Bridal Armor by Debra Webb Page B

what you’ve got.”
    Finally. She wanted his eyes on the information rather than on her. Those blue eyes made her remember feelings that were best locked away in the corner of her mind. Especially right now. His life—both their lives—depended on finding the truth.
    More to the point, he observed and analyzed every nuance, word and gesture. It was as if he were caressing her body with nothing more than that intent gaze. Her body quivered even now.
    Focus, Jo. She retrieved her tablet, swiped the screen to pull up the folder and handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers and that heat that kept threatening to devour her fired through her senses yet again. If she survived this night with her head on straight it would be a miracle.
    He sank onto the couch as he read, elbows braced on his knees, his eyes never leaving the screen.
    In the field, she’d aspired to that same intense focus he gave to every minute of the mission. Not for the first time, she wondered about the men and women on his select team of Specialists. Did they admire him or resent him for being such a hard-ass? She’d only worked with him, not for him. His Specialists didn’t complain, but in their line of work everyone had secrets and vulnerabilities. Bottom line, whoever was setting up Thomas had accessed highly classified files with a justified clearance or a talented hacker. No breaches had been reported. To her, that all added up to an inside job.
    No one ever wanted that to be the answer.
    She might as well be reading over his shoulder; she had the file memorized. From the first memo reporting the odd outbreak, to the intel directly from the “source,” to her own notes as she tracked down the current locations of the people involved with the old mission in Germany. She’d cross-referenced the recent travel and connections of those involved five years ago, not coming up with anyone who had traveled to the Middle East. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d hit a brick wall and didn’t know how to move forward without Thomas.
    When he set the tablet aside and stared into the crackling fire, her patience ran out. “Does it look like someone on the inside to you?”
    He pushed a hand over his short-cropped hair and sighed. “You’re sure about the statuses on everyone who survived that mission?”
    “Yes. Thanks to you there were survivors.”
    Thomas pointed at the tablet. “Some thanks. Contrary to your opinion, it would seem my country wants me dead.” He pushed to his feet. “Okay. Let’s go through the paces. Who on our side of the pond has access to Whelan and why would they let him blow up the rental car if what they really want is for me to sell a bio-weapon?”
    “He’s a mercenary,” she said. “He has no allegiance to anyone or any country. From the little I know about Whelan, with enough money and the right advertisement on a leading online classified ads website, he’d meet with anyone.”
    “Meet him, sure, but we both know that’s not what happened. He’s been watching you, or getting intel from someone else, knowing when you’d be where.”
    “The only tail I’ve seen is your man, Jason Grant.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    She took two steps back from the deadly quiet tone and hard glare Thomas sent her way. “You didn’t know he was here in Denver?”
    Thomas shook his head slowly.
    “He was at the airport when your flight arrived.”
    “That’s why you hurried us into the employee area.”
    “Yes.”
    “And why you asked me about Mission Recovery discipline policy.”
    “Yes.” Before she could ask the next question, Thomas answered it.
    “Grant’s an exemplary Specialist. I’ve never had to write up anything but praise for his missions. Holt and I are grooming him to move up when I retire and Holt becomes director.”
    “I know.” At his skeptical look, she explained, “Initiative vetted and approved your choice.”
    “I feel so affirmed,” he said with a small sneer.
    She ignored the jab.