Cooper Security 06 - Secret Intentions (10 page)

Evie found her patience growing short as they waited in line to order from the bright blue truck painted in big white letters that read “Levantino.” Its menu, painted on a board hung out on the side of the truck, boasted a variety of Middle Eastern favorites.

Jesse ordered a lamb pita, while Evie opted for a falafel pita wrap. They ate as they walked toward the Metro station on the corner.

“Jesse—”

He caught her hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s talk when we get back to the motel.” He held on to her hand all the way to the Metro station, letting go only when they had to toss the remains of their lunch before getting on the train.

The ride to the Virginia Square Metro station was short but frustratingly tense for Evie, who had a million questions about their brief but eventful encounter with Alexander Quinn. She held her tongue until they reached their motel room.

“What kind of key is that?” she asked as soon as the door shut behind them, closing them safely inside the small, neat room. She flicked on the light and met Jesse’s dark gaze.

“I’m not sure.” Jesse pulled the paper bag from his pocket, unfolded it and dumped the contents on the dresser top. A few stray seeds spilled out along with the brass key Evie had found inside the bag when she was feeding the pigeons.

“It looks like a house key.” She picked it up and examined it, frowning as she spotted something etched in the metal. She turned on the dresser lamp and held the key under the light for a better view.

“‘AJH,’” Jesse said, reading over her shoulder.

“Does that mean anything to you?” she asked.

“Not off the top of my head.” He took the key from her, his fingers brushing lightly over hers. She tamped down a shiver as he examined the key, turning it over a couple of times as if seeking more clues.

“Typical Quinn,” he said finally. “Gives you half a clue and walks away.”

“What about the number?”

He pulled the slip of paper from his other pocket and unfolded it. “Looks like a local phone number.”

“Is there anything on the back?”

He turned it over and found something written in faint pencil scratching. His lips curved. “‘Mention Mad Dog,’” he read.

“Mad Dog?” she asked, utterly confused.

He looked at her, the grin spreading. “It’s a nickname. For Maddox Heller. Whoever belongs to this number must know Heller.”

“Let’s call it.” She reached for the slip of paper.

He held it out of her reach, catching her outstretched hand. “Before we go a step further, let’s be clear about this. Alexander Quinn does not have our best interests at heart.”

“I know that.”

“Whatever he’s sending us into could get us killed.”

She tried to ignore the sudden spread of goose bumps down her spine. “I know that, too.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze so intense she felt as if her knees would melt right out from under her. When he cupped his palm over the curve of her jaw, her breath faltered, trapped in her suddenly tight throat.

“I can still send you somewhere safe,” he said in a low, sexy voice that sent a fresh series of shivers through her. “I can put you in protection and take it from here myself.”

A part of her knew she should take him up on the offer. What did she know about the kind of skulduggery she and Jesse might be facing if they followed through on Alexander Quinn’s cryptic clues?

But how could she leave Jesse to fend for himself? She was the one who knew this city, not Jesse. She was the one the SSU had targeted. It was her problem, and she couldn’t bear the idea of letting Jesse face the consequences alone while she hid from danger somewhere far away.

“You need me to watch your back.”

His smile faded. “Tough little Evie Marsh. You always were my champion, weren’t you?” His expression had gone serious. “Rita told me, you know. How you took our side in the arguments with your father. She appreciated your support more than you know.”

She felt a flutter of guilt. She hadn’t opposed her father because of Rita. Even then, when she’d been barely seventeen and too young and foolish to understand anything about love, she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of Jesse Cooper walking out of their lives. When Rita broke things off with him only a year later, she hadn’t been the only Marsh sister to cry herself to sleep.

She wasn’t going to walk away from him now, no matter how much danger they were in.

“Let’s do it.” She squared her shoulders. “As soon as it’s six, let’s make the call.”

* * *

J
ESSE
C
OOPER WASN’T A MAN
prone to the jitters. Long before he’d signed up with the Marine Corps, life, and his father’s practical tutelage, had taught him that even the most challenging moments in life could be overcome or, barring that, endured if he dug his feet in and held his ground. Having his mother walk away when he was sixteen years old, leaving him to parent five younger siblings while his father worked long shifts at the sheriff’s department, had taught him that life wasn’t fair and nothing useful ever came from fretting about things he couldn’t control.

But waiting for Evie Marsh to walk out of the bedroom where she was dressing had his nerves jangling.

If anyone had told him that day he’d staked out Rita Marsh’s wedding that he’d be attending a black-tie dinner at the British ambassador’s residence in D.C. a few short days later, he’d have laughed. But here he was, half-strangled by the bow tie around his neck and feeling like an idiot with a black silk cummerbund fastened around his waist, waiting for Evie to finish primping for the party.

“You look nervous. That’s dangerous under the circumstances.”

Jesse turned to face the tall, slim man who sat in an armchair in the corner of the living room, looking utterly relaxed, even bored. His name was Nicholas Darcy, and it had been his number Quinn had given them at the park. Getting a phone call out of the blue from a stranger had set him on edge, and mentioning Maddox Heller’s name had eased his suspicion only marginally. But he’d agreed to meet with Jesse and Evie the evening before, even treating them to dinner at a nice restaurant in Georgetown before taking them to his apartment so they could talk in private.

Darcy, it turned out, was a Diplomatic Security Service agent. He had a hint of a British accent, despite being an American—a result of growing up in the United Kingdom, he’d explained, the son of a foreign-service official working out of the American Embassy in London.

Darcy had known Heller from his time at the American Embassy in Tablis, Kaziristan. He’d later run into the disgraced Marine again on the small Caribbean island of Mariposa, where he’d been working at the consulate while Heller was living the life of a beach bum, licking the wounds left by his dishonorable discharge.

“He met his wife there, you know,” Darcy had told them over decaf coffee in his Georgetown apartment. “She was there for some paranormal convention.” Darcy smiled. “I shouldn’t laugh. She helped save a lot of people’s lives while she was there, at great risk to herself. If she wants to fancy herself an empath, it’s fine with me.”

Evie had exchanged glances with Jesse at that point. He shrugged, realizing there was a lot about Maddox Heller he still didn’t know.

Darcy had also examined the key Evie had found in the sack of birdseed. “It looks like an apartment key,” he’d told them, turning the key over to study the etchings. “‘AJH,’” he’d said aloud. “Someone’s initials?”

“Oh.” Evie had given a little start, drawing the gaze of both men. “What if it’s Ann Jeanette Harlowe? Maybe this key goes to Annie’s apartment.”

Annie Harlowe was the daughter of Air Force General Emmett Harlowe, who had disappeared for nearly a month back in mid-August, taken captive along with his wife and Annie by ruthless members of the SSU. Annie had managed to escape, and her parents were later released under mysterious circumstances. All three were now under protection in a Birmingham-area safe house, guarded by Cooper Security agents, including Jesse’s younger brother Wade.

“You mean her apartment here in D.C.?” Jesse had been skeptical. “How will we ever find it?”

“I have the address,” Evie told him. “At least, I can get it off our web archive. Cooper Security has been paying her bills for her while she’s under our protection, remember?”

They’d found the apartment early this morning, a pretty resident-owned two-story flat in Arlington, less than a mile from the motel where they were staying. The key had fit.

And inside, to Evie’s delight and Jesse’s bemusement, they’d found a rolling clothes rack with several evening dresses in Evie’s size, along with shoes and jewelry to choose from.

“What is this about?” Jesse had looked at Darcy for answers.

The DSS agent had smiled, although he didn’t look particularly amused. “So that’s what Quinn’s call was about.”

“What call?”

“Shortly before you called, Quinn contacted me. He wanted me to arrange two more invitations to the dinner party tonight at the British ambassador’s residence. The Ambassador is an old family friend of mine.”

“Why that party?” Evie had asked, dragging her attention away from the evening gowns.

“You said you wanted to learn more about Secretary Gamble, yes?” Darcy continued smiling, although he looked no happier. “Well, the secretary will be at the party tonight.”

Procuring tickets, he’d told them, had been no trouble. He’d handed them over to Jesse and taken his leave to get ready for the party himself. He’d met them back at Annie Harlowe’s apartment an hour ago, sharply dressed in a black silk tuxedo and carrying a tux for Jesse and a small envelope that he handed over to Evie.

Inside the envelope had been a driver’s license and passport with Evie’s photo—red hair and all—and the name “Evelyn Martin.”

“How did you get that photo?” Jesse had asked.

“You don’t think Quinn met you alone in that park, do you?” Darcy had handed the license and passport to Evie. “Keep them with you in case you ever need them.”

Then he’d sent Evie off to dress while he and Jesse remained outside in the living room of Annie Harlowe’s apartment, stewing in tense silence.

“You’re taking a dangerous risk,” Darcy commented.

“I’m aware of that.”

“How sure are you that Gamble is connected to the Espera Group?” Darcy hadn’t said so, but Jesse suspected the Diplomatic Security Service might be keeping an eye on the group, just as they watched other groups that might pose a threat to Americans abroad or foreign visitors in the States.

“Not sure at all,” Jesse answered. “That’s what I’m trying to ascertain.”

Before Darcy could respond, the bedroom door opened and Evie emerged in a simple navy dress. The top part of the dress hugged her torso and showed off her white shoulders, while the skirt was sheer and floaty, swishing around her legs as she walked toward them.

“Good choice or not?” she asked. Jesse was surprised she sounded unsure of herself. Did she really not realize how beautiful she was?

“Stunning choice,” Darcy said before Jesse could speak. Evie flashed him a bright smile that made Jesse want to knock the stupid grin off the DSS agent’s handsome face.

“You look great,” Jesse said, moving quickly to her side and offering his arm.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Cooper,” she responded with a lopsided grin that made his heart skip a beat. “So what happens now?”

“We crash a party,” he answered.

Chapter Eight

Sir Henry Steed had taken over the top spot at the British Embassy only two years earlier, Darcy told Evie and Jesse during the limousine ride to the ambassador’s residence that evening. He sat alone on the seat facing backward, while Jesse sat protectively close to Evie, as if he expected bullets to start flying through the limo’s windows any moment. “Henry’s been bucking for this promotion for decades,” Darcy said. “He’s a fine chap, very agreeable, but he’s always found himself second-best until now.”

“How did he manage to make it here this time?” Jesse asked.

Darcy smiled. “The previous ambassador made the mistake of getting a senator’s daughter pregnant.”

“Oh.” Evie grimaced. “What should we know about the ambassador before we meet him?”

“He’ll be charmed by you,” Darcy said with a smile. “He has a soft spot for beautiful women.”

“Thank you.”

“Very nice,” Jesse said in a flat tone, “but could you come up with something a little more helpful?”

Darcy slanted a look at him. “He’s a big fan of American football. As you’re from Alabama—you should be able to handle that topic, yes?”

“Absolutely,” Evie answered brightly, trying to defuse the tension rising in the back of the limo. “Anything else?”

“Actually, Henry’s appreciation for beautiful women may be more helpful than you think. If he likes you, he’ll arrange a tour of the residence.”

“And wandering around his house will be helpful how?” Jesse asked.

Evie shot him a sharp look. His lips pressed into a thin line but he made a visible attempt to relax.

“It will be helpful because if you have access to the parts of the residence most visitors don’t get to see over the course of the party, you will likely learn things about the high-ranking visitors that you wouldn’t discover otherwise. At parties such as these, there is the ballroom, where most of the visitors gather. And there is the drawing room, where the upper echelon of government and society gather during the party to avoid the hoi polloi.”

“I’m not sure we actually want to run into Secretary Gamble.” Jesse’s tone was carefully neutral.

“You’re unlikely to be introduced,” Darcy said.

“Then what’s good about access to the drawing room?” Evie asked.

“The drawing room is like Las Vegas,” Darcy said with a wry smile. “What happens there—”

“Stays there?” Evie finished.

“You’ll hear things you won’t hear otherwise if you’re given access to the drawing room. If Henry takes you there himself, no one will question either your right to be there or your discretion.” He looked at Jesse. “But there may be an issue.”

“What’s that?” Jesse asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.