Free Targeted (FBI Heat) by Marissa Garner Page B

is something wrong?” Staci’s intuition was ice-pick sharp. “You and Amber aren’t having problems, are you?”
    “No, we’re good. Great, in fact. Nothing’s really wrong, just… weird .”
    She laughed. “Tell me about it.”
    He cleared his throat. Because of Staci’s issues with Marissa, he wasn’t sure whether to share his concerns. And then, of course, there was also Carter’s warning not to say anything to anyone. Screw that. Ben wouldn’t say anything; he’d ask. “Have you heard any rumors around the proverbial water cooler about a covert Counterterrorism op in San Diego?”
    “Huh? Uh, well, uh, no. Why…uh…would I?”
    Ben pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it, puzzled. Her indecisive response didn’t sound like her normal, overconfident self. He shook his head and repositioned the phone. “Oh, hell, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re at FBI Headquarters, the center of our universe.”
    “Hey, I’m just a li’l ole SA from San Diego. They treat me like a mushroom. You know, keep me in the dark and feed me bullshit.”
    He chuckled. Now that sounded like the real Staci. “Sorry, I forgot your lowly status.”
    She gulped loudly. “Have you…uh…asked Alan Carter?”
    Ben hesitated. “Maybe.”
    “That means you have, but he won’t tell you crap.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Why don’t you ask your old friend, the she-devil? She’s in Counterterrorism now, right?”
    Ben cringed. “I can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know where she is.”
    A long silence followed. He could practically hear the gears humming.
    “Is Marissa…um…in trouble?” Staci asked hesitantly.
    Damn the woman’s intuition. Freakin’ scary. “I can’t talk about it.”
    “Damn it, Ben. Would you stop? This is me. We can talk.”
    “No, I really can’t.”
    “That bad, huh? Well, I probably can’t find out anything, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Ben…uh…”
    “Yeah?”
    Another silence. He could feel her frowning.
    “Never mind. You behave while I’m gone,” she said, then disconnected.
    Ben pushed the odd conversation out of his mind and focused on the unanswered questions from the meeting with ASAIC Carter. Waiting was torture. His sense of impending bad news grew with every passing minute, his thoughts frequently drifting to the nightmarish images that had jumpstarted his heart during the night.
    Finally, the call came.
    “Carter wants us,” Rex said.
    “I’m on my way.”
    The two men didn’t talk as they walked through the building to the Counterterrorism leader’s office. Alan was leaning against the wall outside his door. He seemed surprised, and then embarrassed, when he saw Rex.
    “Sorry, old man,” Alan joked. “I didn’t make it clear that they only want to talk to Ben. Don’t bother asking why. They didn’t tell me.”
    Ben started to protest, but Rex tapped his shoulder and motioned him down the hallway. Once they were out of earshot, his boss leaned closer.
    “Don’t let this throw you. You can handle it. I don’t know who’ll be talking to you—just remember: they piss the same way you do. Play your cards close to your chest. You know what I’m talking about.” He arched his eyebrows.
    “Yeah, Boss. Thanks. I’ll be careful.”
    Rex nodded. “Good luck,” he said solemnly and walked away.
    When Ben turned back, Alan’s office door was closed. “Videoconference room,” he explained curtly and led the way down another corridor.
    Two technicians had the equipment and connection ready to go when the men marched into the room. The super-sized screen on the wall displayed an empty conference room with no identifying signs or emblems.
    “Where are we?” Ben asked the techs as he took a seat.
    They answered with blank stares.
    Alan paced for a minute before choosing a seat two chairs away.
    They waited.
    To keep his hands from clenching and unclenching, Ben stuffed them in his pockets. His right leg started to