Bulletproof (Unknown Identities #1) (18 page)

Pathetic, but true.

“Which one?” John asked, standing fast in the garage doorway, uncertain what kind of reception he’d receive. Ben was dangerous and a solitary life had pushed him toward the crumbling edge of sanity. And there was only one logical reason for Ben to be here: for the bounty on Amelia’s head.

Which meant he would have to go through John to collect it.

“Either. Both.” The other man only shifted, just one more shadow flexing among many. “Took you long enough to get out here. Was she scared?” His excitement grated John’s nerves. “Did you have to knock her out to stop the screaming?”

“She didn’t scream,” John said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any kind of reaction. Instead he thought of the cursory tour Amelia had given him as well as his more thorough examination of the property after finding Ben’s light bulb bomb.

“You weren’t in here earlier,” he stated.

“Everything but rocks and sharpies in here,” the other man said. “I had to go shopping.” Relax, Noble. I’m on your side. Always on your side.”

Ben hadn’t attacked yet, but John stayed wary.

“Here.” A pale hand nudged two items along the work bench toward John. “Figured you’d want those back.”

It took all of John’s training not to show his relief at the sight of the revolver and knife he’d dumped at the airport before they entered the security line. “Thanks.” His senses wide open, he didn’t immediately reach for the weapons. Was the other man handing them over so they could have a fair fight?

“Why are you tailing me, Ben?”

“You’ve been a civilian too long if you’re seriously asking me that.”

His only shot at becoming a civilian was to finish this job. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ben moved faster than lightning when he wanted to and he could teach classes on disappearing. “Do you need something?”

“You’re the one in need. You need intel, man. I’m here to tell you the little lady’s about to get dead.”

“Shit.” He turned toward the house, forgetting the plywood, Ben, anything beyond saving her.

“Ease up. Not dead as in right this second. But the bounty on her head is bringing everyone out of the fucking woodwork. Someone with serious resources wants her done.”

“What did you think your bomb would do?”

“Make her scream. Flush her out. Make me rich. Does it matter?”

It did matter. It suddenly mattered a great deal. Amelia alive was his one-way ticket to freedom. “I’m not letting anyone kill her.”

“Anyone but you, got it. I can keep the others away, give you room to work. We can split the proceeds later.”

“I’m not here for the bounty,” he clarified. “She stays alive.” He paused, braced for an attack, but his senses only picked up Ben’s even breath and steady heart rate. “Are we on the same side?”

“Always.”

John hoped so. When Ben latched onto an idea, he didn’t let go. “How’s Gabriel?” John assumed Ben had been working freelance since ditching survival training, but maybe Gabriel had reeled him back in.

A sly, slippery little laugh spilled out of Ben. “Man’s still a snake. Head says one thing while the tail’s twitching. A snake in a three piece suit, man.” More shuffling and a new, clean piece of plywood slid neatly across the garage floor between the car and the workbench while Ben remained cloaked in shadows. “Can’t believe you’re still with him. I told you before, you need to break free.”

“It’s my last job,” John said, “I’ll keep her alive and then I’m out.”

Ben chuckled. “That’s how you’ll play it? It could work. For you. I could never pull that protector bullshit off.”

“You’ll watch my back?”

“Yeah, man. I’m on it, just like always,” Ben said. “You give me the sign and I’ll do what needs done if you get too attached. You don’t even have to share the bounty.”

“That’ll never happen,” John lied smoothly as he took the plywood.

“I picked up the power screwdriver for you. This lady was only old school. You gonna call your buddy from the construction site?”

Ben knew far too much, and John pretended he’d been aware of his shadow the whole time. Trouble was, he should have been. “First chance I get.”

“You always cared too much,” Ben said. “That’s why they left you in Mexico so long. To toughen you up.”

John clenched his teeth against the flood of questions. He’d suspected Gabriel had left him there on purpose. Any man worth the code name Bulletproof should have known that without being told point blank by the ‘one who got away’.

Two years he’d rotted in a prison Satan himself would condemn, taking the abuse, not daring to heal himself. He’d known it was a setup, had been alternately too pissed off or too injured to spend time on why.

Then Gabriel had hauled him back to the states on the condition that he’d add those lost years to his commitment.

Ben might be playing with a few extra wildcards in his deck, but he seemed to know everything. John just had to sort out which intel was warped by Ben’s damaged mind and which was on target.

“An important scientist died last week on her way home from work,” John noted aloud.

“You haven’t changed.” Ben snickered. “Always worried about more than you should be. That wasn’t your fault. You haven’t been on her detail for years.”

Clearly Ben was firing on all cylinders tonight.

“So it was an accident.”

Ben laughed. “You’re a funny man, Noble. Strange, but funny. I like that.” He cleared his throat. “It was a single car collision, no other passengers. But it was no accident.”

“What about her bodyguard?”

“You really should pay more attention to the world, man. He was terminally reassigned earlier that day.”

The people behind Gabriel’s program had no reason to offer agents a 401k plan. With less than a moment’s notice a career – or life – could end in any number of swift or slow ways. His first week in the prison, he’d prayed for death, but whatever they’d pumped into him during training had fought the internal wounds on his behalf. He’d learned the hard way that survival was a bitch.

John desperately wanted to give Amelia the confirmation she was looking for regarding Larimore’s daughter, but it would be as good as signing her death certificate. Anything he could remember – and there wasn’t much – anything he shared with Amelia would only put her in harm’s way once more.

“It was a Cleaner at the airport wasn’t it?”

“If it had been you’d be dead.”

John thought about the scratch on his side and didn’t know what to believe. Gabriel wouldn’t have sent a Cleaner when the goal was keeping Amelia alive. Unless he’d intended for John to take out the Cleaner knowing John couldn’t afford to fail on this mission. Just the kind of sick logic Gabriel would use.

“The first burst took out the lead escort,” John said.

“I know. That’s protocol standard, man.”

Precisely. “The second burst nearly caught Amelia.” He didn’t mention the third shot grazing his side. Ben wouldn’t care.

“Was there screaming?”

“Lots of it,” John replied. “The crowd mobbed the shooter.”

“Courage is a beautiful thing. You should ask the reporter where the shooter wound up. She’s good at finding out stuff.”

“You don’t know?”

“I had other things to do.”

Like collecting his gun and knife from the airport or wiring the house for fun, John thought. “The guard bringing up the rear was in on the take down,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then for sure it wasn’t a Cleaner. They’re loners.”

John nearly laughed. Gabriel’s program had turned them all into loners, but he understood Ben’s point. Cleaners didn’t converse. They didn’t think beyond firing solutions.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go by her office. Make sure her boss runs the story when she sends it.”

“All right. Want me to mess him up a little if he refuses?”

“No messing him up.” He glanced toward the door. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Ben, finally picking up the gun and knife the other man had recovered and sliding them back into their proper places.

“Sure, man.” Ben’s quiet voice said from the darkness. “You can relax. I’ll be around.”

“Thanks.” John hurried back to the house with the tools for the repair.

How could he tell Amelia the pieces of the truth she needed without scaring her off, or worse, making her dead and failing them both?

Chapter Nine

Phone in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other, Amelia pressed her back to the pantry door so she could watch both entrances to the kitchen. Bernie was in rare form and she answered his rapid-fire questions with terse replies in the same vein.

“It was just some bored kid with a rock,” she lied. “Probably crazed by all this rain. My biggest problem is the broken glass and rain taking me away from the story.” Because John wouldn’t go out and ‘play’ if it left her in real danger. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

“What kid? Do you have a name or description? If you catch him, don’t let him give you a bogus name or phone number. His parents should have to pay for the damages.”

“Now you sound like the bodyguard. Let him handle it.” At least Bernie had bought her story.

Unable to sit still in the kitchen, she tucked the dustpan under her arm and returned to the living room. Pinching the phone between her ear and shoulder, she set the knife by her knee while she crawled around gathering up splintered glass. “It was probably some kid on a dare.”

“When you call the cops, start with Fincher.”

She thought of the message on that rock, and sat down hard on the small patch of carpet she’d cleared. “I won’t. John can handle it without some hard-nosed cop getting in the kid’s face.”

“Then I’ll let the detective know what’s going on.”

“Bernie, give it a rest.”

She was afraid to think what might happen if the detective showed up and interrupted John and his rock-tossing pal.

“He might find a lead.”

She nearly laughed. They both knew whoever was doing this wouldn’t be careless enough to leave evidence behind.

“You have to stop stressing out.” She didn’t have the energy to deal with his panic right now. “We have it under control. Believe me.” John Noble had enough control for a dozen men.

“You’d better be right.” His voice caught and he stuttered. “Y-you are more important than any story.”

“So you’ve said,” she managed. “Thanks.” Their relationship worked because they avoided mushy moments. “I feel the same way about you,” she added, “but I’m not letting this one go. You’ll appreciate it later when the
Torch
gains national attention.”

Where was John? She checked the cuckoo clock on the wall, but it hadn’t been wound. The signs of a lonely, empty house made her miss her grandmother and the warm times they’d shared. Amelia checked the phone, but her only clue was the elapsed time on the call. Time had been warped for her all day with some moments stretching into what felt like hours and others flying by in a blur. It had been that way since she’d bumped into John outside the office this morning.

One more thing that didn’t bear thinking long about. “Have you ever heard of a ‘Step Forward Project’?” she asked, carrying the full dustpan back to the kitchen trash can.

“Everyone with a conspiracy nut in the family has heard of that,” Bernie snorted. “It’s Washington’s worst kept secret and a complete myth. As bogus as Area 51. What the military wants to do and what they can do are two different things.”

“Right.” She heard Bernie’s fingers on his racing across his keyboard.

“Growing a super-soldier is pure science fiction.” He paused. “I found it. I’m sending you the link. Your senator stopped funding the preliminary studies three years ago.”

“You’re sure?” That was about the time Larimore’s daughter had been testifying. When she was under the protection of John Noble. If Amelia’s contact ever answered her – assuming he or she was alive
to
answer – she might get some guidance on how to run down more details.

“That’s why I sent the link,” he said. “You don’t trust anyone at face value.”

“And who taught me that?”

“Ha ha.” He sucked in a breath and she knew he was lighting a cigar.

“Sylvia will tell your wife.”

“If my wife complains I’ll run an ad and put Plato up for adoption.”

It would only be an improvement as far as Amelia was concerned. “Then you’ll have to hire a good divorce attorney.”

Bernie grunted. “Polish that draft and hit send.”

“Right.” Her boss was ready to hang up, but John wasn’t back yet. “I’m just running down one more thing, but it can wait for the next part of the series if necessary.”

“I’m not promising you I’ll print it.”

“You never do.”

“And you’re a better reporter because of it.”

He sure liked to think so the way he gave her trouble every time. “I’m a better reporter because I’m not afraid of cowardly bullies like Larimore.”

While Bernie laughed in her ear, she heard the front door open and close.
Finally
. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to make a decision,” she said and disconnected the call.

Feeling hopeful, she looked up, a smile ready for John, but his face was drawn and pale.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just need to call the guy about the window.”

“Didn’t you have fun with your friends?”

“Friend. Singular. And no.”

She looked past him. “Is that why you didn’t invite him in?”

He shook his head. “It’s better this way, trust me.”

She already did. As Bernie’s voice echoed in her head, she realized she trusted John Noble with more than her raging attraction for a hot, sexy man. She trusted him to guard her life from Larimore’s attempts to silence her. Given half a chance, she thought she might trust him with anything. There wasn’t better evidence that she really had lost her mind.

“Have you sent your draft?”

“Not yet.”

“Do it now.”

“I don’t have authentication on every detail.”

He shrugged. “Leave something to the fact-checkers or they’ll feel useless. Can you help me get this into place first?”

She hurried forward and lifted the nearest corner, bracing it on the sill. “I hate to damage the woodwork.”