His mind flitted back to Shane Carter, his old teammate who was taken captive by the Islamic state of Afghanistan for over a year and brainwashed to become a secret mole, an enemy. Shane had been intent on destroying the team, had nearly killed his wife and forced Merc to put a bullet in his head.
Was this some bad déjà vu? Had Mr. J somehow turned Caroline Cotter to the other side in those few weeks he had her?
No, that type of psychological torture and manipulation took longer than a few weeks. So then why did she continue in a slow methodical circle around the room?
He watched her every move, her every mannerism, trying to take note of anything out of place. She finally reached the last shelf by the doorway and yanked a book off the shelf, caressing the cover. Merc heaved a sigh of relief. She'd been looking for a damn book. Just like she'd said last night before... Before they devoured each other in a burst of passion that had rocked into his core. Unable to move, he watched as she clutched the book to her chest and left the room.
Merc made a mental note to find out what types of books she read. Maybe he could surprise her with one.
He gave himself a mental shake. He shouldn't care about what books she liked to read. She was his mission, his means to an end. As long as he stayed close to Caroline Cotter, Mr. J would come to him. Merc was still trying to convince himself of that fact as he tracked her across the various monitors, crossing the foyer, giving the open doorway to the dining room a wide berth, and running up the staircase to the third story. Probably going to her room to read and relax after the intense confrontation with her father. But instead of turning right, in the direction of her bedroom, she went left, all the way down the hall, and knocked on her father’s bedroom door.
Merc caught a glimmer of movement on another screen, that of Cotter leaving the dining room and going upstairs, but he stopped on the second story. He turned to the left and then hooked a right, disappearing around the corner and Merc realized that portion of the west wing was completely off camera. As was his bedroom.
Why was Caroline sneaking into her father's bedroom?
Merc had every intention of finding out.
He left the security room and ran upstairs, slowing his footsteps to silently approach Cotter's private rooms. He put his ear to the door, listening for any movement inside, and was met with silence.
Merc eased the handle down on the door, pushed it open inch by inch, slipped inside the darkened room, and silently shut the door behind him. The book lay at the foot of the senator's bed, unopened. Caroline leaned over her father's desk on the far left of the room where Cotter had set up another smaller office. She hadn't heard him come in and was busily rifling through the loose-leaf papers lying about.
Every instinct inside of Merc went off with alarm. There was absolutely no plausible reason why Caroline would be snooping through her father's private things... none good anyway. “What are you doing in here?”
Caroline jumped a full foot in the air, spinning about to grip the desk with a white-knuckled grip. Her innocent pale blue gaze wide with horror.
Merc pushed off from his stance on the wall, approaching her. While outwardly calm, inside he was racked with questions. Had J somehow convinced her to betray her father? As head of JSOC, Cotter had access to files on government-sanctioned covert operations, restricted to the highest level of security clearance. The kind of access Mr. J and ISA would kill for.
But no matter how hard he tried to connect Caroline with the CIA’s most wanted traitor, he came up short. There had to be something else going on, something that Merc’s skills as an interrogator could draw out of even the most highly trained operative. Pumping Cotter’s civilian daughter for information would be as easy as taking a bite of ice cream pie. “Caroline, I’ll ask again, what are you doing in here?”
Her blue gaze darted to the book on the bed, but Merc dismissed it right away. “I know you didn't go into his study to look for that book. Just like I know you didn't come into this bedroom to read.” He got within three feet of her and stopped, straining to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest. “Either you tell me or tell your father.”
Even under the makeup her cheeks paled and she stammered out an excuse. “I – I – I don't know what to say.”
Merc lowered his brows and took an intimidating step forward, knowing body language had almost as much impact on a person’s psyche as words and violence. Not that he could ever be violent against Caroline, but he would find out the truth. And so help him, if J had somehow convinced her to go over to his side...
“Why don't we start with something easy. What exactly is it you're searching for in those papers?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the desk then back at him, and his gut clenched at the fear that was so obvious on her face. How could J have managed it so quickly – did he have something he was holding over Caroline's head? Maybe he’d threatened someone precious to her. Did he have a way to attack her father they didn't know about? Maybe he’d convinced Caroline that he could kill her father if she didn't feed him information. Merc was desperate for the scene in front of him to make sense.
He inched forward until he was practically looming over her, only a foot between them now. Her scent drifted to him and he had to fight not to let his lids drift shut and savor her sweet smell. “I'm going to give you ten more seconds to answer me. Then I'm dragging your father in here and you two are gonna have a heart-to-heart with me right in the middle. Got it?”
“I - I can't tell you.”
He had to strain to hear her whisper. “Why not?”
“I'm afraid,” she said.
“Are you afraid of me, Caroline?” he asked just as softly.
Her white-knuckled grip on the desk loosened and softened. “No.”
Merc was very good at detecting lies, and in Caroline's tone, he didn’t sense one trace of falseness. “That would make you one of few. Most men are afraid of me.”
Caroline cocked her head to the side, studying him in a way that made him feel like she was seeing beyond his carefully crafted exterior. “I know I should be afraid of you. I know that even some men on your team are.”
“True.” A fact at first he’d found annoying, but now it was something he sought to enhance. People who feared him didn't question him about his past or probe for answers. His teammates respected him and they trusted him with their lives, but they didn't share that easy camaraderie with him which seemed to come so naturally to the rest of the team. On a subconscious level he realized it, but he ignored it. His size and his ferocity served the purpose, just like everything else in his life.
“I know you could crush me, probably even kill me just like that.” Caroline snapped her fingers.
