Blown Away

He’d spent the next month hunting down leads on the terrorist responsible for the attack, pushing aside his longing for the woman he’d let get in the way of his duty. If he hadn’t been with TJ that morning, he would have arrived on time. Maybe he’d have found the bomb or seen the terrorist coming or going from the embassy. Or perhaps he would have died in the explosion.

Since the attack, he’d made it his mission to discover who was behind the bombing and bring them down. Sean had already located Manu Attakora, a known terrorist-for-hire in Dindi. He’d found Manu’s apartment with the terrorist dead inside, as if someone had been a step ahead of him in his search. Witnesses mentioned a dark-haired Anglo businessman seen coming and going from the apartment in the days prior to the bombing, but no one could give him a name.

Disappointed he didn’t have the terrorist to question, Sean had located a laptop in Manu’s apartment. He hoped it was the one Manu had used to communicate with the person who’d contracted him. Sean brought the computer back to the States and turned it over to S.O.S.’s resident computer guru. They hoped to have the files decrypted soon.

Back in the States, he’d done everything in his power to avoid running into a certain legislative assistant. His memories of TJ burned in his gut each day following the bombing. Damn it! He was an S.O.S. agent, not a fool in love.

Fools got killed or, through their actions or lack of actions, got others killed. As far as he was concerned, his involvement with TJ Barton was history and was not to be repeated.

Never mind that her face haunted his every memory and that the smell of springtime in D.C. reminded him of the scent of her hair. Today, jogging on the towpath along the C&O Canal, he felt her presence. She was here in D.C. and, even as large as the city was, with as many people working there daily, he stood a chance of seeing her again. A shorter haircut and sunglasses helped alter his appearance, but the woman wasn’t dumb.

He chose to jog early in the morning to avoid any chance of running into her—or anyone else for that matter. Yet, even early in the morning, there were plenty of people getting their daily exercise. The beautiful weather brought out all manner of joggers, bicyclers and people out rowing.

He didn’t know what he’d say if he ran into TJ. How would he explain to her his sudden “death” and reappearance? If the terrorists hadn’t been aiming for Dindi’s prime minister or Congressman Haddock and instead had wanted the S.O.S. team out of the way, he wanted to make sure they thought they’d accomplished the job.

As Sean passed through the office area, Casanova Valdez looked up from his terminal. “Hola, McNeal.” He leaped to his feet and pulled Sean into a big bear hug. “Heard you were back.” Valdez hugged him like he hugged everyone, with a lot of backslapping and exuberance. From a large Latin-American family, he wasn’t embarrassed by blatant demonstrations of emotion. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

Sean suffered through the embrace, putting distance between them as soon as Valdez let go.

“Hey, Sean.” Nicole Steele’s voice, as smooth as liquid chocolate, drew his attention. Her nickname in the agency was Tazer for a good reason. Her soft blond hair and blue-gray eyes had deceived more than one unsuspecting male. Known for her deadly self-defense techniques, Tazer could take down a man twice her size and he’d never know what hit him. Thank goodness she was loyal to the S.O.S. team.

Sean nodded a greeting.

“Sorry about Marty.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

Damn. He should have jogged earlier to avoid this kind of reception. He didn’t want the ranks of the S.O.S. converging on him. Not yet.

“It’s good to be back.” Although he said the words, he didn’t mean them. Maybe he’d stayed in Dindi so long to avoid just such a meeting with the rest of the S.O.S. team. The organization was small, consisting of one leader and less than twenty agents. Some were out on assignment. The others gathered around him.

The walls closed in on Sean. He needed air.

“Sean, glad you’re back.” Royce stepped out of his office. “I want to talk to you.”

Glad for an escape, Sean eased through the team to stand in front of Royce. “That’s what Kat said.”

Royce motioned toward his office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

Sean glanced down at his sweaty clothes and running shoes. “So long as you don’t mind a little sweat.”

“Not at all.” He patted his tight abdomen. “Need to get out and exercise myself. I spend entirely too much time behind the desk.”

Sean followed the older man into his office and dropped into a brown leather armchair.

Royce didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh on his body. He was as tough and athletic as when he’d left the Navy SEALs ten years ago. “I know how personally you’ve taken Marty’s death in Dindi, and I admit I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to find who killed him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Yeah, but you might lose yourself in the process. You threw yourself into the investigation before you’d fully recovered, and you haven’t taken any time off to decompress.”

Sean frowned. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “You can’t take me off this case. I was there. I have to find who did this.”

Royce raised a hand. “Relax. I won’t take you off. But I want you to know I’m watching you. If you show any signs of cracking, I’ll yank you off this case so fast you won’t know what hit you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Sean breathed in a deep breath and let it out. “Is that why you asked me in here?”

“No, intel came available you might be interested in.”

“If it has anything to do with the bombing, you’re right, I’m interested.”

“Tim got past the encrypted password on the laptop you found in the terrorist’s apartment. He found an enlightening e-mail on it.”

“Anything about Manu’s partner or who’s behind the bombing?”

“No, but we did find Congressman Haddock’s daily itinerary while in Dindi.”

Sean stared down at his hands. That cleared the theory the bomber had gone after the S.O.S. agents. “So the terrorist wasn’t aiming for the Dindian prime minister or just any American.”

“Right. They were targeting Haddock.” Royce tapped the top of his desk with his index finger. “The interesting thing about the e-mail was that it originated from a staff member in Congressman Crane’s office.”

Sean pushed to his feet, hope leaping inside him. “You got a name?”

His boss nodded. “Yeah.”

“Have you called him in for questioning?”

“Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“The e-mail account is from one of the legislative assistants who accompanied Haddock to Dindi.”

Sean immediately thought of TJ and just as quickly dispelled the thought. TJ worked for Haddock, not Crane. “Who was it?”

“George Fenton.”

Recognizing the name, Sean shook his head. “Wasn’t he—”

“One of the men who died in the bombing?” Royce nodded.

“Why would he set up a bombing that would take his own life? It doesn’t make sense, unless he was playing a martyr.”

“It was dated from the second day of Haddock’s stay there and overlaps one of the meeting times Haddock had all his legislative assistants with him. We don’t think George sent it. My bet is someone else sent it from back here in the States using George’s log-on. I also got news from my contact in the CIA.”

Sean dropped into a chair in front of Royce’s desk ready to absorb everything the man had to say. A burning sensation built in his chest and radiated outward.

“A lobbyist down on K Street has been pushing Congressman Crane to support the MC application of a different African nation than Dindi, one called Arobo.”

“Arobo is contiguous to Dindi.” Sean sat forward. “Damn.”

“Yeah. It bears looking into.”

“Haddock was on the verge of getting approval for the Millennium Challenge funding for Dindi. I heard that the congressman’s death pretty much shut down the negotiations. In which case, Dindi won’t be seeing any money from the United States.”

“That’s what I thought until I checked.” Royce lifted a sheet of paper from his desk and passed it to Sean. “Not only is Dindi still being pushed, but Congresswoman Ann Malone is leading the effort.”

Sean glanced at a copy of a fax without reading the print. “So does Haddock’s death have anything to do with the MC funding or not?”

“Good question.” Royce’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why I want you on the inside for this one.”

“Inside where? With the lobbyist?”

“No. I signed you on as a staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. She’s in the office next to Crane. That should get you close. If Crane’s push for Arobo has anything to do with the deaths in Dindi, you’ll be there to find out and also to protect the congresswoman if need be.”

Already feeling the necktie’s stranglehold, Sean stretched the collar of his T-shirt. “You know TJ Barton works in that building. She’ll recognize me.”

“We’ll have to take that risk. We can’t afford not to.” Royce’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “You’re the charming type, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Sean wasn’t so sure.

Royce leaned his elbows on his desk. “Do you want me to send Valdez or Tazer?”

An image of Marty dying in his arms surfaced. Sean’s lips firmed into a straight line. “No. I want to find the bastard who did this.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“We may have to bring TJ in on the mission to get her cooperation.” Sean’s gut tightened at the thought.

“Use your best judgment.” Royce settled back in his chair and lifted the phone, the session ended, his mind already moving forward to other matters. “Dust off your best suits, McNeal. You’re going to work in the Rayburn Building.”

Chapter Three

TJ knocked on the open door and stepped into the spacious office lined with wood paneling and rich carpeting. “Congressman Crane, you’re due at the White House in half an hour.”

“That damned CIA’s been crawling all over this office for the past three hours, asking me questions—and everyone else down to the new temp we just hired.”

This was news. “Why?”

“It has something to do with the bombing in Dindi.” Crane slammed his pen onto the desk. “Don’t know why they picked me to target with questions. It isn’t as if I had anything to do with the bombing. Just because I backed Arobo doesn’t mean I’d kill to get the funding.” He stood, slipped into his jacket and nodded at the papers in the middle of his desk. “I’ll need a summary of these reports by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” As Crane moved toward the door, TJ gathered the papers. A plain manila folder lay to the side of the others. “Do you want me to take this one, too?”

His hand paused in buttoning his jacket. “No, I’ll handle that one myself.” Crane brushed at his lapels and stood by the door waiting for her.

She shrugged and followed. Congressman Haddock had given her free rein of his office. Crane hadn’t learned to trust her yet and from all accounts of other staff members who’d had the pleasure of working with him, he didn’t allow anyone in his office when he wasn’t there.

When TJ stepped past Crane, he turned to lock the door behind her, muttering, “They’ll have to come back with a search warrant if they want in my office.”

TJ stared after Crane until he disappeared. Then she glanced around the office where his staff scurried to straighten their desks.

So, the CIA had been here in Crane’s offices? Why would they think Crane or someone in his office had anything to do with the bombing in Dindi? Her contact in the CIA had indicated an American had been at the root of the bombing. Could that American be someone in the Rayburn Building?

As she made her way back to her desk, goose bumps raised the fine hairs on her arms. Her office was still located in the same suite she’d shared with Haddock, but until a replacement was elected next month back in Texas, she’d be working for Crane. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal. Both congressmen worked for the same political party and were on many of the same committees. TJ was familiar with most of the committee agendas and what was at stake.

TJ dodged people moving in and out of offices along the hallway. As she passed Congresswoman Ann Malone’s office the door opened and Gordon Harris stepped out and turned back to say, “John, if you need anything, you have my cell number.”

“Thanks, Gordon.” The low baritone response sounding from inside the office struck a note of familiarity with TJ and she peered around Gordon to see the owner of the voice.

Gordon turned toward her, pulling the door closed behind him. “Oh, TJ, I’m glad you’re here. I have some documents I need you to take a look at and return to me by tomorrow.”

Just as the door closed, she caught a glimpse of the man he’d been talking to. Her heart slammed to a halt and the papers in her hands slipped to the floor.

“Whoa, let me help you with those.” Gordon bent to gather the sheets scattered over the floor. When he stood, he frowned. “You all right? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“I think I have.” Suddenly light-headed, she took the papers from Gordon without looking, her eyes on the door as if willing it to open. “Wh-who was that you were talking to?”

Gordon glanced back at the wood-paneled door as if he could see through it. “You mean John? That’s the new temporary staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. Name’s John Newman.” He turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. “Why? You know him?”

“No.” The blood returned to her head in a rush. She’d imagined Sean on the jogging trail and now she was hallucinating at the office. What the hell was wrong with her? Her face burned with embarrassment. “I have to go.”

“What about those documents I need reviewed by tomorrow?”

“Bring them by anytime, I’ll look at them.” Just not now. She needed a few minutes alone to get a grip on herself. She dashed to her office, dumped the stack of papers on her desk and headed straight for the ladies restroom. When she reached an individual stall, she slid the bolt home and collapsed against the door.

Why, after a month had passed from the incident, was she having hallucinations? TJ shook her head. As if by shaking her head she could get her brain to return to normal!

Since the bombing, she’d had nightmares about the exploding building, about the hospital afterward and about Sean. She’d never had her bad dreams recur during the daylight hours. Were they taking over her life?

TJ rubbed at the stiff muscles in the back of her neck and stared at the glossy floor and wall tiles. A shaky laugh escaped her lips. Had the bombing in Dindi reduced her to hiding in a bathroom stall? Her shoulders straightened.

No. She was made of sterner stuff than that. After a few cleansing breaths, she opened the door, ready to face the world, her imaginings and herself.

She crossed to the sink and splashed water on her face. With a paper towel, she patted her cheeks dry and gazed at the stranger staring back at her from the mirror. Was that really her? Sure, she went through the motions every day of getting ready for work, but she hadn’t stopped lately to take stock of her appearance. Since when had the dark circles appeared beneath her eyes and why did her cheeks look so sunken? Damn, she looked like walking death.

Just because Haddock and Sean had died in the explosion didn’t mean she had to.

Get a grip, girl.

Less shaky and more in control of her emotions, TJ pinched a little color into her cheeks and stepped out of the ladies restroom into the hall. She poured herself into her work, determined to be too busy to think by the end of the day, hoping that she’d fall into bed so tired, she’d sleep without the awful nightmares.

SEAN WORKED ALL DAY in Congresswoman Malone’s office learning the ropes and the pecking order. Which was fine by him. The more they sent him to deliver documents, the more he got to see and hear.

Each time he worked his way down the hallway, he kept an eye open for TJ Barton. She’d mentioned working in the Rayburn Building and that Haddock had offices here. One half of him wanted to see her just to know where exactly she was. The other, more practical half knew meeting up with her again could blow his cover all to hell. An S.O.S. agent needed anonymity to do his job. The less she knew and the less he saw of her, the better.

On the pretext of making a good impression on the boss, Sean hung around the office late. He planned to stay until after everyone left so he could sneak into Congressman Crane’s office.

After seven in the evening, Sean’s assigned mentor, Gordon Harris, stopped by his desk and plucked a file out of the in-box. “Good, I was expecting this.” Most of the staff had left by six. “Does the congresswoman have you loaded up with assignments already?”

“Not really. I’m reading all the material you gave me earlier and some available on the intranet to better understand what goes on around here.”

Gordon shoved the file folder into his briefcase and zipped the top. “Well don’t stay too long. You’ll absorb a lot of this over time.”

He didn’t have the luxury of time. “I know, but I want to come up to speed quickly. I hear Congresswoman Malone can be tough.”

“She’s demanding, but she knows her stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes a bid for president some day.”

While he had Gordon, he might as well question him. “I read somewhere that Malone is carrying the banner for the Dindi Millennium Challenge funding. I thought after the bombing, they’d cancel it.”

“She’s a powerhouse when it comes to backing a cause she believes in. The Appropriations Committee will vote on it in a few days. I’m betting my money on Malone.”

The hairs on the back of Sean’s neck stood at attention and he made a mental note to look up the Appropriations Committee’s meeting schedule and location. “Is there any opposition?”

Gordon snorted. “Some.” A diplomatically vague answer to be expected from a legislative assistant.

Sean had overheard rumblings that Congressman Crane was foaming at the mouth because Dindi didn’t get dropped when Haddock died. He’d backed Arobo all along. It would be interesting to see the outcome. Malone and Crane were both from the same party and on the same committee, and they couldn’t agree. But was that reason enough to have Haddock killed? Sean’s mind ticked through the possibilities. Could the members be playing political games gone deadly? “How long have you worked with Malone?”

“Since she was elected six years ago.” Gordon glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’m supposed to meet a friend for dinner and I’m already late. You need anything before I go?”

“No, I’ll only be another thirty minutes before I cut out.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

After Gordon left, Sean remained in his seat and pulled up the internal roster of congressmen and staff members. Crane had a staff of twenty-one full-timers and four temps; apparently he hadn’t replaced George Fenton. Malone had a staff of twenty-two and four temps, counting him. How many people would they have to cross-reference with the CIA background checks before they got to the right one? He printed a copy of the staff lists to give to Royce. His first stop in Crane’s office had to be George’s desk. He glanced at the time. Eight o’clock. Still early for snooping in another congressman’s office. Instead, he spent time going through all the desks and drawers of the staff members in Malone’s office, saving her inner sanctum for last.

Before he tackled the congresswoman’s office, he made a pass through the suite and poked his head out into the hallway. No one moved and, other than a few lights shining beneath doorways farther down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone. Then a door down the hall opened.

Sean ducked back in and listened for footsteps. They headed in the opposite direction.

Good. If he hurried, he could get into Malone’s office and close the door before anyone saw him. Sean hurried back to the congresswoman’s office, slipping a thin plastic lock pick from his pocket.

TIRED AND READY to call it a day, TJ left her office with a stack of inner-office mail envelopes marked with suspense dates of tomorrow. After she dropped these at various offices along the corridor, she could go home and heat up the leftover Chinese food she had in her refrigerator. Then again, would it be any good after four days?

She dropped two envelopes in Congressman Latke’s office and turned back to hit Crane and Malone’s offices.

Maybe just a piece of toast and a long soak in a hot bath.

Her plans made, TJ entered Malone’s office. Her feet sank into the plush carpeting, muffling the sound of her footfalls as she passed through the suite to get to Gordon’s desk positioned outside Malone’s door.

As she neared the inner-office area, a clicking sound alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Was Gordon still here? If so, she could explain her comments on the report she’d reviewed.

Rounding the corner to Gordon’s office, her mouth open to say hello, TJ stopped and stared at the empty room. Should she add hearing things to her list of hallucinations? Pressing her ear to Malone’s door, she listened for any signs of a late meeting with the congresswoman. No sounds penetrated the wooden door to the office.

The hairs on the back of TJ’s neck rose to attention and she had the uncanny sense of being watched. With more haste than care, she tossed the envelopes into Gordon’s in-box and turned to leave, a chill snaking its way down her spine. She took a step and stopped. Was that the sound of a door? The one leading to the hallway? “Hello? Is anyone in here?” No one answered.

A distinct click sounded from the outer office area. Had she left the door open and it had swung closed behind her? Her breath caught in her throat as she made her way back through the offices to the hallway. The door that she’d left open a moment before was now closed.

Creepy. TJ jerked the door open and stepped out into the hallway and breathed a sigh, chastising herself for letting her imagination get the better of her.

Then she saw him.

A man hurried down the hallway toward the exit.

What the hell? Had he been in Malone’s office snooping around? Should she call the Capitol Police and have him stopped? What if she was wrong and the man was rushing to meet his family for dinner?

TJ’s feet moved in the direction the man had gone. Maybe she’d follow him just to see who it was. What could that hurt? If he had been snooping, at least she might be able to give more of a description than the back of a man’s shadowy head.

The man disappeared around a corner.

Now, she could run and he wouldn’t know she was chasing after him. TJ slipped out of her shoes, clutched them in her hands and ran down the hall as fast as she could in her confining skirt and bare feet. When she neared the corner, she slowed and peered around.

The man had disappeared. How could she describe him if she didn’t actually see his face? If she didn’t hurry, he’d make the parking garage and escape before she had a chance to identify him.

Why she should be so fixated, she didn’t stop to question. Perhaps her earlier Sean “sightings” were making her punchy. Determined to catch up to the unidentified man, she hitched up her skirt and lit out at a jog, rounding the next corner at a flat-out run.

A hand reached out and snagged her arm, jerking her back against a solid wall of muscle. Another hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the scream rising in her throat. Her shoes slipped from her hands, dropping to the floor.

Instinct kicked in and she bit the hand, stomped on the man’s instep and cocked her elbow to jab into his gut.

At that moment, a voice penetrated her fog of panic.

“Damn it. Stop fighting me and I’ll let you go.” That voice. The same voice she’d heard earlier today coming out of Malone’s office. Her body froze, her skin tingling all over.