Fairfax Towne Centre
11:46 AM Wednesday, January 14
It couldn’t be easy.
Jack rubbed against the frustration working its way into his jaw. Remon Riad had managed to slip away from them, which meant his time with Brynn wasn’t over. That reality toyed with his emotions and left him troubled.
Was it because he’d failed to grab Riad? Or did it have something to do with the sudden desire to make the worry etching its way into Brynn’s delicate features go away?
Beep, beep, beep.
A tow truck loaded with Riad’s car backed around the congested parking lot until it could navigate the ambulance and police officers still trying to take care of the earlier accident. Unable to locate Riad, Jack thought it best to tow the car in case the man decided to return, limiting his ability to flee. It would also allow them to do a thorough search of the vehicle.
As it pulled out, Brynn’s pacing slowed. Her sharp blue eyes hadn’t stopped scanning the area in the hopes Riad might show back up, but now they settled on him.
“We need to get back to DC. I’ll take Riad’s laptop to Langley. The analysts can look into—”
“Nothing.”
The word hung suspended on a puff of breath in the cold air.
Her expression stilled. “I’m sorry?”
“Riad’s disappearance has been turned over to my team. The CIA doesn’t have the authority—”
“I know what we’re authorized to do, Jack.”
The snap in her voice added to the burst of wintry air blasting their faces. A man and a woman, with shopping bags in their hands, cast a concerned glance their way.
“It’s cold. Maybe we should get into the truck.”
Brynn tugged her scarf around her neck and hurried past him to the Tahoe. He dug into his pocket and unlocked the vehicle, wishing he could take back his words . . . or did he? He wasn’t trying to be difficult, but if she wasn’t clear on who was in charge of the investigation, it was his job to let her know.
Once in the driver’s seat, Jack was glad he’d used the remote engine starter to warm the Tahoe up earlier. Heat blasted from the vents, cutting the chill from his bones—but not the icy expression on Brynn’s face.
“Kekoa’s going to pull the surveillance footage of the shopping center. If we can spot Riad, then we might be able to track where and how he disappeared.”
“This is your investigation, right?”
There was an edge to her tone, a challenge within the question.
He nodded. “Yes, but you’re—”
She held up a hand. “So, if your team discovers Riad is part of some terrorist plot, will it be you and your team taking responsibility when disaster strikes?”
He pressed his lips together.
“That’s what I thought.” She scoffed. “At the end of the day, you and your team get to walk away, leaving me and my career going down in flames.”
Guilt washed through him. “Brynn, our job is to make sure we get to Riad before anything happens. You have my word on that.”
She looked away, a soft sound escaping her lips. “I may not know enough about your job, but you know about mine, and promises like that are arbitrary. There are no guarantees in this career.”
Jack released a sigh. That was true, and Brynn’s suspicions didn’t surprise him. Most in the intelligence field considered skepticism an essential skill. Even he did. What did surprise him was the shift of suspicion.
“An hour ago you were convinced Riad didn’t fit a profile and wasn’t a threat. But I’m getting the feeling you might not believe that anymore. Why?”
Brynn adjusted the vents. She tugged off her gloves before pulling at her scarf. A second later she was moving the air vents again.
He frowned at her edginess. “I can turn down the heat.”
“No, it’s fine.” She took a breath. “I’m sorry I snapped out there. It’s just . . . I can’t . . .” She pressed her lips together and glanced out the windshield as the ambulance drove away. “I’m trying to make sense of this whole thing.” She faced him. “You read the file on Riad. Does he seem like the kind of person to behave like this?”
The question sounded like she wanted assurance. Jack considered his words before speaking. “Not on paper, no. But even the most steadfast human beings can shift under the right pressure.”
Her blue eyes zeroed in on him, a flash of hurt passing across them before blinking it away. However, there was no hiding the suspicion he read in her face, and it made him uneasy. Back at the Farm, Brynn hadn’t been one to waver in her conviction on anything unless there was evidence or a reason.
Jack frowned, his own suspicions rising to the surface. “Is there something else?”
“No.” She looked away and settled back into her seat. “I want to get back and find out if there’s anything on Riad’s laptop.”
The furrow in the skin between her eyes concerned him. His words to Walsh came rushing back. “I don’t trust her.” Was there something fueling his mistrust of her, or were the memories of their past coloring his perspective? Would Brynn really hide something from him when her career hung in the balance?
Jack backed out of the parking spot. “We need to eat.”
“What?”
“I think better when I eat.” He glanced at the time on the radio panel. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“We need to get back to the office. Find out what’s on the laptop.”
He looked over his shoulder at Riad’s suitcase and laptop bag. “They’re not going anywhere.”
“But Riad might be.” Brynn’s fingers began drumming again. Nervous. “Besides, I’m not hungry.”
“Fine. Then you can watch me eat.”
She shifted in her seat. “I, uh, I have lunch plans already. Just remembered.”
“You do?”
Was she telling the truth? And why did his thoughts go straight to a faceless man? His fingers curled over the steering wheel as his thoughts circled back to an earlier one. Did Brynn have a boyfriend?
“Yes. And I can’t back out of them.”
The boldness in her voice was like a spur into his side. “Okay, well, invite . . . him . . . along?”
She glanced over, a defiant amusement lighting her eyes. “Her.”
“Her?”
“My friend Olivia. I’m meeting her for lunch.”
As he turned his attention back to the road, relief mixed with embarrassment warmed his cheeks. “Good. Invite her to lunch, because I’m starving. And food makes great company.”
“Spoken like a true Italian.”
The tilt to her lips did things to his chest, but he couldn’t get past the idea that Brynn might be keeping something from him. And if it had to do with the mission, it didn’t affect only him this time—it affected his whole team.
Several minutes into their drive, Brynn asked, “Want to tell me where we’re going? I need to send Olivia the address.”
“Mina’s.” He tapped the steering wheel, suddenly not so sure this was a great idea. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He kept himself from reading into her response as she quickly typed a text message to her friend. Mina’s had been a favorite of theirs, and he hadn’t thought twice about driving in that direction. It had been . . . instinct.
Nerves twisted into a knot in his stomach.
Jack found a spot on the street in front of the little restaurant and parked. If he focused on his hunger, maybe it would help him dwell less on the memories that would inevitably arise the second he walked into the little Middle Eastern café with Brynn.
The moment the bell tingled over the door, Jack’s senses were hit with the familiar mixture of sharp spices, coffee, and stale cigarette smoke. Nothing inside the café had changed. Black-and-white tile, chipped and cracked, was barely walkable between the number of tables and chairs packed in. Posters of Egypt, Turkey, Jordan, Syria, and Morocco lined the walls, their edges torn, frayed, and curling. A glass display case holding baked goods with the cash register on top nearly blocked the entrance, making it almost impossible to move around if someone was paying or waiting to be seated.
A couple pressed past Brynn, leaving little room for him but to step out of the café to let them pass. “Still busy as ever,” he said as he stepped back inside.
“Habibi, are my old eyes tricking me?”
The term of endearment cut through the café as customers glanced up to see Mina Samaan shuffling over, strands of gray hair peeking out from beneath her scarf, flour residue on the blue apron circling her round frame.
Reaching Brynn first, the sweet Syrian grandmother pinched both cheeks before kissing each side—left, right, then left again. “How are you, Mina?”
“Well, habibi, but”—she edged around Brynn and eyed Jack with hazy blue eyes—“tell me, is this my boy Jack now a man?”
“Oh,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest, eyes moist. “Wa aalaykom al salam. Come here, my boy.”
Mina pulled Jack into an embrace, planting enough kisses on his cheeks that the customers seated around them started to laugh. “It’s, uh, been a while.”
“A while, pssh.” Mina released him and used the hem of her apron to dab her eyes. “I thought we lost you.” She turned to Brynn. “And you? How are you?”
There was meaning in Mina’s question that turned Brynn’s eyes glassy. “A little better every day.”
Mina nodded, pressing a hand over her heart. “He was a good man. You make him proud.”
Jack frowned. Who were they talking about?
“Mama, they are here to eat.” Behind Mina, a woman with dark-brown hair tied up in a braid over her shoulder walked up. “Allo, Brynn.”
“Hi, Asha!” Brynn greeted Mina’s daughter with a hug and the traditional cheek kissing. “You remember Jack?”
Asha smiled at Jack. “Be still my heart, how could I forget?”
“It’s good to see you, Asha.” He blushed at the teasing. “How are you?”
She raised her left hand, fingers wiggling so he could see the gold band. “I’m married!”
“Congrats!” He grinned, but it didn’t match the pride beaming in Mina’s face.
“Now, she make me a teta.”
“Mama, hush. I’m not ready to make you a grandmother yet.” Asha’s cheeks dimpled playfully. She gestured to a round metal table near the kitchen. “For two?”
“Actually, three,” Brynn said. “My friend will be joining us.”
Jack wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw disappointment in Asha’s expression as she led them to another table with four chairs. He took a seat, his chair tipping from an uneven leg.
“Do you need a menu?” Asha looked between them. “Or should I bring out your favorites?”
“Should we wait for your friend?”
Brynn shook her head at Jack. “No, let’s order so it’s ready when she gets here.”
Jack smiled up at Asha. “Then our favorites it is.”
Mina squeezed Jack’s cheeks once more with a motherly sigh before shuffling back into the kitchen, Asha following with a curious glance at Brynn.
“She missed you.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder and back to Brynn. “But not you.” He thought about the emotional exchange between her and Mina. “You kept coming back?”
Brynn’s gaze dipped to the table. “The food’s good.”
He could agree with her on that. For the next several minutes, Brynn filled him in on Mina’s and Asha’s lives, careful—it seemed to him—to include only one detail about Asha’s traditional Syrian wedding. That it was beautiful. Was that on purpose? Was Brynn just being succinct, or was there another reason she avoided offering him the details? Before Jack could think on it further, Asha came over with a tray of food and set down plates of sliced lamb, falafel, dolmades, and fatayer.
Jack breathed in the tantalizing aroma. “This looks amazing.”
“If you need anything else, let me know.” Asha smiled. “Enjoy.”
Placing his napkin on his lap, Jack looked up at Brynn. “I hope there’s some left by the time your friend shows up.”
Her eyes flashed to the door, an anxious anticipation in them. “She should be here soon.”
Jack offered her a plate. “It’d break Mina’s heart if we let this get cold.”
Gaze back on him, Brynn accepted the plate with a nod and began filling it with food.
Waiting for her, he let his eyes trace the features of the face he once knew so well. The soft slope of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks and jawline that met the square shape of her chin—a feature Brynn grumbled was the worst trait inherited from her Scottish grandmother. But Jack disagreed. He loved the way it would jut out whenever Brynn’s stubborn streak emerged.
Eight years ago, there had been a determined edge to her features. A woman in the CIA wasn’t unusual anymore, but it didn’t mean it was easy. Jack had watched Brynn work and train harder than any of their male counterparts. Her strength to face challenges head-on was one of the many things he found attractive about her. One of a million things . . .
“My dad always said I had perfect timing.”
Jack’s gaze swung to meet the light-brown eyes of a woman standing at their table with a black lab at her side.
Brynn stood and embraced the woman, whom Jack guessed was Olivia.
“It’s snowing a little bit, and you’d think people would know how to drive in it over here. I mean, in New Mexico it’s a desert, so of course it practically shuts down the state when a single flurry drops, but here it’s—”
“This is my friend Olivia,” Brynn cut in. “And Penny.” Brynn pointed to the dog, who had quietly tucked herself beneath their table, dark-brown eyes watching everything happening around her. She wore a service harness, and on her collar was a silver badge that identified her as New Mexico Fire Rescue.
“And this is Jack Hudson.”
Olivia sat, eyes fixed on him in a curious stare. “Jack Hudson?”
The way his name rolled off her lips twisted Jack’s midsection. He glanced over to Brynn, her cheeks bright pink and her glare at Olivia—meaningful.
“It’s nice to meet you and Penny.”
“And to finally meet you— Ouch!” The table rocked, and Olivia winced before shooting an accusatory look at Brynn. “Thanks for letting me intrude on your lunch date.”
“It’s not a date,” Jack and Brynn said at the same time.
Olivia smiled with a giggle before sliding out of her parka. The NMFR emblem with two fire axes intersecting was embroidered on the pocket of the long-sleeve navy thermal that matched her navy-colored tactical pants.
“It’s a working lunch.” Brynn tore off a piece of pita bread and looked at Jack. “Olivia and Penny are arson investigators.”
“Really?” He tapped his chest. “I see you’re from New Mexico. What brings you to DC?”
He’d caught her with a bite of food in her mouth, and she looked helplessly at Brynn. “They’re here for the annual conference and training.”
Finishing her bite, Olivia flashed a bright smile at Brynn. “And my sweet friend kindly allows me and Penny to invade her home for a few weeks every year. One of these days I’m going to repay the favor if I can ever get her out to the desert. It’s not like she has a boyfriend holding her back.”
“Olivia.” Brynn’s word lingered with warning. “Jack, why don’t you tell Olivia what SNAP does.”
“SNAP?”
“Strategic Neutralization and Protection Agency.” Brynn answered Olivia’s question, making her tone sound ominous. “They’re, uh . . . a government agency . . . right?”
Jack ran a napkin over his lips to hide the smile. Knowing Brynn, she’d researched SNAP and been left unsatisfied with what she’d uncovered. But her less-than-subtle attempt to steer her friend’s attention and gather information was an amusing tactic.
“No. We’re not a government agency, but we do pick up government contracts. Really, we’re just another boring contract company.”
“Doesn’t sound boring. I noticed SNAP operates not only domestically but internationally as well.” Brynn sipped her water. “What do you do overseas?”
Olivia’s eyes bounced between them. She kept quiet but also look entertained.
“Fine, Hudson.” She waved her hand, dismissing him. “I won’t beg you for information.”
“Wow. You gave up so easy.”
“I’d like to know what your agency does.” Olivia wrapped some lamb into a pita. “Sounds intriguing.”
Finishing his bite of falafel, Jack dusted his fingers over his plate. “First, it’s not my agency. Second, when our services are required, we cooperate with the government and federal agencies for the common good of America and her citizens.”
“Wow,” Brynn said mockingly. “How many lawyers came up with that sound bite?”
Jack held in a snicker and shrugged. “We get hired to take care of situations before they become situations.”
Brynn tilted her head. “Like . . .”
He took a breath. “Like providing security for companies, intervening when situations arise—”
“Like?” Her eyebrow arched.
Jack wiggled his eyebrows. “If I told you, I’d have to—”
“Don’t say it, Hudson!” Brynn pointed a finger at him. “That’s our joke.” Pink blossomed on her cheeks before she looked away. “I mean, my agency’s joke.”
“I think it’s every agency’s joke.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard it at least three times this week from three different FBI agents.” She took a bite of falafel and chewed, looking between Jack and Brynn. “Interesting you two never worked together before now.”
Brynn’s eyes grew round and Jack nearly choked on his dolmade. Swallowing his bite, he waited to see if Brynn would answer. When she didn’t, he shrugged.
“I never really considered our paths would cross, I guess.”
Brynn’s eyebrows rose. “DC’s not that big, Jack.”
A rush of heat filled him as memories of their past floated dangerously close to the surface. Jack shoved them away. “I’m just saying I’m surprised you’re here and not serving overseas. That was always your goal, right?”
Brynn finished chewing. “It still is.” She wiped her lips. “But things changed, and I had to adjust.”
Her tone was diplomatic, but it didn’t match the quick glimpse of sadness clouding her blue eyes. What things possibly could have stood in the way of her goal? It didn’t fit the woman Jack knew all those years ago. Nothing would’ve gotten in her way. And yet, here she was.
“Must’ve been pretty significant.”
“My mother had a heart attack three years ago. I stayed in DC later to care for my father.”
His heart dropped to his stomach. “Brynn, I’m so sorry.”
She swallowed, a glimmer of emotion trying to break through the posture of strength hardening the softness in her face. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
Jack watched Brynn stand and head to the small hallway leading to the restrooms. He closed his eyes, feeling like a jerk as he remembered the earlier exchange between Brynn and Mina. Opening his eyes, he found Olivia giving him a sympathetic look.
“I didn’t know.”
“It was unexpected.” Olivia wiped her lips. “Brynn came home for the funeral and to help her dad get settled before she was supposed to return to Somalia, but her position over there was closed or something. She’s been here ever since.”
I’m the worst person in the world. “How’s her father doing?”
Olivia’s gaze moved over his shoulder, and her light-brown eyes turned apologetic. One look behind him and he understood why. Brynn had returned, eyes rimmed red, her jaw set.
She glanced down at Jack. “He died eight months ago.”
The air whooshed from his chest, a painful ache filling its place. “Brynn—”
“It’s fine.” She cleared her throat and reached for her jacket and scarf. “He was in a lot of pain, and it was fast.”
How fast? Jack had met Brynn’s parents once, but he remembered the bond between her and her father. If he was honest, it had intimidated him—like an unspoken challenge to match up to the man Brynn admired with all her heart. Had eight months been enough time to mourn the absence of such an important—maybe the most important—person in her life?
The cell phone attached to Olivia’s waistband rang out. She checked it and groaned. “I’ve got to go back to work. They need Penny for demonstrations.”
“We should get back to work too.” Brynn slid her scarf around her neck. She reached into her purse and pulled out some cash and dropped it on the table. “I’m going to talk to Asha. I’ll meet you outside.”
Jack grabbed his coat and added his own cash to the table, certain they were overpaying for lunch, but he didn’t care. His bearings felt off-kilter. His heart was broken for Brynn’s loss. He couldn’t imagine how he’d handle losing either of his parents, but at least he’d have his sisters. Who did Brynn have to help her through the unimaginable? Saying goodbye to Olivia and Penny, Jack stepped out of the café, recognizing the concern wedging its way into his heart.
The last time that happened—it hadn’t ended well for him.