This was far bigger than anything she’d imagined.
The Russians taking out half a platoon of Navy SEALs on a covert op that probably violated scores of treaties and international laws was huge enough, but if the information that had led to their deaths had been leaked from the inside? That was Watergate, Iran Contragate, name-your-favorite-gate huge. She’d probably be nominated for a Pulitzer if she broke this story.
And now that she knew the truth—or some of it—she was even more convinced it was a story that needed to be told. If the government was running illegal operations in America’s name, they needed to be held accountable for those actions. No wonder they didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.
And once again someone she loved had been caught up in the cross fire of the government trying to protect its interests at the expense of law and justice.
But even as she wrestled with all the implications, she understood why John had been so furious when she’d tracked him down. She believed him about the danger and certainly didn’t want to do anything to see him or anyone else killed.
“Who would have done such a thing?” she finally asked.
“I have no idea, but people are looking into it.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t have even told you what I did, and I’m not going to say anything that could get someone else killed.”
She guessed she could understand that. For now. “Do these people have any leads?”
“They are looking in a few directions.”
“In other words, no.”
He didn’t say anything.
“You can’t stay in hiding forever, John. The ski-bum life is going to get old after a while.”
She suspected it was already. He was a Navy SEAL, and as much as he projected the hang-loose, beach-boy vibe, that wasn’t him. She knew that about him now. He thrived on challenge.
“I won’t have to. We have someone helping us now. It won’t be much longer.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? He was living on borrowed time. Whoever was responsible for setting them up obviously had resources if they’d killed the person who’d warned them and now were going after her. “And what if the wrong people find out first that you survived?”
He shrugged again. “It wouldn’t be the first time I had a target on my head.”
How he could so coolly and calmly talk about someone trying to kill him, she didn’t know. She was scared for him, even if he wasn’t for himself.
Really scared.
Aside from whoever had set them up, there was a host of other players who might not be happy to hear that there were survivors of the doomed mission. Both the US and Russian governments were probably only too happy to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.
Well, she wasn’t. And she had an idea. One he most certainly wasn’t going to like. “You do have one lead,” she said.
He frowned. “What’s that?”
“Not what, who. You have me.”
•••
John stared at her as the realization of what she meant sank in. Was she out of her sweet, loving mind?
“No. Fucking. Way.” He said each word with a hard finality that told her exactly what he thought of that idea. “Get it out of your head. You are not going anywhere near this. If I have to tie you to that damned bed, I will.”
She rolled her eyes as if his anger—and attitude—were to be expected and were nothing to worry about. She was dead wrong about that. He meant every word.
“Don’t be overdramatic, John.”
He gave her a long look and then shifted his eyes to the headboard behind her. “I assure you I’d like nothing more—for more reasons than one.”
