by Trish Loye
Sutton took that time to leave. She moved quickly without seeming to, and left the coffee shop. As she crossed the street, she pulled a plain white lanyard from her small purse and clipped the ID tag to it.
Sara Tynell.
She nodded to herself and hoped the security at the doors didn’t know Sara personally. She walked with a quick step across the street and entered Ronan Industries. It had been six months since she’d entered this particular covert office of the CIA in Washington. She prayed that time, makeup, and ill-fitting clothes would be enough so no one recognized her.
The lobby of the building looked like any other downtown business building. Lots of light, a few scattered couches and a long desk with security blocking access to the elevators and stairs.
The security was different, though. The average layperson wouldn’t see it, but she saw the high-tech metal detectors and the bomb-sniffing dog sitting placidly nearby. The security guards also moved with much more assurance and caution than civilian ones. Cameras covered the entire lobby.
“Ma’am,” one of them said to her, passing her a tray for her belongings. Sutton put her small purse in it and stepped up to the walkthrough metal detector. She swiped the magnetic stripe of the stolen ID card through the reader and then walked through the detector.
“Here you go, Ms. Tynell,” another guard said, handing over her purse.
“Thank you.” She walked down the hall, past the elevators and turned right, moving quickly toward the cafeteria and kitchen. She passed them, walking with purpose down a solitary hall that ended in an exit door to the loading docks. No one saw when she swiped her card and pushed open the door.
Ryan threw a cigarette aside, hiked his backpack on one shoulder, and strode in from where he’d been loitering nearby. A few other personnel turned from where they’d also been smoking. The loading docks were the open-secret place for the smokers of the building.
She smiled and nodded at them and they turned away, reassured. Ryan shuddered when she closed the door.
“That is the nastiest habit,” he said.
She patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a big boy. You’ll survive.”
He unzipped his coveralls, revealing a plain dark business suit. He still looked dangerous with his shaved head and goatee, but with the suit, he now looked like any number of the security staff inside the building. Well, only if the security staff emanated a dark, dangerous, and way-too-sexy-for-her vibe.
She swallowed hard and checked her watch. “Give me ten minutes.”
He stuffed the coveralls in a waste bin and then handed her a large purse that had been stuffed in the backpack. He checked his watch.
“Ten minutes. Roger that. Stay safe, Sunshine.” He walked toward the cafeteria where he’d grab a mediocre coffee and blend in with the morning crowd before the next phase of the operation.
Nerves suddenly ratcheted inside her as she watched him walk away. What if...
“Ryan?” she called softly.
He heard and swung back to her, his face full of concern. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? She just suddenly didn’t want him in danger. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe—
Ryan strode back to her. He cupped her face with his warm, callused hand. “It’s going to be fine, Sunshine. We’ve got this. We’re a team.”
She leaned just a little into his touch. He was right. “We’re a team.”
He smiled. “I’m gonna make a proper team woman out of you yet.”
She snorted, her balance restored. “Thank you.”
He nodded and dropped his hand. “Anytime, Sunshine.” He walked away and she forced herself to do the same.
She went to the stairwell and swiped her keycard on the door. At each landing, she swiped her card to see whether Sara Tynell had access. On the fourth floor, her access was denied. With each floor, she’d have less hoops to jump through to get the information she needed.
She went back to the third floor and entered. No one looked up from their cubicles or their phones. Third floor was data and cell phone conversation tracking. Sutton turned away from the cubicles to one of the offices. She needed someone who wasn’t here. She walked along the hall, discreetly glancing in each office. Most had people inside. One was empty but a coffee cup with lipstick sat on the desk. She couldn’t take the chance it wasn’t just someone off to the bathroom.
She tried not to smile when she saw the dark office ahead. The door was locked, of course, so she pulled a snap gun out of the purse Ryan had given her. It looked like a staple gun with a slender steel rod attached to the end. She fit the steel rod into the keyhole and fired. The rod shot into the keyhole, striking all the pins simultaneously and freeing the cylinder for a brief moment. She twisted the handle of the door and walked inside.
She flipped the lights, sat at the computer and pulled out a second item from her purse. The small metal box had been expensive but a password cracker was worth the cost. She plugged the USB connector into the side of the computer and let it run.
The analysts who worked here weren’t allowed to take anything home with them. All computers, tablets, and flash drives had to stay in-house. Nothing was allowed out. Security at the exits saw to that. Which meant she had to come here to gain access to the secure database because she definitely didn’t have the skills to hack into a CIA database.
While the cracker ran, she checked in with Ryan using the discreet earbud comm devices they’d picked up at the local spy store.
“Hey handsome, how’s the coffee?”
“Stale and tasteless, Sunshine.”
She tried not to smile. They couldn’t use names over an unsecured net inside the secure CIA building, and they had to speak as if they were having a conversation on a cell phone. No military jargon or anything that might attract listening ears.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Still cracking along. Nothing special yet,” she said.
“Let me know when you have a break.”
“Will do,” she said. “It won’t be long now.”
“I’m here.” The words seemed to mean so much more than just a simple confirmation that he was ready. They seemed to say that he was there for her as well. She shook her head at herself. Now was not the time to start thinking about fairy-tale endings to this mad situation.
The LED light on the cracker turned green. She was in.
She pushed all thoughts of Ryan aside. Time to find out about the missions that Mark had left her.
It took some digging and another cracked firewall but she found all the missions. She also found all the transcripts of the recorded radio transmissions from everyone. What was it about these missions that were special? She tried another search, this one on the stolen data. She didn’t dig too deep, afraid to trigger any alarms, but she found out the dates of when the data went missing.
Each mission corresponded to some stolen secret. So either someone was using the missions to sell the secrets or to cover the stealing of them. She thought it might be both but couldn’t prove it yet.
But there was no missing or copied information for the last mission that Mark had added. The mission where Anna had died.
She frowned. That had to be important. What the hell was the connection?
She sat back in the chair.
Mark must have been investigating the missions and seen them as the way the traitor had transferred the secrets. Someone had found out that he’d been investigating and then killed him because of it. She wanted to scream with frustration. Why hadn’t he asked for help sooner?
She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes since she’d entered the building. It was longer than they’d wanted, but she had to keep digging. The information she’d gotten so far had to be just the beginning. She tried to dig into the secrets themselves.
The light on the cracker box went red.
Shit. She must have tripped some alarm without knowing it. Time to get out. She keyed her mic. “Handsome, coffee break is over.”<
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“I’ve got you covered, Sunshine. Heading for mayhem now.”
She held back any words of luck or staying safe, though they danced on the tip of her tongue. “See you soon.”
As she’d been speaking, she’d downloaded as much information about the missions as she could onto a flash drive that had also been in the purse. She took one minute of precious time to wait for the download to happen.
While she waited, she took the opportunity to dig for more information. She ran a basic search on known Russians with wolf tattoos. A surprising number came up. She flipped through the pictures as fast as she could.
Her attacker’s face popped up on the screen.
“Gotcha.”
Pavel Volkov. Suspected FSB assassin. Location unknown.
She couldn’t spend any more time digging. She shut down the computer, broke open the flash drive, and snatched out the tiny memory card. She shoved the large purse in one of the drawers, turned off the lights and slipped out of the room. Once in the hall, she turned away from the stairwell, toward the elevator. Just another analyst heading for coffee.
Men came out of the stairwell just as she pushed the button on the elevator. They strode down the hall toward the office she’d been in. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. She fooled with her watch while other people got on.
She stepped off the elevator on the ground floor with everyone else and moved with the few who walked toward the entrance. Security buzzed around the doors, talking into their mics, or staring intently at all the faces leaving the building.
“Where is he?” one of them demanded on his walkie-talkie.
Obviously Ryan was doing his part in distracting security for her. She prayed he made it out of this unscathed. He hadn’t been fazed by the task when she’d asked him, but he didn’t know the CIA, or this building like she did. Maybe she should stay in case he ran into trouble.
Trust him. Do the job assigned. Be a part of his team.
“Wonder who they’re looking for?” one of the elevator people asked his friend.
The friend shrugged. “Don’t know. I hope they don’t shut us down, though. I really hate the cafeteria’s coffee.”
All the security personnel seemed to straighten at once and look toward the back of the building. The group she’d been walking with faltered. She hesitated too, not wanting to stand out.
A tall balding man in a suit pointed at three of his security people and they ran past her and toward the stairs. Everyone else seemed to pause for a breath. She started walking again and so did the others.
The security people at the metal detector scrutinized everyone’s badges and faces, but most especially the men. She pushed up her glasses when it was her turn and put her small purse and her watch into the tray to go through the x-ray. She walked through the detector when it was her turn and the guard nodded her on.
She was so worried about Ryan that she didn’t even worry about herself for a moment. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Somehow, when they were younger, she’d been able to compartmentalize her thoughts about him on an op.
It’s because you were happy.
She put her watch on and picked up her purse.
Happy. She had been happy, because she’d had Ryan and the best job in the world. And then she’d had to choose between them.
“Sunshine is outside,” she said into her mic.
There was no response, but Ryan must have heard her. He knew she was safe and it was time for him to get out.
She walked outside and down the block, aiming for their stolen car. It was time to get a new one; soon this one would be on record.
She opened the door and started the car. She waited, checking her rearview mirror.
Three minutes later, Ryan strode down the sidewalk like a businessman late for a meeting—hurrying, but not in a life-or-death chase. The relief she felt almost made her dizzy.
He slid into the car beside her. “Well, that was fun.”
Breathe. She pulled out into traffic, watching behind her. “Any tails?”
“Negative. They’re probably just now finding the rope that I used to rappel from the roof with.”
It had been a big shopping trip yesterday.
“Did you get it?” he asked.
She took a hand off the wheel and shook her wrist, jingling her watch. “The flash memory chip is inside the watch, safe and sound. It’s got as much info as I could download in that time.”
His grin widened and something tugged at her core at the sight of it.
“I love a successful mission,” he said.
The urge to give him a quick kiss almost overwhelmed her. She focused on the road and pushed her feelings aside. “We still need to dump this car and find a new one.” She could feel his gaze on her but she refused to look at him again. An edgy tension gripped her while she fought the relief that he’d survived, an irresistible urge to touch him, and a crazy need to yell at him.
“What’s going on, Sutton?”
“What do you mean?” She still didn’t look at him, trying to keep her business-as-usual face on.
“Did something freak you out?”
Yes. Being way, way too worried about him. So worried that she’d wanted to break protocol on the op, and had almost gone back to help him, even though he hadn’t asked for it.
“No.” She paused. Time to misdirect him. “Actually, yes. The information I found.”
“What about it?”
She relaxed her grip on the wheel now that she didn’t have to focus on her emotions. “The missions are all correlated with secrets that have been stolen. Most likely stolen and sold during those very missions.”
“So what’s puzzling you?”
She hesitated. “The last mission. Mark had it written down, but no secret was stolen that time. I don’t know why it’s on the list. And I also found the name of my attacker at the hotel. I think he might have been the same man who killed Mark.” And she’d let him beat her a second time. “His name is Pavel Volkov. An FSB assassin.”
He glanced at her. “We’ll get him.”
His support meant so much to her, but the words she needed to say failed to come to her. So she said the only thing she could. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Sunshine. Now let’s get a new car and get back to the hotel.”
14
Ryan sat on the bed. He’d taken off the suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of the dress shirt. They’d spent the last hour finding a new ride and then making sure they weren’t followed to the hotel. Sutton set up the laptop at the desk and had been glued to the screen since she’d plugged in the flash drive. It was time for him to check in with his team.
“Are you good here?” He headed for the door.
“Are you sure you should physically check in with the team?” Sutton asked. “Don’t you think you’re pushing it?”
“They didn’t get a look at my face this morning, or Silas would have found me by now. Instead, when I called in from the burner phone Mack just asked if I could bring decent coffee.”
Sutton’s lips twisted. “Are you sure you’ve got professionals working for you?”
She could doubt that? He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Both Lexi and Mack know their shit. If they weren’t loyal to me, then they would have turned you in already.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He laughed. “You’re cute when you’re irritated.” He almost grimaced from his flirty choice of words. Damn, they kept just slipping out. “Anything else?”
“Remember to check into Volkov. See if you can track any CIA connections or his movements.”
“Roger that.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be a few hours. Call if you’re in trouble or you find something.”
She looked as if she were going to say something more, but she shut her mouth firmly and faced her laptop.
He studied her for a moment, but she didn’t turn back to him.
Fine then. Two could play it like that. He didn’t know what had changed, but there was definitely a tension between them that hadn’t been there before the op. Had he disappointed her somehow? Did she regret their deal? He yanked open the door and stalked outside. He was tired of trying to figure her out.
He walked a few blocks and got into a cab and took it to DHS. He went through all the security to enter the building and a few minutes later stood in his HQ.
“Boss,” Mack said, picking up Lexi’s nickname for him and spinning in her chair to face him. “You’re...bald.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a good look.”
He nodded and left it at that. He had no intention of letting her ask why he’d done it and having her guess what he’d been up to that morning. He turned to Edworthy. “Sitrep.”
Mack’s eyebrows raised just slightly, but she stepped back so Edworthy could step up and speak. The man gave no indication that he even noticed Ryan’s lack of hair.
“Still no sign of McRaven.” He glanced at his tablet. “But we have a report of a break-in at a covert CIA station. We suspect it’s McRaven since it’s a station office she once worked at, and because of the data downloaded.”
“What data?” he asked.
Tony entered the room. Ryan gave him a quick nod, but kept his attention on the older agent.
Edworthy tapped something on his tablet. “Information about past missions. And information about the secrets that had been leaked. And also, she looked into someone named Pavel Volkov. An FSB agent. We think it might be a new contact. Maybe someone who she’s going to give the list to.”
“You think she has the list? Doesn’t any of this make you question why she might be looking up this information?” he asked.
“Of course.” He took a step back. “None of this makes sense. I’ve worked with her for years. We weren’t exactly friends, but I respected her, and liked her. I don’t understand why she’s doing any of this.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “But I have to follow the facts. And the facts place her at both murders, and she had top-secret information that had been leaked to the enemy. And...she has yet to turn herself in. Why wouldn’t she do that if she’s innocent?”