Actual Stop (28 page)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hoped my deliberately bland tone was convincing.

“Oh, I’m fairly certain you do.” He was enjoying this way too much.

“What makes you think Allison had anything to do with it?” I demanded, wanting to protect her.

Matt merely gave me a knowing look and pointed at himself with his thumb. “Trained criminal investigator.” And with that, he turned and strode away, chuckling.

I scowled and slunk back into the gym.

I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in my office as I finished inputting the last of the PT scores. It was still relatively early, and I still hadn’t heard from Allison, but I was trying hard not to think about that. I was also trying not to check my email every two seconds. Between the lack of sleep and all my worrying, I was drained. It was going to be an extremely long day—hell, a long two weeks—if I was already this spent. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me to call in sick for the next month or so.

I leaned back in my chair and stretched, which caught Meaghan’s attention. She looked up from whatever she’d been doing to fix me with a contemplative expression. “Tired?” Meaghan wanted to know.

“I’ll live.”

“You sure about that? You look terrible. Did something happen?”

I shook my head. “No. I just had to take the PT test this morning. We ran the bridge.”

Meaghan blinked. “Didn’t you already take your test for last quarter?”

I sighed. Matt had, of course, been one hundred percent correct in his assessment of Eric Banks. Within five minutes of our formal introduction, he’d extolled the virtues of my ass to one of the other guys in a loud whisper; made crude comments in reference to wanting to watch me and one of his female classmates count push-ups for one another in a somewhat louder voice, which I’m positive he meant at least her to hear; and implied that he was in better physical shape than all of us and disappointed no one would present him much of a challenge. Needless to say, I’d thoroughly enjoyed disabusing him of that last notion.

“I did. But I wanted to take it again, and now I’m beat.”

“You sure that’s it?”

“What else would it be?”

“Don’t know.” A pause. “Did you go to the wheels-up party last night?” She averted her eyes as she asked that, and I tensed.

“Yeah.”

“Good time?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. What was she getting at? “Always.”

She cleared her throat, still staring at the papers on her desk in a show of acting casual that was so forced I was positive anyone would be able to see through it. “Was Allison there?” Her voice was strained.

I inhaled sharply and prayed she hadn’t heard. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

I didn’t know what difference that made or how to answer. I also didn’t care to share the mental images that immediately popped into my head, although they did make me blush. I adjusted the collar of my dress shirt to make sure the hickey—which was indeed present and extremely noticeable—was covered. Meaghan had most likely already seen it, but that didn’t stop me from trying to hide it anyway.

“She was, yes.”

“Must’ve been nice to see her again.” I hadn’t thought it possible, but Meaghan’s voice sounded even tighter.

“It was fine.” I didn’t know what Meaghan was angling for, but she wasn’t getting anything else out of me. Partly because I respected Allison’s privacy, but mostly because I wasn’t in the mood for all Meaghan’s questions or to try to get to the bottom of her sudden attitude problem. Whatever was bothering her was going to have to wait.

But now that she’d brought it up, and I was thinking about Allison again—though admittedly I’d never really stopped—I reached for my personal phone to see whether she’d contacted me. I really hated the dive my spirits took when I confirmed she hadn’t, and I hated myself more for even caring. Of course she hadn’t reached out to me. She probably—Shit! Lucia still had my personal phone. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t heard from Allison today. A glimmer of hope blossomed.

I glanced at the clock again before mentally reviewing Allison’s schedule. She should be almost to the airport by now. Surely she’d at least text me to let me know she’d made it there safely and on time. Hmm. Should I email her on her work phone to let her know I didn’t have my personal cell? Or would that seem needy and desperate?

“You ready to go?” Meaghan’s inquiry startled me out of my reverie.

I yawned and started shutting down my computer. “Yeah. All set. Thanks for waiting.”

She was giving me the strangest look. Maybe she didn’t even know about Lucia. Had I told her about the breakup? I couldn’t remember. When was the last time I’d seen her anyway? Was it before Lucia had broken up with me or after?

“No problem,” Meaghan said, her thoughts obviously in a completely different place than mine. “I had some paperwork I needed to finish anyway. Do you have a list of all the addresses we need to hit?”

“Yup. There are four I’d like to get to today. I have two on tap for tomorrow. And I thought we’d squeeze another visit to Akbari in somewhere, if we have the time.”

Meaghan’s gawk suggested disbelief and exasperation. “That’s a lot of interviews, Ryan. And then you still have to actually type the report.”

“I know. I’m really sorry to drag you out on all this. I can ask someone else if it’s too much or if you have something else to do.”

She waved a hand in my direction. “It isn’t me I’m worried about. When does Iran come in?”

“Thursday.”

“What time?”

“Wheels down is currently scheduled for eleven-hundred.”

“How’s the advance going?”

“As well as can be expected.” I shrugged. No intel was good intel as far as I was concerned, and that’s what all my sources on the subject had indicated thus far. I’d keep checking periodically up to and all through the visit to confirm that didn’t change.

Meaghan shook her head, looking disgusted. “Ryan, let me write the closing report for the Dougherty case for you.”

I scoffed. “No way! I’m not letting you steal cases from me. You get your own.”

Meaghan fixed me with a murderous glare. “Stop being a smart-ass. You’re going to kill yourself trying to finish all this work before the visit. You’re still exhausted from last week. Let me help.”

I was touched and prayed she’d understand. “I appreciate that, Meg. I really do. But I need to do this on my own.”

“You feel like you have something to prove to him, don’t you?”

“If I don’t do this, Mark’ll think he’s been right about me, that I can’t handle it.”

“And if you do somehow manage to pull it off, he’ll keep burying you in work just because he wants to see where your breaking point is.”

“Ah. So that’s what they mean when they say caught between a rock and a hard place.”

Meaghan shook her head but had only sympathy in her eyes. “Please, just promise me you’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

“I promise. And thanks for the offer.”

“What are friends for?”

“Ryan?” a new voice interjected itself into our conversation.

I glanced away from Meaghan’s smiling face to see Mark hovering in our doorway. His expression was odd, and I couldn’t help wondering how much he’d overheard. While I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was different about him, something was. It wasn’t just the manner and tone he used to address me, though that was strange enough. He normally strutted around like he was big man on campus, but now he appeared tense, almost tentative and jumpy. This change made me distinctly uneasy.

“Yes, Mark?”

“I need to talk to you.” He hesitated and cut his eyes toward Meaghan. “Do you have a minute?”

“I’ll go get the car,” Meaghan told me, either unwilling or unable to disguise her worry that’d blossomed when Mark appeared. “I’ll meet you out front in five.”

I nodded to her but refocused my attention on Mark and waved to the seat in front of my desk. He glanced at it and looked almost lost for a second, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with the chair, before settling stiffly in it. He rested his right ankle atop his left knee, and his fingers drummed restless patterns on the tops of his thighs. Wait, was he wearing a skull-and-crossbones tie tack? Was his pirate obsession that out of control? I tried to get a closer look without being obvious about it.

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point,” he said, dragging me away from thoughts on his choice of accessories. “We need to discuss that counterfeit call you went out on the other night.”

Why was he still dwelling on that? “What about it?”

“I know you used to be some sort of counterfeit superagent back in the day, but you’re in PI now. You can’t just go out on any kind of cases you want. Regardless of who’s asking. You need to drop it.”

His tone was almost gentle, which made me wary. Usually he preferred the strong-arm technique, at least when it came to dealing with me. Why the sudden switch in tactics? But I didn’t reply.

“You have dropped it, haven’t you?” Mark asked, and I thought I detected a faint tremor in his voice. That ratcheted my confusion up another notch.

How should I respond? Now that I had what appeared to be a possible nexus to terrorism in the Akbari case, I was within my rights to investigate it as I saw fit. Mark had absolutely no control over what work I did for the Task Force. And it’d feel rather nice to point that out to him. But why was he even presenting me with that opportunity? It had to be some sort of trap.

Perhaps it was time to try a different approach. For once, he appeared to be attempting to engage me in an adult conversation, sans insults, blustering, and bravado. I didn’t understand his sudden change of heart, but maybe I should take full advantage of it. Who knew? Perhaps this would be a turning point for us.

I needed to word my answer just right, give him enough detail to satisfy his curiosity, so he’d feel like he was in the loop, but not divulge too much. Mark may’ve been my boss, but he was a Secret Service boss, which meant he didn’t need to be and shouldn’t be privy to the specifics of my terrorism-related cases.

“I’m still looking into it,” I told him honestly. “Some new information has come to my attention that, if verified, places the investigation directly in my purview.”

“What information?”

“The subject may have ties to known terrorism targets. Like I said, I’m still looking into it.”

“And if you confirm he does, he becomes the subject of a JTTF investigation.” Mark’s eyes held a far-away cast, and he appeared to be thinking rather than having a discussion with me.

I answered him anyway. “That’s generally the way it works.”

Mark’s focus snapped back to me at my admittedly unnecessary quip, and he stared at me for a very long time, saying nothing and moving even less. Only his eyes indicated he’d even heard me, and the emotions swirling around there moved too quickly for me to grasp. But he wasn’t exactly happy with what I’d just said.

I held my breath as I waited for the explosion headed my way. The tension in the room was palpable, and if this were a television show, I was certain some Old-West-type music would have underscored the standoff. I was tempted to whistle along with the soundtrack playing in my head, but that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I doubted Mark would see the humor. He never did.

After a while, Mark exhaled noisily. The muscles in his jaw and cheeks tensed as though he were pursing his lips in thought. He slowly pushed himself to a standing position, his dark eyes never once leaving mine. “I see,” he finally said, after simply staring down at me.

He turned to go—had actually made it most of the way out of my office—but he stopped abruptly in my doorway as though something had occurred to him. He slowly pivoted back around to face me, his facial expression odd and unreadable. A sort of cold dread seeped over me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Have you told anyone about this?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your superiors over at the JTTF. Have you told them anything about this case?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

A pause. “I think it would be a good idea for you to brief me, the SAIC, and the AT of the Counterfeit Squad about as much of this as you can before you start talking to the FBI bosses about it. That’s all.”

Hmm. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. The bosses hated it when someone blindsided them with stuff they felt they should’ve known. It probably wouldn’t hurt to fill in all the pertinent parties—as much as I was able, considering the nature of the investigation—before I opened an active case.

“Of course. You’re right. And I definitely will. As soon as I get some more concrete info, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, he exited the doorway, leaving me to gawk after him.

The next few days passed in a hectic blur of driving, talking, and typing, and by the time Thursday rolled around, I was teetering on the edge of exhaustion and ready to drop.

Of course, it didn’t help that I still hadn’t heard from Allison, and I was cursing that it distracted me so much. Thoughts of her had trickled into the cracks in my day and took up far more time than I’d wanted them to. Sleeping with her had been a terrible idea. I tried to tell myself that her silence was a good thing, that it sent a message on par with the lights on the Las Vegas strip that we wanted different things and would save me a lot of grief and heartache in the end, but the mental pep talk didn’t help.

I was also cursing my own stubbornness and wondering what’d possessed me to turn down Meaghan’s offer of assistance. If I’d taken her up on it, I might’ve gotten more than seven hours of sleep in the past two days. Oh, well. At least I didn’t have to drive. That would’ve been disastrous for everyone. No one likes it when you’re asleep behind the wheel in a motorcade.

I glanced at the lucky bastard who’d drawn the short straw and had to chauffeur me around for the next eleven-to-infinity days. Michael Prince was the picture of spry and together, damn him, and when he noticed me looking at him, he smiled.

“You okay?”

I sighed. “Yeah.” I took a sip of my third cup of coffee and winced at the temperature.