Hard to Trust (27 page)

What he didn't know would fill an Olympic-sized pool about now. Still, Tessa was in danger, and he had no idea how to fix that—or even if he
could
fix that.

Somehow he had to make things right between them.

*  *  *

Tessa's heartbeat was erratic as she walked through the parking structure and onto the street toward the train station. Emotion welled inside her chest, causing tears to spring into her eyes.

The sense of aloneness crushed her. Jake's betrayal combined with the CIA's abandonment destroyed her last sliver of hope. She had no one. If that meant she'd spend the rest of her days backpacking around Europe until they caught up with her and killed her, so be it.

During the short train ride from DC to Alexandria, she thought again about the multiple emails she'd read and Jake's duplicity. That was the part of the equation she'd yet to come to terms with. He didn't believe her. In some respects she understood. Alex had orchestrated a picture-perfect setup.

Given the evidence, she might have suspected the same thing. But she would have thought Jake would know her better by now. Would she be dumb enough to open an account in the Cayman Islands when there were so many more secretive options out there to shelter ill-gotten money?

One email from Jennings said it all.
Can you make her confess? They've scheduled a drop-off at the warehouse at 52
nd
and Front Street.

That was the email the sealed her fate, leaving her no option. Tessa's nose started to run as tears bloomed in her eyes. When had she become a weak, sniffling doofus? Apparently over the last few days, because she could barely contain the tears as she walked off the train and into downtown Alexandria. The idea that she would never see this town again brought a crushing sensation to her chest.

Which made no sense. She'd been a vagabond during her tenure at the CIA, happy to go to whatever parts of the world they'd sent her. It allowed her to forget all the pain of the past and adopt a different persona with each different locale. But now everything had a sinister overtone except for her home.

The fact that it would no longer be a haven for her made her suddenly sad, and she fought against the urge to sob. Attracting attention would not help her cause. Get in. Get out. That was how she needed to play this. Nothing else mattered. She walked quickly. Although fairly confident they would have given up on staking out her home by this time, she took extra precautions as she approached the back door.

Her fingertips trembled as she uncovered the panel hidden in the downstairs laundry room behind her stash of detergent. The break in the back of the cabinet was nearly impossible to find without knowing where to look.

Reaching inside, she yanked out her own version of a go bag. She withdrew the papers she'd stashed, the cash she'd squirrelled away, and secured them into the small zippered compartment of her backpack. She had her own plan of action. In fact, she knew that this day would come eventually. Somehow, she recognized long ago the illusion of security at the CIA would burst. She grabbed a Kleenex from the counter and blew her nose.

"He's quite a ladies' man that Jake, isn't he?"

The voice crept up beside her so eerily she could have sworn it was in her head. But then a gun poked right below her ribcage. "It's all going to be fine. We'll meet him at the warehouse as scheduled."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Cleo, or Marta, or whatever the hell your name is. You want to kill me, go ahead. But I won't make it easy for you."

"You took some photographs, and we need them."

Now she knew this wasn't about Afghanistan at all. It was about Istanbul. Just like Jake had speculated.

"I don't have them anymore. I gave them to Jake. You'll need to get them from him or The Alliance. Good luck with that by the way." The longer Tessa kept her talking, the more likely she'd think of a way to get out of this mess. "What's so special about the pictures, anyway?"

"No need to tell you. Satisfying your curiosity won't keep you from dying."

Before she could speak the memory flashed before her eyes, and everything slid together. "Then I'll take a stab at it. I captured a photo of you meeting with a high-value operative. The operative was planning to attack a US Naval vessel under the guise of a stranded ship attacked by Somali pirates. Close?"

It was the only scenario that made sense based on the information she and Jake were able to piece together. Once she saw the woman up close, she realized she'd seen her at a hookah lounge with a known pirate. As far as stabs in the dark went, based on the shocked expression that briefly passed across the woman's face, she'd hit the mark. Under different circumstances she might have done a celebratory dance, for the call was nothing short of brilliant.

While the woman absorbed the information, Tessa made her move. She struck back with her elbow into the woman's throat. The gun skittered along the floor. Cleo countered with a palm strike that barely missed Tessa's chin. Cleo blocked the roundhouse sent her way but absorbed some of the impact with her arm.

All Tessa could think about was getting to the gun. She had to put an end to the madness. That was when Cleo pulled out her knife, and Tessa's phone started ringing. But it was right next to Cleo.

*  *  *

The voice of Petrovich echoed in his mind like it happened yesterday instead of ten years ago.

You'll never be as skilled as your brother. You don't have the raw talent he has. Besides, you don't have the instincts to go in for the kill. You wait. And wait. And wait. Until it's either you or them, instead of soldiering on and getting the job done.

You've always been a sucker for a pretty face, Jacov. You buy whatever they're selling as if they're offering you a gift of precious jewels instead of screwing you over. It will always be your downfall. Mark my words.

Those sentiments were true on his last assignment. Cleo. She'd sucked him in from the beginning and reeled him in like a prized catch. Now she was part of this whole masquerade as well.

In his line of work it was all about going with your gut, trusting your instinct, but that hadn't proven to be all that helpful, which caused a rush of Petrovich memories to surface. Self-doubts.

"Damn it, Tessa, pick up the phone," Jake yelled into the phone, without a response.

Where did she go? Protecting people who didn't want to be protected was harder than he ever imagined, but everything was starting to fall into place. First the video that proved it wasn't Tessa opening that account since the woman in question was right handed, not left handed. And now a clearer picture of the market showed the woman with the purple shoes. Cleo had been in on this from the beginning somehow.

*  *  *

Cleo cackled as the phone rang, and she looked at the screen. "Loverboy is looking for you. He'll probably be at the warehouse within fifteen minutes." She texted something into the phone and then smashed it to pieces on the floor of the kitchen.

"Why would Jake—" Tessa stopped as the reality of the situation sank in. "This has all been about Jake, hasn't it?"

"For me, yes. But you put yourself in the crosshairs when you took those pictures. It made our mission way too risky to complete, costing us both millions of dollars. Alex and I concocted a plan to get rid of the two of you. It was all perfect for such a hastily put together idea. I opened that account in your name in the Cayman Islands. Kind of obvious, I know, but I figured with the other evidence and suspicions thrown your way, any questions would be overlooked. We realized how we could use both of you to achieve what we desired."

"Why are you after Jake?"

"He and his family killed my brother, Joseph." The woman's jaw clenched so tight for a minute Tessa thought she might shoot her right now.

While hearing the bold statement was jarring, knowing Jake's past with Petrovich, she shouldn't have been surprised. "That must have been a long time ago."

"So that means I'm supposed to forget the whole thing? Are you crazy? Did you ever forget your mother's death?" She laughed again. "Of course not. But the whole thing was necessary to make you susceptible to the possibilities. Alex thought you were too smart for your own good and a little goody two shoes to be converted, so we devised a plan to set you up for a situation that would serve our purposes. When we heard about the pictures, you sealed your fate. You've been a loser from the day you were born. What kind of person doesn't even know who their father is? I guess that makes you a bastard."

Tessa let the impact of the words bounce off rather than inflict pain. Nothing mattered right now. "Jake's not going to the warehouse."

"He is now and walking right into a trap. It's a shame you can't read the message I wrote. It was both poignant and succinct. Love and kisses, of course. Alex is doing my dirty work for me, and I'm doing his. It's a shame you'll both have to die as a murder-suicide. But it was never going to work anyway."

"I told you I'm not going to go to the warehouse." She had barely finished the words when she launched her attack. All she could think about was getting to Jake before it was too late.

Jake raced toward her apartment. When had he sunk so low that he'd have sex with a woman one day and betray her the next? Had he become the two-faced villain he hated?

Had he become Petrovich?

The man's moods could turn on a dime. When he was pleased he'd shower Jake with praises, but when he was disappointed there was a steep price to pay. He made Jake want to please him while simultaneously despising him.

And here Jake was replicating the same actions, despite his hatred of the man.

Tessa's innocence felt right. Second-guessing his own actions had always been his downfall. She hadn't abandoned him when he'd been injured. That should have been enough for him to trust her thoroughly, but he hadn't because Petrovich's words circled through his brain every time he even thought about making a decision hastily or based on his gut instinct. He didn't want to make a wrong move then, and he didn't want to make a wrong move now.

One of them was walking into a trap, and he preferred it to be him over her. He had so many sins in his past to make up for that he'd almost gladly welcome the challenge.

Of course, that didn't explain why the picture showed her pointing a machine gun at another agent. And it certainly didn't explain why he hadn't shown the photo to her for further explanation. Truth was, he didn't want to muddle his mind any more than it was already.

Nothing about this case was as purported. And he still didn't know who hired The Alliance to allegedly keep her safe while discovering her secrets. He'd been a mole. The worst kind of mole possible. He'd taken advantage of her, counting on her vulnerabilities as well as his own, to solidify the feelings he harbored inside.

What had been fed to him was orchestrated from the very beginning. He should have known. She wouldn't have killed Eli or anyone else for that matter. As she'd said, they were her family. Why didn't he see that before?

Because he'd been handpicked for a reason. Cleo was the cherry on top of that sundae. They studied him and saw a weakness
his desperation to prove himself
and figured he would blindly follow the breadcrumbs they were dropping. Now he had to follow his gut or live with the consequences.

Petrovich was wrong. He was and had always been as good as his brother. And he damn well was about to prove it.

He had to be true to his convictions. Some of her last words tunneled through his brain.
I always thought the CIA was my family.

Then he got the text and knew she was in trouble.

*  *  *

Tessa knew with every fiber of her being this was judgment day. Her head bounced off the wall as Cleo caught her with a strategically placed kick to the right shoulder. Not only did the pain radiate down her arm, even her ears rang from the impact.

Jake was headed for a trap, and only she could stop it. Moments. That was all she had. Ironically, Cleo was trying to get her to the warehouse, and she wanted to get there as well. Just not under the woman's thumb.