Her eyes widened as reality hit. Crimson crept up her cheeks. She jammed the glasses back on her face. “Oh. Simon. I…”
Oh, hell, now what do I do?
Stepping away with a cocky swagger, he opted for the light touch. After all, it was only a kiss. “Thought that’d snap you out of your funk, Q.” He hoisted the incriminating letter. “What do we do with this?”
***
The next morning, Janna and Simon briefed Ramsey in his office. She listened, hands in a white-knuckle grip in her lap, as Simon recounted their interviews in New York. She sat at attention while he slouched in his chair with his ankles crossed. His T-shirt of the day was marginally respectable, sporting the University of Maryland terrapin.
After practically throwing herself into Simon’s arms yesterday, she could barely bring herself to face him.
The last-straw emotional blow had broken the backbone of her essential rule. Not only did she practically throw herself into his arms, but she also allowed him to kiss her. She who couldn’t tolerate anyone’s touch without cringing held on to him as the life raft in her flood of tears.
Worse, she liked the kiss. Liked the light rasp of his whiskers, the resilient softness of his lips and the security of his arms around her. And wanted more. Inside, needs that she thought desiccated and buried bloomed. Shock froze her initial response, but if he’d continued, she’d have kissed him back.
This morning, if things went as she wanted them to, they would continue to work together. She’d need strength not to break her rule again, to ignore her attraction to him, to avoid any intimacy with him. Especially him.
She tuned in to his report as his narrative arrived at the boxes from Gabe’s desk. Janna insisted on sharing everything with Ramsey.
He withdrew a copy of the letter from his bag. He’d taken the original to the FBI for analysis. As a smaller agency, DARK used the Bureau’s evidence lab. “The original had Gabriel Harris’s prints all over it,” Simon said as he slid it across the desktop.
She watched Ramsey’s eyes for a reaction as he read the letter. As expected, the enigmatic assistant director betrayed no emotion. Placing the sheet of paper on the polished mahogany surface, the AD scrutinized her for a long moment.
His penetrating stare unnerved her, but she held his gaze. “Tech Officer Harris, I’m greatly relieved your husband did not involve you in any of his criminal activities.”
Simon’s slow and almost-suppressed exhalation sounded like relief. When Janna glanced at him, his gaze shot down to the other papers in his lap.
The truth clicked. And stung.
She glared at Ramsey. “You suspected me.”
The AD steepled his fingers together. “We had to be sure about you.”
“Did you know about Gabe all along? The video. Of course. Now I see why no one in the New York office seemed to recognize him. They were in on this too.”
Ramsey shook his head. “New York was not in on anything. They seem oblivious. The hair dye must’ve altered his appearance enough for that.”
He’d sent her to view the tape to discover her reaction — and her actions afterward. A knot twisted tightly in her stomach at what might’ve happened. Good God, she’d nearly incriminated herself by covering it up. If she and Simon hadn’t searched the boxes, DARK would continue to suspect her. Simon…
Then the rest of the data completed the equation. A tremor racked her body, and the other people seemed to recede. Isolation and helplessness swamped her, swirled in her head. Before Gabe, she’d have understood. She’d have accepted the agency’s need to check her out. And Simon’s complicity. But a year of life out of her control — of disillusionment and betrayal — dented her and shredded her confidence.
Waves of emotion built up in her chest and rose to clutch at her throat. She had to take back control now. She shot to her feet. “Simon, you too? Spying on me?”
He adjusted his leather jacket and slung an arm over the chair back. His mouth quirked in acknowledgment. “I had orders, Janna. I wasn’t happy about it. I knew you hadn’t done anything. But I didn’t know what we’d find in New York or what Gabe might’ve done.”
She’d asked Simon to put his job on the line to help her find out the truth about what Gabe had done, but his orders allowed him to play along with her. His manipulation wasn’t close to what Gabe had done. She knew that, but swallowing it was bitter.
At least, Simon’s betrayal enabled her to adhere to her personal rules with no temptation where he was concerned. She firmed her chin. Later, she could bawl her eyes out. At the moment, she needed professional calm. She adjusted her glasses and straightened her shoulders.
“Obviously I’m not happy about DARK suspecting me, but I understand.” She deliberately addressed Ramsey and avoided looking at Simon. “Are the video and letter all the evidence you have on Gabe?”
“Almost.” The AD scowled at the letter. “The letter’s cryptic enough, protecting himself in case someone other than you found it. But an investigation has confirmed my suspicions. In a couple of big ATF cases Harris worked on, large caches of arms stolen from military bases were never found. Some of those weapons turned up in illegal sales a few months after he met with Roszca. Unfortunately, his demise presented us with a dead end, so to speak.”
She reeled, pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples. “That means Gabe must’ve hidden those arms himself. He set everything up years ahead.”
“His file says he joined the ATF after not getting a partnership in a big law firm,” Ramsey said. “Then it appears he found a new way to make money. He used his contacts in the ATF and DARK to set up business on the other side of the law.”
“He had to show his family he was doing well. To Gabe, status and success meant money and the ostentatious display of wealth.”
“The Lexus. The house in Virginia.”
She nodded. “I didn’t think we could afford that monstrosity. But he insisted. Now I know why. He had hidden assets.” No wonder he’d demanded control of their finances.
“Have you contacted the Swiss bank?” the AD asked.
Since as usual, sleep had eluded her, she phoned at three o’clock, nine o’clock Zurich time. “Once I gave Gabe’s password, Mr. La Casse was most sympathetic to the bereaved widow.” She couldn’t prevent an edge of bitterness on her words. “The account has a little over three million dollars.”
Simon and the AD both whistled.
“Our boy was busy,” Ramsey said.
“Harris is dead,” Simon said to him. “What will you do? Will you expose a hero’s crimes?”
More than Simon, Janna understood the ramifications of revealing Gabe’s treason. Others in the DARK and the U.S. would be shocked. There’d probably be an internal investigation to find out how it could’ve happened.
But that wasn’t the worst for her personally. If his crimes came out, she would be suspected by everyone, no matter what Ramsey said about her innocence. She wanted none of Gabe’s taint. Having her private shame exposed would be bad enough. She would turn over his dirty money to the government as soon as possible. But she had to do more. What she really needed was to demonstrate her loyalty and honesty.
Whether Simon investigated Gabe or pursued Roszca, she intended to be part of it. “DARK still wants Roszca. I want to help get him,” she said. “Let me show everyone that I had nothing to do with Gabe’s illegal deals.”
Simon had to admire her courage. Standing in front of Ramsey’s desk in her nun-wear pants and shirt, she radiated determination and indignation. Her passionate plea kindled a hot response in his body and had his pulse jumping like a frolicking foal.
“Unnecessary. Your innocence is already proven.” He indicated the letter. This woman who fired his blood was the last partner he wanted in his quest for Roszca.
Too much of a distraction.
Too much of a reminder of his failure.
She looked at him like he was something just
shoveled out of a stable. He felt about that low. Lower. Spying on her was the least of it. She might not be in this vise if he hadn’t introduced her to her traitor husband.
Another spike in his heart.
“It’s not enough,” she said. “I’ve worked hard to advance in my work, in my position. Any hint of suspicion will ruin that. Unless I help clear up the remaining questions, too many people will connect me with his crimes.”
“I’ll take your offer into consideration,” Ramsey said.
Janna’s gaze shuttered as she realized the subject was closed. Still on her feet, she waited quietly, chewing her lower lip, contemplating. That cyber-brain never stopped. She wasn’t giving up.
The AD’s gaze opaque and unreadable, he steepled his fingers again. “And you’re right, Janna. There are remaining questions. DARK has an additional reason for grabbing Roszca. We need to know more about Harris’s activities.”
Simon understood immediately. “The letter hints at pressure. You suspect Roszca wanted more than arms.”
“If he knew Harris was DARK, he’d have pushed for information.”
Janna dropped into her seat. Her complexion paled. “Government secrets?”
“The fun just keeps rolling.” Simon shook his head. “So you intend to keep any suspicions about Harris under wraps until we tie up all the threads?” he asked the AD.
“I don’t want a witch-hunt. No questions left unanswered. No glaring headlines. But it’s only a matter of time before some officer recognizes Harris on that video or picks up intel about him. We need to bring in Roszca without delay.”
“I plan to trace one of our leads this morning,” Simon said. “The location of this Isla Alta where he’s holed up.”
“We have one more source of information — the other Cleatian knee breaker, Kravka,” Janna added. “Has New York picked him up yet?”
Ramsey stood, indicating the end of their meeting. “In a way.” His dry tone offered no optimism. “Early this morning, the NYPD pulled his body out of the East River.”
Chapter 9
OUT OF THE corner of her eye, Janna spied Simon by the open lab door. The hour was late and everyone else had gone home. She’d avoided him for four days and still couldn’t quite shake the bruises from her soul.
She continued adjusting the settings on the audio scanner in front of her while she waited for him to spot her. He would have to make the first move.
He hesitated, as if he suspected she might’ve set up booby traps. His expression matched the darkness of his shadowed chin. In stonewashed jeans, his leather jacket and a T-shirt that read I Left Home for This? he looked as disreputable and delicious as ever. She could kick herself for reacting to his masculine appeal.
Talking to Dr. French had helped her work through the initial sting of Simon’s deception. Being under suspicion threw her back into the same helpless frustration and isolation she’d experienced with Gabe’s obsessive control. Intellectually, she acknowledged that what Simon did was part of his job. Her emotions took another stand.
If any other DARK officer had been her partner, she wouldn’t have felt so manipulated and misled. But it was Simon. She admitted to Dr. French — and to herself — her hypersensitivity to Simon. She needed his support to convince the AD to assign her to the op against Roszca. Being on the team would mean working with Simon. Seeing him every day would keep her on edge.
Bringing down Roszca and proving her integrity were worth new hurdles. Mostly, she needed to close the chapter on Gabe.
Her left hand was now naked, no wedding ring. She’d continued to wear it as protection from male attention, but no more. Last night, like the abused wife in Sleeping with the Enemy, she flushed it. Except her ring disappeared and no vengeful husband would stalk her. Her professional attire and attitude would have to serve as shields. Other team members would act as buffers. She’d make sure not to be alone with Simon. She could remain professional. No problem.
“It’s safe, Simon.” She stood and waved over the cubicle divider. “No mines or booby traps.” Her voice seemed to echo with anxiety in the empty silence of the usually noisy lab.
“No force-fields?”
Of course, he’d pick up the theme. “No laser either.”
He weaved his way through the equipment and cubicles and stood beside her. He raked fingers through his wild hair. “Thought you might want to throw something at me. Like that lemon you winged at the wall.”
She wrinkled her nose. “If I ever try that again, stop me. I have tennis elbow from scrubbing away the lemon goop.” She waited, her throat tight. Why was he here?
A solemn demeanor replaced his initial brash manner and half smirk, half smile. “In New York, I wanted to level with you, but I couldn’t.”
“I understand.” She set down the scanner. “You’re my superior. You were in charge.” She managed a limp smile. “Just my luck you followed orders for a change.”
He shifted his feet, a scowl furrowing his forehead. “For the record, I did challenge Ramsey on the covert nature of the investigation. Insisted he was off track. When he wouldn’t budge, I figured having me check you out meant you’d get a fair shake. Another officer might’ve hauled you in as soon as—”
“As soon as I asked for secrecy about Gabe being on the videotape.” Her brain had skirted that notion, but hearing Simon acknowledge it soothed the last sting. This time, her smile came easier.
“Why’d Gabe do it?” he asked, his voice gentle, apologetic. In his brown eyes, she read controlled fury, anger at Gabe. “Was it the money?”
She’d considered it since Monday, way more than she’d wanted to ponder Gabe’s issues ever again. “Remember suggesting he was competitive?”
“He sure as hell hated to lose at squash. I had the ball bruises on my back to prove it. But competitive doesn’t cut it. The man had a whole side to him that no one knew.” The familiar sexy smirk was back, but with a wry cant.
More than one side. “You’re right. He wasn’t just competitive. He was the ultimate competitive guy from a long line of hard-nosed businessmen. His mother needled him constantly about his failed businesses and law career. Every time he talked to her, she’d mention his father’s or brother’s latest business coup. That’s why he constantly sought the spotlight — did the Hero Harris thing. For approval and advancement. It didn’t work. He was too rash.”
“Ironic that hotdogging is what blocked his advancement.”
“I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen.” No, he belittled her suggestion as he did any of her ideas. “Instead of a promotion, his heroics got him killed.”
He shook his head. “For what it’s worth, Gabe’s tackling of that terrorist saved a lot of lives. Whatever else he did, he died a hero. Remember that.”
For her, that sacrificial flash didn’t burn hot enough to purify the rest of the darkness that had been Gabriel Harris. Simon was trying to comfort the bereaved widow, but he hadn’t seen deeper into Gabe’s soul. Apparently, neither had she.
“I’ll try. Thank you for telling me that.” Attempting nonchalance, she fiddled with the audio scanner again. “Have you made any headway in finding Roszca’s location?”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Two bucks says you found it too, Q.”
“You know me too well. A cheap win. You should’ve bet at the ten-dollar window.”
“So give. What do you know about Isla Alta?”
“It’s a small island between Jamaica and Cuba. Three hundred years ago, it was a pirate stronghold, with tunnels for escape in case of attack. Today, both neighboring countries claim sovereignty. As a result, the island is a sort of no-man’s-land.”
“And a safe retreat for crooks like international arms brokers.”
“Like Viktor Roszca.”
“Unfortunately, since the two governments dispute ownership, neither of them will give the U.S. permission to launch an operation. Surveillance is all they’ll go for.
”
His confident tone hinted at more. A plan must be in the works. “But DARK won’t let that stop us, right?” she asked.
“The general idea is to trick Roszca into leaving the island’s protection. Once in open waters, DARK and the U.S. Coast Guard can board his boat.” Stopping at that, he shrugged. Either the plans weren’t set or more information was on a need-to-know basis.
She drew a deep breath. “Let me help. Security, surveillance — I can give you better eyes and ears on that island.” Dammit. She sounded shamefully needy. She didn’t intend to beg or plead, but he had to understand.
“You’re too emotionally involved. Taking part would be too dangerous.” He hooked a hip on the worktable and propped an elbow on his knee.
She tensed, feeling caged, but his familiar leather scent relaxed her, and his gaze pinned her.
“You trying to prove yourself or prove that Gabe didn’t expose DARK secrets?”
Her temples ached with those same questions. She’d level with him as much as she could. “I’m not sure. I feel I can’t put all that — Gabe, I mean — behind me until I know the whole story. If I don’t participate in the op, official channels could lock me out. Proving myself is part of it. I admit that.”
He eased to his feet. “Ramsey said he’d think about it. You’ll have to talk to him.”
That meant Simon wouldn’t help her. Now what chance did she have of persuading Ramsey? “Fine.”
He grinned, back in cocky mode. “You never did answer my riddle, Q. How many software engineers does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
If he thought he could kid her away from her goal, he was wrong. The jangling of the telephone caught her with her mouth open, ready to accuse him of sidetracking her. “One sec.” She dashed to a desk in the back and picked up.
“Tech Officer Harris,” said the smooth male voice. “Assistant Director Ramsey would like to see you in his office. Is Officer Byrne there with you?”
Dark Rules (The DARK Files Book 3) Page 7