by Misty Evans
When she’d called him into her office to tell him his next assignment was in Chicago, she’d been as direct as always. There was no “hi, how ya doin’?” with Beatrice. No lead-in to the mission. Just the facts, plain and simple, and the assignment.
“Elliot Hayden escaped the Moretto, Pennsylvania low-security prison three days ago,” Beatrice had informed him. “You’re to hunt him down and bring him back. His first target will be Agent Ruby McKellen.”
“Target?” Jax had nearly come out of the seat. “As in wet job?”
“Not to kill her. To ask for assistance in staying off the radar.”
Jax’s too-tight lungs had relaxed a fraction. “Right. Of course. He has no money, no weapons, no ID.”
“And she believes he’s innocent.”
Jax had shaken his head and rolled his eyes. A juvenile move, but he couldn’t help it. Ruby always brought out the base side of him. “She’s completely blinded by her loyalty to the jackass.”
Beatrice had studied him for a moment, a light coming into her eyes. “The three of you worked closely on your mission in Marrakech, I understand.”
Her source for this assignment had probably told her more than he cared to know. “Ruby and I did our jobs.”
“And Elliot?”
“Killed a man in cold blood. A terrorist the US wanted to interrogate.”
“Agent Hayden claimed the man came at him, tried to use his weapon against him to kill him and escape.”
Jax’s blood had boiled, just like it had that night when he’d realized what Elliot had done. “Hayden’s a fucking liar. He didn’t want that man interrogated for a reason. A reason that made me sick. It’s all in my report to Justice.”
Beatrice had glanced at her computer screen as if checking her notes. Which was pointless, because she had a near perfect memory of everything she read. “You claimed the man who was killed, Abdel Al-Safari, was the go-between for Hayden and a leader of AQIM, Mohammed Izala. That Hayden was selling US intelligence secrets to the Izala camp.”
AQIM was a Sunni Islamist group associated with Al-Qaeda. These days, AQIM wanted to show ISIS they were still top dog and Al-Safari had been running a dangerous game, dealing with both AQIM and ISIS. Hayden had recruited the man as an asset, then found other, more lucrative uses for him.
Jax’s cell rang, breaking his reverie. He fished out his phone. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered to himself when he saw the caller ID. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”
Even though they were on secure lines, Beatrice used his Rock Star code name. “I have new intel for you, Megadeth. A source Elliot Hayden might contact.”
She’d told Jax she believed Elliot was too smart to go to Ruby since everyone assumed that’s exactly what he would do. Beatrice had told him she would contact some of her sources to find other people Hayden might go to. One of her sources being former operative Zeb Riceman, who sometimes helped out with SFI missions.
Jax figured that’s what Hayden was counting on—that no one would pay much attention to Ruby because they believed she was too obvious. “I’m all ears.”
“Rory and Emit ran TracMap and found that Elliot Hayden did four years in the army with a man named Keon James.”
TracMap was a creation of Emit Petit. A people-mapping program that showed relationships between people and groups they belonged to. The former Navy man and founder of the Rock Stars, which was simply a front for Shadow Force, knew his stuff, from weapons to computer software programs. Probably why Beatrice had gone to work for him.
“Upon completion of their military terms,” she continued, “Elliot was recruited by the CIA while James stayed with the army. Two years ago, James was recruited for Army Africa and a new program called African Horizons. Army Africa works on infiltrating and taking down Al-Shabaab in East Africa, Boko Haram in Central Africa, and the Islamic State terror group in the north. Keon James joined the Military Intelligence Brigade and was stationed in Morocco.”
All the lights went out in Ruby’s apartment. Jax sat forward, keeping a close eye on the fire escape at the back of her apartment. “Hayden and James kept in contact, I take it?”
“A source tells me Keon James was good at getting inside the local groups and getting them to trust him. While his superiors thought he was gathering intel for them, he is suspected of actually setting up his own network to sell intelligence secrets.”
“Hayden was helping him?”
“I can find nothing to confirm that. My sources claim Elliot Hayden was an outstanding operative and the commendations in his folder corroborate that fact. I asked a mutual friend of ours to do some digging and he found one connection that suggests the two were working together outside of their job parameters.”
Their mutual friend had to be Zeb. The old spy had as many, if not more, nefarious connections in the world than Beatrice, and seemed to be the one person who could always find the needle in the haystack.
“Keon James disappeared about three days before your mission in Marrakech,” Beatrice said.
Ruby hadn’t emerged from the building. At least not from the rear fire escape. From his angle, he could see her car on the side of the lot, and that hadn’t moved either.
“What is the mutual connection James and Hayden had?” Jax asked.
“Al-Safari.”
“No shit. That doesn’t do me much good, does it, since he’s six feet under.”
“Focus on Keon James.”
“You said he’s in the wind.”
“The army believes James was kidnapped or killed by one of the terrorist groups he’d supposedly infiltrated, but if Hayden and James are guilty of selling secrets, what do you think happened to James? His disappearance occurred three days before Hayden killed their mutual friend.”
Jax turned several ideas over in his head, struck on one he liked. “Someone found out what James and Hayden were up to, and they needed to shut down the operation and cover their tracks.”
“That would be my assumption.” Her voice was warm, like she was proud of him, and that was damn rare. Her intellect might be off the charts, but her emotional responses were usually unreadable.
She might have been NSA once, and a so-called analyst at that, but damn if he believed that was all she’d been. She was a spy at heart.
He heard her typing, the click of keys muted in the background. “A few minutes ago, I located a man matching Keon James’ description. He goes by the moniker Deuce. While in the army, Keon was known as Deuce because of a bet he made while playing poker.”
“Where is he?”
“Chicago.”
Sweat dotted his forehead as he sat in his hot rental, his mind circling with new understanding. He’d assumed the CIA had assigned Ruby to Chicago to get her away from Langley. Apparently, there was more to it than that.
Ruby had requested Chicago.
He’d known she was working an unsanctioned mission to clear Hayden’s name, and now it all became clear.
She was looking for Deuce.
But why? If Keon James was guilty of the crimes Hayden had been charged with, how would that clear Hayden’s name?
Another option, one that sat like acid in his stomach, took hold. Was Ruby searching for James because she was taking up the reins of Hayden’s operation?
Should have bugged her apartment.
Hayden had disappeared off the grid the moment he’d escaped Moretto. Not one sighting of him in the past forty-eight hours. The spy was damned good at his job and it was going to take every one of Jax’s skills to bring him in.
No Moretto when I’m done with you this time, Hayden. This time, I’ll make sure you go straight to Supermax in Colorado.
Ruby was the key to making that happen. Hayden would show up here, Jax was sure of it. The only way to catch the spy was to get a listening device in that apartment so he’d know when Hayden came to her for help.
Thing was, it might also prove Ruby was in on the whole blasted mess.
His gut crawle
d. “I need a photo of James and any other info you can get for me.”
“Sending it to your phone,” Beatrice said. “Your friends in Chicago are running TracRec to see if they can get a facial match and location. They’ll be in contact as soon as they get a hit.”
His “friends” were Emit, the founder of SFI, and Rory Tephra, a man who’d once been a SEAL, then done assassinations for the CIA. Rory’s last gig had been taking out Beatrice. Somehow, she’d turned Rory around and he now worked for them.
Weird shit.
TracRec was another of Emit’s creations. Emit, Rory, and Colton—a former SEAL whose real name was Colton Bells—were all in Chicago setting up the new Midwest Rock Star Security headquarters. The building had been purchased and was undergoing some serious security upgrades before they opened the doors and began taking clients come the first of the month.
TracRec mimicked the government’s satellite surveillance program. It used traffic cams, ATM cams, and a host of public surveillance cameras as well to find suspects.
“Roger that.”
“Need backup?” Beatrice asked.
“I’m good. I’ll haul your boss’s butt into it if I need a wingman.”
Humor laced Beatrice’s voice. “He could use some field time. Cal says he’s getting soft.”
“That’s what happens when you spend your days creating high-tech software instead of jumping out of planes.”
They shared a laugh and disconnected.
Reaching over, Jax opened his medical kit. His new ID said he was Jackson Hughes, MD. Once upon a time, he’d planned to take the oath to do no harm. Then he’d ended up in the SEALs and tallied twenty-seven kills.
When his SEAL days came to an end after Marrakech, Beatrice had offered him a job with Rock Star Security, the front for Shadow Force International. The Rock Stars were real—a band of former SEALs who’d been kicked out or had willingly left their teams and wanted to put their skills to work in the commercial sector. The bodyguard business was lucrative and booming, hence the expansion into Chicago. They already had a lineup of clients waiting for the office doors to open.
Jax had gone for irony when picking his Rock Star name: Megadeth. Rock Star Security gave him purpose again. He put Marrakech far behind him. The rejection of his family, his SEAL team, and even Ruby behind him.
When Beatrice asked him to join the Shadow Force Team, a black ops team performing private intelligence, security, and paramilitary missions for those who had nowhere else to turn, he’d wrestled with the idea. He liked doing security work, liked protecting this clients. Yet, he missed fieldwork, missed getting his hands dirty.
So here he was, ready to play Dr. Hughes while digging out a Shadow Tracker, a small GPS he could slap under the wheel well of Ruby’s rental car. He found a couple of tiny listening devices and collected them as well.
Hiding one in the palm of his hand, he exited his car, locked up, and went to pay Agent McKellen a surprise visit.
SHE WAS GOING back to the club.
Pulse knocking around after Elliot’s visit, Ruby considered her options as she stared at herself in her bathroom mirror.
Call her handler and turn El in.
Go with him.
Go back to the club and get that damn information from Little Gus.
Call Jax.
No way. That last one wasn’t an option. He could be the last man on Earth and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Jax and satisfaction. If that combo didn’t conjure a whole host of unbidden memories.
Stop it. She wiped at the eyeliner that was smudged under her eye. Jax wanted Elliot’s head on a platter. She was not going to let that happen.
The three of them had been good together. Until they weren’t. Elliot was like her brother, smart and always looking out for her. He’d taught her the craft in ways Langley had never thought of. Always cool and levelheaded in the tight places and the most dangerous moments, what he’d said was true. She tended to jump first and get her ass in trouble. Elliot had always been there to bail her out.
He was, without a doubt, the best spy she’d ever worked with, and she’d worked with a few who would sell out their grandmothers with a straight face.
Jax, on the other hand, was bold and egotistical and didn’t back down from anything. The opposite of finesse. Not that he couldn’t deceive or use his charm to get what he wanted. He had some skills she admired, and his SEAL training had taught him plenty of subterfuge, but his abilities were more physical-based. Undercover operatives relied on their mental skills and cunning as much as anything. They were actors. She was an actor. There was an art to being an agent. It took more brain than brawn.
Of course, Jax could be sneaky, i.e. the handwritten number he’d snuck into her bra while he’d been distracting her with that very physical body of his.
Ugh.
How could I let myself be sidetracked by him?
She knew how. He might have made her crazy, but her body wanted him. He was like French pastries to a woman on a diet.
Her diet had lasted a long, long time.
And now he’d come along and tempted her, offering her an unlimited supply of his special brand of pastry.
Ruby licked her lips.
Enough. She had to quit thinking about him. Elliot was out there on the run and she needed to get back to the club before Little Gus was too drunk or too high to give her the info she needed on Deuce.
Her hair was limp thanks to the heat and humidity, so she flipped her head upside down and gave it a quick spray with her super hold hairspray. She couldn’t bear putting the wig back on. She blotted her damp skin, reapplied eyeliner, and touched up her lips.
Good enough.
Her Sig was once more secured in its holster, her cell phone hidden away as well. She’d just started to turn off the living room lamp when someone knocked at her door.
Had Elliot come back? She rushed to the door and checked the peephole.
God Almighty.
She closed her eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Didn’t this guy ever give up?
She couldn’t exactly ignore him, but the thought held appeal. Knowing Jax, he’d bust in anyway.
“What do you want?” she said through the door. “I already told you, I don’t know where he is and I wouldn’t help you find him if I did.”
“Testy. You need some sleep, Ruby, or maybe something else. I can help with that last one, you know. Work that stress right out of you.”
God, yes! Her nipples puckered at the thought. Steadying one hand against the door, she mentally scolded her traitorous breasts. “Go to hell, Jaxon. Please.”
He chuckled. “Are you going to open the door or are we going to have this conversation in front of your neighbor. His dog is cute. Fat, but cute. He might wonder about you if I start talking louder and saying things like…”—his voice rose an octave—“I know how you like that spot on the back of your neck kissed. How it sends you into orbit. And how about the inside of your thigh. Oh, yeah, that’s a favorite, isn’t it, Ruby?”
“I hate you,” she said more to herself than him as she unlocked the door. Jerking it open, she saw Dan letting himself and Woodstock into their place across the hall. A frown creased his forehead, so Ruby smiled and waved at him while speaking to Jax through gritted teeth. “Stop acting like a child.”
His bold eyes met hers. “Let me in.”
Be strong. “No.”
A smirk caught at the corner of his mouth. “Why not?”
“Because, like I just said, I hate you.”
“Is everything okay?” Dan called.
Woodstock strained at the leash toward Jaxon. Dumb dog, she should be barking at him. Growling. Instead, she looked at him with her big, liquid eyes and panted like he was her favorite dog treat.
“Fine,” Jax said, giving Dan a casual wave.
Ruby kept up her fake smile as she spoke to Jax under her breath. “We’re not fine. You need to leave.”
Boy, did he. There was a whole beautiful glass case of pastries in that gaze, in his teasing tone. “And what would that be, Jaxon?”
“I know how to find Hayden.”
“Is that so?”
Dan tugged Woodstock through their door. A second later, it closed and Ruby heard the flip of the deadbolt.
Thanks for ruining my one normal relationship. “Then I suggest you run along and go find him.”
She started to slam the door shut, but he stopped it with one beefy arm. His eyes narrowed. “He was here, wasn’t he?”
“What? No.”
“Damn it.” He pushed into the room, forcing her back, his gaze scanning her small apartment. “You were hiding him here. I can’t believe it. He was right under my nose and I let him get away.”
How did he guess Elliot had been there? “I was not hiding him.”
His gaze swung to hers, his eyes hard as chunks of coal. “But you’ve seen him, haven’t you? You’ve talked to him.”
For the second time that night, she needed to kick a man out of her apartment. Something about that seemed wrong since she hadn’t had a relationship—outside of that one night with Jaxon—in years. “You can’t just force your way in here and accuse me of aiding a federal fugitive.”
“The hell I can’t.”
The small space seemed even smaller as he circled the living room, checked the kitchen, bedroom, and bath. He took up too much space.
“Happy?” she asked as he returned to scowl down at her. “I told you he isn’t here. He’s far too smart and savvy to come to me for help.”
“He’s clever, I’ll give you that, but he’s also in love with you. Love makes people do stupid things.”
Her chin came up. Jax didn’t know the first thing about real partnerships. What she and Elliot had wasn’t that kind of love. “I wouldn’t know.”
He shook his head. “Such a liar.”
Yes, she was. Came with the territory. But not about this. She and Elliot were partners, not lovers.
Maybe it was time to go on the offensive. Do a little intel gathering. “So how are you going to find Elliot?”