Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2)

by Lisa Hughey

  “And Jamie Hunt.”

  From the list. From 5491. The other NSA person he’d hooked up with.

  No one rushed me. They all just...waited. I didn’t know what they wanted from me.

  All three stood, legs apart, hands visible, and looking like a unit, while I sat on the sofa...alone.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just shoot now,” I asked curiously.

  Jamie Hunt stepped slightly in front of Lucas. “‘Cause I’ll kick your skinny ass back to Afghanistan if you do.”

  “You and what army?” Of course, all she’d have to do was blow on me and I’d float away on the wind.

  She snorted.

  We all waited. No one looked at their watch, no one twitched, or fidgeted. Their gazes were solidly trained on the Glock resting on the pillow, while I decided what to do.

  I suppose someone could be waiting downstairs, or in the hallway, or in the parking garage, but Jordan seemed to be trying to protect the two behind him from me, rather than the other way around.

  And I knew in my heart, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the baby.

  I moved the weapon into my lap, pointing the barrel toward the side of the sofa and away from the trio.

  “‘Bout time.”

  I was tempted to aim at her again, but frankly I wasn’t too sure I could hold the damn thing up.

  “As much as I’d like a catfight....” Lucas Goodman trailed off, his lips curling up in a little half-smile, his fingers squeezing Jamie Hunt’s forearm.

  “In your dreams,” Jamie said.

  He gave her a look that said, oh yeah. “Perhaps we can move on to business.”

  “I’m listening.” I didn’t let my attention shift to Jordan. Didn’t want to focus on the intimate betrayal. I'd told him I couldn't go in until I figured out who was after me. Instead of respecting me, he'd brought the NSA right to me.

  I saw the way Jamie Hunt and Lucas Goodman looked at each other. The way they’d both taken steps to protect one another.

  They were a unit. A couple.

  They moved together with a grace, a connection clear to even my inexperienced eye. Their closeness evoked an unfamiliar longing, reminding me of my grandparents. Of what I’d hoped to have with Jordan. Dammit.

  “We’re only here to...deliver something you might find useful.”

  “They have the information on the DNA gene manipulation drug.” Jordan commented softly, “I thought we might be able to get analysis on how the drug changed you if we could get the original files.”

  So he hadn't betrayed me. At least, not completely. I directed my question to her. “How did you get it?”

  “Classified.”

  “How come you still have it?”

  If she really had gotten the data and it really was classified, she shouldn’t be carrying it on her person and she shouldn’t be about to give it up to me.

  “I’m not about to turn this research over so someone else can start up the project again,” Jamie hissed. “They fucked with enough lives already.”

  “Why give it to me?” I couldn’t figure that out. She didn’t like me, although I had no idea why. I’d never met her.

  “I asked her to,” Jordan said.

  “I’d still rather kick your ass,” Jamie grudgingly said. “But I owe Jordan.”

  “Just give them the flash key,” Lucas said, “The sooner we leave, the happier Ms. Grant will be.”

  Jamie Hunt reached into her big black leather tote.

  My weapon went back up.

  “I’m not going to shoot you.” She pulled out a flash key, holding the storage device with a tissue, and handed it to Jordan. “If I attack you, it will be the old-fashioned way and you’ll see me coming.”

  I aimed the gun at the sofa again.

  She directed her comments to Jordan. “This has the data for all ten people who were given the drug. You’ll be able to access her file with the original DNA analysis. According to Susan Chen, she,” Jamie jerked her head toward me, “is File #3.”

  Lucas Goodman reached out to grasp Jamie Hunt’s fingers with his. I noted he made sure to keep his gun hand free.

  Jordan nodded once. “Thanks.”

  “No one knows I had that data. Be very careful about where you go for help.” Jamie’s lip curled derisively. “You try to turn me in to curry favor, I’ll deny I ever had the information.”

  I understood her perfectly. She’d done exactly what I would have in the same situation.

  “Fine.”

  “You have any idea where to take the information for analysis?” Lucas asked slowly.

  I waited for Jordan. Did he have an idea? Had he planned that far ahead or was he winging it?

  “No.”

  “You need to get out of New York,” Jamie said. “Pronto.”

  “We’ve got that covered.” Jordan was more taciturn than usual.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t tell her.” I didn’t want her knowing anything more than she already did. I still couldn’t figure out why she didn’t like me or why she had my clothes.

  “A friend of mine, Barb, is already familiar with the project.” Lucas ignored my animosity. “And would likely be willing to help you.”

  I eyed Jamie and wondered what was really going on here. “You're awfully free with handing out data on experiments you supposedly don’t want continued.”

  Jamie didn’t respond, but she wanted to go for me. I could see the desire in her stance. Why the hell didn’t she like me?

  “I believe she’s at a conference in D.C. this week.” Lucas rattled off her cell number as Jamie’s scowl deepened. “She’s extremely discreet.”

  “Thanks.” Jordan’s voice was deep and choked. “Where are you going?”

  Jamie didn’t say a word. Cautious.

  “Seattle,” Lucas answered.

  “Why there?”

  “Susan Chen has family in the area watching her daughter.”

  And they took time to drop this flash drive off in NYC? “How did you have time to stop here?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Chen can’t travel by air, rail or bus. She’s got to steal a car or hitch across the country. Even taking the extra hours to drive here,” Lucas slanted a slow, heated look at Jamie. “And catch a flight out of JFK, we’ll still get there well ahead of her.”

  “She could have an accomplice.” Would almost have to if she’d escaped a federal prison.

  “Possibly.” Lucas frowned.

  “Why would she go to Seattle?” I wondered aloud.

  “To protect her daughter.”

  I still wasn’t getting it. She should stay far away from her daughter, especially if she had family taking care of the child. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does if you have a heart,” Jamie sniped. “Maybe you lost yours when you were recruiting terrorists.”

  “Not you too.” I was totally disgusted. “What is your deal?”

  “You were going to recruit my sister.”

  Admittedly I had a lot of names in my databases, but I thought I would remember a connection to Jamie Hunt.

  “Who the hell is your sister?”

  Then it clicked. Jordan helped rescue John Wishbone and the girl I'd asked him to watch over. So that meant...Bella Holden was Jamie Hunt’s sister?

  “How is that possible?”

  Jamie pressed her lips together. What so now she wasn’t talking? Fine.

  “It’s time for us to go.” Lucas Goodman smiled at me easily. Then he grabbed Jordan in a bear hug, slapped him on the back. “Glad you found her, man.”

  I could hear the 'even if I think you’re crazy’ in his voice.

  Fuck him.

  “Thanks.” Jordan pounded Lucas with equal enthusiasm, the flash key still gripped tightly in his fist. “For everything.”

  Jordan aimed a look at Jamie. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with an underlying emotion.

  “I won’t ever forget.” Jamie star
ed hard at me.

  I got the impression she meant more than just Jordan’s favor.

  Jamie finished, “You need anything, call.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  October 19

  10:00 am

  Washington, D.C.

  Fuck the government. Fuck the CIA.

  I had a Canadian passport and a date with a country without a strong extradition policy with the U.S.

  Cuba, here I come.

  Shit. Beach, sand. Again.

  I’d managed to avoid any number of touchy subjects--say those Franklin Group mugs in the prison, the ambush, yeah, I’m still calling it that, with Jamie and Lucas, Jordan’s refusal to let me go--by sleeping most of the way south.

  I should have been planning my escape. Instead I’d avoided everything by crashing. Except I really did feel better now.

  I'd just woken up and the interior of the rental car had that new car smell which wasn't sitting too well with my stomach. So I nibbled on a vanilla scone, hoping the pastry would stay down.

  We’d arrived in D.C. a few minutes ago and were on our way to meet Barb, the scientist, at her hotel.

  Lucas Goodman’s name must be a magic password. When we called, she’d asked when and where. Didn’t bother with what or who. So I’d let Jordan ‘convince’ me to go to D.C.

  In reality, my plan was to retrieve a bolt bag I had stashed for just such an occasion. I’d gone back and forth, examining possibilities, and any way I sliced it I needed to get out of the country.

  Maybe I could just straight out convince him to go away. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and I’d really like to get him set before I left. Maybe it was sentimental of me, but Jordan had, in his own way, been looking out for me. It was time for me to return the favor. A wash of melancholy flowed over me.

  This was for the best. Separate now while it would be painful but not impossible. I had a feeling the longer I hung out with him the harder the break would be.

  “I’ve been thinking.” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how receptive he was going to be.

  Lie. I was pretty sure when I told him what I was thinking he’d blow a gasket.

  He drove easily and competently, staying in the middle lanes, never going above the speed limit. “Go ahead.”

  “I think you should take a hike.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take off. Just...go home.”

  “You want me to leave you to face this by yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I was actually thinking more along the lines of....”

  He shifted his gaze from the road to frown at me. His macho side didn’t come out very often but it did make an appearance every now and then. And now I knew this time would be one of them. Somehow I couldn’t phrase my request any other way.

  “Protect yourself from the shitstorm coming my way.”

  His biceps flexed as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “And you think I’ll just what, say ‘sure, go on with your life, see you around, I’ll pay you and the baby visits in prison’?”

  “I know it’s not ideal.”

  “Not ideal...” His voice got lower and deeper, his body got stiffer and harder, as if you’d need a sculptor’s chisel to change any facet of his muscles. “...is being unmarried when the baby is born. What you are suggesting is a disaster, like having only a sniper rifle for close quarters combat.”

  I opened my mouth.

  “Don’t even say it.” As if he were still part of a team, he made the spec ops hand signal for freeze, a closed fist at head level, without looking at me.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  I was going to try one more time. But he kept going.

  “I have a responsibility. One I will not forego because you think you should do this alone. And damn you for thinking I would do that to you and the baby.”

  “Yeah.” Way to hit my hot button. I’d been a responsibility for my grandparents too. “Maybe I don’t want to be a responsibility.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It sure sounded like it.” And what the fuck were we doing arguing about something so far in the future it was fantasy?

  "I will take care of you and the baby."

  “Forget it. I need to get out of my current mess before we concentrate on your responsibilities.” I stressed the word snidely, just to piss him off.

  “Fine. Let’s just get through this meeting with Barb.” He jammed his back against the leather seat. “We can argue about the meaning of responsibility later.”

  Okay. I tried. I’d ditch him as soon as I could.

  The Sofitel was located at 15th and K Streets. Only a block from the White House. Was I thumbing my nose at the assholes in that damn press conference? Or exhibiting plain stupidity?

  Take your pick.

  Barb had told us that she was staying at this hotel. Logically, meeting there in private versus a more public venue made sense. But as we got closer, trepidation edged in. What did we know about this woman?

  Not even her last name.

  “You should be wearing more of a disguise,” Jordan said as we walked toward the small lobby.

  The Yankees cap wasn’t much.

  On the other hand, I sure didn’t look like the picture they’d flashed during the press conference.

  “Jamie Hunt looks more like me than I do.”

  Jordan sounded thoughtful. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe there’ll be a case of mistaken identity.” Heh, heh. Wish I’d written down that tip line number.

  I subtly catalogued the elegant lobby, checking out the doorman, the desk clerks. Looking for anyone suspicious, anyone paying more attention to us than appropriate.

  The patrons in the Le Bar were the most likely to recognize me. The suits taking their power coffee here wouldn’t have the chops to go after me, but they could easily alert their federal law enforcement buddies.

  I had to be wary. D.C. was a virtual hive of security. Every federal building had guards inside and out. I didn’t want to bring that wrath down on Jordan.

  I didn’t want to spend a long time here, as I was very aware of the danger. We didn’t know this woman. We had only Lucas Goodman’s assurance she was safe.

  Barb had no idea who we were. However, after she saw me, it was possible she might turn me in. Suddenly the whole meeting seemed like an exercise in disaster.

  And me without a weapon.

  “You trust this guy Lucas, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Jordan replied. “Don’t worry.”

  We exited on the third floor into the blandly elegant elevator lobby and headed to Barb’s room.

  Jordan and I jockeyed for position in front.

  “I’ll be first, since I talked to her,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  Within seconds of his knock, the door swung open to reveal an absolutely gorgeous black woman. “Come in.”

  We both hustled inside, unwilling to be the focus of any security camera for too long.

  Watching to make sure she didn’t recognize me, I positioned myself in case she leaped for the phone.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured toward the sofa, while she sank down into an edgy modern chair of chrome and upholstery.

  I’m not often struck dumb by the beauty of a woman, but I was now. She had beautiful deep brown eyes and high cheekbones accented by her super short hair.

  The cut emphasized the shape of her head and the graceful curve of her neck. If she and Halle Berry went head-to-head in a beauty contest, Barb would kick Halle’s ass.

  “You’re friends of Lucas?” When she smiled, her focus on Jordan was warm and friendly, but impersonal.

  “We go back aways.”

  “Me too.” She fiddled with the button on her exquisitely tailored gray and white pinstripe suit. “What have you got for me?”

  Since this was his gig, I let Jordan speak and just observed her. She had an earnest cant to her body, legs crossed but leaning slightly forward into the space betw
een us.

  “Lucas indicated you’re familiar with the data from a certain...experiment.”

  “The gene manipulation.” Her eyes were bright with curiosity, and her fingers twitched.

  We needed to get this over with and get out of here. I didn’t like being trapped in this hotel room so I cut to the chase.

  “We need an updated DNA analysis on a person and then a comparison of the results to the original data.”

  “Okay.” Some of her enthusiasm dimmed. “But I don’t have access to the data.”

  Jordan shifted in his chair. “We’ve got it.”

  “Do you have a syringe so I can take a blood sample?”

  Shit. Hadn’t thought of that. We’d have to improvise. I strode into the ultra modern, granite-tiled bath and scrabbled through the tray of toiletries looking for some q-tips. “Will this work?”

  “In a pinch.”

  We were pinched.

  “So will you be able to analyze what the drug changed?”

  Barb blinked, her eyes wide, as she pondered Jordan’s question.

  “I can give you specific chromosomes that were changed, but most likely can’t tell you how the drug would impact the person.” She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “If possible, you might want to talk to the other people who had the drug.”

  Jordan huffed out a breath.

  Like that was going to happen.

  “Which one of you had the original drug?”

  I wagged my hand in the air like a little kid. The silk cuff fell from my wrist, exposing the deep tissue contusions.

  I ignored her indrawn gasp. “Can you compare a current sample to the baseline data?”

  “It will take a few days but sure.” Barb looked anxious to get started.

  “So you need the original information?”

  “Oh, yes.” Barb’s gaze shifted to the blank television screen. “I destroyed the files after my analysis was finished. I didn’t want to get...anyone in trouble.”

  Good. I hoped that sentiment extended to when she saw my picture plastered all over the news.

  I handed her the q-tips in their plastic sleeves. She carefully ripped open the package and leaned toward me.

  “Open wide.”

  My mouth yawned open and she swiped the q-tip along the inside of my cheek.