by Elle Kennedy
“Yeah, how do you figure that?”
“If I talk, they’ll know, and then they’ll hunt me down and kill me—but it won’t be fast. They’ll drag it out, make me suffer....” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “So go ahead. Do it. Pull the trigger. At least with you, it’ll be fast.”
“Says who?” Nick asked softly.
In the doorway, Rebecca gasped.
Ignoring that squeaky sound of distress, Nick dragged the barrel of his gun over his thigh and fixed his gaze on the man bound to the chair.
“You underestimate me, Paul. See, I’m not the same man I was a year ago. I was chased out of town when a gunman decided to break into my apartment under the pretense of a home robbery, and I’ve been running ever since. Being on the run takes a toll on a man.”
Nick slowly rose from his perch and approached the chair. “Make no mistake, I will do whatever it takes to get answers from you.”
“Bull! You’re a soldier! A man of honor,” Waverly said feebly. “You wouldn’t resort to torture.”
“You sound confident of that.”
“I—I am,” Waverly stammered. His blue eyes darted in Rebecca’s direction. “You won’t torture me with her watching. You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right about that,” Nick agreed. With a pleasant smile, he glanced over at Rebecca. “Darling, would you please give us a moment alone? Go take a walk on the beach or something.”
She looked stricken, but to her credit, she didn’t object or recoil in horror. “I can stay if you want,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Nah, Red, trust me, you don’t want to be around for what happens next.” Nick’s smile turned feral.
When Rebecca took a step away, Waverly made a panicked sound and shouted, “Wait!”
She froze.
Nick hid a grin.
“Tell her to stay,” Waverly pleaded, his desperate eyes focusing on Nick. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just ask Ms. Parker to stay.”
Huh. Although Nick would never admit it to Rebecca, it looked like her presence did bring some advantages to the table. Waverly probably believed he could stay alive in exchange for giving Rebecca an exclusive or something.
“Hear that, Red? The man likes having you around,” Nick told her.
A weak smile lifted her mouth. “I guess so.”
She crossed the room and joined Nick near the couch. He could sense she was ill at ease, but her expression was shuttered, her shoulders set in a rigid line.
They both turned to Waverly, whose face didn’t look quite so ashen anymore. “What do you want to know?” the man asked in a defeated tone.
“I already told you what I want,” Nick replied coldly. “I want a name.”
Indecision flashed in those ice-blue eyes.
“Give me a name, Paul. Tell me who ordered the deaths of my teammates. Tell me who had that virus engineered. Tell me who—”
“Secretary Barrett!” Waverly burst out. “There! Are you happy now? The name you want is Kirk Barrett. The secretary of defense.”
Chapter 11
An icy rush of dread skittered up Nick’s spine. He stared into Waverly’s blue eyes, unable to comprehend what the son of a bitch had just told him.
“No,” he finally said, “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth,” Waverly insisted. “Secretary Barrett was behind everything! I swear on my mother’s life!”
He was lying. He had to be.
Nick refused to believe that his father had anything to do with this. Christ. But what if it was true? His palms went damp at the thought, his SIG nearly slipping from his grasp.
“Tell me everything,” he ordered. “From the beginning.”
Waverly visibly swallowed. “Project Aries was set up about two years ago. I was running double duty at the time, acting as the aide for Brent Davidson and Fred McAvoy, the—”
“The deputy secretary,” Rebecca supplied with a frown.
“McAvoy’s involved in this, too?” Nick barked.
“He’s the one who approached me,” Waverly replied. “McAvoy said that he and the sec def were growing concerned with President Howard’s lenient attitude toward terrorism, that Howard wasn’t taking enough precautions to protect our country from another attack. McAvoy confided in me that certain measures were being taken to prevent another terrorist attack on American soil, and that the department was dedicated to ensuring we had all the necessary weapons to fight the war on terrorism.”
“Biological weapons, you mean,” Rebecca said.
Waverly nodded. “He didn’t give me many details about the project, but he put me in charge of communicating with Richard Harrison, the scientist at D&M Initiative. The lab was contracted to experiment with different biological agents and develop a weapon that was fast-acting and easy to release into a general population.”
Nick scowled. “The Meridian virus.”
Another fervent nod. “Harrison worked on it for more than a year, and when it came time to test it, Barrett and McAvoy knew the field testing couldn’t be done on U.S. soil—”
Each time his father’s name left the aide’s lips, Nick flinched like he’d been shot by a rifle. He tried valiantly to hide the reaction, but from the sympathetic look Rebecca gave him, he knew she’d noticed.
“—so they struck a deal with the San Marquez government,” Waverly finished. “Our troops would contain the ULF situation and help the country prosper, and they would sacrifice a few rural villages for the sake of national security. Your unit was sent to that village by accident—Harrison managed to get a call out before the rebels got a hold of him, and there was a communication mix-up in the military channels. You weren’t ever supposed to be there.”
“But we were, and we needed to be shut up, right?” Each word dripped with bitterness.
Waverly let out a weary breath. “The secretary believed it was necessary.”
Bull! Nick wanted to snap, but he clenched his teeth to control the outburst. His father would never order the murder of his own son, for Chrissake. Kirk Barrett loved his kids. He was fiercely protective of them and always had been. Nick would believe in unicorns and leprechauns before he believed that his father had ordered someone to kill him.
“And when Sebastian was at the Pentagon, you were instructed to give him the tainted water bottle?” he said instead.
“Yes.” Remorse flickered in the man’s eyes. “I didn’t want to. Hell, when they gave me the vial containing the Meridian virus, I agonized over it. I’m not a murderer, you have to believe that, but national security was at stake! They said that Stone and the rest of you were after revenge, that you planned on exposing the DoD’s part in the virus crisis, and we couldn’t let that happen. It would have been a scandal the administration could have never recovered from.”
“God forbid you cause a scandal,” Rebecca said, sarcasm oozing from her voice.
Nick shook his head in disgust. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying that Secretary Barrett personally delivered a sample of the virus into your hands and told you to infect Sergeant Stone.”
Waverly faltered. “Well, no, McAvoy was the one who gave me the vial, but he was acting under Barrett’s orders. He said so himself.”
Suspicion flooded Nick’s gut, kicking his instincts into gear and causing a few puzzle pieces to slide into place.
“So you dealt only with McAvoy these past two years?” he said thoughtfully.
“Yes, but that’s because Barrett couldn’t officially give the orders. His connection to the project needed to remain a secret. McAvoy ordered me never to speak to the secretary directly.”
How convenient. Some of the load bearing down on Nick’s shoulders eased, making it easier to breathe. This entire situation sounded fishy as hell. The deputy secretary calling the shots, giving Waverly the virus, ordering him not to speak to Nick’s father... Was Fred McAvoy the mastermind behind Project Aries, then?
Nick didn’t know
McAvoy too well, but he remembered his father praising the man’s dedication to his country. Just like Nick’s dad, McAvoy also placed great importance on defense, so it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d created a biological weapon as a means to protect their nation.
“So that’s it, the whole story.” Waverly looked exhausted, and his head lolled to the side, as if his neck could no longer support the weight of it.
Nick glanced at Rebecca, who was watching him with wary green eyes. “What now?” she asked him. “What do we do with him?”
He thought it over for a second. “Call the DoD, I guess. Tell them we found their missing aide.”
“No!” Waverly blurted out. “If they know where I am, I’m dead!”
“If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have whisked you out of town,” Nick said coldly.
“Nobody whisked me anywhere, you morons! There was a thug with a gun waiting for me in my apartment after I left the Pentagon that day.” Waverly sounded utterly betrayed. “I was a loose end. Once Barrett told me to take care of Stone, I was no longer the lackey who simply made a few phone calls to Dr. Harrison—I was a murderer, and that bastard couldn’t be connected to me anymore.”
During his Special Forces stint, Nick had interrogated more than a few bad guys, and he’d developed a knack for knowing when he was being lied to. And the bitch of it was, Waverly genuinely believed every word he was saying. In Paul Waverly’s mind, Kirk Barrett was behind everything.
But was that because McAvoy had orchestrated it to appear that way?
Or was it because Nick’s father truly was the guilty party?
His heart squeezed painfully. No. There was no way his dad had allowed a virus to be tested on innocent people. No way his dad had tried to have him killed.
Now it was just a matter of proving it.
“Give me a sec,” he told Rebecca before reaching into his pocket for his phone.
He stepped into the hallway and dialed Tate’s number. When the captain picked up, Nick didn’t waste any time in bringing him up to speed.
“I’ve got Waverly tied to a chair in the other room.”
Tate’s gruff laughter filled his ear. “Nice job, Nicky.”
“I finished interrogating him, and now we need to figure out what to do with him. He swears he’s being hunted for his role in the cover-up and he’s terrified of getting offed by these people.” Nick let out a frustrated breath. “Maybe we can try to arrange protective custody for him? I’m sure he’ll cut a deal and testify if asked. This guy will do whatever it takes to stay alive.”
“Did he give up a name?”
“Yes.” Nick hesitated. “Secretary Barrett.”
Tate’s sharp breath echoed over the line. “Doesn’t surprise me. Barrett is borderline obsessive when it comes to defense, and he’s—”
“My father.”
Silence.
“What?” Tate finally spoke, that one syllable laced with both shock and bewilderment.
“Kirk Barrett is my father, Tate.”
There was another pause.
Followed by a muttered curse, a sigh and then, “Start talking, Nicky.”
* * *
Rebecca approached the screen door and gazed out at Nick, who was on the deck brooding by the railing. Same way he’d been brooding for the past three hours. He hadn’t said much since Waverly had dropped the Secretary Barrett bomb, and she knew the notion that his father might be the bad guy was tearing Nick apart.
“What’s up?”
His gruff voice startled her. He was still standing there with his back turned, yet he’d detected her presence before she could even announce herself.
She stepped onto the deck and joined him. “Any word from Davidson?”
“Not since he called with an ETA for those federal agents he’s sending.”
Apprehension rippled through her at the reminder. She and Nick couldn’t leave the beach house until the agents came to collect Waverly, and she continued to feel uneasy about that course of action. Nick had assured her that Brent Davidson, their contact at the DoD, could be trusted, but she didn’t share his conviction. Davidson worked under McAvoy and Nick’s father—how could they be sure he wasn’t up to his elbows in this biological weapons scandal?
“Is our hostage still griping and complaining?” Nick asked her.
“Yep. Now he’s demanding we feed him. I came out here to see what you wanted for lunch.”
“You cook?”
“If making sandwiches counts as cooking, then yes.”
He didn’t even crack a smile, which told her he was even more upset than he was letting on.
Sighing, she placed her hand over his, which he’d rested palm-down on the splintered wooden railing. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep agonizing over this. Reserve judgment until we speak to your dad, okay?” She tilted her head. “That is the plan, right? Head to D.C. to talk to him?”
Nick nodded, then spoke in a preoccupied tone. “I haven’t seen my father in more than a year. I don’t even know what he’s been told about me.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, then slammed it shut.
Her sudden about-face did not go unnoticed. “What is it?” Nick demanded. “What do you know?”
She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just...it doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me what you know, Rebecca.” There was steel in his voice.
“Um. Well. Remember how I asked Harry to look into your background? Well, he spoke to one of his military contacts and the guy got a look at your file. It said you were honorably discharged last year.”
A deep line appeared in his forehead. “I see.”
“And another source said you’ve supposedly been sailing around the Caribbean ever since.”
Nick let out a harsh laugh. “So that’s the official story, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad would never believe that.” His breath hitched. “He must know something is wrong, then. He’s probably been trying to track me—”
Rebecca hated to interrupt, but she had no choice. “Your father was the one who told Harry’s source the Caribbean story.”
Nick’s jaw tensed. “What?”
“Harry’s source works at the Pentagon. He asked your father about you, and that was the answer he received.”
As Nick fell silent, Rebecca’s heart ached for him again. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Secretary Barrett was going out of his way to pretend he knew where his son was and that nothing was amiss. Why the lies?
“Maybe he really thinks you’re traveling,” she suggested in a feeble tone. “Maybe that’s what he was told.”
“My father knows I would never stay out of touch for an entire year. He has to suspect something is up.” Nick paused. “Maybe he’s playing along with the story they fed him about me, but secretly he has been searching for me.”
Rebecca stifled a sigh, but she didn’t contradict him. He needed this. Needed to believe that his father was the good guy, that Barrett was innocent. But Rebecca had been embroiled in politics for long enough to know that nobody in Washington was ever truly innocent.
“I guess we’ll find out when we talk to him,” she said softly. “And speaking of which, how are we going to manage that? People want us dead.” Possibly your father, she didn’t add. “We can’t just waltz back to D.C. without anybody knowing we’re there. Did you tell Davidson about our plans?”
“Yes, but Davidson can be trusted. He won’t reveal to anyone that you and I are coming to D.C.”
“Davidson answers to McAvoy and your fa—” she stopped guiltily, making a quick amendment “—he works for the Department of Defense. There’s the risk that he’s in cahoots with Mr. X. And even if he isn’t, how is he going to keep our presence under wraps?”
“Davidson is part of the task force that’s been set up to investigate the Meridian virus. Every government agency and employee is under the microscope right now,” Nick told her. “Fi
nding Mr. X has become a matter of national security, and Davidson is taking his role in the inquiry very seriously. He wants the person responsible caught as much as we do, which means he won’t jeopardize our investigation by announcing to anyone that we’re in town.”
Rebecca remained unconvinced. “I’d still feel better if we continued investigating on our own. I don’t want to rely on your buddy Davidson or these agents who are supposed to show up. I think we should make our way to D.C. without federal assistance.”
He seemed to mull it over.
“Please, Nick. I’d feel a lot better if we did this alone.”
“Me, too. Which is why we’re not catching a ride back with Davidson’s men. Manuel will take us as far as Miami and we’ll make our way to D.C from there.”
She bristled. “You couldn’t have just told me that off the bat? Why did you let me beg for it?”
The corners of his mouth lifted in the first smile she’d glimpsed all day. “Sometimes I like hearing you argue. It’s fun.”
She couldn’t help a laugh, but the humor faded when she noticed that the cloud of sorrow had floated back into his honey-brown eyes.
“Nick, we’ll find the truth,” she said gently. “And if your father is involved—”
“He’s not.”
“If he is, then we’ll deal with it.”
She brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. It had been intended as a gesture of comfort, but almost immediately, the crackle of attraction heated the air and a wave of desire swelled in her belly.
With the gentlest of caresses, she ran her fingers over the razor-sharp stubble dotting his jaw, then swept her thumb over his bottom lip, which was surprisingly soft and incredibly sensual.
When she met his eyes, the hunger she saw in them made her heart beat faster.
He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t moving her hand, and his acceptance of her touch spurred her next move. She stepped closer, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in the softest, sweetest of kisses.
Again, it was intended as an offering of comfort, a token of her friendship, but she hadn’t anticipated Nick’s next move.
With a husky growl, he yanked her close and kissed the living daylights out of her.