Dark Secret (DARC Ops Book 1) (13 page)

Jackson pulled out the Swiss Army knife keychain from his pocket.

“What's that?”

He pressed a small lever which caused the metal prong of a USB to flip open.

“Oh, another USB.”

“Not just another,” he said, placing it in her palm. “It's the USB to end all USB's.”

“What? That doesn't even make any sense.” She studied the Swiss Army keychain, pulling out two small blades, scissors, and a bottle opener. “Does the rest of this stuff do anything?”

“Nothing important.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. So what's on here? Is this the virus Tansy was talking about?”

“The worm,” said Jackson. “I wanted to get this to you as quickly as I could. I need you to plug it into any of his office computers and it'll then start a cascade effect, taking out their encryption systems.”

She looked almost scared.

“Tansy said to tell you he’s also built in a little extra toy, just in case you need help. He’ll keep watch, and you’ll be able to reach him at any time from an infected computer.”

“You want me to do this today?”

“The sooner the better, right?”

Mira glanced down at the USB stick. “Yeah,” she said, slowly wrapping it in her palm and stuffing the device in her pants pocket. She cleared her throat. “No problem. Yeah. I can do this.”

Jackson watched the wheels turn in her head. “Of course you can.”

“No turning back, huh?”

“No. We can't.”

“We?” she asked.

“Yes, we,” said Jackson. “Hundred percent we. We're a team.”

She smiled and patted the pocket with the USB stick. “So, Jackson, how often do you stalk me in disguise?”

“Not as much as I'd like.” Shit, he hadn’t meant that to sound so loaded. Professionally, she needed protection. Counter-surveillance. Something they've already talked about. What remained to be discussed was the personal side, extra-curriculars like spending the night in her apartment, maybe cooking for her, clams and white wine simmering in a cast iron skillet while they slipped into her bedroom to remove each other's disguises.

“Jackson, come here.” A car was winding its way up the parking structure, revving up a ramp on its approach to their level. “Come on, hurry.”

He took a few quick steps to meet her in a darkened corner where they were concealed between a concrete wall and a large, windowless van. When he arrived at her hiding spot, he was surprised to see her holding out her hands for his. Jackson immediately reached for them and clasped on, his fingers intertwining around hers snugly, perfectly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was grateful for the constant string of car traffic through the garage.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, squeezing his hands gently as his body brushed against hers. “Even if you do look ridiculous.”

Having no desire to be funny or cute, Jackson remained silent. He could focus on nothing but the aching want he felt for her. The sooty parking garage didn’t matter. Nor did the etiquette of client-contractor relations. She squeezed his hands again. She was wearing that perfume again. She looked up at him with those...

Jackson leaned his face down to hers as she met him halfway, angled and flush-fitting, their lips pressing and sliding into place, a warm, wet, and delicious place, and then locking there as a car drove by in some parking garage a thousand miles away. She sucked gently on his bottom lip and Jackson could feel her excitement, her chest heaving against his, the softness of her breasts pushing gently against his torso. He unclasped one of his hands from hers and brought it behind her head, holding her close, and then lowering it behind her soft neck. With his thumb and pinky finger on either side, he could feel her blood throbbing through the arteries connecting her heart and brain—the two things he liked most about her.

Mira's breath had begun speeding up along with Jackson's, their breathing racing together in an exciting crescendo. He could feel her hands wandering around his back under his suit jacket, down around his waist, and behind. He silently willed her to slip a hand in his pants to grab hold of whatever she pleased. It was all for her, if she wanted it.

But she didn’t.

“Fuck,” she said, pulling back from their smoldering kiss. “Sorry.” She sounded breathless.

“Sorry?”

“I don't know what I'm doing,” she said.

“Yes, you do.” And Jackson knew exactly what
he
was doing. He moved in for another kiss and she took another step back.

Maybe she was right.

“Sorry,” she said again. “There's just so much... going on right now.”

She
was
right.

“I gotta go,” she said.

“What? Where?”

“I don't know. Back to work.”

“Look, Mira,
I'm
sorry. I'm the one who's...” He suddenly felt unbelievably awful. “I shouldn’t have, um... And, you're vulnerable.”

“I'm not vulnerable.”

Another car drove by, but this time he didn’t think to hide, let alone engage in anything extra while hiding. Jackson wasn't sure if he'd ever have that chance again.

“I gotta go,” she said, tapping the pocket which held the USB stick. “I've got some homework to do. I'll catch you later okay?”

“
S
o
, you went from crying hysterically, to making out with him?”

Iced cappuccinos in hand, Mira and Lashay fought their way down the front steps of the Library of Congress. Like salmon fighting against the stream, they struggled their way through an onrushing horde of tourists that just unloaded from a small caravan of double-decker buses. Spellbound, inconsiderate, smartphone-blinded tourists. A common midday scourge for The District.

“It was crazy,” Mira said, dodging a cluster of running children. “I had no clue what I was doing.”

“Really? Sounds like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“No, no, I was a mess.”

“Well, whatever you were, he liked it.”

There was no denying that. Mira could still feel his breath on her face, the tip of his tongue gliding along her lip. She'd let him guide her hand to his body while his other large hand cradled and caressed the back of her neck. His groans sinking into their kisses... Yeah, he liked it. Mira did, too.

But it also scared the shit out of her. Being the subject of Jackson's intent focus— and lust—was both arousing and terrifying. The way she jumped right into it was also a new and frightening territory, a departure from the usually calm and calculated strategy which had carried her relatively unscathed into adulthood. It had been a logical path. But it was also one that somehow crossed with the more curved paths of morally ambiguous paramilitary men and crooked politicians. Working for a gun-runner while falling for someone she didn’t even know. Was this really her doing these things? It was stuff she liked to read about, urges she'd normally satisfy through the safe and distant fantasy world of bedtime romance novels. But now, with her life itself becoming the sexy, dangerous plot, it was no longer as easy as closing the book and turning out the light.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” asked Lashay.

“Tell you what?”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Lashay pulled a cigarette out from behind her ear. “Come on, girl, don't play me like that,” she said, lighting up a long menthol with a puff of smoke.

“I told you,” said Mira. “You knew I thought he was cute.”

“So? Everyone who sees him thinks that. But not everyone gets to make out with him in a parking garage. The fuck you holding back for?”

“I had no idea it would go that far.”

“Really? He was giving you no signs?”

Mira shrugged. She pointed to a short concrete wall at the bottom of the library's rolling green lawn. “Wanna sit here?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.” Lashay took a hit of menthol and then talked with smoke trailing out of her mouth. “Damn. I set you up with a Navy SEAL and you leave me in the dark. That's cold, Mira.”

They sat atop the lowered concrete barrier. Mira took a cold sip of cappuccino and gazed across the street to the rear of the Capitol Building. In between was a small park where a dog handler was working with a young, wiry German Shepherd, holding a treat above his head and moving it back until the dog sat.

“Cold hearted,” said Lashay.

“Hey, it
just
happened. And I still don't even know if it should've to begin with.” Mira went to take a sip but then stopped herself. “It was crazy. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I just went for it.”

“Well, good for you, Mira. Go get him.”

“Yeah, but I don't even know who he is. I know just as much now as I did when we first talked about him.”

“Sounds like you know enough,” Lashay snickered and flicked ash to the sidewalk. “Don't worry about it. You're a good judge of character.”

Mira frowned. Just a few weeks ago she’d respected and admired her boss. How quickly and horribly everything she thought she knew about a person could change.

“Mira, you've spent enough time with him. You know him.”

“Yeah,” she said half-heartedly.

“Is he as funny and smart as his interviews?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he treat you like a queen?”

“What?”

“Do you feel like he'd protect you, your life, when all the chips are down?”

“Yeah, definitely.” She didn’t even have to think about it.

“Mm-hm. There you go.” Lashay took another drag from her cigarette.

“He's almost
too
protective. I bet he's probably watching me right now.”

“Well you're in danger,” said Lashay. “You're his queen.”

“I'm his client. He said so.”

“Semantics,” Lashay said, waving a hand through the air.

Maybe it was semantics. She wasn’t blind. Mira could she was becoming increasingly personal for Jackson. Not just her case, but her safety, and her sanity. She'd seen a moment of panic in his eyes when she’d told him about her invitation to the Embassy Row Ball. A flicker of worry after every time she'd say goodbye. Everything culminating to his embrace in the parking garage, his hunger for her, his heat.

“Do you want to fuck him?”

“What!?” Mira tried to quiet herself as a mother and her toddler ambled by. “Can you watch your mouth?”

“Yeah, you just watch yours before it gets all over his—”

“Lashay! Jesus...”

“Well, it seems like it's headed that way. How many more times can you say no to that hot piece of ass? Hmm?”

It was a good question. One that Mira had no answer for.

“I'm guessing not too many more,” said Lashay.

“That's if he ever gives me the opportunity again.”

“He will. You're probably driving him crazy.”

Mira watched as the German Shepherd sat and waited obediently for his treat. A string of drool hung from his mouth, glistened in the afternoon sun. Gross. “You're right,” she said, turning to Lashay. “I think I fucked it all up. I started it, then put the brakes on like an idiot. He thinks I'm playing games now.”

“So? Play him.”

Mira sighed and then sucked hopelessly on her straw.

Lashay pointed at her with her cigarette. “He's an alpha, he needs to win. Remember that.”

“I don't want a game.”

“Nah, you don't know what you want. That's why you should listen to me. Hook up with him before someone else comes along.”

“You make it sound so impersonal.”

“Stake your claim.”

Mira laughed. “I can hardly claim him.”

“Well, there you go, selling yourself short again.”

Mira looked through the plastic lid to the frothy bottom of her cappuccino. There was barely anything left.

“Okay, I'm done.” Lashay took a drag and blew smoke through her nose. “Hey, who's that guy over there with the bike? He looks like he’s trying to fix something on it, but he keeps looking over at us.”

“Uh-oh,” said Mira, only half joking. “Don't get me started. I feel like someone's been watching me for the last week.” Following Lashay’s gaze, she looked across the street to where a scruffy looking thirty-something guy was bent over his bike, seemingly inspecting the rear gears. The bike propped up against a tree trunk, half-hidden. He wore a courier bag, black sunglasses, and a headband that kept back a long mane of dirty blonde hair.

“Of course you felt like someone was watching you. It was Jackson.”

“Okay, then it feels like
two
people are following me around.” Mira kept her eyes on the impromptu bicycle repairer. There was something familiar about him. Maybe the headband. “And I've been getting these phone calls. That's not you, right?”

“What's not me?” asked Lashay.

“You haven’t been calling and hanging up?”

“The fuck would I do that for?”

“Wait,” said Mira, talking quieter. “Didn’t you see that guy inside the library? The bike guy?”

“Damn...”

“Yeah? Did you?”

“You
are
paranoid.”

“Lashay, I'm serious. I think I remember him walking behind us in the reading room.” Mira's eyes didn’t leave him now, scrutinizing the way he puttered around the bicycle. He'd spin the pedals around, check the breaks, feel the tire. And then steal a glance at Mira.

“Look,” said Lashay. “He does keep checking us out.”

“Okay, stop looking back at him.”

“He's not even trying to fix anything!”

“Shh!” Mira nudged her hard in the ribs.

“Ow! What the fuck!?”

Mira suddenly saw a dark shape out of the corner of her eye. “Hey, girls,” the shape said.

Lashay screamed at the shape. Mira shrieked at Lashay's scream. And Matthias sat calmly next to Lashay.

“Wow,” he said, receiving a swift punch in the shoulder from his ex-girlfriend. “That was quite the entrance.”

“Bad timing,” Mira said. “I was just freaking myself out about that guy over there.”

“She thought he was following us,” said Lashay. “The guy with the bike.”

“I still think he is.” Mira picked up her overturned cappuccino cup and placed it on the concrete ledge, her hands still a little shaky.

“Why? What's he doing?” asked Matthias.

“Following me,” said Mira.

“Really? I don't think he is.”

“How do you know?”

Matthias grinned. “Because
I'm
following you.”

Mira felt almost violated at Matthias’ declaration, almost as if Jackson should be the only one tasked with nosing through the humdrum of her day-to-day existence. The only one allowed to be that close to her without her knowledge. But it shouldn’t have mattered. Matthias was a professional. He worked for Jackson...

“Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” he said. “Jackson's orders. I've been looking out for you all morning.”

Still, there was something she didn’t like about it. She had felt a certain comfort in the knowledge that Jackson, at any moment, was carefully waiting in the background, a vigilant guardian poised to swoop in for the rescue. Without that, Mira felt vulnerable. And alone. Even with Matthias on standby.

“Mira, come on,” he said. “You look so glum. You don't think I'm qualified?”

He seemed to be joking. But Mira knew there was some truth in what he was saying, that he noticed her real disappointment.

“I'm actually better than Jackson at counter-surveillance, if you can believe it.”

“I know
I
don't,” said Lashay. “I kept catching you for months after we broke up, driving by the house every now and then, stalking me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Matthias grabbed Lashay's iced cappuccino. “I didn’t do that.” He took a long sip, as if protesting the charge. “Besides, I was just checking in on you, making sure you were okay. You knew I was there.” He grinned, then asked Mira, “You okay, though? For real?”

Jackson hadn’t said anything to her about Matthias. Should he have? A heads-up or something?

“Yeah, I'm good,” she said. “So how long have you been watching?”

“Oh, just recently.”

Fuck... Maybe her little flip-flop in the parking garage was enough to push Jackson off the case. Could he be so petty? Fuck it. She deserved petty.

“Anyway, stop worrying,” said Matthias. “If that guy was following you, I'd know about it. And then you would know about it.”

“Sorry, I'm just all...” Mira let out a desperate, exhausted-sounding little laugh. “I'm all fucked up lately.” She felt Lashay's hand patting her on the shoulder. “I'm not used to this whole thing.”

“Girl, you got this.”

“Yeah, Mira, just hang tough. We're in the home stretch.”

“Yep,” Mira nodded. “Home stretch.”

Matthias handed the cappuccino back to Lashay. “But I need to let you know about something.”

Oh, God... She wasn’t in the mood to hear any more bad news.

“I came by your apartment last night.” He sounded almost somber. “I know your pass code. So anyway, uh... So I went up and your door was... Well, not only was it unlocked, but it was opened.”

Mira felt her heart sink before her brain even processed the information.

“Not wide open. But it was ajar. Did you, um... Do you remember doing that?”

No... She didn’t remember doing that. But she didn’t remember locking it, either.

Mira sat in silence, trying to replay the last events of the previous night. Brushed her teeth? Yep. Washed her face? Yep. Opened the door before going to bed and then leaving it ajar like a total idiot? Fuck no. Checked to make sure it was closed and locked? She couldn’t say.

“Mira? Do you remember that?”

All she could do was stare across the street. The dog handler, his spunky German Shepherd, and the creepy bike guy, had disappeared.