Chapter Eight

Cam woke up early the next morning, even though they hadn’t gotten to bed until close to three, after securing the rear door window the best they could. He never slept in. It was the curse of the soldier. He didn’t expect Audrey would be too much farther behind him, so he folded his sheets, stacking them on the arm of the sofa with his pillow before heading into the downstairs bathroom.

He changed into his civvies of jeans and a T-shirt from the duffel he’d brought in last night, strapping on his gun and holster before rinsing off his face in cold water. He looked at his reflection, trying not to relive the events of the evening before, when he’d cleaned the wound on Audrey’s arm. Her body had hummed with nerves and outrage at the violation of her safe space, her home. He’d felt the tremors where he’d touched her. She hadn’t given a damn about her injury. She’d remained a soldier, no matter her civilian life, and that turned him on. Strong women always had.

He shook his head. Those were thoughts that he couldn’t allow himself to entertain. He was first and foremost an agent with a job to do, which was keep the civilian safe and find the SOB who was taking out good soldiers before their prime.

He slipped out the front door and crossed the street. He wanted to check in with Linder, let him know that Audrey was on board with helping them, as well as see if there was any new information on the slaying of those soldiers. His heart ached for their families, their mothers, their dads, their loved ones. It brought all his memories of Jimenez back. He hated reliving how he’d failed one of his team. His stomach tightened, and his heart pounded in his chest at the memory. At least Jimenez had died doing what he loved. Those young soldiers from the base hadn’t even gotten out of the gate.

He stopped on the other side of the road and looked back at Audrey’s town house, gauging where the home invader might have hunkered down and waited. Moving into the trees, he checked again. He didn’t hold out much hope of finding anything. Terrorists were good at fieldstripping any evidence of their presence.

The ground was dry. He couldn’t discern any footprints, but he walked along the side of the road anyway. There weren’t any tire marks, nothing that might point to an accomplice. Things had probably shaken down pretty much the way the kid told the cops. But none of it explained the handcuffs on the door earlier. Had that been solely to scare Audrey, allowing Brett to take off, or had he hung around in the trees here, watching to see what happened?

Either way, he’d escaped detection and was probably back with his “people,” whoever the hell they were. Hiring the kid hadn’t been a smart move. Don’t send a kid to do a man’s job. The wannabe terrorist hadn’t expected Cam to be there. It just spotlighted how naïve the kid had been. At least he hadn’t gotten what he came for, whatever the hell that was. It gave Cam and Audrey a chance to figure out whatever that thing was.

Cam kicked at the dirt with his boot and looked up and down the street. Empty. He slipped back into the shadow of the trees. With the early morning fog twining through the pines and the darkness they provided, he was relatively safe from any ambush. He didn’t expect anyone to be hanging around here. Yet.

Checking the time, he called Linder, who picked up on the third ring.

“Catch the bastard?” His CWO never minced words.

“No, though we had some action last night.” Ignoring the various connotations of “action” that came to mind, Cam described what happened the night before, ending with, “The good news is, Jenkins is on board with helping us find Gates.”

Linder snorted on his end. “Guess we should be thankful for small favors. Counter-terrorism suspects several cells who could all be responsible.” He rattled off the acronyms of several known cells, while Cam shouldered his phone and wrote them down. He signed off by promising to run them by his resident expert.

Pocketing his phone and notepad, Cam looked up and spied Audrey standing on her front porch, obviously searching for him. He stepped out of the shadows of the trees, looking both directions down the empty road before striding across it. She noticed him as soon as he moved. Her whole body tensed like a hunting dog catching the scent of its prey, only to relax when she realized it was him. Again, the out-of-place smile crept to his lips.

He spoke as soon as he reached her side of the street. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’re a sitting duck. At least I have my gun.” He stopped on the lowest step, turning sideways to show his gun holstered at the small of his back before looking up at her.

She was clad all in black, which emphasized her creamy skin. He’d always been a sucker for the contrast of dark hair and a pale complexion on a woman. Same with her swan’s neck and breasts that filled out the fitted shirt nicely. The ones that were currently at his eye level.

“A sniper would pick you off before you pulled your weapon from behind you, Special Agent.”

Her voice brought his gaze back to her face. Her lips, actually. Until her words registered. They were back to his official title. He sighed. Just when he thought he was making headway with her trust issues. But when their eyes met, hers warmed to the green of a summer meadow, belying the formal address, and relief washed through him, relief he had no business feeling.

“I’ve got news about the base shooting,” he blurted, moving past her to push open the front door. They really needed to stop having conversations out in the open, especially after last night. A little frown appeared between her brows, but she preceded him, leaving a trail of that flowery scent he’d caught last night when he was near her.

He shut the front door and leaned his back against it. He wished she wouldn’t clasp her hands behind her back the way she did or rock up and down on her heels with nervous energy. He was too aware of her as it was, and all her movements only made him more so.

“Well? Are you going to tell me more, or shall I guess?”

That brought his attention around. “Our counter-terrorism team has narrowed the attack down to the GUWP—the Global Unification for World Peace—or an ISIS sleeper cell, or—”

“Not ISIS.” She shook her head. He cocked his. Her eyes took on a faraway look, that little wrinkle deepening between them. His pulse rate spiked. He was watching a human computer sputter to life. He could almost see her shuffling through her mental Rolodex of known terror cells, terror groups.

“Why not ISIS?” he prodded gently.

Her gaze came back to him. “ISIS isn’t ready to strike us from within yet. Yes, they have sleeper cells here in the U.S., but they’re not in a position to attack. They’re still growing their numbers, and mostly abroad. Besides, Brett wouldn’t side with them.”

“He sold troop placement info, Audrey. Brett’s lost his patriotism, his loyalty. Those go to the highest bidder now. Who better than ISIS would want that intel?”

She shook her head. “Brett’s a traitor to his country. I’m not disputing that. But he fought ISIS in the Sandbox. He saw what happened to soldiers over there. Hell, Harris, he saved a fellow soldier’s life when he was there. Brett’s a scumbag, but he wouldn’t align himself with them.”

Cam stared at Audrey. The rest of her words buzzed like a fly in his ears. She knew about that incident. He was the soldier she was referring to. He was the one Brett saved. He was the one who could never forget the old Brett. The one who lived in his memory as a savior and a friend.

And more recently, a traitor.

She didn’t know it was him she was talking about, and he wasn’t about to tell her. Not now. He was still mourning the loss of a buddy, a fellow soldier he’d looked up to. He was still coming to terms with the fact that the man who’d saved him, the man who’d shielded his body from certain death with his own, had also been the one to send troops on a death march halfway around the world with his intel-selling.

No, he couldn’t tell her and face who-knew-what type of response. He needed her cooperation, and Audrey might very well clam up once she knew. She might view his past friendship as a weakness, though he could throw her own relationship with Brett back at her. But neither of those scenarios would help them work together. He would just have to keep his mouth shut.

…

Cam was acting strange. He’d looked like he was going to continue arguing about ISIS, and then he shut down. She frowned. His face was blank, his gaze inward. What was he thinking?

As she studied him, she noticed how wide his shoulders were. Nearly the breadth of the doorway. His gray T-shirt clung to those shoulders, delineating every muscle, emphasizing pecs the Incredible Hulk would crave. His arms were tanned and corded with muscle, covered with just a smattering of sexy dark hair. The jeans fit him like he was a Calvin Klein model, although he’d rocked his CID uniform nearly as well. His strong thighs stretched the faded denim fabric.

She imagined Cam Harris would look good in a burlap sack.

Audrey forced her attention away from all that testosterone-goodness and back to his face, which he’d schooled into his usual alert expression. Gone was that…dismayed…look of a moment ago.

“Go on,” he urged. She liked how he reeled himself back from whatever bothered him and returned to calm professionalism. Though she was curious about what she’d said to rattle him.

“My money is on the GUWP. He’s admired their work in the past. They’re an under the radar terrorist group who like to tap into chaos from time to time.”

“Under the radar?” He frowned.

“They don’t align with any larger groups like ISIS or Al Qaeda. They work independently and, up until recently, haven’t targeted the western world. Their playground has always been southeast Asia, the Middle East, and China. Western governments have looked past them because of that, and they shouldn’t have. Everyone has to start somewhere, even terrorists, and westerners would be wise to nip their operation in the bud. But we’ve been concentrating on the Top Ten terrorist organizations, while GUWP has been building its numbers across the globe. They maintain a fairly low profile as far as terrorists go while looking for people willing to sell information.”

“Like Brett,” he supplied.

“Exactly. GUWP is very persuasive in its messaging. With the uptick in school shootings and mass shootings, the younger generation has lost its confidence that the government and law enforcement can protect its citizens. They want to know there will be a place to raise their families, live their lives without oppression. The GUWP fills that void. It crosses age and gender lines. Its social media platform is compelling and believable. They promise an organized society with clear-cut rules, so violence and pandemonium won’t erupt, while still allowing people certain freedoms. Millennials and Gen Z are especially attracted to their message.”

“Brett’s older than that,” Cam interrupted. Audrey plowed on.

“Yes, but just as idealistic. He wanted to be part of something doing good. Why did you join?”

“So I could jump out of planes and blow up things.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. A brief smile flitted across his face. She could imagine that younger version, full of himself and strutting his stuff like Tom Cruise in the classic movie Top Gun. He may not be Air Force, but the cockiness wasn’t reserved only for them.

She shrugged. “Fair enough. But, according to Brett, he had higher aspirations for joining. Fighting for the free world. Whatever the reason, he turned. He’d been working a lot. Maybe he was burned out.”

Cam seemed to digest that and then shook his head. “If you’re burned out, you take time off. Go on a vacation. You don’t sell your country’s military intel to the highest bidder.”

He was angry, that was for sure. She steered the conversation away from the sore subject. “Do we know who leaked the info for this recent attack?”

“Not yet. Our intel is still pinpointing which group.” Cam crossed his arms over his chest. Audrey tried hard not to fixate on the play of muscles, but instead concentrate on giving him a concise answer.

“Let’s assume it’s the GUWP for now. For one thing, it’s much better organized in the U.S. than ISIS cells right now. They have a network of operatives that dip into the system from time to time, testing their networking, I call it. They welcome help from disgruntled citizens yet maintain anonymity because they’re worldwide. If ISIS doesn’t take credit for attacks here or in other countries, I’m willing to bet the GUWP is the perpetrator.

“When I first came across them in Counterterrorism, they were working in Iraq, undermining the government there.”

“How does that relate to what happened in Washington state?”

“It’s simple, really. The GUWP attacking on American soil showcases just how much turmoil there is here, that the government is failing its citizens, which in turn grows their numbers in this country.”

Audrey turned and headed toward the kitchen. Cam’s unswerving, dark-eyed regard rattled her. She’d never met someone who could remain so motionless while listening to her. She was used to people fidgeting. Harris could have been made of stone. Especially that chest of his.

“Tell me more about them.” He followed her into the kitchen. She faced him, leaning against the counter while she waited for the coffee machine to finish its automatic cycle.

“The GUWP is a well-developed terrorist group with factions in many countries. It touts itself as an enemy of fascism. Countries around the world, including the United States, are in political chaos, as you well know. The GUWP’s stance is very popular in these times, and I imagine it’s grown exponentially. I’m surprised you don’t know all of this.” She grabbed two of her to-go cups from the shelf, holding one up in silent offering. He nodded, so she filled and capped them both before switching off the pot.

“I’ve been working CID for a while now. I have enough cases to keep me busy twenty-four-seven, so, no, I’m not up on the growing terrorism groups.” He reached for a cup. Their fingers brushed in the transfer. Her fingertips tingled as if she’d touched lightning. Her gaze shot to his. Had he felt it, too? That warmth that spread from her fingers, up her arm, invading her entire body like an army of unwanted hormones?

Now, like last night, when he’d dressed her wound, he held her gaze unwaveringly. It was like he could read her thoughts. Warmth spread through her body as if he’d touched her. In a moment her face would flush. Already her heartbeat thudded in her chest. Would he notice the color rising up her neck? Hear the pound of her pulse? Her ill-timed attraction embarrassed her.

And she was majorly attracted to Cam Harris.

How mortifying. She’d practically snapped his head off when they first met in her shop, she’d grudgingly allowed him to sleep on her couch, yet here she was, getting all hot and bothered because he looked at her directly. This wasn’t like her. Her actions belonged to a teenage girl, not a woman who’d served her country in a war-torn corner of the world.

In order to put some distance between them, she stepped back and tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh yes, the GUWP. Taking a steadying breath, she continued.

“The alphabet organizations are still trying to pinpoint its origin. Could be China; could be Russia. Could be somewhere in the Middle East; could be North Korea. Anyone, really. Whoever’s behind it, they’re capitalizing on the infighting currently happening in the free world.”

She frowned. “Unfortunately, if people dug deeper into the GUWP’s core beliefs, they would realize that the organization wants to take down the free world. They’ve started making inroads into European democracies as well as the Middle East, and I think now they’ve found a chink in America’s due to its current political upheaval.”

Cam cocked a hip against the island, a frown crossing his face. “Could multiple countries be working together?”

Audrey shrugged. “It’s possible. We all know one will turn on the other in the end. There can only be one victor. Guaranteed.”

“So the attack on the soldiers was…?”

“I put my money on the GUWP, doing their best to muddy the waters. They rattle our military, have our people running around looking for clues, and then will eventually leak out the information that under the current rule of law in this nation, no one is safe, not even those who protect us.”

His frown deepened. “I don’t know about that. The American people—”

“Are deeply divided right now. It’s the perfect opportunity for the GUWP to incubate and grow. Believe me, they aren’t going away, and they are very persuasive.”

He sighed. “I can’t argue with that. They got one damn good soldier to turn his back on his country.”

“I’m sure Brett contacted them as soon as he escaped. He was probably told to stay clear of me—”

“Because?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Because they knew the Army would show up at my door after he threatened me in court.”

His chagrined expression would have made her laugh under any other circumstances, but they were in the middle of a deadly game.

“But Brett being Brett still had to drop those cuffs off as a calling card.” His voice lowered, vibrating with emotion. “He may be long gone by now.”

She studied him. She’d probably be emotional, too, if she’d lost a prisoner. But this seemed to go deeper than that. If she had to guess, Brett and Cam had more of a history than simply prisoner and captor.

The fact that he was hiding something bothered her more than she expected. He’d come to her looking for answers yet kept secrets that might be important to the case? It had to be personal—or classified and personal—judging by the faraway expression on his face. She’d give him a little longer before she pressed for answers.

Meanwhile, she was growing increasingly frustrated with him. And not just because he was hiding something. As much as she was turned on by all that…maleness…on display—she’d have to be dead not to notice his attributes—Cam had other habits that set her on edge.

Take for instance that way he had of staring at her, unblinking, as if he was trying to figure out whether she knew more than she was telling. Hadn’t she proven her loyalty to her country when she turned in her boyfriend?

Scowling, she took a long swallow of her coffee, scalding her throat in the process but not giving a damn. Her home had been violated, Brett had escaped and was running amok somewhere, and this man—who she had an untimely attraction to—was stuck like a burr to her.

She just wanted to live her life in peace and harmony and drown out the voices of a past better left forgotten. It wasn’t looking possible now. She wouldn’t change the fact that she’d turned Brett in for treason, but she could mourn the loss of tranquility she’d had up to this point.

She clunked her cup in the sink. “As fun as it’s been these last few hours, I’ve got a business to run, and a back-door window to secure. If you want to keep picking my brain, you’ll have to do it on the fly.”

He blinked. “You’re not serious, are you?”

As she expected, Cam Harris wasn’t going to accept her decision for “business as usual.” She would have to be firm if she didn’t want him to derail her life any more than Brett had.

“I’m dead serious, Special Agent Harris. I can’t pay my bills if I don’t work.”

After depositing his cup in the sink beside hers, he moved forward until they were nearly chest to chest. Once again, her mind drifted to last night and that moment when he’d scooped her off her feet and up against the wall of his chest. He’d held her like she weighed nothing. She’d never been a romantic, but being held in Cam’s strong arms had melted her. She’d wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and burrow into his warmth. Luckily, she’d come to her senses. Or maybe he’d just put her down before she could make her move.

But he wasn’t trying to get up close and personal with her now. Now was an intimidation technique she refused to react to. She held her ground, gazing into his eyes while fighting the urge to smash herself against that hard body.

“You can’t pay them when you’re dead, either,” he said. “Gates could be watching, or the GUWP, just waiting to get you outside where they can pick you off.” His eyes softened as he jutted his chin toward her injured arm. “Does it hurt?”

She fought back the heat rising in her face and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I forgot about it, actually. I can’t worry about any of that right now. All I can do is be aware of my surroundings while going about my daily routine. I’m sorry if that doesn’t work for you.” She wished she felt as nonchalant as her words sounded.

“You are the stubbornest woman I’ve ever met,” he grumbled, spinning on his heel and striding toward her family room. He ran a hand over his hair, a gesture she’d come to understand was out of frustration. It was about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

He swung back around, coming toward her with a ground-eating step and steely gaze. “If you won’t listen to reason, then I guess I’ll have to go with you. At least I can pull you out of the line of fire when it happens.”

Her heart flipped inside her chest like a fish out of water when his eyes flashed. Get a grip, girl. She tried for a casual tone of voice. “That’s one way of looking at it. If you’re going to be my shadow, put on some better clothes. We’re going to a wedding.”