Heat Seeker (46 page)

She knew those eyes. She had seen them two nights before in the Grace mansion ordering John from the scene and back to his “death.” John had refused to go. He still hadn’t left for that debriefing, and she knew he was ignoring his cellphone. Demands that he return. Threats perhaps.

“Director Rushmore.” She moved to the desk and stood before him.

This time, she wasn’t an angry agent. She was a free agent. And she intended to stay free, at least from the CIA.

“Meet Jordan Malone. Jordan, Bailey Serborne.” Milburn introduced them.

“Mr. Malone.” She took the proffered handshake, watching him warily. She had a feeling this meeting had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the agent that he wanted back.

“Ms. Serborne.” His tone was icy. “Thank you for coming in.”

She arched a brow mockingly as she glanced back at Milburn.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Malone.” Her tone was just sarcastic enough to assure him that she knew what his game was.

“Sit, Bailey, please,” Milburn invited as he waved his hand to the vacant seat beside Malone. “I wanted to thank you personally for your help with the Grace situation. None of us could have known what was going on there. Without you, we could never have neutralized Wagner.” His voice seemed to crack as Bailey breathed in deeply.

Milburn had been her father’s friend. He was Ford’s friend. He was a friend to sheiks, kings, and to four of the richest men in the world. And he had been Wagner’s godfather.

“He had journals,” she said. “You found them?”

She needed answers, not just for herself but for Jules as well. There was still an edge of disbelief that it had happened like this. That Wagner had been the villain. No, more than a villain. He had been a monster. A monster that had gone to extraordinary lengths to frame his father for his own crimes.

“We found the journals. Thank you for letting us know they existed.” His face creased for the barest second with grief.

Wagner had kept journals since he was a boy. Anna had told her about them once, when they were younger. Strange that she hadn’t told Bailey that it was Wagner who was abusing her. She had never said Ford had done it, that had been an assumption that Bailey had made. An erroneous one.

“What happened, Milburn?” she asked. “I never suspected Wagner. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t been there.”

Milburn shook his head sadly. “He was twisted, Bailey. He was a missing a soul, and he was very good at hiding it.”

“Wagner began early in his teen years learning how to steal information and how to use it,” Jordan broke in at that point. “As Milburn said, he had no soul. As with most psychopaths, he was incredibly intuitive and intelligent. He lived for the power, directing lives, taking lives. Men like that live for a single reason, to attain a god-like status while holding everyone in thrall with fear. He thought he was invincible. He learned better.”

She shook her head. She would never make sense of it. It was impossible to understand.

“He was going to kill his father. Make it look like Ford killed me, then killed himself because he knew he was caught.”

“And he would have succeeded had the men working with John not been prepared for Warbucks to pull a surprise. He’s been rather good at that over the years.”

Yes, he had been. That should have been their first warning. Warbucks had always kept an ace up his sleeve. He’d always managed to lay evidence at others’ doors and keep suspicions from himself. They hadn’t learned his identity for a reason: because he knew how to keep the attention focused on his father rather than himself.

“So why am I here?” She turned to Jordan rather than focusing the question on Milburn.

Jordan leaned back in his chair as he turned to her, his hand lifting to allow his finger to stroke over his upper lip thoughtfully, a considering expression moving over his face.

“You haven’t guessed?” he asked silkily, dangerously.

“You want John back.” She wasn’t beating around the bush.

His lips quirked in amusement. “I haven’t lost John,” he stated thoughtfully. “Are you under the impression I have?”

Bailey could feel an edge of panic moving inside her now.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to walk away,” he stated carefully. “Go back
to your life, however you intend to live it, and walk out of his life. Then, he’ll once again be effective. I’m afraid until you do so . . .”

“You’re wasting your breath.” She came to her feet, fighting the anger that had begun to build inside her. “I don’t order John. I don’t tell him what to do, I don’t tell him how to live his life. That’s his decision.”

He shook his head. “He relinquished that decision when I saved his life in Australia. When I saved yours,” he added. “You owe me, Ms. Serborne.”

“I don’t owe you my soul,” she argued. “And neither does John.”

“Sit down, Ms. Serborne,” he commanded, his tone hardening.

“Go to hell.”

“Learn how to take orders or you can learn just how powerful an enemy I can be.” He came out of his chair, dominating, commanding. Forceful. “We can do this one of two ways. You can join John in the life he signed up for, of which he now has seven years that he owes to the agency. Or you can learn to do without him for very long periods at a time. And I can do that.” He was in her face then, his gaze icy, steel-hard. “I can send him on missions that will hold him for a year at a time. I am not required to pander to his ego, his sex life, or his emotional promises to a woman. You want him, you can join him.”

She stared back at him in shock. John had finally explained the agency to her. The Elite Ops, what they were, how he had joined, why he had joined. What they did. The idea of it had intrigued her, but she had never imagined this. Never thought this choice could come her way.

“Join the team?” she asked carefully. “I could work with him? Not separate from him?”

His nostrils flared as he straightened once again. “The two of you make a damned good team, and you’ve already fucked my life up by making yourselves a team. John Vincent is more than just a cover. He’s a connection, a pipeline
into an underground force that we can’t afford to lose. You’ve already proven yourself as his partner. If you want to keep that position, then you damned well better learn to consider me not just your boss, your director, or your commander. Ms. Serborne, I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

She was about to believe it.

She licked her lips and glanced back at Milburn. He was watching the show with a hint of amusement and satisfaction.

“Does John know?” she asked.

He frowned back at her. “John would have to answer his phone first, wouldn’t he?” he snarled back at her.

“You called me here because John wouldn’t answer your summons?”

“My calls,” he snapped.

“Your summons,” she informed him. “I heard the messages. You, Mr. Malone, have a god complex.”

“And you, Ms. Serborne, had better learn how to deal with it,” he snapped back in reply. “Do you want in? Or do I see how far away, and for how long, I can commandeer your lover?”

“My husband.”

His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“My husband, Mr. Malone. John and I were married in a private ceremony last night. I believe that marriage trumps your contract in several ways.” She lifted her hand. “Clause seven, paragraph three: ‘Married, and having formed a legally binding tenet with one whose classified rank matches or exceeds his own, requires that said agency, unnamed but existing, to ensure that said agent, namely one John Vincent, the choice of working with his spouse, or barring the ability to do such, the choice of ensuring proper marital time as befitting his rank and mission status. That time shall be not less than one month to every three, or one week to every three. Said agency is required to enact and ensure such marital time without restrictions.’ ”

His eyes narrowed. “He showed you the contract?”

“After the ceremony, of course.” She smiled coolly.

“Clause eight, paragraph four: ‘If unable to work with or aligned with said agent, spouse must accept that said agent must complete one mission before each marital benefit can be demanded.’ I determine the length of time a mission lasts.”

“It’s a good thing I enjoy working with him then.” She smiled cheerily. “You are required to allow him three months’ leave for a honeymoon, I believe.”

His lips parted.

“And,” she continued, “I believe Milburn will be hearing from my lawyers soon. The charities that the majority of the profits of my companies go to are being redirected, Mr. Malone, under certain conditions to a charity near and dear to our president’s heart. Have I mentioned the president and vice president are close family friends? The charities being redirected to are fronts, I believe, for the Elite Ops.”

His teeth snapped closed.

“I’m a businesswoman,” she stated. “I’m an agent and I’m John’s wife. I don’t need you in my face over the fact that you lost control for a few seconds of your agent’s life. Console yourself that you gained an agent instead.”

“It’s a damned good thing I can respect a strong woman,” he snapped back. “That doesn’t mean you won’t follow orders. You can shove that money right back where it came from if you think it’s going to change how you’ll be trained, or how you’ll be treated.”

She grinned at that. “It won’t change John either. I believe he’s on his way to debriefing this afternoon. You’ve likely missed him.”

John had never had any intentions of breaking faith with the contract he had signed. But neither of them was willing to do without the other.

“You’re going to make his life hell,” he growled. “And mine.”

“And it’s something she’s damned good at,” Milburn laughed, causing both of them to turn to him.

He pulled his rotund body from his chair, adjusted his glasses, and smoothed back his thick graying hair.

“Congratulations, Jordan.” He moved around the desk and clapped the other man on the back. “You just acquired one of my best agents.”

“You said she was one of your biggest headaches when she was in Atlanta,” Jordan growled.

“One goes with the other,” Milburn laughed. “Trust me, son, one goes with the other.”

As they stepped outside the office, the door to his assistant’s office opened, and John walked through, escorted by several guards.

“I invited him,” Milburn laughed at Jordan’s scowl as John moved to her, curved his arm around her waist, and pulled her against his body.

“Causing trouble again, love?” He smiled down at her before giving her a quick, warm kiss.

“Always,” she agreed. “How did you know?”

“Your director called just after you left.” He nodded to Milburn, he glared at Jordan.

“Hell.” Jordan glowered at both of them. “You do know everyone involved in the Ops is now calling me head matchmaker rather the brilliant commander I started out as.” Irony filled his tone.

“You’ll live?” Bailey suggested.

“Or he’ll be next,” John chuckled. “How’s Tehya doing by the way?”

“Three months, no more,” he snapped. “Don’t make me send a team after you or I’ll assign you both to opposite ends of the damned planet.”

He stalked from the office as Bailey stared at him in surprise and John obviously fought to hold back his laughter.

“You’re the troublemaker,” she accused him.

“Actually, I’m the matchmaker,” he assured her. “Wanna help me work on him?”

Bailey’s laughter mixed with Milburn’s. “I’d love to. I’d absolutely love to.”

She was going to. She could just imagine how crazy both of them together could make Jordan Malone. And they’d have help. After all, she was certain they weren’t the only ones he’d attempted to keep apart. He wanted his agency nice and cool and umcomplicated.

It was time to complicate Jordan Malone’s life.