Chapter 10
Drew hadn’t seen Laura since she’d left Haleswood in a flurry of feminine energy. After giving his statement and staging a hang-dog walk to the official vehicle transporting him back to Charleston for Hackett and the media, he’d been anxious to lay eyes on her. The text message updates from Eva weren’t enough.
But here he was, still playing along. Ross’s team had managed to get him back to Charleston without any problem. Rather than the quiet of the bed and breakfast on the Battery, he’d checked into the hotel room on the Isle of Palms Eva had arranged. He’d thrown the lock, tossed his bag onto the bed and immediately started second guessing every moment of the past days, particularly the past twenty-four hours. But soon the tuxedo had arrived and the tickets too, and the plan was progressing too fast to put the brakes on now.
He leaned into the hot spray of the shower, wondering just what the hell Ross, Laura, and the rest of them thought they could prove here.
They were using Laura, now officially Mrs. Ketterly, as bait. He didn’t care that she was willing. Didn’t care that it was the right play. It felt wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. His increasing resistance to a good plan had him wondering if he’d lost his edge.
Since his less-than-lasting death, Drew had employed every trick and tactic to document and, when possible, interrupt or impede Hackett’s exploits and ventures. He knew how ruthless the bastard could be. Knew this time he’d pull out every stop to save his sorry hide.
Drew turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. He scrubbed it across his hair, dried off, and cinched it around his hips. He couldn’t obsess over Hackett and still complete his role in the Cypress Security team’s plan.
He swiped the steam from the mirror and faced the hard truth. He and Hackett were the same. Not even different sides of one coin, but the same ugly side. He knew what Hackett would do, how he’d respond because at some point in the recent past, he’d resorted to similar actions himself.
Doing bad deeds for a good cause didn’t lift the responsibility or change the penalties for those bad deeds. When he’d entered the CIA, he’d accepted that on a philosophical level, but it wasn’t until he’d made some hard gray-area calls in the field that he’d discovered the sharp teeth of that philosophy, felt the deep, lasting venom in that bite.
Pursuing Hackett had dulled the pain of that bite. Until now.
He stared at his face, the lines fanning from his eyes and the deeper brackets around his mouth, the faint scars near his hairline. He could still go out there and take care of Hackett on his own, just as he’d intended all along.
And Laura would arrest him without a second thought. Worse, she’d never forgive him. He could hardly believe it mattered so much.
They were putting Laura out there with a target on her back without much more than a fervent prayer that Hackett’s aim would falter. That’s how fragile the plan felt. Not a good sign, but he recognized the insidious voice of fear for what it was: a useless impediment.
Who cared that Hacket had missed his mark only once in Drew’s memory—his own narrow escape? Drew had the edge, and with it the hope that learning of his survival rattled Hackett and irritated him enough to throw off his aim.
Forget the how and why, he coached his reflection. Do it because. There was only one reason: Laura. For her, Drew would be a team player. He’d do this job to the best of his ability, clearing her name, restoring her career, and guaranteeing her lasting safety. It would be, he realized, the first truly selfless thing he’d managed in years. Where he went next, assuming he survived, was anyone’s guess.
On that familiar, strangely comforting thought, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the cell phone once more.
Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he sent the text message they’d so carefully drafted. When the reply came back, he forwarded it to the number Eva had provided. That done, he dressed for the evening and the dicey task ahead.