by Cynthia Eden
Ben squared his shoulders. “It’s not my call to make.”
“I want to see her. Now.”
Ben raised one eyebrow. “You’re giving me orders now?”
Sullivan opened his mouth to reply.
“We all need to calm the hell down,” Mac said from behind him.
Since when was Mac the one to give advice on being calm?
“We’re on the same team here,” Mac added. “We all want justice.”
Ben nodded. “That’s why I wear the badge.”
“You put her in a cage,” Sullivan said. He hated that thought. Was Celia scared? Was she wondering why he hadn’t gotten her out of there? Did she think he’d just walked away?
“I gave her protection. The woman wasn’t exactly sharing a lot with me. I got that she was CIA, and then I pretty much got stonewalled because she didn’t think I had clearance to learn anything else.” Ben huffed out a breath. “I called the number she gave me, all right? They’re the ones who said to keep an eye on her. Want to know what I was just told about the woman you’re claiming is your wife?”
He didn’t need to know anything else. He already—
“She’s a dangerous threat to security,” Ben blasted. “A woman who should be monitored at all times. I walked in there, saw her and thought, no way is that lady a killer. But the CIA—the CIA—just told me otherwise! And they have someone coming to collect her tomorrow. The sooner she’s out of my hands, the better.”
Someone is coming to collect her...no, no. “That can’t happen. You can’t trust them!”
Ben just stared back at him with a troubled gaze. “Then what else am I supposed to do?”
Ben was a good cop, he knew that. The captain had worked with Mac plenty of times and Sullivan had been right there with them. But...
“Are you asking me to go against the CIA?” Ben’s voice was soft.
“I’m asking you to let me see my wife.” That was all he’d say.
“Come on, Ben,” Mac added, voice cajoling. “Five minutes. What will it hurt? If she’s locked up, she’s certainly no threat to anyone.”
Sullivan’s whole body was tense. The seconds ticked by and then...
“Five minutes,” Ben agreed, “but you McGuires had better not do anything to make me regret this decision.”
Chapter Nine
Celia’s cell was in the back of the police station, far away from anyone else. There was a toilet to her right. A sink waited close beside it. One saggy cot was pushed near the back wall of the cell.
She wasn’t on that cot. Celia was busy pacing. They’d taken her clothes—claiming they were evidence. With all the blood on them, they probably were. Now she was wearing prison gray, and the clothes scratched against her skin with every step she took.
She heard the clang of one of the doors opening and stilled. She’d heard that same clang when they brought her back there earlier. Was a guard returning? Her growling stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten...
All day.
So maybe someone was bringing her food.
Footsteps came toward her. She strained, listening. Not just one person. Two. Her heartbeat quickened a bit and—
Captain Ben Howard appeared.
She gave him a grim smile. “Got more questions for me?” And maybe a sandwich?
“Not this time,” Ben said. He stepped aside. “Five minutes.”
Sullivan. Sullivan was there.
Celia leaped toward those bars. Her fingers wrapped around them and she held on tight. The smile on her face almost hurt, it was so wide. “Sully!”
His fingers wrapped around hers.
“I’ll be back,” Ben said. Then his footsteps shuffled away.
She didn’t look after him. Her gaze was glued to Sullivan’s face. “You still have some ash on you,” she whispered. His hair was tousled, his gaze dark and tumultuous, and he’d never looked sexier to her than he did in that moment.
If only they weren’t separated by bars.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get you out—”
“No, you won’t, but it’s rather sweet of you to say.”
“Celia?”
“I’m a woman with no past. I can’t even give the cops my Social Security number. And a dead man’s blood was all over me.” She shook her head. “There’s no way I’m going anyplace soon, not until the CIA comes for me.”
He stepped closer to the bars. “You know you can’t trust them! Why did you tell Ben to contact the agency?”
“Because there are some people there I can trust.” She had to believe that, despite what had gone down in that warehouse.
“Ronald and Porter,” he gritted out. “Two men from the agency tried to kill you.”
“That’s why I told Ben to contact Alexandra Sanchez. She was Ronald’s boss. If there are others in the CIA—men and women like them who are going to turn and kill—then she has to know about the risk.” She leaned toward him. “Alexandra will come and take me into custody. I figure she’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”
“And I won’t see you again.”
No, he probably wouldn’t. “Not until all this is cleared up.” Until the powers that be decided her fate.
“You can’t just be taken!”
She didn’t want to talk about what might happen to her. “You and your family—you need to dig more into the life of your mother’s ex-boyfriend. Ronald said he was the target. His death started this whole chain reaction.”
“That twisted joker also said I needed to look to my family for the killer.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “That isn’t happening. I trust them all.”
She shook her head. “You trust the ones you know, but...what about the ones you don’t know? What about the family your mother left behind? Ronald told me that your mother recognized the man who killed Henry Jones. She knew him.”
His eyes glinted. “If she knew him, she would have just said the guy’s identity—she would have just told the cops who he was.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “She went back to see the cops a second time, remember? I told you there was a fire, and all evidence from that meeting was lost. Maybe she did tell them the guy’s identity...”
“And someone made sure that testimony was destroyed?”
A man like Ronald Worth would’ve had the power to make the evidence disappear. Is that why he was angry with me for digging? Was he afraid I’d find some link to that truth? And his involvement?
“Family.” The one word was heavy as it slipped from Celia. “That’s what this keeps coming back to, every single time. You have got to find out more about your mother’s family.”
“There isn’t anyone left there,” he said. “I already ran the files. She had an older brother, but he was killed in a car accident just before she gave up her life there. Hell, that was probably one of the reasons she was so eager to walk away. There was nothing else left for her there.”
She wasn’t so certain. “Dig. You’d be surprised at the skeletons you might find.”
The captain had said they had five minutes. How much time had passed? “Do me a favor?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
In that instant, she believed he meant those words. Her heart ached. “Kiss me.”
There was just enough room between those bars. He could kiss her once more.
It would be a kiss goodbye.
Sullivan instantly leaned toward her. His lips brushed against hers, and then that kiss deepened. She hated the bars. If only she could touch him fully. Savor him.
Why had fate been working against them from the very beginning?
She gave herself fully to that kiss, trying to forget everything else in that moment but him. She’d always loved his taste. Loved the way his lips pressed to hers. Her heart galloped in her chest and she pressed ever closer to him. She’d never wanted anyone else more than she wanted her Sully.
The familiar clang reached her ears, and Celia knew the captain w
as coming back.
She pulled her lips away from Sullivan’s. “I’ll miss you,” she said.
“That wasn’t goodbye.”
Arguing with him would serve no purpose. Her gaze slid over him, memorizing his face. “Keep your guard up, Sully.”
He took a step away from the bars. “And keep your trust in me, Celia. I won’t let you down.”
She made herself keep smiling as Ben appeared and led Sullivan away. Her shoulders remained straight, her back upright, and then...
He was gone.
A tear leaked down her cheek.
Sullivan had finally done it. He’d made her cry for him.
No, for what could have been.
* * *
“WHAT IN THE hell are you going to do?” Mac demanded as he glared at Sullivan. “Sit on a stakeout at the police station all night?”
Sullivan crossed his arms, leaned back against the brick wall and kept his eyes glued on the station across the street. “They’ll take her out the back.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’ll need a ride,” Sullivan said, thinking this through. “Preferably a car that won’t ignite when I crank it.”
Mac coughed. “Yes, right, that goes without saying.”
“They’ll take her during the night.”
“Sully?”
“I know how they work.” After all, he’d worked with them before. “Ben was talking to the agency when I went into his office.” The guy had been sweating bullets. “He said three. Had to be 3 a.m. That’s the time they’re coming. And when they get her, I’ll be right behind them.”
“You’re really going up against the CIA? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
For Celia, he’d go up against anything. “Ronald Worth was there when our parents were murdered.”
“Yeah, and now he’s dead. The family is champing at the bit to talk to you and find out what the hell went down.”
“The shooter got away.” His eyes narrowed. “Ronald Worth took a bullet to his chest. But before he died, he told Celia that Mom’s ex-boyfriend was his target. Target,” he repeated. “That’s the term you give an assignment.” His gut had clenched. “The shooter is tied up with the agency, too—I’d bet my life on it.” So much more made sense for him now. “That’s why I was taken years ago. They kept talking about my family—but it was just because they were trying to see what I knew before they killed me.”
“What about the Witness Protection Program?” Mac wanted to know. “They’re the ones we need to grill. If Dad was working with them, if that is how he first met Mom—”
“There is no if to it.” Their father had been so much more than he realized.
“Then maybe their deaths were tied to another case that he worked. Dad’s last words were, ‘I’ll never tell you. No matter what you do. I’ll never tell.’” Those words had haunted them all. “Maybe it was someone else’s identity he was protecting. Maybe he died trying to keep one of his charges safe.” Mac started to pace. “What we need is access to all his old case files.”
As if those were just going to be turned over to them. Not without the right leverage, they weren’t.
“Go back to the ranch,” Sullivan said. “Check in with the others. Pull in every contact we’ve got. Plenty of people owe us favors. Let’s start calling them in.”
Mac paused. “And you’re going to just stay out here on your own? I mean, could you make yourself any more of a target?”
Yes, he could. “Go back to the ranch,” Sullivan said again. “I’m good here.”
“No, what you are is obsessed. You need to watch yourself. Celia will—”
“Celia is my priority now.” And the second those words were out of his mouth, he realized just how true they were. It wasn’t about solving the mystery of his bloody past. For him...Celia was what mattered. Keeping her safe. Making sure she didn’t vanish from his life.
Mac gave a low whistle. “Like that?”
“Like that,” he agreed.
Mac’s stare measured him. “Then how about I get that ride for you...you know...the one that doesn’t explode when you turn the ignition?”
* * *
SHE ACTUALLY SLEPT. True testimony to just how exhausted she was. But when Celia heard the clang of metal, her eyelids flew open and she jerked up on the cot. It was so dark in that holding area.
Too dark.
There had been a faint light shining when she closed her eyes, but now there was nothing. The whole area was pitch-black.
Footsteps shuffled toward her.
“Don’t be afraid...”
That voice—it was the police captain’s voice. Ben.
“You’re being transferred, ma’am.” A bright light shone in her eyes, and she lifted her hand, trying to shield her gaze. “It’s for your own protection.”
She’d heard two sets of footsteps coming her way. Celia rose slowly from the cot as the cell door was unlocked. “Who’s giving the orders for the transfer?”
“I am.”
She couldn’t make out the second person’s form, but she knew that voice.
“You asked for me specifically,” Alexandra Sanchez said, “so you got me. You’ll come with me tonight, and you’ll tell me exactly what happened to Ronald Worth.”
Celia had expected to capture the lady’s attention.
Now, if only she could be sure that Alexandra wasn’t about to lead her off to a slaughter.
As for what had happened to Ronald... “He died.” That was what had happened. “Though quite a few interesting twists and turns happened before his death.”
“I’m sure they did,” Alexandra murmured.
“Do you already have the body?” Celia asked. Because she knew Alexandra would want her own team reviewing Ronald’s remains.
“Yes.”
The light was still shining in Celia’s eyes, and it was annoying the crap out of her. She moved forward and felt someone grab her hands.
“Sorry,” Ben said. “But I’m going to need to cuff you for transfer.”
Her gut clenched. “Hardly seems like standard procedure.”
“None of this is standard,” Ben said. “But the order to move you came down from the governor himself...”
“We’re old friends,” Alexandra revealed. “He was happy to assist me in this matter.”
Celia was sure the guy had been only too happy to help the CIA. Scratch my back...
“He swore you’d be safe,” Ben added. “That’s the only reason this transfer is happening.”
Right. Because if you couldn’t trust the CIA, who could you trust? “I assume you’re also retrieving Porter Vance’s remains?” Celia asked as the cuffs were snapped around her wrists.
“Yes, when the helpful captain here told me about the body that was recently found near McGuire Securities, I investigated and realized the victim had been...one of ours.”
Had been. The emphasis there was a telling one.
“We’ll want to compare the injuries that the two men possess.” Alexandra’s voice was mild. Her footsteps tapped away as they left the holding area. “At this point, it would appear a sniper took them both out. We’ll know soon if it was the same weapon, and from the weapon we can find the killer.”
That made sense. Many snipers had signature bullets that they enjoyed using to mark their prey.
She was led out of holding and to a back door. It was still so dark. But when that door opened, she saw the alley behind the station.
A black SUV idled near the curb.
“You swear she’s not in danger?” Ben asked. His hand was curled around her elbow.
Alexandra Sanchez turned back toward him. Now that they were outside and the starlight fell down on them, Celia could just make out Alexandra’s profile. The woman’s hair was pulled back and twisted at the nape of her neck. She wore a long skirt and a loose top. “I give you my word, Captain. I absolutely mean Celia James no harm.”
Then Alexandra strode to
ward the SUV. She opened the back door and waited.
Celia could feel the captain’s concern. It was almost touching. “Don’t worry about me,” she said to him. “I can take care of myself.”
“Cuffed?”
She smiled. “You learn a lot as a government agent.” Including how to get out of cuffs very, very quickly. “When Sullivan comes back tomorrow—” and she had no doubt that he’d return for her “—tell him it...it still isn’t goodbye.” Eventually, she’d find a way back to him.
Then Celia turned and headed for the waiting SUV. She climbed into the back. Alexandra followed her and the door swung closed.
“Get us away from this place, Monroe,” Alexandra instructed.
The driver waited just a beat then accelerated, taking them away from the station. The silence in the SUV was thick and far too heavy, as it seemed to weigh down on Celia.
Finally...
“I didn’t know,” Alexandra said quietly. “I assure you, Agent James, I had no idea that Ronald Worth had gone bad. When we had that—that issue—years ago, there was never any suspicion that he’d been involved. Now that I know the truth, I’ve already issued a full investigation into his life. Agents are searching his home even now.”
“That issue.” Celia nodded as she repeated those words. “You mean when Sullivan McGuire was betrayed and three other agents were killed? When we realized we had a mole in our group?” Not just one mole, though. Another that they hadn’t seen. Ronald.
“Yes.” Alexandra’s voice had hardened. “That issue. If any intelligence had pointed to his involvement, Ronald would have been dealt with immediately.”
Celia glanced down at her cuffs. The SUV had just moved beneath a streetlight, and the metal gleamed.
“He was involved in the murder of Sullivan McGuire’s parents,” Celia said.
A delicate pause. “I’m looking into that.”
Celia glanced up. “Look harder.”
“Who was the shooter, Celia? Who took out Ronald?”
Her fingers flexed within the cuffs. “I didn’t see him.”
“But you were with Ronald when he died. Did he tell you who was working with him?”