disconnected, he dialed a friend of his at the Drug Enforcement Administration.
“Deputy Director Southers’s office,” a perky female voice answered.
“Connect me to Max, please.” They hadn’t spoken in a few months, but he’d served with Max decades ago when they were both in the Navy.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s gone for the day.”
Wesley glanced at his watch. It was only six. “Tell him Wesley Burkhart is on the line.”
“One moment, sir.”
A few seconds later his longtime friend picked up. “Wesley, how are you?”
“Hey, Max. How are the wife and kids?”
“Mary’s good and the boys are still in college, but I know that’s not why you’re calling. What’s going on?”
“Do you have any contacts at Homeland Security?”
“I work with a couple of those guys every now and then. Why?”
The DEA and Homeland Security were bound to overlap, especially in a place like Miami. Thanks to the drug and slave trade, it was a cluster of acronyms in south Florida. “Have you heard any chatter lately about South Beach Medical Supply?”
“SBMS? Yeah, Homeland’s been watching them and so have we because of suspected unusual activity. Why?”
“What about a woman named Sophie Moreno? Any red flags on her?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll ask around,” Max said.
“Thanks. I’ll be at the office for the next hour.” In reality, probably longer than that.
“Why is the NSA interested in them?”
“It involves a separate mission. Don’t worry, we’re not invading your territory.”
“So you don’t know anything about a possible sniper shooting at a restaurant downtown this afternoon?”
He didn’t even pause. “Not a thing.”
Max was silent for a moment. “All right. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
“I owe you one.”
As they disconnected, Wesley pulled up one of the files Thomas sent him. It was on Mandy Abarca, Sophie’s assistant. His gut told him Sophie wasn’t involved, but without having any way to contact Jack, he couldn’t take a chance that Jack would let his guard down.
A sharp knock on his door interrupted his reading. “Come in.”
Steven Williams, one of his better analysts, opened the door. “Got a second, boss?”
“What is it?”
“I found some interesting information on Benson Pollard, one of the men working with Ms. Moreno.”
“And?”
“He’s recently acquired a lot of gambling debts. He’s into his bookie for about fifty thousand dollars.”
Very interesting. “Have you e-mailed me the information?”
“Yep. I just wanted to let you know.” He stood by the door expectantly.
“Is that all?”
“Uh, yeah.” Without another word, he shut the door behind him.
Wesley scrubbed a hand over his face. Steven was a bit of an ass-kisser, but he was good at what he did, no doubt about it. He’d graduated from MIT with a degree in political science and he was a genius with computers. Sometimes Wesley wondered why he was working for the NSA instead of a private firm.
• • •
Jack sat across the kitchen table from Sophie, watching her push her food around her plate. She hadn’t said much since they’d been back, but every time they made eye contact, she averted her gaze. As if she was afraid of him.
His grip on his fork tightened. He understood she was scared, but so far he’d done nothing but protect her. Hell, he’d even given her a weapon. Sure, he could have taken it from her if she attempted to use it against him, but it had been a peace offering. The only way he knew how to make her feel more at ease. Maybe that was his damn problem. He should be more focused on the op than with Sophie. Unfortunately the need to keep her happy won out over everything. Always had. And that kiss had just reminded him how much he still wanted her.
“Did you use your credit card at the bar?” His voice held more heat than he’d intended.
She shook her head. Her dark hair fell forward over her shoulders, making him itch to thread his fingers through it again. To pull her body close to his and feel her soft breasts pressing against his chest. Not because she was in shock or needed to get warm, but because she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“Did you call anyone?”
She started to shake her head, then shrugged. “Yes. My boss.”
She squirmed in her seat. “He told me not to come back to Miami for a few days.”
Interesting. “Did he say why?”
“No, but . . . I don’t think he was being completely honest with me.”
He started to ask her another question when she cut him off. “How do I know you really work for the government?”
Knowing he had no other choice, he pulled his phone and battery out of his jeans pocket and put the battery back in. He hated breaking silence, but she’d tried to escape. Honesty was the only thing that would work with Sophie. She wasn’t involved with any sort of terrorist activity. Gut instinct had gotten him far and he simply knew she wasn’t dirty. That didn’t mean he couldn’t use her relationship with Ronald Weller to his advantage.
Wesley picked up on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”
Jack didn’t know why he bothered asking. Now that he’d broken silence, all his boss would have to do was trace his phone. It would take less than forty seconds. “I’m with Sophie right now and she wants proof of who I work for.”
“You told her who you are?”
He cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”
“Put him on speaker.” Sophie’s demanding voice cut through his conversation.
He bit back a smile at that flare of temper he loved. “Hold on, Wesley. I’m putting you on speaker.” Jack changed the setting and placed the phone in the middle of the glass table.
“Ms. Moreno?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Lieutenant General Wesley Burkhart.”
Sophie looked at Jack with raised eyebrows. “So you’re in the Army or something?”
Jack suppressed a smile.
Wesley cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I was in the
Sophie’s eyes widened as she looked at Jack and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t, ma’am. You can look me up online, but I have no way to prove anything to you until we meet in person.”
“What about Jack? Can I look him up online?”
Wesley chuckled softly. “No, ma’am. If you can, we’re not doing our job.”
“What exactly does Jack do?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s classified. However, I can assure you that you’re in good hands.”
She snorted derisively. “You can make all the assurances in the world and it still proves nothing. What do you people want from me?”
Wesley paused and Jack knew it was time to take over the conversation. He hadn’t run anything by his boss yet, but this was Jack’s call. “Your boss, Ronald Weller, is being watched under suspicion of dealing with terrorists. We’ve found a link between terrorist cells with ties in North Africa and a drug cartel in South America. SBMS is that link.”
