Page 38 of The Ghost Assassin

“Good decision, bella,” Kane says, his voice razor-sharp. “And do so definitively this time.”

My cellphone rings, cutting through Kane’s harshness over Rich, but just barely. I roll off him and snap it up to eye the caller ID.

It’s Adams, of course, and aside from how irritated I am over the interruption, I haven’t even had time to process just how done with my badge I’m feeling right now. I answer the call, “I need a few minutes. If you can’t wait, leave me and I’ll meet you in Washington. And feel free to fire me.” I hang up and glance over at Kane, my arrogant, intense, ridiculously jealous, and highly unapproachable husband by other people’s standards, who is presently on the floor, just to be with me.

He’d do anything for me, and sometimes that means he hides what he should not hide. “What aren’t you telling me, Kane?”

“I’m not keeping secrets,” he says, but he cuts his gaze, his jaw sharpening before he pushes to his feet and then stands above me, offering me his hand. I press my hand to his and he helps me to my feet, and while that connection he’s intentionally created says we are one, there is tension between us again, a thickness to the air that makes it hard to believe.

“Why are you going to Washington?” he asks as I finish pulling myself back together.

“I’m not done talking about whatever you’re not talking about, so we’re circling back. It’s not public, but the director of the DOD was assassinated. I don’t know details, just that they want me in Washington. The interim FBI director is downstairs waiting on me to catch a chopper. It’s a long story but he’s taking over Murphy’s responsibilities along with the entire FBI. I have to go pack.” I hurry toward the stairs and call over my shoulder, “I’m going to try to come home tonight, but just in case I can’t, I need stuff.”

Kane catches up with me in the bedroom, where I’m tossing things in a bag. “My father didn’t kill the FBI director and the director of the DOD,” he comments, his hands settling on his waist under his jacket. “He’s not that ambitious. And this no longer reads like it’s about Murphy and his involvement with the Society.”

“Apparently, he was CIA at some point and supposedly pissed off the Russians, but that feels like deflection.” I stick a knife in my bra strap.

“If it smells bad, it’s bad. That smells bad.”

“Agreed,” I say, arming myself in all kinds of devious ways. “And as usual there’s a lot of Society bullshit at play.”

“Such as?” he asks, zipping my bag for me.

“For starters, Ellis told me my new boss, Calvin Adams, is squeaky clean and oblivious to the Society.”

“But that’s not true,” he assumes.

“Definitely not. Interim Director Adams just told me today that he and Murphy were in communication about the Society. And it gets better or more fucked up, depending on how you look at it. There are rumors about him being dirty, which Adams says he and Murphy created.”

“Why?”

“He was an obvious choice for a higher rank, but they felt that he’d never get priority placement where he could fight the good fight if the Society didn’t feel he was corruptible. Which tells us how deep the Society connections run.”

“Ellis said Adams was squeaky clean? If you found out about the rumors that said otherwise, why couldn’t he?”

“Exactly. He’s dumb or lying to me. Both tell me he’s a problem, but I don’t feel any better about Adams.”

“What does any of this have to do with the director of the DOD?” he asks.

“It could be everything or nothing at this point. Right now, what stands out to me is the obvious. Both victims are directors. I move to the end of the bed to stand in front of him. “I have to go. What aren’t you telling me?” I press.

“Bella, I fix things. I control things. I’m coming out of my own skin with the idea that I can’t fix this. Whatever move I make is the wrong move for you and us.”

“There’s a right move. There’s always a right move.”

“Sometimes there’s only the better wrong move, and you brace for the impact. There’s nothing I haven’t told you besides what just happened. A couple of the cartel members want me to meet them tonight.”

“In Mexico? I don’t like that, Kane.”

“Agreed, which is why I arranged to meet with only one of them. I’m flying him here.”

“Do I know this person?”

“No.”

“Is he delivering some message from your father?”

“No. He confirmed this is between me and him. He hates my father. They all do. They want him gone, but we know the alternative all too well.”

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