| |
––––––––
Lying on the couch in Boyd’s living room, Brandon snapped his head toward the coffee table when his cell started buzzing with an incoming call. It was almost one in the morning. Groz had left at ten. Everyone else was asleep upstairs but he was still wide awake, unable to sleep with all the thoughts tumbling through his brain.
He grabbed his phone, tensing a little when he saw another unknown number with a Tampa area code. It buzzed insistently in his hand. For several seconds he went back and forth about answering, but inevitably his curiosity won out.
“Yeah,” he answered in a low voice, not wanting anyone upstairs to overhear if they were still awake.
“Ohh.” Even though he’d only heard that feminine voice once before, he recognized it immediately, and the wealth of relief in it. “Oh, I’m so glad you answered. That means you’re all right.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
“You...are okay, aren’t you?” she asked hesitantly.
That depended on how you defined okay. “Who are you?” His voice was cold. Flat. Whatever was going on here, he was sick of being in the middle of it. Fed up with not knowing anything when his life was in danger.
A loaded silence filled the line.
“Give me your name, or this conversation is over.”
“I can’t tell you who I am,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.” Her voice was soft. Cultured, with that hint of British or something close to it. Disturbingly sexy.
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
Who was she? Was she in on whatever was happening behind the scenes? Was she helping them track him via his phone? “You’re in Tampa.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“To make sure you were okay. I was worried you wouldn’t believe what I said last time, and that you wouldn’t get out.”
His mind was going crazy. This was bullshit. She could be anyone. Could even be connected to the hit team. She could be tracing and feeding them his location right now, putting him and everyone else under this roof at risk.
He lowered the phone, moved his thumb to hit the end call button.
“Brandon?”
Sounding far away, the concern in her disjointed voice stopped him. Something about it...tugged at him. He paused.
“Are you still there?”
Calling himself an idiot, he put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah.”
She sighed. “I know this must be upsetting for you.”
Upsetting? Yeah.
“And I know you have no reason to trust me, but I hope you will anyway, at least a little.”
God, her voice. Maybe she was a trained operative skilled in interrogation. Maybe she was a skilled actress and had pitched it a certain way to capture his attention.
Because she had. Just hearing her speak was soothing. Calming the raging storm inside him.
“The cops said there was no trace of anyone near the house tonight,” he said flatly.
“No, there wouldn’t be.”
He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he pressed. “Was there really a team coming for me? Or were you just testing to see what I’d do?”
“It was real. They were there.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere close. In Crimson Point for sure.”
A chill washed over him. He couldn’t trust her. He was tempted to go wake Ember to see if she could trace the call and get a lock on the call’s origin, but held off, wanting to keep this woman talking. “Why did you warn me?”
“Because I didn’t want them to take another innocent life.” There was an edge of sadness to her words that made something twist deep in his chest.
“Who’s them?” he demanded, wanting her to say it. Enough of this pussyfooting around shit.
“You know who I mean.”
“How are you connected to them?”
“I can’t say.”
“Well, what can you say?” he snapped, his temper sparking.
“That I want to help you.”
Don’t trust her. It could be a trap. “If you were telling me the truth earlier, then you already did.” She said she’d wanted to make sure he was still okay. He didn’t know what to think, but everything he’d gone through had made him far too suspicious to allow himself to take her at her word.
“There’s more evidence besides what I sent you.”
His head came up. He stared into the depths of the glowing embers in the grate, his shoulders tensing. “What kind of evidence?”
“Proof they don’t want anyone to have. I’m going after more of it.”
He frowned, a different kind of unease beginning to build. If this was some kind of test or setup, why would she tell him this? “Why?”
“Because I’m going to expose them and what they did.” The steel in her soft voice was unmistakable.
“Are you an operative?” he finally asked.
She let out a short, ironic laugh. “No. Not even close.”
Another lie? “So you’re a civilian.”
“Yes.”
If it was true, then her involvement in this was even more stunning. “Isn’t going after more evidence risky?”
She exhaled. “Yes.” She was silent for a long moment. “I keep expecting them to come for me. Keep thinking they must have figured out what I’ve done. But I can’t stop now. I have to go back.”
“Back where?” Now he was starting to get worried about her. Graystone didn’t exist anymore. Where was she accessing evidence about it?
“I can’t tell you that. But it’s for...someone I loved very much. That’s why I’m doing this.”
Past tense. Dead? A husband, maybe. Or a former lover. And fuck him, but he was actually starting to believe that at least some of this was the truth. Like her being a civilian and doing this alone.
Otherwise. it made no sense for her to have helped him or sent him that file. She’d also let him hear her voice, something that could be used against her if he was captured and tortured again. “It’s dangerous.”
“I know. But I have to.” Her words rang with finality.
He didn’t like this. If she was telling the truth and had no training, then he didn’t want her putting herself in danger. “Go to the FBI instead. Tell them everything you know and let them handle it.”
“You don’t understand.”
Clearly. “Then explain it so I do.”
“I wish I could. Believe me.”
Impatience burned like a hot coal under his sternum. He wanted to help her. “Tell me who you are at least.”
“I have to go,” she said abruptly. “Thank you for picking up, I’m glad you’re okay. Stay safe.”
“Wait—” The call ended.
“Sonofabitch,” he snarled into the silence, calling her back. She didn’t answer. He tried again. This time the call didn’t even go through. She’d probably disabled the phone, and he was certain it was another burner.
Jaw set, gut churning with dread and now concern about this stranger who may or may not be an ally in way over her head, he strode for the stairs to wake Ember. He had to at least try to track this woman down.
****
Jaia’s palms were damp against the file folders she carried as she entered the high security area of the building, her high-heeled shoes silent on the carpet. She could feel the dampness under her armpits, and her stomach felt like there was a mass of ants crawling around inside it.
No matter how this played out, no matter what happened after this, at least she could take solace in knowing she had saved Brandon Whitaker’s life last night. That was something.
The secure file storage room was located at the end of the hall. Cameras tracked her every move as she neared the computerized, fireproof door.
She kept her expression impassive, made sure not to fidget or chew at her lower lip or betray her nerves in any way, so that when they reviewed the security footage later, nothing would look suspicious.
Every Monday she made a trip here to deposit hard copies of files her boss wanted filed and stored away from everyone in the building except those few with security clearance. Apart from the owners, that included her, the managers, and a few specialized contractors the company hired for technical or consulting jobs. Everyone who entered here was vetted thoroughly.
Her pulse thudded as she reached the door and punched in her unique access code into the keypad. This was the riskiest thing she had done yet, and though she had practiced her moves at home countless times, even if she pulled this off seamlessly, someone would eventually notice the missing files.
The heavy door slid open. She stepped through, willing her heart to slow down as she walked to the floor-to-ceiling cabinets at the back. The drawer she needed was third from the top, requiring the use of the built-in step ladder.
You got this.
She sincerely hoped she did.
Grasping the cool metal railing, she ascended the steel grate rungs, each step echoing in the silence. The cameras in here were capturing her from every angle, so there was no way to really hide what she was doing. Her only chance was to cause enough confusion and doubt that it might look like an accident.
She unlocked the drawer with her code, pulled it open, and began thumbing through the stored files as she normally would, to find the correct spot to file the new folders. In reality, she was looking for the ones she wanted.
The words Aden, January 17 jumped out at her. She took the folder out, pretended to stumble on the front of her high-heeled shoe. Letting out a little yelp, she dropped the files and grabbed hold of the ladder with both hands to steady herself and looked down.
All the folders lay strewn across the floor at the foot of the ladder.
She quickly descended and knelt to begin gathering them up, glancing at the contents to separate them into the appropriate files. The few details she managed to glean about the January 17th incident filled her with despair and rage, but she didn’t dare stop to read them here.
Instead, she sorted the papers into their individual folders, then climbed the ladder and filed the ones she’d brought in, keeping the January 17th papers in the other before taking out more files her boss had requested from the same drawer. She still thought it was incredibly strange that he insisted on keeping hard copies of everything, but he was notoriously anal about things like that.
This time, she hoped it would work to her advantage.
In a quick move she’d practiced many times over the weekend, she slipped the incriminating papers into the file she’d retrieved, replaced everything else, then closed the drawer and descended the ladder.
She exited the room, feeling a little lightheaded as she walked back up the length of the hall and passed through the secure door sealing this area off from the rest of the building. Stepping into the elevator, she put on a polite smile for the other employees inside and rode up to her boss’s floor.
His office was empty. She let out a tiny breath of relief that she wouldn’t have to face him right now and set the files on his desk, then made another sleight of hand swap as she scooped up the others he’d placed there for her, along with the Yemen intel.
Back in her office, she placed everything on her desk, the Yemen file buried underneath everything else, and sat down at her computer to get to work. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on anything while the intel she’d wanted for so long was right in front of her, but she did her best, working methodically through the files and carrying out other tasks as normal.
It felt like she’d put in twelve hours by the time five-thirty rolled around. She shut down her computer, cleaned up her desk, then tucked the few remaining folders she hadn’t yet gotten to into her bag. She routinely did more work at home to keep on top of everything, so that shouldn’t look suspicious. And she made sure that the label on the Yemen file wasn’t visible as she put them away.
The entire time down to her vehicle she kept expecting a security guard to stop her. She slid into the driver’s seat with a mental groan of relief and pulled out of her parking spot. But a call came through just a few blocks from the office, and it was from her boss.
She declined it, prickles of unease dancing up her spine. He couldn’t know. Not yet. It was probably nothing. He was likely just calling to ask about something totally unrelated.
He called again. And a third time when she still didn’t pick up.
Worry built the entire trip home, and the closer she got, the more she wondered if she should even risk going there. But she couldn’t see anyone behind her, and when she arrived at her house, there was no one waiting for her.
As soon as the garage door closed behind her, she checked her phone. No texts, but there was a voice message. Very unlike her boss.
She accessed it, heart thudding in her ears.
“Jaia.” Robert’s tone was flat. Eerie. “Call me as soon as you get this. I need you to come back into the office. Tonight.”
The blood drained from her face. He knew. Somehow, he knew, or was at least suspicious of her.
He could be on the way here to confront her right now. Or...he could have sent someone else to do it for him.
She dropped the phone into her bag and rushed into the house, heading straight for her bedroom closet. The go bag she’d prepared sat on the floor. She grabbed it, hurried back to the garage entrance, and paused only for a moment to glance around, mind whirling with all the details of the escape plan she had carefully plotted.
Hot tears blurred her vision as she looked at her home for the last time. but she sternly blinked them back. She’d known this would probably happen but saying goodbye to her little sanctuary and her life here was harder than she’d expected.
For Sukhi, she reminded herself.
Bolstered, she walked into the garage. Stepping out of her past life and into the unknown.
