Dora’s voice is steady and clear when she speaks. “Yes, you can.” She gives both Cal and Sam a meaningful look. I see Sam smile back.

  I keep my hand on the small of her back and face my siblings. Cal’s features are soft, his eyes wider as he stares back at us.

  I address Sam. “We were talking about Joanne and Andre Asher. Joanne’s medical records are definitely fake?”

  Sam nods. “For sure. The director at Sloan Kettering said it takes planning to make fake documents like she did. Even he was fooled at first. It seems like Joanne Asher had been preparing to do this for a while.”

  “But why?” Cal asks.

  I hold up my hand and tick off the points on my fingers. “We can’t answer the whys right now. But let’s see what we do know. Jozdani appears in the United States, travelling on a fake passport. Then he goes underground, but presumably he’s still in the country. Around the same time, Joanne Asher fakes an illness. She uses that to get her son out of college, and I’m sure she takes time out from work as well, right?” I address the question to Sam.

  In return, she lifts an eyebrow toward Dora. Something passes between my sister and Dora, and it’s noticeable.

  “You think Jozdani being here at the same time was a coincidence?” Cal’s voice is steely, jaw tight.

  “This is weird,” I say, trying to think. “Jozdani is a key figure in the Iranian nuclear industry. He divorced this woman a long time ago, right? Hasn’t he married again in Iran?”

  Sam speaks up again. “He has, but he doesn’t have any children from the second marriage.”

  “So this is his only son? And he’s now vanished?”

  It’s Dora who replies, and all eyes turn to her. “None of this is a coincidence,” she says.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  DORA

  ❦❦❦❦

  I take a deep breath. Sam’s looking at me, encouragement in her eyes. I take heart from it. We’ve been talking for a while, and when she realized I know a lot about the case, she opened up to me with some details. She’s a nice girl despite the tough exterior. A lot like her brothers, I guess.

  “Go on, sweetheart,” Richter says.

  Our eyes meet, and my heart fills as I note the proud smile on his face.

  “Joanne Asher worked for the Washington Herald,” I say, indicating Sam. “We checked her out. I have a friend who works for the Herald . Joanne hasn’t been to work for the last two months because of her illness.”

  “Which we now know is fake,” Sam adds.

  I continue. “My friend also gave us access to what Joanne was working on before she took time off: a story about Senator McGlashan. He’s former CIA and was stationed in Moscow in the 1980s. There are rumors of McGlashan being close to members of the KGB, and she had made some contacts in Brighton Beach, Norfolk, where there’s a big Russian immigrant community. One of the families there knew McGlashan when he was stationed in Moscow.”

  They are listening to me with rapt attention. I continue.

  “And he has presidential ambitions. Again, these are whispers in the corridors of Capitol Hill that my friend is aware of.”

  Richter’s broad forehead muscles are contracted. “So, hang on. You were called to that house in Dale City for some dirt on McGlashan, right?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Too much of a coincidence that Joanne Asher has disappeared now?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. It’s possible that Joanne called you to that house but didn’t turn up.”

  Richter narrows his eyes, and his head swings from me to Cal. He says, “I was there before anyone arrived. I checked the place out, all three floors of it. It was empty.”

  I say, “So Joanne definitely wasn’t there.”

  Richter says, “More importantly, I didn’t find her dead body.”

  A shiver crawls up my spine, chilling my bones. Richter sees the look in my face and comes close and puts an arm around my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs in my ear. “Just thinking aloud.”

  I guess he has nothing to hide from his siblings, both of whom are staring at us. Cal and Sam exchange a glance, and from the smirk on Sam’s face, I can see they both know about us.

  We’re silent for a while, only the ticking of the clock on the wall tracking our thoughts.

  Sam says to me, “Tell them the rest, Dora.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “I know she wasn’t at the house, but it’s still possible that Joanne was the informant. For whatever reason, she’s gone into hiding. But she knows something about McGlashan, and she wants me to know about it.”

  Richter asks, “And you’ve never been in touch with Joanne? I mean, from a professional point of view?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s McGlashan’s Russian connection that I’m worried about,” Richter says, a forefinger tapping his chin, eyes on his boots. He raises his head to look at me then at the others.

  “And the fact that he might have threatened Joanne, hence she had to disappear.”

  Sam adds, “And took her son with her. Might have threatened him too.”

  I say, “To keep Joanne’s story from leaking out. If McGlashan does have Russian connections, that could scupper his presidential ambitions.”

  Cal speaks up. “Where does Jozdani fit into all this?”

  I’ve been thinking about this too, and I tell them what I figure is logical. “Maybe Joanne Asher sent him word that his son’s life was in danger. That brought him here.”

  Richter shakes his head. “Jozdani hasn’t been back to the United States for more than twenty years as far as we know, right?” I point to Sam, and she nods.

  Sam says, “But if he came on a false passport, we might not have known. Just like he did this time. We only have data on his real name from the State Department. Maybe he stayed in touch with his family here and visited them occasionally on the same fake identity he used now?”

  Richter nods, his slate grays hard and glinting. “It’s his only son. He might have made the trip. Also, he wasn’t famous till the last two to three years. It’s only with facial-rec software that the CIA managed to pick him up in Heathrow and JFK.”

  I complete the thought for him. “So if he made the trip earlier, no one detected it.”

  Richter passes a hand over his beard, a movement I like making myself, feeling his soft bristles on my hand. Mind you, those soft bristles have also tickled my….see, that’s the problem with staring at his sexy face for too long. My cheeks grow warm as I look to the floor.

  Richter says, “First things first. Sam, find everything you got on Joanne Asher, her son, and McGlashan. Andre Asher must have a phone, and cell phones send out a signal for five days from being switched off. Have we tried to find it?”

  Sam nods. “Yup. And no, there’s no signal and no location from Andre’s phone.”

  Richter curses under his breath.

  I say, “I think we can get more clues from McGlashan. He’s at the center of this.”

  Cal says, “I agree with Dora.”

  There’s a brief pause as my eyes meet Cal’s. He’s as intense as Richter is, but physically, he’s different. His vivid blue eyes are arresting, and in the slope of his angular jawline, I can see the similarity with his brother. He’s definitely a looker, and I’m sure he’s broken a few hearts. Of course, I only have eyes for Richter.

  Cal’s words are significant, however, because right from the start, I think he’s been skeptical about letting me into their fold. I know the reason, and I understand it, too. He smiles at me then shakes his head.

  “I never thought a civilian could make a difference to our investigation. But you have, Dora, and I guess I have to thank you for that.”

  My heart warms, and I sense Richter step closer to me. I feel a weight of emotion in my throat as he stares down at me, that familiar heat settling low in my belly as he hooks me with his eyes. His hand reaches out and touches me gently on the shoulder.

  He whispers, “You don’t even know how much you’ve helped us, sweetheart.” He’s leaning dangerously closer, considering we’re not alone, when there’s a knock on the door.

  Richter straightens. “Come in,” he barks.

  Another guy comes in. He’s the blond, good-looking guy they call Ken. He’s younger than Richter and Cal. Ken shuts the door behind him. He’s got a swagger in his gait, hot as hell, and he comes to a stop right next to Richter.

  I’m surrounded by three ridiculously hot alpha heroes, all sexy eyes and bulging muscles, trying to keep my eyes off all of them and toward Sam. How does she manage to get any work done around here?

  As if she knows what’s on my mind, she grins and winks at me, making my cheeks warm again.

  Ken addresses Richter and Cal. “Douglas is on the video link.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  RICHTER

  ❦❦❦❦

  Patrick Douglas is the head of the National Security Agency, and together with Derek Auster, the director of National Intelligence, is one of the two men we take orders from. It’s not a good idea to keep him waiting.

  But I feel bad about leaving Dora. I meant every word I said. She really has no idea how much she’s helped us. As the others file out, she sits down on a chair.

  “Give me a minute,” I say to Cal, who nods in silence then shuts the door on his way out.

  I kneel before Dora, putting my hand on her thigh. She covers her hand with mine, and it’s so soft and warm. Her touch spreads up my arm, into my chest then my heart. I tilt myself upward and kiss her lightly on the lips.

  “You did so well, honey. I’m sorry I have to leave you here, but believe me, Douglas can’t know about you.”

  She reaches out a hand, and a finger trails down the side of my face. Sparks fly down my spine, and my eyes close.

  “I know,” she says in a husky voice. “Go and do what you have to.”

  I hold her hand and kiss it. Then I stand and salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dora laughs, and it’s a pure, crystal, musical sound, like the pealing of church bells on a summer morning. I just want to hold her again, but like she said, I have a job to do.

  Giving her a quick smile, I step outside. Cal is standing to one side, just out of view of the video screen, where I can see Douglas’s face. It’s a three-way video conference with the ODNI in his office. Once we’re done, the DNI will brief the president, and then we get final approval for all our missions. For reasons of security, we never have direct contact with the DNI or the president.

  Cal’s face is pinched and tight. He doesn’t waste his words. “McGlashan was working for the CIA in Moscow when Dad was stationed there.”

  My jaw clenches, feeling the dark poison suddenly poured into my soul. “Exactly what I was thinking. Not sure if there’s any connection, but we need to grill McGlashan, right?”

  “Damn right.” Cal speaks between tightly clenched teeth.

  “Let’s speak to Douglas first and deal with this later,” I say, moving toward the screen, where the others have gathered.

  Patrick Douglas is in his sixties, with white hair and glittering black eyes. He’s a DC veteran, and not much escapes the wily old operator.

  I explain what’s happened so far, including our recent discussion with Dora. I omit Dora’s name, of course, and mention only our team.

  Douglas thinks about it for a while then gives us authorization to chase Andre and Joanne Asher if it will lead to Jozdani.

  “But we don’t have jurisdiction to arrest on U.S. soil. Nor can we shoot anyone unless in self-defense,” I remind Douglas.

  “Yes,” the older man says in his gravelly voice. He’s a straight-talking son of a gun. “Like the time you missed out on getting Viktor.”

  “That was different.” I feel my hackles rising, but I control my temper. “If I have Viktor in my sights again, he won’t escape. You got my word on that.”

  “Sorry if that’s a tad unfair,” Douglas remarks impassively. “You had the civilian there. Where is she now?”

  It’s my turn to remain deadpan. “In a safe house.”

  “She’s the daughter of Michael Simpson. The media tycoon. Right?”

  Douglas’s eyes are boring into me. Not much goes past this guy.

  “Yes, sir. We’ve taken her back home, and she’s in contact with her family. She’ll be protected.”

  Douglas nods. “Make sure of that. Regarding Viktor, make good on your word, Richter. Our patience is wearing thin. Get Viktor and Jozdani. I’ll get you authorization from the State Department.”

  Cal says, “Sir, what do we do about Senator McGlashan?”

  Douglas frowns for the first time. “From what you’ve told me, it’s all speculation. As far as I know, there’s no rumors about McGlashan having Russian connections. Joanne Asher is a journalist, and she can investigate what she wants. But just because she was investigating this frankly bullshit story about McGlashan’s past doesn’t mean her disappearance has anything to do with the senator.”

  He glares back at us for a while. I have a disturbing sensation at the back of my mind, and for some reason, the hairs rise on my neck as if I sense danger.

  Douglas says, “The main person of interest is Jozdani. Get him, and the rest falls in line. Find out why Viktor is chasing after Jozdani, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” I rumble, and then the line cuts out, leaving the screen blank. I stare at the white surface, thoughts screaming around my head. Cal turns to me.

  “Was it me, or did it sound like Douglas is tight with McGlashan?”

  “They’re both politicians, so anything is likely.”

  “The DNI’s going to be involved as well. Maybe both of them will vouch for McGlashan.”

  “Fuck them all,” I say through gritted teeth. I hold Cal’s eyes. “Someone sent you a letter saying Viktor killed Dad, right?”

  I watch as a smoldering fire leaps into Cal’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “And we still don’t know who that was, but I think we’re getting closer to the answer. Dora is right. We don’t know where Viktor, Joanne, or Andre is. So McGlashan is the only person within sight. Let’s get closer to him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  DORA

  ❦❦❦❦

  I’m safely ensconced inside Richter’s GMC Yukon. I’ve got my legs drawn up, chin on knees, staring out the tinted windows as the lights on Franklin Avenue flash past. He says nothing, but the way he sits, back ramrod straight, eyes fixed on the road, one hand gripping the wheel tightly, I can tell he’s preoccupied.

  But I don’t get why he’s been so quiet since we left the Cyborg Security office. Cal actually shook my hand as we said goodbye. From the genuine smile on his face and the warmth of his handshake, I could tell he was more relaxed with me, and it was a major thaw to the initial icy reception I got. Sam gave me a hug, and I’ve got her number now. Whatever happens, I think Sam and I could be friends.

  All of which makes Richter’s aloofness harder to fathom. I sneak glances at him, and normally we would catch each other’s eyes and start laughing, but that’s not happening now.

  I decide to break the silence. “Are you angry with me?”

  The words seem to penetrate his ears slowly. He frowns then shakes his head before glancing at me.

  “Sweetheart, whatever you do, I could never be angry with you.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know who to trust. Whose word to take. As a soldier, I’m used to following orders. But in this world, it’s all smoke and daggers.”

  I’m relieved that he’s not upset with me. I reach out and rub his arm. He reaches out and we hold hands. We drive in companionable silence for a while. I cherish these moments I have with him, when neither of us needs to speak just for the sake of it.

  Eventually, he does. His voice is lower, harder. “And I’m also worried about you. Caught in the middle of this mess.”

  “We’re almost through it,” I surprise myself by saying. “I can feel it.”

  Richter’s looking at me, and I meet his eyes before he switches attention back to the road.

  “I’m not so sure,” he says. Then a note of bitterness creeps into his voice. “But I wish we were.”

  “What do you think about Joanne’s story with McGlashan?” I ask.

  “I think it’s important,” he says. “Despite what Douglas said. Can you get hold of the story Joanne was doing?”

  “I can try. Daphne, who works for the Herald, is Julia’s friend actually. I’ve met her a couple of times, no more. But I will ask her.”

  “That’s great. For tonight, I might go and stake out McGlashan’s office then his home. See what I find.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” I say. We’ve arrived at my apartment, and he pulls over. “What time are we leaving?”

  His eyebrows turn north. “We? There’s no ‘we’ here, sweetheart. Just me and Brandon.”

  We’re sitting in the car, and our bodies are half lit by the yellow streetlights. A drizzle has started, and the roads are turning slick with rain. I open my mouth to protest, but it becomes a gasp of fright.

  A black shape streaks out of my house. It runs across our car, jumps over the hood of another parked vehicle, then vanishes. Richter’s seen it too. His movements are lightning fast. Before I can say a word, he’s out of the Yukon, sprinting across the road in pursuit. He yells something at me, but I’m still in the car and can’t hear him.

  It all happens so quickly. Richter’s big body is a blur as he runs to the opposite side, dodging a car, then disappears between two parked ones. I can’t see the black shape that came out of my building. I can barely see Richter. Farther up the street, I see the headlights of a car spring to life. It moves out then takes off with a roar of its engines. I strain my eyes, searching for Richter. All of a sudden, I’m afraid. I didn’t hear shots, but what if a silenced weapon was used?

  The thought of Richter being wounded is too much for me to bear. I know he’s armed and more than capable of taking care of himself, but he still might need my help. I open the door and step out into the drizzle. I run across the empty road, reaching the bank of parked cars. I slide between two SUVs to the dark pavement. In the distance, there’s a tepid glow from a streetlight, but otherwise the street’s in darkness. I can’t see a body lying on the ground. The car that left must’ve been the getaway vehicle, and it was about thirty yards away, I guess. I start to run, my eyes peeled for a dark shape on the ground.

 

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