by Juno Rushdan
She sat across from him. “If you’re in a lot of pain, Doc can give you something.” In an hour or two, they might consider giving him a couple of acetaminophen tablets.
“No. Just hot coffee and something to eat.”
“First, you need to answer a few questions. We know why you wanted to kill all those people. What we don’t know is who helped you along the way. Who is your mysterious, powerful friend? Who leaked my name? That I would be at the auction? Where I live?”
A laugh came out as a snort. “What do I get in return? Needs to be more than food and coffee.”
“Depends on the value of your information.”
He sat silent, staring at the one-way glass like he could see through it with the sheer power of his mind.
Maddox’s thoughts offered up a hundred ways for Gideon to torture him, but with Novak’s training, he’d resist. Not break. “What do you want in exchange?”
“Immunity. For me and my son.”
She folded her arms. “You don’t strike me as a snitch. Why are you willing to give up your source?”
“Boils down to survival. I want immunity. My son’s freedom.”
“Let me hear what you have to bargain with.”
“From time to time, I use an information broker. Powerful. Well-connected. Fast. Always reliable. He’s provided me with the intelligence I’ve needed to pull off several jobs. He notified me about the auction for the smallpox weapon. I paid him a considerable sum for information on all the buyers. His person on the inside here told him you’d attend the auction and warned me not to attend, since it was a trap.”
Acid grated the back of her throat. “Tell me about the mole in our agency.”
“I don’t know who it is, only their code name. But it’s someone close enough to you, Maddox Kinkade, to send my broker detailed information about you, at my request, in under eight hours.”
Her nape prickled. He could be lying. “Exactly what detailed information was provided?”
“Besides your home address? Marital status. Habits, like a predictable morning jog, rain or shine. Vices. Such as frequenting Rocky’s Bar with your coworkers. I could delve a little further.” His voice dipped to a whisper and that creepy grin swept over his face. “But I don’t know if Scarface is listening. Hearing how you pick up men at the bar might upset him.”
A chill turned her heart to ice. She wanted to look away—hell, she wanted to crawl under the damn table and shrivel into nothing—but she held his entertained gaze.
The unsettling details he knew didn’t narrow down the suspects. The ITM section had access to personnel records and could’ve easily looked up her address. Her marital status and predilection for jogging, sometimes doing so on the grounds here, were common knowledge. Everyone went to Rocky’s, including Sybil Parker’s minions and topside security.
The Gray Box employees got a discount because Rocky was the sister-in-law of one of the guys deployed and the team looked out for her.
Maddox never hid the fact that she left the bar with men on occasion any more than the others did when they picked up women. They never boasted, but they did share tidbits during typical office banter in the gym, break room, never thinking it was a weakness an eavesdropper might exploit. The only one who didn’t screw and tell was Gideon.
“I can’t give you the mole, but I can give you the broker. Not only how to make contact, but how to lure him out into the open. If you have him, you’ll have your mole.” His grin spread, and he even dared to chuckle. “And I say that knowing whoever is selling your secrets is worth far more than me and my son. In the immunity deal, there can be a stipulation that if I don’t hold up my end, the deal is null and void. But once I’ve given you proof, we must be freed at once.”
Cocky bastard.
“It’ll take time to verify any evidence you give us.”
He lifted a finger and wagged it back and forth, rattling the chains attached to his cuffs. “This is nonnegotiable. I can have a microchip delivered with information you can act on immediately. Then my son and I are to be released, not handed off to another agency.” His smile slipped, and his eyes flickered for the first time with a hint of genuine fear. “Not the FBI, not the U.S. Marshals, not local police. The broker has people everywhere. I doubt we’d survive the transfer, and if we did, it wouldn’t be for long.”
“You expect me to believe this broker has a vast network of spies embedded throughout the intelligence community?”
With a snort, Novak shook his head. “He turned someone in here. An agency that isn’t supposed to exist.” His tone all but screamed you idiot, doubt me at your own peril. “You’ve no clue what you’re dealing with. The magnitude of it. How far the broker will go to protect his empire.”
Her cautious skepticism evaporated. This was bad, as bad as it got in their line of work.
“Why so glum, Agent Kinkade? You should be preparing to celebrate with the information I’m going to give. Instead, you look like you’re going to a funeral.”
This catastrophe could very well bury the Gray Box, ruin the U.S. intelligence community as a whole, and destroy careers. Glum was an understatement.
“What’s the code name of our mole?” Maddox asked.
He pursed his lips, eyes gleaming like they were playing a game.
“Tell me as a show of good faith and we’ll see about getting you some coffee and food.”
“Your mole is code-named Cobalt. To learn more, Val and I need immunity.”
Cobalt didn’t ring any bells.
“The name of the broker?” she pressed.
He flashed that taunting, superior smile she hated and made a show of zipping his lips.
Maddox stood, squaring her shoulders. “Let me speak with my boss.”
“I want to see my son.”
“Once we finalize the deal, we’ll put you in a room with him.”
“Ticktock, Agent Kinkade.”
Shutting the door behind her, she let out a quivery breath. Holy shit.
She rushed into the observation room.
Sanborn practically slapped her with his stern gaze as she closed the door. “I have a stranger in my freaking house!”
Everyone in the room froze at his raised voice. The DGB didn’t yell. Never cursed. He was the epitome of smooth, unruffled power.
“And you all”—Sanborn pointed to her, Castle, Reece, and Gideon—“thought, in your infinite wisdom, it was best not to tell me and handle this on your own?” His anger was so tangible, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising from him.
Maddox stepped forward. “We didn’t know who we could trust. Still don’t, but if the mole knew we were on to him, it could’ve compromised the mission.”
“It was my idea to leave you out of the loop,” Castle said, taking the major hit. He met her eyes, and she spotted a glimmer of friendliness. “The prime directive had to come first.”
“Good initiative, horrible judgment. I take it Mr. Matthews knows we have a leak?”
She nodded.
Sanborn shuttered his eyes, his face grim. “Even the civilian knows.” While I was in the dark. He neglected to say the words, but he didn’t have to.
She cringed on the inside at the hurt and disappointment in his expression, in his tone.
Yes, in a way, it was an awful betrayal. Albeit a necessary one.
They still had to investigate everyone in the building, including him. Now Sanborn knew that they knew about a traitor, if he was indeed the mole—which she doubted—it’d be damn near impossible to catch him, unless the evidence from Novak fingered Sanborn irrefutably.
He rubbed his brow and glanced at his watch. “I can get the ball rolling on immunity for Novak, but I won’t be able to get anything in writing until midmorning.”
“When do we tell him about his son?” Maddox asked. “I
lied and told him we’d put him in a room with Val. The minute Novak finds out his son is lying in a morgue, he’s going to lose it.”
Sanborn stared at Novak through the one-way glass and a haunted look clouded his eyes.
“He almost killed twenty thousand people, including us,” Reece said. “I say we tell him after he signs the deal and we verify the microchip isn’t chicken feed that’ll have us chasing our own tails, tying us in knots.”
Sometimes chicken feed—worthless information—glittered like gold. They had to exercise extreme caution, and verification would take time.
“So what if you lied to that monster about his son?” Reece was a good man, one of the most honest and honorable she knew, but his words belied his issues with not wanting to have children. Complicated issues that had ended his marriage.
Sanborn lowered his head. “He may be a monster and a terrorist.” His voice grew quiet and gentle. “But he’s also a father. There’s nothing worse than the pain of losing a child.” The usual cool, clinical veneer cracked, revealing real sorrow that twisted something in Maddox’s chest. “Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around.” He swallowed, cleared his throat, and said, “I should be the one to tell him. After we know the information he gives us is legitimate.”
The loss shrouding him was unmistakable. Sanborn was a father and had suffered the agony of burying a child. From the somber expressions of the others, they hadn’t known either.
She might’ve picked up on it when he talked about her miscarriage if she hadn’t been wallowing in the mire of her own convoluted emotions.
“I’m sorry.” The rest of her condolences stuck in her mouth when she sensed the gazes of the others slide to her. Their unease about broaching a subject personal for Sanborn mingled with her own. “That we couldn’t bring Val in alive. That you’ll be the one to deliver the news.”
“It’s a part of the job.” Drawing in a sharp breath, his face turned stoic and his shoulders went straight as a soldier’s. “No one outside this room is to know we have a mole, so we can get this broker and plug our leak. Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“We’ll put our heads together and come up with a game plan. But that we doesn’t include you, Maddox.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you need downtime. Forty-eight hours.”
“But—”
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m hot enough to boil your grits right now for withholding this information from me. But you were almost blown up on a yacht, tased, drugged, and kidnapped, and you’ve been turning and burning for over a week.” He put a hand on her shoulder and concern filled his eyes. “Forty-eight hours R&R. I’m not asking. I’m ordering. Don’t even take the time to write an after-action report. Just get out of here. I’ll recall Alistair and Ares. They’ll help while you’re out. When you get back, take care of your paperwork and be prepared for me to work you to the bone until we find this damn mole. Then I’m going to drag Cobalt over the coals.”
Chapter 35
Arlington, Virginia
9:27 p.m. EDT
They’d both been through the wringer, had the shit beaten out of them, and every part of his body hurt. His throat, even his fingers.
Everything except his heart.
Cole pulled his bike into the attached garage of his town house, comforted by the solid warmth of Maddox snuggled up close behind him.
The garage door closed. They dismounted, tugging off their helmets.
She smiled at him through the weariness and past the ache of her bruises. Just like that, he forgot about his pain. Hope shimmered between them, and for the first time in nearly a decade, he looked forward to tomorrow and the beautiful possibilities—with her.
“Thanks for bringing me here.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “I couldn’t go back to my place after Novak. Not yet.”
“I was hoping to convince you to stay with me.”
Changes would have to be made to accommodate her on a permanent basis, but he was willing to turn his world inside out and reorder every priority to make her happy.
She rested her head on his shoulder, nestling closer with her hand rubbing his chest.
A tangle of need tightened through his sore body. He walked them up to his reinforced steel door, pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner, and entered the six-digit code. The keypad beeped, unlocking the door. With a press of the handle, they were inside.
He shut off the alarm and took her hand.
As they strolled through the first floor, she grew tense beside him with her head on a swivel, taking in his place.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked. “Water? Wine? I’m sure I have a nice red you’d like.”
Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t try to hide her surprise.
Chuckling, he glanced around at the open space along with her. His place had every upgraded amenity: wide-plank hardwood floors, top-of-the-line appliances, slick quartz countertops, a built-in coffee system that elevated brewed java to the next level.
But it was also devoid of the cushy comforts of her apartment. The dining room was bare. A sixty-inch television mounted to the wall in the living room faced workout equipment rather than a sofa. A vertical climber, rowing machine, inclined barbell bench as well as a flat one, stacks of plated weights, and an adjustable dumbbell set.
Why sit on your ass watching TV when you could get in a workout?
“Why don’t you have any furniture?” she asked. “Did you just move in?”
“Uh, no. I’ve lived here for over two years. I didn’t want to waste money on furniture I didn’t need.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Prudent and practical.” Her voice went all sultry as she took off her jacket and gun. “Very important qualities I find rather sexy.”
Good thing his weird bachelor setup didn’t turn her off. Not completely anyway.
She leaned against the counter in the kitchen and beckoned to him with a finger.
He went to stand between her spread feet, wanting to erase every inch of space between them. Gliding his hands over her hips, he caressed her backside, bringing her pelvis flush to his. She peeled his jacket back, dropping it to the floor, followed by his shoulder holster and weapon.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, brushing his lips across hers.
She nodded, hauling his shirt over his head. “But not for food. Please tell me you’ve got a decent bed in this place and not some economy-size cot.”
They both chuckled.
“I have a nice setup in the master, the best mattress and sheets money can buy.”
“Of course you do. Superman’s Fortress of Solitude might’ve been stark and efficient, but he did have a luxurious king-size bed waiting for Lois.”
He hiked his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak.
She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, and flashed a naughty grin.
They stared in each other’s eyes for a sweet moment that had his blood pounding in anticipation before she curled her fingers in his hair and gave him a long, lazy kiss that sent a shock of heat racing through him.
Cupping her breast, he ran a thumb over her bra across a pebbled nipple.
A mewling sound rose in her throat, and she eased her lips free. “Let’s shower. Then you can show me that bed. And it better live up to the high expectations I have for my Man of Steel.” She winked at him.
Her words went right to his heart and several places farther south.
* * *
Soft candlelight flickered like fireflies, casting the bedroom in an amber glow. Maddox kissed Cole, needing another taste of him. Their bodies were a tangle of limbs, breath mingled, supple flesh melded as one. The musky scent of sex thickened the air.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” The whispered chant spilled from
her lips in his ear, and she couldn’t stop it, wanted him to hear it, ached for him to feel it.
They rocked against each other in the sumptuous bed fit for royalty, clutching one another, fueled by this sensual craving that never diminished. She relished the cocoon they spun in their slow, nurturing connection. Skin on skin, the thudding of their hearts vibrating through her, they were as close as possible in every way.
His warm, rough hands slid over her body, cupping the swell of her breasts and butt. Those fingers had explored her curves, every scar with such tenderness, there was no doubt he cherished her. Imperfections and all.
Her whole body tightened, unraveling in the ecstasy they made together. In a vicious groan, he came undone with her.
The full weight of him pressed down on her, his breath ragged against her throat, his lips tracing her jawline. She smiled in his lush hair, never wanting him to move, relishing the ache. Sated and rooted in this moment, in their love, in being his from skin to soul.
He caressed her face with both hands and kissed her. “Hungry, lyubov moya?”
She’d never tire of hearing him call her “my love” in Russian. “Starving.”
“The steakhouse a couple of blocks over delivers until midnight on the weekends.”
“Sounds perfect. Along with a glass of wine and a couple of ice packs.” The ache from her bruises and scrapes was setting in.
Her cell phone buzzed, vibrating on the nightstand. Groaning, Cole rolled off her, and she grabbed it.
“It’s the office.” Surprise was rich in her voice. She answered. “Maddox here.”
“Sanborn got the thumbs-up on an immunity deal and it’s being ironed out,” Castle said. “But the president insists after the deal is signed that Novak is transferred into the custody of the U.S. Marshals until we can apprehend the broker.”
She jackknifed up in the bed. “What? Novak will never agree to it. For the first time, I saw something that terrified him. The broker. He can’t be transferred.”
“It’s out of Sanborn’s hands if he wants the president to sign the immunity deal.”