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Having no idea what had happened was killing her. Was Brandon still alive? Had a hit team been sent after him?
Jaia groaned as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked haggard, a weird pallor to her bronze-toned skin, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
The stress was eating at her insides like acid, and there was no relief. She couldn’t sleep. Had no appetite.
Her phone rang on the bathroom counter. Her heart lightened when she saw her friend Melissa’s number. “Hi,” she answered, glad for the distraction, however temporary.
“Hey, girl,” Melissa said in her usual, upbeat way. “Just checking on you. Still feeling like crap?”
She’d lied and said she wasn’t feeling well to get out of the book club meeting tonight. “Pretty much. Is everyone there?”
“Everyone but you. We miss you. Guys, say hi.” A chorus of greetings came from the background, and Jaia smiled, the backs of her eyes stinging.
“Say hi back for me.”
“She says hi back,” Melissa called out. Then, “You want me to pop by later and bring you something? Maybe some treats. You should see the spread we’ve got going on here. Way too much chocolate.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer, but I just don’t feel like eating right now.”
“I get it.” She made a frustrated sound. “I wish you were here. You always have the best observations about whatever we’ve read. Did you like this month’s book?”
“Loved it.” Actually, she could barely remember most of it. Reading was a passion of hers, but she’d been so distracted and focused on other things lately, she had barely been reading at all, and when she did, she couldn’t concentrate enough for the story to come to life in her head. “I’m sorry I can’t be there. I miss you guys too.”
It was a special group of smart, fun and loyal women, ranging in age from mid-twenties to late seventies. When she’d first moved to Tampa she hadn’t known anyone. So she’d started the book club and immediately been embraced by the women who joined. And yet Jaia had withdrawn from them lately too, overwhelmed by everything going on in her life and not wanting to place any of them at risk.
“We miss you too. But, next month, right?” Melissa asked.
“Yes, for sure.” Maybe. She didn’t know what was going to happen in the next six hours, let alone what would happen over the next month.
“Oh, you’re coming. We’ll hold it at your place next time so you can’t wiggle out of it.”
Jaia laughed lightly, her heart not quite so heavy anymore. “Sounds good.”
Voices called out in the background. “I’m being summoned, so I gotta go, but everyone says bye. They’re waving.”
She could picture each of those dear faces, would have given anything to be there with them right now and not be involved with any of this mess. “Tell them I’m there in spirit.”
“Will do. Call me if you need anything, kay?”
“I will. Bye.” She lowered the phone, a keen sense of isolation taking hold. Even the people closest to her didn’t know what she was going through. But that was the way it had to stay. For everyone’s safety.
When the telltale sound of the computer alert came from her home office, she hurriedly yanked on her robe and rushed down the hall. She’d spent yesterday and today reviewing all of her evidence and notes, including everything about Beth Ayers, looking for something she might have missed before. Something that would help her prove what Graystone was responsible for in Yemen, and by extension, exactly what had happened to her brother.
The light from the monitor made the room glow softly as she walked in. The program was already recording a conversation happening in her boss’s car. She’d been monitoring his conversations since the call yesterday morning, but he hadn’t said anything else incriminating or helpful to her investigation.
She tucked her damp hair behind her ears and put on the headphones, already scanning the transcribed dialogue on screen. From the audio it sounded like her boss was the only one in the car.
“What’s the word?” Lawrence’s distant voice came through the speakers. She could hear traffic noise in the background. He must be in a vehicle too.
“It’s taken care of,” her boss said.
“It’s done?”
Jaia’s heart constricted. No... God, had she made the wrong call—
“Soon.”
An irritated sigh. “When?” Lawrence growled.
“Team’s en route now.”
Team? She shook her head. How many people were they sending? She still couldn’t believe that someone connected to the company was willing to carry out the cold-blooded murder of an innocent man here on American soil, but apparently there were multiple takers.
“Who?”
“The best.”
“Good. Call me as soon as it’s done. I want this wrapped up.”
The call ended abruptly. Her boss let out a heavy sigh and muttered a curse word under his breath. After that, the radio came on.
She sat back, tapping her fingers on the polished surface of the desk in a nervous rhythm. The past thirty-six hours had been agonizing. She’d wrestled with her conscience from the moment she’d heard the conversation yesterday morning, part of her expecting her boss or one of his apparent hired thugs to show up and tear through her place. Or worse.
She suppressed a shiver and stood, hurrying to the far corner of the rug and kneeling to roll it back and access the burner phone in the little hiding space beneath the loose board. If no one had come to confront her yet, then maybe her boss still had no idea she’d been listening in.
He’d said the team was en route. She didn’t know what that meant, how long it would take for them to find their target. But she knew one thing for certain.
She couldn’t remain silent a moment longer.
Accessing the stored number, she made the call and held her breath.
****
Just out of the shower, Brandon made his way downstairs through the quiet house and into the spotless kitchen that still held the scent of coffee and cinnamon from Kerrigan’s cream cheese-frosted carrot cake. She and Travis were down at Boyd’s place after hosting her and Brandon’s parents here earlier for Easter dinner.
It had been nice to sit and visit with his parents again with a sense of normalcy without his mom hovering and fussing over him like she had when he’d first returned from Yemen. They’d all talked and laughed and played a trivia game that he and Kerrigan had teamed up for—and dominated the others.
He glanced out the windows overlooking the backyard. In the distance, the tops of the evergreens swayed in the wind. Gusts of it moaned around the eves, and rain drummed on the roof. He imagined the sea right now, huge waves exploding against the rocks at the base of the cliffs.
The storm soothed him somehow, the cozy atmosphere inside surrounding him with a sense of peace and safety. He opened the fridge to see what tempted him. The cake jumped out at him immediately, along with a bottle of beer from a local brewery he liked.
He pulled it out and set about plating himself a healthy slice of the cake that included all the excess frosting that had gathered on the cake pedestal. His cell rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket with one hand, sucking frosting off his other thumb.
Unknown number. Florida area code.
Another damn telemarketer. He hit decline and put it back in his pocket.
Five seconds later as he leaned over to reach for a fork in the drawer next to the stove, it rang again. He checked it.
Same number.
Rolling his eyes, he started to block the number, then stilled when a text popped up on screen.
I sent you the files. Pick up!
He tensed, shock reverberating through him. Before he could even process it, more messages popped up.
Emergency.
A surge of anger whipped through him. Who the fuck was this? Whoever it was, he didn’t trust that they were telling the truth.
On the heels of that thought came a cold rush of fear. No one knew about the files. No one but him and whoever sent them to him.
Please pick up, Brandon!
Yeah, fuck this. He answered. “Who is this?” he growled, his body shifting into fight mode.
“Brandon. You need to listen to me very carefully.”
He blinked in surprise at the female voice. He’d never expected that a woman would be behind this. If this was actually who had sent him the emails. “Who are you?” he repeated, anger vibrating along every nerve ending.
“No time for that. Are you at home?” Her voice was calm, with a slight almost British edge to it that he couldn’t place.
He didn’t trust her. “Why?”
“Because you need to get out of there. A hit team’s on the way to your house on Spyglass Lane.”
He went rigid. What the fuck?
“What?” he said on a laugh, though it wasn’t remotely funny. He’d survived being a POW. Now someone was targeting him at home?
“They’re coming for you. Get out. Now.”
The line went dead in his ear before he could utter another word. He stared at it, too in shock to move. A split second later, the power went out, plunging him into total darkness and eerie, cloying silence.
The hairs on his arms stood up. He whipped his head around, his gaze snapping to the rain-glazed windows and the storm raging beyond them as blood pulsed in his ears.
Jesus Christ...
Someone was coming to kill him. And it looked like they might already be here.
