Skin Deep (30 page)

While she went to Anacostia, an auxiliary team had hit Gianni’s apartment and another had gone with Terryn to the Vault. “Did you talk to Blume?” she asked.

Terryn nodded. “We had no problems. Once he learned that Alfrey had been in the building, he let us search the premises.”

“The entire place?” Sinclair said. “I practically couldn’t go to the bathroom without an escort.”

“Just a few offices and public areas,” said Terryn. “His cooperation did not extend to risking his offices being searched unattended.”

“What did Alfrey want with him the other day?” Laura asked.

“He wasn’t specific. They were partners in various business ventures but had a falling-out,” Terryn said.

“Can we confirm that?” asked Laura.

Terryn nodded. “Already in motion. Preliminary results confirm they went their separate ways two years ago. Alfrey had decided to take his politics in a more radical direction.”

“Are you comfortable taking Blume off the table?” asked Laura.

Terryn spread his hands. “No, but he’s cooperated. We’re not finding any connections that are unusual for someone of his level of influence. And he broke off connections with a partner when the guy went radical. I don’t see anything to pin on him.”

Laura paced around the side of the office. “I don’t like Blume. He was afraid of something last night. There’s a connection.”

“When we find it, we will deal with it,” Terryn said.

Laura sat again and leaned forward. “We have another problem. InterSec has a leak. Gianni knew Janice Crawford was a plant, and so did Hornbeck.”

Terryn nodded. “Nothing is one hundred percent secure, not even the Guild.”

She looked away from Terryn. “Do you think it was Liam?”

“Who’s Liam?” asked Sinclair.

Laura ignored him. Terryn paused, his eyes shifting to Sinclair. “It’s possible. Other possibilities exist.”

Sinclair jutted his jaw out in annoyance. “It wasn’t me. I’ve had more than one opportunity to put her down, flut terboy.”

“Jono!” Laura said.

He glared at her. “He can imply that I’m trying to kill you, and you get mad I called him a name?”

“It’s not that, it’s . . .” She fumbled for words. “It’s not very nice.”

Sinclair laughed. “Good. I got my point across.”

“Anyway,” Terryn interrupted, “the good news, if we can call it that, is that only a low-level agent was exposed. I’ll have Cress start pulling files to check on everyone you interacted with as Janice Crawford inside and out. We may find someone who knows too much about her.”

“I’m retiring her,” said Laura.

“You know I wanted that, and now she’s too compromised to keep in play any longer,” Terryn agreed.

“Retire? For good?” asked Sinclair.

Laura leaned back with a mixture of disappointment and resignation. “I’ve done it before. When a persona has outlived its usefulness, there’s no point in keeping it.”

“Does this mean we can’t live together anymore?” Sinclair asked in mock sadness.

Laura glowered but didn’t answer him. “Do we have anything new on the drug-raid data?” Laura asked Terryn.

He slid a folder across the desk. “The raid did, in fact, disrupt a drug operation. There’s been chatter about its being a front. It looks like you were right. The evidence and underground chatter strongly point to an assassination plot, with Senator Hornbeck or the president as the likely targets.”

Laura shook her head. “Who will both be at the Archives tomorrow. That puts the ceremony back in play as a target. We have to get it canceled, Terryn.”

Terryn frowned and nodded. “We’ve informed both offices of the information and received the standard reply.”

Laura knew what that meant. “Dammit! Someone needs to tell those idiots they won’t need to bow down to terrorists if they get their legs shot out from under them,” she snapped.

“They have full confidence in our ability to protect them,” said Terryn.

Laura scoffed. “And if something goes wrong, we’ll get hung out to dry because they didn’t listen to us.”

Terryn sighed. “This is Washington.”

“I have an idea,” said Sinclair. They both stared at him as if they had forgotten he was in the room. “What? I can’t have an idea? I thought you wanted me on the team?”

Laura glanced at Terryn. “Go on,” he said.

“We flush them out. You said you weren’t going to use Crawford anymore. They’re trying to kill her because they think she knows something. Use her to flush them out,” Sinclair said.

Terryn shook his head. “Too risky.”

“I like it,” said Laura. Sinclair nodded a flattered smile at her.

“Laura, you’ve done enough. I’m putting other agents on this. You and I will focus on Archives security,” Terryn said.

“Agreed. Tomorrow. Today, I want Alfrey or Gianni or both.”

“No.”

She tapped a finger on his desktop. “I’m demanding the right to do this, Terryn. They’ve tried to kill Janice three times. I deserve the chance to get them before this goes any further.”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

With a sly look, Laura leaned back in her chair. “I’m going to be terrorist bait.”

CHAPTER 32

LAURA STOOD OUTSIDE
Sinclair’s apartment, running their plan over in her mind one last time. The wards inside the apartment remained active, and it was time to make Alfrey think, whatever his greater plans were, that they were in true danger. She hoped he would take the bait. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

Sinclair opened it immediately. “What happened?”

She rushed in and stopped short of the dampening field near the armchair. “I had to talk to you.”

Sinclair closed the door. “They told me you were in protective custody.”

“I was. I had to talk to you. I remembered something, Jono, and I don’t know what to do.”

He stepped close and brought his hands up to hold her. She slipped away, remaining outside the field and giving him a warning look. “First, tell me what happened. I got a call last night that you needed me outside the Vault. When I went out, four guys jumped me and took me to a house outside the city. They wouldn’t tell me anything, then let me go about an hour ago.”

“Someone tried to kill me last night,” she said.

“What!” he said.

They stepped into the dampening field. Laura spread sheets of paper on Sinclair’s coffee table with large text and plenty of white space. “That’s a good start,” she said.

Identical sheets were on the dining-room table and another set on the kitchen counter. Laura had written dialogue as well as movement directions, a flow designed to weave in and out of the fields of the listening wards throughout the apartment.

Sinclair sat next to her. Sinclair’s knee touched the side of her thigh, grazing it, not firmly enough for her to call him on it. It took several heartbeats before Laura noticed she hadn’t automatically moved away. “You think this will work?” he asked.

She pursed her lips, tilting her head from side to side. “It was your idea.”

Sinclair sighed. “I know. If they were trying to kill us before, they’ll definitely try after this.”

She turned an intentionally enthusiastic smile at him. “Isn’t knowing it’s going to happen better than wondering?”

He looked amused. “You’re odd, you know that?”

She stood and adjusted her T-shirt. “Just stick to the dialogue. Ready?”

He checked the pages. “Here goes . . .”

He stepped out of the field of the living-room dampening ward. “I’m getting a beer. You want one?” he asked.

He waited near the dining-room table while Laura stepped away from the dampening field.

“Yeah.”

Sinclair moved into the kitchen. Laura had placed masking tape around the listening-ward field to show him when his medallion was too close and blocked transmission. Laura leaned against the dining-room table. “Someone tried to poison me last night. InterSec got it out of me in time.”

Sinclair came to the kitchen door. “Gods, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. But here’s the weird part. When I woke up, I remembered the raid. All of it, Jono.”

He went back in the kitchen. “That’s great, isn’t it?”

“I’m a little freaked out by it.”

Sinclair retrieved two beers from the refrigerator and handed her one. “Are you going to keep me in suspense, or are you going to tell me what you remember?”

“What do you think of Gianni?” she asked.

Sinclair sipped his beer and checked the printed dialogue. “Okay, change the subject. He’s okay. A little rough around the edges, but I don’t have a problem with him.”

“No, I mean compared to me,” Laura said.

Sinclair smiled and moved in close. He straddled her as she leaned against the table, but didn’t touch her.
Just read the dialogue, Sinclair. We’re not on camera,
she sent him.

He smirked. “You’re way hotter.”

“Oh, and how hot do you think Gianni is?”

Amused, he jerked his head back. “Don’t worry about that. He doesn’t even register.”

Jerk. Stick to the dialogue,
she sent. She poked her finger against his chest and pushed him away. “Seriously, you’ve known him a lot longer than you’ve known me. If I told you something bad about him, what would you think?”

Sinclair took a swig of beer. “I’d think he was an ass. Why are we talking about Gianni?”

She led him into the living room. “He shot me, Jono.”

“What!” Sinclair said.

They stepped back into the jamming field.

She shoved him in the shoulder. “I am going to kill you if you don’t take this seriously.”

“If someone’s going to kill me, I’d rather it be you,” he said.

She sighed in exasperation. “How did I get into this?”

Sinclair grinned. “By lying.”

She pushed him out of the dampening field. “Keep moving.”

He darted back in to check his dialogue, then out again. “No, I believe you. I just don’t get it. Why the hell would he try to kill you?”

She followed him out of the field. “. . . worse. Sanchez said something to me. I think I should go to the FBI or InterSec.”

They returned to the dining room, close enough for the kitchen ward to pick them up. “What did he say?” Sinclair asked.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” Laura said.

Sinclair picked up the page of dialogue they were on. “What the hell, Crawford? You just told me Gianni shot you. What the hell did Sanchez say that can be worse than that?”

“I’m afraid, Jono. Someone’s tried to kill me three times since the warehouse,” she said.

Sinclair lifted the script, his brow furrowing as he read. “Wait a minute . . . three? You told me about the bridge and last night. What else happened?”

She paused in surprise. She hadn’t told him about what happened at the FBI building—which had happened to Mariel, not Janice. She improvised, not wanting to dwell on the slip-up. “Someone tried to run me off the road, just like what happened to you. I thought it was a drunk driver until now.”

Get back to the script, Jono!
she sent.

His eyes searched her face. “Why do you play things so dangerously?”

She waved the script in front of him. “I didn’t ask for this, Jono. That’s why I’m afraid. If I tell you everything, you’ll be in danger, too.”

He held her arms. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all.”

Jono, please! We can’t mess this up. They’re listening,
she sent.

“So you think I should keep quiet?” she asked.

He ran a finger along the line of her jaw. “I think I want you to be safe. Let’s just go away, get away from all this.”

Angry, she grabbed his hand. “Jono . . .”

He tilted her chin up, leaned down, and kissed her. She closed her eyes and found herself surrendering to the moment, the warm and full pressure of his lips against hers. It had been so long since she had let a man touch her. So long since she had even wanted to be touched. She didn’t move. Sinclair broke the kiss. She savored the moment, knowing that when she opened her eyes, it would end. But it had to end. She didn’t want to risk allowing something to happen between them that would only end badly.

She looked up at him, not angry or annoyed, but regretful. “I can’t do this.”

“Neither can I. Not if it means losing you before things have even started,” he said. He twined his fingers into hers and led her into the bedroom. She let him lead her, let him hold her hand like that, and told herself it was part of the plan to continue the fake dialogue in the bedroom.

Sinclair sat on the side of the bed, and the listening ward faded as his medallion interacted with it. Laura tugged her hands away and placed them on his shoulders. He held her hips and pulled her closer.

She shook her head. “This isn’t going to happen, Jono.”

He slid his hands higher and drew her down with him as he fell back on the bed. She lay on top of him, refusing to straddle him. With his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, he wiggled her back and forth. “We could always drink more beer so you can tell me how drunk you were and how you don’t remember a thing.”

She rolled off him. “Stop. We can’t. I told you I don’t date colleagues.”

He stretched on his side. “Oh, but you can kiss them, huh? Besides, we’re not technically colleagues until Terryn decides I’m good enough.”

She snorted. “Oh, you’re good all right. Just not the kind of good I think Terryn had in mind.”

With light touches, he walked his fingers up her arm. “Someone’s making excuses,” he sang softly.

Laura grabbed his hand when it reached her shoulder. “Jono, we don’t have time for this.” He relaxed his hand to lie flat on her shoulder. She slipped off the bed. “We have to get out of here.”

Sinclair leaned his elbows on his knees, thinking through what she said. “Where do we go?”

“Stick to the plan. The Guildhouse, then the safe house. When the listening ward reactivates, we get back to the script and talk about going out for more beer. Got it?” she said.

“Got it,” he said. The listening ward reactivated as he rolled off the bed and pulled a pair of shoes from the closet.

“Now? You want to go for more beer now?” Laura said, putting a note of surprise in her voice.