Incriminating Evidence

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Incriminating Evidence Page 15

by Rachel Grant


  “I don’t know you. All I really know about you for certain is that you want to fuck me, because I’ve seen evidence there you can’t fake. But I can’t help but wonder if even that is fueled by political motivation. Imagine the headlines if you pretend to fall for the woman who saved your life. The voting public would eat that shit up.”

  Politics. She honestly believed it all came down to politics for him. She was right; she didn’t know him at all. He dropped down on the couch and let out a bitter laugh. “Isabel, you are my campaign’s manager’s worst nightmare, because Lord knows we couldn’t count on you to censor your words or adhere to any party line. Sure, some voters might think it’s nice if they learned we were involved, but twice as many would probably be as cynical as you are and think it was a ploy. I don’t want you for political gain. I’m not power hungry enough to make decisions like that. You’ll probably never believe this, but I’m not power hungry at all.

  “Hell, if all I wanted was power, I’d stick with Raptor. Having your own mercenary army, now that is power. I stepped into the race because I believed I could do something. I missed serving my country after I left the Army. I thought Raptor would be enough, but it wasn’t. I was trained for politics since birth, and I see a gap in political leadership really understanding what the war on terror even means. I’ve been to war. I understand it. And, thanks to my mother’s dreams of the Ravissants becoming a Kennedy-esque political dynasty, I also understand economics, transportation, crime laws, education funding, and how political deals are made.

  “The simple fact of my wanting you has no bearing on my political aspirations. I just want you. Plain and simple. Honestly, I doubt my campaign would survive Hurricane Isabel, so I’d just as soon keep you under wraps, but I’d never ask you to hide if you didn’t want to, because I am not ashamed of wanting you.”

  Her nostrils flared at his last statement, but she said nothing. She just stood before him with a look of heartache and confusion on her face. Her anger had melted. Now she just looked…raw.

  He wanted to curse and bitch and basically make an ass of himself, but she’d merely been honest with him, and on a fundamental level, he understood. She’d had eleven months of grief and anger in which he’d not only been the focal point, he’d done nothing to dispel her beliefs. Everything he’d done had only underscored her assumptions. “I suppose our best course of action is to get to know each other,” he said.

  She cocked her head.

  “A date.”

  “What, you want to go out to dinner?”

  “Why not? I owe you for saving my life. I even suggested it before I knew who you were.”

  “But you saved my life in the river. So we’re even.”

  “Fine, then you can take me out to dinner.”

  “But we’re even.”

  “Then we’ll go Dutch.”

  She laughed. “And when are we supposed to go out on this date? Don’t you have work to do?”

  In the distance, Alec heard the low whine of an ATV engine. They had only another few minutes alone. “Yeah. So it’ll have to be the week after next.”

  “But you’ll be in Maryland then.”

  “So you’ll fly out to Maryland.” He stood and crossed the room to stand before her. “When rich guys want to impress a girl, we do over-the-top things like fly to Paris on our private jets for dinner.”

  “Do you want to impress me, Alec?”

  “Very much. I know of a great little place in Montmartre.” He gripped the zipper of the hoodie and tugged her forward. He brushed his lips over hers. “But you’re paying for your half of dinner.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  An hour later, Isabel was back inside Alec’s suite. She was again chilled to the bone after riding on an ATV, clinging to Alec’s back as he drove the quad over bumpy terrain.

  Exhausted from the cold, even though it wasn’t yet nine p.m., all she wanted to do was sleep, but before she could crawl into bed, Doc Larson examined her. He prescribed warm blankets and more sleep.

  Two FBI agents who wanted to interview her had arrived at the compound while Isabel had recuperated in the prove-up, but Doc told them they’d have to wait until the following day, for which she was grateful. As much as she wanted to be interviewed and tell everything she knew about Alec’s abduction, her brother’s murder, and the two infrasound assaults on her, she was cross-eyed with exhaustion. The last three days had simply been too much.

  Alec tucked her into his bed, but this time didn’t linger to warm her—which was probably a good thing, because she had no doubt she’d throw herself at him again, given the chance, and she seriously needed to get her head on straight where he was concerned. He left her to meet with the new guy, or to be interviewed by the FBI. She was too tired to remember.

  She closed her eyes and settled deeper in the thick blankets on Alec’s bed, wishing the sheets carried his scent, but he’d spent scant few hours in this bed since his arrival. She quickly drifted into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

  Sometime later, she woke, feeling sleep saturated and confused. She stared at the backlit clock in the darkened room. Ten o’clock. She’d slept a little more than an hour?

  She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock again. The a.m. light was on.

  Her eyes widened. She’d slept thirteen hours?

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so long. Maybe when she was five?

  And yet, she felt good. Restored. Alive.

  And warm. Wonderfully, magnificently, warm. She dropped into the pillows and pulled up a blanket. Maybe she should sleep for another six hours or so.

  The moment she closed her eyes, guilt swamped her. She had yet to get started on her report for the timber sale. Even though her day off on Friday had been involuntary, it didn’t mean it was okay for her to get behind at work. The preliminary findings were due on Wednesday, and she still needed to finish the survey. Then there was the fact that she hadn’t spoken with the FBI yet. And she needed to figure out who the hell had attacked her cabin.

  Much as she wanted to hide in this big warm bed for the next week, she had to face today. She crawled out of bed and entered the sitting room, not surprised to find it empty. The blankets and sheets Alec had used were neatly folded and placed on the sideboard.

  He’d left a note for her on the table.

  I’m meeting with Keith and Nicole all morning. Fraser is showing the FBI agents the forest—where you found me, where my car was found, and the cabin—and will be gone most of the day. Agents Crews and Upton plan to interview you this evening. Stay put in my quarters. You are not to wander the building unescorted. Dial extension three, and meals will be delivered.

  She bristled at the command. He’d forgotten she wasn’t one of his men and didn’t have to blindly follow his orders, and she was hardly a prisoner.

  Besides, she wanted to meet the new guy. Keith Hatcher. He at least couldn’t be involved in whatever was going on, because not only was he new to Raptor, but up until a few months ago, the guy had been a Navy SEAL.

  It was comforting to know there was someone here they could trust, because right now, everyone who worked at the compound was suspect: Nicole, Brad, Nate, Dev, even Mothman. There were a few men on Falcon she wasn’t fond of, particularly Chase Johnston, but he hadn’t been at the compound long enough to have been involved in Vin’s death, and just because the way he looked at her gave her the heebie-jeebies didn’t mean he was the culprit who’d shot her with infrasound.

  She stiffened as she stared at the slip of paper.

  Infrasound. She hadn’t had a chance to look up infrasound on her own and didn’t like relying on what anyone from Raptor—even Alec—told her. Aside from not having time to research, she also no longer had a computer or smartphone.

  She needed a shower, then she’d use Alec’s computer and start researching. She’d even be good and stay in his quarters. In the bathroom, she shuddered at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t exactly lo
ok good after taking a swim, riding on a quad, and then sleeping for nearly twice as many hours as she usually slept.

  The bathroom was as ornate and over-the-top as the rest of Alec’s suite. She’d never seen so much marble outside of the Library of Congress. The tub was a small swimming pool with a control panel that could launch a rocket, and the shower could accommodate a swim team. While she longed for the tub, she opted for the expediency of the shower, glad that yesterday morning she’d figured out the controls so she wouldn’t scald herself again today.

  The pounding hot water rejuvenated her. The seven showerheads scrubbed her clean of glacial silt in no time, and the spray felt so wonderful against her skin, she wanted to stay in the shower forever. She massaged her scalp as she washed the corkscrew curls that gave her nothing but grief.

  The bathroom was heavy with steam by the time she shut off the shower, and the heated floor and warm towel fresh from the heated rack nearly sent her back into a sleepy stupor.

  After she was dried and dressed, she set to work detangling her hair. During a wet combing, her hair reached halfway down her back, but as her tresses dried, they coiled upward, reaching just past her shoulders. Without clips or hairbands, her curls stuck out in unruly, comical ways. She’d forgotten to grab extra clips when she hurriedly packed the other night, and she’d lost the one she wore yesterday in the river, so she dug through Alec’s drawers seeking a hair tie or clip, anything to prevent her from sporting a curly red lion’s mane.

  Vin used to tell her the mean girls in high school who mocked her hair were just jealous. It took her a decade to realize he might’ve been right. But years of being called Sideshow Bob because she had both wild curls and red hair, made it hard to see herself as anything but a clown.

  Alec had no hairpins, clips, or ponytail holders, not exactly a surprise, but still, she liked the idea that she might be the first woman to share his suite. She gathered her hair from her temples and twisted the locks together, then found a pen in Alec’s nightstand drawer to slide through the knot, noting as she did so that a box of condoms resided in the drawer as well.

  Maybe she wasn’t the first woman to share his room after all. Or maybe condoms were just an item he kept on hand. After all, she had a box in her nightstand too, and she hadn’t had sex since moving to Tamarack.

  She lifted the box. Sealed. She checked the expiration date. Less than two years to expiration. Maybe after she looked up infrasound, she’d google the shelf life of a spermicidal condom.

  Back in the main room of the suite, she planted herself in front of Alec’s computer and promptly discovered she needed a password to use it. She couldn’t look up infrasound or condoms. Or Apex or Airwave or any of the dozen things she really needed to know about.

  Well, that sealed it. She’d just have to venture out of the suite. She’d tried to comply. Really. She took a deep breath and left Alec’s quarters, hoping she wouldn’t get hopelessly lost in the labyrinth.

  “That brings us to the next topic,” Alec said to Nicole and Keith. “I want an operative assigned to Isabel.”

  “Babysitting duty? No one’s going to like that. Especially not Isabel.” Nicole sighed. “I don’t know if her staying inside the compound is a good idea.”

  Alec studied his top employee, confused by her attitude. “I thought you were friends.”

  Keith grabbed the solved Rubik’s Cube from the corner of Alec’s desk and twisted the squares, his gaze on Nicole.

  “We are,” she said. “But right now, I’m on the clock. I’m the sheepdog, and you’ve brought the wolf into the pasture.

  He smiled at that. “I think she sees herself as the sheepdog.”

  “Yeah, well, I sure as hell am not the wolf.” She frowned at Alec. “She’s wanted nothing more than to get inside this place for months, and now she’s here, as your guest.” She paused. “I hate to say it, but someone has to. We only have her word anything happened in her cabin the other night. How do we know she didn’t read the news article about Airwave and make up the whole ‘inside earthquake’ story?” She pursed her lips. “Isabel is my friend, and I want to believe her, but her proof—a broken window and a cracked picture? Isn’t it convenient that it happened to be a picture you said you’d looked at just hours before?”

  Keith frowned. “Nicole’s argument has merit, Rav.” He tossed the now thoroughly scrambled cube to Alec.

  Alec caught it with one hand and glanced at it distractedly before he began twisting to solve it as he considered Nicole’s statement. “I was with Isabel when we were hit by infrasound yesterday. I felt it.”

  “She could have an accomplice,” Nicole said.

  “Swimming down the river is a risky-as-hell move. And what would the attack gain her? She was already here, on the compound. I’d already taken her to the one place she wanted to go.”

  “Your trust,” Nicole said simply. “Look. I’m not saying this is what I believe, I’m just saying we have to consider it. If your trust is what she’s after, don’t give it to her.”

  He frowned. Nicole had a point. But trust wasn’t a commodity that could be easily given and withdrawn. Trust was all about gut-level instinct. However, he wasn’t entirely certain his gut was the part of his anatomy that believed Isabel was innocent. “I’ll admit it’s possible. Another reason to assign an operative to watch over her.”

  Nicole nodded. “I won’t put anyone from Falcon on Isabel guard duty. We’re stretched too thin as it is, what with Godfrey’s resignation.”

  “Understood.” He paused. “Speaking of, we need to promote someone from security to Falcon to replace him. Who’s your top pick?”

  “Shauna Wells.”

  Alec had three sides of the cube solved and began the turns that would complete the fourth. “Good choice. About time we had a woman on Falcon.”

  “She’s more than qualified—” Nicole quickly added.

  “I know she is. That wasn’t a crack about her qualifications. Merely an observation that Falcon has been a boy’s club too long.”

  Nicole smiled. “I’m tired of the fart jokes.”

  Alec hit the button on his phone for security and requested Wells come to his office immediately.

  Keith leaned forward. “Rav, I have a temporary solution for the two remaining spots on Falcon.”

  Alec set down the solved cube and nodded for Keith to continue.

  “Sean Logan and Josh Warner.”

  Sean was the top operative based in the DC area, and Josh Warner was Keith’s first hire—one of his former SEAL team members. With the addition of those two men to Falcon, maybe the coming training would succeed. The run-through yesterday had been hampered by the short staff. “How soon can they get here?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Do it,” Alec said.

  “I approve of Logan—I’ve been trying to lure him out here for months,” Nicole said. “But I’ve never heard of Warner. I’d like to review his personnel file before he’s assigned to my team.”

  Alec waited for Keith’s response. He’d known Nicole would attempt to assert power in this meeting, to establish herself as the sole leader at the Alaska compound. It was what any alpha dog would do in the face of a major power shift, and Nicole was as alpha as any Raptor employee.

  Keith turned to the compound director, showing he knew exactly how to face down challenge to his authority—one of the reasons Alec had selected him to take the top spot. “I’ll send you his personnel file, but there’s no time to dick around with this decision. The training starts in three days, and you need a full team to run it. Warner is coming. He’s more than qualified and has my complete trust.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know him, and I have full and final say in the makeup of Falcon team,” Nicole said.

  “Not anymore. You’ve lost seven operatives to Apex in twelve months. That warrants intervention from the home office.” Keith dropped a file on Alec’s desk in front of Nicole. “And I want to know why a rookie like Chase Johnston is even
on Falcon team. Nothing in his file shows he has the skills to warrant being named to the elite team.”

  Alec sat back and smiled. He should have known Keith would review all the personnel files before arriving and flag the discordant notes. Keith Hatcher might not have gone to college, but he believed in doing his homework.

  “Johnston is fully skilled. He’s just light on experience,” Nicole responded with a defiant tilt to her chin. “I haven’t had the luxury of being picky with Apex poaching our best operatives.”

  “I’ve looked at the numbers, and sixty-five percent of the employees who’ve taken a job with Apex came from the Alaska compound, yet Alaska makes up only thirty-two percent of the company,” Keith said.

  Nicole’s bristled, but not in an angry way. “We’re in Alaska. How many men has Barstow snatched from the Hawaii compound? None?”

  Keith nodded.

  “There’s a reason for that. Have you ever spent a winter in Alaska? The aurora borealis is pretty, but it doesn’t make up for forty below. It takes a special sort of person to make the transition from chechaquo to sourdough. I’ve been telling Rav from the start we need to rotate operatives in and have fewer permanent Alaska employees. We’ll have better retention if people know they aren’t stuck here forever.”

  Keith turned to Alec. “Why haven’t you rotated operatives?”

  “Consistency. We haven’t been able to work out a rotation schedule that allows for operatives to learn the training scenarios and build a cohesive team. Ideally, I’d like four sourdoughs,” he said, copying Nicole’s use of Alaskan slang for a person who’d acclimated to the subarctic climate, “and six operatives on rotation to run each training session, but we need to rebuild our core Alaskan staff first. It doesn’t help that we’ve been shut down, and therefore lightly staffed, during the summer—the best months weatherwise.”

  To Nicole, Keith said, “My plan is to have Logan and Warner stay on here for the next six months. That’ll get you through the worst of winter, and neither operative will be tempted by Apex.”

 

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