Special Ops Exclusive

chapter 11



An icy rush of dread skittered up Nick’s spine. He stared into Waverly’s blue eyes, unable to comprehend what the son of a bitch had just told him.

“No,” he finally said, “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth,” Waverly insisted. “Secretary Barrett was behind everything! I swear on my mother’s life!”

He was lying. He had to be.

Nick refused to believe that his father had anything to do with this. Christ. But what if it was true? His palms went damp at the thought, his SIG nearly slipping from his grasp.

“Tell me everything,” he ordered. “From the beginning.”

Waverly visibly swallowed. “Project Aries was set up about two years ago. I was running double duty at the time, acting as the aide for Brent Davidson and Fred McAvoy, the—”

“The deputy secretary,” Rebecca supplied with a frown.

“McAvoy’s involved in this, too?” Nick barked.

“He’s the one who approached me,” Waverly replied. “McAvoy said that he and the sec def were growing concerned with President Howard’s lenient attitude toward terrorism, that Howard wasn’t taking enough precautions to protect our country from another attack. McAvoy confided in me that certain measures were being taken to prevent another terrorist attack on American soil, and that the department was dedicated to ensuring we had all the necessary weapons to fight the war on terrorism.”

“Biological weapons, you mean,” Rebecca said.

Waverly nodded. “He didn’t give me many details about the project, but he put me in charge of communicating with Richard Harrison, the scientist at D&M Initiative. The lab was contracted to experiment with different biological agents and develop a weapon that was fast-acting and easy to release into a general population.”

Nick scowled. “The Meridian virus.”

Another fervent nod. “Harrison worked on it for more than a year, and when it came time to test it, Barrett and McAvoy knew the field testing couldn’t be done on U.S. soil—”

Each time his father’s name left the aide’s lips, Nick flinched like he’d been shot by a rifle. He tried valiantly to hide the reaction, but from the sympathetic look Rebecca gave him, he knew she’d noticed.

“—so they struck a deal with the San Marquez government,” Waverly finished. “Our troops would contain the ULF situation and help the country prosper, and they would sacrifice a few rural villages for the sake of national security. Your unit was sent to that village by accident—Harrison managed to get a call out before the rebels got a hold of him, and there was a communication mix-up in the military channels. You weren’t ever supposed to be there.”

“But we were, and we needed to be shut up, right?” Each word dripped with bitterness.

Waverly let out a weary breath. “The secretary believed it was necessary.”

Bull! Nick wanted to snap, but he clenched his teeth to control the outburst. His father would never order the murder of his own son, for Chrissake. Kirk Barrett loved his kids. He was fiercely protective of them and always had been. Nick would believe in unicorns and leprechauns before he believed that his father had ordered someone to kill him.

“And when Sebastian was at the Pentagon, you were instructed to give him the tainted water bottle?” he said instead.

“Yes.” Remorse flickered in the man’s eyes. “I didn’t want to. Hell, when they gave me the vial containing the Meridian virus, I agonized over it. I’m not a murderer, you have to believe that, but national security was at stake! They said that Stone and the rest of you were after revenge, that you planned on exposing the DoD’s part in the virus crisis, and we couldn’t let that happen. It would have been a scandal the administration could have never recovered from.”

“God forbid you cause a scandal,” Rebecca said, sarcasm oozing from her voice.

Nick shook his head in disgust. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying that Secretary Barrett personally delivered a sample of the virus into your hands and told you to infect Sergeant Stone.”

Waverly faltered. “Well, no, McAvoy was the one who gave me the vial, but he was acting under Barrett’s orders. He said so himself.”

Suspicion flooded Nick’s gut, kicking his instincts into gear and causing a few puzzle pieces to slide into place.

“So you dealt only with McAvoy these past two years?” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but that’s because Barrett couldn’t officially give the orders. His connection to the project needed to remain a secret. McAvoy ordered me never to speak to the secretary directly.”

How convenient. Some of the load bearing down on Nick’s shoulders eased, making it easier to breathe. This entire situation sounded fishy as hell. The deputy secretary calling the shots, giving Waverly the virus, ordering him not to speak to Nick’s father... Was Fred McAvoy the mastermind behind Project Aries, then?

Nick didn’t know McAvoy too well, but he remembered his father praising the man’s dedication to his country. Just like Nick’s dad, McAvoy also placed great importance on defense, so it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d created a biological weapon as a means to protect their nation.

“So that’s it, the whole story.” Waverly looked exhausted, and his head lolled to the side, as if his neck could no longer support the weight of it.

Nick glanced at Rebecca, who was watching him with wary green eyes. “What now?” she asked him. “What do we do with him?”

He thought it over for a second. “Call the DoD, I guess. Tell them we found their missing aide.”

“No!” Waverly blurted out. “If they know where I am, I’m dead!”

“If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have whisked you out of town,” Nick said coldly.

“Nobody whisked me anywhere, you morons! There was a thug with a gun waiting for me in my apartment after I left the Pentagon that day.” Waverly sounded utterly betrayed. “I was a loose end. Once Barrett told me to take care of Stone, I was no longer the lackey who simply made a few phone calls to Dr. Harrison—I was a murderer, and that bastard couldn’t be connected to me anymore.”

During his Special Forces stint, Nick had interrogated more than a few bad guys, and he’d developed a knack for knowing when he was being lied to. And the bitch of it was, Waverly genuinely believed every word he was saying. In Paul Waverly’s mind, Kirk Barrett was behind everything.

But was that because McAvoy had orchestrated it to appear that way?

Or was it because Nick’s father truly was the guilty party?

His heart squeezed painfully. No. There was no way his dad had allowed a virus to be tested on innocent people. No way his dad had tried to have him killed.

Now it was just a matter of proving it.

“Give me a sec,” he told Rebecca before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

He stepped into the hallway and dialed Tate’s number. When the captain picked up, Nick didn’t waste any time in bringing him up to speed.

“I’ve got Waverly tied to a chair in the other room.”

Tate’s gruff laughter filled his ear. “Nice job, Nicky.”

“I finished interrogating him, and now we need to figure out what to do with him. He swears he’s being hunted for his role in the cover-up and he’s terrified of getting offed by these people.” Nick let out a frustrated breath. “Maybe we can try to arrange protective custody for him? I’m sure he’ll cut a deal and testify if asked. This guy will do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

“Did he give up a name?”

“Yes.” Nick hesitated. “Secretary Barrett.”

Tate’s sharp breath echoed over the line. “Doesn’t surprise me. Barrett is borderline obsessive when it comes to defense, and he’s—”

“My father.”

Silence.

“What?” Tate finally spoke, that one syllable laced with both shock and bewilderment.

“Kirk Barrett is my father, Tate.”

There was another pause.

Followed by a muttered curse, a sigh and then, “Start talking, Nicky.”

* * *

Rebecca approached the screen door and gazed out at Nick, who was on the deck brooding by the railing. Same way he’d been brooding for the past three hours. He hadn’t said much since Waverly had dropped the Secretary Barrett bomb, and she knew the notion that his father might be the bad guy was tearing Nick apart.

“What’s up?”

His gruff voice startled her. He was still standing there with his back turned, yet he’d detected her presence before she could even announce herself.

She stepped onto the deck and joined him. “Any word from Davidson?”

“Not since he called with an ETA for those federal agents he’s sending.”

Apprehension rippled through her at the reminder. She and Nick couldn’t leave the beach house until the agents came to collect Waverly, and she continued to feel uneasy about that course of action. Nick had assured her that Brent Davidson, their contact at the DoD, could be trusted, but she didn’t share his conviction. Davidson worked under McAvoy and Nick’s father—how could they be sure he wasn’t up to his elbows in this biological weapons scandal?

“Is our hostage still griping and complaining?” Nick asked her.

“Yep. Now he’s demanding we feed him. I came out here to see what you wanted for lunch.”

“You cook?”

“If making sandwiches counts as cooking, then yes.”

He didn’t even crack a smile, which told her he was even more upset than he was letting on.

Sighing, she placed her hand over his, which he’d rested palm-down on the splintered wooden railing. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep agonizing over this. Reserve judgment until we speak to your dad, okay?” She tilted her head. “That is the plan, right? Head to D.C. to talk to him?”

Nick nodded, then spoke in a preoccupied tone. “I haven’t seen my father in more than a year. I don’t even know what he’s been told about me.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, then slammed it shut.

Her sudden about-face did not go unnoticed. “What is it?” Nick demanded. “What do you know?”

She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just...it doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me what you know, Rebecca.” There was steel in his voice.

“Um. Well. Remember how I asked Harry to look into your background? Well, he spoke to one of his military contacts and the guy got a look at your file. It said you were honorably discharged last year.”

A deep line appeared in his forehead. “I see.”

“And another source said you’ve supposedly been sailing around the Caribbean ever since.”

Nick let out a harsh laugh. “So that’s the official story, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“My dad would never believe that.” His breath hitched. “He must know something is wrong, then. He’s probably been trying to track me—”

Rebecca hated to interrupt, but she had no choice. “Your father was the one who told Harry’s source the Caribbean story.”

Nick’s jaw tensed. “What?”

“Harry’s source works at the Pentagon. He asked your father about you, and that was the answer he received.”

As Nick fell silent, Rebecca’s heart ached for him again. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Secretary Barrett was going out of his way to pretend he knew where his son was and that nothing was amiss. Why the lies?

“Maybe he really thinks you’re traveling,” she suggested in a feeble tone. “Maybe that’s what he was told.”

“My father knows I would never stay out of touch for an entire year. He has to suspect something is up.” Nick paused. “Maybe he’s playing along with the story they fed him about me, but secretly he has been searching for me.”

Rebecca stifled a sigh, but she didn’t contradict him. He needed this. Needed to believe that his father was the good guy, that Barrett was innocent. But Rebecca had been embroiled in politics for long enough to know that nobody in Washington was ever truly innocent.

“I guess we’ll find out when we talk to him,” she said softly. “And speaking of which, how are we going to manage that? People want us dead.” Possibly your father, she didn’t add. “We can’t just waltz back to D.C. without anybody knowing we’re there. Did you tell Davidson about our plans?”

“Yes, but Davidson can be trusted. He won’t reveal to anyone that you and I are coming to D.C.”

“Davidson answers to McAvoy and your fa—” she stopped guiltily, making a quick amendment “—he works for the Department of Defense. There’s the risk that he’s in cahoots with Mr. X. And even if he isn’t, how is he going to keep our presence under wraps?”

“Davidson is part of the task force that’s been set up to investigate the Meridian virus. Every government agency and employee is under the microscope right now,” Nick told her. “Finding Mr. X has become a matter of national security, and Davidson is taking his role in the inquiry very seriously. He wants the person responsible caught as much as we do, which means he won’t jeopardize our investigation by announcing to anyone that we’re in town.”

Rebecca remained unconvinced. “I’d still feel better if we continued investigating on our own. I don’t want to rely on your buddy Davidson or these agents who are supposed to show up. I think we should make our way to D.C. without federal assistance.”

He seemed to mull it over.

“Please, Nick. I’d feel a lot better if we did this alone.”

“Me, too. Which is why we’re not catching a ride back with Davidson’s men. Manuel will take us as far as Miami and we’ll make our way to D.C from there.”

She bristled. “You couldn’t have just told me that off the bat? Why did you let me beg for it?”

The corners of his mouth lifted in the first smile she’d glimpsed all day. “Sometimes I like hearing you argue. It’s fun.”

She couldn’t help a laugh, but the humor faded when she noticed that the cloud of sorrow had floated back into his honey-brown eyes.

“Nick, we’ll find the truth,” she said gently. “And if your father is involved—”

“He’s not.”

“If he is, then we’ll deal with it.”

She brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. It had been intended as a gesture of comfort, but almost immediately, the crackle of attraction heated the air and a wave of desire swelled in her belly.

With the gentlest of caresses, she ran her fingers over the razor-sharp stubble dotting his jaw, then swept her thumb over his bottom lip, which was surprisingly soft and incredibly sensual.

When she met his eyes, the hunger she saw in them made her heart beat faster.

He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t moving her hand, and his acceptance of her touch spurred her next move. She stepped closer, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in the softest, sweetest of kisses.

Again, it was intended as an offering of comfort, a token of her friendship, but she hadn’t anticipated Nick’s next move.

With a husky growl, he yanked her close and kissed the living daylights out of her.

Rebecca gasped against his mouth. Her legs buckled as pleasure crashed into her, but Nick swiftly steadied her by clasping her waist and pulling her even closer. Her body melted into his, her breasts plastered against his rock-hard chest.

His tongue was greedy, demanding, licking its way into her mouth and robbing her of breath. Lord, the man could kiss.

He slanted his head to deepen the contact and when their tongues touched, he made a husky sound of approval deep in his throat and his fingers slid down to cup her bottom. He squeezed, devouring her mouth with his tongue as he ground his pelvis into the cradle of her thighs.

Moaning, Rebecca clung to his broad shoulders, her fingernails clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it to be. Nick was so reserved, so polite that she’d assumed she’d be the one in control if they ever surrendered to the attraction that had been brewing between them since they’d met.

But the control was all his. She was helpless, giddy, consumed with arousal that burned between her legs and coursed through her body.

When Nick finally tore his mouth away, she actually whimpered in disappointment.

They were both breathing hard, and she could see his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat.

Rebecca swallowed, still stunned by the dominating nature of that mind-blowing kiss. “That wasn’t a seduction attempt,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I was only trying to offer some comfort.”

“I know,” he said thickly.

Her heart refused to stop pounding. “I...”

I want to do that again.

But she couldn’t voice the thought. The passion in Nick’s gorgeous eyes was beginning to dim, the glaze of lust reverting to that flicker of sadness.

“Rebecca,” he started, and she knew he was about to apologize for the kiss.

To tell her it couldn’t happen again.

Refusing to give him the chance, she pasted on a smile and said, “Come on, let’s go feed our hostage.”

* * *

The federal agents Brent Davidson had sent arrived mid-afternoon and promptly took Paul Waverly off Rebecca’s and Nick’s hands. She appreciated that neither agent attempted to strong-arm them into coming back to the States aboard the DoD jet. The two men didn’t comment on her presence either, although one of them did confess to being a fan of hers.

By the time she and Nick returned to Javier’s airfield in their rented Jeep, it was nearly four o’clock. Fortunately, Manuel and the Cessna were already waiting in the hangar and they managed to get in the air shortly after.

Nick was quiet on the journey home, leaving Rebecca to her own devices during the two-hour flight to Miami. The memory of this morning’s kiss continued to echo in her mind like a seductive melody, and each time she glanced over at Nick’s stoic profile, she had to resist the urge to jump into his lap and kiss him again.

She didn’t quite understand why her hormones went on overload in Nick Barrett’s presence. The man was hardly her type with his whole gentleman vibe and his determination to keep her away from the action. She’d dated men like Nick in Atlanta, the traditional types, the ones who believed women belonged barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Granted, Nick didn’t seem like a chauvinist, but she knew he didn’t particularly approve of the way she placed herself in danger’s path.

But her job was dangerous at times. There was nothing she could do about that, short of quitting, and she had no intention of giving up her career.

And boy, wasn’t she on a ridiculously premature train of thought?

Give up her career? She and Nick weren’t even dating, for Pete’s sake. They’d kissed. Once. And there probably wouldn’t be a follow-up if Nick had anything to say about it. So really, there was no reason for her to be thinking about all the ways she and Nick Barrett were incompatible.

It was just past six when they landed in Miami, and it took another hour for Nick to secure a ride for them with the pilot of a cargo plane they encountered at yet another private airfield. As Nick handed over a stack of cash, Rebecca had to wonder just how much money the poor guy had spent this past year. All the charters, the weapons, the safe houses—it must have cost him a fortune.

On the other hand, when you came from Barrett oil and Prescott hotels, the word fortune probably held a slightly different meaning.

“Home, sweet home,” Nick mumbled when their journey finally came to an end.

Rebecca peered out the window of the small plane and gazed at the twinkling city lights down below. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, but she could still make out the Washington Monument and the silvery glow of the Capitol as the plane began its descent.

She had a love-hate relationship with D.C. On one hand, the city was rife with scandal, which was every journalist’s dream, but on the other hand, it was so hard not to become disillusioned in the face of all that corruption. Rebecca had lost her wide-eyed optimism years ago, and sometimes she missed that gung ho girl who’d believed that the truth always prevailed.

“Let me take your bag,” Nick said ten minutes later, after the plane had come to a stop on the runway.

Rebecca passed him the large tote bag she’d picked up at the marketplace in Costa Rica, shouldered her green canvas purse, then accepted his hand as he helped her out of the plane. A perfect gentleman, as always.

To her surprise, a taxi was waiting for them directly on the tarmac. “When did you arrange for a cab?” she asked.

“When you were lecturing Javier about sea turtles.” A ghost of a smile crossed his mouth.

Because smiles from Nick had been rare today, she welcomed the sight.

“Keep your head down as much as you can,” he added. “I don’t want the cabbie recognizing you.”

“Same goes for you,” she said wryly.

With Nick carrying their bags, they headed for the waiting cab and greeted their driver. Rebecca made a conscious effort to avert her eyes, casting her gaze downward and pretending to be fascinated with her dust-streaked hiking boots.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?” the Asian man inquired.

Nick nodded. “That’s us.”

As they slid into the backseat, Rebecca couldn’t fight the yawn that overtook her. It felt like they’d been on the move from the moment she’d met Nick in Cortega three days ago. She longed for about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

And a shower. God, she wanted a shower. She felt grimy and gross, and her ponytail was greasy and kept sticking to her neck.

“You tired?” Nick said softly.

“Exhausted.”

He patted his shoulder. “You can lean on me if you want.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d snuggled up next to a warm male body. A couple of years at least. Right. She’d been seeing Jonas back then, the last bad boy she’d had the misfortune of dating. She hadn’t gotten serious with anyone since then, although she had indulged in a weeklong affair last year with a lobbyist who turned out to be a complete jerk.

She really seemed to gravitate toward the jerks, didn’t she?

Except this time.

No, this time she’d found herself drawn to a man who was so far from a jerk, so ridiculously nice, that he was probably too good to be true.

Resting her head on Nick’s strong shoulder, she closed her eyes and tried not to overanalyze her feelings for this man.

She napped during the entire cab ride, and although she couldn’t be sure, she could have sworn she felt Nick’s lips brush the top of her head in a soft kiss before she dozed off.

When the car lurched to a stop about twenty minutes later, she jerked awake. Blinking rapidly, she turned to the window and saw that they’d arrived at a modest hotel not too far from Capitol Hill.

Nick quickly paid the cabbie and ushered Rebecca into the front lobby without giving her time to officially wake up. But she understood his haste. The two of them couldn’t risk being seen in public; they were too recognizable, and the last thing they wanted to do was alert Mr. X and his thugs that they were stateside.

When they approached the front desk, she discovered that Nick had already booked their room over the phone—also when she’d been talking sea turtles with Javier—so it took no time at all to check in and collect their room key card.

Room. Singular. As in one.

She knew that Nick had purposely booked it that way to maintain the pretense that they were “Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” but the delicious possibilities did not escape her as they rode the elevator to the second floor.

One room. One bed. Her and Nick.

All thoughts of seduction had been shoved to the back burner earlier, thanks to Waverly’s accusations about Nick’s father. But after that explosive kiss...well, she might have to forge ahead with that seduction plan. And conveniently, she had one hotel room at her disposal.

But first things first, they needed to find a way to reach Nick’s father without tipping off Mr. X.

Unless Nick’s father is Mr. X....

She banished the pessimistic notion, wishing for Nick’s sake that Waverly was dead wrong about Barrett’s role in the virus conspiracy.

“So how are we going to do this?” she asked as Nick dropped his duffel on the soft white carpet of their room. “Can we get a message to your dad somehow? Maybe through someone with access to the Pentagon?”

Nick flopped down on the edge of the king-size bed and pulled out his cell phone. “Or...I can just call him.”

Rebecca glared at him. “You can’t! What if his phone is bugged?”

“Trust me, it won’t be.”

Much to her horror, he was already dialing a number. Crap. Didn’t he realize that in Washington, everyone’s gee-dee phone was tapped?

“How do you know it’s safe?” she demanded.

“Because this isn’t a number anyone else knows about.” He rolled his eyes. “My dad is the secretary of defense, darling. He lives and breathes covert.”

As she watched, Nick pressed a sequence of numbers into the keypad.

And then he hung up.

“That’s it?” she said in confusion.

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

“So now what?”

“Now we wait.”

Rebecca shot him an exasperated look. “For how long?”

“Depends on what he’s doing, but it shouldn’t be long. It’s ten-thirty at night, so he’s either in his office or heading home. I doubt we caught him in the middle of a meeting, not unless the president requested a hush-hush powwow at the White House tonight.”

“Hey, as long as we’re waiting, do you think I should contact the network again? I haven’t been in touch since I called about Harry.”

Harry’s name got stuck in her throat, causing her heart to clench. She’d tried so hard not to think about him these past couple of days. Harry, Jesse, Dave... But the grief made a swift appearance now, and it took all her willpower to choke it down and raise that shield around her heart again.

“You can’t call anyone,” Nick answered in a stern voice. “Anyone connected to you will definitely have had their phones tapped.”

She sighed. “I wish I had a computer, at least then I could do some research. Or heck, even a pen and paper would be nice. I wouldn’t mind jotting down some of my thoughts about all this.”

When his gaze sharpened, she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Off the record,” she assured him. “I’m not planning on publishing or airing anything until this is over. I made you a promise, remember?”

“I remember, but it’s good to hear that you do, too.” He relaxed, then stiffened right back up when the phone in his hand buzzed.

Rebecca watched his expression transform from calm to nervous as he studied the display.

“It’s him,” Nick said gruffly.

The phone kept buzzing.

She eyed him expectantly. “Well, pick it up already.”

After a beat, he pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Dad?”

The emotion thickening his voice brought a soft smile to Rebecca’s lips. God, she was a total sucker for men who were close with their parents. She loved her own folks to death, and she’d never understood people who didn’t appreciate the importance of family.

But Nick sounded so choked up that she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she ended up inching toward the bathroom doorway, needing to give him some privacy.

“I’m taking a shower,” she whispered.

He nodded. Didn’t even glance her way as he spoke into the phone again.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said roughly. “I...hell, it’s been a long time, huh?”

That was the last thing Rebecca heard before she stepped into the bathroom. Her eyes were surprisingly damp, and she found herself praying that Kirk Barrett was the man his son believed him to be. Nick was such a good man, an honorable man. The last thing he deserved was to be saddled with a father who’d tried to have him killed.

She hurriedly stripped out of her dirty, sweaty clothes and nearly dived into the glass shower stall. The moment the hot water rushed out of the faucet and coursed down her naked body, she purred in pleasure and tipped her head into the spray.

She proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes scrubbing herself raw with the sweet-smelling hotel soap, washing her hair and shaving her legs and armpits with the complimentary razor she found on the ledge affixed to the tiled wall. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she felt like a new woman.

Grabbing a fluffy white towel from the rack on the wall, she dried off, then wrapped the terry cloth around her body and tucked the top in. She’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the washroom, which meant she had no choice but to walk out in the towel.

When she reentered the room, Nick was no longer on the phone, but sitting on the bed, lost in thought.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

His head lifted in an abrupt motion, as if he truly hadn’t realized she was standing there. His lack of vigilance said a lot about his state of mind.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“So what happened? What did he say?”

“A lot.”

The two-syllable response brought a rush of aggravation. “Um, care to elaborate?”

Nick let out a heavy breath. “He says he’s been trying to locate me ever since I went off the grid, and that he didn’t believe for a second I would be discharged and take off without a word. He suspected there was a conspiracy in play, but he had no idea what it could possibly be related to, at least not until news of the Meridian virus was made public.”

“So he didn’t know about the virus,” she said.

“Dad insists he didn’t. He thought my disappearance was related to an op, that I might have been a POW somewhere and the military was trying to cover it up.” Nick hesitated for a second. “We’re meeting in an hour. He has some business to wrap up, and then he’s leaving the Pentagon and coming to meet me.”

Rebecca’s voice went dry. “And let me guess, you want me to stay put.”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to come with me.”