Cold Light of Day (10 page)

“See what you can find out,” Frazer told Parker. “I don’t want any more surprises.”

Two men Matt didn’t recognize walked into the bullpen and Frazer stood a little straighter. “Sir, you didn’t have to come in.”

Parker palmed his signal jamming gadget.

Ridley Branson cut a stocky figure. Gray haired, lantern jawed with ebony skin. “Not much use being the chief of counterespionage if I don’t pay attention to things happening in the intelligence community.” His jocular humor set Matt’s jaw on lock-down. There was nothing funny about tonight. He stood with his arms folded and tried not to glare at the bastard.

“This is ASAC Guy Clarkson out of the Washington Field Office.” Branson introduced another man, medium height, short blond hair. “We worked together on the Stone investigation fourteen years ago.” Branson walked over to the mirrored glass where they could all see Scarlett tapping her nails nervously on the plastic veneer of the table. He let out a gusty sigh. “She hasn’t changed much since she was a little girl.”

“You knew her?” Matt asked.

The chief swept a cold glance over him. Matt hadn’t exactly addressed him politely, or even introduced himself.

“I worked with her father, right here in this office. He brought her in with him a couple of times, to pick up files.” Branson grimaced as if in hindsight wondering what had been in those files.

Yeah. A little late for those six dead US agents. Someone had dropped the ball. And it hadn’t been Matt.

“I have HRT working with the LeMays now. I persuaded them it was in their daughter’s best interests to keep this out of the press. I’m expecting she’ll be released unharmed in the near future. The Russians aren’t going to want a major diplomatic incident.”

“I’d like permission to question Richard Stone about his daughter’s activities, sir,” Frazer asked. “See if he put her up to this.”

Deep lines stamped Branson’s face with world-weariness. “Put in the paperwork but don’t hold your breath.” His gaze softened. “Richard is dying. Cancer. Probably won’t last more than a few months and the Bureau of Prisons isn’t known for its speed or leniency, even in these circumstances.”

Shit
. Matt turned back to look at where Scarlett was now pacing the small interview room. Compassion pushed past the anger. That’s why she’d done it. A last ditch effort to save the man she loved despite his confession. Crazy misplaced loyalty. A small part of him felt a little envious that she loved her father that much. If it had been his, he’d have thrown away the key.

“Cut her loose. The Russians know we’re watching her. That’s pretty much all we can do for the kid now.”

Matt nodded as if he didn’t think the guy was an asshole. No way he was leaving her on her own with a target on her back. He hadn’t dedicated his life to service in order to sacrifice a defenseless woman for doing the exact same thing their colleagues had done. So what if they had the law on their side? Rules were one thing, but a guy had to be able to look in the mirror and not hate the person staring back. Scarlett Stone was not going to be murdered on his watch. Not tonight.

The FBI didn’t have his back, which left him with two options—seduction, or sedation?

L
incoln Frazer knew
something was up with this scenario but didn’t give away any hint of doubt with his expression or actions. Espionage and counterintelligence work was a complex dance of move and counter-move, and he didn’t pretend to know the characters or ramifications involved.

Matt Lazlo headed into the interview room and jerked his head to indicate Scarlett Stone follow him out. The agent vibrated with tension. He was not happy with this situation and Frazer didn’t blame him. The guy might not realize it, but he watched the woman with a mixture of desire and reluctant compassion—and both factors were going to complicate an already tangled mess. Lazlo was a damn fine agent who worked his ass off—smart, dedicated, intuitive. Lazlo was also a former Navy SEAL, which made him function great in a team environment, but also operate well as a creative and independent thinker.

He was also a man. And men made mistakes.

One thing Frazer had learned over the years was while he could tell someone what to do, he couldn’t tell them how to think. He could remind them of rules and duty and the letter of the law, he could rebuke them for screwing up. But intelligent people made their own decisions based on individual situations. Circumstances made a difference. Past deeds only went so far in predicting someone’s future actions. And desperate situations produced desperate measures. He was living proof of that unfortunate behavioral truth.

When Scarlett Stone got to the doorway, her eyes shot to Branson. She swayed slightly, looking so insubstantial a stiff breeze might knock her over. He understood why she brought out Lazlo’s protective instincts but didn’t intend to get sucked in. She reached out a hand to steady herself on the jamb. “Agent Branson, I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been a long time.”

“It’s Chief of the Counterespionage Section now, Scarlett,” Branson told her sternly. He sat on the corner of a desk, leg swinging as if relaxed and unconcerned. Frazer didn’t buy it for a minute.

“Ah, of course,
Chief
Branson.” Bitterness rang out, loud and clear. “You haven’t been around to visit in a few years so I wasn’t up on the Bureau promotions. You’ve done well for yourself. Your wife and kids must be very proud.” Her gaze was unflinching, her chin raised high.

There was an awkward silence. Clarkson kept his gaze glued to the floor. Branson’s lips thinned.

“See if you can keep out of trouble, okay, Scarlett? There’s a good girl.”

Her eyes narrowed at the patronizing tone, but she clamped down on whatever thoughts were running through her mind.
Good choice
. Branson was a powerful man, and powerful men did not like being shown up by young women, even those with genius IQs.

Lazlo took her arm and led her out of the bullpen. Frazer felt a twinge of pity for the girl because she was in serious danger. No doubt she carried a lot of baggage regarding what her father had done, but it wasn’t an excuse to go bugging foreign powers. He understood some of what Scarlett Stone was dealing with—taking the law into your own hands was tempting when you felt justified, but it was still wrong.

His superior hooked his thumbs in his pants, one of the boys. “Keep me apprised of any changes in the situation. I’ve made the safe return of the LeMay girl a Bureau priority. Hopefully she’ll be home for Christmas dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s try and keep this amongst ourselves, huh?” Branson looked each of them in the eye, then he and Clarkson turned and walked away.

Speculation was rife in Rooney’s gaze. “What do we do now, boss?”

Frazer jolted whenever she called him that. It reminded him how badly he’d messed up and how hard he needed to work to make up for his mistakes. He trusted Rooney and Parker as much, if not more, than he trusted people he’d worked with for years. Their relationship had been forged through blood, death, and necessity, but also in an act of love and mercy. The fact she called him boss was a testament to her dedication to the job. He needed to earn the title.

The correct thing to do in this current situation would be walk away and assume the rest of the FBI could do their jobs without his interference. His role was running Behavioral Analysis Unit-4, helping other law enforcement agencies find killers, traffickers, rapists, and other degenerates. God knew they had enough cases to keep them busy until the next millennia. They analyzed police reports, crime scenes and evidence; they did not run counterintelligence operations or investigations.

But he’d lost faith in the system.

He’d never take anything on blind trust again.

What if Scarlett Stone was right about her father? What if he
had
been set up? Who in this building would consider that possibility? Who would care about a vulnerable young woman’s naïve quest for justice? And who might still be dirty?

Frazer checked his watch.

It wasn’t his job to question the veracity of old cases. The President of the United States had asked for help with a matter of national importance, and there was a certain assassin who needed to be tracked and caught before she killed again. There were files on his desk that needed urgent attention. It was Christmas Eve. HRT were in charge of the kidnapping investigation so he should just go home and get a few hours’ sleep. That’s what he should do.

Frazer got out his cell and dialed a number. Lazlo answered. “You’re on bodyguard duty until we can find out exactly what’s going on. Keep her away from news outlets and tell her Angel has been found safe and sound. That should keep her quiet for the time being. If it doesn’t, use your initiative. In the meantime, we’ll figure out some way to neutralize the threat to her safety.” He hoped he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep or about to make enemies out of every one of his FBI colleagues. But he hadn’t joined the Bureau to make friends. He’d joined to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. “Keep a low profile and watch your back.”

*     *     *

Scarlett could feel
Matt Lazlo’s disapproving gaze scour her back the entire walk out. They got to a door and he reached past her and opened it, indicating she go ahead of him. The polite gentleman switching out with the ass-kicking FBI agent.

He unnerved her. The whole American hero persona he carried with him like an invisible cloak was the antithesis of her world, where oily doubt and suspicion clung to everything she or her family touched. The fact she was attracted to him on a physical level didn’t help. She suspected a lot of women were attracted to Matt Lazlo, even the ones who hadn’t seen him in his dress uniform.

“So, what’s your next play?” He was trying for nonchalance but didn’t fool her. He was still pissed.

As far as the Russians were concerned, she had limited options. One was knocking on the door of the Ambassador’s residence and begging for forgiveness, the other was to go home and wait for the kidnapper to contact her. The third was running away—but Angel was in danger. Plus, Scarlett had a life here, a career—assuming her boss didn’t find out what she’d been up to in her spare time and fire her from her position, which would make it hellish difficult to get hired on anywhere else. Dammit.

She’d been so stupid to think she could spy on Andrei Dorokhov. Finding out anything useful had been a long shot. She’d planned to nudge a reaction by calling him and then listening in to what he said after he put the phone down. Great idea in theory. Useless if you got busted by both the FBI and the Russian Federation.

Lazlo pressed a warm hand to her back, just above her waist. A shiver ran over her skin and she stumbled.

“Steady.”

His touch affected her more than she wanted to admit. Unfortunately, one of the times he’d touched had been to slap on handcuffs. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her date. He was an FBI agent and she knew the lengths they’d go to get their “man”.

“Scarlett?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” he asked as if he was repeating the question. His voice was soft, gentle even. She didn’t trust him or the effect he had on her.

Belatedly she realized she’d stopped moving. “Yes.”

“Do you have a plan?”

She jerked away from him. His nearness distracted her, her hyperawareness of him clouded her thought processes. She was a problem solver by nature. Fixing things was what she did, but she couldn’t fix this and she couldn’t fix her father’s situation. Humiliation and anger fought for space on her cheeks. “I need to figure out a way to get Angel to safety.”

“FBI assigned a team.” He held another door. “If you interfere you might get her killed.”

“But it’s
me
they want.” That much was crystal clear.

“So what? You’re going to serve yourself up to them on a platter?”

“Any other ideas?” She was open to alternatives.

Something buzzed in his pocket. He held up his finger to indicate she wait for a moment. Pulled out his cell. Listened intently. She stopped walking even though freedom beckoned within sight. Running away might activate his prey-drive and she was reluctant to show weakness. He’d already rescued her twice tonight. Once with a ride home, the other time from a bullet.

The expression in his eyes shifted but she couldn’t read it. “Roger that.” There was a long pause, then, “That’s good news. Great. Thanks for letting me know.” He hung up and met her gaze. “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself. They found Angel LeMay wandering near DuPont Circle. She’s a little groggy, but basically in one piece.”

Her knees wanted to give out, but she locked them. “Can I see her?”

“They’ve taken her to the hospital.” He tilted his head, mouth compressed. Pity filled his eyes. “I doubt the LeMays are gonna want you around for a while.”

Oh, crap.
She doubted they’d want anything to do with her again. She’d betrayed their trust and gotten Angel abducted. Her hand rose to grip her throat, her voice barely a whisper. “She’s okay though, right?”