Incriminating Evidence (16 page)

K
eith Hatcher grabbed his girlfriend, Trina Sorensen, by the waist and pulled her flush against him. He kissed her deeply—probably too deeply for a public display of affection, but just ten feet from the security screen at Dulles Airport, the men and women who worked for TSA were probably immune to inappropriate PDAs after repeated exposure. And Keith was hardly a public figure who needed to keep things rated G like his new boss.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Trina said.

“Same here, babe.”

She frowned. “I know your job is dangerous, but
this
trip was supposed to be easy. I’m a little annoyed that your first trip on Raptor business feels more like you’re going to Kazakhstan than Alaska.”

Keith shrugged. “I’ve been to Kazakhstan. I’m pretty sure it was worse.”

Trina’s eyes widened. “Really? You’ve never mentioned Kazakhstan. Was it a SEAL mission? Is it classified? I’d love to hear how—”

Keith kissed her again to shush her. They’d only been going out for a month, and he was still getting used to the fact that his military historian girlfriend was more interested in his exploits as a SEAL than most veterans were curious about entire wars. At the point at which a normal person’s eyes glazed over, Trina would start asking questions about troop morale or the underlying economic influences that pushed an individual to bow to a warlord’s commands to storm a NATO stronghold or turn to piracy on the East African coast.

She was adorable but also a little exhausting.

She dropped back to her heels, ending the kiss. “Fine. We’ll talk about Kazakhstan when you get back.”

Trust Trina to remember what they’d been talking about and to see right through his deflection. He smiled. “You got it, babe.”

“Don’t let Alec steamroll Isabel, okay?”

Keith shook his head. “You talk about Isabel like you know her. Alec is the one you know. I’m sure you remember him. The politician? My new boss? The guy who financed your bodyguard a month ago?”

Trina smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Alec can take care of himself. Isabel’s an archaeologist, and you know how the grapevine works. Erica and Mara asked around, and she’s solid. A little messed up—but who wouldn’t be after the way her brother died. Alec is a good guy, but he could have done more to investigate Vincent Dawson’s death.”

Keith grimaced. Rav might have done four hundred and twenty-eight things right in the last year, but he’d dropped the ball once, and Isabel Dawson had stepped forward and made sure the world knew it.

Because of the ongoing investigation and the campaign, only a handful of people knew the truth behind what happened to Rav—that he’d definitely been abducted, beaten, and left for dead, and that Isabel Dawson, of all people, had saved his life—but the media wasn’t likely to be held at bay for long. It was only a matter of time before the full truth came out, and for the sake of the campaign, Carey, Rav’s campaign manager, had floated the idea of casting suspicion on Isabel for the abduction. Carey had argued that Isabel had a well-known vendetta with Raptor and there’d been questions about her mental health.

Isabel Dawson had motive to abduct Rav, and her motive had nothing to do with politics, the military, special ops, Raptor’s mercenary work, or any of a dozen other reasons someone might target Rav. Even more important, unlike a foreign terrorist group, she didn’t have tools of torture or brainwashing at her disposal—and with a seven hour gap in his memory, that was a real concern—making Isabel the ideal villain as far as keeping Rav electable.

Keith had no doubt Carey wanted Isabel to be the culprit and she wouldn’t bat an eye at pinning it on her if the truth would harm the campaign.

With a perfect patsy in the crosshairs, Keith feared the FBI would begin and end their investigation with Isabel Dawson. She might well be guilty, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone being railroaded simply because they were politically convenient. He wanted Alec to win the election so he could stay on as Raptor’s CEO, but no job, not even this one, was worth selling his soul.

A
lec smiled at Isabel from his seat at the table and nodded toward the breakfast spread laid out on the marble-topped sideboard. “Help yourself,” he said.

She filled her plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit and set it across from him on the small table, then turned to grab utensils. He had a tablet in front of him, the modern version of reading the morning paper with breakfast. It felt strangely intimate, sharing breakfast with him, as if this were a morning after. It didn’t help that she’d dreamed about him. Not a sex dream, but the undercurrent of desire had been there, giving the dream a sexual edge. She woke fully aroused and wishing Alec were spooning with her, his morning erection pressed between her thighs.

This was a problem.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Her dirty mind turned his innocent question into a proposition, and she shook her head to clear it of the sudden fantasy of him clearing the sideboard with the sweep of his arm, then lifting her onto it and sliding deep inside, making her feel much, much better.

“You aren’t feeling better?” he asked, and she realized he took the shake of her head as a negative.

She felt her face flush, knowing she was turning a deep cherry red—the curse of red hair and fair skin. “No, I feel much better.”

He studied her face, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. A little smug and a whole lot sexy. “Care to share what’s making you blush?”

“Not particularly.”

He stood and plucked a strawberry from her plate, then advanced on her, slowly. She couldn’t help but feel like prey as the tiger stalked. She took one step back, then another, until the sideboard pressed into her spine. The same sideboard that had just played a vital role in her quick, hot fantasy. Her breathing turned shallow.

Alec paused before her, but he didn’t clear the marble counter. He didn’t lift her. He didn’t spread her legs and fill her. Instead, he brushed the strawberry over her lips. She couldn’t resist and took a small bite. The sweet juice dampened her bottom lip, and she licked it.

His gaze had fixed on her mouth; he let out a soft growl and bit into the berry himself.

He’d kissed her once, but she’d put an end to it before it could go too far. Now, here she was, wanting another kiss—and much more—so badly she could feel the flush spread from her face to dangerous, hidden regions.

“Your move, Iz.”

She cleared her throat. “I can’t.” Not until she was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he hadn’t known Vin was murdered and covered it up because it would have destroyed his fledgling candidacy.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.”

He nodded and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. He popped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “Fair enough.”

“When do we head out on our hike?”

“I’m afraid it won’t be until early afternoon. With everything that’s happened, we’ve had to rearrange the schedule. This morning, Falcon team will practice training scenarios in the simulated village and the shoot houses. I need to be there to go over the setup with them.”

Vin had described how realistic the village and shoot houses were, and she’d always wanted to see them and how the trainings were conducted. “Can I join you?”

He frowned and studied her. “They’ll be running through hostage-rescue drills. No live fire—but still, it can be intense. The team will be amped.”

She had a good idea what that meant. After all, as a teen, she’d lived on base with Vin. She’d particularly enjoyed the times he invited his fellow soldiers over. Just watching football could send testosterone levels through the roof. Much to Vin’s irritation, at sixteen she’d found it a rush to be surrounded by pumped-up nineteen- to twenty-one-year-old men in prime fighting shape. Her jailbait age combined with her brother’s threats of bodily harm to any guy who touched her ensured—much to
her
irritation—nothing ever happened with any of Vin’s friends.

“What does that smile mean?” Alec asked.

“I was just thinking it’s been a long time since I’ve hung out with a group of handsome, amped-up soldiers. Pretty please can I go?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I like the idea of you getting excited about watching Fraser and Sufentes.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “I have a feeling you can hold your own with Brad and Nate. Besides, Brad’s taken.” Truthfully, she wanted to see Alec—and only Alec—in soldier mode. “I promise to stay out of the way.”

His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Your reputation for getting
in
the way precedes you.” His eyes were a warm blue, and she realized the swelling was now completely gone. “But this might be the only way to keep you out of trouble while I’m with Falcon.” He nodded. “Fine. You can join us.”

“Thank you.” On impulse, she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He slid an arm around her waist before she could slip away. “We’ll set out after breakfast.” His voice lowered as his eyes flared with heat. “Although I
can
delay it. One of the benefits of being the boss.”

She imagined the cold marble of the sideboard under her bare ass, her head banging into the wall as he pounded into her. So very, very tempting. She cleared her throat. “No. After breakfast is fine.”

“H
ow many people do you have to play the market crowd?” Alec asked Nicole as they strolled between the rows of wooden stalls in the fake outdoor market.

Two rows away, Isabel paused to admire the setting. The stalls were set up to simulate an open-air market in the Middle East or any of a dozen different terrorist hotspots. According to Nate, they had different “product” props to fill the tables, depending on which scenario they were running. Today the tables were empty, the props stored in Conex boxes tucked in the woods well away from the training area, so as not to interfere with the authenticity of the setting.

Nicole and Alec were conferring about the training for US Army soldiers that would begin on Wednesday as Nate gave her a tour of the facility.

“Isn’t it a little cold for a Middle Eastern market?” she asked.

Nate fixed her with a look and cleared his throat. “Um, well, that’s why we like to run these trainings in the
summer
, but since we were closed the last two months—”

She pursed her lips, duly chagrined. “My intention was never—”

Nate smiled and held up a hand to cut her off. “Wars and markets aren’t confined to the summer. We’re going to set this up to simulate an Afghani market, and we’re going to run two different scenarios—one is going to be US soldiers in the market finding themselves targeted by Taliban; the other is going to be a hostage scenario.”

Isabel gazed across the stalls to where Alec spoke to Nicole. “The soldiers, when they show up for the training, do they know what to expect?”

“No. Everyone starts out at the simulated base camp two clicks from here. Their CO will assign them all duties. Not even the CO will know exactly what we have in store. Several soldiers will be sent here with operatives who are playing the role of Afghan military personnel training under the US soldiers. While in the market, the Afghan trainees might turn traitor or be targeted by Afghan civilians, or they might come across a suicide bomber, or the Taliban can show up and take hostages.”

“Who plays the villain in those scenarios?”

Nate grimaced. “Falcon team always plays the Tangos—the target, or villains. It’s the price of being on the top team.” He shrugged. “But we get to play good-guy roles too, so it balances out.”

“When you’re playing the good guys, do you know what’s going to happen?”

“No. The only people who know the full details of the Tango’s plan are the operatives who are given the role of Tangos, plus Nic, and Rav, if he’s visiting. Sometimes Nic will assign Tangos conflicting plans—they won’t be working together. Like ISIS and al Qaeda, we can have two factions who are out to screw everyone, but they haven’t communicated with each other their particular plans.”

“So what are you going to do here today?”

“Today we’re scouting out vulnerabilities. Where the worst place to be caught in the market is, what attacks are easiest and hardest to defend. I think Nic already has this week’s training outlined, but Rav always has tweaks he likes to toss in at the end.”