Chapter Four
“So tell me how I can help.” Noah Carter lifted his glass, then took a sip of beer. “Ryan didn’t tell me a thing other than that you might reach out. Anderson told me a bit more.”
“Did he?”
Noah shrugged. “Ryan told me you were coming and might need tech. It wasn’t for an SSA mission, so I called Anderson. Asked if he knew you and what was up.”
“Huh,” Winston said.
“Impressed or annoyed?” Noah’s question was highlighted by a grin.
“Of all the possibilities, you pulled the SOC out of your ass? I guess that makes me impressed.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to figure.”
“Wasn’t it?”
The other man leaned back, his clean-shaven face amused. “Now you’re just fishing for trade secrets. But that’s fair. You’re in the trade, after all.” He polished off the rest of his beer and signaled to the waitress for another round. “You work for Stark Security, and I happen to know that the SSA has a good relationship with not only Anderson Seagrave, but with the SOC in general.”
Winston nodded. That was true. Not only had he and Emma both worked for the covert government agency, but so had Denny’s husband Mason and Denny herself. It was worthwhile work, that was for damn sure, but they’d all paid harsh prices for their time-served.
“Go on,” he urged.
Noah pulled a french fry out of the basket they were sharing. They’d met at The Fix on Sixth, a local bar on Austin’s Sixth Street, a short walk from both Noah’s office and the Stark Century Hotel where, according to the intel, Bartlett had checked in about an hour before.
“Ryan wouldn’t breach confidence. If he suggested you reach out to me, it was because he had authority. And the only covert agency that Ryan knows I work with is the SOC.”
“But it’s not the only covert agency you work with,” Winston said, amused.
“What’s that parable? If you build it, they will come. I’ve got a long list of comers at my door. And so long as neither me nor Damien have an issue with their particular way of doing business, all currency is equal.”
“That’s very capitalist of you.”
Noah laughed. “Yeah? My wife says it’s vanity. Seeding my tech out into the world. Maybe, but my products still aren’t as far reaching as her songs.”
“I’ve got all her albums,” Winston admitted. “She’s talented.”
Noah’s smiled with such pride it made Winston’s heart ache. “She really is.”
“From what I’m learning, so are you. Maybe more so than Ryan intimated. Tell me the rest of it.”
The waitress arrived with their second round, and Noah lifted his in a toast. Winston did the same as Noah said, “Like Carmac the Magnificent, I will reveal all I know about you and yours.”
“I’m breathless with anticipation. What else did Anderson tell you? And what have you figured out on your own?”
“Only that your mission was important. You’re here to recover evidence from a potential witness named Bartlett and possibly stop a contract killer.”
“That about sums it up.”
“The killer’s a woman, I’m guessing. Ex-girlfriend or partner. Maybe wife. Definitely someone you used to sleep with.”
Winston managed not to choke on his drink. “Christ, Noah. You really do deserve that turban.”
“Nah. It’s just basic logic.” He grinned, full of self-confidence. Well-deserved, apparently. “First off, the SOC has a branch office in Austin. There’s no shortage of agents and yet they sent you all the way from LA. Second, it’s just you. Not a team, which suggests to me that it’s either a highly confidential assignment or they want her taken alive. Or both.”
He met Winston’s eyes, as if to say how am I doing so far?
“Go on.”
“I think it’s fair to assume she’s dangerous, and that means they sent you—as opposed to some other solo SOC operative—because there’s a high likelihood that she’ll keep you alive, whereas with someone else, she’ll go balls to the wall to escape.
“In other words,” he continued, in the tone of someone taking a sweeping bow, “they’re banking that because of either guilt or nostalgia that she’ll either decide to come quietly or she’ll falter. Either way, you’re the best man for the job.” He leaned back. “So, how’d I do?”
“Hunter told me you were a tech genius. Seems to me he could have left out the tech part.”
Noah laughed. “Appreciate the compliment.” His brow furrowed. “So who is she to you? Former partner?”
“Something like that,” Winston admitted, not sure why he was opening up to this near-stranger. “She was my wife.”
“Christ.”
Winston shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, when, of course, it was everything. “Once upon a time, she was my world, and I thought I was hers. Apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
Noah nodded slowly, and a shadow seemed to cross his face as he said, “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve seen a lot. Experienced a lot. And the only thing I’m certain of is that things are often not what they seem.” He took a long swallow of beer. “Just food for thought.”
Winston thought back to the video that Seagrave had shown him, wishing that what Noah just said would turn out to be true, but at the same time certain that it wouldn’t.
“So, tell me what I can do for you specifically. I’m happy to load up your saddlebags with tech, but I need a sense of what you need.”
“For one thing you can get me access to Bartlett’s room.”
“Well, hell,” Noah said. “I was hoping for a challenge.” He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a card key. “I thought you might ask that. He’s in three-twelve. That’s a master. Do me a favor and don’t bother any other guests. I’d rather not have to explain to Mr. Stark.”
“Done,” Winston promised.
“You could nab him now, you know.”
Winston nodded. “But that increases the risk that I won’t get the woman. The SOC wants them both.” And he wanted Linda.
“Makes sense. You’ll be interested to know he has a table in the bar booked for six-fifteen. A two-top.”
“Does he? That is interesting.”
“I thought it might be. Either it’s a business meeting, or he has a date. Either way, I bet it’s your girl.”
Winston nodded. He’d been thinking the exact same thing. Based on what Seagrave said, the information on that laptop had significant value. Bartlett was cooperating with the government—at least he appeared to be. But if he was the kind of guy who did business with the Horace McNallys and Billy Hawthornes of the world, then he was undoubtedly the kind of man who would sell information for his own profit before he let the government wring him dry for free.
“Want me to work this with you?” Noah asked. “Not in person, obviously, but I can be on comms.”
Winston considered. There was some comfort in knowing someone would have his back, ready to send the cavalry in if everything went horribly wrong. But he shook his head. For one, the SOC wanted this to be a solo operation—his solo operation. More importantly, he didn’t want his hands tied. Comms meant accountability. And from the moment he’d learned the truth about Linda’s betrayal, something dark inside of him had reared its head. He wanted time alone with her. To question her without an audience. To learn, once and for all, what had gone wrong between them.