Code Name: Diesel (K19 Shadow Operations Book 2), page 8
“What might those be?”
“First. The kiss.”
“Just the one?”
He smiled. “The kisses.”
“I was feeling appreciative.”
“I see. And was there anyone else you showed your appreciation to while I was gone?”
I did my best to think of something witty to say but came up short. Finally, I sighed. “Only Kent.”
Diesel laughed. “I sense he’d prefer my appreciation.”
“I would agree.”
His tone changed to serious from playful. “Listen, there’s something you should know. Two things, really.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“The fifth victim was located today.”
“I don’t like the way you said that.”
“She was deceased.”
My head fell against the pillow. “We failed her.”
The area around his eyes tightened. “I failed her.”
I shook my head. “We all did.” I brushed away a tear. “Don’t tell me the other thing.”
“I have to because he’ll be here in a little while.”
“Who?”
“Admiral.”
“Is he going to insist I return to DC?”
He spoke slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“What, then?”
“He knows…um…how I feel about you.”
Before he could say more, the door opened, and Patricia Fasano walked in. “You are not an easy man to track down,” she announced with her hands on her hips.
14
DIESEL
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees with the psychologist’s arrival. As if she were trying to do it without Fasano seeing, Bryar scooted her hand over so she touched mine. I didn’t feel the need to hide a damn thing, so I wove our fingers together.
Not knowing what to say—more, not wanting to encourage the woman—I didn’t say anything, and neither did Bryar.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” Fasano said, taking a step closer and eyeing our clasped hands.
“Why?”
“I wanted to see how you were. Both of you. I guess I’m interrupting.”
“You’re fine,” said Bryar. “How are you doing, Patricia?”
“I feel like no one even cares that I was kidnapped.” She turned to me. “I have valuable information I could share that would help your investigation.”
I glared at her. “Why haven’t you?”
“I told the other guy that you’re the only person I trusted to talk to. Didn’t he tell you that?”
“If you have valuable information you haven’t yet shared with either local law enforcement or with the team assigned to you, then you’re obstructing justice. If you continue to conceal information that law enforcement needs, you can be subpoenaed and forced to testify.”
Bryar squeezed my hand. “I’m sure Agent Jacks didn’t mean that as harshly as it may have sounded. Our goal is to prevent further kidnappings and, more importantly, not to lose any more lives. Perhaps he can make arrangements for you to speak with someone else on the team since he’s been assigned to another investigation.”
“I’d rather speak with you. I don’t like the other guy,” she said, looking from Bryar to me.
“We’re both sorry to hear Agent Cassidy made you uncomfortable. While Diesel cannot take over your case, I promise he’ll alert his chain of command and ask that someone else be assigned.”
I marveled at Bryar’s ability to remain calm and talk Fasano off the ledge, so to speak, given she’d just almost died—a second time.
I glanced out the door’s window and saw Merrigan, Doc, Kent, and another man come in the ICU entrance, carrying bags. I pushed Bryar’s door open and met Merrigan’s gaze. She walked over, set the single bag she was holding on a chair outside Bryar’s room, and removed her gloves.
“Hello. I’m Merrigan Butler. I don’t think we’ve met.” She extended her hand.
“Patricia Fasano. One of the kidnapping victims.”
“I was hoping to have the opportunity to speak with you. We can do that now if you’d like. Let’s find a quiet place where you and I can chat.”
Fasano took a step back. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“I am the person in charge of the investigation into your abduction, as well as the others.”
“I’d prefer to talk to Diesel.”
“While I understand that may be, he is not assigned to your case. If you’ll come with me, you and I can get to know one another better.”
“No, I’d—”
Merrigan put her hand on Fasano’s elbow and made eye contact with Doc, who joined them. “I insist.”
I returned to the chair by Bryar’s bed as soon as they walked away.
“Arrangements should be made for her to have a psych eval, if they haven’t already,” said Bryar.
“I agree.”
“What’s happening now?”
“Merrigan and Doc are taking her somewhere to talk.”
Bryar smiled.
“What?”
“I doubt either of them will have any trouble getting her to cooperate.”
I smiled too. “They are formidable.”
“And intimidating.”
Kent came in with two slices of pizza, set them on the tray in front of Bryar, then turned to me. “What would you like? Or would you rather get your own?”
I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, even long enough to get a plate of food. When Bryar’s door opened again, I wasn’t sure who to expect. I was happy to see it was Admiral.
“Hello, Agent Davies, Diesel.”
“I was just on my way to grab some food. Will you two be okay on your own for a few minutes?” I asked.
Admiral raised a brow. “Of course.”
“Be right back.” I leaned over and kissed Bryar’s forehead. Yeah, she and I still hadn’t had a chance to discuss this change in how we were with each other, but after we both ate and everyone else left for the night, I’d make sure we did.
When I returned with a plate of pasta and a piece of pepperoni pizza, Admiral and Bryar appeared deep in conversation. I thought about excusing myself, but before I could, he turned to me.
“Wow, that smells good.”
“Merrigan ordered enough food for the entire hospital. If you’re hungry, there’s plenty. It’s out by the nurses’ station if you want to make a plate.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Good talk?” I asked once the door closed behind him.
“He warned me you were a terrible scoundrel.”
“He didn’t.”
“You’re right. However, when he asked how I saw this ‘thing’ between us—his word, not mine—I didn’t know how to respond.”
“We should talk.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
I set my plate down and looked into Bryar’s eyes. “Why not?”
“I think we both may have gotten swept up in protector/protected roles.”
While on one hand, her words hurt, on the other, she made sense. The affection I felt for Bryar Davies did stem from my need—not just want—to look out for her. From what I could tell, I was the only one who could fill that role. Even her aunt had merely given the hospital permission to share the details of her condition with me. Not temporarily, until she could make arrangements to be here herself, since there’d been no mention made of her impending arrival. I couldn’t comprehend that. Even my mom had been sending text messages on my personal cell, checking for updates on the woman she’d never met.
“Diesel?”
I looked up at her.
“Don’t pity me.”
I couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t what I was feeling. “I care about you, Bryar,” I said instead.
“And I appreciate that so much. I just think we should curtail the PDA.”
I got it, so why—more than anything—did I want to brush her hair from her forehead, hold her hand, kiss her temple? Once the door opened and she felt comfortable with me touching her, the idea that I no longer could left me feeling bereft.
“You’re that guy, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You hug everyone, right?”
I smiled. “Not everyone.”
“Right.”
“I didn’t hug Fasano.”
She smiled. “Or have sex with her.”
I cringed. “Definitely not that.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you are.” Part of me felt bad that no one informed me she’d wanted to speak directly to me, especially if she had information about the serial killer—or whoever had abducted her—that she hadn’t revealed. Maybe I should agree to an interview.
“I know that look.”
My eyes met Bryar’s. “What look?”
“The one you get when you’re contriving.”
“Contriving? Good word.”
“I only speak one language, so I have a better mastery of it than you do.”
I chuckled. Damn, I liked this woman, especially when she was giving me shit. “You’re right. I was contriving. I’m thinking I should agree to an interview with Fasano.”
“I concur. It’s imperative.”
“What is?” asked Admiral, who had come back in while Bryar was in the midst of her sentence.
“I’m going to interview Fasano,” I told him.
“Fitzsimmons should be included.”
I was surprised he hadn’t been already. Who had interviewed this woman? The days and her ability to remember vital details were getting away from us, and it pissed me off.
“Has everyone really been waiting for me?”
Admiral swallowed the bite of food he’d just put in his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“No one has interviewed this woman?”
“Of course she’s been interviewed.”
“By whom?” I demanded.
“Our team. Your team. However you want to look at it.”
“What was the outcome? Why haven’t I been briefed?” I caught a look pass between Admiral and Bryar. “What?”
“Nothing,” they both said at the same time.
“I should probably head out,” said Admiral, standing. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I followed him into the hall.
“About what was said in there—”
“If you’re wondering why you haven’t been briefed, you should take that up with your chain of command. You should also consider that you are not the lead investigator on this case.”
“Yes, sir.” I sneered.
“Don’t be like that, Diesel. You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders. We’re all doing our jobs.”
“Why did you tell me to include Fitzsimmons?”
“He and Onyx were part of the second round—after the initial interviews conducted here at the hospital when she first arrived. He’s a decent profiler, so I’d like him to be able to evaluate her reactions to you firsthand.”
“Profiler?”
“Get read in on this, Deez. Once you have and after you’ve had a chance to interview her yourself, I’ll be anxious to hear your take.”
“What’s happening with your leak investigation?” I asked.
“It’s moving forward.”
“Who’s your primary suspect?”
“Agent Davies.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Lower your voice. As long as whoever the real perpetrator is believes our investigation is on hold with Davies’ medical issues, they’ll think they’re in the clear. There’s plenty going on behind the scenes.”
“Who’s leading that investigation?”
“My understanding is Onyx made a request to have someone brought in from another team. Code name: Mayhem.”
I smiled. Emmett Gable, or as Admiral had called him, Mayhem, was a freelance operative I’d worked a few missions with. The British guy was a giant of a man in both stature and presence. Six feet, seven inches tall, he probably weighed at least two-fifty. His inky-black hair formed a widow’s peak, and he had more tats than anyone I knew. Rather than putting him on the leak, we should consider having him interview Fasano.
“I take it you approve.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’d remember if you had. Any idea when he’s supposed to arrive?”
“I think he flew in this afternoon.”
I almost rubbed my hands together.
“I’m headed back to DC in the morning, but after I take care of a few things at headquarters, I’m available if needed.”
“Copy that.” I was anxious to see if Fitzsimmons’ demeanor changed once his boss left town.
“You look happy,” Bryar said when I sat down at her bedside. “Definitely not so scowl-y. What changed?”
“Onyx is bringing in a guy to help with the various investigations we’re currently handling. He’s someone I’ve worked with a few times.”
“Who?”
“His code name is Mayhem.”
“Emmett?” Bryar did a good job of masking her reaction. I couldn’t read if his arrival pleased or bothered her.
I felt my scowl returning. “Do you know him?”
“I do.”
15
BRYAR
I could tell Diesel wanted to ask how, but I doubted he would. He was waiting for me to offer the information, and I certainly would not. Emmett was part of the life I’d led before I was forced to grow up too quickly. Before I joined the bureau.
If it weren’t for “Mayhem,” though, I never would’ve pursued becoming an agent. He was the one who’d convinced me I was as good a mystery solver as he was.
I’m sure my mother had hoped something romantic would start between us the summer I spent in Greece with my parents and met him on the beach. We were both teenagers then, and while we spent time together, neither of us found the other that appealing. Then, his dream was to be a writer. Maybe it was something he still did in addition to his work in intelligence.
Why was I allowing myself to get lost in the memory of things I never wanted to think about again? My dad had died that year. While I didn’t miss my mother even a little, I missed my father every day.
“I’m feeling tired. I think I’ll sleep for a while.” I thought about telling Diesel he didn’t have to stay, but even if he left, someone else would be here in his place.
Thinking about the fact that someone had tried to kill me probably wasn’t the best thing to do right before attempting to fall asleep.
After an hour, Diesel was out cold, but I still lay there, eyes closed but wide awake, processing everything that had happened over the course of the last few days.
I’d been shot during the transport of a prisoner and underwent emergency surgery. Only a handful of people knew that Maxim Edwards would be arriving at the FBI building in Albany that day. Those on the transport and those who would be receiving and processing the prisoner were briefed. Outside of that, even most of the K19 Shadow Ops team were unaware.
Even where we entered the facility was subject to last-minute change. I’d been the one to make the call. Who knew that, when I did, I’d be setting myself up to get shot as well as to be framed as an informant?
I had no way of proving who’d fired the shots that killed Edwards, Rodriguez, and came close to killing me, but my instincts screamed it had been someone either with the Bonanno family or contracted by them.
If I looked at this from the outside in, as if it happened to someone other than myself, I would know three things.
One, someone wanted me dead. I’d had two attempts on my life inside of a week. Whoever was behind them had contacts within the FBI and access to me in the hospital. On the FBI side, that meant either Ryan Fitzsimmons or Pershing Kane. On the K19 Shadow Ops side, that meant Onyx and Diesel, maybe others.
My first question should have been, why? What was the motive behind killing me? Since I only suspected who was responsible for Edwards’ hit, what threat did I pose? If the second attempt hadn’t been made, I would have continued to believe I was an unintended target. Unless the two weren’t related and the first truly was accidental.
There was also the question of the money that appeared in my bank account. A good forensic accountant could trace the deposit, even if it led to a ghost or dummy account.
More importantly than who was trying to kill me were the deaths of four other women and the kidnapping of a fifth.
I couldn’t say why, but I felt as though Fasano’s abduction might be unrelated to the deaths of the four other women, in the same way Maisie’s kidnapping had been. In that case, Maxim Edwards had staged a copycat crime in order to gather enough money to disappear. Given the details of the other cases had been kept quiet, we assumed Edwards’ source of information had been his buddy in the Manhattan DA’s office—David March.
My eyes sprung open, and when they did, I saw Diesel was wide awake too.
“March,” I blurted.
“What about him?”
“You need to question him about Edwards’ hit. Make him a deal.”
Diesel pulled his cell phone out, but rather than send a text like I thought he would, he placed a call.
“What is David March’s twenty?” I couldn’t hear the response on the other end of the line. “I want arrangements made for an interview. Keep both Pershing and Fitzsimmons out of the loop.”
My brow was raised when he ended the call.
“The first thing you need to know is I’d trust Admiral with my life. The second thing is I wouldn’t trust Fitzsimmons within an inch of it.” He studied me. “Or yours, Bryar.”
“I’ve been thinking it over.”
“What specifically?”
“Whoever is trying to frame me.” I told him my theory that my being shot when Edwards was had been accidental. “Framing me throws off the investigation on the leak. It isn’t a reason for wanting me dead.”
