Disruptive Force. Elle James

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      WHEN COLE ENTERED his town house, he stopped long enough to catch his breath and then turned to the window. He could swear he knew the woman he’d jogged past, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it was or where he’d known her.

      The black hair wasn’t ringing any bells. And the dog? He was certain he’d seen it with someone else. Didn’t it belong to the old woman who lived several doors down from his place?

      Maybe that was it. The woman was a daughter, granddaughter, niece or something to the old woman. Perhaps that was where he’d seen her before.

      He waited at the window for her to pass with the dog. When they did, he looked hard, still unsure of where he’d seen her before. But he knew he had. The way she walked, the sway of her sexy hips, the tilt of her nose and the long, thick eyelashes should have been dead giveaways.

      His phone rang in the armband he used when running. Cole tapped the earbud in his ear. “Yeah.”

      “You coming in to do some heavy-duty computing?” Declan O’Neill’s voice sounded in his ear.

      “I am. Just showering. I can be there in thirty to forty-five minutes.”

      “See ya then,” Declan said.

      When Cole glanced back out the window, the woman had disappeared, dog and all.

      Cole showered, changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed out to the Halverson estate, driving the Hummer he’d purchased prior to exiting the Marine Corps. Thankfully, Charlie Halverson had hired him before he’d had to sell it for money to live on until he’d gotten a decent-paying job.

      Once he passed through the gates, he drove up the winding drive to the sprawling mansion.

      Roger Arnold, Charlie’s butler, met him at the door and let him in. “They’re waiting for you in the war room,” he said.

      Cole went straight for the study and the trapdoor that led into the basement of the mansion. All of Declan’s Defenders were there.

      Declan stood at a large whiteboard with photographs taped to the surface. Jonah Spradlin sat at a desk against the wall, an array of computer monitors displayed in front of him.

      Mack Balkman sat in a chair near Declan. He ran a hand through his black hair, his blue eyes studying the whiteboard. Beside him sat the former Russian operative, Riley Lansing. Gus Walsh stood on the opposite side of the table, the woman he’d helped rescue standing at his side.

      Jasmine Newman, aka Jane Doe, was as much a key to their operation as CJ Grainger. Jasmine had been a Trinity agent before John Halverson recruited her to help him fight the organization. Combat trained and fluent in Arabic and Russian, she was a formidable opponent and a worthy ally. They’d “killed” her off and given her a new name and identity to keep her off Trinity’s hit list. So far, she’d managed to remain out of sight, but she would always be looking over her shoulder as long as Trinity remained a threat.

      Jack Snow, the team slack man, sat beside Anne Bellamy, the mid-level staffer who’d been recruited by John Halverson to spy on politicians and staffers in the West Wing. She still had the bruises from her kidnapping ordeal by the Trinity sleeper agents a week before.

      Frank “Mustang” Ford stood with his girl, Emily Chastain, the college professor. He turned as Cole entered the room. The brown-haired, brown-eyed former point man was as used to action as Cole. He paced the room like a caged cat. “Nice of you to join us.”

      Cole shook his head. “I’d have been here sooner, if I’d known you wanted me here.” They were all tense. After the attack on the National Security Council meeting, they knew they had to bear down and come up with some real leads. Trinity had far too much power and had infiltrated too many places. Picking the agents off, one by one, would take too long and never be effective as the organization continued to “recruit” new agents. They had to find the lead man and take him down.

      “Based on your woman’s intel,” Declan said, “Jonah’s made some headway that might be useful.” He turned to Charlie’s computer guru.

      Cole wanted to correct Declan. CJ wasn’t his woman. He barely knew her and had seen her only once in the very room where he stood now. An image of a black-haired woman walking a little white dog rose in his mind.

      Jonah pointed to one of the monitors. “Chris Carpenter is in debt up to his eyeballs. He’s maxed out every credit card he owns—and he has quite a few—and he’s struggling to make the minimum payments on all those. He’s in a house that far exceeds his pay scale and he’s gone through everything his father left him in a trust fund.”

      “The man is barely able to keep his head above water,” Declan concluded. “It’s a wonder he got a security clearance.”

      Cole СКАЧАТЬ