**
Adrian stayed still while Megan bristled—mostly because he was trying not to bump up against her wound. He also seriously doubted she wanted him to coddle her when the men were acting protective. They probably thought nothing of it, but she was tense.
“I have an idea on that,” Megan said. “My friend who set up this system. If anyone can figure out how all this is connected, it’s her.”
Mint said, “Can she hack top secret files?”
Bradley nodded. “Because Zimmerman could hit the next target before this ‘contact’ of yours figures it out.”
“Maybe you should have a little faith in the people I know, okay?” Megan shrugged her good shoulder. “Aren’t you always telling everyone to trust God?”
Bradley’s eyes narrowed, but Adrian spotted a gleam of humor there. “Yes.”
“Then don’t make a stink when I want to try something,” she said. “We need the help.”
“It’s a good idea,” Steve said. “We know she’s good, so why not call on her since we need all the resources we can get.”
Megan shifted and smirked for a second before her face blanked. On the computer screen, Emma smiled.
Adrian didn’t envy Steve his job. Seemed like it might be more like babysitting at times, or settling squabbles between siblings.
“Then I’ll get on it.” Megan shifted her finger to hover over the End Call button on the screen. “Talk soon?”
Everyone nodded. Megan tapped the screen on her laptop, then leaned back on the bed. An audible groan spilled from her mouth. Tears filled her eyes.
“Whoa, are you okay?”
“That hurt. A lot.”
“Your arm.”
She nodded. “And my hip from the other day. I think whatever you gave me last night wore off in the middle of the conversation.” Her stomach rumbled.
He smiled and stood, looking for where he’d put his cell phone. “And evidently you need food.”
Megan pursed her lips and blew out a breath. Then she touched her arm below the injury, cradling it to her. Face pale. Hair splayed out around her on the comforter.
“You really don’t look well. Do you have a fever?” He wandered over and planted his hands on either side of her head. He leaned down toward her forehead to check for a fever.
Her head tilted up.
Did she think…?
“I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Back up.” Her face hardened.
Adrian stood. “I’m trying to check for a fever.”
“With your face? What’s wrong with just putting your hand on my forehead?”
“It’s not as accurate.” But he stepped back, realizing why she might be weirded out. “My mom always used to touch her lips to my forehead. It’s more accurate,” he repeated. “I wasn’t making a move on you. Not when you’re hurt.”
She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. Did she want him to make a move on her if she wasn’t hurt?
He moved away and grabbed the key card. “That isn’t why we’re in a hotel room.”
“I know.” She sounded mad, but he didn’t know who she was mad at. Him. Herself. Both.
“I’ll go get us some food.” Surely there was a restaurant of some kind nearby.
“And coffee. Something with four hundred calories of dairy and sugar and four shots. No, six.”
Adrian shot her a look.
“Unless you want me to continue being hangry.”
“Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
Megan sat up and winced, then returned his look. “Are you sure you’re here to find Zimmerman, not just to look after me while I try to find him?”
“That might be…part of it.” And why not? She needed someone there with her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Get out.”
“Megan.”
“No.” She bit the word out between clenched teeth. “Are you kidding me? I’m calling Hank.” She rummaged around for her phone, though he could see it hurt her a lot. “I don’t need babysitting.”
“That’s not what’s happening.”
“No? I don’t believe you.” She pushed out a breath. “Hank is going to answer to me.”
Adrian took a step toward the door. “I’ll be back in fifteen with food and that coffee.”
At the last second before the door clicked shut, he could have sworn he heard the word, “Coward,” spoken in a low voice.
From her, or from himself?
She’d said she was hangry, so what was the big deal in cutting out and leaving her to it? She wanted to be independent, she could protect herself. He wouldn’t be long.
Fifteen minutes, in fact.
He juggled the bag and drink carrier with huge coffees for both of them, and got the door open. He half expected her to be cleared out and gone. Instead, she was looking out the window. Phone to her ear. Laughing.
Years. Stress. Pain. It all bled from her face in that few seconds she smiled wide and shared a moment of humor with the person she was on the phone with.
Adrian stared.
She shifted around, and he saw the gun in her other hand. She let the curtain fall back into place, and he set the food down on the desk. The knot that had collected around his heart eased.
“Okay.” Megan moved to her computer. She hit a button on the phone and said, “You’re on speaker. Adrian is back.”
“Pull up a new browser tab and type this in.” The voice was young. Female, low-toned. Rich. The woman rattled off a series of numbers and letters. Backslash, pound, asterisk. Enter. This had to have been the contact she’d mentioned to her Double Down teammates—the one who might be able to get them answers.
Megan said, “Done.”
“Enter all the information on that page.”
“Where?” Megan stared at the screen. “It just looks like a bunch of pictures of someone’s vacation.”
“Click between margaritas and whale watching.”
“Okay, but…” Megan paused. “Oh. I see.”
Adrian wandered over and looked at the screen. A window had popped up.
“Type everything in there. All the factors you have, and all the variables. I’ll run the numbers and let you know what I come up with.”
“And if the blackmailer gets ahold of this website?”
“He can try,” the woman said.
“How about trying to predict where he might hit next?” Megan asked. “After the think tank collapsed, we need to get ahead of him.”
“Without a pattern, there’s no way to predict where this guy might target next,” the woman said. “At least not without me figuring out the common underlying link first.”
Adrian said, “Some of the information you’re going to need is top secret covert black-ops stuff.”
“Okay.” Like that was no big deal.
“O-kay.”
“Like I said,” the woman continued. “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”
It seemed there was no doubt in her mind that she’d come up with something. The only question was what that something would be.
Megan said, “Thank you so much.”
“No worries. My boyfriend went AWOL a few weeks ago. I’ve got the servers running overtime searching for him. Until I get a hit, I’ve got time.”
Megan glanced up at Adrian, an “Eek” look on her face. He grinned, then handed over her coffee. She mouthed, Thank you. And then, Sorry.
He shook his head, then leaned down. Waited until she realized what he was doing. Adrian touched his lips to her forehead. She was warm, but not hot enough it could be a fever.
When he leaned back, he smiled. Shook his head again.
“Me-gan… Did I lose you?” the woman asked.
“Tunnel,” Megan said, immediately.
She chuckled. “I know you’re sitting in a hotel room. The restaurant next door has better waffles than you’ll get downstairs.”
“Bye, Remy.” Megan hung up the phone, chuckling again. She took a sip of coffee. �
��Wow, that’s good stuff.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry I snapped.”
“I forgive you.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
“Mm-hmm.” He tore into the bag of food and pulled out a burrito. Bit into it.
“Not going to say anything else?”
He shook his head, then pointed to his full mouth as he chewed. Swallowed. Quickly took another bite.
Megan rolled her eyes. “That smells good. Where’s mine?”
Chapter 11
She slung her bag over her good shoulder just as Adrian stepped out of the bathroom. His clothes were clean, his hair wet. He’d shaved.
She might like a little beard growth, but she could appreciate a clean-cut man.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t like they were going to stay here. Not after the phone call she’d just gotten.
“So you waited until I was in the shower to pack up?”
She made a face at that ridiculous idea. “If I did, I took too long since I’m still here.” Hopefully he’d get the sarcasm. She’d taken another pill, but it had yet to kick in.
“Am I invited to go with you?”
“Only if you put your shoes on.” Okay, that might have been too much sarcasm. Especially considering the way he glanced at her out the corner of his eye and moved to his suitcase. “I can’t see that hanging around a crime scene with bare feet would be a good idea.”
He straightened. “Crime scene?”
“Yeah. Hank called,” she said. “The two shooters from downtown were found dead in their vehicle a few hours ago. We should go check it out.”
“That’s where you were going?”
“That’s where we’re going.” She’d agreed to stay, hadn’t she? Even though he’d basically admitted he was there to take care of her. As if she needed a nurse. Or a babysitter. She didn’t want to find out later that Steve and Hank had made an arrangement for Adrian to stick with her for exactly those reasons. But if it happened, she wasn’t exactly going to be surprised.
Though, she’d probably act surprised. Pretend she’d had no idea. Get mad at the injustice of it all. That would be satisfying. Especially if people were safe, and Zimmerman was in jail. If they had also exposed the blackmailer in this scenario, that would make things even better. All wrapped up, back to normal.
Not this weird limbo she was living in now, where there wasn’t even time to find a laundry place and wash their clothes.
“If you say so.” He sat on the bed to put his shoes on.
Megan cocked her hip. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He looked up. “Why are we fighting? Were you going to leave without me?”
“No. Of course not.” Right now, at least. Who knew what might happen later?
“Then forget about it.”
Just like that? When she was hangry she could be the queen of grudges. Too bad she hadn’t had the emotional or head space recently to do more than sit around wanting to kill El Cuervo.
“I’m not sure what just happened on your face.”
Megan shrugged. She turned to the food bag, swiped up all the wrappers and deposited them in the trash. She wasn’t hangry anymore, so that meant she was only taking out her frustrations on him because he was here. That was all.
She needed to stop doing it, or she’d have to apologize again.
The drive to the crime scene didn’t take long. They’d stayed at a hotel by the airport just in case they needed to make a quick exit to go after Zimmerman. Adrian parked around the corner from where Hank had told her the shooter’s car had been found in a warehouse.
Two cop cars, one black and white and one that looked like a regular car except with a red light on the dash were parked in front of the warehouse, along with a Crime Scene van. Hopefully they hadn’t removed all of the evidence yet. She wanted to get a good look at it.
They checked in with the officer at the edge of the tape, showing their badges. The cop said, “Detective Haralson is inside.”
Adrian nodded. “Thanks.”
Megan was better off hanging back. She didn’t need to abuse the badge by pretending she had the authority to be here. She might technically still be an FBI agent, but she figured it was mostly just Hank trying to do her a favor. She didn’t want to go back to being an investigative agent. Or undercover. She kept the badge because it was what her father would’ve wanted. He’d taught her to never give up, and she’d chosen this profession.
Regardless of the fact she was employed and paid by Double Down Inc, part of her would always be a fed. It didn’t really sit right, though. She needed to hand her badge back to Hank. She didn’t want to play both sides. If she kept going much longer she would get burned—or she would burn her friends.
Megan didn’t want that to happen.
Adrian called out, “Detective Haralson?”
A gray haired man in jeans, a button down shirt and a suit jacket, no tie, looked up from the footwell of the car and spotted them. He removed his gloves and wandered over. “Help you?”
“Special Agent Walker. This is Special Agent Perkins.”
“Not locals. How’d you end up here?”
Megan pointed to her arm. “Technically, I guess, we’re the victims in this case.”
Haralson’s eyebrows lifted, crinkling his forehead. “Are you now? Gonna have to ask you to leave, in that case.”
“We aren’t interested in being part of your investigation.” Adrian lifted his hands, palms out. “And we for sure aren’t going to interfere. But we would like to know what you’ve learned. It’s likely pertinent in some way to our search for Special Agent Zimmerman.”
“This is about that?” the detective asked.
Adrian nodded. Megan did the same. She said, “We’re hoping for something that might help us figure out where he’s going. Where he might hit next.”
“That’s fair.”
An interesting reaction, considering she’d just offered him the chance to assist in a national security matter. Maybe he was just jaded. Or he wanted to act like he wasn’t bothered, for whatever reason. Megan didn’t worry about it. She couldn’t afford to expend extra energy on a guy they didn’t know, who likely didn’t factor into this.
But they did need his cooperation.
“I’ll call your office and make sure you’re approved first.” He didn’t ask if that was all right.
Adrian started to give the detective the number.
“You can just give me your boss’s name. I’ll get the number.”
Adrian nodded. “All right. Special Agent in Charge Hank Cromwell.”
“One minute.” The detective wandered away a few paces and got on his phone.
“Wow,” Adrian said. “Not a very trusting guy, is he.”
“It’s like he believes one of us might not be a real FBI agent?” She grinned.
Adrian shook his head.
“Fine, it wasn’t that funny.”
He stared over at the car. “Inside looks pretty clean.”
“Maybe they just had it detailed.”
“Do you have an answer for everything?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“That’s fair, I guess.”
She studied him, trying to figure out why he’d reacted the way he had to the idea of her leaving. Probably the fact he insisted on being there to take care of her. Not that he hadn’t been nice about it. More of a gentleman than a lot of guys would’ve been in the same situation.
But was it because Hank had ordered him to do it? Or was he taking care of her because he wanted to do it? She tried not to care either way. It wasn’t going to help her focus. But it didn’t work.
She did care.
**
There wasn’t time to ask her what she was thinking. Not again. Though Adrian wanted to know. Her face was soft. He didn’t often see that look. Still, there was an edge to it he could only describe as…conflicted almost. Like she didn’t like what she was feeli
ng.
Adrian wanted to smooth that out for her. More than he probably should have, especially considering they were chasing a rogue FBI agent bent on destruction and the ending of life. Innocent or not, didn’t matter.
The last thing he had time for right now was an attraction, no matter how drawn to Megan he might be.
“Looks like you’re all set.” The detective stowed his phone in his jeans pocket. “So I’ll walk you through what we have, but then I have to get back to work.”
Adrian nodded. The man was busy, and he didn’t want to use up more time than necessary entertaining two feds.
“Two victims, both were shot in the head where they sat. From the bit of blood spatter that we found and the position of the bodies, we’re thinking two shooters. Both of these guys were likely shot through open windows simultaneously.”
Megan glanced at him, eyebrows raised. They followed the detective over to the car. Both doors were open, the bodies gone now. The detective said, “The car was cleaned.”
“We noticed it looked like it had been recently detailed,” Adrian said.
“Not just detailed.” The detective waved them over to the driver’s side and crouched. “The VIN number here and on the dash have been filed off. No plates, no papers in the glove box.”
Megan waited for more.
The detective shrugged. “There’s nothing on the two bodies. No phones, no wallets. I mean, we’ll run their IDs and probably figure out who they are eventually. But whoever killed them wanted this process to be as slow as it possibly could be.”
“Maybe they won’t show up in IAFIS.” Adrian mulled it over more, even after he’d said it. The FBI’s database didn’t have an ID for everyone they ran. If these guys were foreign nationals who were here illegally, they might not be in any US-based database. “Maybe this is a wild goose chase on purpose.”
“The killers may even have assumed it would take longer before someone discovered their bodies and called it in.” The detective shrugged. “We could be ahead of their anticipated timetable. That’s why I’m going as fast as I can on this. If it was a turf war between foreign nationals, we might only have a limited time before someone hops a plane back home.”
Adrian said, “Why do you favor the idea they’re not American?”
Deadly Agenda Page 9