by Shayla Black
competent female voice said.
Shit.
Dax gave her a grin and poured her a glass of wine. “You’re going to need this.”
Yes. Yes, she was.
TWELVE
Sometimes having the president of the United States on his side was a definite advantage.
Dax watched as Holland brought out a set of sheets and what looked to be her lumpiest pillow. The blanket she’d brought him was superthin and she seemed to have turned the air conditioner to an arctic setting.
She dumped it all on the couch, then turned to him, her glance challenging him to say a word. Yes, that was one pissed-off female.
Since the moment Zack had explained that she was now on special assignment and under the charge of Captain Dax Spencer, Holland had frozen up. She’d downed a glass of wine, but then corked the bottle, claiming she didn’t drink on the job.
When he’d explained they didn’t have to be on the clock tonight, she’d pointed to the door. Dax had promptly gone back on the clock. Luckily for him, he didn’t have her very prim views about imbibing while working, because he’d definitely needed that whiskey.
She’d fought like hell, even calling her supervisor, who explained that yes, indeed, the president could in fact do this to her and the only way to refuse the assignment was to quit NCIS.
He had her backed in a corner and she was furious about it.
He’d rather go back to that moment when she’d held on to him like he was a life raft. For just a moment, he felt as if they had reconnected. And Dax had recalled all over again what he’d truly missed during this dark period. It hadn’t been support, because he’d always had that from his friends and family.
He’d missed her. So very badly.
All the anger he’d carried like a weight on his chest was gone. She’d truly believed she had done the right thing. He would likely have made the same choice in her shoes. She was a warrior, his woman. She didn’t back down from a fight and she protected the people she loved.
She’d loved him. She’d sacrificed for him. Could she ever forgive him?
One thing he knew for sure, she wasn’t ready to forgive him tonight.
He also wasn’t giving her any reason to kick him out. He was exactly where he needed to be. “Why yes, Holland, I’ll make up the couch myself. I know just how I like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There is zero reason for you to sleep here tonight.”
He bit back a groan because they’d already been over this a few times. “There’s every reason and you know it. They’ll have had someone watching you. Even after all this time, the Russian mob knows what you’re doing. They’ll know you saw me today. Hell, they may even know I’m here now. There’s no reason to believe they won’t come after you again.”
“That’s where your logic sucks, Spencer. They didn’t come after me in the first place. They came after you. You’re endangering me by being here. Don’t you have a megamansion in the Garden District to go home to?” She gasped. “Your mother. Dax, your mother is there all alone.”
Before she could start for the door, he stood. “No, my mother is being protected by two bodyguards, and I’m fairly certain one of them moonlights as a male model. She and the housekeeper are also taking turns in sniper positions around the house. God save me from Southern women.”
Holland calmed a bit. “Good. Gus is being protected at the White House?”
“Yes, she’s got Secret Service and security around her pretty much twenty-four seven. I’m not worried about Gus.” Roman had promised he would watch over her. He’d also had to promise that their mother would mind the guards or Gus would have been on the first plane back, cracking open the gun case alongside their momma.
“But you haven’t explained why you think I’m a target and in need of protection,” she replied. “Like I said, they were after you and the people you love.”
“Oh, that’s an easy one, but you’re not at all ready to hear the answer, sweetheart.” He’d never loved anyone the way he loved Holland. The deep, sure feeling had flooded back the minute he had realized she’d lied to him three years ago. Even when he’d been at his most angry and disillusioned, his devotion had never really gone away. He’d just done his stubborn best to banish it.
She shook her head, her mouth a flat line. “Don’t even say it. I told you. I’ll talk about the case. I’ll talk about what’s going on with your friends. Hell, I’ll talk about the weather if you want me to, boss. But the minute you try to make this personal, I’ll complain to anyone who will listen to me. The White House doesn’t want a sexual harassment complaint.”
He sighed. Naturally she would go there. “Yeah, you’re definitely not ready. But the answer to your question is easy. If the Bratva thinks for a second that you’re helping me, they’ll eliminate you. Especially if they think you’re vulnerable.”
She brushed back her blond hair. “I’ve been vulnerable for years, Dax. They haven’t come after me yet. They’ve had three years to take care of me. They could have arranged for a convenient accident. I’m a single woman who lives alone.”
“But you haven’t been single. You’ve been dating that cop, right? What’s his name? Charles? Chazz?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, his name is Chazz. A very traditional New Orleans name.”
So he wasn’t going to fool her. “Fine. Chad. I know his name. I’ve memorized a whole lot of things about that asshole.”
“Why would you know anything about him?”
Confession time . . . “Because I’ve watched you ever since I woke up in a Vegas hotel room and realized I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve kept up with your social media.”
She huffed, sounding shocked. “I unfriended your ass.”
“Yeah, well, I might or might not have made up another identity.” It wasn’t something he was proud of.
“Stalker.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, I thought you would view it that way, but I needed to know you were all right.” He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. In the beginning, he’d wanted to see if she was as miserable as he’d been. He’d been desperate to know that he wasn’t alone in his agony. “I didn’t talk to you or anything, just sent you a friend request as a second cousin on your mother’s side.”
She looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “You’re Sissie Mae who raises labradoodles? You send out an awful lot of cat videos, too.”
Damn his friends. “Yeah, Mad set that sucker up. I was back on my boat and it was easier for him to do it. I asked him to make me a male cousin. Someone with a job. Naturally, I become Sissie Mae, lover of all animals and reader of cat mysteries. Did you know there’s such a thing as cat mysteries? It’s apparently a whole genre. I haven’t figured out if the cat solves the mystery or is the mystery. Mad had a weird sense of humor.”
“Unbelievable,” she breathed. “You know I could accuse you of stalking me and ruin your career.”
She could, but he knew her. She wouldn’t. “Like I said. I never contacted you personally after the initial friend request. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Or you wanted to monitor me to make sure I didn’t come after your family again.”
How long would it be before she stopped putting the worst spin on his every move? “Maybe in the beginning, but you made me believe that. You painted yourself as someone who would ruin everyone I cared about. You can’t blame me for that. I even argued with you. I told you I thought you were innocent.”
For a moment she looked as if she might snap out a rebuttal, but she heaved a long sigh. “I know I did. You’re right. I can’t blame you for that. But I need you to keep some distance from me now, Spencer. I admit that I want to catch these guys, too. I want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be around you.”
All he wanted was a chance. “We start over again.”
“I ca
n’t do it,” she said, her voice small.
He wanted to haul her close but maintained his distance. “Holland, at one point in time we were friends. Pretty good friends. And you trusted me. Can we forget about what happened this afternoon? I was bitter and angry and I lashed out at the one person I should never hurt. Let’s try again. Hey, Holland. How have you been?”
She laughed, though he couldn’t call it a happy sound. “That is never going to work, but you’re not going to give up, are you?”
It was so funny that he’d come to New Orleans thinking that he could get back at her. Now he only wanted to get her back. “I can’t. It’s too important. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll concentrate on the case. I’ll sleep out here on the couch like a good boy, but I’m not leaving you alone. Tomorrow, we sit down and figure out where to go from here. I’ll give you access to everything I’ve learned and you now have clearance that would make your boss’s head spin.”
That finally got her to smile. “Okay, that does sound kind of fun, but no funny business, Spencer.”
He held his hands up in a likely useless gesture of innocence. “Promise. It’s nothing but business from here on out. I will warn you, though, that at some point we’re probably going to have to meet up with a . . . what should I call Freddy? A conspiracy enthusiast? A doomsday prepper? Mostly he’s a complete lunatic who thinks nothing of nearly deballing a simple intruder, but apparently he’s really handy at uncovering whether a piece of film is authentic or faked. Connor wants him to take a look at the video from the motel and the pictures in your uncle’s file. And speaking of your uncle . . .”
Dax didn’t want to get into this with her, but he didn’t see a way to avoid it.
She shook her head. “He wasn’t the only one with access to the file. Most of it can be found in the police records. He kept the photos out of the press. He didn’t have to use them since there wasn’t going to be a prosecution.”
“Was he the only one who knew about them?”
“Not at all. He wasn’t even the one who originally discovered the photos. Sue Carlyle brought them in. She was the one who figured out there was a camera on her daughter’s purse. She simply didn’t know how to get them off the drive. The pictures themselves were wirelessly pulled from the small camera that was really a microcomputer. Once Sue realized what it was, she thought the police would give her money for the camera. She was deeply disappointed, to say the least.”
He was still interested in her uncle. Someone had tipped off the Russians that she’d obtained the file and seen the images. “Where did you go after you visited your uncle that day?”
She frowned. “You think someone in my uncle’s office could have known? You’re looking for a mole.”
“Yes. Someone tipped off your dead Bratva lawyer.”
She was quiet for a moment, seeming to think. “He didn’t have to know I had the photos. All he had to do was plant them with the press or put the idea out there.”
“No, he actually gave a reporter the photos and they appeared to have come from you. We’ve tracked down this lead.” He briefly went over what Roman and Connor had discovered. “The reporter received information about the photos from an e-mail account set up in your name. It originated from a computer at a public library in New Orleans. As soon as the photos-for-cash deal was sealed, the account was shut down. Same with the book deal. The publishing house received a proposal for a tell-all book about the scandal and my family from that same e-mail account. They made sure all roads led back to you. But what I find interesting is that you actually had the photos they said you did.”
He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. She’d had the photos, and someone had known it.
“All right. I’ll ask my uncle if he told anyone,” she conceded. “Obviously everyone saw me go in that day. After I went back to my office, I studied the file at my desk.”
“Did you leave it there for any reason?”
She nodded. “I got upset. I went to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm down because I saw those pictures. It was on my desk, but you can’t think one of my coworkers is a plant for the Russian mob.”
He didn’t like to think about what she’d gone through that day. “Not a plant, but the government pays crap. An unscrupulous someone could have made a little money on the side. I’ll have Connor scope that out.”
Her cheeks flushed, her shoulders straightening. Her mouth flattened into a stubborn line. She was ready to do battle. “Don’t mess with my coworkers.”
The time had come for Dax to explain just how the situation had changed, because apparently she hadn’t internalized it yet. “Special Agent, they are no longer your coworkers. For the rest of this assignment you work for the White House and the White House alone. This is no longer about someone coming after my family. Someone is coming after my president. I took an oath a long time ago to defend this country from all invaders foreign and domestic, and if that includes one of your former coworkers, then you better believe I will take them down with extreme prejudice. If your loyalty is deeper to the people you once shared an office with than to your country, then let me know because you’re not the woman I thought you were.”
Her jaw tightened and she held up her hands in obvious capitulation. “All right. Check into their backgrounds. Please do it quietly. I have to work there after you’re gone. Those people are the only friends I have left. And if you’re also going to look into the NOLA PD, dear god, don’t let anyone know. They get touchy.”
He would look into her uncle, but he was also interested in her boyfriend. Detective Chad Michaels was her uncle’s right-hand man, looking to move up in the ranks from what Dax had heard. It was shockingly easy to find information on the man, but something about his astringently clean record made Dax suspicious.
Everyone was a little dirty. Not criminally so, but there wasn’t a person he knew who didn’t have some breath of scandal in their past . . . except Detective Chad.
“I’ll be very discreet.”
“Sure you will.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think because you’ve put me in a corner professionally that you can get anything personal out of this, Spencer.”
What he wouldn’t give to hear her call him Dax again. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Holland.”
“All right. In the morning, we need to come up with a plan of action. I think we should go back out to the prison, but this time we don’t call ahead. I don’t think we should give anyone time to plan for our visit. Do you have all the video we need? It should be easy enough to get. I can requisition the original if you like.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got everything we need.”
She was still for a moment. “You really think they’re after Zack.”
He nodded. “I can feel it in my gut. This is bigger than we ever dreamed and we’ve already lost so much. Zack’s mom. My dad. Joy. Mad. We can’t let them take anyone else in our family.”
“What does the Russian mob want from him?”
That was the billion-dollar question. “It could be anything, but I suspect this all revolves around money and power. Nefarious shit usually does. We’re wondering if Zack’s father made some deal with the Bratva when he was stationed in Moscow and they’re now coming to collect. Roman is making a list of all the major contracts coming up, but Zack doesn’t approve those.”
Holland frowned. “Why would they have waited so long to make their move?”
Again, he had no idea. “It’s possible Frank Hayes promised the Russians something when Zack became president, so they’ve bided their time. But the old man has dementia now, so if they’re waiting for him to strong-arm Zack into something, they’re doomed to disappointment. He mostly shuffles around the residence and hums a lot. Sometimes he thinks it’s the sixties again. Zack tried finding a memory care facility for him, but he got so violent the press reported on it. He’s calm when he knows Zack’s close by. Hopefully, if we figure out why they
killed my father, we’ll figure out what they want and we’ll stop them. My father must have known something. That’s why they silenced him. I need to find his old aide-de-camp, Peter Morgan. He’s the key.”
“And naturally he’s off the grid and his whereabouts are unknown.”
“We’ll find him. His family was from New Orleans. I’ll stay up for a bit and do a little research. You should get some sleep,” Dax murmured, wishing he could take her in his arms.
It had been a rough day for her. When she’d opened the door earlier, the sight of her tears had kicked him in the gut. Holland was always strong, and the idea that seeing him again had undone her, even temporarily, made him feel about two feet tall.
“Fine.” She turned and started to walk away. When she reached the hall to her bedroom, she stopped, her spine ramrod straight, head held high. She didn’t face him. “Did you ever love her?”
His heart clenched for a second. Easiest answer he’d given her all day. “No.”
“That makes it worse, Dax.” She walked away and closed the