Contrary to what she’d told Cole, CJ didn’t have a place to stay that first night after abandoning her apartment. She’d slept behind some bushes in a quiet neighborhood, leaving just before sunup to sneak into the twenty-four-hour gym she’d joined, paying for her annual membership in cash. After weight lifting and a run on the treadmill, she hit the shower and changed into clean clothes. She didn’t think she’d be able to come back to the gym. Trinity had come too close the day before. If she was smart, she’d leave the DC area and start a new life in a different state. Hell, a different country wouldn’t be far enough.
After a breakfast of a protein bar she had stashed in her backpack, she went in search of a new place to live. She’d done her own homework about the man assigned to protect her. Cole McCastlain lived in a town house in Arlington.
Last night, CJ learned that a town house a few doors down from the one Cole lived in was being sublet. The owners had just left on a world cruise and wouldn’t be back for six months. She paid the deposit with money she’d earned designing web pages, gave her fake identification and quickly passed the background check. By noon, she had moved into the fully furnished home.
She didn’t waste time settling in. While Cole and Declan’s Defenders searched the web for information on Chris Carpenter, CJ would follow the man and learn what she could about his habits and who he talked to. She might be chasing shadows, but the text he’d sent to Tully prior to the NSC assault was all she had to go on. It could have meant nothing. The text could have been a legitimate effort to make sure all was in place, nothing more.
All other coordination for the meeting had been done via emails throughout the weeks prior to the get-together. A text would have been appropriate for a last-minute adjustment to the arrangements. Or it could have been information regarding the attack.
Though CJ had a laptop and could access the internet by tapping into Wi-Fi at internet cafés or libraries, she couldn’t delve into the dark web anymore. Somehow, Trinity had found her and traced her IP address to the library. She could continue to hack into phone records and other sources of information, but they were getting too close.
Needing additional clothing and disguises, she shoved her hair up into a ball cap, dressed in a long gray sweater that hid her figure, and sunglasses. Disguised as best she could, CJ left the town house to visit a couple thrift shops. She found items that would help her to blend in and make her as invisible as possible. She even found a skirt suit that might come in handy if she wanted to get closer to some of the politicians on Capitol Hill. The total of her purchases barely made a dent in her cash. Afterward, she made a quick trip to the grocery store and stocked up on a few items she’d need to keep from having to eat fast foods. Once she’d unloaded the food and staples in the refrigerator and pantry, she put on a black wig, a different pair of glasses and a hooded sweatshirt and went out to scout the neighborhood thoroughly. Knowing where to go on short notice was always a good idea.
Stepping out on the sidewalk, she started toward Cole’s place. On the bottom step of the next town house, a stooped old woman stood with one hand on a cane, the other on a leash. At the end of the leash was a white ball of fluff.
“Good afternoon,” the woman called out with a smile. “You must be the one subletting the Anderson place.”
Normally, CJ didn’t stop to talk to anyone. But the woman and her dog didn’t appear to pose a threat. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Rebecca.” She didn’t bother holding out her hand since the older woman’s were both occupied.
The woman nodded. “Gladys Oliver.”
CJ squatted beside the dog. “And who do we have here?” The little dog wiggled and jumped up on CJ, excited to meet someone new.
“Sweet Pea, named after one of my favorite flowers,” Gladys said. “Down, girl.” Her gentle tug on the dog’s leash had little effect. “My granddaughter got me the dog, but she’s still a puppy and needs a lot more exercise than these old bones can give her. I’m thinking I might have to give her back.” The woman’s brow furrowed. “She’s such a sweet thing. I hate to give her up.”
“I’m going for a walk now,” CJ said. “I could take her with me, and she could burn off some energy, if you like.”
The old woman’s blue eyes brightened. “You would do that?”
“Certainly.”
“I mean, it’s not like you’re really a stranger. I know where you live and all.” Gladys handed over the leash. “She’s really no trouble. Just needs to move a little faster than I do. If you’re sure it’s not a bother...”
“We’ll do just fine together.” CJ smiled at Gladys. “We’ll be back in twenty or thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be inside. Just knock when you’re back. I’ll come to the door.” Gladys leaned down to pat the little dog on the head. “You be a good girl for Rebecca,” she said and scratched Sweet Pea behind the ears.
Her disguise complete with a dog in tow, CJ walked along the sidewalk, letting Sweet Pea take her time sniffing every tree, mailbox, bush and blade of grass along the way. The dog’s interest in her surroundings gave CJ plenty of time to study the homes, the street and places Trinity agents could be hiding, or where she could hide if she needed to.
Soon, she passed the town house where Cole lived. It looked much like the rest of the homes on the street. Two-story, narrow front, a four-foot-wide gap between it and the townhomes on either side, which she walked through to learn more. A five-foot-tall wooden fence surrounded a postage-stamp-size backyard. Nothing CJ couldn’t scale, if she had to. Without actually climbing the fence, she couldn’t see what the back of the house had to offer in the way of doors, windows or trees. It was comforting to know he was only a few doors down from where she was staying.
She moved on, back to the front, studying the other houses and alleys all the way to the end of the long street where it turned onto a busy road. CJ turned left and kept walking, sticking to the sidewalk. A block away, there was a small strip mall with a hamburger place on one end and a pizza joint on the other. In between was a liquor store, a nail salon and an insurance agent.
Across the busy thoroughfare was a tattoo parlor, a pawnshop and a Chinese restaurant.
For the first few blocks, Sweet Pea led the way, tugging at the leash, eager to keep going. When she started to slow and hang back with CJ, it was time to turn around and get her home to her owner.
CJ performed an about-face and started back. When she turned the corner onto the street where she lived, her gaze went to Cole’s place. She wondered if he was home. How easy would it be to stop in and say hello, like a regular person?
Still a few houses away, she heard the sound of running footsteps coming from behind.
CJ spun to face a man jogging toward her, wearing only shorts and running shoes. His body was poetry in motion, his muscles tight and well-defined. Every inch of exposed skin glistened with sweat.
Cole McCastlain. The man who wanted to be her protector.
She recognized him from the one time she’d been to Charlie Halverson’s estate, immediately following the rescue of Anne Bellamy and the vice president of the United States. At that time, CJ hadn’t been wearing a wig. She’d been without any disguise, her auburn hair hanging down around her shoulders.
Using the back of his arm, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and kept running toward her.
A tug on the leash reminded CJ of Sweet Pea. The dog had crossed the sidewalk to the opposite side, her leash creating a line in front of Cole. CJ crossed to the same side of the sidewalk to keep Cole from tripping over the leash.
He ran past her, the muscles in his legs flexing and tightening with each long stride.
A rush of relief washed over her, at the same time as a flush of heat.
The man had tone and definition in each muscle of his body, from his shoulders, down his chest, to his abs, thighs and calves. She bet she could bounce a quarter off his backside.
As he passed, he shot a sideways glance her way. For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t slow, or stop, but kept moving. When he reached his town house, he ran up the steps and disappeared inside.
CJ inhaled a deep breath, amazed at how much she needed it. Had she forgotten how to breathe in the presence of the former marine? She told herself she wasn’t ready to do anything that would connect Cole to her. If Trinity was watching Declan’s Defenders, and CJ was hanging out with them, they’d find her and eliminate her before she had a chance to expose the Director. She couldn’t let that happen. There were a lot of lost children, teens and young adults being held captive and indoctrinated into the Trinity family of assassins. They didn’t deserve the life of violence for which they were being groomed. The Director ruled the organization with an iron fist. If they found and destroyed the Director, Trinity would fold.
At least, that was the theory.
As she passed Cole’s townhome, CJ kept her face averted, focusing on the sidewalk in front of her as if she were only out to walk her dog. In her peripheral vision, she watched the windows for movement. Was that him, standing in the corner of the front picture window?
Her heart pounding, CJ kept moving, walking past Gladys’s house and her own for another block before she returned.
The old woman met her at the door. “I thought I saw you go by with Sweet Pea. I guess she needed a little more of a walk.” The woman leaned over, her back hunched as she reached down to pet her tired dog. “Thank you for taking Miss Sweet Pea for a walk. I bet she sleeps all afternoon, now.” Gladys looked up. “Can I pay you for your trouble?”
CJ could always use the money, but she couldn’t take it from the kind old woman. “No, ma’am. It was my pleasure. Sweet Pea must give you a great deal of comfort and companionship.”
“She does. Since my children all grew up and moved away, and my husband passed, I’ve been lonely. Sweet Pea is my surrogate baby. I love her so much.” The woman’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear me blubbering about loneliness. But if you ever need a companion to walk with, Sweet Pea and I would be happy if you take her.”
“Thank you, Ms. Gladys.” On impulse, CJ leaned down and kissed the woman’s cheeks. She reminded her of a grandmother she might once have known, who’d died before her parents’ auto accident. Her heart swelled with emotions she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Thank you again,” she said and turned toward her town house.
“If you ever want to share a cup of tea or coffee, stop by anytime,” Gladys called out. “I’d be happy to make some.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” CJ responded, knowing she couldn’t do that. If Trinity was watching now, her short interaction with the old woman and her dog would place them in danger. Trinity wasn’t above using others to lure their defectors out into the open. And they weren’t above killing innocent people to get what they wanted.
And they wanted CJ dead.
WHEN COLE ENTERED his town house, he stopped long enough to catch his breath and then turned to the window. He could swear he knew the woman he’d jogged past, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it was or where he’d known her.
The black hair wasn’t ringing any bells. And the dog? He was certain he’d seen it with someone else. Didn’t it belong to the old woman who lived several doors down from his place?
Maybe that was it. The woman was a daughter, granddaughter, niece or something to the old woman. Perhaps that was where he’d seen her before.
He waited at the window for her to pass with the dog. When they did, he looked hard, still unsure of where he’d seen her before. But he knew he had. The way she walked, the sway of her sexy hips, the tilt of her nose and the long, thick eyelashes should have been dead giveaways.
His phone rang in the armband he used when running. Cole tapped the earbud in his ear. “Yeah.”
“You coming in to do some heavy-duty computing?” Declan O’Neill’s voice sounded in his ear.
“I am. Just showering. I can be there in thirty to forty-five minutes.”
“See ya then,” Declan said.
When Cole glanced back out the window, the woman had disappeared, dog and all.
Cole showered, changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed out to the Halverson estate, driving the Hummer he’d purchased prior to exiting the Marine Corps. Thankfully, Charlie Halverson had hired him before he’d had to sell it for money to live on until he’d gotten a decent-paying job.
Once he passed through the gates, he drove up the winding drive to the sprawling mansion.
Roger Arnold, Charlie’s butler, met him at the door and let him in. “They’re waiting for you in the war room,” he said.
Cole went straight for the study and the trapdoor that led into the basement of the mansion. All of Declan’s Defenders were there.
Declan stood at a large whiteboard with photographs taped to the surface. Jonah Spradlin sat at a desk against the wall, an array of computer monitors displayed in front of him.
Mack Balkman sat in a chair near Declan. He ran a hand through his black hair, his blue eyes studying the whiteboard. Beside him sat the former Russian operative, Riley Lansing. Gus Walsh stood on the opposite side of the table, the woman he’d helped rescue standing at his side.
Jasmine Newman, aka Jane Doe, was as much a key to their operation as CJ Grainger. Jasmine had been a Trinity agent before John Halverson recruited her to help him fight the organization. Combat trained and fluent in Arabic and Russian, she was a formidable opponent and a worthy ally. They’d “killed” her off and given her a new name and identity to keep her off Trinity’s hit list. So far, she’d managed to remain out of sight, but she would always be looking over her shoulder as long as Trinity remained a threat.
Jack Snow, the team slack man, sat beside Anne Bellamy, the mid-level staffer who’d been recruited by John Halverson to spy on politicians and staffers in the West Wing. She still had the bruises from her kidnapping ordeal by the Trinity sleeper agents a week before.
Frank “Mustang” Ford stood with his girl, Emily Chastain, the college professor. He turned as Cole entered the room. The brown-haired, brown-eyed former point man was as used to action as Cole. He paced the room like a caged cat. “Nice of you to join us.”
Cole shook his head. “I’d have been here sooner, if I’d known you wanted me here.” They were all tense. After the attack on the National Security Council meeting, they knew they had to bear down and come up with some real leads. Trinity had far too much power and had infiltrated too many places. Picking the agents off, one by one, would take too long and never be effective as the organization continued to “recruit” new agents. They had to find the lead man and take him down.
“Based on your woman’s intel,” Declan said, “Jonah’s made some headway that might be useful.” He turned to Charlie’s computer guru.
Cole wanted to correct Declan. CJ wasn’t his woman. He barely knew her and had seen her only once in the very room where he stood now. An image of a black-haired woman walking a little white dog rose in his mind.
Jonah pointed to one of the monitors. “Chris Carpenter is in debt up to his eyeballs. He’s maxed out every credit card he owns—and he has quite a few—and he’s struggling to make the minimum payments on all those. He’s in a house that far exceeds his pay scale and he’s gone through everything his father left him in a trust fund.”
“The man is barely able to keep his head above water,” Declan concluded. “It’s a wonder he got a security clearance.”
Cole shrugged. “CJ thought he might have a connection to Trinity since his was one of the last texts Tully received on his cell phone prior to the attack on the NSC conference room. How does his financial woes make him a likely suspect?”
“A man that deep in debt can usually be bought,” a female voice said from behind Cole.
He turned to face Charlie descending the stairs, carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.
The butler followed with another tray of sandwiches Cole suspected were prepared by Charlie’s chef, Carl.
Cole took the tray from her and set it on the conference table.
Charlie took over hostess duties, pouring lemonade into clear, crystal glasses. “It’s not whiskey, but then I thought you might want to have clear heads for this discussion.”
She handed out glasses to everyone who wanted one and then nodded toward the picture of Carpenter that had been taped to the whiteboard. “If Carpenter is in debt that deep, an offer to bail him out might convince him to do favors for anyone who is willing to pay for them.”
“I’ve worked with Chris Carpenter for the past two years.” Anne Bellamy shook her head. “It’s hard to believe he would work for Trinity.”
“Desperation changes a man,” Charlie said. “If he’s in over his head and drowning, he’ll take any life raft thrown his way to get out.”
“Just because he’s in debt, doesn’t make him a traitor,” Cole said. “We need solid proof. Got anything else?”
Jonah’s lips twisted and his gaze narrowed. “He’s made several payments to a marriage counseling center.”
Cole sighed. “Again, a marriage on the rocks isn’t much to go on.”
“We need more,” Declan agreed. “Do you have access to CJ?”
“We’re communicating by burner phones,” Cole said, and held up the phone he’d purchased for just that purpose.
“Get her on the line,” Declan commanded.
“I can’t guarantee she’ll answer,” Cole said. “She’s very skittish.”
“That’s the only way she can stay alive if Trinity is actively pursuing her,” Jasmine said. “It’s a miracle she’s still alive after escaping over a year ago. And to be in an area known to be prime Trinity territory...” The former assassin shook her head.
Cole hit the redial button on his phone.
After the fourth ring, CJ answered. “What did you find?” she asked without preamble.
“I’m with the team. Can I put you on speaker?”
“Yes.”
Cole hit the speaker button. “We learned more about Carpenter, but not enough to accuse him of conspiring with Trinity.” He filled her in on the Homeland Security Advisor’s financial troubles and the fact that he was seeing a marriage counselor.
“I doubt he’s meeting with any Trinity contacts inside the West Wing. I’ll follow him,” CJ said.
“That puts you at too much risk of being discovered,” Cole insisted. “I’ll follow him and let you know what I find.”
“I’ve seen him go into a bar close to the metro station after work,” Anne Bellamy interjected. She gave them the name of the bar and the street where it was located.
“Anne and I will keep an eye on him in the West Wing during the day,” Jack offered. He was still posing as Anne’s office assistant.
Anne nodded. “We can follow him at lunch and see if he talks with anyone.”
“Good,” Cole said. “But he knows you two and wouldn’t want you to know who he’s meeting with. I’ll go to the bar tomorrow night ahead of him. He doesn’t know me and won’t think anything of me sitting there sipping on a beer.”
“I can let you know what time he leaves,” Jack added. “And follow him in case he doesn’t head for the bar.”
“Deal,” Cole said. “CJ, we’ll keep you informed.”
“Understood,” she concurred and ended the call.
“Not a woman of many words,” Gus noted.
Cole snorted. “No, she’s not.”
“You’ve heard the phrase ‘loose lips sink ships’?” Jasmine asked.
“Yeah, but she’s like a ghost. If she hadn’t shown up after the NSC attack, here in this room, in front of all of us, I’d still wonder if she exists.”
“She wants to bring down Trinity,” Anne Bellamy said.
Cole silently agreed. They all wanted to bring down Trinity. He understood CJ’s reluctance to trust anyone but herself with her life, but she didn’t know the benefits of working with a good team, one that had her back and was pushing toward the same goal.
“And she can’t do it if she’s dead,” Charlie reminded them, her mouth set in a grim line. “As we all know. John wanted to bring down Trinity, but look where that got him.”
John Halverson had been murdered. The person who’d done it had never been caught.
Cole had no intention of being Trinity’s next target. And something in him stilled at the thought of CJ meeting John Halverson’s fate.
Not on his watch.