No. That wasn’t what he’d been doing.
Was it?
Her eyes shot to his, catching them just as his gaze shifted. But not before she saw the flicker of guilt that popped the bubble of hope in her chest like a pin on an overstretched balloon.
“Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what all this is about. You’ve been giving me the full-court John Donovan press to keep me from writing any articles.”
And she’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
God, did she have idiot written on her forehead? It sure as hell felt like it.
* * *
• • •
John took one look at her expression and knew he’d better explain or this conversation was going to go downhill fast. Very fast.
It wasn’t like that.
He winced. Or not exactly like that.
“What happened between us has nothing to do with that.”
So maybe that wasn’t the best thinking on his feet that he’d ever done because she took his words as an admission.
She stood up to face him, her expression incredulous. “So, you admit it? You were trying to distract me?”
He held her by the shoulders, trying to get her to calm down and listen before she started drawing all sorts of wrong conclusions. “I don’t want you to write any articles about this—you know that. And I may have been trying to keep you busy, but with sightseeing, Brit. Not with anything else.”
She drew back, stunned—or maybe the better word was “struck.” Obviously, she wasn’t seeing the distinction. Or if she was, she wasn’t buying it.
“So, the traipsing around town together was all an act, but not the seduction part—is that it?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed out of his hold. “God, you are such an asshole! This is a new low—even for you, John.”
Christ, wasn’t she listening to what he was saying? He gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t easy. She made him so damned . . . irritated. “I didn’t seduce you, Brit.”
She sneered with disgust, but he wasn’t sure whether it was at him or herself. “No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t have to, did you? I came to your bed willingly enough. But it was all a seduction, wasn’t it? You pretended to want to be with me and made me care about you again.”
Given how angry she was with him, he shouldn’t be so happy to hear it aloud. “I care about you, too. You know that. And just because I may have had more than one reason doesn’t mean I didn’t want to spend time with you or that I wasn’t having fun. I did and was.”
His words—which were as much of an admission as he’d ever made—seemed not to have had any impact. She had that look of impatience. The kind where she was probably mentally crossing her arms and tapping her toes.
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
Her sarcasm brought out a flare of his own temper. “Yes, you are. And if you had been reasonable about this in the first place, none of it would have been necessary.”
The incredulous look was back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that reasonable people might stop doing something when it is putting them in danger.”
She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Is that what you do?”
He clenched his jaw with frustration. He should have seen that one coming; he’d pretty much said the same thing to the LC. But it was one thing to be pro-feminism with other women and another when it was his woman, damn it.
When he didn’t respond right away, she added, “And how do I know you weren’t exaggerating the danger just to get me out of Vaernes and keep me from following up with Nils’s friend? Is that for my own good, too?”
“That guy in the parking lot wasn’t an exaggeration. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But unlike you, I’m not going to live in hiding forever. I’m going home.”
“What do you mean, you are going home?” Actually, it was pretty obvious what she meant. And the finality of her tone sent alarm, if not something distinctly resembling panic, flickering through him. “You can’t go home yet.”
“Why not?”
“It might not be safe.”
“I’ll take precautions.”
There weren’t any precautions she could take that would make him okay with her leaving. “No, you won’t. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Yep, definitely not thinking well on his feet today. He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before she gave him a long, hard look.
“Are you giving me an order?”
“Yes!” he shouted angrily.
“Nice try, John. But you don’t have any authority over me.”
He took a step toward her, tempted to prove just what kind of authority he did have. But as he was pretty sure that would only make him the subject of more ridiculous accusations afterward, he restrained himself—barely. But he might have to remind himself a few times why he couldn’t just tie her up. Like to the bed.
He forced his rising blood pressure back down and clenched his fists at his sides instead of touching her.
He could be rational even if she couldn’t. “I’m asking you to trust me. Give me a few more days. If we don’t find something out by then, you can go.”
She shook her head. “You had your few days. And asking me to trust you when you don’t trust me about anything isn’t exactly fair.”
“What do you want from me?”
“A little honesty to start.”
“I’m being honest with you. You’re dead wrong if you think anything about last night had to do with distracting you.”
She held his gaze for long enough to believe him. “Fine. I believe you. But it doesn’t change anything. It’s been a nice few days, but I need to get back to the real world—and my job.”
He heard the determination in her voice and knew she wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded. Whatever trust she’d had in him had obviously reached its limit with the sightseeing/distraction revelation.
How could he make her understand that he wasn’t exaggerating the potential danger?
She turned, grabbed her duffel bag, and started throwing things into it. “Wait,” he said. “Hear me out first. If you still want to go after hearing what I have to say, I’ll take you to the airport myself.”
She paused long enough to turn to look at him. He waved to the recently vacated edge of the bed where she’d been sitting previously.
She must have heard something in his voice because she actually did as he requested and sat.
This went against every bone in his body—not to mention direct orders. The LC was going to be pissed when he found out. But John had his back up against the wall. He had to make her see the danger and restore some of her eroded trust in him. “You want me to trust you? Well, I’m about to do that. But you have to promise me that you won’t repeat or print one word of what I’m about to tell you.”
Her eyes widened a little, obviously guessing where this was going. She nodded. “I promise.”
He gave her a sharp nod back. “Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”
Nineteen
Brittany sat on the bed waiting while John paced back and forth a few times, obviously struggling with what to say.
This better be good and not another one of his distracting tactics.
Though her pride wasn’t stinging quite as hard as it had been a few minutes ago—she was inclined to believe him about last night (she didn’t think he was that good of an actor)—she still couldn’t believe that she hadn’t guessed what he was up to. She’d been having too much fun and assumed he was as well. He’d certainly seemed to be.
Had it all been an act?
She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anymore. Now that she knew what this little seemingly romantic getaway to Copenha
gen was all about, she wasn’t going to let him put her off any longer.
Not without a good reason.
She was just glad she hadn’t let herself get carried away after last night with all kinds of silly ideas. It was her pride that had been hurt, that was all. The swift kick in the gut, the hot tightness in her chest, and the crashing feeling of disappointment hadn’t lasted longer than a few moments.
A couple minutes at most.
Damn it, she had to get out of there and away from him or she was going to be in real trouble.
John finally stopped pacing and took a position opposite her, leaning back on the bureau to look at her. “Other than the men who made it out of there like me, there is only one other person who knows about this. One, Brittany, so I hope you realize the level of trust I’m putting in you.”
She nodded, her pulse quickening a little. She was excited, anxious, and nervous all at the same time. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to her brother, but at the same time feared what she might hear.
“You were right. We were on a mission to Russia, searching for proof of a doomsday device.” A doomsday device? Was he kidding? He must have read her skepticism. “I know, I know. Iraq WMDs all over again. But we had actionable intelligence this time—good intel. Given the recent hostilities with Russia, including our plane being ‘accidentally’ shot down, I don’t have to tell you that this was a highly classified operation. Literally a handful of people beyond the platoon knew about it and one of those was the president.”
Though she’d suspected as much, confirmation was still a shock—and the implications. An illegal covert mission to—and invasion of—a country we were already teetering on the precipice of war with? Brittany’s mind was reeling with dozens of questions, but she put a mental zipper on her lips, not wanting to interrupt him.
“The satellite pictures you saw with the explosion were taken in the area of an old gulag we had been reconnoitering. We’d split off into two teams not long after arriving to check out two buildings in the camp. My team was delayed in the yard. We’d lost communications, but one of our officers was able to retrieve a message—a warning that the Russians knew we were there. I was on point, so I didn’t know what was going on at the time. A couple of our guys tried to let the other team know, but it was too late. The camp was destroyed by two thermobaric missiles.”
She gasped, feeling tears spring to her eyes. “Oh my God!”
She knew the destructive power of those kinds of missiles. No one in those buildings would have had a chance.
Poor Brandon.
John gave her a long look, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Eight men were killed. The entire team that was already in the building and one member of our team, who died trying to warn them. But without that message, there would have been no survivors.”
“Who sent the message?”
“I’m not sure.” The LC hadn’t confided the person’s name when he’d told John what had happened. “But they won’t be of any help.”
“Why not?”
“They’re dead.”
Brittany gasped again, her eyes widening as she grasped the implications.
He held her gaze with a fierce intensity. “You can see why I said it was dangerous. Whoever it was that leaked the information about our mission is obviously taking care of loose ends. Right now no one except you and the person who is helping us knows there were any survivors. It’s safer for us that way, and until we figure out who was responsible for the Russians knowing we were coming, we have to stay dead.”
Even though he hadn’t said it, Brittany immediately grasped the implications. “You think the information could have come from the inside?”
John’s mouth fell in a grim line. “It’s one possibility. Not the only one.”
Brittany finished for him. “But it’s the one you think is most likely.”
He didn’t say anything, which she took as agreement. She was glad she was sitting down because her mind was reeling.
This was far bigger than anything she’d imagined.
The Russians taking out half a platoon of Navy SEALs on a covert op that probably violated scores of treaties and international laws was huge enough, but if the information that had led to their deaths had been leaked from the inside? That was Watergate, Iran Contragate, name-your-favorite-gate huge. She’d probably be nominated for a Pulitzer if she broke this story.
And now that she knew the truth—or some of it—she was even more convinced it was a story that needed to be told. If the government was running illegal operations in America’s name, they needed to be held accountable for those actions. No wonder they didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.
And once again someone she loved had been caught up in the cross fire of the government trying to protect its interests at the expense of law and justice.
But even as she wrestled with all the implications, she understood why John had been so furious when she’d tracked him down. She believed him about the danger and certainly didn’t want to do anything to see him or anyone else killed.
“Who would have done such a thing?” she finally asked.
“I have no idea, but people are looking into it.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t have even told you what I did, and I’m not going to say anything that could get someone else killed.”
She guessed she could understand that. For now. “Do these people have any leads?”
“They are looking in a few directions.”
“In other words, no.”
He didn’t say anything.
“You can’t stay in hiding forever, John. The ski-bum life is going to get old after a while.”
She suspected it was already. He was a Navy SEAL, and as much as he projected the hang-loose, beach-boy vibe, that wasn’t him. She knew that about him now. He thrived on challenge.
“I won’t have to. We have someone helping us now. It won’t be much longer.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? He was living on borrowed time. Whoever was responsible for setting them up obviously had resources if they’d killed the person who’d warned them and now were going after her. “And what if the wrong people find out first that you survived?”
He shrugged again. “It wouldn’t be the first time I had a target on my head.”
How he could so coolly and calmly talk about someone trying to kill him, she didn’t know. She was scared for him, even if he wasn’t for himself.
Really scared.
Aside from whoever had set them up, there was a host of other players who might not be happy to hear that there were survivors of the doomed mission. Both the US and Russian governments were probably only too happy to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.
Well, she wasn’t. And she had an idea. One he most certainly wasn’t going to like. “You do have one lead,” she said.
He frowned. “What’s that?”
“Not what, who. You have me.”
* * *
• • •
John stared at her as the realization of what she meant sank in. Was she out of her sweet, loving mind?
“No. Fucking. Way.” He said each word with a hard finality that told her exactly what he thought of that idea. “Get it out of your head. You are not going anywhere near this. If I have to tie you to that damned bed, I will.”
She rolled her eyes as if his anger—and attitude—were to be expected and were nothing to worry about. She was dead wrong about that. He meant every word.
“Don’t be overdramatic, John.”
He gave her a long look and then shifted his eyes to the headboard behind her. “I assure you I’d like nothing more—for more reasons than one.”
If he’d hoped to make her blush, it had worked. She got an adorably
embarrassed look on her face for a moment before giving him a Sunday-school-teacher glare. “It makes perfect sense. And I’m already involved. If the person who attacked me in the parking lot and went through my apartment does have something to do with this, they aren’t going to just go away.” He could hardly argue otherwise when he’d been telling her how much danger she was in and why she couldn’t go home for the past few days. But that was why he wanted her to stay here—with him. “What if they are the same people who set you guys up? You can’t let this opportunity go by. You might be content to live in hiding forever, but I’m not.”
“I told you it wouldn’t be forever,” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is a few more days.”
“We could lose the advantage we have if we wait. Right now no one knows you are alive. Who’s to say that will be the case in a few days? We can set a trap and take them by surprise.”
“With you as bait? It’s not going to happen.”
He was practically shaking with fury, but she just sat there on the bed with her head tilted to the side ever so slightly, staring at him. Those big blue eyes penetrating and seeing far more than he wanted her to.
“Why not?”
“That should be obvious. It’s too goddamned dangerous. If these are the same people, they aren’t going to be fucking around. They will shoot to kill, and I can guarantee they won’t miss like they do in the movies.”
Just the thought made him almost physically ill. If anything happened to her . . .
He’d lose his freaking mind. Hell, just thinking about it was testing his sanity.
She continued to stare at him with a knowing look in her eyes that he didn’t like. “I’m sure we could come up with some kind of plan to minimize that risk. What is this really about, John? Is it because I’m a woman?”
“No.” But it didn’t hurt. Jesus Christ, look at her! She was tiny—or tiny compared to him. And unless Hermione had a magic wand tucked in the back pocket of her jeans, she didn’t have any superpowers.
Clearly she didn’t believe him. “If I were one of your guys we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Off the Grid Page 24