“Might be when he took her. But why would he hold her for a month?” And RJ didn’t want to answer her own question. “And if Damien was chasing you across Russia…who took her?”
“And if someone else, not Damien, killed Sophia, did that person also grab York?”
RJ finished her coffee. “I have a call in to a man named Crowley who York knew at the CIA. I’m trying to track down the guys who took him. They say they don’t have him, but…”
Coco met her eyes. “If he’s still alive, we’ll find him, RJ.”
If… “He is,” she’d said softly, her eyes burning. She couldn’t give in to the alternative.
Coco nodded. “I’ll see if I can track down an owner for the phone. I gotta get back to Wyatt.”
“I’m going out for a run to clear my head.”
Coco had pressed two fingers to her lips, then the screen, and RJ had mimicked it, then shut her computer.
Now, ten minutes later, she sat on the front steps, the morning air sweeping into her nose, her body.
Prayer. She hadn’t really considered that God might be willing to get involved. But if that’s what it took to find York…
Please.
She got up and started at an easy pace down the sidewalk. The morning sun just lipped the roofs of the townhomes and condos in her area. A few neighbors were out walking dogs, a couple more running, and she raised her hand to the former Marine who lived across the street. He wore his blond hair short, not an ounce of fat on his body, and it reminded her so much of York, she quickened her pace.
York, with those blue eyes she couldn’t seem to forget, nor the way he kissed her, as if, when she was in his arms, he forgot the man he was, became the man he wanted to be. He’d even told her that.
She liked—okay, loved—the man she knew, despite the things he’d done, the man he’d been.
That man had also been the one who’d saved her life.
At the corner, she stopped to wait for the light. Beside her, a limousine pulled up, then slowly turned right on red.
Stopped in front of her.
Before she could react, the back door opened, and a man stepped out, grabbed her arms. “CIA,” he said, flashing his I.D. “Come with me.”
“What—why?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, without a pause, he pulled her inside the vehicle.
The door shut on her scream.
She sent her palm into his jaw hard enough for him to whoof out his breath, then rolled back and kicked him, center mass. He let out another grunt as he fell back.
She rolled over, clawing for the door—
“Stop!”
The voice jerked her around, her attention to the man seated on the back seat. Thin, with salt-and-pepper hair, he wore a suit and now held his hand up—either to her, or her assailant, she didn’t know. But his gaze fell on her and held fast. “I’m here to help.”
“Help? With what? Kidnapping?”
He gestured to the seat. They still hadn’t moved from the curb, and she glanced out the window in the hope her neighbor had seen her abduction. She could use a former Marine right now—
York was a former Marine.
Oh, she had to stop going to him for help. To anyone for help.
“Please, sit down. We need to talk.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m Director Tom Crowley. You’ve called my office about thirty times.” He flipped open his identification for her.
Oh. She bit her lip and slid onto the seat. “Uh, thanks for taking my call?”
He smirked and put away his I.D. “You are persistent, Miss Marshall.”
“Where’s York? I know your men took him.”
His smile fell. “Actually, no, they didn’t, and to cut to the chase, I don’t know where he is. If he is dead, or alive. And, if he’s alive, I’d like to find him too.”
“I’ll bet you would,” she snapped.
He frowned at her.
“He told me that you warned him never to return to the US. After, well…after…”
“After I said he got my daughter and grandson killed.”
Her mouth tightened.
He swallowed, looked away from her, a flash of sadness on his face. “I shouldn’t have blamed him for the evil that is in the world. He did everything right. I was grieving, of course. And angry.” He looked back at her, and his eyes glistened. “Of course York is a hero. But he also is dangerous.”
She looked at him.
“Not to us—to the rogue faction of the CIA that is hunting him.”
Her eyes widened. “So it’s true.”
“Yes. My team has been rooting them out for a year, trying to find the power broker who’s at the helm, one of a handful across the globe who is trying to cause international unrest.”
“Why?”
“War leads to weapons which leads to money which leads to power.”
“Were they behind the assassination attempt on General Stanislov?”
“Yes. And possibly the attempt on Senator White in Alaska. Sophia was on my team, looking into a cell of sleeper agents.”
Oh.
“She was investigating a dating site that we believe activates the sleeper agents.”
RJ managed to keep her expression still. But, “Was it called MyAmore.com?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“My, um, sister and I found emails sent to a user of the site.”
“Can you forward them to me?”
She nodded.
“And while we’re at it, did you find Sophia’s journal when you broke into her house last night?”
Her eyes widened.
“We tried to keep the police away when the security alarm was triggered, but they responded to the 9-1-1 call from the neighbors.”
Oh. “I suppose you’re tossing my house right now.”
“It would be easier if I could just make a call.”
She made a face. “It’s in the bathroom, behind the sink.”
He nodded at the goon who’d taken her and he took out his phone.
She sighed. “Do you think York is alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“He was picked up by a man named Martin. He recognized him.”
Recognition registered on Crowley’s face. “Really?”
“Who is he?”
“He used to work for the agency. He left shortly after York did and has been off the grid ever since. We thought he might have been connected to York’s cover being blown, but we weren’t sure. And York killed the informant, so…” He glanced at the driver. “Take a drive around the block.”
They started to move. “If Martin took him, a good bet is that he thought York knew something that could incriminate him.”
And right then, York’s voice swept into her head. I have a feeling that if the CIA knew I was here, I might be in trouble. I have too many secrets.
“Do you have any idea what that might have been?”
“I don’t.” Oh, maybe she’d answered too quickly. But really. “He never told me.”
“Miss Marshall. You work for me, remember?”
“I worked for Sophia.”
He tilted his head.
“No, I don’t know anything. But I think York did know something. And Martin took him.”