Special Ops Affair

by Jennifer Morey

  “But after Kate was murdered…” Odie said.

  “Yes, after Kate was murdered everything changed. But by then I had Cullen on it.”

  So he hadn’t intervened. He didn’t want to stick his head out too far, not with TES involved. He didn’t want his ties to the secret organization exposed.

  “If we’d have known about Frasier Darby sooner, he might not be dead right now,” Odie said, her tone sharp. She didn’t care if he outranked her. Someone died because of his decision.

  “I’m sure you’d like to believe that,” Roth said.

  He was right that she couldn’t be absolutely sure, but his chances would have been much better had she and Jag known.

  “Darby was afraid to approach us,” Jag said.

  “Because he didn’t know who we were,” Odie snapped.

  “He was killed just a few days after Kate,” Roth said.

  “You should have told Cullen about him,” Odie all but shouted.

  Roth’s eyes grew authoritative. “I don’t think you fully understand what’s at stake here. TES has grown into a formidable counterterror operation. Losing it would be devastating. But running an organization like that comes with a price. People die in this business. You should know that better than anyone.”

  She sucked her breath in. He meant Sage. And maybe even her father. “That’s stooping a little low.”

  “So is coming to my home uninvited.”

  Odie clenched her teeth to bite back a caustic retort.

  Jag cleared his throat. “How did Darby find out about the export company?”

  Leave it to him to keep them focused on their purpose here.

  Roth turned to him. “Someone told him about it, but he wouldn’t say who.”

  “Why not?” Odie asked.

  “He was afraid of detection.”

  “Was he afraid for himself or someone else?”

  “He wouldn’t say.”

  “And you didn’t find that strange?”

  “Don’t forget he came to see me before Kate was murdered,” Roth said.

  She had to concede his intentions had begun on the up-and-up. Frasier hadn’t wanted to reveal his sources because he was afraid. Roth hadn’t questioned that. Maybe Odie wouldn’t have either. She knew what it meant to protect her own contacts.

  “How did he know my father? He’s an engineer with no military ties.” None that she could see.

  “His brother was on the same team as Sage.”

  It felt like bomb had detonated inside her. “What?”

  “That’s how he knew your father. His brother was killed with Sage.”

  Was this all a weird coincidence? She looked over at Jag and saw his brow had lowered, and now he met her gaze intently, as if he were wondering the same thing.

  “He must not have recognized you,” Jag said to her. Frasier hadn’t known she was Sage’s wife, otherwise, he’d have probably approached them at the funeral.

  “Do you think he talked to Kate?”

  “It looks that way,” Jag said.

  Frasier had gone to Roth a month ago, before Kate was murdered, with information on Hersch. And then Kate had discovered more, something damaging enough to put her life in danger, something related to Odie’s father’s murder, as the initials on the package had indicated. Whatever she’d uncovered had led to Frasier’s death.

  Who was his source for the information on Hersch? Was it his lover? Kate?

  No.

  Frasier was a lot older than Kate and didn’t fit the profile of a man who’d interest her. Calan was a handsome man. Much younger than Frasier, too. He was more her type. Odie wondered if he’d gotten involved with her on purpose. Maybe he discovered she’d done some digging and wanted to stop her. Except they’d known each other several months and had just moved in together. Hersch had only popped up on TES’s radar a month ago.

  Another coincidence?

  Either that or all the players were closely tied together.

  Frasier’s brother had known Sage. Had their failed mission had anything to do with Hersch? It didn’t seem likely. Nothing about Sage’s death suggested foul play. It was only the common link that had led Frasier to Roth. It had to be. Frasier was out of his league and went to the only person he thought could help him.

  “Why would someone like Frasier be involved in this?” Odie asked, trying to lure Roth into revealing what he knew about Frasier’s lover. If he knew anything. “How does someone like that get his hands on information about Hersch? His source must have been his lover.”

  “What lover?” Roth asked, genuinely taken aback.

  “Or someone who knew his brother,” Jag said.

  “Could be one in the same.”

  Jag nodded. “We need to find the lover.”

  “What lover?” Roth repeated, more insistent now.

  “His wife told us he was having an affair just before he was killed,” Odie told him.

  “He never mentioned anything like that to me.”

  “He sounded sincere. How are we going to find her if we don’t know who she is?”

  Neither Roth or Jag had an answer.

  “I’m sure the two of you can figure it out,” Roth finally said. “You’ve been here too long as it is.” He started toward the library entrance.

  Jag put his hand on her lower back as they followed. Warm tingles distracted her from the thread of this evening’s conversation.

  Roth opened the front door. “From now on, all communications go through Cullen.”

  Odie nodded and preceded Jag outside.

  “I’ll get my report from Cullen,” Roth said.

  She glanced back with Jag at the colonel.

  “Don’t call me and don’t come to my house again.” Roth shut the door.

  With a raised brow, she looked at Jag and he at her. He smiled.

  “Nothing like a quick dismissal,” he said.

  “At least he talked to us.” Not that they were any closer to solving this.

  He put his hand on her back again and they walked toward the rental.

  “He doesn’t want to be discovered.”

  “Why do you think Frasier refused to reveal his source? Do you really think it was because he was afraid of detection?”

  “Partly. If it were me, I’d want to protect my lover, too.”

  His voice was doing erotic things to her. Maybe it was his hand on her back. Maybe it was her earlier revelation that she’d grown more than she realized where Sage was concerned, and it was Jag who’d made her grow.

  His hand slid down her back and brushed her rear. Odie stopped as sparks darted around her core. He opened the car door for her, standing close with a seductive grin.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  “I’ve been dying to for a while now.”

  Was it her imagination or had he picked up on the change in her, too? She got in and watched his tall frame move around the front and get in on the other side. What happened to his lack of trust in her? Had telling him everything changed his attitude? That could be dangerous. Did she want to start something with him?

  He had mentioned he wasn’t going to do this kind of work much longer….

  The next morning, Odie walked beside Jag after they left the elevator. They’d skipped dinner last night and now she was ravenously hungry.

  “I want a big omelet with lots of cheese and spicy sausage.”

  “Potatoes, too.”

  Tilting her head, she smelled the air with a deep inhale. “I smell coffee.”

  “Stop that.”

  Seeing his heated expression, she straightened her head. Sharing a room had definitely tested their self-control last night. Odie was beginning to wonder if it would be so bad to just give in.

  “You’re making me hungry,” he said, and it was clear he meant something other than food.

  “Let’s feed you, then.”

  “Be careful, or we won’t make it through lunch.”

  The smile in his eyes gave her a w
arm tingle. There was promise in them, one that said he meant what he said.

  “Stop being such a boy.” She tried to make light of the undercurrent floating between them.

  “Impossible around you.”

  So much for keeping it light. She couldn’t believe it. They were talking about omelets and coffee and he was turning her on.

  Clicking brought her head around. A cameraman was snapping pictures. What the…?

  Then she saw the reporter from yesterday. He stood in the atrium in front of a cluster of trees, watching them pass.

  “Odelia Frank?” he called.

  Odie marched past him. As if she’d talk to him. Jag had taken into step behind her, blocking the cameraman’s view of her. She could have kissed him for putting together what her picture in the paper could mean.

  “Why did you go to Heather Darby’s house yesterday?” the reporter shouted. She looked around and saw they were attracting attention. People looked from the reporter to her, his focus of attention and some of their expressions showed they were curious as to who she was. She didn’t think anyone recognized her. It had been a few years since Cullen’s daring rescue mission turned into a very public romance.

  “I went back there after you went to Colonel Roth’s house.”

  Odie stopped abruptly and slowly turned. Jag put his arm around her, his hand on her waist, no doubt ready to propel her away in a hurry if he needed to.

  “Why did you go to see him?” the reporter asked, approaching them.

  He came to a stop a few feet away. Odie didn’t want to stay and talk to him, but this called for damage control.

  “He’s an old friend of the family,” she said. Thank God it was the truth. “He knew my father.”

  The reporter gave her a plastic smile. “I spoke with Heather Darby again. She said her husband went to see the colonel before he was killed. Any idea why he’d do that?”

  “Why are you covering Frasier Darby’s murder?” Jag asked.

  “I’m sorry…who are you?”

  “Another friend,” he retorted.

  Odie leaned against him and put her hand on his chest to make it look good. The reporter noticed and looked from Jag to her. She didn’t think he was falling for it.

  “Is he your partner?”

  “He’s my boyfriend.”

  That got Jag to turn his head, but it wasn’t too obvious.

  “You don’t work with each other?”

  “He came with me to look into Frasier’s death.”

  “Isn’t it more accurate to say Cullen sent you?”

  Odie grunted her dismissal. “How would he do that with the media so hot for a new story about him?”

  “I thought his company went out of business and he moved to some little mountain town to raise a family and sell mountaineering gear or something like that.”

  “That’s true,” Odie said.

  “Or is that what you want everyone to think? Did he resurrect his company?”

  “No.”

  “What would I find if I went to Roaring Creek and visited his shop?”

  “Lots of mountain gear and small-town hospitality.”

  Odie saw him digest her sarcasm. “Where does he go when he’s not selling ice picks and snow shoes?”

  “Home to his wife and little girl.”

  The reporter sneered.

  “Are you that desperate for a story? It would be a waste of airfare.”

  “What about you? Last I heard you moved from D.C. Do you live in Roaring Creek?”

  “Who told you I moved?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “You think I’m going to tell you where I live?”

  He’d never trace her to Roaring Creek. Odie stepped closer. She had to stop this man now or this would get out of control.

  “The only story you’re going to get is the one about Darby’s murder. There’s nothing going on, no secret mission, no cloak-and-dagger fascination, Jag and I are just here on personal time, trying to help out a friend.”

  The reporter laughed mockingly. “Personal time. Yeah, you two look like you’re getting real cozy, but I’m not an idiot. I know you went to see Heather for a reason, and it has to do with her husband’s murder. Someone with your background starts checking out the death of a nobody engineer, it makes me wonder if he isn’t such a nobody after all.”

  “Frasier’s brother was on the same mission as Odie’s husband when they were both killed,” Jag intervened. “That’s how she knew the Darbys.”

  She could have kissed him again. He didn’t have much to say but when he did it was well placed and clever. Though it was a risk giving even that much away, they had to make the reporter believe there wasn’t anything to break open.

  “You questioned Heather. She told me you said you couldn’t tell her why Frasier came to you for help. She said you were investigating his murder.”

  Crap.

  Crap, crap, crap!

  “Why did Frasier go to you for help?”

  “We can’t divulge that,” Jag said. “I believe that’s what we told Heather, too, right, sweetheart?”

  She looked from him and then the reporter. “Yes, darling, that’s absolutely correct.”

  “Who is Calan Friese?”

  “I wish we knew,” Odie said. “Heather told us he came to her apartment after we left and asked why we were there.”

  “Do you think he’s behind Darby’s murder?”

  “We don’t know anything for certain. Beyond that, we can’t comment.”

  The reporter studied them, taking in what she’d said. Then he asked Odie, “Are you working on behalf of the government?”

  “No.”

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Jag said, “we were on our way to breakfast.”

  “What are you doing now?” the reporter asked, stopping them. “For a living, I mean.”

  “I’m retired.”

  “You’re pretty young to be retired. McQueen must have taken real good care of you.”

  She didn’t comment on that.

  He took her in with his eyes. “It makes more sense that you’d continue doing the same work you were doing for McQueen. Whatever happened to his company? Security Consulting Services, I think it was called. SCS?”

  “It’s no longer a company. Cullen closed it and moved to Roaring Creek.”

  “Is he really running a mountaineering company? He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be satisfied with something so…dull.”

  “What’s so hard to believe about that? People age, they settle down. His marriage proposal was on national television.”

  He contemplated her and she thought she’d made some progress.

  “Come on, Jag.” She hooked her arm with his and they headed for one of the hotel restaurants off the atrium. She wasn’t hungry now, though.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.

  “I can’t believe he saw us at Roth’s.”

  Remembering how ga-ga she’d gotten over him when they’d left Roth’s, she berated herself. She’d forgotten all about the reporter. She hadn’t even thought to check.

  “Me, either.” She exchanged a little glance with Jag. They both knew damn well why neither of them had been aware of their surroundings.

  Now she had her side pressed against him and it felt delicious.

  There she went again. A reporter had just questioned her—seen her go to Roth’s house—and all she could think of was sex with Jag.

  A hostess seated them and Jag ordered for them both. She was too upset to concentrate on anything.

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t worry about anything.” He didn’t. He was always so calm. It was enviable.

  “Cullen’s going to blow a gasket.”

  “Yeah, he will.”

  Odie propped her chin on her hand and stared at the crowd of people in the restaurant. Waiters and waitresses hurried bet
ween tables. Couples chatted, families made too much noise.

  How could he be so accepting of what would come? She didn’t want Cullen to blow a gasket.

  Their food arrived. Odie looked down with regret at her cheese-and-sausage omelet and the crispy potatoes on the side that were done exactly the way she loved them.

  “Eat,” Jag commanded.

  She sent him a sullen look before picking up her fork and poking at her omelet. She cut a piece and moved it aside. Her stomach was upset.

  Across the table, Jag shoveled a forkful of eggs Benedict into his mouth, chewed and swallowed and went for another bite. He sipped his coffee and caught her lack of interest in her plate.

  Putting his cup down, he repeated, “Eat.”

  Reluctantly, she slipped her fork under the bite of eggs and put it into her mouth. She swallowed and lifted her cup of coffee. That was better.

  She drank her coffee for a while.

  Cullen was a good friend and the best boss she’d ever had. She didn’t like the idea of letting him down. She’d already let him down enough. It didn’t mean she was weak. This was all just too personal for her, not like any other mission. It wasn’t business as usual.

  “Odie.”

  His deep voice drew her up from her abyss a little. His tone held the hint of a teasing warning.

  “Eat,” he said again.

  She looked at his eyes, amazed at how much she was beginning to like their green color and the way he let her see more every once in a while.

  With a small smile, she tried a few more bites and made it halfway through her order. She even got some potatoes down.

  Jag paid and they left the restaurant. She thought they were headed for the elevators until Jag put his hand on her back and steered her toward the exit.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked.

  “Be tourists for the day.”

  She looked at him.

  “That reporter is waiting outside—don’t you think he isn’t.”

  “I know.” She hung her head. When Cullen found out about this, her job was finished. He’d turn his back on her and deny any association.

  “I’ll take care of you, Odie. Don’t worry.”

  That sounded so sweet. Did he mean it?