Bridal Armour. Debra & Regan Webb & Black
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extremely personal, incident years ago.
“I’ll tell you everything just as soon as we’re out of here.” She checked her watch. They had less than five minutes before the cabbie she’d paid to wait left in search of another fare. In this weather they’d never find another taxi. “Keep up. We have to get out of the area before the roads are closed.” She’d taken precautions, given herself options, but no one could prepare for a freak blizzard.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.” On one too many levels, she realized. But it was too late to back out now. If she didn’t follow through, someone more objective would take over the investigation. Based on what she’d seen, she didn’t think that was a good idea.
Moving forward, she hoped some deep-seated instinct kicked in, making him curious enough to cooperate with her. Grant wasn’t just one of his Specialists, he was the best of the current crop. He’d been tagged to replace Deputy Director Holt, the man who held the position in which Lucas Camp had once served, when the deputy eventually moved up to replace Thomas.
The Initiative committee had approved the plan. Right now, she wondered what the hell they’d been thinking.
“Jo, wait.”
Would the day ever come when his voice didn’t create that shiver of anticipation? “No time.”
“I need an explanation.”
“And I’ll give you one when we’re away from the airport.”
“Jo.” He caught her arm, forced her to stop and really look at him.
Airport employees passed by, moving to and from their respective duties with various degrees of interest in their obviously strained interaction. She made mental notes, knew he was doing the same. Always an eye out for the next threat.
“A particular German mission file crossed my desk last week.”
“I see.”
She fingered the disk in her pocket. Loaded with enough sedative to guarantee his cooperation, she hesitated to use it. And she knew without reservation that she would get only one chance. “This was the only time we could talk safely.” Or so she’d thought.
“I’ve booked a hotel room,” he said. “We can talk there.”
“Fine.” Better if he believed she’d willingly compromise. “I have a cab waiting.”
At last he fell into step beside her once more, giving her hope this would go well. It almost felt like old times. Almost.
Back then she thought they’d been on the same page, working together toward a common goal. After five years apart on diverging career paths, after reading through so many reports of success from his Specialists who routinely went above and beyond mission parameters, she wasn’t sure they could ever be on the same page again.
She might be sure he wasn’t a traitor, she just wasn’t so sure anymore that she was in the same league as the man behind the stoic, black ops armor.
Chapter Two
Mission Recovery Specialist Jason Grant had successfully shadowed Agent DeRossi to Denver, Colorado. On her tail for several days, he knew the hotel she’d been staying in wasn’t within government per diem limits and, thanks to the GPS tag he’d put on her rental, he’d learned she liked to shop in ritzy boutiques.
For as long as he’d been tracking her, he hadn’t recognized any of her contacts. If Deputy Director Holt hadn’t sent him out here personally, he might think this was a wild goose chase. As it was, he was starting to question the rumor claiming she was here on a Mission Recovery witch hunt. Didn’t look that way to him.
Her return to the airport in a flight attendant uniform piqued his curiosity. He hoped whoever she was here to meet appreciated her effort. She looked pretty damned hot.
He’d followed her through the terminal, but if she’d made contact with anyone, it had been too subtle for him to catch. As a well-trained and experienced member of Mission Recovery, getting something by him was highly unlikely and the thought that she’d managed it made him nervous. And definitely ticked him off.
Beyond the windows of the airport, the storm rolled down from the mountains like an avalanche, blanketing the city with snow and ice. He didn’t care for the idea of being stuck in an airport with thousands of stranded travelers, so it was a relief when DeRossi finally started to move.
Until he lost her.
Her curly blond wig was gone. The bright red blazer of the airline she’d falsely represented was absent from the crowd of travelers milling about. He cursed his arrogance. His boss had warned him she was top of the game, but Jason hadn’t been concerned. The woman had been riding a desk for more than three years. However sharp she had once been, she couldn’t be on the top of her game these days.
His gaze continued to roam the crowd. She hadn’t been that far ahead of him. He tucked himself into a place at the end of the escalators where he could keep an eye on the restrooms as well as the main path to baggage claim.
He gave it three long minutes before he admitted the truth. She’d gotten away. Because she’d spotted him or because she’d completed whatever she’d been sent to do here?
He dialed Deputy Director Holt but the call went straight to voice mail. Probably for the best. Reporting a screw-up like losing the target was way, way low on the list of his favorite activities.
Other than telling him to watch her and report her activities, no one had really briefed him on the real reason why DeRossi was in Colorado at the same time as Director Casey. Having her in the airport at the time of his arrival had to be more than coincidence, but so far as he’d been able to observe she hadn’t made contact.
He’d never met a field agent who liked oversight divisions—whether it was the Internal Affairs divisions of police departments or the covert equivalent of the Initiative committee.
An airport security cart whizzed by and Jason decided it was time to get creative. If he could get into the security office, maybe he’d get lucky and spot her on one of the many video feeds they monitored.
He considered fabricating an elaborate story and settled on a lower-risk version of the truth. Following the cart to the nearest security team office, he walked in, credentials ready.
“Can I help you?”
Jason flipped open the wallet with a badge and ID card as he surveyed the entire space. The security office setup was familiar. One uniformed person at the desk, a couple of others in offices that overlooked the small reception area. He glanced at the one closed door and assumed that was where all the real information was hidden.
“Good afternoon.” He smiled, throwing in a little charm since the uniform was female. “I’m Agent Grant. I was tailing a suspect and she managed to ditch me at baggage claim,” he said with just the right blend of irritation and embarrassment. It was a skill he’d picked up during his time in law enforcement.
“I need a look at your cameras, see if I can spot her. Consider it a professional courtesy,” he added. “I really don’t want to have to hear about this mistake for the rest of my life, if I can avoid it.”
She smiled just a little and made a call to her immediate superior. Feeling the eyes on him, he let his shoulders slump as he tucked his badge away, playing the part of the guy who was having a bad day.
It worked. She hung up the phone and walked him over to the closed door.
Two men in airport security uniforms watched the cycling views of the area from the escalators to the exit doors on the wide bank of monitors. Reading the labels under each, he soon had a feel for each area covered by the closed-circuit cameras.
Public areas, employee-only access and the walkways and streets just outside the terminal. Where was she? She wasn’t loitering in baggage claim. Not in the rental car