Page 129 of Trust Me

Albrecht kept his head down, refusing to meet Chris’s gaze.

“I swear, I didn’t know he was going to plant a bomb. I didn’t even know about the bomb at all until I saw the news two hours later. We got to the rental house, and your 4Runner wasn’t there. Jamal hopped out of the car and went to the porch. I’d parked so my truck couldn’t be seen from the front door, so I couldn’t see him as he approached the house. Next thing I knew, he was circling around from the back. He said, ‘They’re not here. Let’s go before they get back.’ And we left.”

“After you learned about the bombing, you had your last chance to come clean,” Rand said. “You could have come to me, your superior officer, and spilled your guts. You could have gone to the Pentagon, JAG, or NCIS. Hell, you could have gone to the FBI or State Department, but you didn’t.”

“I—I—I’d given operational details to my girlfriend while I was on an aircraft carrier. I was with a guy who tried to bomb my teammate and the woman we’d been sent to exfiltrate. I was facing criminal charges…”

Chris held his gaze. “And here you are, in the exact same place, but we’re feeling a helluva lot less charitable than we would have earlier today.”

The only thing that even slightly tempered his anger was knowing the SEAL must’ve shit his pants when he saw the news about the explosion. “What happened to Jamal?”

“I dropped him off at a Metro station in Virginia.”

“If he’s smart, he’s on the run now,” Freya said in Chris’s ear. “My guess is he was on his own revenge mission, which is why he needed to use Albrecht to get to the house. Jamal was sent here to torment Diana, not kill her. Rafiq needs her alive. He’ll kill Jamal for this betrayal.”

There was a sureness to Freya’s tone that Chris found interesting.

Ian spoke next. “Listen, I think Freya’s right, and if we’re going to figure out a way to use this dumbass, we need him to check in with his handler. Maybe he can get a hint as to their next move.”

Chapter Fifty-Nine

After hours of searching through every database she had access to, Kira had definitive evidence of the connection between Harun Taha and Makram Rafiq—they worked together in Damascus prior to the Arab Spring uprisings—and also had managed to locate the records for every Signature Line purchase by the Gardners. Taha’s name was on ninety percent of them.

Kira bundled the information she’d gathered into a file and uploaded it to the FMV portal, then set her laptop to the side of her bed and stretched her neck. It was midnight, and she was tired, but wired.

She only knew pieces of what was going on at this point, but it had something to do with Dr. Diana Edwards and the extradition request from the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Kira didn’t know anything about Dr. Edwards, but anyone who found themselves on the opposite side of Mason Gardner was an ally.

Mason had texted her several hours ago, telling her the deal with Gillibrand had closed and the artifacts were already en route to Newport News. He was returning home tomorrow, and if she was interested in personally inspecting the artifacts, she was welcome to see them in his bedroom.

She’d forwarded his text to Freya since the news of the deal closing was important. Freya had replied with an apology for placing Kira back in Mason’s crosshairs.

But Kira didn’t hold it against her. How could she when she’d never told anyone the extent of the harassment?

She rose from the bed, grabbing her phone from the nightstand before heading to the kitchen. She had the munchies. Thankfully, there was a pint of strawberry ice cream in the freezer. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and was pulling off the top when her phone pinged.

Freya thanking her for uploading the data.

She sent a thumbs-up, then tapped the arrow at the top for the list of conversations. Again, she went to the draft message she’d considered sending Rand after receiving Mason’s creepy text.

But she didn’t have a clue what to say and hadn’t gotten past identifying herself. Now she deleted even that. A text now would be the equivalent of “you up?” and she did not want to give him that idea.

She scooped a bite of ice cream as she stared at the blank message box.

She remembered the feel of his hand on the small of her back. It was ridiculous that she remembered that singular touch, especially given that he’d only done it for Mason’s benefit.

Damn. Did the SEAL have to be so hot?

Even worse, he was confident.

She took another bite of ice cream and imagined licking it off his chest. She hoped he wasn’t allergic to strawberries.

She imagined asking that question as her first text message to him and groaned at her own dorkiness.

I can’t even have a basic sex fantasy without worrying about allergies.

So charming and sexy. It was a wonder she was alone.

The sound of footsteps outside her apartment caught her attention. The building was an old embassy that had been converted into apartments. There were only two apartments on each floor, and hers was on the fourth and top floor at the end. Her neighbors were on vacation—spending the holidays with their grandkids in Upstate New York. She knew this because she was in charge of watering their plants and collecting their mail.

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