Either he was trying to tell Clay that it was Leigh whom Payton was trying to protect, or he was blowing a hell of a lot of smoke. Clay wasn’t willing to take the risk with her life. He didn’t want to trust Payton, but they didn’t have a whole lot of people around who had any clue what was going on. As it was, Payton was their only option.
“Do not lock us down here. Understood?”
“I’ll give you the codes to get out. But please, don’t leave. Not until I’m sure it’s safe. It will take me several hours to do what needs to be done.”
“We’re not making you any promises,” said Leigh. “You don’t have the right to ask for them. Just go and do what you need to do. The sooner I never have to see you again, the better.”
Payton straightened his tie and smoothed his hair, regret hanging heavily on his shoulders. “I understand.”
Chapter Eighteen
Payton hadn’t thought his guilt could be any worse, but seeing the betrayal on the faces of Clay and Leigh had driven home just how evil his actions had truly been.
He’d been deluding himself, thinking he could make up for what he’d done, but he’d been wrong. There was no way to forgiveness for him. All he could hope for was that their hatred would not keep them from letting him help.
He needed to help. He needed to do what he could to repair the damage. And this was his chance. All he had to do was set the right trap and see who walked in.
Payton called Bob Norwood, purposefully using a line with limited security. He knew people listened to his calls, and sometimes that worked to his advantage, which was why he kept this line.
“What now?” answered Bob.
“Do you remember that time in Argentina?” said Payton, purposefully slurring his words.
“You’re drunk.”
“It was spring, and we met those two busty girls in the market. They were sisters.” He let a leer enter his voice as if he remembered the day fondly.
Bob fell silent as the meaning of Payton’s words sank in. There were no girls from the market. They’d been in Argentina for a completely different reason—to trap one of the techs working with the Threshold Project. Word had spread that he was looking to make a quick buck by selling secrets to the highest bidder. Payton and Bob had been ordered to set up the lab tech, making him think thatman u limited s there was a buyer interested in the data. They’d let the whole conversation be overheard, which drew several potential buyers out of the woodwork as well. In one day, they’d taken down four bad guys. That had been one of the good days.
“I remember,” said Bob. “Are you sitting around, reminiscing with a bottle tonight?”
“It’s been a hard day. I found some of the old files. They brought back too many memories.”
Bob took the bait, working with Payton as he had years ago. “Which files?”
“The RC series.”
“Where did you find them?”
“We got a tip from some old associates. That led us to raid a storage locker today. Found the disks sitting in a box.”
“Were you able to break the encryption?”
“Not yet. I don’t trust e-mail, so I’m taking it to one of our facilities tomorrow morning. The eggheads will be able to crack it; then it will go in the vault with the others.”
“At least you won’t have to ever worry about hunting it down again. Once it goes in that vault, it will never see the light of day.”
“Thank God for that. I’m getting too old for this, Bob. I need to be done.”
Bob sighed. “You’re also too old to be getting shitfaced. Go to bed. Sleep it off.”
“Maybe I’ll dream about the sisters tonight.”
“Yeah,” said Bob. “Good luck with that.”
Payton hung up, feeling the rush of victory shoot through him. A second later, his secure line rang.
“What the hell, Payton?” demanded Bob.
“Sorry to spring it on you like that, but I knew you’d catch on.”
“A warning would have been nice.”
“But not nearly as much fun.”
“So what’s this all about?”
“It’s not Stynger.”
“How do you know?”
“Clay is certain. I need to know who is behind this. The only thing I could turn up was that they either have a specific RC series file or need it.”
“So you’re trying to draw them out with news that some files have resurfaced.”
“If they already have what they need, they won’t want us to know what they know. If they don’t have what they need, then they’ll want it. Seemed logical to me.”
Bob sighed. “I was sure it was Stynger.”
“Any sign of her on your end?”
“No. I have to play by the rules. At least for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I might have an early Christmas present for you. We’ll see.”
“I could sure as hell use some good news.”
“Me, too. I don’t like having my baby girl so close to this stuff without backup.”
“Sloane is fine, and Lucas would take a bullet for her before he’d let anything happen.”
“I keep hoping she’ll get pregnant and decide to quit.”
Payton grunted. “Don’t hold your breath. Sloane is too much like you to sit quietly at home—baby or not.”
“We’ve got to stop it, Payton. We have to shut Stynger and anyone else down for good and make it all go away.”
“I’m doing my best. I wish I could say it was working.”
“Maybe your plan tonight will do some good.”
“We did get intel from a storage locker tonight. That could lead to something as well.”
“What kind of intel?”
“I don’t know yet. I was afraid to look too closely while Clay was watching. He already mistrusts me.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows the truth—what was done to him was my fault.”
“Not just yours.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the closest target.”
Bob grunted. “Tell me about what you found. Maybe I can help sort it out.”
“It was a place Clay used during the times he was triggered—a kind of secret office. There were weapons, ammo, tactical gear, paperwork, and photos. My guess is they were some of his targets. Clay’s head is in a bad place, and I didn’t want to shake him up, but chances are those people are all dead by his hand.” That was probably where the blood on Clay had come from—a night out playing assassin.
“And you don’t think he’ll remember that?”
“Eventually, maybe. For now I think it’s best if he doesn’t.”
“I agree. Heaven knows I wish I could forget.”
“Me, too, Bob. Me, too.”
* * *
If Leigh felt shaken by what Payton had told them, she could only imagine how Clay must feel.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d come back into the room after testing to make sure they could get out of their underground hiding place ifidiould only they wanted to. His face had been grim, and he’d headed right for the boxes stacked on the cart, as if something inside them would solve their problems.
Leigh lifted one of the lids and saw that the box was full of ammunition. She went to the next and found several gun cases stacked inside. The next held several spools of some kind of wire and what she thought might be bricks of explosives.
“What the hell were you planning to do with all of this?” she asked before she could think better of it.
He didn’t respond. When she looked up, she saw him staring into a box. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers had tightened into fists, crushing the cardboard edges.
She went to his side to see what upset him. Sitting on the top of one of the opened boxes was a photo of two young Hispanic children, no older than seven or eight. One boy, one girl. Both were sad and dirty, with tears leaving clean streaks on their faces.
Leigh picked the photo up and turned it
over. There was writing on the back, but it wasn’t the same bold, printed letters as the rest of the notes she’d seen. This writing was smaller, with all the letters crammed tightly together.
“It’s instructions for pickup,” said Clay, sounding like he’d just taken a punch to the gut. “These are the two kids that asshole Anton sold to me.”
He stumbled to a chair and collapsed into it.
Leigh yearned to go to him and offer some kind of comfort, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He’d had a hand in abducting two children, and there was nothing a few paltry words could do to fix that. All she could think to do was move his focus from guilt to something more constructive. If she let him languish in this dark place, the guilt would eat him alive, just as it had Hollis. It was guilt that had stolen her brother’s life, and she would not let that happen to Clay.
“We’ll find them,” she said. “We’ll find them and take them home.”
“I don’t know where to look. I can’t remember a fucking thing.” He hit his head with the heel of his hand.
Leigh grabbed his wrists and pulled them down. The bandages reminded her to be careful of his wounds.
She stepped forward, shoving her way between his knees. She put his hands on her hips and covered them with her own to keep them there. “You don’t have to remember for us to find them. Somewhere in these boxes may be a clue or a name—something that will lead us to the next step. Stop beating yourself up over this and concentrate on finding the doctor.”
His fingers clenched against the curve of her hip. “I can’t ignore the fact that I was the one who did all of this.”
Leigh tipped his head back so he’d look at her. “You have to. You have to pretend these things were done by someone else. Because the man who took those kids was not the man you are right now. You were used. You’re not responsible.”
“I am. Intellectually I get it that I didn’t know what I was doing, but that doesn’t change that I was the one who d th’t reid these things.” He nodded toward the photos spread over the table. “I probably killed these people, and I don’t even know why. I may never know why.”
Leigh picked up the closest photo—one of a man with graying hair and a bulging belly. “Would you kill him if I asked you to?”
“No. Not unless there was a good reason.”
“If I wanted a child, would you steal one for me?”
“Fuck no!”
“See? Not you. The man who did these things is not you.”
Clay closed his eyes and leaned forward until his face was hidden against her abdomen. His arms slipped around her in a hug so tight she could feel the strain of his guilt vibrating through him. “I think maybe it would be best if I let Payton put me in that place where your brother is.”
Leigh stroked his back, hoping it would ease him at least a little. His shirt was pulled tight over his muscles. “You can go there if you want. I won’t stop you, but how is that going to help find the doctor? How is it going to help find the kids?”
“It won’t. But it might keep me from hurting someone else.” He pulled away and headed into the kitchen, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. She missed the warmth and strength of his embrace immediately but didn’t dare admit to herself how needy that made her. Right now she had to stay strong for both of them.
“You’ve got me for that.”
He went through cabinets until he found some coffee and put some on to brew. “And in exchange, I help you help Garrett? Somehow I don’t think he would approve of our arrangement. Especially when there’s no guarantee I can do any good.”
Clay was slipping away. She could feel him withdrawing as if he’d accepted he could never fix what he’d done and was simply willing to prevent further damage. Lock himself away. Throw out the key.
A man like him would never survive that kind of life. He might not know it now, but Leigh had seen the helpless rage her brother had suffered. He hated being unable to do anything for himself. He hated depending on Leigh for filtered news of the outside world. He was allowed no Internet access, phone, or any other means of communication.
Clay would rot in a place like that. He’d be left alone with nothing to think about but his guilt, straining to remember something that might help. Garrett hadn’t killed anyone that they knew of. He hadn’t helped abduct children. The things he’d done paled in comparison to what Clay had done. Locking him up with that burden would torture him until he found a way to make it stop. Permanently.
She hadn’t seen the signs in Hollis in time to stop him. If they put Clay away, she wouldn’t be able to watch him. She wouldn’t be able to protect him.
Leigh needed to keep him safe. As long as he was still fighting, looking for answers, she had hope for Garrett. If Clay gave up . . .
A shuddering darkness squeezed the breath from her lungs at the thought of losing ght gavGarrett. He was barely holding on. If not for her visits, she didn’t know if he would have lasted this long.
“Are you okay?” asked Clay.
She plastered a fake smile on her face. “Fine. I think I’ll lay everything out as it was hanging on the wall in that storage unit. Where’s the camera you used to photograph it?”
He reached into his wallet. “Here’s the data. The camera is on the cart.”
She headed toward it, hearing his footsteps growing nearer. His fingers wrapped around her arms so gently her bruises didn’t hurt. It didn’t matter that he exerted no pressure. One touch from him was enough to bring her whole world to a rocking halt.
Clay stepped forward until her back was so close to his chest that she could feel his heat radiating into her. His hands slid around her waist, reminding her all too keenly of the last time she’d been pressed against him like this.
Her body remembered, too, and the pleasure he could give. A fine quivering warmth started in her chest and spread down into her belly. Her nipples beaded inside her bra, and her breasts began to ache. He’d barely touched them, and she couldn’t convince her traitorous hormones that there was no reason he should.
There was nothing more between them than this situation, and yet everything inside her screamed for more.
She cleared her throat, and her voice came out breathless and faint. “What are you doing?”
His mouth moved over her hair. “I can’t seem to stop touching you. I’m sorry.”
Leigh tilted her head back to his shoulder, unable to stop herself. “Don’t be. Your touch is the only thing that seems to drive all the bad stuff away.”
“Leigh.”
She felt his chest contract with a heavy breath and wasn’t sure whether it was exasperation or relief. She turned around to see which, but all she saw was desire. It darkened his skin and made his pupils flare wide, despite the bright lighting in the room. His lips were parted slightly, and his breathing was fast and heavy.
When she was caught inside his embrace like this, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. She knew troubles lurked just past his skin, but for now they seemed far away, unable to hurt her.
She wanted him to kiss her but refused to make the first move. He’d cut things off last time, and she wasn’t about to set herself up for another round of rejection.
“I want you,” he whispered.
Her heart did a backflip in her chest. A rush of excitement poured into her veins, heating her skin until she was sure she’d combust.
“But?” she asked, waiting for him to deliver the killing blow. He wanted her but he was too dangerous. He wanted her but they had to work together. He wanted her but he knew he wasn’t going to live to see Christmas.
“But we have work to do. People depending one dark us. I can’t be that selfish—not after everything I’ve done.”
It took her a minute to work moisture back into her mouth so she could speak. Desire laid over her like a soft, warm blanket, muting everything else around it. There was no sense of urgency in this space, only a need to let go and give in. “Work. Of course.”
&n
bsp; She gathered up the jagged pieces of her self-control and took a long step back. Now that he was no longer touching her, now that his scent was not filling her head, she could think straight.
Her body vibrated with restless energy and sexual frustration. If she kept staring at him, seeing her own needs reflected in his eyes, she was going to do something reckless. Instead, she turned her back and made a beeline for the coffee he’d made.
The liquid sloshed inside the mug and burned her lip. The pain gave her the final push back into something resembling a responsible adult.
Leigh went about the task of re-creating the wall of photos and notes from the images stored in the camera while Clay emptied out the rest of the boxes. Nearly an hour later, he broke the silence spanning between them.
His voice was filled with disappointment. “I thought there’d be more here than this—some kind of clue or something obvious, rather than a bunch of seemingly unconnected nonsense.”
“Let me see what you have.” She went to the table where he was working to find an array of notes spread out in front of him. Like the others, the sticky notes contained only one or two words—none of which made any sense.
“What the hell does a giraffe have to do with anything?”
“No clue.”
“It could be a code name for something or someone.”
“Even if it is, how does that help?”
She shook her head, feeling her ponytail flopping across her back. “What about that one?” She pointed to a note that read, Wed. 3 Wilson’s Cliffs.
“Does that make more sense than the rest?”
“Wilson’s Cliffs is a club. Exclusive, members-only kind of place.”
“You think this is a meet of some kind?”
“Or your next target.”
“Great. So I can go there and see if anyone trips my batshit trigger and sends me into berserk-o land again.” Clay ran his hands over his hair in frustration, making a mess of it.
The urge to slide her fingers in and straighten that mess stole over her, but she shoved her hands in her pockets instead. Touching him was only going to make her all hot and needy again. It wouldn’t do a thing to help them figure out the puzzle.
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