by Diana Layne
“Many. Haven’t tracked them all yet. Obviously someone still alive remembers the plot, knows who was involved, put two and two together.”
“Someone who works for the CIA and gave . . . who Jeff? . . . the information at Vista?”
“Or it could be Jeff’s boss. Or someone who worked for both CIA and Vista. That’s the way Ed was leaning with his theories.”
“That narrows it down to about a half dozen people."
“And still leaves Jeff on the list.”
“Jeff? Jeff wouldn’t–”
“Honey, your boyfriend tried to kill you, I’m not sure you’re the best judge of men.”
“Yes, thanks for pointing that out.” MJ still held the envelope in her hand, certain now she didn’t want to open it. She was afraid it would tempt her in directions she didn’t want to—couldn’t—go.
MJ felt the weight of Tasha’s eyes.
“Hard to think about, isn’t it?” she asked.
Tasha’s gaze reflected the pain MJ felt. “What took so long?” MJ asked.
“It took Ed years to gather this information without alerting anyone to what he was doing. Even now, the information isn’t complete, and I’m still looking for the last link.”
“No. I understand that. I mean what took you so long to tell me?”
“When Ed died, you were still in recovery. I took the information he left, but didn’t look at it. I left immediately for a job. When I got back, I read over the info, and you still weren’t in shape to help me track this down.
“Next thing I know, you’re adopting a baby. New mommy. I sure wasn’t going to ask you to be a part of this.”
“But Vista brought me in anyway.”
“Yes, I thought they would eventually try to bring you in if there was a leak like I thought. They would be desperate to quietly stop me. I thought you would refuse, too.”
“I tried. They threatened to mess up the adoption.”
Tasha nodded. “Someone must be real panicky.”
MJ asked, “Did you ever consider going through the proper channels for justice? Instead of this . . . route?"
Tasha raised her eyebrows. “When you read that information, you come back and tell me the normal channels would work.”
MJ wasn’t sure she really wanted to know; from the little she already knew, she suspected Tasha was right. The sky hadn’t lightened enough for her to read anything anyway. “So, what’s next?” She realized now there would be no bringing in Tasha.
“Aside from hunting for the leak at Vista, I’m also looking for the link between Russia and the Senators.”
“Why don’t you go to Russia?”
“Yes, well, it’s looking . . . more like . . . that . . . will be necessary.”
Tasha hesitating over words? Totally out of character, what the hell? Suddenly MJ had that proverbial flash of insight and she knew. “You sent Niko.”
Tasha gave a tight nod, a tiny admittance to a weakness she rarely showed.
“And you haven’t heard from him.”
A headshake this time.
MJ remembered something Ben had said. “He might be in prison? Damn.” MJ’s heart took a dive to her stomach.
“I’ve got contacts looking for him, but so far no word.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” MJ repeated. Her stomach lurched with the thought of Nikolai missing, at the best in prison with no contacts, at the worst possibly dead. No matter his experience, his skill with the language, or his heritage, and no matter the end of the cold war, Russia was no country to mess around with.
Although death was and always had been a real possibility every time they went on a job. Most agents weren’t married, but MJ didn’t understand how the spouses of the ones who were, watched their loved ones walk out the door to possible death time and again.
She wouldn’t.
But no sense in thinking about it, since she’d never have to worry about it anyway. It was the reason Nikolai remained off limits to her, hard enough thinking about him as a dear friend in danger. And Ben might be coming out of a funk, but he’d no doubt go back into the field– Hang on, why the hell did she care whether Ben went back into the field or not?
Moving decisively beyond the thought, MJ flipped open the seal on the envelope, the sky now lightening enough so she could at least scan the contents.
Before she pulled out the papers, she looked around at the miles of tree-lined highways before them. “So where are we going?”
“To find that link,” Tasha answered so casually as if her plans were widely known and acknowledged.
“Hold it,” MJ protested, “I can’t get caught up in this. I’m trying to adopt Angelina. The adoption agency will certainly frown if I turn to a life of crime.”
“No crime. We’re only going to ask this old man questions, not kill him.”
MJ couldn’t resist. “Or screw him?”
Tasha shot her a disgruntled look. “Relax, the old guy’s in a wheelchair.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
* * *
Toll road after toll road, four hours later they crossed Ohio, approaching the West Virginia border when MJ’s cell phone rang.
“When I catch up with you, I’m going to wring your damn beautiful, deceitful–"
“Hello, Ben.”
“Ten frickin’ miles. I walked ten frickin’ miles on bare feet before my frickin’ cell phone would work. My toes were like ice cubes, I wasn’t sure they’d thaw out or break off.”
“At least we left you your clothes.”
Dead silence. One beat. Two. Three. Four. MJ waited. Five. Six.
“You expect me to be grateful for that?”
“Well, your penis didn’t turn to ice; frozen toes aren’t so bad when you look at it that way,” MJ pointed out, drawing a chuckle from Tasha.
“What?” Ben’s voice held no trace of humor.
“And, at least your cell phone was charged.”
“I have blisters the size of–”
“You’re welcome.” She couldn’t keep a grin out of her voice as she imagined the look on his face.
“It would’ve been fun to watch him walk those ten miles naked,” Tasha added, and MJ realized the cell phone reception reverberated through the small car. “That would’ve almost been worth sticking around for. Next time we’ll take his clothes.” Tasha winked at MJ.
Ben heard her as well. “Not to disappoint you, Tasha, I won’t be shucking my clothes around either one of you, now.” His tone clearly indicated frustration.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Tasha said toward the phone with a grin that resembled a contented cat.
“Puh-lease, both of you.” MJ shook her head. Life with these two promised not to be boring, but frankly she was ready for boring again in the form of a small Texas town.
Ben’s voice lowered, perhaps with the hopes of keeping Tasha from eavesdropping. “You ran out on me again.”
Unfortunately she could imagine the look on his face now, too. And the image stung. “Tasha showed up.” She said it in a tone that indicated he should have realized she’d been there for one reason. And what they’d done in bed together wasn’t the reason.
“Don’t you know I’m going to follow?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “That’d be a waste of time.”
“It’s my job. I’m good at what I do.”
“We’re good, too.”
“Yes. Nice move. Blowing up my car. A little excessive, probably snatching a spark plug wire would have been just as effective.”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Hit me on the head?”
She cringed at the memory of him slumping down unconscious. “I didn’t do that either.”
“Thank you for that. Things are a little fuzzy; I can’t remember which direction the blow came from.”
“I should’ve been the one to whack you on the head, the way you threw yourself in front of me like some protective Sir Galahad. What were you thinking?”
�
��Instincts. It’s what I do. Seems like I owe Tasha payback though.”
“That’ll be between you two.”
“You taking her in?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You going home?”
MJ’s throat tightened. “Don’t I wish.”
“Don’t run, baby.”
She caught the endearment. Was it a slip, or deliberate? “I don’t have a choice.”
“She holding you hostage?”
“No, but–”
“Then you have a choice.”
“No. I don’t.”
A few seconds dragged out before he spoke again. “I thought last night meant something.”
Her heart did more than skip a beat this time. Damn it, woman, stop being so sappy. “Sweet talking isn’t going to get me to tell you where we’re headed.”
He chuckled. “Damn, thought it would.”
Relief. He was just playing head games. She smiled.
He stopped laughing. “I was serious.”
“About it working?”
“No, about it meaning something.”
The smile dropped off her face. “I told you–”
“I know, I know. Just sex. I think you were lying.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not ready to go there.”
“I might not be either.” His voice faded to where she barely heard the words, then it gained strength. “We’ll talk later. Be watching for me.”
“Ben, there’s no need for you–”
But he’d already disconnected. She heard silence on the other end. MJ pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it as if she could send him some sort of psychic message. Of course she could call him back, but what would be the use? He’d do what he thought he had to.
“He won’t find us,” Tasha said. “He’ll always be a step behind.”
MJ nodded, more to her acknowledge own thoughts than Tasha’s. Ben would be following. But for more than just his job if he were to be believed. “Yeah, I know,” she finally answered when she felt Tasha look at her.
“Then again, when this is over maybe you should find him.”
MJ imagined what it would be like to find Ben, hook up with him once more. Her heart expanded, then abruptly shrank. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?" Tasha asked. “He’s gorgeous, built, smart. You said he’s nice. Looks like he’s good in bed. Enjoy him."
“Yeah, you had to bring up the bed thing, didn’t you?” At Tasha’s “puh-lease” MJ added, “I’m not ready for any sort of relationship.”
“Why not? If he screws you over like Keith, just shoot him. Good enough solution the first time, and you don’t have to shoot to kill.”
“You already shot him.”
“Yeah, like that worked. Okay, he’s so dense, you better shoot to kill.”
“I already threatened him with that.”
“Great minds think alike?” Tasha sent her a quick smile.
MJ sighed. “Seems like it.” Then she realized how their conversation would seem skewed to someone outside of the business. She chuckled. It was that, or cry for the normal life that had been stolen from them both.
“What’s funny?”
“We’re a couple of cold-hearted bitches, you know it?”
Tasha gave a trill of laughter herself. “That we are, darling. That we are.”
* * *
Ben’s head pounded. He still couldn’t believe she’d left him again. With Tasha.
Tasha. Right there. Close enough for him to touch, but thanks to succumbing to his hormones he’d been sleeping more deeply than he had in years. His reactions so slow, she could have easily killed him. Would she have if MJ hadn’t called her off?
Ben clenched his hands around the steering wheel, imagining for a moment they were around Tasha’s neck. The woman was more resourceful than anticipated. Though he should have anticipated. If she killed him, it was no more than he deserved for his sloppy work.
And now, both she and MJ were on the run leaving it up to him to find them.
Okay, so technically it’d been his job to get MJ to go after Tasha, which he did. It wasn’t his job to make sure MJ took Tasha in. Everyone had figured that MJ would be happy to turn the other woman over and return to the baby as soon as possible. How many times had MJ told him she couldn’t wait to get back?
And yet, first chance, she took off with Tasha. Something definitely wasn’t right.
He puzzled over what type of information Tasha had come across to send her on this killing spree, something compelling enough to make MJ stick with her.
What did Tasha know? And did Jeff know? And now MJ? Ben didn’t like being out of the loop.
What information could be compelling enough to make MJ a partner in the senator murdering spree? He couldn’t believe that of her. Of course, he would have never believed she’d take off with Tasha either. Whatever it was, Ben needed to find out. Before Jeff found out the two women had taken off together.
Ben already burned a lot of time on his ten mile hike back to civilization though he’d kept up a steady jogging pace for three-quarters of the distance. Time wasn’t all that was burning though. Step by step as his bare feet slapped the pavement he grew angrier. How could she have done this?
Then it dawned on him—you don’t get this angry about someone you don’t care about. He realized he had feelings for MJ he didn’t want to have.
Then he’d stepped on a stick. Frozen in just the way that it stabbed his foot. Ouch. Ben wiggled his bandaged foot with the memory, ignoring that his heart felt the same sort of stabbing pain when he thought of MJ walking out that door with Tasha.
Ben had sloshed on with an injured foot through frozen puddles and half frozen puddles, chilled and overheated at the same time. With a gunshot, detoxing and now most likely a cold, if not pneumonia from the ten mile trek, he’d be lucky if he came out of this simple assignment alive.
One thing was looking more certain, his heart wouldn’t be the same either way.
And while she might deny it, he thought last night meant something to MJ as well. All the more reason to keep Jeff sending reinforcements after the two women.
At least until Ben figured out what was missing. There was something more to this job, and at the moment Ben didn’t know who to trust, including his boss. He might’ve been away from the work for a short time, but he’d been a top agent. Why would Jeff send him on a simple retrieval mission that any newbie agent could do, when he’d simply been one of the best?
His brain churning on the problem, Ben knew one thing for certain. If MJ decided to go on the run she wouldn’t go far without ultimately going back for Angelina.
And once that happened, the three of them would disappear so completely it would take years to track them down, if ever.
For the same reason he didn’t want to explore too deeply why last night felt like it meant something to him, he didn’t want to know why the thought of not ever seeing MJ again bothered him as well.
If he stayed focused on the problem there was a simple solution. Get her before he lost her.
Which meant he had no choice. He’d have to put into effect the worst case scenario plan he’d created while jogging those chilly long miles barefooted back to civilization.
He held a trump card to bring in MJ. And hopefully before she got herself into any trouble.
Chills shaking through his body, he turned up the heater in the newly rented Chevy Malibu.
He needed to be going south instead of trying to follow the women. If he focused on just following, he’d always be a step behind. His worst case scenario plan would put him a step ahead.
He turned the rental car around—man, he’d been tough on the vehicles lately, shot up truck, blown up car—hopefully the Malibu would last at least until he made it back to Texas.
Chapter 18
By late morning, Tasha had pulled into Wheeling, West Virginia.
“N
ice town.” MJ commented on the quaint old town nestled between the hills.
“Rich town,” Tasha countered.
“Of course, if a senator decided to retire here. What else would it be? Historic, too. I like the way they preserve the buildings. In Texas, any town with old buildings is pretty much guaranteed to be poor, and the buildings ramshackle.”
“Big difference between Dallas and where you live,” Tasha noted.
“People are starting to catch on though. Realize history has a value.”
“That’s the truth. History has proven quite a valuable to me.”
MJ realized Tasha was talking about the recent history she’d uncovered, not any historic building.
“Put this into the GPS for me will you?” Tasha gave MJ an address.
The directions took them to a part of town definitely not residential.
“Are we looking for the old guy’s office? I was under the impression he wasn’t working, being in a wheel chair and so old.” Probably a bad assumption on MJ’s part. People worked to all ages these days, wheel chair or not.
“He’s waiting at death’s door from what I’ve learned. He uses a visiting nurses service. We’re looking for that office.”
“Because . . . ?”
“I need information on him. We’re going to pose as his nurses, of course.”
“Of course.” MJ let her head fall back on the car seat.
“Ah, here it is.” Tasha pulled into a parking lot in front of a small older rust red brick building, one of those historic kinds that had been renovated.
“So we’re going to walk in there in the middle of the day and ask them for the information?”
Tasha drove around to the back of the building. “You are being facetious of course? Of course not. We’re going to break in tonight.”
Tasha didn’t linger but did a u-turn. To the casual observer it might look as if she’d made a wrong turn and was leaving again. In reality, MJ knew Tasha had taken the time to confirm there was a house-type back door with nothing more than a basic deadbolt and a camera probably as ancient as the building mounted on the back corner for security.
“We’re breaking in,” MJ echoed. “Terrific.” She was so not looking forward to this. No different than any other job, she told herself. Yet it felt way different. Don’t go there, don’t think about why you’re having to question this old guy. Otherwise the senator might not live out the rest of his short life expectancy. As it slowly sank in just what these men robbed from her, MJ understood the rage that must have driven Tasha. But MJ definitely didn’t want to let the rage win.