by Debra Webb
“Be careful out there.”
She slammed the door and placed her hand on the outside pocket of her purse that concealed her weapon, putting her one Velcro rip between her hand and the cold metal of her gun.
Another car drove by on the access road, and she held her breath but it kept going. She crept forward on the path that led to the band shell.
Voices echoed from the stage and she drew up behind a tree and peered around the trunk at the band shell.
Clutches of kids...high school kids...were scattered across the stage practicing dance moves or projecting their voices into the night air. A teacher or director shouted instructions from the seats.
She eased out a breath. At least she wouldn’t be meeting her contact in a deserted place in the park—unless he led her away from the lights and action.
A twig cracked behind her and she spun around, a gasp on her lips.
“Shh.” Jeffrey, in the flesh, held up his hand. “It’s just me.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m freaked out.” She wedged a hand on her hip and widened her stance. “Why the hell did you try to drug me last night and then send some goon to take me by force?”
“Who’s your companion?” Jeffrey slid a hand into the pocket of his jacket.
“M-my companion?”
Jeffrey tilted his head to the side with a quick jerk. “Let’s walk.”
Her tennis shoes squished the mulch beneath her feet, damp with night dew, as Jeffrey took her arm.
She resisted the urge to shake off the pincerlike hold he had on her arm, advancing their status as comrades, two people on the same side.
He led her down a path, away from the performing teens, away from the comfort their voices brought. As she started to turn around, he shoved her against a tree and yanked her purse from her arm.
“Hey!” She spun around and made a grab for it, but he held it out of her reach and she didn’t want to jump up and down to get it back.
“Do you have a weapon?”
She swallowed. “Of course I do.”
He tossed her purse under a bush, several feet away. “Your companion?”
“That guy in the hotel room? He’s a friend, an ex-boyfriend.” She didn’t want to stray too far from the truth. “He followed me and my friend out that night, saw me flailing around in the gutter after you slipped me the mickey and took me back to his hotel.”
“If he’s an ex, why does he have a hotel room and not a place of his own?” His dark eyes glittered through slits.
She rubbed her stinging palms together, dislodging bits of bark. “He doesn’t live in DC. What does he matter, anyway? Why are you guys trying to bring me in by drugging me and holding me at gunpoint? You don’t have to put on an act...unless you think someone is watching me here.”
The pressure in her chest eased as she blew out a breath. Maybe that was it. They knew she’d been suspended and figured the Agency was watching her. Maybe the assaults were just another staged kidnapping like the one in Istanbul.
“The CIA has suspended you.” He pointed a finger at her. “Do they know?”
“Know about us? No.” She folded her arms, pressing them against her chest. “Just more follow-up from Istanbul. Is that what this is all about? You think the CIA is onto me?”
A bird chirped from the darkness and stirred some leaves with its night flight.
Jeffrey held a finger to his lips and cocked his head. Then he took the same finger and sliced it across his throat. “If they make you, you’re no longer of any use to us.”
“Obviously.” She straightened her spine against the chill making its way up her back. “That’s not what happened. They don’t have a clue. Do you think I’d do anything to jeopardize what we have going?”
“How do I know you’re not bugged right now?” He waved a hand up and down her body.
She spread her arms out to the sides. “You’re welcome to check. I initiated this meeting because I wanted to know why you were trying to take me by force. Do you really think I’d meet with you to try to entrap you?”
Clamping a hand on her shoulder, he forced her to face the tree and shoved her against it again.
The rough trunk bit into her palms again and she sucked in her bottom lip as Jeffrey reached under her shirt and thrust one hand between her breasts. She held her breath as his hands continued their impassionate but thorough search of her body. Thank God she hadn’t decided to go rogue and show up with a listening or tracking device.
The Falcon had always given her explicit instructions to show up to meetings clean...but she hadn’t been able to reach The Falcon. In fact, he hadn’t given her an opportunity to even tell him about her suspension, which made her think he might be behind it.
Jeffrey’s strong hands spun her around. “You’ve made it easy for us. You’re coming with me.”
“What do you mean? Where are you taking me?” This time she did shrug out of his grasp. “I can’t just disappear from my life. It’s one thing to do that in Istanbul, but it’s not happening in DC.”
He whipped his gun from his pocket and jabbed her in the ribs. “It’s not up to you. We own you.”
“I told you. Everything’s on track. The CIA doesn’t suspect a thing. I haven’t been suspended because they’re suspicious about any of my activity. That’s all you need to know.” She wrapped her fingers around the barrel of his gun. “I’ll be delivering another piece of information soon.”
“You don’t get it.” He put his face so close to hers she could smell the garlic on his breath. “We don’t trust you anymore.”
“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t given you any reason not to. The suspension is not my fault.” Her knees began to buckle beneath her, but she widened her stance. Now was not the time to crumble. If she couldn’t convince Jeffrey of her loyalty to the cause, he’d take her away and then the interrogation would begin...for real.
“Barbershop.” He spat out the word between clenched teeth. “What were you doing at the barbershop? Did you think nobody would recognize you there?”
“I was hoping you would. I was reaching out and Rahid had mentioned the shop at our last meeting in Istanbul. I didn’t expect you to try to run us off the road.”
“If you knew that was us, why’d you pull a gun?” He nudged her again with his weapon.
“I was with my friend. He doesn’t know anything about any of this.”
“And then you contacted us with the phone you took off...our guy in the hotel room. Why didn’t you do that before the barbershop?”
Sue swallowed. “I couldn’t access the phone before. It took me a while to break into it. Give me another assignment. Let me prove myself.”
Jeffrey kicked at a rock in the dirt. “This is not what we had in mind for an interrogation. You’re coming with me—now.”
He shoved her away from him with one hand, while he kept the gun trained on her with the other.
She stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. A wild thought came into her head to scramble for her purse and get her weapon.
A second later, Jeffrey grunted and crashed onto the ground next to her.
She twisted around and growled at Hunter looming above her, “What the hell are you doing? You just signed my death warrant.”
Chapter 8
“Not now.” Hunter crouched beside the man he’d knocked out, the man who’d been threatening Sue, and searched his pockets. He had nothing on him, not even a phone.
Hunter pocketed the man’s gun and reached down to grab Sue by the arm. “Let’s get out of here before his backup arrives. He must have someone waiting in a getaway car.”
Sue threw him off and launched to her feet. “Didn’t you hear what I said? If I escape now, they’re gonna kill me.”
“They were going to kill you, anyway. Don’t make me drag you out of here by force—because I
will to save your damn life.”
She blinked at him, brushed off her jeans and stomped past him. She stopped several feet in front of him and spun around. “Don’t kill him, for God’s sake.”
“I have no intention of killing anyone.” He spread his hands in front of him. “But let’s get out of here before I do have to kill someone.”
They tromped down the access road in silence, both breathing heavily. He didn’t know what the hell Sue was involved in, but it was putting her in danger and he wasn’t going to stand by and watch her get man-handled...or worse.
When they reached the sidewalk bordering the park, Hunter pulled out his phone and ordered a car from the same app that got him here.
Fifteen minutes later, Sue finally broke her silence when they pulled up to an Italian restaurant in Georgetown, not far from her place. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to eat. I was starving waiting for you to come back with food. I’m also going to conduct my own interrogation—but you’ll like mine a lot better than the one you were facing.”
Her lips twisted as she got out of the car. “You wanna bet?”
He opened the door for her and the whoosh of warm garlic scent that greeted them made him feel almost comforted. He couldn’t help it. The smells of Grandma Mancini’s family dinners lived deep in his soul.
He raised two fingers at the hostess scurrying to greet him. “Table for two, please.”
She seated them at a cozy, candlelit table with a checkered tablecloth, obviously laboring under some false impression.
Hunter waited until they’d ordered their food and a bottle of Chianti and a basket of garlic bread sat between them on the table before hunching forward on his elbows and saying, “Now, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.”
She plucked a piece of bread from the basket and ripped it in two. “I can’t. It’s top secret, and I’m not even kidding you.”
“I know it’s top secret. You wouldn’t be meeting with a terrorist in the park in the middle of the night if it weren’t. But, hey, you can tell me anything. I happen to have a top secret clearance.”
He poured two glasses of wine from the bottle encased in wicker and held one out to her.
She dropped the bread onto a plate and took the glass by its stem. She tipped it at his. “Here’s to top secret clearance.”
He tapped her glass and took a long swig, the red wine warming his throat.
After taking a dainty sip from her own glass, Sue cupped the bowl with one hand. “What did you overhear?”
“Enough to know you’re working with Jeffrey and his cohorts. For whom and how deep is something I aim to discover.”
“Why can’t you just leave it? Just know that I’m doing my job.”
“I can’t ignore it. I know it has something to do with Major Denver...and it looks like your assignment has gone haywire and you’re in danger. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“Why is that?” Sue traced the rim of her wine glass with the tip of her finger.
He snatched her hand and squeezed her fingers together. “You know damn well why. I wasn’t the one who slipped out of that Paris hotel room in the early morning hours. I wasn’t the one who ended our whirlwind affair. I never would’ve ended it. Those few weeks with you...”
He dropped her hand and gulped back the rest of his wine.
“I—I didn’t realize...” Her cheeks flushed the same color as the wine.
“That I’d fallen so hard, so fast?” He snorted. “I thought I’d made enough of a fool of myself for you to figure that out.”
“You were just coming out of a marriage—a bad marriage. I figured I was the rebound girl.” Her dark eyes glowed in the soft light, making her look nothing like a rebound girl.
“The first couple of days I would’ve agreed with you, but the more time I spent with you...” He broke off. He was not going to open himself up to her again. “Look, I wanna keep you safe. It’s the only way I’m going to find out how your group is connected to Denver.”
Sue pursed her full lips and nodded. “My cover has probably already been blown. I’m not sure it matters anymore.”
They stopped talking when the waitress arrived with their steaming plates of food. She looked up after she sprinkled some grated Parmesan on their pasta. “Can I get you anything else?”
Hunter raised his eyebrows at Sue, who answered no, and he shook his head.
He plunged his fork into his linguine. “I have a question.”
“Of course you do.”
“Did the Agency suspend you so that you could go deeper undercover with this group?”
“Before I answer that—” she directed the tines of her fork, dripping with tomato sauce, at him “—why did you follow me tonight? How did you know?”
“Lots of little things that added up to a great big thing—your reluctance to work on that phone when it could’ve been a treasure trove of information, your quick ID of the man in the photo with Jeffrey, even though the CIA didn’t have a name for him.” He shrugged. “The feeling ever since I got here that you’ve been keeping something from me.”
Dropping her lashes over her eyes, she balanced her fork on the edge of the plate. “Then to answer your question, the CIA did not suspend me to allow me deeper access to this group. The CIA doesn’t know about this group and doesn’t know I’m working with them.”
Hunter coughed, almost choking on his pasta. “Who are you working for if not the Agency?”
“It is the Agency—they just don’t know about it.”
“Black ops? Deep undercover?”
“That’s right.” Sue’s shoulders dropped and she stuffed a large forkful of food into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chewed.
“It looks like a big weight just slipped off your shoulders.” He cocked his head. “Have you ever told anyone that before? Does anyone know?”
“My dad.”
Hunter steepled his fingers, resting his chin on the tips. Sue had told him about her father, the retired spook who had encouraged his daughter to follow in his footsteps, once she’d shown an affinity for languages and martial arts. Hunter wasn’t sure he’d urge any daughter—or son—of his to enter the high-stakes and dangerous game of spying, but Sue had taken to it with a flair.
Not that he had children to urge one way or another—his ex had decided, after they were already married, she didn’t want any. Julia must’ve known before he did that their marriage didn’t stand a chance.
“He must be proud of you.”
“I’m not sure about that.” She pushed away her plate and folded her arms on the table.
“You’re kidding, right? It’s what he wanted for you from the beginning—not only a CIA agent but a double agent, someone working in the bowels of the machinery.”
She dug her fingertips into her forearms. “I’m not sure I did things the way he would’ve wanted me to.”
“It’s crazy the amount of pressure we allow our families to exert on us.” He reached around his own plate and brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. “I’m sure your father thinks the world of what you’re doing.”
“I’ve got a bigger problem now, don’t I?” She uncrossed her arms, dislodging his hand, and picked up her wine glass, swirling the remnants of the Chianti. “My contacts within this terrorist cell don’t trust me anymore—and they’re planning to take me captive to interrogate me.”
“What about your first kidnapping?” Hunter leaned back in his chair and flagged down their passing waitress. “Check, please.”
“What about it?”
“That wasn’t real, was it? That was a preplanned meeting with your contacts.”
“Ah, you don’t believe I escaped, either.”
He drilled his finger into the tabletop. “I’m convinced you know how to look after yourself,
but it makes sense now. You orchestrated a kidnapping with them to make things look good on your side of the fence. Am I right?”
“You are.” Sue whipped the napkin from her lap and dropped it onto the table next to her plate. “But now they want to kidnap me for real, and this time I don’t think they’re gonna offer me tea and cakes.”
“How long have you been working undercover?”
“Over four years now.”
Hunter rolled his eyes to the ceiling and counted on his fingers. “You were doing this when we met in Paris.”
“I was.”
He dropped his gaze to her face. “Is that why...? Never mind.”
He snatched up the check the waitress dropped off and reached for his wallet. “You’re going to need some protection.”
“I thought I had it.” She leveled a finger at him. “You dropped poor Jeffrey before he even knew what hit him.”
“I mean someone official, someone at the Agency.”
“I don’t have anyone at the Agency—just my contact. The person who recruited and trained me. He’s the only one, as far as I know, who knows what I’m doing. In fact—” she slid her jacket from the back of her chair “—I believe I’m on suspension for the very activities I’ve been doing undercover, only the CIA doesn’t know I’m undercover.”
“That’s a dangerous game, Sue.” He couldn’t help the way his heart jumped at the thought of Sue in the middle of all this intrigue—even though he knew better, knew she could handle herself. “You need to contact him right away.”
“I tried earlier through our regular channels, and he’s not picking up.”
“But this has hit critical mass now.” He smacked his fist into his palm.
“You don’t need to tell me that, although I may have figured a way out, a way to keep working this group.”
He raised one eyebrow. He hadn’t intended on coming out here and playing bodyguard to a badass spy, who was way more hooked in than he realized, but she’d just pushed his protective instincts into overdrive. “You don’t need to keep working with this group. Call it a day and fold your hand.”
“This is almost five years of work, Hunter. You don’t give up on five years of blood, sweat and tears—and sacrifices. You wouldn’t. You can’t even give up on Denver. You won’t give up on Denver.” She shrugged into her jacket and flipped her hair out of the neckline. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
