Withholding Evidence (18 page)

Remembering Trina’s protective attitude toward Owen, he shook his head. “I don’t think she knew he’d been in rehab. It’s hard to believe she would have set up the meeting if she’d known.”

He’d misjudged her, but then, she’d misjudged him too.

Josh nodded toward the back of his car. “Did you mean what you said to Owen? Can we trust her?”

“Yes. She’s smart. She knows what’s at stake.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “However, from her attitude it appears Owen didn’t tell her
why
I shot Kassa. My guess is he doesn’t remember that part.”

Josh frowned. “Whoever was so eager for her to find out about Kassa probably doesn’t give a crap about why.”

“Yeah. And that’s a problem. I hate dropping Owen and running, but I need to get back to the city. She was set up. He was set up. Someone wanted her to know what happened, and that puts her at risk.”

“You think their next move will be to go after her now that she has useful intel?”

Keith nodded. He believed manipulating Trina had been the goal from the start—because she was the best bet to get someone from Keith’s team to talk—and now she knew something that had been deeply buried by no less than the Pentagon. A chill of fear slid down his spine.
She’s well guarded.
He cleared his throat. “She’s safe for the moment, but as soon as she leaves the DOJ, she’s vulnerable.”

Dammit, in the heat of anger, Keith had told Dominick to find her a new safe house. Dipshit move, which he’d correct the moment he got back on the road and could call the attorney general.

Josh frowned. “You shouldn’t have left her.”

“I needed to find Owen.” And, truthfully, he’d needed to get his thoughts in order where she was concerned. “I left her with the AG. And a bodyguard. She’s safe.”

Josh opened the driver’s door on his car. “Go find her. I’ll call the others, bring them up to date, and take care of Owen. Stay safe.”

Keith nodded. “You too.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

C
ONSTITUTION
A
VENUE WAS
busy as evening shifted to night, but then, Constitution was always busy. Sean was driving, and Trina sat in the passenger seat, feeling utterly defeated. They were headed to another safe house. One without Keith.

She might have inadvertently caused his friend to relapse and called him a murderer. He’d never forgive her, and she couldn’t blame him.

Sean’s cell phone rang, and he hit the Speaker button. “Bring Trina back,” Curt said, his voice carrying more tension than he usually revealed. “I just heard from the team searching Ruby’s apartment. We have confirmation the guy was a Julian Assange wannabe. Homeland Security has been looking for this guy ever since a website leaked sensitive Pentagon documents on an anti-US government website.”

Cold dread spread from Trina’s belly outward. “Are you talking about RATinformant dot com?”

“Yeah. It appears Ruby’s avatar was Gopher. His partner Mouse is still at large.”

Trina had never been to the website, but she knew thanks to the media coverage surrounding the Pentagon leak that the group capitalized the letters in RAT because they stood for “Revealing All Truths” and their avatars were all rodents: Gopher, Mouse, Muskrat, and Beaver, with Gopher and Mouse being the site owners and operators. Antigovernment activists with branding.

“Trina, we think they were trying to use you to get military secrets they could publish on the website. Mara’s research into the initial assignment hasn’t turned up a damn thing. All we know is it didn’t come from the Pentagon or the navy. She’s trying to figure out how it got into Walt’s e-mail.”

Dread turned to nausea. She had met with Gopher, because he wanted to use her to get information he couldn’t access otherwise. Before she took this job—and certainly before she’d completed the security clearance process—she’d been informed that any contact with WikiLeaks or RATinformant, or any of the other government leak websites put her at risk of being charged with communicating with the enemy. It was one of the reasons she’d never visited any of the freaking sites—even though some of the documents uploaded would probably help with her research.

Yet now it turned out she’d
met
with a RAT?

Her head throbbed. “I didn’t know, Curt. And I didn’t tell him anything.”

“I know Trina. We’ve got your recording to back up your statement, and Sean was a witness. Come back to the DOJ. I’ve got a few more questions about—”

Curt’s words were lost in the crunch and jolt as a car slammed into the rear quarter panel on Sean’s side of the vehicle. Trina screamed as they careened to the side. Lights and direction were a blur.

Sean kept his head and shouted to Curt what was happening even as he righted the vehicle. Again, they lurched sideways as the vehicle pounded them again. But Sean had a firm grip and swerved to avoid the brunt of the impact.

She twisted in her seat to see the relentless vehicle—but all she saw was one blinding headlight as the car came at them again, this time from behind. Up ahead, cars were stopped at a red light. She braced herself as Sean slammed on the brakes. Struck from behind by the speeding car, they shot forward, rear-ending the car in front of them. Trina saw nothing but the white of the airbag.

K
EITH WAS ONLY
a block behind Trina and Sean and closing in when he saw the dark sedan slam into the side of their car. Stuck with a dozen cars between them, all he could do was watch in horror as the sedan struck the driver’s side again, then finally rear-ended them when Sean was forced to brake.

Keith aimed for the curb and jerked to a stop, then sprang from his car and sprinted to the wreck, wishing he had his Glock at the small of his back, but DC gun laws prevented him from carrying concealed. He hesitated and considered grabbing his rifle from the trunk when the masked driver of the sedan jumped out of his car and circled to the passenger door—where Trina was likely to be seated. The man pointed a pistol at the front passenger window.

He had to be sweating under the ski mask on the hot summer night, and his wildly shaking arms said everything Keith needed to know. The guy was no operative. No military man.

Dominick had told him of Ruby’s association with RATinformant when he’d called to get Trina’s location moments ago. Odds were good this jumpy guy wielding a gun was Ruby’s partner in exposing government secrets, the RAT known by the avatar Mouse.

Mouse was so focused on the car he’d just run down, he didn’t even scan to check his six. He had no clue what he was doing. He slowly approached Trina’s door at an angle. His back to Keith.

No time to grab the rifle, but Keith could take this amateur down without it. He darted to the side, so he could get a better view into the car. Trina appeared to be unconscious. He couldn’t see Sean and wondered if he’d also been knocked unconscious, or if both were playing possum with Mouse.

It was clear Mouse didn’t know what to do. Pointing a gun at an unconscious woman was futile. The man cursed and shouted instructions that garnered no response from Trina in her slumped-over position.

Keith charged, using a football tackle that slammed Mouse into the pavement. Keith stripped the gun and sent it skidding across the sidewalk. He pinned Mouse belly down with his hands behind his back, then torqued his gun arm, and the bastard howled with pain.

Keith leaned down and whispered in the prostrate man’s ear, “You think you can go after the woman I love, and I won’t kill you?” Rage had taken over as the image of Mouse pointing a gun at Trina eclipsed everything else.

Mouse sobbed and whimpered, unable even to thrash under the heavy weight of Keith sitting on his back. Slowly, the man’s words broke through the angry haze. “The government killed Gopher. Now they’re after me. Dr. Sorensen was my only hope for leverage. My only hope to stay alive.”

From behind Keith, Sean said, “Thanks for the assist, Hatcher. I’ll take over from here. The FBI will be here shortly.”

Mouse screeched again. “No! They’ll kill me. Like they did Gopher.” He bucked upward, fear giving him strength.

Keith glanced behind him to see Trina—beautiful, perfect, amazing Trina—standing slightly behind Sean. A scratch above her eyebrow dripped blood. The frame above the left lens of her glasses was cracked—probably damaged by the airbag. Keith lost his voice for a moment as he prayed that was her only injury.

Sean handed him a zip-tie, forcing Keith to focus. “Bind him.”

Keith looped the plastic around Mouse’s wrists, cinching it tight, while Sean did the same to the man’s ankles. Then Keith lifted his weight from Mouse’s back and flipped him over, then said, “Let’s see who we have here.”

Sean reached down and plucked off the ski mask, revealing a sweaty, freckled face that looked vaguely familiar to Keith. Then he remembered. He’d seen the guy at Rav’s house, weeks ago.

Trina gasped. “Derrick Vole?”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

S
IRENS SCREECHED AS
an ambulance, a fire truck, and what seemed like a dozen police cars converged on the busy intersection. Sean yanked Derrick to his feet, and Trina made a beeline for Keith, unsure of the reception she’d receive but desperate to tell him her feelings.

Before she could get a word out, he caught her against him and kissed her, his tongue plundering her mouth with the same desperation she felt. She kissed him back but pulled away quickly and cupped his face. The police would need to interview them. They’d be separated, like they were after the bombing, and she needed to tell him. Now. “I’m sorry, Keith—I—”

“I know. I am too. I—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. She wanted him to hear her. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Keith. Maybe you think that’s nuts because we barely know each other. But it’s true. And I freaked out earlier, because I was scared. Scared to trust my instincts. Scared I was mistaking lust for something more. Scared I had no judgment when it came to you and that maybe I was horribly wrong. After what I did and what I said, you probably never want to see me again. I just wanted to tell you now, when I had the chance. Whatever happened in Somalia”—she glanced at Derrick, who remained a few feet away, and lowered her voice—“doesn’t matter. I know the man you are. You had a good reason. I’m sorry I let my fear get in the way of seeing that. And I will never, ever ask for that reason. Some secrets must be kept.”

His intense gaze didn’t waver, even as medics and officers surrounded them. His eyes weren’t angry, but neither were they forgiving. He’d probably only kissed her in the heat of adrenaline. She’d gone and brought emotion into the moment and he didn’t want it. Didn’t want her.

That was okay. She’d needed to say it. What he did with her words was up to him.

She slowly lifted her hand from his lips as the silence stretched between them. An officer approached and asked something, but she lacked the ability to focus on the words. The only person who mattered was Keith.

The light in Keith’s eyes shifted. Warmed. One corner of his soft lips curled upward. Her heart, which had been racing, slowed and found a heavy bass beat. He leaned down. The breath of his whispery voice sent chills—the good kind—straight down her spine, and his words caused heat to blossom in all the right places. “After we’re done with questioning, I’m taking you home and making love to you for hours. And then I’m going to spend the next week making sure you’ll never again doubt the connection between us, never question the fact that I’m falling in love with you too.” He kissed her again, softer but still deep. His tongue slid against hers in a warm caress that made her knees weak.