Disruptive Force. Elle James
system used by Chris Carpenter to his billing information. She’d narrowed her search of his calls to the day of the attack. She’d gone through his phone records, searching for a connection to Terrence Tully, the conference room coordinator for the NSC meeting, and found one.
Terrence Tully had been one of Trinity’s sleeper agents, embedded in the White House, waiting for his call to serve.
That day, he’d helped orchestrate the kidnapping of the VP and Anne Bellamy, the woman CJ had contacted to warn about the attack.
Can we meet? Cole asked.
CJ frowned. Any contact she had with others put them at risk. She’d already broken the first rule she’d made for herself upon her defection from Trinity: stay away from anyone or anything to do with the organization. Including people who were actively searching to destroy it.
She’d broken that rule by contacting Anne to warn her of the attack.
Then she’d involved herself in Declan’s Defenders’ rescue effort. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d gone to their base location at Charlotte Halverson’s estate. The Defenders knew more about her than she’d wanted to divulge, including what she looked like. And they’d assigned one of Declan’s men to be her protector and backup.
CJ snorted. Like she’d let that happen. If she allowed anyone to get that close to her, it would be one more way for Trinity to find her and the agent would be collateral damage when Trinity came to kill her.
Being a loner was better for all involved.
She typed, If I need you, I’ll find you.
CJ backed out of Carpenter’s phone records she’d been perusing and went back on the dark web, digging into anything she could find that might lead her to Trinity’s leader, the best kept secret in the entire organization.
When she’d first left Trinity, her main focus had been on staying alive and out of their way. It didn’t take her long to realize, however, that she’d never be truly safe until the organization was destroyed. And the best way to do that was to find its leader and destroy him. Because of the recent Trinity activity in the DC area and the fact that it was a world capital, she felt confident that Trinity’s head was somewhere in the vicinity.
A little more than a week ago, she’d found a particular website with a forum where anyone could anonymously arrange to hire a hit man. It seemed assassins for hire didn’t like that Trinity was an exclusive organization they couldn’t crack. Some of the people on the site had it out for Trinity and had made it a personal challenge to identify its leadership and/or to sabotage the organization’s hits. It was on that site through online chats and more that CJ had learned about the potential attack on the White House during the NSC meeting.
Going to the site, CJ went directly to the message board.
Still looking for the Director, she typed.
A few seconds later she received this response: They’re still looking for you.
Weary of the chase, the worry and living below the radar, she wrote, Time to stop T.
The time will come. We will find the Director.
Today?
Probably not.
The next message made her pulse pound.
Someone knows where you are.
CJ frowned.
How do you know?
Message traffic on another site, listing IP address of Arlington library.
She glanced out the glass window of the computer room to the library beyond. Moms were helping their children carry stacks of books to the counter, and a college student with a backpack leaned over the desk to ask the librarian a question. No one looked like a Trinity assassin. But then, she had been one and had been trained to blend in.
Where are you seeing this? she typed.
No time.
He’s here now?
Now. Run. Don’t go home. Compromised.
CJ cleared the browser, cleared the screen and logged off the computer. She ducked low, pretending to get something from her backpack. Instead of putting something in, she took out the blond wig cut in a short bob, pulled it on and quickly stuffed her own auburn hair beneath it. Then she took off her black leather jacket and crammed it into the backpack, straightening her pale pink T-shirt with the cartoon kitty on the front. Setting a pair of round sunglasses on her nose to hide her green eyes and popping a piece of bubble gum into her mouth, she stood.
Disguise in place, CJ exited the room through the opposite door from where she’d entered and slipped through the stacks, weaving her way along the travel section into the how-to books.
A gray-haired man peered at a gardening book for beginners. A young woman perused a book on designing websites.
CJ moved past them. She’d have to go through the front entrance to get out without setting off any emergency exit alarms.
A group of two women and six children ranging in ages from five to fourteen loaded books into bags and headed toward the door.
The college student stood at the magazine display, leafing through the tabloids.
CJ crossed the open space in front of the checkout desk and trailed the group of women and children out of the building and into the parking lot. She looked around, keeping the door to the library in her peripheral vision.
CJ moved across the parking lot in the opposite direction of the children, not wanting them to be collateral damage should the situation get sticky. She kept walking, figuring the farther away from the library she got, the better. Once she knew she’d shaken whoever might be after her, she’d hop on a bus and head for...
Hell if she knew. If the apartment she’d rented had been compromised, she couldn’t go back there.
Footsteps sounded on the pavement behind her.
CJ stepped around a large SUV and chanced a look back.
The college student had followed her out of the library. He had slipped his backpack off his shoulder and was reaching inside.
CJ made it to the sidewalk, quickly passing shops and other buildings until she found the right one. She ducked into the restaurant and walked to the back. The dim lighting forced her to remove the sunglasses. Following a waitress, she entered the kitchen.
“Sorry, miss, you can’t be here,” the waitress said.
CJ grimaced and glanced over her shoulder. “Is there a rear exit through here?”
“Yes, but for employees only.”
“My ex-boyfriend is following me. He won’t leave me alone. And he’s abusive.” CJ touched the waitress’s arm. “Please. I need to get away from him.”
The woman’s eyes rounded and she looked through the glass window of the swinging door. “Dark hair and backpack?”
CJ nodded. “Yes.”
The waitress grabbed her arm. “Come with me.” She led CJ to the back door and out into the alley. “My husband is waiting for my shift to end. He can take you where you need to go, as long as it’s not too far.” She glanced down at her watch. “I get off in fifteen minutes.” She took CJ’s hand and led her to an older model sedan with a faded paint job.
The man in the driver’s seat was asleep, his head tilted back against the headrest.
The woman tapped on the window.
Jerking awake, the man sat up and rolled down the window. “Hey, Bea, are you off already?”
“No,” Bea said. “But I want you to help this woman get away from an abusive ex-boyfriend. Take her where she needs to go. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”
She