06 Double Danger Page 18

  “When was this?” Avery asked.

  “Almost a full year ago, and I have a record of Isaacs leaving the country shortly after the conference had concluded.”

  “Anything to indicate that the two of them were together?” Drake asked.

  “No. And the same is true for Geneva,” Hannah said. “But I did some more digging using flight and hotel records for both Isaacs and Lester and I found two more intersections. The first a year and a half ago in Jakarta. It looks like both men were there at approximately the same time.”

  “Approximately?” Tyler queried.

  “They overlap. Lester arriving first, staying for five days, and Isaacs arriving two days later and leaving six days after that.”

  “But that puts them in the city together for three whole days,” Nash said.

  “And one of the shipments in the storage unit was from Indonesia,” Simon added. “Does the date on the bill of lading corroborate the timing?”

  “It does,” Hannah said. “And a month later, they were both in Nicaragua. In Managua.”

  “There was a crate heading there as well,” J.J. said.

  “And Emilio Rivon’s cartel operates out of that area.” Nash leaned forward. “Did you find any connection to Rivon?”

  “I did,” Hannah said, sending another photograph to the overhead monitor. “And I’ve got pictures. It just so happened that we had a surveillance team in place. The CIA has been keeping tabs on Rivon’s operation for a year or so now. This was from a meeting that went down last August. That’s Rivon in the center.”

  The picture showed a group of five men, two of them obviously carrying weapons, sitting at an open-air café in what looked to be a large market in Managua.

  “You can see Lester there in the seersucker suit.” Harrison highlighted a man sitting across from Rivon.

  “I didn’t know anyone still wore seersucker,” J.J. said. “I had an uncle who practically lived in it, but he was ancient.” She frowned up at the photo. “I don’t see Isaacs.”

  “Hold on.” Hannah switched to a second picture. This time the men were standing up as a sixth man joined the group. “That’s him there.” She highlighted the man shaking hands with Rivon. “And you can just make out Lester standing beside him.”

  “So we know that the two of them were doing business with Rivon,” Simon said.

  “It would certainly appear that way. There are a few more photographs. The meeting lasted maybe twenty minutes. Unfortunately there was no audio, and as far as the team in Nicaragua was concerned, the meet wasn’t anything to be concerned about.”

  “Had they seen Lester or Isaacs before?” Jillian asked.

  “No. And they haven’t shown up again either. These pictures were just part of the routine surveillance. They were only flagged when I started digging around about Rivon in connection with Isaacs and Lester.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Simon said, still squinting up at the last picture. “Can you close in on the corner of the picture? The guy sitting at the far edge of the shot.”

  Hannah hit a couple of buttons, and the area in question was enlarged. And after a couple more keystrokes, the area came into sharper focus.

  “Son of a bitch,” Drake said, his chair dropping to all four legs. “That’s Alain DuBois.”

  “Who is Alain DuBois?” Jillian asked.

  “A man, working for the Consortium, who was involved with trying to get hold of a formula to aerosolize a biotoxin. His principal business was dealing with antiquities and art. He was our only lead into the organization itself. He fell off the grid after one of their operations went sour, but we managed to hunt him down. Unfortunately, before we could apprehend him, he was killed.”

  “By his own people,” Harrison added. “Another successful effort to cover their tracks.”

  “But you’re sure he was tied to the Consortium?” J.J. prompted.

  “Absolutely,” Avery confirmed. “We believe he was included in the upper tiers of the organization.”

  “So now we have a definitive tie between the Consortium and Rivon. Not to mention Lester and Isaacs.” Simon was still staring at the photograph.

  “Which means finding Rivon is almost as important as finding Isaacs,” Tyler said.

  “I’ve already put the word out to bring him in,” Avery said.

  “I’m afraid that’s going to be a bit of a problem,” Hannah said, looking up from her computer with a frown. “Rivon is dead.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I just got a text from our people on the ground in Nicaragua. Looks like someone blew the hell out of the whole compound. Rivon and his second in command were among the casualties identified. According to this, it happened about an hour ago.”

  “Who is the report from?” Nash asked, pushing back from the table as Hannah flashed a video of Rivon’s walled retreat. The entire place was lit up like a Christmas tree, fire and smoke billowing from every angle.

  “Trevor Billingsly.”

  “Good man,” Avery said. “I trust his word. If he says it’s so—it’s so.”

  “So what the hell happened?” Drake asked.

  “Looks like the place was strafed,” Tyler said. “From the amount of damage, I’d say at least two planes. Or maybe a drone.”

  “Well, according to Billingsly, their intel points to a rival cartel.”

  “The timing seems a bit suspicious,” J.J. said. “Seems more likely that whoever is pulling the strings in all of this realized we’d discovered the link to Rivon. Which would mean he’d become a liability.”

  “Damn it.” Drake pushed to his feet, his obvious frustration mirroring everyone else’s. “These bastards always seem to be one step ahead of us.”

  “All the more reason for us to dig in and figure out the endgame,” Avery said.

  “Well whatever it is,” Simon frowned, still staring up at the fiery remains of the compound, “it’s got to be something big.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Jillian tossed and turned, pounding her pillow into submission as if success would allow her at last to sleep. But she’d spent enough sleepless nights to know that it was probably hopeless. Her arm ached. Her ribs ached. Even her hair seemed to be hurting.

  She rolled onto her back, her good arm behind her head as she watched the shadows play across the ceiling. Outside the brownstone window, the street was fairly quiet. But she could hear the sounds of traffic in the distance. Even at this hour, the city was still awake.

  After the debriefing in the war room, everyone had headed out to work. Tyler and Nash back to the warehouse. Hannah and Harrison already huddled in the corner of the parlor with their computers, shutting everyone else out. Drake had disappeared down the stairs into his basement bedroom, carrying a large stack of file folders. Simon and Avery had been cloistered in the kitchen, deep in conversation about the attack at the warehouse.

  She’d been invited to join in, but had declined, having already relived the incident more than she could ever have imagined. She’d craved the warmth of a shower and the comfort of bed, just for a little while needing to put everything behind her. To pretend, at least for a few hours, that her life wasn’t surrounded with death threats and explosions.

  She wondered, not for the first time, if living constantly with this sort of thing was why Ryan had changed so drastically from the man she’d married. Or maybe it had always been there, and the violence he’d seen had just brought it to the forefront. She sighed, listening to the distant wail of a siren. Or maybe she’d just buried the truth—ignored the signs and made excuses so that she could continue to see Ryan as she wanted him to be.

  Someone like Simon. It was all so twisted together.

  Angry at herself for wallowing, Jillian threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed. Her travel clock glowed green—and indicated it was well past the middle of the night. Which meant that sleep probably wasn’t coming. Better to make good use of her time. She’d take another shower and then see if Avery or
Hannah or someone needed her.

  She stripped off the sweats she’d been sleeping in and headed for the door, wearing only a camisole and panties. Then stopped as she passed the mirror over the bureau, her eyes drawn to the woman reflected there.

  Her hair was tangled from sleep, her face pale, dark smudges under her eyes, testament to everything she’d been through over the past few days. She’d dodged death more than once now. If it hadn’t been for Simon…

  She closed her eyes, her mind conjuring the memory of his strong arms wrapped around her. She shivered, remembering the feel of his hands against her skin, his mouth tracing a hot, wet pathway from her lips to her breasts. Then her mind drifted farther back in time, and she remembered that night—her first. She could feel the texture of the hairs at the nape of his neck. The silky skin of his chest. The brush of his whispers against her lips. She could smell the sharp, clean scent of him.

  The past and present blended together.

  Nothing had changed.

  Everything had changed.

  With a swallowed moan, her eyes fluttered open, and she forced the thoughts away. She’d made her decision. She walked to the bedroom door and stuck her head out. The room was empty, and despite the wash of disappointment, she knew it was for the best. Crossing the room in two strides, she reached for the doorknob, but instead it swung open, and her hand met hard flesh.

  Simon’s.

  She tried to swallow. Hell, she tried to breathe, her heart pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it. Her mind screamed retreat, but her feet were having none of it. Forcing herself to lift her eyes, her gaze collided with his, revealing both passion and need. Raw and hungry.

  He held out his hand, the gesture both asking and commanding. And in that instant, she knew she didn’t have the strength to say no. Despite her declarations to the contrary, she still wanted him. And though she knew she’d regret it tomorrow, in this moment, with his hand outstretched and his soul in his eyes, she realized she didn’t give a damn.

  She felt his fingers close around hers as his towel dropped to the floor, and he drew her into the moist, steamy sanctuary of the bathroom. Still holding her hand, he reached behind him to turn on the taps, the sound of the running water sensual as it cascaded against the tiles of the stall.

  The steam curled around them, as he traced the line of her bottom lip with his thumb, her skin hypersensitive, as if she’d finally come alive. She lifted her arms as he pulled off her camisole and removed her panties, his palms hot against her skin. Then with a slow smile, he pulled her into the shower.

  For a moment they stood, water coursing down around them, electricity arcing between them, connecting them. And then with a groan, he crushed her to him, his mouth slanting over hers, his kiss hard and possessive.

  She ran her hands along the scars on his back, reveling in his strength. Steel tempered by a life she could only begin to imagine. Simon was a warrior. And the thought should have scared her. But as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth, all she felt was desire. As if they’d been kissing like this forever. As if he was her home and she’d been gone for such a very, very long time.

  The rational part of her brain knew that it was chemical. That his hormones were affecting hers. That she was responding to something genetic, something hardwired into them both at birth. And yet somehow it didn’t matter. It was as if he were a part of her. Something she’d cherished, then lost, and then found again.

  Clearly she was crazy, but standing here in the swirling mist, she didn’t care. All she wanted was this moment and this man. He ran his hands along the curves of her body, fingers exploring, missing nothing. And she greedily accepted his kiss. It crossed her mind that this was what it was supposed to be like. This unending need. A desire so strong she thought surely it would kill her.

  His fingers found her breasts, stroking, squeezing, and still his tongue demanded more. She felt as if he were sucking the very life from her body, demanding everything she had to give, and yet she offered it willingly.

  He turned her then, her back pressed against him, his penis hard against her, the water massaging her breasts and stomach. His lips found her neck, and she arched against him, reveling in the feel of his mouth and his hands. His thumbs moved in slow circles against her breasts until she moaned. Then one hand slid lower, her body braced against him as he stroked her inner thighs, slowly at first, teasing her, and then he slipped his fingers inside.

  She whimpered and pushed against him as he caressed her sensitive nub. Then he slid one finger deep inside, stroking, his other hand tightening on her nipple as he rolled it between his fingers, the sensations combining, threatening to drive her over the edge. Her body trembled with need as the water continued to caress them. He licked the tender whorl of her ear, his tongue rough and gentle all at the same time, and then suddenly he pulled the lobe into his mouth, sucking deeply as his finger stroked inside her.

  For a moment, he held her suspended on feeling, then he pulled away, turning her to face him, his mouth crushing down on hers as he shifted again, lifting her up onto the seat built into the shower stall. She bit at his lower lip, then thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, relishing the taste of him. Then he broke free, his mouth moving lower, tasting first her neck and then her breasts, his insistent pull sending shards of heat rippling through her. And she tipped her head back, wanting more, the water only adding to the seduction.

  He caressed first one breast and then the other, laving each, and then tracing a fiery path downward, across her stomach and then her belly button, his mouth leaving a hot, wet trail for the water to wash away. Then, bracing her against the water-warmed tiles, his hands cupped her bottom as he slid lower still, lifting her up, his tongue parting the soft folds, flitting across her clitoris, sucking and teasing.

  She squirmed against his lips and tongue, knowing that she wanted something more, but unable to stop him, her body responding like a well-strung instrument. Faster and faster his tongue moved, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, thinking that she’d never found this kind of sexual release before.

  His mouth pulled and teased and suddenly she came, her mind exploding with color and light as he drove her higher still, demanding something she’d never given anyone before. And for a moment, she hung on the precipice, afraid. But then she let go, her body breaking into pieces, pleasure indistinguishable from pain as she surrendered to his touch.

  And surprisingly, instead of feeling spent, she only wanted more. With a smile, she buried her face in his hair, caressing the contours of his neck.

  Then she slid down, sitting on the shower’s bench, reaching for him. Pulling his hips to her mouth. At first, she just explored the contours of his hard, muscled body but then she let her tongue trail along the velvety strength of his penis. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and smiled, secure in her power. Then, with the water still pounding around them, she took him in her mouth, stroking with her tongue.

  His hands dug into her shoulders as she began to move faster. And then with an audible moan, he forcibly lifted her up so that she was standing on the shower seat. Pulling her close, he took possession of her lips. She pressed closer, opening her legs, locking them around him so that the head of his penis pushed against her center.

  “Now,” she whispered, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. “Please, Simon, now.”

  For a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching hers. And then with a crooked smile that cut through the defenses she’d spent years building, he thrust inside her, filling her to bursting. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he started to move within her.

  Slowly at first and then building faster and faster. Deeper and harder. His body moving within hers, their union becoming more important than breathing. And suddenly they were one, striving to reach higher still. As if together they were somehow capable of more.

  And then, with the shower softly raining down upon them, bound together in a
dance older than time, she called his name, their bodies joined, their hearts beating in unison as the world splintered into sensation. Magic beyond anything she could have ever believed possible.

  Jillian sat on the edge of her bed, reaching for her boots, thinking that she’d totally screwed up everything. One look at Simon standing in that shower and she’d caved completely, losing every ounce of self-restraint she’d ever possessed. No matter that she’d told him there was no future. That she’d walked out the door yesterday morning intending to never look back

  One look at his—admittedly smoking hot—body, and she’d folded like a stack of cards, letting her desire get the better of her. And now, now she had to face him—again. Tell him that it had all been a huge mistake. That she’d only given him her body and not her heart.

  Which would, of course, be a lie.

  She’d lost her heart to Simon over a decade ago, and even though he’d chosen Ryan, and she’d essentially done the same, her feelings for Simon hadn’t changed one iota. Whatever the hell an iota was. She jerked on her left boot, wishing that the last two nights hadn’t been wonderful. But there was no denying that they had been. Making love with Simon had been sublime. Superlative. Absolutely amazing.

  Damn the man.

  She blew out a breath and stuck her foot into the other boot. Now there was going to be a price to pay. Hers. It wasn’t that she wasn’t liberated. This was an age when people could sleep together without emotional entanglement. Men and women, yes. Her and Simon, no.

  At least not her.

  Maybe that’s what was making her the most crazy. The irony of the situation. All those years ago, he’d been the one to run for the hills. God, she’d been so inexperienced. And she’d had such a crush on him. And so one thing had led to another.

  It had been spring of their senior year. There’d been a party. In some guy’s off-campus apartment. She was supposed to have gone with Ryan. But at the last minute, he’d bailed. And in a fit of pique, she’d gone with her roommate.