Authors: Misty Evans
“Nope.”
Come on. Give me something.
“You have nothing else to add?”
She heard nothing from him for a long moment, the clock on her fireplace mantel ticking off the seconds as she wrestled with her urge to open her eyes.
Outside the white room’s window, she saw a shadow. “Trace?”
Exasperation laced his reply. “The fact Hayden’s file is clean is what stands out to me.”
She knew where he was going, what his gut was telling him. Her high intellect agreed. Still, she wanted him to verbalize it. “How so?”
“The file’s been scrubbed.”
Bingo. She’d seen plenty of personnel files in her job with the NSA. Good undercover operatives often stepped outside the box to complete a mission. High-risk missions were unpredictable, perilous. They required people who broke rules and gambled with fate. Those types of people were the exact types the CIA and NSA hired. The risk-takers. The gamblers. The ones who knew the rules and broke them anyway.
Like Agent Ruby McKellen. “His partner, McKellen. Did you read her file?”
Trace picked up her right hand and began doing acupressure on her fingers and thumb. “Yep. Her file is…messier. I don’t think it was scrubbed. She’s the real deal.”
There were advantages to being a beautiful woman with the smarts to analyze and manipulate. Several reports in McKellen’s file mentioned she had used her feminine attributes to get intel. Harmless flirting from the sounds of it, but McKellen often used her attributes as a means of distraction while her partner accessed whatever—or whoever—the two of them were after. “Is it possible Hayden let McKellen do the
messy
stuff in order to keep his own nose clean?”
“Possible, yes. Probable is more like it.”
There was more, but he wasn’t saying it. She peeked at him under her eyelashes, saw the consternation lining his face. “Something’s bothering you.”
His steely blue eyes met hers. “
You’re
bothering me. Now, close your eyes.”
A heavy sigh left her mouth. Her body was relaxing, even if her mind continued its spin class. She shut her eyes, trying to soak in the acupressure. “Most operatives work alone. Hayden and McKellen’s teamwork has been outstanding, so the Agency kept them together. They posed as husband and wife on multiple occasions.”
It was all stuff he already knew from their files, but she wanted to get him back to thinking about the case and not about her. Being the center of attention made her uncomfortable.
“Hayden’s not much of a partner if he made her take all the risks,” Trace said.
“Maybe he didn’t. That’s why his file is scrubbed.”
Trace moved to her other side, so quiet, so fast, she didn’t even realize it until he lifted her left hand and began applying pressure. As the only soldier to survive Project 24, his superhuman skills were a thing to behold.
“Or he screwed up royally,” he said, “but they didn’t want to break up a good thing. They erased it from his files and kept both of them in the field doing their Mr. and Mrs. Smith routine.”
She’d seen the movie he referred to. It was decent entertainment, but any operative worth her salt would have taken out her partner in his sleep, not called attention to herself or ruining a lovely house in an effort to gun the man down. “Or Hayden’s been doing off-the-books work that his partner may or may not have known about.”
“Like what?”
Her garden visualization was turning stormy. “When I worked for NSA, we were often given a legitimate assignment with a second, secret assignment layered under it.”
“Had a few of those myself.” He released her hand, laying it next to her. “So Hayden gets double duty, but McKellen is left in the dark about it.”
“Help me up,” she said, popping her eyes open. “I need to call Zeb.”
“You have ten more minutes of relaxation.”
Trying to roll to her side, she sent a mental apology to the baby. “If Hayden was working subsequent secret operations, he may be a severe liability to the Agency. You know what they do to liabilities.”
Trace sat back on his heels, but put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. “You think they hired us to go after Hayden because they want him dead?”
“They hired Jax, specifically. The man who reported Hayden to the Justice Department, who ended up putting him in prison for crimes against the nation. A black mark on the CIA’s already shaky blotter.”
“They know Hayden has information that could get them in trouble with Congress, and he’s not about to go down peacefully when Jax finds him.”
“Exactly.”
Trace shook his head. “Fuckers. They’ve put Jax in a no-win situation so he takes out their man and they keep their hands clean.”
“Which is why I need to call Zeb first, then Jaxon.”
She tried to shrug off his hand, but he was stronger. “You stay put. I’ll handle this.”
He stood and stepped around her, heading for her desk. “What’s Zeb’s number?” he asked, snatching up the handset.
“He’s on speed dial. Number 3.”
Trace nodded and punched the button.
A
R
EPORTER
R
USHED
them as soon as she recognized their faces.
Jax saw the blond bombshell heading their direction before Ruby did. “Incoming, six o’clock.”
Ruby checked for the danger over her shoulder, then jammed her finger onto the car door’s lock. “Get in.”
Lucky for them, Emit, Rory, and Colton were idling behind the car. Jax hand-signaled Emit; he nodded, and the next thing they all knew, the reporter found a big, black barricade in the form of a Cadillac Escalade between her and her quarry.
Ruby gave Emit a thumbs-up before she slid into the driver’s seat. Jax did the same, tucking himself into a tight ball to fit into the passenger seat. “Could you have rented a smaller car?”
The engine revved and Ruby made a smooth squeeze between Emit’s Caddy and the car in front of them. “Hey, not all of us are ex-linebackers.”
He shot her a look. “You ran a background check on me?”
“Please. It was a lucky guess.”
Lucky guess, his ass.
Still…she’d looked into his background. She’d wanted to know more about him. He grinned. “State champs my senior year.”
She merged into traffic, heading for her apartment. “And you were scouted by several major universities, yada, yada, yada.”
Jax checked the sideview, saw Emit trailing them. “You
did
do a background check.”
“Nothing that in-depth. Maybe a Google search. You accused my partner of treason after all.”
“Speaking of… Who was that on the video from the station?”
Her fingers clenched slightly on the wheel. Because of the traffic or because he’d hit the nail on the head?
She checked her side mirror, changed lanes. “I told you and Emit, I’ve never heard of Agent Brown.”
Lying, but not lying. “But you know who the man is
posing
as Agent Brown, don’t you?”
“What? No.”
God, he hated it when she lied to him. “Ruby.”
She glanced over at him, gave him a WTF smile. “Jax, I’m just as invested in this as you are.”
“Yet, you continue to keep intel from me. I get it, Elliot is in some deep shit. Deeper than I realized. Maybe the guy isn’t guilty, he’s simply trapped in a game he can’t win.”
She nearly rear-ended a camper in front of them. As she stomped the brakes, the front of the car nose-dived, then snapped back up. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
He huffed, not appreciating her incredulous tone. “There are a lot of things that don’t add up, and if I screwed up, and Elliot is innocent of killing Al-Safari, or there’s more to the story than he admitted because he’s in a goatfuck with the CIA, or Homeland, or whoever, then I want to make it right.”
She focused on her driving again, a frown creasing her forehead. “That’s mighty noble of you.”
“I’m a noble guy.”
She snorted. “No, you’re not.”
Silence fell like a blanket between them, Ruby seeming lost in thought. Or maybe she was simply concentrating on the horrible traffic.
One thing for certain, she was right. He wasn’t a noble guy.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot behind her apartment building. That guy he’d seen yesterday with the dog was sitting outside, a cigarette dangling from his skinny fingers and his eyes hidden behind tiny John Lennon sunglasses.
Emit and the others parked beside them and Emit got out. Jax rolled down the window. Humid air engulfed the car.
“We’ll canvas the place first, make sure it’s clear,” Emit said, handing him an earbud.
Jax popped it in and tapped the button to turn on the comm. “Roger that, boss.”
Emit and Colton headed for the apartment.
“Wait,” Ruby called out. “Don’t you want the key?”
She held it up, the metal key flashing in the sun. Colton turned, grinned as he walked back to her. “Aw, what fun is that? We’d rather use our awesome skills to break in.”
“You need to get out more if breaking and entering is your idea of fun,” Ruby said, dropping it into his hand.
Colton lowered his head to flash his grin at Jax. “I like her.” He switched his gaze to Ruby. “Any time you want to take me out for some fun, I’ll clear my calendar.”
Jax rolled his eyes and flipped Colt off behind Ruby’s back.
Ruby tapped the steering wheel as Emit and Colton made their way inside. “This really isn’t necessary,” she said.
Jax tapped his comm to turn off the mic and touched the bracelet on her wrist. “You’re a card-carrying Rock Star client, Ruby. Your safety is our highest priority.”
“Your boss wants to bug my place in case Elliot shows up.”
“Yeah, about that…” Jax glanced over at John Lennon Junior and debated whether telling her the truth was a good idea, but what the hell? He needed her to trust him and the best way to gain that trust was to be honest.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “You already did, didn’t you?”
JL Junior watched him and Ruby. In his ear, Jax heard Rory, still in the Escalade, humming a Beatles song.
“I was sent here to hunt down Hayden, and I knew he would come to you. You were uncooperative, so…” He shrugged, letting her fill in the rest.
She opened a compartment under the armrest between them and pointed down. What Jax saw inside made him shake his head.
All three of the bugs he’d placed inside her apartment were nestled inside with some change and a hair clip. He’d never had a chance to turn on his phone’s app to listen in last night and Ruby had found every one them.
All three were flattened, tangled messes. “You stepped on them?”
She was smiling. “I imagined your pretty-boy, linebacker face as I ground my heel into each one.”
Liar
.
She loved that he’d bugged her place. He could see it in the way her eyes danced. She loved that she’d found them and ruined his plans, because like every spook he’d ever worked with, Ruby loved
the game
.
The strategy, the bluffing, the deceit. The one-upping everyone else. It made her blood pump faster, her senses heighten, her brain work out multiple scenarios like a chess game.
In essence, she was a con man, addicted to the adrenaline rush.
He knew the feeling. The first time he took a football in for a touchdown, he was only ten years old. Ever since, he’d been chasing that elusive feeling. All through high school, into college, hitting the gridiron harder than anyone on his team, making the hail Mary plays time and time again.
Not to win the game. Not because he counted on the football scholarships to get him through his first four years of college.
He did it because it felt good.
Better than good.
Eventually, he couldn’t meet the demands of school and football. The call to be a doctor had been strong, but he missed the rush of playing sports. Leaving med school and joining the Navy had met his next quest for that high.
He’d found it, ending up a SEAL for four years. Four glorious years of pushing his body and his mind to the limit.
Until Marrakech. Until Ruby.
One night with her and nothing felt the same. The rush, the high that came from being with her, turned his addiction into something completely different. One he still didn’t understand.
The need thrummed just under his skin with every sway of her hair, every smile, every look she gave him.
Colt’s voice came over the comm, jerking Jax out of his mind travel. “We’re in.”
Jax relayed the info to Ruby as he scanned the area. He wanted to talk about Elliot again, but bringing that up seemed like a good way to ruin their current truce. Over at the picnic table, JL Junior was finishing his smoke. “Your neighbor sure is nosy.”
Ruby glanced over the guy. “Dan’s just lonely. Woodstock is all he has.”
“Woodstock?”
“The dog. That’s her name.”
“How original. A hippy with a dog named Woodstock.”