The Ultimate Betrayal Page 24

  Bonnet’s dark eyes sharpened. “What sort of information do you have?”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  Bonnet hesitated. Like all the agencies, Homeland wasn’t much for sharing. “I’ve read your file, Garrett. We’re grateful for your service to our country. That being the case, I’ll give you as much as I can.”

  Bran sat up straighter. The noise around them muffled their conversation just enough not to be overheard. “We have intel that three thousand pounds of chemical weapons, stolen from the Alamo Depot in Colorado, were purchased on the dark web. The price was five million dollars. We don’t know what the buyers are planning to do with the weapons, and the intel can’t be verified.” At least not by legal means. “But our sources are good. We believe it’s true.”

  He didn’t mention the munitions that had gone to Yemen. Colonel Bryson was handling that operation. He was the most capable man Bran had ever known. Bryson could move faster without interference from Homeland.

  “Your turn,” Bran said.

  “US Intelligence agencies have been hearing internet chatter about a specific plot involving a public transportation venue in a major US city. We’ve narrowed it down to the western part of the country. We don’t know who’s behind it, what they’re planning, or at this point whether or not it’s a credible threat. But we’re following it closely. Until now, we haven’t tied it to the use of chemical weapons. I’ll relay that information to all parties.”

  “And keep our names out of it.”

  “At this juncture, yes.” He handed Bran a card with his Homeland office number, and Bran handed him a Maximum Security card with his cell number.

  “Anything else you want to share?” Bonnet asked.

  “That’s it for now.”

  “What about you, Agent Bonnet?” Jessie asked. “These people are linked to the murder of my father. Surely you have some idea who they are.”

  “I’m sorry. Even if we have potential suspects, I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Bran rose from the table and so did Jessie. “Thanks for the meeting,” Bran said. “If we come up with something, we’ll let you know.” Urging Jessie toward the door, they walked away, holding hands and smiling at each other like lovers. Bonnet slipped quietly off in another direction, disappearing among the tourists as if he had never been there.

  * * *

  They were back in their suite. They had a lot more info and still not enough.

  “Okay, so what do we do now?” Jessie asked.

  Bran wished to God he knew. “Best plan at the moment, we pack up and head back to Fort Carson.”

  “Why don’t we stay here? Mara Ramos and Ahmed were both living in San Diego. Maybe we’ll find something here that will lead us to the second batch of chemical weapons.”

  He caught her shoulders, bringing her eyes to his face. “We’re stretched pretty thin here, Jess. Which would you rather do? Take down the man who killed your father? Or locate the second batch of weapons?”

  “Both,” she said without hesitation.

  Bran shook his head. “We’re not Homeland or FBI. I say we let the agency handle the domestic terrorists, which with any luck will lead them to the rest of the missing weapons. In the meantime, we go back to Fort Carson. Agent Tripp is a guy I think we can trust. The CID has no skin in the game, no involvement in the theft. They’re just looking for answers, same as we are.”

  “You could be right. By now, Ahmed and Mara are probably in the hands of the counterterrorist unit, but Tripp has to be looking into Tank’s murder. He was under interrogation when he was killed. If we talk to Tripp, explain about Weaver and Holloway and their connection to my father’s death, maybe he’ll believe the general was also involved in the weapons theft.”

  “We still don’t have proof your father was murdered,” Bran said.

  Her chin lifted. “Then we’ll get it. I’ve wanted my father’s body exhumed from the start. After everything that’s happened, we should be able to get permission.”

  Mulling over the possibilities, Bran started nodding. “So we go back to Fort Carson. We prove your dad was murdered and lay out our case against Holloway. No chance Holloway stole those weapons completely on his own. We bring him down, good chance he’ll give up whoever helped him pull the whole thing off. With enough information, the army should be able to track down the rest of the weapons.”

  “While we’re there, we should talk to Charles Frazier again. If we give him the information Tabby came up with on the internet auctions on the dark web and the sale of the missing weapons, maybe he can go back into the Alamo computer systems and find something new that will help us.”

  “Good idea.” Bran hauled her into his arms and kissed her. “We’re going to make this work,” he said with conviction. And as he held her, the realization hit him that he was thinking of more than just solving the case.

  Jessie was the woman he’d been looking for since the day he’d left the army and begun a new life. He might not have realized it, but he did now. He could change for her. All he had to do was convince her.

  When she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back, he thought that maybe he actually had a chance.

  * * *

  Jessie managed to withstand the effects of that searing kiss, but it wasn’t easy. Forcing herself to end the contact, she stepped away.

  “If we’re going back to Colorado, I need to pack my things.” Bran caught her as she tried to brush past him, tipped her face up, and softly kissed her.

  “I’ll make the flight reservations.”

  She just nodded, her pulse once more thrumming. It was insane. After what he had done in Mara Ramos’s garage, everything about their relationship had changed. It didn’t matter that Brandon was no longer a soldier. He was a warrior and always would be.

  She had never even dated a military man, never imagined she could fall in love with one. She had left that life behind when she had left Fort Carson, left her dad, and headed off to college.

  She understood a soldier’s world, had seen the pain their families suffered, knew that pain firsthand. Husbands and sons who died in combat, brothers who had made the ultimate sacrifice, men and women who would never come home.

  Bran might be a civilian, but in the job he had chosen, he faced that same sort of peril every day. Using the harshest means possible to get answers from a suspect didn’t bother him. She knew he had killed men in the past, and under the right circumstances would do it again without remorse.

  She understood that men like him were necessary to society, but she didn’t think she could handle a long-term relationship with a man like that.

  On the other hand, Bran had never said anything about his feelings or that he was interested in any sort of permanent relationship. Which meant, one way or another, she was destined for heartbreak.

  She forced her mind back to the problems at hand, finished packing and returned to the living room. Just watching the confident, quiet strength of Bran’s movements as he crossed the room made her want him.

  She needed to be more careful, find a way to separate her body’s physical need for him from the need that was building in her heart.

  She wondered if there was the slightest chance she would succeed.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Bran chartered a plane for their trip back to Colorado. Which allowed him to bring his weapons and gear without the hassle of security at a big international airport. Since Jessie wanted to check on her apartment, they were flying into Denver and driving south, but he couldn’t get a flight scheduled until the next day.

  It was early afternoon when the pilot landed at the Signature Executive Terminal at the Denver Airport, where Bran had a rental car waiting. He drove straight to Jessie’s downtown apartment, figuring she had been gone so long and so much had happened the odds of anyone surveilling the building were slim.

 
“Nice place,” he said as he prowled the living room while Jessie went in to pack fresh clothes. The weather was changing, getting colder every day. Today the temperature hovered in the low fifties, low thirties predicted for tonight. Snow had already fallen a couple of times, though it had mostly melted.

  He glanced around the apartment, his size making it feel even smaller than it actually was. She had done a good job, used bright colors to liven up the inexpensive beige sofa and chair that looked more comfortable than the outrageously expensive furniture in his exclusive high-rise condo. The pastel-colored pillows on the sofa matched watercolor paintings of flowers on the walls and gave the place a homey feel.

  Tugging her carry-on behind her, she walked out of the bedroom in a yellow turtleneck sweater, dark blue jeans, and her ankle boots. She had plaited her hair into the intricate braid that always made him want to pull it apart and run his fingers through it, spread the silky mass around her shoulders.

  His groin tightened as he thought about stripping her naked and making love to her in the white wrought iron bed in her bedroom—as if taking her there would somehow be staking his claim. It was definitely not the time for thoughts like that, but his body didn’t seem to agree.

  He was in deep trouble with this woman. Deeper than he ever imagined. Funny thing was, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care.

  She surveyed the wilted philodendron on a white wrought iron stand against the wall. “My plants all died.” She sighed. “I never had much of a green thumb, anyway, but with Hallie coming by to water them, I thought they might stand a chance.”

  “When this is over, I’ll buy you some new ones.” Unless he could convince her to move to Dallas, into his condo. Then he could buy them for her there.

  The thought only half surprised him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize he wanted Jessie in his bed. It had taken a while longer to figure out he wanted her for more than just sex. He wanted her in his life, wanted the chance to make it work for both of them.

  He looked at her and his resolve strengthened. He was Delta. When a man had a goal, he went after it. He just had to figure out how to achieve his mission objective.

  “Let me make sure I’ve got everything I need, and I’ll be ready to go,” Jessie said.

  While she finished up, he checked in with his friend Ty Folsom, who also lived in Denver.

  “Thought I’d let you know we’re still breathing,” Bran said.

  “Glad you called. We were worried.”

  “We?” he asked.

  “Me and Hallie. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Bran could hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “She’s due here any minute.”

  “So I guess things are working out.”

  “Hallie’s great, and Chris and Sarah love her. The kids’ grandmother is springing for a trip to Disneyland next week for Chris’s birthday. Hallie’s coming with us.”

  “That’s great, Ty.”

  “How about you and Jessie?”

  “Working on it,” he said.

  “Listen, you guys stay safe. Let me know if you need me.”

  “Will do.” Bran ended the call as Jessie walked back into the living room. At the pale color of her face, his worry kicked in and he rose from the sofa. “What is it?”

  “I—I found this in the kitchen.” Her hand shook as held up a card with a red valentine heart on the front. “It’s...it’s from him, Bran. Ray Cummings.”

  The muscles across his stomach sharply contracted. Careful not to touch more than the corner, he plucked the card from her trembling fingers and flipped it open, read the handwritten words.

  Hello, sweetheart,

  Dropped by but you weren’t home. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. We still have unfinished business. See you soon!

  Love, Jordy

  “Jordy...” she said, her throat working as she swallowed. “That’s what he called himself. I never knew his real name was Ray until they caught him.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She dropped down on the sofa as if her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer. “I’m scared, Bran.”

  Fury burned through him. Jessie had been shot at, fought men twice her size trying to protect him, survived a plane crash, and hiked through a freezing desert.

  But this man scared her.

  He wanted to tear the bastard apart with his bare hands.

  His jaw clenched as he sat down on the sofa beside her, reached over and took her hand. “I won’t let him near you, baby. I swear it.” He tipped her chin up, bringing her wet eyes to his face. “He comes after you, he’s a dead man. You believe me?”

  Her lips trembled.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes...” He pulled her into his arms and held her. He had never felt so completely helpless, or enraged.

  When her trembling eased, he set her away, got up and prowled the apartment, careful not to touch anything.

  “The lock on the door wasn’t broken,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. “Any idea how he got in?”

  She turned toward the bedroom. “There’s a fire escape outside the window next to my bed. I like fresh air so I might have left the window unlocked. I never really worried about it. Maybe he got in that way.”

  The apartment building was older, with molded ceilings and hardwood floors, an electric heater in a faux fireplace in the living room. It gave the place a certain charm, he supposed, and probably the reason Jessie had chosen it. But it was also less secure. He walked into the bedroom and looked at the window, saw that it could easily be opened if the lock wasn’t turned, which it wasn’t.

  He didn’t know any of the local police, but he knew sheriff’s detective Mace Galen, still had Galen’s number in his phone contacts.

  He pulled out his cell. “It’s Bran Garrett, Detective. I need a favor, information on a guy named Ray Cummings.”

  “I hear Wayne Coffman is dead,” Galen drawled, ignoring his request. “Murdered in his army prison cell. What the hell happened?”

  “How’d you hear?”

  “A CID agent named Tripp phoned the information in since the sheriff’s department made the original arrest.”

  “Coffman’s dead, all right. Unfortunately, he was killed before he gave up the intel we needed.”

  “They catch the guy who killed him?”

  “Not that I’ve heard.”

  “Coffman winds up dead and your intel dies with him. Sounds pretty convenient for someone.”

  “Yeah, it was. Cummings is another matter. Arrested in Denver for serial rape about three years ago. You remember Jessie Kegan?”

  “Oh, I remember her. How could I forget a woman who was as big a pain in my ass as you were.”

  Bran’s mouth edged up. “Ms. Kegan testified in Ray Cummings’s trial. She helped put him away. He was sentenced to ten years, but he’s out and making threats against her. I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

  “Cummings is in Denver?”

  “Broke into her apartment while she was out of town.”

  “I’ll call you right back.”

  Unable to sit still any longer, Bran got up and started pacing, moving from one side of the living room to the other. Which didn’t take long, considering how small it was.

  His phone rang. He recognized Galen’s number and answered. “What?”

  “Cummings’s lawyer managed to get him off on a technicality,” Galen said. “With the prisons so full, they were glad to have an excuse to let him out early. They’re handing out shorter sentences. Hell, they aren’t even collecting bail in some places. Just writing the goddamned criminals up at the station, then letting them go.”

  “Yeah, well they let the wrong guy go this time. Cummings broke into Ms. Kegan’s apartment and left her a threatening message.”

  “Be careful with the note. Maybe we can get his prints
.”

  “Maybe. Unfortunately, she lives in the city not the county so it’s not your jurisdiction.”

  “I’ll call it in. I’ve got friends in the Denver PD. I’ll find someone I know to take the case.”

  “Thanks, Galen.”

  “Do us all a favor and try not to contaminate the crime scene.” Galen hung up the phone.

  Twenty minutes later a knock came at the door. A tall, thin detective with ebony skin and very dark eyes took their statements. His name was D’Marco Porter, and he projected the kind of confidence Bran respected. Porter took a look at the Valentine’s card and the window and called in the CSIs to check for prints.

  “We’ll bring Cummings in for questioning,” the detective promised. “See what he has to say.”

  “Thank you,” Jessie said.

  “If his prints turn up on the card or in your apartment, he’ll be arrested. In the meantime, I have contact information on both of you. I’ll keep you updated on our progress.”

  It wasn’t enough to suit Bran, who wanted the bastard’s head separated from his shoulders. But for the time being it would have to do.

  Leaving the police with a key to Jessie’s apartment, Bran drove the rental car south on I-25 to Cutter Aviation, the executive airport in Colorado Springs where he had left Jessie’s Honda for their ill-fated plane ride to San Diego.

  He used his bug detector to make sure no new GPS trackers had been planted on the car, and they headed for town. Jessie remained quiet all the way. She hadn’t said two words since they had left Denver.

  “You gonna be okay?” Bran asked as they walked into their latest quarters. Hoping it would cheer her, he had booked a suite on the third floor of the Broadmoor, one of the finest hotels in Colorado. It wasn’t cheap, but it had the added benefits of top-rate security and gourmet food.

  “I’m all right,” Jessie said. “At the moment, at least, Cummings doesn’t know where I am. Maybe the police will find his prints and it’ll be enough to get him thrown back in prison.”