Total Control

by Griffin, Laura

  He led her to the edge of the highway. Silently, they waited for a break in traffic, and he caught her hand as they rushed across amid a blare of horns. She pulled away when they reached the other side, striding in front of him to cross the wooden bridge over the dune. And then they were on the sand.

  Not making eye contact, she bent to take off her sensible flat shoes. No heels for Lexie. At five-eleven, she didn’t need them, and they were bad for running. No telling when Special Agent Mays might have to chase down a bad guy on the mean streets of Los Angeles.

  He looked her over, savoring the sight. Everything about her was all business, and she could have traded wardrobes with one of her male counterparts. But that silky long hair was unapologetically feminine, and Jake had been fantasizing about it spread across his pillow for months.

  She looked around. “Should I—”

  “Leave them.”

  She tucked her shoes under the wooden step and looked out at the surf, still avoiding eye contact.

  Jake led her to the water’s edge. The wind had picked up since the op. San Clemente was a dark shadow on the horizon, no lights, practically invisible unless you knew where to look. The Navy owned the entire island and kept a low profile.

  Lexie stepped closer, and he smelled her perfume on the breeze. It was something subtle and sexy, completely at odds with her businesslike persona. She’d said she’d been working all day, so had she put it on on her way here to see him? The possibility gave him hope that maybe this was a personal visit, even though every other signal she was giving off told him otherwise.

  “So.” She looked up at him. “Long time no see.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. That had been her choice, not his. After the last time their paths had crossed, he’d called her for weeks and gotten no response. Zip. Finally, he’d stopped. He didn’t see it as a defeat, exactly. But he’d decided a tactical retreat was the best strategy.

  “I left you a message earlier,” she said.

  “We were out on a training op.”

  “That explains it.” She smiled, but it was tense. Lexie was always tense, but she was more uptight than usual tonight.

  Jake looked her over more closely. Beneath her blazer, her white button-down shirt looked rumpled. The bulge of the Glock at her side told him she was still very much on duty. His gaze dropped to her feet. She had red toenail polish. He pictured her bare-legged and curled up on her sofa with a boyfriend, and a punch of jealousy hit him out of nowhere.

  And he was definitely losing it. He had no claim on this woman whatsoever. Maybe the adrenaline surge from tonight’s op was messing with his head.

  “How was it?” she asked.

  “What, the op?”

  “Yeah.” She tipped her head to the side, feigning interest.

  “Fine.”

  “Ryan said you guys are on leave now?”

  “Seventy-two hours.”

  “Nice.”

  “Then Tuesday we’re wheels up on a training rotation.”

  The silence stretched between them, and he waited. The wind whipped around them, and she peeled a lock of that dark hair away from her face.

  “So listen, Jake. I need you for something. And you’re not going to like it.”

  “Try me.”

  She reached into her jacket and pulled out a cell phone, and his last hope that tonight’s visit was personal evaporated. She swiped at the screen and handed him the phone.

  It showed a photograph of a man. The shot was taken from a high vantage point, probably a surveillance camera.

  “This is Jerome Matapang, a twenty-nine-year-old American, last seen by authorities eight days ago crossing a border checkpoint in Nogales. I need to locate him.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Jake looked at her. Then he studied the picture. The guy had dark hair, brown eyes, and an average build. “Who is he, exactly?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Who’s he work for?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either. But it’s important that I find him.” She paused. “It’s a matter of national security.”

  Jake shifted his focus to Lexie again. Her blue eyes looked dark and serious in the moonlight.

  “Tell me this,” he said. “Why not ask one of your hotshot FBI friends to help you?”

  “You’re better.” Her serious look turned coy. “Actually, I hear you’re the best.”

  It was an obvious attempt at flattery, and it pissed him off. Not because it wasn’t true—as a SEAL, he’d spent much of his career locating bad guys in hidey-holes around the globe. Alpha Crew was especially good at finding people who didn’t want to be found. But this flirty tone was new from her, and Jake didn’t like being manipulated.

  She seemed to sense his reaction. “My problem is, I can’t go through the regular channels.”

  “Why not?”

  She hesitated. “Let’s just call it office politics. I have to go around my boss, and he doesn’t like me.”

  “You could get in trouble.”

  She folded her arms. “I know.”

  Shit, he could get in trouble. He wasn’t supposed to freelance, especially not stateside, and especially not for a federal agency.

  “Just talking to you about this could probably get me fired,” she added.

  “Then why are you?”

  “I told you. I need help.”

  Jake looked down at the picture again. “How soon do you need to find him?”

  “Yesterday. Hell, a week ago. But I’ll settle for sometime this weekend. I absolutely must have his location pinned down by Monday morning.”

  “Eight days is a long time,” Jake said. “He could be anywhere by now.”

  She nodded. “I have reason to believe he’s in Southern California.”

  “What reason?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either. I’m sorry.” She sounded exasperated now. “You know how it is with CT cases.”

  Lexie worked counterterrorism out of the FBI’s Los Angeles field office. In fact, it was a pair of CT cases that had brought her in contact with Jake’s team in the first place. During the more recent case, Alpha Crew had just returned from rescuing an American ambassador who was taken hostage by a terrorist group at a resort in Thailand. The group’s mastermind had escaped capture during the mission but later turned up in California, which was when Lexie’s team got involved. The man, known in the intel community as Tango X, had been arrested with a little help from Alpha Crew. The feds had hoped the man would lead them to a terrorist sleeper cell believed to be operating on U.S. soil, but as far as Jake knew, that hadn’t happened. He figured the trail had gone cold.

  “Is this related to our friend Tom Green, aka Tango X?” Jake asked.

  She didn’t respond, but the slight twitch of her mouth gave him his answer. It also explained why she’d come to him. Jake knew the players and circumstances without having to be told, which saved her from violating even more department policy. She didn’t like breaking the rules, and the fact that she was doing it now told him how desperate she was.

  Jake studied her face, still unable to believe he was standing on a beach with her after six months of radio silence. Her eyes looked pleading. That was new, too, and he had the urge to kiss her, like he’d been dying to do for months.

  He handed the phone back. “Sorry. Can’t do it.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  “I have a commitment tomorrow at oh-six-hundred.”

  “Could you move it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “But . . . I thought you said you were on leave?”

  “I am. This is personal.”

  Everything in her face changed. The doe-eyed look disappeared, replaced by frustration. She was probably surprised that he’d let something personal come before a job, which was clearly a foreign concept to her. It was foreign to Jake, too, but this weekend was unusual due to some extenuating circumstances that he had no desire to explain.


  “Sorry I wasted your time.” She tucked the phone away, seeming not just frustrated but flustered now. Her uncharacteristic flirting hadn’t worked, and she was probably embarrassed. Guilt needled him.

  “Look,” he said, “if it’s that important, I know people you could—”

  “Forget it. And please forget I asked.”

  Lexie drove back to L.A. with a rock in her stomach. Her trip had been a failure on every level.

  What had she expected? It was a crazy idea to drive all the way to Coronado to see the one man she’d been avoiding for months. And he’d looked so good she’d almost lost her nerve the instant she laid eyes on him.

  Lexie checked her mirror and shifted into the left lane, picking up speed. Even after ten, there was traffic on the 5, and she was going to end up wasting her whole night on this field trip, time she could have spent at the office getting something done.

  Sorry. Can’t do it.

  Her stomach tightened at the memory. The thing was, he hadn’t looked sorry. He’d looked perfectly nonchalant as he rejected her plea for help. Of all the outcomes she’d imagined, that hadn’t been one of them.

  Lexie buzzed down the windows of her Chevy Malibu, hoping the wind would calm her nerves. She liked the vibration and the feeling of forward motion after hours and hours being stuck at her desk today. The cool night air whipped against her skin, and she thought about Jake.

  Not much intimidated her. Since the first day she’d set foot inside the FBI Academy, she’d been surrounded by strong men. Men who were competitive and athletic and brimming with confidence. Men who were determined not to be shown up by a woman. Lexie had learned to hold her own with guys like that. Through grueling runs and endless firearms training and hand-to-hand fighting, she’d proven her ability to keep up. She was never the strongest or the fastest, but she had stamina, not to mention a deep well of determination not to go home humiliated. It was challenging, but she’d endured, and graduating from the Academy with her mom and dad—a veteran cop—looking on had been the proudest moment of her life.

  After surviving Quantico, she’d encountered a whole new sort of challenge that was subtler but no less difficult: the challenge of building a lasting career in an environment where she was outnumbered three to one.

  She’d done it by developing a tough exterior. She didn’t let setbacks get to her. She remained cool and rational under pressure, never earning the label “emotional” that was the kiss of death for a female agent’s career. The Bureau was changing, but it was still very much a boys’ club, and Lexie had learned to hold her own with all the alpha guys she encountered in her job.

  Except for Jake.

  Jake Heath had shaken her foundations from the moment she met him in the lobby of the L.A. field office. He’d towered over her with his blue-eyed gaze, and she’d felt her insides go liquid. She’d been speechless. But somehow she’d managed to get through that first encounter, and then others, without revealing the effect he had on her.

  The last time she and Jake had crossed paths on a case, she’d agreed to have dinner with him. Big mistake. She’d spent the entire meal seated across from him, trying not to stare at his chiseled features and muscular arms and mesmerizing blue eyes. Halfway through dinner, she was debating breaking her personal rule against casual sex when her boss had called and summoned her back to work.

  For months afterward, she’d resisted the temptation to return Jake’s phone calls. And she’d steadfastly avoided seeing him. Until now.

  A warm tingle filled her as she pictured him on the beach under the moonlight. Going to the beach had been a bad idea, too, but she hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of talking to him in O’Malley’s, surrounded by teammates and SEAL groupies.

  Lexie buzzed up her windows and adjusted her rearview mirror, taking note of a black pickup that looked familiar. It was the sort of thing she noticed now. She switched lanes to see what he’d do, and the truck sped right past her. Okay, so she was paranoid. Years of dealing with criminals had made her suspicious of everyone and everything around her.

  Her phone buzzed from the cup holder. It was Brian, who was probably still at the office.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “How’d it go with the SEAL?” he asked.

  “He can’t do it.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “What does it matter? He’s out.”

  Brian cursed. “I thought you said we could count on him.”

  She’d thought she could. She knew Jake liked her. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted to take her out again, and probably take her to bed, too. He’d totally poured on the charm, and Lexie had resisted. Until today, when she’d suddenly been desperate enough to go looking for him, hoping a little flirting might get her what she needed, but her strategy had backfired, and now she felt stupid.

  “Lexie?”

  “We need to move on to Plan B.”

  No point in dwelling on failure.

  “What’s Plan B?” Brian asked.

  “I have to figure that out.”

  “That mean you’re coming in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because we’ve got movement at the ex-girlfriend’s house.”

  Lexie’s pulse picked up. “What do you mean, ‘movement’? Did Jerome show up?”

  “No, but Chen tells me the ex-girlfriend packed up her car and left.”

  “What do you mean, ‘packed up’?”

  “Two duffel bags and a roll-on suitcase, and then she took off.”

  “At ten p.m. on a Friday night? That sounds interesting.”

  “No joke. That’s why Chen tailed her. She’s on PCH northbound, and Chen’s got eyes on her.”

  It could be nothing. Maybe their suspect’s ex-girlfriend was simply heading off on a weekend getaway. But they didn’t have a lot of leads on Jerome Matapang’s whereabouts, and at this point, the ex-girlfriend was the best clue they had. Especially now that Jake, the most talented people-finder Lexie knew, had declined to help her. Not just declined—refused.

  It’s personal.

  She pictured him standing on the shore, gazing out at the surf, all broad shoulders and confidence. The man was beautiful, no question about it. But he was a player, too. Lexie had done some digging, and it had taken her no time at all to come up with the fact that Jake and many of his teammates had quite a reputation. So Lexie had resisted getting involved, until mounting frustration with her case had prompted her to track him down. She’d been hoping—no, counting on it—that six months of not seeing him would have quelled her reaction to him. But one look, and she realized she was wrong about that, too. Jake was as charming and dangerously attractive as ever.

  Her personal kryptonite.

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” Lexie said, resigned to spending yet another chunk of her weekend in the office. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Yeah, no worries. I have even less of a life than you do.”

  The sky lightened over the ocean as Jake pulled off the Pacific Coast Highway. Lexie’s address had surprised him. One of Jake’s ex-girlfriends lived in the area, and he knew it well, but it wasn’t what he had pictured for Alexa Mays. He’d imagined her in a stuffy high-rise near downtown, not a Hermosa Beach condo surrounded by bars and surf shops.

  He turned onto Lexie’s street, and his headlights swept over a tight line of cars. Four blocks from the ocean, parking was at a premium, and he didn’t see a single open space. Why would she live here? The rent couldn’t be cheap, and he doubted she had much time to enjoy the water, given the hours she worked. But what did he know? He didn’t know Lexie very well, and she’d thwarted his attempts to change that.

  One dinner. That was the extent of the time they’d spent together that hadn’t been work-related. It wasn’t much, and yet she’d been different somehow. More real. He figured it was because he’d caught her in a weak moment. She’d been mentally and physically tapped after wrapping up a big operation, and they’
d gone out for tacos together. At a picnic table with their feet in the sand, she’d actually let her guard down, and he’d caught a glimpse of the real woman underneath the tough-as-nails exterior. It was only a glimpse, but he’d liked it. Enough to spend six months thinking about her. Enough to hunt down her address on the Internet last night. And enough to risk the wrath of his brothers with his detour this morning.

  Jake circled the block twice and finally parked by a fire hydrant. This wouldn’t take long. He jumped out of his truck and nodded at an old bearded guy in a wet suit with a surfboard tucked under his arm.

  As Jake walked, he zeroed in on Lexie’s building, a seventies-style complex with six narrow units. Even in the dusky light, he could see the place needed work. Stained stucco, sagging gutters, cracked sidewalks. An overgrown hedge of oleanders blocked much of the ground-floor view from the building’s first unit, which should be Lexie’s.

  Jake crossed the street and stood on the corner for a moment, inhaling the damp ocean air and getting a feel for the area. The neighborhood seemed asleep. Lexie’s entire complex was dark, except for a middle unit where a light glowed upstairs. Jake checked his watch. He hated to wake her up. But then he pictured her face last night and those pleading eyes like deep blue pools. Her eyes had haunted him. He’d spent half the night tracking down intel for her, and he damn well planned to hand it off before he left for the weekend. His objective was to help her—he wasn’t completely selfish—but it was also to get back into her good graces so she’d answer his calls.

  Eyeing the overgrown hedge, Jake walked up to her door and rang the bell. He waited, listening to the muffled bark of a dog in the neighboring condo. He looked up at the second floor, but the sliding glass door on Lexie’s balcony remained dark.

  Jake checked his watch again. He was already late, which would no doubt piss off his brothers, and he was going to be later. Walking around to the back of the complex, he found six covered carports off a narrow alley. He approached Lexie’s unit and stopped short.

  The carport was empty.

  Either she’d spent the night out or left home early. He tried not to let either possibility get to him as he walked past the other five carports, just in case he had her unit wrong. Each carport had at least one vehicle, but none was a black Chevy Malibu.