If she was anything like Eve, Zane could only imagine. He turned toward Miller and held out his hand. “I owe you, man.”

Miller returned the handshake with a frown. “Yeah, you do. Don’t fucking forget it.”

Zane waited while Eve wrapped an arm around her sister and ushered her up the steps and into the house. She was a whole head taller than Olivia, but the slope of their noses was the same, the shape of their eyes. He could definitely see the family resemblance. Closing the door at their backs, he watched while Eve took the light jacket from her sister and threw it over a bench in the entryway.

“Give me your hat too,” Eve said. “It’s all wet.”

Olivia clamped a hand over the top of her head, and as she did, her shirtsleeve pulled back just enough so Zane could see the multitude of bruises on her arm. “No. My hair’s a mess. It’ll dry.”

Eve twisted her hands together, like she didn’t know what to do, but there was a light in her eyes Zane hadn’t seen in all the time they’d been together, and warmth bloomed in his belly while he watched Eve’s face soften and heard her whisper, “I’m so glad to see you.”

She drew her sister in for a tight hug. Olivia stiffened at the contact and cringed, as if she were in pain, and when she lifted her face and looked his way, Zane saw the bruises around her eyes.

At his side, Miller tensed. “Hey, is Ryder here already? Jacka—”

Olivia eased out of Eve’s arms and looked his way.

Miller closed his mouth and frowned. “Idiot owes me money.”

Zane looked between the two, sensing . . . something.

Eve swiped at her eyes and threaded one arm through her sister’s. “Yeah, he’s here. Zane made dinner. Liv, you’re hungry, right?”

Olivia pulled back on her arm, stopping her sister from drawing her into the main part of the house. “No. What I’d really like is a shower.”

“Sure,” Eve answered, eyes wide. “Yeah. We can do that. Come upstairs with me.”

Instead of letting Eve pull her toward the stairs, Olivia drew her arm out of her sister’s grip. “I don’t need you to coddle me right now, Eve. I know you’re trying to help, but you can’t. I just need . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. Let it out as if it could calm her. “If you just tell me where it is, I can do it alone.”

Surprise rippled over Eve’s features, and then that light Zane had just watched jump to life dimmed. “I-I’m not trying to coddle you.”

Olivia closed her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I just . . .”

Her voice trailed off. And at Zane’s side, he sensed Miller tense all over again.

Helpless. They were all helpless. Only time was going to heal this wound.

Zane stepped up to Eve and squeezed her shoulder. “This place is pretty big, Olivia. I keep getting turned around in here. Why don’t you let Eve show you where the shower is, and you can come down when you’re ready.”

Olivia’s gaze snapped his way, and in her green eyes he saw relief. And thanks. She nodded.

Eve, he could tell, wasn’t sure what to do or say. She twisted her hands together again, swallowed, and then moved for the stairs. “This way.”

When the girls were halfway up the curved staircase, Zane said to Miller, “She’s not okay, is she?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Miller’s jaw tighten. “Would you be after a week with a bunch of psychos?”

No, Zane figured he’d be pretty well fucked up.

“She doesn’t want to be smothered right now,” Miller said, still looking up the staircase. “Tell Eve not to bring up what happened to her.”

Frustration welled inside Zane. He understood that the poor girl had been through a major trauma, but they needed answers. “She might know about—”

From his pocket, Miller pulled a small zip drive and turned his way. “About this?”

Zane’s heart skipped a beat. “Tell me that’s real.”

“Tyrone Smith was locked up in the room next to her. He stashed this in a locker at an athletic club in downtown Seattle and told her where to find it. That’s why she checked herself out of that damn hospital.”

Miller eyed the drive in his hand. “Something tells me this puppy is what everyone’s looking for. Whatever’s on here is worth killing for.”

22

Eve knew she should be focused on what Marley was currently doing with the zip drive at the laptop on the dining room table, but she couldn’t stop looking toward the archway for Olivia.

Her sister had been upstairs for at least a half hour. What if she needed something? What if she was too weak to get out of the shower on her own? When Eve had seen those bruises on her face, she’d nearly come out of her skin. And every second since, she’d fought an overwhelming urge to go up there and help. She just didn’t know how.

Heat brushed her back where she stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while Marley fiddled with the encrypted file at the computer, and Ryder and Miller hovered over her. She felt Zane press up against her, felt his muscular body try to wipe away the chill that had spread over her since Olivia’s arrival, but nothing totally helped. Yes, Olivia was alive, and Eve should be elated over that fact, but all she could see in her mind were those bruises. And she knew if it weren’t for her, her sister wouldn’t be upstairs suffering right this very minute.

“She’s okay,” Zane whispered. “Just give her space.”

His warm breath fanned over her skin, but it didn’t ease the chill either. “I know.”

Both his hands landed against her shoulders, and he pressed his talented fingers into her muscles, slowly kneading at the tension gathering there. Instinct made her want to pull away, but with so many people around, she knew it would only cause more problems she couldn’t handle right now, so she stayed where she was. But she hated that she enjoyed it. Hated even more that while Olivia had been suffering, she’d been screwing around with Zane, reigniting something that never should have been ignited in the first place.

“I think we have it,” Marley announced.

Thankful for the excuse, she pulled out of Zane’s hands and stepped toward the table. One look over Marley’s shoulder at the pages scrolling by sent a hitch straight to her stomach. “That doesn’t look like notes to me.”

“That’s because it’s not.” Elbow braced on the table at his side, Ryder shifted in his seat to look Zane’s way. A grim look passed over his face. “He’d already figured out the damn formula.”

That chill went ice-cold.

Zane moved to her side, his own eyes wide with disbelief. “Holy hell. Do you know how much something like this is worth?”

“More than a deputy director’s salary at the CIA,” Ryder said.

Eve’s stomach tightened. “We still don’t have any proof Roberts is the one behind this.”

“Marley and I did some digging while you two were out gallivanting through the Pacific Northwest.” He reached across his assistant for the folder at her side. Slapping it open on the table, he spread out several papers. Some looked like bank records. Others phone records. And beneath those were a handful of pictures.

Eve stepped forward and shifted one of the papers. The records showed repeated phone calls to and from a number in Seattle, days before the bombing. A number that wasn’t hers. She glanced toward the bank records. It was for an offshore account in the Caymans, under a name she didn’t recognize. But it was the photo at the bottom, the one of Roberts with Smith, obviously discussing something of importance in what looked like a park, that stopped her heart. “H-how did you get all this?”

“Illegally,” Marley answered, turning to face her. “We’ve got connections, but none of this would probably be admissible in any court.” She reached for the picture. “These are ADD Roberts’s phone records. And the bank account belongs to this man. I’m guessing you know him?”

Slowly, Eve nodded. “Smith.”

Ryder crossed his arms over his chest. “Tyrone Smith’s real name is Michael Cross. He’s a spook with the CIA.”

Eve’s mouth fell open. “No. I don’t believe that.”

Marley handed Ryder another file, which he opened and turned so Eve could see the Agency photo attached to Cross’s dossier. It was the same man. “He’s been with the Company for eight years.”

Eve snatched the file out of his hand and scanned his employment record. A sick feeling began in her stomach and inched its way higher. No wonder he’d looked so damn familiar. “Cross and Roberts were in on this together.”

“Looks that way,” Ryder said slowly.

Eve shook her head. “I don’t believe it. ADD Roberts can’t be the mole.” She glanced toward Zane at her side. His grim expression said anything was possible.

“Let me tell you something about Ian Roberts,” Ryder said, drawing her attention again. “He and I went to school together, and even back then, he was a son of a bitch who cared about only two things: power and money. He has the first at the CIA—if he gets the promotion he’s looking for—but that’s a big if when you consider he’s been passed over twice already.”

Eve had no idea Roberts had been passed over for promotion already. But then, she never paid much attention to what went on above her.

“This deal started well over a year ago,” Ryder went on. “Even if he is in line now for the deputy director position, he’s got to either go through with the deal or cover up all the evidence. And when you start looking at the body count in this thing, the last option seems like the simplest answer.”

Occam’s razor. The simplest answer was usually the right one.

Eve’s mind spun as she thought about everything that had happened. But still, in her gut, she didn’t believe Roberts was the one at the root of it all. Though he might be the only person able to shed some light on the truth.

At her side, Zane rested his hands on his hips. “I’m thinking we need a sting operation to catch Roberts in the act.”

From his spot at the end of the table, Miller scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I didn’t catch a whiff of Cross when I went after Wolfe’s sister. Trust me, I was looking. For all we know, the fucker’s already been hard-boiled.”

Marley’s gaze narrowed on the picture. “Finn Tierney’s a dead ringer for Cross. We put Tierney in a hat and sunglasses, from a distance, he could totally pass for Cross.”

“Who’s Tierney?” Eve asked.

“Another operative,” Ryder said. He focused on Marley. “Tierney’s Irish accent will give him away.”

“So we coach him. Plus, Miller has Eve’s cell phone. I bet if we scroll back through the messages, we’ll find Cross’s voice. It should be enough for me to play with. I could create a recording.”

Ryder crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on his lip. “It’s ballsy.”

“Aren’t my ideas always?” She peered up at him over her glasses. “And am I ever wrong?”

He frowned, then brushed his hand over his mouth, still thinking.

“Look,” Marley said, “the longer we wait, the bigger the case the CIA will build against Eve and Zane.”

Several long seconds passed before Ryder looked toward Zane. “What do you both think?”

Zane’s eyes hardened. “Tell me what you need from me. I want to bring this fucker down.”

Ryder’s gaze slid to Eve. “Wolfe?”

“I—”

“Holy shit,” Miller muttered at the end of the table.

Eve’s gaze darted his way, and when she realized he was looking past her, toward the archway that led to the entry, she turned. Then drew in a relieved breath.

Olivia stood in the doorway, her shoulder-length blonde hair tousled around her face from the blow dryer, her skin clean and fresh. And she was wearing the jeans and green V-neck sweater Eve had left for her in the bedroom.

The jeans were a full size too big, and the sweater seemed to swallow her whole, reinforcing how much weight she’d lost in such a short amount of time. But even with the bruises still evident around her right eye, for the first time since she’d walked into this house, she looked like the Olivia Eve remembered.

She went right to her sister and hugged her tight. Told herself not to take it personally when Olivia tensed in her arms. Keeping one arm around her sister’s waist, she ushered Olivia into the room and introduced her to Zane and the others.

Zane shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Officially. Eve’s been worried sick about you.”

Olivia slanted Eve a look, and Eve couldn’t help but remember the last time they’d seen each other, at their dad’s funeral, and the argument that had followed. She gripped her sister’s waist tighter, hoping to bridge the gap, wanting to make up for so many things she’d done wrong.