Shit, what did he think, that those people had tortured her in there?
Braden started the car, giving the sedan a two-block head start before pulling out onto the street after them. He followed as it weaved through a few turns, then the 395 connector, and finally I-95. The big guy drove fast, so Braden was forced to move closer so he wouldn’t lose them.
His phone rang while he was changing lanes. It took him a few seconds to get it out of his pocket and see that it was his partner. He hit the speaker button.
“What’s up, Mick?”
“Since you answered the phone, that must mean the feds haven’t arrested you yet,” Mick said drily.
Braden chuckled. “Not yet, but the morning’s still young.”
He gave Mick a recap of what happened at the EPA building, but instead of being as baffled as he was, his partner had a completely different perspective.
“A prisoner transfer request approved before the arrest was even made, an unmarked office located in an underground garage, and a receptionist who’s obviously there to keep people out. You ever think maybe these two feds who came in to grab Clark are with the CIA?”
Braden frowned. He hadn’t thought about it, but he supposed Mick’s idea made sense. If he disregarded the whole Thomas Thorn angle. He wasn’t yet ready to talk to Mick about the former senator.
“It’s a possibility, I suppose,” Braden agreed. “Though what the hell the CIA would want with Dreya is beyond me.”
“Maybe they need her to break into some Russian military complex or skyscraper in Dubai,” his partner ventured.
Braden snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s the plot of some—if not all—of theMission: Impossiblemovies. You really need to stop confusing Hollywood with real life.”
“Go ahead and laugh if you want, but we both saw how easily Dreya slipped into that apartment complex last night. I’ve spent the whole morning reading your files on her, and if you’re right about even half of the stuff you think she did, then climbing a skyscraper would be a piece of cake for her. You’re telling me the CIA or some other covert organization like that wouldn’t love to get their hands on a person who can break into any building in the world?”
When he put it that way, Braden couldn’t disagree.
“Where do you think they’re heading now?” Mick asked.
Braden glanced at an exit sign. “No clue. I’m just south of exit 160. No sign that they’re planning to get off I-95 yet.”
Mick was silent a moment. “You know, rumor has it that the secretive CIA Farm is near Williamsburg, hidden on a DOD training base at Camp Peary. Then farther south, just over the border in Hertford, North Carolina, there’s the Point, where they conduct all kinds of cool counterterrorist training and test out new spy gear. They might be taking her to one of those places.”
Braden first thought was to pray that his partner was wrong. His bladder—and his empty stomach—couldn’t hold out all the way to North Carolina. His second thought was how the hell did Mick know this shit?
“When I get back, we’re going to sit down and talk about how much time you spend in front of your TV, Mick. We might need to cancel your Netflix account.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Mick said with a snort. “What would I do then? Live the job like you?”
“Ouch,” Braden muttered.
He supposed his partner was pretty spot-on. He did spend a lot of time on the job, a shocking amount of it without getting paid. It was something he’d always done. Yet another habit picked up from Tommy. It had been nine years since Tommy’s death, and it still hurt like hell to think about. Braden hadn’t stopped blaming himself for what happened that night. If he’d insisted on calling for backup instead of going in guns blazing, Tommy might be alive right now.
“Do the job the right way every time, and you and your partner will come home alive every time.”
His grandfather’s words echoed in his head, mocking him.
Braden’s hand tightened on his phone. “Anybody asking about where I am?”
“I told the lieutenant that you were worn out and needed to go crash for a while. He seemed to buy it,” Mick said. “That’s only going to work for so long, though. You know that, right?”
Braden exhaled loudly. “Yeah. Just keep them off me for as long as you can, then I’ll deal with it after that.”
“You mind if I ask you something?”
Braden was surprised his partner bothered to ask permission. Though he was pretty new in the robbery division, Mick was never shy.
“Go ahead.”
