I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel at all. “Just worried about the timing of all this. Bebe can’t let that call connect. And I hope to fuck Barrett’s close by so we can move fast to rescue her.”
“We?” he asks with his eyebrows rising.
“Yeah… we,” I reply emphatically.
“You were just shot,” he says with quiet concern. “I think it’s best—”
“—for you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” I growl. “I’m going, and that’s that.”
Saint knows when to back down from an unwinnable fight. Smiling, he raises his hands up in surrender. “Understood. But you’re taking this very personally.”
“Barrett was under my watch,” I say. “Of course it’s personal.”
“Shouldn’t be that personal,” he points out.
“What do you mean?”
Saint moves in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “I’m just saying… you look more than a little worried. In fact, you don’t look good at all. I’m thinking that’s got little to do with your gunshot wounds and everything to do with a brainy, sexy scientist.”
I blink in surprise. How can he tell there’s something deeper in my underlying concern? I felt like I’d been keeping things pretty close to the vest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter. And wait a minute… had he just called Barrett “sexy”? What the fuck?
I glare, but he’s not buying it. In fact, he smiles in a way that tells me he understands more than I’d ever give him credit for.
“You fell for her, didn’t you?” he murmurs.
I want to scream in denial, but I can’t. Why would I ever deny someone as amazing and wonderful as Barrett?
“Yeah… I fell for her,” I admit, rubbing hard at the back of my neck. Then I glance over at Kynan where he watches Carnes as he’s wired up. “Think he knows?”
Saint grins. “Oh yeah… it’s pretty obvious.”
“I’ll hand in my resignation after we rescue Barrett,” I mutter, knowing there will be consequences.
Pulling his chin inward, Saint asks, “Whatever the fuck for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I frown. “I fraternized with a client.”
Saint snorts. “First… if what you were doing was ‘fraternizing,’ then dude… you got to work on your moves. Second… did it compromise Barrett’s safety?”
“No,” I admit. “If anything, I gave it more effort, and it pisses me off it still wasn’t good enough. I let her get taken on my watch, and I’m not sure if I even deserve her.”
“Well, that’s something between the two of you. I suggest we rescue her first, then you can worry about that.”
“Agreed,” I reply stiffly, putting my head back in game mode.
“We’re ready,” Kynan says as Carnes stands from his chair. He looks like he’s about to throw up. Kynan turns to one of the Secret Service agents. “Can you get the president?”
The agent nods in acknowledgment, pivots on his heel, and leaves.
Kynan moves to stand in front of Carnes, dipping his head to get closer to him. “You good on how to play this?”
Carnes swallows hard and nods.
“Good. You do this right and help us recover Barrett safely, and that will go a long way to help you out of this shirt storm you’ve landed yourself in.”
Carnes nods again.
Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to him after this. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
“Let’s do it, then,” Kynan says, giving Carnes a tiny shove toward the door.
♦
Carnes is in Scavino’s office, waiting patiently for him to finish a phone call. We stationed four FBI agents outside the office, prepared to swoop in and arrest him as soon as the call connects. It could happen within seconds of Carnes leaving or it might never happen. It’s a risk we’re taking with this path, but Bebe’s also working hard on Scavino’s accounts, so hopefully something will pan out there if this doesn’t work.
The rest of the agents and the Jameson crew are still in the conference room, gathered around some hi-def speakers to listen in. Bebe is poised over her laptop, fingers ready to do whatever magic she needs to identify and intercept the call we hope Scavino will make.
We all go on high alert when Scavino’s voice comes across the speaker, wrapping up his phone call. We can’t see what’s going on, but based on Scavino’s tone of impatience, I can imagine he’s frowning across his desk at Carnes.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Carnes?” Scavino asks briskly, making it clear he doesn’t really have the time.
“I think they’re on to us,” Carnes says, and his voice is high pitched and squeaky. He sounds incredibly nervous, but that actually works in this case.
“On to us?” Scavino replies vaguely.
As instructed, Carnes doesn’t withhold details, making it clear exactly what’s at stake since we’re recording this. “I just had a meeting with some attorneys at DOJ. They’re investigating what they term as ‘suspicious’ activity on the West Wing servers, and they wanted to examine my computer.”
“Did you let them?” Scavino asks, his tone now harsh but concerned. No one wants the Department of Justice sniffing around illegal, treasonous activity.
“They had a warrant,” Carnes whines in response.
“Shit,” Scavino growls, and I can only imagine the panic in his expression. He knows if they have Carnes’ computer, they will find the tracking code that would search out the president’s niece where she was hidden in the Caribbean.
It could go one of two ways at this point. Scavino could be suspicious and grill Carnes about this more. If he were smart, he would demand more details as to the types of questions DOJ supposedly asked. If he did, he’d probably sniff out this was a sting operation pretty soon because Carnes isn’t particularly good at this stuff.
Or Scavino can panic and react, which seems to be the route he chooses.
“Get out of my office,” Scavino orders Carnes.
“Who are you calling, sir?” Carnes asks, and I have to give the fuckwad credit… that’s an important alert to us that we didn’t ask him to do. Without eyes inside the room, we have to rely solely on Bebe to track and hack the phone call from Scavino. Not only is she going to identify the person to whom the call is going, but she’s also going to block the incoming number so the recipient doesn’t know who’s calling. It might mean the person on the end won’t answer if an identifiable number or contact isn’t shown on screen, but it’s a chance we’re going to have to take. We can’t give this person any indication anything is wrong.
Carnes just gave us a heads-up Scavino has a phone in hand, ready to make a call.
Bebe moves quickly, tapping on her keyboard.
“I’m calling none of your damn business,” Scavino barks, and I can imagine him pointing at his door. “Now… get out. And I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut. I’ll handle all of this.”
“Yes, sir,” Carnes says, the relief in his voice a little too dramatized. I hope it doesn’t make him suspicious.