Not because she was scared. She was pissed. Someone was using the memory of her fallen friend to screw with her. Why, she had no idea. But when she found the person or people responsible?—
“I can see why you waited to ask for help until you saw me in person.” Scarlett’s slight rasp broke through Natalia’s wandering thoughts. “Okay, how about this? Once I’m done with my ‘research’ I’ll text you letting you know that I’m free to meet for coffee. When you see that, you’ll know I’ve gotten what I could from the picture and feed, and we can plan to meet up at your earliest convenience. Coffee’s always an option, of course.”
“Let me know when you’re free, and we’ll put it on the books.”
“Sounds good to me.” The redhead flashed her a smile. “Talk soon. And…be careful, yeah?”
“Always.” Natalia winked before shutting her door.
After retrieving the two small suitcases from the trunk of the car, she gave Scarlett a parting jut of her chin as she walked past on her way to her door. With a wave from the other side of the windshield, the other woman backed the car out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.
Natalia released one of the handles to punch in the security code on the pad mounted to her door. The light turned green, the locks disengaged, and she opened the door and stepped inside.
Minutes later, she was stepping into her shower for a quick rinse before heading across town to Homeland. The intel those men had regarding Arlo Sanchez’s illegal operations was too important to risk bringing less than her best to the table, and the hot water and fresh set of clothes did wonders to help her recharge.
Feeling much more put-together than before—despite the tender bump on the back of her head and a black and blue chest—she grabbed her jacket, phone, and purse, and rushed back out the door.
9
“You made it.”
Jagger closed the door behind him, taking a few more steps into the shadows of the small, dark room. “You kidding?” He shot the man he’d come to see an incredulous smirk. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Talia’s boss—and R.I.S.C.’s original Homeland handler—slid a hand from the pocket of his black suit pants and held it out between them. “Good to see you again, Jagger.”
Jason Ryker’s grip was every bit as firm as he remembered.
Using the handshake as momentum, Jagger pulled the other man in for a quick hug. “You, too, brother.” He delivered a few friendly slaps to Ryker’s back before releasing his hold and putting some space between them. “Although, I have to say, I was surprised to hear you were in D.C. and not Dallas.”
“Why is that?”
“Oh, you know how it typically goes with you Fed guys. One minute, you’re getting some fancy ‘promotion’ and the next, you’re spending your days on a golf course, hobnobbing with a bunch of geriatric politicians who’ve been in the game far beyond their useful years.”
The powerful man’s deep chuckle filled the depressingly gray room.
“Guess I probably shouldn’t tell you I spent the morning going nine holes with Representative Peterson and Senator Tracy, then, huh?” Both men laughed. “But hey, just because I moved up the ladder doesn’t mean I’m completely out of the game.”
“Different set of rules, though. Am I right?”
The other man dipped his salt-and-pepper head in a nod. There was markedly more salt than pepper these days, the silver strands covering most of the guy’s temples and the majority of his strong, chiseled jaw.
He’d be a fool to underestimate Ryker’s abilities when it came to hand-to-hand or any other style of combat, however. The guy may have taken a step back after getting married and having a kid, but Jason Ryker was still a machine with a direct line all the way to the White House.
“The rules are absolutely different at this level,” Ryker responded to Jagger’s half-flippant inquiry. “That’s why, when Hunt called to give me a heads up on what Cutler found on the footage from the port, I cleared the rest of my day to be here, instead.”
“To show support for your girl?” he mused. “Or are you looking to decide for yourself whether Talia’s on the take?”
A twinge of guilt twisted deep inside his gut the second the words were out of his mouth. There was no hard and fast evidence to prove the woman had gone to the ‘dark side’. All they had was a former colleague of hers from years before at the scene of their op.
Coincidence? It was possible. What an ironic twist of fate that would be. But Jagger didn’t believe in coincidences. As far as he was concerned, they simply didn’t exist. Everything happened for a reason.
There was a motive behind every choice people made. So he was here, having accepted Ryker’s invitation to observe without a moment’s hesitation. Talia either had prior knowledge that her former colleague was involved with the man Homeland had been hunting…or she didn’t. Best way for Jagger to figure it out was to see it for himself.
“She’s not dirty.” Ryker slid the black suit jacket from his broad shoulders, pulling it free from his muscular arms. Turning around, he hung the pressed garment neatly over the back of a nearby chair. “If Agent Foster had knowledge that someone she knew was part of Sanchez’s crew, she would have told me. Immediately.” He huffed out a breath. “Hell, knowing Talia, she would have insisted we put someone else in charge of the case to avoid causing any conflict or doubt down the road.”
“You’re sayin’ she would have recused herself from the mission completely if she had prior knowledge he would be there?” Jagger motioned toward the large window that took up most of the wall on his left.
In actuality, it was a massive two-way mirror. One that allowed them both a clear view of the man sitting alone at a small table in the adjacent room.
