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Just as he reached her, her cell rang, and she dug in her bag for her phone.
* * *
“West,”she said.
“Bree, it’s Gavin. How are you and the guys holding up?”
“Good sir, considering the circumstances.” Gavin Foster was her boss and one of the legends at the FBI. He’d been an agent for all of his working years and was now the deputy assistant director for the Counterterrorism Division in DC.
“Yes, I know this assignment has been more than you all bargained for, but I’m getting glowing reports for all of you, especially you.” It was good to hear that she was making a difference here on this assignment, but she was driven to get better results. Achebe and the Olenskas were still out there causing havoc. She intended, with the CIA and SEALs’ help, to shut them all down and if possible, bring as many of them to justice as possible. But she was going to keep an open mind. Dead or alive, they would receive their punishment for the Ogdens.
“Greg?” she asked, finished with Gavin’s praise. It wasn’t going to get the job done. She was more concerned about her now-former leader.
Gavin let out a relieved breath. “He’s going to be okay. But he’s out of commission as I’m sure you already know.” There was a sudden silence and Bree tensed. “I’m placing you in charge. I know this is sudden in your mind, but we’ve been considering you as a supervisory special agent for some time.”
Shock immobilizing her, caught completely off balance, she finally managed, “Me? In charge?” Bree digested that information, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. She closed her eyes, leaning heavily against the bar. Her right-minded conscience piled some guilt on her head. She’d wanted advancement, but not at the sacrifice of her colleague. It made the pressure of accepting the job all that stronger. A low-grade throb started at the base of her head. Now she felt lousy.
“Yes. I don’t have a senior agent I can spare right now, so you’re promoted and are now the new SSA on this mission. I’ve already spoken to the guys about how they’re feeling and whether they wish to return to the States. They all want to stay. They’re happy for your promotion.”
Her shoulders suddenly felt heavy, but she squared them. “I’m stunned, truly.” A cramp formed in her throat, and it took a minute before she could get it to relax. “Thank you for putting your faith in me. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” His tone was confident. “Remember, you’ve got a family here,” he counseled quietly. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
She clenched her jaw, feeling suddenly very raw. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a smile.
“Just stay as safe as you can. Listen to the SEALs and follow their lead. I spoke with Commander Lock, and he spoke with Lieutenant Jackman. They’re on board with you as the new SSA. I’ve also informed Kat Cross. We’re good to go. Keep sending me your excellent reports and get those people who murdered our ambassador and his family.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll do our best. Goodbye, assistant deputy director.” She ended the call, still leaning on the bar, feeling overwhelmed with guilt, ambition, and remorse.
The weirdest sensation passed through her as if she was standing back, looking through a long, narrow tunnel, somehow disconnected from everything that was happening around her. She heard the low murmur of the crowd as they conversed, the clinking of glasses. People laughed and light music played. Isabelle and Volkov were conversing quite intently with Gator and Harley listening. Harley turned her head and rolled her eyes, smiling.
Bree automatically smiled back.
Harley frowned, gave her a worried look, and started to move toward her, then stopped, her attention going to someone behind Bree. She nudged her head, then forced a smile.
A hand touched her shoulder, and a deep voice murmured in her ear just as she was going to see who Harley was preoccupied with. “Are you all right?”
She turned around to find Blitz standing behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, not sure if she could handle him on top of everything else right now. “Yes, I’ve gotten some news from my boss.”
“I heard some of it. So, you’re in charge of the Fly Team now?”
Feeling shaky, wishing she could just go back to her apartment with a bottle of anything strong enough to help her sleep, she automatically nodded.
She felt strangely misplaced. Aware that kind of thinking was only going to make her feel worse, she swallowed hard, knowing she was going to have to play this out somehow. Her eyes met his, his expression thoughtful, his somber gaze connecting with hers, a wealth of compassion in his eyes. And Bree knew, from somewhere deep inside her, that Blitz saw through her subterfuge. She held the gaze of his devastating green eyes for a moment, then sighed. “I’m in charge and I lied before. I’m not all right.”
“I know,” he whispered, the sound of his soft, sexy voice setting her heart pounding wildly and her not quite steady hands reaching for her wine glass, but he beat her to it. He lifted it, wrapping her trembling fingers around it. “Your hands are cold.”
The heat of his skin against her flesh made her want more of that heat. His shoulder was braced against the wall where the bar ended, but when he reached for the wine, he straightened, pulling the fabric of his shirt tautly across his chest. As he shifted his weight slightly, his altered position accentuated the strong contours of his jaw and the muscled thickness of his neck. Bree was suddenly keenly aware of his powerful build.
In the diffused light of the ballroom, his hair was a delicious chocolaty mess, some of the strands falling over his forehead. He was watching her with an intentness that Bree found unsettling, making her even more conscious of him as a man. Everything about him was disturbingly masculine: his looks, his size, his strength, even the way he moved. He possessed an animal grace that only made her remember how he’d been on the battlefield. She shivered slightly at that memory—so confident, so focused, so professional. With that memory and the one from Oregon State, the one she couldn’t forget, she fell more under his spell.
He immediately set down the wine glass and took both her hands in his, rubbing them gently. His touch did strange things to both her equilibrium and her pulse rate, and Bree somehow managed to control the nearly irresistible urge to lace her fingers through his. His voice was strained when he said, “Did you eat anything before you came here?”
She shook her head. For a breathless moment, they stood staring at each other. Something was happening between them that Bree couldn’t quite define, but whatever it was, it was potent and dangerous. The power between them was off the charts. He was reserved, almost rigidly contained. Bree wondered what would happen if he let that control drop.
That line of suggestive thinking got her into deep and choppy waters as vivid images took shape in her mind, and Bree found it difficult to breathe. Her voice was oddly husky when she said, “I heard they were going to have a really good buffet.”
His full mouth pulled into an unyielding line, and there was an unusual tenseness about him that she found particularly distressing. He seemed so isolated, and Bree had a sudden need to comfort him. Yeah, that was a dangerous path.
