Sex, Lies and Surveillance (3 page)

Then again, maybe they’d all missed something.

Yes, she’d be keeping a close eye on Mal.

The next morning, Mal pushed away from his desk, needing to get up and move.

Fuck. He was getting nowhere.

He’d spent the past two hours with his fingers on the keyboard, trying to find something—anything in the DeMarcos’ private files that linked them to his case.

His wrists ached, his fingers ached—hell, his brain ached. He felt like he’d been scuba diving in mud.

And he had nothing to show for it.

Their files were as clean as their government records.

Either the DeMarcos had one big magic eraser or they were the saints most everyone in the federal government believed them to be.

But there had to be a damn good reason why his handler had tasked him to find a link between the DeMarcos and Thomas Carabini, CEO of Carabini Family Inc., a legitimate import-export business with a 150-year-old unsoiled reputation.

Until three months ago, when Carabini had been charged with importing stolen Russian weapons along with the olive oil and wine his family brought from Italy. A year ago, one of those guns had killed Mal’s partner, Dev. French national Damon Mays had pulled the trigger.

Mays’s brilliance as a code cracker had brought him to the attention of the NSA after a semester at NYU. Afterward, he’d supposedly gone back to France to start an internet coffee shop. Instead, he’d stayed to play at international espionage by settling in a backwater Pennsylvania town to steal US government secrets to sell to the highest bidder.

Mal and Dev had been undercover, their background cover stories perfectly aligned for Mays’s needs—disgruntled former US servicemen with technology skill sets.

It’d been a low-risk assignment, something to get Dev’s feet wet before possible deployment overseas. But Dev had ended up dead.

Because Mal had screwed up.

For months after Dev’s death, every time Mal closed his eyes, he’d seen his partner’s face as he bled out. Dev had never stopped smiling, not even while he died. Not that he’d known he was dying. Mal kept telling him he wasn’t, that everything would be okay. That the ambulance would be there in minutes and Mal would make sure his wife was at the hospital waiting for him.

His wife
had
been at the hospital, but it’d been too late. As Vicki had sobbed in his arms, Mal had promised her he’d make everyone who’d had a hand in Dev’s death pay.

He’d nailed Mays in court; then he’d pursued Carabini with a vengeance, gathering enough evidence to send the guy away for life. When Carabini had appeared before the federal grand jury, he sang like a robin on the first day of spring. He gave up his Russian mob contacts and mentioned that he’d had a source in the Philadelphia police department in exchange for protection and leniency.

And somewhere in the investigation that followed, the DeMarco name had popped up. The grand jury testimony had been sealed, but no one in Washington believed the DeMarcos were involved with Carabini. It just wasn’t possible.

Frank was one of the most decorated officers in military intelligence history. Instructors used his career as a guide for budding agents in all branches of the military. And Grace…well, Grace had clearance the president envied. No one Mal knew had clearance to read her files. Just the scraps of missions that had leaked out were enough to make people whisper her name in reverence.

But Mal’s partner had been killed by one of Carabini’s guns. If the DeMarcos were even remotely connected, he’d take them down. If the DeMarcos were dirty, he’d find their weaknesses, their secrets. He’d expose them, make them pay.

He was damn good at his job. He was so damn good at his job, he’d been sent to do this one. Hell, for all intents and purposes, he’d left his government job to work for the DeMarcos. If he was caught, he’d be out two jobs. And probably a few teeth, if Nic ever got hold of him.

Those were the risks. He knew them, embraced them. Hell, he thrived on risk. But he was going to pull his hair out if he didn’t figure out how to get access to Frank and Grace’s files without getting caught.

Maybe—

A knock on his open door had him spinning around.

Frank DeMarco stood there, leaning against the doorjamb.

And Mal literally snapped to attention. Old habits.

“Yes, sir. How are you, sir?”

Frank’s mouth tilted at the corners.

“At ease, Malcolm. Is this a bad time?” Frank gestured toward his desk and, for a second, Mal wondered what the man saw there. Hell, maybe the guy read minds.

“No, sir. Did you need something?”

“No, just stopped to say hi. Can I come in?”

Son, you’re an idiot. The man just had his chest cracked open—

He waved Frank into his office. “Of course, sir. Please, have a seat.”

With a nod, Frank walked in, his gaze taking in everything in two seconds flat as he shut the door behind him.

Christ, what the hell was the man looking for?

To say Frank DeMarco intimidated him was an understatement.

At sixty-six, Frank retained the bearing of the decorated army officer he was. His features were remarkably similar to Nic’s but his once dark hair was now peppered with silver.

Mal had met Frank at his first interview, but the DeMarco patriarch didn’t spend a lot of time in the office anymore, thanks to his recent heart surgery.

Frank seemed to have recovered just fine, but the worry he’d seen in Janey’s eyes whenever she talked about her dad made Mal take a closer look at the man for weakness.

Unfaltering steel-blue eyes. Straight slash of a mouth.

Nope, the guy still intimidated the crap out of him.

Nodding a greeting, Mal let his genuine surprise show. “How are you, sir?”

“Not bad, not bad.” Frank waved to the chair next to him. “Sit down.”

Mal caught his eyebrows before they shot up. Shit. Had they discovered why he was here? What had tipped them off? What—

Don’t go off half cocked now, son. The man didn’t even speak yet.

Mal let his gaze slide away from Frank’s, not having to fake his unease, which was completely in character.

“So,” Frank said, “you settling in okay? Anything you need? Any questions?”

Mal’s radar blipped. Frank had the reputation for being a top-notch investigator and this sure sounded like the beginning of an inquisition.

Mal put on his best computer-geek grin. “Everything’s fine. It’s been an adjustment, sir, but a good one.”

“Good, glad to hear it.” Frank nodded, settling himself more comfortably on the chair. Like a man with a mission. “We really haven’t had much time to talk since you started. But Grace has good things to say about you. So does Janey. She’s pretty impressed with you.”

Damn it, that shouldn’t mess with his head. But anything to do with Janey made him hypersensitive. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was—

Abruptly, he realized Frank had asked him a question. Backtracking, he tried to find it in his overloaded brain but couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He grimaced, hating to look the fool in front of this man. “I missed that.”

“I asked how you like working here.” Frank repeated.

For just a second, Mal wished he could answer, “Fine, sir. I’m enjoying it,” and mean it. He said the words anyway, and Frank nodded.

“Good, because we’re happy to have you. How are you settling into Philadelphia? It’s not a bad city, once you get to know it.”

“Actually, the city’s got a lot going for it.” Mal answered honestly. “The food’s incredible, the people are friendly…usually,” he added, “and there’s enough to keep an amateur historian busy for years.”

Frank’s eyebrows lifted. “You like history? A man after my own heart.”

Frank sounded surprised and a little pleased. Good. He’d hit on something they had in common. Keep him talking, play on that. Get the man to open up, just a little, and maybe something would slip out.

Fat chance, son.

Yeah, well, he could hope.

“I’ve been meaning to get out to Valley Forge,” Mal continued, “but the closest I’ve gotten to a historical site has been driving by the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall.”

“Well, there’s a lot to see, that’s for sure.” Then Frank frowned. “Gracie said you’ve been working long hours. You know we don’t expect that, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Mal shrugged. “I’m used to it. Old habits die hard.”

“Yes, they do. When I talked to your former boss, he said you were something of a workaholic. Gotta watch that. The stress’ll catch up with you.” Lifting a hand to his chest, Frank rubbed a spot just below his sternum. “And before you know it, you’re in an operating room on your back with your chest cut open, wondering how the hell you got there.”

A twinge of worry caught Mal off guard. What kind of stress would it put on Frank’s heart when he found out Mal’s true mission? And why should he care? This man could be partly responsible for Dev’s death.

With a sigh, Frank dropped his hand and sat a little straighter in his chair. “I’ve tried to talk to my own kids, but they don’t listen. Nic shrugged me off. I couldn’t even roust Jimmy out of the lab to talk to him and Janey…well, Janey…”

“Janey what?”

Mal’s head snapped up, his gaze arrowing toward the sound of her voice.

The woman in question stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at Frank with raised eyebrows.

Jesus, he hadn’t even heard the door open.

You’re slipping, son.

“I didn’t know you were going to be in the office today, Dad. Is everything okay?”

Concern pinched her mouth into a frown and he saw fear in the tight lines of her body. But, if he were Frank, he’d be more than a little worried about the heated look in her eyes.

But Frank showed no fear. Hell, the man even grinned as he turned to face his daughter.

“I just stopped by to say hi. Mal and I got to talking and, since the man likes history, I thought maybe you could give him the city tour.”

Janey’s eyes narrowed as she leveled her gaze at Frank. That look would have broken a lesser man. Mal wondered how long he’d hold up under it. But Frank’s smile remained intact as Janey swung her gaze back to Mal.

Her bright eyes made his gut clench in reaction. Shit, shit and double shit.

“I’m sure I could find the time, if you’d like,” she said. “I did a lot of exploring when we moved here.” Then she gave her dad another look, one Mal couldn’t decipher. “Dad, I need to talk to Mal for a sec. If you’re not done, I’ll come back—”

“No, no.” Frank stuck out one large hand to Mal as he rose. “I just wanted to check in, see how everything’s going. I’ve got some work to do.”

Standing, Mal took Frank’s hand, respecting the firm shake. Respecting the man. But damn it, what he’d been sent here to do…

“It was nice to see you again, sir.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Frank said. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Just let Janey know if you need anything.”

Before he left, Frank brushed a quick kiss on Janey’s cheek, then sauntered down the hall.

Janey turned to watch him walk away. Worry radiated from her in waves and, when she shook her head, that pit in his stomach opened even wider.

“Janey? You okay?”

She nodded before turning back to him, her gaze meshing with his for several seconds before she glanced at the hard drive in her hands. “I have a favor to ask. Please, feel free to say no. I’ll completely understand if you’re too swamped.” She held up the shiny metal box. “But this has been giving me fits. My cousin’s term paper is on here and she needs it by the end of the week. I can’t figure out what’s wrong. I realize you have your own work—”

“No problem.” Janey the unflappable needed help? He held out his hand for the drive. “I’ll take a look at it.”

Her momentarily narrowed eyes said maybe he’d been a little quick on the draw but he’d never been one to turn down a damsel in distress. Got him in trouble more times than he cared to remember but this was Janey. No way would he say no.

Stepping closer, she held out the hard drive. “Thanks so much. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Yeah, and he didn’t have to guess what that was. Christ, this assignment was getting suckier by the minute.

She turned to go, but Mal, stupid idiot that he was, opened his mouth.

“So, what’s the term paper about?”

Janey’s feet stuck to the floor for a brief second before she turned back to Mal. She couldn’t really believe he was interested in her teenage cousin’s term paper, even if he did look genuinely curious.

Or maybe she wasn’t seeing straight because she was still pissed off at her dad. She knew what he’d been up to, asking her to show Mal around the city. Please. Her parents were spies. Didn’t they think she’d learned anything from them over the years?

She couldn’t believe—well, yes, she could believe he’d done it and, she knew if she walked out of this office right now, she’d track down her dad and give him a piece of her mind. And she couldn’t do that.

She couldn’t add to his stress.

So…term paper.

“It’s about women in the military. About my mom, mainly.”

“Sounds like a great subject.” He sat back in his chair and, since she felt awkward standing over him, she slid into the chair her dad had vacated.

“It is.” She let her gaze trace the lines of his face. Such strong lines. “She’s led an amazing life. And I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it.”

Mal nodded, shaggy hair brushing against the sides of his face. She had a thing for his hair. Wanted to run her fingers through it. See if it was as soft as it looked.

“Your parents’ careers are legendary.” His lips quirked. “They’re pretty intimidating, to tell you the truth.”

“Try being their daughter.”

Shit, that had come out whiny and petulant.

His head cocked to the side, gaze searching hers. “High expectations, huh?”

“You could say that.” At the very least. But it wasn’t her parents’ expectations that were high. It was all her.

“Must be tough, being the youngest. And a girl.”

Maybe Mal understood more than she gave him credit for.

And the lust monster she thought she’d been keeping successfully at bay drenched her body in heat as quickly as if she’d stepped into a sauna.