Authors: Kennedy Layne
“You shouldn’t have left me behind at the cabin,” Fallon said softly, letting her head fall to the side so that she could see his reaction. He didn’t bother changing his expression. Witnessing the condemnation in her blue eyes wouldn’t change the outcome of what had just occurred. Her criticism was actually welcome, since it would create a much-needed distance between them. He tended to have a harder time doing his job when she was underfoot. “I’m on your side.”
The front door opened, Crest being the first one through the door and calling Fallon’s name. Schultz Jessalyn wasn’t far behind with a vast number of uniforms spreading throughout the perimeter. Smoke from the other side of the house had already started to rise to the second level, but Ryland remained where he was while Fallon stood and called out their location and status. She didn’t look back at him as she started down the stairs. He waited where he was to figure out why those four words she uttered last bothered him so much.
“Are you wounded?” Crest’s deep voice carried up the stairs as Fallon made her way down. The smoke was seeping through the lower level from the kitchen and becoming thicker, so Crest led her out the front door and away from the mayhem. Ryland stood resignedly, brushing off the dust from his jacket before letting the white particles remain. It didn’t matter really, seeing as this suit wasn’t even his. Blue wasn’t his go-to color and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. “Ryland—”
“Is right here and I’m fine if you’re wondering,” Ryland finished Crest’s inquiry while ignoring Fallon’s glare from the doorway. He holstered his weapon, keenly aware Crest watched his every move. Once Ryland reached the hardwood floor of the entryway, it was clear that Jessalyn had already discovered the body of the fallen agent. It was evident from the shake of his head that after the review of the body he’d deduced that the gunshot wound to the foot wasn’t from the same caliber weapon that had taken the man’s head half off. Ryland followed Crest and Fallon out onto the wide wraparound porch away from the mess that had been the front entrance. “Is there something I can do for you before I take my leave?”
“Did Jernigan give you a name?” Crest asked, openly alerting Ryland to the fact that he’d heard everything discussed from the time Fallon had entered the premises. “Allow Schultzy to handle this, Ryland. It’s the only way to do this while keeping your agreement intact.”
“You’re assuming I want to keep our agreement,” Ryland countered, ignoring Fallon’s sharp intake of breath upon his statement. Somehow they’d gone further than him thinking she’d be a nice diversion…fucking with no strings attached. He’d have to deal with that at a later date, and that’s assuming that by the time he got through with what he needed to do that she would even want anything to do with him. She was already rationalizing her attraction to him and it would only become harder as she witnessed what he was capable of with her own eyes. It was something she’d have to decide when the time came. “I am free to go, correct?”
“Did he give you a name?” Schultz asked, finally joining the trio outside. Two men were visible near a black vehicle positioned in the driveway—secret service men assigned to protect the super spook himself. “Give me something I can work with and this can all be over by sunset.”
“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than to be concerned with cleaning up someone else’s mess, Mr. Jessalyn? You know, counter terrorism and all that international horseshit?” Ryland leaned a shoulder against a pillar and slipped one hand in the pocket of his slacks. The front of the house looked like a war zone and multiple bodies dressed in military style gear were facedown. “Although thinking about the way current events are shaping up, I would think this would be a situation you could use to your advantage. If I were you, I would be wondering exactly from whom this team got their marching orders and why they were instructed to kill the so-called
hostage
.”
“Contrary to what you might believe, Ryland, I want answers regarding E.D.A. as much as you do. We’re talking about a rogue covert agency program run by a high ranking department head with a very high security clearance using covert subjects to murder their opponents, thereby altering the political and economic agendas of friendly governments for their own political purposes.” One of the uniformed men came out of the area where the smoke was clearing from the other side of the house. He leaned in and spoke to Schultz quietly, revealing something that Ryland had already figured out. “Thank you. Go ahead and call in a crew to clean up this mess. I’ll need to discuss this with my boss before giving a statement to the press regarding Assistant Special Agent in Charge Lewis Jernigan’s untimely demise. Well, Ryland, it appears that you’ve been targeted by the E.D.A.—not that we weren’t aware of that from the outset. These men were following someone’s orders and we’ll follow that trail as far up as we can. You left a few of them still alive to answer our questions. Until then…Fallon, Crest mentioned you have a profile written up and I’d like for you to send me the full report without delay.”
“Of course,” Fallon replied with a nod of her head. She’d secured her weapon and then slipped both hands inside of her long dress coat to ward off the chill replacing the adrenaline. She glanced around to see the neighborhood looky-loos gathering at the edges of the perimeter, the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, and the arriving ambulance. Ryland recognized it wasn’t because she was cold and that it had more to do with the action that had been pumping through her veins making an exit from her body. It was hell coming off of such a high. “I—”
Fallon continued to speak, but Ryland couldn’t understand the words. Suddenly a piece of the puzzle fit securely in place. Along with this sudden frightful realization came a very sharp pain in Ryland’s temple. He gritted his teeth against the agony, not willing to allow these people standing in front of him to see his pain. He allowed the image that was trying to form in his mind to fade away along with the pain. Who had been on the edges of his memory? Fallon had answers to his questions regarding the return of his memory, but now wasn’t the time to ask them.
Ryland concentrated on what he did know, not technically what he wanted to know. Who was the person to have fed Fallon information regarding E.D.A. that started them down this path? He fisted his fingers, bracing for severe discomfort. He exhaled slowly when it didn’t come and allowed himself to gradually think about the events that transpired to get them to this point. Sure, Trevor Neoni had given up intel under a drug-induced interrogation. But technically those officials in charge of handling compartmentalized information could have shut down her inquiry simply by determining that she didn’t have the need to know and therefore no access. Someone within her agency had purposefully planted those breadcrumbs, hoping she would lead them to him. More questions that only Fallon had the answers to.
Ryland didn’t want to tip his hand and allow Jessalyn or Crest to take into custody her immediate supervisor or someone further up the food chain within the Bureau. He’d never get the information he needed if they did. He’d bide his time until he had a chance to look into the backgrounds of those Fallon had dealings with over this affair and keep his cards close to his chest. Grahn had been his source, but now that connection had been severed. Ryland was running out of Agency contacts and that was unacceptable, although that didn’t mean he couldn’t extend his fingers outside of the country and obtain the same information through other security services. They had a tendency to watch one another quite closely.
“Still alive, I see,” Jax commented to Ryland, walking up the lane to stand behind Crest. Connor Ortega was by his side. “One can’t always be so lucky.”
“Jax,” Crest said in warning, causing the blond man to flash a smile in Ryland’s direction. He didn’t have time for these boyish antics, but Crest’s next statement stopped him from walking away. “Ryland, your driver was detained at the front of the property trying to flee. Feel free to avail yourself of his services.”
“What?” Fallon asked, straightening her shoulders in astonishment. Her blue eyes gravitated to Ryland, apparently needing Crest to repeat his offer. “I would swear that you haven’t been here for the past thirty minutes when all hell broke loose, because E.D.A. directed in a team to extract Ryland at the same time eliminating Special Agent Jernigan. Ryland is a walking target and you know that.”
“What I know is that Ryland tied you to one of my guest beds and left you there while he ran his own half-assed interrogation,” Crest informed Fallon, his gaze never wavering from Ryland. Schultz watched the situation in front of him unfold, keeping his opinions to himself. Things were about to get very interesting and Ryland was relatively sure he’d be able to use the outcome to his advantage, the previous pain in his temple forgotten. “I’m not his babysitter, Fallon, and neither are you for that matter. Schultz will take this from here while you go back to your job at the Bureau. I will repeat that my involvement is only to maintain your safety. My team will remain on your detail until this is resolved.”
“This isn’t about me—”
“Of course it is,” Crest interjected with a wave of his hand. “My first priority is making sure your investigation into this doesn’t cost you your life.”
“He’s right,” Ryland agreed, much to Fallon’s displeasure. It was evident she was going to argue this into the ground, but this worked much better into his plans. “Allow Mr. Jessalyn to handle the investigation into E.D.A., especially now that he’s witnessed the lengths this organization will go to in order to achieve their goals.”
“You’re going to let them take you back into the fold, aren’t you?” Fallon inquired astonishingly, reading Ryland much more clearly than he was comfortable with. He refused to look at the other witnesses to her statement, becoming irritated that she would throw out her opinions in front of them. Technically, she was wrong on the timetable. He had things to do before he purposefully allowed himself to be drawn in. “You can’t—”
“Do I look like a man who would be willingly abducted for some other purpose than my own? And here you think you know better than I my own motivations…hardly.” Ryland asked and answered, attempting to fix the damage that Fallon had done. He straightened and then all but hammered a nail in a coffin that had been designed for the two of them from the start. “Your assistance thus far is much appreciated, Ms. Canna. Should I need any further assistance, I’ll be in contact with you directly.”
F
allon slammed the door of her apartment harder than necessary, leaving Townes standing out in the hallway to fend for himself. Most likely he’d already figured out a way to set up surveillance in the unit across from her since Mr. Tonkin was on sabbatical in Europe. She wasn’t happy with this arrangement and he shouldn’t be either, considering those that were responsible for his brother’s death were still at large. Ryland might have been the one to execute the killing, but E.D.A. had been the general contractor directing the work on behalf of the client.
Fallon would have laughed at how she’d just rationalized murder, but she was afraid she wouldn’t stop. She herself had killed someone the previous night. It had been in self-defense; however, the man she’d shot had been performing a job assigned by someone further up the food chain. How did her actions differ from those of Ryland’s last night? Would the blood wash off any faster in her case?
How was it that no one else could see the frustration and pain that Ryland was experiencing? Could they not recognize that his humanity had all but been erased and the bits of pieces were starting to return? Would he be able to reconcile the weight of what would be laid at his feet once the conditioning was removed?
Ryland hadn’t asked to be a test subject, but instead had been used by people who’d abused their power. Fallon tossed her purse and mail onto the side table in the small entryway and considered her options now that Crest and Schultz had basically allowed Ryland to fend for himself. He was once again a shark in a large pool of sharks, but his realization of what and why he was a shark had changed. She briefly considered calling in some favors from other avenues, but word would eventually get back to her immediate supervisor that she was still working the investigation. Chances were improving that he already knew and she might be facing a professional review board once she returned to her bureau office.