Only

by HelenKay Dimon

  “That’s not what’s happening.”

  “Take credit, girl.” He went to her small fridge under the counter and shoved some of the bottles around. “For once you’re using your gifts the right way.”

  The temptation to agree just to get rid of him proved great. The easy way out. Lie and duck. But that solution went nowhere. “I am not working a con on Jarrett.”

  He slammed the door hard enough for the jars inside to clink together. “You will do what you’re told.”

  A scream rattled in her throat. “I’m in school now.”

  “No one cares about that.”

  She did. An education gave her a start. Let her put a few inches between the life she’d known and the one she wanted.

  He snorted. “Don’t make me bring you back home.”

  The threat started a terrified twisting in her stomach. She was an adult and had resources and it couldn’t happen but the thought of it brought all the youthful worries rushing back. “I am not playing Jarrett. It’s a job. A good job. It pays the rent.”

  So did the loans and the series of jobs she’d taken to earn cash. Undergraduate school took forever because she kept stopping to stockpile some money. She let her father believe she kept leaving because of poor grades. Truth was she left to maintain her independence, to not have to beg Wade for money or rely on her father for anything. The strings to him were the type she’d never be able to snap.

  “We are not arguing about this.” Her father stopped in front of her.

  “I agree.”

  He towered over her like he always did, intimidating and menacing while his ego sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. “You finish the setup and I’ll work on how we can use this to our advantage.”

  “No.”

  “It’s done,” he said, talking over her as if she’d never spoken. “What are you wearing?”

  “What?” She looked down, relieved the material pulled tight and hugged her body. She hated anything that made her more vulnerable in front of him. “My robe.”

  “You’ll need something sexier if you plan to make this con work.” He headed for the door and opened it, stopping only to issue one last warning. “Be ready for my call.”

  When the door shut, Kyra slipped down to sit on the side of the bed. A frigid air filled her apartment. Her father had that talent. To freeze everything in his path. Hollow and aching, she sat there with her hands open on her lap.

  She didn’t hear the door open. Nothing registered until Gena crouched in front of her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “No.” Because that was the truth. The chill wouldn’t leave Kyra’s bones and her head throbbed.

  “Who was that?”

  “My father.”

  After a brief hesitation Gena spoke again. “And the other guy?”

  “I don’t even want to know. Probably the latest version of his mindless muscle.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gena sat next to Kyra on the bed. “Did he just stop by for a quick visit?”

  “To issue threats, actually.”

  Gena’s head snapped back. “What?”

  The stunned sound of her friend’s voice woke Kyra up. She glanced over and saw the pale skin and stunned stare. For a second Kyra wondered if she wore the same expression.

  “He’s not a nice man.” In the world of understatements, Kyra considered that a doozy.

  “He’s your dad.” Gena said it as a statement, drawing out each word.

  “Not the take-you-to-school, father-daughter-dance type.” Kyra didn’t even know how to explain it. Gena came from a regular family in a regular town somewhere in the Midwest. Someone like Richard Royer probably moved in very different circles. “He’s more like the ‘do what I tell you or someone will get hurt’ type.”

  “Are you exaggerating?”

  “Not even a little.” Kyra thought she undersold it. The man she knew growing up, the one who went to prison and came out more paranoid, liked to hurt people any way he could. “He thinks he’s a mafia-like figure but he doesn’t have that much power.”

  “Then he can’t be that bad.”

  “Don’t be fooled. He wallows in filth and does awful things.” She had to get up. Move. Maybe making the soup would help.

  “But he looks . . .”

  “Normal?” With the graying hair and khaki pants he resembled other men his age. It was the gun and the scar along his check that suggested otherwise. “Yeah, he’s worked on that over the years. He fits in better since getting out of prison.”

  “Prison?”

  Kyra’s hand shook as she reached for the can of soup. Setting it down without slamming it against the counter took all her concentration. “It was the one time he couldn’t get one of his minions to take the fall, and the charges stuck. Thanks to those nineteen months I was able to get into college and settled without him being able to stop it.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t want to.” With a deep inhale, Kyra abandoned the can and turned back around to face Gena. “And he treats me well compared to how he treats my brother, Wade.”

  “You never talk about your family.”

  “I make sure to keep my father as far out of my life as possible. I talk to him to ensure he doesn’t come looking for me and messing in my life.”

  “Like he just did.” Gena stared at the door as if waiting for him to burst back in. “Why was he here?”

  Such a good question. Kyra had a list of answers, each one scarier than the one before. She went with the global excuse. “Because he’s tired of being left out of my life.”

  She frowned. “He said that?”

  “It was implied.”

  “So, now what?”

  The possibilities there were even worse. She’d have to warn Jarrett and tell Wade the truth about how much she talked with her father. When it came to Bast, she’d have to hope their privacy pact kept him insulated and safe. Any inkling that wasn’t the case and she’d leave. No matter how much it killed her.

  “I work around him.” She thought she had but clearly that had blown apart. Figuring out why became her immediate goal.

  It was possible her father had people checking on her. Wouldn’t be the first time. It was equally believable her father stumbled into the information. Happened to have the right guy at the right place and gathered the intel. That was more likely since the club, up until now, had been off limits and not in the part of town where her father worked his schemes.

  “Will that work?” Gena ran her palms up and down her legs. The material from her sweatpants scratched under her nails. “Will he just go away?”

  Kyra skipped over that question because the only honest answer sucked—no. “If you see him or his goon around here again, stay away from them.”

  “Your father is that dangerous?”

  That was the easiest question of the night. “Yes, he is.”

  TWELVE

  Bast knew from experience he had to hold the line on Natalie Udall. She dealt in secrets and traded in information. She’d been trained to evade and pick at a topic until she uncovered the intel she needed.

  On top of all that, she generally insisted on getting her way. So did he, which led to the distinct possibility of an impasse whenever they met. Since she showed up forty minutes early and refused to wait in the reception area, another showdown appeared to be looming.

  He leaned back in his leather desk chair and eyed the formidable opponent across from him. And after spending so much time with her, negotiating and then celebrating the deal afterward, that’s still how he saw her. Transitioning to attorney-client hadn’t officially happened yet, though it would in a second, so long as they didn’t get locked into a power struggle.

  To prevent that from the first sentence, Bast started with a challenge. “I’m not a fan
of having my schedule dictated to me by clients. Don’t do it again.”

  She exhaled as she crossed one leg over the other and stared him down. “I’m not a client.”

  Technically, she wasn’t wrong. “Then why are you here?”

  “I don’t want to be.”

  “I picked that up from the anger in your tone.” It bounced off her and filled up the room until it threatened to choke off everything else.

  “I’d rather be back in my office, but instead I’m here discussing a purely hypothetical situation with you.”

  A parameter he expected and didn’t fight . . . for now. “Of course.”

  “One that’s also confidential.”

  He held out a hand and motioned across his large office. “Look where you are. I deal in confidence.”

  “Your skills are of great interest to me right now.”

  He noticed she didn’t specifically comment on needing help. Knowing her, she never would. “I’m taking from that convoluted sentence you intend to retain my services.”

  Thirty-something and striking with blond hair and big brown eyes that worked in deadly sexy combination, she downplayed her looks with conservative suits like the navy one she wore today. Everything about her said restrained and in command. He knew under the tight, pulled-back hair and severe frown was a smart and determined woman. One who possessed more than a touch of humanity and let it show back when they negotiated Becca’s release from service.

  Natalie’s unblinking stare held now. Silence overtook the room and Bast vowed to sit there and not say a thing until he picked Kyra up tomorrow night if that’s the stand Natalie needed to see before she spoke up.

  The quiet lasted for a solid three minutes. No movement. No talking. Nothing but the soft tick of the clock on the wall and steady hum of the air conditioning. Sounds he never heard during regular work time.

  At three minutes seven seconds she brought her hands together in front of her and started talking without any fanfare or reference. “I was told my clearance has been downgraded and would be revoked as soon as I sign a separation-from-service agreement. Of course, if I don’t sign, the clearance will be revoked anyway.”

  “Which automatically terminates your position. That’s a tidy circle.” A typical CIA trick and a lousy one.

  “You’re not surprised.”

  “Are you?” Bast admired her. She’d taken a risk when she argued for Becca and Elijah to walk away clean, which required tough talk and balls of steel. The men in positions above her made it clear they viewed her as overstepping. “Do you have a copy of whatever they gave you?”

  “I can’t remove it from the office.”

  Bast hated the cloak-and-dagger bullshit in this town, and the folks at the CIA threw out the secrecy card in every sentence. This was just one example of the constant overreaching. True she had restrictions on her employment, but it wasn’t as if she signed a blood oath to work for the CIA and faced a death squad at retirement. Some folks at the CIA acted as if the tiny print included those provisions.

  But there was no need to run through that with Natalie because she once used the tricks now being turned on her. Karma was a fucking bitch. “We’re dealing with the usual MO where you’re supposed to sign it without legal input or having someone walk through it with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s convenient for them.”

  She rested an elbow on the armrest and her foot started swinging. “At least I didn’t find myself the unwitting victim of a car accident or mugging.”

  She threw the comment out there like it didn’t matter. From the tension around her mouth to the sudden uncharacteristic fidgeting, he knew it did. Her body language telegraphed her concerns. Since she could potentially be taken out, he didn’t blame her. She’d been at the CIA long enough to know it could happen. Had seen it happen.

  The scenario played in Bast’s head. The accident would occur and her files would be passed to someone else. If she were lucky, her exit would look as if it happened on the job and she’d get a star on the wall at Langley. In either case, some underling would pack up her desk and she’d be forgotten.

  “You think, despite the document, they’re not going to let you leave the easy way.” He skipped asking it as a question because he knew it was fact. The woman had seen too much. Someone might think she was too savvy to be out there with all that knowledge in her head.

  Good thing he possessed an impressive memory. He didn’t bother with taking notes because they’d only be taken away later. Working on cases involving powerful people with a top-secret clearance both inside and out of clandestine agencies required the lawyer be cleared and certain case requirements be met. Bast knew the drill.

  But there were so many questions in this case. “I’m wondering what exactly you’re being set up to take the fall for.”

  “Well, Todd did have an accident.” She didn’t sound even slightly upset about the man’s death. Probably had something to do with him being a traitor and attempting to sell secrets to the highest international bidder.

  The official line talked about an “explosion following a gas leak” and the victim was some random Todd Rivers who worked in a boring job and most certainly did not work for the CIA. Those closest to the case knew the truth about Todd’s death. Knew and stayed quiet.

  “I assumed that order came from above you,” Bast said, parsing his words to keep from violating her oath or his.

  “There was no order. It was a gas leak.” Her expression never changed but a hint of her Southern accent crept back into her voice.

  He took that as confirmation. “Understood.”

  “Apparently my lack of loyalty and my betraying behavior went well beyond cleaning house.” She blew out a long breath. “Negotiating the agreement with you for Elijah and Becca upset some of the old-school higher-ups.”

  It’s what she didn’t say that caught Bast’s attention. He leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “But this is really about Jarrett isn’t it?”

  The staring contest continued until her gaze danced to the right and lingered for a second on the bookshelves. When it returned to his face again it radiated with a new intensity. “The information Jarrett could have provided that did not change hands, yes.”

  “How does the CIA know that information even exists?” Bast knew because he collected it and worked up a bundle that served as Jarrett’s safety net.

  The CIA came after him once and if it happened again, Jarrett had intel on foreign threats to trade. He tried to trade it to buy Becca’s freedom but Bast and Natalie made a different deal. One that didn’t leave Jarrett vulnerable or cart Becca away from him in witness protection.

  “If you don’t think the agency continues to stake out the club and come up with ways to plant someone in there, you’re not as smart as I need you to be.” The whip of her voice was more like the Natalie he knew.

  “The last person the agency planted ended up giving up her job and staying with Jarrett. I’m half expecting a surprise wedding between those two soon.”

  “Lord.” Natalie rolled her eyes, but a touch of a smile appeared before she could swallow it back. “Ignoring Becca for a second, there are other ways to plant someone close to Jarrett. Maybe some guy who becomes his friend and confidant.”

  “Are we talking about the same Jarrett Holt?” The idea bordered on laughable. “He’s not exactly open to making new friends.”

  “There are some people in the agency who still believe Jarrett is a direct line to significant information. They authorized an operation once to put people in here and look for intel, and they could do it again.”

  The words sent something dark spilling through Bast. This went past the ego blow of having his agreement threatened. Jarrett was his best friend and the idea of Jarrett being in danger was a constant red warning light flashing in Bast’s brain.
<
br />   “The plan backfired.” First it worked and landed Jarrett in jail, but Bast breezed over that part. “Hell, thanks to Todd’s double-dealing, the CIA had to disband an entire black-ops team.”

  Her foot kept swinging but she’d returned to her impromptu staring contest. “I am aware of that since I was the point person for most of it.”

  That was likely the closest she’d ever come to admitting she took Todd down because he not only crossed the agency and his country, but he crossed her.

  “So, with you out of the way someone plans to set Jarrett up again?” Bast asked.

  “I think they know he’s holding material back that could hurt a lot of important people.”

  The first good news Bast had heard during the conversation. “That was the hope.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You want people going after Jarrett? Fill me in on how that’s a good thing.”

  “The bug was planted in the right ears of the right people as a scare tactic.” Careful wording kept him from implicating his own ass. “Jarrett deals in secrecy on a level that rivals your operatives’ skills but his is all the more powerful because it comes directly from the ground. But he will continue to hold those secrets until and unless the people he cares about are threatened.”

  She nodded. “In other words, one move and all of the nasty information, all of it backed up with evidence, becomes public knowledge.”

  That had always been the play. Bast put the pieces together. Jarrett played chicken. “It’s a tense but necessary balance.”

  “But someone has to pay for an expensive op gone wrong. For the loss of potential CIA intel, even though it came from a rogue and illegal operation.” Which brought them back around to the reason she ran over here and her need to retain him.

  “Bottom line here, Natalie. You think the CIA will end your employment by ending you, then go after Jarrett and anyone else connected with this, regardless of the risk since there could be—and is—a safeguard in place.” When she didn’t respond, Bast kept going. “Even if that extreme case is not true, you have more fundamental issues. You’re out of a job and some people are looking to make you an example.”