Washington, DC
7:19 AM Monday, January 19
Brynn stretched, eyes closed, as she tried to hang on to the wonderful feeling of Jack’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, his warm breath against her cheek just before his lips brushed against hers—
Her eyes flashed open.
“Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” Kekoa stood frozen like he’d been doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
She glanced out the window where low-hanging clouds still covered the sky, giving off a pinkish hue as they continued to drop snow over the city. It took her a minute to gather her bearings. “What time is it?”
Kekoa looked at his watch. “Quarter past seven.”
“Seven!” Brynn threw the knitted blanket off her lap and stood . . . a little too fast. The grogginess of exhaustion swept over her and pushed her back to the couch. “You let me sleep that long?”
“I lived on a ship. You don’t wake bears when they sleep.” He pointed to the espresso machine. “Coffee?”
Brynn folded the blanket. “Are you supposed to be messing with that?”
“I’m not scared of Lyla.”
“You should be.” Jack walked into the space, his gaze settling on Brynn. “How do you feel?”
Her hand went to her face, and she suddenly felt insecure. Did she have pillow lines? Smudged mascara? She ever so casually brushed her fingers around her mouth, praying she didn’t have drool lines. “Why did you let me sleep so long?”
“You needed the rest.” Jack smiled at her, opening a drawer. He riffled through several loose and crinkled pieces of paper before finding the one he needed and setting it on the island. “Kekoa, if you break that machine, not only will you be dealing with the wrath of Lyla, but you’ll be paying for it. And I can assure you it is more than what we pay you.”
Kekoa chuckled, stepping back, hands up in surrender. “I didn’t want fancy coffee anyway.”
Jack slid the paper across the island to him. “Call this place and you can have your fancy coffee plus the best huevos rancheros you’ll ever taste. And they deliver.”
Brynn peeked out the window. At least five inches of snow was on the ground, and it was growing by the minute. “Are you sure they’re going to deliver?”
“The shop is around the corner, and I know the owner.” He winked at her before heading down the hall toward the fulcrum.
Following, Brynn noticed his hair was slightly damp. He also wore a clean shirt and had the alluring scent of fresh soap. Had he gone home and showered while she slept?
Jack paused and pointed down the hallway where the bathroom was. “Across from the bathroom is a shower and locker room. Lyla keeps extra clothes there and has everything you need if you want to shower.”
“I would love to.” She bit her lip, heart still stumbling over her crazy dream. “Did Kekoa find anything?”
“Not yet.” Jack paused, and her eyes moved to his lips. “Don’t tell him I said that though. Man’s got an ego to protect.”
His closeness, the fresh scent of his skin, and the dream had Brynn’s breath catching in her throat. She swallowed. “I, uh”—she pointed down the hall to the bathroom—“I won’t be long.”
Much like the rest of the SNAP office, the locker room was more like a spa designed with modern elegance. Sapphire-blue glass subway tiles in the shower contrasted beautifully with the light-colored hardwood floors and cabinetry. But it was the high-pressure shower pumping hot water over her body that impressed her most. What she wouldn’t give for this kind of water pressure in her own shower.
Begrudgingly, she finished and rummaged as quickly as she could through Lyla’s locker, feeling like she was invading her privacy. She selected the largest sweater she could find to throw on over the jeans she wore last night.
A woven basket on the marble countertops held brand-new toothbrushes, toothpaste, face wash, and deodorant, leaving Brynn grateful but also curious as to how many nights the team lived here instead of at their own places.
Braiding her hair, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a hundred times better than she did when she walked in. Lyla’s dark-navy sweater hugged Brynn’s body a little snugly, but it would work until she got home. Her eyes went to her lips and the dream of Jack nearly kissing her. Eight years, and she could still remember what those kisses did to her. Her cheeks turned red. What did this mean?
That you love him. Still.
She pressed her palms to her cheeks, her insides squeezing in anxiousness and excitement—and worry. She loved Jack, but what did that mean? She thought about the job in Turkey. If, and it was a big if, she got the job, would she take it? Leave Jack? Could they make it work long distance? Did she want to? Would Jack want to? It hadn’t seemed to work for him and Amy.
Ugh. Emotion filled her throat. Why would God do this to her? Now? Why was it whenever her life seemed to be on track, it got derailed?
Was she destined to be alone? She’d lost her parents long before their deaths. President Allen’s question about why she’d joined the CIA . . . it was more than a choice. It felt like a calling. A responsibility. Her father had been a lucky one, and among that unfounded sentiment offered to her by strangers came the command to make her life count. That’s what she was doing. Trying to do. All the long hours, all the sacrifices—they had to mean something. So why had God brought Jack back into her life? Was she destined to a life of loneliness?
The empty apartment. Nights worried about her job and the next threat shared over a microwave dinner for one. Career decisions that left her questioning what she wanted or where her life was going, growing burdens she had to carry on her own.
She’d had her father but not anymore. Now she was all alone.
“In life, you can be anchored to only one thing, Honey B.” Her father’s words echoed from the past, his voice so audible it sounded like he was next to her. “You put your trust in yourself, trying to control what was never meant to be yours to control, and you will get tossed by the waves of life until they sink you. And they will. You surrender that control, trust God, and no matter the size of the waves, you will be safe.”
Brynn had clung to those words in the uncertainty of life following that day in September. But how was she supposed to trust God to anchor her life when the world was in upheaval? For years, her life remained unpredictable and at the mercy of nineteen men who decided to use airplanes to destroy lives.
Brynn’s grip on her father’s words lessened as she grew up. She began relying on herself, believing the only way to avoid sinking was to control the waves. Keep the risks of pain, heartache, and loss at a minimum. Make choices to protect herself. Except in a moment of weakness, she’d confessed her feelings for Jack—a risk that had left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“No! No! No!”
Kekoa’s frustrated shouts shook Brynn back to the present. She hurried out of the locker room and to his office, where she found Jack, hands threaded into his hair and concern furrowing his brow as he hunched over Kekoa’s shoulder.
“Can you stop it?”
“I’m trying.” Kekoa’s fingers danced across his keyboard so fast Brynn had no idea how he was hitting the keys.
“What’s happening?” Her adrenaline was spiking even though she had no idea what was going on.
“Riad’s computer is being scrubbed.”
Scrubbed? Brynn’s stomach tightened with a nauseated feeling. The only reason someone’s computer got scrubbed, at least in her profession, was because something classified had been released without authorization or proper security measures in place. The CIA’s cyberteam would go in and wipe out entire computer systems using a virtual virus to erase the classified information. It was a pain and usually ended someone’s career. Who would be doing that to Kekoa?
“Come on!” Kekoa growled, his fingers now stabbing at the keys. “Brah, you don’t even know who you’re up against.”
Brynn might’ve found Kekoa’s threats against his computer comical, but the tension radiating in the room sucked any bit of humor out of what was happening.
“I . . .” Kekoa shook his head. The digital numbers on the screen in front of him flickered. “I can’t . . . it’s going to . . . ugh.” The screen flashed before it went black, sending Kekoa backward in his chair with a groan. He ran his hand through his curls and then to the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, brah. I tried.”
Jack’s hands dropped to his sides with an exhale before he brought one to Kekoa’s shoulder. “That’s okay, brother. You did what you could.”
The sentiment behind Jack’s encouraging gesture stirred the already growing admiration she carried for him. He truly cared about his team, and he didn’t hesitate to show it—unlike her own boss.
“I messed up, brah. I should’ve been paying attention. I know better. You don’t just hack into a secured government server and think they’re not going to try to stop you.”
“Wait.” Brynn stepped forward. “Are you talking about Egypt? They scrubbed his computer?”
Kekoa glanced up at Brynn and mumbled an apology.
Her eyes flickered to Jack’s for a second and saw remorse in them too. She took a breath. “It’s okay,” she said, hoping she came off as genuine as Jack.
Jack’s cell phone chirped. He looked at it and then at Brynn and Kekoa. “I’ll be right back.”
Brynn couldn’t stop her gaze from tracking Jack as he left Kekoa’s office and walked toward Walsh’s office, phone pressed to his ear. It looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the urge to take some of that on for him fired her up.
“Were you able to pull anything off of Riad’s computer before it was wiped?”
Kekoa lifted up his index finger. “One word. Dahry.”
“Dahry?” Brynn frowned, unsure of the Arabic word. She looked at Riad’s laptop. “Is there anything you can do?”
“With Riad’s laptop?” Kekoa pushed it with the tip of his fingers like it was contagious. “No. It’s basically a paperweight now.”
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Joel Riley. Good. She glanced back at Kekoa, then gave the laptop a dirty look. Maybe Joel had something, because their connection to Riad’s investigation was fried.
“Hey, Riley, please tell me you have something,” Brynn said, stepping out of Kekoa’s office.
“Two things.” Riley’s voice crackled across the line. “First, Seif El-Deeb’s wife, Heba, found a business card for a man named Mahmoud Farag, and on the back was an address for a home in Virginia.”
“The farmhouse in Clifton,” Brynn said.
Jack walked out of Walsh’s office, his eyes asking if everything was okay, to which she nodded.
“Brynn?”
“Sorry, poor connection,” she lied, squeezing her eyes closed. This was exactly why she needed to proceed with caution when it came to Jack. He was occupying too much of her brain. “What’d you say?”
“It might be a rumor, but we’re following up on it. If the National Liberation Jihad has someone inside President Talaat’s circle—it could be bad.”
Riley’s revelation grounded Brynn’s wandering mind and heart like . . . an anchor. “Someone in the Egyptian government is a member of the NLJ? Who?”
“The asset didn’t know, and we’re doing our best to find out.”
“You have to, Riley. President Allen will be there in a few hours.” Tension radiated in her voice. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.” Kekoa and Jack were talking. “Hey, do you know what dahry means?”
“Dahry?” Riley repeated. “I think it means back. Why?”
Back? She shook her head. “I don’t know. Send me that address, and I’ll go check it out.”
“All right and stay safe, Taylor.”
“You too, Riley.”
Ending the call, Brynn walked into the middle of a conversation between Jack and Kekoa.
“Run a malware program through Precision Technologies,” Jack said. “Their director of security said their software engineers have noticed some glitches in the system that appear to be interfering with their firewalls.”
Brynn squinted at Jack, trying to remember. “Precision Technologies. Isn’t that a military defense contractor?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “They’re a client of ours, and it seems Kekoa isn’t the only one hacking into systems lately.”
“You said glitches.” Brynn tucked a piece of wet hair behind her ear. “Like the ones Garcia mentioned a few days ago? At Barksdale Air Base?”
Kekoa’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “Yeah, but they’re not exactly the same.”
“Could they be connected?” She looked at Jack. “Seems a little too coincidental that a defense company and our nation’s actual defense systems would be experiencing similar issues in their security systems.”
“You’re right.” Jack scratched at his scruffy beard. “I’ll give Garcia a call and see what he can find out from Barksdale.”
“Call?” Brynn looked at the snow-covered cityscape outside. “Is Garcia not coming in because of the snow?”
“He and Lyla are on their way to Guam,” Jack said.
“Humph. Enjoying tropical humidity while we suffer here,” Kekoa added. “Next time, I get to fly with Lyla.”
Brynn frowned at Jack, confused.
Jack smiled. “Lyla only flies first-class and usually in a private jet, which is how she and Garcia are traveling now.”
“Private jets?”
“Don’t look at me.” He held his hands up in a defensive posture. “Private jets are not in our budget, but Lyla—”
“Has connections,” Brynn said. “Well, I have some connections too. Riley sent me an address that Seif El-Deeb’s wife found on a business card. It’s in Annandale. You up for a drive in the snow?”