She swiped at her eyes, then blinked. “That was a cheap shot.”
“Did it work?”
She studied him, crossing her arms, feet apart, ready for battle. “Okay, Mr. Hotshot Spy Guy, what would you do? According to Reid, the FBI task force has no leads. Even when only Reid and Gil knew my location, Archimedes found me. He killed Gil and left me a message—”
“What message?” Noah interrupted. “Reid didn’t mention a message.”
“He wants me to be his. It was painted on my wall. In Gil’s blood.”
Her expression had frozen like stone, but Noah could see the effort in maintaining control. First the muscle at the base of her neck twitched, then her teeth bit into her lip. Finally, her shoulders slumped as if the energy required to keep up the front collapsed.
“No...no one else will d-die—” her voice broke “—because of me.”
Here was a glimpse of the woman who cared, the woman Jack had fallen for, who wore her emotions for all to see. She might try to put up walls, be a cold-blooded vigilante, but even Lyssa couldn’t keep her soft heart solid all the time.
Noah scratched his chin in resignation, the stubbly new beard not quite grown in yet. He’d thought he’d be heading back to Afghanistan before this call. “If I put you in a safe house, you won’t stay, will you?”
“He’d find me,” she said flatly. “So, what’s the point?”
Noah slipped his secure phone from his pocket. “If we do this, we need help. Right now Archimedes has the upper hand. We don’t know who’s giving him information or how he’s getting it.”
Lyssa grabbed his arm. “I told you. There’s a leak.”
“I’m not calling WitSec or even the higher-ups in the Justice Department,” he assured her. “Covert Technology Confidential is different. CTC isn’t government. Highly paid, highly screened. I’ve put my life in their hands more than once.”
She tugged at a gold chain around her neck. “I don’t know...”
“Lyssa, look at me.”
He wanted to see her face. He had to convince her.
She lifted her chin and those green eyes met his gaze with an unflinching challenge.
“I’m good at what I do, Lyssa. So are the people I work with. We can find Archimedes. We can take him.” He clasped her shoulders, slid his hands to her elbows, down her arms, then squeezed her ice-cold fingers. “Jack trusted me. So can you.”
She swallowed, and the gulp echoed between them. She looked down at the bag holding her weapon. One breath. Two breaths.
Had he persuaded her? He had this one chance. If she didn’t choose to go with him, he’d have to do something he really didn’t want to do—take her to the safe house against her will. He prayed she’d put her faith in him.
“Jack trusted you,” she said finally. “I’ll give you a chance, but if I get bad vibes, I won’t say goodbye. I’ll just disappear.”
“And I’ll be chasing after you until this is over.”
Noah let one of Lyssa’s hands go and dialed a number on the cell phone.
“Falcon?” the familiar voice answered through the phone. “Surprised to hear from you.”
Ransom Grainger, the head of CTC—formerly known as Hunter Graham, formerly known as Clay Griffin and a dozen other aliases—used Noah’s code name casually.
“Pretty good,” Noah said. “How’d you know it was me. This phone is secure.”
“Not from Zane.” Grainger chuckled. “It’s a good thing he’s on our side.... What are you doing in Chicago?”
“I need a favor,” Noah said, ignoring further proof of CTC’s tracking prowess. He’d need every advantage. “It’s a big one.”
“Name it.”
Lyssa pulled from his grip. Noah tried not to consider the loss of her touch. When she tugged at her bag, he slid it from his shoulder. She walked across the alley, crouched down and rummaged through her purse. She didn’t fool Noah. She listened intently to every word he said. One misstep and she’d take off.
“I need a full team. We may have to tap into WitSec. Maybe even an FBI task force.”
Grainger let out a low whistle. “I’ve got an insider—”
“No good. I have it from a top-notch source there’s a leak.”
A low whistle escaped from Grainger. “That’ll be harder,” he said, “but it can be done. You know better than anyone how to circumvent—”
“It’s Archimedes.”
At the mention of the serial killer’s name, Lyssa’s fingers fumbled momentarily at the duffel’s zipper, then she shook it off. She yanked a sheath from the bag, followed by a knife. Noah couldn’t take his eyes off her. With practiced moves she attached the weapon to her ankle. God, she had guts.
Grainger went silent. “What are you into, Noah? That guy makes some of our intelligence operatives look like amateurs.”
“Long story. I’m standing across the alley from the only woman to survive an attack by Archimedes. She needs help. He’s found her. Again.”
Lyssa didn’t pause this time. She removed her ragged coat, slipped on a shoulder holster and fitted the oversize garment over the weapon. Yeah, she definitely knew her way around a firearm.
He understood the move. She’d decided to give him a bit of room, but she wasn’t trusting anyone with her safety—not him, not CTC. She had armed herself with easy access to the .45 and her knife.
“What do you need?” Grainger asked. “Safe house?”
“She wants to track him down and eliminate him.” Noah lowered his voice. “She wants to be bait.”
The sound of drumming fingertips filtered through the phone. “It’s risky.”
“I know.” Noah said. “If you can’t do it—”
“I didn’t say that. If half of the murders they’ve assigned to him are true, he needs exterminating. I’ll pull Rafe, Zane and Elijah.” Grainger paused and Noah could almost hear the man he had once called partner thinking through every conversation they’d ever had. “She must be important.”
Noah’s memories of a flag-draped coffin lingered in his mind, of the woman broken and sobbing, struggling to remain standing. No comparison to the warrior she had become. “She is.”
“Expect the team in a few hours at Chicago Executive Airport. Elijah will want a firsthand look at the crime scene.” Grainger let out a long, slow breath. “You want this done so the feds can prosecute?”
“Not
