Firestorm

by Rachel Grant

  He didn’t know what to believe, which just made anger coil inside him. Jesus, his feelings for her had gone deeper than he wanted, triggering hostility that took his breath away. It was a blow to the nuts every time he thought about holding her close and sliding deep inside her body.

  He punched in Pax’s cell phone number. They would be with the trainees this morning, so it was unlikely he would answer, but he could leave a message, and they could talk after Cal got groceries.

  But luck was with him, and Pax answered. “Been waiting for your call,” he said without preamble.

  “How did you know it was me?” he asked. This was a new sat phone, and he hadn’t shared the number with anyone.

  “Captain Oswald figured you’d call me first. Said to keep my phone with me at all times.”

  Dread settled in his gut. “Why? What happened?”

  “Word came down this morning that Savvy funneled Drugov’s money into a private account.”

  “So? She said that was how the mission had been funded.”

  “We’re talking half a billion dollars.”

  “What the fuck?

  “Yeah. A half billion of Russian Mafia money—and then she bolted for Tanzania, with you.”

  14

  Savvy began by writing the date, June third, at the top of the page. She stared at the number as the meaning sank in. Another year had gone by. She’d been so focused on the job, she’d put it out of her mind, hadn’t realized another June third was upon her.

  She took a deep breath. The date was irrelevant. Her hand shook at first, but as she wrote about the first time she met Harrison Evers, the trembles eased. It was long past time she did this.

  She’d written several pages in chronological order by the time she got to the rape. She’d never been a big drinker, but in that moment, she wished she had a shot of something to soften her brittle emotions. Mentally reliving that experience now, on June third of all days, when she was full of self-loathing for sabotaging any chance at a relationship with Cal, might be too much for her.

  But she had to face it. That she’d never documented it until now was her own damn fault. So relive it she did, describing the motel room in Savannah, Georgia, right down to the putrid scent of Harry’s sweat and the sadistic thrill he’d shown at her powerlessness.

  Tears dripped from her cheeks onto the notepad. A car drove up to the cottage. She recognized the sedan with Cal at the wheel, so she kept writing. He entered as she finished her description of the rape. Next, she needed to write up reporting it to Seth, but that could wait.

  She wiped her face as she met Cal’s gaze. “I was just writing my account of the rape,” she said, so he wouldn’t think the tears were about him. Her tears over him had dried an hour ago.

  She rose from her seat to help him unload the car. He said nothing, for which she was glad. She was too raw. She helped him put the food away as she nibbled on a loaf of French bread. Her stomach was a mess, but she needed to eat. The white bread was pasty in her mouth, but she dutifully chewed and swallowed.

  The kitchen was tiny, but Cal made sure there was space between them as they worked in tandem. She didn’t touch him, but she could smell him. Smell sex on his skin.

  Memories of last night overtook the chore she’d just completed. Better to think of Cal than Harry.

  For a few brief, sweet hours, Cassius had been hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing the words were inadequate.

  He stared at her, his face blank. Finally, he said, “What have you done, Savvy?”

  The way he said it made her step back. “What do you mean?”

  “What are you apologizing for? Is it because you didn’t tell me about your bullshit kill order, or is there something else you haven’t told me?”

  What did he want her to say? All she had was the truth. “I’m apologizing for pulling you into the mission without telling you about the kill order. For remaining silent instead of telling you the truth and how I planned to keep you out of it.”

  His jaw was hard. He held her gaze for a long moment, then said. “Fine.” After a long pause, he added, “I could maybe accept it if you said the order was classified, but you haven’t used that excuse.”

  She shrugged. “Classified or not, if I planned to have you by my side when I took him out, I would have told you. I wouldn’t have put you at that kind of risk without warning.”

  “And yet, here we are. Compromised. Stranded. And you didn’t warn me.”

  She nodded and put the carton of eggs in the fridge. They finished unloading the groceries, her stomach still uneven. That chore done, she returned to the notepad.

  “Why aren’t you on the computer?”

  “Battery’s drained. The outlet I plugged into at the hotel must’ve been off.” Power was sketchy in Tanzania—the current blackout a perfect example.

  She stared at the notepad, not seeing it or anything else in the cottage. What had Cal meant when he asked what she was apologizing for? Had he called SOCOM while he was out? Had he compromised their location?

  He wouldn’t do that. His ass was on the line as much as hers.

  It took her a moment to realize she heard the whirr of the refrigerator, then she noticed the air conditioner was on. Sweet electricity. It would take a few minutes to power everything up, but at least she could get online and find out what was in Lubanga’s files.

  Cal didn’t know what to believe. Was she nothing more than a—highly successful—thief? Or had Seth set her up? Why drag Cal along if this was merely a brilliant heist? Sure, she’d known he was attracted to her before they ever left Camp Citron, but she’d be insane to think he’d blithely accept her thievery and they’d disappear into the sunset.

  Special Forces was his life. His team was his second family. He would never give up his country, his career, everything he was, for sex and money. And she knew him well enough to figure that out.

  It didn’t add up.

  Now he was in a situation. Pax had warned that if he didn’t report to SOCOM, he’d be considered AWOL. If SOCOM was tracking his phone, they’d know he called Pax. Pax had said he’d answer questions if asked, but he wouldn’t offer the information that Cal had called. It was a shitty thing to put his best friend through, but Cal needed more information before he called in. This could be an attempt by the CIA to use SOCOM to trap Savvy.

  After hanging up, he’d pulled the battery. He’d been miles from the Airbnb. Their location was safe.

  The irony of asking Pax to omit information from SOCOM, when that was exactly why he was angry with Savvy, wasn’t lost on him. But he and Savvy needed to read Lubanga’s files, many of which were likely to be in Lingala, to figure out what was going on.

  She needed him, and the CIA was working awfully hard to make sure she wasn’t successful. How big a wrench had she thrown in Seth’s scheme when she ditched Harry in favor of him?

  She set up her computer and portable hotspot at the small dining table that separated the kitchen and living room.

  He watched her as she typed in the password to her secret cloud storage, a reminder that at this point, he was just as implicated as she was and equally screwed without her help in clearing his name.

  “I want all your passwords,” he said.

  She turned and gave him a curious look. “You know I can’t do that. I’m CIA. I can’t just give you intelligence gathered by the CIA.”

  “I helped gather it.”

  “So? SEALs took data from bin Laden’s compound. Does that mean they had a right to access the data?”

  He reminded himself she didn’t know she—and by extension he—had been accused of stealing half a billion from a dead oligarch. But he wasn’t ready to tell her. Not yet. They needed to read the files first. He needed to be certain she wasn’t part of something bigger. A honey trap ready to bring him down.

  His father worked for the State Department and had a bad history with the CIA. What if Cal had been chosen not because he spoke Lingala or because Savvy
wanted to escape with him and a bunch of cash, but because of his dad?

  “You need me to read the documents in Lingala.”

  She nodded. “But you don’t need my passwords for that.”

  He sighed. “If you find proof Seth Olsen betrayed you, you will share everything. Including passwords. I have the right to that information, considering my ass is on the line right along with yours.”

  She gave him a sharp nod, her full lips diminished to a hard, thin line. “That’s fair.” She turned back to the computer. “It will take some time to download Lubanga’s files. My satellite hotspot is over the counter, not CIA tech, and slow.”

  Cal was anxious to get into the files, but he knew it was better to go slow than use a modem provided by the CIA. “I’ll make lunch.” He’d noticed all Savvy had managed to choke down was the torn-off end of a loaf of French bread. They both needed to eat.

  It had been months since Cal had cooked for himself, a task he usually looked forward to after a long deployment. This morning, he’d woken up to Savvy’s mouth on his body, and he’d been eager to lay in supplies so he could make her a big, postsex breakfast, like he did when stateside and a woman he was dating spent the night.

  A big breakfast after sex was his favorite way to spend a weekend morning.

  But fantasies of bacon and French toast in bed and playing with syrup until they were both sticky and sweet had been crushed by reality. Now he watched her in profile as he made tuna sandwiches. She sat before the computer, her spine ramrod straight.

  Could he forgive her?

  He understood why she hadn’t told him. Jesus, she’d been raped by Harrison Evers. Cal would have to be a heartless asshole not to understand the awful position she’d been in. And he had to admit, her plan to send him off once he got her the access she needed, while something of a kick in the gut, would have protected him from fallout over her mission.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been sent here to fail. To be killed by Lubanga. The fact that she’d managed to ditch Evers and partner with Cal could be the only reason she was alive right now, sitting at that computer.

  The thought made his stomach churn. He didn’t want to live in a world without Freya no-last-name. And that answered any questions he had over whether or not he trusted her. Like a dumbfuck, he wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms, and kiss her.

  Hell, he wanted to do more than kiss her. But she’d betrayed his trust. How could desire and anger exist inside him at the same time? But then, Savvy had always triggered his strongest emotions.

  He locked down his sympathy. They had work to do.

  Sandwiches and salad made, he dropped into a chair beside her. “What have you got?”

  “Nothing yet.” Her focus was on the screen, but he could see a reaction to his nearness ripple through her.

  They’d never quite figured out how to contain their physical reaction to each other. At least it hadn’t given them away last night. If anything, it worked in their favor, giving Mani extra reason to be enraged at her attempted betrayal.

  “The first packet downloaded,” she said, “but I couldn’t find the Zagreus file. I hope it’s in the next batch.” She fixed him with a stare. “Did you call anyone while you were out? Does SOCOM know where we are?”

  He was glad for the second question, that one he could answer. “SOCOM doesn’t know where we’re staying.”

  The computer chimed. The second bundle of files had finished downloading. She clicked on the file tree.

  He scanned the names. Some were in Lingala. He translated the names, and she flagged the ones that looked interesting. She scrolled to the bottom, and there it was, Zagreus.

  She opened the file, revealing a list in two sections.

  Zagreus / Jean Paul Lubanga – Dar es Salaam

  Reverend Abel Fitzsimmons – Lynchburg, Virginia

  Senator Albert Jackson – Washington, DC

  Jeffery Prime, Jr. – Dar es Salaam

  Mikhail Petrykin / Harrison Evers – Dar es Salaam

  * * *

  Jamie Savage / Savannah James / Freya Lange – Dar es Salaam

  Sergeant First Class Cassius Callahan, US Army Special Forces – Dar es Salaam

  US Attorney General Curt Dominick – Washington, DC

  Senator Alec Ravissant – Gaithersburg, Maryland

  Chief Warrant Officer Sebastian Ford, US Army Special Forces – Camp Citron

  Gabriella Prime / Brie Stewart – Fort Campbell

  Cal shoved his sandwich aside. He couldn’t eat now. “Your last name is Lange?”

  She met his gaze, her face leached of all color. “Yes.”

  “What does this mean?”

  “I don’t know. Why are our names in a document with Reverend Fitzsimmons? What is Harry doing in Dar?”

  “Is Mikhail Petrykin his alias?”

  “Yes. He was going to pose as a Russian associate of Drugov’s, but he never used that alias—not even for his flight to Djibouti—which means two, maybe three people would know the name that was set up for him.”

  “SOCOM wouldn’t know. This document had to come from the CIA.”

  She stared at the screen. “I wonder…the name of the file. It’s the first word in the document—the default name when saving a file in Word.”

  Seeing the name had tipped Savvy off last night. Was it possible a lazy file save might’ve prevented them from walking into a trap last night at their new hotel or this morning at the airport? The airport where, according to Pax, it was highly probable Russian Bratva were searching for them both.

  “Why isn’t my alias listed?”

  She rubbed a hand over her face. “I never told Seth the names I’d set up for you.” She touched the screen. “Why are Bastian and Brie on this list?”

  “It could mean Brie is in danger.” The fact that they knew she was in Kentucky was alarming. “We need to call Bastian. Give him a heads-up.”

  She nodded. At least she didn’t argue with him on this point. “What does the US Attorney General have to do with us? Or Senator Ravissant, for that matter?”

  “Ravissant is the new senator from Maryland. My parents voted for him.” Cal would have voted for him too, but he’d changed his registration to Kentucky a few years ago.

  With thirty-plus years in the State Department, Cal’s dad had met most of the major players in DC at one point or another, plus he’d had front-row seats when the sitting Secretary of State had been involved in a scandal that had nearly led to the murder of Curt Dominick before he became US AG.

  His father had deeply informed political views, and visits home always included long discussions about politics, local and national, giving Cal more than casual background knowledge of the attorney general. “Dominick is friends with Ravissant. There were photos of the senator and his girlfriend dining with the AG and his wife right before the election last November, after the scandal with Ravissant’s military training compound in Alaska. It was the AG’s way of showing he trusted the candidate without endorsing him.”

  “I remember that. A public endorsement could be seen as a Hatch Act violation.”

  “Exactly. According to my dad, Dominick is a straight arrow. The guy lives the law.”

  Savvy stood from her chair and paced the room. “What the hell does this list mean? Why is each person’s location listed? Do you think your dad is wrong about the AG?”

  Cal shrugged. He didn’t have any more answers than she did.

  She leaned over and tapped the screen. “We should start at the top, with the televangelist. What’s his association with Lubanga and Gorev? He had a deal in the works with Drugov—I think he was donating to Brie Stewart’s menstrual panty project.”

  “Is it possible he knew what Drugov’s plan was there?” Cal grimaced, thinking of the genocide that didn’t happen. “It could’ve been an honest charitable donation.”

  Savvy sighed. “The fact that he’s associated with two oligarchs doesn’t look innocent or charitable
to me. Before I left Camp Citron, Seth said Fitzsimmons was angling to become a spiritual leader in Congo if Lubanga seized power. Now we see his name listed in the same group as JJ Prime—who we know was connected to Drugov and is now hanging with Gorev.”

  “The attorney general and Senator Ravissant don’t fit, unless my dad is wrong—which is possible.”

  She frowned. “But they’re in the bottom group. With us. I know Drugov had it out for the AG because the Justice Department was investigating potential price fixing between Druneft and Prime Energy. Albert Jackson has been caught up in that as well. You said the senator and AG are friends. Maybe whoever sent this list sees Alec Ravissant as a way to go after the attorney general? Ravissant could be vulnerable thanks to that Alaska scandal. Buzz in the intelligence community is that there was a whole lot more to what happened in the wilderness. It might’ve involved DIA—and Russia.”

  “So that could explain their names on the list. So the bottom part is a hit list?”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe. Someone could be trying to clean up loose ends. We need to look at all the files. We’re missing something. All we’ve got is wild speculation.”

  He nodded. “But first I need to call Bastian and tell him that he and Brie are on this list.”

  “Fine. But not from here. If the call were to be traced…”

  “I know.” He wasn’t ready to tell her he had a satellite phone, so instead, he said, “I’ll use one of the burner phones and drive to the business district to make the call.”

  She nodded. “I’ll go through Lubanga’s files while you’re gone.”

  He picked up the keys from the table next to the door.

  “Be careful, Cal. Drive a full SDR. Don’t take any chances, and protect yourself at all costs.”

  Instinct said he should kiss her goodbye. Every time they separated, there was risk. This could be the last time he saw her. A kiss now would be the most natural thing in the world for him to do.