Bernard stopped in front of a utilitarian chair. “We really had no reason to hold him. He and the woman were well within their rights to walk out.”

Sullivan took his seat behind his desk, a position of power. “In an official military vehicle? I don’t think so, Captain.”

Sylvia waved away the comment. “A minor infraction, easily explained away. We have the Suburban back in our possession.”

“Picked up at the airport,” Bernard said through tight teeth, not a smile in sight, with his job on the line. “Even though there are no signs they left the country. I’m not so much concerned with the fact they’re gone as I am with why they felt the need to leave. What made them run, sir?”

“We’ll have those answers when we find them, and we will. But Harris has to be our first priority. Your office does not need him going to the press and firing up conspiracy theorists, especially not this week.”

Bernard nodded. “Understood, sir.”

The plan was too deeply in motion to pull back now. Too many under him had already assisted in gathering the information, setting up the shielded leak. They expected their payback. He couldn’t afford for even one of them to doubt his ability to lead.

“When you find Harris, I want him committed to a mental health facility.” He trusted Sylvia to dispense with due process where necessary. “And do so immediately.”

Harris would be discredited until a staged suicide could be arranged.

As for McCabe and his too-curious girlfriend, Rachel Flores? He would need to tread carefully in eradicating them, especially after the recent failed attempts on their lives.

But he had that covered. When he leaked the data about satellite data collection to the Chinese, it would be all too easy to ask for a little something extra in return. No one would question Liam McCabe’s assassination, especially if the public believed he was a mole simply caught up in spy games gone wrong—his girlfriend an unlucky casualty by association.

He looked from Sylvia Cramer to Captain Bernard. “Is that all you have to report?”

Bernard nodded. “For now, sir. And thank you for your support in keeping this quiet. We’re going to make this right. Sir.”

Ted smiled, then looked to Cramer. “And you’ve got people watching the rest of McCabe’s team to see if he contacts them?”

“Of course.” Her hand gravitated to the leather portfolio tucked under her arm. Some might have thought she wanted her iPad. He knew she was craving a smoke. She always did when under stress.

But if she found his need for frequent updates stressful? Tough shit.

“Fair enough, then. Dismissed.” He waved them out of his office.

He knew the underlings whispered behind his back, complaining, calling him a micromanager. They were too small-minded and inexperienced to understand the importance of being detail oriented. He even had an ace in the hole here at Patrick Air Force Base, someone he’d cultivated right away to be answerable first and only to him. A good leader always had troops on his side, loyal to the death. He left nothing to chance.

Details counted. He pulled his laptop closer and the cord hooked on the family photo on his desk. Which reminded him of another loose end to tie up, now that he had important business under control.

Dragging the phone toward him, he dialed his wife’s cell. He could fit in a quick call. “Kelly, it’s me, babe.”

“Ted, thank goodness you called.”

Her breathy panic had him settling back in the chair, ready for her list of idiotic problems. He could listen, hmmm appropriately while checking email.

“Ted, the tuition check for Teddy’s fall semester drained the account. I thought we had enough in there. Credit card overdraft protection caught the overage, so our credit rating wasn’t damaged, but what happened?”

Anger stirring, he creaked forward again in the chair. This went beyond her regular Chicken Little, sky-is-falling complaints. “The account is entirely empty? How did that happen?”

Kelly ran a tight ship. She was the perfect military wife. He’d been careful in choosing her twenty-two years ago. Even then he’d been certain of his future and the type of people he needed to bring along for the ride. She took care of the home front. Didn’t ask any questions. And made few demands of his time.

The family picture he carted from desk to desk, even when he was deployed, gave him the image he needed to project. A beautiful family sitting in front of a fireplace. Perfectly groomed wife, not too flashy, not so plain that people might wonder if he might be lacking. His son and daughter performed as expected, meeting standards in school with grades and sports.

He’d taught them well. They gave him the proper respect—his children had everything he’d craved growing up. A home they could be proud of. An old man to brag about. His kids could hold their heads high.

His family was safe, by God, and he would do everything in his power to make sure they stayed that way. He was in charge.

Like the medals on his chest, he’d won his family, and yes, he trotted them out when he needed the image boost. Small price to ask for all he’d given them. He would need them for just that during the summit starting this weekend. “Kelly, I’ll just transfer funds from my travel account.” He actually had a whole other account she knew nothing about. He’d been tapping it low of late, paying off help to deal with the Harris and Flores problems. “We’ve pulled finances tight this month outfitting everyone appropriately for the summit.”

Money well spent. He needed his family shined up as perfectly as his medals.

“Well, then I’ll take back the new formal I bought for the dinner. I have a couple of other old ones I can pick from. I never should have let you talk me into spending so—”

“Shhh. Babe, don’t even consider it. You deserve something special for all the sacrifices you make. We’ll be dining with dignitaries from around the world. Did you get your mother’s pearls?”

“I did,” she said promptly.

Of course she did. Kelly always came through. He could already envision her in the elegant, conservatively cut navy blue gown. Slim and attractive without being ostentatious or—God forbid—tawdry.

“And thanks, Ted, I really do adore the dress.” Her smile reached through the phone. “I can’t wait to thank you in person when I get there. Love you… bye-bye.”

He gave her the appropriate response, like an obligatory box of Godivas on Valentine’s Day. Easy enough to do.

After all, her thank-you was heartfelt and sweet. Even her little hint about showing her appreciation with reunion sex was perfectly understated.

He liked that about her, how proper and accommodating she was. He never had to worry about her f**king around on him while he was away.

And when he needed something more than missionary position in a marital bed? There were plenty of women out there who were more than happy to sit on a general’s desk and spread their legs.

His hand fell to his crotch and he adjusted his stiffening dick off his zipper. He was so close to achieving his dream of pinning on a second star. Just a few more days and all the sacrifices, all the risks, would pay off.

If only Bernard and Cramer could get their heads out of their asses and locate Harris. The air force would mourn the loss of a brave—but emotionally wounded—lieutenant.

And General Ted Sullivan?

He would be assuming his new command. He would be the one advising the secretary of defense and even the president on intelligence-gathering satellites. He would influence missile defense treaties and the balance of world power.

No one would have the authority to smack him down to his knees ever again.

***

Wind in her face, Rachel hooked her hands in both dogs’ collars as Liam steered the airboat along the Everglades swamp. She did not need the dogs leaping out for an impromptu swim. The ripple of knobby alligator spines scored the water.

She’d barely had time to catch her breath since Liam found that missed call from his teammate Jose. At least Brandon had been found and was safe, and they would all be meeting soon. Beyond that, Liam hadn’t told her much—just the basics. He’d relayed how someone in a silver sedan with heavy-ass weaponry had been stalking Brandon and Catriona. Jose had witnessed the whole thing go down. No one was imagining jack.

Liam had rushed to throw on clothes and hustled them out of the motel room, promising they could discuss in great detail along the way. The next thing she’d known, he was renting an airboat and they were driving deep into the Everglades. She hadn’t had time to process the news about Brandon, much less analyze the shift in her relationship with Liam.

The mind-blowing sex.

Her fears of falling for him.

If she wanted a lifetime to sort out her feelings, she needed to focus on the present, where they were going, and what she could do to hold her own rather than be another responsibility for Liam to rescue. The speed of the airboat eased the heat somewhat and kept the mosquitoes at bay. Ahead of them, snakes left a trail around herons in the saw grass. She’d worked a search mission in the Everglades once and was briefed to expect water moccasins, coral snakes, rattlesnakes—all poisonous, out in a place where medical help was a long way off.

She nudged Liam with her foot. “How much farther to this ‘safe place’ to meet up with Brandon? With over two million acres of wetland in the Everglades, this could be one monster of a commute. Much longer and I’m going to start wondering if you plan to dump my body overboard in a plastic bag weighted with cement blocks. You wouldn’t go all Dexter on me, would you?”

“Five more minutes. Tops.” He stroked her arm briefly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

He’d said much the same in the Jeep as they’d driven a mile to the boat rental. He’d sworn this place was totally secure, no risk of listening devices. And it was where he’d hoped to reach the day before, but they simply hadn’t arrived before dark and he preferred not to travel out here at night.

She just wanted to lay eyes on Brandon and be sure he was okay. Someone had actually tried to shoot him and Catriona in a drive-by. That would have been inconceivable a mere month ago, but now anything seemed possible. Thank God, Brandon and Jose had been around to protect Catriona—an unsuspecting, complete innocent in all of this. Although for someone who’d been shot at, Catriona had been surprisingly composed on the phone as she’d shared the details of Tabitha’s flesh wound with Rachel. At least her dog was okay, treated quickly thanks to Catriona’s training as a vet tech.

Rachel drew in a humidity-laden breath, her shirt sticking to her back. A gator scrambled onto the shore and snapped up a wood duck. Or at least she thought it was a gator. This was a rare place in which alligators and crocodiles cohabited. Hopefully she would never be close enough to one to check the shape of the jaw to distinguish one reptile from another.

She secured her hold on the dogs. “And you’re sure Brandon’s meeting us out here?”

How was even he supposed to locate this place?

“With Cuervo. Don’t worry. Cuervo can find his way.” He steered the craft, the monstrous fan in back powering them over the murky surface. “They’re also bringing the dog-sitter along to keep her safe.”

“Catriona?” Her friend hadn’t mentioned that, but they hadn’t been able to talk long and the connection had been sketchy.

“Uh-huh. That’s what Jose said.” Liam whipped the craft around a narrow bend in the marsh. An osprey flapped away from its perch.

“What happened to all the dogs at her place? My dogs are there.”

“What does she do if she has to leave home?”

“She rarely goes anywhere.”

“She’s a recluse?” Morning rays beat down on his sun-burnished face. His bristled jawline was taking on a look actors worked to cultivate. Tall and lean, Liam’s raw masculinity came naturally.