Smokescreen (31 page)

“Who are they?” Needle asked Wexler.

“They work for me at Los Casas.” He subtly signaled with a negative nod that Needle had nothing to worry about from Ben and Darcy.

Ignoring them—which suited Darcy just fine—he turned back to his pool game, and took aim on the orange five.

Ben returned to the table and sat down. They worked to appear lost in conversation, seemingly uninterested in Wexler and Needle, but Darcy hung on their every word. After they finished the game, they walked back
to Wexler’s favorite booth in the far corner. He pulled out his brown book and passed it to Needle.

Darcy’s skin crawled.

Needle reviewed it for a short minute, and then passed back the book and began spewing numbers, which Wexler hurriedly wrote down.

Darcy looked at Ben and saw his worry. She smiled to reassure him. “Drink your soda. This isn’t a challenge.”

With a little grunt she nearly missed, he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Grounding her, she realized. Just in case.

Vintage Ben, she thought. He didn’t make a big deal out of anything. Just stepped up and did what he considered needed doing. She loved that about him.

Actually, she loved many things about him.

Needle’s litany lasted longer than Santana’s. At least twelve pages worth, Darcy estimated. Within minutes of finishing, Wexler closed the book, and Needle left the Oasis.

Darcy considered following him but instead excused herself. In the restroom, she called Home Base for backup. The FBI could intercept Needle at Devil’s Pass as he went into town.

When she returned to the table, Wexler was gone and Ben looked furious.

“I retrieved the listening device.” He passed it to her.

Almost afraid, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The pompous ass just ordered me to back off from you. He’s got dibs.”

And Ben didn’t like it any more than Darcy. “What did you tell him?”

He slid out of the booth. “It’s not fit for a lady’s
ears.” Circling her shoulder, he tucked her under his arm and led her to the door. Locking it, he closed the bar, leaving Mick sound asleep, sitting at the bar.

“You take my Jeep,” Ben said. “I’ll drive yours.”

“Why?” She walked over to his, swept it to make sure it was free of bugs or tracking equipment, and then let him seat her inside.

“Wexler saw us holding hands earlier. He was pretty hostile about you and me being together, and his getting shut out.” Ben tapped the heel of his hand against the car door. “I half expect an ambush on the road to Devil’s Pass. He wants to get your attention.”

“Then you should go first in my Jeep.”

Ben nodded. “If he tries to force you off the road, just go around him. I’ll take care of him, and be right behind you.”

Protective.
She didn’t need it, but that he wanted to protect her was endearing. She liked that about him, too. Yet the last thing she needed was a war between him and Wexler. “I’ll see you at the house.”

About halfway, her headlights shone on Wexler’s red Jeep, stopped on the road. If he tried anything, Ben would beat the man to a pulp and that could create serious mission challenges.
Intercession required.

She hooked the wheel, pulled right up beside Wexler, and stopped. Her headlights shining in onto his front seat, she stuck her head out her window. “Lucas, is everything okay?”

He got out of his car. “What are you doing driving Ben’s Jeep?”

“Mine was running hot. He’s driving it, and I’m sticking close in case it breaks down again. You having engine trouble?”

“No.” He frowned down the road at Ben’s lights, going haywire from him bouncing through the potholes. “Just stopped to, um, have a smoke before going home. Elizabeth hates it,” he confided. “Everything is great. Just great.”

He wasn’t smoking, but the excuse worked for her. “Okay, then. See you at work tomorrow afternoon.”

“No!” he shouted.

“No?” She slid him a puzzled look.

“You’re off tomorrow.”

“I am?” Damn it. She didn’t like the feel of this.

“Yeah. Get settled and everything.”

“Okay. Later, then.” He waved and she drove off, then watched in the rearview mirror. He stood at the edge of the dirt road and glared as Ben drove past.

One war avoided.

But instinct warned her there would be another. She retrieved her cell phone and called in Needle’s codes to Home Base. Kate took the call, and after the data had been recorded, she told Darcy, “Langley has made some progress on breaking the code, but they’re having a hell of a time with part of it.”

“Maybe Needle’s latest will help them. So far, I’m coming up dry, but I haven’t really had time to give it full focus.”

“We can but hope. Everyone around here is getting really edgy. We feel GRID closing in. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Darcy?” Kate paused, her tone turned pensive. “I hate to ask but I need to know. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Kate.” Darcy resisted irritation. Her friend was worried. Her colleague was terrified. “Really. It’s
weird, Kate,” she confided in her. “Being here and working with Ben. It’s like having a buffer between everything and me. I still take it all in, but it’s different.”

“Different, how?”

“I don’t know.” She really didn’t have a clue. “It’s all there. Every bit of it. But it doesn’t sink in as deep or something. I can’t explain it. But I really am okay.”

“Stronger emotions filling the space?”

What the hell. She knew it, and lying to Kate wouldn’t make it less true. “It could be. Ben’s pretty special. A lot like me.”

“Okay, then.”

Odd response. Shoot. “Is the colonel standing over your shoulder?”

“That would be an affirmative, Darcy.”

“I’m off then.”

“Good. Get some rest. We’ve got backup standing by on Wexler.”

“Who?”

“Overt. As soon as our friends,” Kate said, speaking of the FBI, “heard GRID mentioned, they swarmed us with offers to assist. We accepted.”

The FBI had lost several agents to GRID, too. “Awesome.”

“The colonel says to get some sleep. We’ve got you covered.”

“In that case, I’m on my way.”

D
arcy couldn’t sleep.

Seeing Needle at the Oasis had rattled her, and while she wasn’t hyperstimulating to the point of an attack, she was alert. Far too alert to sleep.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the cottage’s distressed kitchen table with a pen and pad and wrote down a segment of Needle’s code. Why that specific segment stood out in her mind, she had no idea, but her instincts had been honed as an operative. She respected them. And so she’d follow them now. Assigning each numeral a letter, she went for the obvious vowels first.

At 6:00 a.m., she showered, cleaned up in a fresh uniform, and drove over to Traveler’s Inn for breakfast and to check out, now that she had Ben’s guesthouse. Starved, she turned her nose up at her usual banana and bran muffin and gorged on bacon and eggs, toast with homemade strawberry jam, blueberries and nearly half a container of yogurt. While eating, she read two newspapers, less the sports sections, and drank three cups of coffee. In her mind, she continued to work on the segment of code.

A rhythmic sequence hit her with a jolt. She played
and replayed it, assigning the known and adding the possible, then she mentally switched to another page, one of Wexler’s first, and assigned it the same values.

It fit.

Excitement burned low in her belly. She returned to Needle’s segment, deciphering it, and an important piece of the GRID mission puzzle fell into place. A piece that explained Wexler’s sudden interest in working the night shift—and it had nothing to do with Elizabeth or the Independence Festival opera.

She rushed to her Jeep and then phoned Home Base, keeping watch on the Inn’s dining room through the huge plate-glass window. As soon as Maggie answered, words spilled from Darcy’s mouth. “Quick. Get the colonel on the line.”

“You got it, Darcy.”

Seconds later, Colonel Drake said, “What’s up?”

“I got part of the code.” She gave the colonel the rhythmic sequence, values assigned and data decoded. She’d pass it on to the S.A.S.S. operatives working it and to Langley. “Needle.” Darcy named the source. “Same means as last time. One of three shipments is coming in tonight.”

“Where are the other two?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy admitted. “They could already be here, or still be south of the border.”

“Okay. Okay,” the colonel said. “We’ll chase that from here. Good work, Darcy.”

“There’s plenty more to be decoded. Maybe it will help us find out what we need to know.”

“I pray it will.” The colonel issued an order to Maggie to relay the information to Langley, and then again spoke to Darcy. “Monitor the shipment, but don’t inter
rupt it. After we determine the location of the other two, then we’ll have the FBI intercept and arrest all parties. Did you get the photos of the agents?”

“Yes, I did. Maggie sent them last night.”

They were following standard operating procedure. The S.A.S.S. unit didn’t exist, therefore it worked totally covert operations. Anything overt went to overt agencies at the time of the arrest and then they mopped up from there.

“I realize it’s risky to let this play out so far, but Secretary Reynolds issued our orders,” Colonel Drake said. “He wants us to confiscate all the radioactive material designated for use in the attack and facilitate the arrests of all the terrorist thugs GRID designated to use it. Hopefully, this time we’ll get Thomas Kunz himself.”

Darcy wouldn’t bank on it. “He’ll hide and let his minions take the risks. He always does.”

“I know.” Colonel Drake grunted. “But a woman can dream.”

Darcy returned to the dining room and waited. Finally, the two men from Broken Branch Redemption came out of the bank of elevators and walked toward the little restaurant.

Darcy tucked her wallet back into her purse and asked the waiter for a newspaper.

A busload of teens streamed into the restaurant, laughing, squealing, talking across the tables. The Broken Branch men didn’t seem to mind the noise, and Darcy tried to ignore it, but she just couldn’t take it. Her chest went tight, her temples throbbed and the telltale warning spots formed before her eyes.

Get out of here, Darcy. Now.

She reached for her purse and looked up—just as her
FBI counterparts walked into the restaurant. But it was the man walking two steps behind them who had her in a full-blown attack.

Thomas Kunz.

The head honcho of GRID looked like anything but the chief of a major terrorist network. He was around forty with short blond hair—and, she recalled from memory, blue eyes. Amanda and Kate had reported that he looked like a sunny kind of guy—confident, controlled, casual but elegant—and Darcy had to agree. Even knowing what she knew about him as fact, it was difficult to reconcile the ruthless killer he was with the man walking across the restaurant.

He was familiar with the S.A.S.S. Would he recognize her?

Go! Go! Go!

She dropped a bill on the table, walked to the closest door and went outside. Twisting her purse clasp, she snagged her phone, palmed it and pulled it free. The spots in her eyes blinded her.
Damn it, damn it.
She dialed the phone by feel, and slid into her Jeep.

Maggie answered, and Darcy gushed out the news. “He’s here—in the restaurant at Traveler’s Inn. Right now.”

“Who, he, Darcy?” Maggie sounded worried. She’d definitely picked up on Darcy’s anxiety.

This time, the worry and anxiety were more than justified. “Kunz.”

Someone tapped on her window. Startled, Darcy’s muscles locked down. She couldn’t move.

“Darcy?” A man moved around her, into her line of vision. A spot-speckled Mick. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He shifted a paper bag from his left arm to his right. “You look scared to death.”

Her heart still banging against her ribs, she didn’t trust herself to speak and not spout gibberish, so she pulled her lips back from her teeth in what she hoped would pass as a smile, rolled down her window and gave him a negative nod.

“Here for breakfast?”

She nodded that she was, pointedly looked at her watch then grimaced, waved and cranked her engine.

Mick walked inside, and she launched into the relaxation techniques Dr. Vargus had taught her, then ran through the tests to make sure her senses, mind and speech were all functioning on the same speed. When they were, and the spots hampering her vision had subsided, she phoned Ben.

“Hello.” He sounded fuzzy.

“You’re still sleeping?” She thumbed the blinker, stroked the steering wheel.

“We were up late, Darcy,” he reminded her. “You okay?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s wrong?” Fully alert now, he went on. “Where are you?”

“Traveler’s Inn.” So far, so good. She swallowed hard. “Ben, can you get over here now?”

“Sure. I just need to call Bobby Meyers and see if he can come in a little early at work. What’s up?”

“Thomas Kunz is here. He’s meeting now with the two guys Santana was with last night. The FBI agents are here, too, but I can’t listen in—Kunz could recognize me.”

“Is it really Kunz, or is it one of his body doubles?”

“Good question.” Unfortunately, it was also one she couldn’t answer. “But it doesn’t matter. They do his dirty work. I need for you to be my ears.”

“On my way.” He grunted, obviously rolling out of bed. “Did he see you?”

“No. He was too focused on Santana’s men. If he’s pegged the FBI agents, he could scrap the mission.”

“If he seems suspicious, replace them. That’s all you can do.”

“As soon as I’m off the phone with you, I’ll call and get their take. If they’ve been outted, they know it.”

“No, use the cell Wexler gave you. I want you to stay on the line with me until I get there. General Shaw briefed me on Kunz. He’s beyond dangerous.”

He was. At the present time, he was hands-down the United States’ most dangerous adversary. “I’ve worked dangerous missions most of my career.”

“Not up close and personal. Not since the fire.” He sighed. “I know you’re tired of hearing that, and I mean no offense, but things are different now and backup is a good idea.”

He was right. Being asked constantly if she was all right and being reminded of the fire irritated the spit out of her—worse, it undermined her confidence—but he was totally right to ask. His neck was on the line, too.

“For the record, you amaze me, Darcy. Not just your memory, but the scope of your skills. You’re better now than before the fire. Then, you were doing what came easy to you. Now, you have to do those things in spite of your mind and body putting on the brakes every time you turn around. It’s tougher work. But you do it anyway.” He talked in spurts, obviously brushing his teeth. “Hold on a sec.” Spitting noises, then gurgling followed.

The normalcy in his actions calmed her, and what he said made her feel great about herself—something
she’d not felt, she realized, in a long time. Since the fire, she’d become a shadow of her former self—at least in her own eyes—and not a force for doing what she did despite the hardships. Why hadn’t she given herself credit? Why hadn’t she even seen what she’d been doing? Instead of looking at what she could no longer do, she needed to look at all she was doing
anyway.

Once again, Ben brought things into perspective. He calmed her, helped her focus. He intrigued and excited and attracted her. Damn it, she just might be falling in love.

“You did sweep the phone Wexler gave you, right?”

“I’m not a rookie, Ben.” She’d discovered the bug before leaving the parking lot, but left it intact so Wexler wouldn’t know she was aware of it.

“I know. But it doesn’t pay to consider him a lightweight. Not when he’s keeping such heavyweight company.”

Static filtered through the line. “What’s that noise?” She tilted her purse and pulled out Wexler’s phone.

“Power lines. I’m on my way over. They always screw up the phones and radios through here. It’s a shortcut that shaves off half the time. I’ll be there in about two minutes.”

She snapped off the back of the phone. It was bugged. “Ben, are you talking on a Wexler-issue phone right now?”

“No.”

Relief washed through her. “Don’t.”

“Gotcha.” He paused, then added, “Wanna know what I was thinking when the phone woke me up?”

The shift in his tone from professional to personal was blatant. “Maybe.” She was teetering on the brink
of love. If it was bad, she didn’t want to hear it. “Am I going to like it?”

“Good question,” he tossed her words back at her. “It was damn pleasant from where I sat. Want to risk it?”

If he found it pleasant, it couldn’t be awful, could it? “Why not?”

“I was thinking I liked falling asleep on the sofa last night with you in my arms.” He dropped his voice, deep and rich and tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “I was thinking I’d like to do that again.”

Her heart felt full, expanded, and she smiled at the dashboard. “Me, too, Ben.” Them, together, felt so right.

“Ah, good.” He let out a sigh that crackled in her ear. “That’s good.”

“I need to ask you something personal,” she asked.

“Okay.”

“I know you had a god-awful experience with Diane—”

“Yes, I did.”

“So since then, has there been anyone else—seriously, I mean?”

“No.”

Now what? Did she push? Right or wrong she was going to; this was her heart, and she needed to know whether to try to protect it or open it to him. “So you’ve turned against love.”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Well, no.” Frustrated, he cursed. “The truth is, I had, but I’m not anymore.” Exasperated, he sighed. “It’s personal.”

“What’s personal?” She’d need a map to track his thoughts this morning. “Your feelings about love?”

“You and me, Darcy. This…thing…between us. It’s personal.”

He loved her. Or he thought he did. Or he did and didn’t want to love her. Something.

Movement beside her had her darting her gaze through the car window.

Ben pulled into the parking slot beside her, cut the engine and looked over. “It’s very personal.”

Even through the glass, the look in his eyes warmed her. Defining very personal could wait. For now, that look said more than enough. “We need to switch phones.” Hers transmitted to Home Base and had been equipped with a more powerful microphone.

He got out of his Jeep and came around to her car window.

She opened it. He reached through, grabbed her and kissed her hard. Darcy let him, then returned his kiss, replacing commands with tenderness, raw emotion with compassion, matching passion with passion.

He pulled back and stared at her, a little speechless and a lot off balance.

She resisted the urge to giggle—of all things. But Ben Kelly off balance, starstruck by her kiss was an empowering feeling, a magnificent feeling. “Sit near them, eat breakfast and just put my phone on the table.” She passed him her phone. “I should be able to pick up what I need.”

Without a word, he dipped his chin and turned to go inside. At the door, she heard his voice. “You amaze me, Darcy.”

Her heart skittered, her breath caught in her throat and she got that unspeakable “he’s everything I’ve ever wanted” feeling that makes women think and act crazy.

Okay, she admitted it. She was a little amazed, too.

Forcing her mind back to work, Darcy filtered out the
background noise and focused on the conversation between Kunz—or his drone—and the two men from Broken Branch.

Quickly, frustration built in her stomach. They were discussing weapon specs, hunting, fishing and the history of the festival, which was a typical celebration of harvesting crops. There wasn’t a rhythm or a cadence or any other signal detected that the men were passing coded messages. In her experienced opinion, this was exactly what it sounded like—a normal conversation.

Which meant they’d already done what they needed to do.

The planning was complete.

The players were all in place.

And the shipment would be moving in through Los Casas tonight.