Jae's Assignment (11 page)

Jae whirled around and practically shot up from her chair and into McGuire’s chest. Behind him came Darius, all six feet of him, dropping his bag onto his desk that was situated next to hers. His red nose stood out in his cocoa brown face, forcing Jae to hold back a grin when he plucked four tissues from the box sitting on the edge of her desk. When he sat in his chair, leaned back with a loud sigh, and sent her a wink, Jae’s laughter rang out.

He was followed by Iverson and Amil.

Jae was delighted to see them and they appeared to be in good spirits, sporting black or navy blue suits. Mike was the last to arrive. They were her brothers, Jae thought, fondly. Her teammates were filling up the empty unit with their masculine voices. Darius honked as he blew his nose, and the others dropped bags and equipment onto the floor or their desks, creating a ruckus, a welcoming sound to her ears.

Jae held back an overwhelming desire to rush over and grab them and never let them go. Truthfully, after she’d been shot and couldn’t reach them, her fear was she would never see them again. But she restrained herself, acting as normally as she could.

Finding her throat oddly constricted, she said, “Hey guys, welcome back. How was that fresh air in the Montana mountains?” She caught Darius’s snort as he stood, plucked three more tissues from the box, and then reached across the desk, giving her a hug so tight, her eyes watered. Then one by one the others came to hug her.

“It was cold and that assignment was pure BS,” Mike complained. “You okay, Jae?”

Nodding yes, Jae’s curiosity was piqued and she asked Mike what he’d meant about a BS assignment. Then, for several minutes she listened intently as each man gave the highs and lows of the assignment, all agreeing it had been a waste of time.

“And now we’re all three weeks behind in our own work,” Iverson said, flipping through a stack of papers in the inbox tray on his desk.

“Why did it take three weeks?” Jae asked.

“That’s the question I have for Grainger when I talk to him again,” Darius said.

“You’ve talked to him, personally? When?” Jae asked, returning to her chair and again favoring her painful side. She listened with rapt attention as Darius explained receiving a text message from Grainger, instructing them to stay on-site in Montana until the agents arrived from California to transfer the suspected terrorists out of state. “So you didn’t talk to Grainger personally?” When Darius admitted that he hadn’t, Jae’s suspicions rose further. “You know I called each of you about twenty times.” Jae bristled as they searched their inboxes. But when McGuire jokingly said he didn’t believe she’d called them because she was too busy having fun with the male strippers at the bachelorette party, Jae held her emotions in check to avoid giving him a piece of her mind.

Iverson picked up the wedding photo from her desk and let out a whistle before angling it for the guys to see. When a round of uh-huhs and snickers filled the room, she retaliated. “Well, I did call you, all of you, damn it and Grainger, and…nobody answered my thirty-something calls,” she snapped defensively. “I-I was alone. I had no one and I put out an emergency signal to each of your cell phones,” she said, her voice rising.

Alarmed at her reaction, the five men gathered around her desk with concern on their faces. But it was Darius who closed and locked the door first. “What the hell happened, Jae?” Darius’s loud baritone voice resonated off the walls.

“I-I was hurt,” Jae croaked out in a whisper. To say it aloud made it hit home how frightened she had been. All at once their questions were fired at her faster than she could answer them. Who? What? When? And several swear words. For the first time in quite a while, she felt the sting of tears. Jae never considered herself an emotional woman. If anything, she could roll with the punches and hold her own with the best of them. Not even a tearjerker movie could bring her to tears. On the other hand, a TV commercial about abused and unwanted pets found a weepy-eyed Jae on the phone calling the SPCA with a hefty donation, or calling friends and coworkers and begging them to go adopt a pet.

But in that instant, she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

She had no backup and to top that off, she’d had makeshift surgery in a lousy motel room. Even now, two weeks later, Jae often woke during the night reaching for her service weapon as she’d done the morning she’d found Trevor looming over her. In her mind, he was menacing and intimating. As disoriented and drugged as she had been, Jae never felt so vulnerable and powerless, and she hated feeling that way.

Some special agent I am
, she thought dismally.

As the questions continued to ring in her ears, Jae looked into their worried faces and told them that she was fine now. “Just some residual pain, but…” She hesitated before standing and lifting the hem of her shirt, which had been worn on the outside of her slacks. Peeling back the bandage, she showed them the scar. Although healing, it still was an ugly reminder of getting shot.

A certified EMT, Amil shouldered everybody aside to get a better look at the wound. His eyes flew up to hers. “Jae, this is a gunshot wound.” His rush of words had everyone closing in again and hovering over his shoulders. “These sutures need to come out immediately. The hospital should have taken these out sooner or used staples to close this wound properly. It’s infected,” he said, placing his hand across her forehead. When she shook her head no, he leaned back and gaped at her. “What part of ‘you have an infection’ didn’t you understand? You need to go back to the hospital,” he enunciated.

“I didn’t go to a hospital.”

Mike barreled his muscular shoulder into the circle. “Jae, what the hell happened?” Darius and Iverson chimed in simultaneously, but Darius pulled rank.

“Jae, tell us what the hell happened at this damn wedding,” Darius said, snatching the framed picture from Iverson’s hand and plunking it down on the desk.

Jae wanted to laugh. The wedding was the least of her problems. In a whispered voice, she crooked her finger to draw them even closer. “Shush, please, guys, I’m okay, but I need to talk to all of you. I was shot before the wedding.”

“So talk, damn it. Who the hell shot you?” Darius’ baritone voice barked down upon her.

“I had an assignment,” she said, “but it didn’t go down according to plan.”

“Whose fucking plan? Because you were off duty!” Mike bellowed.

“That’s right. Who gave you an assignment without backup?” McGuire asked.

“Luke Grainger did…before he disappeared,” Jae whispered.

* * * * *

Randy let out an expletive when the listening device he’d planted at the base of the picture frame on Jae’s desk picked up interference. Seconds later it went dead. He didn’t think the tiny bug had been found. After all, it was one of the best the FBI had and it was barely the size of a Tic Tac. The last thing he heard was Jae saying she had some residual pain.

Smiling, Randy picked up the small, insulated cooler in which his wife Dana had packed his lunch. He didn’t have to guess what she packed for him. It was the same lunch every day—turkey salad on rye, an apple, a banana, and a small plastic bag with carrots and celery sticks. It didn’t matter how many times he told her that he didn’t like rye bread, she still packed the same lunch. It simply irritated him to no end that she continued to give this to him day after day. “Just wait,” he mumbled, peeling back the plastic wrap from his sandwich. “Soon, I’ll have so much money these pitiful lunches will be food for the rats,” he said.

Chapter Nine

Three weeks had passed since Jae’s teammates had returned. After her whispered declaration that Grainger was missing, she’d scribbled in ink on her palm,
Can’t talk here
.

Jae now recalled how absolutely quiet everything became. Then in understanding, Darius and McGuire scrambled around the unit, checking the already closed door, and turned on the wall-mounted flat screen TVs to the news and sports channels. Darius checked the air conditioning vents as he loudly called out possible baby names that he and his pregnant wife, Sheila, were considering and the guys called back silly responses.

She’d suggested they all go out for lunch to celebrate their return but Amil suggested they go to his condo where they could order lunch. His place was also closer. But silently, he’d pointed to her side with a scissors action of his fingers, meaning that he would remove her sutures.

It was there at Amil’s condo that Jae filled them in on everything that had happened.

Reflecting back on it now, she could still hear the accusations. Mike’s were the worst. He’d asked how she could have been so foolish going on such an assignment without the assistance of the local police. They all knew that type of assignment had the potential to end tragically, for the agent, the target, or both.

“Which is exactly why Trevor couldn’t take me to a hospital and you know this wound would have brought in the local cops before I was wheeled into surgery,” she’d explained.

“Hold on, Trevor? Who the hell is that?” Mike had asked.

“I mean, Dr. Grant,” she said. As she had answered their questions, Amil had donned latex surgical gloves and removed the sutures from her side. He’d told her the wound had become infected probably due to the non-sterile condition of the motel room or from having the sutures in too long or from her half-assed attempts to clean the area. Jae told him that Grant had given her pain medication and antibacterial ointment and had shown how to clean and dress the wound. She admitted she’d been so busy with the wedding preparations and guests coming into town, she’d had little time to be overly concerned about it.

They’d talked late into the evening about the oddity of what had occurred with all of them. The network shutdown and the team’s rushed assignment to Montana seemed to correlate with Jae’s assignment and Grainger’s disappearance. They all believed something was amiss and spent considerable time quietly retracing Grainger’s last two days in the office and making cautious inquiries so as not to draw too much attention to themselves.

“If Grainger sent Jae in to extract the doctor, it’s possible he knew him,” Darius surmised.

“Or did someone intercept and trick Jae into leading the doctor to that safe house?” Iverson added.

“Or maybe Grant is just what the initial investigation indicated—he’s a homegrown terrorist supporter.” Mike added despite Jae’s protests.

“Let’s not focus on Dr. Grant right now,” McGuire said quietly. “Our priority is finding Grainger first then we’ll go find and fuck up the shrink, agreed?”

Hearing them laughingly agree to that, Jae had dropped her head to the back of Amil’s plush, leather sofa. She’d been in a quandary debating whether to tell them about the data drive or not. Finally she’d given it to Iverson, who besides being an excellent agent, was exceptionally skilled with computers and programming.

But now three weeks following that night at Amil’s very nice bachelor pad, Iverson still hadn’t been able to crack the encrypted files open. So, the focus remained on finding Grainger.

McGuire ran intelligence and background checks on Grainger and found some odd inconsistencies in his personal information like his place of birth. They all knew Grainger was born in Macon, Georgia, not Nebraska as indicated in his restricted employment jacket. But they decided it was an error and chose not to believe any FBI official was involved.

Still, Jae wasn’t giving up despite the roadblocks she kept encountering where Grainger and Trevor were concerned. The team agreed not to discuss anything involving either man in the office.

Iverson believed it was overkill but swiped their office for listening devices.

None were found.

* * * * *

A week later on a Friday night, Jae was at home in her apartment talking on the telephone with Ronnie. She listened as Ronnie talked about the fixer-upper she and her husband had just purchased.

“Ronnie, I can’t believe you would buy a house one block up the street from Mom and Dad. You know they’re going to be all in your business 24/7 and they’ll just drop in while you and hubby are getting some newlywed action.” Jae laughed as Ronnie regaled her again about how their Aunt Maggie talked about the White man that had her niece pinned up against the bedroom wall with his tongue down her throat. According to Aunt Maggie, if she hadn’t interrupted, she was sure they would have had sex right there in Jae’s bedroom.

“Oh, speaking of getting some action, how is Trevor?” Ronnie asked teasingly.

Bristling at Ronnie’s snickering, Jae cringed at another intrusive memory of that moment with Trevor. Clearing her throat loudly, she reminded Ronnie that they were just acquaintances.

“Look, I’ve got to take my shower and hit the sheets, I’m exhausted.”

Ronnie suggested she give Trevor a call, sure that he could help her sleep.

Jae rolled her eyes. “Now, Ronnie, why would I call that man when there’s a steady rain falling against my window? It’s the best sound and that’s all I ever need to lull me to sleep,” she said dreamily.

“Uh-huh, sure, but a pair of muscular arms and a hard, um…chest can do a lot more lulling you to sleep than the pitter-patter of rain drops on the window,” Ronnie said slyly.

“You’re just nasty, Ronnie. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.” Jae hung up the telephone and listened to the rain hitting her bedroom window. Yes, it was a lullaby of sorts and she hurried to take her shower before it stopped. But sleep would be hard to come by. Tossing and turning, her mind wavering between that passionate kiss Trevor planted on her and her endless worrying that something may have happened to him. Sure, she didn’t doubt that he could take care of himself as he’d told her, it was just that he was totally alone. The witness protection program made sure of that. To the world he was dead, but to the unscrupulous militia who wanted his formula, well, Trevor could very well have a price on his head.

Upon hearing a noise, Jae struggled to pry one eyelid partially open. With the rain still smacking against her bedroom window, she was lulled back to sleep. Surely the whisper she thought she heard was all in her head. Fitting herself against the extra long bed pillow and burrowing into the warm indentation made by her body, Jae drifted back to sleep and immediately picked up where she left off, in a pair of muscular arms and held against a rock hard chest.

A short time later found Jae sprawled on her back and snoring softly. Her hand came up to smack at the feather light sensation on her forehead. Muttering incoherently, she swiped at it again, absently wondering how a fly got inside her apartment. That is, until she dropped her hand from her forehead and it came away wet.

Within seconds her body was sizzling with adrenaline, but maintaining a steady breathing pattern was the key to controlling her actions.

When she heard a whisper, she squinted open her right eye to see the silhouette of a man leaning over her and reaching for the lamp on her nightstand. She didn’t need to guess why…he was searching for something to bash her in the head with.

Son of a bitch!

Jae sprang into action. Her left hand shot up with lightning speed and grabbed the throat of the would-be assailant. At the same time, her right hand went beneath the pillow at the base of the headboard and pulled out her service weapon.

All Trevor Grant intended to do was turn on the lamp on the nightstand so as not to frighten Jae, but to his dismay he couldn’t find the lamp switch. Then he was suddenly and painfully caught in a vise grip that latched onto his windpipe.

Does she have a pit bull in her bed?
he wondered, seriously grasping at her hands so that he could speak. Unfortunately, that task became all the more difficult when she swung her legs around his waist in yet another death grip. Trevor was spurred into action when he felt himself being hurled toward the end of the bed. Feeling the cool barrel of the gun jammed into the side of his neck he went completely still. After several attempts, he managed to sputter, “Jae, s-sweetheart, let go!”

“Turn that lamp on,” she commanded, but didn’t lessen her hold on his throat or the grip of her legs around his midsection.

“Let go,” Trevor grunted through gnashing teeth.

“I’ll move with you, now turn the damn lamp on,” she repeated as he extended his right arm as far as he could until his hand connected with a small button at the base of the lamp and he pressed it.

As soft light bathed her bedroom in a warm yellow glow, Jae stared into his eyes. “I’m going to kick your ass! You broke into my apartment!”

Since she wasn’t in any hurry to loosen her grip on his throat or waist or remove the gun from the side of his neck, Trevor was left with no other option but to drop his full weight down on her.

His head ended up facedown, nestled smack dab between her breasts. Absently, Trevor thought he was between heaven and hell and would have laughed at the irony if he could’ve pulled enough air into his lungs to do so.

“Get off me,” she snapped, while using her feet to forcibly push him away. “How’d you get in here?” she roared, scampering back to the top of the king-size bed.

Pulling air into his lungs only increased the pain around his rib cage. He was, however, able to mumble into the pillow. “I came in through the balcony door, now put your pit bull away,” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a pit bull.” Jae’s snarling didn’t change the direction of her weapon squarely pointed at his big, wet head. When he blinked at her and asked if she was sure she didn’t have a pit bull, Jae let him know she didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor. “Get the fuck off my bed.” She ended her retort by snatching the damask-covered pillow from under his head.

Trevor curled onto his side and met her angry, pretty face. “Hi, sweetheart,” he slurred.

“Are you on drugs, Trevor?”

Frowning at her ridiculous question, Trevor reached for her hand, but seeing as she was keeping her distance as well as her weapon aimed at him, he inched his body farther up on the big bed. He was quite comfortable sinking his head into the many pillows stacked high against the thickly padded headboard. “Sorry I frightened you,” he said, quietly, sincerely, and watched the barrel of the gun dip as she replaced the safety. “Wow, you really would have fired, huh?”

“Without a doubt. Now why are you here? The last time I saw you—”

“It was in your other bedroom, but I like this one better,” he said, smiling. He didn’t know if he was so content because he laid his aching body in such a cozy bed or because he was glad to see her despite the fact that she’d just tried to squeeze the life out of him between her legs.

“The last time I saw you, you were going to
find
yo’self and now weeks later, you break into my home,” she said with a comical neck rolling gesture.

Trevor ignored her sarcasm, cradling a fragrant pillow. “I said I was going to find
me
.”

“Same difference,” she retorted, pulling another pillow from under his heavy head. Jae slid off the bed and walked out into the hallway.

Returning, she tossed a towel at him, but he was already drifting off to sleep.

“Hey, you get out of my bed,” she called out, but he didn’t move. “Dr. Grant! Trevor, wake up!” Only his soft snoring and the raindrops splattering against the window could be heard. “This can’t be happening,” she said, gruffly throwing her hands up.

Jae gave up her attempts at waking him. She’d been in this position many times before when one of her teammates would come over to cry on her shoulder after an argument with a woman or wife.

They’d end up crashing at her place but never in her bed.

Dropping down into a side chair facing the bed, Jae watched Trevor sleep for several minutes, and although she’d almost blown his head off, she was actually relieved to see him. Besides looking like something the cat dragged in, he appeared all right. The bit of growth on his face brought on a flashback of her undercover stint in his office.

Running her eyes over his body, Jae was also absently remembering it had been several months since she’d had a man in her bed. When her eyes moved down to his damp black boots atop her clean bed linens, she pushed herself up from the chair and walked around to that side of the bed. Removing the heavy boots, she dropped them on the floor. After turning off the lamp on the nightstand, she left her bedroom taking her weapon with her.

In the guest room down the hall, Jae stared at the ceiling and to her vexation, the sound of the raindrops was not lulling her back to sleep as she’d hoped. What did eventually lull her back to sleep was the tingling her body still experienced from the contact with Trevor’s body, hard and solid, as she writhed beneath him. “Ah, damn,” she groaned against the stirring of desire.