Stolen. Part 10

Sean dropped a bag of food on Noah's counter. "Well?"

Noah ignored him, typing something on the computer screen.

"I got your groceries."

"Thanks," Noah mumbled without turning his head.

Sean removed a beer from the bag and opened it. He looked over Noah's shoulder. "What are you doing? Reports?"

Noah didn't answer.

"Dammit, Armstrong, I've given you nearly twenty-four hours. If you'd just let me do it-"

"Rogan," Noah snapped, "I need to keep Rick in the loop, especially if you want your immunity intact."

"f.u.c.k you."

"f.u.c.k you, too."

Sean almost walked out. He was really tired of Noah's subtle jabs about Sean's long-ago crime. Especially since Noah was the one who convinced Sean to go undercover. Knowing that they'd have to work closely together to catch Senator Paxton, they made an effort to get along. But in the last three weeks they'd begun to get on each other's nerves.

Instead of walking out, Sean stood in the kitchen and drank his beer while eating the deli sandwich he'd bought. He was starved. He'd skipped breakfast, something he rarely did, but he hadn't slept well last night thinking about the woman who'd been following him.

Ten minutes later, Noah sent his report, then grabbed his own sandwich.

"It's true that Pham-Bonner Medical is involved in childhood leukemia research and they were involved twenty years ago when Colton's brother Travis died. Getting his medical records will be difficult, but not impossible. It would be easier with next of kin-but we're quietly working on it."

Noah took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Would Colton honestly plan this elaborate break-in just to gather evidence he doesn't know exists about his brother's death?"

"Yes," Sean said without hesitation. "And now that he knows about the bio-toxin they're developing, it's a bigger cause for him. In his mind, the company that killed his brother would of course develop a bio-weapon."

"Hmm." Noah drank some water, then said, "The information you obtained last month is not conclusive about bio-toxins. I don't think he's right about that."

"Colton has been deciphering codes since he could practically read," Sean said. "He made a compelling case."

"You believe him."

"I believe there's something at PBM they've been using in research that makes me nervous. I've put up false paths to prevent corporate espionage-it's one of the things I did at RCK. But this was different. It indicated that the information was only on a closed server. There's no way to access it without a direct connection. I've recommended to many companies who are vulnerable to corporate espionage to keep their networks completely closed. This one isn't like that-they have a completely separate program hidden within the company. Coupled with the codes Colton deciphered, it makes it suspicious."

"I don't think going through with the actual break-in is wise. You have seventy-two hours to find evidence against Jonathan Paxton or I'm going to pull the plug."

Sean was stunned that Noah was getting cold feet. "You can't. I told you, there's something else going on; Paxton wants a physical file from Joyce Bonner's office. He's not an ideologue, unless it involves killing s.e.x offenders. He hasn't told Colton exactly what he wants."

"I don't believe it," Noah said.

"I do."

"Maybe you're blinded by your friendship."

"You don't know Colton."

Noah raised an eyebrow and stared at Sean as if Sean had just confirmed Noah's suspicions.

"If that woman following you is an FBI agent-"

"She is." At least, Sean was almost certain.

"-then why is she following you?"

"That's what you're supposed to find out! Do you have her name?"

"We're running her image, but we have to do it on the q.t. so no one in the New York office is privy. There's no active investigation on you, Colton, or anyone on his team. That's what I was telling Rick when you walked in."

"Maybe it's off-book."

"The FBI doesn't operate like that."

Sean gestured around him. "What's this?"

"This is different."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You know d.a.m.n well there are bad agents mixed with the good. What about the mole? Maybe this woman is the mole."

"It's possible. But not everyone disobeys protocols."

Sean's fist clenched. "I'm sick of your verbal jabs, Armstrong. You don't like me, you don't approve of me, I get that, but you're the one who wanted me here, so just leave me the h.e.l.l alone."

Noah walked over to the computer. He pulled a printout from the printer and handed it to Sean. "Here's the background on the seven PBM board members. I didn't see anything that jumped out as connected to Paxton; maybe you will."

"I'll take it upstairs." Sean grabbed the papers and left.

Sean picked through the information Noah had found on the PBM board members. There wasn't a lot there. He would need to dig deeper to find a connection with Paxton.

Sean's cell phone rang and he planned to ignore it. He glanced at the caller ID.

Duke.

"Don't answer," Sean told himself.

Dammit.

He picked up the phone. "h.e.l.lo, Duke. I see you tracked down my new number."

"I just had a call from the FBI. You're wanted for questioning related to something involving Colton Thayer."

s.h.i.t. That woman yesterday-now it made sense. "Thanks for the heads-up," Sean said. "I'll talk to you-"

"It doesn't work that way, little brother. You messed up big-time when you did that job for Thayer last month. Do you want to spend the next ten to twenty years in prison? I'm not going to be able to bail you out again. JT is officially disavowing you with the FBI. Please, whatever you're doing, stop."

"I'm not going to prison," Sean said. "And I didn't ask you to bail me out of anything."

"If Deanna Brighton has her way, you'll rot in jail."

Brighton! Everything became clear. She'd changed her hair, she'd gotten older, but now that he had her name he couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her yesterday.

"What did she say?"

"She said you were in New York. She wanted your address and number."

d.a.m.n, Sean was going to have to lose this number. "And how did you get my number? Did you give it to her?"

"No, but maybe I should have. Give me something, Sean-something to help fix this mess."

Sean didn't want Duke digging around and possibly jeopardizing his undercover work. "Stay out of it, Duke. I have everything under control."

"Like h.e.l.l you do!"

"I'm not doing anything illegal." At least, not without the okay of his FBI handler. After the fact.

"I don't believe you."

That stung. "You made it clear that if I was friends with Colton, I couldn't work for RCK. I'm not your problem anymore, Duke."

"You're my brother. You'll always be my problem."

And that was the crux of their relationship. Sean had always been Duke's "problem." He'd been a minor when their parents were killed, and Duke had stepped in as his guardian. Not Kane, not Liam and Eden, who at nineteen moved to Europe, but Duke. Sean had both loved Duke and resented him at fourteen. When Sean moved to D.C., he thought Duke had finally realized he was an equal and not the problem child. He'd been wrong.

"No," Sean said, his voice low. "I'm not your problem." He hung up. His hand was shaking when he dialed Noah's number. "I'm coming downstairs. I know the woman who followed me."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Lucy Kincaid was in the middle of physical training when her cla.s.s supervisor, SSA Paula Dean, stepped into the gym. One look and Lucy knew she was being summoned. But she waited until Tom Harden, the PT trainer, motioned her over.

Paula was in her early forties, with a no-nonsense manner. She would have been attractive if she didn't hide behind a stern expression and severe hairstyle. She supervised all three new agent cla.s.ses at Quantico, the newest cla.s.s having started last month. Lucy was just past the mid-point, starting her eleventh week. They'd had a battery of tests last week and Lucy was relieved she'd pa.s.sed them all, but the coming weeks were going to be busy and stressful.

Lucy wrapped her towel around her neck and tried to smile, but her eyes went from Tom to Paula's stern expressions. "You need me for something?"

"Grab your bag. I don't think you'll be back today."

Lucy frowned but went to the locker room and picked up her gym bag before following Paula from the gym. "Agent Dean-"

Paula stopped and faced her. They'd had a few rough patches since Lucy had been on-campus.

Paula said, "I'm not supposed to tell you anything, but it's about your boyfriend."

Her stomach sank. "Is he okay?" Of course he was. She'd have heard something from family first if Sean had been hurt-except he'd only spoken to her and Patrick since his birthday. And even when he spoke to her, he didn't sound himself. The split with his brother and RCK had torn Sean up, and she was stuck here, at the Academy, unable to help him get through it. She didn't think he liked his new job. He'd told her it was temporary, but he'd been living in New York for nearly a month and he wasn't talking about coming back to D.C.

The only thing getting her through the long days was her job. She was so busy studying and training that she only had time to miss him at night. And while they talked several times a week, it wasn't enough.

"Two New York agents are here wanting to question you about Sean Rogan."

Lucy immediately thought the worst. Sean often broke rules, but he'd always had the protection of RCK. Without them, had he grown more reckless? He wouldn't-he wouldn't do it because of her. She hoped.

She followed Paula not to her office but to the administrative wing of the building. Paula said, "Sit here; you'll be called in." She gave Lucy an odd look-it might have been sympathy-then left the building.

Lucy remained standing and consciously forced herself to be still-to not pace or bite her thumbnail or her lip. She didn't have her phone-it was in her dorm room-so she couldn't text Sean and ask what was going on. She was worried. She'd spoken to Sean on Sat.u.r.day night, but he'd been distracted. Why hadn't she pushed him? Why hadn't she trusted her instincts and taken the train to New York and surprised him?

It was several minutes before the a.s.sistant chief of the FBI Academy, Lynda O'Neal, opened her office door and said, "Agent Kincaid, we're ready for you."

Under most circ.u.mstances, Lynda O'Neal was a hard woman to read-next to the definition of "calm, cool, and collected" was a picture of the a.s.sistant chief. But right now, her composure was ruffled. She looked angry. Lucy bit back the urge to apologize, even though this wasn't about her. She'd kept her head down and her cla.s.s ranking in the top five, in spite of a few distractions. What could Sean have done that two FBI agents would need to talk to her?

She walked into Lynda's office and the first thing she noticed was her file open on the desk. She'd seen it before; with the colored labels on the side she didn't need to see her name on the front to know it was her personnel file.

Lucy didn't recognize the two seated federal agents: a dark-haired man in his early thirties and a blond woman of about forty.

Lynda closed the door and took her seat behind her desk. "Agent Kincaid, please meet Special Agents Steve Gannon and Deanna Brighton from the New York field office. They have a few questions for you." Her voice was tight and clipped.

"Questions? About what?" Lucy asked.

Deanna Brighton took the lead. "When was the last time you spoke to your boyfriend?" She stared at Lucy. "Sean Rogan." As if she needed to make clear who they were talking about.

Lucy didn't say anything. She looked at Lynda, but the a.s.sistant chief was looking down at the files and didn't make eye contact.

Why had these agents come all the way to Quantico rather than sending a local agent? Something felt very wrong to Lucy.

"Sit down," Brighton commanded.

Lucy purposefully took the chair immediately across from Lynda. With the agents on the couch, the position gave Lucy a psychological advantage in that they would be looking at Lynda-her supervisor-sitting behind her.

"Answer my question."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because I'm a federal agent and you're a rookie agent and you're required to answer any questions I have."

Lynda said, "Agent Brighton, I've allowed this meeting even though it's highly irregular. I expect you to talk to my agents with respect."

"I'll get to the point," Brighton said. "We're looking for Mr. Rogan, simply to question him, but he's eluded us. We know he's in New York City. We need his address."