Read Online Bridal Armor by Debra Webb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debra Webb
Tags: Romance
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greetings considering the imposition of time, Jason explained his call. “There was an incident today with a car bomb at an American airport.”
“Denver,” O’Marron said. “I heard.”
“Then you’re saying he’s here?”
His friend went so quiet Jason thought the call had dropped. He held the phone out and verified he still had a signal.
“Were there fatalities?”
“No,” Jason replied.
“Then it’s bloody well not Whelan.”
O’Marron had a point. “Humor me. What do you know about his recent activity?”
“Did you catch the usual signature?”
“No, but it took me a few minutes to get to the scene and the blizzard could have masked that by the time I arrived.” The redhead came to mind again. “Has he picked up an apprentice or held a clinic lately?” They both knew he’d done both in the past. The man would do anything for cash.
“Level with me and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“Keep yanking me around and we’ll do this in person.”
“As if I can’t have you stopped, strip-searched and detained at the border.”
Jason laughed. His friend would be surprised when his stunt failed. Mission Recovery had unprecedented credentials and a variety of ways to circumvent that type of power play. “Hospitable as ever. Come on, help me out and I’ll owe you one.”
“You’re confident this is Whelan’s work?”
The fact that Director Casey thought so was enough of an endorsement for Jason. “Unless you have intel that says otherwise, yes, I think we can credit him with today’s incident.”
“Except no one died.”
“Come on, O’Marron.” Jason bit back the sharp retort. “If you can’t give me confirmation, give me something to rule him out. And hurry. I could lose the call any minute with this storm.”
“Whelan entered the States four weeks ago, escorted by American authorities.”
Which was O’Marron’s way of saying it could be anyone from the CIA to Homeland Security who’d extended an engraved invitation to Whelan.
“Where was he before that?”
“Germany, again, but he slipped our net.”
“Anything on recent associates?” Like a gorgeous redhead with a killer smirk? The signal popped and crackled, and O’Marron’s voice came through in fragments.
“...rumor about a contract...an American agent. Doesn’t...stock in that...said they met—”
Jason nearly threw the phone when it showed the signal had been lost. There were too many possible interpretations of those fragments. With a measured sigh he set the phone on the charger. O’Marron had given Jason more than he’d had before. Now he just had to get that information to Lucas Camp.
He turned on the television and scanned the local channels, all of which were reporting on the freak storm. The way this was unfolding, Jason would rather do this face-to-face, but there was no way he’d get up to the Glenstone Lodge tonight in a rented sedan without snow tires.
If the cell towers were out here, chances were good they weren’t working any better in the higher elevations. He picked up the room phone and heard a dial tone.
Hopeful, he drafted a quick note for Lucas, making it as secure as possible under the circumstances, and then he headed down to the front desk.
Chapter Eight
9:05 p.m.
Thomas struggled to ignore the knots in his shoulders and neck while he fought to keep the car on what he hoped was actually the roadway. His hands were cramping and though they weren’t going at much more than a crawl, the car’s back end kept fishtailing on the tight curves. Yeah, skis would have been the safer bet all around.
He knew Jo wanted answers. It would probably be best if he did open up. He should start with Whelan. Or let her know he’d called a Specialist for an assist. But he wasn’t inclined to share the facts about the virus as he currently knew them. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he knew anything helpful at all.
Within the offices that didn’t officially exist in Washington, he was known for
“Denver,” O’Marron said. “I heard.”
“Then you’re saying he’s here?”
His friend went so quiet Jason thought the call had dropped. He held the phone out and verified he still had a signal.
“Were there fatalities?”
“No,” Jason replied.
“Then it’s bloody well not Whelan.”
O’Marron had a point. “Humor me. What do you know about his recent activity?”
“Did you catch the usual signature?”
“No, but it took me a few minutes to get to the scene and the blizzard could have masked that by the time I arrived.” The redhead came to mind again. “Has he picked up an apprentice or held a clinic lately?” They both knew he’d done both in the past. The man would do anything for cash.
“Level with me and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“Keep yanking me around and we’ll do this in person.”
“As if I can’t have you stopped, strip-searched and detained at the border.”
Jason laughed. His friend would be surprised when his stunt failed. Mission Recovery had unprecedented credentials and a variety of ways to circumvent that type of power play. “Hospitable as ever. Come on, help me out and I’ll owe you one.”
“You’re confident this is Whelan’s work?”
The fact that Director Casey thought so was enough of an endorsement for Jason. “Unless you have intel that says otherwise, yes, I think we can credit him with today’s incident.”
“Except no one died.”
“Come on, O’Marron.” Jason bit back the sharp retort. “If you can’t give me confirmation, give me something to rule him out. And hurry. I could lose the call any minute with this storm.”
“Whelan entered the States four weeks ago, escorted by American authorities.”
Which was O’Marron’s way of saying it could be anyone from the CIA to Homeland Security who’d extended an engraved invitation to Whelan.
“Where was he before that?”
“Germany, again, but he slipped our net.”
“Anything on recent associates?” Like a gorgeous redhead with a killer smirk? The signal popped and crackled, and O’Marron’s voice came through in fragments.
“...rumor about a contract...an American agent. Doesn’t...stock in that...said they met—”
Jason nearly threw the phone when it showed the signal had been lost. There were too many possible interpretations of those fragments. With a measured sigh he set the phone on the charger. O’Marron had given Jason more than he’d had before. Now he just had to get that information to Lucas Camp.
He turned on the television and scanned the local channels, all of which were reporting on the freak storm. The way this was unfolding, Jason would rather do this face-to-face, but there was no way he’d get up to the Glenstone Lodge tonight in a rented sedan without snow tires.
If the cell towers were out here, chances were good they weren’t working any better in the higher elevations. He picked up the room phone and heard a dial tone.
Hopeful, he drafted a quick note for Lucas, making it as secure as possible under the circumstances, and then he headed down to the front desk.
Chapter Eight
9:05 p.m.
Thomas struggled to ignore the knots in his shoulders and neck while he fought to keep the car on what he hoped was actually the roadway. His hands were cramping and though they weren’t going at much more than a crawl, the car’s back end kept fishtailing on the tight curves. Yeah, skis would have been the safer bet all around.
He knew Jo wanted answers. It would probably be best if he did open up. He should start with Whelan. Or let her know he’d called a Specialist for an assist. But he wasn’t inclined to share the facts about the virus as he currently knew them. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he knew anything helpful at all.
Within the offices that didn’t officially exist in Washington, he was known for