A gift, it said. A gift?
She turned it over, but there was nothing else there. And then she spun back toward the door. She peered through the peephole again, but there was no-one. So she undid the locks, except for the chain, and dragged the door open.
And there, on the porch, lay a manila envelope. Pulse thudding, fingers shaking, Haylee slipped the chain free and snatched up the envelope before slamming the door and redoing all the locks. She hugged the envelope to her as she returned to her bedroom upstairs and flipped on the light. She had to squint at first, but her eyes soon grew accustomed to it since she slept with a night light anyway.
Haylee climbed cross-legged onto the bed and opened the envelope. A sheaf of papers slipped out. And three photos. She lifted the photos and peered at them.
Oscar Silva’s face was clear. Beside him was Senator Watson. And a third man she didn’t recognize. She turned the photo over.
Silva—Frank Watson—Donnie Setter
Donnie Setter?
The other two photos were Setter only, no sign of Watson or Silva. But her stomach twisted as she recognized the landscape in the first. It was the jungle camp where she’d been held with the other hostages. The building behind Setter was the building where she’d stayed for three days, all the while thinking she was going to die.
In the second photo, Setter was grinning broadly, a beautiful, half-nude Mexican—or Guatemalan—woman on his lap. They were inside a much more lavish building than any she’d seen in the camp. The furnishings were velvet and gold, the air thick with smoke. There were other women in the background.
A brothel? Probably. Haylee set the photos down and started to read the papers. It was a series of shipping manifests and plane reservations. The manifests were for goods like pottery and tiles and sinks and wood-carvings, the kinds of items that tourists imported from Mexico in droves. The plane reservations were for Donnie Setter—Donald James Setter III, to be precise. Haylee frowned. Who was Donald James Setter III?
She reached across the bed for her laptop, which was plugged in and sitting on the bedside table. She flipped it open and typed in Setter’s name.
She wasn’t disappointed. Donnie Setter lived in New Mexico. He owned an import/export business, and he sold goods in a store he called Olde World Mexico Imports. It wasn’t a huge business, or even anything she thought might appeal to anyone outside of the Southwest. But Setter appeared in photos with celebrities, government officials, and various other people she didn’t recognize but who seemed to be part of a moneyed set. There were yachts, race cars, and oceanside vistas in a place that could be Mexico or California.
Haylee frowned. Someone had left this on her doorstep for a reason. She picked up the photo of Oscar Silva, Frank Watson, and Donnie Setter again. What did it mean?
Haylee yawned and shook her head, warding off any tiredness before she stood and went to the kitchen. Time to fix a pot of coffee and start digging deeper. There was a connection between the three men, and she planned to find out what it was.
No matter how long it took, or how much sleep she lost.
Chapter Thirteen
Wolf woke early and headed into HOT HQ. He couldn’t sleep anyway so why toss and turn? He’d gone home after the event, watched TV for a couple of hours, and then fallen asleep with Haylee on his mind. He feared she was going to get herself in trouble. Big trouble. And he also feared that she was sleeping with the guy who’d left the fundraiser with her. The thought of that guy touching her, his hands roaming her body, his lips finding the sweet spot beneath her ear, was enough to put Wolf in a bad mood.
He’d grabbed his phone and stared at her number. Thought of all the things he might possibly say to her if he texted her. In the end, he didn’t text her. He fell into a rough sleep, then woke too early and dressed in his workout clothes so he could hit the gym at HOT before showering and getting ready for the day.
He pushed himself in the gym, working up a sweat, showered and dressed, and then checked the time. It was still early so he headed for the range. It was satisfying to squeeze off a few hundred rounds so early in the morning. The smell of explosives and the feel of hot brass as it pinged off his skin every once in a while was comforting. It was what he knew. What he could control.
He pressed the button to bring the target back, satisfaction seeping through him at the tight groupings on the paper. Not that he hadn’t expected it. He was HOT. Hitting what he aimed at was pretty much a guarantee. If it wasn’t, he’d find his ass hauled in to the colonel with a lot of explaining to do.
Then he’d find himself on standby, prevented from going on missions, until he corrected that shit. There was no room for error when your teammates depended on your accuracy for their lives.
Wolf stowed his weapons in his bag, tossed the target, and washed his hands in the sink right outside the door to the range in order to remove the lead and other chemicals. He walked on the sticky paper to get the residue off his boots, then strode out and tugged his hearing protection off his head and put that in the bag as well. A stop to drop everything in Echo Squad’s arsenal and he was on his way to the squad ready room.
Saint was there. So was Gem. The rest of them weren’t in yet. Saint looked up as he entered. “Hey, man. Gem was just telling me about the senator’s function. Haylee Jamison was there?”
Fucking hell. There were no secrets with these guys. “Yeah, she was there.” He walked over to the console at one end of the room and poured a cup of coffee. Then he turned back to his teammates. “She had a date, too. Some lawyer named Tony. Works for Watson.”
Saint’s brows lifted. “Huh, interesting.”
Wolf sipped his coffee. “Is it? Why?”
Gem and Saint exchanged a look. Wolf wanted to growl. He didn’t. Why the fuck did everybody think he was hung up on that woman? He wasn’t. He’d liked her. She was gorgeous and smart. They’d had a hell of a night together. What was so unusual about that?
“No reason,” Saint said. “Just thought maybe you’d had intentions in that direction.”
“I did,” he said truthfully. “But after everything she went through out there, I kinda thought maybe she needed a normal guy in her life.”
“Seemed to me like the kind of woman who could handle it,” Saint said. “Though I could be wrong.”
“She’s a reporter, Saint. That might not be the best combination with us, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I expect Mendez would put the fear in her. The threat of being charged for endangering national security tends to work with most people we encounter.”
“True. But she’s got Tony now, so she didn’t need me at all.”
Saint narrowed his eyes for a second. “Yeah, why would she bother with your grumpy ass when she could date a hotshot DC lawyer? She’s probably better off.”
Wolf didn’t like the way his guts twisted. Still, he grinned as if he wasn’t affected at all. “Exactly my thoughts. Except for the grumpy part. I’m not grumpy.”
“Could have fooled me,” Gem said, adding to the conversation for the first time since Wolf had arrived. He picked up a donut and chomped into it. They all worked out hard and expended so many calories in training that donuts didn’t make a damned bit of difference. Nobody around here was getting a pot belly from a morning binge.
Wolf snatched a donut of his own and took a bite. Sugar exploded on his tongue. Kind of how it felt to kiss Haylee. Fuck.
“You guys think what you want. I’m not grumpy. Just thinking about shit, okay?”
Saint’s expression changed then. Softened a little. “How are your parents? Any closer to success?”
Wolf felt the ache in his soul. He’d told his team what was going on with his family because they were more than friends. They were brothers. And brothers shared all the deep shit going on with them. Or they were supposed to anyway. Sky “Hacker” Kelley hadn’t told them much about himself, as they’d learned when his ex-wife showed up and started working with them, but ever since she’d
come back into his life he was more of an open book. And that book was a sappy romance these days. The longing looks and goofy smiles were ridiculous sometimes.
“Last I heard, their lawyer thought they had a chance. But there are no guarantees. They’re flying out to California next week for the hearing.”
“Man, I hope it goes well for them. Any word on your sister?”
“Still in rehab.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. I hope she gets better.”
Wolf was used to hearing that sentiment, but deep down he didn’t think Cheryl was ever getting better. She had so much incentive with two adorable kids, but if that couldn’t make her walk the straight and narrow, he didn’t know what could. Though maybe he was wrong. Maybe she’d make it and prove him wrong. He damn sure hoped so.
“Yeah, me too. Thanks.” Wolf took another bite of the donut. “What do we know about Oscar Silva’s operations?”
Saint lifted an eyebrow. “Probably not much. Why?”
“He called Haylee to his table last night. She’s convinced he’s responsible for the drugs coming from Mexico.”
“Probably is. But that’s not our department.”
“No. But you remember the OxyContin street pills that caused those deaths a few months ago?”
“Yeah.”
“Her roommate was one of the ones who died.”
“Shit.”
Wolf loved that he didn’t have to spell it out. His fears. His worry. His teammates knew. Gem was frowning. Saint looked like he was thinking deeply about something.
“Yeah,” Wolf said. “She blames Silva and she was at his table last night—after getting her ass kidnapped in Mexico because she was down there poking around. What are the chances he has no idea who she is?”
Saint’s expression was hard. “Little to none, I’d say. Those guys stole passports and IDs, so they knew the names of everyone they had.”
Wolf drew in a breath that was both tight with worry and easier because he knew his teammates understood. “Think we can watch her for a while? Without her knowing, I mean.”
“I’ll talk to Mendez and Ghost.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“You got it, Wolf. Haylee Jamison was pretty fucking cool—whipped your ass at pool like nothing I’d ever seen.”
Wolf snorted. “Man, I so wanted to get her to play Cage.”
“That would be a great matchup,” Gem said, laughing. “Even better if Cage has no idea she can play.”
“He’d figure it out pretty quickly,” Saint said.
“Yeah, but what fun it’d be in those few moments when he was confused because she could sink all the balls without missing,” Gem replied.
“She misses,” Wolf said. “But not often.”
“Dude, you really should call her. Steal her away from that lawyer while you still can.”
Wolf’s insides turned to ice. “What makes you think she wants to be stolen? She looked happy with the guy.”
Gem snorted. “No she fucking didn’t. She kept staring at you. Hell if I know why, but she did. Which tells me she’s willing to be stolen. Probably make you work at it, but you could do it.”
Wolf finished the donut. Licked the sugar from his fingers. Tried not to think about how it reminded him of sex with Haylee. “You’re dreaming. Even if you aren’t, I’m not interested.”
Gem’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh dude. Wow. You are so fucking clueless right now. But whatever. You keep telling yourself you aren’t interested. Watch her walk away with that lawyer. Try not to cry into your pillow because you let her go.”
Wolf tilted his head. “What the fuck, Gem? Am I attracted to her? Hell yes I am. But that’s all. I’m not going to cry into my pillow because she’s with some guy. There are plenty of other women out there.”
Gem stared at him. Then he shrugged. “Okay, man. Whatever you say.”
Saint spoke before Wolf could protest. “All right, guys, let’s worry about the things that matter. Wolf’s love life—or lack of one—isn’t important right now.”
“Damn straight,” Wolf said. “Let’s worry about protecting her and not who she’s sleeping with.”
Gem shrugged. “Not a problem for me. In fact, if you aren’t interested, maybe I’ll go see her—”
“No,” Wolf said coldly, every fiber of his being growing hot as lava and icy as liquid nitrogen all at once. It was all he could do not to take a step toward his teammate, not to intimidate with his size and determination.
Gem laughed as he held up his hands, palm out. “Think I made my point. But you go on believing you don’t want her if it makes you feel better.”
It didn’t make him feel better. Because he knew it wasn’t true.
Fucking Gem and his fucking experiment.
Haylee hadn’t slept in hours. She hadn’t showered either. She’d been pouring over the papers left on her doorstep and researching the people on the internet. She’d accessed articles, photos, and she’d dug deep into the library archives for anything she could find on Donnie Setter and Frank Watson.
It took hours, but she found the connection. They were cousins. Donnie Setter was the child of Frank Watson’s aunt from her second marriage. Donnie was a bit younger than Frank, but they were definitely related. Donnie cultivated an image of someone who was casual and kind of dorky, but in reality he was smart and connected. Graduated from Yale. Inherited money from his father, and the import/export business. It had prospered under Donnie, growing exponentially in the seven years since he’d taken it over.
And his cousin had entered the US Senate four years ago. Frank Watson was a first term senator after serving as his state’s attorney general and then lieutenant governor. He was ambitious and young enough to have a long political career ahead if he played his cards right.
There was absolutely nothing dirty about Frank Watson. He was a straight shooter, the kind of guy who was harsh on crime and enforced the laws. He was hard on drug dealers too, which was a point in his favor. But there was Donnie, going to the jungle and taking photos with drug dealers. What the hell was that about?
Donnie donated to his cousin’s campaign, though not a ton of money. He’d also donated to Frank’s opponent in the early days, but he’d finally firmed up his support and infused cash into Frank’s campaign as it picked up speed.
The photo of Silva, Watson, and Donnie was taken at a fundraiser in Arizona a couple of years ago when Frank was starting to raise money for his reelection campaign.
Haylee shoved a hand through her hair and yawned. Why had somebody given her this information but not given her more? Did they know anything or had they just hoped she’d find something dirty? But on whom? And why her?
She shook her head and closed the computer. Was it enough that Frank Watson and Donnie Setter were cousins? And that Setter was visiting drug dealers in the Guatemalan jungle? It was damning, no doubt about it. Add in Oscar Silva and yeah, it was pretty interesting information.
It was not, however, a smoking gun.
Haylee stood and stretched. Then she went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to heat. After a nice long shower, she got dressed in leggings and a loose shirt made of soft jersey and then went to find something to eat. The refrigerator contained milk, cream, and some lunch meat. The cabinets were no better, unless she wanted cereal. But after the past few hours, she wanted something more substantial. Plus she wanted to get out of the house and walk in the fresh air, clear her head a bit. Think about the connections. Maybe what she had was enough. Just write an article and see where it went.
But what would the focus be? Haylee grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door. She locked it behind her, then went out into the parking lot where her car sat. A dark sedan came around the corner, rolling slowly past as she unlocked her car and slipped inside. She twisted the key, but nothing happened. Dead battery. Shit.
She didn’t drive enough these days and her car had been sitting. Since it wasn�
��t all that new, it had issues. She slapped the wheel and shoved the door open. She really needed to get rid of the damn thing and just Uber everywhere that she couldn’t take the Metro. She headed for the street, calling an Uber as she walked and grumbling to herself about the stupid car. She’d have to call Triple A when she got back.
A car turned the corner and slowed as it approached. The same black sedan. Not her Uber, which was supposed to be a silver Honda. The sedan rolled up and slid to a stop. The window went down in the back. The man from last night, the one who’d come over and asked her to join Oscar Silva at his table, stared back at her.
“Hello, Miss Jamison. Can I offer you a lift?”
Her heart thumped. “Um, that’s okay. I have an Uber coming.”
His expression was all politeness, but his eyes were hard. “No, really. I insist. Mr. Silva would be angry with me if I did not personally see you safely to your destination.”
“I, uh, I’m fine. Really.”
“Miss Jamison. Get in the car. I will drive you where you were going. We will talk along the way. Would you like to call a friend first? Let someone know where you are? Here, take the license plate down. Take a photo of it, and of me. I don’t mind.”
Haylee frowned. Then she drew out her phone. “All right. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
She went around back and snapped a photo of the plate. Then she snapped one of him. “Your ID?” she asked, because what good was a photo of him without his identification?
He withdrew his wallet and pulled out a license. John Payne. She snapped that too. Then she texted it all to Wolf, because he was the first person that came to mind even though she knew her phone would blow up soon after. But if something happened to her, Wolf was the one she wanted to know about it. Not her editor at the paper. Not Tony. Not any of her friends.
Wolf.
“I’ve texted this to my SEAL buddy,” she said, even though Wolf wasn’t a SEAL.
HOT Justice: A Hostile Operations Team - Book 14 Page 12