The Heat Is On (TREX Rookies Book 2)

by Allie K. Adams

  “That I do.” Her tone implies so much more than her statement. “The banquet is out back. You’ll be up front with the other award recipients.”

  “Recipients?” I repeat.

  “What the hell?” Bailey says at the same time.

  “Bails, find out what the award is for and who the other recipients are.” Jason walks ahead of me and stands waiting at the entrance of the large event tent.

  “Your bodyguard is hardly necessary,” Olivia points out. “It’s a very small venue. We’re completely safe at the reserve.”

  “I’d lose him if I could. Uncle Vic insists and, well, you know my uncle.” I smile and adjust my glasses. They’re awkward on my nose and pinch behind my ears. How do people put up with wearing these things?

  We enter the tent and I slow. Small venue? My ass. There’s got to be over a hundred people sitting at round tables, eating, drinking, and flashing what looks like really expensive jewelry. How am I supposed to walk the crowd when I’m stuck at a table?

  “I’ll be right over here, Mr. Greene.” Jason nods at the wall of the tent next to the table with a reserved flag. As soon as Olivia leads me away from him, I hear him over the com link. “We have a little problem with logistics. It’s an awards banquet with a sit-down dinner.”

  “An awards banquet for donors,” Ryan explains. “Turns out Vic Greene is generous when it comes to botanical gardens and natural reserves. He’s one of Bloedel Reserve’s top donors. The only name above his?”

  “Gerald Murphy,” I answer as I spot the man I recognize from the pictures in the briefing.

  “Bingo,” Ryan finishes. “We need to find out where he’s getting all this money.”

  “Mr. Murphy.” Olivia approaches the table. “May I introduce Mr. Jake Greene.”

  Murphy offers his hand but doesn’t stand. “Gerald Murphy.”

  “Good to meet you, sir.”

  “Ease up on the sir,” Jason instructs. “Rich elitists don’t respect anything but the next party.”

  “This one does,” Ryan answers for me, taking the words right out of my mouth. I’ll have to remember to thank him.

  “Gerald, please.” He waves for me to join him. “I have to say, I’m disappointed Vic couldn’t find time in his schedule to attend a party thrown in his honor.”

  “What an asshole,” Jason mutters.

  “What was so important it pulled him away at the last minute?” he asks at the same time, talking over Jason.

  I’m used to guys like this. It’s no different than when I’m at a frat party and all the guys try to out-douche the rest. Eventually, everyone looks and acts like complete tools. More often than not, it ends in someone going too far and getting his ass kicked. Hell, it’s Jackson Banks and Jason Bowman in a nutshell. I don’t want to get into a pissing match with the brother of an ex-senator.

  “He really doesn’t tell me much.” I swallow hard and adjust the damn uncomfortable glasses.

  “Yet he has you come in his place?” Murphy chuckles, low and even. “Doesn’t sound like he has a whole lot of respect for the reserve.” He darts a look at Olivia, who colors hard.

  Dick. I want to put him in his place, but know that’s what starts the pissing contest. Something tells me he’d win. Easily. I’m a twenty-three-year-old college senior struggling to graduate. This guy is gaining power—whatever that means—and has a brother who was a senator. He wins. “Actually, he has a lot of respect for Bloedel Reserve.”

  “He met his wife at the moss garden.” Ryan reads from whatever TREX intel he just dug up. It’s more than I knew before I walked in. “Her name is Rachel. She’s an artist.”

  The epiphany hits me. Hard. This is what Bailey meant by Ryan being my greatest weapon. I may be in the field taking all the risk, but I’m nothing without my intel. He’s in my ear, in my head, feeding me the information I need to succeed.

  I’m grateful and listen for him to continue, ready to repeat everything he’s saying as if they’re my words. “Uncle Vic met my Aunt Rachel here at the moss garden. She was sketching some of the trees, adding fairies and other magical creatures to her drawing. She loves things like that. When he stumbled across her artwork—literally when he tripped on some of the thick moss carpet—he face-planted right on top of a charcoal sketch.” I laugh as I make up the story as I go, hoping Murphy buys it. “That drawing is hanging in the den, right there in the same frame as their marriage certificate.”

  “You seem to know a lot of detail about how they met,” Murphy pointed out, clearly not buying the story. Damn it.

  Ryan adds, “Rachel Greene died twelve years ago. Car accident.”

  Shit. I drop my gaze and remove the glasses to wipe at my eyes. Think, think, think. Then it comes to me. It’s time to one-up him. I can’t do it with anything tangible, so I reach for the intangible. Even though I’m lying through my ass, they’ll never be able to prove it. It’s time to play the player. “My Aunt Rachel loved that story and told it to anyone who’d listen. Repeatedly. After she died, Uncle Vic can’t bring himself to come back here. It’s just too painful. Can you imagine what that’s like, loving a place so much but never able to return? The best he can do is become a donor to make sure places like this exist and hope others find love like he did, if even temporarily.” I replace the glasses and inhale sharply, and add a little shake in my voice. “I guess it’s hard, even after all these years, to admit she’s gone. That’s why I sometimes talk like she’s still here. Let’s just hope others have a happier ending.”

  “Oh, my God.” Olivia sobs and reaches for a napkin. “I had no idea. Poor Vic. Poor, poor Vic.”

  “Please, Liv. It’s just a story.” Murphy eyes her. She drops her gaze.

  “It’s no story,” I ground out and stare him down. Bullies hate to be bullied. “It’s my uncle’s personal hell.”

  “I, uh…” Murphy pauses to clear his throat. “When you see your uncle, please convey my condolences.”

  That’s better. “I will, sir.”

  “Easy, Jake.” Jackson keeps his voice low and even. “We need him on our side, remember?”

  “Do we?” Ryan asks. When no one answers, he goes on. “We only need him long enough to clone his phone. He’s just insulted the Greenes. Of course Jake is going to defend his family name.”

  “He’s right.” Jason jumps in. “We don’t need Murphy beyond the contents of his phone.”

  “Goddamn it,” Jackson muttered. “Proceed, Jake.”

  “I’m sorry if I came across too strong,” I offer with a sheepish grin in apology. Murphy eyes me. “I guess I get a little heated whenever I think about what they had and how it was ripped away.”

  “That’s understandable.” Olivia dabs at her eyes. “What a beautiful story.”

  “Please,” Murphy mutters. It’s clear he’s not moved by the story even if Liv is.

  I ignore him. There’s nothing more a player hates than being ignored. I center my attention on Olivia. “It’s why I asked to come in his place. I wanted to see it in person. My Aunt Rachel made it sound magical.”

  Murphy chimes in, drawing my attention back to him. “It really is. Seeing it at night doesn’t do it justice. It’s so scenic. You should see the way the colors pop on camera.”

  “Murphy keeps submitting photos to local art galleries but has yet to get one accepted for a showing.” Ryan’s intel strikes again.

  I can use that. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pictures with you, would you?”

  Murphy grins and nods. “I do, actually.” He pulls out his phone and swipes at the screen. When he hands it to me, I set it on top of mine and take my time scrolling through all the images, commenting at how amazing everything looks.

  “Cloning at 100%,” Bailey announces. “Nice job, Jake. All done. Time to go.”

  Not yet. I return the phone to Murphy. Time to fluff his ego and end the night on a high note. “Those are incredible pictures. Are you a professional photographer?”

  “It’s
a hobby of mine,” he admits, his smile so wide I see several of his back teeth.

  “I’d love to see more. I may even convince my Uncle Vic to loosen his purse strings enough to let me buy a few, if they’re for sale.”

  “I’m sure we can work something out. Let me give you my card.” He hands it to me. “My work is on display throughout Western Washington.”

  “In galleries?” That’ll hit him where it hurts.

  He bristles. “In homes. My homes. I have several.”

  Asshole. He doesn’t need to brag. I hate this guy more with every passing second. “You must do okay with your photography to own several homes. Sounds like more than a hobby to me.”

  “Easy, Jake.” Bailey’s voice cuts in. “You’re doing fine. Don’t challenge him. Get out of there while we’re ahead.”

  “Screw that,” Jackson barks. “Keep going.”

  I wait to hear what Ryan has to say, but he remains silent, which irritates me. He’s been the one person to feed me what I need exactly when I need it. Now when I need him again, he’s on mute. Awesome.

  “I acquired the properties throughout the years, and through various means, though none with my photography.” He eyes me cautiously. I eye him right back, eagerly awaiting the rest of his story. Not only do I want him to spill something TREX can use against him, I also genuinely want to know how a guy like this gets to the level he clearly is. “Your uncle never mentioned my family?”

  “The Murphys? No.”

  “We have a strong presence in politics.”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “We don’t talk politics.”

  Murphy chuckles and reaches for his drink. “That’s not exactly how we know each other.”

  “Holy shit,” Jason’s voice sounds over the com link. “Is he about to admit it?”

  “Shut up, Bowman.” Jackson’s growl silences the air traffic. There’s not even a breath as the team waits for Murphy to confess his connection to the Order.

  When he doesn’t go on, I try prodding. TREX could use the lead. With men like Gerald Murphy, you can’t just come out with it. I know that much. You need to make it sound like his idea. That’s something I’m good at—making others think it’s their idea. Having a drink with me. Kissing me. Coming home with me.

  I really am a player and no longer like the title. It’s the biggest reason Kayla won’t let down her guard with me. I don’t appreciate the realization and really don’t appreciate the timing.

  I return my focus to Murphy. “Did you know my Aunt Rachel?”

  “No. That was before my time.”

  “Were you and my Uncle Vic in the service together?” I take a gamble. Most of the TREX agents have served in the military in some form.

  “I didn’t know Vic served.”

  Neither did I. I smile as Ryan’s voice comes across the com link. “He was part of a Special Forces Group in the Vietnam War. Call it SFG and see if he picks up on it.”

  “He was part of the SFG in the Vietnam War.”

  “Special Forces?” Murphy nods, impressed. “That explains so much.”

  “It certainly does,” Jackson adds. “This guy was military. Bailey?”

  “I’m already on it.” Good for Ryan. He’s not about to let anyone take this from him.

  “I’m glad it does to you.” I play with my glasses. “My uncle doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me on some things.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jackson doesn’t sound happy with me going off-script. Something tells me this guy will open up if I plant a seed of doubt.

  Murphy takes the bait. “Such as?”

  Ryan responds with, “Mention wanting to be in politics someday. See if he’ll talk about it and buy us some time to search for his military record.”

  Olivia stands. “We’re about to start the ceremony. If you’ll excuse me.” She hurries off.

  I lean my elbow on the table and give Murphy my undivided attention. He’s definitely the kind of guy who loves being the center of attention. If it’s one thing I know, it’s making someone feel like they are the only person in the room. I hope it works the same on men.

  Step one—catch them off-guard. “Why won’t he talk politics with me?”

  Murphy half smiles, clearly unsure of my intention. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him.”

  Or something I’ll press you for answers. Step two—confide in them while they’re distracted trying to figure out step one. “I’ve tried, sir. He won’t budge. He says I’m not cut out to even talk politics, let alone get into politics.”

  That piques his interest. “You’re interested in getting into politics?”

  “Why not?” I shrug and move into step three—offer something they can’t get on their own. “My family’s name and reputation alone will get me on the ballot.” I lean closer and smirk as I deliver the pièce de résistance. “But it’s my family’s money that will get me the win.”

  “You’re arrogant. I like that. But, I don’t peg you as a politician. You need more than a powerful uncle and fat bank account. You need to be quick on your feet, be able to answer any question.”

  “Without actually answering it.”

  “Exactly. Be non-committal.”

  And we’ve just moved past step four—mutual agreement. Now to seal the deal with step five—follow-through. Make it seem like it’s their idea. “Show me how.”

  He cocks his head and studies me. “What exactly are you asking me?”

  “I need someone familiar with the game in order to play. I go in as green as I am and I’ll be eaten alive. My uncle doesn’t think I can do it. I want to prove him wrong in the worst way.”

  Murphy’s grin is a cross between genuine pleasure and something dark, conniving. He’s eyeing me the way I’d expect every corrupt politician to eye me—with cautious interest. I could be cunning, luring him into a trap. Or, I could be some dumb nephew of a powerful man with more money than God.

  I know better than to try too hard. That’s a sure way of going home alone. If I seem too desperate, he’ll know it’s a trap. If I seem too laid back, he’ll think I don’t have the drive to see this through. I have to find that delicate balance. So, I wait.

  “What exactly do I get out of the deal?”

  Perfect. I can say anything at this point and he’ll be ready to agree to it. I go for the gold and hope TREX can deliver. Can the agency sway elections? “A very grateful congressman.”

  “Why stop at the house? I say we go for the senate.”

  “Even better.” I raise my glass of water.

  His half-smile turns into a full smile. “I like you, Jake Greene. You’ve got drive. With my help, you just may prove your uncle wrong. He won’t approve.”

  “Good thing I never let that stop me.” I tap his glass, the entire time thinking…

  Holy shit. That worked?

  15

  [Jake]

  I’m still on a high as we leave the banquet. We’ve got Gerald Murphy’s military record, his phone cloned, and will have his financials by the end of the night thanks to all the passwords stored in his phone. Jason’s sitting next to me, on the phone with someone he calls bro and dude a lot. He slips in the occasional Jer. I assume it’s his brother, Jeremy Bowman, but can’t be sure. Jason calls everyone bro and dude.

  “How’s the wedding plans coming, bro? Ready to elope, yet? No, you’re a pain in the ass. I love you too, Jer. Shoot me the intel before you crash for the night. Yeah, see ya.” He ends the call and stares straight ahead.

  I hate the silence and ask, “Was that your brother?”

  “He’ll trace the accounts we found on the phone all the way back to the source. No one tracks the money like my boy, Jer.”

  More silence. To this day, my mom still tries to convince me silence is golden, but I don’t buy it. Silence is torture. I can’t slow my brain enough to make sense of any of my thoughts, so I usually talk them out, which only annoys everyone around me. Hell, it annoys me I can’t proc
ess them without saying them aloud.

  “He’s your twin, right?”

  “You gotta be able to recall shit after hearing it, dude. If you have to ask the same question twice, you may want to rethink being a field agent.”

  Shit. This time silence is better than sounding like a dumbass, so I grab my phone from the back pocket of the seat and scroll through my texts. Sean and Eli in a group text arguing over who’s better at beer pong. My mom asking why she hasn’t heard from me in days. More Sean. More Eli. Finally, there it is, the text I’ve been hoping to see.

  It’s Kayla with four words. Sorry for last night.

  I text back. I’m not.

  Neither am I.

  I grin. I’ll be home late. There’s no reply. Did she read my text wrong? I read it again and cuss under my breath. What a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean I’m out with someone else. I read our exchange over and over, wondering what I could have said differently. I can’t stand the silence, even in texting. I’m working.

  After a long pause, she responds. I’m sure you are.

  Damn her. Goddamn her. Who is she to make me feel bad for trying to make her feel better? I close the conversation with, Go to bed.

  Stay safe. Don’t be a hero.

  Considering what I just did, convincing a corrupt, potential terrorist to take me under his wing… I don’t think that qualifies as staying safe. It doesn’t qualify as a hero, either. It’s my job to protect my country, a job I’ll proudly hold until my last breath. I just hope it won’t be any time soon. TREX agents take risks every day, today included.

  Sleep safe. Dream about your hero.

  I know she won’t respond, so I close the text and lean my head against the back of the seat. I barely have my eyes closed before Jason’s nudging me awake. Blinking, I look at him before looking around.

  We’re back at the hotel. I follow Jason to the room and change into the clothes I came with, nod my good-bye, and walk out. I’m not even out of the hotel before Ryan catches up with me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I reply.

  “You did good tonight.”

  I didn’t expect the compliment and have to process it a few seconds. “Thanks.” After a couple more seconds, I add, “So did you.”