Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence Page 33

  *

  “This isn’t the way back to the boat ramp,” Bailey muttered.

  She was as observant as always. Of course, he already knew the woman was smart. She was putting things together a little too easily. “There’s one more person I’d like to talk to, Bailey. Plus, it’s getting late. I don’t want to be on the water at night.”

  “Don’t I get a say in this? What does that mean for tonight?”

  “We’ll find a hotel. I think it would be for the best, especially after what happened earlier.”

  He could tell by the tight line of her lips that she was uncomfortable, suspicious and scared.

  He wanted to grab her hand again, but knew it was a bad idea on more than one level. “Bailey, you’re just going to have to trust me. I know it’s not easy. But, believe me, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  She looked toward him, her cheeks flushing. “I hope you’re right.”

  Something about being around her caused a surge of protectiveness to rise in him. He knew he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. He also knew he was entering dangerous territory. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything for a woman. Physical danger, plus having his heart involved, was never a good mix.

  He reminded himself to keep his distance.

  “Who’s this other person we’re going to talk to?” Bailey asked. Her voice sounded strained.

  “An old friend. He’s very wise. Should have some good insight for us.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “I think so.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.” She scrutinized him.

  “Nothing’s ever sure in my world, Bailey. Except God.”

  “God’s a great place to start. The only place really.”

  Ed nodded. “That’s the truth.”

  It was so refreshing to be with someone who understood and shared his beliefs. He was finding it less common, and he was more often an outsider when it came to his spiritual beliefs. It felt good to be around someone who was like-minded.

  The rest of the ride was silent. He couldn’t help but wonder about what James had said. He’d mentioned a hostage. Could he have been talking about the Reginald Peterson ordeal? Reginald was an American contractor who’d been taken hostage by the Kurdistan government. People had suspicions that Sanderson was involved. There was obviously more to this story.

  Finally, they pulled up to an apartment complex in Alexandria. The area was clean, neat and expensive.

  Skipping the elevator, they took the stairs to the third floor. Ed knocked on the door, his gaze constantly searching the surrounding area. A man with spiked light brown hair and a thin, lean build answered. He didn’t smile, didn’t reach out for a warm handshake, didn’t offer any formalities.

  “This is my old friend Micah Stephens,” Ed said, turning toward Bailey.

  Micah briefly nodded before scanning behind them. “Were you followed?”

  Ed shook his head. “No, we weren’t.”

  “Come on inside. I wondered when you’d show up. I just got in from out of town. Your timing is good.”

  Ed put his hand on Bailey’s back and ushered her inside first. He didn’t like where all of this was going. Not for a moment.

  Now Bailey was in the crosshairs, as well.

  Once the door was securely locked, Ed turned toward Bailey. “Would you mind if I talked to Micah alone?”

  Fire lit in her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I would. I’m just as much in danger as anyone else. I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”

  Micah and Ed exchanged a glance. Finally, Ed nodded, praying that his gut was right. “You can trust her.”

  “Clearance?”

  Ed shook his head. “But she’s got a lot at stake in this.”

  Micah nodded. “Okay, then. Sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  *

  Bailey felt anticipation building inside her. Whatever was going on, it was big. She prayed she was prepared to comprehend what she was about to hear.

  “I’ve been doing some digging, just like you asked me to. I think this all goes back to the Reginald Peterson case.”

  “The contractor who was taken hostage a few months ago?” Bailey asked. It had been all over the news. Anyone who turned on the TV would have heard about the man.

  He’d been hired by the government to do some work in the Middle East. But terrorists had grabbed him and demanded a hefty ransom. The man still hadn’t been returned last she’d heard, but at least he was alive. She’d seen a video taken of him where he possessed a swollen eye, a bloody lip and an invisible yet unbearable weight on his shoulders.

  “Yes, that Reginald Peterson,” Micah responded. “But he wasn’t just a government contractor. He was CIA.”

  “The CIA never owned up to it that he was one of their own, though,” Ed filled in.

  “Why would they do that?” Bailey asked.

  Ed and Micah exchanged another glance.

  “There was a rumor that Reginald had uncovered some evidence that incriminated the CIA,” Ed answered. “He discovered something and sent it to his handler. He was abducted a few days later and that’s when the CIA claimed they didn’t know him.

  “You have to understand that it’s not surprising. I mean, if the interests of a nation are at stake, the CIA is going to do whatever they have to do to cover themselves. We believe that the information Reginald uncovered was one of the reasons he was abducted. The terrorists wanted that intelligence.”

  “Did he risk his life for the US, only to have the US turn their back on him?” Bailey asked.

  “We don’t know yet, nor do we know exactly what that information is he obtained,” Ed said. “We believe that information was brushed under the rug by the CIA, but that Reginald’s handler passed the information on to Elmer Martin. He then gave it to my father. Now they’re all dead.”

  “So, if we get the information…?” Bailey could fill in the blanks a little too easily. She didn’t like the answers she formulated. They all went back to the same conclusion: death.

  “Whatever the communication is, it’s raised the stakes for some high-level people within the CIA,” Micah finished.

  “You don’t know what this intelligence is?” Bailey asked.

  “We suspect it has to do with some kind of scandal or cover-up, possibly within the CIA,” Micah said. “We also suspect that Carl Sanderson might be involved.”

  “Isn’t he a terrorist?” Bailey tried to recall what she’d heard about him. Apparently, he had a whole army of followers. He was British, but had lived in Africa and the Middle East. The only other thing Bailey could remember was that he hated America. Apparently, he blamed the country for the death of his brother, who’d been a British double agent.

  “Not only would it look bad for certain members of the CIA, but if the wrong people got their hands on that information, they could use it to put agents into compromising positions,” Ed explained. “They could use it as leverage to get other information.”

  “That would be…not good.” Bailey knew how lame her words sounded.

  “You have to understand that given the scope of what the CIA does, something like this could mean the safety of our country,” Micah added. “It’s more than about people’s reputations or smearing the image of the CIA. This is about keeping our country out of harm’s way.”

  “And now we’re involved somehow,” Bailey said, her head still spinning.

  “Someone’s after this information. Could even be the CIA,” Ed said.

  “If the CIA sent people after us, that means someone had to own up to what happened, right?” Bailey tried to put it all together.

  “Not necessarily,” Ed said. “They could have concocted a story painting us as the bad guys. There are a lot of ways to spin the mission of an operation. They could have claimed that we stole information. That we’re the threats to national security.”

  “Why would you kill your own father, though?” Bailey asked. �
��That’s essentially what they’d have to claim in order to put the blame on us.”

  “There are holes we haven’t filled in yet,” Micah said. “I don’t have all the answers.”

  “Do you know if there have been any threats made? Has anyone owned up to having the information? Any terrorist groups?” Ed asked.

  “All indications are that this is an inside job.”

  Bailey ran a hand through her hair. “This is great. We have CIA assassins chasing us. I guess they were the ones at the house earlier? The ones who didn’t kill us when they had the chance?”

  “The bottom line is that someone wants this information. They want to stop the information flow. If we’re dead, they still won’t know where the information is, but they’ll just try other means to find it.”

  Bailey remembered her sister, the threat on her family’s lives. Yes, whoever was behind this was ruthless and heartless. They would do whatever it took to get their hands on the information.

  *

  They left an hour later. Micah had offered to let them stay at his place, but Ed knew it would put his friend at too much risk. They needed to put distance between themselves and everyone else—at least, for the moment. Micah was smart; he knew how to defend himself. He’d been an army ranger at one time—one of the best. Then he’d joined the CIA.

  Ed found a hotel—one with outside doors. He booked two rooms side by side and paid with cash. He wasn’t on the run; he wouldn’t stay in hiding forever. But he had to take every precaution possible.

  “Nice place,” Bailey muttered, looking up at the outdated sign as Ed unlocked the door.

  “They didn’t ask for credit-card information, so it should work for the time being.”

  He ushered Bailey inside her room and locked the doors behind them. “Stay here,” he ordered.

  He checked every available spot in the room, just to make sure everything was safe. Finally, he let himself relax a moment. The hotel wasn’t the fanciest, but it was the best option. “Everything looks clear. I’m just taking every precaution possible to make sure you’re safe.”

  Bailey still stood against the wall, nearly pressed against it. “I’m scared, Ed.”

  He stepped closer to her and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know. You should be. Fear is healthy. It keeps you sharp and alert. That said, it’s not fun, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “Why do you seem so calm?” Her wide eyes implored him, made him want to pour out everything.

  “Experience.”

  “As a lawyer.” She smiled slightly.

  “Yeah, as a lawyer.” Ed had no doubt that Bailey had put the facts together and knew there was quite a bit more to his job than that, especially given all the talk about the CIA.

  She rubbed her arms and looked around. He had to admit that the room was cold; the heat needed to be kicked up another notch. He strode across the room to adjust the settings.

  “Do you think they’ll find us here?” she asked.

  He cranked the heat up. “We’re going to be ready for them if they do.”

  Against his better instinct, he pulled her toward him. Instantly, the smell of daisies and rain showers filled his senses. He liked the way she seemed to fold into him, a sweet-smelling bundle of warmth.

  At once, he had visions of the future, hopes of forever. Forever was a prospect he hadn’t considered in a long time—long enough that the thought shook him to the core.

  He stepped back, a little too quickly. The action rocked Bailey, and she struggled to find her balance. As he grabbed her, trying to help her right herself, another surge of electricity shot through him.

  This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  He needed to do some reconnaissance on behalf of his heart.

  He squeezed her arms before backing up and pointing to the door behind him. “I should be going. If you need anything, let me know.”

  Bailey nodded and rubbed her neck. “I’ll do that.”

  “And lock these doors behind me.”

  He took a deep breath and stepped outside. There had been a lot of things he hadn’t expected, starting with his father’s death. But he definitely hadn’t been prepared for his heart to feel this invested.

  *

  Bailey hardly slept all night. It’d been a common theme for her the past few nights. There was the fact that a crazy gunman was after them. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was also the possibility of a CIA assassin, double agents, international hostages and plots to take over the world.

  Add to that the fact that Ed’s touch had ignited something in her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was so used to being on her own, of taking care of herself, of as if someone else had her back. She hadn’t realized how much her heart yearned for that protection.

  She lay in bed for most of the night with her covers pulled up to her neck, listening for signs of anything suspicious. She heard nothing, except maybe a pizza delivery guy a few doors down.

  When she’d finally pulled herself out of bed in the morning, she’d frowned when she looked in the mirror and saw the dark circles under her eyes. This whole situation was beginning to wear on her. She took a shower and used the complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste to freshen up.

  The fact that nothing had happened both put her at ease and more on edge. She’d fully expected some kind of attack. What did this mean?

  She knocked on the door between her room and Ed’s, crossing her arms as she waited for him to answer. Her heart skipped a beat when he pulled the door open. Based on the way his pupils widened, he was feeling the same thing she was.

  They were both in trouble, in more ways than one.

  “You okay?” he asked. His gaze soaked her in.

  She nodded, noting how his hair glistened as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  He grabbed his keys and motioned toward the outside door. “We should probably hit the road, then.”

  He put a hand on her back and led her through the room and to the door. He stepped outside first, glanced around and then led her to the car. They climbed inside. Bailey held her breath as he cranked the engine.

  When the car purred to life, she nearly laughed out loud. What had she expected? An explosion? Maybe she’d watched too many movies.

  With that worry over, the same raw feeling returned to her throat. She knew what had caused the achiness—her closeness to Ed. She wished her reaction to the man wasn’t this strong. She wished it made more sense. She wished circumstances were different; that she was different.

  She had to stay focused. She had to find that information.

  And then what?

  Turn it over to potential terrorists? Or people who were putting the security of the United States on the line?

  Great. She could save her own family, but fail the entire country if she did.

  She had some decisions to make. Some really, really hard decisions.

  She rubbed her temples, wishing she could rewind time.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Ed’s voice pulled her from her burdensome thoughts. If only she could share what she was thinking about. “Just about how crazy all of this is.”

  “You’ve been a real trouper, you know. The smartest choice for you right now would be to pack your things and get out of here.”

  “You don’t think they’d follow me? That they might suspect I somehow know something?”

  He grimaced. “They might.”

  “I’m in this too deep, Ed. Whether I want to be in it or not, I’m involved. It sounds like the people behind this are desperate. It’s like something from a movie.”

  “I know how they think, Bailey. I’ll look out for you.”

  They reached the docks, finally. Ed’s boat floated right where they’d left it, and there wasn’t a sign of anyone else there at the moment.

  The day was a little warmer than the past several had been. But the breeze still felt cool, and as they raced across
the water, it would feel even colder.

  They climbed onto the boat and, a few minutes later, were cruising toward Smuggler’s Cove. Bailey stood beside Ed by the boat’s console. The guard blocked the wind and the sun warmed her cheeks. Maybe this would be a decent ride. Maybe, just for a minute, she could forget her troubles.

  Just then, an explosion rocked the entire boat.

  Before Bailey realized what was happening, water surrounded her.

  SEVENTEEN

  Ed’s head jetted from the water and he gulped in a deep breath. Debris from the boat floated around him and the smell of gas remained heavy on the water.

  Where was Bailey?

  He twisted around, searching for a sign of her. “Bailey!”

  Nothing.

  He swam closer to the wreckage, desperately looking for proof of life. Finally, he saw something pink. Her shirt?

  He propelled himself across the water. The mop of long hair confirmed it was Bailey.

  Moving quickly, he flipped her over. Her motionless, pale face caused panic to jostle through him. “Bailey, Bailey! You’ve got to stay with me.”

  She remained unmoving.

  He patted her cheek, desperation surging through him. “Bailey!”

  She still wasn’t responding. Ed grabbed the largest piece of debris he could find—part of the bottom of the boat—and dragged Bailey on top of it. He didn’t have much time. He had to move quickly.

  Dear God, please help her!

  He turned her on her side and pounded her back, praying the water would leave her lungs, that breath would fill her.

  Nothing.

  He kept trying.

  Finally, she sputtered. Coughed. Tried to sit up.

  He grabbed her arm to prevent her from rolling back into the water. She was okay. Praise God, she was okay!

  The cut on her forehead would heal, but there were no other visible wounds. He prayed that was the extent of her injuries.

  As she slid from the wreckage, his arm went around her waist, trying to hold her up. “You okay?”

  “I…” She glanced around. “I thought I was dead.”

  He had, too. For a moment, at least. “You’re going to be fine.”

  Now that she was awake and breathing, a new challenge rushed to his mind. How were they going to get out of the water? Out of the bay? The frigid water would give them hypothermia if they stayed here too long.