“Josiah, no!”
Pearce spun around, easing his hold on Shay. Ford reached for her then and got enough of a hand on her arm to shove her out of the way. He couldn’t be gentle because he needed her out of the line of direct attack. And he had to hope he succeeded because he couldn’t stop to check.
The first shot nailed Pearce in the neck, just above his protective vest. Blood spurted as he let out a vicious yell. His hand went to the wound and he swore to take them all down.
Knowing he meant it, Ford lunged and tackled. Shots rang out as Pearce managed to grab for his gun and fire before his back slammed into the ground. Shots went wild and Trent yelled.
On cue, the building siren started wailing and the blue emergency lights clicked on. That was the all-clear signal. No one but them stood in the firing line, but the building was in lockdown so if that damn vial got broken, the damage would be minimized.
Not that Ford would let the worst case happen.
Josiah jumped over Trent’s slumped body and slid on his knees beside Pearce’s head. The move knocked the gun out of Pearce’s hand.
But that wasn’t the real problem. Ford’s only thought was the vial. He saw Pearce’s tightened fist. Saw his arm go into the air as if to slam the glass tube against the hard floor. Josiah and Ford both grabbed Pearce’s arm.
Fury gave Pearce disproportionate strength. Blood poured down his throat and covered his hand, but he held on. Josiah held the arm still and Ward jumped in as Ford pried Pearce’s fist open.
“Move!” Harlan, still on his feet, swung his gun through the air like a bat.
The bones in Pearce’s hand crunched and he let out a scream of agony as Harlan made contact. The vial fell and Harlan knocked it over their heads and into the enclosed interrogation room where they’d held Shay. Ford watched the glass container fly through the air. His first reaction was to land on it.
His second thought made more sense.
Jumping to his knees, ignoring the pain that shot through him, he thrust his hand at the doorknob and dragged the door closed. If Ellery was right about the ventilation system and building design, the airtight room should contain the toxin. Ford didn’t know, but they were all still breathing, so he that was a good sign that the toxin hadn’t penetrated into the hallway.
His gaze went to Shay, who lay against the wall with West’s body in front of her.
Leave it to West to protect as ordered no matter what spun around him. Ford could count on the guy for anything. “Thanks, man.”
West nodded and lifted his body off her.
“We need a medic,” Ward yelled into the com.
Panicked, Ford slid across the floor to Shay as Josiah and the others watched over Pearce. Above the yelling and crashing as more agents flooded the area, Ford ran a hand over her. “Are you hit?”
The dazed expression didn’t clear from her eyes. “No.”
Ford looked to Pearce and saw all the blood. Then he noticed the shift of people in and out across from Pearce and saw Trent. A bloodstain spread across his stomach as his breathing turned shallow.
But Shay was staring at Ford, her gaze searching his face. For what, he didn’t know. He did the only thing he could think of. Wrap his arms around her and protect her from one last bit of pain.
30
“TRENT IS in the hospital and your uncle is with him.” The woman Shay knew as Ford’s sister but clearly wasn’t handed her a cup of coffee as she stepped around her desk and sat down in the big black leather chair. “Your uncle is yelling and demanding the guards keep back, so that’s a good sign.”
“Okay.” Shay didn’t know what else to say, so she went with that.
“He’s always insisting we treat you right or he’ll have all our badges.” The other woman smiled. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him we really didn’t have traditional badges.”
Shay still couldn’t process it all. The crimes Trent committed and the way he’d dragged her into them. The shooting, and seeing his still body on the floor as the medics rushed in. She pushed it all out, that and Ford. It was the only way she could keep functioning. “You need to look up the definition of a good sign.”
“True.” The blonde laughed. Her nameplate said her first name was Tasha, so at least that part wasn’t a lie. The space was as cool as the woman, with blue walls and photographs of what looked like places in Europe. Behind her there were bookcases filled with binders and a big safe with an even bigger lock.
Shay had no idea while she was still in the building. Something about needing to be debriefed. Since no fewer than five people—including Tasha and the man Shay now knew was Ward—had asked her a series of questions.
Now she had one of her own. “So, you’re not Ford’s sister.”
This time the other woman smiled. “No.”
“And you’re British.” Even in her emotional stupor, Shay had picked up the accent. It kind of went with the rest of the package. Tasha seemed confident and professional. Finding out she was the boss didn’t hit Shay as a surprise. Thinking about her trying to rein in all the men under her did.
And there seemed to be a lot of them. She’d walked through a room of Fordlike guys wearing weapons. All were cordial. When she’d stopped to thank the big one she now knew as West, he shook her hand and winked.
That was a lot of testosterone to handle. Shay didn’t envy Tasha that. She also didn’t need to stick around for more.
She had wounds to lick and a heart to repair . . . eventually. “I want to go home.”
“Soon.”
“We’re removing the last vial of toxin.” Tasha said it as if she were talking about a guy being in the building to repair an air conditioner. No fear, no worries.
That made one of them. Shay heard the word toxin and was now trained to break into a cold sweat. “You found it?”
Tasha’s calm slipped and a peek of anger slipped though. “Pearce had set it on a timer to leak through the ventilation system. We wrecked that plan. Our tech people are quite good.”
Again with the casual comments. Shay sat in a building with more security than she’d ever seen, surrounded by people who whipped out weapons if they heard a noise. It all seemed normal to them. A few hours there and she needed to go home and rest. “This is what you do? What you all do?”
“I think you’re really asking if this is what Ford does, and the answer is yes.”
Her heart clenched. It felt like a giant fist reached in there and squeezed. Her breathing hitched as she thought back to what she’d said to him, in front of all of them.
In that moment, she’d wanted to give him permission, to make him understand. She didn’t regret the admission. She just didn’t know, in light of all that had happened, if the words mattered. “He also lies and sleeps with women while pretending to be someone he’s not.”
Tasha tapped her fingernails against the armrests. “You probably want me to apologize for sending him to you, but I won’t.”
“Thanks.” Yeah, okay. It was time to go. Shay decided she’d had enough of the cool detachment routine. She could take a lesson but couldn’t sit for one today, so she stood up.
“We were fighting having a catastrophic substance get into the wrong hands.” Tasha sighed. “As it is, we still have an arms dealer hiding in Yemen and it’s only a matter of time before he finds someone like Trent and makes another play.”
Shay had no idea what that meant but it sounded pretty damn terrifying. Maybe there were some things the public didn’t need to know. “I should leave so you can get back to that.”
“You might want to see this before you go.” Tasha picked up a remote and turned on the television.
The last thing Shay needed was a show. “What are you doing?”
“Letting you see top secret footage from the museum attack.”
Shay’s stomach rolled at the idea of rel
iving that. “I was there for the live version.”
But she couldn’t move. When the screen came to life and the video started rolling, she was rooted to the ground.
Tasha got up. “I know you’re doubting us and thinking maybe all that screaming Trent did was true and maybe he is innocent. But we aren’t wrong.”
Shay didn’t want to point out that they missed the truth about Pearce and he worked for them. She also couldn’t admit yet that she believed it all. There was no doubt Trent had gotten mixed up in a terrible crime. He hadn’t bothered to deny the charges as Pearce said them only a few hours ago. Part of her wondered if her misguided cousin took pride in the mess he’d created.
“Ask yourself how he had all those vials if someone was setting him up and he didn’t really steal them.” Tasha fast-forwarded then stopped the tape. “Then watch this part.”
As far as Shay was concerned, she didn’t need to. She’d actually seen enough. But still, her curiosity was piqued. “Why?”
Tasha handed her the remote. “So you can see how many chances Ford and his team had to kill Trent at the museum but didn’t because of you.”
Everything inside Shay stilled. “What are you saying?”
“That when it came down to sacrificing you and his job, and the safety of who knows how many, Ford picked saving you.” Tasha reached over and hit Play. “He’s not an emotional guy. He’ll never write you a poem, but he is worth the risk.”
Shay’s mind rebelled. All the denials rushed into her head. “How can you say that? He’s done nothing but lie to me.”
“He kept you alive. Seems to me that’s more important.” Tasha shrugged. “For Ford that’s the very definition of love.”
Two days after the building almost exploded in a chemical haze, Ford sat in a chair at ten at night. He occupied his usual seat at the conference table in the main building but would rather have been in the Warehouse. Be anywhere his mind might shut off. He spun it from side to side, clearing his head and refusing to think about her.
Ward and Harlan came into the empty room and stopped in front of him. Harlan was the first to speak. “Why are you here?”
There was a temptation to ignore both of them. To shrug them off. “Where should I be?”
“Ah, home?” Ward’s eyebrow lifted as he asked the question.
“I don’t have one of those.” It wasn’t a lie. The condo he lived in across from Shay was part of the cover, but he’d given up his real place when the op started. Figured the nicer condo would do him some good, be a step up. Not that he was in it all that much. He preferred staying with Shay.
That damn ache hit him in the chest again. Much more of this and he’d need a medical check-up.
Harlan frowned. “Now you’re just sounding pathetic.”
“Fuck you.”
This time Harlan nodded. “And insubordinate.”
He didn’t sound angry, and Ford didn’t suspect he was. They’d reached a silent truce since the Pearce disaster. Tasha and Ward told Harlan that Ford had stuck up for him. Likewise, Ford understood that Harlan’s quick thinking and telegraphed directions likely saved them all from having to spike the toxin right next to Ford’s face.
Speaking of which . . . “The conference room detoxed yet?”
“Give it forty years or so.” Ward pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Benton’s still on the loose.” Ford would give anything to blow up whatever cave or house or car that guy lived in. He’d make it his life mission to identify him and hunt him down.
Ward swore under his breath. “We didn’t even get close to him and Pearce isn’t talking. Unfortunately, we trained him in how to survive interrogation, so this might take some time.”
They could bury him in a deep hole for all Ford cared. “The fucker.”
“We have him,” Harlan said. “Benton will come later. Alliance is exactly the right group to find him.”
“I will. Bravo will take him out.”
Ward glanced at Harlan before facing Ford again. “I believe you, but stop trying to change the subject.”
Ford did not want company. He didn’t want conversation. He wanted the one thing he could not have. “I’m not talking about her.”
“You should be talking to her,” Ward said.
Harlan had the nerve to smile. “Seems obvious.”
For some reason Ford found Harlan’s accent even more annoying when he was talking about Shay. “Did you miss the part where she told me to go to hell a hundred times?”
Not really, but close. She said she hated him. Really, he could recite every word. At the end when she scrambled to help her cousin, she pushed him away one last time. He’d gone to touch her and she shrank from him.
Lesson learned.
“Since when do you get sidetracked so easily?”
Ford tried to block out Harlan’s presence and concentrate on Ward’s question. The answer was far too easy to call up. “I lied to her and put her in danger.”
“Ahh, now I see. That’s really the problem,” Harlan said. “The danger.”
Ford hated this conversation. “Shut up.”
“Harlan is right.”
“Shouldn’t you be home with Tasha?” Ford thought about adding a smart remark, something inappropriate, but he admired Tasha too much for that.
“She told me to straighten your sorry ass out first.”
“I liked you better when you weren’t getting sex on a regular basis.” Sex, love . . . Shay. Ford groaned as he buried his face in his hands.
“We all did,” Harlan said under his breath.
Ford lifted his head. He felt the speech coming and walked right into it, hoping to end the torture faster. “Just say it, Ward. Whatever you came to say, spill it.”
Ward held up his hands. “You fell for her.”
Every muscle ached and his raging headache came back with a vengeance. Ford said the word anyway. “Yes.”
“Huh.” Harlan looked at Ward. “Didn’t think he’d admit it that fast. I owe you twenty.”
They skipped over one important fact that Ford couldn’t forget. “It’s over.”
“Nah, it’s in a holding pattern until you get over there and beg.” Ward stood up again.
“Excuse me?”
“You fought me to keep your cover. You refused to put a tracker on her until it was almost too late. You wouldn’t let West shoot when he should have at the museum, and when Pearce unleashed the toxin your sole concern was to rush her to safety.” Ward nodded. “That’s love, my friend. Stupid, crazy, and complicated, but love.”
“You keep missing the part where she hates me.”
“And you keep missing that you were willing to fight with all of us to keep Shay close to you. How about you go fight with her to win her back?” Harlan asked.
The support from that quarter threw Ford off. For a second he sat there and stared. “The danger—”
Ward waved the comment off and started talking before Ford could make his point. “Will always be there. No one gets that more than me, but you’ve got to decide.”
“What?”
Harlan smiled again. “If you can stand being alone while she marries someone else.”
31
EIGHT DAYS. It had been eight days since she’d heard from Ford. Tasha had come over and brought Ward with her. They told office stories, mostly administrative stuff, and about how they met in Fiji with Ford tagging along. They talked about Ford, slipping his name into every story, until Shay thought her head would explode.
Then West showed up the next night to give her the status on Trent, that he was okay and in custody along with his old boss. West hung around, looking uncomfortable. Right before he left, he told her how miserable Ford was without her.
Her uncle even called, strangely sheepish, and asked if they could have di
nner next weekend. He said to bring Ford along.
It was a conspiracy to keep throwing the man in her face.
To block it out, she watched the news every day, looking for a story about Trent and the toxin, but it never came. Tasha said it never would, but she was still surprised. The excuse was that there were some things the public didn’t need to know. In the past Shay had heard that excuse and rolled her eyes. Now she believed. There were certainly things she’d rather not know. Things she’d pay to forget.
Her doorbell rang. Not the outer door buzzer. Her personal doorbell.
A rush of anxiety filled her belly and she fought the urge to run and hide in the closet. She wasn’t one to live in fear, but having experienced so many shocks in such a short time, she still hadn’t adjusted to normal again. If she even knew what that was anymore.
One day the hurt and sense of loss and vulnerability would fade away. One day she’d go to the door and not expect to see Ford on the other side.
Going up on tiptoes, she looked through the peephole. Her feet fell flat again.
Ford.
She leaned her forehead against the door as conflicting emotions bombarded her. Love and anger. Frustration and a tiny flicker of hope. She tried to crush it all down and act like nothing mattered. That she was over him and them and everything that happened.
But, man, no one was that good an actress. She opened the door anyway.
He stood there with a hand balanced on the door frame and a bag of take-out Chinese in his other hand. His beard looked a bit scraggly and his frame suggested he’d lost weight, though she didn’t know how that would be possible in just a little over a week.
Basically, he looked as crappy as she felt. All dried up and hollowed out. But that didn’t mean they were sharing dinner.
“What are you doing here?” She was impressed at how strong her voice sounded. How she didn’t pass out.
“What I should have done from the beginning.” He pushed past her, leaving her holding the door behind him.
“Not come in at all?”
He stopped in the center of the room and turned around, still holding onto the bag like it was a shield or something. “Adam.”
Playing Dirty Page 29