"I think that if someone wanted you dead, you'd be dead," she said pointedly. "It's rather convenient for a sniper to miss."
Her comments made him very uneasy. For the first time, he felt real alarm. "Come on, Joanna, you know me. You know Flynn. These bank statements are manufactured."
"I don't think I know you at all, Wyatt. I might have known you, if you'd let me get close to you, but you were never interested enough in me to realize I could be of real help to you. You were always so tight with your group of friends at Quantico. You thought you all could rule the world. Little did you know that you would have had a lot more power if you'd worked with me."
"This is about payback," he said slowly. "I'm disappointed, Joanna. I thought you were better than that. Someone is using you. How can you not see that?"
A frown drew her brows together. "I'm not being used. I'm investigating the information I received."
"Who gave you the information?"
"An anonymous source."
He sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Unbelievable. You pulled me out of an undercover operation based on an anonymous source."
"As you can see, the information is very credible, and I have to protect the bureau's reputation. If there's any chance you're working both sides, you could be a threat to national security."
"Keeping me here is a threat to national security," he snapped back.
"I don't think so. You need to start being honest, Wyatt. If you went rogue, or if Flynn's operation was always on the wrong side of the law, you need to come clean now and try to save yourself. Why don't you think about that? And get comfortable. You're not going anywhere."
"You're leaving Avery unprotected. Someone is after her."
"I'm sure someone else on the task force can watch out for her."
"She won't trust anyone else. You have to let me go."
"I don't have to do anything." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'll be back."
"I want to call my lawyer."
"Sure," she said with a smooth smile. "We'll make that happen—at some point."
"This is crazy. You know that."
"You know what is really crazy—secret task forces," she returned. "I've never found the need for them. They almost always have an agenda and they're usually run by people who cut corners, who don't like to play by the rules. We do better as an agency when we run clean operations, not secret ones."
"That's bullshit. We had to be covert. Hamilton Tremaine wouldn't let you into his company, but I got inside."
"But now we have the question of whether you're on his side or ours. Until I know for sure, you're staying here."
The door closed on her revenge-filled smile, and he ran a hand through his hair in anger and frustration. Someone had set him up.
Was it Joanna working on her own? Had she been bought off by the same people who had stolen secrets, killed Noelle? Or was she simply a pawn?
If she was a pawn, then it seemed as if someone would know that Joanna didn't like him, that she might be receptive to an attack against him. Who would know that? Someone else in the FBI?
Bree's words from earlier that day came into his head. She'd asked him why Vincent Rowland was at the Tremaine house. She'd suggested that Vincent had been close by during all recent cases involving members of Jamie's former team. She'd even suggested that someone in the FBI had given her file to the ex-con who had tried to kill her, and she'd never been able to figure out who in the bureau would have done that. He'd dismissed Bree's words as pure conjecture, that she was just imagining that Vincent had something against her, because of her relationship with Jamie. But it did seem that their group of five was running into some unusual problems, often within the bureau itself, and who better to influence the agency then an ex-agent?
But did that really make sense?
It seemed more likely that one of the Tremaines or Carter or someone else at Nova Star had thought he was getting too close to the truth, too close to Avery, maybe even too close to Hamilton and decided to get him out of the picture.
Hell, maybe it was Hamilton himself.
That would be quite a twist—if Hamilton had figured out he was FBI all along and decided to use that to his advantage.
But that didn't seem logical, either, because ultimately someone was out to destroy Nova Star. And that wouldn't be Hamilton. It wouldn't be Rowland, either.
He shifted in his seat, feeling pain through his abdomen, reminding him of the wound that should probably be cleaned and re-bandaged at some point, not that Joanna had been impressed with his battle scars or his ability to dodge bullets.
Rolling his neck around on his shoulders, he considered the doctored bank statements. Was there really money sitting in that bank account or were the statements provided fake?
If there was real cash, then that meant someone with money had been willing to pay to set him up, because that account would be frozen by the FBI. He almost had to admire the move.
It was clever, and while it wouldn't work for long, because eventually the FBI would figure out he was innocent, it might work just long enough to keep him out of the way.
What he didn't understand was Joanna's motive for treating him like a criminal. She might have been forced to act on the intel, but she didn't have to act like this. She could have let him call a lawyer. She could have tried to work with him.
Was it just revenge because he'd turned her down years ago?
That seemed petty, even for her. As she'd said, this was about national security, and if he wasn't a double agent, then someone was still out there, someone probably about to sabotage the satellite, and he wasn't going to be able to do one damn thing to stop them.
And then there was Avery.
Putting him here had effectively isolated him from Avery. He had to hope Bree would stay with her. But Avery might send Bree away, too. She might think that he was guilty, that this was just one more lie he'd told her. And how could he blame her?
He slammed his fist hard against the desk. He needed to get out of here, but he was going to need some help to do that. Maybe Flynn would realize it was a setup. Or it was possible that Flynn might be coming into the room in handcuffs next. Joanna might try to take down the whole operation. And Bree—she was on Joanna's hit list now, too, since she'd joined up with Flynn.
He needed a friend on the inside, but he didn't have one. He was going to have to figure a way out of this on his own.
* * *
Avery had been trying to work for over an hour, but it was a futile effort. Her mind was spinning, playing Wyatt's shocking arrest over and over again in her head.
She didn't believe that Wyatt was a double agent. It didn't make sense. He'd almost gotten killed several times; she'd been right beside him on all of those occasions. Just this morning, he had taken a bullet for her. It was only his quick thinking that had saved both their lives.
But the FBI had to have something on him to arrest him, especially since she'd recently learned he was also an agent. Going against one of their own people had to require some substantial evidence. What on earth could that possibly be?
Groaning, she pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a blazing headache coming on. She was glad the media tour was over. The rest of her day was pretty open, since her part in the launch was done. She'd really like to take a nap at some point.
Closing her eyes for just a moment, she tried to breathe through the panic and anxiety. She'd already had a lot to worry about with someone trying to kill her, but now she had to worry about Wyatt, too. Clearly, someone had set Wyatt up, and she didn't know what was coming next.
She could hardly believe how quickly everything kept changing. It was difficult to keep up. Her emotions felt like they were on a spin cycle. Every time the clock turned, she was hit with something new. The only steady person in her life the past few days had been Wyatt, and last night had provided a glorious few hours of happiness. She should regret making love to him now that she knew he'd lied to
her about so many things, but she couldn't seem to drag up the anger.
Maybe last night was the only time they would ever have together. If so, at least she had those memories. And for a moment, she let her mind go back in time, let herself feel his kiss, his hands on her body, his breath against her face, his husky voice murmuring words of pleasure. The way he'd said her name, with so much passion, so much need, sent a deep yearning ache through her body.
She missed him. It was incredible how close they'd gotten so quickly. And it hadn't just been physical. Their talks had been deeply personal. They'd shared and shown their true selves to each other. She'd admitted fears to him she'd never told anyone about, and he'd told her about his family, about how it had felt to see his father go from a great guy to a criminal.
While her father had never fallen that far, she'd understood the disappointment he'd felt. It had been another connection between them. She'd felt the same kind of love and conflict when it came to her dad. And Wyatt had made her feel like that was okay. Love and respect didn't always go together, especially when it came to parents.
She'd like to believe she'd had an impact on him, too. She thought about the expression in his eyes when she'd played the show for him in the auditorium yesterday, when he'd looked up after years of looking down, when he'd seen hope and possibility, when he'd perhaps lost just a touch of the cynicism he'd probably gained not only from his family circumstances but from his job. That had been a special moment, too.
She wanted more of those moments. She wanted a chance to get to know him—really know him. Because while it probably should be over between them, it wasn't—at least, not for her.
A knock came at her door, interrupting her reverie. Her eyes flew open, and she jumped to her feet.
Should she open it?
Bree had made sure she'd locked it earlier, but it wasn't much of a lock if someone really wanted to get in. She told herself not to get paranoid. Her office was in the middle of a very busy building, with thousands on staff, with security cameras in every hallway.
"Avery? Are you in there?"
Her tension eased at the sound of her father's voice, and she quickly crossed the room and unlocked the door.
"Dad," she said, surprised to see him there. He rarely visited her at work. "What are you doing here?"
He walked into her office. "I got a call from Hamilton earlier. He said Wyatt was arrested. Is that true?"
"Yes, but it's a mistake."
Her father gave her a speculative look. "Is it a mistake? Hamilton doesn't seem to think so. He's beside himself. He can't believe he might have hired a traitor, and not just hired him but made him a friend, invited him into his inner circle, entrusted him with your care."
She shook her head, hating that Hamilton was getting sucked in. "Wyatt isn't guilty of anything."
"How do you know?"
"I just know. My gut tells me he's being set up."
"Is that your gut or your heart?" he asked gently. "I know you don’t think I know you anymore, Avery, but I always knew when your heart was breaking."
She didn't even think that was true, but his kind words made her tear up anyway. "It is breaking," she whispered.
"You care about him."
"I do," she admitted. "I know Wyatt is a good man. This is a mistake. He was getting too close to something and someone got nervous and turned the tables on him."
"I don't like any of this, especially the part where you're in danger."
A part of her wanted to tell him just how much danger she'd been in since she'd left his house last night, but what would that accomplish? Instead, she said, "I have to admit I'm scared. I don't know what to do next. Wyatt was my touchstone. When he was around, I knew I was okay."
"Making you feel safe used to be my job."
She heard a sad note in her father's voice. "We have a lot of history between us. I don't want to get into any of that now."
"I understand. I can't change the past—who I was, how I acted—but I can be there for you now. What are you doing the rest of the day?"
"I'm not even sure. I've been trying to work, but I'm incredibly distracted."
"Not even stars and planets and galaxies can ease your mind, huh?" he said with an affectionate, knowing smile.
"No. Not even space can do it for me today."
"Here's what I'm thinking. Tonight, Hamilton is having his kids over for a private dinner in honor of tomorrow's launch, which is also the one-year anniversary of his late wife's death. Since I never met Whitney's mother, I'm not going to be a part of that."
"Whitney didn't want you to go?"
"I think it was more Hamilton. I understand why he didn't want me there. Whitney and I are not married, and I didn't know her mother, and there will be a lot of shared stories and probably some tears, and it's best I'm not there." He paused. "Did you know Hamilton's wife, Margery?"
"Yes, I spent a fair amount of time at their house when she was sick. It was really sad when she died. I can't believe it's been a year. I know Hamilton wanted to launch on the anniversary of her death as a tribute to her. She was his partner in all this."
"Well, it will be a nice time for Hamilton and his kids to spend together. So, why don't you come back to the house with me? Whitney is spending the afternoon at the spa and then going straight to her dad's. It will just be the two of us—like old times. I even gave Lois the night off, so she can watch her grandson," he added, referring to his housekeeper. "We can pick up some Tommy's Burgers on the way home and sit by the pool, and you can just relax."
"Now you're pulling out all the stops. Tommy's Burgers were always my favorite, although I have not had one of those incredibly delicious and really fattening chili cheeseburgers in a long time."
"Then you should have one now. Come on, Avery. You're not in any mental condition to work today. Let me take care of you for a few hours."
"Maybe just until tonight." It might be a bad idea, but this was her father. He had let her down before, but he wouldn't hurt her. He'd pushed her on the swings. He'd taught her to love the night sky. He'd bought her a gallon of ice cream after her first boyfriend had broken up with her. And she really didn't want to sit in her office all day. Her coworkers would start to wonder why her door was locked. People would be asking her about Noelle and the memorial she had yet to think about. She really did need to just escape for a few hours. And without Wyatt or Bree, her dad seemed like the best option, especially since Whitney would not be there.
She walked around her desk, pulled out her suitcase and pushed the roller bag in his direction. "Can you take this for me?"
"You always keep a suitcase in your office?" he asked with surprise.
"I haven't been staying at home since Noelle was killed."
He gave her a somber look. "There's quite a lot you haven't told me, isn't there?"
"We'll talk about it all after you buy me a cheeseburger. I'm holding you to that."
"You got it."
As they walked out of her office, a warning voice begged her to reconsider. But it was too late. She just hoped that she could trust her dad.
Once again, Noelle's voice rang through her head…I trusted the wrong person.
Noelle would have trusted her father, too.
Uneasiness ran down her spine. She didn't want any more horrifying surprises, but she had a feeling that it didn't really matter what she wanted.
Twenty-Three
Wyatt had been brought in just after eleven and almost five hours had passed since he'd been seated in an interrogation room at the LA field office. Although, he'd been shown an arrest warrant, he had not been photographed, fingerprinted, or given an opportunity to call an attorney. He had been offered bottled water, coffee, a day-old muffin, and a bathroom break in between questioning by two male agents he had never met before.
He'd answered some of their questions, while continuing to take every opportunity he could to request a call with his attorney.
He'd been told numerous t
imes he would be able to make that call soon, but soon never came. Now, he was alone again, and had been tapping his fingers against the table top for the last thirty minutes. He was also getting damned tired of looking at his reflection in the two-way mirror on the opposite wall. He wondered if Joanna had been watching his interview. He found it oddly curious that she had not come in to speak to him personally.
Flynn had not shown up, either. He didn't know if Flynn had also been detained in some other room or what had happened to the rest of the team, including Bree.
He hoped Bree had found a way to stay with Avery. Because every minute that passed increased his tension and worry. The launch was less than twenty-four hours away. Time was running out, and if someone was going after Avery again, it would happen today, while he was stuck here answering ridiculous questions and trying to defend himself against bogus charges.
The door opened, and he straightened in his chair as Bree walked in.
"I hope you have good news," he said.
"Come with me," she said in a short, brisk voice.
She didn't have to ask him twice. He followed her to the door, thrilled to see the hallway outside the room devoid of security guards. Bree swiped her security card, opening the door, and then led him down another corridor before finally taking him down to the parking garage. She flipped the locks on a gray sedan, and he got into the passenger seat, not speaking until they reached the street.
"How did that happen?" he asked finally.
"Joanna left the office, and I still have enough rank to call shots." She flashed him a smile. "Sorry, it took me so long. I had to wait for my opportunity."
"You could lose your job, Bree."
"I could," she agreed. "But I don't want to work for an agency that doesn't support its people, and acts on bogus evidence. I saw the bank statements Joanna showed you. While they were good; they weren't that good. I know they're fake, but I couldn't get Joanna to listen to me. She was quite gleeful about taking you out. Apparently, her dislike of you has overridden her intelligence. At any rate, I sent the information to Flynn. He's working on getting you cleared, but he had to move locations, so Joanna couldn't shut him down, too.
Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3) Page 25