Elite Ops: Easy Target Part 19

And if Trey's case could be linked to this?

"Bryan, I'm so sorry. I-" She turned to face him and stopped. His gaze was on the screen, but his mind was far away. His eyes had turned a chilling ice gray.

"Bryan," she repeated.

He blinked and refocused on her face, but his expression was glacial. She kept talking, because at that moment she had no desire to be privy to the dangerous thoughts swirling behind his emotionless gaze. This was the Bryan she no longer knew. The boy who'd grown into the lethal man she didn't understand.

"I can work with this. I can write something that will help your friends at AEGIS and Trey. Particularly with the video. The idea of dirty cops and dirty feds. It's tantalizing to the media and to the public. That mixed in with what was . . . with what is just a hot mess in general . . ."

She leaned toward him. "It sounds crazy, but we can make this work to our advantage. We might even be able to get some viral traction with the right story and that video."

Bryan's expression changed as she spoke, and she didn't have to be a mind reader to know that he hated the idea. His feelings were now obvious from the look on his face. Still, he said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

She kept talking. If he balked, they were out of ideas. "I understand you may not care for the story premise, but I can't think of any other way to do this."

He opened his eyes and the internal struggle was gone, no sign of any hesitation visible. He hid it so well, she might have imagined what she'd seen moments before.

His tone was cool and unaffected. "I hate it, but you're right. We need publicity and a lot of it if we're going to sway public opinion. We can't let Johnson do this in the dark, and that's exactly what he'll do unless we have some way of letting people know what's happened."

She nodded, relieved at his change of heart, and looked for paper on the desk to take notes. "Nick said something during the conversation about his father's death. Tell me what that was about."

"He told me about it in Algeria. His father, Reese Donovan, died ten years ago in a car accident along with Nick's mother. Afterward it came out that Reese had been embezzling from his clients. In Africa, Nick learned that his parents' car accident wasn't an accident. They were murdered by Juan Santos on orders from a cartel member. Apparently Reese was working with the federal government trying to gather evidence against the same cartel that he was laundering money for. When the cartel found out what he was doing, they had Reese killed. Santos told Nick that someone outside the cartel ordered the hit."

"Do you think this is related?" she asked.

"I don't know if it's even true. We are talking about Santos, the habitual liar. If there is a dirty DEA agent in our mess, it could possibly be the same dirty agent that was operating ten years ago. But not necessarily. Still, with either the Riveras or the Vegas involved, the chances of it being the same dirty DEA agent go up exponentially."

Sa.s.sy felt the spike of adrenaline that came from working a story that was suddenly coming together. Despite the circ.u.mstances, a tingle of antic.i.p.ation was there. She'd caught the main thread of the idea. It was going to require some digging, but she could unravel this. She knew it.

G.o.d, this kind of story would be huge. Beyond huge. Drugs, human trafficking, dirty DEA agents ordering hits on American citizens? This story would be ma.s.sive, with the explosive effects rippling out through multiple branches of law enforcement.

And it had just the kind of tie-in they needed to help Trey. Years ago, she'd given up feeling guilty about the excitement she felt in this kind of situation. She craved finding answers. It must be a lot like what a detective felt on a murder case when he pulled all the pieces together. While part of her was sick over the circ.u.mstances, another part of her was so d.a.m.n jazzed to have figured it out.

She just had to make sure she got everything on paper with the right tone and inflection so it didn't come off like conspiracy theory tabloid sensationalism.

"Bear, can I access the cloud from here without being picked up by everyone looking for us? I have some notes I took in Africa that I stored there."

He bit his lower lip before he answered. "I'm not sure. Let me look at your application. We can probably figure out some way to access your account anonymously, but it may take a while."

"Okay." She needed to let this all percolate a little more before she started writing, but she was so keyed up and excited about the possibilities.

Bear glanced at Bryan, then back to Sa.s.sy. "Why don't you get some rest?" he suggested. "Hollywood and I will take turns with a watch. I'll be up a while figuring the encryption out for your account." He sauntered back over to the kitchen to finish eating.

She glanced at Bryan and could tell from just looking at him that he was still far away, thinking hard.

"Thanks." She looked around the desk once more but couldn't find anything to write with or on. "Bear, can I get some paper before I go upstairs? I need to make some notes before I try to sleep."

"Of course." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a yellow tablet and a pen.

The drawer screeched a bit as it closed, and Bryan's eyebrows snapped together. He was back from wherever he'd been.

"You're going to work now?" he asked.

"Just a little. I want to make sure I have everything straight in my head while it's still fresh from the conversation."

A bit distant, Bryan nodded, and she turned to walk upstairs. What was going on with him? She had no idea. And if she focused on it, something she could do nothing about, she'd make herself insane. Things were already crazy enough.

She got up to the bedroom, slipped off her shoes, and crawled into the middle of the bed with the yellow notepad in her lap. She was still so revved up that at first she wasn't sure she'd be able to write.

She scooted back to lean her head against the headboard. A ceiling fan mounted on a long bronze pole stirred the air overhead, keeping the temperature evenly distributed. She stared back down at the paper, took a deep breath, and started. After a few sentences, the ideas began to flow, with the narrative practically writing itself.

The stories Leland, Anna, Nick, and Jennifer had told individually were compelling. Together they created a startling bombsh.e.l.l. The big picture had only emerged after everyone had sat down together, albeit online, to share those individual pieces of the puzzle.

She'd been working for the better part of an hour when the air seemed to change. She looked up to see Bryan at the top step, watching her. His intense gray gaze was different from earlier, when they were downstairs. More like the old man's eyes that she'd become accustomed to over the past six months. Still, there was something else in his expression that she couldn't identify, and that mystery bothered her.

"Hi," she murmured, suddenly shy.

He nodded.

"I didn't hear you," she added.

"I figured."

"How long have you been standing there?" Her unease at not being able to identify his mood grew.

"A couple of minutes. You were really . . . involved. I need to talk to you about this story." He walked toward the bed, and it was her turn to nod.

This was something she was comfortable talking about. And maybe, just maybe, they weren't going to revisit what had happened up here earlier. Particularly if she could get him involved with another topic.

"Yeah, I get lost in this. I usually set alarms for myself if I'm working at home, or I lose track of time completely." She glanced down at her notes. "I've got the beginnings of a good story here. My editor will take it. I know he will. I just need to clarify some things, but after that . . ." Her words trailed off. She was babbling, while Bryan continued to study her with that inscrutable expression as he stood next to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Sa.s.sy, I need you to promise me you will not go off on your own as we do this." His voice was insistent, urgent, not unlike the way it had been a couple of hours ago when he'd made love to her. That realization had a shudder working its way down her spine.

"I'm not sure I understand. What do you mean?" She stalled for time, hoping to distract him.

Her usual methods no longer worked. But that look on his face was warming her in places she didn't want to be warmed, unless she was up for a repeat of earlier. Not that she didn't want to go to bed with him again, she absolutely did. But it was a terrible idea.

If she didn't stop herself now and figure out how to guard her feelings, she'd become too attached. As if she wasn't already. So she had to be careful, or she'd get her heart stomped on all over again. And Bryan would never know he'd done it.

"You know what I mean. You're used to doing everything yourself. To taking care of yourself in some pretty rough places. I know that. But I need you to promise that you'll work with me here as we figure this out. I want to be able to trust you."

Her brows furrowed as her temper spiked. His words were the perfect remedy for the warm feelings she'd been harboring. "I'm not going to leave my brother twisting in the wind just to keep you informed."

Bryan sighed. "This is not just about your brother. It's about my friends, too. They're up to their necks in this, and while they're not in a Mexican prison, they are in a very dangerous position. I believe the man responsible for all of this is in charge of the investigation. There is no telling what he could do to them before we get it all unwound."

"I don't think-"

Bryan interrupted, and the irritation was obvious in his tone. "That's right. You don't always think, and you don't know all the details involved. What you don't know could get you and others into deep trouble."

Now she was mad. "Well, tell me what I don't know."

"You don't understand. None of us knows what we don't know. There are layers to this thing we're just uncovering. I've told you all I can, but there are issues at play here that go far beyond what I understand at this point. So don't go off half-c.o.c.ked. I know you. I know your temperament."

Even as she wanted to be angry at his a.s.sessment of her "temperament," she couldn't be. He was right; and with that knowledge, her chin dropped. She could no longer stare belligerently into his eyes.

She did tend to be a "me against the world" kind of girl. But she didn't like to think that she'd purposely put others in danger. It hurt that he would think that. And it brought up a whole different kind of emotional storm.

To her surprise, she felt tears p.r.i.c.king at the edges of her eyelids. No. No d.a.m.n way was she going to cry. Not in front of him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. She'd rather die. She picked at the bedspread, refusing to look up even when he spoke to her again.

"We need to talk, you know. About earlier."

Yes, she did know, and she didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to discuss what losing her virginity with him meant. Didn't want to examine why what had seemed such a good idea two hours ago was pretty much the worst idea she'd ever had. Most of all she didn't want to think about why she still felt the need to protect herself, even after everything she'd laid bare earlier. Exposing her real self was too frightening, too risky. Even with Bryan.

But he was standing right there in front of her, and she knew she had to face him sooner or later. She took a silent breath and glanced up before cutting her eyes back to her notebook. Tears fell in earnest off the end of her nose, splattering onto the ink-filled pages.

She couldn't believe this. She swiped at her eyes and felt the bed give way as Bryan sat on the mattress edge beside her. Then he was pulling her into his arms.

"Don't cry," he whispered. "It's okay. It's going to be alright." He gathered her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. His heartbeat was steady and strong below her cheek, and he smelled like wood smoke from the fireplace downstairs. Wood smoke and man.

She felt so secure and safe at this moment. Like nothing could harm her. The irony was that the man holding her could break her heart into tiny little pieces without half trying. She snuck a peek at him again, this time attempting a smile.

But it was no use. She couldn't do it. She only succeeded in crying harder. His pity was worse than any indifference he might have shown.

When Bryan had left all those years ago, she'd cried till she hadn't been able to see straight. Then she'd dried her tears and decided never again to let a guy make her feel that way. It only made sense that Bryan would be the man to make her weep like a child all over again.

"You're killing me here. What is it, baby? I promise I'll take care of you. I'll marry you if you're pregnant."

Whoa. That statement brought her up short. Her tears stopped as if she'd turned off a water faucet.

Hadn't they covered this already? And how had they gotten from her sleeping with him without telling him it was her first time to his saying he would marry her?

That's not what she was crying about. It was everything else: Trey and Elizabeth, Bryan's friends, Otis and Tilly, and her life feeling so out of control. A marriage proposal was definitely not what she was after and positively the absolute last thing on her mind. G.o.d, what were they doing even talking about this when the rest of the world was going crazy?

"That's not what this is about." She heard the world-weariness in her voice. "It's just. I-"

She looked up at him to try and explain, but the words died on her lips. The expression on his face was so intense. So . . . hot. He looked like he would inhale her if she'd let him.

She was taken aback to the point that she forgot what she was about to say. She forgot about being tired and upset, too, as she stared with her head tilted back in what must have appeared a blatant invitation.

Bryan smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Dammit, Sa.s.sy. I forget everything when I'm with you except how much I wa-" He didn't get to finish the sentence, because instead of pulling away and protecting herself, she leaned up and into him, covering his mouth with her own and licking at the seam between his lips.

He groaned as she wrapped herself around him, kissing him with all of her own pent-up frustration and longing. Everything else was too much-too confusing, too overwhelming, too messy, too G.o.d-awful-to deal with right now.

This was the one man she wanted. She kissed him because it hurt too much to think of doing anything else. It would eviscerate them both to unwind all the misunderstandings and miscues of the past two hours, much less the past six months. The one thing she knew for certain was that Bryan could make that pain and confusion go away, at least for a little while.

At first she wasn't sure he was going to respond, then he opened his lips to hers and consumed her. None of the hesitation from earlier today was there. He undressed her as though unwrapping an antic.i.p.ated present, all the while kissing her with a reckless intensity that had her melting inside. She was naked and beneath him in moments, then she was helping him undress.

He stopped only to pull a condom from his pants pocket before he was balanced over her. The shyness she'd felt before was gone. She just wanted him and the blessed oblivion he could bring her. She didn't want to think right now. She couldn't think, or she might start crying again.

Not for what she'd lost earlier tonight, but for the comfort she and Bryan had both missed out on these past months by alienating each other so much. If she allowed herself to focus on that for too long, she'd weep for it all-Bryan's dead comrades, his AEGIS friends, for Trey, and for the tragedies she'd discovered in Africa when researching the story on Elizabeth.

Instead, she leaned into Bryan's kisses and focused on feeling, on all the new sensations she was experiencing. His chest pressed hard against hers, and his body pushed her into the mattress. But he was careful not to crush her as he moved his lips down her neck and focused on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Cool air from the overhead fan raised goose flesh on her arms, but she was far from cold by the time he'd kissed his way across her body past her navel, then lower.

Why had he stopped fighting their attraction now? She couldn't figure it out.

He stopped kissing her at the edge of her hip bone. She glanced down to see him resting his chin lightly on her belly and looking her in the eye.

"You're thinking too much again. Stop that. Just . . . feel." He pressed his lips to her tummy, moving lower before pausing to gaze up at her again. "Come on. I dare ya."

She laughed. He was right. She was doing exactly what she'd just promised herself she wouldn't do-she was thinking too much. And she'd never been able to resist one of Bryan's dares.

She huffed a laugh and smiled. "Game on."

Chapter Twenty-one.

December 29 Early morning BRYAN WOKE IN the dim light of early morning with Sa.s.sy wrapped around him like a vine. For just a moment he let himself revel in the memory of the hours before-of how it had felt to hold her and to make love to her. Before he could have second thoughts about getting out of bed, he untangled himself, being careful not to wake her. He knew that if he didn't leave now, he never would. If he stayed with her here, he'd only endanger her further in the manhunt that was sure to expand today.

Their only salvation lay in finding who was responsible for the attacks on AEGIS and the disaster that had occurred in Kingstree. While he was almost positive that Leland's old mentor, Ford Johnson, was behind it all, Bryan was a long way from proving that or being able to do anything to stop the man. Plus, there was the cartel issue, in addition to Trey's upcoming trial.

Sa.s.sy was convinced her news story would make a difference, but Bryan wasn't so sure. People with as much power as Ford Johnson generally had a way of making the media work for them, not against them. How much truth would Sa.s.sy really be allowed to share in her news expose? He suspected her editor would revise the story to some sanitized version.

Putting a stop to all this once and for all was going to be complicated, but it was possible. Bryan just needed to be able to work by himself. If he had to split his attention between worrying about Sa.s.sy and worrying about putting all the pieces together, he wouldn't be able to do a competent job of either.

It was time to go.

He showered and dressed quietly before creeping downstairs. The fire was only embers now, but Bear was up and at the computer, with Lily snoozing at his feet. The scent of freshly brewing coffee filled the downstairs. Bryan poured himself a cup, snagged what appeared to be a homemade m.u.f.fin, and moved to sit beside the desk.

Bear's fingers were tapping at the keyboard like a concert pianist's.

"You got a text." Bear handed over the burner phone Bryan had bought at Penn Station a little over two days ago. It felt more like a month. "It's okay to access the message, but don't answer it from the phone. We'll communicate from my computer instead."

The text was from Marissa: Layover in Paris. Call me on the scrambled number.

"We can do that," said Bear with no apology. Apparently he'd already read the message.

And what had Bryan expected? This had become about Bear's safety, too. That was why Bryan had left his phone downstairs last night. "Okay, let's do it."

Bear took the cell back and typed for another moment. "Alright. I've got things set up where you can call her from the computer over a data line, not voice. It'll be untraceable, or at least much harder to trace." Bear stood and swapped places with Bryan.

"Thanks." Bryan took a swallow of the strong coffee and settled into the leather office chair.