please consider the matter closed.”
There was a long pause. “You leave me no choice but to bring your behavior to the attention of the director. Are you certain you want to risk your reputation over this when I’m fully able and willing to help you?”
She’d had enough. Whatever his motivations for trying to muscle in on her operation, she wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer. “Do what you think is right, Isaac. I am not sure why you’re taking such an interest in the Hidden Avenger case, other than hoping it might bolster your position for the directorship. But we both know this is an operational matter, not a research concern. Should you decide to bring your case to the director, I will have a presentation ready to show him, including all information on Sinclair’s professional relationships, our internal report of his disappearance, our recent communications with him, and the police report on his daughter’s kidnapping attempt. I’d want the director to understand why Sinclair might have trust issues with us, and why it’s risky to push him. Don’t you agree that would be helpful?”
“Don’t you dare patronize me,” he snapped. “This matter isn’t over.” He abruptly ended the call before she could say anything further.
She carefully replaced the receiver. Why was he so impatient to bring in Ethan Sinclair? Was it just to better position himself for the directorship? Or was there something else—something more sinister?
She had to find out.
She’d promised Ethan she’d protect him and his family. Despite everything she’d told Isaac, she did need to contact Sinclair, and soon, if she was going to be able to keep that promise.
The only question was how.
Chapter Nine
ISAAC REMINGTON
That insufferable, incompetent woman!
How had Candace Kim ever been promoted to director of operations at the NSA? It was unfathomable. She was little more than a bureaucrat with zero understanding of sensitive operations. He doubted she’d last twenty minutes in the field.
Somewhere, she must have called in favors, or found someone to champion her, but it hadn’t been because of her skills.
It had probably been a mistake to insult her directly, but he couldn’t contain his frustration. Her so-called solution to Sinclair was to do nothing but sit and wait. How disappointing. Instead of taking charge, she’d chosen a passive approach, which was exactly the opposite of what he needed to happen. He’d make sure to clean house as soon as he became NSA director, starting with her.
He swept his hand across his desk, scattering papers, pens, files and office supplies to the floor. It wasn’t enough, so he viciously pushed his chair into the table that held his printer, sending everything to the floor with a loud, satisfying crash.
His administrative assistant rushed in, alarm on her face. “What happened, sir? Are you okay?”
“Get out,” he snarled at her.
She took several steps backward, then fled, closing the door behind her.
He pressed his fists against his temples. An urge to hit more things filled him. He just knew Candace Kim had a way to contact Ethan Sinclair and wasn’t sharing. It infuriated him no end that she stood between him and the success of his operation.
She was hiding something. He hadn’t seen the last few communications between them before Sinclair went dark. When he inquired about them, Candace had told him that they were routine. He doubted that. That woman might not have an ounce of operational sense, but she was crafty.
She was up to something.
He couldn’t ignore the irony of his situation. As soon as he had Sinclair’s wife, he had the perfect leverage to bring him in. But how useful was it if he couldn’t contact Sinclair to let him know?
Calm down. Think.
He had to ensure that Sinclair would come in, but to him and him only. That was a crucial piece of the plan. If Candace Kim wouldn’t help him get that message to Sinclair, he’d have to find another way to deliver it.
Then, just like that, it came to him.
The daughter was the key.
Chapter Ten
ANGEL SINCLAIR
We aren’t allowed to have cell phones during class, so Friday after lunch, Frankie and I headed back our room to get the books for our afternoon classes. While there, I did a cursory check on my phone and saw I had a message. My mom had called me from her work at the pharmacy. Oddly, she’d used the pharmacy number instead of her cell, but I figured she must have forgotten her cell at home. I pulled up the voice mail and