Chapter 17
T hey traveled together in her car, a quiet ride. Not as tense as she’d thought it might be, but they were both still wary around each other. They’d picked the scabs off a lot of wounds the night before that hadn’t magically healed overnight.
Pulling into HICC twenty minutes later, she spotted Leo and another man—who, judging by the way he watched their approach, must be an operative—standing outside talking. Leo waved as she parked, but the other guy simply stared.
“Who’s that?” she asked, nodding toward him.
“Ben Chambers. He’s an operative. Scary as fuck.”
She glanced over and raised a brow. “You were Special Forces for years and he’s scary?”
He tried to look serious but couldn’t hold back a grin. “Well, to most people, he’s scary. You see him with his pregnant wife, though, and he turns to mush. Unless you upset her, and if you do, then even I’d be worried.”
“Noted,” she said. “Since I’m not likely to meet her, I’m not that worried.”
“You might. She runs the Warwick daycare,” he said, jerking his head toward the cabin they’d passed on the way in.
She glanced at the cute building, the only original-looking one on the property.
When she peered more closely, she caught sight of brightly colored play structures peeking over the top of the fence.
“They have their own daycare?” she asked, climbing out of the car.
“The Warwicks are many things, including fertile. I don’t even know how many kids there are now, but I think all the cousins except Charley and Joey have two, or, like Ava, will soon have three.”
She grimaced as they walked toward Leo.
“You don’t like kids?”
She shook her head. “No, I do like kids. I’m just imagining their family gatherings. It must be pure chaos.”
“It is,” Leo said, near enough to hear the last part of their conversation. “Fun, but chaos.”
Ben Chambers had disappeared into the building, leaving the three of them.
“How’s Waverly?” Gabriel asked. “Ben’s wife,” he added to her.
“Good. Headed into her last trimester, so, getting tired. In addition to my mom, they’ve hired two more teachers for the center now, though, so she’s not on her feet as much,” Leo answered, ushering them into the building.
She’d never been one to mix personal and professional—not that she had much of a personal life—but she wondered if that would be a problem working at HICC. They didn’t seem to know any other way.
That thought brought another back. She hadn’t told Gabriel she’d quit the FBI and was now employed, on a temporary contract, with HICC.
A lot of revelations had passed between the two of them in the last twenty-four hours.
And while she’d like to say it hadn’t been an important one to throw into the mix, that wasn’t why she hadn’t brought it up.
She’d worked hard at the Bureau and risen fast. The decision to leave felt right, but she still struggled with it—or the perception of it.
Would Gabriel think less of her knowing she’d quit?
Would he question her choice? How would he feel about her working in his hometown, even if temporarily?
Well, she’d find out soon enough. Leo was leading them through the building to the second floor, playing the tour guide and pointing out the kitchen, offices, and other spaces. For her benefit, of course, but Gabriel wouldn’t know that, and he watched Leo with a furrowed brow.
Finally, Leo ushered them into a conference room. A locked computer sat on the table beside a small stack of papers.
“Let me grab coffee for us and some more copies from the printer,” he said as they made themselves comfortable. “I thought it might be easier for each of us to have a set. And Callie, I’ll grab your computer, too. Sabina was finishing getting it set up.” And then he was gone.
She hesitated, then looked at Gabriel. His blue eyes held steady on hers, but questions lingered there, too.
She cleared her throat. “I quit the FBI.” He didn’t move.
“It’s changed in the past few years, and while I still believe in its mission, I realized it’s not the right one for me.
I joined HICC late last week. The contract is probationary for a few months, then we’ll see.
I promise I won’t be skulking around your hometown for long.
I don’t want to make things weird for you, but they’re renovating the DC headquarters, and Stella thought I’d be onboarded better here.
” She paused. He still hadn’t moved. “I promise it’s temporary. ”
“You quit the FBI?” She hesitated, unable to get a read on his tone, then nodded. He continued to stare, but she wasn’t sure he was seeing her.
Whatever was going through his mind, though, she’d never know. Leo reentered the room, carrying a computer and printouts under one arm and a tray with three coffee mugs in the other hand.
“Let me get those,” she said, jumping up and grabbing the tray.
“Cheers,” Leo said, setting the computer on the table.
Gabriel still hadn’t said a word, although she felt his blue eyes tracking her as she handed out the mugs.
“Okay,” Leo said on an exhale when they were all seated. He looked up from his computer, his eyes landing on her before bouncing to Gabriel, then coming back to her.
“I hadn’t told him I’d left the FBI,” she said, her voice quiet.
Leo’s gaze jerked to Gabriel. “Right,” he said.
When Gabriel remained silent, Leo’s brows drew together, but he forged on.
“You two can figure that out later. Here we have a record of various payments coming from the Nolan enterprise to people who really should not be getting money from the Nolan enterprise,” he said, handing out the papers.
“What about Quayle?” she asked, pulling the paper in front of her.
“The arms dealer you mentioned last night?” Gabriel asked, coming back to the conversation as he reached for the files Leo shoved in front of him.
Callie nodded. “Liza left me a USB with files on it. It came to me about six months after she died, and it took me months to figure out that she identified both the Nolans and Michael Quayle. Until a few weeks ago, though, that’s as far as I got.
Working on Liza’s murder was a condition of me joining HICC, and I gave them a copy of everything a few days ago.
” She paused, eyeing the papers. “When she died, she still wasn’t sure who she should be looking at.
” Turning to Leo, she asked, “I guess that answer is the Nolans?”
“Quayle’s a douche, and there are problems with him, but not problems tied to the bombing that killed your friend,” Leo said with a nod.
“There’s a possibility he was involved in the attempted sale of information that would have compromised one of our missions had we not intercepted it.
He’s on the HICC shit list. Once we get this sorted, that can be your first HICC assignment. ”
“These aren’t the files Liza left you, then?” Gabriel asked, lifting the papers.
“No,” Leo jumped in. “As I said, those are transaction records. From Nolan Enterprises’ New York offices.
While you were moving out here,” he continued, his attention landing on her, “we were able to sift through Liza’s theories, dig into a few things, and find what we think she was looking for. Or part of it.”
“What exactly was she looking for?” Gabriel asked.
“Payoffs and bribes,” Callie replied, her eyes scanning the transactions Leo listed.
“For what?” Gabriel persisted.
A picture started coming together in her head. The room fell silent as it transitioned from a fuzzy image to one with sharp edges and clear contours.
“For government contracts,” she said, her gaze flitting up to meet Leo’s. He nodded. She’d toyed with that idea, even assumed that’s what Liza thought. But now, in her hand, she held the proof.
“How does that play into Liza’s murder?” Gabriel asked.
She glanced over as a tendril of warmth snaked through her—he didn’t doubt or question her. Everything on paper said Liza’s death was a casualty of the bombing—intentional, but not targeted. She believed otherwise, and Gabriel appeared to believe her .
“These payments here,” she said, pointing to a column on the paper.
Gabriel leaned over, looked, then nodded.
“These are transactions moving money out of Nolan Enterprises. And these here?” She pointed to the fourth column over, and again he nodded.
“Those are payments into bank accounts owned by Francois Maraud, the head of the Operation Nationalists, the far-right terrorist group in France that claimed responsibility for the bomb.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “The working theory is that the Nolans fund this group, and then what?”
She flipped the page. “And then we get this,” she said. Rather than look at his own papers, he leaned over again and scanned hers. The subtle scent of bay rum and tobacco—the plant version, not the cigarette version—teased her nose. She wasn’t drawn to it. Not at all.
“Nolan Enterprises gets a contract to supply the French police with everything from training clothing to uniforms,” Gabriel said, sitting back, the whirl of air as he moved wrapping his smell around her.
“Don’t forget the sheets and towels and blankets and every other type of cloth needed to run both their police academy and local military bases,” Callie added.
“Both of which were bolstered in reaction to the attack on their homeland,” he said, more to himself as he sat back and grabbed his coffee. “Why didn’t you find this earlier, Leo?”
“They wouldn’t be the first company to do this,” Leo said. “Which I hate saying but is the truth. As to why I didn’t find it earlier, their books and records all look good—even Ava mentioned how good they looked.”
“Too good,” Gabriel muttered.
Leo nodded. “But if you don’t have some indication of where to look, it’s a massive amount of man—or woman—power to find the needle in the haystack. When we got the additional information from Liza’s file, well, it was like a metal detector pointing to the needle. All we had to do was zero in.”
Gabriel’s eyes drifted back to the papers. “You’re sure it’s the Nolans?”
She stilled at the question, her hunter’s instincts kicking in.
Nothing had changed from one heartbeat to the next, but his tone carried a note that her experienced ear dialed into.
It held curiosity, which she expected. And a tinge of something not quite doubt or disbelief, but something that danced with those two emotions—also something she expected.
But what she hadn’t expected was the tiny hint of anticipation she heard, as if he wanted what he was hearing to be true.
“Yes,” Leo said. Her gaze flickered to the younger man, who gave no indication of picking up on the undercurrent.
Something flashed in Gabriel’s eyes, but only for a second. “What now, then?” he asked, turning to her.
She studied him. He knew something they didn’t and wasn’t sharing.
“We investigate more, shore up the evidence, then present it to the appropriate FBI office. I’d suggest the one in New York, as the team I left doesn’t have the best leadership.
Rian Nolan will go down, and then Laura can return to her family. To her life.”
Gabriel didn’t move, but the intensity in his eyes ramped up, and she’d swear he narrowed them at her. At least it felt that way. “Rian isn’t the bad guy here,” he said.
“That’s not what these say,” she said, holding up the paper.
His gaze darted to the sheet. “What does that mean?” he asked, turning to Leo to explain. She was happy with that; it gave her the opportunity to study him.
“The transactions have been coming from Rian Nolan’s computer in the company’s New York offices,” Leo said.
“Disguised as expense reports. They then go into his personal account, then back out that same day to another account. And then from there, to a third account. That third account disburses the funds even further into six different accounts before being reconsolidated in the account of Maraud. None of the payments are large, but they are consistent and frequent. Which adds up.”
“All of these transactions come from Rian’s computer?” Gabriel repeated. Leo nodded. “Scheduled or manual?”
Leo blinked, then frowned. “That’s actually a good question. They aren’t consistent in their timing or dollar value, which leads me to believe they are manual.”
“Can you confirm?” he asked.
“Why are you so certain it isn’t him? If he’s the kind of man who abuses his wife, at best, he’s morally gray,” she said.
“What?” Leo said as Gabriel’s gaze landed on her.
“It’s true, Gabe,” she said, not stopping her slip into using his childhood nickname.
“He’s a man with power who likely thinks he’s untouchable.
For good reason, since many people like him are.
Psychologically, what he did to Laura isn’t all that different from this,” she said, waving toward the papers on the table.
“He’ll do whatever he wants to get whatever he wants because he can.
Other people, other lives, are either in his way or a means to an end. You know I’m right.”
Silence fell between them. Leo shifted, his chair scraping against the floor, but he stayed silent.
Gabriel’s gaze held hers. She didn’t back down.
Several seconds passed before he asked, “How did Liza end up at the bar?”
Disappointment, hot and swift, lanced through Callie at his passive refusal to agree. “Like I told you, she had a lead,” she replied, sharper than she intended. “A lead she was convinced would provide her the information she needed to put the puzzle together. It cost her her life.”
“Luring her there,” Gabriel said quietly, repeating what they’d talked about the night before, but this time, more contemplative than clarifying.
“I think so, yes,” Callie said, softening her voice. Not hard to do when she thought about her friend.
She remained silent, letting him make his choices. How much to tell her, what to tell her.
Finally, he sat back in his chair and sighed. “Despite what the transactions are telling you, it’s Aiden, the father, you need to look at. Not Rian.”
Leo cocked his head.
“Why?” she asked. She wasn’t sure she bought his pronouncement, but she wanted him talking.
He met her eyes again. “Normally, I’d agree with your assessment about the character of a man in Rian’s situation. But you have one thing wrong. Rian never laid a hand on Laura. The two are very much in love. He sent her away to protect her.”