Читать книгу Inherited Threat - Jane M. Choate - Страница 17

Mace sifted through impressions of his client. Strong. Stubborn. Full of secrets. Everyone was entitled to secrets. Including him. Especially him. He wouldn’t hold having secrets against Laurel, unless those secrets put him and her in danger.

The truck’s interior was too small to contain the tension that shimmered through the air. Granted, he and Laurel had just fought off yet another attack, but it was more than that. There was a coiled anticipation in her that made him want to stop the truck here and now and demand that she tell him what was going on. He pulled at his collar to rid himself of the cramped sensation, but to no avail.

Laurel must have found a safe place for her thoughts to inhabit as she didn’t attempt to break the silence that pulsed between them. Which was fine with him. He wasn’t ready to give voice to the maelstrom of thoughts that swarmed through his mind. He was still coming down from an adrenaline high, as he suspected she was doing, too. Taking on two tangos spiked the senses, then came the crash.

With an effort, he focused on the present. He had a job to do. Deliver Laurel to Atlanta and keep her safe.

After several attacks on her life in the last few hours, it was quickly becoming clear that keeping her safe meant stopping the Collective. From what he knew of the organization, it would hunt her relentlessly and then exact a price of retribution.

He could ask Shelley to assign another operative as Laurel’s bodyguard while he worked the investigative end of things. If that meant taking down more goons like the last ones, well, that was all right by him. His lips tightened at the idea of men hunting her as though she were an animal.

Laurel would demand that she work with him. Though they’d known each other for only a few short hours, he already understood that she wasn’t one to stand on the sidelines. What had he expected? She was a Ranger, after all.

A frown worked its way across his face. The Collective wouldn’t go down easy. The members would fight with their last breaths, and they’d fight dirty. Did she know what they were capable of?

As soon as he posed the question, he had his answer. Of course she knew. She’d fought in Afghanistan, saw firsthand the inhumanity that hatred spawned. In the Stand, fear and cruelty ruled.

There were instances of exceptional courage, both on the part of American personnel and that of the Afghani people, who were, by and large, honorable and devoted to their families. It was the warlords and insurgents who had corrupted the country with ever-growing intimidation and terror. Their thirst to inflict their extremist beliefs upon others was unquenchable.

He’d put the horrors of that war away, only to sign on with S&J and take on a different kind of war—protecting innocents from those who would prey on them.

He had to convince Laurel to let him do the investigating while she remained in a safe house. Knowing that she’d undoubtedly raise a ruckus over that didn’t solve his problem. He worked best alone. Always had. He’d tell her, let her down easy. Maybe now would be the right time.

Before he could explain to her why she couldn’t work with him, she said, “You’re trying to figure out how to tell me that you’re going to cut me loose when we get to Atlanta and investigate on your own. Right?”

Caught, he nodded. “Something like that.”

“No way, Ransom. I’m in. All the way. It’s my life on the line.”

“S&J doesn’t let clients work with operatives.”

Even as Mace said the words, he knew he wasn’t being completely truthful. Other S&J operatives had worked with their clients, and four of those operatives were now married to those same clients.

Not that he had anything to worry about on that score.

“It’s a safety thing,” he said, wincing at the lame-sounding words. “Shelley Judd will assign another operative to act as your bodyguard, and I’ll start investigating. We’ll keep you safe and put an end to the Collective at the same time.”

“You really think S&J can stop the Collective?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But we can put a big dent in the organization.” Of that, he had no doubt.

He’d seen S&J’s operatives bring down some pretty big fish, including corrupt federal prosecutors, greedy union bosses, and dishonest newspaper publishers. When it came down to it, they were all the same: predators who stepped on others to get what they wanted.

“Why should you do the investigating?” Laurel asked, returning to the subject he preferred to leave behind. “Why not leave it to someone else?”

He had his answer ready. “I was with military police before I made Rangers.” That was weak, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason: he was attracted to her, so much so that he feared he’d lose his objectivity. The sooner he handed her over to another operative, the better.

For both of them.

“And I’ve had CID training,” she said. She didn’t add “so there,” but she might as well have.

The Criminal Investigation Department of the Army was among the best-trained law enforcement in the armed services. “When?”

“Before I made Ranger. I wanted to get as much experience under my belt as I could.”

“You must have started young.”

“I enlisted when I was eighteen.” A small shrug. “Seemed the right thing to do.”

She’d managed to surprise him. Again.

“We’ll be in Atlanta in another hour. You can tell your story to Shelley and Jake and we’ll take it from there.”

“Thanks for all you’ve done.”

Mace shrugged that off. “Save it for when I’ve actually done something.”

“You saved me from those lowlifes the Collective sent after me.”

“You and Sammy did a pretty good job of saving yourselves.”

Her gaze touched his, but for only a moment, before it darted away and a blush stole up her cheeks.

He’d spoken the truth. He had no doubt that Laurel could have taken on the teams of men by herself with Sammy as backup and come out on top. She had grit to spare. He liked that about her. In fact, he liked a lot of things about the lady.

The direction of his thoughts startled him. As though to negate them, he shook his head, refusing to go down that rabbit hole. As they said, Been there, done that.

* * *

Laurel wanted to do a happy dance in her excitement about meeting Jake and Shelley. At the same time, she wanted to weep for the years she had lost with them. Her brother and sister. She felt it. There would have to be tests, but her gut told her she was right.

She and Mace had made the rest of the trip to Atlanta with scarcely a word spoken between them. She was too wrapped up in anticipation, and Mace had lapsed into a brooding silence, the edge of a frown putting the beginning of furrows on his brow.

At her request, he had taken her to a hotel and, after checking in, she’d cleaned up, fed Sammy and then taken him for a walk.

Now, as she sat in Shelley’s office at S&J headquarters, she absorbed impressions of Shelley and Jake. They had an easy kind of give-and-take relationship that made her think of the families she’d dreamed of when she’d been a little girl.

Jake was tall and rangy while Shelley was petite, a bundle of energy that made her seem larger than her five-foot-nothing frame. Jake took his time making up his mind and spoke with slow deliberation; Shelley made snap decisions and didn’t mind letting everyone know what she thought.

Like two adjacent pieces of a puzzle, they fit. Would there be a place for her? Laurel wondered. Or was the puzzle an exclusive one, made only for two? She steered her thoughts from that emotional quicksand and concentrated on the present.

After introductions were made, including giving Sammy time to sniff Jake and Shelley and decide that they were all right, Laurel explained what had brought her here.

Concluding her story, she gestured to her backpack. “I have the ledger and money here. I didn’t want to leave it at the hotel.”

“Smart move,” Jake said.

Shelley leaned forward. “Can we take a look?”

In response, Laurel opened the pack, withdrew the ledger and money and handed them to Shelley.

Shelley flipped through the pages of the ledger. “Obviously encoded. We’ll put our encryption specialist on it.” She passed it to Jake.

While he looked at it, Shelley thumbed through a packet of hundred-dollar bills, a corner of her lip caught between her teeth. “Not a fortune,” she said, “but enough to steal.” At that, she flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that your mother—”

“It’s okay,” Laurel said and, like Shelley, tucked the corner of her lip between her teeth.

“I’m pretty sure she stole the money. That’s probably what got her killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Shelley repeated, and Laurel heard the sincerity behind the two words, “for your loss.”

Laurel shook her head. “We weren’t close.” Familiar pain pushed its way forward. As always, she pushed back.

Thoughts of Bernice and how she’d died intruded. Bernice, who’d always chased happiness with the wrong men. She’d played the victim card and attracted men who wanted to make her just that. In the end, it had gotten her killed.

Laurel caught the shared looks between Shelley and Jake and found herself not wanting to lie to them, to pretend that the relationship between Bernice and her was that of a loving mother and child.

Questions she’d parried throughout childhood and her early teen years came back to taunt her. Questions like “Why doesn’t your mom come to your school play?” and, worse, “Why is your mom so mean to you?”

She told herself that none of that mattered now and changed the subject. “I want in on the investigation. I was with CID for a time before I joined the Rangers. I can help.”

Mace bunched up his mouth, as though trying to contain the words that were itching to get out. When he finally spoke, it was in a carefully neutral tone. “I already told her that we don’t involve clients in the investigation. It’s too dangerous.”

Shelley steepled her fingers together. “With her background, Laurel could be an asset.” She turned an expectant gaze on Mace.

Mace trained cool eyes on Laurel. “Boss lady says you’re in, you’re in.” A muscle at the base of his neck flexed even as a flicker of annoyance skimmed over his face.

Laurel heard the reluctance in his voice and knew that while he wasn’t happy about the decision, he’d abide by it. Though he’d left the Rangers, he was still a soldier and that was what soldiers did: follow orders.

“Thank you,” she said to Shelley. “Thank all of you. I’d be grateful if you could keep the money and ledger here. I don’t want to carry it around with me. Too risky.”

“Good idea,” Shelley said. “I’ll put them in our safe.”

Mace stood. “Laurel’s dead on her feet. I’m taking her back to the hotel where she can get some shut-eye.”

Shelley gave Laurel a sympathetic look. “Of course. Don’t worry. Mace will keep you safe.”

Outside, Laurel realized how late in the day it was. The sun slid like melted butter below the horizon. On the drive back to the hotel, she closed her eyes, taking in all that had happened. Shelley and Jake were everything she had hoped for. And more. You had only to gaze into Shelley’s eyes to see the integrity shining there. The same went for Jake.

But something had held her back from telling them about the photo and sharing her belief that she might be their half-sister. She chewed on her lip when she recognized the source of her omission. Fear. She’d never lacked courage when it came to taking the fight to the enemy, but she was afraid to confide in Shelley and Jake.

Laurel had endured Bernice’s rejection, but she wasn’t at all certain she could bear rejection from the man and the woman who might be her brother and sister.

Had anyone noticed that Shelley had a habit of tucking a corner of her lip between her teeth, the same as Laurel?

She opened her eyes to find Mace watching her.

“What did you think of Jake and Shelley?” he asked.

She blinked. What did he mean? Had he guessed... No. She was jumping to conclusions. “I liked them.”

“They’re pretty great,” he agreed. “They had a rough childhood, but they’ve made something of themselves, something good.”

What would it have been like to have grown up with such a brother and sister? She tamped down the longing in her heart and reminded herself that she was here to find answers, not to moon over what might have been. And she had Sammy, the best partner she could ask for.

As though aware of her thoughts, Sammy nuzzled her neck.

“You look far away,” Mace observed.

“No further than my thoughts,” she said lightly, though those thoughts were anything but light.

“Care to share?”

“No.” Afraid she’d sounded abrupt, she tacked on, “But thanks.” For right now, she’d hold her thoughts to herself.

“No problem.”

Only it was a problem. She, who had always prided herself on her honesty, was lying to the man who had saved her life and to the brother and sister she longed to call her own. She understood why she hadn’t yet told Jake and Shelley the truth, but why not Mace?

The answer came swiftly. She didn’t want to put him in the position of having to keep something from his bosses who were also his friends.

* * *

Mace ran a dispassionate gaze over Tony the Snitch. Tony was a slight figure who was frequently overlooked, which made him all the better at slipping in and out of places and ferreting out information.

Tony had earned his nickname legitimately. He sold what he learned on the streets...if you could meet his price. He had his fingers in a number of pies, including running errands for people who knew people. He moved in and out of the shadows with the certainty that no one would stop him. He provided a valuable service and took pride in it.

Mace had used the CI for several years now. Confidential informants—good ones—were worth their weight in gold. Tony was a sneak and a thief and would as soon sell you out as he would breathe, but he delivered the goods.

After settling Laurel in the hotel and ordering room service for the two of them, Mace had arranged for another of S&J’s operatives to stand guard outside her room. Guilt nagged his conscience as he thought of the intentional omission.

He told himself that Laurel needed rest, but that wasn’t the whole truth. He preferred working alone.

He had slipped out of his room and driven to the seamy side of the city, where back-alley deals were made with the same finesse as those in the upscale financial district. That the traders wore chains and leather rather than Brooks Brothers made no difference.

He preferred the first to the second, hands down. At least the chains and leather traders made no pretense of being anything other than what they were, unlike the Brooks Brothers–clad businessmen who hid behind facades of civility and polish.

Now he stood in one of those back alleys, with the intention of trading money for information. Steam rose from the concrete, turning the air thick and murky. A sliver of moon cast eerie shadows. The stench of overripe garbage permeated the night.

Mace ignored the stinging in his nostrils as he did the gang graffiti that covered every surface. Guilt scratched at his conscience as he thought of leaving Laurel behind. He soothed it with the reminder that she needed rest.

In his experience, security/protection jobs had prolonged periods where things moved at a glacial pace intermixed with intense action. With Laurel, there’d been few times of inaction, only continuous engagement with the enemy. He wanted to take advantage of the lull and get a handle on what he was dealing with.

Tony slunk out of the shadows. Quick as a snake and twice as crafty, he was whip thin with an oily edge that made Mace want to wash his hands after dealing with the man. Now, Tony hedged and dodged Mace’s questions about the Collective.

“You know me,” Tony whined to Mace in a singsong voice that was his trademark, “I don’t mess with the Collective. They’re bad news.”

Tony had his share of faults, but he had always been on the up-and-up with Mace. So when Tony said he didn’t mess with the Collective, Mace believed him.

As Tony fidgeted, Mace dug in his wallet for a fifty-dollar bill. It was a game where both parties knew the rules. Tony pretended not to know anything; Mace coaxed out what he needed by flashing cash under Tony’s nose. In the end, both got what they wanted.

“The Collective’s been active lately,” Mace said, easing Tony into the conversation by slipping the fifty into the man’s grimy hands.

“Word on the street is that someone took somethin’ they want back. They want it back real bad like.”

“Any idea of what that something is?”

“Some money. Maybe ten grand. But that ain’t the big thing. It’s a book.” Looking genuinely perplexed, Tony scratched his head. “I don’t know why they’re all worked up over a book. Can’t be worth much, least not to my way of thinkin’.”

The ledger. That had to be it. Mace kept his excitement to himself. “What makes this book so important?”

Tony lifted a scrawny shoulder. “Don’t know. There’s a reward for it.” His eyes lit with greed. “A big one. No questions asked.”

“If somebody came across this book, who should they contact about it?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Tony said. “No one wants to deal with the Collective. Like I said, it’s bad news.”

“What about the money? Any reward on it?”

“Yeah, but the book is worth a whole lot more.”

“You hear anything else, you let me know. Right?” Mace held out another fifty, which Tony deftly snatched and pocketed.

“Right.”

Satisfied that he’d learned all that he could, Mace headed back to his truck just as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Laurel.