Operation Zulu Redemption: Act of Treason - Part 4 by Ronie Kendig Page A

sideways against the table, forearms on his knees.
    “They’ll take him down, won’t they?” Annie asked quietly, her heart breaking for Trace. He shouldn’t be facing this alone.
    Rusty said nothing.
    Annie moved around the table and sat in front of him. “Is it bad?”
    Rusty gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then he dropped back against the chair with a sigh. “Francesca Solomon is driving a Bradley right up Trace’s butt. She’s relentless, and her information, though wrong, sounds and looks right.”
    “Rusty, what will happen to him if they find him guilty this time?”
    “He’ll be buried in the prison system.”
    “And Zulu?”
    His blue eyes held hers. “On your own. Or worse—arrested and tried as well. Assuming they find you.”
    “So, worst possible.”
    He bobbed his head. “Worst possible.”
    “Then, Rusty, I need your help. Would you take me for a drive tomorrow?”

Francesca
Capitol Hill, Washington, DC
15 June – 0830 Hours
    She couldn’t get those three women out of her head. Seeing their faces, studying them, it. . .
    “You alright?”
    Frankie looked up at the uniform standing in front of her. Blinked. “Paolo.” She glanced around. “Where’d you come from?”
    He grinned. “Late night studying how to destroy Weston’s life?”
    His words stabbed her. Hurt. Wounded. “Not fair,” she muttered, lowering her gaze. “W–where’s Dad?”
    “Inside, I think. Why?” Paolo’s dark eyes fastened on her. “Second thoughts?”Frankie shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t seem to be taking pleasure in her doubts, but rather seemed interested. She glanced around the hall. Remembered the look in Trace Weston’s eyes. The torment. Nightmares kept waking her up. Inflicting his torment on her. “What if I’ve got it wrong, Paolo?”
    He took her arm and ushered her to the side. “Frank, what happened?”
    She loved when he called her that. It made her feel like one of the boys. But today, it just somehow emphasized that she
wasn’t
one of the boys, especially if he found out Trace had come to the house. Pinned her to the wall. Paolo might be on his side politically, but she was his sister. Even she knew that went deeper.
    Still, if she told him what happened. . .if someone else heard, Trace would be arrested. Again.
    Why did she even care if he did? Why did she suddenly care a whit about Colonel Weston? “He came to my home.”
    Paolo’s eyes widened and he craned his neck down. “Weston? Came to your house?”
    She nodded, skating a glance around to be sure nobody else heard that.
    Now Paolo scowled. “What’d he do?”
    Frankie rolled her eyes. “It’s what he said.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit she had been taken off-guard. Paolo and Roman would never let her live that down. But she also worried how it’d make Weston look.
    Again—
why
do you care?
    “What did he say?” Paolo had gone all big brother on her. But she sensed in him also an intense curiosity.
    No—it wasn’t curiosity. It was suspicion.
    “You don’t believe me.”
    “Never said that.” Paolo angled a shoulder toward her. “This is way out of character for Weston, and visiting you would jeopardize this hearing and every bit of credibility he has built up.”
    Defiance dug through her. She lifted her chin. “He was worried about his team. Insisted I not expose their names.” No, it was more like pleading. . .begging. The thought unsettled her. “He said I’d put them in danger.”
    Paolo’s strong suit had always been sarcasm, and she expected him to frost this whole conversation with a thick layer of it. When he didn’t say a word, she scrambled not to let him think she’d been swayed by this. If she was so weak she let a guy shoving into her house change her mind, then. . .
    “Since I started digging, my house has been ransacked. My credit destroyed. My confidence shaken.” Frankie’s heart danced a jig when she spotted Colonel Weston walking down the hall in his Class