The Agent's Surrender. Kimberly Van Meter
and the case had put her off-kilter. Tomorrow she’d find out what the hell kind of evidence Holden thought he had and then she’d start putting this baby to bed. For good.
Per usual, Holden awoke at 4:30 a.m., and after pounding back an organic whey protein shake, dressed, grabbed his workout bag and headed for the office.
Being in the top level of the CIA had its perks, one of them being the executive exercise facility, which Holden took full advantage of. After a career in the military, he didn’t relish the idea of going soft at a desk job, so he worked out just as hard as he ever did. And also, per usual, Jane was there, too.
It was always a small punch to the gut whenever he saw Jane dressed like a civilian in her workout clothes. It reminded him too vividly how that lithe, muscular body had fit so well against his, and it was in those raw, primal moments that his guard slipped, if only for a heartbeat. And then he remembered how she’d thrown his feelings in his face and walked out on him and the wall went back up.
“Would it kill you to exercise at a different time?” he asked as she joined him, stuffing her bag in the locker and grabbing a towel. “Or is this some twisted scheme to spend more time with me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He didn’t know why he’d assumed she’d cut out on her morning workout after getting the news that the case had been reopened, but obviously it hadn’t stopped her. Seeing her there put him instantly on edge.
She headed directly to the treadmill and punched in her usual workout, a punishing ten-mile run in fifty-five minutes. Holden, deciding to bypass his lifting routine, stepped onto the treadmill beside her. He punched in ten miles and kicked up the pace.
After they’d started running, Holden asked, “So why’d Reed change his mind? You have something to do with that?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
She cut him a short look. “I don’t like my work to look sloppy. I realized that if you think you have hard evidence, chances were you did, and I didn’t want to run the risk that someone else might question my skills as an investigator. I figured chasing down the lead was a minimally small risk when I feel confident the end result will remain the same.”
“Why are you so willing to believe the worst of my brother?”
“I didn’t know your brother, so I have no opinion of him. I followed the evidence. Your brother’s death was the catalyst to the entire I.D. network becoming a pile of rubble. That much is easy enough to document. Your brother was implicated in the killings of several high-ranking officials internationally, as well as domestically, and his suicide—”
“Alleged suicide,” he interrupted with a growl, and she shrugged, keeping an easy but brisk pace without breaking a sweat. She was in remarkable shape. One would have to be blind not to notice—and Holden was not blind. Not to mention he had first-hand knowledge of every curve and valley carved into that hot body. “And Nathan Isaacs, his good friend and fellow sniper for I.D., had also been accused of committing unsanctioned hits, and he wasn’t stripped of his medals.”
“Nathan didn’t know he was carrying out someone else’s agenda. Miko did. That much was said in his suicide note.”
“We don’t even know the note was written by Miko because it was printed out and not handwritten. For all we know, my brother was set up by someone higher up the chain.”
“How high are we talking?” she asked, a faint note of mockery in her tone. “C’mon, Holden, Occam’s razor. Sometimes the most obvious explanation is the right one.”
“And sometimes what may seem like the obvious answer is in actuality what someone wants you to believe.”
“Well, you got your wish. We’re going to chase down your lead and see where it takes us. Just don’t blame me when we end up in the same place we started.”
He knew it was possible Jane was right, but his gut said otherwise. He couldn’t explain the twin bond to someone who’d never experienced it. But he could chase down a lead like a bloodhound, and that was what he was going to do. He supposed he owed Reed a note of gratitude for opening the door so he could walk through instead of having to scale windows in the dead of night. Sneaking around wasn’t his favorite game.
“So what’s your story, Fallon?” he asked, curious as to what went on behind those jade eyes.
She shot him an irritated look. “Are you going to gab all morning or let me run in peace? You’ll have plenty opportunity to flap your jaws later.”
“I forgot that your workout takes all your concentration,” he said, knowing the subtle jab would ruffle her feathers. From what he knew of Jane, she didn’t take shortcuts and didn’t do girl push-ups. In fact, she worked harder than most men. She was a marine through and through. As expected, she cast him a dark look and punched in a higher pace as if to prove a point. He chuckled and did the same. They were running side by side, like a cheetah and a gazelle, except they were evenly matched in skill and strength. Sweat began to drip down his temple and soak his T-shirt. A quick look at Jane revealed high points of color pinching her cheeks as she kept up the pace. At this rate, their hearts would explode, and she was so damn stubborn she’d never quit before him. He didn’t want to show weakness, but running had never been his strong suit. Her legs pumped, strong and fierce, as she kept her gaze trained forward, and he had to wonder where she went in her head to withstand such a grueling workout. Running was a mental activity as much as it was physical and Jane was in the zone. He envied her detachment, her ability to compartmentalize the pain of her burning legs and lungs as she pushed herself beyond most people’s capability. Maybe that was how she had been able to just cut him loose and walk away without looking back. Don’t start that crap again, a sharp voice in his head warned when he went too deep into the whys of their breakup. Ancient history—keep it there.
Just when he thought he might collapse, the ten-mile marker dinged and the slowdown began, not a moment too soon. Another five seconds and he might’ve embarrassed himself. His legs were rubber, but he wasn’t about to let Jane see that, particularly when she looked ready to go another five miles. The only indication she’d labored was the ruddy color in her cheeks and the quick rise and fall of her chest as she wiped away the sweat. She ended the run and popped off the treadmill, calling over her shoulder before she headed for the showers, “Be ready to share this game-changing lead, Archangelo. Time is wasting.”
* * *
Jane stood for a full two minutes under the hot spray, groaning silently at the dull ache in her quads and calves from the grueling run. Why’d she have to push it so hard? What did she need to prove to Holden? It wasn’t just Holden—it was to everyone. There was no grace for her. Being the only girl in a military family dominated by men, she’d had no choice but to meet or exceed all expectations. Hell, she’d been doing boy-style push-ups since she was three. She loved her brothers to death, but they were jarhead carbon copies of their dad, and because she was the exact opposite of her father, it must mean she was her mother’s mini me. She stifled another groan. Why couldn’t she have been born a male, too? Life would’ve been so much simpler. No having to constantly prove her worth or justify her existence. No having to defend the fact that she’d been born bearing a striking resemblance to their mother.
The mother who’d left them all behind.
Sometimes she bore her mother’s abandonment as a scarlet letter simply because she had the misfortune to share the same gender.
Jane indulged in a moment of quiet as the water soothed her throbbing muscles and calmed her ragged spirit. Why was she going on this stupid waste of time with Holden? Why didn’t she just stand her ground and discard Holden’s theory? There was no basis of fact, only Holden’s insistence that something was amiss, and that wasn’t enough to reopen a case like Miko’s. Why? The question