Connect the Dots

by Denise Robbins

  “What?” He heard the rustle of sheets on the other end of the phone. Mickey sat up. “Who is Charley Duston?”

  “Uh, duh. That’s what I’m asking you. And people say southerners are slow.”

  “Jake.” It was his tone, not the use of his name that told Jake he was pissing Mickey off.

  He blew out a breath and sat on one of Charley’s chairs. “Charley Duston is my new neighbor, the one who bought old Mr. Green’s place.”

  “Charley is a girl?” Mickey exclaimed.

  “She’s a woman.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Some armed agency men just broke into her house with weapons drawn, roused her from bed, and took her away.”

  “The FBI?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I think it has to be bigger than them.”

  “CIA? To where?”

  “Nobody would say.”

  “What the hell did you step in?”

  “Whatever it is, I’m hip deep.”

  “Okay. We’ll see what we can find. What are you going to be doing?”

  “Looks like I’ll be doing a little breaking and entering. Tell Ruby I may call her for instructions on breaking a cipher lock if I can’t figure it out myself.”

  “Don’t get caught,” Mickey warned, and hung up.

  Jake stood and went to the coffee pot. What had he stepped in? And why wasn’t he willing to step back out? Logically, he knew he should. Charley had told him it was a mistake. He remembered her face, her hair pulled up in a knot on the top of her head, her blue eyes glazed. She said the words but she did not mean them. That was why he would not step back.

  In the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. Charley had said something else to him. She said it wasn’t safe. What? Being involved with her? He shook his head and set the mug on the counter. Bullshit!

  He may have wanted to keep his distance from her, but he hadn’t. Now, he had no choice but to get involved. Hell, he was involved. All he needed now were some answers. He would find her secrets, whether Charley liked it or not.

  SEVENTEEN

  “You sent armed men to my home! To the home, I specifically requested you not share with anyone but my driver. Why?”

  “I had no choice. There is some concern with regards to your loyalty after the loss of some good men.”

  Charley steeled her anger, wrapped it around her like armor. How could Grayson, the man who recruited her, trained her, who treated her like a daughter, accuse her of screwing up so badly? How could he doubt her? She trusted him. Didn’t she? Her head ached, pounded at her temples. All she wanted was to be home in her bed curled up next to Jake.

  No, not Jake. She could never let that happen again. The last thing she wanted was for him to get caught up in the wake of this disaster.

  “You have concern with my loyalties?”

  “Damn it, Charley. No!” Grayson slammed his fist against his desk and pulled her back from her thoughts. “I do not have a choice. I have to do this by the book. You have to be debriefed.”

  “You mean interrogated,” she accused.

  Grayson leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk with his hands clasped together. “Do you think I like this? It was an order.”

  Charley swallowed hard his betrayal and stood, straightened her skirt. Lifting her chin, she glared at the man who mentored her, the only man after her father’s death she had ever let get close. “Fine. Who is going to interrogate me?”

  Grayson paled, looked chagrined. He didn’t answer, he didn’t have to. Her stomach bottomed out.

  “Big Dick,” she muttered and looked to him for confirmation. He nodded, not quite able to conceal his disgust for the man and the humor for his nickname.

  “When?” Unconsciously, her hands rubbed at her temples.

  Her boss pushed a buzzer on his desk phone and the next thing she knew Big Dick stood in Grayson’s doorway. She gaped at the man then back at Grayson.

  “Now?”

  “I’m afraid so.” He stood and walked around the large mahogany desk. Reaching out, he touched her arm and Charley could not stop from flinching at the contact. His hand dropped to his side. “I’ll be right there.”

  She could care less if Grayson was there. She was on her own. If he couldn’t prevent this from happening then his physical presence would do no good.

  “This way, Charley.”

  On two-inch heels, she pivoted and saw the dickhead grinning fiercely at her. He was looking forward to this. She wondered if he planned to use the waterboard method on her, or maybe he would try a sleep deprivation technique instead. Glaring at him, Charley stiffened her spine and her resolve, and marched out of Grayson’s office.

  She ordered herself not to cry. Sitting in the tiny, stale, non-descript room waiting for the torture to begin, she ordered herself not to cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

  Finally, Dick walked in with his shirt sleeves rolled up, still wearing that awful grin.

  She sat demurely with both feet on the floor, her hands in her lap. “Having fun, Big Dick?” She asked it sweetly, her gaze meeting his, and had some sense of satisfaction when his grin fell away. His jaw muscles jumped as he clenched his teeth. Good. She drew first blood.

  Dick recovered and regained his control, flashing his pearly whites at her. “The fun has just begun.” He took the seat opposite her.

  “How are you acquainted with Vladimir Gerritt?”

  “He was an interview subject. One I took over from you after you tortured him.” Her voice was even and controlled, but the dig hit home. Dick’s face brightened with a light shade of red around his jaw line.

  “Tell me about Onder Gozcu.”

  Open-ended question. Too stupid. No wonder his investigations went nowhere.

  “What specifically would you like to know?”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “Iraq.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know the exact date.” Her eyes searched her memory. “Approximately six weeks, maybe more.”

  “What was your relationship with Onder Gozcu?”

  “Relationship?” What was he talking about?

  Dick sat back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head. The smug look on his face made her want to grind her teeth, but she didn’t.

  “Relationship. How were you involved with him?”

  “Detainee and interviewer.” He knew the answer.

  “Beyond that?”

  “Beyond that? Nothing.”

  “Didn’t you have a physical relationship with him?”

  Charley jerked back as if slapped. “No.”

  “Did you interview him with a guard present?”

  “Yes.”

  “For all interview sessions?”

  “No. The last one—”

  “In the last session didn’t two guards walk in on you and Onder clutched in each other’s arms?”

  “No!”

  “Didn’t Onder touch you in intimate places?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Dick slapped his palms on the metal table and she flinched. “So you did have an intimate relationship.”

  Not a question, a statement. “No! He tried to rape me!” Charley narrowed her gaze at the poor excuse for a human being. “You know it. You were there.”

  “Did he slip a note into your panties before my men got into the room?”

  Confused, she shook her head. “What? Are you insane?”

  “What did Onder’s instructions say?”

  “There were no instructions.”

  “What did the note say?”

  “There was no note,” she insisted, her voice taking on a slight edge. She couldn’t help it.

  Big Dick pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, unfolded it and laid it in front of her. “Then what is that?” He pushed the paper closer.

  She stared blankly at the note, not seeing the words. What was happening? There was no note. Bile rose up in her t
hroat and burned. In an effort to keep her stomach from revolting, she clutched at her stomach. Charley shoved the piece of paper back at dickhead.

  “I will not buy into your game. If this is the type of game you play with your interview subjects no wonder you fail miserably.”

  Dick’s hands fisted and his nostrils flared. The next thing she knew his chair flew out from underneath him, fell to the floor with a clang. He stood, leaning over the table, towering over her, trying to intimidate her.

  “If you’ll have sex with one detainee for information, why would you not do it another time? Did you have sex with Vladimir Gerritt?”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Really? Why did you give misinformation on the SALUTE form? Was the sex that good?”

  “I did not give wrong information. The information Vladimir gave me was translated directly. There is a recording. Listen to it. The intelligence I gathered was accurate. Vladimir did not lie.”

  Dick stood, crossed his arms over his chest. “Really? How do you know?”

  “I know my job. I’m good at it. I do not resort to illegal interrogation techniques.”

  “Neither do I!” Dickhead’s voice rose and his fist curled on the table in front of her. Yeah, he wanted very badly to hit her.

  “Whenever Vladimir started to lie or withhold I ended the session.”

  “So what? You needed to have even more sex in order to give wrong, deadly information?”

  “No!”

  “One hundred and eighty soldiers are dead because of your information.”

  “They are dead. Prove that it’s because of my information,” she demanded. “Let me see the documents provided to the theatre. Better yet, let me debrief Vladimir Gerritt again.”

  Dick laughed. “Impossible. You’re nuts.”

  She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her own chest. “You’ll show me a bogus note from a rapist but you won’t show me my own work or let me question Vladimir Gerritt. Why is that?”

  “I ask the questions, little lady. Not you.” He walked to the door and turned the handle. “We’ll try again later.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.

  “Feel free to try,” she told the people she knew were sitting in the observation room. “But I don’t think I’m the one hiding something.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Who are you, Charley Duston?” Jake asked as he riffled through her dresser drawers. When he reached the lingerie drawer, he paused, stared at the rainbow sea of silk. Everything about her seemed ambivalent. She was delicate yet strong, innocent but worldly, detached but passionate. Holding a pair of red silk panties, he could feel the heat of her passion practically burn him.

  He shook himself, tossed the undies back in the drawer, and slammed it shut. Where else did a woman hide secrets? He snapped his fingers. The mattress. Lifting it, he checked for anything. Didn’t women still keep diaries?

  Next, he searched the closet. He opened shoeboxes and found shoes. Inside of jacket pockets, he found nothing but lint. The woman was a damn neat freak. Her neatness made it difficult to do a search without her knowing. Jake shrugged. Oh, well. If Charley honestly thought he would just walk away, she was nuts.

  He made her bed then went back downstairs. He had already searched the kitchen and living room and found nothing. Besides the garage, the only place left was the barn. Opening Charley’s basket of tools he came across, he pocketed an all-purpose tool and headed out the back door.

  Standing on the balls of his feet, Jake peered into the windows of the barn. Secretive woman frosted the glass to prevent anyone from seeing inside. Smart. The window would have been the easy way. That option gone, he walked back to the barn door and the cipher lock. Shit! Examining it, he saw no way to bypass it without destroying the lock. That was not an option unless he was willing to admit he snooped.

  He fished his cell out of his pocket and placed a call.

  “Hiya, handsome.” Ruby always could make him smile.

  “Hiya, Sweetcheeks. Please, please tell me there’s a way to get past this cipher lock.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “It’s called the pass key.”

  He grumbled. “Damn it, Ruby.”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m sorry, but there is no way to pick a cipher lock without destroying its shell or setting off whatever alarm she may have it attached to.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on, Jake. She has to have the pass key documented some place.”

  “My luck it’s inside the damn building I’m trying to get into.” He changed the subject. “Anything on who Charley Duston is?”

  “I did a quick background check, both in-state and cross-country. She has no criminal record.” That thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “If she’s not a criminal herself then she is either involved with a criminal, a terrorist, or she’s involved in intelligence. Those are the only reasons the FBI or any other intelligence agency would have a reason to visit your friend.”

  He thought of the black limousine that picked her up several times in the middle of the night. Could she be involved with some criminal underworld? “Wait. Intelligence would indicate some kind of national threat, correct?”

  “Definitely.”

  Jake could not picture Charley as a terrorist or a threat to national security. But she had a lot of secrets. “Ruby, see what you can find on Charley Duston as an agent.”

  He heard Ruby gasp on the other end of the line. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, my gut says agent.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Jake flipped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. Unless he found that passkey, all he could do was wait. Either way, the mystery of Charley would be solved. Soon. He could wait.

  * * * *

  They let her walk. The other government officials conferred and threatened suspension but Grayson balked in her defense. Then again, he may have made noise more for himself than her. For now, her assignments were to be curbed but at Grayson’s discretion. As Charley left the conference room the other blue suited men mumbled words of permanent termination, but they let her leave without enduring another session with Big Dick. How she hated that man.

  Stepping out of the car, she glanced in the direction of Jake’s house, searching for any sign of life. She didn’t see any. Do not go there. Do not even think about Jake, she scolded.

  At her front door, she took a deep breath and walked in.

  “Welcome home, Charley.”

  Surprised by the low, deep voice, she stumbled into the living room and dropped her purse. She looked up to see Jake seated in her swivel chair, feet planted on the ground, elbows resting on the arms, his fingers steepled together.

  “Jake? What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here. You’ve got to go,” she urged.

  “Who are you Charley Duston?”

  She had enough interrogation for one day. Ignoring Jake and his question, Charley stormed past him and headed for the stairs. When she reached her bedroom, she shoved it shut and turned the lock. All she wanted was to take a shower and wash the stench of Dick Grande and his accusations off her. Walking into the master bath, she locked that door as well before she stripped and turned on the water.

  She stepped under the spray of hot water and let it wash away the day while she tried to tune out the fact that Jake was in her living room. Pouring shampoo into her palm, tilting her head back, she rubbed at the headache still pounding at her temples.

  “What gave him the right?” she muttered.

  “You gave me the right.”

  She jumped. Clearing soap from her eyes, her breath caught and held at the sight of Jake standing in her bathroom, holding the shower door open. Naked.

  Exhaling, she gave him her back. “Get out.”

  “Shugar, back or front, you’re one beautiful lady. If you think for one minute, giving me the cold shoulder is going to make me go away, you’re more wrong
than having sex in church,” he drawled.

  A shudder went through her when Jake brushed up against her, stepping into the shower, but she made no move to acknowledge him or look at him.

  “Please, Jake, I don’t need this right now.”

  His strong arm sprinkled with chestnut colored hair reached around her and took the bottle of liquid soap. The next thing she knew, Jake’s hands were on her, on her shoulders, gliding down her arms, following the curves of her hips, and down her legs. Then he turned her to face him and he started the trek back up, slowing to run his hands in a circular motion over her flat stomach. When his hands made contact with her breasts, Charley instinctively covered them.

  Jake smiled. “You don’t know what you need right now.”

  He pried her fingers away, one digit at a time. As his palms cupped and molded her sensitive flesh, Charley closed her eyes. Jake didn’t linger though. He continued his path up to her shoulders then to her neck where he kneaded the tension in the muscles with strong fingers.

  “Mmm.” She moaned and stepped closer to him. “Jake.”

  He silenced her with his lips, warm and wet. The kiss was gentle, comforting. How did he do this? How did Jake know exactly what she needed? When his tongue slid between her lips, he found her tongue waiting and wanting. She moaned and snaked her arms around his neck.

  In the logical part of her mind, she knew she was making a mistake, but she wanted what he had to offer.

  With his strong arms wrapped about her waist, Jake shifted their position and she found her back pressed against the shower wall.

  “Jake.” She began to protest but once again, he halted her words.

  His forehead bowed next to hers, Jake spoke in her ear. “Trust me.”

  The wall around her heart cracked and the tears she held at bay all day surfaced in the back of her eyes. Before the tears could fall, Jake lifted her, draped her legs over his hips, and entered her in one smooth motion. The sensation went straight to her head, making her dizzy.

  “Hold on to me, Charley. I won’t let you go.”

  One more thrust and all the emotion she had pent up exploded in a rush of liquid heat. Jake pumped into her again and again, and she screamed out his name as he pulsed inside her and she came a second time.