Deep Rising (An Outside the Lines Novel) (Entangled Select) (26 page)

Gordon chuckled. “You might also be interested to know Lana’s brother, Sergei Aleksandr, had a massive tumor in his frontal lobe. Our coroner claims it’s a wonder the man was able to function at all.”

“Did this cause his psychosis?” Jared asked.

“Possibly. Justice has been served to my way of thinking,” Gordon remarked.

“Speaking of justice, did you apprehend Katherine?”

Gordon sputtered. “H-how did…? She’s dead.”

“The details pointed to someone high up. I gave her better odds than you.”

A snort, and then, “Gee, thanks.”

“Sounds like I got out right in time.”

“I need you now more than ever. We’re researching ties from companies The Wolf fronted and the American corporations that funded them. It’s a domestic matter, and you’ll have extensive support—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Lana warned.

“I appreciate the offer, Gordon—”

Lana wrenched the phone from his hand. “Sir, you can go to hell!” she shouted, pitching the phone off the balcony and into the sea.

Jared burst out laughing.

“Oh, goodness,” she whispered, mortified. “I’m so sorry.” Although she wasn’t sorry. Not really. Her hero had proven himself time and time again. He deserved a life.
They
deserved some peace. But her outburst had been rash and rude. “It isn’t like me to burn bridges, Jared, especially when they aren’t my own!”

“Darlin’,” he drawled. He kissed her once, twice. “You didn’t burn that bridge. I’m proud to say you blew it up.”

Epilogue

Gordon placed the phone in the receiver. A smile tugged at his lips, the first genuine trace of joy he could remember in far too long.

He traced his fingers over Katherine’s letter, the tactile sensation soothing him. But the habit was one he needed to break. He folded the note and returned it to the inner pocket of his jacket where the crumpled paper rested against his heart. In the days since the explosion, he’d probably read the thing two thousand times. For sake of security, he should destroy it. The evidence could be used against him, and certainly to implicate Katherine in heinous crimes. But he didn’t. The flourish of her handwriting, the curve of her signature, they were a last link to the woman he had loved. A woman who, rather than turn to him, had elected to take her own life. He hated himself for that. Would never forgive himself for being so cold and unfeeling that she couldn’t confide in him. In the end, she’d gone so far to protect him she’d committed suicide. And he’d never even been man enough to tell her that he loved her.

Gordon sighed. There could be evidence. Photos or incriminating correspondence between Katherine and the blackmailers, evidence that would link him to the shit that had gone down in months past.
Cross that road when you come to it.

For now, he had only two options: one, reveal the letter and Katherine’s involvement and bow out, or two, get to the bottom of who had framed them and figure out how they were linked to a terrorist.

Never one to quit or to take an affront lying down, Gordon knew what he would do. He contemplated the motives, the intercepted transmissions from The Wolf. He thought about who stood to gain if that mega-tsunami had actually struck.

Dread pooled in his stomach like acid leaking from a battery. Katherine’s family. That old boy’s club network of billionaires and developers. They owned land, hotels, media conglomerates. Could it be that simple? Would people really kill just to amass more wealth?

He didn’t know. But come hell or high water, he would find out.

They’d struck a deal with Interpol. Matteo Vikrum Sodorov would be transferred into their custody within the week. The Russian’s testimony wouldn’t be enough—the man was a thieving, murdering weapons broker—they would need more proof. He needed someone on the inside who could move among the elite and hold his own in those circles. The CIA would handle the forensic accounting and monitor transactions. He could find the motives, but it would take a very particular breed of operative to unearth a coup of this caliber. Gordon paused outside the conference room. General Greene and Colonel Davis were debriefing the team from La Palma. He tapped the folder in his hands. How to play this…?

He pushed into the room. General Greene arched a brow at him but otherwise didn’t comment. Colonel Davis motioned for him to take a chair.

“Gordon,” Greene began. “Do you require our assistance?” He glanced at the SEAL. “We’re debriefing Master Chief Tyler Houston. We can resume this at a later time if you need—”

“No, no. Continue.” Gordon positioned himself at the head of the table, laid his papers out in front of him. Tyler had the bone structure and classic good looks he’d expect of old money. The young man also had the cynical eyes of a hardened warrior. “You’re Congressman James Montgomery Houston’s boy, yes?” He asked the question but he already knew the answer.

Tyler nodded, his blue eyes narrowing and his body stiffening. The man was smart to be wary.

“Well,” Gordon began, piping up for the speech he’d used on many an accomplished field operative to bring them from the military side into DEVGRU, the developmental group that straddled military and CIA operations. To rope them into his particular team of men that operated outside the lines. “It just so happens that we’re investigating a distinct link between your previous target—The Wolf—and possible involvement from US corporations in what we believe to be the biggest real estate scam in the history of mankind. A scam that involved the potential coastal decimation of the entire Eastern Seaboard.”

Nobody spoke for the space of several heartbeats.

Finally, Tyler expelled a deep breath. “What do you need me to do?”

Acknowledgments

Thank you, Mary Sue Seymour, for “finding” and believing in me. You are one of the greatest blessings in my life. Huge thanks to my talented editor, Erin Molta. You were patient and thorough, and this book would not be what it is without your guidance. Seriously, Erin, you’re brilliant! My deepest gratitude to Danielle Poiesz for your sharp attention to detail. Thanks to Liz Pelletier for being a pioneer and creating a home for this novel. For my friends, Laura B., Leslie M., and Denise V. The traits I love most about my heroine come from each of you. And my sincerest appreciation to Marisa Cleveland, a fantastic writer and great friend.

About the Author

N.R. Rhodes has worn many hats. She has accumulated degrees in biology, psychology, and behavioral neuroscience. A Mensa member and former high school science teacher, she made her way into publishing in a roundabout way and was named Agent of the Year in 2012. It took her a while to figure out what she wanted to do when she “grew up.” But books are the perfect fit. As a literary agent she makes authors dreams come true—and, with Deep Rising, she decided to indulge one of her own.

Dividing her time between New Jersey and Florida, she and her incredibly supportive husband enjoy traveling, family and friends. Her stepson Christian is one of her greatest joys.

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