A Kiss to Kill (24 page)

Gina laughed and waved, and closed the door as Darcy watched like a hawk. “Don’t worry,” she assured her firmly. “Not a chance in hell.”

“YES,
I’m Bruce Hearn. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Altos’s chief of staff sized up Gregg and Quinn in a heartbeat. He did not ask them to sit, did not offer them a beverage. Maybe it was the thrift shop suits. Hearn’s own attire was strictly Brooks Brothers. Or maybe even tailor-made.

Quinn, however, was not taking no for an answer. He gave the man his best lazy Southern smile and ambled farther into the office. Gregg took up a position closer to the door. He could play dumb muscle when called for.

“You, Mr. Hearn,” Quinn drawled with calm confidence, “are in very big trouble, sir.”

The other man straightened and marched straight to the desk, where he lifted the phone. “I’m calling security.”

Quinn tipped a photo of Asha Mahmood onto the desktop, where it skidded to a stop directly in front of Hearn. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Hearn stopped abruptly. Slowly, he set the receiver down. His eyes jerked up from the photo. “Who is that? What’s this all about?”

“Oh, I think you know who she is,” Quinn said. “
And
what this is all about.”

The chief of staff looked from Quinn to the photo and back again. Oddly, he didn’t seem the least bit rattled. “Who are you people?” he demanded.

“Someone who just might be able to keep your butt out of prison. But only if you cooperate and answer my questions.”

One gray-tinged brow went up. “About what?” Quinn pointed to the photo. Hearn hesitated for a moment, then said archly, “She’s a . . . friend of the congressman.”

Quinn continued to quiz the man while Gregg observed. On the downside of fifty, Altos’s chief of staff appeared to be the epitome of a Washington insider: groomed, wealthy, entitled. For someone being threatened, Bruce Hearn was also remarkably composed. He didn’t even glance in Gregg’s direction. Blythe ignorance? Gregg didn’t think so. On the contrary, Hearn had the look of a man who’d been around the block a time or three but knew how to conceal it well. But then, so did everyone working inside the beltway.

Gregg decided to take a stroll around the office. Hearn began to protest, but was cut off by Quinn. Gregg was careful not to touch. Just look. Everything appeared completely normal. The door to the private office presumably used by Congressman Altos stood partially open, so he ducked inside for a look-see.

He smiled. On the desk stood a pristinely kept goldfish bowl identical to the one he’d taken from the Altos mansion last night, except the fish was blue, and the gravel was red and white arranged in neat stripes. How patriotic.

Placed exactly below the glass bowl was an agenda for a meeting of the Defense subcommittee that Congressman Altos would be attending at two o’clock. The subject: the final vote on a recommendation for tougher laws on terrorism. Talk about ironic.

Gregg checked his watch. It was just after eleven. He quickly read over the agenda. And saw something that he hadn’t on the one Zane found on
Allah’s Paradise
. Something scheduled for right after the meeting.

Oh,
shit
.

Quinn finished up his interview, and just before they left, Gregg turned back to Hearn. “Nice betta.”

The chief of staff met his gaze directly. “What?”

“The Siamese fighting fish. In Altos’s office.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Who takes care of it?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Some pet store sends a person. I’m not sure.”

They exited the building and trotted down the impressive front steps of the Capitol.

“Siamese fighting fish?” Quinn asked. “Like the one you liberated from his house?”

“Yep.”

There was a brief pause. “The diamonds, you think?”

The man was quick. “Yep.”

“Figured,” Quinn observed. “Pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“Almost like the guy wants to get caught.”

Quinn frowned. “Huh. See anything else?”

“The agenda for this afternoon’s meeting.”

“And?”

“There’s a new item. A press conference scheduled for directly afterward. One guess who’ll be attending.”

Quinn’s gaze collided with his. “Jesus,” he cursed. “Tell me it’s not—”

“Yep,” Gregg said. “POTUS.”

TWENTY-THREE

A
knock on the door dragged Gina from a deep sleep. Groggily she tried to focus on the bedside clock, but the numbers were just a blur. Reaching under her pillow she grasped the Beretta, then swung her legs unsteadily off the bed.

She shook herself to clear the mental cobwebs. Who could it be? Darcy hadn’t called her, and she had most definitely not ordered room service. She gripped the gun harder, debating what to do.

There was another knock. She decided to check the peephole and see who it was. Padding stealthily to the living room, she quietly approached the door and quickly put her eye to the lens.

Crap. It was Wade.

He squinted at the peephole. “Gina?” he mouthed, though she couldn’t hear a sound through the thick door.

What the . . . ? She turned and leaned her back against the cool wood and tried to marshal her thoughts. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked tired. As tired as she felt.

She was pretty sure this would be a violation of her agreement with both Gregg and Darcy, but he looked so darned earnest.

She kept the chain on and cracked it open just wide enough to peer at him, gripping the Beretta the whole time. “Wade? What are you doing here?”

He smiled uncertainly. “Is everything okay? Can I come in?”

She stood on tiptoe to look behind him. “Where are Alex and Rebel?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen them.” He stood there, looking a tad wistful and abandoned, waiting for her to invite him in.

“How did you find me?” she asked hesitantly.

Wryly, he lifted a shoulder. “I
am
an FBI agent, Gina. I knew STORM had you in protective custody. It wasn’t too hard to track down where they were staying. Can we talk?”

Should she risk it?

This was
Wade
, she reminded herself. The man she’d made love with for three years, had been engaged to marry. A man who had risked his career to follow her case so she’d be safe. It would be fine.

“Okay. Just for a minute,” she said. She unhooked the chain and stepped backward, and slid the gun into her robe pocket.

He came in and tentatively closed the door. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you. I just wanted to be sure you’re really okay.”

“I am. Thanks.”

He took another step in. “Gina, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I know it’s all my fault, and I—”

“Don’t be silly,” she countered. “Of course it’s not your fault.”

He grimaced. “I was the one who put you in touch with CIA back when Rainie disappeared. That’s when you met that man, and everything started to—”

“What man?” she interrupted warily.

“The traitor, that rogue agent, Captain van Halen.”

She suddenly realized he had no idea Gregg was not a bad guy. He still thought he was working for the terrorists. “No, Wade, he’s not a traitor. You don’t understand. Gregg is helping me.”

Wade’s expression shifted to a portrait of incredulity. “Jesus, Gina! He’s wanted for
murder
. Van Halen killed those men in New York, and another at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. I’m working with the Metro detective on the case. She knows he’s here in D.C., and—”

Panic surged through Gina. “
What?
My God, no! He’s
innocent
of all those things they’re accusing him of!”

Wade appeared genuinely taken aback. “How can you be so sure?”

“STORM interrogated him. They believed his story enough that they put him on the team hunting the real traitor.” She met her ex-fiancé’s eyes and held them. “Gregg and I are together, Wade. He’d never hurt me. We’re lovers.”

Wade slid his hands into his trouser pockets and stared at her for a long moment. “I see. That’s . . . um . . . Shit, that’s . . .”

She didn’t really want to hear his opinion of her choice of lover. It wasn’t like Wade had been suffering through a monastic life of deprivation since they broke up. Besides, she couldn’t shake the questions the STORM meeting had raised about him.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” she said.

He blew out a breath. Swiped his hand over his mouth. It looked like he was about to say something else, but changed his mind. “Okay. Sure.”

“What were you doing last night with Erika Altos?”

His face drained of color. “Christ. How do you know about that?”

Not a good sign. “The team saw you with her,” she said, folding her arms across her middle. “In your car, outside her house. Arguing.”

He paced away, visibly agitated. “Oh, Jesus, fuck.”

A spiral of alarm began to wend its way through her. Good lord. Could he really be involved? “Tell me what’s going on, Wade. Are you mixed up in something you shouldn’t be? Please tell me you’re not—”

“No! God, no.” He turned back to her, his hands on his hips, face ashen. “I just . . . I got things all wrong. Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to—”

“What? Talk to me.”

He closed his eyes and cursed again silently. Then he took a deep breath and opened them again. “You know Erika and I had a brief affair a few years back.”

Gina nodded guardedly. “You told me.”

“Well, we’ve kept in touch.” He raised a hand like a stop sign. “Friends. Not romantically. We have lunch. Talk. She’s lonely.” He shrugged.

Right. “Okay. So . . . ?”

“So when the Mahmood investigation turned up evidence of a huge contribution to her husband’s campaign that could be traced directly to a terrorist organization, I thought I should tell her. So she could distance herself from him before the shit hits the fan. Which it will. Soon.”

Gina’s jaw dropped. Thank God he wasn’t involved, but—“My God, Wade. You could get in such trouble for warning her!”

He puffed out a breath. “No shit.”

“But why the argument? Didn’t she believe you?”

“Oh, she believed me. We argued because she wanted to tell Bruce Hearn, her husband’s chief of staff, and warn him, too.”

Gina was outraged. “Doesn’t she understand what it could do to your career if it came out you leaked that information?” Aside from the fact that it would make him look guilty as hell. Alex Zane already wanted to have him arrested. This would clinch it for sure.

“She didn’t care.” He slashed a hand through his hair. “Apparently she’s now sleeping with this Hearn character.”

“Good lord.”

“It gets worse,” Wade said. “Back when we were seeing each other, somehow Hearn found out.” He grimaced. “Apparently there are photos. Ever since then, he’s been . . . asking me for favors. In exchange for his silence.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s
blackmailing
you?”

Wade took a few steps toward her, palms out in appeal. “Nothing terribly sinister. Mostly intel on the congressman’s political opponents. A few times he wanted information from Interpol on some foreign nationals. Stuff the FBI has access to that others wouldn’t. I went along with it because the information was harmless and Erika begged me not to blow up her marriage.”

Gina could just imagine. Wade was a chauvinist son of a bitch, but at times he could be a real softie. “Oh, Wade.”

“The thing is . . .” He was standing right in front of her now. “Last year Hearn wanted to know about you.”

“Me?”
Surprise rendered her speechless.

“The congressman had heard you were making trouble at CIA about your friend Rainie’s disappearance. He wanted to know why.”

A sick feeling seeped through her stomach. She vividly recalled Gregg’s theory that she might be the traitor’s actual target. Could it really be Congressman Altos after her? “But why?” she asked. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That you were just looking for your friend. I gave Hearn the same phone number I’d given you.”

The phone number that had led her straight to Gregg.

She struggled to stay calm. “I don’t understand.”

“The congressman is on the Military Defense Subcommittee for House Appropriations. Hearn said they were checking into illegal Zero Unit operations for CIA. At the time it sounded legit, like he might actually be able to help you.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound so bad. But her pulse was still buzzing.
Some
thing didn’t add up.

“I didn’t think too much about it. Not until that big campaign contribution came to light yesterday. Then I started to wonder . . . could it really be a coincidence that al Sayika was involved in sabotaging the Zero Unit operation
and
donating money to Congressman Altos’s campaign? Like everyone else, I was focusing on van Halen. Thinking he was Altos’s man inside Zero Unit. The one who sold you out.”

“He wasn’t!”

“Gina, I believe you. But don’t you see?”

She regarded him with growing disquiet. Honest to God, she didn’t
want
to see. “What . . . ?”

“During the argument last night I asked Erika if she knew anything about it. If your name had ever come up in
her
conversations with Altos or Hearn. Not about Rainie, but about your genetics research.”

A prickling of real foreboding began to trickle through her. “Wade. What are you saying?”

A look of misery crossed his face. “She told me yes, that the subcommittee had been looking for a scientist to consult on bioweapons, and because we’d talked, she knew about your work.
She
was the one who told Altos about you.”

Oh, God
. A tremble started deep within Gina. “When?”

His face was ashen. “Just before you were captured.”

She stumbled to a chair and sat down hard in it, gripping the sides to keep from collapsing to the floor. A noise of disbelief slipped past her quivering lips. “My God,” she cried. “It was
you
.”

His body sagged. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to know that.”

“
You’re
the one who brought me to the attention of terrorists?”

He covered his eyes with a shaking hand. “All along, I had this horrible feeling it was my fault for giving you the damned phone number that put you in touch with van Halen. I was so sure it was him! But all along it was
me
who’d given you to the terrorists. I am
so
fucking sorry!”

He swiped his eyes with his hand and she realized they’d filled with tears.

Like a balloon deflating, all her inner anguish over the randomness and injustice of her terrible ordeal dissolved at the sight of his profound distress. Despite everything she’d suffered, her heart went out to him.

She couldn’t stand seeing him so defeated. She rose and went to him, put her arms around him.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Wade. You didn’t know. How could you? And I survived. I’ll be fine.”

“Thank God.” He held her tight for a long time. “Thank God.”

The closure felt good, empathy and understanding surrounding them both in a cocoon of forgiveness. Somehow she knew they’d be able to put the past behind them now. Both of them. He could finally move on and find a new love, without sabotaging the relationship. And she . . .

Well, she could stop jumping at shadows. That was a good start.

Love? She sighed inwardly. Maybe in time Gregg would come around . . .

Wade kissed her lightly, and they gave each other a final squeeze.

“We should tell Quinn,” she said, and let him go. “STORM will want to know all this.”

“Yeah,” he said, straightening his spine. “Erika said Altos is meeting with the Appropriations Committee today.” He checked his watch. “It should be starting about now. We could catch him as he comes out.”

“The team knows about the meeting. That may already be the plan.”

Come to think of it . . . If it was that late, why hadn’t Darcy or Gregg woken her already?

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

“This is probably them now,” she said. “Ready to meet Gregg?”

“What the hell,” Wade said philosophically. “May as well get the apology over with.”

She smiled as she went to answer the knock. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be gentle with you.” She swung open the door.

And found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. Held by a stranger.

Shock froze her to the spot. She tried to scream, but her throat had instantly dried to dust.

Behind her, she heard Wade’s quick intake of breath and the slide of his shoulder holster. “What the hell are you—”

The gun jammed into her forehead. She squeaked in terror.

“Don’t,” the stranger ordered, looking past her at Wade. “Throw it down. Over here.” Through the rush of blood in her ears, his voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Wade swore, and a second later she heard a thud in the carpet by her feet.

The man’s focus shifted back to her. “Walk backward.”

She forced herself to move, praying she wouldn’t trip. “Who are you?” she asked tightly. He was well dressed, in an expensive suit. Stylish hair, graying at the temples. Had she seen him before? Who knew. He looked and sounded exactly like half a million other men in Washington, D.C. What he
didn’t
look like was a terrorist.

He gave her an odd smile, tilting his head. But didn’t answer.

Instead, he made Wade cuff his wrists behind his back with his own handcuffs.

She had to do something! Then she remembered . . .

Carefully she slipped her hand into her robe pocket and wrapped it around the Beretta.

“You’ll never get away with this, Hearn,” Wade gritted out.

Hearn? She swallowed heavily. So Altos’s chief of staff
was
involved.

“You’re dead wrong, Montana,” Hearn said. “We’ve been getting away with it for years.”

We
? Was the wife part of it, too? Jesus, Tara had been right!

Hearn held out a water bottle to Gina and jerked the gun at Wade. “Take this and make him drink it.”

Wait.
What
? He was going to
poison
them?

Instead of reaching for the bottle, she whipped the Beretta from her pocket. “No!”

But by now her hands were shaking so badly, his struck out and lightning fast he knocked the gun from her grip. To her horror she suddenly saw his sleeve was soaked in blood. “Try that again,” he growled harshly, “and I’ll shoot you both right here.”