Actual Stop (5 page)

“Counterfeit.” I answered him only because it seemed pointless to lie. I was screwed regardless. He was going to hammer me for this. No sense making it worse.

“You don’t work counterfeit anymore.”

“I know.”

“Did the Counterfeit Squad need extra bodies for something last night?” He frowned, and I was willing to bet he thought he’d been left out of the loop.

“No.”

He eyed me, his expression speculative. “Who were you doing counterfeit for?”

“A friend.”

“What friend?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

And it honestly didn’t. At least not as far as I could see. Nothing would be gained by giving him Sarah’s name. She’d most likely get into trouble for even asking me to talk to Akbari.

That she’d broken protocol with the unofficial request was problematic enough, but I wasn’t supposed to be working anything except threat cases. Counterfeit was off limits to me because I wasn’t in that squad anymore. Sarah hadn’t known that.

She also hadn’t known what a complete prick my boss could be, or she wouldn’t have bothered asking. But I’d known. And I’d chosen to help her anyway. I refused to drag her under the bus with me. Mark would call her boss just to spite me.

“It matters to me.”

“Well, I’m not telling you.”

“You’re not telling me,” he repeated flatly.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. I was looking into something for a friend. You don’t need any more explanation than that.”

Mark glared at me for a long time. “I can slaughter you for this, you know.”

“I know.”

“You still won’t tell me?”

“I don’t rat out my friends.”

“I ran,” he murmured.

I blinked at the abrupt change in subject matter. “I hate running.” Where was he going with that remark, and why had he suddenly decided to exchange workout tips?

Mark appeared confused. “What?”

“What?”

“Why did you say you hate running?”

“Why did you tell me you ran?”

Mark looked a touch smug. “No. The country. Iran.”

“Oh.” I paused and waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “What about it?”

“Iran comes in next Thursday. He’s scheduled to stay eleven days. The visit may get extended.”

“I heard.” I definitely didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed.

“I want you to do the intelligence advance.”

“Jay’s doing the intelligence advance for Iran.”

“I’m pulling him. His son’s sick.”

“His son has a cold,” I shot back. “I’m sure he’ll be better by Thursday.”

“Still, I want him to be able to spend some time with his family. You take the lead.”

“Fine.” It could’ve been worse. I could use the overtime anyway.

Mark’s eyes positively glinted. Clearly he hadn’t quite finished doling out my punishment. “I’m also reassigning the Dougherty case to you.”

What sort of game was he playing, and how was he planning to get away with playing it? A few months ago, I’d been assigned as the Secret Service rep to the Joint Terrorism Task Force. The JTTF was an FBI-run collection of law-enforcement officers from different agencies who worked together to combat the country’s ever-expanding war on terror. When I wasn’t on a protection assignment or doing my required timekeeping paperwork for my own agency, I reported to an FBI-controlled office in Manhattan and assisted with investigations into targets suspected of funding terrorism in one way or another.

I still wasn’t sure how I’d managed to score such a coveted assignment. Mark would never nominate me for the position. I had my suspicions, of course, but no concrete proof. And the how behind my good luck wasn’t important enough for me to make a proverbial federal case out of it. I loved the task force, and I got to spend less time under Mark’s thumb. No way was I going to argue with that.

Being assigned to the JTTF also relieved me of the burden of conducting regular threat investigations. Since our threat cases were extremely time sensitive, and my duties at the JTTF would keep me from getting them done, all my ongoing cases had been reassigned when I’d transferred. I had only one annual update to status for a subject confined in a local mental institution.

“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word. I wasn’t yet positive whether I should point out that I wasn’t supposed to be carrying a regular case load, so I refrained.

“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“I suppose not.” I mentally reviewed my JTTF caseload. I could probably manage to squeeze in the Dougherty case without too much hassle. But why had Mark suddenly departed from his beloved protocol? As I turned to go, he revealed his reason.

“The report—which should be a final, closing report, by the way—is due in five days.” Mark sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, looking relaxed and smug.

“What?”

“Five days. Timing fits perfectly with the visit, doesn’t it?”

That did it. My stoic veneer, which’d been shaky at best, finally shattered. “How the hell am I supposed to start the lead for Iran and conduct interviews for a thirty-page report due in five days?”

“Hmmm, it’ll be tough, but I’m sure you can handle it. You’re a superstar, right? Isn’t that why you’re in this squad?”

A knock on the door saved me from torpedoing my career.

“Come in,” Mark said.

Still seated, I cast a glance over my shoulder so I’d know who to thank later, and my gratitude quickly vaporized as the ground seemed to disintegrate beneath me the instant my eyes fell on the new arrival.

Allison Reynolds stood in the doorway, her near-black eyes sparkling with amusement. My heart promptly stopped, skipped a beat or two, and resumed pumping double-time. An unwelcome heat rose to my face, which contrasted to the icy feeling that slithered down my spine, freezing all my internal organs on the way down. The bitter notion that this day kept getting better and better flitted through my jumbled thoughts.

“Agent O’Connor,” Mark said, his voice sounding far away and tinny. “You remember Agent Reynolds. Agent Reynolds, please come in. I was just about to tell Agent O’Connor the good news.”

Allison stepped into the office and moved to take the seat beside me. My body was humming unpleasantly, and my mind had gone completely blank. Allison’s sudden reappearance had been so out of left field I couldn’t have prepared myself for it if I’d wanted to. I also couldn’t adjust to it, apparently.

Mark’s phone rang, giving me something else to focus on besides the vision now seated next to me. “Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver and spoke into it. “Secret Service, Jennings.”

Allison turned to me then, and my muscles seized. “It’s great to see you, Ryan.”

Her low, throaty voice sent the chills back up my spine and sparked warmer feelings in other, more intimate places. The air molecules in the room were suddenly too large to fit comfortably inside my lungs and seemed to have a weight and texture to them. Damn, even smug, the woman looked incredible. Stop thinking about her like that, I scolded myself. My tongue felt like it had swelled three sizes, and a horrendous taste dribbled down the back of my throat.

“Allison,” I finally managed, ignoring how choked the word sounded. My body felt both feverish and clammy. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was completely devoid of moisture. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that dampness had gone, and I couldn’t seem to stop the tumult in my heart. I also couldn’t think of anything else to say. Not something I wouldn’t later regret, anyway.

Allison tossed her jet-black hair back off her forehead and out of her eyes in a familiar careless gesture that made me clench my teeth and catch my breath. Her olive skin was, of course, absolutely flawless, and as much as I hated to admit it, she was a vision of strength and beauty in her exquisitely tailored pin-striped suit. A bittersweet ache spooled inside me and continued growing larger and larger until I was sure my body would no longer be able to withstand the pressure. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d burst open, gushing an embarrassing array of emotions messily onto Allison’s shoes.

“I’m sorry, Agent Reynolds,” Mark said, his voice breaking against my dark thoughts. “I have to take this. Would you mind getting Agent O’Connor up to speed?”

“My pleasure,” Allison said. Her gaze slid back over and locked onto me with such force that I was pinned to my chair. “Agent O’Connor, is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

I nodded, but my mind had fixated on the “privately” part of that statement, and I had to force myself not to hyperventilate at the notion that I was going to be alone with her for the first time in years. Heads couldn’t explode like they did in the movies, could they? I hoped not.

“Sure. Follow me.”

I left Mark’s office in a daze, acutely aware of Allison Reynolds trailing me.

The walk to my office wasn’t far, but it gave me more than enough time to tie myself up in knots. I tried forcing my muscles to relax, but my efforts didn’t make so much as a dent. My thoughts were rapidly traversing some seriously rough terrain, and all the twists and turns rattled me.

I opened the door to my office with a trembling hand and blinked at Meaghan, seated behind her desk. She grinned at me, but her face fell almost immediately, and she appeared concerned.

“Ryan? Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. I shook my head a little and took a step inside. Allison was hot on my heels, literally, so close I could actually feel the heat radiating off her body. I so didn’t want to go there. Trying to ignore her, I moved toward my own desk in the hopes of gaining some distance and much-needed perspective.

“Meaghan.” Allison’s voice was warm as she greeted my officemate, who’d stood and approached the door. She opened her arms and hugged Meaghan briefly. I was irritated that the move ignited a small fire of jealousy in me, though I pushed it aside. I didn’t need even one more negative emotion churning inside me. “It’s nice to see you. How’ve you been?”

Meaghan returned the hug, although her expression seemed odd. Guarded. “It’s nice to see you, too. How’s D.C.?”

Allison gestured with one slender hand, and the sight of her unadorned fingers sparked memories I really didn’t want to get lost in at the moment. “I hate it. I absolutely do not want to be there, and I’m practically counting the minutes until I can come back. But I’m making the best of it. How about you? Are you ready to move on yet?”

“No. I’m content to stay here for the rest of my career.” Meaghan glanced at me again as she said that, her face still unreadable. “What brings you up this way?”

“You haven’t heard? Harbinger planned a last-minute trip to the Stock Exchange for Monday. I’m doing the lead advance.”

That explained a lot. The President of the United States, codename Harbinger, was coming here. Allison was on PPD. In fact, now that I thought about it, the only thing that surprised me was that she hadn’t returned to New York sooner. She’d been on the detail for years now. POTUS was up here all the time. She should’ve been up at least a handful of times, even just to work the shift, but as far as I knew, she hadn’t set foot in New York since she’d left several years ago. Maybe she’d engineered that deliberately. The only way for me to know would be if I asked, and that wasn’t about to happen.

“Congratulations.” Meaghan’s expression and her tone contrasted with the word.

I’d quickly begun to tear through the disaster that was my desk, trying to locate the office phone list. That intelligence advance for Iran wouldn’t conduct itself. Plus, I wanted to seem hard at work. I was staying out of the conversation and focusing all my efforts on extinguishing the fire in my cheeks. And I was becoming annoyed because my blush might actually be getting worse. I inhaled slow and deep as I counted four beats and then exhaled to the same tempo. It helped. Somewhat.

“Hey, Meaghan,” a voice called from the hall. “Can you come read this over for me?”

Meaghan’s smile was flat. “Excuse me. Duty calls. It was nice to see you again, Allison. Good luck.” She breezed out the door and disappeared before I could think of an excuse for her to stay.

Allison refocused her attention, and the force of her gaze settled heavily on me as if it had actual weight. Her smile widened even more, and she sauntered farther into my office, her movements and posture radiating confidence and purpose. Her eyes seemed to bore into mine, and she exuded sexuality.

I was having a hard time remembering how to breathe, and the dull roar I was hearing had to be my own blood rocketing through my veins. My head was too full of thoughts all of a sudden, and it was hard to get a firm handle on any one in particular. Not that it would’ve mattered. None of them would be remotely helpful in getting me through this conversation with dignity. I attempted to ignore the useless litany and appear unaffected. I didn’t think it really worked, but I tried.

Allison shut the door behind her without averting her gaze, and I gulped, marveling at the effect she still had on me. It’d been more than four years since Allison had ended our affair—not that I was keeping track—yet an excruciating ache still pierced my chest every time I thought about her, every time anyone even said the name Allison, whether they were talking about her or not. The hope that my agony would eventually subside flickered through my head, there and gone in an instant.

“Don’t I get a hug?” she asked finally. Her soft voice with its slightly teasing edge made me bristle.

Refusing to comply would only make me look petulant and immature, so I rose from behind my desk and wrapped my arms around her. For a moment, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to take in her familiar scent, a combination of shampoo, perfume, and her naked skin that still made me want to bury my face in her hair and never let go. I pulled away and resumed the much safer position of having a desk between us. Straining to find normalcy in a situation that presented none, I gestured to the chair opposite my desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Allison settled herself across from me, her face still alight with some secret I had yet to figure out. “How’ve you been?” Her low intonation was intimate. It spoke of our history together, the history she’d thrown away as if it’d meant nothing to her. That tone sparked a painful fury inside me.