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Brandon looked up as Jaia entered the kitchen a few hours later, freshly showered and wearing a dark green sweater and jeans. She gave him a shy smile and tucked a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “Good morning.”
“Morning. You look rested.”
“Best I’ve felt in weeks, thanks to you.”
He smiled. “Oh, believe me, it was my pleasure.”
They’d spent the rest of the night wrapped around each other. He’d been single for a while and wasn’t used to sharing a bed with someone, but he’d liked sleeping next to her. The one time he remembered waking up and finding space between them, he’d tucked her back into his body and curled an arm around her before sliding back into sleep.
She ducked her head, that pretty smile still in place.
“I poured you a mug of leftover tea from last night. It’ll just be a minute.” He reached over and started the microwave.
“Thank you.”
When he turned back around, she was sitting at the table, watching him. And the admiring look in her eyes said she liked what she saw.
Setting the mug down in front of her, he had to remind himself why he shouldn’t just pick her up and carry her back to bed right now, pick up where they’d left off. They’d blurred the line last night, and he wasn’t sorry. They both needed each other to get through this.
He sat across from her, letting his gaze wander over her while she sipped at her hot tea, the thick, inky sweep of her lashes forming shadows on the tops of her cheeks. Her lips pursed as she blew gently on the surface, and all he could think of was them wrapped around him again, how good her mouth had felt last night, her tongue flicking at him. He only wished he’d been able to see her clearly in the darkened room.
He struggled to pull free of that tantalizing image. “You hungry?”
She glanced up, and it was clear from the way her eyes twinkled that she thought he didn’t mean for food. “I am. You?”
“Starved.” Food. He had to get her food.
He shoved up and went to the fridge to make them something. Eggs, toast and some sliced ham. “After this is over, will you go back to Tampa?” he asked as he cooked the eggs and ham.
She shrugged, a little frown pulling her eyebrows together. “I don’t know. To be honest it’s never really felt like home, even though I own a place there.”
“What about your friends there?” She had to have lots of friends. She was too kind and sweet not to.
“Just the women from my book club. I do miss them, but I can always keep in touch with them in other ways if I decide to move somewhere else.”
“What kind of book club?” He took a sip of coffee and started plating everything, slathering butter on the hot toast.
“Fiction, lots of different genres. I met a few of the women through yoga class a couple years ago and got the idea after finding out there were a lot of fellow book lovers there. They spread the word to some close bibliophile friends they thought would be interested, and I organized a club.”
He smiled over the rim of his coffee mug. “I’ll bet it’s the best organized book club in the history of book clubs.”
Her lips twitched. “Not bad, I think. There are eleven of us, and we meet at a different member’s house once a month. We read mysteries, historical fiction, women’s fiction, lots of romance. Whatever we decide on as a group—as long as it has a reasonably happy ending.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m all for happy endings.”
She laughed, the sound so happy and carefree it tugged something deep inside him. “At any given meeting there’ll usually be at least nine or ten of us, and there’s always a theme, connected to the book we’ve just read. Sometimes we wear costumes or play different characters for the night, and the potluck is always centered around the theme as well. It’s really fun.”
“If you love to read,” he added.
She sobered, looking aghast. “You don’t?”
“I don’t read much these days. I used to love it though.” He didn’t know why he’d stopped.
“Maybe you should start again.”
“Maybe I should.” An image of them popped into his head. Curled up in bed or on the sofa, her head in his lap as they both read together.
He set a plate down in front of her. “Here.”
“Thank you.” She forked up a bite of ham. “What about you? Will you go back to Crimson Point once it’s safe again?”
“I’d like to. Trav and my sister are both there, the prices are better than anywhere else on that part of the coast, and I love the area. There’s an open paramedic position available there.” He cut a bite of ham. “They’ve got a great café-slash-bookstore in town called the Whale’s Tale. Tale as in story, not an actual whale’s tail.” He figured she’d appreciate that play on words.
Her eyes shone with interest. “Cute.”
“The sheriff I’ve been in contact with, it’s his wife who owns and runs it. She’s a sweetheart, and everything they sell in the café is made in house. I don’t know how Noah isn’t four-hundred-pounds by now. She sometimes does special events there too, like book signings or painting classes.”
“Sounds like heaven to me.”
He could picture her there so easily. Popping in to grab a pastry and a cup of tea before perusing the shelves for a new read. Safe and carefree, enjoying the simple things in life that gave her pleasure instead of constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for the next threat to materialize.
“Maybe when all this is over, you could come back there with me, and I’ll take you.”
Her expression turned soft. Poignant. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
“Then we’ll do it.” This situation would end sooner or later, and they’d both be safe again.
He couldn’t wait for them both to have their lives back. While it was true they hadn’t known each other long, he couldn’t deny the deep sense of connection he felt with her, or that he wanted more time with her once this was over.
The ring of his cell phone burst the intimate little bubble enclosing them. He pulled it out, sighed when he saw the number. “It’s the FBI agent from yesterday.” The one who wanted to question him about Andy’s murder. “I’d better take this, I’ve put him off long enough.” Avoided, to be more accurate.
“Sure. I wanted to check my email anyway.”
He got up and crossed to the couch as he answered. The agent’s clipped tone made it clear he was pissed at the radio silence. Brandon didn’t give a fuck. His first and only priority was keeping Jaia and him safe.
“So Dumas was already dead when you got there?” the agent asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you see the suspects?”
“I already reported everything we saw to Sheriff Buchanan.” Noah would have immediately sent it on to his FBI contact in Portland.
“Refresh my memory,” the agent said with tried patience.
Brandon mentally rolled his eyes and went through everything step by step, just wanting this done with. “We didn’t get a good look at them, only their clothing, builds and approximate ages. I gave Buchanan all of that already too. You’ll have to check the marina footage.”
“The marina cameras were disabled prior to the attack.”
Damn. But not exactly a surprise. “No other video?”
“We’re checking with the residents. Now. Pretend I don’t know anything and tell me everything you saw anyway.”
He did, tamping down his annoyance. The sooner this was finished, the sooner he and Jaia could plan out what to do next. “Like I said, Dumas was already dead when I walked in. We knew the killer had to be close, so we left.”
“And where are you both now?”
He hesitated, even though the outcome was inevitable. The FBI had the resources to trace this call and triangulate their current location.
And what Jaia had said last night was true. They were both in way over their heads here. At some point they had to take the risk of trusting someone else to help them.
“Coastal Washington,” he said.
“Where exactly?” The agent’s tone was curt.
“Near Astoria.” Let them track his cell phone if they wanted, he still wasn’t going to just give them their location.
He looked over at Jaia, found her watching him, her laptop open in front of her. As if reading his thoughts, she gave him a nod, granting her encouragement and assent.
He covered the bottom of the phone with one hand and raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he whispered. Once he shared the information they had, there was no undoing it.
“Yes. Tell him.”
Okay. Time to get this rolling. He lowered his hand. “By the way, we have new evidence linking Graystone and some of its employees to crimes against civilians in Yemen.” He was intentionally vague because he didn’t know or trust this guy.
A moment of silence filled the line. “What is it? And how did you get it?”
“Do you want it, or not?”
“Yes, of course we want it. Send me what you have and I’ll—”
“No. I’ll tell you in person only.” An electronic trail would be a lot harder to erase, but it was also harder to control where the information went once it was sent. Brandon wanted to meet this guy in person first, get a read on him and ensure that the information given was passed on through the proper channels.
After he sent the intel to his sister and Travis as insurance, with instructions to immediately leak it to the press if anything happened to him.
“And I want your SAC there too,” he added. “Just the three of us. But before I go anywhere, I want protection placed on Jaia first.” He wasn’t leaving until that happened.
“Fine. Give me your location and I’ll send two agents there, then text you the time and place of the meeting. But be forewarned, if you cut contact again, we’re coming after you.”
He and Jaia had gone as far as they could to resolve this on their own, short of leaking the intel to the media. He wanted this resolved, and the FBI had the means to help make that happen.
As long as Jaia was safe, he was willing to take the risk of meeting with the Feds in person. “Understood.”
****
“Hey, buddy. How are you?” Val asked, staring out the fifth story apartment window through the drizzle at the mist-covered Bellevue street below.
He and Matthias had holed up here for the night after killing Dumas. They’d taken care of the security cameras at the marina before going after him, but there was a chance someone had caught them on door or dash cams. They’d both worn hoodies that covered their heads and the upper part of their faces, so getting clear images of them wouldn’t be easy.
“Good. I hit a triple last night. One-hopper into the far right field corner. Coach made me slide into third at the last second because a throw was coming in, but I think I could’ve made it standing up.”
He smiled at his son’s confidence, a bittersweet pang hitting him dead in the center of his chest. “That’s awesome. Proud of you. Wish I’d been there to see it.”
“Me too. Where are you? When are you coming home?”
His chest tightened at the hope in his son’s voice. “I’m not sure, buddy. Depends on how long this job takes.”
“Okay,” he said with a dejected sigh. “Oh, Mom wants to talk to you.”
He blinked in surprise. “She does?”
“Yeah, hang on a sec. Mom!”
Moments later his ex came on the line. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He sounded wary but he couldn’t help it. She hadn’t spoken to him personally in almost a year now. Something must be wrong.
“I didn’t know how to reach you, but this guy called looking for you the other day. He says you used to work together. I told him I didn’t know where you were, but he sounded pretty desperate to get hold of you. He’s called back twice now.”
Unease twisted through his insides. “What’s his name?”
“Ed Holland. He said there’s some woman you need to talk to about her brother in Yemen.”
His head snapped up, his heart beating faster. Could it possibly be Jaia? “Did he say anything else?”
“He made me write down her email address for you. He says she tried contacting you several times. He didn’t say what was going on, but he made it sound pretty urgent.”
The only email address he’d used to communicate with Ed was a personal one he hadn’t checked in over six months. “Oh?”
“I dunno, it all sounded weird, so I wanted to tell you. Is...everything okay?”
No. Not even close. His throat closed up for a second. He swallowed, cleared it. “Yeah, everything’s good. Thanks for telling me. How’ve you been?”
“Fine. Listen, I have to go, so did you want to talk to Kev again?”
After being apart for so long her rejection shouldn’t have hit him hard, but it did. You deserve this. You know you do. “Yeah, sure—”
“Wait, he’s already gone outside. Can he call you later at this number?”
“Sure.” Whether he would be able to pick up or not was another matter. And he had to acknowledge that he might have just spoken to his son for the last time. “Give him a hug from me and tell him I love him, okay?” Damn, his fucking voice was on the edge of cracking.
A startled pause answered. “Okay. Well. Bye.”
Ending the call before he could blurt out something stupid and desperate, he accessed his old email account. His heart tripped when he saw the subject title on the most recent one, dated ten days before Jaia had left Tampa. Sukhi Sidhu.
He opened it, pulse picking up as he scanned the message. It was from Jaia. Asking if she could talk to him about any information he had about her brother’s death.
He started to type out a reply, not really holding out hope that she would answer it now that she was on the run, but he had to try and then see if she answered him. Maybe they could get a location on her that way. Or maybe he could convince her to meet up with him in person to talk about it.
Partway through, his phone buzzed in his hand. Unknown number. Unfamiliar area code.
He answered anyway. “Yeah.”
“It’s me.” The boss. “You still in Seattle?”
“Yes. I just found an old email from Jaia. She sent it before—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got confirmation that she’s with Whitaker right now. In Astoria.”
Confirmation from where? “How did you—”
“I’ll have an exact location for you shortly. Whitaker won’t be there, but she’ll have two Feds guarding her. I want you two to handle her, but you’re going to have to act fast, so get on the road now and I’ll send you the address as soon as I have it.”
“What about Whitaker?”
“I’ll let you know.”
The line went dead before Val could get another word out, leaving him confused and frustrated. Why the sudden push on Jaia and not Whitaker? The boss must think she knew something or had evidence that Whitaker didn’t. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Shoving back his annoyance at not understanding the full picture, he focused on the task at hand and strode to the bedroom. The doorknob thudded into the wall when he threw it open.
Matthias jerked upright in the bed, squinting at him in bleary-eyed confusion as he snatched his weapon from the nightstand. “What? What’s happening?”
“We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Why?”
“Jaia’s alone in Astoria, and we’ve got a tight window to work with. We’ll get an exact location en route. Move.”
He left Matthias to scramble to get ready and headed back to the kitchen to pack up his gear. He didn’t know how the boss had gotten the new intel and he didn’t much care, but he was pretty sure it had come from a government agency.
Matthias rushed out of the bedroom a few minutes later, sliding his weapon into the holster hidden beneath the back of his shirt. “What about Whitaker?”
“No location yet,” he said, omitting his suspicions. But he planned to cover their asses anyway. “We’ll capture Jaia and find him through her.”
“That’s not—”
Val cut him off with a single, slicing look. “I’m in charge of this op, and you’ll do as I say. We take her and use her as leverage to get Whitaker. Two birds with one stone.” That should give him security against anyone thinking about taking him out to tie up loose threads.
Matthias looked doubtful. “What if she won’t talk?”
“She will.” He was sure he could get what he needed from her without resorting to harsher methods. “Now let’s go.”
He strode for the door, praying this was the break they needed to get this done. He didn’t want Jaia to get hurt, but Kevin’s safety was all that mattered. Val would protect his son at all costs and live with whatever consequences came afterward.
If his plan worked, then this whole nightmare would end for all of them today.
