Текст книги "Taken by Midnight"
Автор книги: Lara Adrian
Соавторы: Lara Adrian
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
CHAPTER
Seventeen
Roughly an hour before dawn, Brock arrived back at the compound alone. He hated like hell to leave a patrol partner behind after a mission, but after a night of searching the city for Chase and coming up empty, he didn’t see where he had much choice. Wherever Chase had run following his altercation with the Enforcement Agent earlier that night, he clearly didn’t want to be found. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone AWOL following patrols, but that didn’t make his disappearance sit any better with Brock.
Concern for an MIA brother-in-arms hadn’t put him in the best of moods as he opened the door to his shared quarters with Hunter and stepped inside the quiet, lightless room. At home in the dark, his vision sharper here than in the light, Brock peeled off his leather coat and draped it on the sofa before continuing on through the living area to the adjacent bunk room.
The place was so dark and silent, he’d assumed his roommate hadn’t yet come in himself—until he entered the bedroom and got an immediate eyeful of full-body Gen One glyphs tracking the naked male from neck to toe.
“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered, averting his gaze from the unexpected, and totally unwanted, full-frontal glimpse at his roomie. “What the hell, man?”
Hunter stood with his powerful back resting against the far wall, eyes closed. He was as still as a statue, breathing almost imperceptibly, his thickly muscled arms hanging loose at his sides. Although his lids flicked open at Brock’s interruption, the immense, unreadable male didn’t appear startled or even remotely disturbed. “I was sleeping,” he said matter-of-factly. “I am rested now.”
“Good,” Brock drawled, shaking his head as he gave the naked warrior his back. “How about you put some damn clothes on? I just learned things about you that I really didn’t need to know.”
“My sleep is more effective without clothing to confine me” came the level reply.
Brock snorted. “Yeah, well, so is mine, but I doubt you’d appreciate looking at my bare ass—or anything else—any more than I want to see yours. Jesus, cover that shit up, will you?”
Shaking his head, Brock unfastened his weapons belt and dropped it onto one of the two undisturbed beds. He thought back to Hunter’s lack of response when initially asked about which of the bunks belonged to him and shot a glance over his shoulder at the Gen One, who was stepping into a pair of loose sweatpants.
The Breed male who’d been born and bred to be a killing machine for Dragos. An individual raised in utter solitude, deprived of contact or companionship, except for the supervision of the Minion handler who had been assigned to him.
Suddenly he understood why Hunter hadn’t cared less which bed he claimed.
“You always sleep like that?” he asked, gesturing to the place where Hunter had been standing.
The uncanny Gen One gave a vague shrug. “Occasionally on the floor.”
“Sure as hell can’t be comfortable.”
“Comfort serves no purpose. The need for it only implies and fortifies weakness.”
Brock absorbed the flat statement, then swore under his breath. “What did Dragos and those other bastards do to you all those years you served them?”
Unblinking golden eyes met his scowl through the darkness. “They made me strong.”
Brock nodded solemnly, thinking about the ruthless upbringing and discipline that was all Hunter knew. “Strong enough to take them down.”
“Every last one of them,” Hunter replied, zero inflection, yet the promise was as sharp as any blade.
“You want revenge for what they did to you?”
Hunter’s head slowly pivoted in denial. “Justice,” he said, “for what they’ve done to those unable to fight back.”
Brock stood there for a long moment, understanding the cold determination that emanated from the other male. He shared that need for justice, and like Hunter—like any one of the warriors pledged in service to the Order—he would not rest until Dragos and everyone loyal to his insane mission was eliminated.
“You honor us well,” he said, a phrase the Breed reserved for only the closest of kin or the solemnest of events. “The Order is fortunate to have you on our side.”
Hunter seemed taken aback, though whether by the praise itself or the bond it implied, Brock couldn’t be sure. A flicker of uncertainty shot through the golden gaze, and when Brock reached out to clap his hand against Hunter’s shoulder, the Gen One drew away, dodging the contact as though it might burn him.
He didn’t explain the flinching reaction, nor did Brock press him to, even though the question begged an answer. “All right, I’m outta here. I need to check in with Gideon about something.”
Hunter stared at him. “You’re worried about your female?”
“Should I be?” Brock meant to correct the reference about Jenna being his, but he was too busy dealing with the blood that had suddenly gone a bit cold in his veins. “Is she okay? Tell me what’s going on. Did anything happen to her while I was out on patrol?”
“I am not aware of any physical issues with the human,” Hunter said, maddening in his calm. “I was referring to her inquiry into TerraGlobal.”
“TerraGlobal,” Brock repeated, dread sitting in his gut. “That’s one of Dragos’s holdings.”
“Correct.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brock murmured. “You’re saying she contacted them somehow?”
Hunter gave a faint shake of his head. “She sent an email to someone she knows in Alaska—a federal agent, who ran a data search for her on TerraGlobal. An FBI unit in New York City responded to the inquiry. They are aware of TerraGlobal, and have agreed to meet with her to discuss their current investigation.”
“Holy hell. Tell me you’re joking.”
There was no humor in the other male’s face, not that Brock was surprised at that. “I understand the meeting is already set for later today in the FBI’s New York offices. Lucan has arranged to have Renata accompany her.”
The more he heard, the more Brock started feeling twitchy and needing to move. He walked back and forth, not even attempting to cover his concern. “Who will Jenna be meeting with in New York? Do we even know if this FBI investigation into TerraGlobal is legit? Good God, what the fuck was she thinking, getting involved in this shit in the first place? You know what—never mind. I’ll go ask her that myself.”
He was already pacing the room, so it only took a couple of hard strides to carry him out of the apartment and into the corridor outside. With his pulse jackhammering, adrenaline pouring into his veins, he was in no frame of mind to find himself face-to-face with his errant patrol partner.
Chase came stalking up the stretch of hallway at precisely that moment, looking like complete hell. His blue eyes were still shooting sparks of amber, pupils more slits than circles. He was breathing hard, each pull of air dragging through his teeth and fangs. Grime and dried blood caked his face in lurid streaks, still more of it caught in his short blond hair. His clothing was torn in places, stained with God knew what.
He looked and smelled like he’d been through a goddamn war zone.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Brock demanded. “I looked all over Boston for you after you ran off tonight.”
Chase glared at him, baring his teeth in a feral sneer, but didn’t offer any kind of explanation. He brushed past, letting his shoulder hit Brock and all but daring him to make an issue out of it. If Brock hadn’t been so concerned about Jenna and the trouble she’d apparently stirred up, he would have taken the arrogant son of a bitch down.
“Asshole,” Brock growled after him as the former Agent swaggered away in stony, secretive silence.
Jenna came up off the sofa in an anxious hop when a hard rap sounded on the door to her quarters. It was early in the morning, just a little after six A.M. according to the clock on the stereo system playing softly across the living room. Not that she’d slept in the handful of hours since she’d spoken with Lucan and Gideon.
And not that she would be able to sleep in the time remaining between now and the important meeting she would be having later that day with the FBI field agent in New York.
Special Agent Phillip Cho had been pleasant enough on the phone when she’d called to speak to him, and she should be grateful that he was available and open to meeting with her about his investigation into TerraGlobal. This was hardly the first time she’d had an audience with the federal end of law enforcement, so she wasn’t sure where her jittery nerves were coming from. Of course, she’d never had so much riding on a simple information-gathering meeting before.
She wanted to get this one right, and couldn’t help feeling the weight of the world—both hers and the Order’s—sitting on her shoulders. She hadn’t been a cop for so long, and now she had to put on a command performance in just a few short hours. So, maybe it was only reasonable that she’d feel a bit on edge about the whole thing.
The knock at the door came again, sharper now, more demanding. “Just a second.”
She clicked the mute button on the stereo remote, silencing an old Bessie Smith jazz CD that had been queued in the deck when she turned the unit on a while ago to help kill time. She crossed the room and opened the door.
Brock waited in the corridor outside, taking her completely by surprise. He must have just come in recently from his patrol of the city. Dressed head to toe in black combat gear, his fitted crewneck T-shirt clung to his broad chest and shoulders, short sleeves straining around the thick width of his biceps.
She couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering the length of him, down past his tight abs, accentuated by the crisp tuck of his shirt into the belted waistband of his black fatigues, which were loose fitting, yet not so much that they masked the trim cut of his hips or the powerful bulk of his thighs. It was far too effortless to recall how well she knew that body. Far too troubling to realize just how much she craved him, even after she’d promised herself she wouldn’t travel down that road with him again.
It wasn’t until she dragged her gaze back up to his handsome but tense face that she realized he was upset. As in pissed off something fierce.
She frowned up into his stormy gaze. “What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you tell me.” He took a step forward, his big body like a moving wall, forcing her to back into the room ahead of him. “I just heard about your inquiry into TerraGlobal with the goddamned FBI. What the hell were you thinking, Jenna?”
“I was thinking that maybe the Order could use my help,” she replied, her own anger spiking at his confrontational tone. “I thought I would tap some of my law enforcement connections to shed some light onto TerraGlobal, since the rest of you had hit a dead end.”
“Dragos is TerraGlobal,” he hissed, still advancing on her, towering over her. His dark brown eyes crackled with tiny flecks of amber light. “Do you have any damn idea how risky it was for you to do that?”
“I didn’t risk anything,” she said, getting defensive now. Her hackles were rising with every one of his strides that physically edged her farther into the room. She stopped retreating and dug in her heels. “I was totally discreet, and the person I asked to help me is a trusted friend. Do you honestly think I would knowingly put the Order or its missions in jeopardy?”
“The Order?” He scoffed. “I’m talking about you, Jenna. This isn’t your battle. You need to steer clear, before you get hurt.”
“Excuse me, but I think I can handle myself. I am a cop, remember?”
“Used to be,” he sternly reminded her, pinning her with a hard look. “And you never went up against anything like Dragos in your line of duty.”
“I’m not going up against him now, either,” she argued. “All we’re talking about is a harmless office meeting with a government field agent. I’ve been involved in these kinds of territorial pissing contests a hundred times. The Feds are worried that a local yokel Statie might know more than they do about one of their cases. They want to know what I know, and vice versa. It’s not a big deal.”
Shouldn’t be a big deal, she thought to herself. But those jangly nerves were still clamoring and Brock didn’t exactly look convinced, either.
“It could be bigger than you expect, Jenna. We can’t be sure of anything when it comes to Dragos and his interests. I don’t think you should go.” His face was very serious. “I’m going to talk to Lucan. I think it’s too dangerous for him to let you do this.”
“I don’t remember asking what you thought,” she said, trying not to let his grim expression and sober tone of voice sway her. He was worried—deeply worried, about her—and part of her responded to that worry with an awareness she wanted to ignore. “I don’t remember putting you in charge of what I do or don’t do, either. I make my own decisions. You and the Order may think you can keep me on some kind of a leash—or under a damned microscope so long as it suits you—but don’t confuse compliance with control. I’m the only one in control of me.”
When she couldn’t hold his thunderous gaze any longer, she turned away from him and went back over to the sofa, busying herself with picking up the collection of books she’d been thumbing through in her restlessness of the past few hours.
“Christ, you are hardheaded, aren’t you, lady?” He blew out a low curse. “That’s your biggest problem.”
“What the hell does that mean?” She threw a scowl in his direction, surprised to find he had moved up right behind her. Close enough to touch her. Close enough that she felt the heat of him in every awakened nerve ending in her body. She steeled herself against the masculine power that radiated off his big form, hating the fact that she could still be wildly attracted to him even when her blood was simmering in anger.
His stare penetrated, seeming to bore right through her. “It’s all about control with you, Jenna. You just can’t stand to give it up, can you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? I’ll bet you were like this from the time you were a little girl.” She turned away from him while he was talking, determined not to let him goad her. She grabbed an armful of books and carried them over to the built-in shelves. “I’ll bet you’ve been like this your whole life, haven’t you? Everything’s got to be on your terms, isn’t that right? Never let anyone take the reins, no matter what. You don’t budge an inch unless you’ve got your sweet, stubborn ass planted firmly in the driver’s seat.”
As much as she wanted to deny it, he was hitting very close to home. She flashed back through the years of her childhood, all the playground fights and daredevil stunts she’d gotten dragged into just to prove that she wasn’t afraid. Her time in the police force had been more of the same, though on a grander scale, upgrading from fists to bullets, but still struggling to show she was as good as any man—better, even.
Marriage and motherhood had presented another set of obstacles to master, and that was the one area in which she’d failed miserably. Paused in front of the bookcase, Brock’s verbal challenge hanging behind her, she closed her eyes and remembered the argument she and Mitch had the night of the accident. He’d accused her of being stubborn, too. He’d been right, but she hadn’t realized that until she’d woken up in the hospital weeks later without her family.
But this was different. Brock wasn’t her husband. Just because they’d had a few moments of pleasure together—and despite the attraction that still crackled between them whenever they got near each other—that didn’t give him a license to impose himself on her decisions.
“You want to know what I think?” she asked, her movements clipped with irritation as she filed each book back in its rightful place on the shelves. “I think you’re the one with the problem. You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman who doesn’t need you looking after her. A real woman, who can survive just fine on her own and not let you hold yourself responsible if she gets hurt. You’d rather blame yourself for not living up to some imaginary bar you’ve set—some unattainable measure of honor and worth. If you want to talk about problems, try taking a good look at yourself.”
He had gone so quiet and still, Jenna thought he might have walked out of the room. But when she turned around to see if he had left, she found him standing near the sofa, holding the old photograph that she’d first discovered tucked into the pages of one of his books. He was staring at the image of the pretty young woman with the ebony hair and large almond eyes. His jaw was held tight, a tendon ticking hard in his smooth, dark cheek.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right about me, Jenna,” he said finally, letting the photo drift out of his grasp to the sofa cushion. When he looked over at her, his face was schooled and sober, the consummate warrior. “None of this changes the fact that I am responsible for you. Lucan made it my duty to keep you protected while you’re in the Order’s custody—”
“Custody?” she balked, but he spoke right over her.
“—and that means whether you like it or not, whether you approve or not, I do have a say in what you do, or who you come in contact with.”
She scoffed, outraged. “Like hell you do.”
He stalked over to her, barely three long strides before he was standing right up against her, the nearness of him sucking all the air from the room. Glittering heat lit his eyes from deep within. His fierce stare likely should have cowered her, but she was too hot with indignation—and too very much aware of the way her senses reached out to him in longing, despite the anger that made her chin jut upward. When she glared at him, casting inside herself for the tough-as-nails attitude that might have given her the strength to shove him away with harsh words or prickly defiance, she found it had deserted her.
All she could do was hold the breath that had suddenly gone shallow in her lungs. He ran his fingertips along the side of her cheek, such a skating, tender touch. His thumb lingered on her lips, stroking in a lazy pattern as his eyes drank her in for what seemed like forever.
Then he gathered her face in his palms and drew her toward him for a sizzling, and all-too-brief, kiss.
When he released her, she saw the sparks that glimmered in his eyes had now grown to bright, smoldering embers. His chest was firm and warm against hers, his arousal pressing bold and unmistakable against her hip. She staggered backward on her heels, a blaze of desire racing in her veins.
“You can fight me all you want on this, Jenna, I don’t fucking care.” Although his words were all business, his low voice vibrated through her like the coming of a storm. “You are mine to protect and keep safe, so make no mistake: If you leave the compound, you leave with me.”
CHAPTER
Eighteen
Brock made good on his intent to accompany her to the FBI meeting in New York.
Jenna didn’t know what he’d said to Lucan to persuade him, but later that morning, instead of Renata driving the Order’s black Range Rover through four hours of unfamiliar highway from Boston to Manhattan, it had been Jenna behind the wheel, with GPS on the dashboard and Brock trying to help navigate from the far back of the vehicle. His solar-sensitive Breed skin cells and daytime UV concerns had kept him from even thinking he could sit beside her up front for such a long trip, let alone do the driving.
Although it was probably beyond immature for her to be amused, Jenna had to admit she took a certain satisfaction in his mandatory banishment to the seat behind her. She hadn’t forgotten his accusation about her always needing to be the one in charge, but judging from the impatient driving advice and muttered commentary about the apparent lead in her foot, it was obvious that she wasn’t the only one who had a problem surrendering control.
And now, as they sat inside the dark cavern of an underground parking garage across the street from the FBI field office in New York City, Brock was still giving her orders from the backseat.
“Text me as soon as you’re past security.” At her nod, he went on. “Once you’re in your meeting with the agent, text me again. I want periodic text check-ins, no less than fifteen minutes apart or I’m coming in after you.”
Jenna huffed out an impatient sigh and shot him a look around the driver’s seat. “This isn’t a middle school dance. It’s a professional office meeting in a very public building. Unless something goes totally off the rails in there, I’ll text you when I get into the meeting and when it’s over.”
She could tell he was scowling behind his wraparound UV-blocking sunglasses. “If you won’t take this seriously, then I am going in with you.”
“I’m taking it very seriously,” she argued. “And as far as you walking into that government building? Please. You’re dripping with weapons and covered in head-to-toe black kevlar. You wouldn’t make it past the front door security—assuming the daylight didn’t fry you first.”
“Security wouldn’t be an issue. I would be nothing more than a cold breeze at the back of their necks as I passed through.”
Jenna barked out a laugh. “Okay, then what? You’re going to skulk in the hallway while I meet with Special Agent Cho?”
“I’ll do what it takes,” he answered, utterly serious. “This information-gathering exercise ultimately belongs to the Order. It’s our intel you’re going after. And I still don’t like the idea of you going in there alone.”
She pivoted away from him, stung somehow that he didn’t seem to see her as part of the Order, as well. She stared out the window at a flickering yellow light in the cavernous garage. “If you were so concerned I couldn’t handle this meeting by myself, maybe you should have let Renata come with me instead.”
He leaned forward, stripping off his shades and coming between the seats to take hold of her shoulders. His strong fingers grasped her firmly, his eyes blazing in a mix of deepest brown and fiery amber. But when he spoke, his voice was nothing but velvet. “I am concerned, Jenna. But not as much about the damned meeting as I am about you. Fuck the meeting. There’s nothing we can get out of there that’s even half as important to me as making sure you’re okay. Renata’s not here because if anyone’s gonna watch your back, it’s gonna be me.”
She grunted softly, smiling despite her aggravation with him. “You’d better be careful. You’re starting to sound an awful lot like a partner to me.”
She meant patrol partner, but the remark she’d intended as wry humor now hung between them full of dangerous innuendo. A heavy, unspoken tension filled the cramped space of the vehicle as Brock held her gaze. Finally, he heaved a dark curse and released his hold on her. His cheek pulsed as he stared in lengthening silence.
He sat back, withdrawing from the front of the Rover and settling once more into the shadows behind her.
“Just keep me informed, Jenna. Can you give me that much?”
She let out the breath she’d been holding and reached for the handle on the driver’s-side door of the vehicle. “I’ll text you from inside.”
Without waiting to hear his growled reply, she climbed out of the SUV and headed for the FBI field office across the street.
Special Agent Phillip Cho didn’t keep her waiting so much as five minutes in the eighteenth-floor reception area. Jenna had just fired off her text message to Brock when the clean-cut agent in a black suit and conservative tie emerged from his office to greet her. After declining a cup of stale afternoon coffee, she was led past a sea of cubicles to a conference room just off the main office area.
Agent Cho gestured her toward a swivel chair at the oblong table in the center of the room. He closed the door behind him, then took the seat directly across from her. He set a black leather notepad down in front of him and offered her a polite smile. “So, how long have you been retired from law enforcement, Ms. Darrow?”
The question surprised her. Not only for its directness, but for the fact that her FBI friend in Anchorage had offered to keep her civilian status under his hat. Of course, it shouldn’t surprise her that Cho would do some homework on her in preparation of their meeting.
Jenna cleared her throat. “Four years ago, I resigned from the AST. Due to reasons of a personal nature.”
He nodded sympathetically, and she realized that he’d already known the answer and her reasons for leaving the Staties.
“I must admit, I was surprised to discover that your inquiry into TerraGlobal wasn’t an official investigation,” he said. “If I had known, I probably would not have agreed to this meeting. I’m sure you understand that using state or federal resources for personal interests is illegal and can carry severe consequences.”
She lifted her shoulder in a faint shrug, not about to let him cow her with threats about procedure and protocol. She’d played that card too many times herself back when she wore a badge and uniform. “Call me inquisitive. We had a mining company in the interior go up in smoke—literally—and no one from the parent corporation has bothered to offer even so much as an apology to the town. There’s going to be a hell of a bill attached to the cleanup, and I’m sure the town of Harmony would appreciate knowing where to send it.”
Under the stark light of the fluorescent lamps overhead, Cho’s unblinking stare put an odd buzz in her veins. “So, your interest in the matter is primarily that of a concerned citizen. Do I understand you correctly, Ms. Darrow?”
“That’s right. And the cop in me can’t help wondering what kind of management a shadowy outfit like TerraGlobal Partners employs. Nothing but ghosts and phantoms, from what little I’ve been able to find.”
Cho grunted, still holding her in that unsettling stare across the table. “What exactly have you found, Ms. Darrow? I would be very interested to hear more.”
Jenna tilted her chin down and gave him a narrowed look. “You expect me to share my intel when you’re sitting there giving me nothing in return? Not gonna happen. You first, Special Agent Cho. What’s your interest in TerraGlobal?”
He sat back from the table and steepled his fingers in front of his thin smile. “I’m afraid that’s classified information.”
His air of dismissal was unmistakable, but she’d be damned if she’d come all this way for the meeting only to be stonewalled by a smug suit who seemed to be enjoying the fact that he was jerking her around. And the more she looked at him, the more his flat expression seemed to make her skin crawl.
Forcing herself to ignore her unease, she attempted a more conciliatory tack. “Listen, I understand. You’re obligated to give me the official response. I just hoped that two professionals could help each other out a little bit here.”
“Ms. Darrow, I only see one professional at this table. And even if you were still affiliated with law enforcement, I couldn’t give you any information about TerraGlobal.”
“Come on,” she replied, her frustration mounting. “Give me a name. Just one name, an address. Anything.”
“When exactly did you leave Alaska, Ms. Darrow?” he asked casually, ignoring her question and cocking his head at an odd angle as he studied her. “Do you have friends out here? Family, perhaps?”
She scoffed and shook her head. “You’re not going to give me a damned thing, are you? You only agreed to meet with me because you thought you could wring something useful out of me to further your own interests.”
That he didn’t reply was telling enough. He opened his leather notebook and began scribbling some notes on the canary paper. Jenna sat there for a moment, staring at him, feeling certain in her bones that the tight-lipped, peculiar federal agent had all of the answers that she and the Order so desperately needed to put them on Dragos’s tail.
“All right,” she said, figuring it was time to play the only card she had in her hand. “Since you won’t give me any names, I’ll give you one instead. Gordon Fasso.”
Cho’s hand stopped moving halfway through what he was writing. It was the only indication that the name meant anything to him at all. When he looked up, his expression was bland, those odd, dullish eyes revealing nothing. “Excuse me?”
“Gordon Fasso,” she said, repeating the alias she’d been told Dragos used when he moved in human society. She watched Cho’s face, trying to read his reaction in the unblinking, sharklike gaze and coming up empty. “Have you heard the name before?”
“No.” He set down his pen and neatly replaced the cap. “Should I have?”
Jenna stared at him, gauging the carefully spoken words and nonchalant way he settled back against his chair. “I would think that if you’ve done any amount of digging into TerraGlobal, you might have run across that name once or twice.”
Cho’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall it.”
“Are you sure?” She waited through his prolonged silence, keeping her eyes fixed on his dark gaze if only to let him know that she could cling just as stubbornly to their apparent impasse.
The tactic seemed to work. Cho released a slow sigh, then rose up from his seat. “There is another agent in this office who’s working the investigation with me. Will you excuse me for a moment while I confer with him about this?”
“Sure I will,” Jenna said, relaxing a bit. Maybe now she might actually get somewhere.
After Cho stepped out of the room, she took the opportunity to fire off a quick text to Brock back in the SUV across the street. Got something. Be down soon.
No sooner had she sent it, Cho reappeared in the doorway. “Ms. Darrow, will you come with me, please?”
She got up and followed him along a cubicle-lined corridor, past the heads of numerous agents who stared into computer screens or talked quietly into their telephones. Cho kept going, toward a row of back offices on the far end of the floor. He hung a right at the end of the walkway and bypassed the numerous doors with their government-issued nameplates and departmental designations.
Finally, he paused in front of a stairwell door and swiped his clip-on ID badge through the slot on an electronic reader. When the little light turned from red to green, the agent pushed open the steel door and held it for her. “This way, please. The task force is headquartered on another floor.”
