Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You good?” Asher asked out in the hall.
Owen wasn’t in the mood for another hall chat. “How can I be good?” He cocked his head and glared at him.
“I know what you’re thinking because I’d be thinking the same damn thing.” Asher wrapped a hand over his shoulder. “But we have to handle this situation first. We need to get our people back alive before anyone else gets hurt.”
“I know.” He flexed his forearms at his sides, trying to control the burst of anger popping through him.
Teteruk could already be dead if he’d been captured, and for some reason, the idea was maddening.
Owen wanted to take vengeance into his own damn hands.
But . . . “I can’t put Sam in danger.” He shook his head.
“Then let’s end this before she goes to Russia.” Asher pointed to the door. “Jess and Luke are handling the operational files and coming up with a list of potential assholes who might have our men. In the meantime—”
“Look at the footage,” Owen finished. “The blackmailer is our only lead right now.” He turned and reached for the door handle.
“Just a sec.”
He dropped his hand and slowly eased back around.
“You didn’t tell her anything, did you?” He looked Owen square in the eyes.
“No. That’s Luke’s way, remember? I don’t divulge classified details like he did with Eva.” The lie slipped a little too easily from his lips.
He hadn’t told Sam everything, though, especially not about her father.
He wasn’t sure how the hell to bring up the fact her dad had not only sat on the truth about Brad’s death for ten years, but had helped orchestrate a deal to provide money and weapons to the man who’d killed her fiancé.
Asher took a step back and looked at him with new eyes. “You up and did it, didn’t you?”
He couldn’t face Asher and lie again. His gaze cut to the floor.
“You pulled a Luke, and you fell for someone off-limits.”
The words had him slowly dragging his eyes to his friend’s face—although the friendship was suddenly a little touch and go.
“Maybe you haven’t fallen yet, but damned if I think you jumped from a plane without a chute.” He shook his head. “You’re going to hit the ground and hard.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Owen snapped because he honestly had no clue how to respond without the lies getting stuck in his throat this time.
He stormed into the hotel room to find Sam already seated at the desk, positioned behind one of the two laptops Jess had supplied Asher.
“You think you can recognize the guy, too?” Asher’s eyes narrowed on Owen a beat later, and a dark brow rose.
“I’ll do my best.” Owen tried to draw up an image of the guy from the street in his head, but all he remembered were sideburns and dark hair.
“Are you staying here?” Sam asked Asher, peering at him over her shoulder.
“Nah, I have shit to do.”
“And by ‘shit,’ you mean covert stuff for the president?”
He stroked his beard and looked at Owen, a warning in his eyes: don’t tell her anything else.
The lines were becoming murky, and today, he was beginning to wonder which side they were even on. How could he be working for a country that allowed traitorous murderers to live?
Owen eyed the chair alongside Sam and hesitantly dropped down next to her. He hated the first thing he noticed was her smell. No perfume—just the orange-scented soap they’d scrubbed on each other not even an hour earlier.
He glared at the second laptop’s blank screen. What in the hell had he been thinking? How could he have had sex with her, especially after what he’d learned in the Oval?
“Let’s find this guy.” Owen pressed play on the screen.
“I need to go meet up with the others,” Asher said. “Sorry we can’t bring you with us, Sam, but there will be classified intel there.”
“I’ll be in touch if we get a hit,” Owen said.
Asher dug in his pocket and then tossed a cell phone his way. “In case the SOB calls, Luke thought you should hang on to her phone.”
He gave a quick nod and then focused on the computer screen.
“Well, should we divide and conquer?” she softly asked once they were alone. Her words were whisper-light, as if she were suddenly holding back tears.
He leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes. “Sure, but we’re going to need coffee.” He spied the single-server brewer and rose to turn it on.
“Owen,” she said as the black liquid began to pour a minute later.
From that one word, he knew a lecture was about to follow. “Not now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “Let’s focus on the cameras.”
“But we should talk about what happened.”
He folded his arms. “The sex, you mean? The mistake we made earlier?” If only he were Catholic, like Brad, so he could go to mass and have someone absolve him of his sins. How would he ever shake away the guilt of what he’d done?
Sam’s lips parted before snapping shut.
Yeah, that’s what he thought. She wouldn’t want to talk about their total screw-up, either, and he didn’t want to engage in any conversation that involved her trying to convince him to back off from taking down Jason and Brad’s killer—if the guy was still alive.
Of course, first, he had to get his people back while keeping Sam safe. But after that? It was game on.
“Let’s just not talk at all, then,” she said, her voice surprisingly deep.
Armed with two coffees, he strode toward her and handed her one. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He lifted one shoulder and brought the drink to his lips.
Her long lashes fluttered for a brief moment. An attempt at self-control, maybe? He could well imagine the hot and heavy words she longed to hurl his way. “You’re frustrating.” She focused her gaze back on the screen and set the coffee alongside the keyboard.
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
He returned to his seat next to her and checked his desire to inhale that damn orange scent, hating the reminder of soap lathered all over her body. She was squeaky fucking clean now, and all he wanted to do was get her dirty again.
“I can’t work next to you.” He sprang from his seat, snatched the laptop, and brought it to the bed.
“What? Do I smell?” She glanced at him as he returned for his coffee.
“Yeah. That’s the problem.” You always smell so damn good. A moment later, he had his back to the headboard with his legs stretched out. With the computer on his lap, he began scrolling through footage, doing his best not to steal glimpses of Brad’s fiancée.
Jason and Brad—they were the reason he was currently in that hotel room with Sam. If she hadn’t gotten the photo—if she hadn’t been working for the Intelligence Committee—they may have never run into each other again.
“You know, your mother sends me an invitation to the gathering for Jason every year.”
Her words were like whiplash to the spine. “What?” He sat up straight and glowered at the back of her head.
She didn’t turn to face him. “I’ve never RSVP’d. I never even returned a no, but thanks note. I’m a coward, I guess. She offered to have the celebration-of-life party be for Brad, too.”
Shit. His mom had never told him that.
“I assume you go?”
He shook his head, then realized she still wasn’t facing him. “Not in a few years.”
Finally, she turned in her chair and gazed at him. “Why not?”
He faked a laugh. “A couple of years back, I tossed a guy in the cake.” This elicited a smile. He held up a palm to stall her question. “I had a good reason.”
She lifted a disbelieving brow.
“The SOB mocked the SEALs.”
“What could he have said that would be bad enough to get tossed into a cake?”
“SEALs get hard-ons when they’re killing.”
Her mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh. Yeah, I’d probably knee him in the groin for that since I wouldn’t be able to throw him.”
“I don’t know. You look pretty tough to me.” The quick curve of his lips caught him off guard.
“Well, next time you talk to your mom, could you send her my apology?” With a plea in her eyes, she swallowed and swiveled to face her computer again.
“You could call her, you know. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
“Do you guys talk often?”
“Not as much as she’d like. I’m fairly busy.”
“Looks like it.”
He could hear the soft sigh even with her back turned.
Regroup. Focus.
He looked back at the screen. Focus.
After twenty minutes of speeding through footage, he paused the video. “You went into your apartment building with a guy and a woman, but then twenty minutes later, you left alone. Do they live in the building, or did they come with you?” He carried the laptop over to her.
“That’s my best friend, Emily, and her boyfriend, Blane.
I had them over for dinner, but then I got a call from Senator Drake to have a drink to discuss my proposal.
So I had to leave them.” A light blush crawled up her cheeks.
“Horrible hostess, I know. But Drake was one of the few people I had hoped to get on board.” She brought her lip between her teeth for a brief moment. “Of course, he shot me down, anyway.”
“So, your friends were alone in your apartment? For how long?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.
Emily is my best friend. Hell, she’s being summoned to the White House as we speak.
” She pointed to her cell. “She texted me ten minutes ago, and I didn’t want to bother you—but she’s pretty confused, and I feel like an asshole.
Her brother is on a flight back from London because of me. ”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she was alone with her boyfriend in your apartment.
There were no signs of forced entry into your place, or you would’ve noticed.
Someone got in using a key.” He cursed under his breath.
“I don’t know why we didn’t ask you this before.
Shit.” His entire team had been so stunned with the recent turn of events, none of them had thought to ask.
“What?” She stood and rubbed her forearms.
“Who has access to your apartment? Who has a key? Who has been alone with your purse and keys? They could have made a copy.”