“Why would she keep hard copies?”
“Laptops—” he pinged the side of his “—can get stolen.”
“Even if my laptop disappeared, whoever took it would have a hard time accessing any data on it. We have so many layers of security on our stuff.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure someone used that hacking group, Dreadworm, to access CIA emails to get the ball rolling against Major Denver.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She reached into the minifridge and snagged a bottle of water. “If what The Falcon said is true, there’s someone on the inside pulling the strings for this terrorist group. He...or she could easily cover his...or her tracks.”
Hunter snapped his laptop shut. “Are you ready to head over there now, or do you want to stop and get something to eat?”
“I don’t think the storage unit is going anywhere and you look like you could use some food—and some pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“Of Drake.” She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go back to my place before we eat. I have to collect my mail and water a few plants.”
“I was going to ask before, but I figured you might not want to carry any pictures of him.” Hunter slipped his laptop into its sleeve and tucked it under his arm. “You don’t have any pictures on your phone?”
“I don’t keep pictures of Drake on my phone—just in case.”
“The Agency must know you have a child. You can’t keep that kind of information a secret from your employer—especially a government employer like the CIA.”
“My employer knows. The pregnancy and birth were covered by my insurance, of course, but I took a leave of absence for five months. None of my coworkers know I have a child. They know I’m close to my nieces and...nephew, but that’s it.”
“That’s crazy, Sue.” He rested one hand on her shoulder. “You know that, right?”
“I know, but it makes sense—or made sense for me.”
“And it was something The Falcon suggested.”
“Working a black ops team is special, Hunter, different. We follow different rules, live different lives.” She folded her arms over her purse, pressing it to her stomach. “I’ll bet you Major Denver isn’t married, is he? No children? No long-term relationships for him. He’s not only your Delta Force commander. Someone is using him for intel. He’s no different from me.”
Hunter blinked his thick, black lashes. “Major Denver’s wife and child were killed by a drunk driver. It gutted him. He changed after that, became harder, fiercer and more determined.”
“A man with nothing to lose.”
“That’s right, but you...”
“My mother died from an aggressive form of breast cancer at a particularly vulnerable time in my life. I suffered from depression. I even made a half-hearted attempt to commit suicide, but my father rescued me.”
“I had no idea.” He touched her cheek. “I’m sorry. How did your father help?”
“I had already shown an aptitude for languages, so he encouraged me, sent me to boarding school in Switzerland for a few years, where I picked up more languages...and a purpose in my life.” She lifted her shoulders. “So, your interpretation of my father’s grooming me to fulfill his CIA dreams may be true, but it saved my life.”
His mouth lifted on one side. “I don’t know what the hell I was talking about. I just wanted to strike out at you.”
“Understandable and deserved.” She took his hand and kissed the rough palm. “Now, let me show you those pictures.”
As they got into the car, he leaned over and tapped the phone in her hand. “You haven’t looked at the barbershop video in a while. You said Jeffrey admitted we landed on their radar the minute we walked into that barbershop. That means you did have the right barbershop all along. Are you ready now to tell me how you heard about the shop and Walid?”
“Drive.” She snatched his phone and entered her address in the GPS, although he probably already had it in there. “When my terrorist contacts pretended to kidnap me in Istanbul, they did so in order for me to pass them information about a raid, which of course was completely made up. The most valuable time I spend with my contacts is when they speak among each other in their own language. They have no idea I know their language, and it’s the best way for me to pick up information.”
“No wonder The Falcon wanted to keep you on her team by any means necessary. Go on.”
“There I was, drinking tea and rubbing a rope against my wrists to prove I’d been held captive instead of turning over intelligence—even if it was fake intelligence.” She smoothed a finger over her skin, which had long since healed but looked raw enough after her so-called escape. “They weren’t paying much attention to me. They’d already paid me off.”
“They thought you were doing it for the money?”
“Oh, yeah. The Falcon had manufactured some gambling debts for me...and several illegal prescriptions for drugs.”
“Sue—” the steering wheel jerked in his hands “—would the CIA internal investigators see those things, also?”
“I’m pretty sure they would.” She held up one hand. “I know. Don’t say it. I already know I’m in big trouble if The Falcon’s storage unit doesn’t yield any proof of our deep undercover operation.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go on. They were ignoring you and talking among themselves without a clue that you could understand everything they were saying.”
“That’s right. And what they were saying had something to do with picking up materials from a barber named Walid at the shop on that corner. Like a dutiful little spy, I passed that info along to The Falcon. Two days ago, she called me and said the information was false and that there was no Walid at the shop.”
“How did she know that?”
Sue spread her palms in front of her. “I was not privy to that sort of information. The Falcon told me it was the wrong barbershop.”
“Maybe that’s how they made The Falcon...and you. It was some kind of trap. They became aware somehow that you knew their language and they set you up, just like you’d been setting them up with your fake intel.”
“Maybe you’re right, but it’s hard to believe The Falcon would expose herself like that. She was a pro.” Sue pressed her fingers against her lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“A pro. That’s what she always used to call me. She knew she’d asked a lot of me—giving you up for good and then turning my son over to my sister. It was her ultimate compliment, but she was just playing me as surely as she played those terrorists.”
“Nice neighborhood you have here.” Hunter pointed out the window to the cherry trees lining her block, their pink blossoms preparing to explode with the next spring shower.
“But you’ve been here before.” She tilted her head at him. “Why didn’t you come up to my door that night? You’d come to DC specifically to contact me, right? Why skulk around and follow me to bars?”
He pulled up to the curb and put the car into Park. “The truth? I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here—husband...children.”
She coughed. “Little did you know.”
“When you left me in that hotel room, I considered calling you anyway, even though you’d asked me not to contact you. I even looked you up once or twice.”
“Let me guess—your CIA friend. Because my address and phone number are not easy to find.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. I never got your phone number, which is a good thing because it would’ve been less stressful to place a call or, better yet, leave a voice mail.”
“What stopped you from looking me up in person?”
“Pride, I guess. I’d spent enough time trying to make things work with my wife. I didn’t want to face any more rejection.”
“I half expected you to show up on my doorstep one day.”
> “And you would’ve slammed that door in my face?”
“I would’ve thrown it open and fallen into your arms.”
He snorted. “That’s not exactly what you did when you woke up in my hotel room.”
“Different circumstances.” She tapped on the window. “You can’t park here. You’ll get a ticket. You can park behind my car in the garage.”
She directed him around the corner to her parking spot. “You can block me in for now. I’m not going anywhere.”
With her key chain dangling from her fingers, she led him through the garage to her back door, which faced an alley. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“No killer cats going to spring on me?”
“No, but Drake loves animals and I’m going to get him a puppy...one day.” She stepped into the kitchen and wrinkled her nose at the mess on the counter. “I didn’t leave...”
Hunter wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her backward into the alley, hissing in her ear, “Someone’s in your place.”
Sue arched her back. “I’m done with this. If they’re in there, let’s find out what they want.”
Hunter cocked his head. “I don’t hear any doors slamming or cars starting. Wait here and I’ll check it out.”
“Are you kidding?” She practically ripped the zipper from the outer pocket of her purse, which concealed her weapon.
“At least let me go in first.”
She huffed out a breath, her nostrils flaring.
“Humor me.” He withdrew his own gun and crept back into the kitchen with Sue’s hot breath on his neck.
Leading with his weapon, he crossed the tile floor. The kitchen opened onto a small dining area, the round table adorned with a lacy tablecloth and a vase full of half-wilting flowers. He turned the corner and caught his breath.
Sue swore behind him at the upended drawers and bookshelves in disarray. Colorful pillows from the sofa dotted the floor.
“Looks like they didn’t plan to keep their visit a secret.”
“Shh.” He nudged her shoulder as she drew up beside him.
“If they don’t know we’re here yet, they’re too dumb to surprise us now.” She waved her gun around the living room. “There’s a half bathroom down here and then two bedrooms and a full bath upstairs.”
Hunter glanced at a few photos of a child strewn across the floor, but he didn’t have time to look yet.
As Sue placed a foot on the first step, he squeezed past her to take the lead. She’d done enough on her own these past three years. She had nothing to prove.
He made his way up the staircase, then checked both rooms, swallowing hard as he entered the room with the pint-size bed shaped like a car and the puppy-themed border of wallpaper ringing the room.
He checked out the closet, crammed with toys, and then backed out to join Sue in the bathroom, which had also been ransacked.
He wedged a foot on the edge of the tub, brushing aside the shower curtain dotted with red-and-blue fish. “What the hell were they looking for in here?”
“Maybe all my illegal meds.”
Sue backed out of the bathroom and returned to her bedroom where she smoothed a hand over her floral bedspread. “Bastards. What do they think I have?”
Hunter crouched down beside the bed and stirred the shards of broken glass on a framed picture of a small boy hugging a rabbit. “He has black hair.”
“And the bluest eyes ever—just like his dad.” Sue perched on the end of her bed. “This is not how I wanted you to see him.”
“But then you never wanted me to see him, did you?”
Biting her lip, she rubbed the back of her hand across her stinging nose. Of course, Hunter wouldn’t get over her deception as fast as his casual attitude made it seem he had. The resentment toward her burned deep inside him.
But working with her to clear Denver had to take precedence over any lashing out against her. He couldn’t afford to alienate her now. He had to put his work first, too; maybe not to the degree that she’d put hers, but he had to understand what had been at stake for her.
She’d disobeyed direct orders by having a fling in Paris while she was on assignment—and a fling with a military man had just made the infraction worse. She’d doubled down with the pregnancy and her decision to keep the baby—as if she could’ve come to any other.
When The Falcon had told her to forget Hunter and keep her baby a secret, she’d finally complied—but what a price she’d paid.
She sighed. “Do you want to help me clean up?”
Cranking his head from side to side, he asked, “Is anything missing?”
“Anything of importance? No. I have my laptop with me, my phones. Anything else?” She shrugged. “Don’t care. They didn’t come here to rob me, did they?”
He straightened up with the frame in his hand. “Do you have a trash bag for this glass?”
“I’ll grab some.” When she returned upstairs with two plastic garbage bags, Hunter had another photo of Drake in his hands.
“He looks like a happy boy.”
“Amelia and Ben live on Shelter Island off the coast of South Carolina. Drake loves it there, loves his two cousins, loves the beach.” Her voice hitched. Did she have to tell Hunter that sometimes Drake cried for his mommy in the middle of the night or that he’d started saying the word daddy with alarming frequency? Time enough for that.
“But he’d rather be home with his mother?”
“Here.” She shoved a plastic bag at him. “You can dump that glass in here. I’ll take care of my clothes.”
As Sue yanked open her drawers and folded and replaced the clothing that had been tossed, Hunter walked around the room straightening the furniture and picking up books, pictures and knickknacks.
Once her bedroom had been put together again, they moved on to Drake’s room. The intruders hadn’t spared her son’s belongings. Whatever they suspected her of hiding, they’d figured that among kids’ toys might just be the perfect spot.
This room took longer to set right as Hunter spent much of his time examining Drake’s toys and testing them out. Finally, she trailed downstairs and got to work on the living room.
As Hunter picked up pillows and tossed them back onto the couch, she organized her shelves. Had they been sending her a message by having a total disregard for her possessions? Breaking items? Scattering things across the floor?
She stooped to pick up a frame lying facedown on the floor. The picture had slipped out, but she knew what had been in here.
Sue dropped to her hands and knees and scoured the floor, checking beneath the coffee table.
Hunter tousled her hair as he walked by. “I’ll start tackling the kitchen.”
Sue passed her hand beneath the sofa and then sat back on her heels, her heart fluttering in her chest. “You know how I told you upstairs I didn’t think anything of importance was missing?”
“Yeah.” Hunter stopped at the entrance to the dining area, his hand braced against the wall.
“I was wrong.”
“What’s missing?”
“They took a picture of Drake.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hunter tripped to a stop as a shot of adrenaline spiked through his system. “You’re sure? Did you check under the sofa?”
She held up an empty picture frame. “It was in here—a shot of him at the beach just a few months ago. It was my most recent picture of him.”
When Hunter thought his legs could function properly, he pushed off the wall and joined Sue on the floor. Shoulder to shoulder, they searched the floor for the missing picture.
He even pulled all the cushions off the sofa to check behind them. “We don’t know if they took it on purpose or it was stuck to something else they took out of here, or maybe it’s still lost in the house somewhere.”
&
nbsp; Sue remained on the floor, legs curled beneath her. “Why would they take a picture of Drake unless they wanted to know what he looked like?”
“They have no way of knowing where he is, right?” He stretched out a hand to Sue and helped her to her feet, pulling her into his arms.
He’d wanted to remain angry at her for keeping Drake from him and a core of that anger still burned in his gut, but she was the mother of his son. He had a son, and the joy of that reality blotted out every other negative feeling.
“You’re going to call your parents ASAP and tell them to keep an extra eye on Drake. Your father, at least, will understand the significance of that, won’t he?”
“I’ll make him understand.” She broke away from him and pounced on her purse, dragging her cell phone from an outside pocket.
“You make that call, and I’ll work on the kitchen. Hell, I might even locate that picture. On the beach, right?”
She dipped her head, wide-eyed, and tapped her phone to place the call.
As Hunter banged pots and pans back into what he hoped were their right places, he strained to hear Sue from the next room, but all he got was worried murmurs. He hoped the old CIA man was up to the task.
When she joined him in the kitchen, her face had lost its sharp angles. “My dad’s on it. I think it’ll be fine. They live in a pretty small town, and it’s not like Drake is even school-age and out of their sight.”
“That sounds good.” He swung open a cupboard door. “Is this right?”
They finished putting the house back together and Sue watered her plants and collected the mail that was at least in a locked mailbox in the front—not that the intruders couldn’t have broken into the mailbox. They’d done a bang-up job of breaking into Sue’s house and wreaking havoc without raising any suspicion in the neighborhood.
When they were back in the car, Sue turned to him as she snapped her seat belt. “Should we head straight to the storage unit and skip lunch?”
“Are you kidding?” He patted his stomach. “That breakfast seems like a long time ago.”
Undercover Accomplice Page 13