Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(11)
By the time Saber had finished toweling herself off and blow-drying her hair into complete disorder, Jess was throwing things at the ceiling.
Her grin wicked, she stopped the rap music. “Did you want something, Jesse?” she called using her sweetest voice.
“I surrender. White flag,” his muffled voice replied.
“I thought you might,” Saber said smugly.
Jess shook his head as the music stopped. She had a mean streak in her. She knew he often wrote songs and that the sound of whatever she was blaring would hurt after a couple of minutes. It made him laugh, though, as he pushed the wheelchair down the hall to his private office. He keyed in his code and waited for the doors to part.
Once inside with the doors closed and locked and the security system switched on, the smile faded from his face. He was going to have to dig a little deeper and find out just who Saber Wynter really was. He couldn’t let his feelings for her get in the way of business. And God help them both if she was there to do damage, because he wasn’t altogether certain he could kill her. With a sigh, he pushed the thought from his head and went to work.
The computers and phone lines inside were all clean. He hit speed dial. “We’re clear. Send the information and let’s do this. When you come in, don’t make any noise at all. She won’t be asleep.”
“I know the drill by now.”
The abrupt click told Jess he was in for trouble. Logan Maxwell wasn’t happy with him. He hadn’t been when Jess told him about inviting Saber Wynter to live in his home. He hadn’t bought the story for one moment that Jess needed a housekeeper, any more than Saber had. Neither had pushed it. That was the power of the wheelchair. Logan would have reamed him if he hadn’t been staring down at him, facing the chair. But if Logan knew Saber was telepathic, he’d put a gun to her head, Jess’s objections be damned.
Jess rolled the wheels back and forth, rocking himself while he thought about that. Everything had some advantages, and a GhostWalker learned to take whatever he had and use it. Jess was sure as hell counting on Logan to continue to notice the chair and not the man, because Logan was like a brother, but Saber—well, Saber was wrapped around his heart. There would be nothing left if Saber was gone.
The moment Logan slipped inside the secure room, he kicked the wheel of the chair and glared at Jess. “What the hell are you doing these days? Do you have any idea what time it is? And that—that woman never goes to sleep. You’re damned lucky this room is soundproof, because she’s pacing again. What’s up with that?” He reached around Jess and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Hello to you too.” Jess glanced up at his fellow GhostWalker. Logan was wearing a frown, his blue eyes flat and cold. “I can see you’re in a great mood.”
“We’re supposed to be catching a killer, Jess, not catering to your girlfriend.”
“Go to hell, Max,” Jess snapped. “I’m getting the job done. And if you don’t want to work with me, the door’s right there. Don’t let it hit you in the ass when you leave.”
“Whoa. What a grump.” Logan rolled his broad shoulders and flashed a small grin. “You’re not sleeping with her yet, are you? The great Jess Calhoun, studmaster of the SEAL team, shot down by his housekeeper.”
Jess responded with a rude gesture and shoved a chair at him. “You get the grunt work tonight for that crack.”
Logan dropped into the chair and they went to work, moving with the ease of much practice, sifting through the files and reports, searching for a name. A single specific name. They both hoped they’d recognize it if they came across it.
After an hour Logan pushed back and shook his head. “This looks bad for the admiral.”
“No way. It’s not him. The traitor’s hidden deep,” Jess said with a small sigh. “I will not let myself believe Admiral Henderson is in any way involved. He can’t be that good of an actor, and he sure as hell isn’t stupid. Right now he’s our only suspect, and would that be the case if he were guilty?”
“We’ve been at this for weeks, Jess,” Logan said. “Have you run across one single name that has the pull and clearance needed to orchestrate this kind of double cross, a person who has been involved with every mission?”
“He’s head of the NCIS. He’s one of the most decorated rear admirals our nation has. He’s been the sole commanding officer for our GhostWalker team since we were formed, and he’s looked out for us,” Jess protested. “It isn’t him.”
“Who then? Give me someone else.” Logan threw his hands into the air. “Anyone else. Because as far as I can see, he’s the only one who has known every time we’ve been sent out. He gave the order to send Jack to the Congo. When Jack couldn’t go, he sent Ken in his place. The Norton twins were tortured beyond human endurance. Have you seen Ken? They’re lucky they got out.”
Jess pushed his hand through his hair and slapped the desk hard with the flat of his hand in frustration. “I know. I visited him in the hospital when he first came back.”
Few people know about the GhostWalkers, even in Washington. The Special Forces teams from every branch in the military had been tested for psychic abilities, and anyone who scored high had been given the opportunity to continue forward into the GhostWalker program. The soldiers were given specialized training before, during, and after the experiments, and the results had been incredible. Of course no one had known genetic experimentation had also taken place. Knowledge of the GhostWalkers was on a need-to-know basis, beyond security clearance. They were top-secret weapons sent out only when the circumstances were dire. But someone very high in the chain of command wanted them dead.