In a flash, Jake went from semi-relaxed to lethally alert at her side. His tight posture vibrated waves of danger.
“Get down.”
Awkwardly and with a wince of pain, she slid to the floor, putting the recliner between the front door and herself. “Jake?” Her heart skidded in her chest.
In an economy of movement, he snagged a tablet from the desk and returned, bracketing her with muscled legs that pressed against her back. As she glanced up, he held the device with one big hand and tapped on the screen. Then he pulled his gun in a shush of metal against the leather sheath.
He clicked off the lamp.
Her mouth went dry.
“Not today, Big Bob,” he muttered, re-holstering his gun.
“What?”
Jake knelt next to her, his body heat warming her ice-cold skin. “Look.”
Black and white images of the outside of the cabin flashed on the screen. With a tap of the pad, bright colors appeared.
“Thermal enhancement,” he murmured. “Pretty cool.”
“Sure. If the thing out there that is warm doesn’t also want you dead.”
On one feed, a figure moved across the screen.
She pointed with a trembling finger. “What’s that?” A surge of longing for Jake to put those big arms around her made her muscles go weak.
“Hang on.” He spread his fingers on the screen and twisted them from side to side, making the image dance and grow. Another few taps and the images changed from color to black and white to a photographic negative. Two eyes blinked in the darkness. Jake’s barked laugh made her jump.
“What?”
“This”—he enlarged the dark image of the round, menacing creature—“is my friendly neighborhood bear on his nightly rounds.”
“Not a person who wants me dead?” A shiver laddered down her back at his proximity as she craned her neck to look up at him.
The brief squeeze of his hand on her upper arm shouldn’t have brought tears to her eyes. “Not even close.” The way his fingers trailed down to her wrist as he helped her stand left goose bumps on her arm. He flipped on the lamp. “But now you know. If anyone tries to get close, I’ll see them. I’ll know who they are.” In a nanosecond, his demeanor flipped to cold and calculating. “I will neutralize any enemy.”
In a few efficient strides, he dropped the tablet on the couch and sat, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Got it.” She settled in the recliner.
He lifted his hard chin. “As for the cabin itself? So you know: I have this place locked down tighter than Fort Knox. With escape routes.”
“Probably includes another stupid tunnel,” she mumbled, leg aching as she re-lived her claustrophobic crawl to freedom from the exploding suburban Atlanta house which served as a front for Kiera and Mateo’s mission, including their fake marriage. The after-scent of acrid smoke stung her nose.
“Huh?” He lifted a light-brown eyebrow.
“Nothing.” The skin over her upper back twitched as she imagined hearing nonexistent vehicles approaching and ghost footsteps crunching through leaves and twigs as people surrounded the structure. Was that a patio door sliding open? Stop it. Jake didn’t have a patio, much less a door to it. Her heart pounded.
“So?” Damn the smug lift to the corner of his mouth.
Fine. “So, I was pretty pissed off about Brady’s death.” Scowling at another of his smirks, she crossed her arms. “What? Like you Green Beret guys cornered the market on justice and revenge? Sorry, but no. Mateo also saw the connection between Brady’s death and the organization. When it came time to solidify the plan, I asked him not to involve my family members. All they know is that we were checking on some things.”
An image of what Beau Lequire would do with her family members if he made the connection from her fake identity to Brady and back to her sisters and father sent a blast of ice through her veins. “Mateo wanted proof of the company’s business dealings before he took the information public. I had skills.”
He tapped the screen and the bluish light made him appear otherworldly. “You never talked with anyone about this plan?” He looked up at her.
“Hello. I can make my own decisions.”
The edge of his hard mouth rose. He settled back onto the couch with a creak of leather, lacing his fingers together over his flat abdomen. In no way did he appear relaxed. “Do you need something else to drink? Food? Sleep?”
“I’m not part of the squad, Jake.”
“You should rest,” he muttered. “Suit yourself. So Mateo’s solid with tech, and he had a good reason to sink those bastards. But why did you go? What was your skill?”
Damn Jake’s macho blinders. “Remember how I have an eidetic memory? Not only have I memorized Lequire’s spreadsheets, but with my background as an accountant, I could interpret financial data. Those figures didn’t add up.”
He tilted his head to one side, a flash of the high school Jake she had known. “How did I miss you getting your CPA?”
“Surprised? This”—she pointed to her head then made a picture-taking motion and a click sound—“is why I skipped a grade in elementary school. It’s why I had no problem with the CPA exam. Helps when you can memorize big chunks of the textbook.”
“Show off.”
Another hint of a smile curving his hard lips? Her heart flopped over. Damn him.
And damn her for that response.
He kicked his muscled, cargo pants-clad legs out in front of him, booted feet resting under the coffee table. “Then what happened?”
“Brady threatened to expose Fallen Comrades for siphoning government-matched charity funds away from the vets and into the pockets of the c-suite guys. Someone in the company penthouse office took exception to Brady’s vow to expose them.”
“Someone?”
“The CFO, Beau Lequire.”
He pivoted forward, big hands gripping his knees. “Holy shit.”
“You got that right.” She took another sip of water. “And you bet I wanted to get back at him. For the project, I pretended to be Mateo’s wife. He got a job in the IT department of Fallen Comrades headquarters, and I worked my way from an overqualified entry-level assistant up to a position as an overqualified executive assistant for Mr. Beaumont Lequire.” Even saying the name left a sour taste on her tongue.
“You actually worked for the sleazebag?”
“You know him?”
“In passing. He washed out of the Special Forces selection course I was in.” He palmed his eyes. “Then I heard Lequire sprained his ankle playing flag football on base and got a medical discharge. The bastard parlayed his quote unquote disabled vet status into big bucks. Rode that gravy train all the way to the bank, sucking up preferential government contracts along the way. Since he was the one with ties to the funding, he ended up as CFO. Now he uses Fallen Comrades as a cash cow to help daddy dearest, Senator Lequire, with his re-election campaign.”
“Knowing how he got to the top of the company makes Beau even more of a jerk.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s a real hero.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word until his gaze narrowed. “Beau would be dangerous as hell and have everything to lose, what with his senator father in his back pocket and the government supporting Fallen Comrades as an example of ‘the best of America.’”
Jake needed to know exactly what they were up against. She said, “It took several months, but once I advanced to the administration department, we discovered quickly that Beau was a real sucker for a redhead in a short skirt.”
“I can imagine.” He grinned. Then a frown creased his face. “Bastard.”
“While he was busy trying to get under my skirt, I managed to get into his spreadsheets.”
“Wait. What?” If he gripped the cushion any harder, Jake would shred it.
“Don’t worry. He wasn’t successful.” She rubbed imaginary slime coating her cold arms. Kiera knew all too well Beau’s inclinations and appetites. She had been lucky to get out of there untouched. “But his interest in me paid dividends when I gained access to certain files. You’d be amazed at how he cooked the books. The documentation is all right up here.” She tapped her temple.
“No one will accept your memory as proof.”
Well, there was additional information in the data stick in her jacket pocket, but Kiera had decided not to saddle Jake with protecting even more dangerous evidence. The reporter she had contacted a month ago had died suddenly, and their conversation included only a fraction of the information Kiera possessed. She knew the risks. She would carry the evidence herself. Her knowledge of the ledgers plus the data on the memory stick was enough to put Beau away. If that didn’t work, she had extra dirt on him. Dirt that would attract the wrong kind of international attention. So she was holding that piece of info in reserve for a special occasion. “I know my memory isn’t evidence. But I can connect enough dots for other people to investigate…”
“Makes sense.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about Mateo? Where is he?” He indicated toward her belly. “What about the…”
“It’s complicated.” Her ribcage wouldn’t expand. “About the baby, Jake, I need to—”
“I get it. You and Mateo.” He chopped a thick hand like he could slice the truth out of the space between them.
“No. But—”
“Change the subject, Kiera.”
He probably recalled their pregnancy scare in high school, so she could understand his point of view. But she needed to tell him everything.
“Jake.”
“Please stop. I’ve got the picture.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “What about Mateo?”
“Mateo’s who sent me here. He’s—oh, God. I’m … he’s dead.”