AUBREY SIPPED ON A COFFEE in the back of a van that looked more like a soccer mom’s minivan than an FBI surveillance vehicle. At least on the outside. On the inside it was a whole different story. Instead of fast-food wrappers and sippy cups covering the floor, the back was filled with monitoring equipment, computer screens, and GPS trackers.
She took another sip of the coffee, then set it down, wishing she could stop her insides from churning. The anxiety that had spiked had yet to calm, though in reality, Jack seemed more anxious than she did.
And he’d been right. She had no reason to feel guilty about what she was going to do. Not over the man behind all of this, even if he was her father.
Her phone went off, and she pulled it out of her pocket.
“Is that him?” Jack asked.
“Yes. He . . .” She clicked on the message. “He said he’s ten minutes out.”
“That’s a good sign. At least he’s still planning to show up.”
“He still has ten minutes to change his mind.”
“Let’s not go there,” Jack said. “You have your earpiece so we can hear you, and here’s the pendant so we can see everything you do. As soon as we have eyes on him, my agents are going to move in and arrest him.”
She nodded.
“Bree? Are you going to be okay?”
“It’s why I’m here. Jack . . . I’m not one of your confidential informants. I’ve done this before. I’ll be fine.”
“I just don’t like the idea of not having you in my sights in case something goes wrong. Mei almost died because we miscalculated Cheng’s motivation.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m nervous about seeing him again, but not because I think he’ll try to hurt me. And besides, in case you hadn’t noticed over the past few days, I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself. I escaped a kidnapping, saved you from the entangled snares of someone’s discarded fishing line—”
He held up his hands in defeat. “Trust me, I’ve never doubted your ability to work on this case, but there’s a lot at stake here and already too many have gotten hurt. I just want—I need you to be okay.”
She hesitated before putting on the necklace, trying to read into what he was saying—what was in his eyes as he looked at her.
“Jack?”
He stood up, shaking his head. “I’m coming with you into the hotel. I’ll stay out of sight.”
“No, you’re not. We’ve already discussed that, Jack. If my father recognizes you, he could figure out what’s going on and get spooked. We can’t have that happen.”
“Bree—”
She knew he wasn’t happy with the part of the plan that kept him in the communications van outside, but she also knew that she’d been right to insist he stay out of sight until they arrested her father. It had been a long time ago, but Jack had met the man several times. Her father recognizing Jack wasn’t a chance they were going to take. She didn’t mind the fact that Jack was being overprotective, but he had to realize that she could do the job. And despite the personal connection with the suspect, that’s all this was. A job.
“Okay, but remember that we’ll be able to hear your conversation with him, and—”
“Jack.”
He frowned. “Just let me finish. Please.”
She shot him a smile. “Go ahead.”
“If you ever feel uncomfortable, just say the word, and the team will swoop in.”
She reached out and squeezed his hands. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”
“Just a bit. It’s a public place. He might have stolen state secrets, but he won’t hurt me. I’m sure of that.”
“And you’re trained and completely capable of dealing with this situation.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Okay. I’m not worrying, but we’ve got four undercover agents in the lobby posing as hotel guests. I’ll be in the van just outside the hotel, and once we have visual confirmation, our agents will move in and arrest him. You don’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
She nodded. She’d always had a dozen questions she wanted to ask Charles Ramsey. Like why he walked out on her and her mother. Why he didn’t come to her mother’s funeral. But she no longer needed to ask them. She wasn’t that lonely child who’d been abandoned by her father anymore. She’d moved on with her life. He wasn’t a part of it, nor would he ever be again. But sometimes it was still hard to convince herself.
“I want you to know that the FBI appreciates what you’re doing. And I’m . . . I’m only acting this way because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“It won’t.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for backing me up on this.”
“Always.”
There was something about his expression that made her want to stop and ask him what just passed between them. In college, he was the one she always went to when she was struggling. But something . . . something had changed in the way he looked at her. She shook off the feeling and instead stepped out of the van and headed toward the hotel where her father told her he would meet her.
Walk with me inside, God. I can’t do this alone.
Her fingers felt for the necklace. There was no reason to be afraid. She wasn’t alone.
She took in a deep breath as she approached the building. Darkness had long since settled over the city, but the hotel lit up the area around them. She walked through the glass doors and into the hotel lobby. To her left was a bar with dimmed lighting and music playing in the background. To her right were a dozen cushioned chairs that matched the hotel’s green-and-blue color scheme and elegant décor. Straight ahead was the registration desk, with a polished counter and two fresh-faced employees.
She sat down on a chair in the far corner of the lobby where she could watch people coming and going through the front doors, and tried to relax. She identified the undercover agents immediately. The first one sat at the bar, looking bored—but not quite bored enough—and nursing a drink. An older woman sat three chairs over from her, reading a book. The third and fourth agents—one wearing a baseball cap—stood near the elevators talking about something in hushed tones.
She glanced at her watch. She was now six minutes early. She grabbed a magazine from the wooden table next to her and started flipping through the pages without really seeing them. One of the last times she’d seen her father while her mother was still alive had been at a school play where she had one of the lead roles. He showed up for the last act, apologizing that he was late because he’d been handling some government emergency. Excuses had become routine. He took her out, bought her dinner and a new dress, then apologized again before saying he had to catch a midnight flight to Hong Kong.
Hong Kong, Berlin, Morocco . . . It was always somewhere urgent and, to her, exciting. She’d carry around the postcards he sent her for weeks, memorizing everything she could about the places he was visiting, along with his promises that one day he’d take some time off from his work and take her on a trip around the world.
She glanced at the door as a family with three kids stepped into the lobby. She knew Jack was worried about her, but her father had never been prone to violence. Any abuse on his side was neglect. Always gone, missing birthdays, anniversaries, and school plays. She stopped expecting him to show up.
Her biggest concern at the moment was that he wouldn’t show up tonight either.
A flat-screen television, playing the news in the corner of the room, caught her attention when her father’s face filled the screen. She dropped the magazine onto the table and crossed the thick carpet, stopping in front of the TV. The broadcast switched to a female reporter, standing in front of the Christiansen home, where yellow crime-scene tape flapped in the wind in front of the house.
“Local authorities were called to the house of Sean Christiansen earlier today after a 911 call by a neighbor who claimed to have heard a gunshot at the house of the university professor. While details are still sketchy as to what happened inside the house, sources tell us that Christiansen was found dead in his home. A witness points to this man, Charles Ramsey, who is a person of interest and wanted by the authorities in connection to the case. This is a developing story, and we will bring you more details of the situation as the story unfolds.”
“Jack . . . Christiansen’s death has already hit the news cycle,” Aubrey said out loud, her gaze glued to the screen.
“I’m surprised it took this long, to be honest.” Jack’s voice came over her earpiece.
“Have you heard anything from the coroner’s office?”
“Not yet, but if your father sees this, there’s a good chance he’s going to run. He’s already five minutes late.”
“He’s also out of options. He needs to know what the FBI is offering him.”
“The FBI isn’t going to be as willing to work with him if murder’s on the table.”
She checked her watch, her pulse pounding. Six minutes late and there was still no sign of him.
“Maybe you should call him,” Jack said. “He could have spotted the agents and left.”
She headed back to her chair, hesitating with her response. “How would he have known?”
“How did Cheng know we were coming after him?”
“Unlike Mei, I’m pretty sure he isn’t tracking me, Jack.”
“Just stay alert. Please.”
This had turned into some kind of game of cloak-and-dagger. Stolen government secrets, rogue agents, and dead bodies. And she’d ended up smack-dab in the middle of it all.
When she’d been patrolling the streets in a squad car, she was on the front lines as a first responder. She had to learn to simply ignore the grief she felt over things she saw on the streets. It was a balance she still struggled with, because disregarding her feelings made it easier to close off her heart and not deal with uncomfortable situations. Like with her father.
And Jack.
She pushed away the unwanted thought, knowing she was going to have to deal with him at some point. Just like she was going to have to deal with the feelings of betrayal by her father that were impossible to strip away no matter how hard she’d tried over the years.
“Bree . . . any answer?”
Jack’s voice resonated in her ear.
“Bree?”
She let out a sharp breath, decision made. “I’ll call him now.”
She placed the call and let it ring. No answer.
Thirty seconds later, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID. Unknown.
“Aubrey Grayson . . . I’m going to need you to listen to me very carefully. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you, because I’m watching you.” The distorted voice paused. “Leave your phone in your seat, then head for the side door, past the restrooms. There’ll be a black sedan waiting outside for you. Don’t give the agents in the lobby any signals, because one, I’ve jammed your earpiece and camera, and two, there is a bomb in the hotel that will go off if you do.”
A bomb?
“There are women and children in that lobby. An older couple, and a family of five. You have exactly sixty seconds. Now . . . go.”
The call dropped.
Aubrey glanced up from her phone and searched the room for the caller.
“You’ve got forty-five seconds.” This time the voice came through her earpiece. “Find a way to get the agent standing by the elevator in the baseball cap out of the way, but remember I can hear everything you say—they can’t—and I’m watching you. No signals. Or people will die.”
“Do you have my father?” she asked, standing up and dropping her phone in the chair behind her.
“Yes.”
“Is he okay?”
“He is for now. As long as you do what you’re told.”
She didn’t miss the irony in the situation. She was being asked to risk her life to save her father? The man who’d never truly loved her. But whoever was behind this didn’t know that. They wanted to use her for leverage, and now not only was her life at stake, but also the lives of everyone in this lobby.
Aubrey felt a surge of adrenaline as she looked around the lobby. She walked slowly toward the bathrooms. Past them was a set of doors leading outside. There had to be a way to let Jack and his team know what was going on, but there was that family, standing at the counter checking in. No. She couldn’t risk it.
Aubrey held the gaze of the agent in the baseball cap for a moment. “I need to go to the restroom, but Special Agent Shannon asked that you meet him at the check in counter.”
“Of course.”
She continued down the short hall, pushed open the exit door, and stepped outside without looking back.