Hidden Agenda. Christy Barritt
intact. No one broke it down in order to get inside.” He reached for his gun. “Stay here.”
“That’s a switch from your earlier order to stay with you.”
He scowled. “I’m trying not to get you killed.”
“And earlier?”
He sighed. “We could stand here and argue all day. I’d feel better if I followed the footsteps just in case there’s someone less than honorable waiting at the end of the trail.”
“And I’d feel better if I carried my weight.” She still didn’t trust the man, but she’d come to find a certain amount of security in his presence, even in the short amount of time since they’d met. As thunder rumbled again, she gripped the poker tighter. “No way am I staying here by myself.”
It had seemed like a good idea earlier, when she was up in the hallway and feeling stubborn. But now that she knew someone else was definitely here, the thought of being alone seemed terrifying.
He stared at her another moment before shrugging. “Fine. Suit yourself. But be careful.”
She shivered. They couldn’t blame those footprints on the wind or the storm, as she’d done with the other calamities around the place. No, someone had clearly been here. Recently.
Ed bent toward the footprints and began following them through the living room, down the east wing.
Bailey stayed behind Ed. Near enough to touch him. Scared enough that she wanted to grab ahold of his jacket.
But she wouldn’t do that.
He followed the trail. Out of the living room. Through the downstairs hallway.
The tracks stopped in front of the library.
Ed turned, only Bailey was right behind him. He was close—too close. Close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from him. That she caught another whiff of his cologne. That her heart leaped into her throat.
He didn’t seem affected.
He twisted the handle. “It’s locked.”
Bailey shook her head. “That room is never locked.”
“Stay back.” His tone left no room for argument.
Bailey braced herself against the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing became labored as she waited for what would happen next.
With more skill than any DC lawyer should have, Ed kicked the door open.
Tension clenched Bailey’s spine. She’d never met a suit that knew how to do that. Nor how to do it with so much confidence. As if he’d done it a million times before.
Just what kind of secrets was Ed hiding? The way he’d handled that gun earlier had also been impressive and surprising.
He scanned the inside of the room before muttering, “Houston, we have a problem.”
She gripped the iron poker even tighter. “What’s wrong?”
He nodded toward the library. “Someone’s been here. And they were looking for something.”
She peered around the corner. The library had been demolished. Books were everywhere. Papers littered the floor. Chairs were overturned.
And that was only what she could see in the darkness. The daylight would surely reveal more injuries to the space.
She wondered who would do such a thing. Though a greater question remained.
Had the person who’d done this left or were they still lurking somewhere between the walls of this house?
Ed didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit.
Someone else had been here. They’d broken in. And they were looking for something very specific.
This had to have something to do with that phone call from his father’s friend. He’d discovered something, shared that information with his father, and now they were both dead. Based on this break-in, there may have been some kind of physical intelligence exchanged. Maybe that information was still here and someone was looking for it. It was the only thing that made sense.
Had the intruder found that communication and escaped?
Or was he still here? Still looking?
Ed didn’t know those answers, but somehow he had to find out.
Across the room, the window was open. A cold wind howled inside.
Most likely, whoever had been here had left out that window.
Either that, or he’d set it up to make it appear as if he’d left. In the world of espionage, things were hardly ever what they seemed.
“Ed?”
Bailey’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. “Yes?”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to remain cautious,” he said. “That’s the first thing. Stay there. Let me get this window closed.”
With his gun still drawn, he crossed the room, looking for any sign of hidden, unexpected visitors. There was no one. Just as thunder filled the air, he reached the window, pulled it shut and locked it.
He returned to the door, noting Bailey was no longer lingering in the door frame where he’d left her. Had she decided to be a lone ranger? To go out on her own? Certainly the woman wasn’t that neurotic.
He peered into the hallway and saw no sign of Bailey. The poker she’d been holding lay on the floor, as if she’d dropped it.
Strange. Suspicious, even.
“Bailey?” he called.
An impending feeling of malice crept into his psyche.
When there was no answer, he realized that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
* * *
Bailey struggled against the man who’d grabbed her in the hallway.
One moment, she’d only heard Ed’s voice. The next instant, thunder had cracked and a gloved hand had covered her mouth. A solid, steel-like arm had pinned her limbs against her body, making her unable to move.
She’d tried to kick and scream, but nothing. Her attacker easily overpowered her, rendering her immobile and helpless. In the blink of an eye, the man lifted her off her feet and carried her silently down the hallway.
She tried to resist, but the man was like a machine. His arms gripped her like a vise.
With amazing stealth, he carried her past the living room. Into the west wing of the house. Into the old game room with its wood paneling, stained-glass lighting and massive pool table.
He shoved her onto the leather couch. The plastic covering crinkled beneath her. Each crumple made her nerves tighten.
Every minute counted, she reminded herself. This was no time to let her fear consume her. She had to keep a clear head if she wanted to stay alive.
Her gaze jerked upward as she fought off the nausea.
The man leered at her. The black ski mask he wore made it impossible to make out any features. She saw the most important one, though. Even in the dark, she saw the hatred in his eyes.
Then she saw the knife in his hands. Five inches of shiny metal. A thick handle wrapped with what appeared to be leather. A devilishly sharp-looking blade, one that could probably slice her skin at just a whisper of a touch.
“Where is it?” the man mumbled, leaning toward her.
His voice was deep and rumbling and menacing. Her fear deepened.
He held