“I stopped by Keane’s hangar—well, I guess I technically broke in—Sunday night and took pictures of some very illegal stuff. Grenades and guns were all I managed to get before some scary-looking thugs showed up and chased me. Luckily I’m a fast runner.” She said the last part semi-jokingly, but even remembering the fear from the other night sent a shiver rippling through her. The thought of what could have happened to her seemed even more real after looking at those pictures.
Jack went impossibly still. “You broke into Keane’s hangar. Alone. With no backup.” His voice vibrated with anger.
She blinked, surprised by the tone. “How is this not a good thing? Well, the weapons aren’t good, but I have proof that Keane is involved in bad stuff. Maybe this will tie him to Vargas. Isn’t that important?”
His jaw clenched and he all but ignored what she’d said. “Anything could have happened to you! Do you realize how dangerous that was?” He cursed, the sound surprisingly savage.
Sophie slowly inched down the couch as a burst of fear detonated inside her. He was seriously angry at her and she couldn’t figure out why.
When he saw her move, his expression really darkened. Shoving up from the couch, he stalked to the love seat, putting distance between them. “I hate that you think I’d ever hurt you.”
The words elicited so much confusion she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Why are you so angry at me?”
He completely ignored her question and picked up his laptop. As he plugged in the flash drive, he said, “So what prompted your break-in?” He wouldn’t even look at her, something she found really annoying.
But she answered, “Ronald has been acting strange the past few months. Agitated, forgetting to do simple things, he’s been blowing off my concerns about the anomalies I found in the Keane flight logs, and this is really small, but he hasn’t asked me over for dinner in months.”
“Why is that strange?”
“I assumed he and his wife were having problems—it would have explained his distraction at work—but after what I found and what you showed me, I don’t know what to think anymore. Then when I just called him, he told me to stay hidden for a few days and that I had to trust him. About what, though, he didn’t explain. He also offered to send me
Jack was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Who knew you were going to lunch with me today?”
“Well . . . Mandy, Benson, and Ronald, though I’m sure they could have mentioned it to practically anyone. Why?”
“Just trying to get a feel for the people you work with. Is there anyone you don’t trust?”
“No. Other than Ronald—” She frowned as another thought hit her.
“What is it?”
“Lately I’ve noticed things in my office moved around. It’s not something I’d swear to in court, just a feeling I’ve had.”
“How would you feel about returning to Miami to question Ronald?”
“What about the people who want to kill me?”
“I’m talking about a private meeting. We would name the time and place. You’ll wear a listening device —”
“Wait, what?” Was he crazy? A sniper had tried to kill her and now she was pretty sure that whoever she’d run from at the hangar was probably behind it. Someone knew where she worked and probably where she lived. And he wanted her to go back there? Even Ronald had told her to stay away.
Jack continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “—convince your boss you’re in trouble and need to meet with him. If you can get him to give up his partner or partners and, more important, bring Vargas to Miami for a meeting, we can bring him in immediately.”
Her head swam as she tried to digest his words. “You’re saying all this stuff as if it’s normal. I’m not wearing a freaking wire anywhere. What if those people come after me again? Who’s going to protect me? Where will I be staying? Because it sure as hell won’t be my house.” She instantly regretted the last question because it implied that she’d be going back soon. But if those pictures Jack had shown her were real, they said so much about what Vargas was capable of—and that terrified her.
Jack was silent for a moment; then he shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry—sometimes I forget. . . . Why don’t you turn on the news and see if there’s anything about what happened earlier today?”
“What about you?”
He stood, ready to head back to the kitchen. “I’m going to finish the dishes, then work some stuff up on my computer. I’m also sending those pictures you gave me to my boss.”
She wondered what that would mean for her, but didn’t ask because she didn’t want the answer. Not yet. “I suppose it’s out of the question to ask if I can use your phone?”
“Why?”
“To check on a friend.” Even though she’d told Hannah that she couldn’t have drinks tonight, she still wanted to check on her—especially with everything going on.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure what to make of it. “No, sorry.”
“What about e-mail? Can I use your computer?”
He shook his head. “Someone wants you dead and I’m not going to let that happen.”
Maybe it was stupid, but she felt oddly warmed by the conviction in his voice. As though this was personal for him. Deep down she knew that was wishful thinking, but it evoked a long-buried sensation inside her anyway. “And you think someone can kill me through e-mail?”
“No, but they found us too soon today, which tells me that whoever is after you has government contacts. If they were able to use satellites to track us earlier, they might be monitoring your e-mail, and if you check it, they’ll be able to track your IP address. I have an encrypted router on my computer, which would make it difficult, but nothing’s impossible.”
Sophie rubbed her temple. “Okay, no phone and no e-mail. I guess I’m going to watch the news. Could you ask your boss to have someone check in on Hannah Young? She’s my best friend.”
“No problem.” He turned then and strode toward the kitchen.
She tamped down the annoyance that stirred inside her. “Don’t you need to know who she is?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “She grew up in Miami, her family owns two of the best Korean restaurants in the city, she graduated from the University of Miami with honors, she’s the head nurse at Miami Children’s Hospital—the youngest they’ve ever appointed—and she has terrible taste in men.”
Sophie’s jaw went slack, but she recovered quickly. “If you ever meet her, her parents own
“Noted.” He shot her a lopsided grin that sent the butterflies in her stomach into a tailspin.
If he looked at her like that more often, she was so screwed. She already knew how inviting his lips were, but when he smiled it softened his entire face. Which was the last thing she should be thinking about.
Another thought settled inside her. If he knew so much about her friend, he must know a lot about her too. “Do . . . you have a file like that on me?”
He nodded, his expression remote.
She swallowed hard. “How far back does that file date?”
“It covers your whole life.” His quiet words pierced her deep.
That meant he knew things about her he had no right to. What had happened to her growing up should be sealed, but somehow she didn’t think the NSA would have a problem getting those records.
Not wanting to talk anymore, she sat back on the couch. Tucking her feet underneath her, she flipped on the television. Maybe it would take her mind off the past twenty-four hours—though she knew that was impossible. She caught the tail end of the news and sure enough, there was something about the shooting at La Marea. There weren’t any details, though. Just speculation that it was somehow gang-related.
“Do you want a glass of wine or a beer? Or water?” Jack asked through the kitchen archway.
“Wine works for me.” She didn’t care if it was red or white, just so long as it was wet and dulled her senses.
A few moments later he joined her on the couch. After he handed her the glass, he flipped open his laptop.
