“And why was Sheffton visiting Bettis?”
“Sheffton came to voice his concerns over H.R. 720 but by the end of the meeting, he’d changed his mind and decided to support the bill.”
“Why? McQuarry was still alive. Sheffton would’ve had no pull on the Senate floor.”
Doakler seemed stumped as well, as if he hadn’t thought about that reasoning. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted.
What if McQuarry hadn’t been sleeping with anyone but his gold-digging mistress and the story of him sleeping with some high-powered official was simply a smoke screen?
And if that were true, was Sheffton the one who had orchestrated McQuarry’s death for his own gain?
“I swear that’s all I know,” Doakler said, swallowing hard. “Please don’t shoot me.”
Xander patted Doakler on the head like a dog and said, “You did good. I’m not going to shoot you, but I am going to leave you tied up so I can leave without you calling the cops.”
Doakler sagged with relief. “Thank you. Thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome?”
Xander and Scarlett cleared the house and jogged back to the car. Only when they were safely driving away did Scarlett say, “You know he could starve to death and then his damn cat will eat him.”
He shook his head. “Naww, I didn’t tie him up that tight. If he struggles long enough, he’ll break free.”
Scarlett grinned. “You enjoyed that a bit too much.”
“I did,” Xander agreed. “God, I miss my job. Can we hurry up and solve this so I can go back to torturing and killing people for a good cause?”
“I think that psych doc was right—you are a sociopath,” Scarlett joked with a shake of her head.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing...”
They laughed and detoured for ice cream before heading back to the motel.
* * *
“Your intel was good. James Doakler gave up some information,” Scarlett said to Conrad over the phone. “He said that Sheffton came to the Secretary of Defense before McQuarry died to talk about H.R. 720 and that prior to the meeting, Sheffton opposed the bill but after the meeting, was supportive.”
“Why would Sheffton’s influence matter?”
“That’s exactly the question, right? Unless Sheffton already had plans to make McQuarry go away and he had deep enough connections to ensure that the governor would appoint him in the event of McQuarry’s death.”
“A workable theory. Any proof?”
“Aside from the frightened ramblings of a man about to piss himself? No.”
“That’s not admissible in court,” Conrad pointed out dryly. “Even if your theory is right on the money, if you’ve got no way to prove it...you’ve got nothing.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “Thanks for the tip on the raid, too.” Conrad exhaled heavily and Scarlett knew her friend was treading on thin ice for her. “I’m sorry you’re in the middle.”
“It’s a place I put myself in,” he replied, but Scarlett knew he was doing this all for her. The guilt sat heavily on her shoulders but they were all in too deep to pull back now. “Platt said something that was a little weird last night when he called me in the dead of night to drunk ramble at me.”
“Does your boss make a habit of making those kinds of calls?” she asked.
“Not before this case started. I think someone is doing more than putting a little administrative pressure on him for the sake of making the Bureau look good. I think someone is blackmailing him.”
“Really? Any idea who?”
“My guess is that whoever offed McQuarry is the same person putting the squeeze on Platt.”
Scarlett let that sink in for a minute. “It would have to be someone in a position of power...or someone with really damaging dirt on Platt. How much do you know about your boss?”
“I know he’s a thorough investigator on the job but I don’t know shit about his private life and frankly, I was okay with that. He’s not the kind of man I would hang out with after hours.”
“No? Why not?”
“His personality is shit and he’s a little awkward. Platt has just always given me a weird vibe. But he’s good at his job and up until this point, he never gave me any grief. Now that he’s riding my ass, I’m about ready to transfer to a different branch.”
Scarlett frowned, uncomfortable with the position Conrad was in because of her. “Maybe you should pull back. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”
“I’m fine. You just worry about finding the evidence you need to get us all out of this mess.”
“I’m trying,” she said, frustrated by the incredibly slow amount of progress they’d made. “Seems each time we go a few steps forward, we take even more steps back. It’s hard not to lose faith, you know?” She trusted Conrad, otherwise she never would’ve revealed how she was struggling with the situation. But again, she realized it wasn’t fair to Conrad to lay her problems on his table. “I’m sorry. I’m just cranky today.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Scarlett. I care about you. I’m here if you need someone to listen.”
“I know.” Scarlett bit her lip, knowing that Conrad had feelings for her that she could never reciprocate. If she were smart, she would’ve felt something more than friendship with Conrad when they’d dated. He was a good man—but she felt absolutely nothing when they kissed. Not a spark, not even a tiny zap unlike the way her body lit up like a Disney light parade when Xander so much as looked her way. Attraction was a funny thing and almost always inconvenient. “Thank you, Connie. Be careful out there, okay? You never know who could be watching.”
Again, Conrad promised he’d be fine and they clicked off.
That unsettled feeling refused to leave her gut. If Platt was being blackmailed by someone high up the chain of command, say the Secretary of Defense, how the hell were they going to find the evidence they needed to take down a giant in government like that?
And even if they did manage to find some shred of evidence that connected McQuarry’s death with the secretary, would anyone care or listen?
The current administration seemed a little lax in the alarm department when it came to potential treason or international sanctions. Would they even care if the secretary had orchestrated the death of a US senator if he spun the story with the angle that he was protecting the American people?
There was a reason she hated politics.
Everyone had a secret face and an even more covert agenda.
Sussing out the truth was going to take an act of divine intervention and Scarlett was fresh out of patron saints to pray to for help.
Maybe Xander was right—they ought to cut their losses, pack up and leave for Mexico. Xander had the cash to make it happen. They could live comfortably for a while before the money ran out.
Even as the thought of fleeing was appealing for a brief moment, she knew it would never happen. Neither Xander nor Scarlett were hardwired to run away from a crisis.
Sure, Xander split before getting arrested, but that’s because he’d known the only person who’d care about his innocence was himself and he wasn’t going to rot in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.
He may joke about running off to another country but he’d never actually do it.
And neither would she.
No, it was either prove his innocence...or die trying.
That was the cold hard truth, the one she’d been trying to avoid.
She knew Xander would never go to prison.
He’d rather put a bullet in his own skull before he’d let that happen.
And the thought of Xander dead was more than she could handle.
Time to double down. The answers were out there, waiting to be found.
Chapter 22
Scarlett frowned and opened her laptop. “Hey, I just got something from Conrad.” Xander peered over her shoulder as she clicked on an attachment and Carl Sheffton’s details unfolded in front of them. She smiled and murmured appreciatively, “Nice job, buddy,” as she perused the contents.
When she was finished, she turned to Xander who mirrored her quizzical expression. “Was that the most sanitized, bullshit background detail you’ve ever read?”
Xander nodded, agreeing. “Not even a single parking ticket. Is this guy for real?”
“No one is that squeaky clean. Not even politicians with big dreams.”
“I don’t trust perfect people because perfect doesn’t exist, which means someone went to great lengths to make sure anything unflattering or questionable was removed from his record.”
“Who has that kind of power?” she asked.
“You’d have to go pretty high up the chain to reach that level of access.”
“Like Secretary-of-Defense level?” Scarlett supplied and Xander had to agree it was a solid theory. She groaned. “Is it bad that I was really hoping we could get away from pointing the finger at the Secretary of Defense?”
“No, I was hoping we’d skate past that possibility, too.”
“I guess we’re not that lucky.”
He smirked. “Tell me about it.”
Scarlett leaned back in the chair, propping her feet against the opposite chair. “So how do we go about finding the evidence we need to take down the man in charge of the nation’s defense? It might be easier to prove that Santa Claus is real.”
Xander felt the flutter of Scarlett’s panic as if it were his own. The odds had always been shit but they’d just gotten so much worse.
“We could go straight to the source...”
Her eyes bugged. “Uh, no. Roughing up the secretary is not going to happen. For one, he’s going to have major security, far more than we can handle, and two, even if we managed to pull off getting information out of him, confessions made under duress are inadmissible in court. Not to mention, once we played our hand, chances are we’d be dead a few days later. If the man is willing to blow up a US senator, he’s not going to blink an eye at taking down you and me.”
No argument there. He moved to her laptop, gesturing, “May I?” and when she nodded and slid the computer toward him, he looked into the government calendar, scanning for any event the secretary might be in attendance.
Bam. Xander snapped his fingers and pointed. “Here it is—and damn, if our luck isn’t turning. Sheffton is going to be in attendance, too. There’s a preliminary hearing on H.R. 720 happening in two days’ time. That’s our best time to put some surveillance on the two and see if one leads us to the other.”
“They’d never be so obvious,” Scarlett disagreed, shaking her head. “If anything, they’d probably avoid any contact with one another so as not to raise any suspicion.”
“You could be right but we don’t have the option of turning our noses up at any possible lead.”
Scarlett nodded, even though he could tell she hated this plan. To ease her fears, he suggested, “We can have Zak and CJ take care of surveillance under the guise of providing additional security if anyone asks. They have the credentials. No one will second-guess them being there.”
“I don’t want to involve Red Wolf in this. Feels too dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why Zak and CJ will friggin’ jump at the chance to do it.”
She knew he was right. The thrill of doing something covert was like a drug to them. They liked the danger.
“Fine,” she conceded and reluctantly made the call. As expected, Zak and CJ were all in. While they worked the appropriate credentials needed to gain access to the federal building, Xander closed his eyes and tried to recall every detail from the night of the bombing, but from a different angle.
From Sheffton’s angle.
“You know, there’s a term psychologists use for people who say and do something and then attribute their actions and words to someone else...”
“Yeah, it’s called transference. Where are you going with this?”
Xander straightened, his gears moving fast. “We can both agree that Sheffton’s record is plastic as shit. His politics are also firmly planted in family values soil. If the rumors are true and it wasn’t McQuarry but Sheffton who was having an affair, it would serve Sheffton to redirect those rumors away from himself.”
“Yeah, a family values platform doesn’t usually leave much room for adulterous affairs with members of the same sex.”
“Exactly. What if McQuarry found out about Sheffton and threatened to go public with his findings? That’s some serious motive, don’t you think?”
Scarlett agreed. “I think someone who is willing to go to such lengths to ensure his record is squeaky clean is willing to go to any length to keep it that way.”
Xander thought so, too. For the first time since this nightmare began, he thought he saw a glimmer of hope.
Out of habit, he began to reach for his pill bottle but stopped. Scarlett caught his action and quickly looked away.
There was nothing he could say that would convince her that he was serious about going clean, and he got the impression that the more he insisted, the less she believed him so he said nothing.
Instead, he just showed her by his actions that he was serious and that meant going longer between pills, even if it killed him, because he had to start somewhere.
It was late and Scarlett’s eyes burned with fatigue but she didn’t want to stop, not when they were getting closer and the urgency was becoming more intense.
Rubbing at her eyes, she tried focusing harder but Xander took control of the situation and gently closed her laptop. She looked up at him with a frown but he just shook his head and grabbed her hand, saying, “Look, we’re both seeing double at this point. We need to get some sleep.”
She didn’t want to argue. In fact, it felt good to let someone else call the shots for once. Nodding, she followed Xander’s lead, quickly stripped and climbed into the bed.
As was becoming their norm—Xander’s arms closed around her and she snuggled against his solid warmth. His soft breath on the back of her neck soothed her nerves and she relaxed almost immediately.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked sleepily.
His low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he answered, “Why? Are you thinking of trading me in?”
She smiled. “No, I was just curious.”
“No. I’m an only child. You?”
“Same.” She smiled wider, even though there was nothing remotely funny about her next quip. “Dad only got the opportunity to screw up one kid.”
But Xander got it and chuckled, too. “Same.”
“Why does this work?” she asked, too tired to guard her tongue. Everything about this moment felt wonderful, even if it was ill-fated. “We shouldn’t work. Nothing about this should work.”
“Yeah, I know. But somehow it does. And works pretty great, too. We’re a good team, Rhodes.”
“Yes, we are, Scott,” Scarlett returned with a sleepy giggle but there was more happening between them than seamless teamwork. She couldn’t imagine snuggling with Zak or CJ. Hell, she hadn’t even enjoyed cuddling with Conrad. Up until now, sex was fine but snuggling had been a no-go.
But being here with Xander, she couldn’t explain it. It was simply everything she never knew she wanted.
That was some deep shit.
Probably too deep to discuss in their current situation. Her mouth didn’t seem to agree. “Have you ever been in love, Xander?” she asked, very interested to know his answer.
She felt his deep sigh in her soul. “I don’t know...maybe once. It didn’t last. Couldn’t last. I’m just no good at that stuff.”
She could re
late. “Me, neither.”
His arm tightened around her, as if to say he understood and he didn’t hold it against her. “Scarlett...” he ventured, hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
She stilled. “Sure.”
“It was never about just scratching an itch. I want you to know that.”
She closed her eyes, knowing what he meant. Scarlett jerked a nod to indicate she’d heard. When she found her voice again, she admitted, “It wasn’t for me, either.”
His entire body relaxed as if he’d been holding his breath until she answered. “Good.”
“Goodnight, Xander.”
“’Night, baby girl.”
She silently thrilled at the small endearment. In this moment, she wasn’t the badass TL, the ball-busting boss or the broken girl who couldn’t seem to let anyone in. She was simply his.
And no matter how messed-up their situation or how wrong it was to cling to something so fleeting, it felt right.
So right.
And she’d deal with her feelings later.
Chapter 23
Scarlett had left several messages for Conrad and he hadn’t called back yet. Something felt wrong.
“Conrad hasn’t returned my calls,” she told Xander, pacing the motel room while Xander methodically cleaned his gun. “Something’s wrong.”
“He’ll call. He’s probably just lying low. Maybe he’s getting some heat and has to play it careful.”
Maybe, but Conrad always returned her calls. It was just one of those things that happened because he still had feelings for her, and her gut was saying something wasn’t right.
“I need to see if he’s okay.”
Xander looked up. “That could backfire,” he warned. “By now, the FBI has to know you’re with me, which makes you a potential accessory. If you get caught...”
“I know,” she said, understanding the risk and the consequences but she couldn’t shake the terrible feeling in her gut that something had gone wrong. Conrad lived in DC. “We can go tonight, sneak in when everyone is asleep. Conrad lives alone so we don’t have to worry about anyone being in the house.”
Soldier For Hire (Military Precision Heroes Book 1) Page 19
