Red Zone (2 page)

The sun was setting over the smoky mountains on Thursday when Special Agent Rebecca Carson’s phone rang, disturbing the peaceful setting. Her job with the FBI often had her traveling across the country. It was rare she was able to sit back, relax on the deck of her condo, and enjoy something as simple as the sun going down behind the mountains. There had been days she’d longed for that moment of peace. Now, it was driving her crazy.

Nearly a month had passed since the agency had put her on administrative leave at the advice of one of their therapists. Sure, it had been a difficult case, and it had ended badly, but her sitting around at home wasn’t helping. She wanted—no, she needed—to get back out there. Sitting around doing nothing was going to be the end of her sanity. 

She pushed herself up off the lounge chair and walked into her living room to answer the call, hoping it was her boss saying she was cleared to come back to work. Knowing her luck, though, it would be her baby sister needing her help to get out of another jam. Either way, it would be a welcome distraction. “Hello?”

“Carson?”

“Yes,” she said, immediately recognizing, Travis Hansen’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Good. I’m glad I caught you. Something’s come up, and I thought you could use something to do. I know you’re probably going stir-crazy sitting at home, and I could use the help.”

“Is everything all right? I can meet you tonight if you need me to.”

“No, no,” he said. “Tomorrow will be fine. You may want to pack a bag, though.”

She knew what that meant. Whatever assignment was waiting in the wings, she’d most likely be on a plane before noon the next day. “All right. Where should I meet you?”

“Just be ready at eight. I’ll pick you up.”

“All right,” she said, unsure but trusting her ex-partner and former mentor. Hansen had retired from the FBI, and now ran his own P.I. firm, but they’d stayed in touch. He was one of the few people in this world she would trust with her life.

“See you tomorrow, Carson. Get some rest.”

After hanging up, Rebecca walked to her bedroom and began packing. Suits with matching blouses lined her closet. Her sister always gave her a hard time, saying she needed to spice things up a bit with her wardrobe, but she was an FBI agent—she didn’t do flashy. Besides, she had been living in sweats and T-shirts for far too long. She pulled out a week’s worth of clothing and placed them in her garment bag before zipping it up. The same routine had been gone through so many times, it didn’t take her long to pack all but the toiletries she’d need that night and in the morning.

At seven fifty-eight the next morning, she was standing out in front of her building waiting on Hansen. He was punctual and pulled up in his silver sedan as her watch beeped, alerting her of the new hour. He was right on time, as always. 

She walked over to the car and slipped inside. He smiled and handed her a cup of coffee before pulling back out onto the road. 

“Morning, Carson.”

“Hansen.” She nodded in greeting. They’d been partners for a little over a year before he’d retired. Although he was perhaps the one person she was closest to in her adult life besides her sister, they still had that professional distance. It was exactly the way she liked it. 

“It’s good to see you. I apologize for curtailing any plans you may have had scheduled for your time off, but something’s come up, and I could really use your help in Nashville.”

“No problem. Anything at this point would be better than being stuck at home crawling the walls.”

He chuckled. “Good, ’cause we’re helping out an old friend of mine.” 

She looked over at him, questioning.

“His name is Timothy Donovan. He owns the professional football team in Nashville. Something has come up with one of his players, and he needs some help.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Although she was curious, it didn’t matter. As she’d told him, anything was better than sitting at home doing nothing.

Two hours and a brief argument later, they pulled into the parking lot of a nicer-than-average hotel in Nashville that would act as their base of operations. Halfway to Nashville, she’d finally decided to ask for the exact details of the assignment. Needless to say, she wasn’t thrilled with his response. The problem was, either she took this assignment or she went back home again to do . . . nothing. 

They checked in, under the guise
of a married couple, and quickly set up shop in their assigned room. “I don’t like this,” she said, staring around the room at the fancy décor. She’d stayed in any number of motels since she’d become an agent four years ago, but none of them had come close to this. This was way above government budget. Of course, the government wasn’t footing the bill for this one. It was compliments of Donovan, according to Hansen. 

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the frilly coverlet on the bed. “Not liking the new assignment, Carson?” her old mentor asked, smiling.

He was enjoying her discomfort way too much. “Like you’d be over there grinning if the shoe were on the other foot, Hansen.”

“True.” He laughed. “Thankfully, I don’t look pretty on the arm of a hotshot quarterback.”

Rebecca clenched her fists to keep from hurling something at him. Instead, she slipped the hotel key in her pants pocket and walked to the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Hansen kept his mouth shut on the way to the stadium, although she could see he was dying to comment. She liked Hansen. He was a good partner and had always treated her as an equal, even if she had been a rookie at the time they’d worked together. It was probably part of the reason he was getting such a kick out of this. 

They followed the instructions they were given and parked in the players’ lot. A security guard greeted them, and they were escorted upstairs to a long hallway of offices before he stopped at the last one on their right and motioned they should go inside ahead of him. 

An older gentleman, who looked to be in his early sixties, sat behind a large wooden desk. He stood, and rounded the desk to greet them. Giving Hansen a pat on the back, and offering her a firm handshake, he introduced himself as the owner, Timothy Donovan. “I’m glad you were able to come on
such short notice,” he said directly to her. Then he turned to the man who’d walked them in. “Get Gage Daniels, will you? Tell him I need to see him.” The man nodded, closing the door behind him.

Donovan walked back to his chair behind the desk, while she and Hansen took the seats offered to them. Putting her game face on, Rebecca answered in her usual professional tone. “I wasn’t told much, Mr. Donovan. Perhaps you can fill me in.”

“Of course,” he said. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a large manila folder filled with envelopes. “About two months ago, Daniels, our star quarterback, began receiving these. They’re all there with the exception of the first few. He just threw them away. Thought they were a joke.”

She flipped through the pictures and letters. They were all of a young man, in his mid-twenties, whom she assumed was Daniels. He was doing various things, from something as simple as shopping to sitting in a bar. What she did notice, however, was that all the pictures included females. “He seems to be quite the ladies’ man. Could it be a woman scorned?”

“That’s always a possibility, I suppose. Gage is . . .  . . .  . . . well, he’s young, not bad to look at, and he’s an athlete. The ladies like him.” He shrugged. 

“So, what would you like us to do exactly, Mr. Donovan?” she said, trying to keep the contempt out of her voice. 

Donovan stood and walked over to the large bank of windows behind him. He motioned them over and then pointed down to the field. “This is my team. I watch out for them.” It wasn’t hard to pick out Daniels from the field below. He was in full uniform with his name across his shoulder blades. It helped that the security guard was walking across the field straight toward him, too. “He doesn’t know this, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want him rattled any more than he already is.” Donovan turned to face them, his expression serious. “A security guard noticed something sticking out of Gage’s car two days ago. Given the letters he’s been receiving, I called a friend in the local PD.”

“Explosives?” Hansen asked.

“Yes. Although I’m told it wouldn’t have done much damage had it gone off, but that’s beside the point. Someone’s decided to put a bull’s-eye on Gage’s back, and I need to stop it.” He paused before looking Rebecca in the eye. “Which is where
you
come in.”

“Security footage?”

“Checked. There’s nothing there except his vehicle. We went back a week.”

As much as she didn’t like the situation, putting up a fight on this one when Donovan was footing the bill would be difficult. The person behind this had clearly crossed state lines—the pictures were taken in various cities—then delivered them to Daniels, either at his home or to the stadium. A couple even looked as though they’d come through the mail. That was enough to put it on the federal radar. Add in the explosives and even she could admit she was intrigued. They were his last hope before getting the FBI officially involved, and likely the press. Something like this wouldn’t stay under wraps for long. 

A minute later, there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Donovan yelled. 

The door opened, and there stood the man she’d be spending the majority of her time with in the near future—Gage Daniels. 

Chapter 2

When Gage saw Jack, one of the stadium’s security guards, lope across the field toward him, he knew something was up. The first thing that crossed his mind was that he’d received another letter, so being told Tim wanted to see him wasn’t a surprise. What he wasn’t expecting was to see two strangers dressed in suits sitting in Tim’s office. They both stood when he entered.

The man was tall, looked to be in his late fifties, about six two, with sandy blond hair, greying temples, and eyes that told you he was tougher than he appeared. Looking him over, the first thing Gage thought was
bodyguard
. He wasn’t overly muscular, but Gage knew enough from growing up with three brothers that looks could be deceiving. 

His gaze fell on the woman. She looked to be around his age, twenty-six or twenty-seven. She was tall for a woman, five ten, maybe, with light brown hair that was pulled back into a high ponytail. He had to admit she had a nice figure, even though it was hidden under all that unattractive clothing she wore. Her eyes raked over him in appraisal, although from the look on her face, she didn’t like what she saw. That was too bad. He was rather enjoying the view. Of course, he’d enjoy it more if she’d lose the jacket and pop a few buttons open on that blouse of hers. 

Gage tried to redirect his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Donovan?” he asked, keeping it formal since he didn’t know who these people were. 

“Yes, I did. Come on in, and shut the door.” 

Gage did as instructed and took a step farther inside his boss’s office, trying not to feel out of place. He’d left his helmet downstairs, but he was still in full gear. If he’d known it was going to be more than just a casual meeting with Tim, he’d have swung by the locker room and cleaned up a little. As it was, he was hot, sweaty, and his practice uniform was covered in grass stains from the hours he’d already spent on the field running drills. 

“I want you to meet Rebecca Carson and Travis Hansen. I’ve known Hansen since college. He’s former FBI, and he knows his stuff. I’ve asked for their help with your situation,” Tim said. 

What? 

“Um. Sir. I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, they’re just pictures and letters. They’re a little creepy, but I don’t see how this is a matter for the FBI, former or otherwise. I’m sure they have better things to do.” Gage’s gaze drifted back over to the woman. Was she a former FBI agent, too? She looked too young to be retired, but he’d heard his brother, Paul, talking about cops who were burnt out on the job. He had to assume the same thing could happen to FBI agents.

Agent
Rebecca Carson. He could definitely see it. She was just buttoned up enough to be a stuffy government agent.

If her expression was anything to go by, she agreed with his assessment. He cocked his head to the side and imagined what she’d look like with her hair down. It looked long enough to brush her shoulders, maybe even a little longer.

“That’s not your decision, Daniels,” Tim said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “At the very least, you have a stalker, and in my experience, stalkers don’t tend to go away unless they’re stopped. So this is how it’s going to work. Ms. Carson is going to act as your girlfriend for the foreseeable future.”

Excuse me? 

“Agent,” she corrected, although he was only half-paying attention.

“What?” Gage said, stepping forward. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. Anytime you go out to a social event or to a club, she is to be with you. This includes any events for the team, charity or otherwise. She’s trained to spot people who are acting suspicious or out of place. Plus, if this stalker decides to up the ante for any reason, she’ll be there to protect you, as well.” 

That ruffled his feathers. “I don’t need protection. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Again, that’s not your call. Now, practice is pretty much over for the day. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and they can follow you to your house. I’m sure they’d like to take a look around, and of course,
Agent
Carson will need to get set up in one of your guest rooms.”

“Wait. She’s
living
with me, too?” he said, his voice getting louder. 

“How else is she supposed to protect you? Besides, as your girlfriend, it makes sense.” Instead of saying anything more, Gage stood there seething until he was dismissed. 

His new bodyguards remained outside the locker room as he ducked inside to shower and change. At least none of the other guys had come in from practice yet, or they would have been grilling him on what was up. Not only
had he been called to the owner’s office, but there were two individuals in suits standing outside waiting for him. What he wouldn’t have given to be back out on the field right about then.