He gave her a sharp nod back. “Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”
Nineteen
Brittany sat on the bed waiting while John paced back and forth a few times, obviously struggling with what to say.
This better be good and not another one of his distracting tactics.
Though her pride wasn’t stinging quite as hard as it had been a few minutes ago—she was inclined to believe him about last night (she didn’t think he wasthatgood of an actor)—she still couldn’t believe that she hadn’t guessed what he was up to. She’d been having too much fun and assumed he was as well. He’d certainly seemed to be.
Had it all been an act?
She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anymore. Now that she knew what this little seemingly romantic getaway to Copenhagen was all about, she wasn’t going to let him put her off any longer.
Not without a good reason.
She was just glad she hadn’t let herself get carried away after last night with all kinds of silly ideas. It was her pride that had been hurt, that was all. The swift kickin the gut, the hot tightness in her chest, and the crashing feeling of disappointment hadn’t lasted longer than a few moments.
A couple minutes at most.
Damn it, she had to get out of there and away from him or she was going to be in real trouble.
John finally stopped pacing and took a position opposite her, leaning back on the bureau to look at her. “Other than the men who made it out of there like me, there is only one other person who knows about this. One, Brittany, so I hope you realize the level of trust I’m putting in you.”
She nodded, her pulse quickening a little. She was excited, anxious, and nervous all at the same time. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to her brother, but at the same time feared what she might hear.
“You were right. We were on a mission to Russia, searching for proof of a doomsday device.” A doomsday device? Was he kidding? He must have read her skepticism. “I know, I know. Iraq WMDs all over again. But we had actionable intelligence this time—good intel. Given the recent hostilities with Russia, including our plane being ‘accidentally’ shot down, I don’t have to tell you that this was a highly classified operation. Literally a handful of people beyond the platoon knew about it and one of those was the president.”
Though she’d suspected as much, confirmation was still a shock—and the implications. An illegal covert mission to—and invasion of—a country we were already teetering on the precipice of war with? Brittany’s mind was reeling with dozens of questions, but she put a mental zipper on her lips, not wanting to interrupt him.
“The satellite pictures you saw with the explosion were taken in the area of an old gulag we had been reconnoitering. We’d split off into two teams not long after arriving to check out two buildings in the camp. My team was delayedin the yard. We’d lost communications, but one of our officers was able to retrieve a message—a warning that the Russians knew we were there. I was on point, so I didn’t know what was going on at the time. A couple of our guys tried to let the other team know, but it was too late. The camp was destroyed by two thermobaric missiles.”
She gasped, feeling tears spring to her eyes. “Oh my God!”
She knew the destructive power of those kinds of missiles. No one in those buildings would have had a chance.
Poor Brandon.
John gave her a long look, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Eight men were killed. The entire team that was already in the building and one member of our team, who died trying to warn them. But without that message, there would have been no survivors.”
“Who sent the message?”
“I’m not sure.” The LC hadn’t confided the person’s name when he’d told John what had happened. “But they won’t be of any help.”
“Why not?”
“They’re dead.”
Brittany gasped again, her eyes widening as she grasped the implications.
He held her gaze with a fierce intensity. “You can see why I said it was dangerous. Whoever it was that leaked the information about our mission is obviously taking care of loose ends. Right now no one except you and the person who is helping us knows there were any survivors. It’s safer for us that way, and until we figure out who was responsible for the Russians knowing we were coming, we have to stay dead.”
Even though he hadn’t said it, Brittany immediately grasped the implications. “You think the information could have come from the inside?”
John’s mouth fell in a grim line. “It’s one possibility. Not the only one.”
Brittany finished for him. “But it’s the one you think is most likely.”
He didn’t say anything, which she took as agreement. She was glad she was sitting down because her mind was reeling.
