“I know this will be difficult for you to accept, but our girl’s been working both sides, and has been for some time.”
“You think Piper’s a double agent? That can’t be. It’s not possible.” He simply couldn’t imagine anything more ludicrous. “I don’t believe it,” Carter breathed. “There’s been a mistake. Your information has to be wrong.”
“I had trouble believing it at first myself. From the very beginning she’s always been an exemplary operative. Her missions have always been clean and well executed with hardly a hiccup to mar her record. Almost too perfect for too many years, wouldn’t you say?”
“What about Colombia? What would you call that?”
“You weren’t witness to any of the things she said happened.”
“The ship’s doctor confirmed injuries consistent with sexual assault.” He already knew differently, but he wasn’t technically lying about the evidence. What took him by surprise was how these half truths and intentional omissions slipped off his tongue when he’d always prided himself on his forthrightness.
“Or maybe just rough-riding, consensual sex,” Jack suggested with a leering waggle of his bushy brows.
“She was covered with cuts and bruises and running for her life when we found her. For Christ’s sake, Jack, she took a goddamn bullet.”
“Correct me if I’ve been misinformed, but from what I was told, her injuries were superficial, including the gunshot wound.”
“My God.” Carter’s mind reeled, and before he could recover his balance from the evidence piling up against Piper, Jackson delivered another stunning blow.
“We found the other agent—dead—and it’s looking like she had something to do with it. Their paths crossed on numerous occasions—too many times to be considered coincidental.”
Jackson had placed Miguel Sanchez in Colombia after Carter’s accident, but Carter couldn’t have agreed more with his choice. “How were he and Piper connected?” questioned Carter. “She didn’t know there was another agent in Colombia until I told her. It’s hard to believe she could be involved in his death.” The one thing he was willing to believe was that something had gone terribly wrong on this mission and Piper was their only link to what had transpired.
“He was identified by his tattoo as one of the bodies in the cabin she tried to burn down.”
Her earlier words echoed in Carter’s head: I was having sex when they shot and killed my partner with a twelve-gauge.
“They were lovers,” Jack went on to explain. “A relationship she initiated only after he infiltrated Escobedo’s compound and found her working—” he cleared his throat, “—closely with the big man himself. A man under the spell of a beautiful woman can reveal a lot of information while in the throes of hot sex or sweet, persuasive pillow talk.” Jackson placed his hand on Riggs’s shoulder. “Carter, you never had a chance to review all of the data she transmitted before you left, but you need to know that none of the information Miguel passed to her ever reached our offices, but his reports always included detailed descriptions of her activities with Escobedo.
“She lured Miguel to the cabin so Escobedo’s men could eliminate him, then she shot them so she could make her getaway. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. You’re going to have to face it, Carter, she’s a modern-day Mata Hari who uses her body to get what she wants as easily as she uses her gun.”
Carter rubbed the scar near his temple. The suspicions Jack had planted in his head were giving him a colossal headache. He didn’t want to hear anymore. “I’ve known Piper for a long time. I recruited her. I trained her, for God’s sake. We’ve worked missions together. The woman you’re describing is not the same woman I know.”
“That’s her greatest talent of all—getting a man to believe she’s whatever he wants her to be. Unfortunately, it cost our man his life before we discovered her deception. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find you alive and well.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Carter stepped through the sliding door and onto the balcony. He didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true. Jack was going to have to produce a helluva lot more evidence than what he’d given Carter so far to convince him of Piper’s duplicity. He’d already made the mistake once of questioning her motives, and she’d not only proven him wrong, she’d called him on it. He couldn’t do it to her again without destroying the unerring faith she had in him.
Barely acknowledged by Jackson’s security detail standing just outside the sliding glass door, Carter hurried past them to stand near the water’s edge. He scanned the ocean, searching for answers, all the while knowing that the only place he would find them was from the woman asleep in the house behind him. He had to go back and confront her.
* * *
Piper heard the unfamiliar footsteps coming down the hall. They were heavy like a man’s, but she knew in an instant they weren’t Riggs’s. Around the house he either walked around barefoot or wore rubber-soled athletic shoes, and he was considerably lighter on his feet than the man approaching now. The shoes that stopped outside her bedroom door were leather-soled dress shoes.
Her hand moved slowly under her pillow and found the compact 9mm. She breathed normally and peered through barely open slits. The room was dark due to the light-blocking shades and the digital clock was turned away from her line of vision, so she had no way of knowing how early or late it was.
Her instincts jumped to full alert. Something was terribly wrong. Where the hell was Riggs? Something must have happened to him. Why else would a stranger be wandering the house?
Her eyes remained riveted on the door as it opened slow and steady. Now she knew without question it wasn’t Riggs. Backlit by the hall nightlight, she could see this man was under six foot and stockier. Her hand tightened around the pistol grip.
He stepped forward, one careful step, then another. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him reach inside his jacket. The glint of something in his fist as he withdrew his hand was all it took to spur her into action.
She bolted upright and fired high to warn whoever it was she was armed. If another shot was necessary, she wouldn’t miss.
Arms flailing, the bulky silhouette crashed backward and hit the louvered bi-fold closet door. It broke loose from its track and crashed inward, taking the man’s solid bulk down with it. He slumped to the floor, his body half in and half out of the recessed closet.
She was up and standing over the motionless figure with her gun trained on his chest. He was breathing and she wasn’t taking any chances of him coming to and finishing what he started.
* * *
With his weapon drawn, Riggs burst into the bedroom.
“Riggs!” she exclaimed. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Piper, what have you done?” Riggs stepped around her and held two fingers to Jack’s neck. He was relieved to find a strong, steady beat. What he couldn’t immediately detect was a wound of any kind. On closer examination all he discovered was a walnut-sized lump forming on the back of Jack’s skull. Fortunately for Piper, it appeared to be nothing more serious than a bump on the head.
“He was sneaking into my room,” she explained.
“Don’t you know who this is?”
She shook her head. “It was dark. He looked like he was drawing a weapon.”
“This is our director, Jackson Pritchard.” Riggs finally took a moment to take a long look at her. With the 9mm wrapped in her fist, she stood ready to take on the world in nothing but her underwear. “Give me the gun, Piper.”
She handed it to him without argument. Carter cleared the chamber, released the cartridge and put it in his pocket. Then he tossed the useless weapon on the bed.
“I only fired a warning shot,” was all she said in her defense.
“And get dressed.” He needed to detach himself from the situation and
follow strict protocol. He couldn’t risk screwing this up. With emotions held tightly in check, he watched her pull on shorts and a T-shirt and slip her bare feet into the cross-trainers without bothering to tie them.
Pritchard’s hoarse moan cut the silence. Carter helped Jack to his feet and ushered him to sit on the bed.
“She tried to kill me,” said Pritchard, waving an accusing finger in Piper’s direction.
“That’s ridiculous,” she bit out as she crossed her arms and stood her ground. “I fired a foot and a half over your head. Let me assure you, if I’d wanted to kill you you’d be dead.”
Although his thoughts were running in a similar vein, Carter shot her a warning glance to shut up. “Wait for me in the other room,” he told her. It wasn’t a suggestion. She did as she was told without further argument.
“That girl has totally lost it,” Jackson ranted.
“She’s been through a lot,” Carter said in her defense.
“That hardly excuses her behavior. She’s a loose cannon, and she needs to be stopped.”
“She said she fired because she thought you were an intruder. What were you doing in here?” Carter questioned.
“I was looking for the bathroom, if you must know, but why are you putting me through the third degree when you should be out there talking to her and making sure she doesn’t try to escape?”
“Just how far do you think she’d get with your detail stationed at every exit?” Who, Carter realized in retrospect, hadn’t budged from their spots, as if they’d been told not to respond if they heard gunfire. Was Jackson so convinced of her guilt that he had decided to take care of the Piper problem without further investigation? It didn’t make any sense, but Carter decided to keep his suspicions to himself until he filled in a few more of the blanks. He had bigger things to deal with at the moment.
“I’m inclined to believe it was a warning shot just like she said. If Piper really wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“How can you continue to defend her like this? How many more of our people have to die before you see her for what she really is?”
“I’m just trying to look at this objectively, Jack. I’ve never been one to make snap judgments, you know that. I’m not about to start now, especially when it’s one of our people involved.”
“I’ve heard enough. It’s time to pack it up, Carter. We’re taking this home to deal with on my turf.” Jackson reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a pristinely folded handkerchief. Pressing it to the back of his head, he stood and pushed Carter out of his way.
Regardless of his condition, Jackson Pritchard was a formidable man and took command of any situation. A little bump on the head wasn’t about to stop him from seeing that Piper was tried and convicted for crimes against him, be they real or imagined.
Jackson reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a pair of handcuffs. “Do your job, Riggs.” Dangling them under Carter’s nose, he added, “She needs to be stopped. Now.”
Carter cast a glance at the cuffs. “Do you really think those are necessary?” he queried.
“She’s suspected of treason and now attempted murder. She’d be in leg irons if I’d thought to bring them.” Jackson grabbed Carter’s hand, turned it palm up and dropped the cuffs and a laminated Miranda card into it. “Make sure you read every word. I don’t want some slick lawyer getting the charges dismissed because she wasn’t properly Mirandized.”
Carter was fully aware that as a contract agency InPro was not directly linked to any specific government law enforcement organization, so the legalities of arresting Piper weren’t as clear-cut as Jackson made them out to be. He took the card and cuffs, deciding that the technicalities of a questionable arrest could work in Piper’s favor down the road, and he went looking for the last person on earth he wanted to hurt. He found her sitting on the couch staring at the floor.
“Stand up, Piper.”
At the sound of his voice, she looked at him blankly, as if she hadn’t understood. He didn’t repeat himself. He took her by the elbow and pulled her to her feet. Twisting her arm behind her, he reached for the other one. She flinched from the rough handling of her tender left arm. He eased his grip and allowed for her injury by securing the cuffs with her hands in front.
He swallowed hard and hardened his heart as he clamped the cuffs around her slender wrists. The touch of the soft flesh where her pulse beat so close to the surface was almost too much for him to bear, and he steeled himself against any further physical contact there might be between them.
“Piper Jordan, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Jackson Pritchard and suspected treason.”
“Attempted murder? Treason?” she reiterated incredulously. “What are you talking about, Riggs? You can’t be serious.”
Even though it had been a while, he rattled off the Miranda without having to reference the card. “Do you understand these rights as they have been explained to you?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he gave the cuffs a tug, as if letting her know that whatever there had been between them was not about to stand in the way of him doing his job. “Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand. Everything’s perfectly clear.”
Within the hour they were boarding the private yacht that had brought Pritchard there. Carter escorted Piper to the lower level and down the companionway to a small windowless room. In spite of the toilet and sink situated behind a partition, Riggs’s first impression was that it was nothing more than a storage closet converted to a makeshift brig.
The moment he pushed open the door he expected her to react similarly to the way she had in the beach house’s storm room. She surprised him when she hesitated only momentarily before lowering her head and stepping forward. With her eyes downcast, she headed for the cot shoved against the opposite wall. Rigid in her actions, she sat with her back straight and stared straight ahead.
Carter kneeled in front of her and tried to catch her attention as he unlocked the cuffs. His thumb grazed lightly across the red welts left by the cold steel. As hard as he tried to get her attention, he couldn’t get a reaction out of her. Her faraway gaze looked right past him, as if she had removed herself from this reality and escaped into a world where he instinctively knew he wasn’t welcome.
Chapter Ten
Carter was at an insurmountable impasse. He couldn’t go forward and he couldn’t go back. His loyalty to InPro was unshakable; his commitment to proving Piper’s innocence beyond all doubt was equally steadfast. He was devastated by the choices he was being forced to make, all in the name of justice.
Jackson was digging in his heels at the manner of treatment he felt Piper deserved: “Lock her up and throw away the key” had been his blustering battle cry from the moment they boarded. Carter had his work cut out for him to convince Jackson the double-agent theory warranted further investigation.
Carter couldn’t explain why he felt so strongly about keeping Piper out of jail, but somewhere in the middle of a sleepless night, when the sounds of a vessel slicing effortlessly through the ocean should have lulled him into a deep and dreamless sleep, all he knew for certain as he stared at the cabin ceiling was that he was willing to risk everything for her.
Admittedly, some of the evidence Jackson presented could be construed as damning, but no matter how this might eventually affect his own career, Carter was determined to see that Piper was treated as fairly as possible, even if it meant threatening to expose each and every dirty little secret in Washington he knew about to do it. He’d been around D.C. for many years. He had a very long memory and an even longer list of transgressions. There’d be a few desperate souls who’d be willing to aid his cause in exchange for a promise of spontaneous amnesia. He might be accused of treasonous conduct right alongside Piper before this mess was straightened out.
Riggs stood outside Pritchard’s stateroom, fist poised and ready to knock at quarter after seven in the morning. He hesitated as he formulated an argument in Piper’s defense without sounding like he was part of her scheming plot to overthrow the government. His words needed to be chosen as carefully as he guarded his involvement with Piper because he couldn’t risk losing his job now. He needed every resource his position afforded him. He would simply plead her case as he would for any one of his agents he believed to be innocent.
He rapped twice and heard Jack’s terse bark to enter. Carter found him talking in low tones on a satellite phone. With a billowy wave of the fat cigar gripped between his fingers, he motioned for Carter to take a seat while he moved to the far side of the cabin.
Riggs made himself comfortable in one of the tailored leather club chairs situated around a sleek, square teak table and feigned interest in the master salon. He studied the lavish surroundings and spectacular aft view of the Caribbean with keen interest since it was impossible to glean anything useful from Jackson’s conversation.
Carter was curious as to who owned and loaned this one-hundred-and-forty-foot-plus floating villa to Jackson. He didn’t even want to entertain the possibility of it belonging to their organization.
InPro was a small contract agency specifically developed for training and placing operatives undercover for long-term infiltration. They didn’t have the resources to finance something of this magnitude, at least not to Carter’s knowledge. If he did ever discover that the yacht was, in fact, part of the organization’s holdings, he and Jack were going to have a serious discussion about raises for himself and everyone else, with back pay and hefty bonuses, too. Fair was fair, after all. Then again, nobody ever promised government contracts to be fair about the appropriation and disbursement of tax dollars.
Without turning his head, Carter’s eyes followed Jackson’s movements on the other side of the stateroom where the old man opened a cabinet made from the same high gloss teakwood as the table. With a practiced flip of his wrist, the doors swung open on invisible hinges, exposing a very well-stocked bar. It was only after pouring himself a generous portion of single malt scotch on the rocks and savoring a long swallow did he finally offer something to Riggs, which Carter refused with an open palm wave and a polite shake of his head.
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