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Jules had watched all the drama from the sidelines, unable to do anything other than swear that someday, somehow, she would find a way to help Asher Drake get the justice he sought.
She would not stop until she had fulfilled that promise.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
His right fist slammed into the leather boxing bag, followed by his left. He repeated the process again and again, looking for relief from a multitude of frustrations. Ash had to give himself credit. He definitely knew how to spoil a mood. He’d initiated the conversation, hoping to get Jules to talk about herself and her issues. Instead, he’d ended up talking about how his monumental screw-up had gotten his wife killed.
The conversation had halted after that. Even though he might’ve gotten Jules to talk, his mood had taken a downturn. His only choice had been to get away from her for a while. The hotel gym offered him just what he needed. A half hour at the boxing bag had given him a much-needed release.
The bag in front of him alternated between two faces. One was the chubby-cheeked, innocuous-looking visage that hid a sadistic, cold-blooded killer. The other was a strong, female face belonging to the woman who had manipulated a broken system for no other reason than to cover her own ass.
Only a few people knew the true events of that night. One of the biggest reasons was because Ash had no proof. On the surface, it had looked like a series of unfortunate, completely unrelated events. Events that had enabled a serial killer to escape and find the FBI agent who months before had apprehended him. The van transporting the criminal to the maximum-security prison had broken down. New transportation had been called, but had somehow been delayed. During that time, John Leland Clark had taken down two guards and escaped. How Clark had been able to find the lake house remained a mystery, but powerful people had ways of obtaining information. He knew to the depths of his soul that Nora Turner was responsible. She had used her power with single-minded ruthlessness to get her way.
Regret was a helluva thing. If he hadn’t pushed Turner about her involvement in the incident in Colombia, Meg would still be alive. In demanding justice for the men who’d died, he had become a target. And Meg had lost her life.
With no proof of Turner’s involvement, Ash had come off looking like a grieving, paranoid fool with an ax to grind. But he knew who was responsible, and he would have proof someday. He would not stop until he got justice for Meg. And for the men Turner was responsible for leaving behind.
They were getting closer. Even though the cover-up appeared impenetrable, Ash was finally seeing cracks in the surface. He just needed a little more time.
“Are you okay?”
He’d been pounding so hard, so deep in thought, he hadn’t been aware of his surroundings. A great way to get himself killed.
The compassion in Jules’s eyes was almost his undoing. She had strength, kindness, intelligence, and wit. Plus, she possessed a strong desire to right wrongs and see that justice was served. From her beauty, to her strength of character, to her skill as an operative—all of her attracted him like no one had since Meg.
The temptation of losing himself in Jules’s soft body and comforting arms was almost undeniable. Forgetting his tortured thoughts, even for a few minutes, would be a reprieve he longed for with an aching intensity. Damned if he would do that to her. He had never used a woman in his life, and he would not start now.
“I’m fine. Sorry. Sometimes, the only thing that helps is to pound the hell out of something.”
“Totally understand. It’s my favorite way, too.” She touched her shoulder and grimaced. “I think my arm is a little too sore for that, but a half hour on the treadmill would be good.”
They were back to being polite strangers. While he regretted that, it was for the best. His thoughts about Jules had been altogether too tender. There was little room in his life for those kinds of feelings, especially for an OZ operative.
Giving her a nod, he headed to the exit. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Wait…Ash. I wanted to ask…I mean, I wanted to say that if you ever need someone to talk to about…things, I’m a good listener.”
There was that wash of tenderness again. Before he could give in to temptation, he gave her a quick nod of thanks and walked out the door.
* * *
The instant the door slammed closed, Jules let out a shaky breath. Seeing Ash’s pain was a difficult thing to bear. Would it get better once he got the justice he deserved? She could only hope.
Knowing she had no choice but to proceed, Jules pulled the burner phone from her pocket. She’d hidden the phone in a secret sleeve of her suitcase, but today was the first time she’d c
hecked for messages. There were five missed calls and five voice mails. All from the same person, each one demanding information.
Telling Turner not to call her had been like telling the wind not to blow. The woman’s persistence would have been admirable if she’d been doing this for any other reason than to protect herself.
Jules pressed the callback key and rolled her eyes when Turner answered on the first ring with a grating, “It’s about damn time. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for days.”
Giving the excuse that she’d been busy wasn’t going to work this time. The senator was expecting results. If Jules didn’t give her something, Turner might fire her on the spot. That couldn’t happen. At least not yet.
“I overheard a conversation this morning that could be exactly what you’re looking for.” Jules sold the lie, embellishing certain elements to make it seem as if, with the right spin, Asher Drake were skirting the edges of treason.
“This is perfect!”
“It’s not much right now. I’ll be able to gather more soon. I—”
