He waited a beat. “Am I the only person you attack when you first wake up?” Even though she hadn’t actually even known who he was? He risked a glance over his shoulder, and she was pulling on her sweater, then adjusting the shoulder holster and slipping her service weapon home. Then she pulled on a black fleece hoodie but didn’t zip it up.
She finally looked at him, those blue eyes of hers clear and calm now. “In recent history? Yes. But it isn’t what you think.”
He raised one brow. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for someone to react that way. Fear. Deep, instinctual, fear.
“Okay,” she conceded. “It kind of is what you think in that I was once attacked in my sleep.”
A bolt of fury seared his nerves.
“But I wasn’t raped.” She looked away as she said it, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed her. He watched her jaw flex as her teeth clenched. “I had a stepbrother for a few years, and he tried a few times.”
“How the hell did he get to attempt that more than once?” Why the fuck hadn’t someone beat the shit out of him or removed his dick with a fishing hook via his throat?
She slipped on her boots and then dragged her hair back into a pony. “I didn’t tell anyone the first time but managed to make enough noise to make him stop. Then I started karate lessons.” Her smile was satisfied. “Second time he tried it, I broke his nose.”
A relieved smile caught one side of his mouth. “Good.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess my dad figured it out after that and put a lock on my door. He also arranged that Brad lived with his father during the school year and with them for the holidays. And as I spent school time with my dad and holidays with my mom, I rarely saw the jerk after that.”
So, Little Miss Cupcake was the product of a broken home. Kind of made sense that she tried to fix situations as a career.
“I’m sorry for whatever I did that triggered the reaction,” he said quietly. Frankly, it sucked. For her. It wasn’t a lot of fun for him either.
Charlotte shook her head as she brandished her toothbrush at him. “No. I’m sorry I lashed out that way. It wasn’t about you. I was unprofessional. It hasn’t happened for a long time but sleeping in a room with someone I don’t know very well obviously precipitated some subliminal anxiety.”
Her words hit him like a grenade to the chest. “I would never attack you in your sleep or anywhere else, Charlotte.”
“I know that.”
Did she? He wasn’t convinced. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” He gave her a shit-eating grin because he knew if he offered pity or concern, she’d be pissed. “Try not to shoot me.”
“No promises.” She headed across to the bathroom, and he checked his phone for updates. Nothing. He grabbed the radio which he’d turned off last night. They knew where he was if anything happened. She came back three minutes later, and they both headed downstairs. The smell of bacon and coffee wafted up the stairwell, practically making him salivate by the time he got to the kitchen.
So much for being up early. About thirty people stood around the large space, eating bacon rolls and drinking coffee like there was a shortage. He wanted to go talk to Angeletti, but as soon as he walked into the room, he spotted McKenzie. He followed Charlotte over to where the other negotiators were digging into their breakfast. Following orders so he could get back to his damn job sooner rather than later.
Goddamned brass making shit up as they went along.
Angeletti crossed the room to talk to him.
“Any updates?” Charlotte asked Dominic.
Novak knew Dominic Sheridan was connected to some very important people in the highest places in DC. He appreciated the guy didn’t use those contacts to give himself an easy ride. Most people had changed into either tactical or casual gear, but Dominic had been working since he arrived and was still in his suit. He looked exhausted. Shirt out. Tie askew.
“No one picked up the phone at the compound, although we tried the number all night,” Dominic said between bites. “This roll is freaking delicious. We found a current email address for Tom Harrison, and one of our techs in Quantico downloaded those email servers before we sent him a letter asking him to pick up the phone and talk to us. Nothing yet, but that was only half an hour ago.”
“Anyone else come out?” Charlotte asked.
Dominic shook his head. Max Hawthorne, the former SAS soldier, was listening attentively while chewing his own breakfast. He looked alert and rested. Novak leaned over and grabbed two plates, and Charlotte grabbed a couple of mugs of black coffee. They each swapped a plate and a mug.
“I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee. I can get cream,” she said politely, using almost the same tone she used with everyone else. Progress. All it took was forced proximity and cutting off his air supply.
“Black is fine.”
Everyone was watching them interact like they were some sort of social science experiment.
Charlotte pulled a face at him because she noticed it too.
He grinned before hiding his expression with a huge bite of bacon roll. The salt hit his taste buds. He groaned. Almost as good as sex.
“Why can’t every assignment be like this?” Charlotte echoed his thoughts, speaking with her mouth full.
He’d eat anything to fuel his body, but they’d lucked out that this place had its own cook.
The woman in question stood in the doorway to the mudroom clearly bemused how her kitchen had been taken over by thirty-plus heavily armed Feds. They needed to be mindful there were civilians onsite.
“Briefing in five minutes,” McKenzie shouted above the din before heading past the cook. He shook her hand.
Novak would kiss her feet if she made him a bacon roll for breakfast every morning.
He and Charlotte both took their dishes and stacked them in the industrial-sized dishwasher like everyone else did.
“I’m going to get some sleep. Call me if you need me.” Dominic headed toward the stairs.
“Get some rest.” She turned to Max. “Tell Eban to meet us in the barn before he turns in. In case he has any relevant input. You attend too. They’ve ignored the phone all night. It’s unlikely they’ll call back in the next twenty minutes. Leave an agent there who can grab us if someone miraculously does call.”
The man nodded and walked away.
Novak was impressed how well they worked as a team. They’d obviously been together a long time and knew their jobs inside out. What made a warrior like Hawthorne want to use his words rather than his fighting skills? Novak knew the value of words, but he also knew the duplicity of man. Trust had to be earned, and he’d bet on his use of force over his ability to talk someone out of a crisis any day. That’s one of the things his ex had cited in the divorce—inability to communicate. Pity he’d been thousands of miles away in a classified location when she’d decided that was a deal breaker.
They headed outside. It wasn’t quite as dick-snapping cold as it had been yesterday, but it was still freezing. He hoped his men were okay.
Charlotte was wearing her boots which were dry now, but would anyone remember to pick her up a new winter jacket?
“What?” she asked, clearly sensing him looking at her.
“Nothing,” Novak said quickly.
“You’re not a very good liar,” she said, surprising him.
He scowled. “I am an excellent liar.”
“Really?” she said.
“Really. We should play poker sometime.”
“You’d play poker with a woman? And not the strip variety?”
Novak almost choked on his tongue at the images his mind came up with. “I have never played strip poker in my life.”
“Really?” she said again. Her eyes sparkled, and she laughed at his discomfort, but not in a way that felt vindictive.
“Considering I usually play cards with teammates, hell no. I’ve no desire to see these guys naked.”
She glanced around at his fellow HRT operators
who were all pretending not to listen to their conversation and grinned. “Why not? You don’t seem bashful. I’ve already seen you naked.”
Heat crawled up his neck. God, the woman wouldn’t let it drop, and he knew every member of HRT would be ribbing him for months now about strip fucking poker.
“You never played it? Not even in college?” she pressed.
He shrugged. “I was on the varsity rugby team. Between that and keeping up my grades, I didn’t have a lot of spare time.” He’d gotten a full ride to Princeton, but he’d had to work hard to stay there.
Her breath came out in a cloud of mist. “That is very true. I waitressed all through college and lived with my dad. He was single again then.”
Novak nodded, no longer teasing, but remembering the pressure of her forearm against his throat. He hadn’t told her how easily he could have reversed the situation. He did not want to take away her power. Most assholes wouldn’t have his training or hers, and most would have begged for mercy. He cleared his throat. “What did you study?”
“Psych.” She shot him a look.
They were almost at the barn door, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a little.
“So, psych major with a minor in strip poker. I’ll remember that next time I’m playing Texas hold ’em.” He’d meant it as a joke but, again, his brain betrayed him by exploding with a full color image of SSA Charlotte Blood sitting at a poker table in nothing but the underwear he’d already seen.
He tripped over the step into the barn.
“Holy crap, Novak, are you always this clumsy?” Charlotte teased.
As soon as she turned away and continued walking to the meeting room, Angeletti shook his head and leaned close to his ear. “You are so fucked.”
“I’m doing my goddamn job,” said Novak.
“Sure, pal. But I’m betting a full house to your ace high that you recently realized the pretty lady negotiator is hot and that is not how you do your goddamned job.”
Novak growled and shoved past the guy. Angeletti shoved him back, and Novak grinned, reminding him of the real reason he was here. No way was he falling for her. He was doing what McKenzie wanted so he could get back where he belonged. Sleeping in the barn with his men. Nothing was more important than his team except for getting the job done and finding justice for the dead woman and the men who’d been shot. He couldn’t allow the deceptively soft-looking Charlotte Blood to derail him.
Chapter Nine
When Charlotte walked in, she saw Eban at the far side of the barn deep in serious conversation with the HRT operator everyone called Cowboy. Eban spotted her and came over.
“You two know each other?” Charlotte asked him.
“Grew up in the same town.”
“You’re kidding me? Small world.”
He grunted.
There were shadows beneath his eyes that never used to be there. She was pretty sure they had something to do with the redhead he’d helped rescue in Indonesia, but whenever she raised the issue, he refused to discuss it.
McKenzie started talking.
She looked around for Novak, but he was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with some of the other black-clad operators. His absence felt like a small moment of loss and then she realized she was being absurd. They had to be together to make sure they both had access to all the information and to satisfy McKenzie’s ridiculous instructions, not because they were besties. She’d sensed a softening in him, probably pity after her pathetic story about her asshole stepbrother. She hadn’t seen the jackass in more than a decade, but some memories latched onto your DNA, and it didn’t matter how long it had been. Something about Novak trying to wake her that morning had flicked the switch.
She didn’t need his pity, but she was starting to realize he wasn’t the knuckle-grazer she’d first assumed. He was prickly and irritating, but he also looked out for people, and she was a sucker for that. She did it too.
“We believe there are about thirty individuals inside the facility, according to the women who left last night. Ranging in age from five months to about seventy-five.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. There were babies in that place. Babies.
“Any records backing up this information?” This from Novak who was naturally suspicious that this was disinformation designed to limit their response.
McKenzie looked at Truman who Charlotte hadn’t even noticed. His hair was ruffled, and he was wearing the same shirt and suit as yesterday. Still smokin’ hot. The realization was almost a relief. She flashed another glance at Novak who caught her eye and looked away.
“No medical records. Apparently, the people in the compound are not big believers in hospitals.”
“Great. I’m sure the women love that when they’re in labor.” Novak rolled his eyes. “They say anything about this TJ character?”
Truman nodded. “They all like TJ, even the kids. He plays with them and taught some of them to read and write as well as ride.”
“They have livestock?” Novak asked, coming off the wall.
Truman nodded his head. “Four horses. Also have a pig and some chickens. They had a cow, but it got sick and died, and they haven’t replaced it yet.”
“What did they say about the accusations against TJ?” Charlotte asked.
“Lies because TJ would never hurt anyone,” Truman answered.
“What’s his mental capacity?” Novak asked.
Charlotte bristled. So nice people had mental issues now?
“He’s a smart kid. Was home-schooled but is known around the community for being kind and polite. He’s eighteen, and the parents did actually register his birth in a hospital in Utah. More interesting is his father. Tom Harrison was an engineer for the Army for twenty years and worked for the US Army Corps of Engineers, primarily based out of Fort Belvoir. He left within a year of meeting his wife Martha who died this past spring. Martha came from a large family and, according to local sources and the two mothers who left the compound last night, it’s her family members who live there. The building is well fortified and supplied, and they are well armed,” said Truman.
“Quantico and HQ are compiling as much background information as possible on the names Truman got from the women,” McKenzie put in. “Any word from the teams of observers we have in place?”
She liked that they called the snipers “observers.” It helped calm the tone of the meeting.
“They have eyes on the outer defenses, but no one is moving around outside,” Novak said.
Charlotte wondered when he’d received that update. Probably when she’d been sleeping like a log. “Did we get the ME’s report yet?” Charlotte asked.
McKenzie shook his head and checked his wristwatch. “He hasn’t conducted it yet.”
She ground her teeth in frustration.
“We’ve been examining the original blueprints.” An HRT operator pointed at the drawings laid out on the table.
Charlotte moved forward for a better look. The building was circular with two marked exits.
“The doors are fortified steel. We have to assume Harrison reinforced them after he bought the property and possibly made other modifications.”
“Who wants to live in a bunker?” asked Truman.
“Asked no Gen-Xer ever,” one older man quipped, receiving a laugh and lightening the mood.
McKenzie continued, “Someone who thinks it’s gonna save his family from the coming apocalypse, which is more common than you’d think.”
Charlotte knew he’d lived with a White Supremacist antigovernment group led by David Hines. She also knew McKenzie was now engaged to Hines’s daughter. He had a lot more experience dealing with that type of personality than most FBI agents. But they still didn’t know the exact ideology of all the people involved in this incident and wouldn’t until they started talking this out, which could take months. She held back a sigh. The thought of being here that long when there were so many other cases to solve and people to help was
depressing. However, the thought of people dying because she lacked staying power was worse.
“What’s this?” Novak pointed at a thin line that led out of the building.
“Sewage or ventilation shaft?” The guy next to him suggested.
“We need to get eyes on it. It could be our way in.” Novak’s eyes sparked with interest.
“We’re a long way from storming the place,” Charlotte reminded him quickly.
Novak sent her an exasperated look. “I realize that, but we plan for all eventualities and train for those circumstances in the meantime. Knowledge about the layout is a basic requirement for figuring how to get inside with minimum risk to my men and allows us to train for differing scenarios.”
His tone suggested she didn’t care about the safety of his men, and that pissed her off.
“We get eyes or ears inside yet?” McKenzie asked as his eyes assessed her and Novak’s interactions with a frown.
She forced her face to relax.
Another operator shook his head. “Most of our traditional methods won’t work. The concrete is too thick to drill, even if we could get to them without being spotted. The seals around the doors are tight. I’m thinking we could try to get fiber-optics in either via a sewage line to the septic tank or via that other exit we want to investigate or via some of the slits that seem to be designed for observation and defense purposes.”
“My vote is the ventilation system because I do not want to dive into a septic tank,” an operator joked. Charlotte was one hundred percent in support of that sentiment but knew they’d do whatever was necessary.
“We’ll take a look at other options later this morning when some of our other toys arrive from Quantico,” Novak said enigmatically.
She held back her questions because this was how these guys worked. They had secret methods that they guarded even from other agents. The fact remained, if the worst-case scenario did happen and people’s lives were threatened, HRT needed to get inside ASAP.
“I want assessments of how long they can conceivably survive if this becomes a drawn-out incident,” McKenzie said. “What water sources do they have? Can we utilize them?”
Cold Wicked Lies Page 8