“Perfect,” she said as she organized her things. “Can’t wait to dig in and meet the rest of the task force.” There had been murmurs about it, whispers through the hallways that shouldn’t exist but always did. Plus, a boatload of CIA peeps had shown up at the building the week before.
Cunningham rubbed his forehead and offered a grim smile. “Wish I could share your enthusiasm. I have a feeling that these guys can’t even spell RICO, let alone know what it means.”
The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act was their bread and butter. And when outside organizations tried to take a bite, the FBI snarled. But somehow, a deal to work together had already been done, or else she wouldn’t be sitting in this meeting room waiting for them to arrive. By the look on Cunningham’s face, the FBI had tried hard to bounce the deal but had been unsuccessful.
“Probably thought we were talking about Puerto Rico,” Mills, a fellow agent, said. Just as she laughed, the door swung open.
Cabe.
Her stomach dropped, and her head spun. Despite everything, her heart betrayed her and skipped a beat at the sight of him. It was understandable. Her memory of him had not even begun to do him justice. He wore a navy blue suit tailored to his swimmer’s frame. The jacket hung open, fitting snuggly over his wide shoulders. A pale blue shirt stretched perfectly across his trim torso. She’d bet dollars to donuts that there was one of those hugely attractive six-packs beneath the soft-looking cotton.
She watched him greet one of the analysts assigned to the project, his back now to her. Damn, that butt.
Which she shouldn’t be studying. Because the guy was a jerk. There was no other word for him.
He was joined by the men she’d seen him sitting with in the bar. One was tall, like a Nordic Viking. The other one was equally built, with chestnut hair and a broad grin. They had an easy confidence. It irked her.
Cunningham had joined Cabe and was shaking his hand. Her stomach sank even further as she realized what he was about to do. Yup, there it was. He lifted his hand in her direction, and Cabe’s eyes met hers.
No freaking response. Wow.
Nothing.
A body-language expert would get absolutely zero from him.
No telltale lines of concern between his brows, no curl of a smile in recognition. No Oh my god I am so freaking sorry for being a jerk and leaving you standing alone at the bar in front of a room full of people.
As hard as she focused on keeping her gaze equally neutral, she knew she was failing. If her cheeks felt hot—and by her guess were likely a little pinker than normal—there was nothing she could do to control it. Her breathing was a little more erratic than normal. But she took a deep breath as Cabe walked toward her.
“Cabe Moss,” he said calmly, offering her his hand. “Eagle Securities.” His tone was even, not a hint of recognition. Had she been that bland, that uninteresting that he couldn’t even remember her? Amy tried to clear the thought. If he truly didn’t remember her, it was a good thing. It would make working with him even easier.
“Amy Murray.” She reached for his hand, and memories of shaking it in the bar crashed through her. It was just as warm as she’d remembered, and large, his handshake firm and confident.
Not even a freaking blink from him. Or a wink. Or an extra squeeze of the hand. No, he just let go of her hand after a completely appropriate length of time.
Goddamn.
“Six Rapp,” the blond guy said. “Also from Eagle. Looking forward to working with you on this.” Cabe stepped away as she took Six’s hand and found her voice.
“You, too. I’m looking forward to getting started.”
“That’s Malachai MacCarrick over there with your boss. Goes by Mac,” Six said, tipping his head in Mac’s direction. “We own Eagle and will be assisting in surveillance for the money-laundering side of the op.”
“Okay, everybody, can you take a seat please?” Cunningham took his place at the head of the table. In the usual way of things, people took seats based on an unspoken hierarchy. Whoever the CIA head honcho was sat to the left of Cunningham. The assigned analysts took the chairs farthest away. Cabe took the seat directly across from Amy. Six whispered something in his ear, and Cabe grinned.
That smile was going to be the death of her. As much as he’d pissed her off, she’d still dreamed about that goddamn grin.
“Let’s do a roundtable introduction,” Cunningham offered. “Name, department. The usual shit. Keep it brief or this’ll take all day.”
Amy smiled. Blunt and brief. Quickly, Amy drew the shape of the table in her notebook, and made a note of who sat in each corresponding seat. The simple act of documenting it helped her memorize who they were. It had always been a skill of hers. There was something about seeing things in her own handwriting that made it stick in her head. She wouldn’t need to look at the piece of paper again after this meeting.
A man who introduced himself as Andrew Aitken, the CIA director of operations, fiddled with his laptop for just a moment before his slides appeared on the large screen. “While we didn’t know it would end here, we began this operation over twelve months ago as part of an investigation to recover a stolen chemical formula that we believed was going to be weaponized.”
Three photographs appeared on the screen. A female with brunette hair, a young male around the same age, and an older male with salt and pepper hair. “Louisa North created the formula as part of her research into a medical condition. Ivan Popov stole the formula from the lab they worked at together and passed it to Sergei Lemtov.”
The next slide showed a chart of organizational hierarchy, with Popov on the bottom and a guy called Sokolov on the top. But it was difficult to remain focused when Cabe briefly gripped Six’s shoulder, earning a tight nod from Six, who appeared to be grinding his teeth. Spidey senses told her that whatever had just been presented was personal to these men.
Cabe caught her glance and held it. The intensity in his eyes, the color of which split the difference between gray and green, shook her.
She wanted to look away. Wanted desperately to look to the slide currently projected on the screen.
But she couldn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
Cabe tore his eyes away from Amy’s.
Not because he wanted to. Not because he was interested in what the slides showed, seeing as he’d been the one to prepare them with the help of Eagle’s new analyst, Ersel. But because if he didn’t, he was sure as shit going to get turned on by the woman sitting opposite him.
She was beautiful, despite the unflattering pantsuit and the way her hair was secured to within an inch of its life at the nape of her neck. That hair in and of itself had been enough to make her the star of his dreams the last couple of nights. Dreams that had left him hard and achy and wracked with guilt. It had been Jess’s birthday after all, and he hadn’t even had enough self-control to resist flirting with a pretty woman, let alone dream about said woman getting her workout from riding him up and down and nice and slow.
No. It wasn’t just her sex appeal—currently contained or not—that was distracting. Nor was it the way he’d witnessed her bite that full lower lip of hers as he spoke. It was that he now knew she had the brains to back up the beauty. And brains were the sexiest goddamn thing about a woman.
He focused on the slide on the screen as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. All the details of the way Six had met Lou were laid out bare. The failed wonder-drug turned chemical weapon. The Russian syndicate. The abduction of Louisa’s mom until Louisa had been ballsy enough to allow herself to be taken in a swap.
He smiled to himself when he remembered the way he and his team had taken down the ranch-style house, saving both Louisa and her mother.
Lemtov wasn’t giving anything away. He was lawyered up tight and knew that if he revealed anything, his life would be over before he even got to prison. Vasilii Popov had done a plea deal to testify that his grandson took the drug to Lemtov, his godfather
, a story that differed from the testimony Louisa was going to give, one that would place the actual sale at Vasilii’s feet.
Ivan Popov was still missing. Wherever he was hiding, he’d not come up for air. There had been no attempts to draw on any of the family funds, and nobody had attempted to enter either Vasilii’s or Ivan’s homes, despite an alleged unpaid debt to Lucky Seven casino.
Amy’s eyes were still on him. He could tell. He had always been able to see without seeing, a talent he could never explain. An instructor had told him at the end of BUD/s, the hellish training all SEALs underwent to prepare for the role, that what he had was an uncanny sixth sense … a strange knowledge of what people would do next. It had served him well.
Which is why he also knew that Cunningham was unhappy about both the very existence of the joint task force and Eagle’s participation. He probably thought the short, sharp exhalations every time Eagle was mentioned and the eye contact he’d made with his right-hand man when Aiken was speaking were subtle.
Cabe wasn’t the only person the FBI didn’t really want on their team. Three of the men in the room had repeatedly given away their misogyny. When Amy’s role in the project was announced, one had reached for his phone and seconds later the other two had looked at their phones and had laughed as all three had looked in Amy’s direction. The FBI might think they had it all covered, that they didn’t need Eagle’s help, but some of their operatives didn’t have the first clue about keeping their emotions off their faces.
To be fair, had he known that the woman who would be going undercover as a dealer was Amy … well, the evening they’d met would have gone very differently.
But unlike the three jerk-wads, it had nothing to do with her gender. Hell, he’d cheered Jess’s rise up the military ranks. And he’d been raised by a strong mother who had shown him repeatedly that women were often more capable than men.
It was just that had he known that the woman he’d met was going to be involved in their op, he certainly wouldn’t have flirted with her, half-sunk in his whiskey and memories. And he wouldn’t have paid so much attention to the softness of her skin. The mere act of shaking her hand at their introduction today had revved his engines. And at the moment he was cursing his uncanny ability to remember every detail in every situation, wishing he could turn off the thought of how cute her breasts had looked in that goddamn sundress.
“Cabe, do you want to take over from here?” Aitken asked, his voice cutting through Cabe’s thoughts.
“Sure,” he said, switching back into work mode. He took the time to explain how Delaney’s investigative report had closed in on the production of the weapon and how it had led to the arrest of key players before getting down to the nuts and bolts of what was involved. “We’ve split the work into three key streams: intel, external surveillance, and internal surveillance. Intel will take the lead on tracing the finances, broadening the search on the perps involved. External surveillance will be responsible for the setup and monitoring of the inside op. Internal surveillance will be Agent Murray and me on the inside.”
As he talked through all their respective roles, responsibilities and immediate to-dos, he made a point to get a better look at everyone, including Amy, who deliberately avoided his eyes. He knew he’d been an ass by ignoring her, but he’d had his reasons. Before they went any further, he’d have to explain them to her.
When he’d finished talking, he sat back down, wondering what it would take to thaw the atmosphere between the two of them.
Cunningham stood. “There is a final piece from our side that you may not be aware of.” The images of three young women appeared on the screen, all of them attractive and young. “These three women all worked at Lucky Seven. All of them have been reported missing by their families over the last two years. When SDPD did some more digging, they learned that more women who worked there are unaccounted for but were never reported as missing.”
Two more images appeared on the screen. The hairs on Cabe’s neck stood on end. He needed to talk to his brother, Noah, a detective in the SDPD Special Case Squad.
“The women never provided their friends or families with any details of where they were going or who they were associating with, and the investigations ran out of leads and then steam. No witnesses, no bodies, no crime scene. The water gets muddy if we make this an additional priority, but this is why this cross-functional team is necessary. With our involvement for the missing women who we believe may have been trafficked, and Eagle’s involvement for the CIA due to the egregious National Security rules overruling our ownership of RICO.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Aitken muttered under his breath. “They are not egregious.”
Even as Cabe’s mind raced with the new information, he placed his hand over his mouth to hide the smirk. Cunningham was going to be a bundle of laughs to work with.
“Anyway,” Cunningham continued, ignoring Aitken’s glare, “it’s something we need to be aware of to ensure Agent Murray’s safety—and if we can find anything out to help SDPD, then we should. You got anything you want to add, Mr. Moss?”
Cabe shook his head and let Cunningham wrap up the meeting. Seeing that Eagle was on FBI turf, it made sense that the FBI have the final word, even if they didn’t realize they weren’t the ones steering the ship.
Amy was the first to stand and head for the exit. “Grab my shit,” he muttered to Six before he jogged after her.
“Agent Murray, wait up,” he said as she marched ahead of him. Even draped in an ugly black fabric, she still had a fantastic ass. It was going to be hard to switch gears from the context under which they’d met to the fact they’d be working together. He needed to be professional again.
For a moment, he thought he was going to have to break into a sprint, but she stopped suddenly and turned on the ball of her foot. Her shoulders dropped for a moment as if sighing, and then she straightened again. “What can I help you with, Mr. Moss?” Her words were bright, collegial even, but the thunderous look in her eyes told him it was an act.
There was a lot to be said for squaring up against a woman with a bit of spark. He’d take a firecracker over a mouse any day of the week. But he figured that wasn’t what Amy would want to hear right now. Instead, he went for straightforward honesty. “It’s Cabe, and I’m an idiot. And I want to clear the air.” He could hear footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder. The conference room was beginning to empty. Some of her colleagues, Cunningham included, were heading their way. “You keep looking at me like you want to kill me, and whoever is heading our way is going to wonder why.”
She glanced over his shoulder, not taking his word for it, but the look on her face then immediately softened. “Of course. Why don’t I walk you out to your car?”
They walked in silence until they were out of earshot, where Cabe then turned to face her. They were mature adults, and he was determined to act like one despite his behavior the night they’d met. Which meant ignoring that piece of hair that had fallen from her bun and resisting the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “I’m sorry. For two things. First, I’m sorry I disappeared on Friday evening. It’s a long story, difficult to tell, and very personal.” For a moment, he debated telling her more, but he swallowed the urge. “But I acted like a shit because of it. I regret it. And I’m sorry for acting like I didn’t know you in there. I didn’t know how you’d want to play it, but I guessed bringing your personal life into the office wasn’t the best bet. If I was wrong, I’ll correct the impression I gave everyone else the next time we all meet.”
Amy looked out toward the parking lot and sighed. “Will you tell them you were a douchebag? What you did was cruel. I felt like an idiot when I had to go back to my friends and explain that you’d disappeared on me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She returned her gaze to his. “As much as I’m mad, it’s probably for the best anyway. We’re going to be working pretty closely.”
He could have sworn he heard regret. He felt a
twinge of it too.
But there was nothing they could do about it. And not only because they’d be working together.
When Jess had died, it had torn him apart that he hadn’t been able to keep her safe. It had never bothered him that she had a job that not only meant she wouldn’t avoid trouble, but that she’d run straight into it. Until it had killed her. And given Amy’s job and her spine, she’d probably be the exact same way.
He was never going down that road again.
* * *
The following day, Amy pulled off the highway into a nondescript industrial-looking complex. A haze of heat settled a foot above the tarmac. Her sat nav told her she’d reached her final destination, but she wasn’t sure which building was Eagle Securities. Mac had described it to her as “an ugly gray box with no sign outside.” She scanned the lot until she spotted a building at the far end of the units matching the description and drove toward the parking lot in front of it as she’d been instructed.
She parked her car and grabbed her bag off the passenger seat, but instead of getting out, she sat for a moment and stared at the building. The people inside held power over her being able to achieve her career aspirations and being able to finally dodge the whispers that had plagued her in Atlanta. And both goals rested on her ability to work with Cabe, a man who despite letting her down had at least had the courage to admit to being an ass.
Though there was nothing at all remarkable-looking about the building, it held the ability to make everything right.
With a renewed sense of excitement and optimism, she stepped out of the car and up to the front door and pushed it open. The interior was a complete contrast to the exterior. The walls were white, the floors were light wood, and there were plenty of pops of bright blue throughout—from the fabric chairs in the waiting area to the large Eagle Securities logo on the wall behind a large opaque-glass-front desk. Behind it sat a mature woman, easily in her fifties, wearing a headset and talking into a small microphone.
Deep Cover--A Love Over Duty Novel Page 4