The Ultimate Betrayal

by Kat Martin

  “I assume you’ve seen this.” He pointed to the report. “Cause of death is listed as a heart attack. I don’t see anything here that looks suspicious.”

  “I know they killed him. I’m not sure how they did it, but my dad had the heart of an elephant. His last physical was only a few months before he died. He called me to brag about how well he had done. He told me the doctor said he was in superior physical condition. Even his cholesterol levels were good. We laughed about it because I had been bugging him to eat less red meat.”

  “Things like that can happen out of the blue,” Bran said. “Maybe the shock of being accused of such serious crimes then locked behind bars was too much for him.”

  “My dad was a soldier. He’d faced enemy fire in combat. He was in charge of a huge operation at the depot. He was used to handling stress.”

  Bran looked down at the autopsy. “We’ll talk to the medical examiner, ask him if there is any possibility the heart attack could have been artificially triggered, see what he has to say.”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking of having my father’s body exhumed. The idea makes me nauseous, but I know how important Dad’s reputation was to him. He would want me to do everything in my power to prove his innocence.”

  Bran leaned back in his chair, his brilliant blue eyes assessing. “You understand at this point your theory is purely conjecture. You have nothing to substantiate your claim.”

  “Even if I’m wrong, at least I’d know.”

  Bran scrubbed a hand over his face. “The fact you have people willing to shoot you to keep you from investigating is enough to make me think there’s a chance you could be right. After we talk to the ME, you can decide if you want to have the colonel’s body exhumed. Painful as it’s going to be for you, maybe it will help clear the air.”

  They discussed the case into the early evening, then Bran ordered room service, steak for him, chicken for her, salad for both of them. He also ordered a bottle of red wine. When they finished the meal, he folded out the sofa bed in the living room, which was already made up with sheets, and grabbed a blanket out of the closet.

  Jessie helped him spread the blanket over the mattress and retrieve the pillows. “Have a good night,” she said when they finished. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  There was a powder room off the entry for Bran to use, which meant she had privacy until tomorrow when he would need to use the shower in her en-suite bathroom.

  She yawned as she closed the door, more exhausted than she had expected. She fell asleep quickly and slept far better than she had the night before, then rose at the first gray light of dawn. She took a shower and got ready for the day, dressed in a conservative dark brown skirt suit and heeled pumps, then quietly cracked open the door to the living room.

  Bran was already up, standing with his back to her, one hand on his hip, the other pressing his cell phone against his ear. A pair of white cotton briefs that hugged his round behind was all he had on.

  Jessie’s mouth went dry. His suntanned back was smooth, except for a jagged scar on one side, and ridged with solid muscle. Bands of muscle defined his shoulders and arms, and long sinewy legs tapered down to toned calves and narrow feet.

  She told herself to close the door before Bran caught her staring at him like a juicy piece of meat, but instead she just stood there, her heart pounding, her breathing a little ragged.

  She was just pulling herself under control when he turned, the phone still pressed to his ear. Jessie froze. Her gaze shot to the heavy bulge at the front of his briefs, and she felt a rush of heat so hot it made her dizzy. Muscular pecs and six-pack abs. A lean, hard-muscled chest and amazing biceps. Desire hit her so hard she swayed on her feet.

  She didn’t move till Bran jerked the blanket off his makeshift bed and wrapped it around his waist, knocking her out of her self-imposed trance and flushing her face with embarrassment.

  “Sorry,” she managed to breathlessly whisper, then stepped back and slammed the door. Ohmygod, ohmygod. She hadn’t felt the least attraction to a man for so long she’d forgotten what it was like. Correction, she had never felt the jolt of desire she had felt looking at Brandon Garrett. Ohmygod.

  She told herself he was probably used to that kind of reaction from a woman, or at least the women who had seen him nearly naked. Jessie sank down on the bed. What could she possibly say to him? How could she explain?

  But no words of explanation popped into her head.

  Since she couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day, and because Bran undoubtedly wanted to take a shower, she inhaled a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out into the living room.

  “Sorry about that,” she said.

  He had pulled on his jeans, but the rest of him was still gloriously bare. “No problem. I should have grabbed one of those terry cloth robes in the bathroom.”

  She just nodded. “Yeah.” Her fingers curled into the palms of her hands as she walked past him toward the counter where he had brewed a pot of coffee.

  “Mind if I use the shower?” he asked.

  “Of course not. You’re paying for the room.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Sorry, no more talk about money.”

  “Exactly.”

  She took a mug down from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with coffee, her hands still a bit unsteady.

  “Why don’t you order us something to eat?” Bran suggested as he crossed the room toward the bedroom. “I won’t be too long.”

  “Bacon and eggs?” she asked.

  “Sounds great.” As he disappeared through the door and closed it behind him, Jessie sank down onto one of the chairs at the dining table, coffee mug gripped tightly in her hands. At least now she knew the abduction hadn’t completely destroyed her desire for the opposite sex.

  Or at least one member of the opposite sex. She grimaced. She just wished the man who had rekindled her long-dead fire wasn’t Brandon Garrett.

  * * *

  Bran turned on the shower, set the nozzle to cold, and climbed in beneath the icy spray. He clenched his jaw, fighting to block a memory of the look on Jessie’s pretty face when he had caught her watching him. Trying to block the erection he got every time the image reappeared in his head.

  Bran knew women. He knew when a woman wanted him. He swore softly, cursing the fate that had brought the two of them together, putting them both in a situation that could only get worse.

  So far he had managed to suppress the desire he’d felt from the moment Jessie had walked into his office. With her fire-touched blond hair and fine features, she was beautiful. He liked her body and admired her brain. In a softly feminine way, she was sexy as hell, and he wanted her—no doubt about it.

  But aside from the erotic dream he’d had about her last night, he’d been doing an admirable job of controlling his lust.

  Until this morning. When the flush in her cheeks and the heat in her eyes had made it clear that the desire he felt was returned. She wanted him. Which meant he had to be the strong one because no way could he have her and just walk away.

  Jessie wasn’t the type he usually slept with, women who didn’t require exclusivity and didn’t expect to give it in return.

  He was fairly sure Jessie hadn’t been with a man since she was abducted. He sure as hell didn’t want to be the first, didn’t want to deal with whatever trauma she had experienced, maybe make it worse.

  He turned off the freezing water, reached for a towel and ran it over the goose bumps on his skin. At least the bathroom was warm when he stepped out of the shower and towel-dried his hair.

  Instead of thinking of Jessie, he needed to focus on the case. He needed to find the people behind the stolen chemical weapons and clear the colonel’s name. Once he’d done that, she could go back to Denver and he could go back to Dallas, to the life he’d had before.
Jessie would be safe from him, and he would be safe from temptation.

  He’d dish out retribution to Duran/Cummings when the time was right.

  Determined to stay focused, he grabbed one of the white terry cloth robes hanging on the bathroom door and slid it on, walked out of the bedroom into the living room.

  “I need the rest of my clothes,” he said to Jessie, who sat at the dining table. He ignored the flush that rose in her cheeks, rummaged through his carry-on, grabbed a rust-colored Henley and a pair of clean underwear, and walked back into the bedroom to put his jeans back on.

  When he came out again, room service was busily setting breakfast on the dining table. It smelled delicious. He looked at Jessie, noticed sunlight glinting on the ruby strands in her long blond hair, the soft blush in her cheeks, and felt a tightening in his groin. Inwardly he cursed.

  Looked like he’d be taking a lot more cold showers before this was over.

  SIX

  Jessie fidgeted in her seat as Bran pulled up to the main gate of US Army Fort Carson. The base was the home of the Fourth Infantry Division, among various and sundry other units including the Tenth Special Forces Group. Bran flashed his retired military ID, and the solider at the gate looked for his name on the admissions list.

  “You phoned ahead,” Jessie said to him.

  Bran just shrugged the muscled shoulders that were now imprinted in her brain. “10th Special Forces is here. I know some people. I called a few I thought might be able to help us.”

  “I should have figured,” she said. She had called and set up meetings at the ME’s office as well as her father’s military counsel. Apparently, Bran had made a few calls of his own.

  “I see here you’ll be checking a weapon,” the soldier said.

  “That’s correct.” It was illegal for anyone to carry on base.

  “Drive straight to the armory. Do you know where that is?” The guard was short and stocky, in combat boots and military fatigues.

  “I’ve got someone here who knows her way around,” Bran said, tipping his head toward Jessie.

  But it had been years since she had lived on the base. She’d come back to Colorado Springs for her father’s funeral, then returned to Fort Carson a month ago when she’d started her investigation. At the time, she’d hit nothing but a string of dead ends. Back in Denver, she’d kept working the case, making phone calls out of her apartment, digging up facts on the internet. Now she was back at the base.

  The guard waved Bran through and, following Jessie’s directions, he drove the SUV down O’Connell Boulevard.

  They made a quick stop at the armory, where Bran left his unloaded Glock, then climbed back into the vehicle. He was wearing a dark brown tweed blazer with his jeans and Henley. He looked good. Sexual awareness trickled through her, making her stomach flutter. Too damned good.

  “I trained at Fort Bragg,” he said as the big SUV rolled down the road. “Never made it to Fort Carson.” He glanced at the soldiers marching on the parade ground as they drove past. “Looks like a good place to be stationed.”

  Jessie shrugged. “Good as any. The population is around fourteen thousand, a town in itself. The scenery is better than most, the weather’s good, and there are lots of outdoor activities.”

  The landscape was mostly flat and arid, but the area around the base was ringed by rolling hills covered with juniper and sage. Snow-topped mountains rose in the distance not far away. The end of October temperatures remained in the low sixties, but at night it dipped into the thirties.

  Jessie directed Bran to the Army Community Hospital, where the medical examiner’s office was located. He parked in the lot and they walked into a three-story tan building, part of the base medical complex. Jessie had never met the doctor who had done her father’s autopsy. She had spoken to him on the phone, but had gotten mostly a recitation of what had been in the report.

  Bran held the door open for her, and they walked up to the front desk, where he spoke to the female soldier behind the counter.

  “Captain Brandon Garrett, First Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, retired. This is Jessica Kegan, Colonel James Kegan’s daughter. We have an appointment with Dr. Matthew Dillon.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman, a slender blonde in a perfectly tailored dark blue uniform jacket and skirt, headed down the hall. A few minutes later she returned. “Dr. Dillon will see you now.”

  Jessie followed the woman, Bran walking behind her, into an office with a window looking out on low rolling hills. The doctor rose from behind his desk to greet them. Dillon was a slim, fine-boned man, early fifties, with sandy brown hair.

  “Captain,” the doctor said to Bran.

  “Retired,” Bran reminded him. “It’s just Brandon now.” The men shook hands, and the doctor turned to Jessie.

  “Ms. Kegan, it’s nice to put a face with the voice on the phone. I’m sorry the circumstances aren’t better. Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat,” the doctor said, gesturing to the visitor chairs opposite his desk.

  For the next few minutes, they discussed the autopsy that had been performed on her father, which led to her theory that he had been murdered.

  “You read the report, Ms. Kegan,” Dr. Dillon said. “Your father complained of nausea and stomach pains and was taken to the infirmary. Less than an hour later, he suffered a massive heart attack and died. There was no sign of anything other than acute myocardial infarction. I’m sorry. I realize, under the circumstances, this has been a very troubling time for you, but you need to deal with the facts.”

  “Did the autopsy show what caused the stomach pain?” Bran asked.

  “The nausea started after lunch. It was assumed to be a digestive problem or an intestinal virus, but it turned out to be a symptom of his impending heart attack. Unfortunately, by the time he was discovered in his room, it was too late to revive him.”

  A sound of pain slipped from her throat as Jessie imagined her father dying alone. She steeled herself. She had known this wouldn’t be easy.

  “Is it possible that at some point my father could have been given some kind of drug that could have triggered the attack?”

  The doctor frowned. “As I said, the colonel was found unresponsive in his hospital bed. The physician on duty reported cause of death as congestive heart failure. The autopsy supports that diagnosis. There was nothing on his tox screen that would indicate his death was anything other than natural causes.”

  “But the tox screens you ran were limited, were they not?” Bran pressed. “That would be typical.”

  The doctor’s irritation grew. “Unfortunately, there is no way we can test for every drug on the face of the earth.”

  Bran wisely let the subject drop. They needed this man’s cooperation. No use making him angry unless there was a reason.

  “What about security cameras?” Jessie asked.

  “There are cameras in the hall outside the cells. Unfortunately, the day he died, the camera inside the cell was temporarily out of service.”

  Jessie flashed a look at Bran. See? I told you this was all too convenient.

  “Do you have a list of the visitors who came to see Colonel Kegan while he was incarcerated?” Bran asked.

  “I’m sure Major Anson, his military counsel, was provided with a list of all visitors. The major would also have had access to any security camera video.” The doctor rose from his chair. “If there isn’t anything further...”

  Bran rose and so did Jessie. “There is one more thing,” she said. “I’d like to request my father’s body be exhumed. What procedures do I need to follow to make that happen?”

  The doctor’s sandy brown eyebrows drew together. Clearly he wasn’t happy with the direction the conversation was taking, an implication he might h
ave missed something when he’d done his job.

  “You would need grounds for such an action before disinterment could be approved,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid at this time, there’s nothing I can do to help you in that regard.”

  Jessie straightened. “If we need grounds, we’ll find them. Thank you for your time, Dr. Dillon.”

  The doctor remained standing as they walked out the door.

  “I was hoping we’d get something a little more concrete,” Bran said darkly as they made their way to the parking lot.

  “Maybe we did. The question you asked about the nausea my father experienced? The way the report read, I didn’t really give it that much thought. But what if someone put something in his food that would make him sick enough to get him transported to the hospital? If they planned to kill him, it would be a lot easier once he was out of his cell.”

  Bran walked her to the passenger side of the Expedition and pulled open the door. “The thought occurred to me. If the heart attack was actually induced, it would almost have to be done away from his cell.”

  “That’s right. Even it they disabled the video camera, whoever gave him the drug would probably have to sign the visitor registry.”

  Bran nodded, playing the theory out. “So they feed him something that makes him sick and give him the drug at the hospital or on the way there.”

  “Exactly. Which means until we find out something different, it’s still possible he was murdered.”

  * * *

  Following Jessie’s directions, Bran turned onto Titus Boulevard, rounded the traffic circle onto Sheridan, and eventually pulled up in front of 1633 Mekong Street. Building 6222, the Judge Advocate’s Office, was a no-nonsense two-story white stucco building a little less than two miles from the ME’s office.

  The military counsel Jessie’s father had chosen was a major named Thomas Anson. According to what Jessie had told Bran, she had visited the attorney several times and spoken at length with him on the phone. Fifteen minutes early for their appointment, they were shown into his office to wait.