Chapter 9
“You made it.”
Jagger closed the door behind him, taking a few more steps into the shadows of the small, dark room. “You kidding?” He shot the man he’d come to see an incredulous smirk. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Talia’s boss—and R.I.S.C.’s original Homeland handler—slid a hand from the pocket of his black suit pants and held it out between them. “Good to see you again, Jagger.”
Jason Ryker’s grip was every bit as firm as he remembered.
Using the handshake as momentum, Jagger pulled the other man in for a quick hug. “You, too, brother.” He delivered a few friendly slaps to Ryker’s back before releasing his hold and putting some space between them. “Although, I have to say, I was surprised to hear you were in D.C. and not Dallas.”
“Why is that?”
“Oh, you know how it typically goes with you Fed guys. One minute, you’re getting some fancy ‘promotion’ and the next, you’re spending your days on a golf course, hobnobbing with a bunch of geriatric politicians who’ve been in the game far beyond their useful years.”
The powerful man’s deep chuckle filled the depressingly gray room.
“Guess I probably shouldn’t tell you I spent the morning going nine holes with Representative Peterson and Senator Tracy, then, huh?” Both men laughed. “But hey, just because I moved up the ladder doesn’t mean I’m completely out of the game.”
“Different set of rules, though. Am I right?”
The other man dipped his salt-and-pepper head in a nod. There was markedly more salt than pepper these days, the silver strands covering most of the guy’s temples and the majority of his strong, chiseled jaw.
He’d be a fool to underestimate Ryker’s abilities when it came to hand-to-hand or any other style of combat, however. The guy may have taken a step back after getting married and having a kid, but Jason Ryker was still a machine with a direct line all the way to the White House.
“The rules are absolutely different at this level,” Ryker responded to Jagger’s half-flippant inquiry. “That’s why, when Hunt called to give me a heads up on what Cutler found on the footage from the port, I cleared the rest of my day to be here, instead.”
“To show support for your girl?” he mused. “Or are you looking to decide for yourself whether Talia’s on the take?”
A twinge of guilt twisted deep inside his gut the second the words were out of his mouth. There was no hard and fast evidence to prove the woman had gone to the ‘dark side’. All they had was a former colleague of hers from years before at the scene of their op.
Coincidence? It was possible. What an ironic twist of fate that would be. But Jagger didn’t believe in coincidences. As far as he was concerned, they simply didn’t exist. Everything happened for a reason.
There was a motive behind every choice people made.
So he was here, having accepted Ryker’s invitation to observe without a moment’s hesitation.
Talia either had prior knowledge that her former colleague was involved with the man Homeland had been hunting…
or she didn’t. Best way for Jagger to figure it out was to see it for himself.
“She’s not dirty.” Ryker slid the black suit jacket from his broad shoulders, pulling it free from his muscular arms. Turning around, he hung the pressed garment neatly over the back of a nearby chair.
“If Agent Foster had knowledge that someone she knew was part of Sanchez’s crew, she would have told me.
Immediately.” He huffed out a breath. “Hell, knowing Talia, she would have insisted we put someone else in charge of the case to avoid causing any conflict or doubt down the road.”
“You’re sayin’ she would have recused herself from the mission completely if she had prior knowledge he would be there?” Jagger motioned toward the large window that took up most of the wall on his left.
In actuality, it was a massive two-way mirror. One that allowed them both a clear view of the man sitting alone at a small table in the adjacent room.
According to Liam, Keith Sinclair was a former CIA field agent who worked with Talia back in the day. In the time since, she’d become a force within Homeland while the asshole sitting with cuffs on both wrists had apparently chose to work for the enemy.
Question was, were they somehow in on the whole thing together? And if so, to what end?
“I’ve worked beside the woman for the past few years.” Ryker held his stare a few seconds longer before releasing a sigh. “I’ve seen how she rolls, both in and out of the field, and I’m telling you, this…” He pointed to the man on the other side of the glass. “This wasn’t her.”
Jagger’s instincts told him Ryker was right, and his gut was usually spot freaking on.
But until he had the chance to look into those big, gorgeous eyes and ask Talia face-to-beautiful face if she was a traitor to her country, he had no choice but to sit back and wait for the show that was about to begin.
Right on cue, the door to the other room opened, and the tempting Homeland agent appeared. She’d changed clothes since they’d parted ways back at the hangar. Something Jagger noticed right away.
The white dress shirt she had on now was tucked into a pair of navy blue suit pants that fell loosely along her legs.
The shirt’s blousy material rested beautifully over her firm, perfect breasts.
The navy pumps she’d gone with matched her pants almost exactly, and in her hands was a thin, manila folder.
Jagger took her in as best he could from the opposite room. If he wasn’t mistaken, her hair and makeup looked like they’d been touched up as well.
She showered before coming here.
He’d followed the redhead who’d picked her up from the airport. An attractive woman he planned on having Liam look into later. But he’d had to stop following as soon as Ryker had texted with the address at which to meet.
His lungs filled with air as Jagger drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, taking more of her in. With the low, ultra-tight bun holding her hair from her face and the power-suit appeal, Talia looked like the epitome of a government professional. A no-nonsense agent preparing for battle.
But when her carefully schooled gaze landed on the man at the table, a sliver of emotion shone brightly behind her golden stare. Evidence of an emotional storm brewing deep inside.
Was it because she was guilty? Or was it from knowing a man who’d once worked with had turned into a gun-smuggling traitor? One way or another, he was about to find out.
“Here we go,” Ryker mumbled, crossing his arms at his chest with a widened stance.
Jagger slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his attention locked, loaded, and ready to roll.
“Hello, Keith.” Talia greeted her prisoner.
The man’s bloodshot eyes expanded in size as a deep frown created new lines in his face. “Foster?” Sinclair’s voice sounded rough, probably from being up most of the night. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“That’s funny.” She approached the table with slow, purposeful steps. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I don’t know why I’m here. I haven’t done shit!”
“Says every person who sits on that side of the table.” She lowered herself into the empty chair facing Keith.
“Let’s skip the bullshit, shall we? I’m going to tell you how this works.
You have two choices. You either give up everything you know about Sanchez and his smuggling ring, and we cut you a hell of a deal.
Or…” A dramatic pause. “You get charged with a slew of federal crimes including espionage, conspiracy and smuggling, material support, acting as an unregistered foreign agent, and Arms Export Control Act violations.”
“What?” The guy tried to stand, but was stopped short by the cuffs, which were attached to a bar running lengthwise along the top of the table. “No. No fucking way! I don’t know where you’re getting your intel, but it’s wrong.”
“So…no deal, then?”
Jagger couldn’t help but smirk at Talia’s nonchalant tone. He had to admit, it was fun watching her in action. So far, she was playing the part of the hardened agent quite well.
And they were just getting started.
“I don’t even know anyone by the name of Sanchez, and I haven’t smuggled shit!” Sinclair’s voice rose a full octave. “But of course, seeing as how you’re the one who seems to be in charge, I’m not surprised you screwed up and brought in the wrong guy.”
Jagger swung his gaze to Talia, wishing like hell he could see her face. But with her back to him and Ryker, it was easy to make out the way her spine stiffened at the other man’s words.
Interesting.
“The only one of us who screwed up is you.” She opened the folder she’d brought into the room.
Pulling out two eight-by-ten photos of the men killed on the boat, she laid them side-by-side on the table in front of Sinclair.
“These two men died during the commission of a crime. One you were a part of, which also puts you on the hook for murder.”
“Murder? What the—”
“You’re looking at spending the rest of your natural life in a maximum security prison, Keith,” Talia cut off the agitated man’s objection.
“And I know you know how this all works. So why don’t you save us both the time and headache of sticking with the lies and just own up to the fact that you’re a gun-smuggling traitor? ”
“Fuck you, Natalia.” Sinclair seethed with rage as his brown eyes shot daggers her way. “I didn’t smuggle shit.”
“So you said.”
“Hell yes, I said it! And I’m going to keep saying it, because it’s the damn truth!”
Jagger watched the cuffed man closely, hating that he couldn’t tell if the asshole was lying.
“What do you know about Arlo Sanchez?” Talia continued with the interrogation.
Sinclair sat back in his chair and sighed. The sound of metal moving against metal echoed from the movement of his cuffs. “I keep telling you, I don’t know anyone by that name.”