Cooper Security 06 - Secret Intentions (8 page)

She came across an anti–Espera Group weblog on the second page of links and clicked. The blog design was crude and amateur, but whoever ran the site wrote with passion, even if his style was occasionally on the clunky side and his grammar faltered now and then.

“If the Cambridge administration pushes for the treaty, and can strong-arm enough congressmen to go along with it, he’ll win the accolades of his party and the gratitude of the world,” the blogger began. “He’ll also guarantee that the world’s oil will be controlled not by individual countries vulnerable to both carrots and sticks but to an unaccountable, unleverageable group of nameless, faceless bureaucrats with no track record of wisdom, responsibility or mercy.”

Evie couldn’t argue with his point. For decades, people had been trying to figure out how to fix the oil problem. The resource was used as a bargaining tool, fought for, killed for, rationed and vilified because the countries that needed the most of it had to walk softly around the mercurial, often despotic countries that controlled most of it.

People were tired of being held hostage to the whims of dictators sitting on a fortune in black gold. The solution the Espera Group was selling would seem like the perfect answer to a whole lot of them. Sharing the oil evenly and equitably, controlling production for the sake of conservation and reducing waste, taking the reins out of the hands of people who wielded oil like a weapon—what was there not to like?

But who made the decisions? The multinational group favored by the Espera Group, handpicked by their supporters? That kind of “consensus” rarely worked out to the benefit of those who played by the rules. And the lack of transparency guaranteed that corruption would take root.

Near the end of the blog post was a link. “Think I’m overreacting to a treaty that hasn’t even been presented to Congress? Take a look just how deep the rot in the current administration goes.”

Jesse emerged from the bathroom in a clean pair of jeans, a towel around his neck only partially hiding his bare, still-damp chest. His dark hair was still wet, rivulets running down his lean cheeks. He brought the towel up and ran it over his hair, his chest muscles flexing.

“There’s still plenty of hot water left if you want to take a turn,” he said, crossing to the bed next to the table where she sat. He sat on the edge and nodded at the page she had open. “What are you looking at?”

“No Espera,”
she answered, dragging her gaze back to the computer screen. “It’s an anti–Espera Group blog. He’s pretty eloquent in opposition to the Wolfsburg Treaty,” Evie said. “He may even know more about who’s behind the group than we do.”

“A blogger?”

“You’d be surprised how deep some of these bloggers’ resources go. It looks as if he’s based in Arlington, Virginia, so he’s right there near D.C. He may know people intimately involved in the decision-making process.”

“Does he give his name?”

“No. A lot of bloggers prefer to remain anonymous.”

“Probably thinks the government is out to get him.”

She frowned at Jesse’s dismissive tone. “He might be right.”

Jesse dropped the damp towel onto the bed beside him, giving her a skeptical look. “And he might be typing away in his mother’s basement, surrounded by his sci-fi action figures.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, clicking the link at the bottom of the blog post. After a brief wait, she got a “Page not found” message. “Hmm.”

Jesse moved closer, bending to read over her shoulder. “A broken link from a blogger. What a shock.”

Damn, he smelled good. Soap-and-water fresh, with a hint of pure masculinity underlying the clean scent. She dragged her mind back to the topic. “You’re an old-media snob.”

He laughed. “I just know you can’t trust everything you read on the internet. How old is that blog post?”

She went back to the blog page. “It was posted a week ago.”

“And that’s the last post on the page?” He sounded surprised. “Issue bloggers usually post at least once a day, if not more.”

“Maybe he’s on vacation or something.” She turned around to look at Jesse. He stood close, still shirtless and unspeakably attractive on a purely visceral level.

“Without getting a guest blogger to fill in?” Jesse sat back on the edge of the bed again and picked up the black T-shirt lying on the comforter beside him. Evie bit back a sigh as he slipped the shirt over his head, covering his bare chest.

“I don’t know. Maybe he had some sort of family emergency and had to bug out for a bit.”

“Well, let me have the laptop awhile. I need to download some of my files on the SSU and the Espera Group from the Cooper Security web archive. Go take a shower and we’ll walk down to the burger joint on the corner to get something to eat.” He traded places with her, waving toward the bathroom.

When she emerged from the shower, dressed in fresh jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt she’d purchased at the thrift store, she found Jesse lying on the bed by the window, staring up at the ceiling. He turned his head as she entered the room, his dark eyes following her movements as she settled on the edge of the other bed.

His silent regard made her feel awkward. “Did you get everything downloaded okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He continued to look at her thoughtfully.

She squelched the urge to check her reflection in the mirror to see if she had a smudge on her face. “Good.”

“I’ve been thinking, though.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Is that good or bad?”

He smiled. “I’m not sure. I was thinking about your blogger friend.”

“Well, it’s not like I actually know him—”

“I did a little looking around. Found his real identity. It’s a kid named Shawn Bellington. Lived in Arlington Heights.”

“Lived?”

Jesse sat up. “I did a web search for his name and found an obituary. He was killed in a hit-and-run accident a week ago.”

Chapter Six

“Wow.” Evie looked uneasy. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Could be a coincidence.” Jesse held out his hand to help her up. “Meanwhile, there are burgers and fries to be eaten.”

She took his hand, smiling up at him. “And a chocolate shake?”

He squeezed her hand before letting go. “After the last few days you’ve had, I think you’ve earned it.”

They discussed Shawn Bellington’s death a little more over dinner, without coming to any solid conclusion about whether it was a coincidence or another notch in the SSU’s belt. Jesse was prone to think the former, but he could tell Evie wasn’t convinced.

After dinner back at the motel, Jesse called his brother Rick again to check on things at home. He was relieved to be able to tell Evie that her family was still safe. “Rita and her husband checked in from Spain. Everything’s still fine. Rick says your father relented and let Cooper Security send a couple of agents to Spain to supplement the security people who already accompanied them.”

“Poor Rita,” Evie said with a faint smile. “Honeymooning with her new husband and an entourage of nosy security guards watching their every move. Yeah, I bet they’re having the time of their lives.”

“It’s necessary.”

“I know. It’s also sort of horrifying to imagine.”

“Rick sent a male/female team. They’re posing as fellow newlyweds, so hopefully their presence will be a little less intrusive.”

Evie cocked her head to one side, studying him for a long, silent moment. He returned the favor, taking in her newly changed appearance. She looked good as a redhead, the color perfect for her pale complexion and deep blue eyes. The short, choppy cut suited her as well, though she’d already told him she was going to find a hair salon as soon as they got to Washington to get her self-inflicted haircut cleaned up by a professional.

Personally, he thought she’d done a creditable job. Her thick hair was blunt cut to chin level, showing off her long, slender neck. It was a cut that should have made her look even younger than her twenty-seven years, but something about the look gave her an added air of maturity.

She definitely wasn’t a little girl anymore.

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

He realized he had no idea what she was asking. Somewhere, in his contemplation of her appearance, he’d completely lost track of their conversation. “Does what bother me?”

“Thinking about Rita being married.”

“Oh.” How to answer that? He’d gone to the wedding expecting the idea to bother him greatly, but to his surprise, he’d discovered he’d made peace with losing Rita for good. “I’m happy if she’s happy.”

Her lips curved in a crooked half smile. “That’s a very careful answer.”

“It’s true, though. She seemed happy. So I’m good with it. It’s what I wanted for her, you know. Always. I wanted her to be happy.”

“Because you love her.”

“There’s a lot to love about Rita. You know that better than anyone.”

Evie nodded. “I do know. And she
is
happy.”

“Then I’m glad.”

Evie looked down at her hands a moment, as if she had something more she wanted to say. But when she looked up at him again, her expression was neutral, save for a slight smile. “Can I borrow your computer again? I wanted to do a little more nosing around before bedtime.”

Bedtime,
Jesse thought. Until now, the two of them had stayed busy enough to postpone thinking about what bedtime meant.

It should have meant nothing. Two friends sharing a room for the night. No big deal.

Except it suddenly seemed like a huge deal. All evening long, whether he’d been leaning over her shoulder to read the blog she’d found or walking side by side with her to the burger joint down the block, Jesse had found himself acutely aware of Evie Marsh. Not as a friend or a colleague but as an attractive, sexually tempting woman.

He hadn’t spent the past twelve years in a celibate homage to the girl that got away, but the busy days and nights at Cooper Security for the past six months had kept him well out of the dating pool. It had been a long time since he’d shared a dinner alone with a woman, even one as public as a booth in the corner of a burger joint. It had been even longer since he’d spent the night in the same room with a woman.

So don’t think of Evie as a woman.

Yeah. Right.

“Can I use the laptop?” Evie asked again, cocking her head slightly as she narrowed her gaze at him.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Giving himself a quick mental kick, he scooted down the bed, out of her way. She settled on the edge of his bed next to him, smelling like the herbal shower gel the motel supplied for guests. It was cheap stuff, but somehow on Evie it smelled like Gossamer Mountain after a spring rain.

God, that was lame. He had to get ahold of himself before he blew this mission completely.

He was sitting too close to her. All those pheromones or whatever were going straight to his head, sapping his focus. He took advantage of her instant absorption with the laptop to walk across the room, putting necessary distance between them.

He settled on the other bed with his back to her and checked his email on his phone. Mostly work-related odds and ends he quickly delegated. One email from Megan telling him that she’d already heard from Delilah and Terry, the agents he’d assigned to keep an eye on Rita and her new husband in Barcelona. Everything was quiet in Spain, for now.

He glanced over his shoulder at Evie. She’d settled back on his bed with her legs crossed, his notebook computer balanced on her lap. She didn’t lift her head to return his gaze, completely focused on whatever she was reading.

Jesse tamped down his curiosity. If she found something he needed to know, she’d tell him. Going back over there to read over her shoulder would be nothing but an excuse to get close to her again.

He kicked off his shoes and settled on her bed, resting his tense neck against the bed pillows. Maybe he should do a little web crawling of his own, see what else he could find out about the Espera Group.

* * *

O
N THE CHANCE
that the site had been down only temporarily, Evie tried the link at the end of the
No Espera
blog. But once again, it went to an error page. So much for that idea.

Sticking with the
No Espera
blog, she clicked through the list of links in the blog’s sidebar until she came across another anti–Espera Group blog called
Esperatopia.
This blog’s tone was breezier and more sarcastic than
No Espera
’s more measured, academic treatment of the subject. But in the midst of the witty snark and the occasional profanity, she discovered a post, dated around the time of the
No Espera
post with the missing link, that not only mentioned the now-dead link but provided a screen grab of the page that had disappeared into cyberspace.

At first glance, Evie didn’t see why the bloggers thought the link was such a big deal. It was merely the text of a speech from two years earlier, given by the current secretary of energy before he had been chosen for that position by President Cambridge last year. The first half was dry and pedantic, outlining the benefits and drawbacks of alternative energy sources. Evie found herself in danger of nodding off as she scanned the material, looking for any mention of the Espera Group and its support of the Wolfsburg Treaty.

She found it near the end of the speech.

For too many decades, under both parties, the United States has made ourselves hostages to the whims and dictates of some of the world’s most depraved power brokers. Even as we strive to develop and implement alternative sources of energy, we must not be naive. It may take decades, even centuries, to economically replace our dependence on fossil fuels.

For this reason, the free-thinking, freedom-loving nations of the world must unite to regulate the production, sale and consumption of our world’s most vital resource.

Evie sat back from the laptop, goose bumps scattering across her arms and legs. “Jesse?”