Shanice fisted her hands in her lap and stared at her clenched fingers. This was it. The moment of truth. “Because I made a copy.” She looked up at him.
“Where is it?”
She tapped her right temple. “Here.”
13
Cruz looked understandably confused. “What do you mean…?”
“The information is all in my head. The names and the dollar amounts next to them.”
“What were the dollar amounts for?”
Shanice shrugged. “Bribes, maybe? Dennis wrote down each name and a dollar amount next to it. He didn’t tell me what the numbers meant, but I assumed they were bribes.”
“And you memorized all of that? How?”
“Like I told you, my father was a cognitive psychologist,” Shanice replied with another shrug. “He studied the capabilities of the human brain and our capacity to retain information. He believed we could increase that capacity through brain exercises. One of the studies he conducted was how to reduce the risk of dementia. He taught me the same memorization techniques he used with his patients, and the more I did them, the better I became. I trained my brain, the way a runner trains for a marathon or an athlete for a triathlon.”
“That’s incredible. You never forget anything?”
“No, nothing quite so amazing,” Shanice said with a short laugh. “But if I study to remember, I can remember. Lists are really easy to memorize, and the information in the notebook was one long list.”
“We have to get that information to the authorities.”
“To who? Dennis told me not to trust anyone, and I’ve been sitting on this information for two months, unsure what to do. Then I call the FBI field office, and the same day, someone is in my house holding a gun to my head.”
“Which means they either bugged your phone or they have a contact at the field office.”
“I’ve never left my phone unattended. I always have it with me. Which means…”
“There are other ways to intercept your phone calls, but I’ve kept a close watch on you since I arrived in Miami, and I would have noticed if you were being tailed. That could only mean one thing—Logan has someone at the FBI office, which means we can’t trust them, either.”
He’d said what she’d been worried about, and Shanice became overwhelmed by fear. “Dennis warned me. How could I have been so stupid?” she said shakily.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s natural to expect law enforcement to protect us, but they don’t always.”
“No kidding.”
“There’s one more question I have to ask you. You have almost fifty thousand dollars in that backpack. I know, because I entered your house today when you were at work and searched every room for the notebook.”
“You’re really making me feel at ease about your behavior.”
“Believe me, I’m one of the good guys. Where’d you get the money, Shanice?”
“My father, from his insurance policy when he died three years ago. That’s what’s left of my half of one hundred thousand dollars. My mother got the other half. Before I left Texas, I withdrew all of my money, sold my car, and gave away or sold most of my personal items. I wanted to pay cash for everything so I couldn’t get tracked.”
A hint of admiration entered his eyes. “Good girl.”
Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. “There’s something else I should tell you that I completely forgot about. Dennis had a storage unit where I think he might have kept some personal items. I don’t know what exactly, but I’d forgotten about it because he only mentioned the unit in passing once. I don’t know where it is, but I figure it’s in or near Houston.”
“Excellent. Anything else you can think of?”
Shanice fell silent, searching the crevices of her mind for other clues or tidbits of information she could share with Cruz. “No, nothing.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “You did good. Thank you for sharing that information with me.”
“What happens now?”
“You go take a shower. A real one, this time.” He arched an eyebrow and her cheeks reddened. “I’ll make a call. There’s someone who can help, who’s not connected to the FBI.”
“Who?”
“My direct supervisor at the agency I work for. Let me handle this part.”
“But what if he’s involved?”
“He’s not, I promise you. But I won’t divulge more information than I have to.”
He must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he edged the chair closer and cupped her left cheek with a warm palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Do you believe me?”
Looking into his eyes at close range, she didn’t doubt for one second that he would do whatever he needed to do to protect her. She was confident Cruz would act as a barrier between her and the people trying to do her physical harm. Cruz was vastly different from Vicente. Vicente was nice and sweet. This man—this man was dangerous. With him on her side, the enemy didn’t stand a chance.
“I believe you,” she whispered.
“Good.” His thumb brushed her cheek, and she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes in relief. She was no longer alone and didn’t have to carry the burden of what Dennis had shared with her by herself.
When she opened her eyes again, Cruz was looking at her in a different way. His eyes had lowered to her lips, and her breath hitched. Their eyes met, and the tension in the room kicked up to a scorching level.
As she continued to look at him, his expression became shuttered and he jerked back as if she’d burned him, squashing the moment of tension. Yet she continued to feel the burden of the heat between them even after he stood abruptly and shoved the chair under the desk.
He walked over to the closet and pulled out a white T-shirt that was folded on top of a shelf. He handed the garment to her without making eye contact. “You can sleep in this. Go take your shower, and I’ll make my call.”
Shanice took the soft cotton shirt and picked up her backpack. She carried everything into the bathroom and didn’t lock the door this time, instead leaning back against it.
The events of the night had been a temporary distraction, but nothing had changed—she still wanted him, more now that this very capable, in-control man had emerged.
Who was going to protect her against him—and what he would assuredly do to her heart?
What the hell was wrong with him?
He’d completed this type of assignment many times before. Get close, find out what she knows, and complete the mission. Not so easy this time around. Shanice was in his blood, under his skin.
Aggravated, Cruz tended to his cuts with the first-aid kit he had stashed under the kitchen sink. He dabbed alcohol on the sliced skin on his neck and shoulder and placed a Band-Aid on the busted knuckle of his right hand.
Then he set about to do what he promised. Reaching under the desk, he yanked on the encrypted phone he had taped to the bottom. Making a call to another encrypted phone meant no one could listen in or intercept the conversation.
He powered on the device and started dialing. He had to get a message to Miles and let him know what was going on. The mission he’d been sent to perform was not exactly what they thought it was. He was almost done dialing the number when he paused, thumb hovering over the eighth digit.