TEN
Rome stared at the screen, jaw tight.
He spent most of the day pushing the image of the suspect from the security camera behind the restaurant through the facial recognition program—again—at Cannon’s request. But on the third pass, he kept hitting the same wall.
By now, Stina would be in bed, so there would be no checking on her either.
He shut the last computer tab, closed the laptop and carried it to the war room. The base was quiet as most of Sierra either waited for replies from contacts or hit dead ends.
As he walked, his mind sifted through all the information he’d uncovered, trying to make sense of things that made none. He was a step past Cannon’s office when he heard Stina’s name through the door.
He stopped. Without even pausing to think what he was doing, he turned around and pushed the door open.
Cannon sat behind the desk, elbows planted on the surface. O stood across the desk, arms folded.
At Rome’s unwelcome entrance, they both looked up.
“What happened with Stina.” It wasn’t a question.
Cannon’s expression didn’t shift, but his tone came out with a bite of a reprimand. “You want to knock next time?”
He swung his gaze to O. “What did you find?”
O traded a look with Cannon. Their CO nodded, and O crossed the room. He held out a tablet and Rome took it.
The image was clean, sharper than it had been when they all saw it the first time.
“Stina confirmed it’s the man from the restaurant. The guy she dropped pizza on.”
Rome’s jaw creaked as he tensed. “What else?”
“Jolie says it’s not her kidnapper.”
The words rippled like a stone dropped into still water. Rome stared at the image for a second longer, then set the tablet on the desk.
“Two separate players on the board.” He looked at Cannon.
He leaned back in his seat and pushed out a sigh. “That’s what it looks like.”
Rome needed to find her. Needed to see for himself that she was—
He didn’t finish the thought before he was moving toward the door.
“Rome.”
At his CO’s clipped tone, he stopped in his tracks and turned.
“There’s more.”
His blood chilled. “Go on.” His throat was tight.
Cannon’s expression darkened. “Chicago PD just cleared Stina’s apartment.”
Rome’s pulse tripped.
“The landlord received a call from a neighbor that her door was open. She went inside,” Cannon continued. “Nothing was taken. They left the place exactly the way they found it,” Cannon said. “Except for one thing.”
A cold weight settled in his gut. “What?”
“On her kitchen table, they left a photo of Stina.”
For a long moment, Rome couldn’t speak.
“They’ve been watching her,” he said quietly.
Cannon gave a single nod. “They’ve had eyes on her for a while.”
Rome’s stomach dropped.
Cannon’s expression hardened. “Chicago PD has the apartment sealed. The locks have been changed. They’re dusting for prints and canvassing the building.”
Rome already knew where this was going. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter. They weren’t after the apartment. They got in to prove they could. That’s the only message they needed to deliver.”
His muscles quivered with the urge to go to Stina. She might be safe on base, but she was still under his guard.
“Is it possible to move her belongings to storage? And let her parents know she’s all right? She put in the request.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to tell her. She’ll only be afraid for nothing.”
“Agreed.” Cannon eyed him for a beat and finally nodded. “O, you’re dismissed.”
Rome tensed as O walked past him, leaving them alone.
Cannon eyed him. “Tell me what’s going on between you and Stina.”
“Tell me what’s going on between you and Rorke.”
He didn’t blink an eye. “Negative. And that wasn’t a request, Rome.”
He drew up to his full height. “You assigned me to protect her. I’m trying to do that.”
Cannon watched him for an endless minute before he gave him a nod. “That’s it.”
He shot out the door before Cannon could find another reason to call him back.
When he reached Stina’s door, her room was dark. He knocked once, and when she didn’t answer he took the risk of having a boot hurled at his head and eased the door open.
The lamp on the side table was burning, throwing a low amber glow across the empty bed.
His brows pinched, but he automatically swung toward his own door. Pushing it inward, he held his breath.
She was asleep in his bed.
The breath he’d been holding without even knowing it trickled from his chest.
He stood in the doorway, studying her. She was curled on her side facing him, dark hair spread across his pillow, wearing plaid flannel pants that looked too big for her, rolled at the bottoms. Her top was just as large, slipping off one sexy shoulder.
The knot in his chest loosened.
Silently, he closed the door and bent to take off his boots. He set them by the door, at the ready if the alarm sounded and he had to deploy.
He stripped to his boxer briefs and slipped into bed beside her. She stirred, pressing back against him, and her breathing evened out again.
Several minutes passed where he just held her. He was glad she could sleep, but his mind was too wakeful, working through what Cannon and O just told him. The man Stina dumped pizza on had been using a voice modulator similar to the one the terrorist Cipher used before.
Any thought of the terrorist’s name connected with Stina’s made his fists clench in cold fury.
She shifted in her sleep, and her hand found his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding on even in unconsciousness.
His heart flexed.
Why did she end up here? She must have been upset and come looking for him. When she couldn’t find him, she sought comfort in his bed.
And he didn’t know what the hell to do with that.
He pressed his lips to her curls and let his brain continue to whirl long into the night.
When his phone buzzed with a summons to the war room, he knew without being able to see beyond the concrete walls that it was around dawn.
He eased his arm out from under Stina, moving slow so he didn’t wake her. She made a small sound and reached back, found his pillow and pulled it against her chest instead.
He stood beside the bed, pulling on a clean pair of black pants and a black T-shirt, staring at her beautiful face.
Even in sleep, her brow was creased. Probably arguing with him in her dreams.
He put on his boots and hurried out.
The meeting was already in full swing when he walked in. Coffee cups were scattered down the table, and Townie was working through his first English muffin of the morning.
Rome dropped into the chair at the far end of the table and picked up the thread of their briefing.
Normal Blackout updates—current affairs and a lead from Delta team. Apparently they’d spent all night raiding a bunker and recovered two rifles matching serial numbers from Echo’s armory.
A small rustle went around the table, and Rome sat a little straighter.
Two rifles weren’t much. But it was the first real piece of Echo they’d touched in weeks.
He listened to the reports without adding a word. When Cannon swept a look around the table, he paused at Rome.
“Rome. You have something to add?”
He compressed his lips for a beat before just stating what was on his mind. “We’ve entertained ideas about copycats. But I think it’s more likely that we didn’t get all of Cipher’s network.”
The room went quiet.
“Few people knew about Echo, let alone the location of their base. Only someone on the inside could have that information. It reeks of Cipher.”
“Cipher ran a big network.” Younger met Rome’s stare, backing him up. “If someone flew under the radar all this time, it’s possible they got missed.”
“Someone below his inner circle. Maybe someone we even passed over because they looked clean.”
Cannon tapped his fist to his mouth. “That network was deep. Cipher turned a lot of people in positions nobody would bother looking twice at.”
Suddenly, O snapped straighter. “Dante’s coming through with a video call on the Blackout network.”
“Patch him through,” Cannon ordered.
Dante’s face filled the frame of the big monitor. His eyes were sharp and monitors glowed behind him.
“Sierra,” he said as his only greeting. “I was up all night working on new footage from a business that neighbors Antonio’s Ristorante.”
Rome sat forward, fists curled on the table. “Why are we just now seeing it?”
“The business had some questionable activities taking place and buried the footage we needed. I had to gain access to it through some…shall we say…creative routes.”
“What do you got?” Rome asked.
Dante gave a brisk nod. “Looks like a cold-blooded murderer to me. Ran it through facial recognition and he popped right up. Name’s John Hutchins. Logistics Specialist First Class. Stationed at Great Lakes.”
Rome’s blood surged. Great Lakes was the base north of Chicago where he and Stina were airlifted back to Sierra base.
He jerked his gaze to Cannon. “I volunteer. Send me back.”
He held his stare for only a split second. “Rivers is with you.”
They both pushed away from the table and scrambled for their gear. They’d travel light but that didn’t mean they were going unarmed. When they passed the corridor that would take him to Stina, he turned his head but kept walking.
The chopper was waiting for them, and they boarded without speaking.
Forty minutes into the flight, he felt Rivers’s stare drilling into him.
Rome cocked a brow in question.
Rivers settled into his seat. “You seem pretty invested in Stina’s case.”
He gave him a flat look. “I was sent to investigate what happened to her bodyguard. When I found him dead, that meant I became her bodyguard.”
Rivers smiled. “Rumor on base is she’s sleeping in your bed.”
A cord in his chest yanked tight, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Can’t believe everything you hear.”
Rivers snorted but didn’t say more.
Within hours, they landed on base and were led to a room where Hutchins was waiting.
As Rome and Rivers settled at a table with the man, he appeared nervous but answered all their questions.
“Show him the picture,” Rome instructed Rivers.