As always, the TV mounted on the wall opposite the desk was tuned to a cable news network. He had the volume on low but since it was early there was hardly anyone else working on this floor so he could hear the broadcaster clearly as the man reported about the latest developments in the War on Terror. On his desktop, he had a broadcast on from a station in upstate New York, hoping to hear something about the op from last night.
Will set one signed document aside, ready to be sent off for the Deputy Director and Director’s signatures. The next had to do with supplying contractors working in northern Iraq, who were fighting various groups of extremists. He perused the file, already familiar with the contents but always made certain he understood all parts of the document before signing.
“And now to some breaking news coming out of New York State this morning,” the news anchor on his laptop said.
Will flipped the page of the second document, read the names of the contract agents involved. He recognized several of them, one of whom had unknowingly facilitated the arms deals Will had implemented there. He added his initials at the appropriate places, then turned to the last page where he was to place his signature.
“We have footage taken from Lake Placid early this morning, and conflicting reports about a murder that happened overnight. Police say a man’s body was found at the bottom of a cliff, shot twice.”
Will stopped and looked up at his computer, his pen poised on the paper. On screen the network showed amateur footage someone had taken with their phone. The quality was bad but it showed a sheet-draped body lying in the snow at the base of a cliff roped off by police tape, the lights of the village twinkling in the background.
“One witness said they saw the man fall from the cliff and others said they heard a gun battle shortly before. Police claim the story is false. It’s unclear whether the man fell, or if he jumped to his death while trying to escape at least two gunmen who had been chasing him, according to one witness. Investigators say it’s too early to identify the victim but they are saying any claims of armed gunmen chasing him are false.”
Fucking hell.
He set his pen down and sat up straight, his stomach knotting. If the assassin had succeeded, he would have contacted Will by now. Which meant that the body beneath that sheet had to be Will’s man. Had he killed either Jones or DeLuca? The news hadn’t reported anything about other bodies found in the area. Maybe one or both of them had been wounded and were now on the run again.
Dread curled around his spine with icy fingers. If they were on the run now, he had no immediate way of finding, let alone tracking them. Worse still, the assassin might have talked. If Jones or DeLuca had his name…
He shoved his chair back and stood, unable to sit still. Grabbing the remaining files from his desk, he left a note for his personal assistant that he was working from home, then rushed down to his BMW and left headquarters. But he didn’t drive home. Not yet.
He had to figure out what to do next. There must be someone in his circle who could help him. Maybe Alan, but…
No. Alan was in deep shit now too. While he didn’t know all the details of their financial venture, his name was on the paperwork. If Will went down, Alan went with him, no matter how ignorant he was about the actual operations Will had ordered.
So what now? Hiring another contractor to hunt down Jones and DeLuca now was a high-risk, low-yield gamble, and time was short. And there was no way he could take care of this personally, no matter how much he was tempted to do just that. He had the skill and know-how. Just not the means to do it.
There has to be a way. I can’t let up now.
He’d invested his entire life savings in the arms deals. His entire financial and political future depended on the income. He couldn’t lose everything he’d worked for over this.
And then there were the people involved overseas. If he was exposed, they would be too, and no amount of money would make them cover his ass by lying. They’d turn on him, one by one. His only other option was his last resort exfil plan: get out of the country and start over.
It would kill him to do it, to leave the homeland he’d risked so much for the chance to make a difference in.
He had enough low-level contacts throughout South America and Europe to make it happen. If it came down to a choice between life in prison or a life outside the U.S, then he would leave the country and reinvent himself elsewhere.
****
Matt woke to the feel of soft fingers trailing over his naked back.
He hummed in his throat and shifted fully onto his stomach to give her more to touch, eyes closed, enjoying the way those sensual fingertips explored his skin.
Briar snuggled closer up against his side, one hand drifting across his shoulders, following the length of his spine. Relaxing and arousing him at the same time. The fingers dipped lower, stroking the very base of his spine and the top of his ass, making his muscles flex and his eyes pop open. Then her lips touched the back of his neck and the warmth of her breath washed across his nape as her tongue trailed softly over his skin. Goose bumps broke out all over his body, his cock stirring to life against the mattress.