Two Evils (10 page)

The brunette’s smile grew, and as he was opening his arms to set the weights back down on a rep, she stepped closer and leaned into his space, preventing him from doing any more. It also afforded him an impressive view of her cleavage.

“You know, this might sound a bit crazy, but I really love the smell of a man’s body when he’s been working out,” she said then, her voice dropping at least one octave.

“Is that so?” John countered, enjoying the flirtation immensely.

His new friend reached forward and traced her finger along the side of his jaw, brushing it across his lips before trailing it down his neck and bare chest and coming to a stop at the waistband of his shorts.

“Yeah. It reminds me
very
pleasantly of the smell of a man’s body when he’s been fucking my brains out,” the brunette purred.

John could feel himself hardening under the hand that hovered over his groin. This woman was good looking, and she’d basically just told him she wanted to fuck him. Not his usual style—he preferred to wine and dine a woman before taking her to bed—but spending a couple hours with this little vixen would certainly provide some relief to his wound-up libido.

He smiled. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t already have one hell of a busy day ahead of me, I would love to do just that.”

She pouted as she stood. “Maybe next time, hot stuff,” she said, then turned around and sashayed away.

John shook his head, but the grin stayed in place as he finished his set.

About an hour later, John pulled up in fr
ont of Thomas Ryan’s house as the man’s daughter was stepping out the front door. He exited his car quickly, saying, “Looks like I made it just in time.”

Billie looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “In time for what, Agent Courtney?” she asked blithely.

“To keep you from running off to the Pentagon without me,” he replied.

She crossed her arms and regarded him with a bemused expression. “You do realize that sounds childish
, don’t you? It isn’t as if I need a baby sitter. You did the job Wainright asked you to do—you brought me back. Now that I am here, your services are no longer required.”

John shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” he said as he came to stand just below her at the front stoop. “It was a nice try, though. No points for originality, but you score high on deadpan delivery.”

She bent and picked up a bagged newspaper before she spoke again. Her expression had slid into disdain territory, and for some reason, he found it amusing. John realized he was beginning to get under her skin, something he imagined most people were never able to do.

The thought made him smile.

“Something amuses you, Agent Courtney?”

“You could say that. Plus, despite sleeping like shit I had a good morning at the gym,” he told her, the brunette’s cleavage flashing deliciously across his mind’s eye.

“Bully for you.”

“Wow, you sure are a sourpuss in the morning,” John said, enjoying—possibly to his detriment, he was well aware—the fact that he was getting a rise out of her. Billie was certainly adept at maintaining a neutral expression, but he could tell he was getting to her.

“Then you should be ecstatic you’ll never have to wake up next to me,” Billie said with an unexpected flash of sass, before turning smartly on her heel and heading into the house.

Her words, however, held him rooted to the spot. All thoughts of the flirtatious brunette fled at the idea of waking up next to Billie Ryan every morning—hell, just waking up next to her
once
would be fantastic.

And speaking of fantastic, the perfectly-shaped ass clad in crisp, clean denim that was moving away from him certainly fit that bill.

John stifled a groan as his feet finally followed the command to move. He needed to get his mind off of Billie’s body and back in the game. Maybe his part in this had played out. Maybe she wouldn’t need his help finding the three missing soldiers—though the more likely scenario was that she didn’t want it. But he had never been the type to start something he didn’t finish. It wasn’t in his nature to do anything half-assed, so he wasn’t about to just walk away. Billie wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what had happened to Eddie Lamacek. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to make sure the others from her old team were found.

Rolling his shoulders beneath his sport coat, he said as he followed her into the house, “You’re right—I brought you back as I was asked to do. But nobody said the job was finished just because you’re here. Sorry, darlin’, but you’re stuck with me.”

Billie dropped the newspaper on the coffee table and turned to him. “Why? John, you said yourself that the only reason the CIA got involved was because of me. Because Wainright’s people couldn’t track me down. Well, you did that. You brought me back. Congratulations on your superior deductive skills. There’s no reason for you to be a part of any of this. It’s a military operation.”

“In which lives are at stake,” he reminded her. “And not just civilian lives. Three of your former teammates are out there who knows where, and as deadly as they may be, if they have a break like Eddie did then someone’s going to have to take them down. Clearly you don’t want that to happen.”

“I say again: Why? Why does it even matter to you?” she asked.

“Because it matters to you.”

Where the
hell
did that come from?
John wondered as Billie’s eyes widened the smallest fraction. She stared at him, her expression indecipherable, while he tried to figure out why he had just said those words. When did what mattered to Billie start mattering to him? He barely knew her. She’d threatened to kill him multiple times. Being in her presence had gotten him shot at twice in less than 48 hours.

Shit. Maybe he
should
walk away from this one. His head had clearly not been on straight since that damn kiss…which he would regret if it hadn’t been so damn good.

“Billie?”

They were both startled by the sound of her father’s voice as he came in from the kitchen with a steaming mug smelling of coffee in his hand. John felt himself jump ever so slightly, though the only outward sign of Billie’s discomfort was the rapid blinking of her eyes.

“Dad, this is Agent John Courtney of the CIA,” she said as she turned to the salt-and-pepper haired man in black Chinos, white dress shirt, and black neck tie.

“Ah, yes. We spoke on the phone,” Thomas said as he stepped forward and held his hand out. “Thank you for encouraging my daughter to return home.”

John shook his hand firmly. “I don’t really think it was my irresistible charm that did the trick, Mr. Ryan,” he said with a grin.

Billie shot him a quick look that told him to stop there. John interpreted it to mean she had not told her father about the shootings, and nodded as imperceptibly as he could to acknowledge her silent statement.

“I think it more likely that Billie came back because she has friends who need her help,” John said to Thomas, giving no indication that anything was amiss.

Thomas glanced at his daughter. “Well, whatever the reason, it was you who brought her back to us.”

“Dad, Agent Courtney and I have to go now,” Billie said, cutting her father off. The slightest hint of pink had colored her cheeks, and John suspected she was feeling the weight of a year’s worth of guilt for not having maintained contact with her family.

“Indeed. I imagine General Wainright has a busy day ahead of him, and he’s granted us only a small fraction of his time,” John agreed.

“I’ll go get my things,” Billie said, then turned and jogged up the stairs.

Thomas looked at him and said, “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, son, but I imagine you won’t have time to drink it.”

John nodded. “Probably not, Mr. Ryan. But I do appreciate the thought.”

“I would like to thank you again for bringing her back to us.” Thomas held up a hand to hold him off as he opened his mouth to protest. “Your part in it may have been small to you, but it was significant to us. Billie’s brothers and I have been very worried about her. She’s a strong woman, Agent Courtney, very strong. I never thought I’d ever see her broken, but that’s what losing Travis did to her. Yet instead of allowing us to help her heal, she ran away from her pain. I can see in her eyes that she’s still haunted by that terrible loss… Yet I also see a spark, a hint that there is still life inside of her. You helped put it there, so for that you have my gratitude.”

John swallowed hard at the look of raw emotion that crossed the elder man’s features; that naked pain mixed with joy that told him he meant every single word. It was humbling to be considered so important when he hadn’t done much more than flirt and get Billie shot at. That gratitude was beginning to choke him, and he was forced to look away.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to respond by the reappearance of Billie. She came down the stairs wearing a black leather jacket over her white t-shirt—and, undoubtedly, her double holster. John bit back a smile. Surely she knew she’d have to surrender her weapons before being allowed to enter the Pentagon?

“Let’s go kick this shit into gear, Agent Courtney,” Billie said as she reached the landing.

Her father stepped over and leaned to kiss her cheek. “See you later, sweetheart,” he told her.

She smiled and returned the kiss, touching his cheek with her lips before saying, “Sure Dad. You know Teddy will probably come over to eat now that I’m here.”

“No, he’s on shift today. But Kevin and Andy will probably come by again,” Thomas said.

Billie chuckled. “I knew at least one of them would come over. See you later, Dad.”

With that, she brushed past John and headed for the door. John exchanged a look and a nod with Thomas and then followed. By the time he reached his car, Billie was already standing by the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it.

“Come on, Johnny B. Goode. I want to get this face-to-face with Wainright over with so I can get started on why I’m really here,” she told him.

He pulled his keys from his pocket as he approached, hitting the unlock button. The Charger beeped in response and the locks clicked open. “Your chariot awaits, madam,” he said as he rounded the back end.

Billie snorted as she pulled her door open. “If it was my chariot, I’d be driving,” she retorted as she dropped into the seat.

John shook his head and smiled as he did the same. “Something tells me you love to be the one behind the wheel, Billie.”

He slid the key into the ignition and turned it over. Billie said nothing until the engine noise slid seamlessly from a roar to a rumbling purr.

“I always did like having my hand on the stick.”

John choked and put a little too much pressure on the accelerator as he pulled from the curb, images of her hand on his own “stick” popping unbidden into his thoughts. From her laugh, he knew right away that was exactly the reaction she’d been going for.

T
he ride to the Pentagon was silent.

Billie was thankful John was uncharacteristically mute. The lack of conversational banter, though enjoyable at times, allowed her to wrestle her thoughts into some semblance of order. She didn’t want to give any indication she’d spoken to one of the team. She wanted to hear Wainright’s side of the story. She wanted to know what was going to happen with Eddie.

And she wanted to keep her temper in check.

The latter issue would be hardest. She was already pissed off that her team had been tasked for testing the serum. That they had been treated like rats in a laboratory. She was pissed that Eddie’s service to his country was being so callously disregarded. Although one of her best qualities as a Marine and a CIA agent had been the ability to keep a clear head, her ability to remain objective had already been seriously compromised by her emotional attachment to the men involved. Eddie, Wayne, Gabe, and Darren had earned her trust many times over in the five years she’d served with the unit. She felt as close to them as she did her brothers, and that made them family in her eyes.

Knowing they were involved, there had been no question of her coming back. Her family needed her.

Nearing the Pentagon, Billie noted that this time, they were headed for
the
Metro Entrance Temporary Visitor Screening Facility
. John finally broke the silence by saying, “You know you’re not going to be able to keep those guns, right?”

“What makes you think I have any?” she retorted.

He glanced at her sideways, his expression showing clearly what he thought of her bullshit. Billie had to laugh. “And unless you’re an operations officer, you shouldn’t have one either, but something tells me you’re wearing more under that jacket than a shirt and tie.”

“Touché,” John replied with a slight grin as he pulled the Charger in line behind three other cars. “However, I actually am a
n OO and I have active-duty status. Such gives me clearance to keep my sidearm.”

Billie snorted. “I was an active-duty Marine officer
for six years and an OO for the Agency for four.”

“Yes, but you’re listed as inactive. You’ll have to leave yours in the car.”

Bristling, she crossed her arms and looked stubbornly straight ahead. “I don’t feel right going into this without the means to protect myself.”

Now John was the one laughing. “Billie, it’s not like we’re going in here to engage in mortal combat—we’re here to have a conversation about what’s happened and what’s going to be done about it. And if the worst happens and Wainright pisses you off so bad that you take a swing at him, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll take down at least three men with your fists alone before you’re subdued and thrown into a cell somewhere.”

Smirking as the car inched forward, Billie replied, “Six is more like it. I would take out six guys.”

John shook his head, though he still grinned as he did so. “I stand corrected.”

“I have a question,” she said then, a thought occurring to her. “I admit to being a little anxious last night so the specifics slipped my mind, but… How the hell are we going to actually get inside? Though I imagine you already have a visitor’s pass for the Pentagon, I don’t—and it takes at least seventy-two hours to get a NER pass approved.”

“In preparation for your eventual return, General Wainright added your name to the Visitor Access Roster,” John replied simply. “You can thank him when we meet with him.”

Billie snorted and remained silent. While having her name already on the visitor’s roster would be helpful, it meant they’d have to wait at least 30 minutes after their arrival for her badge to be printed. She was already thin on patience with this mess as it was—being made to cool her heels for half an hour (at least) would wear it down even more.

Moments later they were presenting their identification
—when questioned, John informed the officer at the gate that Billie was on the Visitor Access Roster but had yet to receive her badge. They were reminded to stop at the Access Control station before proceeding to their destination and then waved through the gate. Billie hated having to admit it, but it was intelligent forethought on the part of the general to push through a No Escort Required approval, thereby having her name already on the Visitor Access Roster in advance. She might have to wait for the badge, but at least she wouldn’t have to wait three friggin’ days after her return to see him. She also hated to admit that his doing so made sense in light of the urgency of the situation; this way, they’d cut through at least some of the red tape involved.

Besides, Wainright was allegedly eager to meet with her…
She just hoped he was prepared to get what he had wished for.

Once they’d parked, she got out and removed her jacket. The knowing look John shot her over the top of the car told her he’d been expecting the double holster. She flipped him the bird before reluctantly unsnapping it from her belt and shrugging it off her shoulders. John walked back to the trunk and popped it open for her to put the harness inside.
He then surprised her by unclipping his own holster and magazine pouch from his belt and placing them alongside it.

“I don’t like this,” she said
as he closed the trunk over their weapons. “It feels strange not to have a gun on me.”

“You know, you’re right about one thing,” John said as they began to make their way toward the building
. As they walked, he pulled a visitor’s pass from his pocket and clipped it to the lapel of his jacket. “A shrink would have a field day with you about your dependence on guns.”

“You claim you’ve read my jacket, right?” He nodded. “Well then surely an intelligent man like you ought to be able to see why I prefer to have a gun within reach at all times. My life before St. Thomas was a very dangerous one. I’ve had death threats made against me, and multiple attempts have been made to actually carry them out. Hell, John, you were there for the last two.”

“You make a good point,” he conceded as the two of them stepped through doors guarded by an MP.

When they reached the Access Control station, John
removed his car keys and his wallet, a different one than that he’d carried in St. Thomas, and placed them into a plastic tub. Billie surmised it contained his CIA credentials and his badge. Because she’d left her weapon harness in the Charger’s trunk, the only thing she placed in her tub was a set of keys and her wallet.

After they’d successfully passed through security and then checked in at the recepti
on desk—where Billie was photographed for her visitor’s pass—she and John were ushered to a waiting area. Thirty-five minutes after check-in, an Army corporal brought over her brand-new visitor’s pass, which she promptly clipped to her shirt. She had figured then that they might be directed to Wainright’s office, but when she asked, the corporal had no answer for her. John went to the information desk and then came back to report that despite their NER status, someone from Wainright’s staff would be along shortly to walk with them to the general’s office. Billie couldn’t help but be annoyed when the time continued to stretch—Wainright wanted her here so damn desperately that he’d reached out to the CIA for help, but he couldn’t be bothered to see her in a timely fashion?

“Billie, breathe will you? I can see the steam coming out of your ears,” John muttered quietly.

“Screw you, Agent Courtney,” she snapped back, standing in order to pace away her irritation.

“Is that an offer? Because I’d gladly take you up on it,” he replied smoothly. “Only can we do it later? Here and now is not exactly the time and place for getting naked.”

She turned her most withering expression in his direction. John held her gaze, which was something of a surprise as men usually wilted under this particular stare. But he did swallow a time or two, so she considered that a victory.

“Look, you know as well as I do that the general is a very busy man,” John went on. “Our popping in on him unannounced and without an appointment isn’t likely to win us any favors.”

“Well if my being here was so damn important, then he can rearrange his schedule in order to see us whether we’ve got an appointment or not,” Billie retorted. “You know, I was perfectly happy with my life before he threw you into it. I can easily go back to it and he can deal with this mess on his own.”

John stood then and stepped up to her, close enough that any other woman would have taken a step back to regain some of her personal space. But Billie stood her ground, meeting his gaze with her chin held high.

“Perfectly happy, were you?” he queried softly. “Were you seeing or speaking to your family—your father? The brothers you have by blood or the ones you claim by choice? Did you have a man to share your bed at night, to hold you close as you slept or to set your soul on fire as he fucked you into mindless oblivion? Because from what I saw, all you had was a two-bit Russian gangster for a friend and paranoia that ran so rampant you dug an escape tunnel under your bar.”

White-hot fury blazed through her veins, and of all the times she’d wanted to hurt the man standing in front of her, none compared to how much she really wished she could beat the living daylights out of him for what he’d just said…

…because it sure as hell would be a lot easier than admitting he was right.

She was saved from having to respond with words or with fists when they were approached by a young Marine with close-cropped hair and a ready smile. “Agent Courtney, Miss Ryan? If you will come with me, I will be showing you to the brigadier’s office now.”

John nodded and turned to follow. Billie took a deep, steadying breath and joined them.



“Thank you, Private Malone, that will be all—unless either of you would care for coffee, tea, or water?”

Billie shook her head at Brigadier General Sterling Wainright, who looked to John next. When he got the same response, he nodded at the private who
’d shown them to his office, who then promptly did a sharp about-face and left.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable,” Wainright said, indicating the comfortable-looking upholstered chairs across from him. “I cannot thank you enough, Captain Ryan, for agreeing to come back to assist me.”

Billie raised her eyebrow. “Begging the general’s pardon,” she began as she sat gracefully in the chair on his right, “but I’ve not been a captain in a good five years. And I’m not here to assist you. I’m here to locate my missing teammates and get them the medical attention they require. I’m also here to ensure that Maj. Lamacek receives the hero’s burial he is due, and that his family is paid the benefits he earned over the span of his career.”

Wainright settled into his wingback desk chair. “You earned your officer’s bars, yet you do not wish to be addressed by your Marine Corps rank. Why is that?”

“I should think it quite obvious,” she replied. “As I am no longer an active duty officer, what right have I to claim it?”

“You would prefer Agent Ryan, in reference to your tenure with the CIA?”

She felt John’s eyes on her, but refused to meet them. Instead, she kept her own focused on the man across from her. “I think Miss Ryan will suffice.”

For a moment, Wainright merely held her gaze, and then he nodded. “Very well. Now, you say the men from your unit require medical attention. How do you know that?”

“I merely make a logical conclusion based on the few facts I have at hand, General,” Billie replied. “My men were—foolishly, I might add—under the influence of a potentially narcotic substance at the time of their disappearance. It affected their physical condition and quite possibly their psychological condition as well. As such, this so-called ‘serum’ is likely what caused the unfortunate incident for which Maj. Lamacek now rests in the morgue at Bolling.”

“How did you know he was at Bolling?” the general pressed.

Billie felt the first twitch of her temper, and took a moment to study the man before her while she reined it in. From what she could see of him, he was probably not much taller than her father, who stood six feet. His hair was mostly gray with some signs of the black it once had been, and like most generals his age—at least in her experience—he’d become so comfortable with manipulating war from behind his desk that he’d started to thicken around his middle.

His eyes, however, were bright and sharp, and engaged in studying her as she was him. Billie felt confident in believing that Wainright was either baiting her or testing her, but knowing that the first was foolhardy and the second unnecessary served to grate on her nerves.

Having become a master at maintaining an outward appearance of calm, she merely lifted and eyebrow, saying in a neutral tone of voice, “You are based here at the Pentagon. Bolling Air Force Base is the closest facility of its kind at which such a clandestine study might be conducted—you certainly aren’t going to be doing it in E-Ring. Now, if your time is as precious as Agent Courtney here has previously indicated and you are as anxious for the safe return of my teammates as he has led me to believe, then I suggest you refrain from further thinly veiled insults to my intelligence and let’s get down to it. Shall we?”