by eight chairs upholstered in dark green leather. Jessie sat down next to Bran, and Hunt noticed the bandage on the side of her head.
“Looks like you ran into some trouble.”
Absently she reached up and touched the wound, the area still sore. “Actually, I was lucky to have such a good pilot.”
Brand went on to explain about the attempts on her life, the arrest he’d made that had landed him in jail, and the plane crash.
Hunter’s mood darkened. “You need to find these guys.”
“You got that right.” Bran’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his jeans pocket. “Hey, Tabby.”
Jessie sat up a little straighter, hoping for good news.
“Phone’s safe to use,” Bran said as the call ended. “Nothing on Ramos yet, but Tabby’s just getting started.” His gaze swung back to Hunter Brady. “What have you got?”
“I’ve been keeping a loose eye on the house the way you asked. The address in La Jolla is a rental, one-bedroom, one-bath condo. I’ve followed the woman a couple of times, but she just went shopping. Once she went to a matinee.”
“By herself?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah. Seems to be pretty much a loner. No visitors, doesn’t meet friends for coffee, nothing like that.”
“What about at night?” Bran asked.
“I’ve driven by a couple of times, never stayed more than an hour. I can set up surveillance if you want, have the place watched 24/7.”
“It might come to that,” Bran said. “First I want to see what Tabby comes up with. If I haven’t heard from her by tomorrow, I’ll drive out there. If I can’t get something out of Ramos, I’ll call Special Agent Tripp and give him her location. Tripp’s with the Criminal Investigation Division at Fort Carson. He’s got one of Weaver’s guys in custody. With any luck, they’ll be sweating him hard enough to get some answers.”
According to what Bran had said, he hadn’t told Hunter Brady about the stolen chemical weapons, just that they were trying to find out who had murdered her dad.
Jessie thought of her father and his relationship with Mara Ramos. What if the woman had seduced him into aiding in the theft of the weapons?
The idea seemed so impossible she immediately abandoned it. Bran didn’t believe it and neither did she. Her dad was as honorable a man as she had ever known.
They left The Max and returned to the suite. Jessie spent the evening working on the article she was writing for Kegan’s Korner. She had turned in the one she’d written on the problems in Drover City a week ago. Since then, Factfinders had sent her a half a dozen emails asking her for something new.
She wasn’t sure how much she could say about the weapons theft at the depot, but she would push the boundaries as far as possible. She needed to get everything organized and documented. She had a hunch it was going to be one of her best pieces of journalism.
She sighed as she closed down her laptop. In order to finish the story, all they had to do was prove her dad’s innocence, find the people who had murdered him, and locate the stolen weapons before hundreds of people were killed.
All they had to do was stay alive long enough to get the job done.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Bran lay spoon-fashion with Jessie on the sofa, watching the original Tobey Maguire version of Spider-Man. He’d seen it and most of the remakes half a dozen times, but it never got old. Jessie seemed to agree.
After napping all afternoon, they’d been too wired to go to bed. He’d ordered room service, thick New York steaks and Caesar salads, even indulged in a glass of red wine. He was finally ready to call it a night, though sleeping was not his intention.
The credits were rolling as he nuzzled Jessie’s neck and softly nibbled an earlobe. “You ready for bed?”
She rolled onto her back and looped her arms around his neck. “If you promise we aren’t going to sleep.”
Bran grinned and kissed her. “Cross my heart.” He made a dramatic show of drawing a cross on his chest and started to get up. When his phone rang, he was torn between disappointment and hope for a break in the case.
Recognizing Tabby’s number, he put the phone on speaker and set it on the coffee table. “Hey, Tab, you got something?”
“You bet I do. Mara Ramos’s real name is Mahri Rahmati. She was born in Yemen, been in the States since her early twenties. Came here on