Buch lesen: «The Security Specialists»

ONE

“Do you ever feel like sometimes the sunshine is deceiving because the day is going to be ominous regardless of how bright it is?” Jody Gallagher tapped her finger on the side of her Covenant Crisis Management coffee mug while her best friend and CCM’s on-site psychologist, Cosette LaCroix, turned from the coffeepot, and her full lips—as red as the male cardinals outside—reminded Jody of a luscious makeup commercial.

“Is that how you feel?”

Jody should have known she’d get doctor-talk. Was that how she felt? A warm outer appearance, but cold inside? Maybe. She knew how to put up a good front. One could only whine and mourn over loss for so long before loved ones traded in supportiveness for speeches about moving on. Of course, said loved ones hadn’t watched their dreams burn to ash right in front of their eyes. In front of millions of eyes. She rubbed her temples. “I guess I’m dreading the day.”

“At least he called and gave you fair warning he was coming.” Cosette never said anything negative about the man Jody once loved—the man who’d single-handedly wrecked her dreams of someday becoming the youngest female Secret Service director. Dreams she’d birthed through spending time with her great-grandfather. She missed Granddaddy Flynn.

Jody-girl, one day you can be sitting right here in my chair. Doesn’t have to be Wilder or any other boy. It can be you. I think it should be, darlin’. You can do anything you want. And if you want it, work for it. Do it. Achieve it.

She should have known better than to fall for a man who played hard—too hard. Especially after what she’d witnessed in Afghanistan. But she’d fallen for him. And he’d betrayed her. She’d been fired. Humiliated. Her reputation stained. Thankfully, Granddaddy Flynn hadn’t lived to see that.

“Yeah, that was a bullet to the chest without any Kevlar kind of moment.” To hear Evan Novak’s voice after three years. She’d instantly recognized it—soft, smooth. Not a drop of grit until he laughed. He’d called to let her know he’d be in Atlanta today on protection detail for Senator Townes, who was campaigning for the primary election this coming November. A conservative in the South. Jody didn’t expect trouble, but this morning she’d woken with a ball of tar coating her gut and it had spread since she’d rolled out of bed. Maybe it was the fact that she was going to see Evan. The Covenant Crisis team was leading the private security sector today and providing one of Georgia’s wealthiest businessmen protection during the event—not that he needed it, but he was one of the largest campaign donors to Senator Townes, and if he wanted to pay them for security, then so be it.

CCM was partnering with the Secret Service, as well as local law enforcement. Jody had voluntarily piped up to be the appointed detail. She needed to prove to herself she could be around Evan with no effect, and she wanted him and her former colleagues to see she was still capable—had always been capable—of providing excellent security.

“Hey, if Wilder picks up on any of this anxiety, he’ll yank you from the op. You want that?” Cosette leaned against the counter, forcing eye contact with Jody. “Do you?”

No. Nothing would come between her and the job. She wouldn’t let Wilder down. He’d immediately given her sanctuary here at the plantation home turned agency and offered her a job, no questions asked. Not because he was her first cousin, but because he believed in her ability and ignored the lies that she’d been drinking on duty while safeguarding the vice president’s adult son, even though the evidence had been incriminating.

“I want to accomplish the mission. And I don’t want Evan Novak to emotionally affect me ever again.” She finished her coffee. “I also don’t want a couch therapy session later.”

Cosette’s dark eyes flashed, the Cajun in her making itself present in that feisty expression. “Mmm-hmm...keep telling yourself that. It’s happening.”

A knock on the door saved her a friendly argument. “Come in.” Wilder opened the door, looming in the doorway. Suit. Tie. “You clean up nice, cuz,” Jody said.

He flicked his gaze to Cosette. “Y’all ready to rock and roll? Lipstick perfect?” He glanced at Jody. “Gun secure?”

Cosette was coming today? It better not be as Jody’s babysitter; like she’d have an emotional meltdown in public. As if reading her thoughts, Cosette laid a hand on Jody’s. “I’ll be in the camera room, watching people and doing threat assessments.” As a body-language and criminal-behavior expert, if someone was twitchy in the crowd and up to no good, Cosette would spot them.

“Okay, let’s go.” Jody grabbed a pack of mints, tucked them in her pocket and breezed past Wilder, but he caught her arm, the playfulness in his eyes dimming. “Are you ready?” he asked with a softer tone.

What he meant was if she was ready to see Evan. “Yes.”

“Then put your A-game face on.” He released his brotherly grip and she marched outside the agency. The rest of the team, Beckett Marsh and Shepherd Lightman, were waiting by the black Suburban. Dark sunglasses hid their eyes, but she felt their stares. She might simply be paranoid. Maybe it was the tense political climate these days. Things could become dangerous. Fast. Jody’s gut turned.

At the convention center, police were already in place. They strode toward the conference room. Cosette tapped her shoulder. “You left this on the counter.” She handed her the small jar of vapor rub. She never left home without it—not with her genetic condition, hyperosmia, which heightened her olfactory senses. The vapor rub helped push out the overwhelming amount of smells that most people never noticed or couldn’t detect.

Leaving it at home affirmed she was distracted. The expression on Cosette’s face let Jody know she’d thought the same thing.

“I’m fine.” Time to pull it together.

Wilder opened the door and inside sat a half-dozen agents. Evan Novak stood front and center. Jody’s belly corkscrewed. Clean-cut, hazelnut-colored hair. Straight nose. Clear blue, hooded eyes and a smile that said he was old money, spoiled and full of mischief, but that wasn’t true. At least the first two.

Introductions were made, but Jody refrained from shaking Evan’s powerful hand. Besides, he didn’t offer. Wilder gave him a cool stare and then proceeded with the security parameters and details as well as the lineup of events. After about forty-five minutes of discussion, Jody headed to the coffee bar in the conference room.

She smelled Evan approach, his wonderful scent stamped into her memory. Cinnamon and citrus. Rain and hypoallergenic, scent-free laundry detergent—which had a subtle smell. Why would he still use that now that they weren’t together? Habit or as a courtesy for her? Having a highly increased sense of smell was a blessing and a plague. It sometimes brought on migraines and severe nausea. Right now, it helped brace herself for the encounter. She bristled.

“No sneaking up on you, is there?” he asked. “You cut your hair.”

She inhaled deeply and turned.

His eyes roamed over her hair and trailed to her face, as if he was checking to see if it matched his memory of her. “I like it.” He reached out like he was going to touch her freshly cut bob but refrained at the last second. Wise choice. She’d hate to put his behind on the ground for his colleagues to see. “I want to talk to you after the rally, if that’s okay.”

“About what?” She worked to remain calm. As if she didn’t care, as if she wasn’t still in excruciating pain over what he’d done—more like what he hadn’t done. When she’d come out of that hotel room carrying his empty booze bottles to protect him, she never expected journalists to be in the hallway, but security had been breached because Evan had mixed playing hard with working hard and, for the first time since she’d known him, compromised the job.

Her picture had been plastered all over news media sites and TV. Evan was supposed to stand up for her, but in the end he hadn’t. Probably because he’d been angry when she’d threatened to leave him if he ever pulled a stunt like drinking on the job again. But that night he’d crossed a line and knew it. They’d fought and she had charged from the room with the bottles in hand. Jody never should have covered for him, but the simple fact was, she’d loved him. And she’d wanted to help him. Evan hadn’t made mistakes like that before. Threatening to leave him would have kept him in line. Or so she thought. They’d never know now.

He’d let her go down drowning. If she kept mulling it over now, she’d never get the job done today.

“I think you know,” he said, his soft tone hypnotizing her. He’d always had that kind of power. “Can we?”

She swallowed.

“You’re hesitating. That’s a no.” He leaned down to peer into her eyes. “But we need to talk. At some point.”

Ugh. This man still knew her like he knew binary codes. And he knew those well. But he wouldn’t pass for the typical computer-geek stereotype that was represented in TV shows and movies. “Let’s just get through the day.” She bypassed him, her hand shaking.

Wilder stood at the helm. “If you’re not a praying person, you’re welcome to step out, but at CCM we pray before we do a job.” No one left the room. He nodded once and team member Beckett Marsh stepped up. Wilder always called for the prayer, but he’d never once led it. Beckett prayed for their protection, wisdom and safety for all.

The convention center was already filling up, the crowd’s conversation creating a dull roar. The backdrop bled red, white and blue. Chairs flanked the podium, which protruded front and center from the pristine stage. Excitement, concessions, sweat and hundreds of perfumes and colognes hung in the air, sending Jody’s senses into overload. She dabbed vapor rub above her upper lip to help her nose stay focused and tamp down on a possible headache.

A local official introduced Senator Townes.

“Ready, Mr. Wiseman?” she asked her client.

“Of course.”

Evan nodded and they escorted their details up the stairs to the stage. Atlanta PD worked crowd control at the stage floor. Jody adjusted her earpiece and mic as she scanned the seats padded with supporters and protestors, all holding signs that contradicted one another.

Static crackled over the earpiece, then Wilder spoke. “We’ve got a situation outside with protesters. Keep eyes on the wolf and his cub.”

“Roger that,” team member Shepherd Lightman said through the line. He was at the stage floor with law enforcement, observing with hawk-like skill.

Jody inched closer to Mr. Wiseman—the cub—as Evan and the two agents with him went on high alert. The senator continued his passionate speech on the Second Amendment, oblivious that something sinister might be going down outside.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She snatched it. Wilder.

Need you outside. East entrance.

The situation must be escalating. Waiting a beat for her position to be manned, she scanned the crowd, that ominous feeling from earlier raising hairs on her neck. No one came, but Wilder needed her. Shepherd caught her eye. Guess he’d be watching Wiseman from the floor.

She slipped from her post, aware of Evan’s scowl.

Jody weaved through the back halls to the exit doors and outside. Clearly Wilder didn’t want everyone alerted to the problem or he’d have used the mic. She was at the east entrance but only uniformed officers covered the area. It was quiet.

No situation. No problem.

Too quiet.

She bolted for the doors inside, running down the halls and back into the arena just in time to hear the first pop of gunfire.

* * *

Evan Novak sprang into action, diving on top of Senator Townes.

Another shot fired and grazed his shoulder. He winced at the burn and hollered, “Let’s go! Clear out!”

Jody flew up the stage stairs, placing herself in front of him, Mr. Wiseman and the senator, gun in hand like the expert she was, but the fact that she was using her body as their shield spun him into a fit of anxiety—like it had when he’d been crazy in love with her.

Where had she been anyway? Leaving like that with no security within a foot of Mr. Wiseman?

A third shot rang out, and the crowd went even more wild, like bulls bucking and stampeding from stalls. Screams resounded over one another. People trampled each other as law enforcement worked to clear the seats and keep order.

“Are you okay, Senator?” Evan was now flanked by other agents and law enforcement.

“Egg’s hatched,” Wilder called through his mic.

Good. The car was at the door.

The senator nodded—in shock—and kept his head ducked as Evan and his team retreated to the exit. Another agent cleared the door first, then signaled. Evan shoved Senator Townes inside and climbed in beside him as Jody pressed Mr. Wiseman into the other side and accompanied him, her mouth forming a grim line.

“You’ve been shot, Agent Novak,” Senator Townes said, eyes wide.

“I’m right as rain, sir. Let’s get you out of here.” Everyone was safe right now and that’s all that mattered. When they had a moment of privacy, he’d find out why Jody left her post. That wasn’t like her, and the fact that she’d left right before the shots unsettled him.

“Where are we going?” the senator asked.

“Covenant Crisis Management. The safe point we agreed on if anything went sideways,” Jody said.

Like this.

Jody discreetly covered her nose. Everyone’s adrenaline must be pumping out some powerful and unpleasant odors. He shaded his eyes with sunglasses, not from the sun so much as the chance to observe her unnoticed. Same golden hair, only much shorter—barely brushing her neck. A smattering of freckles across a petite nose and full lips dusted in an understated pink gloss. Tomboyish and feminine wrapped up in one exquisite package. His gut tightened and he looked away.

He had no right to think about her like this. Not anymore.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the senator said.

“You’re welcome.” Just doing his job. Evan glanced at his shoulder and frowned. If the podium hadn’t been there, he would have taken a severe hit. He slid his gaze to Jody again, this time observing her manner. Cool as a cucumber. On the outside. But her flicking at her middle fingernail gave away her anxiety, and she kept casting small glances to his shoulder. Was she concerned for him? If so, had she forgiven him for his greatest mistake?

Doubtful. If she had, she would have responded to the letter he’d written her, or called him, emailed, texted. But it had been radio silence for three years. Evan had been in a dark place long before that. The pressure of the job and all the pressures of his past he’d never dealt with had sent him spiraling into the same coping mechanism of the one person he promised himself he’d never be.

His father.

Now that he’d become a man of faith, he didn’t need alcohol to help him cope or to give him the strength for another day. God was Evan’s strength, but it didn’t change the truth that deep down the apple didn’t fall from the tree.

He wanted Jody’s forgiveness desperately, but he wouldn’t allow himself to dare ask for a second chance. He’d ruined the one great thing in his life, and he wouldn’t risk hurting her again. History told him he probably would. How many times had Dad said he was sorry for hurting one of them or drinking again or any number of painful things only to turn around after a while and repeat it, ripping Mom up emotionally like a rag toy?

Evan refused to inflict that kind of pain on Jody—for the second time.

“Have you received any threatening letters, Senator?” Jody asked as the SUV drove them to CCM.

“I get them every now and again. Mostly smoke blowing.” The senator pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I need to call my wife. By now this is all over the news.”

Strange his wife wasn’t here today. “Where is she?”

“Our son was in a car accident three days ago. He’s in the hospital. She didn’t want to leave him.” Remorse surfaced in his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, either.”

Evan’s place wasn’t to judge or advise, so he remained quiet. They made their way down the long drive fringed with ancient oaks dripping with grayish Spanish moss until the looming historic plantation home came into view. Something straight out of Gone with the Wind. The columned porch made a perfect square around the entire home. Tall French windows lined the front—four on the top and bottom—shuttered in black. In the summer, Evan could imagine swinging them open to let in a summer breeze. Jody would enjoy the smell of lilac. It was her favorite...or it used to be.

Several white rockers decorated the top and bottom porches.

Two more black SUVs parked in the circular drive. Wilder Flynn bounded out and stomped inside.

“That’s never a good sign,” Jody mumbled and climbed out, but hesitated and then turned toward Evan. “You need to see about that wound, Evan.”

Evan.

He’d missed the sound of his name on her tongue. He choked back the emotion, the regret, the loss of a future with her. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

The inside of the plantation home was as impressive as the outside. A magnificent split staircase garnered immediate attention as the focal point while the parlor to the right invited guests to its sleek dining table. Gray couches were placed against each wall, and the fireplace at the end of the room roared and crackled. Perfect for this January weather. Above the mantel hung a painting of a startlingly lovely woman who shared Wilder’s green eyes, black hair and squared chin. The engraved plaque underneath read: In memory of Meghan Flynn. Ah, his sister who’d been murdered several years prior.

Wilder directed everyone inside the dining/conference room but laid a hand on Evan’s uninjured shoulder. “Hey, Cosette will fix you up. Guest bathroom with a first-aid kit is down the hall on the left of the foyer.”

He hadn’t offered Jody’s services to patch his graze. Evan understood Wilder’s need to look after his own—his kin. “Thanks.” He followed the dark-haired woman with ruby-red lips to the bathroom and let her clean his wound regardless of the awkward tension. Who knew what Jody had told her? Probably everything. Cosette finished up and tossed her latex gloves in the trash can.

“All done, Agent Novak.”

“Evan.”

“Agent Novak it is.” Her tone was made of steel and heat. “She’s my best friend.”

Fair enough. He excused himself to the dining/conference room. Coffee had been served and the senator sipped a cup and answered the same questions Evan and Jody had asked in the SUV. Afterward, Cosette discreetly offered Senator Townes and Mr. Wiseman guest rooms, where they could rest and call family while the agents with Evan and the CCM team, except one who was missing, stayed in the parlor.

“I don’t understand,” Wilder said. “That place was surrounded. How did someone get into the convention center with a rifle and not get dinged in Security?”

Beckett took a cup of coffee from a redhead and winked. “Professional. The senator’s website has a calendar of events six months in advance. He probably hid the weapon weeks ago. Walked right in today and bypassed the extra security.”

They continued to speculate and discuss the events over lunch, and then the missing team member—Shepherd Lightman—made his presence known, a scowl on his face. He motioned Wilder out of the room and a few minutes later they returned, both wearing grim expressions. “Could we speak privately with our team and Agent Novak?”

Evan nodded and the other Secret Service agents slipped from the room. Wilder closed the pocket doors. “Go ahead, Shepherd. Tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Evan’s pulse kicked up a notch.

Shepherd folded his arms across his chest. “I did some investigating of my own. Based on the trajectory path of the bullets, the shots fired—three in all—came from a vent in the nosebleed section on the south end. Which means someone had access to the blueprints of the building or access to someone who had them. He managed to get by Security—possibly disguised as a maintenance worker or something—and he made his way into the ductwork and to the vent where he more than likely had stashed his rifle in preparation.”

Evan frowned. “Why can’t my colleagues hear this?”

Shepherd’s jaw ticked. “Because I don’t believe the senator was the target. The first shot fired caused the crowd to panic and struck low as if he missed the senator. But no one this organized and well hidden—and able to exit the scene without being detected or arrested—is going to be a bad shot.”

What did this mean? “You think the first shot was to purposely cause a panic and create chaos?”

Shepherd nodded. “And to throw off law enforcement, which it has.”

“But not you?” Evan asked.

“No.”

Wilder stepped up. “Shepherd happens to be one of the top three snipers in the world. And he has an uncanny ability to observe things most people don’t.”

“I’m not questioning anyone’s ability.” Evan didn’t doubt Wilder’s team. “I just want to understand all the facts.”

“The facts are,” Shepherd continued, “the second shot grazed your shoulder when you dived. A moving target isn’t easy...for some.”

Wait...moving target? “The third shot came when we were bolting from the stage.” His neck turned hot.

“Right. But you were shielded by other agents, so it wasn’t easy and the shooter had to know he was pushing his limits and needed to jet.”

Evan massaged the back of his neck. “Are you saying that I was the target?”

Shepherd glanced at Wilder and back to Evan. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But the shooter wanted it to appear that the target was Senator Townes. The question is why?”

Why, indeed? Evan paced near the fireplace, though his whole body was already inflamed. “Well, it’s not like I don’t have a fair share of enemies.”

A younger man entered the room. Tall. Lanky but not out of shape. Unruly copper hair and black-framed retro glasses. “I got what you asked for.” He handed a stack of papers to Wilder and looked at Evan and grinned. “Nice work.”

What was he talking about? Today? Today was not nice work.

Wilder whistled. “You’ve been a busy man, Agent Novak.” He glanced at the guy in glasses. “Nice job, Wheezer. Wheezer is our computer analyst. Meet Agent Evan Novak...a cyber genius in his own right.”

“Yeah, he is.” Wheezer shook Evan’s hand. “I’ve been reading through some of your cases. You’re infamous underground.”