Page 2 of Avenging Jessie
“What makes you believe he can get his hands on them?”
Feelings and hunches only, dammit. But she knew—knew—how Harris Brewer worked. The way his mind sorted and sifted through options and scenarios to find the one that would serve his needs. “This was a test to see if he could get in and get out without us catching him. A challenge.”
Flynnhmmed. “A test that he failed. We know it was him, and he didn’t take control of them.”
She shook her head. “He couldn’t get past the internal firewall.”
Flynn sat back, always the devil’s advocate. It sucked, but in his eyes, she saw the same old suspicion. Of her competence. Her loyalty. She couldn’t blame him after the way she’d betrayed the CIA, the swans, but damn if it didn’t rip up her insides every time he looked at her like that. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I am that he’s a narcissistic bastard who leaves just enough of a trail so we know he’s stillon the chess board, as you called it.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’ll put the team on it.”
She straightened. Swallowed. This was it—her break. “Not the team. Just me.”
Flynn’s gaze shifted from the tablet to her face again. “You haven’t been cleared for field work.”
“So clear me. This ismyop, and we both know it.”
He didn’t even blink. “You’re not ready.”
“Who says?” she shot back, then forced herself to soften it. “Iamready. Sir.”
His smile was thin, merciless. “Nice try. But calling me sir won’t buy you absolution. You can call me ‘sir’ until the sun sets in the east, but I’m not clearing you. The Counterterrorism Center needs you.”
The door opened, and Spencer Stirling walked in. Jessie straightened even more. His hair was tousled, glasses in place, and light scruff marked his jawline. His favorite laptop was tucked under one arm. It was covered in stickers, from games he played to his favorite brand of shoes.
When he looked at her, her pulse kicked. Hard.
Dammit. She turned slightly, dipping her head so her hair fell over the scars on her left side.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, J.” His dark amber eyes swung from her to Flynn.
She couldn’t help it—her head snapped up. Why the hell not? “This is my job, too, you know.”
His dark gaze roamed over her from head to toe. “Your shift ended two hours ago, didn’t it?”
Flynn sat forward again, scanning his emails as he cut off her retort. “Jessie found a trace signature during the Pentagon breach overnight. Looks like Brewer.”
“Already on it.” Spence slid the laptop onto the desk and pulled up a window. “I intercepted a VOIP packet rerouted through an Estonian proxy just after the Pentagon reached out to Homeland. Encrypted, but the metadata led to a burner bouncing off a Munich cell tower.”
Munich? “I can be ready to go in thirty minutes.”
Flynn ignored her. “Can you pin down his location from it?”
Spence shook his head. “I can tell you what he’s doing—what sites he’s accessing, what logins he’s using—but not where he is.”
Jessie crossed her arms. “Great. We’re drowning in data, but none of it puts eyes on him. This isn’t a keyboard problem, sir,” she pointedly said to Flynn. “It’s a boots-on-the-ground problem. That’s why you need me over there pronto.”
Spence casually eyed her from over his laptop screen. “It is a keyboard problem until we track him to a physical location. That’s what gets the boots on the ground. That’s how we win. You remember winning, right, luv?”
God, she hated it when he called her that, his British accent getting under her skin. His cocky confidence doing the same. “Brewer knows how to vanish. You think your keystrokes are gonna catch him? We need someone who knows his tells. His psychology.” Another fortifying breath. “That’s me.”
“Newsflash, you’re not the only one who’s ever gotten close enough to read him, but with you…”
His voice trailed off. His gaze snapped back to his screen.
“With me, what?” she demanded.
