Zane sipped his coffee in silence and then looked toward the hallway. He was thinking of Sadie, I could tell. She’d completely changed him from the cold, unfeeling killing machine that I knew to the man he was now… a happy man.
“How long do you think it’ll take you to sort all this out?” He said, glancing at me.
I shrugged. “Days… weeks…? Depends.”
Zane grunted again. His black hair was peppered with grey now, but his whole demeanor was more relaxed than I remembered. “You think I should go away.”
“I think it would be safer, unless you want to be on guard while you’re here.”
He nodded. “I’ll talk to Sadie. Thanks for the heads up. If you’re a target, then Sadie and I definitely are.”
“I don’t know that yet, and I don’t know if the fact that you left the Agency has taken any heat off you. I just wanted you to know, in case you’d noticed anything.”
“Thanks, Chris,” he said. I stood up, and Zane extended his hand. I shook in firmly, and Zane pulled me in for a hug. He walked me out the door and we paused. “You need any help on this?”
I shook my head. “You wanted out, and you’re out now. Enjoy your life. Let me deal with this.”
“Don’t be a hero, Chris,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m not. I’m just doing my part to clean this up.”
“Say hi to Blanchet for me,” he said with a smile. I snorted, and then walked out the door. When I got in my car this time, I was calm. I was determined.
I was going to see Nathan Blanchet and get to the bottom of this mess.
21
Cat
The agent dropped me off at home, and I walked in feeling like I was on a different planet. My mind was reeling. If Agent Bennett was right, then he had to stay away. Everything that had happened from my first day in Senate to Mickey being in the hospital to the nightmare at the safe house… it could have been avoided if Bennett had stayed away.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to want that.
I didn’t want him to stay away. I didn’t want him to walk out of my life, even if it meant I was safer. I wanted to find the people who had done this to him, to me, to us—and I wanted to break them.
I glanced around my little bungalow as my lips set in a thin line, and I turned right out the door and stalked to my VW Bug. It was still sitting where I’d left it almost a week ago to the side of my house. A black sedan was parked across the road with two agents in it. I could feel their eyes on me, so I took a deep breath and turned around.
I waited for two hours until they drove off. Then, I acted quickly. I jumped in my car and made my way out of the city, glancing in my rearview mirror every four milliseconds to make sure I wasn’t being followed.
I was sick of running, sick of hiding, sick of shying away from this. The first place I needed to go was back to Baltimore. I needed to see my brother, but I didn’t want to bring more danger to his bedside by letting those agents follow me.
I had to go alone.
As I started driving, I couldn’t see anyone following me. I wasn’t an expert, but anytime I thought someone was following me, I’d slow down until they passed me. I was on my own. I accelerated on the freeway, forcing myself not to glance in the rear view mirror for the umpteenth time.
I drove all the way to Baltimore, straight to the hospital where Mickey was staying. I was thoroughly sick of hospitals after having slept on half of a tiny hospital cot, but I needed to see my brother.
All I’d been told was that he was stable, he was out of the ICU and he was recovering. He’d been put in a private room and been cared for, even though his insurance didn’t cover it. I’d been assured that the Secret Service would cover it.
It’s the least they can do. Bitterness soured my thoughts and I glanced in the rear-view mirror again. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for protection. I didn’t ask to be followed by big men in suits and sunglasses. I didn’t want any of this.
I was ready to work my way up from the Fisheries, Water, and Wildlife Committee. I was ready to sit on every Senate Session and be the best Senator Maryland had ever seen.
Instead, I’d been dragged into an ungodly mess that made no sense to me.
I couldn’t bring myself to blame Bennett for it, though. I thought of the Secret Service as an amorphous entity and directed my anger there.
When I pulled into the hospital parking lot, I took a deep breath. I needed to store this anger away and save it for later, when it would be useful. Right now, I had to be there for Mickey.
I stomped into the hospital. My stomach rumbled at the smell of the lunch service being delivered on his floor, and I groaned.
Even hospital food was making me hungry… things were getting dire.
I found my brother’s room and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he called out. I walked in and his wife, Martha glanced up. Her face brightened and she stood up, smiling.
“Cat! We were so worried! They didn’t tell us anything, I thought that you—”
“I’m fine,” I said as she wrapped me in her arms. Tears stung my eyes at the warmth of her embrace. It was only then that I realized how tired and scared and hungry I was.
Mickey pushed his wheelie-table away and sat up in bed. I gave him a hug, trying not to touch him too much. He looked bruised and battered, his skin mottled purple, green and yellow. His nose had a cast on it and both his eyes were still swollen.
He grinned at me, unperturbed by his injuries. “Glad to see you came out of this okay,” he said. “I wasn’t so lucky.”
“Who did this?” Martha whispered, glancing at the door.
I walked over to close it and took a deep breath. I pulled up a chair and slumped down in it, shrugging. “I have no idea. It’s been the most terrifying week of my life.”
“Well, I’m just here, taking a beating for you, as usual,” Mickey said, pulling his food back toward him. He took a bite of a stale-looking sandwich and shook his head. “Just like when we were kids. Do you remember when Barney pulled your hair on the playground and I had to beat him up? I took a pummeling for you then, too.”
“Some things never change,” I said with a smile, even though my heart squeezed. He was putting on a brave face, but it killed me to see him like this. My smile faded and I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mickey.”
His eyes darkened. He shook his head. “At least this is all paid for,” he said, waving his arm around the room. “So, they don’t know who did this?”
I took a deep breath. I knew I shouldn’t talk about what Bennett had told me, but the weight of everything was crushing. For the first time in weeks, I was around two people that I trusted completely. Tears stung at my eyes as I inhaled sharply, gathering all my strength.
“Agent Bennett—the one you met—he told me he thought that I might not be the target. He thought that maybe they were after him. Something about the Russians.”
Mickey frowned. “The Russians?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t elaborate—checking up on Senator Blanchet or something. The guy I replaced,” I explained.
“Why would the Russians care about the Secret Service?”
Mickey said it casually, off the cuff, as if it was the most natural question in the world. He said it between bites of sandwich, without even looking at me. He didn’t realize that that simple question turned my whole world sideways. In one sentence, he made everything in the room go out of focus as panic started to grip my heart.
He was right.
The Russians wouldn’t care about the Secret Service. I’d followed the drama with former Senator Blanchet as closely as the rest of the country, and I’d seen the press conference by the director of the CIA.
The CIA.
My attention snapped back in the room and I looked at my brother, wide-eyed. He was happily munching on his food as if he hadn’t just knocked the breath out of my lungs. Martha was looking at me curiously. She leaned toward me and put her ha
nd on my arm.
“What is it?” She said quietly. Mickey glanced at me, finally realizing that something was wrong.
I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.
“I think Agent Bennett may have been lying to me.”
They both stilled. Mickey’s sandwich stayed suspended inches from his mouth for a second, and then he slowly put the rest of it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, staring at me the whole time. When he swallowed, he ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat.
“What do you mean, Cat?”
“I don’t think it’s the Secret Service that offered to pay for your hospital stay, Mickey. I think it’s the CIA.”
22
Chris
The D.C. Central Detention Facility—the D.C. Jail— was a sprawling, squarish block of buildings. Little square windows peppered the terracotta walls as they loomed up around me. It almost looked like a depressing kind of school, but only if the school was in Soviet Russia and had barbed wire around it. I drove slowly, trying to keep my heart rate and my breath under control.
This was about control. I didn’t know if Blanchet would have anything useful to tell me or if I was on a wild goose chase thinking that I was the target in the first place.
Maybe Cat had fooled me, just like I’d been fooled before. Maybe this was just an elaborate betrayal, and I was about to be exposed as a gullible idiot once again.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. My deepest, darkest fear was a repeat of my first mission. It had been my first everything—well, almost everything. It was my first field operation with the CIA. It was my first time in active duty after I’d left the Marines. It was my first time undercover.
It was the first time I was in love, and the first time I was betrayed.
I could see all the signs of it with Cat. The uncontrollable feelings around her, the warmth in the center of my chest, the unyielding need to protect her. The oath I swore to myself to be by her side whenever she needed me.
Underpinning it all was fear.
I couldn’t let it happen again. Another betrayal would be the end of me. It would kill me.
The only way that I could get out of this was to learn the truth. And deep down, I knew that the only way that I could get out of this with Cat was to trust her.
Parking my car, I smoothed my hair down and took a deep breath. I took my driver’s license out of my wallet and slipped it in my pocket. Then, I stored my phone and wallet into the glove compartment and locked the car.
I was walking into the D.C. Jail to see the man that I’d sent here only a few months ago. A deep sense of foreboding nestled in the pit of my stomach as I crossed the threshold into the lobby. It was like the air in this place was stifled, like the crushed spirits of hundreds of men behind bars slowly poisoned the entire building.
I couldn’t imagine being locked up. Losing my freedom would be worse than losing my life. I shook the thought away and focused on the task ahead.
After I’d signed in, I waited to be led back to the visitation room. A guard called out my name and led me through a long, beige hallway. He opened the door to a room of little booths. Small dividers separated one window from another, and phone receivers hung on either side of the glass. The guard motioned to the second chair from the end, and I took a seat.
My stomach was in my throat. I didn’t usually get nervous, but this felt important. I had to get information out of Blanchet. I needed to get to the bottom of this—not just for my wellbeing, but for Cat’s.
Not long after I sat down, a door opened on the other side of the glass. Nathan Blanchet glanced at me, frowning. He presented his hands to the guard behind him, who unlocked his handcuffs.
He was wearing an orange prison uniform with ‘D.C. Jail’ written on the back of it in big black letters. His beard had grown out, and his hair seemed to be thinning on top. Without the expensive suits and watches, the shiny shoes and stink of money, he looked bad. Really bad.
Blanchet turned to me and kept his eyes on my face, walking slowly toward the window. I unhooked the receiver on my end, but Blanchet didn’t move. I nodded to the phone.
Scowling at me, he lifted the receiver up on his side. I wasn’t a welcome visitor.
“Mr. Blanchet,” I said when the handset was at his ear. “My name is Chris.” I dipped my chin down, but Blanchet just looked at me with his beady little eyes. They were dark and full of anger. Prison hadn’t been good for him.
“I know who you are. What the fuck do you want?”
“I was hoping to talk to you about the Russians.”
“Fuck the Russians,” he spat. His face twisted as his jowls shook. He was vibrating with anger. “Fuck them and their deals and their threats. Fuck this place.”
I could almost feel the anger rolling off him in waves. I tried to keep my face steady as I leaned toward the glass. “Did they threaten you?”
“They wouldn’t be Russian if they didn’t.”
“Are you safe in there?”
“What do you care about my safety?”
“If you’re not safe, I can get you transferred. I can help you, Nathan.”
“You’re the guy who shot Ivanov, no? At the docks?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Blanchet’s mouth twisted into a mirthless smile and he chuckled. His eyes stayed black. “So you’re the guy they’ve been trying to find.”
“What? Who?”
My heart hammered. This was it. He’d just confirmed that I was the target, not Catherine Crawford. I leaned forward, my breath fogging the glass.
Blanchet arched an eyebrow. I remembered him from before, when Zane and I were trying to expose him. He’d been sneaky and stupid, but he’d never looked this evil.
He leaned back, holding the phone to his ear. “Seems like I’ve got some information you need.”
“What do you want?” I didn’t have time to play games. I just needed a name.
“I want a lot of things, Chris. The question is what are you able to give me?”
“I’ve got connections. I could make your stay here a little more comfortable.”
“I was hoping for a reduced sentence.”
“That, I can’t do.”
“Well, then you can fuck off.” He slammed the phone back on its hook and made to get up. I banged my hand on the glass and the guard at the door grunted at me.
“Sorry,” I said to him.
Blanchet sat down slowly and picked the phone back up. “Changed your mind?”
“Look, Blanchet, I’m just looking for a name. I can get you longer yard hours, a more comfortable cell. I can see what I can do about increased visitation and more privileges in here. But your sentence has already been handed down. I can’t change that.”
Blanchet scowled. “A name is a powerful thing.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and he finally sighed. “There is something you can do for me.”
“What?” I was breathless.
Blanchet’s anger fell away for a moment, and I saw incredible pain in his eyes. He stared at me through the glass and took a deep breath. “Sadie. Can you tell my daughter that I love her? Ask her to come see me? She hasn’t spoken to me since I’ve been in here, but I just need her to know. I…” His voice trailed off and he looked at me, his eyes begging.
I nodded. “I’ll tell her you love her. I’ll ask her to come see you.”
He inhaled and dipped his chin down. “I heard Ivanov’s replacement is almost impossible to find. I don’t even know his name. The Russians are keeping their men on a tighter leash, it seems.”
“So you don’t have a name?”
“They’ve hired the Polish mob to help them. I heard one name—Kowalski. He’s been in the game a long time, they say. He’s the guy you’re going to want to talk to.”
“Kowalski,” I repeated, almost to myself. I’d heard that name before, and now there was no doubt in my mind that if I found him, I’d unlock this entire operation.
Excitement buzzed in the pit of my stomach as I pushed my chair back.
I had a name.
23
Cat
I slept in Baltimore that night, taking shifts with Martha to be by Mickey’s side. He kept insisting that he didn’t need the company, but I think he appreciated it in the end. I took the evening shift until Martha came back for the night. When I got back to my house, I collapsed onto the sofa and started massaging my temples.
My brain felt like hamburger meat. There were too many things to think about, too many things to worry about, too many things to make me want to panic.
And the worst of all was Bennett.
I knew he lied to me. It was the only explanation. Looking back on it now, it seemed preposterous to think that the Secret Service would offer themselves, at no cost, to some nobody-senator from Maryland. How stupid could I be?
I should have known. I’ve always been skeptical. I’ve always been street smart. It’s like when I moved to Washington, my brain fell out of my head and all I could think about was the Senate. Or maybe all I could think about were Bennett’s eyes and his stupidly sexy, bulging biceps. And like an idiot, I trusted him.
From the first day, he was spying on me. How much of it was a lie, I wondered? How much did he pretend? All the sexual tension, the electricity between us, the sex—my cheeks burned at the thought. Was any of it real?
I had to be. Had to be. Otherwise…
How embarrassing.
Dropping my hands from my head, I stared at the ceiling. This was the house that Mickey and I grew up in. It still had an old popcorn ceiling and faded wallpaper. I hadn’t gotten around to renovating it, but right now I was glad.
The Protector: The Complete C.I.A Romance Series Page 28