Chapter Nineteen
Rook woke before her alarm and took advantage of the extra time by allowing herself a few minutes to linger next to the warm, naked body beside her. Slowly opening her eyes, she absorbed the reality of someone else in her bed.
Zoey’s head was resting on her shoulder and the rest of her body was tucked up against Rook’s side. Her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed and peaceful, which Rook took as a sign of satisfaction after the hours they’d spent in the throes of passion the night before.
She’d been satisfied too, more than, but seeing Zoey this morning had her longing for more, wishing she had nowhere else to be but right here, in her bed with Zoey in her arms. The feeling was new and strange and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Never before had she wanted to shut the rest of the world out. Usually, she invited it in as a welcome distraction from her bedmate’s desire or demands for more intimacy, but last night with Zoey left her in a different place. Now she was the one craving intimacy, against her natural instinct to pull back once her physical needs were satisfied.
For the first time in her life, Rook realized she’d drawn all of her passion from her work, but work could only give so much. Ironic since work would have kept her from Zoey if she’d followed her steadfast rule not to get involved with clients. But she’d broken the rule and the sky hadn’t fallen, and now she wanted to push the boundaries even further.
The vibration of her phone broke into her musings. She reached over and shut it off, but try as she might, she wasn’t able to resist checking the screen to see who’d called. Relieved that she didn’t recognize the number, she started to set it down, but noticed the time. Six a.m. She quickly calculated how long it would take to get ready and get to the White House for her meeting with Julia and thought she might be able to steal a little bit longer with Zoey, but then she remembered the files Eric had sent. Damn. She needed to review those before her meeting in case she needed to provide Julia with an update.
She glanced over at Zoey again and cursed the timing. She’d have to save more boundary-pushing for later. She brushed a soft kiss against Zoey’s hair, gently extracted her arm, and rolled out of bed.
By six forty-five, Rook was showered and dressed. She’d packed the laptop with Eric’s files to read in the car and penned a note for the still sleeping Zoey. She yawned as she wrote, but the exhaustion was the good kind, leaving her feeling slightly euphoric and like she could conquer the world if it weren’t such a happy place that it didn’t need conquering.
When Rook walked outside, she spotted George sitting in the car with his window rolled down, talking to a woman carrying a steaming Starbucks cup. As Rook strode over to the sedan, she heard the woman call out “thanks for the directions” and wave as she walked away. Rook smiled as the woman passed her and resisted the urge to grab the coffee and gulp some much needed caffeine before she opened the door and climbed in. “Good morning, George. I hope you enjoyed your evening off.”
“I certainly did.” If he felt bad about letting Zoey take over his chauffeuring duties the night before, it wasn’t evident from the grin he flashed in the rearview mirror. “How about you?” he asked. “Did you enjoy your evening?”
She returned his smile. “Matter of fact, I did. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. As he pulled away from the curb, Rook stared back at the house, conflicted about whether she should have woken Zoey before she left, but she hadn’t had the heart to disturb her. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined a time in the future when, having been together longer, they found it natural to wake each other before they left for their respective jobs, but then her eyes popped open and she pushed aside the fantasy. One night together and you’re acting like a love-struck teenager. Get it together, Daniels.
Rook fished the laptop from her briefcase and flipped through the files Eric had compiled, hoping the work would divert her attention from the distraction that was Zoey Granger. She needn’t have worried. Eric had provided extensive annotations, showing how the code the Darcy Agency had been using worked, but she sped through that to get to the meat of his findings. Eric had found several iterations of agency files attached to Mitchell’s emails and provided her with a breakdown of the information they contained, including references to their clients’ ranks and security clearances and notes about their pleasure preferences listed right along with their other vulnerabilities, including past misdeeds and family connections. He’d concluded that the escorts at the Darcy Agency weren’t offering prostitutes for pleasure, but rather as spies for an elaborate scheme of intelligence gathering and blackmail across the entire military structure.
Holy shit. Rook’s gut clenched as she considered the implications. If these files were accurate, this scandal could rock the entire military, and as much as she dreaded having to deliver the news to Julia, she dove back into the files to make sure she was as prepared as she could be for their meeting.
Much of the code was in Russian, and Eric had included a table of those words and their English translations. Two words in particular jumped out at Rook—hero and ranger—sparking a memory. Wishing she’d paid more attention to what Zoey had said last night instead of concentrating on getting her into bed, Rook thought back over Zoey’s recounting of her interview with Donny Bloomfield. No, that wasn’t it. Zoey had used the words when she’d described her conversation with Jack Riley, and the story he’d relayed about General Sharp. What had she said? Something about Sharp having won a medal and his squad dubbing him a hero.
Another memory sparked, and she typed Sharp’s full name into a Google search to confirm her hunch. As she scrolled through the results, she did some mental calculations. Before he’d been assigned to Fort Bragg, where he’d been Zoey’s commander, Sharp had served in the 75th Ranger Regiment. Wikipedia gave her a quick rundown of the regiment’s history, but it was the Ranger motto, located in the center of the page that sprang out at her as if it were surrounded by blinking lights. Rangers lead the way.
Mitchell had signed off his letter to Zoey with the exact same words. Zoey had mentioned something about it last night, and now Rook wished she’d listened more closely, but she’d heard enough to know that Sharp was not only a Ranger but also a hero. Was it a coincidence the corresponding words in Russian were popping up in Mitchell’s emails? Was Mitchell’s final letter a coded message to Zoey that Sharp was involved in what was turning out to be a spy ring posing as an escort service? She needed answers and she needed them now.
They were only about ten minutes from the White House. Rook pulled out her cell and called Eric, launching in the moment he picked up the phone, letting urgency override security concerns about discussing the case on an unsecured phone. “The files you sent me, is there any chance there was someone above Mitchell’s pay grade directing the show?”
To his credit, Eric didn’t act offended at her curt manner. “Absolutely. Mitchell received orders, but wasn’t giving any of them. Someone else was definitely calling the shots.”
“Any way to find out who?”
“I’ve tried to back trace the emails, but I can’t locate the ISP they were sent from. Your pals at the White House may need to get NSA involved.”
“I’m on my way there now, but in the meantime, I have another project for you.” She reeled off everything she knew about General Sharp. “Put together whatever you can find on him, and I’ll take a look at it when I get back to the office.”
“Do you think he’s involved in this?”
“I don’t know, but I’m working on a hunch. Go as far back as you can on his service record and whatever personal information you can find.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
Rook looked up to see George had just pulled into a line of cars near the guard gate. An image of Zoey, peacefully asleep, flashed in her mind. If Sharp, her mentor, was involved with a Russian spy ring, was Zoey involved as well? She squashed the thought as quickly as it had come. The Zoey she’d come to know was forthright and honest and there was absolutely no way she’d betray her country, but if she stumbled onto the same information Rook now had and chose to confront Sharp, she might be in danger.
She should warn her, but if Sharp was a spy, there was a better than even chance he or someone he was working with might have access to Zoey’s calls, texts, and emails, and Rook couldn’t afford to tip him off.
“Rook, are you still there?” Eric asked.
“Sorry. Yes, let me talk to Blake if she’s in.”
A moment later, Blake was on the line. “Rook?”
“Hey, Blake, I only have a minute. I need you to go to my place right now and deliver the following note to Zoey Granger.” She gave Blake a second to find a pen and paper and then dictated her message to Zoey. “I’ll explain later, but she needs this information before she goes into work today. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Rook gave her a few more instructions, and by the time she hung up, they were inside the gate and George was parking the car. In a few minutes, she’d be expected to provide a full accounting of everything she’d learned so far, but all she could think about was Zoey and the night of lovemaking they’d shared. For the first time in Rook’s life, work wasn’t claiming most of her headspace, and her heart definitely longed to be back with Zoey. Maybe when this case was over, she’d take a break, do something fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a vacation that didn’t involve hand-holding one of her clients. Her mind played pictures of her and Zoey, stretched out on the beautiful white sands of Seychelles—no phones, no clients, no responsibilities—and the only hand-holding would be the kind between lovers as they explored the island together. Before she climbed out of the car, she offered up a silent vow to bring this fantasy to life.
* * *
Zoey padded her way downstairs to Rook’s kitchen, having searched the rest of the house for her without success. The kitchen was empty, but she spotted a tented piece of paper sitting by the coffeemaker.
Coffee’s ready. All you have to do is push the button. Had to make an early meeting, but I’ll call you when I’m done. Last night was amazing. Rook
Zoey turned on the coffeemaker and reread the note, wondering what time Rook had left and how she’d managed to get ready for work without waking her. Because you were sleeping the deep sleep of someone who just had multiple orgasms. She smiled at the memory, the many memories they’d created across the expanse of Rook’s bed last night. They’d both been insatiable and, as tired as she was, if Rook had woken her this morning, they would still be in bed, immune to the call of duty.
The coffeemaker dinged and Zoey broke out of her daydream and glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept this late. She’d have to hurry to make it to the office before Sharp started looking for her. Surprisingly, the prospect of being late didn’t make her anxious. In fact, she felt incredibly relaxed like she could handle anything the world threw her way. Was this the post-sex haze she’d heard about, but never experienced? Normally, she spent the hours after a sexual encounter thinking of ways to extricate herself from the other woman’s bed and expectations of something more, unless she’d been lucky enough to find a like-minded woman who was only interested in a casual hookup, no repeat performance required.
She poured a cup of coffee in a to-go mug she’d found in the cabinet and was looking for her phone when she heard the sound of a key in the front door. Excited at the prospect of seeing Rook again before she had to tackle the drudge of work, she strode over to the door and threw it wide open, but instead of Rook on the other side, it was the blonde that had been collecting evidence at Colonel Mitchell’s house the night he committed suicide.
The woman stuck out her hand. “Major Granger, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Blake Wyatt. I work with Rook Daniels.”
Zoey looked down at the hand and gave it a quick shake. Who could forget such a gorgeous woman, but what was she doing here so early in the morning? And why did she have her own key? “Rook’s not here.”
“I know.” Blake looked away. “Uh, would you like to change and then we can talk?”
“What?” Zoey asked before looking down and realizing she was dressed in only the T-shirt she’d had on last night that she’d plucked from the floor this morning. Shit. She didn’t see much point in changing now since Blake had already gotten an eyeful. She shut the door and motioned for Blake to join her in the kitchen. “Is Rook okay?”
Blake looked puzzled. “Sure, she’s fine, but she asked me to give you this.” She handed over a note.
Zoey took the note, placed it on the counter, and looked back at Blake who showed no signs of leaving. “Anything else?”
“She wanted me to wait while you read it and then take you wherever you wanted to go.”
The nerve of this chick, acting like she was in charge. Zoey stood tall and assumed as powerful a stance as she could while dressed in only a T-shirt. “Actually, I’m good. I’ll call Rook when I’ve had a chance to read it.”
“If she wanted me to stick around, she had a good reason.”
Wow, she was going to have to be really direct. In her most commanding voice, Zoey said, “I’ll be happy to tell Rook you did her bidding and were a great messenger, but right now I want to drink this coffee, get dressed, and go to work. The faster you leave, the faster I can accomplish those goals. Understood?”
Blake held up her hands in surrender and started backing toward the door. “Understood. But promise me you’ll read the note before you talk to anyone else today.”
“Sure, fine, whatever.” Zoey waved her off. Blake set the key on the counter next to the note and strolled out like she was completely unaffected by Zoey’s display of authority. When the door closed behind her, Zoey tossed her coffee down the sink. Blake’s surprise visit had woken her up way faster than any caffeine could. She slowly unfolded the paper Blake had left behind and scanned the contents. It wasn’t the same handwriting as the note Rook had left with the coffee, so if this message was from Rook, she’d dictated it to someone else.
Headed into meeting at White House. Found new evidence on Mitchell’s computer that the Darcy Agency was a front for a Russian spy ring and have reason to believe Sharp may be involved. Try to avoid him until we can come up with a plan. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done with this meeting.
Zoey read the note several times before she tossed it back onto the counter and picked up her phone. She punched the buttons for Rook’s number and waited impatiently through the rings, hoping she wasn’t in her meeting yet. When Rook’s voice came on the line, it wasn’t live but the outgoing message on her voice mail, and Zoey hung up without leaving a message.
Russian spy ring? Was this some kind of joke? The questions kept coming. Why was Rook meeting at the White House without her? Surely all these new developments hadn’t happened while she was sleeping. Why hadn’t Rook told her what was going on? Setting all that aside, what was this bullshit about General Sharp?
She picked up her phone and dialed Rook’s number again with the same result. Frustrated, she stabbed out a text. Got your message. WTF? Hoping this isn’t some kind of sick joke. Then again, hoping it is. You better have a good explanation for cutting me out. CALL ME.
She read it again before hitting send, debating over the all caps at the end but decided there was no sense hiding her anger, so she left them in place. Ten minutes later, Zoey was dressed in her clothes from the night before and walking to her car. When she’d woken up in Rook’s bed less than an hour ago, she’d imagined a very different scenario, one that involved lingering touches and a slow, easy reentry to the real world. Everywhere she looked, people were rushing off to work, engaging in their normal routine, oblivious to the fact her world was crashing in around her.