Dangerous Games

by Tess Diamond

  That got a reluctant smile out of her.

  “Stay here. I’ll try to get this guy to talk using my special man powers,” Jake said.

  If she was another woman, she might have reached out and playfully smacked him for his insolence. But Maggie wasn’t that bold. Instead, she watched as he strode over to the antique bar turned into a desk and leaned on it, an easy smile on his face. “Hey,” he said.

  “You looking to sign up?” The attendant, a few strands of gray streaking his temples, stood up, clipboard in hand. “I’ve got some great deals this month, man.”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “Hey, you a Ranger?” He nodded at the tattoo on the man’s forearm.

  “Almost twenty years,” the man replied proudly. “Busted my knee on my last tour, so they sent me home for good. Taught firearms for a few years before I retired. This is my boy’s place,” he said, gesturing to the gym. “I help out to keep from getting too bored. The wife likes to keep me out of her hair.”

  “Fifteen years for me,” Jake said. “I’m O’Connor. Jake O’Connor.”

  “Mark. Mark Radley.”

  They shook hands.

  “So, civilian life, right?” Jake smiled, self-deprecating.

  The man laughed. “It’s an adjustment. Slow as hell. Makes me miss the desert sometimes.”

  “I know that feeling,” Jake said. “Hey, do you know Pete Complin?”

  Mark’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, man, Pete’s the greatest. Is he still doing those BBQs in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?”

  “Last I heard.” Jake smiled. “So, look, man, I work security for a senator now. His pool guy has a membership here, and I’ve got reason to suspect he’s stolen some stuff. Nothing huge, so the senator kind of wants to handle it quietly without getting the cops involved, you know?”

  “I understand,” Mark said. “The bigwigs like their privacy.”

  “You know it,” Jake agreed. “I’m trying to place the guy’s whereabouts when the items went missing. I’ve got his schedule pretty nailed down, but I’m wondering if you’d let me and my assistant—” he jerked his chin at Maggie, who tried hard not to bristle at her new title “—look at your security tapes for Tuesday, around noon?”

  Mark frowned. “Those tapes aren’t really supposed to be viewed by anyone but staff,” he said.

  “I get it,” Jake said. “Trust me, I do. But the senator’s gonna have my ass if I don’t catch this thief. I’m pretty sure it’s the pool guy. I just need to confirm he wasn’t in your gym around the time the stuff was stolen.”

  “Okay,” Mark said. Obviously the brother-in-arms thing and the authoritative way Jake carried himself had placated him. “Sure. I’ll bend the rules to help out a fellow soldier.”

  He led Maggie and Jake through a corridor, past a mirrored rooms full of treadmills, weights, and sweaty, well-muscled men.

  “Your boy’s done good for himself,” Jake said, looking approvingly at the clean, well-appointed space. “I’ve got a few buddies who come here. They really like it. Say it has a good vibe.”

  “That’s nice to hear. He’s smart, my kid.” Mark smiled, opening a side door. Maggie and Jake walked into the video room, where a man sat, watching a dozen or so monitors recording various areas in the gym.

  “Hey, Danny,” Mark called to the man who was watching the cameras. “Can you pull up the videos for Tuesday? And then give these two some privacy.”

  “Sure, Mr. Radley.” The man pulled up the videos on the center console and then left the room.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes,” Mark said.

  Jake reached over and shook his hand again. “Thanks, brother.”

  “Hope you find what you need,” Mark said. “And I mean it about those membership deals—we’ve got some good ones.”

  Jake smiled easily. “I just might take you up on that.”

  “Ma’am.” Mark nodded to Maggie, and then closed the door behind him.

  For a second, there was only silence and a muted darkness, the light from the screens flickering over Jake’s rugged features.

  She was caught in his gaze with no way out, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room. For the first time since Frank approached her in the park—God, it felt so long ago—her wrists didn’t ache with phantom pain.

  Jake’s eyes—so deep and green—dropped to her lips, just for a moment, and then he shook his head, refocusing. He cleared his throat.

  It was like that moment yesterday when they were talking and she’d let her emotions bleed through. His face had changed, softened, and he’d reached for her, unthinking, like it was an automatic thing.

  Like it was a need instead of a want.

  Maggie had never felt needed like that. She didn’t think she was the kind of woman who inspired that kind of emotion. But standing there, just inches away from Jake O’Connor, unable to look away and break the moment, she felt the possibility of it . . . the bud of something shimmering between them. It made her want—need?—things she wasn’t even sure were possible. It made everything in her body tighten in anticipation as images danced through her head. His strong hands bracketing her waist, then dipping lower to her hips. His lips running along the curve of her jaw with just the barest hint of teeth, enough to make her shiver.

  God, what was wrong with her? Maggie tugged at the bottom of her blouse, looking away, trying not to breathe hard. She needed to focus. That was what she needed. Not Jake O’Connor and his daring smile. “We should get to watching.”

  “Right.”

  She took the chair closer to the main monitor, and he sat down in one next to her, pressing a few buttons to get the video started.

  “I didn’t know you were a Ranger,” Maggie said quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the grainy video that showed a scene in the lobby.

  She wasn’t sure he was going to say anything, but then, just as quietly, came his reply. “Sometimes it seems like another life.”

  Maggie didn’t know what to say to that. The flash of realization, of kinship she felt in that moment was startling.

  She never thought she’d have so much in common with Jake O’Connor.

  She never thought she’d feel . . . God, whatever it was she was feeling. More than attraction? Desire? Connection? Recognition? All of the above?

  Like recognizes like, after all.

  She understood that feeling of being unmoored. The FBI had been her tether; negotiating had been her rock. She’d shaped her life around it because it was safer, sturdier than the foundation that her traumatic childhood kidnapping had destroyed. When she left, she blasted a hole inside her very being, obliterating her sense of self. The duty that had guided her no longer served as the convenient barrier from the trauma she’d been running from for so long.

  What was Jake O’Connor running from?

  “Hey, there he is,” Jake said, straightening in the chair, pointing to the screen.

  Maggie zeroed in on the monitor. Randy Macomb sauntered into the lobby, a baseball hat turned backward on his perfectly coiffed head. He scanned his card at the desk, talked for a moment with Mark and then headed to the lockers.

  “Scroll ahead a few minutes,” Maggie said.

  Jake did, pausing the video when a second figure appeared in the lobby.

  Maggie frowned, staring at the man. He was facing away from the camera, his hoodie obscuring his face.

  “Can you get a better angle of his face on the other cameras?” Maggie asked.

  Jake typed something into the keyboard in front of the main monitor, and the screen shifted from the lobby to the corridor they’d just been in. But the hoodie guy had kept his head tilted down just enough that the camera angles hadn’t captured his face, and he disappeared into the locker room.

  “Dammit,” Maggie muttered. She was sure this was their guy, just because he was being so careful to avoid the cameras. Uncle Sam would’ve scoped out the place beforehand, memorized the camera angles so he could avoid them.

  “Just
wait,” Jake said, typing a few more commands.

  “They can’t have cameras in the locker rooms!” Maggie said, knowing she sounded horrified.

  “Of course not,” Jake said. “But . . .” He hit two more buttons. “There.”

  The monitor shifted to another camera, this one pointed at a different angle on the locker room door.

  “I noticed it when we were walking down the hall,” Jake said. “They’ve got a few cameras that look like fire alarms. Probably to catch theft. It’s not hard to case a joint you go to every day. Or figure out how to avoid the more obvious cameras.”

  “Do you think he didn’t notice them?” Maggie was impressed. Even she hadn’t noticed the extra cameras.

  “Here’s hoping he didn’t,” Jake said, and Maggie peered at the monitor eagerly.

  A minute later, the locker room door opened, and there he was.

  Jake paused the screen.

  Maggie frowned, peering at the distant image. There was something familiar about the fuzzy angles of the man’s face, but she couldn’t quite place it.

  “Let me zoom in,” Jake said. A few clicks, and Maggie gasped, her heart kicking hard against her rib cage.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Shit,” Jake said.

  They looked from the monitor to each other, horrified at the realization.

  “We have to get to that press conference,” Maggie said.

  Jake nodded grimly. “I’ll drive.”

  Maggie grabbed her bag and headed for the door, casting one last look at the man’s face on the monitor.

  The kidnapper’s face.

  It was Max Grayson.

  Chapter 23

  “Are you carrying?” Jake asked as he raced through traffic, weaving in and out of lanes with such smooth precision it made Maggie wonder if he’d been a car thief in a previous life.

  She reached into her bag and grabbed her Glock in its leather holster. She took it out and double-checked the safety and magazine. “I’m set,” she said. “You?”

  He patted his side. “All good.”

  Jake pressed harder on the accelerator, changing lanes to veer away from a slow-moving pickup without breaking a sweat.

  “It can’t be a coincidence, right?” Maggie asked.

  “There’s no way Grayson goes to a gym like that,” Jake said. “He’s one of those hipster health nuts. Adonis doesn’t even offer yoga.”

  “Good point,” Maggie said. “Okay. So not a coincidence.”

  “Definitely not,” Jake said. “Fucking Grayson,” he muttered.

  Maggie bit her lip, concentrating on the road. She understood his anger. She was furious too. Mostly at herself.

  How had she not seen this? Grayson had been right in front of her. But his presence in the Thebes household at least meant he could be keeping Kayla within driving distance—that was one small nugget of knowledge she could glean from what was quickly proving to be a potential powder keg that could blow up in their faces.

  “How long has he been working for the senator?” Maggie asked, her thoughts racing in circles. Had he been planning this all along? Had he run into some kind of trouble, and the senator was the easiest target?

  “We should fan out once we get there,” Maggie said. “I’ll get Frank to lock down the building.” She punched in a few numbers on her cell, but put it down in frustration seconds later. “Dammit. He’s not answering.” She dialed Paul’s number, but he didn’t answer either. She shook her head in frustration. They’d probably be mingling with the crowd at the press conference, so she’d have to be fast and quiet when she clued them in to what was happening.

  “And I’ll secure Grayson,” Jake said, his voice a dangerous rumble that made the hair on her arms stand up.

  “We might need to tail him, instead,” Maggie said. “To find Kayla’s location. Otherwise he might use it as leverage when he’s arrested.”

  “Trust me,” Jake said. “I’ll get him to talk.”

  They sped down Pennsylvania, narrowly missing traffic clogged by a diplomatic motorcade. Jake made a sharp turn down a side street, avoiding the sleek sedan with diplomatic plates. “We’re almost there,” he said, and Maggie had to press her hand against the window for balance as he made a sharp right, the tires screeching a little. Someone they cut off honked at them, but Jake just sped ahead, a man on a mission.

  “We need to take him as peacefully as possible,” Maggie warned. “The room’s going to be crowded.”

  “I’m not going to kill anyone, Goldilocks,” Jake said, his voice heavy with scorn. “I’m not stupid enough to go shooting into a crowded room. I hit my targets.”

  “As long as we’re on the same page,” Maggie replied. “We need him conscious. Who knows how long it’s been since he’s given Kayla her insulin? We have to get to her as soon as possible.”

  “Trust me, he’ll be conscious,” Jake said. “He might be hurting. A lot. But he’ll tell us where he’s got her. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Maggie said grimly.

  “Here we are,” Jake said, coming to a halt in front of the Hale Building, where the senator was holding the press conference. The large colonial edifice had been gutted and refurbished in the eighties, retrofitted for political conferences and other civic functions.

  As soon as Jake hit the brakes, Maggie jumped out of the car, racing toward the arched entrance. She heard the other door slam behind her. With Jake hot on her heels, she charged through the double glass doors.

  “Thebes press conference?” Jake asked the startled concierge.

  “Conference Room B,” he said. “It’s almost over, though.” He pointed down a wide hall, and Maggie darted forward, sprinting toward the room on the right at the end of the corridor. His legs so much longer, Jake overtook her, but she stayed close behind. Her gun pressed heavy against her hip as she ran.

  She saw security before they saw her—they were too focused on tackling the six-foot-five-inch hunk of ex–Army Ranger charging them. Only Maggie was going to make it through the conference room doors, she realized with dread. “I’ll get Grayson!” Maggie shouted over her shoulder, galloping past the four guards before they could register what had just happened.

  She burst through the wide wooden doors, drawing her Glock, the doors slamming shut behind her, echoing throughout the room. The senator and the group of journalists all turned to stare.

  Maggie’s eyes scanned the surroundings, searching. There! Grayson was standing to the senator’s far left, near the exit. Their eyes met across the distance. Her hands tightened on her gun. “Max Gray—” she started to shout, but then all the breath was suddenly knocked out of her as she was tackled to the floor. The impact jolted her. She struggled, her cheek jammed into the carpet, her neck tightly gripped by a strong hand.

  “Gun, gun!” someone was shouting. “Protect the senator!” Footsteps pounded as frantic journalists began to run. Her Glock was knocked out of her hand and skittered across the floor. She reached helplessly for it, trying to push up against the punishing weight against her back. Confused shouting and footsteps filled her ears.

  “Hey, hey, get off my agent!” Frank’s scuffed shoes came into view, and a long second later, the weight lifted. Maggie rolled to her side, coughing.

  “Frank,” she gasped, struggling to sit up. “It’s Grayson! Max Grayson!” she panted. She stood up, grabbing her gun. “He took Kayla. Where is he?”

  She whirled around, desperately searching the now-chaotic crowd. Cameras abandoned, journalists piled toward the exit as security ran around in circles. She charged through the crowd, Glock at the ready, tracking through the mess of people with quick, measured steps. Someone clipped her as he ran past, nearly knocking her over. She stumbled, but kept a steady grip on her gun as she recovered.

  “Sorry!” the journalist called over his shoulder, not even looking back.

  Maggie swore, spinning in a slow circle as security barked orders and tried to control the situat
ion—badly. She couldn’t see a thing from this vantage point.

  Goddammit, being short sucked sometimes. She had to get to the stage where the podium was—she needed the elevation to scan the crowd as a whole. She couldn’t see Grayson anywhere. Usually he stuck to the senator like a second skin, but Thebes was being ushered away from the podium, looking bewildered and perturbed by the disturbance. Maggie fought her way through the mêlée and vaulted up onto the stage with a fluid movement. Her heart in her throat, she peered across the thinning crowd with a sinking heart.

  It was too late. She’d missed him. He’d gotten away in the rush.

  She felt like sinking to her knees right then and there. Let the defeat drum down into her like a thunderstorm. How could she have been so stupid? Grayson had been there the whole time, and she hadn’t seen it. So much for her killer instinct. She was botching this job, just as she’d done at Sherwood Hills. What was going to happen to Kayla, now that they knew who Grayson was?

  She felt sick at the thought. She’d failed Kayla. She’d had her kidnapper practically in hand, but she hadn’t been fast enough.

  But she still had time, Maggie reminded herself. No one was dead. Not yet. She could still turn this around.

  She needed to turn this around.

  “We’ve got to lock down the entire building,” she told Frank, who’d finally caught up with her.

  Frank paused for just a moment before he turned to the security guard who’d followed him. “You heard what she said—get to it! I want all entrances blocked. Every room searched. This bastard’s been hiding right in our midst. He’s been pulling fast ones on us since the start—it’s time we do the same to him.”

  “Yes, sir!” In seconds, the officer was on his radio, barking orders.

  Maggie rose to her feet, straightening her skirt, brushing her hair back from her face. Her shoulder ached from being slammed to the ground, but she ignored it.

  “Press conference is over,” she called loudly to the remaining journalists standing. “Please congregate in the lobby. Security will check your credentials there.”

  They filed out, leaving the senator standing there. Maggie glared at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Where’s O’Connor?” she asked the remaining security. “Get him in here.”