Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2) by Lisa Hughey Page B

was alive. Dammit.
    Johnny Wishbone had seen Staci just a few weeks ago. There were some slight discrepancies in Johnny's account, he thought Staci was black, but he'd also identified a picture of Staci.
    After the information Jordan had learned from the kidnappers, finding her was imperative. Staci had been injected with a mysterious drug and she needed the antidote.
    But right now he had to get through this bizarre meeting with the senator.
    “There are shootings all the time in our nation’s capital, you’ll have to be more specific.”
    The senator glanced at his Perpetual Oyster Rolex in platinum, frowned and shifted closer. “I’m talking about the incident at the Presidential Suites hotel.”
    The ‘incident’ was the death of the kidnapper. He'd been shot during the rescue of Johnny and his girlfriend. Although Jordan hadn’t killed him. An unknown assailant had fired the fatal rounds. The entire ‘incident’ was highly classified, so even Jordan didn’t know the reasons why Johnny and his girlfriend were kidnapped. His only concern was that Staci had contact with Johnny earlier in the month.
    The shooting had only happened last week. The media had not gotten wind of the kidnap or the rescue, so how could the senator possibly know about it?
    Jordan ripped another bite of his sandwich off and chewed vigorously while analyzing this development, projecting indifference when what he wanted to do was shove the sandwich down the senator’s throat.
    "I'd like your report," the senator said testily.
    Why would the senator be asking Jordan for information? Classified and highly sensitive information regarding a report, that if it existed, should have taken months to assemble, then sanitize, before being released to the Senate committee.
    Because there was no report. At least, not yet.
    “I know you were there,” the senator hissed, obviously impatient with Jordan’s delaying tactic.
    “You should also know that even if I were there, I would be unable to answer your questions.” His anger built as deep buried rage bubbled up. Jordan rarely lost his temper but when he did, it wasn’t pretty. “You think you can circumvent the system? Go through me to gain classified information?”
    “So you were there,” the senator said triumphantly.
    Jordan crumpled his lunch bag with one fist and stood. “What’s your angle?”
    Because, God knew, a man like the senator always had one. Some position he was working for his own advantage or defense.
    Jordan took two menacing steps forward.
    The senator tipped back his head but didn’t stand. As if assuming a more defensive posture would somehow validate the threat.
    Jordan took another step to loom over the senator. “To protect yourself? Did you have something to do with the incident?”
    How could the senator know about the shooting? Unless he was involved with the unauthorized injection of the mysterious drug into unsuspecting espionage agents. The funding for the mysterious drug experiment had to come from somewhere. The thought that this asshole could have appropriated and approved funding for an experiment that fucked with the lives of people already serving their country made him sick.
    The old man held his ground, not standing or giving credence to Jordan’s anger. The senator glanced down at his watch impatiently. “That’s neither here nor there, and I’ve got to get back to the Hill for testimony on the amount of heroin coming out of Afghanistan. What do you know about the shooting?”
    In his peripheral vision, Jordan could see the senator’s bodyguard hurrying toward them. Apparently the bodyguard was a little more concerned with Jordan’s body language. “Why the hell would you think I would help you?”
    “I need answers, dammit.” The senator’s face turned bright red, but as a contrast his lips were white with fury, and his eyes narrowed with frustration. “And I think you have them.”
    The bodyguard skidded to a stop a few feet away, his