Sleeping With The Enemy. Jamie Denton
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accused of murder. Of murdering one of his own and a top senatorial aid. The government claimed their evidence was rock-solid. Even though they wanted Jared and not her, until they had him in custody, they watched, they invaded her privacy and they waited.
Jared’s whereabouts were a mystery to her. From the work he did, she suspected he had numerous contacts, not all of them above the law. No doubt he was hiding out until it was safe for him to come forward and tell his side of the story. All she could do in the meantime was hope and pray he was safe. From the day her parents died, Jared had taken care of her and protected her. Now it was her opportunity to return the favor.
Her gaze landed on a rather spry elderly gentleman hanging out near the edge of the staging area. Dee’s heart fluttered behind her ribs, praying it was Jared dressed in a disguise of some sort. Her breath stilled as she willed the man to turn around, only to be let out in a disappointed huff when he did.
She secretly hoped the Feds would get tired of the chase, or that Jared had slipped into and assumed a new identity, starting a new life for himself. As much as she missed him, she’d rather have him safe and alive than…
The Feds wouldn’t let up, though. In the three months they’d been following and watching her, she learned just how relentless they could be. They picked her life apart, and the life of her brother who remained elusive to the government wanting to prosecute him. She was Jared’s only weakness. If it hadn’t been for the blank postcards that showed up occasionally, or the one extremely brief phone call where a scratchy, unfamiliar voice whispered he’d been framed and he had no choice but to go underground, the Feds might have left her alone. If it hadn’t been for the late-night calls with no one on the other end of the line every few weeks, they might have backed off. But Jared continued to take those small, meaningful risks just to let her know he was alive.
When their parents died, Jared had promised her she could depend on him. He’d done the best he knew how, and she loved him for it. Considering the example their parents had set, Jared’s care and support had been a vast improvement.
The day they’d gone their separate ways, Dee to Los Angeles to attend college on a partial academic scholarship and he to Quantico to work for the FBI, he’d given her a bus ticket and two hundred dollars. “To destiny,” he’d said, then handed her a single bloodred rose, told her he loved her…and drove away without looking back.
Because of the constant back-to-back deep-cover assignments, other than a weekend visit three years ago, she hadn’t seen her brother. Now under such dangerous conditions, he was close. She could feel it and wanted nothing more than to at least catch a glimpse of him. They’d be allowed nothing else. A hug would be as impossible as five minutes alone. All she’d have to carry her through, possibly even for the rest of her life, would be a quick smile or a surreptitious wink. Despite the danger, she needed that, needed just one small token other than the rose handed to her by a stranger to hold in her cherished memories of her brother.
The ceremony continued, and still Dee could find no sign of Jared. Frustration nudged her when she spotted two federal agents posted on either side of the stage where the graduates passed once their names were called to receive their diplomas. She walked slowly toward the stage, waiting as the dean called the graduates, shook their hands and congratulated them before handing them the piece of paper that declared them physicians.
Standing, she was able to scan the crowd. She desperately wanted that new imprint for her memory. But she knew the risks. Anything other than the rose with no note attached could cost her brother his freedom, maybe even his life.
The dean called her name, shook her hand and congratulated her before handing over her diploma. She clutched the document to her chest, along with the rose, and smiled brightly for the benefit of the agent waiting at the other end of the stage as she made her way down the steps. Moving slowly toward the rows of chairs to reclaim her seat until the end of the ceremony, she finally saw him.
Her brother stood toward the back of the crowd, dressed in a dark blue suit, with the bored, but alert look of a secret service agent, complete with an electronic communications device tucked in a nondescript manner behind his ear. He looked much older than his twenty-nine years, his face more lined than she expected and his rich sable hair lightly touched by gray at the temples. Despite his aging features, his body was still as fit as she remembered and his green eyes more watchful but just as mischievous. She glanced hastily around, hoping she wasn’t being watched, but when she looked back at her brother, the barely perceptible shake of his head told her otherwise.
For his sake, she had no choice but to return to her seat. All she wanted to do was run into Jared’s arms and weep for the injustice keeping them apart, and the future they might never be able to share. She knew in her heart by the time the ceremony ended the secret service agent would be gone as if he never existed.
Just as Jared Romine no longer existed.
Dee would stoically return to her small, furnished dormitory room following the graduation ceremony and ready herself for her job at the San Vicente Medical Center where she’d interned in the emergency room six days a week. Instead of the grand celebration most of her classmates would no doubt partake, surrounded by family and friends, her solo celebration would consist of a double shift in the E.R.
She’d shed not a single tear for the brother she might never see again. Lessons taught to a young girl were hard learned and not easily forgotten. And no one would know Special Agent Jared Romine’s only weakness would go on as if her heart did not lay tattered beneath her breast.
Two Years Later
CHASE BRACKEN DRUMMED HIS pen on the yellow legal pad, staring absently at the pile of banker’s boxes containing months of work that were stacked neatly against the wall of his Manhattan apartment. The list of men who had worked on the Romine case was long and distinguished. None, however, had managed to apprehend the elusive rogue agent.
Nor had they been able to gain an ounce of information from his only living relative.
Chase planned to rectify that little problem.
He tossed the pen on the table and tipped the chair back on two legs. Using the balls of his feet for balance, he rocked gently back and forth and folded his hands behind his head, a habit he’d developed despite his foster mother’s lectures that one day he’d fall and break something, more than likely his neck.
Jared Romine was the unresolved thorn in the backside of the Bureau. A degree in rocket science was hardly a necessity for Chase to understand why he’d been given the worst assignment the Bureau had to offer. Bend-the-Rules Bracken had screwed up, big time, and his pain-in-the-backside superior officer was determined the Romine case would have Chase turning in his shield. Or worse, his boss would try to pull him out of the field and make him ride a desk until retirement. And that was just a little too long for Chase Bracken to be cooped up inside an office.
He’d find a way to redeem himself in Pelham’s eyes. He’d been on the superior’s hit list before and he usually managed to find a way off by solving the next case with as little muss and fuss as possible. The less covering up the Bureau had to deal with, the better Pelham liked it. Except after the fiasco of his last case, Chase wasn’t so sure of his continued upward mobility within the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
He had to admit he’d really made a mess of things this time, and the chance of him bringing in Romine was slim, making his likelihood of redemption in Pelham’s eyes even more scarce. But Chase had just enough arrogance to acknowledge he could be the agent to finally capture the rogue agent.
He let out a sigh and dropped the chair back on all fours. Arrogance was one thing, stupidity was quite another. Not to mention the small fragment of insecurity he’d never been able to completely conquer.
Years of combined on-the-job experience by some of the best men the Bureau had to offer hadn’t been able to capture the agent-gone-bad. What made him think he stood a chance at succeeding where others had failed?
His own damned ego, that’s what, he thought, shoving himself away from the table and heading into the kitchen. He poked his head in the fridge and winced at the