A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)(85)
Son. If only he’d had a father like Wesley growing up. But if he had, he wouldn’t have ended up where he was today. And he’d probably never have met Sophie. That alone made his shitty childhood worth every punch and bruise he’d endured. Jack swallowed hard, but didn’t turn around before exiting. His chest loosened a little when he was out from under Wesley’s scrutiny. The older man might be in his early fifties, but with his skill set, Jack had no doubt his boss could take out any one of the men within their covert organization. That’s why he was the deputy director of the NSA and the unidentified head of the covert group Jack worked for.
Officially, Black Death 9 didn’t exist. Unofficially, the name was whispered in back rooms and among other similar black ops outfits within the government. Their faction was just another classified group of men and women working to keep their country safe. At times like this Jack wished the NSA didn’t have a thick file detailing every minute detail of his past. If they didn’t, another agent would be heading for Miami right now and he’d be on his way to a four-star hotel or on another mission.
Jack mentally shook himself as he placed his hand on the elevator scanner. Why was Wesley trying to get under his skin? Now, of all times? The man was too damn intuitive for his own good. He’d been after him for years to see Sophie in person, “to find closure” as he put it, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had no problem facing down the barrel of a loaded gun, but seeing the woman with the big brown eyes and the soft curves he so often dreamed about—no, thank you.
As the elevator opened into the aboveground parking garage, he shoved those thoughts away. He’d be seeing Sophie in two days. Didn’t matter what he wanted.
Sophie Moreno took a deep, steadying breath and eased open the side door to one of Keane Flight’s hangars. She had a key, so it wasn’t as though she was technically breaking in. She was just coming by on a Sunday night when no one was here. And the place was empty. And she just happened to be wearing a black cap to hide her hair.
Oh yeah, she was completely acting like a normal, law-abiding citizen. Cringing at her stupid rationalization, she pushed any fears of getting caught she had to the side. What she was doing wasn’t about her.
She loved her job at South Beach Medical Supply, but lately her boss had been acting weird and the flight logs from Keane Flight for SBMS’s recent deliveries didn’t make sense. They hadn’t for the past few months.
And no one—meaning her boss, Ronald Weller—would answer her questions when she brought up anything about Keane Flight.
Considering Ronald hadn’t asked her over to dinner in the past few months either, as he normally did, she had a feeling he and his wife must be having problems. They’d treated her like a daughter for almost as long as she’d been with SBMS, so if he was too distracted to look into things because of personal issues, she was going to take care of this herself. SBMS provided much-needed medical supplies to third-world countries, and she wasn’t going to let anything jeopardize that. People needed them. And if she could help out Ronald, she wanted to.
She didn’t even know what she was looking for, but she’d decided to trust her gut and come here. Wearing all black, she felt a little stupid, like a cat burglar or something, but she wanted to be careful. Hell, she’d even parked outside the hangar and sneaked in through an opening in the giant fence surrounding the private airport. The security here should have been tighter—something she would address later. After she’d done her little B&E. God, she was so going to get in trouble if she was caught. She could tell herself that she wasn’t “technically” doing anything wrong, but her palms were sweaty as she stole down the short hallway to where it opened up into a large hangar.
Two twin-engine planes sat there, and the overhead lights from the warehouselike building were dim. But they were bright enough for her to make out a lot of cargo boxes and crates at the foot of one of the planes. The back hatch was open, and it looked as if someone had started loading the stuff, then stopped.
Sophie glanced around the hangar as she stepped fully into it just to make sure she was alone. Normally Paul Keane had standard security here. She’d actually been here a couple of weeks ago under the guise of needing paperwork, and there had been two Hispanic guys hovering near the planes as if they belonged there. She’d never seen them before and they’d given her the creeps. They’d also killed her chance of trying to sneak in and see what kind of cargo was on the planes.
When she’d asked Paul about them, he’d just waved off her question by telling her he’d hired new security.
One thing she knew for sure. He’d lied straight to her face. Those guys were sure as hell not security. One of them had had a MAC-10 tucked into the front of his pants. She might not know everything about weapons, but she’d grown up in shitty neighborhoods all over Miami, so she knew enough. And no respectable security guy carried a MAC-10 with a freaking suppressor. That alone was incredibly shady. The only people she’d known to carry that type of gun were gangbangers and other thugs.
So even if she felt a little crazy for sneaking down here, she couldn’t go to her boss about any illegal activities—if there even were any—without proof. SBMS was Ronald’s heart. He loved the company and she did too. No one was going to mess with it if she had anything to say about it.
Since the place was empty, she hurried across the wide expanse, her black ballet-slipper-type shoes virtually silent. When she neared the back of the plane, she braced herself for someone to be waiting inside.