Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)

by Victoria Paige

  In the opening episode of season four, the demon let Theo escape back into Hodgetown, so she was hopeful for the creature’s character arc. She chugged down the rest of her milk and stood. “Well, I’m gone.”

  “Have the goulash for lunch.”

  “You didn’t have to put it in my fridge, I would have come over.”

  Her dad looked at her dubiously. “Chances are you’d be running late, and I wouldn’t see you for the next few days.”

  He knew her so well.

  Potomac Reservoir, Maryland

  John Garrison pulled his SUV into the parking lot of the Potomac Reservoir. Fishing was not his preferred hobby. In fact, he didn’t know if he had one. John was always on the move with no free time to indulge in leisure activities, although he’d taken up a few for the purpose of supporting a cover identity. The person he was meeting definitely loved fishing, and John couldn’t fault this ideal spot for a clandestine meet. Two men standing side by side, shooting the shit for hours on end, waiting for a bite on the hook, certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary for a place like this.

  He was getting his fishing gear from the back of the silver Toyota Highlander when his phone rang.

  “Garrison.”

  “Victim is Thomas Brandt,” Levi’s voice came over the line.

  “Fuck. Nadia has his laptop?”

  The SillianNet executive had been on the NSA watchlist ever since hackers breached their network monitoring tool via a software fix they provided to their clients. A routine task much like how one would apply a software update to a computer, it had infiltrated countless companies’ networks, paralyzed their operations, and caused billions of dollars in lost revenue and productivity.

  “Yup. Gabby made sure she was the one who processed all the computers and disks that were in his office.”

  “Good. We need to dig into his files.”

  “I’m sure Nadia can get something out of it now that she’s in possession of the computer.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Before Garrison could hang up, Levi asked, “Are you not going to ask me about Nadia?”

  “You’ve been giving me reports,” he said. “Is there something else you’re leaving out?”

  “Those were official business. Are you not interested in her personal life, like where she’s hanging out after work, what time she got home this morning—”

  “No—”

  “Who she’s dating?”

  The line crackled with silence, and that question hung between them for a stretch of seconds.

  “None of my business.” John’s grip on his phone was so tight, he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “I need to know two things about Nadia Powell. That she and her father are safe, and what she can get out of Thomas Brandt’s computers.”

  He ended the call without waiting for a response from Levi.

  His phone buzzed with a text. “Sure, boss.” Sarcasm jumped at him from those two words.

  John tucked the phone back into his windbreaker and slammed the back of the SUV closed while cursing Levi James. The man was pussy-whipped trying to win his wife back, he didn’t need to spread his misery around.

  It had been eight weeks since he’d slept with Nadia, and three weeks since he’d seen her when he asked for Stephen’s help with the bioweapon antiviral. John was perfectly fine with the status quo, and that included keeping his ass away from the west coast.

  Balancing his fish and tackle box in one hand and his fishing rod in the other, he headed to the rendezvous point, keeping his head on a swivel. One could never become complacent, especially when the person he was meeting was the acting Director of National Intelligence.

  He spotted the DNI’s bodyguards, and they nodded to him in their own fishing spots equidistant from an older man standing rigid at the edge of the water. John would recognize that military stance anywhere, even if the DNI was wearing a mariner’s cap and a suede jacket. The Indian summer left Maryland weeks ago. Fall moved in quickly, bringing with it a chill to the air, and the cloudy sky blanketed the Potomac river in desolation.

  John strode to his side and dropped his tackle box. “Admiral.”

  Benjamin Porter turned slightly his way. “John. Been a while.”

  “Three months isn’t that long between us.”

  “True.” The admiral stared off into the lake. “I was hoping we wouldn’t meet under these circumstances again. Coming out of retirement after having only been in it for two years to clean up after my predecessor isn’t really fun.”

  “Things went south when you retired.”

  Porter sighed. “I’m not planning to stay un-retired. I’m just glad my wife is more understanding.”

  Garrison finished setting up his line and whipped it into the water before glancing at Porter. John was aware of the admiral’s predicament. His wife Pru didn’t want to get married to a man who kept secrets from her after her first husband turned out to be the leader of an Asian crime syndicate. John had known Porter a long time. In fact, the admiral was the very person who told John to stop being idealistic and get a reality check. It was the admiral who told him that to be a successful spy, you needed to live and breathe the job. Porter didn’t straight out say that having a family made you weak, but John could read between the lines.

  The people you loved could be used against you.

  The people you loved would hate the secrets you kept from them.

  Ultimately, it was a losing situation, and it would only be a matter of time before resentment and bitterness eroded a relationship. That is, if the enemy didn’t destroy it first.

  “Is that why you haven’t fully committed to the Director position?”

  Porter shrugged. “I told the president that my agreement was temporary. He was desperate when my predecessor mucked things up by replacing you and your team.”

  “Yeah, the agency is not a big fan of publicity.” John had to bite back a smile at how casual Porter mentioned the President of the United States.

  “But it appears our problems didn’t end with the Z-9 bioweapon threat.” He glanced his way again. “Am I right?”

  “Yeah. Thomas Brandt committed suicide.”

  Porter regarded him for a beat, and then, “Can’t say we didn’t see that coming.”

  “I’m assuming you mean that our Ukrainian friends got to him and made it look like suicide, because his profile points to an egomaniac who thought he could get away in compromising the nation’s infrastructure. Taking his own life is unlikely.”

  Although with the bad press and the lawsuits, who knew what the man’s mental state was. One malware could cause companies millions of dollars of downtime and headaches to repair their infrastructure—the U.S. government included. The breach was blamed on the Russian mafia-backed Argonayts—a segment of the Ukrainian underworld that specialized in cybercrime, extortion, and murder. Word on the street was this led all the way up to the Kremlin. John wouldn’t be surprised. Brandt knew too much of their operations and with the feds breathing down his neck, the Argonayts considered him a loose end.

  “Is that why we’re meeting here?” Garrison asked. “You don’t want the FBI to know the CIA is doing its own digging?”

  Porter turned to him and smiled. “This is not even going to touch the agency. You’re doing this personally for me.”

  “Fuck,” Garrison said. “Don’t fancy being banished to Antarctica.”

  “With your penchant for going rogue, I’m surprised you haven’t been already.”

  John blew out a breath. “You want me back in LA?”

  “Why do I sense hesitation?”

  A tug on John’s fishing line allowed him time to form his answer. He reeled in a catfish. It was a tiny one, so he unhooked it and threw it back in. “I don’t like circulating in one place for long.”

  “Is it because of the place or the people?”

  “Place. I’ve worked with the same operators for a long time. You know that. Roarke, Bristow …”

  Ga
rrison met Porter’s steady gaze. The admiral studied him. Garrison returned his regard with an unflinching stare. He could play this game all day, and Porter knew it.

  “LA is huge, but people start to recognize you,” John added. “Especially since I use Roarke a lot. Damned Ranger had to marry into Hollywood royalty.”

  “Yes, that’s a shame,” Porter stated baldly. “But Gabby Woodward and their son could be gold mine assets.”

  “No,” John clipped. “I’m not using the kid.”

  Porter returned his attention to his fishing line and was quiet for a while. “You’ve changed, John.”

  “Surely you’re not insinuating that I’m turning soft.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Good. Then I’ll need you to secure another asset before the Ukrainians get to him. Feds haven’t had any luck with him.” The admiral made a tsk sound. “The problem with these cyber-tech millionaires is they’re suspicious of the government.”

  Garrison chuckled. “Could it be they’ve already hacked into our secret databases and know how twisted our institutions can be?”

  “As acting DNI, the thought of that gives me nightmares,” Porter said.

  “Who’s the asset?”

  “Kenneth Huxley.”

  “Shit. That man’s got an ego the size of Texas.”

  “Not many people can boast of hacking into Homeland Security’s database and not end up in jail,” Porter said dryly.

  Garrison snorted. “Smith should be the one in jail. You never dare a legendary pen test genius to break into your security.” In business, penetration testing was done to test the security of a company’s IT infrastructure.

  Smith was the United States Secretary of Homeland Security. At one of the cyber security conferences, the Secretary dared Kenneth Huxley to break into the department’s database. Scotch at a bar may have been involved.

  Needless to say, the hacker was successful, and DHS ended up with a huge embarrassment. In Huxley’s defense, he claimed what he did fell under ethical hacking.

  “You need to convince him to put his Crown-Key technology under DHS protection. I cannot stress how dangerous this would be if it ends up in the wrong hands.”

  “You’ve heard chatter about it?”

  “I’ve been in this game for a long time,” Porter said. “Cyber-warfare has taken center stage in the last decade. Companies developing technology for our military and intelligence community are also vulnerable.”

  The NSA’s cryptologic centers around the country had been defending against cyberattacks from rogue states like Russia, Iran, North Korea, and China. It had been a constant battle.

  “With Brandt’s supposed suicide and the SillianNet hack last year, getting a bead on where Huxley is going with his Crown-Key technology with its ability to infiltrate secure networks is a matter of national security.”

  John was annoyed at the anticipation he was feeling at the thought of returning to LA and struggled to keep an expression that gave away nothing. Like him, Porter knew how to exploit personal weaknesses in the name of the greater good. “I actually know just the person who has access to him.”

  The admiral angled his eyes at him and smiled.

  2

  “What the hell does he want?” Nadia checked her phone as she got out of her Subaru in front of the apartment complex.

  An unknown number flashed on her phone. It was a text message, ordering her to pick up, and she had no doubt that it was Garrison who’d been blowing up her phone for the past few hours. She shook her head and slipped the phone into her backpack and walked to the staircase. Well, he could wait until hell froze over. She was done jumping to do his bidding. And couldn’t the man leave a voice message?

  Wednesday night was poker night for her dad and his buddies. And, if Nadia remembered correctly, it was Clyde’s turn to host. As she passed her neighbor’s apartment on the way to the third floor, she could hear their arguments and grumblings. She smiled. Maybe she’d join them later. The night was still young. Kelso would have invited her out for a beer if he wasn’t on his “shredding phase” as he called it. She shook her head. If there was a health nut on their squad, that would be him. Gabby seemed to get sucked into his healthy regimens, much to the horror of her husband, because that would mean kale shake was on the menu. They were a fun bunch. She loved her team.

  Reaching the third floor, she froze upon seeing the lights on in her apartment. Levi had stopped walking her to her door two weeks ago. It was unnecessary, but Nadia wondered if Murphy’s Law was at work.

  Or maybe it was a case of Garrison breaking in again.

  It wasn’t the first time.

  Was he in LA? Was that why he tried to reach her?

  Her heart pounded.

  She wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation.

  Perhaps her blood pressure just spiked at his audacity.

  She stopped and unslung her backpack from her shoulder to get her stun gun.

  A figure detached from the shadows behind the stair wall.

  She jumped, yelping.

  “I sure hope you’re not thinking of using that on me,” a voice said.

  “Asshole!” Nadia whisper-yelled, her hand on the weapon which was still in her bag. How did he know she wasn’t just reaching for her keys? “Would you stop sneaking up on people?”

  John revealed his face under the hallway lights. “I thought I gave you enough warning.” He jerked his head toward the lit apartment.

  “And stop breaking into my place.”

  “Maybe if you’d install the necessary security I’ve been telling you to—”

  If smoke could come out of her ears. “Is this your way of proving a point?”

  “Take it however you please.” His eyes glittered and he nudged her forward. “Can we take this inside?”

  “What’s the matter?” she retorted, stalking away from him. “Hallway conversations too uncomfortable for your spooky ass?”

  “Not at all,” he returned mildly. “Especially since your nosy neighbors are playing poker.”

  Nadia clamped her mouth shut. Of course he knew what was going on in this apartment complex before he graced it with his presence. He probably knew what time each resident walked their dog and took out their trash. When they came upon her door, she didn’t even bother with keys and twisted the handle knowing it was unlocked. Entering the apartment, she flung her backpack on the armchair before spinning on the heels of her scuffed boots to glare at her unwanted visitor.

  “Why are you here?” she gritted.

  He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, casually crossing his arms. “You’d know if you’d answered your phone.”

  God grant her the patience not to throw the vase on the console table at his head. That would be a waste of vase and flowers. “I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t know. You should have left a message.”

  “I don’t leave voice messages on phones I haven’t vetted.”

  Nadia raised a brow. “Unfortunately, I don’t answer to terse texts like ‘answer your fuckin’ phone’.”

  A telltale muscle ticked beneath his right eye.

  “I need your help,” he replied without inflection.

  How could he so blatantly stand there and ask for her help? “So cut to the chase. Tell me what you need, and I might consider helping you.”

  Or not.

  “Kenneth Huxley.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Ken? Don’t tell me he’s on the government watch list. If that asshole from Homeland Security hadn’t goaded him to break into their database, he wouldn’t have tried.”

  Garrison straightened from his lean against the door. “Ego has a way of making the smartest men do the stupidest things.”

  Nadia couldn’t argue with that. She’d known Ken before he’d gained notoriety in the DHS hack. They’d moved in the same IT circles since she’d been a gamer. As her work in the LAPD took her into the branch of forensics science, she’
d lost touch with him. Until two years ago when she’d been called as a character witness by the feds in their investigation into Ken. She stood up for him even if she thought he was an idiot for hacking into Homeland Security.

  “If you’re asking me to spy on him …”

  “Have you heard of his Crown-Key technology?”

  “Yes. It’s an improvement from what he used when he targeted DHS.”

  “We want to offer him protection.”

  “He’s not going to go for it, especially after the government tried to crucify him.”

  Garrison left his position at the door and prowled toward her.

  Nadia stood her ground. She wasn’t tiny, but even at five-seven, John towered above her. She put his height at six-three, give or take. His dark hair was thick and needed a cut, but those gray wisps that winged his temples and threaded a trim beard made him a walking, talking, sexy male specimen of rakish charm and mature confidence.

  It was a wonder women didn’t throw their panties at him whenever he ambled by. Maybe it was a blessing he stayed in the shadows. Nadia doubted she was the only female who felt the mating call whenever John was around. Sensuality oozed from this man’s pores.

  Bad. Bad. Powell.

  A cocky gleam entered his indigo eyes as he studied her face. Shit, did he know where her mind just went?

  “It’s a matter of national security,” he said, the smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.

  “Ken wouldn’t do anything to hurt the country.”

  “Rogue states would love to get a hold of his technology.”

  She stilled. “Where did you hear this?”

  Garrison turned away and walked to the couch where Nadia noticed his duffel sitting beside it on the floor. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

  “Bullshit.” She stepped toward him. “You wouldn’t be here if that were the case.”

  He spun toward her and pinned her with a stare. “My job is not to react, Powell. My job is to anticipate possible threats to this country. I don’t have to tell you that wars among nations are not staged with guns and troop movements. It’s gone cyber. The clusterfuck of the SillianNet malware is only the beginning, and now Thomas Brandt is dead, and we know it’s not suicide.”