Targeted (12 page)

He stopped talking, but the dark look in his eyes was predatory. It was almost as if she could sense the rage in him even though he wasn’t outwardly reacting. He was so still it was unnerving, as if he was reining in his anger. Sam had been just like that. Whenever he got angry, everything burned deep beneath his surface. And the quieter he’d gotten, the angrier he’d been. The sudden comparison between the two men jarred her enough to tear her gaze away.

Sophie started scrolling through the pages of text. On the third one, she glared at him accusingly. “I can barely read any of this.” There were big paragraphs completely blacked out.

He looked almost apologetic as his broad shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “The classified stuff is redacted.”

Gritting her teeth, she looked back and read what she could. The details were scant and she gleaned bits and pieces basically telling her what Jack had just told her. But when she got to the section of pictures, what little food she had in her stomach roiled. Men, women, and children had been massacred.

There were so many of them wearing threadbare clothes, some with no shoes, and their bodies had been ravaged with bullets. In some, the bodies of the women were missing skirts or they were completely naked, telling another story of the carnage. Some bodies were piled on each other, just dumped in ditches. Some had been left in the street and ripped apart by hungry scavengers. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, but the images remained.

Having seen more than enough, she snapped his computer shut and shoved it at him.

“I told you,” he murmured.

“Vargas did that and he’s supposedly involved with my boss? And Keane?”

“I don’t know for sure about your boss, but it’s more than probable.” Jack’s eyes were unreadable. He just stared at her, as if waiting for something.

Screw it.
She reached into the built-in bra of the too-big dress and pulled out the flash drive. She had backups and someone wanted her dead. If Jack wanted to kill her, he could have done so. Multiple times. She handed it to the intimidating man next to her, then wiped her damp palm on her dress. She had no idea what his reaction would be.

His eyes slightly narrowed. “What is this?”

“I stopped by Keane’s hangar—well, I guess I technically broke in—Sunday night and took pictures of some very illegal stuff. Grenades and guns were all I managed to get before some scary-looking thugs showed up and chased me. Luckily I’m a fast runner.” She said the last part semi-jokingly, but even remembering the fear from the other night sent a shiver rippling through her. The thought of what could have happened to her seemed even more real after looking at those pictures.

Jack went impossibly still. “You broke into Keane’s hangar. Alone. With no backup.” His voice vibrated with anger.

She blinked, surprised by the tone. “How is this not a good thing? Well, the weapons aren’t good, but I have proof that Keane is involved in bad stuff. Maybe this will tie him to Vargas. Isn’t that important?”

His jaw clenched and he all but ignored what she’d said. “Anything could have happened to you! Do you realize how dangerous that was?” He cursed, the sound surprisingly savage.

Sophie slowly inched down the couch as a burst of fear detonated inside her. He was seriously angry at her and she couldn’t figure out why.

When he saw her move, his expression really darkened. Shoving up from the couch, he stalked to the love seat, putting distance between them. “I hate that you think I’d ever hurt you.”

The words elicited so much confusion she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Why are you so angry at me?”

He completely ignored her question and picked up his laptop. As he plugged in the flash drive, he said, “So what prompted your break-in?” He wouldn’t even look at her, something she found really annoying.

But she answered, “Ronald has been acting strange the past few months. Agitated, forgetting to do simple things, he’s been blowing off my concerns about the anomalies I found in the Keane flight logs, and this is really small, but he hasn’t asked me over for dinner in months.”

“Why is that strange?”

“I assumed he and his wife were having problems—it would have explained his distraction at work—but after what I found and what you showed me, I don’t know what to think anymore. Then when I just called him, he told me to stay hidden for a few days and that I had to trust him. About what, though, he didn’t explain. He also offered to send me
money
. That’s not normal behavior for someone with nothing to hide.”

Jack was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Who knew you were going to lunch with me today?”

“Well . . . Mandy, Benson, and Ronald, though I’m sure they could have mentioned it to practically anyone. Why?”

“Just trying to get a feel for the people you work with. Is there anyone you don’t trust?”

“No. Other than Ronald—” She frowned as another thought hit her.

“What is it?”

“Lately I’ve noticed things in my office moved around. It’s not something I’d swear to in court, just a feeling I’ve had.”

“How would you feel about returning to Miami to question Ronald?”

“What about the people who want to kill me?”

“I’m talking about a private meeting. We would name the time and place. You’ll wear a listening device—”

“Wait, what?” Was he crazy? A sniper had tried to kill her and now she was pretty sure that whoever she’d run from at the hangar was probably behind it. Someone knew where she worked and probably where she lived. And he wanted her to go back there? Even Ronald had told her to stay away.

Jack continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “—convince your boss you’re in trouble and need to meet with him. If you can get him to give up his partner or partners and, more important, bring Vargas to Miami for a meeting, we can bring him in immediately.”

Her head swam as she tried to digest his words. “You’re saying all this stuff as if it’s normal. I’m not wearing a freaking wire anywhere. What if those people come after me again? Who’s going to protect me? Where will I be staying? Because it sure as hell won’t be my house.” She instantly regretted the last question because it implied that she’d be going back soon. But if those pictures Jack had shown her were real, they said so much about what Vargas was capable of—and that terrified her.

Jack was silent for a moment; then he shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry—sometimes I forget. . . . Why don’t you turn on the news and see if there’s anything about what happened earlier today?”

“What about you?”

He stood, ready to head back to the kitchen. “I’m going to finish the dishes, then work some stuff up on my computer. I’m also sending those pictures you gave me to my boss.”

She wondered what that would mean for her, but didn’t ask because she didn’t want the answer. Not yet. “I suppose it’s out of the question to ask if I can use your phone?”

“Why?”

“To check on a friend.” Even though she’d told Hannah that she couldn’t have drinks tonight, she still wanted to check on her—especially with everything going on.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure what to make of it. “No, sorry.”

“What about e-mail? Can I use your computer?”

He shook his head. “Someone wants you dead and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Maybe it was stupid, but she felt oddly warmed by the conviction in his voice. As though this was personal for him. Deep down she knew that was wishful thinking, but it evoked a long-buried sensation inside her anyway. “And you think someone can kill me through e-mail?”

“No, but they found us too soon today, which tells me that whoever is after you has government contacts. If they were able to use satellites to track us earlier, they might be monitoring your e-mail, and if you check it, they’ll be able to track your IP address. I have an encrypted router on my computer, which would make it difficult, but nothing’s impossible.”

Sophie rubbed her temple. “Okay, no phone and no e-mail. I guess I’m going to watch the news. Could you ask your boss to have someone check in on Hannah Young? She’s my best friend.”

“No problem.” He turned then and strode toward the kitchen.

She tamped down the annoyance that stirred inside her. “Don’t you need to know who she is?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “She grew up in Miami, her family owns two of the best Korean restaurants in the city, she graduated from the University of Miami with honors, she’s the head nurse at Miami Children’s Hospital—the youngest they’ve ever appointed—and she has terrible taste in men.”

Sophie’s jaw went slack, but she recovered quickly. “If you ever meet her, her parents own
the
best restaurants. Not two of the best.”

“Noted.” He shot her a lopsided grin that sent the butterflies in her stomach into a tailspin.

If he looked at her like that more often, she was so screwed. She already knew how inviting his lips were, but when he smiled it softened his entire face. Which was the last thing she should be thinking about.

Another thought settled inside her. If he knew so much about her friend, he must know a lot about her too. “Do . . . you have a file like that on me?”

He nodded, his expression remote.

She swallowed hard. “How far back does that file date?”

“It covers your whole life.” His quiet words pierced her deep.

That meant he knew things about her he had no right to. What had happened to her growing up should be sealed, but somehow she didn’t think the NSA would have a problem getting those records.

Not wanting to talk anymore, she sat back on the couch. Tucking her feet underneath her, she flipped on the television. Maybe it would take her mind off the past twenty-four hours—though she knew that was impossible. She caught the tail end of the news and sure enough, there was something about the shooting at La Marea. There weren’t any details, though. Just speculation that it was somehow gang-related.

“Do you want a glass of wine or a beer? Or water?” Jack asked through the kitchen archway.

“Wine works for me.” She didn’t care if it was red or white, just so long as it was wet and dulled her senses.

A few moments later he joined her on the couch. After he handed her the glass, he flipped open his laptop. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to lay so much on you. I do this stuff every day and forgot that not everyone else thinks the same way.”

She set her wineglass on the coffee table and shifted to face him. “It’s okay. You did scare me talking about wearing a wire. . . . So what exactly would that entail? Me, wearing a wire?” Oh God, was that actually her talking? Those pictures flashed in her mind and deep down she knew she’d do whatever she could to stop a man like Vargas.

Jack turned away from his computer, pinning that laserlike focus completely on her. It was a little unnerving. Even more so when she briefly wondered what it would be like to have all that focus in a naked setting. Something told her he’d be a very dedicated and giving lover. Thankfully he had no idea what she was thinking or she would have been mortified. She was kind of freaking herself out with the thoughts.

His voice was all business as he said, “
If
you do this, and that’s a big if, I’ll be listening the entire time and I won’t be far away. If anything happens or if you feel uncomfortable for any reason, we’ll have a code word.”

“What do you mean,
if
?” If he wasn’t confident in this, how could he expect her to be?

“If you’re too nervous, your boss will know something’s wrong. I’m not sending you in anywhere if you’re uncomfortable. He might not be a pro, but you’re a terrible liar and he’ll be able to see right through you.”

“These people you think Ronald is dealing with? I know what you said earlier, but exactly what kind of terrorist activity do you suspect them of?” It couldn’t just be weapons dealing. Yeah, that was bad but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing to warrant this sort of attention from the NSA.

Something dark lurked in the depths of his pale eyes, and before he spoke, she knew the answer would be horrific. “We think he’s helping a terrorist faction in North Africa get biological weapons into our country through his drug cartel in South America. Vargas has a long history with his hatred of the U.S., so it’s not a stretch that he’d want to target us.”

“Why does he hate our country?”

“His youngest son was killed by an ICE agent.”

ICE? Sophie frowned, but didn’t ask what he meant. He must have read her expression, because he continued. “They’re part of Immigrations and Customs Enforcement. Vargas’s other two sons were killed almost a decade ago by warring drug factions and it was no secret his youngest was his favorite. I’m sure there are other reasons he hates the U.S. A man like that doesn’t need an excuse for violence and terror.” Jack shrugged.

Sophie shook her head, trying to get back on track of their original conversation. “Okay, so biological weapons? Like nerve gas?” She’d only heard those words on the news, usually uttered by the president or in conjunction with something happening thousands of miles away. The devastation of that kind of attack could be catastrophic.

He nodded, his face grim. “Yes.”

“And you know this for sure?”

“No. Paul Keane has been some help, but he doesn’t know much. He’s just a mule. He handles deliveries and pickups, but he doesn’t have the details we need.”

“Paul Keane who’s in a coma?”

“He’s not in a coma.”

Okay, then. Something told her that would be all she got out of Jack on the subject of Keane. “You really think Ronald is involved in helping terrorists?”

“Someone tried to kill you
and
your boss told you to stay away from Miami. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Or say for that matter. What the hell did one say after almost being killed twice in one day? Now it seemed pretty clear that her boss might be in league with terrorists. Freaking awesome.