Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2) (23 page)

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” He should have been more truthful.

She sighed. The breath pushed out of her forcibly, and he could feel the contraction of her diaphragm against his arm. “What a mess.”

“Yeah.”

Except he couldn’t view her pregnancy as a problem.

A complication, perhaps. Mostly he was worried about the drug in her system and how it was affecting her and the baby.

He had to bring it up. Until now, she’d been blowing him off, but this was important. “I’m worried about this DNA drug in your system.”

“You really believe I was injected with something?”

“I know you were.” He’d heard Susan Chen talk about the drug and its side effects. He knew Staci needed the antidote.

“I don’t want more drugs,” she said almost plaintively.

“I know.” She didn’t like drugs. Almost as much as she didn’t like hospitals. “But you may have to give in. Have you noticed anything different?”

She slowly grew more stiff, tension tightened her muscles. “Everything is different,” she whispered.

Jordan knew what she was thinking. Everything was different after being tortured and on the run. How the hell was she, were they, going to get out of this situation?

Staci looked back at the now silent television. “I’ve just got to find out what someone thinks I know that’s so important they’d release my name and face to the media.”

Jordan’s stomach knotted. She was in serious danger.

“They’re trying to destroy my credibility.”

“I’m pretty sure they succeeded.”

“Why?” Staci asked. “I wasn’t bothering anyone. The Afghanistan trip was personal. I wasn’t exposing Department 5491.”

“It’s too coincidental. Everyone who received the DNA drug is also on that list. What’s the correlation?” Jordan asked.

Staci shifted to look back at him. “I don’t know.”

His senses had slowly awakened from their dormancy, and details were registering. The swell of her breast against his arm. The curve of her butt nestled against his hard on. Like a trained reaction, his body had responded to arousal stimulus. He shifted slightly trying to put some distance between her body and his.

But she followed, rubbed her ass against his granite cock. “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

He laughed. “Smart ass.”

But then Jordan’s cell phone vibrated...and his amusement disappeared. Things were going to get tense again soon.

“It’s better than thinking about how much trouble I'm in.”

Yeah. And the trouble wasn’t just going to go away. They needed help. He'd made a call. He just hoped Staci would understand.

“You shouldn’t just assume the reason for them calling the press conference is related to your investigation of Department 5491.”

“It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“What about your trip? Maybe they didn’t like where a private citizen was going in the Afghan country. Maybe they didn’t want you criticizing the efforts of the military projects there.”

“I didn’t see anything. Just a bunch of poppy fields and villages clearly engaged in the Commander’s Emergency Relief Program, or Operation: Rebuild. Both programs aid the villagers with infrastructure, building schools with running water, building roads, medical supplies, all in exchange for helping the military secure the areas and keep the Taliban from encroaching.”

“What about the local people?”

“Many of the natives are happy we’re there. Since we changed the aid program and are trying to emancipate them from the prior government and get them started on a new path, they welcome us.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “The villages I saw, the warlords got along with the army and vice versa.” Staci frowned. “They take advantage of the negotiations to destroy their poppy fields and earn the money back from the US government. The U.N. gives them new crops to plant and supplies.”

“What about your activities for the CIA? Maybe someone else in the government doesn’t like what you are doing so they decided to out you.”

“Yeah but I can’t do a Valerie Plame and have my day in court. I’ll be dead before that happens.”

“Assuming they even take you to court. They could just ship your ass to Guantanamo.”

Staci rested her hand on her belly. “It’s a possibility.”

Jordan’s cell vibrated again. He checked the display, but he already knew who it was.

He got up from the sofa. “Let me get Thea on her way.”

“What?”

The gurgle of the coffeepot covered his footsteps. “She needs to go rent the car.”

“True.”

Jordan hustled Thea out of her apartment before she could do more than give Staci the evil eye and threaten her. “Don’t fuck up, or I will find you.”

Staci rolled her eyes.

Jordan walked Thea to the elevator, checking the hallway, worrying about what to do about Staci.

He had to figure out what was going on before Staci bolted.

She was going to. If she got the chance. He’d seen the intent in every gesture she’d made, every glance she’d given him. She was out of here.

The truth was like a Ka-bar to the heart.

She'd be gone unless he found a way to stop her from leaving. He’d been wracking his brain for any lever, any hammer he could use to keep her here. Because if she walked, he’d never see her again.

He’d do anything to keep her. Anything to make sure she stayed with him.

Anything.

As they came to a stop at the elevator, Thea brought him back to the present. “Are you sure this is such a good idea?”

“It will be fine,
miha
.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It has to be,” Jordan said fiercely. “Leave the keys under the front seat. Don’t come back until we’re gone. I don’t want anyone to see us with you.”

The elevator doors slid open. “You hear what you are saying?” Thea accused.

“It will be fine,” he soothed. Jordan ran a finger over Staci’s scarab, still in his pocket. He should have returned it to her, but he didn’t want to let go of the amulet. As if he held onto the necklace, he could hold onto her.

Thea bussed his cheek gently and then stepped into the elevator. “I hope you are right. Be safe.” She stared at him with a worried frown as the elevator doors closed.

Jordan's phone buzzed again. Safe. He’d make sure of it, assuming Staci didn't kill him when she discovered what he'd done.

TWENTY-SIX

October 18

11:30 pm

New York City

While Jordan walked Thea to the elevator, I rifled through Jordan’s bag, wanting to be armed for whatever came next. Both times when his cell buzzed, he’d tensed. That behavior hit the top of my suspicion meter.

Pulling out his Glock, I chambered a round, then assessed the apartment’s exit strategies. The front door was the only way out.

No balcony, no terrace, just windows that looked out over Central Park and didn’t open.

While Jordan was still outside the apartment with Thea, I used the sink in the kitchen, rubbed some water through my hair and over my face. I had to be alert, ready for whatever came through that door. I positioned myself on the sofa, facing the door, weapon at the ready, using the arm of the sofa to prop up the gun.

Someone knocked.

“It’s me,” Jordan called softly.

He could get back in, so I assumed he gave me the heads up for a reason.

“I brought friends.” Jordan walked in slowly, hands out in front of him. There were two people behind him. A man, very short blond hair, sculpted features, good body, carried himself like a fighter, intense gray eyes. A woman, streaked short blonde hair spiked every which way, well-dressed, clearly in excellent condition, and a scowl on her face.

Were they here to take me in? Had Jordan betrayed me?

Pain wrapped around my ribs and threatened my air. I thought about those coffee mugs in the prison which I’d conveniently, for him anyway, forgotten.

Shit.

I had to stay calm if I wanted to get out of this alive. I was fairly sure Jordan wouldn’t let me get killed. He wanted the baby too much, I thought mockingly. And tried not to let that truth hurt.

“Jesus, look at you.” The woman’s eyebrows rose, her mouth a round o of shock.

I lifted the Glock.

“What the fuck?” she snarled.

I stared at the three. “Why the ambush?”

“It’s not an ambush,” Jordan said calmly, slowly, holding still, hands up and out. As if he would catch the bullets if I started firing. “Unarmed here, Stace. Put the weapon away.”

“We’re trying to help you.” Ungrateful bitch. I could almost hear the woman tack on.

Something about her was vaguely familiar. Her hair was glossy and artfully streaked with blond. She wore cream wide-bottomed linen pants, a wrap-around black linen top tied at the waist, and low-heeled black shoes.

I realized why she looked familiar. I had an outfit just like hers. My hair used to be the same colors. Our facial features were different but otherwise it was like looking in a mirror. Or looking in a mirror before I’d become a human toothpick.

“Yeah. They’re your clothes. I didn’t give them back.”

What the hell was she talking about?

“Jamie,” the other man put a restraining hand on her arm. He said to Jordan wryly, “I take it you didn’t tell her we were coming.”

Jordan flushed. “Better not to.”

“Yeah, it’s working out so well right now.”

The woman just stood there, her face a serene mask, but I knew better. She was pissed. Which frankly, I didn’t get. I was the one who’d been ambushed.

“Let’s discuss this rationally,” Jordan continued in that low, calm voice as if we were discussing whether to have beer or wine with dinner. “Staci, this is Lucas Goodman.”

The handsome man tipped his chin at me, his gaze trained on, and never leaving, my weapon. Smart man.

“And Jamie Hunt.”

From the list. From 5491. The other NSA person he’d hooked up with.

No one rushed me. They all just...waited. I didn’t know what they wanted from me.

All three stood, legs apart, hands visible, and looking like a unit, while I sat on the sofa...alone.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just shoot now,” I asked curiously.

Jamie Hunt stepped slightly in front of Lucas. “‘Cause I’ll kick your skinny ass back to Afghanistan if you do.”

“You and what army?” Of course, all she’d have to do was blow on me and I’d float away on the wind.

She snorted.

We all waited. No one looked at their watch, no one twitched, or fidgeted. Their gazes were solidly trained on the Glock resting on the pillow, while I decided what to do.

I suppose someone could be waiting downstairs, or in the hallway, or in the parking garage, but Jordan seemed to be trying to protect the two behind him from me, rather than the other way around.

And I knew in my heart, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the baby.

I moved the weapon into my lap, pointing the barrel toward the side of the sofa and away from the trio.

“‘Bout time.”

I was tempted to aim at her again, but frankly I wasn’t too sure I could hold the damn thing up.

“As much as I’d like a catfight....” Lucas Goodman trailed off, his lips curling up in a little half-smile, his fingers squeezing Jamie Hunt’s forearm.

“In your dreams,” Jamie said.

He gave her a look that said, oh yeah. “Perhaps we can move on to business.”

“I’m listening.” I didn’t let my attention shift to Jordan. Didn’t want to focus on the intimate betrayal. I'd told him I couldn't go in until I figured out who was after me. Instead of respecting me, he'd brought the NSA right to me.

I saw the way Jamie Hunt and Lucas Goodman looked at each other. The way they’d both taken steps to protect one another.

They were a unit. A couple.

They moved together with a grace, a connection clear to even my inexperienced eye. Their closeness evoked an unfamiliar longing, reminding me of my grandparents. Of what I’d hoped to have with Jordan. Dammit.

“We’re only here to...deliver something you might find useful.”

“They have the information on the DNA gene manipulation drug.” Jordan commented softly, “I thought we might be able to get analysis on how the drug changed you if we could get the original files.”

So he hadn't betrayed me. At least, not completely. I directed my question to her. “How did you get it?”

“Classified.”

“How come you still have it?”

If she really had gotten the data and it really was classified, she shouldn’t be carrying it on her person and she shouldn’t be about to give it up to me.

“I’m not about to turn this research over so someone else can start up the project again,” Jamie hissed. “They fucked with enough lives already.”

“Why give it to me?” I couldn’t figure that out. She didn’t like me, although I had no idea why. I’d never met her.

“I asked her to,” Jordan said.

“I’d still rather kick your ass,” Jamie grudgingly said. “But I owe Jordan.”

“Just give them the flash key,” Lucas said, “The sooner we leave, the happier Ms. Grant will be.”

Jamie Hunt reached into her big black leather tote.

My weapon went back up.

“I’m not going to shoot you.” She pulled out a flash key, holding the storage device with a tissue, and handed it to Jordan. “If I attack you, it will be the old-fashioned way and you’ll see me coming.”

I aimed the gun at the sofa again.

She directed her comments to Jordan. “This has the data for all ten people who were given the drug. You’ll be able to access her file with the original DNA analysis. According to Susan Chen, she,” Jamie jerked her head toward me, “is File #3.”

Lucas Goodman reached out to grasp Jamie Hunt’s fingers with his. I noted he made sure to keep his gun hand free.

Jordan nodded once. “Thanks.”

“No one knows I had that data. Be very careful about where you go for help.” Jamie’s lip curled derisively. “You try to turn me in to curry favor, I’ll deny I ever had the information.”

I understood her perfectly. She’d done exactly what I would have in the same situation.

“Fine.”

“You have any idea where to take the information for analysis?” Lucas asked slowly.