Bran clamped down on his irritation. “It’s obvious the theft was well planned and that some of the people involved work right here at the plant.”
“Perhaps. But someone manipulated our computer systems, which could have been done from anywhere.”
“You mean it was hacked,” Jessie said. “If that’s the case, what’s to stop these people from doing it again?”
De La Garza’s shoulders tightened, a sign he was tired of answering questions. “After the theft, we installed new security software that prevents any sort of tampering. We’re confident the munitions are safe until they’re all destroyed and the plant is closed.” He rose, signaling the interview was over.
Bran and Jessie stood. “Thanks for your help,” she said, though he was beginning to know her well enough to catch the hint of sarcasm in her voice.
He followed her out of the office, where Carol waited in the hall to lead them back to visitor parking. They were supposed to speak to Charles Frazier next, but Carol told them something had come up and Frazier had to cancel. His assistant, Andrew Horton, was also unavailable.
Conveniently. It was Jessie’s word, but Bran was beginning to see a pattern. It was starting to look like there was a giant cover-up going on that might reach the highest levels.
Maybe it was just a matter of CYA—cover your ass. In this case, everyone covering his own. Or maybe the theft involved a shit ton of money and everyone wanted a cut.
“What do we do about Charles Frazier?” Jessie asked, breaking into his thoughts as he drove back to the Holiday Inn. “We really need to speak to him.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Actually, not being able to talk to him right now might work in our favor. If we talk to Frazier at home, he may be more cooperative.”
Jessie flicked him a sideways glance. “By cooperative, you mean we can press him harder to tell us what we want to know.”
Press him. That was a polite way to put it. Bran’s jaw hardened as he thought of the man who had brought all-hell down on Colonel Kegan, ultimately leading to his death—or murder.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Jessie swam laps again that night. Since the pool was crowded with kids and their parents well into the evening, she waited until close to ten, just before the area closed.
After leaving the chemical depot, she had worked on her laptop the rest of the day, writing up notes, putting them into some kind of order.
She made lists of questions, some for Charles Frazier, some for his assistant. Both of whom had convenientlynot been available that day. The implications were beginning to drive her crazy.
They ordered in Chinese food and Bran turned the TV on in the living room, but neither of them were in the mood to watch. Jessie knew exactly what she was in the mood for. She hadn’t thought about sex this much in the last three years. Now, every time she looked at Bran, having sex with him was all she could think of.
Everything about him turned her on. The cadence of his voice, the way he laughed, the way he moved. Just watching him amble across the living room sent a curl of heat into the pit of her stomach.
What would it be like to kiss him? Run her hands over all the lean, hard muscles she had seen and couldn’t get out of her head? What would it be like if he made love to her?
Would she ruin it the way she had when she had tried before? Start thinking about Ray Cummings and the intimate way he had touched her? Conjure images of the rape he had planned to carry out if she hadn’t managed to escape?
Fidgety and unable to relax, she headed for the pool, Bran reluctantly accompanying her. Exercising in the warm water was the perfect stress reliever. She glanced over to where he paced the deck at the opposite end of the pool, tall and lean-muscled, blue-eyed, and built. Nothing better than swimming—except for hours of erotic sex with the man of her fantasies.
It seemed so outrageous she found herself grinning as she stroked to the far end of the pool. She was still smiling when she came up out of the water, dripping and adjusting her swimsuit, just a few feet away from him.
“What’s so funny?” Bran asked, as grumpy tonight as he had been the night before.
She looked into his hard, handsome face and some little devil made her say it. “If you really want to know, I was thinking what it might be like to have wild, uninhibited sex with you.”
Hunger flashed in his eyes so quickly she took a step back. “Is that so,” he drawled, his gaze running over her, assessing every curve her orange-striped bikini displayed.
Her whole body flushed with heat as she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about sex.
She swallowed. “I was imagining what it might be like, but I...I know if we tried, I’d screw it up. After Ray, I’ve got, you know, hang-ups.”
His gaze grew more intense. “What kind of hang-ups?”
She picked up her towel off the lounge chair and quickly dried off, then slipped on her white terry cloth robe. Fortunately, the overhead lights began to flash, signaling it was time for the pool to close.
“Time to leave.” She started walking back to the room, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. By the time Bran opened the door and checked inside to be sure it was safe, she was starting to relax.
