He greeted them. “Shield. Ms. Wagner.”
Ryden caught the curious way he addressed Harper, but now wasn’t the time for explanations. Probably a nickname he’d given her, she guessed. Appropriate for a bodyguard.
An attractive young blond woman in her late twenties was next into the van. She was dressed all in black—boots, trousers, and a turtleneck sweater. Behind her, another man in a suit, this one also in his sixties, maybe younger. With his copper-colored crew cut, streaked with gray, chiseled features, and lean, muscular physique, he looked like a career soldier out of uniform.
The trio took the bench seat opposite and the van got under way.
“Both men are my employers,” Harper said, avoiding their names. “Lynx is a colleague.”
The man with the light hair, sitting in the middle, seemed preoccupied, his focus entirely on either his watch or the road ahead. His face was tight with worry and impatience.
The other two practically gawked at Ryden.
“TQ must’ve spent a fortune on your transformation,” Lynx said to her.
“I guess.” Ryden looked away, her cheeks warming from the intense scrutiny. “I never cared to ask.”
“Dead ringer,” the guy with red hair said. “Even your voice is the same.”
“We have to drop her off at the Washington safe house,” Harper said.
“I don’t know about that,” he replied. “Not that TQ is likely to run, but I don’t want to give her too much thinking time.”
“Who knows what that sick mind will come up with,” Lynx said.
Ryden would probably be better off in a safe house, but for some reason, she felt more secure staying close to Harper. “I don’t want to cause more problems than I already have. If you think I can wait for you in the van, that’s what I’ll do.”
“We need to get to Jaclyn ASAP.” The light-haired man checked his watch again.
“What’s the plan?” Harper asked.
“We threaten to destroy her, make public who she is, if she doesn’t give us Jack.” The blond woman—Lynx—who’d initially looked like a model on a photo shoot or something, transformed before Ryden’s eyes as she spoke about the woman who’d helped them. Her tone of voice, steely determination, and rigid posture—she looked coiled tight and ready to pounce—were sure signs of her underlying strength and lethal capabilities. “If she has so much as touched a hair on my woman’s head—”
“I will kill her with my own hands,” the fair-haired man said.
So Lynx had a thing for the mystery woman, Ryden realized. And the man in the middle had some vested personal interest in her as well, apparently, judging from his vehement response.
“I wouldn’t trust her.” Ryden took a chance and spoke. “She’s…she’s the deadliest-looking predator I’ve ever seen, and that’s including the Animal Planet channel.”
“We know better than to trust her, Ms. Wagner,” the light-haired man said seriously. He looked at Harper. “Shield, you’ll get your orders when we reach our destination.”
“I don’t mean to put anyone down, and I’ll be the first to admit I owe Harding my life, but what’s this really all about?” Harper asked him. “She faked her death years ago to join the other side and, from what I understand, wants nothing to do with us. Yet, you not only let her live when treason is punishable by death, but you also come running to save her.”
Valid question, Ryden thought. Although this Jack woman had saved both their lives, something was definitely very dangerous about her.
“It’s complicated,” Lynx replied, while the fair-haired man stared at the wall behind them, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the edge of the seat. The closer they got to their destination, the more his anxiety showed in his face and body language.
Harper sighed. “Either way, I’m here to get her back, and for the record, I like her.”
The man in the middle—obviously the guy in charge—sure was acting strange, Ryden thought as she studied his face. He certainly didn’t seem like the average employer worried about a subordinate. More like a guy in a hospital waiting room, fretting about the condition of a loved one.
“Mister…” Ryden looked at him until he turned to face her.
“Yes?” His eyes met hers.
“Jack is a very strong woman.” Ryden hoped that would help him relax. Though she didn’t know him, or what the connection was between him and the woman they were headed to rescue, she felt for the big man. His paternal behavior indicated he clearly cared about Jack.
He didn’t reply, and they drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension so palpable Ryden could hardly breathe.
Traffic was still light in the heart of the capital when they reached their destination and the driver parked at the curb. He remained behind the wheel while the others got out, all but Harper, who hunched down in front of Ryden.
“You’ll be fine here,” Harper said. “Do what the driver says, and do not leave the van unless you’re told to.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t know what they want me to do, but I will be back for you.”
“Just…be safe.”
“Will do.” Harper smiled and Ryden’s heart melted. “Later, then.” She touched Ryden’s knee.
“Harper?”
“Ye—”
Ryden grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Let’s go, Shield,” one of the men yelled from outside.
“Be careful.” Ryden tried to sound strong.
Chapter Thirty-seven
TQ would be damned if she’d show weakness or worry. Pierce was formidable, certainly. She had never been put in a situation as tenuous as this, and she hated the unfamiliar loss of absolute control. But she’d come to terms with the realization that she’d have to get this man whatever he wanted to return to her life. And if, for any reason, she couldn’t recover what he’d come for and reach a deal, she had a contingency plan in place.
She sat at her desk, surrounded by four guards—one at each corner of the room—and tapped her long fingernails on the polished surface as she waited. The men had instructions to shoot Pierce on the spot should he try to kill her. She could accept being unveiled to the world, but she would not accept anyone else’s terms concerning her demise. If worse came to worst and she had to dispose of Pierce, she’d have to leave the country tonight. Although not ideal, it was a way out.
The phone rang and she took her time answering. Her game, her rules, because in the end, it was always her game.
“Madam, your guest has—”
“Let him in and send him up.” She disconnected and turned to the guard nearest the entrance. “Frisk him at the door.”
While she waited, she pulled a mirror from the desk drawer and applied bright-red lipstick, something she bothered with only on those rare occasions she met a client in person. Then she smoothed a hand over her hair, put the mirror away, and sat back in her huge leather chair. She chose the appropriate confident smile when she heard the knock. “Come in.”
“Mr. Pierce,” her assistant announced as she showed him in.
The guard she’d appointed walked up to Pierce, and like someone who knew the drill, he lifted his arms and patiently waited until her man checked him over.