or funding.” Peter’s voice sounded strained.
“Time restraints have come into play. I got to move up my plans so I can give Lee-lee a more stable environment, like you’re providing for Meg and the baby. I’d hate for something to happen to your sister or your family because we didn’t act. The house of cards needs to crumble.”
“Are you threatening me?” Peter huffed.
“Think of it more as giving you good advice for the safekeeping of those we both care about.”
“What do you want?”
The audio went silent. What on earth was Peter helping Rowley do? Names and funding. What kind of mess had her brother let himself get sucked into? They could only afford one fuck up in the family, and that was her.
“Need I say more?” The man across the table from her shrugged. “I can pick Peter up right now for aiding a terrorist, ship him to Guantanamo Bay and deny we have him.”
This was a lot to take in. Rowley wasn’t an activist? He founded the Coalition of the Living, protested against legislations that protected or was inclusive of the undead. Angry, vocal and militant maybe, but not a terrorist. For years, the feds had been trying to prove he also headed the Army of the Living, a group responsible for nearly all domestic terrorism. She’d always thought Peter handled his cases because he was an old friend and to uphold the First Amendment of the Constitution, Freedom of Speech.
Mr. Homeland Security hadn’t picked up Peter, so he had to believe she could do something the feds couldn’t. Not good for her. “What do you want from me? I won’t help you mount a case against my brother.” Despite the strained relationship between her and Peter since their father’s death, he was all the family she had left.
“You could give Peter a get-out-of-jail-free card for the rock-bottom price of your cooperation.”
“I don’t know anything about any of Rowley’s other affairs.” Hard to believe that Rowley lived a double life. Attacks aimed at undead killed the living too.
“Don’t worry...I’m going to put your best assets to good use. Accept McKie’s advances on you, let him have what he wants. It’s not rocket science. I’ll handle the rest. Occasionally I might need for you to show up unexpectedly. Nothing dangerous.”
“And who are you?” She’d never expected to serve her country on her back.
“Barton. That’s all you need to know. The less you are aware of, the better for you if found out.”
Found out? Given what she’d just learned, she had to consider that all the scary, brutal things written about Rowley in the newspapers were true. Not fabricated stories by the government trying to make him into a monster. As long as all the feds wanted was her on her back, she might survive this. She’d endured his twisted pat down. Maybe she could make it through this. She hadn’t fallen off the turnip truck and was sure, soon enough, the feds would want more and she’d be dead if uncovered.
“See the undead behind you?” He pointed beyond her shoulder.
The bald man with the blue-hued skin in the photo had nobility in his features. “Yes.” What did he have to do with all this?
“That’s Vaihan Louchian, Special Advisor to the President Undead Relations. An Ancient zombie. He moonlights as a CIA agent. We suspect they are planning to take down Peter. McKie is nothing without funding and support or your brother to keep him out of jail. You are going to be Vaihan’s way in, a vulnerable young widow ripe for the seducing by a charismatic and affluent Ancient. And you’ll fall for his pursuit. Call Meg and accept the invitation to the performance of Jean-Baptiste Lully’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. Louchian’s a boxholder at the Kennedy Center. Simple.”
Her country wanted her to take it up the ass with sand thrown on. She preferred lube. Some type of federal bureau pissing contest was underway and she was caught in the middle. Funding. It was always about money. Since Check Point Defense, CPD, was formed to patrol the streets of the country to keep its citizen safe, the CIA and Homeland Security had to fight to keep their operations financed.
“If Rowley finds out I’m seeing an undead, he won’t have anything to do with me.”
“McKie may become angry at first but he will also pursue you harder. Losing you to one of them won’t be an option he’d consider feasible.”
The man never had tried harder than when she was married. “I’m not a fan of Ancients.” She was happy to live and let unlive, but that didn’t mean she wanted to mix.
“You don’t need to be.” He chuckled. “I’m not your type either, but your body enjoyed our encounter. It’s why you’re perfect for the job. Emotionally frigid and physically torrid. You’d have made a great agent.”
The man wished she had enjoyed it. She had shut down to get through it and it would seem he hadn’t even noticed. Her father would be proud that she was finally putting her smarts to good use. Who knew the feds were such pimps? “I might not have a grip on my emotions, but I do have morals.”
“And do those include your brother wasting away at Guantanamo Bay? We are less concerned with your morals than we are with the safety of the president.”
This was way over her head. How was the president’s safety involved? He’d made no mention of this before. Guess she was on a need to know basis.
“I’ll pick up Peter if you can’t see past your own self-righteousness.”
Asshole. “I’ll help you.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to overstep your morals, Ms. Waltz.”
“I’ll do it.” For Peter, she’d do anything. “What if I can’t pull this off? I have no training and no clue what I’m doing. I’m a chef, not some government agent.”
“Technically, now you’re both. From the footage I viewed, you’re a pro in the sack–can’t think of much else female agents do. For Peter’s sake, you’ll find a way to pull this off.” He reclined and set his feet on the table. “I trust you can find your way back to your car? It’s a block back.”
“Yes.” She didn’t give a damn how cold it was. The last thing she wanted was another ride with him. She slipped on her shoes. “How will I contact you?”
“I’ll be in touch as needed.” He jerked his head to the side, gesturing to the exit.
That was cause for concern.
How was she to date this Ancient she knew was trying to ruin her brother? She tied her jacket.
“Oh, and use protection. Wouldn’t want you to catch anything or get hooked.”
What a mess she was in.
Chapter 3
The white business card lay flush on Rowley McKie’s desk, facing him, next to the closed folder.
Dr. Barton DeGruis, PhD
Homeland Security
