Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7), Jacki Delecki [polar express read aloud .TXT] 📗

women, who previously had attended university and held high-powered jobs, made Darcy appreciate the freedom American women took for granted. And inspired her to keep fighting for democracy and human rights for all global citizens.

Darcy shifted on her feet, not sure where this was leading. Nowhere good, she thought, since she spotted her file on his desk.

“And you received one of the highest rankings amongst your class at the farm. And here you are back at Langley before finishing your first assignment in Senegal.”

Her father’s advice echoed in her thoughts about eating crow and admitting your mistakes, but not giving up your opinion, even if you were wiped in the grass.

“I was out of line, sir, but I had to speak my mind. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to step back from the intelligence and my trust in my CI.”

“And you went against direct orders from Station Chief Anders? And shared your intel with your Army liaison.”

“Yes, sir.” The burn in her chest moved upward. She was sure unattractive blotches now dotted her fair skin. Red heads definitely didn’t have more fun. She could control her heart rate but not the dilation of her blood vessels shooting blood to her face and neck.

“Sit down.”

Darcy sat on the edge of the seat. Her back stayed straight, and her senses were on high alert.

“Do you know why I’m at my office at this late hour?”

Marwick had skills in interrogation—gifted in dragging this out, making her squirm. She repressed her need to be a smart-ass and commenting that she expected he would tell her very soon.

“The defense department’s director called me this evening, interrupting my keynote speech and my dinner. It seems one of my lowly agents has pissed off Richard Dean, the Richard Dean, DOD’s biggest contractor for our missile defense system and software security systems. A CIA agent attempted earlier today to hack into his employee’s personnel files, and not just any employee, but the one that Dean perceives to be like a son. Is this your work, Wilson?”

Damn. She had no spit in her mouth. Total dry mouth like her days baking under the Afghan sun. And Marwick, known for his smooth ability to charm and gently cajole hostile nations into submission, wasn’t wasting his skills on his “lowly agent.”

“I’ve been pursuing all leads, sir, including suspects who have allies in powerful places. Hewitt designed Snakes Ahead and has high security clearance, and has a suspicious account in the Cayman Islands.”

“Now I know why Anders filed a complaint against you. You don’t know when to back down, do you?”

“No, sir. Not when I feel the safety of the citizens of the United States is at risk.”

“You might have been correct in Senegal, but you’re completely mistaken about Hewitt. You’re to make nice to Hewitt, beg his forgiveness, and ask for his help with finding who is behind the attacks on our embassies. The man is a genius.”

Molly was bad enough, but now her boss was drinking the Hewitt-is-a-genius Kool-Aid. “But sir, he’s not…”

He raised his hands to signal her to desist. “You’re to be on a flight to Seattle to grovel at Dean’s feet. And I mean grovel. Make this right, or you’ll find yourself in the basement, never to see the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear.” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. Her boss didn’t mention that she had saved hundreds of lives that day by clearing the market before the bomb could explode. All anyone remembered was that she had not followed the chain of command. And she thought coming to the CIA would allow her to use her skills at reading people, anticipating their next moves, predicting their behavior, and not be another cog in the bureaucratic wheel.

“You did good work in Senegal. Anders lacks imagination. He’s old-school and didn’t know what to do with someone like you. The only reason you’re not in the basement right now is that I want officers who have a moral compass. But you need to learn how to negotiate, not break men’s balls.”

Darcy groaned inwardly. There was no comeback the director would listen to. From all her experience at home and in the field, men didn’t negotiate. They gave orders and avoided them when she tried to do the same.

But she kept her professional face on. “Understood, sir.” And started planning how she could get Hewitt to confess once she met him…

Chapter Three

Enjoying the dark and chocolatey taste of his espresso, Reeves dodged the tourists hustling down Pike Street to the farmers market. He had overslept. He never overslept. His brain never stopped firing all cylinders most days and many nights. But yesterday was not his usual day—a pedicure, a stay in the presidential suite at the Four Seasons, and an extreme workout with the Jenkins brothers. An exhausting, intense thirty-six hours after Danni and Sophie had taken over his life.

The women had planned his “recovery day” to the last second. How could he say no to all their genuine concern? Besides the fact that the Jenkins brothers would have whooped his ass if he had made “their” women unhappy. Not that he’d ever hurt Danni or Sophie’s feelings. Having two younger sisters, he was used to meddling women. And as with his sisters, he took the path of least resistance.

Danni, an expert on heartbreak after her fiancé had abandoned her at the altar, was responsible for the spa day, which featured a pedicure and manicure and endless French champagne. He glanced at his buffed nails. If any of the brothers noticed, he’d never stop getting shit from the Jenkins boys who put a capital M in macho.

Sophie took a different approach—first, a shiatsu massage with acupressure, followed by a full-body smudge with sage smoke. Sophie had spent time with several indigenous South American groups and was big into alternative healing methods.

Sophie’s “therapy” also mandated no contact with his job and no use of his personal devices, including his phone. Since