ELITE Justice (Guardian ELITE Book 2), page 7
Jonathan rose from the depths of pleasure and rolled off Gwen, tucking her sleeping form beside him. He needed to take care of the spent condom, but wanted to stay there for a minute, or two, or twenty, just holding her. What they had just shared was unique, at least for him. Sure, it was just sex, but it was the best sex in years. Maybe it had only felt that way because it had been so long. Although, the thought of waiting several months to repeat such a powerful orgasm had no appeal at all. He felt so good he might be ready to go again by the time he got back from the bathroom.
With that idea in mind, Jonathan pulled the covers up and around Gwen and got out of bed. By the time he’d gotten rid of the condom and cleaned up, though, he’d convinced himself he should leave. It was late. Very late. She probably had to work the next day.
A pang of guilt dashed through him. He’d been so inconsiderate. He should have asked her if she had an early morning. What if she had to open the restaurant in just a few hours? He stood naked in the bathroom doorway with his cock already half-hard wanting to crawl back into the warm bed and awaken Gwen with his mouth between her legs. He was such a selfish bastard. He had the entire day to sleep since he wasn’t on till ten that night. But he was expected to report back in before he went to his hotel room to sleep.
Oh. Fuck.
All thoughts of why he’d started seducing Gwen flooded his brain and he lost the semi he’d sported. He had a mission to complete; search her apartment for clues and find her computer. If she was involved in a terrorist attack in any way—and he hoped to God she wasn’t—he’d just slept with the enemy. And wanted to do it again.
On his way out of the bathroom, he stared at the woman who had brought him more pleasure, in and out of bed, than he’d had in years, maybe ever. She was so beautiful as she slept. And looked so damned innocent.
With a deep sigh, Jonathan slid on his pants. Grabbing the rest of his clothes he silently left her bedroom, quietly closing the door.
Dressing quickly in the large room that served as a dining room and living room, he found her computer on the island that separated it from the kitchen. Jonathan pressed the button to turn on the laptop. Alex had sent him a thumb drive that could extract all information, as long as the computer was on. To his surprise, it immediately opened the document he wanted to read. She must have been working on it before he picked her up.
He read as the program sucked a copy of every bit and byte. Each line seemed more like notes than an outlined plan. They were disjointed, looping back around sometimes, others left words hanging. All the words made sense, yet none of it did. Unfortunately, no specific target was mentioned.
Jonathan grabbed the flash drive and stashed it in his pocket.
“Did you get everything you needed?” At Gwen’s icy voice, he looked up to where she leaned against the corner to the dark hall, arms folded over her gorgeous breasts.
She was completely naked.
Except for the Glock in her right hand.
Gwen had rolled over in a satisfied stupor, wondering if Jonathan could be coaxed into a second round. She certainly was interested. Instead of the large-muscled body she’d expected, her bed had been empty. But the sheets were still warm. A glance at the open door to the bathroom, and floor devoid of men’s clothing, she concluded that he’d left.
Well, hell. So much for more sex. Too bad. He’d been good. Really good.
Thirsty, she padded to her bedroom door. She’d only opened it a crack when she heard rustling in the living room and saw the glow of light. A flashlight? Had the man she’d just slept with left the door unlocked so a burglar could just waltz right in? Or was it the jerk who’d just been inside her body searching her apartment?
Quietly, she stepped back into her bedroom and removed her gun from the nightstand. Avoiding the board that squeaked, she’d crept down the hallway and watched Jonathan search her living room. She had no idea what he was looking for until he made himself comfortable at her breakfast bar and turned on her computer. Lit by the screen, the grin on his face told her what she needed to know.
While waiting for him that evening, she’d reviewed her notes taken from the teenagers’ conversations, trying to determine their target. What she had was only snippets, like pieces of a puzzle that had fallen off the table. She needed to see the picture to determine if what she had was important.
Jonathan must have been a speed reader because he’d only seen her notes for a split second that night in the diner. She now had pages of information on the young men, a few names, but no target.
Why should he even care? He certainly didn’t care about her. He’d used her to get to her computer and the information he now perused as he leisurely sat in her favorite spot. That’s where she ate every meal, checked her email, and shopped online. He looked right at home wearing…what was he wearing? His chest was bare, the almost-invisible, light hair casting shadows onto his powerful pecs. Surely he had slipped into his boxer briefs, maybe even his slacks. Only his torso was visible above the granite island top.
Part of Gwen wanted to go over there and crawl into his lap to convince him to come back to bed. The sane part wanted to throw him out of her apartment, and her life. She released her grip on the gun in her hand, thus engaging the safety mechanisms. He wasn’t a burglar there to steal what little of value she had and then rape her. He’d already explored her body, and she’d been a very willing participant. At the moment, he seemed content to discover what she had on her computer.
She leaned against the wall as she carried on an internal war. Should she trust Jonathan to help her get the minuscule amount of information she had collected to the right authorities? Or throw his very fine ass out of her apartment and tell him to stay away from the diner because she never wanted to see him again?
But she did want to see Jonathan again. Their date had been wonderful, up until she’d caught him searching her place. She wanted him to return to her bed and repeat everything they’d done to each other…and more.
Could she trust the man sitting at her counter? He’d told her Guardian wasn’t in the special operations business for Uncle Sam. But, maybe, since he’d once been in Marine SpecOps, he knew who to tell about the terrorist cell she was now convinced existed within a few blocks of her apartment.
Jonathan half stood and dug into his pocket.
So, he’d put on pants. But had he planned on leaving or returning to her bed? And her?
Well, hell. She’d trusted him with her body, she could trust him with the information.
“Can you decipher my notes?” Gwen pushed off the wall and walked toward Jonathan.
He froze. “I was—”
“I know what you were doing.” She laid the gun down on the kitchen counter as she passed and strode to the island. “Go ahead. Copy my notes. Maybe you can make sense of them. I sure can’t.”
“Are you involved in—”
Jonathan thought she was tangled in this mess?
“Hell, no!” Furious now, she tried to explain. “There’s a group of refugee teenagers that come into the diner after school. Since they speak Arabic and have no idea I know the language, they talk. A lot. Their families are involved in something big…like a local terrorist cell, which is planning something huge for next week.”
“Next week?” Jonathan probed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, unfortunately.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t know what they plan to do.”
“Who have you told about this?” His tone was accusatory.
“No one, yet.” She shrugged. “There’s not enough there to tell anyone of authority, and who’s going to believe me?”
“I believe you.” His words shocked her, but it’s what she’d hoped. “And there’s more here than you think. I’m sure Homeland Security has people in Dallas on the Watch List, but with all the new refugees, not to mention the local crazies, they can’t keep up.” He smiled at her, and she wanted to melt into him. “This is the kind of information they need.”
“Should I call them?” Then she thought about it a moment. “How do you get ahold of the terrorism division of Homeland Security? Is there such a thing? Isn’t that the whole purpose of that department?”
“Yes, but I can cut through the bureaucratic bullshit.” He held up the flash drive. “May I keep this?”
She nodded. “You can? How? You told me Guardian wasn’t into black ops. Do they have other government contracts?”
He clicked a few keys then looked up at her. “I didn’t say that. What I said was that I didn’t know of any governmental contracts.” He grinned. “That takes place so far above my pay grade that I wouldn’t know about it. On the other hand, I work for a great guy who knows the right people.”
“Quin?” She couldn’t imagine him being that well-connected. He was also new to the Dallas area.
“No, our owner, Alex Wolf.” Jonathan stared at her for what seemed like forever before he slid it back into his pocket.
She raised her eyebrow, knowing there was more, and silently asked for the truth.
Sheepishly he admitted, “I’ve already talked to Alex about this, right after I saw the notes on this computer that evening in the diner.”
Gwen was no fool. She read between the lines. Heat ignited behind her eyes. She would not cry, no matter how much it hurt. Determined to speak around the tightening fist that choked her throat, she asked anyway, fearing she already knew the answer.
“Is that why you asked me out tonight?” Damn it, her voice had broken. Now he knew how much their date had meant to her. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Yes, but—” He came around the edge of the island and she stepped back.
Grabbing her gun, she pointed it at him. “Get out.”
CHAPTER 9
“Good morning, Alex,” Jonathan greeted at nine the next day as he sat in Quin’s office, their boss on speakerphone.
“Morning, gentlemen.” Alex jumped right into it. “So, Jonathan, you believe this information to be reliable?”
“Yes, sir.” He trusted Gwen and wished like hell the night hadn’t ended the way it did. Things had been good up until she’d caught him.
He’d seriously considered getting the information then slipping back into bed, and into Gwen. He liked her, and yes, it had been far too long since he’d had sex, but it seemed different with her. Better. That’s why he’d wanted her again, to determine if it had been his long dry spell, or the woman.
“According to your report, an unidentified Dallas target will be hit next week.” Alex didn’t give Jonathan time to respond before he asked, “Does your asset have any idea what, where, or how?”
“No, sir.” And this was exactly why Gwen had hesitated. Damn it, they needed details.
“All right,” Alex announced, “this is what we’re going to do. I’m calling USSOCOM with what little we have. You two are headed to a late breakfast and a conversation with Gwen Shaw. Find out when these kids are there and follow them. At least we can get some addresses that may ping Homeland’s database. I’ll get Bret on events next week that will attract a lot of people and media.”
“Yes, sir,” Jonathan and Quin said at the same time.
“Stay in touch,” their boss ordered, then added, “Good work, Jonathan.”
“Thank you, sir.” But he didn’t feel good about what he’d done. In truth, he felt bad about using Gwen. He liked her, probably more than he should. And he’d betrayed her trust. Now she hated him. But the two of them weren’t done. He wondered if she’d pull a gun on him in the diner, or refuse to serve him and throw him out.
Twenty minutes later he found out when they entered Up In Smoke. On the walk over, Jonathan had filled Quin in as to his late-night adventure with Gwen.
“Harsh, man.” Quin smacked him on the shoulder as they approached the door. “Since you fucked up pretty bad, I’ll take the lead.”
It was between breakfast and lunch so the diner was nearly empty. Quin led them to a table in the back, far from anyone else.
“What can I get you two today?” the peppy college-aged waitress asked.
“Coffee, please, and I’d like a western omelet.” Quin looked at Jonathan. That sounded damn good.
He smiled at the young woman. “I’ll have the same, please.” Then he looked at Gwen as she disappeared into the back. “Could you ask Gwen to come over?”
The girl’s smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
Quin jumped in. “Everything is perfect, darling, we just need to ask Gwen something.”
Relief returned in the form of a bright smile. “I’ll get this order in then go get her.” She all but trotted off.
Gwen brought over the coffee pot. Without any niceties, she said, “I take it you’re here to talk about my notes?” She poured three cups, glanced around, then sat down. “Well?”
She barely looked at him and Jonathan knew if he ever wanted to have this woman again, he had a lot of work ahead of him. She was so beautiful with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, barely-there makeup, and an attitude of don’t-mess-with-me that swirled around her like a cyclone. She intrigued him, and he wanted to know her better. At the moment, he couldn’t manage to say hello.
Thank God Quin had his shit together. “Gwen, thank you for sharing this information with Jonathan.”
“Like I had a choice?” She sneered.
“I’m sor—” Jonathan interjected.
“So am I,” she snapped back. “More than you can believe.” She turned her shoulders to face Quin, showing Jonathan as much of her back as she could and still be seated between them. “Can you use any of what’s there?”
“I believe so, and so does Alex, our company’s owner.” Quin changed to interrogation mode. “What can you tell us about these boys? What do they look like?”
She brightened, and Jonathan’s world lit up. Remaining focused on Quin, she stood slightly and reached into her back pocket. Damn, her sweet ass in tight jeans was a foot away. They hadn’t gotten to that fantasy of his, and probably wouldn’t, given that she couldn’t bear to look at him.
Extracting her phone, she announced, “I have pictures.”
“You do?” he blurted out. She hadn’t said anything about photographs, but they hadn’t actually discussed the situation last night.
Ignoring him again, Gwen pulled up several shots of the boys and handed her phone to Quin.
“I’m going to send these to my email,” Quin looked from the tiny screen to her, “if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “Anything to help.”
Quin nodded at Jonathan, passing the ball to him, then returned to the task of emailing each picture.
Here goes nothing, or everything. “How often do the boys come in?”
She either didn’t hear him or was ignoring his question completely.
He lightly laid his fingers on her shoulder and she flinched. Fuck. She was so repulsed by him that she couldn’t stand even the lightest of touches.
“Gwen.” He waited for her to look at him.
Moving only her head, she glared at him over her shoulder and snapped, “What?”
“How often do the boys come in?” he repeated.
“About two to three times a week.”
Good. He waited for her to continue but she turned back to watch Quin. Well, damn. This was going to be a hostile interrogation.
In a stern, slightly louder voice, he asked, “When were they here last?”
She obviously read him correctly and turned slightly this time. “What you really want to know is when do I expect them next.” Her lips were a tight thin line.
“Do you think they might come in tonight?” Jonathan asked as politely as his tense body would allow.
“Probably.” Her voice lost its sharp edge. “Unless they caught onto me.” Her shoulders fell. “They haven’t been here in a few days.”
“Excellent.” Quin handed her phone back. “What time do they come in? I’d like to have a few of my men around to follow them so we can get addresses. It would really help to know who we’re dealing with.”
“You can do that?” she asked.
Quin’s smile was reassuring. “Yes. They’ll never know they’re being followed.”
“Two Westerns,” the waitress stepped up to the empty side of the table and served. “More coffee?” she asked nodding to the nearly empty pot.
“Yes, please, Mandi,” Gwen instructed as the two men dug into what Jonathan considered the best food in all of Dallas.
When the girl was out of earshot, Gwen said. “After school, around three forty-five.” She sipped her coffee. “Do you want me to call you when they come in?”
“No.” Quin and Jonathan said in unison.
“We’ll take it from here,” Quin explained. “I’ll have my men positioned in the area so the kids will never know they’re being followed.”
Mandi dropped off a fresh pot and tended to Viola and Gladys who had parked their aging bodies in a booth up front.
“What if they don’t come in this afternoon? You’ll have wasted…I’m sure your men have better things to do than hang around—” Gwen sounded apologetic.
“We’ll consider it a training exercise.” Then Quin added, “Until the boys show up. You don’t think those kids are armed, do you?” All three knew that back in the Middle East, especially in areas deep in unrest, they probably had carried rifles and pistols and knew how to use them.
“No. The schools in this area are very strict. The administration is well aware that gangs start in middle school, if not earlier. The boys talk about older siblings, uncles, fathers, friends of their parents being involved,” she reassured them. She thought for a moment and added, “They almost appear disgruntled that they aren’t part of it.” She huffed out a breath. “That’s what is so frustrating. I have no idea what it is. They all seem to know but won’t say out loud.”
