by Elle James
“Sorry, miss, you can’t be here,” the waitress said.
CJ grimaced and glanced over her shoulder. “Is there a rear exit through here?”
“Yes, but for employees only.”
“My ex-boyfriend is following me. He won’t leave me alone. And he’s abusive.” CJ touched the waitress’s arm. “Please. I need to get away from him.”
The woman’s eyes rounded and she looked through the glass window of the swinging door. “Dark hair and backpack?”
CJ nodded. “Yes.”
The waitress grabbed her arm. “Come with me.” She led CJ to the back door and out into the alley. “My husband is waiting for my shift to end. He can take you where you need to go, as long as it’s not too far.” She glanced down at her watch. “I get off in fifteen minutes.” She took CJ’s hand and led her to an older model sedan with a faded paint job.
The man in the driver’s seat was asleep, his head tilted back against the headrest.
The woman tapped on the window.
Jerking awake, the man sat up and rolled down the window. “Hey, Bea, are you off already?”
“No,” Bea said. “But I want you to help this woman get away from an abusive ex-boyfriend. Take her where she needs to go. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”
She turned to CJ. “Ronnie will take care of you. He’s a good guy, my man is.” Bea opened the back door and held it for CJ. “Hurry, before he figures out which way you went.”
CJ nodded, hating that she’d lied, but needing to get away. “Thank you.” She climbed in and hunkered low on the backseat while Ronnie drove away from the restaurant and out onto the busy street in front.
CJ waited until they were half a block away before she looked up over the back of the seat in time to see the college student run out of the restaurant and look both directions.
When he turned and walked toward the library, CJ let out a sigh.
“Was that the guy?” Ronnie asked.
CJ nodded. “He just won’t let go.” Which was true. Trinity assassins were trained to keep after their target until the target had been eliminated. He’d find her again. And when he did, he wouldn’t let her slip away a second time.
CJ had Ronnie drop her off at a metro station two miles from the library. She slipped onto the train headed for a neighborhood she’d been through several times. The one where Cole McCastlain lived. She wasn’t ready to admit she needed help, but she’d found a furnished town house for rent near his. If it was still available, she’d crash there and regroup. She needed time to think about her next move. Maybe it was time to openly join forces with Declan’s Defenders. They were all after the same thing. To bring an end to Trinity. To do so, they had to bring down the Director.
* * *
COLE SAT AT his desk in the town house he’d rented, his body tense, his gaze glued to the computer. He’d seen the messages come across the website he’d been following. He’d known Trinity was closing in on CJ. And he’d been unable to do anything but warn her. Frustration was too weak a description of what he was feeling. Cole needed action.
But CJ had refused to let him or anyone else from Declan’s Defenders overtly assist her in their mutual objective to bring down Trinity. She’d insisted she was better off alone.
He’d been lucky today. The messages had come in just in time for him to warn CJ to get out of the Arlington library. Hell, he’d been able to locate her based on the IP address of the computer she’d logged in on. She’d been perusing the internet on sites known for helping people find assassins for hire. What scared him was that if he was able to find her, others could easily do the same.
He’d invested in a burner phone. Next time she texted, he’d give her that number and insist she use it with a new burner number. Trinity had to know Declan’s Defenders were out to destroy the organization that had most likely put out a hit on John Halverson. Declan’s Defenders would not exist but for the trust and generosity of Halverson’s widow, Charlotte—Charlie.
John Halverson had been on a mission to stop Trinity’s illicit activities. He’d scratched the surface and had probably gotten too close to finding their leader, thus making them desperate enough to eliminate the threat.
As much as Charlie had done for Declan and his band of former Marine Force Reconnaissance men, they wanted to return the favor. Their mission was to find the leader of Trinity, the Director. The theory was to chop off the head of the snake and the rest of the organization would die.
According to Halverson’s records, he’d been searching for the same thing. It had taken him years to get as far as he had, and yet, he’d not found the Director or, at least, not been able to identify him before he was murdered.
Cole had been working with Jonah Spradlin, Charlie’s computer guy. They’d been hacking into the computer system at the White House to deep dive existing background checks on people who worked there ever since CJ had given them the heads-up on a planned assault on the NSC meeting at the White House. The problem, of course, was that there were over four hundred people who worked in the White House. Narrowing them down to the few who might present a threat had been a challenge. Four had evaded their background check prior to the hostage taking at the NSC meeting. Four Trinity assassins had been embedded in the White House staff.
Those four were no longer a threat. But how many more were slipping past them? The background checks didn’t tell them much. They had to dive deeper into their private records, bank accounts, emails and phone records. The task was monumental given the number of White House staff.
The cell phone beside him buzzed with a text message. He glanced down at the screen. Unknown Caller.
His pulse beat faster as he unlocked the screen and stared down at the message.
Thank you.
Are you okay?
Yes.
Need a place to stay?
No.
If you do, I have room. So does Charlie.
Thanks.
Let me help more.
You are. Dig into Carpenter.
Will do. Be careful out there. I’m here whenever you need me.
Good to know.
Got a burner phone. Need to stop using this number in case it’s being monitored. Call me for the number.
Cole waited, hoping she’d call. For several minutes, he didn’t hear anything, text or voice. Then his personal cell phone chirped.
Unknown Caller.
“It’s me,” he answered.
“Number?” a female voice said.
He gave her the number and waited for more.
The call ended.
Disappointment piled onto frustration made Cole clench his fist. How could he do the job of protecting CJ if she wouldn’t let him get close?
His burner phone vibrated. His pulse leaped and he lifted it to his ear. “It’s me.”
“It’s me,” she echoed.
Cole smiled. CJ’s husky voice flowed over him like warm chocolate, oozing into every one of his pores.
“Better,” he said. “Now, tell me...did you find a place to stay?”
“For now.”
“Did you have any trouble getting away from the Trinity guy after you?”
“No.”
She wasn’t very forthcoming with information. Cole sighed. “What are my chances of actually seeing you so that I can protect you?”
She laughed, the sound like music in his ears. She almost sounded like a different person. “Slim to none. I don’t need protection.”
“Would you have made it out of the library without my help?”
“Yes.”
“Did my assistance help you make it out without an altercation?”
She hesitated. “Yes. Thank you for the heads-up.”
“It can’t be easy searching the web on public computers. Charlie has a room full of c
omputers in a secure location.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
He felt her pulling away. “CJ?”
She didn’t answer, but the line didn’t go dead.
Cole continued. “I really want to help you.”
“Find the Director.”
“We’re working on it,” he said, wanting to reach through the airwaves and grab her hand.
“I’ll be in touch.”
And the call ended.
Cole sighed. At least he’d heard from her and gotten her onto a more secure line. He wanted her to be more tangible, to see her, touch her and know she was close so that he could protect her. At the same time, the woman was still alive after living a year outside of Trinity. She knew what she was doing and having someone else hanging around might slow her down.
Patience was never something Cole had in abundant supply.
He lifted his personal cell phone, not the burner phone he’d used with CJ, and dialed Charlie Halverson’s estate.
Declan O’Neill answered. “Hey, Cole. Got anything new?”
“Heard from CJ.”
“Good to know,” Declan said. “Was wondering when she’d make contact.”
“Dig into the Homeland Security Advisor, Chris Carpenter, since he’d texted Terrence Tully prior to the NSC incident.”
“I’ll get Jonah on it.” Declan paused. “Did she say anything else?”
“No.” Cole explained what had gone down with messages on the dark web and Trinity finding her at the library in Arlington.
“Does she need a place to stay? Charlie would happily put her up for as long as necessary.”
Cole shook his head, though Declan couldn’t see it. “She said she has a place for now. I gotta tell you, this assignment is killing me. How do I protect a woman I can’t see?”
Declan chuckled. “It’s like she’s a ghost. Most likely she’s gun-shy.”
Cole snorted. “I know I would be if I had a target painted on my back. Trinity doesn’t like to lose one of their own.”
“To Trinity she’s a loose end that needs to be tied up.”
“With a bullet.” Cole’s jaw tightened.
“That’s why you need to get closer to her and keep that from happening.”
“Tell me about it.” Declan was preaching to the choir. If only Cole could get close enough. Then he might be able to do his job.
In the meantime, all he could do was continue to sift through clues and data to find the Director.
Until CJ came out of the shadows, she was on her own.
Chapter Two
Contrary to what she’d told Cole, CJ didn’t have a place to stay that first night after abandoning her apartment. She’d slept behind some bushes in a quiet neighborhood, leaving just before sunup to sneak into the twenty-four-hour gym she’d joined, paying for her annual membership in cash. After weight lifting and a run on the treadmill, she hit the shower and changed into clean clothes. She didn’t think she’d be able to come back to the gym. Trinity had come too close the day before. If she was smart, she’d leave the DC area and start a new life in a different state. Hell, a different country wouldn’t be far enough.
After a breakfast of a protein bar she had stashed in her backpack, she went in search of a new place to live. She’d done her own homework about the man assigned to protect her. Cole McCastlain lived in a town house in Arlington.
Last night, CJ learned that a town house a few doors down from the one Cole lived in was being sublet. The owners had just left on a world cruise and wouldn’t be back for six months. She paid the deposit with money she’d earned designing web pages, gave her fake identification and quickly passed the background check. By noon, she had moved into the fully furnished home.
She didn’t waste time settling in. While Cole and Declan’s Defenders searched the web for information on Chris Carpenter, CJ would follow the man and learn what she could about his habits and who he talked to. She might be chasing shadows, but the text he’d sent to Tully prior to the NSC assault was all she had to go on. It could have meant nothing. The text could have been a legitimate effort to make sure all was in place, nothing more.
All other coordination for the meeting had been done via emails throughout the weeks prior to the get-together. A text would have been appropriate for a last-minute adjustment to the arrangements. Or it could have been information regarding the attack.
Though CJ had a laptop and could access the internet by tapping into Wi-Fi at internet cafés or libraries, she couldn’t delve into the dark web anymore. Somehow, Trinity had found her and traced her IP address to the library. She could continue to hack into phone records and other sources of information, but they were getting too close.
Needing additional clothing and disguises, she shoved her hair up into a ball cap, dressed in a long gray sweater that hid her figure, and sunglasses. Disguised as best she could, CJ left the town house to visit a couple thrift shops. She found items that would help her to blend in and make her as invisible as possible. She even found a skirt suit that might come in handy if she wanted to get closer to some of the politicians on Capitol Hill. The total of her purchases barely made a dent in her cash. Afterward, she made a quick trip to the grocery store and stocked up on a few items she’d need to keep from having to eat fast foods. Once she’d unloaded the food and staples in the refrigerator and pantry, she put on a black wig, a different pair of glasses and a hooded sweatshirt and went out to scout the neighborhood thoroughly. Knowing where to go on short notice was always a good idea.
Stepping out on the sidewalk, she started toward Cole’s place. On the bottom step of the next town house, a stooped old woman stood with one hand on a cane, the other on a leash. At the end of the leash was a white ball of fluff.
“Good afternoon,” the woman called out with a smile. “You must be the one subletting the Anderson place.”
Normally, CJ didn’t stop to talk to anyone. But the woman and her dog didn’t appear to pose a threat. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Rebecca.” She didn’t bother holding out her hand since the older woman’s were both occupied.
The woman nodded. “Gladys Oliver.”
CJ squatted beside the dog. “And who do we have here?” The little dog wiggled and jumped up on CJ, excited to meet someone new.
“Sweet Pea, named after one of my favorite flowers,” Gladys said. “Down, girl.” Her gentle tug on the dog’s leash had little effect. “My granddaughter got me the dog, but she’s still a puppy and needs a lot more exercise than these old bones can give her. I’m thinking I might have to give her back.” The woman’s brow furrowed. “She’s such a sweet thing. I hate to give her up.”
“I’m going for a walk now,” CJ said. “I could take her with me, and she could burn off some energy, if you like.”
The old woman’s blue eyes brightened. “You would do that?”
“Certainly.”
“I mean, it’s not like you’re really a stranger. I know where you live and all.” Gladys handed over the leash. “She’s really no trouble. Just needs to move a little faster than I do. If you’re sure it’s not a bother...”
“We’ll do just fine together.” CJ smiled at Gladys. “We’ll be back in twenty or thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be inside. Just knock when you’re back. I’ll come to the door.” Gladys leaned down to pat the little dog on the head. “You be a good girl for Rebecca,” she said and scratched Sweet Pea behind the ears.
Her disguise complete with a dog in tow, CJ walked along the sidewalk, letting Sweet Pea take her time sniffing every tree, mailbox, bush and blade of grass along the way. The dog’s interest in her surroundings gave CJ plenty of time to study the homes, the street and places Trinity agents could be hiding, or where she could hide if she needed to.
Soon, she passed the town house where Cole lived. It looked much like the re
st of the homes on the street. Two-story, narrow front, a four-foot-wide gap between it and the townhomes on either side, which she walked through to learn more. A five-foot-tall wooden fence surrounded a postage-stamp-size backyard. Nothing CJ couldn’t scale, if she had to. Without actually climbing the fence, she couldn’t see what the back of the house had to offer in the way of doors, windows or trees. It was comforting to know he was only a few doors down from where she was staying.
She moved on, back to the front, studying the other houses and alleys all the way to the end of the long street where it turned onto a busy road. CJ turned left and kept walking, sticking to the sidewalk. A block away, there was a small strip mall with a hamburger place on one end and a pizza joint on the other. In between was a liquor store, a nail salon and an insurance agent.
Across the busy thoroughfare was a tattoo parlor, a pawnshop and a Chinese restaurant.
For the first few blocks, Sweet Pea led the way, tugging at the leash, eager to keep going. When she started to slow and hang back with CJ, it was time to turn around and get her home to her owner.
CJ performed an about-face and started back. When she turned the corner onto the street where she lived, her gaze went to Cole’s place. She wondered if he was home. How easy would it be to stop in and say hello, like a regular person?
Still a few houses away, she heard the sound of running footsteps coming from behind.
CJ spun to face a man jogging toward her, wearing only shorts and running shoes. His body was poetry in motion, his muscles tight and well-defined. Every inch of exposed skin glistened with sweat.
Cole McCastlain. The man who wanted to be her protector.
She recognized him from the one time she’d been to Charlie Halverson’s estate, immediately following the rescue of Anne Bellamy and the vice president of the United States. At that time, CJ hadn’t been wearing a wig. She’d been without any disguise, her auburn hair hanging down around her shoulders.