Audrey forced her attention away from all that testosterone-goodness and back to his face, which he’d schooled into his usual alert expression. Gone was that…dismayed…look of a moment ago.
“Go on,” he urged. She liked how he reeled himself back from whatever bothered him and returned to calm professionalism. Though she was curious about what she’d said to rattle him.
“My money is on the GUWP. He’s admired their work in the past. They’re an under the radar terrorist group who like to tap into chaos from time to time.”
“Under the radar?” He frowned.
“They don’t align with any larger groups like ISIS or Al Qaeda. They work independently and, up until recently, haven’t targeted the western world. Their playground has always been southeast Asia, the Middle East, and China. Western governments have looked past them because of that, and they shouldn’t have. Everyone has to start somewhere, even terrorists, and westerners would be wise to nip their operation in the bud. But we’ve been concentrating on the Top Ten terrorist organizations, while GUWP has been building its numbers across the globe. They maintain a fairly low profile as far as terrorists go while looking for people willing to sell information.”
“Like Brett,” he supplied.
“Exactly. GUWP is very persuasive in its messaging. With the uptick in school shootings and mass shootings, the younger generation has lost its confidence that the government and law enforcement can protect its citizens. They want to know there will be a place to raise their families, live their lives without oppression. The GUWP fills that void. It crosses age and gender lines. Its social media platform is compelling and believable. They promise an organized society with clear-cut rules, so violence and pandemonium won’t erupt, while still allowing people certain freedoms. Millennials and Gen Z are especially attracted to their message.”
“Brett’s older than that,” Cam interrupted. Audrey plowed on.
“Yes, but just as idealistic. He wanted to be part of something doing good. Why did you join?”
“So I could jump out of planes and blow up things.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. A brief smile flitted across his face. She could imagine that younger version, full of himself and strutting his stuff like Tom Cruise in the classic movie Top Gun. He may not be Air Force, but the cockiness wasn’t reserved only for them.
She shrugged. “Fair enough. But, according to Brett, he had higher aspirations for joining. Fighting for the free world. Whatever the reason, he turned. He’d been working a lot. Maybe he was burned out.”
Cam seemed to digest that and then shook his head. “If you’re burned out, you take time off. Go on a vacation. You don’t sell your country’s military intel to the highest bidder.”
He was angry, that was for sure. She steered the conversation away from the sore subject. “Do we know who leaked the info for this recent attack?”
“Not yet. Our intel is still pinpointing which group.” Cam crossed his arms over his chest. Audrey tried hard not to fixate on the play of muscles, but instead concentrate on giving him a concise answer.
“Let’s assume it’s the GUWP for now. For one thing, it’s much better organized in the U.S. than ISIS cells right now. They have a network of operatives that dip into the system from time to time, testing their networking, I call it. They welcome help from disgruntled citizens yet maintain anonymity because they’re worldwide. If ISIS doesn’t take credit for attacks here or in other countries, I’m willing to bet the GUWP is the perpetrator.
“When I first came across them in Counterterrorism, they were working in Iraq, undermining the government there.”
“How does that relate to what happened in Washington state?”
“It’s simple, really. The GUWP attacking on American soil showcases just how much turmoil there is here, that the government is failing its citizens, which in turn grows their numbers in this country.”
Audrey turned and headed toward the kitchen. Cam’s unswerving, dark-eyed regard rattled her. She’d never met someone who could remain so motionless while listening to her. She was used to people fidgeting. Harris could have been made of stone. Especially that chest of his.
“Tell me more about them.” He followed her into the kitchen. She faced him, leaning against the counter while she waited for the coffee machine to finish its automatic cycle.
“The GUWP is a well-developed terrorist group with factions in many countries. It touts itself as an enemy of fascism. Countries around the world, including the United States, are in political chaos, as you well know. The GUWP’s stance is very popular in these times, and I imagine it’s grown exponentially. I’m surprised you don’t know all of this.” She grabbed two of her to-go cups from the shelf, holding one up in silent offering. He nodded, so she filled and capped them both before switching off the pot.
“I’ve been working CID for a while now. I have enough cases to keep me busy twenty-four-seven, so, no, I’m not up on the growing terrorism groups.” He reached for a cup. Their fingers brushed in the transfer. Her fingertips tingled as if she’d touched lightning. Her gaze shot to his. Had he felt it, too? That warmth that spread from her fingers, up her arm, invading her entire body like an army of unwanted hormones?
Now, like last night, when he’d dressed her wound, he held her gaze unwaveringly. It was like he could read her thoughts. Warmth spread through her body as if he’d touched her. In a moment her face would flush. Already her heartbeat thudded in her chest. Would he notice the color rising up her neck? Hear the pound of her pulse? Her ill-timed attraction embarrassed her.
And she was majorly attracted to Cam Harris.
How mortifying. She’d practically snapped his head off when they first met in her shop, she’d grudgingly allowed him to sleep on her couch, yet here she was, getting all hot and bothered because he looked at her directly. This wasn’t like her. Her actions belonged to a teenage girl, not a woman who’d served her country in a war-torn corner of the world.
In order to put some distance between them, she stepped back and tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh yes, the GUWP. Taking a steadying breath, she continued.
“The alphabet organizations are still trying to pinpoint its origin. Could be China; could be Russia. Could be somewhere in the Middle East; could be North Korea. Anyone, really. Whoever’s behind it, they’re capitalizing on the infighting currently happening in the free world.”
She frowned. “Unfortunately, if people dug deeper into the GUWP’s core beliefs, they would realize that the organization wants to take down the free world. They’ve started making inroads into European democracies as well as the Middle East, and I think now they’ve found a chink in America’s due to its current political upheaval.”
Cam cocked a hip against the island, a frown crossing his face. “Could multiple countries be working together?”
Audrey shrugged. “It’s possible. We all know one will turn on the other in the end. There can only be one victor. Guaranteed.”
“So the attack on the soldiers was…?”
“I put my money on the GUWP, doing their best to muddy the waters. They rattle our military, have our people running around looking for clues, and then will eventually leak out the information that under the current rule of law in this nation, no one is safe, not even those who protect us.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t know about that. The American people—”
“Are deeply divided right now. It’s the perfect opportunity for the GUWP to incubate and grow. Believe me, they aren’t going away, and they are very persuasive.”
He sighed. “I can’t argue with that. They got one damn good soldier to turn his back on his country.”
“I’m sure Brett contacted them as soon as he escaped. He was probably told to stay clear of me—”
“Because?”
She gave him a pointed look. “Becaus
e they knew the Army would show up at my door after he threatened me in court.”
His chagrined expression would have made her laugh under any other circumstances, but they were in the middle of a deadly game.
“But Brett being Brett still had to drop those cuffs off as a calling card.” His voice lowered, vibrating with emotion. “He may be long gone by now.”
She studied him. She’d probably be emotional, too, if she’d lost a prisoner. But this seemed to go deeper than that. If she had to guess, Brett and Cam had more of a history than simply prisoner and captor.
The fact that he was hiding something bothered her more than she expected. He’d come to her looking for answers yet kept secrets that might be important to the case? It had to be personal—or classified and personal—judging by the faraway expression on his face. She’d give him a little longer before she pressed for answers.
Meanwhile, she was growing increasingly frustrated with him. And not just because he was hiding something. As much as she was turned on by all that…maleness…on display—she’d have to be dead not to notice his attributes—Cam had other habits that set her on edge.
Take for instance that way he had of staring at her, unblinking, as if he was trying to figure out whether she knew more than she was telling. Hadn’t she proven her loyalty to her country when she turned in her boyfriend?
Scowling, she took a long swallow of her coffee, scalding her throat in the process but not giving a damn. Her home had been violated, Brett had escaped and was running amok somewhere, and this man—who she had an untimely attraction to—was stuck like a burr to her.
She just wanted to live her life in peace and harmony and drown out the voices of a past better left forgotten. It wasn’t looking possible now. She wouldn’t change the fact that she’d turned Brett in for treason, but she could mourn the loss of tranquility she’d had up to this point.
She clunked her cup in the sink. “As fun as it’s been these last few hours, I’ve got a business to run, and a back-door window to secure. If you want to keep picking my brain, you’ll have to do it on the fly.”
He blinked. “You’re not serious, are you?”
As she expected, Cam Harris wasn’t going to accept her decision for “business as usual.” She would have to be firm if she didn’t want him to derail her life any more than Brett had.
“I’m dead serious, Special Agent Harris. I can’t pay my bills if I don’t work.”
After depositing his cup in the sink beside hers, he moved forward until they were nearly chest to chest. Once again, her mind drifted to last night and that moment when he’d scooped her off her feet and up against the wall of his chest. He’d held her like she weighed nothing. She’d never been a romantic, but being held in Cam’s strong arms had melted her. She’d wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and burrow into his warmth. Luckily, she’d come to her senses. Or maybe he’d just put her down before she could make her move.
But he wasn’t trying to get up close and personal with her now. Now was an intimidation technique she refused to react to. She held her ground, gazing into his eyes while fighting the urge to smash herself against that hard body.
“You can’t pay them when you’re dead, either,” he said. “Gates could be watching, or the GUWP, just waiting to get you outside where they can pick you off.” His eyes softened as he jutted his chin toward her injured arm. “Does it hurt?”
She fought back the heat rising in her face and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I forgot about it, actually. I can’t worry about any of that right now. All I can do is be aware of my surroundings while going about my daily routine. I’m sorry if that doesn’t work for you.” She wished she felt as nonchalant as her words sounded.
“You are the stubbornest woman I’ve ever met,” he grumbled, spinning on his heel and striding toward her family room. He ran a hand over his hair, a gesture she’d come to understand was out of frustration. It was about time he got a taste of his own medicine.
He swung back around, coming toward her with a ground-eating step and steely gaze. “If you won’t listen to reason, then I guess I’ll have to go with you. At least I can pull you out of the line of fire when it happens.”
Her heart flipped inside her chest like a fish out of water when his eyes flashed. Get a grip, girl. She tried for a casual tone of voice. “That’s one way of looking at it. If you’re going to be my shadow, put on some better clothes. We’re going to a wedding.”
Chapter Nine
This wasn’t how he’d seen the case shaking down.
Cam followed Audrey into the church, carrying a potted fern large enough to swallow a small child. He’d imagined some arguing at the beginning and then a meeting of the minds as he and Audrey figured out what Brett was up to and whether he was feeding intel to terrorists.
Instead here he was, fetching and carrying flower arrangements for the woman whose brain he was supposed to be picking. He had been successful in that venture, though they were no closer to figuring out Brett’s motives. That’s what bothered Cam. He should be doing something for the case, instead of doing…this.
“Could you put that one on the pedestal to the right of the altar, Cam?”
Cam did as he was told, glad to put the monster plant where it belonged. How the hell did she manage lifting these giants? Her lithe body belied her strength. She didn’t look strong enough to hoist these arrangements, yet she was working right alongside him.
“That looks good, Harris. We have three more.”
He caught himself grinning at her compliment and just as quickly lost it. He needed to stay focused on his surroundings and not so much on Audrey. What if Brett had followed them? Some other shadowy figure equally vicious? Here he was puzzling over Audrey’s arm strength when he should be vetting the place. Stupid. The woman turned his warrior’s instincts into mush.
He found her beside him, hands on her hips as she surveyed what they’d accomplished so far. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. While he preferred her hair down, he also liked the wavy tendrils that escaped their binding. They softened her profile, which could be daunting with its pointed chin and high cheekbones. Though her eyes weren’t narrowed now, he’d been the recipient of her laser-sharp stare and found her whole face fascinating. He wished he didn’t find so much about her attractive. It would make his job a helluva lot easier. He was married to his work and liked that relationship the way it was. Of course he did.
He needed to find Brett fast, before the people Brett worked for sent more goons to do his dirty work. Or before he made good on his courtroom threat. That was the solution to all this useless fascination with his informant. Saving people from terrorist attacks should rate higher on his to-do list than wondering if Audrey Jenkins thought he was handsome. Geez.
“You stay here,” he told her. “I’ll get the plants. Every time you go outside you place a target on your back.” He held up a hand to stave off any arguments. “Yes, I know you can defend yourself. Just…humor me.”
He heard her huff as he strode off.
Halting by the rear of the delivery van, he studied his surroundings. So far there’d been nothing suspicious. He didn’t get that tingling feeling he usually got when he was being surveilled, and he relied on that sixth sense. Heavily. It had gotten him through a lot of tight spots in the past.
Had the attack on the soldiers in Washington state been planned ahead? Had Brett been the one to sell that base’s activities to the GUWP, or had that happened after he’d already been incarcerated? Was someone else orchestrating the attacks at the base and at Audrey’s house? Was Brett?
Hell, there were too many scenarios, and all of them bad.
Cam had a hard time believing that anyone other than Brett was being the instigator of all this. But last night’s intruder had definitely not been Brett, so it would be foolish to disregard other options.
“H
arris, this isn’t the military where you can stand around and wait. I need those ferns.” Audrey snapped her fingers in the doorway of the church they were decorating, regaining his attention. “I hired your brawn, not your brains, for this job, so please bring me those ferns.”
He grinned in spite of himself. Damn, but she would make a great drill sergeant. She certainly wasn’t boring to be around. She was strong. In fact, he hadn’t seen a vulnerable side yet, not even when he’d held her in his arms last night. Only to keep her from stepping on glass in her bare feet, but she sure as hell felt good there.
He pulled his mind back from that particular daydream and hefted one of the remaining plants, carrying it to its position near the altar. Unable to stop thinking of her for longer than ten seconds, he found himself wondering what her Kryptonite was. What challenged her emotional strength?
As he centered the fern on its pedestal, he touched his scar. Friendship was his. Or betrayal of that bond. The bond of his brothers-in-arms. The bond Brett irrevocably broke.
“That looks good, Harris.” She’d moved up to him, though her gaze scanned the old church, looking for errors in their workmanship. He shifted, putting his weight on his back foot as he surveyed their joint efforts. The church looked festive, with bouquets and bows on the first five wooden pews, and the pedestals with the ferns flanking the altar.
Her artistic flair surprised him. He hadn’t expected her, a soldier trained to kill and blow up things, to also arrange dainty white flowers with baby pink roses and greenery on an altar. He sure as hell wouldn’t be able to. Carrying a previously arranged bouquet to his mother a few times a year was the best he could muster in floral creativity.
Yet, for the past hour he’d watched her inspect each arrangement, reaching into them and gently tweaking their appearance to suit her vision, moving a stem a millimeter to the right, or fanning out a leaf that got folded under. Her precision may have come from her military training, but the care and creativity were all her own.
“I never thought of ferns for a wedding. Always flowers.” The sense of awe he held for her abilities came through in his words.
Zone of Action (In the Zone) Page 9