On Her Master's Secret Service (Masters and Mercenaries #4)(14)

“You broke into the bank?”

She shook her head. “Oh, I totally could have, but I didn’t have to. Also, the bank gets freaky about records and they would have contacted him if they thought his records had been compromised.”

“Then how?”

“I dressed up as the copy repair person. The manager was all like, what? But then I let him get a glimpse of cleavage and a fake work order and I was totally in. All I had to do was copy the hard drive and I had what I needed. Oh, and I fixed that little wheel that was squeaking and causing all the paper jams. It just needed some WD-40.”

She could really talk a mile a minute. Not everything she was saying made sense to him. “Copy machines have hard drives?”

“Oh yes, and they are so totally helpful when you want to get information but you don’t want anyone to know you have it. Really, it’s awesome. So the hard drive on a copy machine actually takes a picture of everything the copy machine scans.” A look of satisfaction came over her face, like a cat who had licked up all the cream. She was submissive, but she would likely be a merciless brat from time to time. “Do you know the kind of information on copy machines? Records of all kinds. Medical records. Banking records. Prison records. Military information. All that lovely information and all I need to get it is a thumb drive. That’s power for you. No one ever thinks about the fact that a copy machine is really a computer.”

There was far more to the woman in front of him than a cute smile. “Are you really a reporter?”

He had to ask because she was starting to sound more like a supervillain. He had to admit she would be even more effective than that f*cker Eli Nelson because very few people would suspect the curvy redhead had a brain in her head unless she wanted a person to know it.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a set of credentials. “Here you go. This is my real name. Kristen White. I’m going by Priest for my undercover, but I’ve discovered it’s better to not screw with my first name. It would look awfully silly if I didn’t answer. Feel free to look me up. I’m freelance, but I’ve worked all over the world. I’ve had articles in everything from The New York Times to National Geographic. I picked up on Evans while I was working on a story about jihadist infiltrations into Mexico and South America. I read up on his case and thought it would be an interesting story. Two years later and I’m still following him.”

“You’ve been following him full time for two years?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve been researching when I had time, but six months ago I got a lead I couldn’t pass up. I’m a little obsessed, you see. When I figured out I was in the right place, I decided to reach out to you.”

“Why me? I’m not with the FBI anymore.” But his old partner still was. Warren Petty was in charge of a whole unit now. He’d moved right into the place Alex had left behind and continued on the career path. “Special Agent Petty is in charge of the case now. I’m just a civilian.”

The thought didn’t rankle the way it used to. He had come to a point where he could deal with his new career. The money was damn good and he wasn’t held back by bureaucratic crap, so he could actually do some good, too. And when it came to resources, he would put Ian up against just about anyone, including the US government, but if he was Kristen White he would want FBI contacts.

“No. You’re the man I want to talk to,” she replied with an amount of gravity he was surprised to see in her. “You’re the one who’ll stick with me. Special Agent Petty has other cases, but I suspect you’ll focus all your attention on this one. Besides, you can work in a way the feds can’t. Bureaucracy moves slowly. We need to be fluid.”

All very good points. He couldn’t argue with her logic. “How much do you know?”

“I know Evans went after your wife. I’m sorry about that. There wasn’t much press coverage, but I can read between the lines. Evans used her as a trophy to lord over you. I can only imagine how he would have degraded her. I want to help you, Alex. I know what it’s like to have someone you love used cruelly. My own marriage fell apart because someone needed to use my husband. I wasn’t in a position then to help him. I had to watch it all happen, so I know where you are and I want to help.”

She sounded so damn sincere, but he needed to take a step back. She was too good to be true. “I need to check out your credentials.”

She sat back. “All right, but why don’t I tell you what I need so you can make an informed decision. I’ll be waiting for the next twenty-four hours and then I’ll have to find someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Yes. I need backup, and I’ve figured out a way to bring another person into the inner circle. I’ve worked for months to get into a place where they trust me enough that I can bring someone else in.”

“They?”

“I’m working at a club run by a man named Chazz Breyer.”

That name rang a bell. “He was in prison with Evans for six months. He was Evans’ cellmate. He did time for armed robbery. Five years.”

“Yes. And he’s running a club now. I believe it’s a club that launders the money from Evans’ drug-dealing business. He’s been running drugs all over the Southern US, and he’s busy amassing a fortune. I’ve estimated what he’s made at somewhere in the hundred million vicinity. Even if he’s kicking most of it back to his South American connections, he’s still got some serious bank going. What do you think he’s going to use that money for? He’s planning something. I know it.”