by Debra Webb
“Hang on.” She licked the tips of two fingers and stuck them inside the cardboard roll. She pressed her fingers against the paper inside the tube and dragged them toward the opening. “I think I have them.”
When the rolled-up papers peeked over the edge of the tube, she pinched them between her thumb and forefinger and worked them out.
She unrolled the slick photograph paper first and flattened the pictures on her lap. “It’s Jeffrey.”
The first photo showed the man who’d chatted her up at the bar last night in conversation with another man, whom she recognized.
She held up the picture to Hunter. “Here’s Jeffrey meeting with a known terrorist, proving you were right about him and his motives.”
She flipped through a few more pictures in that sequence and turned over another batch. She gasped as her gaze locked onto Jeffrey’s companion in the next picture.
“What is it? Who’s that?” Hunter pumped the brakes to slow the car.
She knew the identity of the man in the picture with Jeffrey, all right.
But if she told Hunter how she really knew this man, she’d reveal the truth about her real function with the CIA—that she was a double agent, had been one for years and wouldn’t be able to help him clear Denver without blowing her own cover.
So, she did what she’d been doing with Hunter ever since the day she met him in Paris—she lied.
Chapter 6
Hunter’s gut twisted as he glanced at Sue’s face. This had to be bad. Denver?
He careened to the side of the road and skidded to a stop on the soft shoulder. “Show me.”
Pinching the photo between her thumb and forefinger, she turned it around to face him. “H-he’s a known terrorist.”
Hunter squinted at the picture of Jeffrey talking to a man in the shadow of a building, a hoodie covering his head and half his face.
“You recognize him?” He flicked his finger at the photo, hitting it and causing it to sway back and forth. “How can you tell who he is?”
“I just know. I’ve seen him before...in other surveillance photos.” She stacked the picture on top of the others in her lap.
“What does my guy say about these pictures? Any commentary or am I supposed to know what this all means?”
Sue stuck the tube to her eye. “There’s a piece of paper in here.”
Hunter threw the car into Park as Sue fished the paper from the tube.
She shook it out and started reading aloud. “Face recognition matched with these pictures in our database. The guy with the dark jacket is Amir Dawud, who’s gone underground since the bombing in Brussels. We don’t know the guy in the...hoodie, but if he’s with Jeffrey, he’s probably involved in terror activity.”
“The entire CIA doesn’t know that guy and doesn’t have a file on him, but you recognized him from a half-profile shot?”
Sue shuffled through the pictures in her lap and held the photo in front of her again, her head to one side. “Well, I thought it was someone we had ID’d from a previous campaign, but I could be wrong.”
“Regardless—” he put the car in drive and rolled away from the side of the road “—Jeffrey is definitely connected to a terrorist organization and his meeting with you last night was no coincidence.”
“I’m just glad nothing happened to Dani.” Sue busied herself rolling up the pictures and paper again and stuffing them inside the tube.
“I wanna get ahold of one of these guys who keeps threatening you and ask him what he wants.” Hunter clenched the steering wheel with both hands. “Did they ever get around to interrogating you when they kidnapped you?”
“No.” Sue closed her eyes and sighed. “I guess my connection to Major Denver is tenuous unless we find out what they want from me—and I’m not going to give them that chance.”
“This could all be related to your suspension. Do you think someone’s trying to set you up at work to discredit any information you might have about Denver?”
“But I don’t have any information about Denver.” She tapped on the window. “Are we going back to the hotel now?”
“I was, unless you have somewhere else you need to be.” He nodded toward her purse on the floor. “You should check the barbershop camera for any developments. Since we left there, we were shot at and almost run off the road.”
Sue hesitated before bending forward and plunging her hand into her purse.
He quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you okay?”
Clasping the phone to her chest, she slumped in her seat. “Just tired.”
“Do you want me to look?” He held out his hand.
“You’re driving. Keep your eyes on the road.” She scooted up in her seat and tapped her display several times. “I’ll review the footage from earlier—about the time we lost the car following us and turned in to that mall.”
Hunter glanced in his rearview mirror. “Nobody tailing us now.”
“That’s good. It means someone picked us up at the barbershop as opposed to putting a tracker on your car, or something like that.” She raised the phone in the air and tilted it back and forth. “They’re cutting hair. That’s all I see.”
“What did you expect to see? What’s supposed to be going on at the shop?”
“I’m not sure it’s a what so much as a who.”
“And you don’t see the who there?”
“No.”
“And you’d know him if you saw him because you never forget a terrorist’s face. You’re good.”
“I’ve been at this awhile, Hunter. I’ve studied pictures, video, been involved in interrogations.”
“That’s why I think you can help clear Denver’s name.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “If we can match up his contacts with your knowledge of these groups and their personnel, I think we might get a few hits. He seems to think so. That’s why he sent me out here to connect with you.”
Not that anyone had to twist his arm. He’d wanted to contact Sue so many times over the past few years, but she’d left him and he was done chasing after women who didn’t want him.
Sue studied her phone for a few more minutes and then slipped it back into her purse. “Nothing but haircuts.”
They drove the remaining miles to the hotel in a silence heavy enough to fog the windows of the car.
Hunter shifted a glance to the side at Sue’s profile. She’d had her eyes closed for the past thirty minutes, but she didn’t fool him. The pretense of sleep had allowed her to avoid conversation with him. Maybe she’d just shut down, unable to process any more of the information coming at her from all directions.
She’d escaped a kidnapping a few months ago, had just been suspended from her job, narrowly missed another abduction from the bar last night, had been held at gunpoint this morning and had literally just dodged a bullet this afternoon. She deserved the downtime.
He sucked it up, turned on the radio and drove back to DC Metro content with his own thoughts for company.
When he swung into the valet parking area of the hotel, he nudged Sue’s arm. “We’re here.”
She blinked and stretched, putting on a good show. “That went fast.”
“I almost didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I wasn’t really sleeping. Just recharging.”
Two valets opened their doors at the same instant, and Hunter plucked the ticket from his guy’s fingers and went around to Sue’s side of the car. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
“I’m good.” She stretched her arms in front of her, flipping her hands up and down. “Look, no visible scratches.”
“It’s a miracle we got out of that.” He rested his fingertips on the small of her back. “When we get up to the room, I’m going to start putting some of this information together.”
> “We don’t have much.”
“It’s more than Denver has right now.”
They swept into the hotel and made it back to their room without incident.
Hunter opened the door cautiously, his gaze scanning the room. “Everything’s just as we left it.”
“That doesn’t always mean it’s safe.”
“Spoken like a true spook.” The door slammed behind them and Hunter threw the top lock. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, turning in a circle.
Sue threw herself across the bed and buried her chin in her palm. “What are you doing? Planning a remodel?”
“I wish I could repaper these walls.”
“Huh?” She widened her eyes, blinking her lashes.
He spread out his hands. “I’d like to tack up the pictures and info we have so far and start making some connections, but I don’t think the hotel would appreciate it.”
“Whiteboard?”
“I think I’m just gonna have to go digital and create a file on my laptop. I can scan in the pictures we have, add the barbershop, the incidents, and put you and Denver at the top of it all. I’ll even add your kidnapping and his setup.”
“You’re so sure he and I are linked?”
“He is.” He flipped open his laptop. “That’s all I need.”
“Do you want my help over there, or are you better on your own?” She rolled onto her back and crossed her arms behind her head.
“You know what you can do?”
“What?”
“Get back to work on the phone we took off that guy this morning.”
“None of my tricks worked earlier, and I’m worried about turning it on. He probably knows we have the phone and they can ping it for our location.”
“I get it, but information from that phone could be invaluable.” Hunter started a new file and entered Major Denver’s name at the top on one side and Sue’s name on the other. “Maybe we can try it when we’re not at the hotel, and then move on to another location—keep ’em guessing.”
“That’s an idea.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “You keep going. I’m going to make a few phone calls downstairs.”
His head jerked up. “I’ll be quiet.”
“It’s not that—CIA business.” She shrugged and left the room, her phone cupped in her hand.
Hunter stared at the door for a few seconds after Sue clicked it shut behind her, then returned to his file.
By the time Sue returned to the room, he had all his actors set up in his file and crooked his finger in the air. “Have a look at this and let me know what you think.”
The slamming of the bathroom door answered him and he spun around in his chair and called out, “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’ll be right out.”
Several minutes later, she emerged patting her face dry with a towel. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” He shoved his laptop in front of the empty chair at the desk and kicked out the chair with his foot. “Have a look.”
She shuffled toward him, the towel still covering her face. Whipping it off, she plopped into the chair.
Drawing his brows over his nose, he studied her makeup-free face and the red tip of her nose. “Bad news from the Agency?”
“Just that they don’t know when they’re going to lift the suspension.” She draped the towel over her shoulder. “Show me what you’ve done.”
He got out of his chair and leaned over her shoulder, inhaling the soapy scent from her skin. With her hair over one shoulder, the back of her neck exposed damp tendrils of her hair.
His fingers itched to run the pad of his thumb over the soft strands. He reached past her and jabbed his finger at the display. “You and Denver are at the top, with the inciting incident right beneath you.”
“The point when Denver went AWOL and my kidnapping in Istanbul.”
“Right.” He trailed his finger down the screen. “Then we have Pazir, Denver’s contact in Afghanistan. The group that grabbed you, Jeffrey and Mason. The gunman whose phone we have. The barbershop. And the two men in the truck.”
“What are your initial thoughts? You have to have more than Denver’s belief that the guys who snatched me are connected to the group he was investigating before he was set up.”
“Denver’s word goes a long way with me.” He dragged himself away from her realm and sat back down in his own chair. “And then there’s the timing. As soon as Denver makes contact with me to look you up, all these events occur.”
“So, your presence here in DC is the trigger and I can blame you for everything?” She began typing on the keyboard.
“What are you entering?”
“My suspension from the CIA. Don’t forget.” She tapped a key with a flourish and spun the laptop around to face him. “That was in the works before you got here.”
“Your abduction prompted that, didn’t it?”
“Correction.” She held up one finger. “Some bogus emails prompted that.”
“Just like for Denver—emails to the CIA.” Hunter scratched his chin. “I think someone may have hacked into the CIA’s computer system, unless it’s someone on the inside.”
“It could be both.” She stretched out her long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “The only entity I know even remotely capable of that is Dreadworm, but those hackers are not in the game of setting up people.”
“We don’t know that. They’re in it to cause trouble.”
“I thought they were in it to shed the light of truth on some dark corners of the government.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You sound like a convert.”
“I just don’t think Dreadworm is responsible for the content of those emails, even if they may have been the conduit.” She wound her hair around her hand. “Do you want something to eat? I have to go out anyway to run a few errands, and I can pick up something and bring it back to the room, unless you want to order room service.”
Hunter’s pulse ticked up a few notches, but he schooled his face into an impassive mask. “Pizza? Chinese? Whatever’s easy for you to carry out. Do you need my rental car?”
“No, thanks.” She waved her hand. “I can walk.”
“Are you sure it’s safe out there for you?” She would expect him to ask that, wouldn’t she?
“I have my weapon, and I’ll take it with me.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder and pushed back from the desk. “I—I won’t be too long.”
“Keep me posted. You should be okay. I don’t think they tracked us to this hotel, so nobody would be following you from here.”
“Exactly.” She grabbed her purse from the bed and hitched it over her shoulder. “Do you trust me on the food?”
“Yeah...on the food.”
The hotel door slammed before the last words left his lips—and maybe that was a good thing.
He waited two beats before springing from his chair and grabbing a gray hoodie from the closet. He stuffed his arms into it and zipped it up. Yanking up the bottom of the sweatshirt, he snapped his fanny pack containing his gun around his waist.
He gave the room a last look before slipping into the hallway and heading for the stairwell. He jogged down the nine flights of stairs and peeked through a crack in the fire door, watching the lobby.
He spotted Sue’s long stride across the floor, flipped up his hood and edged through the door. He fell in behind her as she exited the hotel, keeping out of sight.
He might trust Sue Chandler with picking out dinner, but that was about the extent of it.
She’d been hiding something from him since the minute she woke up in his hotel room—and he was about to find out what it was.
Chapter 7
Sue took a quick glance over her shoulder before slipping into the ride-share car she’d ordered on her phone.
Leaning forward in her seat, she asked, “You have the address, right?”
“I know where the park is.”
On cue, his GPS spit out the first direction, and the driver pulled away from the curb.
Sue pressed her hands on her bouncing knees. If they needed to talk to her, she’d have to pretend she had no problem meeting with them. Regaining their trust had to be her first step.
She didn’t know how she’d lost that trust in the first place. Did they already know Hunter Mancini was in DC and why? Could she help it if the guy rescued her?
She fished her latest burner phone from a pocket hidden inside her purse and placed a call to The Falcon. His phone rang and rang and rang.
She’d have to do this on her own. She could brief The Falcon later. Surely, he’d agree that she had to make this move.
She could be back at the hotel, Chinese food in hand, within an hour, with Hunter none the wiser.
Collapsing against the back seat, she covered her eyes with one hand. Why couldn’t she have had the good luck to have met Hunter under normal circumstances? Why couldn’t he be a DC doctor? An animal trainer? A ditchdigger?
She’d take any of those over what he was—a Delta Force soldier and a man on a mission.
She ran a hand beneath her nose and straightened her shoulders. She just had to convince Hunter her circumstances had nothing to do with Major Denver’s and get him out of her life again...out of Drake’s.
Hearing her son’s voice tonight had given her strength. She had to do this for him—just as she’d always done everything for him the moment she found out she was pregnant.
“Where do you want me to drop you?” The driver met her eyes in the rearview mirror.
“The road nearest the band shell.”
“There’s a concert tonight?”
“I’m meeting a bird-watching group there.” Not that she owed her driver an explanation of why she wanted to be dropped off near the band shell at Creek Run Park, but she didn’t like leaving loose ends—like Hunter Mancini.
The driver pulled over on one of the park’s access roads, and she cranked open the back door. “Thanks.”
