Targeted

Chapter 6

Operative: an intelligence officer or agent operating in the field.

Wesley tried Jack’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail. He didn’t need to bother one of his analysts to figure out Jack had taken out the battery. If he’d turned off his phone, he’d definitely taken out the battery. And he would have been sure to avoid civilian CCTVs or traffic cameras if at all possible. All easy ways to track him, and if Wesley had been keeping physical tabs on him before he’d gone dark, he likely could have tracked the man. Then again, maybe not. Jack was trained well and he was familiar with Miami in a way he wasn’t anywhere else. He could disappear if he wanted to bad enough.

Wesley’s best agent had gone dark without explaining why, and now he wondered if he’d sent Jack into the field too soon. Even though the final purpose of Jack’s last op had been to bring down those Albanian terrorists, any undercover operation dealing with the exploitation of kids was brutal. But Jack had never had a problem acclimating to another situation in the past. The man was like a machine sometimes.

Sophie Moreno was the only soft spot he had. Wesley could have sent someone else in for this job, but he wanted Jack to get over her and find some kind of normal life with someone. Anyone. Wesley had recruited Jack when he was only twenty-six. After eight years in the Marines, Jack had been physically tough and the best sniper he’d ever seen, but he’d also been his youngest recruit for the new black ops team he’d been putting together at the time.

Five years later, Wesley had never regretted his decision. He simply wanted Jack to find a life outside his job. The rate for substance addictions and broken relationships in this line of work was high, but Jack didn’t have a problem with either. Hell, the man would have to have a damn relationship in the first place for the latter to be an issue.

Wesley tapped his finger against his mouse and pulled up Sophie’s file. He’d read her dossier half a dozen times and had everything he could possibly want to know about her boss. Still, he wanted more. Especially if the woman was fucking with Jack’s ability to do his job.

Wesley hit one of the intercom buttons on his phone, connecting him to Thomas Chadwick, one of his best analysts. “Thomas?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to run another detailed check on Mandy Abarca, Benson Pollard, and Hannah Young. Go as deep as you can.” He’d had another analyst run their information before, but he wanted this check to see if they’d missed anything.

“What’s their connection?”

“Sophie Moreno.”

“Got it. I’ll send it to your screen as soon as I have the information.”

“Thank you. If you need help, ask Williams to help you. He’s familiar with Ms. Moreno’s file.” As soon as he 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.”

Damn it. “What did he say?”

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 Navy, but I’m now the deputy director of the NSA.”

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.”

Jack carefully gauged Sophie’s reaction. Her lips pulled into a slight grimace and all color had fled her pretty face, but she didn’t seem surprised exactly. As if she knew something. “So why did you come into SBMS under the guise of working for Keane? And why did you want to work with me?”

“We weren’t sure of your involvement and figured the easiest way to get to Ronald would be through you.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “What about now? Do you still think I’m involved?”

“No, I don’t.”

Some of the color returned to her cheeks.

Jack glanced at the phone, just to force his gaze away from her piercing one. Staring at her too long was bad for his sanity. “Wesley, send me a complete file on Vargas, including pictures of some of his handiwork.” He was going to show Sophie exactly what kind of man they were trying to stop from unleashing terror on U.S. soil. The file would be encrypted and normally he’d have had the information with him, but he didn’t have much on his current laptop since it was his backup.

“Will do. . . . Jack, I’ve got to take this call.” Wesley disconnected before either of them could respond.

Jack took out the battery as Sophie stood and picked up her plate. She reached out to take his empty one, though her hand slightly shook. “Are you through?”

He nodded and let her take it. He cleared off their glasses and the serving dish and followed her into the kitchen. When she started washing the dishes, he stopped her. “Leave it, Sophie. Please.”

At the word “please,” she dropped the dishrag in the sink and turned to face him. Her expression was wary and he got the feeling that she was still holding something back from him. It was another reason he wanted to show her that file on Vargas. She needed to see that he was being honest with her—as honest as he could be. “What exactly do you want from me?”

Jack hadn’t gone over anything with his boss, but he had no doubt Wesley would be on board with whatever he chose to do. “I know you’re not telling me everything. I want to go over your past few months at SBMS, see if you remember anything out of the ordinary. The fact that you printed out all those logs from Keane tells me you’re suspicious of something. I’d also like to show you a file on the man your boss is in bed with.”

• • •

Leaning against the sink, Sophie clasped her hands in front of her stomach and tried to force herself to stop trembling. It was too hard to believe that Ronald was dirty, but his response to her call earlier had left her rattled. Why the hell would he want her to stay out of town? She might as well glean as much information from Jack as she could. He might not be telling the truth, but she was willing to listen. Mainly because she didn’t have any other option at this point. “What man?”

“Miguel Vargas.”

The name was vaguely familiar, sending off a small warning bell in her head. She frowned, unsure if she was supposed to know it.

Jack continued. “He’s head of a violent South American drug cartel.”

“Vargas . . . I do know the name, if it’s the same man. About a year ago one of the planes we hired was hit before they could deliver supplies. Now there are a few places in Brazil and Chile we can’t hire anyone to fly to for us. I think I heard someone, maybe Ronald, say something about Vargas being involved.”

“I thought Keane flew everything for SBMS.” Jack watched her carefully.

She figured he probably already knew this but was just testing her. Besides, there was no reason to lie. It wasn’t a secret. “Keane Flight flies supplies to different countries, but we often outsource to locals once he’s in-country because they’d rather deal with their own people for the final deliveries. It’s not personal to Keane and we care about getting those supplies to where they’re needed most.”

He nodded once, clearly accepting her answer. Then he nodded toward the living room. “I’d like to show you some files.”

“Okay.” She pushed up from the counter and let him leave the small kitchen first. Sophie needed some space from the man, but there was nowhere to go.

He sat on one end of the longer couch and she sat on the other, trying to put a little space between them. The room seemed to grow smaller in the silence as he turned on his laptop. It was a newer computer, sleek and thin. She watched his hard profile as he typed. His expression was grim as he stared at the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Suddenly he looked up, those pale eyes pinning her, and she flushed as if she’d been doing something wrong. She couldn’t help staring at him, though. Watching him was like watching a tiger only feet from her. The man just screamed danger, but everything about him begged her to reach out and touch. To see if she’d get bitten. Her mouth and lips were dry, but she forced herself not to lick her lips even if the action was instinctual.

She could almost swear the man read her thoughts, though, because his gaze strayed to her lips for a fraction of a second before he turned back to the screen. He shifted the computer screen toward her.

Scooting closer, she couldn’t ignore that spicy scent or what his mere presence did to her. She moved until their knees almost touched, but she kept a little space between them.

Jack eyed the small distance, frowned as if it annoyed him, then moved until they were touching. The action took her so off guard she didn’t know how to respond. She wondered if he was even aware of what he’d done.

Before she could contemplate it, he handed her the laptop. “Scan the files if you like, but the pictures start on page five.”

When she went to look at what he’d given her, he stopped her with a light touch on her arm.

“Fair warning, the pictures aren’t easy to look at. Everyone in them is dead and . . .” He trailed off, shrugging. “This is what happens when someone crosses Vargas and why he must be stopped. These are his own countrymen and women, and he did what he did because someone went to the authorities because he was using their town as part of his supply route.”

He stopped talking, but the dark look in his eyes was predatory. It was almost as if she could sense the rage in him even though he wasn’t outwardly reacting. He was so still it was unnerving, as if he was reining in his anger. Sam had been just like that. Whenever he got angry, everything burned deep beneath his surface. And the quieter he’d gotten, the angrier he’d been. The sudden comparison between the two men jarred her enough to tear her gaze away.

Sophie started scrolling through the pages of text. On the third one, she glared at him accusingly. “I can barely read any of this.” There were big paragraphs completely blacked out.

He looked almost apologetic as his broad shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “The classified stuff is redacted.”

Gritting her teeth, she looked back and read what she could. The details were scant and she gleaned bits and pieces basically telling her what Jack had just told her. But when she got to the section of pictures, what little food she had in her stomach roiled. Men, women, and children had been massacred.

There were so many of them wearing threadbare clothes, some with no shoes, and their bodies had been ravaged with bullets. In some, the bodies of the women were missing skirts or they were completely naked, telling another story of the carnage. Some bodies were piled on each other, just dumped in ditches. Some had been left in the street and ripped apart by hungry scavengers. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, but the images remained.

Having seen more than enough, she snapped his computer shut and shoved it at him.

“I told you,” he murmured.

“Vargas did that and he’s supposedly involved with my boss? And Keane?”

“I don’t know for sure about your boss, but it’s more than probable.” Jack’s eyes were unreadable. He just stared at her, as if waiting for something.

Screw it. She reached into the built-in bra of the too-big dress and pulled out the flash drive. She had backups and someone wanted her dead. If Jack wanted to kill her, he could have done so. Multiple times. She handed it to the intimidating man next to her, then wiped her damp palm on her dress. She had no idea what his reaction would be.

His eyes slightly narrowed. “What is this?”

“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 money. That’s not normal behavior for someone with nothing to hide.”

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 the best restaurants. Not two of the best.”

“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. “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.