Stolen Secrets Page 4

  Jordan hovered politely outside the door while she gathered her belongings, and his calm, steady presence gave her the strength to continue.

  She tossed a few items onto her patterned bedspread and paused. When had she started doubting her own taste? She enjoyed the blue streaks in her hair and her quirky wardrobe. She enjoyed standing out in a crowd. Yet, when she was alone with herself, the walls of her private life were a dull gray.

  She sometimes wondered if she’d made herself unique by default because there was nothing inherently special about her. She sometimes wondered if Brandt would have gotten bored with her once the newness of their relationship had worn off.

  The floorboards creaked in the hallway, and she quickened her pace. Without giving herself too much time to think, she stuffed clothing and toiletries into her overnight bag. The agents hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about how long she was going to be away.

  Jordan indicated the second room. “Is this your office?”

  She pushed open the door and grimaced. “Yes.”

  Bookcases lined the room and her rolltop desk was layered with papers, pencils and various office supplies.

  He riffled through the top layer. “Do you ever bring work home?”

  “No. Never. We’re not allowed.”

  He lifted a stack of manuals. “What’s all this?”

  “I’m teaching myself a new programming platform in my free time. It’s a hobby.”

  Admiration widened Jordan’s eyes. “This is a hobby?”

  “I can’t seem to stick with one thing for long,” she mumbled. “I have a short attention span.”

  “You sound like my stepsister. Smart people bore easily.”

  “You should explain that to my mom,” Lucy quipped beneath her breath.

  According to Vicky Sutton, smart people did not hop from subject to subject like hyperactive bunny rabbits.

  “What was that about your mom?” Jordan asked, glancing up from his study of her egg-shaped digital personal assistant.

  “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

  He thumbed through her latest manual. “You have complicated hobbies.”

  “I haven’t mastered it or anything,” she babbled. His praise made her uneasy. For some reason, it was important he understood the truth about her from the beginning. “I’ve learned enough to know I need to learn a lot more.”

  He surveyed the room with a critical eye, and her skin felt as though she’d brushed through cobwebs. A stranger had rifled through her personal belongings. They wouldn’t have discovered anything beyond her utility bills and programming homework, but that didn’t make her feel any less violated.

  Jordan took the overnight bag from her stiff fingers and waved her forward. “We’d better get going. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too,” she answered woodenly.

  The full weight of her new circumstances settled over her, and she stumbled blindly after him. Had it not been for this morning, she doubted she’d have noticed anything out of place. She’d have continued along, blissfully ignorant that someone was listening to her, maybe even watching her. If this experience had taught her anything, it was that safety was an illusion.

  On the first level once more, a scuttling sounded from the opposite end of the house.

  Jordan shoved her behind him and drew his gun.

  Her pulse spiked, and horror clouded her vision in a red haze.

  She lunged before him. “Stop!”

  * * *

  Trapped between Lucy and a threat, Jordan’s extensive training fought a losing battle with his instincts. He jerked his weapon safely to one side.

  “Lucy!” he whispered harshly. “Get out of the way.”

  Her hair was a wild, pale halo framing her fierce expression, and she positioned herself like a miniature warrior before him.

  “It’s not what you think,” she whispered loudly.

  Jordan stuck out his hand. “I don’t know what to think yet.”

  He was larger and stronger, but something kept him from forcibly moving her out of the way. If there was someone else in the house, there’d been ample opportunity to ambush them before now.

  “It’s just Mr. Nibbles,” she declared.

  Wavering, Jordan struggled to connect a logical meaning in her words. “Come again?”

  “My guinea pig.” Lucy indicated the smoke detector to remind him of their audience. “If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, you’ll have to get better acquainted with Mr. Nibbles.”

  He stowed his gun, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Your guinea pig is in the other room?”

  “Yes.”

  Rather than reveal how ridiculous he felt, Jordan maintained a stoic expression.

  “He’s in the sunroom.” Lucy crossed the distance. “He’s the sweetest little thing in the world, but he gets nervous around strangers. That’s why I have to fetch him myself.”

  “I see,” he replied, even though he didn’t.

  He certainly didn’t need instinct or training to recognize he was walking into some sort of trap. People tended to overestimate their pets’ appeal to others. When someone followed the phrase he’s really the sweetest little thing with a qualifying but, there was reason to be worried.

  Willing his blood to cool, he followed her through the kitchen and into a cheery yellow sunroom.

  There, perched on a low wooden table, was an enormous cage connected with clear plastic tubing to a smaller cage. Inside, a white guinea pig with brown markings contentedly gnawed on a half-eaten chunk of carrot. The animal’s nose twitched, and if Jordan didn’t know better, he’d have thought the furry little troublemaker was smirking at him.

  “Oh, sweetie, are you all right?” Lucy cooed, lifting the animal from its cage.

  Tired, hungry and ready for this day to be over, Jordan grumbled. Mr. Nibbles was annoyingly calm, considering Jordan had drawn his gun.

  Lucy bent and rooted around in the cage. “He’ll have to come with us. I can’t leave him here alone.” She crossed to Jordan and whispered in his ear, raising goose bumps along his skin. “Especially if someone’s been in the house. It’s dangerous.”

  He seriously doubted international spies were a threat to a rodent, but he kept his opinions to himself.

  Lucy nuzzled Mr. Nibbles’s cheek, and an unexpected twinge of jealousy surprised him. Had that little rat just winked at him? No. It must be a trick of the light. No sane person was jealous of a guinea pig. That was ridiculous.

  Still, he should have known she’d never have something as common as a cat or a dog as a pet. Her home, much like Lucy herself, was eclectic, warm and mischievous. The mix of colors and patterns was charming. He’d never gone beyond beige in choosing a wall shade, but he didn’t mind the startling teal blue Lucy had chosen. Still, had he seen a color swatch, he’d have balked.

  Did opposites really attract? Brandt had summed up Jordan’s personality as “brunch.” He wasn’t too early and he wasn’t too late—he was someone everyone could agree on. Despite their differences, they’d made a good team. Jordan had tempered Brandt’s impulsive tendencies, while Brandt had forced Jordan to take more risks.

  Jordan glanced at a watercolor of a woman in a sequined leotard reclining beneath the raised foot of an elephant. The past few months had stripped all the whimsy from his life. His soft edges had been sharpened, and the only humor he had left was dark. Since the bombing, something inside him had changed. There was a restless longing that hadn’t been there before.

  “Here.” Without waiting for an answer, Lucy thrust Mr. Nibbles into his outstretched hands. “Can you hold him for a sec?”

  “Wait,” Jordan protested. “I don’t think this is—”

  “I’ll be right back.” She waved her index finger playfully. “Don’t you two get into any trouble while I’m gon
e.”

  Leaving Jordan sputtering, she disappeared up the stairs once more.

  He stared at the rodent. After a tense moment, Mr. Nibbles blinked.

  “Let’s get something straight. I’m not a guinea pig person.” Jordan assumed his sternest expression—the expression that parted crowds and ensured that his subordinates didn’t turn into insubordinates. Right then, he didn’t care who was listening. “We’re not going to be pals, so don’t get any ideas.”

  The message must have landed, because Mr. Nibbles promptly bit him.

  “Ouch.” Holding the squirming rodent away from his body, Jordan wrestled open the lid to the cage. “That’s no way to make a friend.”

  Gingerly he replaced the guinea pig and stepped back. Mr. Nibbles scurried to the corner, scuffed in his bedding and promptly began to gnaw on something. Jordan leaned closer.

  “No biting,” he warned.

  Carefully brushing the shaved wood chip bedding aside, Jordan discovered a small, square photograph from an instant camera. As he squinted at the grainy picture, his adrenaline spiked.

  He slid his hand into his jacket and closed his fingers around the barrel of his weapon. For a long moment, he stayed very still, his senses attuned to any disturbance. The only sounds were Lucy’s footsteps overhead and the gentle scuffing of Mr. Nibbles. The air stirred, and a sheer curtain fluttered in the gentle breeze. He glanced at the photograph once more.

  Someone must have slipped it through the open window only moments before. A rare moment of indecision plagued him. Too much time had passed. There was no point in giving chase, and he didn’t want to leave Lucy alone.

  She returned from upstairs and he pivoted. “We need to go. Quickly.”

  “Not without Mr. Nibbles.”

  “Oh, fine,” he muttered, returning for the cage. He stared the guinea pig in the eye. “You owe me for coming back for you.”

  He kept his tone light to avoid further worrying Lucy, then caught himself. If he was distracted by his feelings, he was liable to walk them both right into a trap.

  Someone out there was watching them. Waiting for them.

  FOUR

  A great weight pressed into Lucy’s chest, restricting her breathing.

  The instant photograph was small, only a few inches square, and the colors were bleached. The two grainy forms in the foreground were barely distinguishable as her and Jordan. Despite the poor quality, there was no mistaking the content. The picture was of the two of them and had been taken outside her sunroom only moments before.

  Jordan slammed the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat of Lucy’s car. “I checked the angle. It looks like someone took the picture from your neighbor’s yard. Are you certain you didn’t leave that window open when you left this morning?”

  “Positive.” She racked her brain for the last time she’d aired that room. “Although it’s been a while since I’ve checked the locks. The sunroom is south facing and heats up quickly in the spring.”

  Jordan tapped his index finger against the steering wheel. “Whoever planted the listening devices probably left it open as a bit of insurance for easy access to the house when necessary.”

  “Do you think they know we discovered the surveillance?”

  “Even if they did, I don’t think they care. They want you to know you’re being monitored. Someone took the picture from the neighboring yard, then slipped it through the open window while we were upstairs. They want you to feel on edge. To feel trapped.”

  Lucy huffed. “It’s working.”

  She’d been vacillating between anger and terror since leaving the house. Content to sit on her lap, Mr. Nibbles gnawed on the edge of the photo until Jordan wrestled it away.

  “That’s evidence,” he admonished lightly. “Stick to your carrots.”

  He tucked the photo into his breast pocket and ran his fingers through his hair, then twisted around to reach into the back seat. A slight puckering of the skin near his left ear caught her attention. He wore his hair longer than Brandt, and she’d attributed the style to a subtle, maybe even subconscious, bit of rebellion. As she looked closer, she recognized the faint edges of a significant scar.

  A chill gripped her. His hair wasn’t a fashion statement—it was camouflage.

  “We’ll wait here a minute,” he said. “Westover and Karp are checking the perimeter.”

  “Okay,” she murmured.

  They’d told her little about the blast, and she knew only what she’d seen on the news. A suicide bomber had targeted the hotel where Jordan and Brandt had been staying. Two locals had been killed along with Brandt.

  Jordan had been outside the building at the time of the attack and was struck by shrapnel. She’d known he was in the hospital at the time of the funeral, but not once had it occurred to her that he might still be in rehab this whole time.

  The bombing had happened a year before, and yet he’d only recently made contact. The delay hadn’t seemed ominous to her before seeing the signs of his injuries.

  Mr. Nibbles squirmed in her hands, nudging her back to the present. “What happens next?”

  “We wait. He wants inside your head. He wants you looking over your shoulder. When he figures you’re nice and jumpy, he’ll make contact.”

  The black SUV pulled to a stop beside them, and Westover rolled down his window. “There’s no sign of anyone. They must have hightailed it out of here after taking the picture. No one went by us, which means they came down the alley. Doesn’t look like anyone has a security camera or a doorbell camera pointed in that direction, and the neighboring house is empty and listed for sale. No help there.”

  “I’d really like to catch a break one of these days,” Jordan grumbled. “Where to next?”

  Karp passed a piece of paper over Westover and through the open window. “Take Ms. Sutton back to base housing. Westover and I will coordinate with local law enforcement. I don’t want to startle whoever did this, but we’ll have the police increase the patrols around her house.”

  Jordan glanced at the paper, and his features relaxed. “Who else are we bringing in on this?”

  “If need be, we can coordinate with the local FBI. I’ll send any security footage we dig up back to Maryland for analysis. For now, let’s figure out what we’re dealing with.”

  “All right.”

  The window slid back into place and the SUV pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucy said, not quite certain what she was apologizing for.

  “No need to be sorry. This is what I do.” Jordan grunted. “Well, not precisely. Normally I’m running offense. But you’re in good hands. I’ll coordinate with my staff in Maryland. I trust Karp and he knows the staff here.”

  “Are you in Omaha for long?” Lucy asked.

  She and Brandt had met through mutual friends at a party when he was in town for work. Though Brandt had never been particularly forthcoming about his job, she knew enough about the local base to recognize the communications he monitored were highly classified. Though drones were operated from a separate location, she occasionally visited when the software was updated.

  Jordan flashed a wry grin. “My plans are up in the air right now. Had kind of a busy day.”

  “That’s fair.” She chuckled in spite of herself. “This isn’t how I expected my day to go, either.”

  “What did you have planned?”

  “I was going to clean out the refrigerator and weed the garden.” This morning seemed like ages ago. She’d have to ask a neighbor to water her flowers if she was gone for long. “Then I was thinking about reading a book and watching some TV. Probably not as exciting as your life, eh?”

  A shadow passed over his expression. “Most of my days are the same.” His stomach rumbled, filling the silence, and his cheeks flushed. “I was also planning on getting something to eat.”

 
Though she wasn’t hungry, Lucy said, “I’m starving.”

  His obvious relief more than made up for the little white lie. She sensed he’d ignore his own needs in order to take care of hers first.

  “How do you feel about burgers?” he asked.

  This time she didn’t have to lie. “I adore them.”

  The next instant, she flashed back to the coffee shop. She pictured the shattered windows and heard the noise. Her hand drifted to her bandaged cheek. The weight settled on her chest once more, and she fought the pressure building behind her eyes.

  Jordan placed his hand next to hers on the seat, not quite touching. “Don’t worry. I know a really good drive-through burger joint. We won’t even have to get out of the car.”

  Grateful for his understanding, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “It gets better, you know. But it takes time. When something like this happens, it changes you. Don’t be afraid to talk about it.”

  Her throat constricted, preventing her from answering, and she nodded instead. Brandt had always assured her that his job was boring and monotonous. He’d downplayed the danger. He’d lied to her. While she recognized that he was trying to protect her, the truth would have served her better. She didn’t want to think about what Jordan’s life was like when he was in the field.

  If this morning was any indication of the kind of danger he faced when he was working overseas, she was better off not knowing the details.

  * * *

  A short time later, the delightful aroma of burgers and fries filled the car. Holding the bag in her lap, Lucy’s mouth watered. Maybe she was hungry, after all.

  Jordan flashed his credentials to pass through the gate at the air force base and parked her car before a rather dull and sterile-looking building.

  Safely sequestered behind a guarded gate, she was struck with an unexpected sense of calm, as though she was leaving the dangerous world behind. Jordan must have felt something similar, because he appeared more relaxed than he had all day.