Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (33 page)

Monday morning

“Ally insisted that I bring this to you,”
Clay informed Marissa when he was kindly allowed into Trace’s apartment after
being good-naturedly grilled by Trace himself.

“She’s an angel,” Marissa told her older
brother, surprised to see him on Trace’s doorstep. She was pretty sure Trace
hadn’t even been expecting him.

For the first time in months, Marissa had
slept for a solid eight hours, but she figured that had to do with the fact
that Trace had held her in his arms throughout the night after they’d made
love. Unlike many nights before then, she’d given in to the overwhelming
exhaustion and trusted Trace to watch over her, which he had done.

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Clay said.

If Marissa wasn’t mistaken, her older
brother was blushing. Not that she was going to say anything, because he
definitely wouldn’t be happy with her calling him to the carpet. As it was, she
knew that Clay had a thing for Ally, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want
anyone to know.

Seemed there was a lot of that going
around these days.

“Hey, man, you come over for a reason? Or
you just impersonating a delivery guy today?” Trace asked Clay as he made his
way through the living room, heading toward the kitchen. Trace was dressed head
to toe in black today, a fashion statement all of the men who worked for Sniper
1 tended to gravitate toward. However, Marissa knew that was generally when
they were going on an op, which left her wondering what his plans for the day
were.

“Are you going somewhere?” Marissa asked,
glancing at her brother and then over to Trace.

“Not yet,” Trace stated, not bothering to
meet her gaze.

Wondering what that was about but not
wanting to question Trace in front of her brother, she turned her attention to
Clay. “And what brings you by? I know it wasn’t just to bring me coffee.”

Clay moved farther into the room. “RT
called a meeting.”

“Here?” Marissa asked, feeling slightly
nervous that they’d all be meeting where she was being holed up.

“No. Not here. That’d be too conspicuous.”

It would. But that didn’t answer her
question.

“We’ll have a video call.”

Marissa’s eyebrows lifted into her
hairline as she waited for Clay to explain. He didn’t and her nerves suddenly
got the best of her. Had they figured something out?

As though planned—which she figured it had
been—a phone rang, and Marissa noticed Trace’s iPad sitting on the small table
in the breakfast nook. Trace headed toward the table, and Clay followed,
leaving Marissa standing in the living room, wondering what was going on.

“Hey, RT,” Trace greeted, and Marissa
watched as her brother’s face appeared on the screen.

Crap.

“She there?” Ryan asked.

“She is. So is Clay.”

“Where’s Z?”

As though summoned by the sound of Ryan’s
voice, the front door opened and in walked Z. He moved with purpose, his gaze
sliding over Marissa briefly as he headed toward Trace and Clay, who were both
standing in the kitchen. Was he upset with her?

Figuring she wasn’t going to get answers
to any of her questions until she gave in and joined them, Marissa wrapped both
hands around her coffee cup, wishing it was hot enough to ward off the chill
that had once again filled her insides.

“Have a seat,” Trace said, his tone as icy
as his gaze.

Marissa slid into the chair that he held
out for her, facing her brother on the screen.

“This call secure?” Clay questioned.

“It is,” Ryan confirmed.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound
confident. Unfortunately, the quiver in her voice gave her away.

“I was doin’ some research yesterday and I
ran across an article,” Ryan began.

“We already discussed the article,” Marissa
answered.

“Not that one.”

Marissa was glad Ryan wasn’t sitting in
the room with them. She was pretty sure his angry glare would’ve burned her to
a crisp.

“The other article, Marissa.”

Well, hell. That didn’t sound good. Rather
than pretend not to know what he was referring to, she simply nodded, followed
by, “And?”

“Marissa, I think it’s safe to say that
it’s time to stop playin’ games.”

“And what games do you think I’m playing?”
Marissa countered, hating the condescension in her brother’s voice.

Trace cleared his throat, causing Marissa
to look up at him. He didn’t look any happier with her than Ryan did.

“It’s time you told us what you know,”
Trace stated firmly. “
Everything
you
know.”

Marissa frowned.

“Marissa,” Ryan said, drawing her
attention to the screen. “We’ve spent the last year chasing shadows. You know
it; we know it. All because you didn’t bother to tell us what you knew.”

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to,”
Marissa said quickly. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Marissa,” Ryan growled.

“I’m not lying!” she exclaimed. “And what
does it matter to you? I’m the one who was sent away. I’m the one who had to
endure the terror that someone would find me. I’m the one who spent months
alone without my family. Not you, Ryan Trexler. Not you or anyone else. I’m the
one who was in danger.”

“You think so?” Ryan snapped. “What,
little sister? Do you think we just sat by and waited for something to happen?”

“I know you didn’t bother to try to figure
it out,” Marissa told him, anger making her face burn. “I spent twelve freaking
months with junior agents watching my back. How do you think I got kidnapped?
If y’all had cared enough—”

“For the record,” Z said, his voice low,
menacing, “Josh wasn’t a junior agent. And that boy lost his life tryin’ to
protect you.”

Marissa’s eyes widened. “What?”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Look, Ma—”

“No!” she interrupted. “What do you mean
Josh lost his life?”

Marissa met Trace’s gaze, hating the
emotion she saw lingering there. Something bad had happened and they hadn’t
bothered to tell her?

“Josh was killed
protectin
’
you,” Ryan finally said, his tone softening somewhat. “And Trace… Well, I’ll
let him explain that one to you.”

Marissa’s mouth fell open. No words formed
as she kept her eyes locked with Trace’s. He’d…
Oh God.

“I came after you, Marissa,” Trace said
when the silence settled around them. “I wasn’t gonna let anyone else do it.
I’m the one who found you the day you were kidnapped from that safe house.”

“But…” They’d told her that Ian—another
lower-ranked agent—had been the one to find her.

“But, nothin’, Marissa,” Trace scolded.
“We do what we have to do. And no, we haven’t been sittin’ around with our
thumbs up our asses while you try to play detective. However, we do know that
you’re aware of the situation, that you know more than we do. And it’s time you
shared that
intel
. It’s time we got this shit taken
care of once and for all.”

Marissa felt like crying, more from her
anger than anything else, but she managed to hold back the tears. Instead of
arguing, she merely nodded. She’d tell them what she knew. Not because she
thought it would help but because they were right. It
was
time they stopped playing games.
All
of them.

□«»□«»□«»□

 
“You
can start at the beginning,” RT told Marissa.

Trace hated that the light in her eyes had
dimmed when he’d told her the truth about who had come for her when she’d been
abducted. He wasn’t sure if the pain in her gaze was for the loss of Josh or
perhaps that they’d kept so much information to themselves.

But it had been necessary.

When they’d found Josh, they’d talked at
length about who should know the details of his death, outside of his family.
It wasn’t that they’d kept it from anyone on purpose. Well, that wasn’t
entirely true. They hadn’t shared the details with Marissa because her father was
worried that she would carry the guilt on her own shoulders. Trace had agreed
with Bryce, which was why they had kept that piece to themselves.

As far as not telling her that he’d come
to get
her, that
had been his choice. Trace hadn’t
wanted her to know because he was, at the time, still trying to keep himself
distanced from her.

A hell of a lot of good that had done.

Granted, they weren’t the only ones who’d
been holding back. Turned out every damn one of them had been tight-lipped when
it came to the details they each had. If they’d done what they prided
themselves on doing, they probably would’ve already caught this asshole by now.

Marissa swallowed hard, her eyes shifting
back to the iPad as she licked her lips. “If I’m right, and I very well could
be wrong, the Adorites aren’t the ones after me.”

“You’re right,” RT confirmed. “They aren’t
after you.”

“You sound confident about that,” Clay
inserted, looking at the screen and then back at Trace.

“We are,” RT stated. “But I believe they
know something. Tell me about the article, Marissa.”

“I didn’t write the article. Either of
them. And the story wasn’t my idea. At least not at the end,” Marissa added
defensively, “but I did do the research. I’ve never been one who wants credit,
which was why I passed along the information to my contact.”

“Forthnet?” RT asked.

“Yes…”

“The dead guy,” Z said, standing to his
full height and thrusting his hands through his hair.

Marissa nodded at the same time RT
confirmed verbally.

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
RT questioned.

“I don’t know,” Marissa stated, her voice
quivering. “Nine months ago, maybe.”

“For those who don’t know,” RT explained,
“Douglas Forthnet was a tenured staff writer with the
Dallas Morning News
. He met an unfortunate fate a few weeks ago.
Although it was staged as an accident, we’re inclined to believe he was
murdered just before they made a play for her at the Connecticut safe house.
Whoever wants this information, whatever information they believe there is to
be had, has escalated.”

Trace watched as Marissa’s eyes roved over
everyone in the room. Her hands were shaking, as was her chin.

“This isn’t just about you anymore,
Marissa,” Clay said calmly, reassuringly. “We know you’ve kept the details to
yourself because you thought it was best, but we’ve got to know what we’re
dealing with.”

“I want to know specifically about the
guns you uncovered, Marissa,” RT stated matter-of-factly.

Trace moved to stand behind Marissa, partly
so that he was in the camera’s viewing range and partly because he needed to
touch Marissa. To let her know, regardless of how angry he was that she’d held
back critical information, he was still on her side. He was still there to
protect her.

“I … uh…”

“The eighth suspect mentioned in the article,”
RT began. “I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out who that is. And if I’m right,
we’re in for a fight.”

“Who is it?” Marissa asked.

“Dan Duchein.”

Son of a bitch. The ATF agent? The more
Trace tossed that information around in his head, the more feasible it sounded.
Dan Duchein had access to guns. More accurately, confiscated weapons that the
federal government had in their possession. If he was stealing those weapons
and selling them back to the Adorites, or anyone else, then he was the source.
It would explain why he had escalated to the point of murder. Being that he
worked for the federal government, he had a shit ton to lose.

“And he is?” Clay questioned before Trace
had a chance to speak up.

“Supervisory Special Agent of the Dallas
field division of the ATF,” RT explained.

And that meant Isaac…

“Which leads us to our other problem.
Isaac Rhames,” RT continued, speaking Trace’s thoughts aloud.

“Our agent?” Clay asked.

“The same one. Turns out, Rhames was a
special agent for the ATF, working with Duchein prior to his employment with
us.”

“When was he hired?” Clay asked.

“Thirteen months ago.” Z was the one to
answer, surprising them all. “Son of a motherfucking bitch.”

Trace looked at his friend. “What?”

“That little fucker started working for us
at the same time someone started gunning for Marissa,” Z growled.

“My sentiments exactly,” RT chimed in.
“Looks like our own has been in on this since the beginning.”

“Do you have him in custody?” Trace asked,
referring to Rhames.

“We’re looking for him as we speak.”

“Who’s
we
?”
Clay questioned.