LITMIR.BIZ

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he could wish for was to take Marty’s place so that Marty could be with his wife, alive and well.

      He’d spent the next month hunting down leads on the terrorist responsible for the attack, pushing aside his longing for the woman he’d let get in the way of his duty. If he hadn’t been with TJ that morning, he would have arrived on time. Maybe he’d have found the bomb or seen the terrorist coming or going from the embassy. Or perhaps he would have died in the explosion.

      Since the attack, he’d made it his mission to discover who was behind the bombing and bring them down. Sean had already located Manu Attakora, a known terrorist-for-hire in Dindi. He’d found Manu’s apartment with the terrorist dead inside, as if someone had been a step ahead of him in his search. Witnesses mentioned a dark-haired Anglo businessman seen coming and going from the apartment in the days prior to the bombing, but no one could give him a name.

      Disappointed he didn’t have the terrorist to question, Sean had located a laptop in Manu’s apartment. He hoped it was the one Manu had used to communicate with the person who’d contracted him. Sean brought the computer back to the States and turned it over to S.O.S.’s resident computer guru. They hoped to have the files decrypted soon.

      Back in the States, he’d done everything in his power to avoid running into a certain legislative assistant. His memories of TJ burned in his gut each day following the bombing. Damn it! He was an S.O.S. agent, not a fool in love.

      Fools got killed or, through their actions or lack of actions, got others killed. As far as he was concerned, his involvement with TJ Barton was history and was not to be repeated.

      Never mind that her face haunted his every memory and that the smell of springtime in D.C. reminded him of the scent of her hair. Today, jogging on the towpath along the C&O Canal, he felt her presence. She was here in D.C. and, even as large as the city was, with as many people working there daily, he stood a chance of seeing her again. A shorter haircut and sunglasses helped alter his appearance, but the woman wasn’t dumb.

      He chose to jog early in the morning to avoid any chance of running into her—or anyone else for that matter. Yet, even early in the morning, there were plenty of people getting their daily exercise. The beautiful weather brought out all manner of joggers, bicyclers and people out rowing.

      He didn’t know what he’d say if he ran into TJ. How would he explain to her his sudden “death” and reappearance? If the terrorists hadn’t been aiming for Dindi’s prime minister or Congressman Haddock and instead had wanted the S.O.S. team out of the way, he wanted to make sure they thought they’d accomplished the job.

      As Sean passed through the office area, Casanova Valdez looked up from his terminal. “Hola, McNeal.” He leaped to his feet and pulled Sean into a big bear hug. “Heard you were back.” Valdez hugged him like he hugged everyone, with a lot of backslapping and exuberance. From a large Latin-American family, he wasn’t embarrassed by blatant demonstrations of emotion. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

      Sean suffered through the embrace, putting distance between them as soon as Valdez let go.

      “Hey, Sean.” Nicole Steele’s voice, as smooth as liquid chocolate, drew his attention. Her nickname in the agency was Tazer for a good reason. Her soft blond hair and blue-gray eyes had deceived more than one unsuspecting male. Known for her deadly self-defense techniques, Tazer could take down a man twice her size and he’d never know what hit him. Thank goodness she was loyal to the S.O.S. team.

      Sean nodded a greeting.

      “Sorry about Marty.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

      Damn. He should have jogged earlier to avoid this kind of reception. He didn’t want the ranks of the S.O.S. converging on him. Not yet.

      “It’s good to be back.” Although he said the words, he didn’t mean them. Maybe he’d stayed in Dindi so long to avoid just such a meeting with the rest of the S.O.S. team. The organization was small, consisting of one leader and less than twenty agents. Some were out on assignment. The others gathered around him.

      The walls closed in on Sean. He needed air.

      “Sean, glad you’re back.” Royce stepped out of his office. “I want to talk to you.”

      Glad for an escape, Sean eased through the team to stand in front of Royce. “That’s what Kat said.”

      Royce motioned toward his office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

      Sean glanced down at his sweaty clothes and running shoes. “So long as you don’t mind a little sweat.”

      “Not at all.” He patted his tight abdomen. “Need to get out and exercise myself. I spend entirely too much time behind the desk.”

      Sean followed the older man into his office and dropped into a brown leather armchair.

      Royce didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh on his body. He was as tough and athletic as when he’d left the Navy SEALs ten years ago. “I know how personally you’ve taken Marty’s death in Dindi, and I admit I’m concerned.”

      “Don’t be. I’m going to find who killed him if it’s the last thing I do.”

      “Yeah, but you might lose yourself in the process. You threw yourself into the investigation before you’d fully recovered, and you haven’t taken any time off to decompress.”

      Sean frowned. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “You can’t take me off this case. I was there. I have to find who did this.”

      Royce raised a hand. “Relax. I won’t take you off. But I want you to know I’m watching you. If you show any signs of cracking, I’ll yank you off this case so fast you won’t know what hit you. Agreed?”

      “Agreed.” Sean breathed in a deep breath and let it out. “Is that why you asked me in here?”

      “No, intel came available you might be interested in.”

      “If it has anything to do with the bombing, you’re right, I’m interested.”

      “Tim got past the encrypted password on the laptop you found in the terrorist’s apartment. He found an enlightening e-mail on it.”

      “Anything about Manu’s partner or who’s behind the bombing?”

      “No, but we did find Congressman Haddock’s daily itinerary while in Dindi.”

      Sean stared down at his hands. That cleared the theory the bomber had gone after the S.O.S. agents. “So the terrorist wasn’t aiming for the Dindian prime minister or just any American.”

      “Right. They were targeting Haddock.” Royce tapped the top of his desk with his index finger. “The interesting thing about the e-mail was that it originated from a staff member in Congressman Crane’s office.”

      Sean pushed to his feet, hope leaping inside him. “You got a name?”

      His boss nodded. “Yeah.”

      “Have you called him in for questioning?”

      “Not quite.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “The e-mail account is from one of the legislative assistants who accompanied Haddock to Dindi.”

      Sean immediately thought of TJ and just as quickly dispelled the thought. TJ worked for Haddock, not Crane. “Who was it?”

      “George Fenton.”

      Recognizing the name, Sean shook his head. “Wasn’t he—”

      “One of the men who died in the bombing?” Royce nodded.

      “Why would he set up a bombing that would take his own life? It doesn’t make sense, unless he was playing a martyr.”

      “It was dated from the second day of Haddock’s stay there and overlaps one of the meeting

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