Chapter 7
After several slow laps of the ocean-side properties ranging from stilted houses for rent to elaborate, high-rise resorts, Drew ignored Laura’s advice and chose an expensive place with a private slice of the beach.
She’d called it a waste of money, but he considered it an investment. Regardless of their differing opinions, Mr. and Mrs. Ketterly had rushed the front desk in a wave of giddy happiness and been given a romantic suite on an upper floor through the weekend.
After insisting on helping carry things from the car despite the busted ankle, now she stood at the balcony rail watching the gentle Atlantic tide roll in. She was a beauty under the conservative pantsuit and Army regulations. His fingers itched to touch the silk of her hair. Holding her body close to his, along with that quick kiss in the parking lot, had whetted his appetite for more. Not for any woman, as it should have been, but specifically for her.
He could wonder about the absurdity of that for hours. The woman was a puzzle, a challenge, and he liked both. But she was in pain, had been for too long. “Let me look at your ankle.”
“No, thanks,” she replied without turning. “It’s a simple sprain.”
“Which you’ve let go untreated for hours.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder while the breeze played with her hair. “I’ll just get some ice and prop it up for a few minutes.”
Neither of them moved. He blocked the only exit, knew he should be a gentleman, but he wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to abandon the delightful picture she made out here. And he did owe her for not turning him in as she should have done.
“We can elevate it right here. Take a seat.” He shifted the chaise so she’d have a better view of the sunset over the ocean while he worked.
“You’ll get the ice?”
“I can.” But he wouldn’t. “Go on and sit down,” he repeated gently. “I learned a few things while I was… away. Just let me take a look.”
She eyed him as she settled into the chaise, stretched out her legs. “What kind of things?”
“Things that can relieve pain and promote healing if you’ll let me try. Comfortable?”
She gave a nod, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He sat on the end of the chaise. Ignoring her attempt to scoot away and make more room, he lifted her injured foot and brought it to rest on his thigh. “Can I take all this off?”
“I’ll do it,” she started to move, but he stopped her.
“Relax, Laura.”
“You shouldn’t use my real name out here,” she scolded, barely above a whisper.
He only smiled, removing her shoe and then the ankle holster, handing both to her. “It’s a common enough name, Mrs. Ketterly.” Shutting his mouth and keeping his gaze on her foot, he tested the range of motion, let her body tell him what hurt most and where. She was right, it was a simple sprain and he was glad for it. A little attention, some rest, and she’d be nearly good as new by tomorrow.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “here goes.”
“What are you doing?”
He countered her frown with a grin. “Helping.”
“What about the ice?”
“Give this a chance first.”
“Hmm.”
Her skepticism didn’t surprise him. He hadn’t believed when he’d first been introduced to old Eastern healing wisdom either. Thank God you didn’t have to believe to reap the benefits.
“Do you have some secret desire to be cold?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. This is better than ice.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’ll see. It’s energy and physics,” he said, knowing a bigger explanation would only raise more doubt.
“What do I have to do?”
“Sit there and be beautiful.”
“Right.” Two little lines appeared between her eyebrows as she scowled at his efforts.
“You want something to do?” She nodded. “Close your eyes and listen to the ocean. Can you do that?”
She shifted that scowl to him for a moment, then gave his hands resting on her ankle another long assessment. Finally, she dropped her head back onto the cushion, watching him from under her lashes.
As compromises went, he’d been involved with worse. Slowly, patiently, with the ocean as powerful and calming background music, he drew the pain out of her body with his hands.
“That does feel better.”
A good start, he thought. After a few minutes, he changed tactics and technique, giving her body the signals to follow so healing could begin. It felt good to him as well, not the process or practice of his hands, but having something different to think about.
For so many years his every thought had been focused on surviving. Staying alive for one more day, getting through one more job, and tracking one more lead until he’d reached the place where he could see an opportunity for true justice at last.
Hunting down Hackett had consumed him, been his primary motivation for taking the next step, the next breath. He hadn’t anticipated the rush of pure relief filling him now. Hadn’t dared to imagine life after meeting his goal. This respite was rare, sitting here tending to something utterly different, something of value and restoration rather than destruction. He felt it unlocking something long dead inside him.
“I can hear you thinking,” she said, her voice soft under the steady sound of the ocean.
He didn’t dare meet her gaze, though he knew she watched him. Closely.
“Are you done?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “Be patient.”
“At this rate, you can hold my ankle all night long.”
“That’s a good endorsement.” He risked meeting her gaze, pleased by the absence of pain in her features. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Then I’ll keep going.”
She arched one fine brow. “Okay. Will you also tell me what you’re thinking?”
“Not yet. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything at all right now.”
“Too bad. You’re thinking and I’m not good at the sitting still thing. Let’s multi-task.”
He wasn’t surprised. “I was thinking about how nice it is to think about something different.”
“Revenge can be problematic.”
“It can also be an effective motivator,” he countered. He wasn’t surprised that she understood just what he’d meant. Even under pressure in the churchyard, her intuition had been on target. She might not like what he’d done, what he’d had to do, but she’d given him the benefit of the doubt and the courtesy of a small shred of belief. “I’ve been motivated more by justice than revenge.” He shifted his hands again. “You have pretty feet.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Clearly she wasn’t used to compliments, which was a shame. She struck him as a woman who spent more time in her professional role than was strictly necessary. He wondered, unwisely, what types of things she enjoyed on a personal level. Not wanting to aggravate her or tempt himself, he decided not to ask.
He released her foot but didn’t move from the chaise. “How’s that feel?”
“Much better.” She stroked her fingers over her foot, then leaned back and tested her range of motion. “Wow. Thank you.”
“You should still take it easy tonight.” He stood up. “Wait here and I’ll get the takeout menus.”
“Chinese food. Please?” she added, with a small smile.
“Sure thing.”
When they’d chosen their favorite dishes, he placed the order and returned to the balcony, more than a little pleased she hadn’t moved except to take off her other shoe.
“Well, Mr. Ketterly, what now?”
He felt the grin spread across his face. “After the food comes, we should check for any updates on the news.”
“Why wait?”
He settled into a chair at the outdoor table and traced the weave in the rattan. “I was hoping to avoid more bad news over dinner.”
“Ostrich strategy?”
“Is it wrong to want to delay the inevitable?” He stood up and crossed over to the balcony rail, soaking up the sound of the ocean lapping at the sand. In the distance, a cargo ship drifted by. Out here he felt small, but strangely enough not alone. In the moment, with Laura’s tentative trust, it seemed like anything might be possible, including a secure, real future.
For the past fifteen months, he’d only felt this small sliver of hope as he closed in on Hackett. Now, with the solution he’d planned ripped out of his reach, it was surprising to realize the hope was stronger.
Turning back, he knew where the credit was due: Laura. He should hate how much her interference cost him today, but he couldn’t. She’d more than held her own even as she struggled to come to terms with the things he had shared already. He wondered if that would hold up when she heard the whole story.
“I need to bring my boss up to speed and it wouldn’t hurt to check in with Ross. I’m sure he’s heard the news.”
Drew crossed his arms, studied her as the wind caught her hair. “It wasn’t my choice where Hackett settled, where he chose to make his deal. I don’t have any beef with Carpenter.”
“And I’ll be sure he understands that, but we could use some support, someone who knows the story in case either of us get picked up.”
“I’ve got it under control.”
“Really?” She shifted to her side, propping her head with her hand. “How do you plan to salvage the situation?”
“After dinner.”
“You know I can pick up the phone inside, right?”
He nodded.
“Why shouldn’t I do that?”
He gestured toward the door. “Why haven’t you done it already?” Making her mull that over was his only leverage, weak as it was, and they both knew it. “Hackett is probably wondering the same thing.” He saw that reality sink in as her bravado faded.
“I know you have electronics and tools in that bag you pulled from the trunk.” She sat up, rubbing her palms up and down her thighs. “If I searched your car, I’m sure I’d find more.”
“Help yourself. I’ve been planning this for a long time. Taking care of Hackett was never intended as a one-way trip.”
“So let’s take advantage of the time we have and make the right plan.”
“Just like that you’re on my side?”
She started to stand and thought better of it, kept her seat. “I want to see justice served. For Ross’s team.” She swallowed. “And for you too.”
“Looks like I chose well when I married a wanted woman.” She sneered at him, but he saw the quirk at the corner of her mouth. It made him want to kiss her until she really smiled. At him.
“I should call my boss and start clearing this up.”
“Hackett’s waiting for that,” he said.
“Says you.”
“Says everything that’s happened today,” he shot back. The chime sounded at the door and put a cork in his brewing temper. “Stay here, out of the light,” he said, going inside to answer it.
He paid cash, and his stomach rumbled as the aromatic scents of food filled the room. When the deliveryman left, she joined him at the table inside as a cool breeze kicked up and music and voices rose from the poolside bar. For a time, they ate in silence with the sounds of the ocean floating through the open balcony doors.
She pushed the remnants of fried rice around her plate and then set down her fork and leaned back. The temporary reprieve was over. “You’re awfully sure Hackett has someone monitoring my office communication.”
Drew thought she was pretty sure too, or she would’ve called her boss by now. He was grateful she hadn’t taken the risk. They were safe for the evening and he was tired from the long days of hyper-vigilance. “Like me, he’s kept an eye on everyone tied to that day. He wouldn’t have been able to profit so well from selling out people and secrets if he hadn’t.”
“How did you manage to stay off his radar?”
“Staying dead was my only option,” he said with a hitch of his shoulders. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy. It was still more of a challenge when I figured out Hackett was behind that screw up. For a long time, all I wanted was his head on a platter.”
“Why did he try to kill you in the first place?”
“Took me a couple of years to figure that out.” Knowing he had to give her answers didn’t make the process of talking about it any easier. “I need you to make me a promise,” he began. “You can’t leave after I tell you. Until we have a net around Hackett, we have to assume he has the upper hand.”
“Drew—”
“I need your word. Hackett is the worst kind of traitor.” Drew reached out to touch her, then thought better of it and pulled back, twisting his napkin in his hands. “I won’t have your death on my conscience.” He rolled his shoulders back and held her gaze, waiting. “And I won’t let him execute his plans.”
She stared back without flinching, her face somber. “Whatever you tell me tonight, I’m not going anywhere.”
The resolve in her voice loosened the knot of guilt in his chest. Whether that resolve stemmed from her own dedication to justice or a growing trust didn’t matter to him right now. He knew she wanted the details, deserved the details, of that busted mission. He longed for a few more minutes but knew it wouldn’t help. It seemed no matter how far he traveled from that day, it could still reach out and terrorize him.
“I know most of the gory details,” she said, reaching for her glass of water. “Ross gave a thorough report. You don’t have to relive every minute.”
No wonder she’d been successful in counterintelligence. Her intuition ranked right up there with her sky-high clearance level. “I wish that were true.”
“Well, you don’t have to relive it out loud.”
He caught the small half-smile on her face just before it disappeared. Pity or sympathy would’ve set him off, but he didn’t see either in her expression. Her hazel eyes were brimming with the quiet understanding of someone who’d experienced tragedy and trauma firsthand. Someone who’d survived but understood some of life’s moments couldn’t be unseen or outrun.
He pushed his plate away and wished for something stronger than the water in his glass as he told her what she didn’t know.
“A standard meeting went to hell so fast. One minute it’s ‘how are the wives?’ the next it’s explosives and smoke.” His lungs burned with the memory of nearly suffocating. “The IED was in the wall behind my chair. It didn’t go off properly. Understanding that was the key. The damn bomb malfunctioned.”
He appreciated her silent patience while he searched for the right words to explain his miraculous escape. “There were plenty of men in traditional clothes. Dead or dying all around me. I swapped clothing with one of them…” A man he’d considered a friend. “Left the things that could confirm my ID and then dragged the body closer to the flames. I remember thinking it’s what he would’ve wanted.”
“Who? Hackett?”
“No, the man the Army later identified as me. I didn’t know about Hackett then. I remember thinking he would have found it an honorable sacrifice, a chance for me to live and set things right.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. The room felt too bright, too normal. He laced his fingers hoping to hide his shaking hands, wondering if she could hear his heart pounding. “It was so wrong. I could hear the gunfight long after I was clear of the flames. I ran with the other men and women fleeing the compound. The family extended hospitality, treated my wounds, and eventually pointed me toward my first lead.”
“Hackett.”
“Eventually.”
Laura’s heart ached for Drew. Stupid, but true. Her professional distance had evaporated as he told the story, layered in the details. Even knowing she was listening to a spy, a man trained to be convincing, she couldn’t stop the ache in her chest. She could see the broken wall, practically smell the charred clothing and worse. Still, being emotionally gullible didn’t mean she had to stop thinking critically. “Teams combed the area for information. Confirmation. There was never another whisper of you.”
“We both know I wouldn’t be here now if I’d let that happen,” he said, staring at the floor. “A man in my position learns how to make friends in low places.” Finally, his blue eyes lifted to hers as he offered her a fortune cookie.
“No thanks. Keep going.”
She had to wait while he unwrapped the cookie, chewed thoughtfully. Under normal circumstances, she’d view it as a stalling tactic, but Drew had proven over and over today that he wasn’t normal in any sense of the word.
“You know the rest or can fill in the blanks well enough.” He stood up, offered his hand. “You should elevate that foot again.”
“If you keep talking.” She let him help her over to the couch, let him prop up her aching foot on the throw pillows. “Tell me how you learned Hackett was behind that attack.”
He settled into the loveseat across from her and stretched his arms high toward the ceiling, bringing them to rest along the top of the cushions.
And there was the move—his move—that signaled the onset of bullshit. Relaxed and open, his body language said, ‘trust me’. Hah. She kept her expression neutral, wondering how he would decorate the truth, or if there would be any truth at all in what he said next.
“About eighteen months after I officially died, I got wind of an American wanting to make a drug deal—and not for personal-use quantities. I looked into it, got myself involved in the exchange.”
It was easy for her to read between those smoothly-delivered lines. He’d taken someone’s position, someone’s life, to get into the mix.
“Imagine my shock at seeing an American, Hackett, brokering the deal.” He pushed up and away from the couch, pacing to the sliding glass door of the balcony where he stared out into the dark. “I stayed with that crew long enough to learn more about Hackett’s operation. He’d been dealing in far more than drugs.”
More truth, she realized. She found it intriguing that he only wanted to gloss over or hide his kills from her. She supposed she should be more judgmental, but the day Drew officially died hadn’t been the only time she’d waded through murky ethical waters. The world was always about give and take, but it was rarely black and white.
While Ross and his team had done everything right, something had gone terribly wrong for Drew. She couldn’t blame him for following his survival instinct. Couldn’t blame him for seeking the answers at any cost. He didn’t have anything to lose. “So you gathered evidence,” she said.
“One miniscule piece at a time.”
“How often have you followed him stateside?”
“Only once.” He turned. “Hang on. How did you make that leap?”
“Logic,” she lied, thinking of what Ross had told her. “He’s American.”
“No.” Drew’s lip curled in a disgusted snarl. “He’s a traitor with no morals or conscience. And enough money stashed away to make a dent in the national debt. If I lose him now…”
“We’ll catch him.”
“I shouldn’t have told that driver who I was.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Stupid ego.”
“Happens to the best of us,” she soothed. “Might not even be a bad thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because it puts him on edge,” she suggested. “Gives him a fresh distraction. He’ll wonder how you escaped his notice all this time, why you’re in Charleston now. And it makes him wonder if I knew about you.”
“Oh, he’ll figure out two out of three easily enough now that I took away all doubt.”
“Because?”
“He doesn’t believe in coincidences. The only other man who survived that explosion came to Charleston for Spoleto this year.”
“How did you learn that?”
“Because Hackett hired me to kill him.”
“He’s eliminating everyone tied to that day?”
“I think so.”
She studied him, more than a little shocked he was trusting her completely. Gone was the studied, charming ease and in its place was a palpable intensity. No wonder he made her promise to stay put tonight. With anyone else, she might’ve broken her word, but not this time, not when he was doing all the giving. She clapped a hand over her mouth when the laughter bubbled out of her. “My God. Hackett has no idea he hired the former Officer Garner—another survivor—to do the wet work.”
Drew nodded. “That sums it up. I would’ve been able to walk right up to Hackett and he wouldn’t have known me. In fact, knowing his target and the, umm, professional reputation I crafted, he would’ve felt absolutely safe with me. Won’t it be funny if he pays assassin-me to eliminate survivor-me?”
“Who is the original target?”
“Damian Aziz.”
She swallowed as the ramifications of that rolled through her. A voice of peace in Iraq, and a man of great influence, if Aziz was killed on American soil, it would undermine any and all of the recent progress there. “What the hell was Aziz doing at that meet?”
“That’s water under the bridge now.”
“Is that some unwritten CIA code for no comment?”
“Pretty much.” He sighed. “It really doesn’t matter, but if it eases your mind, he and I were both there in good faith, with good intentions until Hackett screwed us over. Even back then, Aziz’s influence was on the rise. His survival was public and his personal security has been infallible ever since.”
She thought of the official photos, the scars along his neck and the side of his face that had been minimized with expert treatment. “Have you told him Hackett planned the fiasco?”
Drew shook his head. “For our mutual safety, I haven’t gone anywhere near Aziz until now.”
“Hard to believe Hackett would hire someone he doesn’t know for something so important to him.”
He rolled his shoulders back, his spine going ramrod straight. “The killer he hired is reputable. And I’d delivered for him on another job.”
Laura’s ability to understand what Drew wasn’t saying didn’t make the conversation more comfortable. Just the opposite. “You’ve assassinated for Hackett before?”
“He’s paid me on three different occasions,” he said with a casual hitch of his shoulders. “One was a kidnapping.”
She felt the spike of a headache starting behind her left eye. “Sit down. I’m tired of straining my neck to maintain eye contact.”
“Consider yourself a human lie detector?”
“I’m good enough to read you. Your lies don’t show in your eyes.”
“Really?”
“Oh, that isn’t news to you. Just sit down and tell me about these jobs.”
“The first was a simple smash and grab kind of thing. That was the last time I was stateside. Then the kidnapping, happily resolved by the way, and then he wanted to plug a leak inside his system.”
“A leak you created, right?”
“Assets are important,” Drew said, a smirk on his lips. “I didn’t kill the guy, just helped him relocate.”
“I see.” No, there was nothing simple about anything involving Drew Garner.
“I was supposed to make contact this morning. I’d planned to turn that contact into a renegotiation, preferably by way of a capture. When I missed the meeting, it sent Hackett off the rails and he ordered that crew to kidnap you. Too many players from that first day for his comfort.”
“Great. I accessed the files on you when Ross called me a couple days ago.”
“Pretty obvious Hackett got wind of that.”
“Based on what you’ve said, Ross and his team must be in danger too,” she said.
“They’re definitely under surveillance,” he agreed. “Hackett can’t risk any loose ends as he makes what I think will be his farewell deal. Surely they can take care of themselves?”
“Of course, but I’d like to warn them all the same.” There had to be a way to warn Ross without compounding the problem. “Mr. Ketterly has a car, identification, and credit cards.”
“Obviously,” Drew’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “So?”
“Email and a cell phone too, I’m betting.”
“When necessary.”
“I think we’ve hit necessary.”
“I’m not burning through another alias so you can warn Carpenter. If we get Hackett, Carpenter will be fine.”
“I’m wanted for double homicide, Drew. A traitor knows you’re alive and connected to a man he wants dead. Ross Carpenter assembled one of the best investigative teams in the area. We need that kind of help.”
“No. Better to go back to Charleston and reel in Hackett. Put an end to this once and for all.”
“You said that you couldn’t take him down and get him into the justice system on your own after I interfered. I’m not going to stand by and watch you kill him.”
“You have to consider that option.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “The world would be a better place.”
She couldn’t disagree, but she’d rather see Hackett’s assets seized along with his freedom. It wouldn’t make up for Drew’s sacrifice or the lives lost, but she wanted him to live with the burden of humiliation and failure for the rest of his life.
“He won’t stop, Laura,” he said, his voice heavy. “He won’t stop until anyone who can ruin him is dead. We have to keep it as an option if everything else fails.”
“Carpenter isn’t inept. The police aren’t inept. Murder isn’t as common in Charleston as it is in other cities.”
“Hackett’s framed you. Trust me, it’s one of his best skills. Every law enforcement agency will be looking for you. Carpenter might feel obligated to turn you in.”
She felt the goose bumps slide down her neck, over her arms. “One fact doesn’t have any bearing on the other. Besides, I’m not guilty. The facts will come out. We need to focus on capturing Hackett.”
“Really?” He went over to the suitcase he’d pulled from the car and unzipped a pocket. Lifting out a laptop, he brought it over and started it up.
She bit back her questions, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire in his eyes. He wanted blood—Hackett’s blood—and with every passing minute, she was finding fewer reasons to stop him.
His pain and fury were understandable. She sympathized with his ‘cause’, but killing Hackett wouldn’t bring back the years Drew had lost. It might not even be enough to restore his reputation. “Is Hackett worth a life sentence?”
“Compared to the alternatives, American prisons are a cake walk.”
Her squeamish reaction shamed her. Of course he would know the difference, probably firsthand. “Is that a yes?”
He didn’t reply, wouldn’t even look at her.
“Well that doesn’t work for me.” She pushed to her feet, ignoring the dull ache in her ankle, and headed out to the balcony for fresh air.
“Why do you care?” His question, so quiet after the outburst, stopped her cold. “Is it just about correcting a report?”
Not just, she thought, turning her face into the breeze. Drew had been a victim, even though he’d physically survived that explosion. Sure, it would be nice to get the story straight, but not for the men who’d died. Regardless of what they accomplished here, she knew those families wouldn’t be notified. There was no need to put them through that.
With every new detail, it became more important for her to see this through for Drew. Whether he realized it or not, he was idealistic, at least from her point of view. She searched for the right words, the ones that would get through his hard-earned, jaded attitude. “It’s about clearing your name. You’re innocent.”
His bark of laughter scraped at her waning control. “My innocence is long gone. Same goes for you, I think, especially while Hackett’s in charge of our public relations.”
She heard him move back inside, but she wasn’t ready to follow him. There didn’t seem to be a good choice, and she couldn’t decide which bad choice to make. Laura heard the television come on and after a few snippets, Drew settled on a station. She heard a reporter’s voice doing a breaking news lead-in about the murders near Charleston and she went back in, sinking onto the cushion beside him as they watched their mess go public on the wide screen.
“A friend of one of the victims has been speaking with police…”
“Clever,” Drew muttered. “Give Hackett another point.”
The images and video accompanying the report were complete with flashing lights, technicians and uniforms, and crime scene tape. But the pictures weren’t of the hotel or even the ‘concerned friend’. No, the pictures were of techs picking apart her car and eventually towing it from the parking garage.
“They found my car,” she whispered. The food, so satisfying a few minutes ago, turned to boulders in her stomach. She knew it was the logical next step as they searched for her.
“You were registered under your real name,” he reminded her.
“And the hotel asked for make, model, and plate of my car.” This was just part of the investigative process. Consciously or not, she’d expected it. And she was innocent, damn it all, so she couldn’t wallow in self-pity over a situation well out of her control.
“Did you have anything in the car?”
“Not really. My purse, a camera, nothing more incriminating than a gym bag.”
“That’s something.”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth when the reporter mentioned reaching out to her boss in Ft. Bragg and getting no comment. “I have to tell him what’s going on.” An explanation might not save her job at this point, but aiding and abetting a dead man would definitely end her career.
Except she’d blown his plan and now felt responsible. That wasn’t logical and nowhere close to protocol, even if it meant a traitor avoiding justice. Whatever Drew had planned surely wasn’t legal and could easily have backfired. But someone needed to do something to stop Hackett and it seemed that Drew was the only one with the knowledge and will to take action.
“Hang on a minute. That’s not smart.” Drew took her hand in both of his, rubbing heat into her fingers that had gone ice cold. “Hackett will jump on that. I’m telling you, he’s counting on that. Your boss will try to trace it.”
“Protocol,” she agreed. “I can keep the call too short for that.”
“You could, but if the trace works, it gives Hackett a direction to focus his search for us.”
“So we just hide here and wait?” That gave her far too much idle time to watch her career crumble. Drew might’ve survived for years at the fringes of society, but while she’d done a few undercover operations, she knew she didn’t have the same fortitude. Not for the long term. Just being on the edge of that option alarmed her, and being in flight mode was making it hard to think.
“We plan,” he corrected. “We’ll go back to Charleston, protect Aziz, and take down Hackett. We’ll put an end to him before he does something we can’t fix.”
She seized on the tiny revelation. “You’ve not only been stalking Hackett and gathering evidence against him, you’ve been fixing the messes he’s made too.”
“Stalking isn’t the right word.”
“You’ve chosen an odd time to turn humble, Officer Garner.”
“The plan,” he reiterated. “Hackett’s controlling the board, using us as pawns. And while I’m all for taking tonight to regroup, we can’t let him keep that control.”
“You think he’ll go ahead with the assassination.” She slumped back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling, tuning out the nonsense on television. Today hadn’t gone anything like she’d expected, but it appeared she’d have plenty of free time to analyze where she’d gone wrong. Probably in a federal prison. “Doesn’t going back play right into his hands as well? Someone is bound to recognize me.”
“Not if we catch him red-handed first.”
He sounded so eager, so full of a confidence she didn’t share. She closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore the comfort he gave by cradling her hand. Being a person of interest in a double homicide was a low point she never would’ve imagined for herself.
Sitting up straight, she reluctantly pulled her hand free of his as she gave herself a mental pep talk. The wallowing had to stop. It never fixed anything. Whether her face was all over the news or not, she had skills and allies—even if Drew didn’t want to use them. “What safeguards did you take with the evidence against Hackett?”
Drew smiled, slow and sly. “Thought you’d never ask.” He muted the television and pulled his laptop over. “Let me show you.”