Targeted

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to lay so much on you. I do this stuff every day and forgot that not everyone else thinks the same way.”

She set her wineglass on the coffee table and shifted to face him. “It’s okay. You did scare me talking about wearing a wire. . . . So what exactly would that entail? Me, wearing a wire?” Oh God, was that actually her talking? Those pictures flashed in her mind and deep down she knew she’d do whatever she could to stop a man like Vargas.

Jack turned away from his computer, pinning that laserlike focus completely on her. It was a little unnerving. Even more so when she briefly wondered what it would be like to have all that focus in a naked setting. Something told her he’d be a very dedicated and giving lover. Thankfully he had no idea what she was thinking or she would have been mortified. She was kind of freaking herself out with the thoughts.

His voice was all business as he said, “If you do this, and that’s a big if, I’ll be listening the entire time and I won’t be far away. If anything happens or if you feel uncomfortable for any reason, we’ll have a code word.”

“What do you mean, if?” If he wasn’t confident in this, how could he expect her to be?

“If you’re too nervous, your boss will know something’s wrong. I’m not sending you in anywhere if you’re uncomfortable. He might not be a pro, but you’re a terrible liar and he’ll be able to see right through you.”

“These people you think Ronald is dealing with? I know what you said earlier, but exactly what kind of terrorist activity do you suspect them of?” It couldn’t just be weapons dealing. Yeah, that was bad but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing to warrant this sort of attention from the NSA.

Something dark lurked in the depths of his pale eyes, and before he spoke, she knew the answer would be horrific. “We think he’s helping a terrorist faction in North Africa get biological weapons into our country through his drug cartel in South America. Vargas has a long history with his hatred of the U.S., so it’s not a stretch that he’d want to target us.”

“Why does he hate our country?”

“His youngest son was killed by an ICE agent.”

ICE? Sophie frowned, but didn’t ask what he meant. He must have read her expression, because he continued. “They’re part of Immigrations and Customs Enforcement. Vargas’s other two sons were killed almost a decade ago by warring drug factions and it was no secret his youngest was his favorite. I’m sure there are other reasons he hates the U.S. A man like that doesn’t need an excuse for violence and terror.” Jack shrugged.

Sophie shook her head, trying to get back on track of their original conversation. “Okay, so biological weapons? Like nerve gas?” She’d only heard those words on the news, usually uttered by the president or in conjunction with something happening thousands of miles away. The devastation of that kind of attack could be catastrophic.

He nodded, his face grim. “Yes.”

“And you know this for sure?”

“No. Paul Keane has been some help, but he doesn’t know much. He’s just a mule. He handles deliveries and pickups, but he doesn’t have the details we need.”

“Paul Keane who’s in a coma?”

“He’s not in a coma.”

Okay, then. Something told her that would be all she got out of Jack on the subject of Keane. “You really think Ronald is involved in helping terrorists?”

“Someone tried to kill you and your boss told you to stay away from Miami. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Or say for that matter. What the hell did one say after almost being killed twice in one day? Now it seemed pretty clear that her boss might be in league with terrorists. Freaking awesome.

When she didn’t say more, Jack returned to his laptop. Sophie stared at his profile and tried to digest everything he’d told her. Tried to piece that knowledge together with the way Ronald had been acting lately and then her very recent phone conversation with him.

Focusing on Jack’s profile proved incredibly distracting, though. Which was what she needed right now. A giant distraction. At least that’s what she told herself as she covertly watched him.

He was in good shape. Okay, great shape. Something she’d known from the moment they met. He wasn’t overly muscular, but trim and sleek. Definitely the body of a runner. Actually seeing him in action, however, had proven just how trained he was. When they were running from that shooter, he’d moved with the grace of a jungle cat. Then he’d moved through that water like a damn fish all while she’d been clutched on to him. She’d been too cold to even think about swimming any farther, but he hadn’t seemed winded even with her as an anchor. Everything that was happening was so surreal, but for some reason, her instinct told her to trust this man. Even after she’d tried to run, there had been no hint of violence from him. He’d been angry, yes, but he didn’t scare her.

Hell, he was almost . . . protective.

Jack glanced over from the computer, and her lower abdomen tightened in a very feminine way. He held her gaze for a long moment before turning away. Unless she was mistaken, she detected more than a hint of lust in those haunting eyes. When she was younger Sam had looked at her the same way. Her foster brother had been one of the few people in her life who had looked out for her and hadn’t expected anything in return. He’d been her one constant for a little while.

Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if things hadn’t ended so horribly between them. Maybe he’d still be alive. And maybe they’d have started a family and . . . maybe, maybe, maybe. Fuck maybe. Thinking about Sam was messing with her head at a time when she needed to keep alert and ready for anything.

She turned back to the news but wasn’t actually seeing anything. Too many thoughts tumbled through her brain. Could she wear a wire? What if Ronald was innocent and she helped the government trap him? And what was she going to do about her attraction to Jack? It seemed insane to even contemplate doing anything, but she didn’t want that kiss to be the only time she got a taste of him. That thought was depressing. Sophie pulled the soft afghan blanket from behind the couch and wrapped it around herself as an unwanted shiver racked her body. She clearly needed her head examined.

Chapter 7

Treason: violation of allegiance toward one’s country or sovereign, especially the betrayal of one’s country by waging war against it or by consciously and purposely acting to aid its enemies.

He glanced around as he opened a new file on his computer screen. The computer stations were completely open, so he had to be extremely cautious. Most of the analysts had gone home for the evening, but security was always tight regardless of the time of day. Technically he shouldn’t be on these computer workstations, but no one would question him if he was. He was one of Wesley’s favorites. A fact he used to his fullest advantage.

Covering his tracks had been tricky, especially lately, but his growing offshore bank account was the only incentive he needed. His boss wasn’t stupid. Neither were his coworkers. They’d catch on soon. Probably sooner than he wanted, but he wasn’t worried. He only needed a couple more days; then he’d get the rest of his money and he could disappear forever. He’d already paid off his gambling debts and gotten those loan sharks off his back. Now he was actually in the black and swimming in cash.

A few strokes on the keyboard and images from the private satellite he’d been using popped up on his computer. He made a note of the woman’s probable location, deleted his tracks, then made his way to one of the restrooms. He fished his cell phone—which had a nearly impenetrable filter—out of his pocket and locked himself in a stall once he was sure he was alone. Now was not the time to get sloppy.

Miguel Vargas picked up on the first ring. “Tell me you have her location.”

“I have it narrowed down.”

“That is not good enough!”

“It’s going to have to be for right now. I can give you the area only. It’ll take some time to pinpoint it. This