Fractured by Deceit

by Jami Gray

  Son of a… Reading between what Jinx wouldn’t say on the open line, I understood that, cornered in the neighbor’s torn-up yard, Rabbit and Jinx had been forced to engage in a firefight. That meant the police had to be crawling all over my neighborhood—bad news for whoever was watching the house, and worse for Rabbit and Jinx. They needed some place to lie low.

  I gave Jinx the address as I hit the front room. There was no way in hell I’d let those two blow in the wind with shadows on their asses. “Make sure you don’t bring visitors along.”

  “Copy.” Jinx hung up, leaving me with nothing but a dial tone.

  “Bishop? What’s wrong?”

  I turned to find Megan standing at the edge of the hall, dressed in nothing but my T-shirt. Overly large for her, the shirt slipped off of one shoulder, leaving it bare except for the curling ends of her tousled hair.

  Unable to resist, I went back to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. “Rabbit and Jinx are on their way.”

  Her hands flattened against my chest, but other than pulling back to see my face, she stayed put. “What happened?”

  “They tripped over the team on the house.” Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened, but before she could ask, I added, “They’re okay.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She studied my face, the shock disappearing under that damn ugly fear. “Are we still safe here?”

  “So long as they manage to shake their shadows, we’ll be fine.”

  “They followed us to your home—”

  “Or they have access to each of the team’s residences, which means they either hit the most logical one first, or someone dipped into deep pockets to post eyes on each resident.” Either way, it didn’t bode well. As much as I enjoyed having her in my arms, there were more urgent matters to address. I used a hand on her hip to nudge her back to the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get dressed. Once they get here, we’ll figure out our next steps.”

  By the time Jinx and Rabbit knocked, Megan and I were both dressed but still barefoot. Heeding the sharp one-two summons, I opened the door, interrupting a heated dispute between a grim-faced Rabbit and an exasperated-looking Jinx.

  “What were you thinking, woman?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to make sure you didn’t get your idiotic head blown off,” Jinx snapped as she brushed by me and stormed into the house.

  As they entered the house, I scanned the outside to ensure that their arrival hadn’t gained any early-morning witnesses. Everything remained quiet and dark, but the argument behind me showed no sign of ending.

  “I was fucking fine,” Rabbit growled, not in his usual accent, as he all but threw a backpack on the dinette table.

  “You were fucking not,” Jinx shot back.

  Megan cut in, looking concerned. “Jinx, you’re bleeding.”

  “No shit,” Rabbit muttered.

  Jinx shot him a death glare and turned to Megan. The biting edge in Jinx’s voice disappeared, replaced with wry humor, as she said, “’Tis but a scratch.”

  “Let me guess—it’s merely a flesh wound, and you plan to bleed on me.”

  Jinx laughed. “Nice to find someone else with an appreciation of the greatness of Monty Python.”

  Despite the worry on her face, Megan managed a grin. “Come on. There has to be a first aid kit around here, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  As if corny movie quotes met the admission requirements of sisterhood, the two headed down the hall.

  “That woman’s going to be the death of me,” Rabbit snarled as they disappeared into the bathroom.

  Ignoring the familiar indicator of one of Rabbit’s Jinx-related rants, I demanded, “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was taking Jinx out through the Mallory’s backyard, since they’re on vacation. What I didn’t realize was they decided to add a damn obstacle course back there. I tripped over a fucking pile of pavers.”

  That explained the torn knee of his jeans and the gray dust he sported.

  Rabbit grimaced. “Do you know how loud stone is?” He shook his head, not waiting for my response. “They tried to cut us off, but we forced a change to their plans and got out.”

  Of all the stupid, dumb luck… but it failed to explain one thing. “Why the hell were you two still there?” They should have been long gone.

  Rabbit shot me a look indicating that it was none of my damn business. “Because.” When I didn’t comment, he added, “They were targeting Jinx.”

  Reading between the lines, I ran a hand through my hair and paced to the kitchen. “They thought she was Megan.” Not really thinking about it, I opened the fridge and stared at the scant offerings, my mind churning.

  From behind me, Rabbit said, “No fucking doubt about it.” Closing the fridge, I turned to find Rabbit sprawled at the dinette table, his face grim as he studied me. “Not sure how long you can put off clueing in Delacourt, Bishop.”

  Leaning against the counter, I folded my arms. I knew he was right, which left me feeling frustrated and cornered. “Did you leave any bodies?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then what the hell can I give her?”

  “Maybe the fact she’s got a rat snugglin’ up close like?”

  “I do that, and you and I both know she’ll want what we don’t have.”

  “Proof,” he acknowledged grimly.

  “Exactly—proof. Until we have that, we’re dead in the water.”

  “I’m not feeling good about keepin’ her in the dark.”

  “Yeah, neither am I,” I said, but I knew Delacourt. If I couldn’t give her something definitive to work with, she’d try attacking the problem head-on, and that approach was not going to work here. In fact, it would only make it worse.

  With nothing more to say, we both fell silent. I could hear the murmurs of Megan and Jinx in the bathroom. I looked at Rabbit. “I need a favor.”

  He tilted his head as he studied me. “Mon ami, you rackin’ up points.”

  Yeah, I was, but I’d promised Megan. “I need you to get a message out to Dev Rouser.”

  “Megan’s brother?”

  I nodded. “Tell him to watch his six.”

  Rabbit’s eyes narrowed. “Gettin’ a little vague there. You goin’ give me more than that?”

  I checked to make sure the women were still in the bathroom. Then I shared the high points of Megan’s dream. When I was done, Rabbit let out a low whistle.

  “This is not good, not good at all.” He sat up and braced his arms on his knees as he leaned forward. “Your meetin’ with Ricochet?”

  I glanced at the clock by the fridge. “It’s in four and half hours.” That struck me as being four and half hours too long.

  Seeming to understand, Rabbit rubbed his chin. “Any chance of movin’ that up?”

  “To do that, I’d have to reach out to Wolf, and if they’re watching all of us—”

  “You don’t want to give things away.”

  “Right.”

  Rabbit nodded. “You want me to try to tag Rico on the q.t., maybe see if he can meet you here?”

  His suggestion eased the tightness in my gut. “Think you can do that?”

  “Wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  “Right, then,” he said. “I’ll work on getting those messages out.”

  “Without alerting Delacourt.”

  He shot me a shit-eating grin. “I’ll do my best, but I ain’t makin’ promises, especially where her brother’s concerned. Hacking military communications channels is not for the faint of heart.”

  “And why are you hacking military channels?” Jinx crossed the kitchen. When she was within reaching distance, Rabbit snagged her wrist, turning her until he could inspect the gauze pad on her upper arm. He was so focused on her wound that he missed the flash of gentleness in Jinx’s face as she watched him. It disappeared under a teasing grin as she used her free hand to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry, Cajun man. It’
s all good.”

  Rabbit gave her a long look then let her go. She took the other chair while Megan came over and stood next to me.

  Jinx looked between Rabbit and me. “Spill.”

  Catching Jinx up took all of two minutes, and by the time I finished, she was tapping her fingers against the table, a familiar expression on her face. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  Instead of answering me, she turned to Megan. “The colonel’s calendars are electronic, right?”

  “Unless she’s changed things, most of them should be,” Megan said. “But if you’re looking for personal appointments, you might be out of luck. She tends to keep those on her phone or in her head.”

  “The phone might be tricky, but if we start with her work calendar, we can narrow down who’s been through the office.”

  “And then do a deep dive to see who connects?” Rabbit asked. “That might actually work. Accessing her calendar is doable, and I’m betting I can finagle her phone records while I’m at it.”

  Megan wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Rabbit, if you get caught…”

  Rabbit flashed her a grin as he sat back, cockiness wafting around him like a noxious cologne. “Not gonna happen, sugar.”

  When Megan looked as if she wanted to argue, I gave her a slight shake of my head. “Don’t bother.” She gave me a gimlet eye, so I added, “When it comes to electronics, they all give it up to Rabbit.”

  While Megan didn’t looked convinced, she at least backed down.

  Jinx knocked her knuckles against the tabletop, drawing everyone’s attention. “Okay, so we’re agreed? Our plan is to reschedule Ricochet, get word to Dev, and sneak into the colonel’s electronic life?” Getting a round of nods, she grinned. “Good. Now that that’s out of the way, who’s making breakfast?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rabbit didn’t waste time reaching out to Ricochet, and while we waited for his response, Bishop managed to find enough ingredients to make biscuits. Sipping my coffee, I listened to the three team members joke around despite the gravity of the situation. It wasn’t hard to join in, and for a little while, I was able to tuck away my insecurities and worries. But once breakfast was demolished to a few crumbs and dregs of coffee, Jinx and Rabbit dove into their electronic skulking, and everything I’d shoved aside crept back in.

  Needing space, I left Bishop finishing up the last of the kitchen cleanup and wandered into the living room. My sketch pad peeked out from behind the coffee table. Seeing it, the memories of how it had gotten there crowded in, leaving my cheeks hot and other, more personal places bothered. Thank God my back was to the others, or my flaming cheeks would have resulted in uncomfortable questions. As casually as possible, I gathered up my fallen sketch pad and pencils and escaped to the bedroom.

  Once inside the dubious safety of the bedroom, I let out a quiet breath. I skirted the tangle of covers piled on the floor at the foot of the bed, crouched in front of the chair where my bag sat, and tucked the pad and pencils away. There was no way I’d leave it out for curious eyes. The lightest scent of spice and male, the one I associated with Bishop, tickled my nose. Lifting my eyes, I found my impromptu pajamas—Bishop’s T-shirt—discarded on the chair in front of me. Before I could check the urge, I caught up the soft material and buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. That tightness in my chest eased as I carefully folded the shirt. Stealing a man’s T-shirt, Megan? What are you, twelve? Neither the chastising inner voice nor the discomfort it brought stopped me from tucking the shirt out of sight.

  “You okay?”

  Bishop’s quiet question tripped a flash of guilt, and I twisted around to find him closing the door.

  Uh-oh. That didn’t bode well.

  “I’m good.” My mouth went on autopilot, letting the lie escape. I wasn’t anywhere close to good. But it wasn’t worth getting into when there was nothing I could do about it. “I’m just putting my stuff away.” I zipped the bag closed, hiding my newly stolen security blanket, and stood up. Turning, I found Bishop dragging the blankets back over the bed. I reached for the edge closest to me and straightened it.

  Together, we got the blanket back on the bed. Although my hands were busy, my mind slipped into a downward spiral. The worries and doubts joined forces with rising uncertainties, leaving me adrift in misgivings. Was I doing the right thing by insisting on working with Bishop and the team, or was I just making things worse? Jinx had already gotten hurt—maybe not seriously this time, but what about next time? My paranoid delusions could get Bishop or the others hurt, like, the dead kind of hurt. That would be on me, just as I would be to blame if my unsubstantiated claims damaged their careers—which was a very real possibility, especially as they were determined to leave the colonel in the dark. This would not get any easier before everything was said and done.

  Am I willing to risk their lives, their futures, on my broken mind? That answer was simple. Not a chance in hell. That meant I needed to call all of this to a halt.

  Lost in my thoughts, I nervously smoothed the blanket only to freeze when Bishop’s hand caught mine. He tugged me closer. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  I avoided his gaze and muttered, “Nothing.”

  “Uh-huh, right.” His comment served as proof that he was highly familiar with female subtext. Without letting me go, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me between his thighs. The position—what it implied and where it could lead—left me struggling between anxiety and anticipation. Once he got me where he wanted, his hands on my hips blocked any chance of escape and held me still. “Look at me, Megan, please?”

  My hands landed on his shoulders as I bit my lower lip and did as he asked.

  “Let’s try this again.” His dark-brown eyes drifted over my face, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly at my hips. “What’s wrong?”

  With nowhere to hide, I held onto him and waded in with the truth. “I’m worried.”

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

  I dug my fingers into his muscles. “It’s not funny.”

  His faint traces of humor disappeared, replaced by the familiar steadiness I was getting used to depending on. “No, it’s not. What exactly are you worried about?”

  For the briefest moment, I hesitated, but then I pushed past my stupid insecurities. “I’m going to ruin your life and your teams’ lives. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

  One of his dark brows rose, an inherently sexy move. “You didn’t drag me or the team into anything.” Before I could challenge him, he said, “We’ve known for over a year that Falcon was targeting the teams. Even before you were taken, we had theories that they had someone on the inside. Unfortunately, without proof, we were left playing defense. Which means if anyone owes anyone an apology, it’s us to you.”

  Floored, I said, “No one owes me an apology.”

  “Don’t they?” For the first time, he dropped his eyes, a grimace creasing his face. When he looked back up, his remorse and determination were clear. “I warned the colonel if we weren’t careful, Falcon would target someone close to her, someone we wouldn’t expect. Do you know why she refused to stop the hunt for an MIA administrative assistant?”

  I licked suddenly dry lips as my heart started to pound. “Because she thought I was the leak.”

  “No. Because she knew Falcon had you, and it was her fault.”

  The absolute truth of what he said arrowed through the mess in my mind and lanced a hurt I hadn’t realized I carried. I’d spent years working alongside the colonel, and while I logically understood why she might have considered me a traitor, I hadn’t realized how deep the wound went. As the days drifted into months, I began to believe no one was looking for me, that not even the colonel, who I’d worked beside for years, considered me important enough to search for. It hurt—that perceived lack of faith. Not that I had room to cast blame. Hadn’t I given up on anyone coming for me?

  Bishop said softly, “You are as much one of hers as any member
of the team, Megan, and she did the best she could at the time. Unfortunately, in our world, taking action requires proof, and that’s something we didn’t have.”

  “You still don’t—not really. My sketchy memory and paranoia do not count as evidence, Bishop. You must know that, or we’d be sharing with Delacourt.”

  “I’ll give you that,” he conceded, “but because of you, we have a starting point, a damn good one. Once Rabbit’s able to narrow down the names, we’ll start putting those to faces and working on motives.”

  “And while you guys turn up the heat, they’re going to try to take you out.” Possibly through me. That thought scared me the most.

  The hands on my hips tightened. “We know that. It’s part and parcel of the job, Megan.”

  His casual acceptance of danger worried me. “Again, your job sucks.”

  “Sometimes, yeah, but the end results are worth it.” Then he demonstrated just how psychic he really was by saying, “You think you’re going to get us killed.”

  My throat closed, making it impossible to answer, but I curled my fingers around his arms as if I could hold him in place.

  Reading my silent answer, he wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in until there wasn’t much space between us. “You won’t.”

  The change of position put his face just below mine. Unable to resist, I looped my arms over his shoulders. One hand went to his hair and played with the ends. Swallowing hard, I found my voice, husky though it was. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, babe, I do.” Rock-solid belief came through in his tone and expression.

  “How?” I needed something more than his innate knowing. This was too important.

  “Because I won’t let you.”

  Why his vow made me feel better, I couldn’t say, but knowing he wouldn’t let me hurt him or anyone else gave me the strength to wrangle my worries back into their dark little box while my balloon of panic slowly deflated. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he repeated softly. A long moment ticked by as we held each other. He broke it with an unexpected question. “Do I need to apologize?”