longer.”
“So even after everything that’s happened, our lives are still in danger.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
* * *
Jessie sat quietly on the ride back to San Diego that morning. The ache of loss in her chest felt like a heart attack. In a way it was. She was more than half in love with Bran. All the way back from La Jolla, her mind went over the information he had gotten from Ahmed and what he had done to get it.
Torturing someone was a crime. She’d been terrified the MPs would haul Bran off to jail. She had no idea what Ahmed had said to Special Agent Kopecki. Maybe Bran would still be arrested.
On a physical level, she was wildly attracted to him. Every time his amazing biceps flexed, she felt hot all over. But how did she feel about the code of justice he lived by? He’d been a Delta soldier, one of the most highly trained men in the world. Danny had been in the same unit. They operated in secret, did whatever was necessary to protect America.
Still, it was the first time she had ever really had to face what the job required.
Almost from the start, she had warned herself not to get involved with a soldier. She didn’t want that life, didn’t want to risk that kind of pain. And though he was no longer in the army, Bran was a warrior and always would be.
On the other hand, maybe what she felt for him didn’t matter. From the start, she had known it was only a friends with benefits kind of relationship. When all of this was over, Bran would be gone.
Her heart squeezed hard, telling her how deeply involved she had gotten.
Her desolate mood turned even darker. Neither of them talked on the way back to the city, Bran’s mood apparently mirroring her own. She hadn’t meant to hurt him by the censure in her tone, but she knew that she had. Something had shifted between them. They had lost something important, and she didn’t think they would ever get it back. Her heart ached so hard she felt sick.
On the way back to the Grant, Bran drove them through a Carl’s Jr. for something to eat. With everything that had happened, she had very little appetite, but the future was uncertain. She needed to keep up her strength.
She sighed as they walked back into their extravagant suite. It was probably a good thing they would be checking out soon. She was getting spoiled by the Grant’s luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets, twenty-four-hour room service, and opulent marble tub.
As soon as she had showered and dressed, she went to work on the article she was writing, entering the latest information they had gleaned. As long as she didn’t go on the internet and just used the word processor, no one should be able to track her.
She worked for a while, but it was hard to concentrate. Bran was typing on his laptop at the opposite end of the table, following leads that Ahmed had given him. Just watching him made her eyes burn. He was pulling away, just as she was, asking the same hard questions. She ached to go to him, have him hold her. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
She steeled herself. She had to focus on finding the answers they needed to stay alive.
“Maybe you should call your friend, Tabby,” she said, forcing her mind back where it belonged. “Let her know Tank is dead.”
“Good idea. I’ll do it right now. I’ll find out if she’s got anything new.” As soon as the call went through, he put it on speaker and set the phone on the kitchen table next to where she was working.
“Hey, Tab, it’s Bran. Wanted to let you know Wayne Coffman was murdered yesterday. Which means Edgar Weaver is now a dead end.”
“Jeez, Bran, Weaver was your best lead,” Tabby said. “That’s really bad news.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve got even worse news for you.”
Jessie stopped typing.
“I’ve been working on the auction site, trying to follow the links backward to where it originated. I was making some progress, but the guy who built it was good, set it up so the IP addresses kept bouncing all over the world. I got as far as Kazakhstan and back to the States—and here’s the bad part—I discovered there was a split. The weapons that sold for twenty-five million?”
“Yeah?”
“That money only paid for twelve thousand pounds of munitions. Five million more paid