said the words with such hollow calm that he believed her, and even felt a stir of compassion. He, too, had seen what happened to people who wound up on the wrong side of Tiberius. It wasn’t pretty.
“Look,” he said, “I can sympathize to a degree. If I had a sister I’d probably feel the same way. But all the good intentions in the world don’t change the fact that you went to the island willingly.” His voice turned hard. “I might have to accept this deal, but I’ll be damned if I let you withhold valuable information in the hopes of saving your sister. Getting our hands on—or destroying—the weapon you created is our first priority. Bringing Tiberius down is our second. I’m sorry, but recovering information that might or might not cure your sister has to come behind both of those things on my priority list.”
He expected her to argue fiercely. Instead, she inclined her head ever so slightly. “I know.” She blew out a breath and pressed her palm to her stomach beneath the borrowed sweatshirt. “In my head I know all that. I even told myself it would be okay if I died escaping, and Celeste died because I didn’t make it out and get the cure to her, as long as Tiberius couldn’t use my work the way he wants to.” She paused, then shook her head. “The thing is, I’m not that person. Maybe it makes me selfish or spoiled, but I’m not willing to make that sacrifice.” She fixed John with a look. “It’s up to you, big guy. You take what I’m willing to give you and run with it, or I’m out of here the first chance I get, and then Celeste and I are off the radar.”
He should’ve scoffed at the threat, but damned if he didn’t think she could do it. She’d managed to lock down her work—though he had only her word on that one—and get off Rocky Cliff Island herself. Who was to say she couldn’t grab her sister and disappear off the FBI’s radar, as well?
His level of respect for her, which was already far too high considering they were on opposite sides of this particular issue, inched up another notch.
“Write up your terms.” He gestured to the empty office. “I’ll e-mail the info to my people and get the honchos to sign off on the deal.” He fixed Sydney with a look. “Then you’re going to tell me everything.”
She turned away, but then paused and looked back, and her eyes were dark with regret. “We’re on the same side, you know. I want Tiberius put away just as much as you do.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.
Steeling himself against an unexpected—and unwelcome—surge of warmth, he said, “It doesn’t matter whether we like each other or not, Ms. Westlake. I have something you want, you have something I want. Let’s do the deal and take down Tiberius before he sells your virus to the wrong people and they use it to bring down CODIS. Once we’ve done that, you can get on with your life and I can get on with the next case. It’s as simple as that.”
But as he turned away, effectively ending the conversation, he knew damn well that none of this was going to be the slightest bit simple.
NERVES JANGLING in her stomach, Sydney followed her lawyer, Emily Breslow, into the office Sharpe had indicated.
She hated how her conversation with the agent had gone, hated having to play this game, but what other choice did she have?
“It’s like I always say,” Emily began, waving her to one of the two chairs, which faced each other across a cluttered desk in the untidy office, “if you have to deal with the Feds, it helps to deal with a cute one.”
That startled a snort out of Sydney. Her new lawyer was nothing like she’d expected. Tom Dykstra, the guy in Bethesda she’d used to set up a living trust for Celeste, had fit her sober, cynical, suited-up image of a lawyer. Emily, not so much. Though she wore a suit, it was anything but sober, and even though it was the middle of the night—closing in on morning—she was wide-awake, and her eyes held a glint of humor, as though she might laugh at any moment.
She was also, according to Sydney’s Maryland-based shark of a lawyer, very good at her job. And she had a point about it being a side bonus to work with a cute Fed. The more time Sydney spent in the presence of John Sharpe, the more interesting he was getting.
“Agent Sharpe seems very…focused,” Sydney said finally, though the word seemed entirely inadequate in describing the handsome, charismatic—and dangerous—man she’d gotten herself tangled up with.
“He’d have to be.” Emily dipped into her briefcase and pulled out a thin folder. “Here, sign this. Standard firm contract, yadda, yadda.” While Sydney scanned the document, Emily continued, “I called in a few favors on the way over and got the scoop on Sharpe—what there is of it, anyway. He’s thirty-five, no siblings, parents living abroad. The FBI recruited him straight out of Georgia Tech, where he was a star on both the football team and the chess club. Go figure.”
When the words on the page blurred into legalese, Sydney blinked, trying to focus on the contract. Good business practice demanded that she read and dissect it line by line, but expediency—and a lack of other options—had her signing on the dotted line of duplicate copies after only a quick skim of the document.
Besides, even though she knew it shouldn’t matter, she wanted to hear the rest of the story. “So he was a brainy jock,” she said, prompting Emily.
“Still is, from the looks of it,” the older woman said, but more with the air of a connoisseur than someone who wanted him for herself. She continued, “He made one of the quickest rises through the ranks ever seen, and is still fairly young to be heading up a unit. He has the reputation of being dedicated and driven, even ruthless sometimes, but everyone I talked to said that his word is good. He doesn’t make a promise he doesn’t intend to keep.”
“In other words, you think I can trust him.”
“Yes and no.” The lawyer took one of the copies of the signed contract and tucked it into her briefcase, leaving the other in front of Sydney. “His team has an excellent record of bringing down major criminals, and their conviction record is solid. I think you can trust him to follow whatever deal he signs off on to the letter. However, that’s the key—he’ll do exactly what he’s promised, and no more. Watch your back and don’t assume anything about him or his motivations. You heard him out there. His job is to bring down Tiberius, not protect your work…and maybe not even protect you, if you get in his way.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sydney said, pressing a hand to her suddenly queasy stomach. “And may I say that I’m blown away by how much you managed to get on him in such a short time frame.”
The lawyer grinned, and for the first time Sydney saw a flash of steel beneath the pleasant exterior. “Don’t worry about the overtime. You’re paying through the nose for my services.”
“I’m sure I am,” Sydney murmured, suddenly realizing how oddly normal it felt to be talking with another woman, someone who wasn’t a guard or cook, or one of Tiberius’s enforcers, or the boss himself. This was possibly the least normal situation she’d ever found herself in, yet the act of speaking with Emily felt so normal, it was nearly enough to bring her to tears, driving home how much she’d left behind when she left for Rocky Cliff Island, how much more she’d lost than she’d planned on or even realized.
How much more she might yet lose.
“Okay, that was a fun bit of get-to-know-the-players, but we have work to do.”
