Page 111 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
I scoff, “She admitted it right to your face. And technically, I don’t know exactly what she did because I wasn’t watching, but I do know that you busted through the door screaming bloody murder about an NSA breach, so I think everyone in the room put two and two together without needing a fucking calculator. All that’s a sideshow, anyway. You’re missing the bigger picture.”
He crunches thoughtfully on his antacids. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the bigger picture?”
“Why she did it.”
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
“I’m gonna have to spoon-feed this to you, aren’t I?”
“You’re saying she wanted to get caught.”
“I’m saying the woman does nothing without a good reason.”
Crunch. Crunch. “Hypothetically, why would she want to get caught?”
“So you’d take her wherever you took her. She anticipated that outcome.”
He looks dubious. Even his crunching stops. “Uh-huh.”
We stare at each other. The ticking of the clock on the wall is painfully loud. My patience—never my strong suit—is already growing thin. “You talk to Chan yet?”
Downs nods. “That we did.”
“And?”
“And I think he’s almost as in love with Tabitha West as yo
u are.”
It’s a shot in the dark, but when my jaw tightens, he can see he’s hit his target. He crunches the last of the Tums, swallows, and runs his tongue over his teeth.
His tone turns philosophical. “You want to know the problem with love?”
I growl, “No.”
He taps his temple. “It messes with your head. Turns a sane man stupid. Take you, for example.”
“Let’s not.”
“You were a spectacular soldier, by any measure. Immaculate service record. Such valiant, almost comically fearless leadership during multiple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, you earned a Medal of Honor, a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, a Campaign Medal, a—”
“You don’t have to recite a fucking laundry list for me, Downs, I’ve got the hardware in a box on my dresser at home.”
“Yet in spite of half a lifetime of discipline, honor, and service to your country, you seem willing to toss it all out the window to protect a skirt. From very deserved incarceration, I might add. What she did is a felony. The Computer Fraud and Abuse Act guarantees her twenty years in a federal pen for that little stunt.”
I feel the blood rising inside me, hear a marching drum beating out an old, familiar song.
Semper Fi. Semper Fi. Semper Fi.
Always faithful. Not only to corps and country, but also to the people I love.
“A ‘skirt’?” I repeat, deadly soft. “A word of advice. Do. Not. Ever disrespect my woman within earshot of me again, or they’ll be sending you back to Washington in a body bag.”
I let that sink in. There’s a rustle of movement from the agents by the door, someone getting a better grip on his gun, but I don’t break eye contact with Downs.
“That girl you just reduced to an item of clothing is the most beautiful, brave, and brilliant person I’ve ever had the privilege to meet. Yes, she plays by her own rules, but that’s only because there aren’t any other rules worthy of her. Not mine, not yours, definitely not any government’s. But even with all the power she wields—and believe me, she’s extremely powerful—she chooses not to harm anyone or anything. You think breaking a few lines of code in a government website is a prison-worthy offense? If she wanted to, she could break everything. She’s got a key inside her head to how everything works. Technology, electronics, satellites, weapons, she’s got a road map of the entire system. She knows all its vulnerabilities. She could create chaos and disruption on a global scale, but she doesn’t. She chooses not to.
“Think about that. If you had the ability to do anything you wanted without ever getting caught, what would you do? Make yourself rich? Change property title records so you owned the Hawaiian Islands? Start a war in the Middle East?”
