Hard to Trust (22 page)

"He was already dead when I got out of the tent." She shook her head. "It seemed like their main objective was to get Alex."

"Why him? There were four of you there, but your wound was not a kill shot."

She gulped and narrowed her gaze. "Why don't you go ahead and spit it out? You think I'm guilty somehow." Anger flared in her eyes, not deceit.

"Somebody's trying to kill you, and I'm trying to make sense of everything. The pieces of the puzzle don't fit right now, and I need to know why."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not implying anything. If we can't be honest, it's not going to help." What a jerky thing to say, especially since he was attempting to manipulate her.

"Are you being honest with me?" Her defensiveness was reflected in the scrutinizing look in her eyes.

"This isn't about me." He was pushing hard in order to get at the truth.

"Are you sure?"

"Last I checked, I was hired to make sure you were safe, not ensure my own safety, so yeah, I would say it's about you, not me." He sounded like a dick, but couldn't shake what he'd seen in that photo, nor dismiss the skepticism he'd noted in Jennings's voice. He respected the man's instincts.

She blew out a breath as if the energy seeped out at the same time. "I have no clue what's going on
if Alex is alive, or it's all a figment of my imagination. All I have is a note." She pulled out her phone. "
Backgammon back in play. Loose ends taken care of…soon
.
Weaknesses
…" She recited the message like she'd read it at least a hundred times.

"Tell me again how that whole thing happened. Where was it when you found it? Did somebody want you to find it?"

Her training showed through in the way she revealed bits and pieces of the truth but still held back nuggets of information. He needed to break through her defenses to get to the truth. So then he could betray her.

"I had my last appointment before going back to work on Wednesday. And I went into the counterintelligence unit because that's where all the good things are stashed. I grabbed their shredded stuff before the cleaning crew came in."

"And you normally do that kind of thing for fun?"

She nodded slowly. "Yep, I guess you could say that."

"But when you read the message to Nick, he blew you off, right?"

"Pretty much. When did you get called in on this?" She asked.

"On Friday. I found out in the morning and took a plane out that day."

"I called Nick late Friday about an hour before the guys broke into my house. The timing makes me think the note I found and what happened afterward are not connected."

"You don't think it would have been important to mention this to me earlier?"

"It didn't make sense until we went to Alex's house and I heard what sounded like his voice, but different. I knew him for so long I should know his voice. That phrase he says is so odd. I would bet most men don't say, 'Babe, you're it for me,'
after sex." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Or maybe I'm going crazy."

He decided to use a new tactic. Somehow he felt Afghanistan was only part of the story. "Tell me about your assignment in Istanbul again."

"We had intel that somebody was going to attack a warship in the gulf. I went to the market a couple of times, took some pictures, talked to some informants, but I barely got a chance to get much done before I was yanked to Afghanistan."

"Do you have any notes from there? Did you turn in what you found?"

"I didn't turn in anything because I haven't had the time to get it organized. I saved everything in cyberspace. You want me to pull it up?"

"You bet." Istanbul was looking more and more like a trigger of some kind. If she were trying to hide something, would she be so forthcoming? He felt like a damn ping-pong ball about now.

Seconds later, she showed him what she had. "Here are some pictures I took in the market."

"Why do you have some of them flagged?"

"Sometimes it's because the people look familiar to me. Sometimes it's because of the number of times I've seen them in the area, which piques my interest. Sometimes it's a feeling I get." She sighed. "I didn't want to make it obvious I was taking pictures, so they aren't the best photos. I was hoping the tech people could make them clearer, but I didn't get a chance to send them off."

"Wait a minute. That woman talking to the guy by the kiosk. She's wearing purple shoes, isn't she?" Jake's senses went on alert.

She examined the picture as well. "It's hard to tell exactly, why?"

"It may be nothing, but Cleo was wearing purple shoes when I met her. It seemed odd, and I commented on it. She said something about it being her signature." He shook his head as thoughts tumbled freely inside.

"Who's Cleo?"

Jake shrugged as if the thought of everything that happened during his last encounter with Cleo was nothing. "She's an operative that works out of Istanbul. It's probably a long shot that it's her. And it doesn't prove anything even if it is." The burst of animosity that wedged between them had dissipated. Jake suspected it had more to do with her sharing information. It proved they'd developed at least a moderate level of trust along the way.

"I wish I knew if it really was Alex or a figment of my overactive imagination." She shuddered.

After the last few days, he couldn't blame her for being overly cautious. It had been a hellacious couple of days.

"Maybe we need to confront this head-on."

This rollercoaster ride of a case was making him crazy. He wanted to know once and for all where she stood. Jennings had stoked the fire of uncertainty. Was she friend or foe? He was leaning toward the friend category but still was hesitant to jump in with confidence.

"What do you mean?"

"Charge ahead and call their bluff. When they had you in that warehouse, they were trying to get information out of you, but you were still too drugged to tell them." He chose his words wisely but needed to know what she knew. He might be a lightweight when it came to sifting through trust issues but knew enough to know she was holding out on him. It might be something big, but it also might be something small.

Would he have the balls to show her the picture and gauge her level of surprise, shock, discomfort, anger? At this point he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell the difference. The thing between them was getting more complex by the minute. Was it due to forced proximity or by design on her part? Or was the draw between them inevitable from the start? Was that what this was all about?

Damn, he wished he could trust his instincts about her. But history lurking inside cautioned him to move slowly.

She leaned back in the chair. "I want a slice of normalcy right now. Let's talk about normal everyday things. What do you like to do when you're not being a badass?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm a badass twenty-four seven." He gulped the beer and smiled. Letting down his defenses, for even a short period of time, felt good. "Occasionally, I take a break and go to art galleries, film festivals, or get out of the city and enjoy the open land. I've grown to love Manhattan, but it's a far cry from where I grew up. How about you?"

"I do like going into DC just for the fun of it. I completely geek out and go to all the museums. Or I laze around at home, go for a run, watch old movies on TV, or read books, listen to music. Normal stuff, I guess." She patted his arm. "Tell me about your siblings. What are they like? I vaguely remember your sister, but that's about it."

"If it weren't for the fact my brother looks like my twin—except for the Brooks Brothers suits and conservative haircut—I would swear we weren't even related."

She surveyed his grungy jeans and T-shirt with a smile on her face. "Somehow I can't picture you in a fancy suit."

"Meet my brother and you'd see my replica, but not the badass version." He smiled despite the twinge of unexpected envy running through.

"I don't have experience with sibling rivalry, but comparing yourself your brother seems pretty normal. Are your siblings laid back but with a meticulous edge like you,?"

"Meticulous?" He'd never thought of himself in that way.

"You packed my backpack so well, I couldn't have done it better myself. This was after knowing me less than forty-eight hours—most of which I was either passed out or being held against my will. I'd say that was getting a read on me pretty fast."

He shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the line of their conversation. He wanted to get the emphasis off him and onto her but couldn't figure out how to change the trajectory of their conversation. "I did the female version of my go bag. Simple as that."

"The pain patches were a surprise. You even got the same type I'd been using. Very observant of you."

"Don't we have to be in our line of work?" Which made him think, what had she observed about him? Selecting weaknesses and capitalizing on them was an undercover operator's MO. That was how she recruited her informants in the field, no doubt.

A guy who looked like he was down on his luck, in need of extra funds, who happened to be chock-full of information about the enemy,
snap
, before you know it, stuck in a CIA trap. Or maybe it was a guy who had an affinity for the ladies, loved strip clubs and prostitutes. All bribes were created equal in their world. If they were a means to an end, that would be the lure.

 "I guess." She stilled as a hint of discomfort settled in between them. For a moment or two the conversation had dipped from the impersonal to the personal. "Is there any salad stuff in the fridge to make this a passably healthy meal?" When he checked the vegetable bin in the refrigerator and shook his head, she clucked. "So we'll have to settle for no healthy vegetables this time around. It's good to know The Alliance isn't perfect after all."

"Far from it, but I can live with that. How about a movie? The Alliance does stock the place with some first-rate flicks. Any preference?"

"You pick."

"
Bullitt
it is." He put the disk into the Blu-ray player. While he was up, he popped open beers for both of them. He grabbed her hand and steered her toward the couch. They plopped down and put their feet on the leather-covered ottoman. Even with the lights on it was hard to dispel the feeling of being underground. While he appreciated having the Batcave at his disposal, more than twenty-four hours inside of one of these things and he'd likely go crazy. The only time he'd had to stay in the one outside of Chicago for a week, he thought he might very well lose his mind.

As the movie started, she turned and kissed his cheek. "Thanks again for the surgery, although I'm still a little sore. I'm sure the beer will help with that." She clinked her bottle with his.

"Yep, get enough beer in you and the pain will all be a distant memory."

"Tell me the truth. Is Aaron a real doctor? I promise I won't try to hurt you." She gave him a half smile.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Close enough."

She worked her shoulder, as if his admission had caused a new round of discomfort to settle inside her joint. "That is so not cool. Did he replace that and plant a transmitter from The Alliance inside me?"

He burst out laughing. "Absolutely not." It took effort to stop the laughter. Maybe being secure for this short period of time allowed him to relax enough to enjoy her company and let his guard down. He suspected the same might be true for her as well.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I'm not sure I believe you." Based on the smile on her face, she was teasing.

"What would have been the other option? Let them keep tracking us down? Take a whack at the removal yourself with a razor? We needed a solution, and we needed it fast. And the implant was just beneath the surface, so it was easy. A couple of stitches and he was in and out."

"One day I'll let a doctor wannabe operate on you and tell you it's all good." She swigged her beer and smiled.

"Like to hold a grudge? I should have figured. And here I thought you CIA types were badasses."

"Says Mr. Faints-at-the-sight-of-blood."

"Hey, I told you that in confidence. You're not supposed to spread the rumor. If word gets out, I won't get any more sweet gigs where I'm getting shot at more than if I was serving on the front line somewhere. That's me living the life."

"Ah, you don't like being shot at. I personally love being shot at. I'm so in my element when that happens." While the words came out with a smile affixed to her face, they changed the trajectory of their conversation as evidenced by the hint of tears littering her lashes. He couldn't help but think she was reliving her time in Afghanistan under those exact circumstances. He'd seen the same faraway look in her eyes once before when she'd recounted her experience.

In order to keep the mood light, he avoided looking her directly in the eyes. "Then leave me out of your adrenaline rush fantasy." He swilled back the beer, feeling it simmer into his belly. After the last couple of days, throwing back some beers felt so normal he couldn't help but relish in the welcome sensation.

The oven timer went off seconds later, dispelling the concentration on the movie. She jumped off the couch. "Pizza's ready. I'm going to get another beer. How about you? I am so ready and willing to get drunk tonight."