrils flared a little, and he gave Jess back the security photo. “I’ll make sure they’re on board with what I need from them this afternoon.”
“And what do you need from the
m?” Luke asked, but they all already knew the answer: bait.
“The former president, General Douglas . . .” Jess bowed her head. “How can we use them as bait?”
But before the president could answer, Owen asked, “How’d you know to alert Samantha’s father already?”
The president’s mouth tightened as he angled his head and looked straight into Owen’s eyes. “Because he was General Douglas’s attorney at the time. Samantha’s father orchestrated the Teteruk deal.”
Chapter Eleven
Sam eyed the last document she’d signed. “All done, Mr. President.” Standing in shorts and Chucks felt a bit inappropriate in the Oval Office, but she hadn’t been given a chance to change.
He slid the papers inside a folder, and she pressed her sweaty palms to her abdomen and swept her gaze around the room. She’d been in here before, but never with the president. Never alone with the commander in chief. They’d been in meetings together in the past, though, and most of the time, they’d never seen eye to eye, especially in regards to Ukraine and Russia.
“You understand the consequences if you ever tell anyone about the photo or the phone call from them this morning, correct?”
“Treason.” She took a breath. “So, jail or death.” She tried to spit out the words as casually as possible.
He rounded his desk to grab his blazer draped over a chair, and she swallowed her nerves at the proximity to the president. “Who else did you talk to about this photo?”
She inwardly groaned; she hated dragging them into the mess. “Um, Emily Summers and former FBI Special Agent Jake Summers.”
“I know Summers. He’s a good man.” He gave a quick nod. “I’ll have to bring them in.”
“Understood.”
“And please don’t mention any of this to your father, especially over an unsecure line. I’ll talk to him.”
At least she knew her dad would be safe then. One less thing to worry about.
The president moved in front of her now and wrapped a hand over her shoulder. “There’s something else I need to discuss before I go meet with the Joint Chiefs.”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“I need you to announce you’re not going to back off your proposal. I want you in Russia as planned on Wednesday.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, unable to hide the shock in her voice. “I don’t understand, Mr. President. You didn’t support the proposal before this happened, so why now?”
She thought back to the meeting she’d had with him in August. Because he hadn’t backed her proposal, it had made getting support from Congress that much more difficult.
“Why don’t you sit down?” He pointed to one of the couches at the center of the room.
“I’m fine,” she said, and her words had him retracting his hand. “Mr. President,” she rushed out at the last second.
He gave a curt nod and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t bow to threats. I’m not like our last president.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, so she kept her lips tight.
“I may not agree with your methods, but I do support the cause, and I’ll sure as hell support you before I’ll let some asshole try and manipulate the United States.” He motioned for the door.
“There are a lot of important people who will be attending the event on Wednesday. Former President Jones,”—since you wouldn’t come—“my dad . . .”
“We won’t do anything to jeopardize their lives,” he cut her off. “I promise.”
It was one thing for her to be willing to put herself on the front line, but she couldn’t risk others, could she?
“We’ll be sure to increase security there, as well as inform our people of the situation. Don’t worry.”
How could she not worry? The event was her idea, and didn’t that make her responsible for all of the people who’d be going? “And what is the situation? Don’t I deserve to know what’s actually going on?”
He released a ragged breath. “I can’t go into detail with you on that, I’m sorry. But let’s hope everything is resolved before your plane even leaves Dulles.”
That doesn’t give us much time, but she kept the thought to herself.
“The team outside this room will keep you safe. You can trust them.” He opened the door, not giving her a chance to say more.
Owen stood waiting alongside the tight-lipped Secret Service agent who’d stayed with her while Owen and his team had been with the president.
“A word before you leave.” The president motioned for Owen to follow him back into the Oval.
His eyes were dark and intense as he brushed past her.
And when he came out a minute later, he looked even worse.
What had happened in there? And what in the hell was really going on?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam stood before Owen in the hotel suite as he sucked down a mini bottle of vodka. He was acting like she had earlier.
“What’s the saying? ‘Right as rain’?” He cursed under his breath. “What is right about rain, anyway?” He blinked and guzzled another bottle, his eyes narrowing as if fighting a wince.
When he started for the fridge for another, she grabbed his arm, but the way he peered at her from over his shoulder with a hard look to his eyes, had her retracting her hand.
“Can you tell me something? Anything? The president had me sign papers that could sentence me to death or life in prison if I talked about all of this.”
He guzzled another mini bottle and then mumbled, “It’s classified.”
“Obviously, hence the treason insanity . . . but I need to know more. I deserve it. I work for the government. I’m not a—”
“Civilian?” He tipped up his chin. “Well, you are.” His arm lazily fell to his side, clutching the now empty vodka bottle.
“And what are you?” she challenged, then closed her eyes as a hard knot fisted in her stomach, pumping hard and painfully steady. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me into anything.”
She opened her eyes, finding his gaze on her mouth. “I’ve had a really shitty week,” she said, her voice starting to break. “The picture. The threat. Then to learn some psychopath was watching me naked in my room and listening to my every word.” She sucked in a sharp breath, her arms beginning to tremble. “Now, I’m pretty sure the president is stubbornly pushing my proposal because he doesn’t want to look like a coward.”
“I’m not letting you get on a plane to Russia. Just an FYI.” His forearms went tense at his sides, the veins bulging.
“But the president—”
“Screw the president.” He turned his back and pressed a palm to the wall. “Fuck all of them. They sit behind their desks in their suits putting lives on the line and . . .”
She touched his back, and the muscles tensed beneath her hand as he bowed his head.
He was in pain—she could feel it, practically absorb it through her fingertips.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
He released the bottle at his side, allowing it to fall to the floor. “No.”
“Owen, tell me what happened in the Oval.”
His back lifted and fell with a heavy breath. “I can’t.”
“Turn around and look at me.” Her voice nearly rattled, exposing her nerves at her question.
“I can’t. I’m too angry. And right now, I just want to . . .” But then he did it, he slowly faced her, his hazel eyes darkening. “I want to—”
“Do it.” Her words had her nipples pebbling, desire taking over her like a blazing fire, consuming every rational part of her. She needed something to take away the throb of indecision and the burn of anger—she needed him to do it, to take off the edge. “Kiss me,” and the request sounded more like a broken cry.
When he didn’t say anything, she started to turn, but then he captured her wrist, bringing her back before him.
“I think I hate you.” His voice was low, and his eyes sharp
on hers.
“I think I hate you, too,” she lied.
And in one quick movement, he cupped the back of her head, pulling her tight against him, his mouth on hers.
His kiss had her backing up against the wall, and he boxed her in with his muscular frame, never losing hold of her mouth in the process.
She slipped her hands up his tee, running her fingers over the hard planes of his chest. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth.
His palms pressed to her shoulders, and he edged back a moment later, which had her groin aching. The damn ache was going to kill her.
“I’m angry.” He lowered his forehead to touch hers. “This would be an angry fuck,” he rasped, his words like fire blowing heat over her already sizzling skin. “It’d be wrong.” He didn’t pull back to look at her, as if he couldn’t handle the eye contact.
“I know,” she whispered. “But . . . I’ll lose my mind if you don’t touch me again.” She’d lose her mind if she were left alone to her thoughts, to muddle through the dark by herself.
He was like the light at the end of the tunnel, and she hadn’t seen even a glimmer of light in so long—maybe it was a mirage. But what if it wasn’t?
Nothing that had happened in the last week made sense, especially how she felt for this man, but she couldn’t get herself to back down. Not now, at least.
His forehead gently tapped hers, as if he were trying to convince himself of what to do.
She slipped her hands down to his jeans and popped the button.
His hand bolted down to seize hold of her wrist, and he held her for a moment before stepping back to find her eyes. “I really am angry right now. I meant what I said. I don’t want to hurt you.”
It was a warning, as well as his way of seeking permission from her. “I need this. I need one minute to just forget.”
Her words did something to him—only for a moment, but it caused his lips to curve slightly at the edges. “It’d be a hell of a lot longer than a minute.” The rough but almost velvety texture of his tone had her clenching her thighs tight.
Stealth Ops Series Box Set Page 35
