Washington, DC
10:28 AM Saturday, January 17
“Still alive.” Two words had never haunted him more. Not even “it’s cancer” had the punch Dr. Davey’s words spoke about Brynn.
Jack ran his hand through his hair again, his muscles tight with stress as he stared out over the busy street outside the Acacia Building. The thick white clouds hovering low over the city hadn’t followed through with their threat of snow despite the forecasters’ insistent warnings. He moved away from the window, the wound on his leg a painful reminder that he needed to sit down. Rest.
He might’ve if he wasn’t so worked up over the woman who was running—he checked his watch—twenty-eight minutes late. Where are you, Brynn?
Jack couldn’t shake the anxiety growing in his chest. In less than a week, they had one man still missing, two shot dead, and another poisoned using a Cold War method. At the center of it all was Brynn. The woman he wanted to be angry with. The one he wanted to direct his frustration at. The one who’d scared the life out of him when she collapsed in his arms.
“You all right, man?” Garcia sat against the edge of his desk, arms folded over his chest.
“Yeah. I’m trying to figure out how an Egyptian spy, two dead immigrants, an explosion, an FBI informant, and opioids fit together.”
Garcia snorted. “That all?”
No. But Jack wouldn’t let on that his feelings were slowly becoming part of the assignment. It wasn’t professional, and it was getting more and more difficult to separate the job from the emotions rising every time he thought of Brynn.
“I can’t tell if you’re working out a physics equation in your mind”—Garcia squinted thoughtfully at Jack—“or if the buffalo wings from last night aren’t sitting well with you.”
“Neither.” Jack laughed. He walked to his desk and pulled the large whiteboard toward the conference table. “Like I said, working out the details of this ever-changing assignment.”
“Right,” Garcia said, not sounding convinced. “How’s Brynn?”
“Good enough. Dr. Davey released her from the hospital.” A fact Jack wasn’t in agreement with, but given Brynn’s current track record for chasing leads without him, he figured it was better to let her come into the office for the debriefing. Director Peterson agreed. He checked his watch again. “She was supposed to be here a half hour ago.”
“Seems that pretty little tornado is stirring up old feelings.”
Jack speared Garcia with his eyes. “She’s not.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Lyla waltzed into the office. “Sure about what?”
“Nothing.” Jack eyed Garcia, hoping his message to drop it was clear.
Garcia gave a half laugh. “So long as you’re sure.”
“How come I feel like I walked in on my two big brothers hiding a secret? Wait!” Lyla smiled, removing her coat. “Is it something for my birthday?”
Jack caught a glimpse of Garcia, frustration and hurt coloring his expression. Man, he ached for his friend. Not just friend-zoned but straight up brother-zoned. How Lyla remained oblivious to Garcia’s adoration was a mystery, but maybe it was for the better. Jack knew what it was like to give your heart to someone who didn’t reciprocate those feelings. And the inevitable pain that followed. Maybe he’d talk to Garcia, help him avoid the same mistake he’d made with Brynn.
Then again, given what his heart was doing in his chest every time Brynn was around, maybe he wasn’t the right person to say anything.
“What in the world?” Jack did a double take when he saw the tattoos inked on Lyla’s arms. “What did you do?”
“Do you like it?” Lyla glanced down at her arms and looked up. “Kekoa helped me pick out the designs.”
“It’s temporary.” Kekoa peeked his head out of his office. “Wipes off with soap.”
“Lyla brought over the lease for Kekoa’s new place.” Garcia sat in a chair at the table, his tone sour. “Then turned my home gym into a tattoo studio.”
“Temporary,” Kekoa called out again. “And we cleaned up afterward.”
“Aw, Nicolás.” Lyla came up behind Garcia and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Did we bother you?”
Garcia tugged his ball cap lower. “No, but you did interrupt my workout schedule.”
“Brah, you should’ve told me.” Kekoa walked over flexing his muscles and winked at Garcia. “Now that we’re roommates, I can give you some tips that’ll bulk you right up.”
Garcia’s shoulders stiffened. At a little over six foot, he wasn’t small or weak. In fact, the Special Forces EOD officer still maintained a rigorous physical fitness schedule that’d likely make up in agility where Kekoa had strength. But Garcia’s tense posture had little to do with measuring who was stronger and everything to do with the newest member of the team getting more attention from Lyla in the last year than he’d received in the previous five.
“You keep eating those donuts”—Garcia patted his taut stomach—“and pretty soon those muscles are going to find their way to your gut.”
“They’re malasadas.” Kekoa stretched his arms. “And don’t act like you didn’t eat one. You’re going to miss me and my malasadas when I move out.”
Garcia swung his gaze to Lyla. “And when is that going to be, Lyla?”
“I’m working on it.”
A buzzer echoed, and all of them turned to the screen mounted on the wall. Jack’s whole body relaxed seeing Brynn standing there.
“I’ll let her in,” Garcia said, shooting Jack a look with a clear message that said he knew better.
When Garcia disappeared down the hall, Lyla walked over, a message in her blue-green eyes too.
“Have you told her about Amy yet?”
“There’s nothing to tell, Lyla.” Jack caught Kekoa slipping back into his office. “Amy and I are friends. Brynn and I are . . .” Frustration knotted the muscles in his neck.
“Complicated?” Lyla supplied with an arched eyebrow.
“Sorry I’m late. I stopped and picked up bagels.” Brynn stepped into the fulcrum, carrying only one bag while Garcia carried the other. She sent a nervous smile to Jack. “I hope that’s okay?”
And just like that, her smile, those blue eyes searching for his assurance, it fed a need Amy simply couldn’t meet. Which made it very complicated. A sharp jab to his ribs from Lyla, and Jack snapped out of his thoughts.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure it’ll be—”
“I smell—” Kekoa walked out of his office, nose in the air. His eyes landed on the bag Brynn was setting on the table. “Are those bagels from Lenny’s?”
“Are there better bagels anywhere else?” Brynn winked and settled into a chair. “I also added a protein wrap for you, Garcia.”
“Thanks.” Garcia handed Lyla a plate as she handed him the wrap.
“You really don’t have to keep bringing in food,” Lyla said even as she grabbed an everything bagel and the tub of cream cheese.
“Speak for yourself, sistah,” Kekoa said with a grin. “Food is the way to a man’s heart, right, brah?”
The question was directed at Jack, and his cheeks warmed. He exchanged a quick glance with Brynn, who then busied herself with a blueberry bagel.
“I, uh, wanted to thank you guys for coming to the hospital. It was nice.” Brynn cleared her throat and looked at Kekoa. “And those malasadas were amazing.”
“Anytime, sis. You ohana now.”
Brynn smiled and it reached her eyes, sending a desire through him to be the one who did that for her. If only that need wasn’t warring with the warning that history often repeated itself.
“Right. I appreciate everyone coming in on a Saturday. Let’s do a quick debrief.” Jack looked to Garcia. “You have news from the Virginia Fire and Explosives Team? ATF?”
Garcia wiped his mouth, then balled his napkin and set it aside. “Well, it could’ve been a lot worse. It was a pressure-cooker bomb typical of the ones used in Boston and other attempted bombings.”
“It could’ve been worse?”
Garcia nodded grimly at Brynn. “Yes. The amount of nitrate inside the pressure cooker was enough to cause the explosion, but the interior of the SUV and the bodies of El-Deeb and Gamal took the brunt of the impact, containing it in a way.”
“How was it detonated?”
“ATF is working on that,” Garcia answered Jack. “But most improvised explosive devices like this are detonated remotely.”
Jack glanced over at Brynn and found her looking at him. The unspoken message between them was clear. They were lucky to be alive. That felt like a huge understatement—especially after yesterday.
It was like the Lord was watching over them.
He wouldn’t deny that his faith had taken a nosedive into the shallow end of a pool filled with regret, anger, and fear when Brynn betrayed him. He’d grown up knowing the Lord. His parents had made sure of it, and it was easy to believe God was on his side when things went the way he wanted. But Brynn’s decision and then his cancer diagnosis—it’d had him questioning everything.
In the midst of it, Jack couldn’t see the steadfast faithfulness his mother promised God was delivering. Instead, he second-guessed his life, his choices, God’s goodness. And then he met Director Walsh, who, despite Jack’s pity party, offered him an opportunity to work for SNAP.
Studying Brynn now, he wondered if maybe her decision back then was for the better. The overseas assignment she’d worked so hard for had been cut short to be home with her father. It was a worthy sacrifice, but it had to have been difficult. He thought about his cancer and wondered how Brynn would have responded if they had been together. Jack shook away the thought. He wouldn’t put her in that position.
“Which brings us to Seif El-Deeb and Tarek Gamal,” Lyla said, bringing Jack’s focus back. “Kekoa?”
“Homeland Security is giving me a hard time.” For the first time since working with Kekoa, the Hawaiian looked a bit . . . humble. “I can’t find any passport information on either of them.”
Jack looked at Lyla. “Can you take care of that?”
“Yep.”
Lyla picked up her phone and began typing, and Jack caught Brynn smirking at him. With an idea of what she was thinking, he lifted up his fingers and snapped. She smiled with a roll of her eyes.
“What about Riad’s laptop?” Brynn asked Kekoa. “Any luck?”
“Some. I’ve been able to breach a few layers of the system, but it’s only giving me access to surface information. There’s another level of security encryption that requires a chip similar to military CAC cards. The Common Access Card, or smart card, would open it up with a password that I could hack, but without one it’s going to take a bit more time.”
Brynn’s lips twisted, and Jack sensed her frustration. “Riad. Ali. El-Deeb. Gamal. Ansari.”
Her recitation of names sent a shiver of fear down Jack’s spine as he remembered her collapsing into his arms. “You were about to tell me what Ansari told you about Moustafa Ali, do you remember?”
Their eyes met, and she gave a slight nod. “Ansari remembered Moustafa but said he hadn’t seen him for a while. He mentioned something about him being excited about some new opportunity.”
Garcia frowned. “What opportunity?”
“He didn’t know, but it had to have been one that would pull him away from a tuition-free semester at GMU. He came to America for an education, and something had to have enticed him to walk away.” Brynn’s chin dipped. “I can’t help feeling Ansari’s death is my fault.”
“No way.” Lyla set down her phone. “Joseph Ansari had been working with the FBI for years. It was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.”
“While I don’t think we can rule out that possibility”—Brynn gave Lyla an appreciative grin—“my gut tells me it’s related to the murder of Seif El-Deeb and Tarek Gamal.”
“Someone’s trying to kill our investigation,” Garcia said with zero emotion.
Jack sat forward, his heart rate beginning to climb. “If that’s true, whoever is behind it has been one step ahead of us.”
Lyla made a face. “Except how could they’ve known Brynn was going to meet with Ansari?”
“She was followed.”
“Maybe.” Brynn shrugged off Garcia’s suggestion—an attempt to be dismissive—but there was a tightening in her voice that concerned Jack. “Or,” she said, “someone is trying to clean up their mess.”
“Ahem.” Kekoa pointed to the screen above them. “If I could direct your attention, please.” The screen came to life with a black-and-white video of a DC street cam. “This is from a check-cashing place across from the intersection where Joseph Ansari got sick. You see him there walking up, tips his head to the couple with the baby, presses the button for the crosswalk. Brynn, you walk up, he grabs for his chest and—”
“He’s already been poisoned at that point,” Brynn said.
Jack looked to Brynn, her eyes fixed on the video. Was she reliving the moment?
Brynn looked back at him. “You remember the lecture on the Mossad’s method. They sprayed the poison into his ear.” She turned to Kekoa. “Can you rewind it, please?”
Kekoa did as asked, and they all watched it again.
“What am I missing?” Lyla asked.
“Ansari inhaled the poison, and the only people he had come into contact with were—”
“The couple,” Jack finished Brynn’s thought.
Lyla looked at him like he was crazy. “With the baby?”
“Go back again, please,” Brynn asked. When Kekoa did, she pointed up. “Watch them. The woman crosses in front of me with the stroller blocking the line of sight on the man who—see there. He turns just a little bit. I think that’s when he sprays Ansari with the fentanyl.”
It all happened so quickly. Methodical. If Brynn had been any closer . . .
“Kekoa?” Brynn’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Jack watched Kekoa rewind the footage again. “Stop right there. Can you zoom in on the stroller?”
Kekoa did.
“It’s empty,” Lyla said with a gasp. “There’s no baby.”
“And no good shot of the couple’s faces,” Kekoa said, typing. “Only an odd angle of the guy’s face.”
“Caucasian and blond.” Brynn’s eyes narrowed on the screen. “Kekoa, can—”
“Actually.” Lyla stood, checking her watch. “We all have a party to get ready for in a few hours.” She looked around the room until her eyes landed on Jack. “And you know the rule.”
“Rule?” Brynn frowned.
“No work on birthdays unless—”
“Unless the world is ending,” Lyla cut Jack off. “Or exploding.” She cringed before looking at Brynn. “Too soon. Sorry.”
Brynn glanced back at Jack with an “are you serious?” expression. He shrugged before standing. “We can pick this up tomorrow if anyone wants to come in on their Sunday.”
Lyla clapped her hands. “Brynn, if you’re free tonight, I’d love for you to come.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but please don’t bring any food.” Lyla smiled. “The party is catered.”
Jack read the hesitation in Brynn’s eyes, but Garcia caught his attention.
“I wanted to give you an update. The port in Guam received another shipment of fertilizer. This time about ten bags, bringing the total from the first delivery to under fourteen hundred pounds.”
“Timothy McVeigh used almost two thousand pounds in the Oklahoma City bombing,” Brynn said matter-of-factly. “And the explosion in Beirut was caused by ammonium nitrate too.”
Garcia’s serious expression mirrored Jack’s growing concern. If their resident explosives expert was bothered by this, then they needed to look into it.
“Who’s it being delivered to?”
“Right now, nobody.” Garcia removed his hat and scratched his head. “It gets delivered to the dock with a recipient’s name, but no one claims it, and port authority can’t get ahold of anyone. The shipments are just sitting there.”
“Guam is reviving their agriculture,” Lyla said, looking at her phone. “Many of the farmers lost their land post World War II and are working to reclaim land and develop it.” She looked around at everyone in the room. “Maybe the fertilizer is for, you know, farming?”
Garcia looked skeptical, and Jack couldn’t discount Lyla’s comment. “Garcia, you continue to keep an eye on that shipment. See if you can look into where it was shipped from or purchased from. There’s got to be a trail that’ll tell us who it’s for and why they need it.”
“Got it.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed the muscles growing tighter in his shoulders. With so many unanswered questions, sometimes the job felt never-ending. Brynn gathered her coat, and he reached for the sleeve to help her into it.
“Thanks.”
Her familiar fragrance washed over him. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Muscles are still a little stiff from the explosion, but I’m good.” She looked into his eyes and must’ve read his concern. She smiled. “Really.” Her eyes flashed to the cut above his forehead. “How’s your head and leg?”
“Healing.” He rocked on his heels. “I’m sure Lyla won’t mind if you bring Olivia to her party tonight.”
Brynn averted her gaze to her gloves. “Olivia and Penny are back in New Mexico.”
Concern gripped him. “They left?”
Her expression was unreadable. “Yes, a few days ago.”
A few days ago? That meant Brynn had gone home by herself the night of the explosion. Anxiousness mixed with guilt zipped through him. She was all alone. What if something had happened to her? If she’d had a concussion?
“I was thinking I’d stay home tonight and—”
“I know you’re not planning on working tonight.”
Brynn eyed him. “I need to find out how all this leads back to Riad so that I can report back to my boss and he can report back to the President of the United States. Who, in case you’ve forgotten, is scheduled to fly to Egypt next week.”
“Ms. Taylor, don’t make me pull you from this assignment.”
She worked her jaw for a second like she was figuring out whether to call his bluff. It wasn’t a bluff. If Jack thought Brynn would go rogue again, he trusted Walsh would allow him to make the call.
“Ms. Taylor, really, Jack?”
“Obstinance, really, Brynn?” Brynn looked away, but before she did he caught a hint of a smile.
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
She waved him off. “I have a car.”
“I’d like to pick you up.”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
“Brynn,” Jack said, exasperation coloring his tone, “you don’t have to be so independent.” He softened his words. “I’d like to pick you up and take you to Lyla’s party.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “See you at eight.”
Watching Kekoa escort Brynn out of their office, Jack tried to make sense of the feelings tormenting his heart. Brynn had not only swept into his life, but his heart was quickly making a space for her whether he wanted her to be there or not. Did he? And what about Amy? They weren’t technically in a relationship, but there was that kiss.
Amy felt like the sure thing.
Brynn felt like the right thing.
Garcia came up beside him. “You’re in trouble, brother.”
Jack groaned. “I know.”