There would have been no witnesses. In the event she tried to report him, it’d be her word against his. He’d admit covering for her when she shot Alton Dalessio, and he’d claim that she slept with him to stay on his good side. But then, when the regret sank in, she’d accuse him of rape.
And that was only if she reported the incident. Chances were good she’d keep the night’s events to herself.
Then again, the second he’d let his grip on her loosen, who knew what she’d do.
Special Forces, Joseph. She was in the Special Forces.
He tightened his jaw as Amelia’s tinny voice cut through the contemplation. Leaning forward, he scooted the tablet to the edge of the coffee table.
“I’m sorry, Hup.” Amelia sniffled and wiped her eyes. “You’re such a nice kitty. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but whatever it is, you’ll be okay. I’ll miss you, but I’m sure Zane will take good care of you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath.
Shit.
She was serious. She was going to confess to SAC Keaton.
Joseph dropped the tablet in his lap and rubbed the stubble on his cheek.
When the dust settled, he doubted Amelia would be sentenced to any real prison time. If charges were even pressed, she’d wind up with time served or probation.
However, she would be fired from the FBI. That was a certainty. With the recent spotlight on the alleged misdeeds of law enforcement personnel, there was no way in hell the Bureau would keep an agent after being accused of using excessive force that resulted in a suspect’s death.
If he eliminated her FBI resources, she lost a layer of the armor that protected her.
A new plan formed as the corner of his mouth twitched.
One layer at a time, he’d chisel away her defenses. He’d destroy Amelia Storm’s cage.
Starting with her badge.
As a monotonous buzz pierced through the fog of Zane’s sleep, he pulled his arm off his face and jerked upright. Blinking to clear his vision, he glanced from the flickering television to the stone surface of the coffee table. His phone rang again, and he snatched up the device before it vibrated onto the floor.
Nate Tennick’s name flashed across the caller ID, and Zane froze. Although he’d been the one to ask his old friend and CIA colleague for a favor, he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer now.
“Shit.” Swiping the screen, he cleared his throat and raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Nate. How’s it going?”
“Same shit, different day. You know how it goes.”
Zane slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, I sure do. But…” he squinted at the digital clock beneath the television, “based on the fact that you’re calling me at quarter after ten, which is quarter after eleven your time, I’d say this isn’t the same ole shit, is it?”
“‘Fraid not, man.” He yawned into the phone. “I just got off work. Hey, I looked into what you asked about the other day. That senator.”
As Zane reached for the remote to turn down the volume of his show, the first tinge of ice rushed through his veins. “What did you find?”
A car door thudded on the other end of the line. “Stan Young is part of the United States Senate’s Intelligence Committee. That’s one of the highest security clearances in the country, and he’s regularly briefed by the CIA whenever he’s in Washington. Honestly, I’m surprised I hadn’t heard of him before now. I’m sure I’ve worked on briefings that have come across his desk.”
Zane’s stomach sank. Nate’s tone told him the worst was yet to come. “And?”
If he hadn’t heard the faint buzz of a radio in the background, he would’ve thought Nate had disconnected.
“And…someone’s been looking you up. Today. There have been two hits so far. Two separate searches for you in government databases. They were hours apart, which seemed odd to me. He’s not looking in the right place, at least not yet. When they set you up at the Bureau, they backstopped your record, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, they did.” Zane plucked a piece of fuzz from his white t-shirt. Whenever he fell asleep on this couch, he always woke up covered in fuzz. “I don’t know how well it’ll hold up if someone like Young looks too closely at it, though. It was meant to fill in the blanks for city cops and other FBI agents, not senators on the fucking intelligence committee.”
Nate whistled through his teeth. “Well, I’m leaving the query open. If anyone looks you up for any reason, I’ll know about it, and then you’ll know about it. With a security clearance as high as Young’s, he can find the files from what you worked on in the Agency, but it’ll take him a hot minute to get there. You know how the Agency is with politicians sticking their noses in shit.”
Zane snorted. “Let’s hope the new deputy director is as obstinate as the old one.”
“I don’t know about that.” Nate paused, and Zane could almost picture him scratching his neatly kempt beard. “You really think Young would compromise you if he got ahold of those files?”
“I can’t say for sure right now, but I’d rather get ahead of it in case he would.” Zane rubbed his temple. “Going from racketeering to treason is one hell of a graduation, but I’m not going to bank on anything.”
“Well.” Nate blew a raspberry. “You do your job and find out how dirty that guy is, and I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”
“All right. I appreciate it. Have a good night.”
“You do the same.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, Zane flopped to the side and covered his face with a throw pillow.
Senator Young was a ticking time bomb, and the clock had already started.
29
The FBI’s parking garage was laden with a tomblike
