Disruptive Force (Declan's Defenders Series Book 6) Page 3

  Using the back of his arm, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and kept running toward her.

  A tug on the leash reminded CJ of Sweet Pea. The dog had crossed the sidewalk to the opposite side, her leash creating a line in front of Cole. CJ crossed to the same side of the sidewalk to keep Cole from tripping over the leash.

  He ran past her, the muscles in his legs flexing and tightening with each long stride.

  A rush of relief washed over her, at the same time as a flush of heat.

  The man had tone and definition in each muscle of his body, from his shoulders, down his chest, to his abs, thighs and calves. She bet she could bounce a quarter off his backside.

  As he passed, he shot a sideways glance her way. For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t slow, or stop, but kept moving. When he reached his town house, he ran up the steps and disappeared inside.

  CJ inhaled a deep breath, amazed at how much she needed it. Had she forgotten how to breathe in the presence of the former marine? She told herself she wasn’t ready to do anything that would connect Cole to her. If Trinity was watching Declan’s Defenders, and CJ was hanging out with them, they’d find her and eliminate her before she had a chance to expose the Director. She couldn’t let that happen. There were a lot of lost children, teens and young adults being held captive and indoctrinated into the Trinity family of assassins. They didn’t deserve the life of violence for which they were being groomed. The Director ruled the organization with an iron fist. If they found and destroyed the Director, Trinity would fold.

  At least, that was the theory.

  As she passed Cole’s townhome, CJ kept her face averted, focusing on the sidewalk in front of her as if she were only out to walk her dog. In her peripheral vision, she watched the windows for movement. Was that him, standing in the corner of the front picture window?

  Her heart pounding, CJ kept moving, walking past Gladys’s house and her own for another block before she returned.

  The old woman met her at the door. “I thought I saw you go by with Sweet Pea. I guess she needed a little more of a walk.” The woman leaned over, her back hunched as she reached down to pet her tired dog. “Thank you for taking Miss Sweet Pea for a walk. I bet she sleeps all afternoon, now.” Gladys looked up. “Can I pay you for your trouble?”

  CJ could always use the money, but she couldn’t take it from the kind old woman. “No, ma’am. It was my pleasure. Sweet Pea must give you a great deal of comfort and companionship.”

  “She does. Since my children all grew up and moved away, and my husband passed, I’ve been lonely. Sweet Pea is my surrogate baby. I love her so much.” The woman’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear me blubbering about loneliness. But if you ever need a companion to walk with, Sweet Pea and I would be happy if you take her.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Gladys.” On impulse, CJ leaned down and kissed the woman’s cheeks. She reminded her of a grandmother she might once have known, who’d died before her parents’ auto accident. Her heart swelled with emotions she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “Thank you again,” she said and turned toward her town house.

  “If you ever want to share a cup of tea or coffee, stop by anytime,” Gladys called out. “I’d be happy to make some.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” CJ responded, knowing she couldn’t do that. If Trinity was watching now, her short interaction with the old woman and her dog would place them in danger. Trinity wasn’t above using others to lure their defectors out into the open. And they weren’t above killing innocent people to get what they wanted.

  And they wanted CJ dead.

  * * *

  WHEN COLE ENTERED his town house, he stopped long enough to catch his breath and then turned to the window. He could swear he knew the woman he’d jogged past, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it was or where he’d known her.

  The black hair wasn’t ringing any bells. And the dog? He was certain he’d seen it with someone else. Didn’t it belong to the old woman who lived several doors down from his place?

  Maybe that was it. The woman was a daughter, granddaughter, niece or something to the old woman. Perhaps that was where he’d seen her before.

  He waited at the window for her to pass with the dog. When they did, he looked hard, still unsure of where he’d seen her before. But he knew he had. The way she walked, the sway of her sexy hips, the tilt of her nose and the long, thick eyelashes should have been dead giveaways.

  His phone rang in the armband he used when running. Cole tapped the earbud in his ear. “Yeah.”

  “You coming in to do some heavy-duty computing?” Declan O’Neill’s voice sounded in his ear.

  “I am. Just showering. I can be there in thirty to forty-five minutes.”

  “See ya then,” Declan said.

  When Cole glanced back out the window, the woman had disappeared, dog and all.

  Cole showered, changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed out to the Halverson estate, driving the Hummer he’d purchased prior to exiting the Marine Corps. Thankfully, Charlie Halverson had hired him before he’d had to sell it for money to live on until he’d gotten a decent-paying job.

  Once he passed through the gates, he drove up the winding drive to the sprawling mansion.

  Roger Arnold, Charlie’s butler, met him at the door and let him in. “They’re waiting for you in the war room,” he said.

  Cole went straight for the study and the trapdoor that led into the basement of the mansion. All of Declan’s Defenders were there.

  Declan stood at a large whiteboard with photographs taped to the surface. Jonah Spradlin sat at a desk against the wall, an array of computer monitors displayed in front of him.

  Mack Balkman sat in a chair near Declan. He ran a hand through his black hair, his blue eyes studying the whiteboard. Beside him sat the former Russian operative, Riley Lansing. Gus Walsh stood on the opposite side of the table, the woman he’d helped rescue standing at his side.

  Jasmine Newman, aka Jane Doe, was as much a key to their operation as CJ Grainger. Jasmine had been a Trinity agent before John Halverson recruited her to help him fight the organization. Combat trained and fluent in Arabic and Russian, she was a formidable opponent and a worthy ally. They’d “killed” her off and given her a new name and identity to keep her off Trinity’s hit list. So far, she’d managed to remain out of sight, but she would always be looking over her shoulder as long as Trinity remained a threat.

  Jack Snow, the team slack man, sat beside Anne Bellamy, the mid-level staffer who’d been recruited by John Halverson to spy on politicians and staffers in the West Wing. She still had the bruises from her kidnapping ordeal by the Trinity sleeper agents a week before.

  Frank “Mustang” Ford stood with his girl, Emily Chastain, the college professor. He turned as Cole entered the room. The brown-haired, brown-eyed former point man was as used to action as Cole. He paced the room like a caged cat. “Nice of you to join us.”

  Cole shook his head. “I’d have been here sooner, if I’d known you wanted me here.” They were all tense. After the attack on the National Security Council meeting, they knew they had to bear down and come up with some real leads. Trinity had far too much power and had infiltrated too many places. Picking the agents off, one by one, would take too long and never be effective as the organization continued to “recruit” new agents. They had to find the lead man and take him down.

  “Based on your woman’s intel,” Declan said, “Jonah’s made some headway that might be useful.” He turned to Charlie’s computer guru.

  Cole wanted to correct Declan. CJ wasn’t his woman. He barely knew her and had seen her only once in the very room where he stood now. An image of a black-haired woman walking a little white dog rose in his mind.

  Jonah pointed to one of the monitors. “Chris Carpenter is in debt up t
o his eyeballs. He’s maxed out every credit card he owns—and he has quite a few—and he’s struggling to make the minimum payments on all those. He’s in a house that far exceeds his pay scale and he’s gone through everything his father left him in a trust fund.”

  “The man is barely able to keep his head above water,” Declan concluded. “It’s a wonder he got a security clearance.”

  Cole shrugged. “CJ thought he might have a connection to Trinity since his was one of the last texts Tully received on his cell phone prior to the attack on the NSC conference room. How does his financial woes make him a likely suspect?”

  “A man that deep in debt can usually be bought,” a female voice said from behind Cole.

  He turned to face Charlie descending the stairs, carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

  The butler followed with another tray of sandwiches Cole suspected were prepared by Charlie’s chef, Carl.

  Cole took the tray from her and set it on the conference table.

  Charlie took over hostess duties, pouring lemonade into clear, crystal glasses. “It’s not whiskey, but then I thought you might want to have clear heads for this discussion.”

  She handed out glasses to everyone who wanted one and then nodded toward the picture of Carpenter that had been taped to the whiteboard. “If Carpenter is in debt that deep, an offer to bail him out might convince him to do favors for anyone who is willing to pay for them.”

  “I’ve worked with Chris Carpenter for the past two years.” Anne Bellamy shook her head. “It’s hard to believe he would work for Trinity.”

  “Desperation changes a man,” Charlie said. “If he’s in over his head and drowning, he’ll take any life raft thrown his way to get out.”

  “Just because he’s in debt, doesn’t make him a traitor,” Cole said. “We need solid proof. Got anything else?”

  Jonah’s lips twisted and his gaze narrowed. “He’s made several payments to a marriage counseling center.”

  Cole sighed. “Again, a marriage on the rocks isn’t much to go on.”

  “We need more,” Declan agreed. “Do you have access to CJ?”

  “We’re communicating by burner phones,” Cole said, and held up the phone he’d purchased for just that purpose.

  “Get her on the line,” Declan commanded.

  “I can’t guarantee she’ll answer,” Cole said. “She’s very skittish.”

  “That’s the only way she can stay alive if Trinity is actively pursuing her,” Jasmine said. “It’s a miracle she’s still alive after escaping over a year ago. And to be in an area known to be prime Trinity territory...” The former assassin shook her head.

  Cole hit the redial button on his phone.

  After the fourth ring, CJ answered. “What did you find?” she asked without preamble.

  “I’m with the team. Can I put you on speaker?”

  “Yes.”

  Cole hit the speaker button. “We learned more about Carpenter, but not enough to accuse him of conspiring with Trinity.” He filled her in on the Homeland Security Advisor’s financial troubles and the fact that he was seeing a marriage counselor.

  “I doubt he’s meeting with any Trinity contacts inside the West Wing. I’ll follow him,” CJ said.

  “That puts you at too much risk of being discovered,” Cole insisted. “I’ll follow him and let you know what I find.”

  “I’ve seen him go into a bar close to the metro station after work,” Anne Bellamy interjected. She gave them the name of the bar and the street where it was located.

  “Anne and I will keep an eye on him in the West Wing during the day,” Jack offered. He was still posing as Anne’s office assistant.

  Anne nodded. “We can follow him at lunch and see if he talks with anyone.”

  “Good,” Cole said. “But he knows you two and wouldn’t want you to know who he’s meeting with. I’ll go to the bar tomorrow night ahead of him. He doesn’t know me and won’t think anything of me sitting there sipping on a beer.”

  “I can let you know what time he leaves,” Jack added. “And follow him in case he doesn’t head for the bar.”

  “Deal,” Cole said. “CJ, we’ll keep you informed.”

  “Understood,” she concurred and ended the call.

  “Not a woman of many words,” Gus noted.

  Cole snorted. “No, she’s not.”

  “You’ve heard the phrase ‘loose lips sink ships’?” Jasmine asked.

  “Yeah, but she’s like a ghost. If she hadn’t shown up after the NSC attack, here in this room, in front of all of us, I’d still wonder if she exists.”

  “She wants to bring down Trinity,” Anne Bellamy said.

  Cole silently agreed. They all wanted to bring down Trinity. He understood CJ’s reluctance to trust anyone but herself with her life, but she didn’t know the benefits of working with a good team, one that had her back and was pushing toward the same goal.

  “And she can’t do it if she’s dead,” Charlie reminded them, her mouth set in a grim line. “As we all know. John wanted to bring down Trinity, but look where that got him.”

  John Halverson had been murdered. The person who’d done it had never been caught.

  Cole had no intention of being Trinity’s next target. And something in him stilled at the thought of CJ meeting John Halverson’s fate.

  Not on his watch.

  Chapter Three

  CJ spent the next day logged on to her laptop at a coffee shop with free Wi-Fi. It was an unsecured network, but sometimes she found being one needle in a haystack of browser users helped mask her more than logging on to unique systems with huge firewalls. Trinity had a way around firewalls. She’d searched for the first half of the day, tapping into computers, trying to find the IP address for Chris Carpenter’s home computer and digging into the man’s bank and phone records.

  She didn’t find any large sums of money deposited to Carpenter’s account. If he was involved with Trinity, he might have a secret account set up in a foreign location like the Cayman Islands. She’d need access to whatever computer he used to find whatever information he might have stored regarding secret accounts and passwords. In the meantime, she wanted to follow Carpenter to find out for herself if he was meeting with anyone who had any connection to Trinity.

  After a lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she donned the black wig, knocked on Gladys’s door and took Sweet Pea for a walk, going the opposite direction from Cole’s town house. Somehow, she managed to stroll around several blocks, making a complete circle that landed her in front of Cole’s place, though. He didn’t jog by this time, and she didn’t see him peering through his window, looking for her.

  A stab of disappointment struck her. She couldn’t understand why. She’d bet her life on remaining alone. Why would seeing a stranger occasionally mean anything to her?

  Because, after a year of being alone, she knew there were people out there who had her best interests at heart. She wasn’t truly alone anymore. And it felt good.

  That thought warmed her cold soul. For too long, she’d had to squelch all emotions. Her training with Trinity had emphasized that point. Any recruit who cried was punished severely. After one or two beatings, she’d learned to hold back her emotions, to swallow the tears and get tough. By doing so, she lessened or erased the pain.

  When she’d been tasked with killing the pregnant woman, it had been the first crack in the wall she’d built around her heart. Having the backing of Declan’s Defenders was chinking away at more of the mortar that held her emotions at bay. Talking via voice or text with Cole reminded her of the vulnerability of emotions. It scared her to open up to anyone, to leave herself exposed to the kindness of others.

  Hell, even the happiness Sweet Pea displayed when she’d come to take her for a walk had pinched CJ’s heart. She needed to b
e alone, to remain aloof, to fight her own battles.

  But Trinity was bigger than one person could deal with. She’d had to get help. She’d had to trust others to get the job done.

  After she left Sweet Pea with Gladys, she went back to her sublet town house, showered and changed into a little black dress she’d picked up at the secondhand store, black heels and the long blond wig. Taking a circuitous route to the nearest station, she rode the metro into DC and got off near the pub Carpenter frequented.

  She arrived well before five o’clock, found a stool at the far end of the bar and ordered vodka and cranberry juice, figuring it was girlie enough for a blonde woman wearing a sexy black dress. CJ preferred whiskey or beer, but the drink was cool and refreshing. Now all she had to do was wait for Carpenter to arrive.

  If he arrived.

  The first thirty minutes passed with a couple tourists wandering in and ordering beer. They left after they’d finished their beers to find someplace to eat.

  The bartender asked a couple of times if he could get her another drink, which CJ politely declined.

  A glance at the time on her cell phone indicated it was well past five thirty and creeping up on six. CJ had begun to think Carpenter wouldn’t make his usual stop and her time there would have been a waste.

  Then the door opened and a man in a dark gray suit entered and found a table in a shadowy corner.

  From the pictures CJ had found online, the man was Chris Carpenter.

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye, taking in the nice suit and tie, the highly polished shoes and the fact that he was staring at the entrance as if he was worried or expecting someone.

  CJ kept her head down, watched and waited.

  A couple minutes later, another man walked through the door and took a seat at the bar. He wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap, jeans and a Led Zeppelin revival T-shirt. After ordering a drink, he removed the cap and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. He ordered the whiskey CJ wished she was drinking.