And there it was, the reason she had to stay away from Renner and couldn’t hang around the District much longer. Jorge had friends everywhere. But worse, Renner didn’t need someone like her in his life.
“Anyway...” Tara pursed her lips and blew out a gut full of anxiety. “He beat the crap out of me that night, all night. Broke two ribs. Kicked me. Peed on me. Even after I did what he asked, yeah. He said I proved he was right, that I was nothing but an American whore.”
That seemed to break something in Kelsey. She scrambled around the table and sat alongside Tara, one arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
See? Kelsey still called her sweetheart like Tara could ever be someone’s sweetheart again. But she couldn’t. Not long term. Not really. Raymond’s Kids was just a pitstop on the never-ending highway that was her life of keeping ahead of Jorge and his friends.
Tara struggled on. “He walked circles around me until dawn, screaming and ranting for hours that I deserved what I got. Stopping only to pray and cry and curse. When he got worked up enough, he’d start over. Beating me. Walking. Praying. By morning I was nothing but piss, sweat, and blood. But when he went online and bought two one-way tickets to Iran…”
Her breath caught with the same fear she’d felt that morning. She could barely swallow. “Wh-when he told me to pack my shit, that he was taking me to Mecca to teach me a lesson—”
“But Mecca’s in Saudi Arabia, honey,” Kelsey murmured sweetly. That was the thing about Kelsey, she rarely got mad. Only gentler.
“Yeah. I know, but Jorge didn’t,” Tara answered, struggling to regain her tough-girl persona. “You don’t have to be smart to be a terrorist. Just wealthy and evil and p-perverse.” Psychotic. Insane. Cruel as shit.
She looked away from Kelsey to that brave little fighter in the kitchen. Jessica was still hard at work, humming some commercial jingle while she held up a plastic plate dripping with suds. She and Jessica were so much alike, and yet they had nothing in common. Jessica still had her life ahead of her. Kelsey would make sure she went into a safer home with people capable of loving her. But Tara didn’t know if today was the day Jorge or one of his terrorist buddies caught up with her.
“I, umm, never told you I was an Olympic skier, either.”
“You were?” Ever faithful, always loving, Kelsey cocked her head and asked, “What kind, honey?” Like any of that mattered.
“Downhill.” It was always interesting how many people didn’t recognize Tara even though her face had once been on every sports channel and magazine in the world. Of course, she’d been younger then. Prettier. Her eyes had been a brighter shade of blue. Filled with hope instead of worry, and without dark circles and bags beneath them. “That was when I met Jorge. Come to find out he was a scout for some ass in Syria. I was just a stupid female athlete who thought she had an Indonesian tiger by the tail. Turns out he had me.”
“I’m glad you left him when you did,” Kelsey soothed. “You’re safe now.”
Tara shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. That’s the thing. He promised he’d find me if I ever left him, and he’d torture me in the most painful ways when he did. He’s got friends everywhere. I made a mistake when I left him. I’ll never be safe again.”
Kelsey studied her for a long minute, before she whispered, “Bullshit. I have friends in low places, you know.”
Okay, that was just plain funny. Kelsey in low places? Tara almost laughed out loud. But she loved this woman with her whole heart. Kelsey had been on shift the night Tara stumbled into Raymond’s Kids. She’d taken her in without question. Tara had been a mess then, strung-out on prescription drugs, anything to ease the ache in her chest. Television made injuries seem sexy. Some perfectly coifed actress in six-inch heels playing the part of a tough beat cop leaned over her shot-six-times-in-the-gut-but-I’m-still-gonna-live hero partner. Yeah. Not so great in real life. Certainly not sexy. Broken ribs still hurt and those bruises would last forever. Tara still felt them sometimes late at night.
But opioids were easy to get in America, ask anyone. All the big-name pharmaceutical companies made sure they were easily available, and lawmakers weren’t any good at standing in those CEOs’ way, not even to protect their voting constituents. A ragged woman living on the streets had no trouble getting her hands on what she needed.
But Kelsey was different. After she’d fed Tara, let her take a nice, long, hot shower, then let her sleep in a real bed for the first time in weeks, she’d contacted her friend, Dr. McKenna Fitzgerald. Together, they’d helped Tara detox and heal. They helped her get her head on straight, and they gave her back her dignity. Kinda hard not to fall in love with friends like that. Which was why Tara would do anything for Kelsey, even teach her to fly off tall buildings in the middle of December with something better than a Superman cape.
“I already know you’re physically capable, Kels. You’re strong. You jog and you bench more than most the guys in this building.” Which was true. That group of shifty men Kelsey hovered over like a mother hen were all missing a limb, fingers, or toes. Kelsey said they were combat vets, and that was enough for Tara. Still she asked, “Who’ll watch Lexie while we’re gone? Won’t Alex be suspicious?”
“He will once he wakes up.” Kelsey made one of her funny, guilty faces. “I might have given him a stronger dose of melatonin than I should have last night. But he’s been working so hard, and he needed to rest and…” Her shoulders lifted. “Am I not the worst wife you’ve ever met?”
Tara leaned into her friend’s motherly embrace. “Hardly. You’re just taking care of your man. I met Alex last night by the way. Honestly, he looked like death warmed over, but I got the feeling he still thinks he’s the baddest guy on the planet. It’s a good thing he’s got you to take care of him.”
Kelsey nodded. “You have no idea, but he’s worked miracles when no one else could, so maybe he is the baddest guy around. I just felt bad for him last night. Which is why I want you to teach me everything I need to know today, so I can get this thing with Montego over with, and we can move on. I’m a fast learner, you’ll see. Two of my staff volunteered to take over our shifts this morning. They should be here any second, and I’m not worried about Lexie. I brought her in with me this morning, so Alex could get some sleep. She’s playing with Renard.”
Tara glanced over Kelsey’s shoulder at the focused little girl in the corner playing blocks with Renard. Renard was a high-functioning autistic teenage boy from Spain who’d arrived at Kelsey’s three days ago. He’d gotten separated from his parents during their first trip to America in late November. Amber alerts went out across the nation, but things went from bad to worse.
When the authorities failed to locate him before his parents’ money ran out, they’d had to return to Spain. The poor child ended up sleeping on the street, not knowing how to help himself until a worn-out Vietnam vet found him, bought Renard his first hot meal in weeks, then brought him to Kelsey. Renard’s family had already paid for his way home. They’d asked that Kelsey keep him until his father arrived to accompany him.
“You trust him with your little girl?”
Kelsey nodded. “Renard’s little sister is Lexie’s age. He’s very protective of her. Yes, I trust him.”
Well, okay then. “Today, huh? I know a place where we can practice without getting caught. But I don’t have a car. Can you drive me home? I’ve got an extra suit there that’ll fit you.”
“Of course, I’ll drive. Where’s your car?”
“I, umm, forgot it at McCormack’s last night. You know, when Agent Graves got in my way.”
“Tell me everything while I drive. When can you be ready?”
Tara lifted to her feet, headed for the kitchen. “Right after dishes.”
Chapter Twelve
Once the cab had driven away with Tara tucked safely in the back seat, Renner breathed easier. He still needed to check in with Alex. A little one-on-one facetime with the
boss couldn’t hurt after last night’s fiasco.
But Alex wasn’t in when Renner arrived at TEAM Headquarters. He double-checked his cell. It wasn’t yet eight am. That was odd. Alex usually arrived earlier than everyone else. Stranger yet, the light in Senior Agent Mark Houston’s office was on. Renner crossed the quiet work area and knocked before he entered.
Mark looked up. “Hey. How’s the hunt for Montego going?”
“Where’s Alex?” Renner asked as he took a seat in the chair next to Mark’s desk.
Mark’s office wasn’t the OCD wasteland that Alex’s was. He had more framed family pictures on his desk than most agents. Little knickknacks his girls made for him. A red and black lump of clay that was supposed to be a ladybug pencil holder. A popsicle-stick piece of unidentifiable artwork. Other stuff. But the black folder he’d just slapped shut meant either an agent was already deep undercover on some classified operation or soon would be. There was a day not too long ago that Renner would’ve thrilled at the chance to be that guy. Not anymore. Black ops usually meant someone had to die. Renner preferred to stick close to home instead of sticking his neck out.
“Alex won’t be in today if he knows what’s good for him,” Mark answered easily. “Kelsey called, said he’s pretty sick. Nothing serious, just the flu, but she called Doc Fitz to make sure.”
“Good on her. He looked like shit last night.”
“He did?”
Renner hooked one arm over the chairback. “Yes. I was in late, talked to him on the way to Reagan, maybe ten, ten-thirty. Never seen him so, I don’t know, off. Is there something going on besides this thing with Montego that I should know about?”
“Frankly, that’s enough on his plate for now,” Mark answered. “Just glad Kelsey knows how to handle him. I’ve been trying to get him to back off for months now, but you know Alex.”
Renner grunted. “Yeah, he’s a ball buster, but that’s what makes him a good boss. I’ve worked with plenty of LTs who cared less about their men and women and more about getting their captain stripes. Alex isn’t like that. I thought Kelsey had the wives and families handled as well?”
“That woman…” Mark shook his head, smiling. “She never ceases to amaze me. Yes, she’s gone and organized daycare and babysitting, shifting the workload from home to home like a professional. She’s even scheduling the agents Alex assigned to help her now, so they know when and where to be. We took our turn yesterday. Only had Kelsey’s, Adam’s, Hunter’s and David’s kids, so we got off easy.”
“Sounds like a nightmare to me. All those kids…”
Mark barked a laugh. “That’s because you’re still single. You don’t have any kids. But trust me. It’s easier when your kids get older. My girls and David’s boys just naturally watch over the littler ones after school. Only had a minor bump with Lexie last night. She wanted to go home early. No big deal. Think she was coming down with something. It happens. Anything you need to tell me?”
“I could use some sleep is all,” Renner admitted. “Who’s covering the women and kids during the day?”
“This week, Lee and Jake. I may have to get creative over Christmas vacation, though. That’ll be two weeks of no school, and kids get antsy when they’re cooped up too long. I’m thinking we take everyone out of town. Gabe’s folks in Texas invited all of us to their ranch. He says it’s large enough. Might be fun.”
Renner nodded at the prospect of spending Christmas in Texas. “We now have eyes and ears inside McCormack’s penthouse.”
Mark’s brows lifted. “You’re spying on Jed? Inside his personal residence? Why? Did Alex authorize that?”
“No, but disavow me if you need to. I won’t sit by and let her kill him on my watch,” Renner said evenly. “Sometimes the moral imperative takes precedence.”
“Agreed.” Mark was a big guy, broad at the shoulders, thick-necked, but as fit a man as Renner had ever met. Like Zack Lennox, Mark could pass for a heavyweight champion any day. That he didn’t climb across his desk and wring Renner’s neck for breaking the law spoke to his utter respect for the men and women who served under him. “Go on,” he said quietly.
“I know Alex just wants me to stick close to McCormack, but it didn’t feel right walking away from him last night.”
Mark offered nothing more than a nod, so Renner kept on explaining. “Something’s going on that we’re not seeing, Mark. I had Seth place a harassing call because I needed McCormack out of bed and away from her. The man who came charging out of his bedroom was the old McCormack, pissed that someone would dare violate his wife’s headstone and ready to fight. Wish I’d had those Tattle Tales activated then, you could see what I’m talking about. But once she started rubbing up against him and talking…” Renner scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could bleach that memory out of his mind forever.
“Yeah, she was nude all right, but it was like he snapped into a trance. One second, he looked like he was having an apoplectic stroke, but the next…” Renner snapped his fingers. “…he shrugs his shoulders and says, ‘She’s dead, but we’re still here, aren’t we? We’re still alive.’ It was like Montego flipped a switch or something. McCormack stopped ranting, in fact he calmed right down. It was… weird.”
By then Mark’s elbows were on the desk, his chin resting at the peak of his steepled fingers. “You think she’s drugging him?”
“No, I don’t. I mean, I did find a hypo at his place, but…” Renner slapped his pockets. Damn, last night was one for the books. Not only had he done the stupidest thing ever, he’d also lost a critical piece of evidence, most likely during the fall. Anyway… “You’ve seen him on live TV. Montego’s always at his side. I guess it’s possible she’s using some kind of mind-control on him, but he always appears alert and sharp when he’s dealing with reporters. He fires probing questions right back at them when they ask something stupid. That’s what doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve worked with him. I’ve seen him with Lois. That man adored his wife. Unless he’s been a pathological liar all these years—”
“Not Jed,” Mark stated unequivocally.
“Copy that,” Renner breathed. “But yeah. I don’t know what’s really going on. Nonetheless, a dozen Tattle Tales are now planted and ready to go live inside his penthouse. Maybe they’ll tell us something. You tell me. Do I activate them or not?”
Mark didn’t hesitate. “Light ’em up.”
Words Renner lived for. It took seconds to open the app on his cell and activate McCormack’s newest in-house security system, the one he didn’t know he had. Thumbing the down menu, Renner could now view or listen in on any of the multiple frames the app displayed. He wouldn’t have needed so many if the rooms in that penthouse hadn’t been so large. Tattle Tales only captured a radius of ten feet or so. “Another thing. I’d rather our new employee not have access to this app or this intel. Not sure I trust her.”
Mark grunted. “Don’t worry. Right now, we can’t even get Camilla to type a memo. On her computer. Using a word processing app.”
Which was just plain wrong. There were plenty of good workers who’d kill for the chance to work with The TEAM. “Then why hasn’t Alex fired her?”
Mark shrugged, his dark eyes bright and intelligently assessing everything Renner said. “You know why. FBI Director Chase might’ve unloaded an unwanted employee on Alex, but Alex doesn’t back down from a challenge, and he doesn’t quit.”
Renner couldn’t help that his face wrinkled into a WTF grimace. “You think he sees something in Brinkman? Like what?” All Renner saw was a snotty teenager dressed like a professional woman in six-inch heels and claws. And therein was the rub. Camilla Brinkman was smart. He damn well knew it. She was also the most insensitive, entitled, rude brat he’d ever met. Frankie, his four-year-old niece, had more manners in her little finger than Camilla had in her whole privileged body.
“He saw something in us, didn’t he?” Mark asked.
There was that. But
man, Brinkman was a challenge like no other. That woman had a mighty high opinion of herself, yet treated everyone else in the office like dirt. Including Alex. Either she hated men in general or military members in particular. “I might know someone if he decides to let Brinkman go. Just saying.”
“So noted,” Mark replied.
“Another thing. I need information on a Tara Tumulty.”
“How’s she figure in the Montego case?”
“She doesn’t, other than I bumped into her inside McCormack’s penthouse last night, and she can see right through Montego. But Tumulty’s got some creep stalking her. I’d like to help if I can. That’s all. Might ask Ember to assist. Okay with you?”
“You bet. Alex doesn’t care who we help as long as we follow through on our assigned missions. Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.” Renner couldn’t help but notice how Mark’s fingertips worried that top secret folder.
“Stay in touch.”
“Copy that.”
Chapter Thirteen
The derelict high rise across the Anacostia River in Hillcrest Heights was made for practice jumps. A multi-building complex of apartment buildings, its owner had filed for bankruptcy. A city cease-work order rendered the property off-limits to investors, contractors, and public alike. Yet here they were, two crazy women on the thirty-fifth floor. Kelsey only wished it weren’t so cold when she stepped toward the windowless opening and the steep, vertical drop it framed. Down was a loooong way—down.
“Come on. You know you can do this. It’ll be fun,” Tara encouraged, grinning and bouncing like a jumping jack at her side. Of course, she was excited; she’d done this before. She was good at it. As a former Olympic hopeful, she’d probably thrived on the adrenaline rush.
Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19) Page 11