by Cynthia Eden
“No, no, I wasn’t.” He came closer to her, caught her hands.
This time, Gunner was the one to tense.
“I’ll prove to you that I’m better,” Slade whispered. “I will.”
Then he seemed to realize that he was holding her hands. He blinked, shook his head and backed away. “I’ll go find Mercer. I want to talk to him first, plead my case, you know?”
He could try. Gunner wasn’t sure that Mercer would allow the guy to do much, not with all the secure intel in the facility. But Gunner would talk to Mercer, too, and see if there was something very low-risk that Slade could do, something to help make Slade feel as though he was helping them.
Slade hurried out of the room. Gunner saw that Sydney had tilted her head, and her gaze was still on the door, even though Slade was gone.
Was she realizing that the man she’d known was fighting to return? It was too late for going back now, too late for them both.
“Sydney...” He exhaled slowly. “About Slade—”
She turned toward him. “Did you ever find out why Slade didn’t make the EOD team?”
He blinked. That was the last question he’d expected from her.
“He seems to want to be here so badly, but he told me...he told me that he withdrew his agent application.”
“That’s what he told me, too.”
A furrow had appeared between her eyes. “That’s when he started taking all those charter trips. He said he was trying to save up extra money for the marriage.”
The marriage.
“But after he disappeared, there was no money in his bank account.”
He knew that. He’d helped Sydney pay for the funeral. But he didn’t like where she was going with these questions. “What are you thinking?”
She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. The smile she gave him didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing. I’m just worrying over nothing.” She backed up a step. “The techs are waiting for me.”
“Don’t leave the building without me,” he told her, his worry breaking through.
Sydney gave him a little salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
Then she was gone, and he was left with a faint suspicion swirling in his own mind. At the time, he’d wondered why Slade’s bank accounts had been cleared out. Cleared so that only dollars remained, when Slade had been doing charters for almost a year.
His money had vanished.
Gunner had pushed aside the mystery two years ago, but now he was wondering...just where had all of that cash gone?
* * *
SLADE TOOK A deep breath, then knocked on the door that led to Bruce Mercer’s office. Well, the outer office, anyway. Because when he opened the door, he saw the hard stare of Mercer’s assistant, Judith Rogers. Judith looked barely twenty-five, but he’d learned that the woman had the tenacity of a bulldog. He’d tried to get to Mercer before, and she’d blocked him more than once.
When she saw him, her auburn brows rose. “Do you have an appointment?” Judith demanded.
Great. He barely managed to keep his expression polite. Judith annoyed the hell out of him. “No, but he’s going to want to see me.”
“I doubt it.” Crisp. “Mr. Mercer is a very busy man.”
“Yeah, well, I think Mr. Mercer would like to know if he has a killer in his midst, don’t you?” He tossed that out deliberately, knowing that Judith wouldn’t be able to ignore those words. “Of course, if you just want to stand back and let an agent die...”
She stood instantly, all five foot nothing of her. Then she pointed at him. “Stay here.” Her high heels clicked as she headed for Mercer’s door. She was inside for—he counted—two minutes, and then she came back and told him, “Go in, he’s waiting for you.”
He didn’t let his grin break free. He was good at controlling his expression. At showing only what he wanted folks to see. People were so easily fooled.
So easily.
He entered the main office and closed the door. He made sure to hesitate as if he were uncertain.
You’re going down, Gunner. His brother had been downstairs, with his hands all over Sydney.
Right in front of me.
“Slade.” Mercer sat behind his big, fancy desk. One of his eyebrows had climbed. “Ms. Rogers told me that you had some information to give me.”
Slade glanced over his shoulder, as if he were trying to make sure that no one could hear him. Then he nodded quickly.
“Have a seat.” Mercer waved his hand toward the chair in front of him.
Slade limped toward the seat, making sure to drag his leg a bit, conscious of Mercer’s assessing gaze as it fell on him.
“You’re looking better.”
“I am better.” He’d been fine all along. That rehab had been a joke. He blew out a hard breath. “I heard about the attacks on Sydney.”
“Did you.” But the words weren’t really a question.
Again, he nodded quickly. “I want to help.” He let his hands tightly curl over the armrests on his chair. “Give me a job to do, give me something.”
Mercer shook his head. “There’s no way you’re going into the field. You have no security clearance any longer—or the training needed—for a job like that.” The man wasn’t pulling punches. “And physically, mentally, you’re far from ready for any mission.”
That’s what you think. But he didn’t let the rage slip out. “Give me a job here. I heard the techs talking—they think someone tried to break into the system. I can watch surveillance video, I can read files, I can do something.”
Mercer just stared back at him. “I thought you were here to talk to me about one of my agents being a threat.”
Slade flinched.
“Do you have intel to provide to me?”
Slade looked down at the floor. “I want to help so I can prove it’s not him.”
Silence.
He forced himself to look up and, sure enough, Mercer was still watching him with that too-assessing gaze. “Give me a name,” Mercer ordered.
“He didn’t leave me to die.” Slade forced the words out in a rush. “I was wrong. It was the drugs talking. He couldn’t have left me to die.”
Mercer leaned forward. “You’re talking about Gunner?”
“Yes.” A rasp. “He didn’t leave me to die, and he didn’t try to hurt Sydney.”
“Why does it sound like you’re attempting to convince yourself of that?”
Slade glanced at the floor, took a deep breath, then looked back up at Mercer. “Because when we were teenagers, there was this...this girl that Gunner liked. Sarah Bell. Sweet little Sarah Bell.” He could still see her in his mind. “She kind of looked like Sydney. Same light blond hair, same green eyes.”
“Why are you telling me this story?” Mercer snapped.
He jerked to attention. “Sarah Bell...she broke up with Gunner. Said he was too rough for her, too wild. Then a week later, Sarah died.”
He could still see all the flowers that had been at her funeral. Sarah had been particularly fond of roses. He’d put a dozen on her grave.
“Her whole family died,” he whispered. “A fire broke out in their house while they were asleep. Someone had disabled their smoke detector, then poured gasoline all over the first level of their home. The fire started and they...” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “The newspapers said that the family never had a chance. They didn’t wake up at all.”
“Did the police find the arsonist?”
He shook his head.
“And you think that relates to this case because...?”
Did he have to draw the guy a damn map? “Because Sarah was with Gunner, and she left him. He told me, he told me that he wasn’t going to let her go. She was his, and no one would ever take her from him.” His breath rasped out. “Now he thinks that Sydney is his...” He let the sentence trail away.
Silence. The kind that stretched too long; then, finally, Mercer said, “I thought you said you wanted to prove it’s not G
unner. Sounds to me like you’re making a case for the arsonist being him.”
“No, I—” He raked a hand over his face. “Maybe the drugs are still in my system. I’m being paranoid. I mean...the fires aren’t even the same M.O., right? I’m sure the fire at Sydney’s house wasn’t set by gasoline and the detectors weren’t disabled—”
“None of the alarms went off at Sydney’s house, and while the arson investigation is ongoing, preliminary indications are that gasoline was the accelerant used.”
He sagged in the chair. “But Gunner got her out? He was the hero last night, right? Not the bad guy. Not the arsonist.”
Mercer’s gaze gave nothing away.
“It can’t be him,” Slade whispered.
“If you’re so sure that it’s not him, then why are you in my office? Why did you tell Ms. Rogers that you had intel to give me?”
His hands dug deeper into the armrests. “Because...what if it is him? Our father...did Gunner tell you that he wound up in a mental ward? That’s where he died. He’d gone crazy, and attacked his latest girlfriend—tried to kill her.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. “We never saw him much growing up, but Gunner and I both always wondered...just how much like him were we?” He held Mercer’s gaze. “How much?”
Chapter Eight
Sydney stared at the computer screen before her, absolutely sure that there had to be some kind of mistake.
For six hours, she’d been working with the other techs. They’d gone back through the system, tracking their hacker. Gone through every system link they could find.
They’d narrowed down the security breach. It had happened three days ago, at 0300 hours. Long before anyone should have been in the office.
The Guerrero case file had been accessed, her personnel file had been accessed and Gunner’s file had been accessed. But according to the results she was seeing, their hacker had looked at Gunner’s file for only two seconds. That wasn’t long enough to learn any details. Just long enough to lead a cyber trail for them to follow. Long enough to show that someone had pulled the file.
Pulled it, but not scanned any information?
If their hacker wanted intel on Gunner, why not look longer? The hacker had been given access to her file for three minutes. He’d viewed all the Guerrero files for five minutes.
And it wasn’t that the hacker had been interrupted. According to the report she was generating, he’d viewed Gunner’s file first.
“Why?” Sydney whispered as she stared at the screen. He hadn’t gotten any data from Gunner’s file, so he’d gone there to what...lead a false trail? Gunner wasn’t the target, just her?
“Sydney, we found the pass code that was used to get into the system,” Hal West told her as he slid his chair toward hers. Hal was the lead systems administrator for the EOD.
She glanced up at him. A pass code would be needed to open the system, but their hacker had put a virus in place after he’d gotten access, and that pass code signature had been all but erased.
All but...
“It’s an old code, one that was initiated over two years ago.” Hal’s face looked strained. Considering that she knew the guy had been working the computers for most of the night—while she’d been escaping from the blaze—that strain was to be expected. “The agent we originally assigned the code to was given a new access number a year ago.” He shook his head. “Someone screwed up. When he got a new code, all privileges associated with the previous access should have been revoked. Someone didn’t terminate the code authorization and—”
“Hal!” she snapped out. “Which agent had that code?”
“Uh...right,” he said as his bleary blue gaze cut away from her and back to the nearby computer monitor. “Gunner Ortez.”
She shook her head, an instinctive denial. “Gunner wasn’t here when the files were accessed.” She didn’t even know why she said the words. Just—not Gunner.
But Hal was tapping on his keyboard and nodding. “He wasn’t, or at least, the system says he didn’t gain entry until 0500, but...that’s his code.”
“Then someone has access to our archived codes. We need a complete wipe on the system. Even if you think those codes are clear, we’re purging them.” Her heart was beating faster. It could be a setup. She’d sure seen setups before. Poor Cale. Evidence had been planted left and right to frame him. She knew better than to jump hungrily at the first bone that was tossed her way.
But maybe their hacker didn’t know about the case with Cale. Maybe he didn’t realize the lesson that all of the Shadow Agents had learned then.
And maybe he didn’t fully realize...we don’t turn on our own.
She hunched her shoulders and started tapping on her keyboard. This was an inside job, she didn’t doubt that, but it wasn’t Gunner. It wasn’t Logan. It wasn’t Cale. She trusted the other Shadow Agents with her life.
But she wouldn’t overlook any possibility. Logan had assigned her to gather intel, so she would. She’d start by going back through the personnel and access files of every agent and support staff member who’d entered the EOD in the past six months.
She wasn’t going to stop until she found more than just a red flag. She’d find hard evidence.
* * *
GUNNER STARED AT the charred remains of Sydney’s house. Only a shell remained, blackened, gutted. When he thought of Sydney in that fire, fear knifed into him.
“Good thing you were here.”
He glanced over to see Logan heading toward him. When Gunner had arrived moments before, Logan had been talking to the arson investigators.
Gunner remembered the brush of the fire on his skin as he ran up the stairs. “Yeah. Very good thing.” If he hadn’t been there...
“They actually found one of her smoke detectors. Fried, warped, but...” Logan glanced toward the house. “They managed to pry it open. The battery was missing.”
What?
“It’s definitely arson, of course. The chief says the point of origin was downstairs—actually, he says there were three points of origin. The guy wanted to make sure the house burned fast.”
“He wanted to kill Sydney.” Gunner’s rage darkened the world for a moment.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Logan give a grim nod. “Yes, he did. The perp used gasoline as the accelerant. Disabled the alarms, waited until she went to bed...” He glanced over his shoulder at the woods that lined her property. “Probably waited out here, watching her, and when he thought he had the perfect moment to attack, he went to work.”
The SOB.
“Why were you out here?” Logan’s question was quiet, tense. “I mean, you and Sydney seemed to be staying away from each other at first, and now—”
I won’t stay away from her again. He’d only come out there to do some on-site investigating. She was nestled inside the EOD office. With all the agents there, with Cale pulling extra guard duty, she should be safe.
Gunner rolled his shoulders, trying to push some of the tension from his body. “I came last night because Slade wanted to talk to her. I came out here to try to convince her to go see him.”
Logan’s eyebrows climbed. “You think that’s a good idea?” He turned to fully face Gunner. “It’s just you and me, man. So cut the bull. I’ve seen the way you watch her. What are you thinking? That you’ll just step aside so he can have a shot with her again?”
Had he thought that? Or had he just felt so much guilt that he’d wanted to make amends? I didn’t know he was alive. But for two years, Slade had suffered. Two years.
“You’ve been a captive, too, Gunner. The things they did to you...” Logan shook his head. “Most men never would have come back from that.”
Logan had seen him, after he’d crawled from that jungle. With his body stitched everywhere, looking like Frankenstein’s monster.
“You’ve been through your own hell,” Logan continued. “Don’t you think you deserve some happiness, too?”
His hands clenched. “I wanted
Sydney to have what—who—she wanted.”
“And you think that’s your brother? Uh, you might want to check that again. You’re the one she’s always watching. The way you watch her? With that too-intent gaze? Buddy, she watches you with the same stare.”
“She’s pregnant.” The words slipped from him. Not deliberate, or, maybe they were. Because he wanted to tell someone. He had to share the news with someone, and Logan had always been a good friend.
Logan’s eyes widened. “Yours?”
The question had him clenching his fingers into fists and taking a step forward. Maybe not such a friend for long.
Logan’s hands flew up. “Of course it’s yours! I meant, hell, I’m just stunned, okay? A baby... You and Sydney.” He shook his head, and a broad smile split his lips. “That baby is going to wrap you around her finger!”
Yes, he was pretty sure that she would.
“A baby,” Logan whispered, and his eyes widened. He glanced back at the house. “Oh, hell, man, you probably felt like your whole world was burning down last night.”
“It was.” Gunner didn’t tell him that he hadn’t known about the baby then. When he’d looked up and seen the flames, and known that Sydney was inside, yes, it had felt just as if his world was burning. Because it had been.
“We’re gonna find him,” Logan promised. “You know we will. With our resources...”
The EOD’s resources were limitless. But even the EOD couldn’t fight Mother Nature.
“A storm’s coming in,” Gunner said as his gaze rose to the thickening clouds above them. “That could wash away a lot of evidence.” His gaze focused on the line of trees. If the guy had been out there, waiting, he might have left tracks behind. Gunner was very, very good at following tracks. “I’m going to see what I can find.”
Logan nodded. “I kept the techs back because I figured you’d want first shot. Didn’t want them messing up the scene.”
Logan knew exactly how he liked to work.
“You lead the way,” Logan continued, “and they’ll be there to back you up.” Then Logan clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man, you’re going to make a great dad to that lucky kid.”