Chasing grace a joint ta.., p.21
CHASING GRACE: A Joint Task Team Novel, page 21
Personally, Adam agreed with Cody Babbitt’s preference for putting a bullet in the back of Secretary Johnson’s head before shoving him into a hole. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a legal option. It also meant they’d have no way of knowing who else was involved in Johnson’s master plan to secure the popular vote of the American people.
Still, you had to give Babbitt credit for his enthusiasm.
“How does that work?” Takoda Keenan asked.
“Johnson’s personal wealth consists of old money, but old money and a civil servant salary doesn’t cover the budget requirements for a terrorist start-up,” Mackenzie replied. “Guaranteed Johnson has some serious financial investors involved in his bid to take up residence in the White House.”
Mann nodded. “We create a ghost account and divert the funds. Anyone looking at Bodak’s bank statements would see a couple billion give or take a few zeros. Anyone trying to access the money will hit an empty vault.”
“Johnson’s backers are definitely going to react when they discover a couple billion missing from Victor Bodak’s pot of gold,” Kincaid added. “It’s a risk.”
“One worth taking,” Jay said, and heads around the room nodded.
The intelligence analyst had certainly lived up to the colonel’s expectations. Out of necessity, the JTT hadn’t known about Adam’s existence, but he had full access to all the files on the members of the colonel’s team.
Recommended by CIA Deputy Director Diane Heughan, Jay Mann was a brilliant mind that stood out among hundreds of brilliant minds recruited by the CIA every year. And the colonel trusted no one in Washington more than Diane.
For personal reasons, Adam wasn’t convinced they should be placing their bets on her.
“Do it,” the colonel ordered.
“And the arms shipments?” Jamie Snow asked.
“Long Beach’s DHS Customs and Border Protection Officers are set to board the Karaboudjan after it docks. I’ve arranged it so the field operations team will find a couple of sea containers full of guns. Small shit, most of it barely serviceable.” Adam had planned to get the good guys looking at the west coast while moving the heavy stuff in on the east. “Johnson knows the logistics surrounding the diversions. My guess is he’ll use them as the kick-off for his election campaign.”
“Makes sense,” Mackenzie said, his gaze shifting to Gray, who was surreptitiously trying to inch her way toward the door. “He takes credit for the seizures, calls them a threat to national security, and starts to hint at something bigger.”
Adam nodded. “Americans get nervous, they start to pay attention, and by the time Johnson’s done playing them, they’re convinced he’s the only one who can protect them.”
Mackenzie kept his tone casual, and his posture relaxed, but his hard expression carried the weight of his threat. “You won’t get far, Gray. So don’t even try it.”
Her body froze in place, but her green eyes flashed with her anger. “I’ve got places to be. And you”—she pointed at the screen—“have a terrorist to catch. Now let me go.”
Mackenzie shook his head. “Can’t do that.”
About to unleash her temper, she drew a deep breath giving the colonel the opportunity to cut her off. “Give us five more minutes, Grace, and then we’ll address your issue.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Gray was in testosterone hell. Seriously. The colonel’s office didn’t have enough square footage for the number of dicks in the room.
“It’s too big a risk,” Chase argued. “Francisco and Ryerson are still gunning for Kincaid. What if Gray’s caught in the crossfire?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mumbled, realizing too late she probably wasn’t helping her case.
“Kincaid can handle it,” Adam said from New York.
They had to agree. They had no choice. Of those who thought they had some say in the matter, Chase was the only dick still putting up a fight.
Persistent fucker.
It burned her ass. Six days ago, she answered to no one. Today, four men who were practically strangers debated her next move like she was a wayward child who needed constant supervision.
For Christ’s sake, before Chase had dragged her to the colonel’s Texas base camp, she made her own decisions. She didn’t need their concern or their protection. She needed to get her ass in gear and get to Tara at the warehouse in Savannah.
All she needed was an address, and she’d take care of the rest. The clock ticking, Gray could hear the JTT packing. After strategizing their next move, the colonel had doled out assignments and dismissed the troops. As soon as the last directive had been given, they’d scattered to execute their orders.
With a battle still ahead of her, Gray had dogged her father’s footsteps. The twin towers of oh-hell-no had dogged hers. At first, it was a close tie as to who Gray wanted to knee in the nuts most, Chase Mackenzie or Grant Kincaid.
But the longer Rambo argued, the closer he got to the top of her ball-busting list. So far, Rusty Eyes had remained curiously silent. Face impassive, arms crossed over his chest, Grant neither agreed nor disagreed with her proposal.
Tara was in Savannah. Bodak in New York with her brother. There was minimal risk if Grant brought her to the warehouse under the pretext of following orders. With everything going down in the next thirty-six hours, Bodak would be required to remain with Adam. And Johnson would be thrown off his game.
It was the best scenario possible under the circumstances.
Her father had been the first to give in. Followed closely behind by her brother. They both saw the value in letting her go. It had the dual benefit of getting her out of their hair and messing with Johnson’s head. If the bastard was willing to kill Grant to keep her out of Bodak’s hands, it was exactly where she should be.
They knew it as well as she did.
And they were wasting precious time.
The pang in her chest felt like a twelve-inch blade piercing her heart. It was less than she deserved. According to the information Doc had received from Adam’s man in Savannah, Tara had severe head and neck trauma. She was going to die. It was just a matter of time.
The longer they stood there, the faster the clock wound down. Tara had already suffered too much in her short life. And Gray would be damned if she’d let her only friend die alone in a warehouse because of her.
She cut off the argument still going on around her. “It makes perfect sense, and you know it.” She met Chase’s eyes, needing him to believe her. “If Tara dies before I get there. I swear to God, Chase Mackenzie, I will never forgive you.”
His black eyes searched hers, and she could see he knew she meant it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to matter to him in the least, and his expression didn’t change. Feeling the weight of another set of eyes on her, Gray looked to Grant.
Her lips tingled with the memory of their kiss. She pressed them together as her offer slammed into her frontal lobe. She’d sworn to do anything he asked if he’d take her to Tara. His answer had been no, and looking at him now, she wasn’t sure his response would change.
She turned her back on both of them and took her last shot. “Adam, we’re running out of time. Kincaid works for you. Just order him to do it.”
“I can’t order him, Gray. So knock it off. It’s up to Kincaid.” Had Adam been in the room, and seen the look on Sergeant Mackenzie’s face, he might have reconsidered his choice of words.
Unfortunately, her father was in the room and knew all too well what his sergeant’s black eyes and muscle-twitching jaw indicated. But before Chase could set the record straight, according to his “you belong to me” view of the world, the colonel took over the meeting.
“The decision is Mackenzie’s,” her father said, holding up a palm and cutting off her outburst before Gray could dispute the misguided statement at top volume. “If I were you, Grace, I would let these two”—he waved his hand between tower one and tower two—“discuss the options without your cantankerous presence in the room. They both know where you stand on the matter. Adam, Mann is waiting on the financials from you. Start making the transfers. Mackenzie will call you back when the decision’s been made.”
Limit reached, the colonel abruptly ended the debate with a stab of his finger. “Gentlemen, you have thirty minutes to work this out. Sergeant, your orders stand. Keenan’s are negotiable. Your call. We’ll be in the kitchen having a bite to eat. Find us there.”
Her father took her by the arm, escorting her from the room without another word. Shocked into submission and perhaps in awe of his command for the first time, she didn’t think to resist.
The hallway a hive of activity, boxes and equipment already took up the limited floor space. The colonel was shutting down Defcon One and moving operations to a new location. By morning, there wouldn’t be any trace left of the men who’d made the old camp their home away from home for the last two years.
According to her father’s original orders, she was supposed to be leaving for the new base with Z by zero six hundred. As much as she looked forward to a very quiet twenty-four-hour drive, he was headed in the opposite direction of her primary goal.
Not fucking happening.
Catching sight of Jay rounding a corner with the computer from Doc’s office, the colonel called out, “Mann.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Adam’s sending you Bodak’s financial info now. You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Jay added his load to Cody’s, and muscles working overtime, he disappeared out the back exit.
More interested in the conversation going on behind the closed door, she attempted to tune in the rumble of deep voices. A lost cause, she couldn’t make out a single word. Didn’t matter. They could discuss it all they wanted. She was going to Savannah. They had to know it by now. One man couldn’t watch her twenty-four seven.
“…and I need a secure phone for Grace.”
Hearing her name, she decided to pay attention to the only conversation she could hear.
“Security level?” Jay asked.
“Level one will do. And put Kincaid back online.”
“No problem. Level three for Kincaid?”
The colonel nodded once. “We’ll be in the kitchen. Bring us the phone when you have it ready.”
Gray’s heart quickened. If the colonel wanted Grant Kincaid back online, it meant he’d need to be connected to the JTT. For whatever reason, her father knew she’d be heading for Savannah soon. Relief made her head swim, and a film of moisture blurred her vision. The fight nearly over, she could have hugged him—almost.
Oh God, Tara, I’m coming. Wait for me. Please, just wait for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
When Chase got back to his room, Gray’s semi-stuffed duffel sat on his bed, zipper spread wide. He could see the jumbled results of her hasty packing and a new JTT secure phone tossed carelessly on top. His stomach twisted.
He’d tried his best to stop her. Then he’d tried his best to have his orders changed. If she had to go to Savannah, he wanted to be the one to bring her. The colonel had refused, citing operational requirements before reminding him of his responsibilities to the JTT.
As an escort, Kincaid made sense from an optics perspective. If anyone saw Chase at the warehouse, the JTT’s cover would be blown. Sending Tak in advance to scope out the location before Gray arrived had eased Chase’s worry. Some. Not much. Not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Jesus. If anything happened to her.
He’d known Gray would insist on going to her friend’s side the moment she found out. He loved that about her. Loved that she put Tara’s needs first. But it had also scared the shit out of him.
And yeah, he’d fucked up. Didn’t take a degree in psychology to recognize he’d floated himself up a creek, and he wasn’t in a boat, never mind the bit about a paddle.
Kincaid was right.
Chase had been an idiot to try to stop Gray from going to Savannah.
Thinking it might be safer to face her without a fully loaded weapon strapped to his waist, he drew his gun. The sound of metal scraping against hard plastic reassured in its familiarity. He did a rapid safety check out of habit before putting the Glock in the empty drawer between the beds.
He undid his belt clips and took it off, the ripping sound of separating Velcro loud in the room as the shower turned off. Feeling oddly naked, he tossed the empty holster and belt beside her bag and waited. He had some things to say to Gray. And she’d bloody well hear them before either one of them left this room.
She emerged from the bathroom dewy skinned with her hair piled on top of her head. A couple of loose curls clung damply to the side of her neck. Sporting nothing but her Oscar the Grouch T-shirt, her Rolex, and a pair of black underwear, the sight of her made his testosterone surge.
His mental groan rang loud in his head. Right this very second was not the ideal moment to be gassing up the engine on his outboard motor. Unfortunately, these days, his schlong had a mind of its own.
Like a deer in the headlights, she froze when she caught sight of him. Her gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance between them, she stubbornly refused to acknowledge his presence. No doubt about it. She was a category five hurricane about to make landfall.
He took a deep breath and braced himself. “I’m sorry about Ta—”
Toothbrush in hand, she threw up her palm, cutting him off. “Don’t,” she spat, her eyes finally meeting his and flashing with the force of her anger. “You don’t get to say her name.”
“Gray, listen to me,” he said, and the storm that was Grace Grayson broke over him hard and fast.
“Fuck you, Mackenzie. You’re a coward. You had no right to keep the information about Tara from me. The choice to go to her was mine. Not yours. Mine!” The strength of her outburst set her in motion; she threw her toothbrush into her bag and pulled out a pair of pants.
He took offense at being called a coward, and his limited reserves of control tanked. Angry and on edge, he ripped the cargos out of her hand and balling them up, he threw them over Tak’s bed and onto the floor. “I had every right to do what I did. In fact, I have the only rights that matter. I’ll do whatever the hell it takes to protect you.”
“Protect me? Is that what you call it? The way I see it, Rambo, you’re a lying bastard. As far as I’m concerned, you have no rights. And you can take your protection and shove it up your ass.” She dug to the bottom of the duffel, producing a pair of black workout pants.
In short order, they joined the first pair on the floor.
Seeing red and definitely not thinking straight, he pointed his finger at her and shouted, “You belong to me. If that makes me a lying bastard, fine. I’m a lying bastard. But make no mistake. I’m a lying bastard who’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. Get used to it.”
She sidestepped him in an attempt to gain access to her discarded clothes and shouted right back at him. “You’re seriously cracked. You know that, right? I don’t belong to anyone. Especially you.”
Snaking an arm out, he grabbed her around the waist, holding her in place. “You belong to me. The sooner you get that through your thick head, the better.”
Turning to face him, she arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
“Well, maybe this will change your mind.” She took two steps back and hesitated before blurting, “I kissed Grant Kincaid. Today. Earlier. In Palo Pinto.”
His ears echoing her words, he felt the blood drain out of his head. His hands balled into fists, and an urgent need to kill Kincaid took over his mental faculties. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon, his brain wisely disconnected all other neurotransmitters, freezing him in place.
When he somewhat had his shit together again, he asked the one question that mattered, his words clipped, his gaze never leaving her face. “Why exactly?”
She shrugged a shoulder, her gaze trained on the floor. “I needed a ride.”
Christ, she was ripping him apart here. “Is that all?” he asked, taking her hand.
She pulled her fingers from his grasp. “No. I offered him a hell of a lot more than a lip lock to take me to Tara.”
“But he turned you down.”
“Yeah, well. You interrupted us.”
“Really? Don’t pretend like you would have gone through with it.”
“Pretend? I’m not the one doing the pretending around here.”
“Are you suggesting I am?”
“Well, if the title of rebound champion fits.”
Chase threw his hands up in frustration. “First of all, we haven’t slept together.”
“Technically, we have.”
There was no winning this argument with her. But every bit as stubborn as she, he wasn’t giving in either. “Fine, we haven’t had sex…yet.”
She waved his reasoning away with a hand. “Semantics.”
“Goddamn it, Gray.”
“And what if Kincaid had accepted my offer, huh? What then? Would I still belong to you after banging his brains out in a warehouse in Savannah?”
“You want the truth?” he growled.
“Yes, I want the truth,” she shouted.
Grabbing her by the arms, he pulled her against his chest. “You belong to me. So yeah, I’d beat the shit out of him for sleeping with you. And then I’d fuck you within an inch of your life. You belong to me. Unfortunately for you, there’s no getting around it.”
“Really?” Hands on his chest, she pushed as much space between them as she could manage. “Those are big words for a man who spent the past two years avoiding the last woman who belonged to him.”
Planting his lips over hers, he spoke roughly against her mouth. “I’d stop now if I were you.”
She jerked her head away. “Really? And what’re you gonna do if I don’t? Ground me? Lock me up? Spank me? While you’re at it, why not add a few ‘you belong to me’ bruises?” To make her point, she broke his grip and held up her arm.
He snatched her wrist out of the air for a closer look. Yep, three little red patches matching his finger span decorated the inside of her elbow. “Jesus! I’m sorry.”
