Chapter 23

Doug didn’t believe in ghosts, but when one popped up right in front of him, he could hardly ignore its existence. His plan to beat the evening rush hour home from the office disintegrated into a knot of uncertainty. If a ghost were here, what world-changing event was about to happen?

The dark-haired man emerged from the shadows of the parking garage and walked to the other side of Doug’s car. “I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Doug asked.

“Information.” Ghost motioned to his car. “Maybe we should take the conversation inside.”

Doug unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. Ghost took the seat beside him.

“What’s all this about? In my experience with the guardians, you had a pretty good finger on the pulse of the intelligence community.”

“Yes, but someone in the FBI is keeping information out of your database. I’m hoping it’s you,” Ghost said. “I need the latest information about the coalition.”

Doug tensed. How did this man know to come to him?

“I know you were the one who was supposed to meet with Cassidy Edgemont the day she was killed.”

“According to her father, she’s still alive.”

“I can’t confirm that, but if it were true, you can imagine her safety would be greatly jeopardized if the coalition isn’t stopped before it’s too late.”

“Look, I appreciate your interest in this case, but I can’t just hand over classified information without authorization.”

“I had a feeling you might say that.” Ghost pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Who are you calling?”

“Senator Whitmore.”

“I know he’s on the Senate Intelligence Committee, but he can’t authorize the release of classified material.”

Ghost ignored him. “Senator, can you have an authorization emailed to Doug Valdez? I need everything he has on the Freedom Coalition.” He paused. “Better make it a blanket release. We don’t want the wrong keyword to pop up if someone is monitoring his communication.” Another pause. “Yes. He’s right here.” Ghost held the phone out. “It’s for you.”

Doug took the phone. “Hello?”

“Doug, I’ll call your director and have that authorization emailed to you right now, but I’m giving you the verbal okay to give Ghost whatever he needs.”

“I appreciate that, Senator, but you know I can’t do that without the proper documentation.”

“You’ll have it any minute,” the senator said. “And give my love to your family.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.” Doug ended the call and handed the phone back to Ghost. “I didn’t realize you were friends with the senator.”

“He’s a good man. He’ll make a good president.”

“I agree.” Doug retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and pulled up his emails. Three unread messages, all from coworkers. A fourth one popped up, this one not from his director but from the director of the FBI. He scanned it. Sure enough, it was authorization to share information with the individual code-named Ghost.

“You good now?” Ghost asked.

“Yeah.” Doug glanced around the parking garage. “I don’t know how much you already have on the coalition, but Cassidy Edgemont wasn’t the first prospective witness to go missing. Two others before her called in and offered information. One died of a heart attack the night before his scheduled interview. The other simply disappeared.”

“You suspect a mole within the bureau.”

“I’ve been investigating the possibility for years, first in the Florida office and then in the DC office. I’ve yet to find a common link between all the witnesses.”

“What do you know so far about the coalition’s leadership? Who’s running it?”

“I’m not sure. I have a pretty good list of their board of directors and the inner circle of management, but I’m convinced I’m missing someone.”

“Any idea why they would be setting off bombs in Europe?”

“Are you talking about the bombing in Paris?” Doug asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s news to me, but a lot of the top leadership have been on the move for the past few weeks.”

“I need names and anything else that will help us track these guys down.”

“The majority of my files are locked up at my house.”

“Your house? How did you get permission to keep classified information off site?”

“My boss wants this case solved as badly as I do. If we do have a mole, we can’t risk having details on soft copy where someone can hack my computer or download files.”

“I’ll follow you home, and I’ll scan everything there.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not explain who you are to my wife and daughter.”

“Fair enough. Scan or copy whatever you’ve got. I’ll meet you tonight.”

“I’m not crazy about carrying this stuff around outside.”

“You won’t have to go far.”

* * *

Cas tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, the image of her father pleading for information about her surfaced full force. She had imagined seeing her family a million times, but would it really be possible? If Donovan’s plan worked for her to call them at the embassy, what would she say? How much would Ace let her tell them? And what would happen next?

She couldn’t hide in the United States. She couldn’t stay in Europe. Even east Asia would be risky with the number of Edge Broadcasting ventures in that part of the world.

China? Africa? South America maybe? None held much appeal. Well, maybe Africa, but not because of the home she could build there but rather because of the possibility of seeing Donovan after she moved past the worst of this ordeal.

How strange to think that she had been annoyed when Donovan had shown up on her doorstep to help her. Now, she couldn’t deny she would miss him when he was gone.

Cas rolled over in bed and grabbed her cell phone off her nightstand. Two fifteen in the morning. So much for getting a good night’s sleep.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her body instantly chilled when her covers fell from her. She tugged on the socks she had left on the floor beside her bed and fished an oversized sweatshirt out of the closet. After she pulled it on, she opened her bedroom door. Donovan’s room was dark and quiet. At least he would be rested when the sun came up.

She padded downstairs, debating whether she should try to occupy herself with baking something or watch a movie on her computer. Maybe both. Then again, if she couldn’t sleep anyway, she could watch some of the surveillance video of Tyrell and Roshaun. Maybe she would notice something that Donovan had missed. After all, she had personal knowledge of the men and their habits.

She flipped on the entryway light as she passed through. When she stepped into the living room, she stopped abruptly. There stretched out on the couch lay Donovan, one of his arms hooked behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

Her heart did a slow roll in her chest, and she couldn’t deny the magnetic pull that seemed to increase between them with each passing day. The respect he’d shown her over the past two weeks had erased her previous resentment of him, and his classic good looks certainly were easy on the eyes, but more than that, she enjoyed his company. His appreciation for everything she did, his taste in music, even his willingness to indulge her when she couldn’t go outside herself to run simple errands.

She should do something for him. With baking in mind, she took a step forward. In an instant, Donovan’s eyes flew open, he rolled off the couch, and his hand disappeared beneath the couch cushion.

Cas took a defensive step back. “It’s just me,” she said as his hand resurfaced with a gun.

Donovan focused on her for a fraction of a second before he let out a heavy sigh and lowered his weapon.

“Sorry.” Cas let out a pent-up breath of her own. “I didn’t expect you to be down here.”

“What time is it?” Donovan set his pistol on the table and stood.

“Quarter after two.”

“What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Thinking about your family?”

“That and thinking about the coalition and the bombs and the articles. I hate not having all the answers.”

“You know as well as anyone that these things take time.”

Cas’s eyebrows drew together. “Why are you sleeping down here?”

“I’m waiting on a call from Kade. I didn’t want my phone to wake you.”

“That’s sweet.” She waved toward the kitchen. “I was thinking about making some cookies. Do you have a preference for what kind?”

“As much as I love your baking, I have a better idea,” Donovan said. “Come sit with me. We can watch a movie together.”

“If we watch a movie, we won’t have anything to eat at the end of it.”

“Maybe not, but it might help take your mind off of things.” He reached out and took her hand.

The naturalness of the gesture struck her, as did the zing of the chemistry bubbling between them. Her eyes lifted to his, and her mind went blank.

He stepped into the wash of light from the entryway, leaving only a foot of space between them. Interest flickered on his face along with a flash of uncertainty. His gaze lowered to her lips.

Her heartbeat quickened, but this time the cause was from a new kind of danger.

Donovan’s fingers linked with hers, and his head lowered until their lips were mere inches apart. Their breath mingled.

Her stomach somersaulted. Sweet attraction rose within her and built until her body ached from the tension shimmering between them. She should step back. She was sure there was a reason she shouldn’t kiss him, but her reasons had deserted her.

The distance between them disappeared, and Donovan’s lips met hers. Her heart bounced into her throat, and her stomach leapt inside her as though she were racing down the freefall of a roller coaster. His free hand lifted to her waist and pulled her closer. The connection sparked between them, and she let herself pretend she had a future to give. Long-buried needs rose inside her: the joy of having someone to talk to, someone to dream with, someone to walk beside.

Her hand lifted to his shoulder. Muscles bunched beneath her touch.

The kiss deepened, and the ground dropped away. Cas indulged herself and rode the storm of sensations a minute longer.

When she pulled away, Donovan’s eyes locked on hers. “You are so beautiful.”

The sincerity of his statement washed over her, but with it came doubts. Someone wanted her dead, and anyone near her was at risk. Though it pained her to do so, she took a step back and pulled her hand free of his.

“What’s wrong?” Donovan closed the distance between them again. He put his hand on her arm as though afraid she might disappear if he didn’t maintain contact.

She blew out a breath. “Obviously, I have feelings for you, or I never would have kissed you, but this is a bad idea.” Cas took another step back. “With my dad blasting my name and picture all over the place, who knows if I’ll even survive the week.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“How many times have we both said those words to clients?” Cas asked. “The truth is, we do the best we can, but there aren’t any guarantees.”

“Nothing in life has guarantees.” Donovan caressed her arm. “Come on. Let’s sit and watch a movie together. We can call this another date.”

Her mind said no, but the boyish expression on his face was too irresistible. “Okay, but I get to pick the movie.”

“Oh, no. I’m not giving you a free pass on that. With my luck, you’ll want to bore me to sleep with Dense and Densibility or something like that.”

“You mean Sense and Sensibility?”

“Same thing.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll decide together.”

“See. We’re learning to live together already.”

The casual mention of living together struck her, and she instantly shook her head. “I’m not living with you. We’re simply residing at the same safe house.”

“Right.” Donovan took her hand and tugged her toward the couch. “But you’re still not picking the movie.”