by J. Kenner
Winston took a moment to process everything. “Tell me this—why me? You’ve got solid intel. Send in a team and bring her in. The accountant, too. How hard can that be? And then here I am to help with the interrogation.”
“Too risky. If we pull Bartlett, she goes into the wind. This is the first time we’ve had a solid lead on her location ahead of a hit. We want her, Starr. Surely you can understand that.”
He swallowed. “Yeah. I get it.”
“If we put a tail on her target, we have to assume she’ll get wind of it and go under.”
Winston leaned back, studying Seagrave’s face. He had to hand it to the man—there were no clues. Still, Winston thought he understood the situation. “Bartlett’s one of ours, too, isn’t he? A deep cover operative. You think whoever she’s working for has managed to get his hands on a list of undercover agents. You call in a team—hell, you call in anyone who officially works at the SOC—and you risk tipping them off. I’m not the best man for the job because my wife’s picking your boys off. I’m the best man because I don’t belong to you anymore.”
“And because you’re so damn smart,” Seagrave said, with just the slightest hint of a smile. “Although you’re wrong about Bartlett being an agent. He’s not. He’s a civilian in the employee of a man named Billy Hawthorne. Do you know the name?”
“Should I?”
“McNally’s heir apparent,” Seagrave said, his voice grave.
Winston’s mouth went dry. “What are you saying? We took down the Consortium.”
“We did. Hell, you did. Billy surfaced about a year ago. He’s McNally’s nephew, and apparently he’s decided to resurrect the family business. Or some version of it, anyway.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s pretty much the entire intelligence community’s take on the situation.”
Winston cracked a smile. “And you’re hoping to nip it in the bud before his organization gets as powerful as his role model’s.”
“Got it in one.”
“Which is how Bartlett fits in,” Winston said.
Seagrave nodded. “He’s this close to agreeing to testify for us,” he added, holding his thumb and forefinger just millimeters apart. “He’s key. The information on that computer is even more important.”
“What did he witness? Murder?”
A hint of a smile touched Seagrave’s lips. “No, but you could say he knows where the bodies are buried. And who buried them. He’s an accountant for Hawthorne’s operation.”
“An accountant?”
“Not sexy, but it was accounting that took down Capone. People forget that.”
Winston nodded in understanding. Bartlett had access to books and information that could put his employer behind bars, and that employer wanted to eliminate the risk. And Linda was hired to be the ax man. To take out a witness so that the masterminds of a criminal empire could go free.
“In Bartlett’s case, it’s not just the financials. It’s who he was doing the work for.”
“Explain.”
“Bartlett works with one of our covert organizations. His handler is Dustin Collins, one of the operational commanders in ID-9.”
“ID-9?”
“Intelligence Division Nine. The ID protocol was funded about the time you joined the SOC. The agents assigned to the various ID sections have even deeper cover. Longer term assignments.”
“Why is the SOC bringing in an ID-9 witness?”
“We’re not.”
Winston frowned, waiting for Seagrave to tell him the rest.
“Bartlett’s agreed to testify against both Hawthorne and Collins.”
“Collins?” Winston let out a slow whistle. “An operational commander is dirty?”
“I’ve been watching him for a while. Oversight of the ID divisions falls to the SOC.”
Winston’s blood ran cold. “So you’re positive Collins is a mole?”
“I am,” Seagrave said. “And we have the chance to nail him with Bartlett’s testimony and the evidence on the laptop. Which means you need to bring him in. I need Bartlett alive. I need Linda alive. And I need that machine.”
Winston studied his friend’s face. “You told me about Linda so that I’d take this assignment.”
“I told you about Linda because you have a right to know,” Seagrave countered. “But knowing what you do, I think you can empathize with the depth of Collins’ betrayal.”
Shit.
“Well?” Seagrave pressed.
No matter how much he might want to bury his head in the sand for this one, he couldn’t. Not for something as important as this.
“Agent,” Seagrave said, though Winston wasn’t officially an agent anymore. “Will you take this assignment?”
Winston shifted, looking back at the screen. The video had played past the image of Bartlett, returning to Linda standing on the roof, the gun in her hand. She was frozen there, and Winston was sure that Seagrave had the tech boys edit that shot right onto the end of the footage. A final punch to push him over the edge if he was undecided.
He wasn’t.
“I’m in,” he said. “Never thought I’d say this, but I guess I’m going back to Texas.”
Chapter Three
“You’re sure it won’t be a problem?” Winston shifted in the chair across from Ryan Hunter’s desk. Problem or not, he was going to Texas. But he preferred to go with Hunter’s blessing.
“Special loan to the SOC,” Hunter said. He lifted his hands in a what can you do? gesture. “How can I compete with that?”
“Well, I appreciate it,” Winston said. Ryan Hunter headed up Stark Security, answering only to billionaire Damien Stark who, as far as Winston had been able to tell, let Hunter take the lead where the agency was concerned. In existence for only a few years, the SSA had already earned its reputation as a force to be reckoned with both domestically and internationally.
“You’re an asset, Starr,” Ryan said. “If the SOC is trying to poach you, we’re going to be butting heads. But if Seagrave just needs you on loan for an operation, that’s not a problem.” A half-smile danced over his lips. “I’m more than happy for covert intelligence organizations to owe us favors.”
He leaned forward, his arms crossed on his desk as he studied Winston. “I’ll admit I’m curious. I won’t ask you to break any confidences, but can you tell me what this is about?”
“Not really.” In truth, he probably could have told Hunter that his dead wife had reappeared and he’d been tasked with figuring out what the hell was going on. Seagrave trusted both Stark and Hunter, and he’d understand that Winston needed someone to talk to.
Except, of course, he didn’t need someone. Or maybe he did, but he wasn’t going to take the comfort. Not when revealing the situation would also reveal the possibility that he’d been an idiot. Practically a cuckold. Used by his wife for some nefarious purpose he still didn’t understand. She’d betrayed him—he knew that. No matter how much he wanted to protest that it was all a misunderstanding, he knew better. She’d used him—and then when she was done with him, she’d slipped off into the dark, ensuring that he wouldn’t follow by making him believe she was dead.
He’d been a lovesick fool, and that wasn’t something he was inclined to share with the man who not only signed his paycheck, but who trusted Winston’s instincts in the field. And, honestly, he didn’t want to see the look of sympathy on his friends’ faces once they learned the truth. Which was why he intended to hold this particular truth very close to the vest.
“I can’t share the details,” he told Hunter. “But it ties back to my days as sheriff. You already know I spent some time working closely with the SOC back then.”
“A new player’s popped up in an old case,” Hunter said. “I understand. You’ll be missed, but we’ll make do. I’ll pair Leah with Renly while you’re away. Let her help him get settled.”
“Renly?”
Hunter shook his head, frowning. “Sorry, Renly Cooper. I forgot you were
n’t there last night. He dropped by Emma’s place after you left.”
“I look forward to meeting him.”
“He’s in with Sarah if you want to say hello.” Sarah was the former part-time office manager who’d recently been bumped to full-time.
“When I get back,” Winston said, glancing at his watch. “I’m flying commercial and need to run if I’m going to make my plane.”
“Austin, right?”
“Not a bad location for an assignment.” He tried to look casual. In truth, he’d always loved the capital city of Texas. He hadn’t been back since Linda’s death—or, rather, since her betrayal. It had been their favorite weekend getaway, and the thought of going without her had been too much to bear.
Now she was alive, and he was going back to apprehend her, and he was certain that this would be the last time he’d visit that city. No matter how this ended, his memories—and Austin—would be tainted.
“I’m sure the SOC has you well-equipped, and since I don’t know the mission, I can’t speak to specifics. But you should meet up with Noah Carter when you get there.”
“Will do,” he said, taking the card Ryan proffered. He’d met Noah once before at one of Stark’s functions. A post-Grammy Award party in honor of popular singer Kiki King, Noah’s wife. In the past, Noah had worked with a shadowy vigilante group called Deliverance, several members of which were now working for Stark Security.
A tech genius, Noah had left Deliverance to run the Austin office of Stark Applied Technology. Winston couldn’t think of any specific tech he required, but who knew what he might need on the fly, and he had a feeling that Noah possessed the kind of backend hacker skills that might come in handy.
“I’ll give him a call from the road,” Winston promised. “Buy him lunch once I get there.” With the time change, he’d be arriving around two, so it would be a late lunch. And after that, he’d need to get in place to intercept Linda.
He turned when he heard the light tap at the door. Leah smiled at him, her brows rising above her black glasses. “I’m heading out if you want me to drop you at the airport. Unless you’ve already called a rideshare?”
“A lift would be great.”
“Have a good trip,” Hunter said, rising as Winston did. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“What would you need?” Leah asked as they headed for the main doors. “Isn’t this a family thing?”
Winston felt a twinge of guilt for telling her that. They’d worked closely for his entire tenure at Stark Security. Hell, they’d even gotten drunk in Hong Kong together, then managed to get completely lost as they stumbled back to their hotel. If he’d had any doubt as to Leah’s friendship or her value as a partner, those doubts had been erased when she’d not only managed to guide them in a blind stupor, but had never breathed a word to anyone at Stark Security about their lapse in judgment.
True, the case had already been resolved, and they’d stayed an extra day to play tourist. But Winston didn’t usually drink that much, and certainly not in a foreign country. He’d seen a woman though—a woman who’d reminded him of Linda. And damned if he hadn’t been gutted.
He pressed his fingers to his temples as the memory of his monster headache returned. Not only that, but as a sick sense of dread rose in him. He’d gotten blind drunk because of a glimpse of a stranger. How the hell did he expect to survive this mission if he was chasing the real woman?
“Earth to Winston,” she said as he grabbed his duffel off his desk and slung it over his shoulder.
“What? Oh, sorry. Yes. A family thing.”
“I thought so.” She rummaged in her purse. “Oh, hell. Hang on. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He watched as she headed toward Sarah’s office, his mind still with his parents. They lived in Llano, a pretty little town in the Hill Country. They were retired now and had bought a small movie theater with their savings. His brother and sister-in-law helped them run it, and Winston was impressed that, so far at least, they hadn’t lost their shirts. Then again, his father had bought stock in Google and Microsoft and Netflix before any of the companies had exploded. So he’d been able to retire as a criminal defense attorney in favor of a job that let him air classic movies like Twelve Angry Men and Witness for the Prosecution.
He talked to his parents regularly, but he hadn’t seen them in ages. He’d vowed to never return to Texas after Linda had died, but he’d always known that vow couldn’t apply to his family. Eventually he’d have buried enough of the pain to justify a visit when he wouldn’t be a numb husk of a man. And Llano was a long way from Hades.
Now, he almost wished he had more time before he had to be in Austin. It would be good to sit and talk with his dad and have his mom fuss over him and tell him he didn’t eat enough.
That’s how it was before. Now, though … well, now he hadn’t been home for over three years. He’d gone to see them after Linda’s death. After he’d killed McNally and had needed to heal. It had helped. And yet at the same time it hadn’t. Because staring at his parents—at their tight relationship and the way they could read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs—God, it had reminded him so much of Linda he’d almost been unable to breathe.
He’d spent the entire trip feeling like a vacuum, sucking in their sympathy and giving nothing back.
Now, damn him, he wanted his mother’s comfort and his father’s gentle wisdom. But he knew damn well that he wouldn’t go. They’d loved her, too. They’d mourned for the woman they’d believed she was, and he wasn’t going to taint their memories with the truth.
But it’s not the truth. There’s some other explanation. There must be.
The words whispered through his mind, but he knew better. There might be a twist in the last chapter of every crime novel he read, but life didn’t work that way. The reality you saw was the reality that existed, and you either learned to adapt or you died.
Once upon a time, he had wanted to die. Going on without her had been too heavy a load to bear. And then last night—the revelation she’d faked her death had knocked the wind out of him all over again.
But it hadn’t broken him. Not this time.
If anyone was about to be broken, it was Linda, not him. And while he hated the circumstances, he couldn’t deny the warm call of the rage inside him that wanted nothing more than to bring her down.
“You were in there a while,” he said, when Leah returned.
“Sorry. I left my keys on Sarah’s desk, but then I got talking to Renly. He has some seriously great stories.”
Winston glanced toward the glass walls of Sarah’s office where Renly Cooper sat with a hip on her desk as she flipped through paperwork, probably to make sure all the various contracts and confidentiality agreements were signed.
“Navy SEAL,” Winston said. “I suppose he would have good stories.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess he has some good SEAL stories, too,” Leah said as they headed toward the elevator that would take them to the basement parking area. “I hadn’t really thought about that. Then again, our Stark Security stories are probably just as good.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
She pressed the button to call the elevator then turned to gape at him. “Don’t you know who he is?”
“I would say Renly Cooper, but I have a feeling that’s not the answer you’re looking for.”
“You really are a Luddite. Do you even have a Facebook account? Or Twitter?”
“I don’t,” he said. “And yet somehow I manage to soldier on.”
He could almost see the effort she made not to roll her eyes.
“He just broke up with Marissa McQuire,” she said instead. “And before that, he was dating Francesca Muratti. He’s the reason their friendship went all to hell.”
“I didn’t realize it had. Then again, I didn’t know they were friends.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know who I’m talking about, do you?”
He rattled off both women’s most recent films. “I like cinema,” he said. “Pretty sure that doesn’t mean I have to like Hollywood gossip, too.”
This time, she really did roll her eyes. “Sometimes the gossip is more entertaining than the movie.”
“Well, you may be right there. So who is he that he knows these women? He comes from a Hollywood family?”
“He consults on movies. Isn’t that cool? He was doing it full-time, but then he met Damien at a party or something, and I guess he’s looking for something with a bit more meaning. Honestly, I don’t know all of it. But he seems nice.”
Winston shot her a glance over the roof of the car before they both slipped inside. “Well, enjoy the next few days showing him the ropes. Just don’t enjoy it too much.”
She scowled, then started the car. “I said he’s interesting, not that I’m spreading my legs.”
He laughed. That was one of the things he loved about Leah. One minute she could be as bouncy as a teen, the next she was as crude as a hooker. She was one of their best undercover operatives, and it was in part because of that chameleon blood.
“I stand corrected,” he said. “I thought I’d caught the whiff of a crush on you.”
“I’ll cop to suffering under the weight of unrequited attraction,” she admitted. “But Renly Cooper is not the object of my desire.”
“Is it serious?”
She laughed. “Not even close.”
He nodded sagely. “Just as well. Less likely to get hurt if you take it slow.”
“Did you and Linda?”
He tensed and hoped she didn’t notice. He and Leah had spent long hours on assignments together and she knew how much he’d loved—and missed—his wife. But there was no way for her to know that Linda was the last person he wanted to talk about right now, even if she was the only person filling his thoughts.