Page 114 of The Fallen One

“I’ve been quiet so far.” Oliver stood and took a step forward as Mya tugged on his shirt, trying to get him to park his ass back down and stay out of it. He shot her a backward glance none of us could see, but I assumed it was a dirty look. “Buttercup, let me go.”

I barely heard that one over the engine noise and murmuring from the rest of the team. I did easily catch Mya’s eye roll as she released him, though.

“What doesn’t she want you to say?” Carter asked, moving toward the back of the cabin.

Oliver now had the floor. All eyes on him. Holding his bad arm, Oliver’s gaze swept around the room before landing on Carter. “Is it possible that while hunting Rebecca’s killer, you may have had a bit of tunnel vision? You were so focused on believing she died because of your work with the CIA, maybe you missed the bigger picture.”

Carter’s hand shifted to the back of his neck. Was he bracing for impact? Or doing his best not to cross the cabin and charge the man who’d told him he may have fumbled the ball in regard to his wife’s killer.

“I believe Andrew had her killed, I really do.” Oliver lifted his free hand in the air in surrender. “But maybe that was all predesigned. What if someone placed her in Andrew’s line of sight knowing what’d happen to her? Andrew may have been an unsuspecting pawn himself.” A few cautious steps toward Carter had Mya on her feet. Considering how much she supposedly couldn’t stand the man, it seemed a little odd she also wanted to have his six.

“Sounds like a conspiracy theory to me,” Secretary Chandler tossed out, breaking the awkward beats of silence pulsating through the cabin.

“But is it?” Jack stood and joined Oliver, hands going to his hips. “What if the Barclay crash really wasn’t an accident. Rebecca’s father was the main vocal advocate for making cold fusion a reality, and he had the financial means to go after what most considered a pipe dream back then. It’s possible someone didn’t want him to be successful.”

“Then years later, for whatever reason, someone decided to tip off Rebecca about the crash, and she turned to Craig Paulsen for help,” Oliver said, continuing with Jack’s train of thought. “The senator may have been planted in your lives to keep tabs on her. When she came to him, Craig panicked, thinking she’d find out he was connected to the crash. Also, those photos prompted Rebecca to focus on clean energy herself, trying to make her father’s mission her own.”

Carter’s silent stewing had me growing even more nervous, but I was also impressed with how brave these men were to present their uncomfortable theories to a man who was the archetype for the term dangerous. Except when it came to me.

“So, you’re saying when Rebecca picked up where her father left off with cold fusion, Craig found a way to distract and divert her attention?” Sydney asked, her eyes never leaving her computer screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

“I just don’t think Craig would want Rebecca dead.” Mom’s statement succeeded in cutting off any answers to Sydney’s question. It also diverted my focus to Carter, who now had his hands braced against the ceiling, back to us all.

I had to chime in, and speaking up had my stomach banding tight. “That night in the limo, Craig seemed pretty convinced Carter killed Rebecca. And if he was knowingly responsible instead, he’s one heck of an actor. He was upset in a way that, well . . .” I couldn’t finish that line of thought so publicly, but I knew Carter understood my point. Craig had cared about Rebecca.

Carter’s arms tensed so dramatically, even I could easily make out the hard cuts of muscles tightening. I’d definitely hit a nerve.

“What night and in what limo?” Mom asked as that part of my statement registered.

Carter slowly lowered his arms and faced not the room, but me. Dead on. This had to be overwhelming, even for a tough guy like him. He wore the cloak of I’m just fucking fine, don’t worry like it’d been tailor-made for him, but the fabric was fraying with each new piece of information thrown at him.

I knew Carter wouldn’t want to hear this part about the limo again. He’d snapped the first time, and in his current agitated state, I had no clue how he’d react. I had to make this bullet point quick since it’d only just dawned on me that only Carter (and Sierra) knew about that night.

“Craig found out through Pierce Quaid that Carter visited me at the office in New York the day of the so-called hostile takeover. Craig forced me into his limo, demanding I tell him about my conversation with Carter. He was also curious to know if I shared anything with Carter about my work in cold fusion.”

“Well, hell,” Jesse drawled, joining in now, “that sounds like guilt to me.”

“You should’ve told me about that,” Mom was quick to snap out, like I was guilty of something. “I could’ve done something.”

“Like what? You and Dad thought we were a match made in heaven. You were happy to marry me off, or at least try and get me to date Craig, even knowing his dirty secrets. You’d have believed him over me.” Shit, if my mother hadn’t already been in Carter’s crosshairs, that planted the bullseye squarely on her head. I didn’t have to see him to know he was a bull ready to charge. In this case, maybe whisk me away from all the Craigs of the world.

Turning to face him, I let my eyes tell him what my words couldn’t. I’d let you if I could.

“Don’t forget,” Secretary Chandler spoke up, rudely intruding upon my telepathic efforts to communicate with Carter, “Craig was part of the hostile takeover involving a highly classified project. He could’ve been concerned Carter might try to sabotage our efforts. He was covering his bases, just not in a way I approve.”

“Covering his bases, huh?” Carter’s dark tone slipped under my skin, the implication of what he wanted to do to Craig loud and freaking clear.

“I’m assuming, like myself, Craig wasn’t given access to the case details involving Andrew’s death and how it related to Rebecca,” my mom interjected, peering at Secretary Chandler in the Situation Room.

“Definitely not aware,” Secretary Chandler confirmed.

I blinked a few times, remembering I never did finish sharing why I’d alerted the cabin and the White House to my unsavory confrontation with Craig back in June in the first place. “I don’t think Craig led Rebecca to Andrew knowing he was that Italian guy. He wouldn’t have knowingly connected her with someone who would have her killed.” Carter quietly stared at me, but since he wasn’t stopping me from continuing, I added, “Doesn’t mean someone wasn’t pulling his strings then or now, and Craig just doesn’t know he even has a puppet master.” Not exactly the type of string theory I was used to dealing in. Also, back to Oliver’s original theory. “And by the way, my mother and Rebecca not sharing anything about the plane crash with Carter didn’t make it easy for him to think outside any other box than the one he had to work from.” Based on what I now gathered, that was smugglers and traffickers.

Mom’s shoulders collapsed, and she tossed her hand in the air. “How about we just bring Craig in and clear up this whole mess?”

“And give him the chance to pony up whatever bullshit excuse he has preplanned for this exact moment?” Gray locked his arms over his broad chest, standing his ground alongside Carter. “Maybe he does have someone pulling his strings, but whether he knows about it or not, someone may get tipped off we’re onto them.”

“Onto what? We don’t know a goddamn thing.” Mom slapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Not only had she just swore publicly, but she’d have taken a wire hanger to my ass as a kid if I’d ever used the Lord’s name in vain like that. “My apologies,” she whispered for losing her cool and for her brashness.

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