Page 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A lyssa used to love coming to the Rooming House.

When she was a girl, she and her sisters would pretend they were in a castle filled with secret passageways and hidden treasures. They’d wander the hallways haphazardly and try to get lost—often successfully. Whoever designed this hotel must’ve been going for maximum confusion.

Maybe that was why Dad liked it so much. Intruders might get in, but how would they ever find who they were looking for?

Callan had brought her suitcase into the master bedroom, and she’d been too flustered to protest, but she preferred the other room. It was the one she and her sisters used to share when they were little. They’d hop from one bed to the other, seeing which of them could leap farthest or jump highest. Alyssa usually won the contests.

It helped to be the oldest.

That was back when she’d still been close to her sisters, when they were her very best friends.

But she’d gone off to college and drifted away. She wanted to fix that, but she had no idea how.

Not only that, but she’d lost touch with her one good college friend, though she’d always believed there was time to reconnect with Megan. The time for friends and fun would come later, after she proved herself. After she achieved all her goals.

She'd been shocked when she learned about Megan’s death—months after it happened. Too late to do much more than send a card and flowers to her parents.

Alyssa was thankful for the yoga pants Callan had reminded her to grab when she’d been packing. In the bathroom, she slipped into them and a sweatshirt, then put her hair in a ponytail as she returned to the living room.

She was ready to end this day.

Not just this day. She was ready for this whole crazy thing to be over, the sooner the better.

Callan hung up the hotel phone as she walked in. “I sent for a pizza. Thought I’d better let Jonathan know.” He gave her a quick once over. “Comfortable?”

“More than I was. What are you going to do for clothes?”

“I’ll figure it out. What do you know about the person Ghazi wants you to find?”

“He’ll email the information he has.”

“Can you see if he sent it to you?”

Settled on the sofa, she checked the progress of her download—the files were still transferring to the thumb drive—and opened her email.

There was one from Charles Sanders. She read it, shaking her head. “It’s just an IP address and some names.”

“You think it’ll be enough to find who he’s looking for?”

“It would be easier and faster with my desktop. I have programs on there and private bots and…” She’d been so focused on the intruders in her apartment, the strange journey through the city, and the very distracting man at her side that she hadn’t yet processed what the break-in meant.

The enormity sank in. Her desktop’s hard drive was gone, and with it, most of the tools she used to do her job.

She could rebuild the bots and download the programs again, but it would take time.

Callan settled beside her on the sofa, his scent wafting toward her—some combination of mahogany and musk. He peered over her shoulder. “Huh.” He tapped one of the names on her screen. “I know this guy. Of him, anyway. He used to be high up in Putin’s government, but last I heard, he’d left his job.”

“Do you know any of the others?”

“They’re not familiar, but I can look into them.” He sat back, and though he wasn’t as close, he still took up way too much space on the small sofa.

Would it be rude to move to the loveseat?

“What else has Ghazi asked you to do for him?” Callan asked.

“Mostly things like this, though he usually has more information. He once wanted me to do a thorough background check on some French diplomat.”

“Named?”

She told him, hoping he’d shift over, maybe grab a notepad and pen from the desk to write it down.

But he just nodded. “What else?”

“Just, you know, stuff like this.”

“I’ll need to know everything. Did he ever ask you to do anything illegal?”

“I already told you, I won’t do anything illegal.” Well, maybe, technically, some of the stuff she did skirted laws. She’d hacked into private databases occasionally, but it wasn’t like she was stealing credit card numbers.

Callan nodded, though the gesture seemed more contemplative than agreement. He tipped his chin toward her laptop. “Is the download almost done?”

“Close.” She’d started with Charles’s folder, so she deleted it from the cloud.

“If your intruders are interested in something you’ve saved, then you’re just making yourself a target.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” She stood and moved to the loveseat so he wouldn’t see the names of her other clients. Not that she didn’t trust him, but…

Well, she didn’t, not that much, anyway.

This whole story was bizarre, and he’d offered zero evidence that anything he was telling her was true.

From her quick glance his way, he looked more amused than offended.

She set her laptop on the coffee table.

“All the information you’ve collected for Ghazi is on the thumb drive?” At her nod, Callan said, “I’ll need to see it.”

“You have a warrant?”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Callan. I’ve already told you more than I should have. I promise my clients confidentiality. You need to give me a good reason to break that.”

His brows lowered. “Alyssa.”

“Callan.” She matched his tone and expression. “This is my business. My livelihood. I can’t just betray my clients because you said pretty-please.”

He blew out a breath. “Do the words ‘national security’ mean anything to you?”

“Does the word ‘warrant’ mean anything to you?”

“I’m not… I can’t help you officially. I don’t work for the FBI. I can’t get a warrant.”

“Then I can’t tell you?—”

“Oh, come on.” He leaned forward and settled his forearms on his knees. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that? Just believe everything you’re telling me.”

His eyes popped wide. “Seriously? Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know. Why would you? You lied to Charles.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’ve offered zero proof of all your claims.”

“I don’t need to…” He took a breath and started again. “Your apartment was broken into.”

“Maybe those were your people.” Now that it occurred to her, it all seemed so obvious. Callan had inserted himself into her meeting, then insisted on walking her home. He’d saved her from the intruders. But what if the intruders worked for him?

What if he was the one she should fear?

What if this was all some elaborate ruse?

“Are you serious?”

“I need proof?—”

“For the love of all that’s holy.” He launched to his feet. “Call. Michael.”

“He’ll call me when?—”

“I’ll do it myself.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. Surely, he didn’t have her cousin’s number on speed dial. A moment later, he spoke. “I need contact information for Michael Wright. It’s an emergency.” He waited a moment then said, “I’ll hold.”

“Fine.” Alyssa snatched her cell off the coffee table. “I’ll call him.”

Callan glared at her.

She turned away and dialed her cousin, hating that she was intruding on his honeymoon.

On the other hand, how many times had he called her, needing a favor? Surely, he would forgive her for interrupting.

The call rang four times and went to voicemail.

“It’s Alyssa. Call me ASAP. It’s an emergency.” She hung up and turned to find Callan still holding his phone to his ear. “He didn’t answer.”

“I heard.”

“I’ll give you his number. You don’t have to?—”

“Thanks.” Callan lifted his hand, telling her to be quiet. He put the phone on speaker. “Go ahead.”

A female voice recited Michael’s number.

“Thanks.” He ended the call. “Decided I’d better go through with getting it so you’d know I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one.”

“I never said?—”

“Sure you did.” He dialed, keeping the phone on speaker. It rang, and then Michael’s voicemail picked up again.

“It’s Callan Templeton. I’m here with your cousin, and we need to speak to you about Dariush Ghazi. Call her back ASAP.” He hung up, then said, “Satisfied?”

As if she’d admit it at this point.

“Michael is going to confirm everything I’ve told you. I don’t know what you suspect me of, but whatever it is?—”

“Nothing. Not really. Just… It’s strange, that’s all. You’re a spy. You could just be trying to get information on my client.”

“You’re an American. I’m a CIA agent. It would be illegal for me to?—”

“I know the rules. I also know not everyone plays by them.”

Callan paced to the window and peered out.

What should she say? She’d offended him, but did he really expect her to just accept his every word without question?

He turned and leaned against the desk. “I play by the rules. I’m not running an op here. I’m trying to protect you, that’s all.”

He’d called her cousin. Every word he said must be true.

It irritated her that he thought she needed his protection.

It irritated her even more that he was right.

She needed to think. To sleep. And to get out of Callan’s very distracting presence.

* * *

Their argument still hung between them a half hour later as they ate pizza.

She wouldn’t apologize for her doubts. If word got out to her clients that she couldn’t be trusted, then the business she was barely keeping afloat would be sunk for good.

Couldn’t he understand that?

Callan worked for Uncle Sam. His pay would be deposited into his bank account no matter what he did. Sometimes, she missed the security of her government job.

But she didn’t miss the mundane routine. She didn’t miss that she could’ve left her brain at home. She definitely didn’t miss knowing she’d been passed over for the job she really wanted.

Passed over in favor of Callan.

She doubted he knew that they’d been up for the same job. The only reason she knew was that she’d seen him going into the interview after she left. And then heard through the alumni grapevine that he’d been hired.

Whatever he was up to, she wouldn’t risk her career to help him. Sanders wasn’t her only client, but he was her best-paying one. If she was going to lose him, then she needed to work harder to promote her business. Which meant she didn’t have time for whatever it was Callan was up to.

She needed to get back to business ASAP.

She’d accepted Sanders’s job, and it seemed innocent enough to her. She’d find the name of this Russian guy, pass it along, and then be done with the man for good.

She finished her slice—she’d barely tasted it—and pushed back from the table to check on the download. The rest of her files had transferred onto her thumb drive, so she deleted them from the cloud, then deleted her account altogether.

Whoever had stolen her desktop wouldn’t be able to access any sensitive information now.

With that done, she closed her laptop and faced Callan. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “We’ll talk in the morning and make a plan.”

She snatched her water bottle to take with her into the bedroom. She’d be awake for a few more hours, but she didn’t need to spend another minute with him. “I have a plan.”

He pushed his plate aside. “Can you share it? Or is that top secret too?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “I’m going to get the name of the Russian and pass it along. Then, I’ll be done, and you can go on with whatever it is you think you need to do.”

“First, you can’t pass along anything until we talk about it. Second, it’s not going to be so easy to sever your ties with him.”

“Sure it is. I’m not required to work for Charles. He can’t force me to. I’ll just make up some excuse and?—”

“His name is not Charles.” Callan seemed to be working hard to keep his frustration in check. “And I guarantee it’s not going to work.”

His arrogance had her heart rate spiking. “You guarantee it? There’s zero chance you might be the tiniest bit wrong about anything.”

He smiled. “You’re finally figuring that out.”

“We’ll see.” She swiveled and headed to her bedroom.

“Hey, Alyssa?”

She turned at the door. “What?”

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this.” He wasn’t smiling now. “You need to remember two things. One.” He lifted his pointer finger. “I didn’t get you involved. You were already working with the guy when I showed up.”

True. And if Sanders was Ghazi, and Ghazi was who Callan thought he was, then the man was dangerous.

“And two”—his next finger popped in the air—“I have nothing to gain by lying to you. I stepped in because you’re an old friend, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I am not your enemy.”

Her irritation dissolved.

It was true that Callan was arrogant. But also, he was probably right.

She nodded.

“Please, don’t reach out to him until we talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I need to go to my apartment and pick up some things. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”

The thought of Callan leaving heightened her anxiety, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“If for some reason I’m not here when you wake up in the morning, then call your dad, tell him what’s going on, and ask him to get you out of town.”

The last thing she wanted was to run to her father for help. “Be careful.” She swiveled and went to her bedroom.

It was after midnight, three hours later, when she finally closed her laptop, her eyes as gritty as beach sand. But she’d found the name of the Russian. Once she passed it along, she’d be done with all this craziness.

Despite Callan’s so-called guarantee.