Desire and fear battled each other for dominance. Unfortunately desire was kicking fear’s ass.
Chapter 6
Operative: an intelligence officer or agent operating in the field.
Wesley tried Jack’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail. He didn’t need to bother one of his analysts to figure out Jack had taken out the battery. If he’d turned off his phone, he’d definitely taken out the battery. And he would have been sure to avoid civilian CCTVs or traffic cameras if at all possible. All easy ways to track him, and if Wesley had been keeping physical tabs on him before he’d gone dark, he likely
could
have tracked the man. Then again, maybe not. Jack was trained well and he was familiar with Miami in a way he wasn’t anywhere else. He could disappear if he wanted to bad enough.
Wesley’s best agent had gone dark without explaining why, and now he wondered if he’d sent Jack into the field too soon. Even though the final purpose of Jack’s last op had been to bring down those Albanian terrorists, any undercover operation dealing with the exploitation of kids was brutal. But Jack had never had a problem acclimating to another situation in the past. The man was like a machine sometimes.
Sophie Moreno was the only soft spot he had. Wesley could have sent someone else in for this job, but he wanted Jack to get over her and find some kind of normal life with someone. Anyone. Wesley had recruited Jack when he was only twenty-six. After eight years in the Marines, Jack had been physically tough and the best sniper he’d ever seen, but he’d also been his youngest recruit for the new black ops team he’d been putting together at the time.
Five years later, Wesley had never regretted his decision. He simply wanted Jack to find a life
outside
his job. The rate for substance addictions and broken relationships in this line of work was high, but Jack didn’t have a problem with either. Hell, the man would have to have a damn relationship in the first place for the latter to be an issue.
Wesley tapped his finger against his mouse and pulled up Sophie’s file. He’d read her dossier half a dozen times and had everything he could possibly want to know about her boss. Still, he wanted more. Especially if the woman was fucking with Jack’s ability to do his job.
Wesley hit one of the intercom buttons on his phone, connecting him to Thomas Chadwick, one of his best analysts. “Thomas?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to run another detailed check on Mandy Abarca, Benson Pollard, and Hannah Young. Go as deep as you can.” He’d had another analyst run their information before, but he wanted this check to see if they’d missed anything.
“What’s their connection?”
“Sophie Moreno.”
“Got it. I’ll send it to your screen as soon as I have the information.”
“Thank you. If you need help, ask Williams to help you. He’s familiar with Ms. Moreno’s file.” As soon as he disconnected, he dialed a friend of his at the Drug Enforcement Administration.
“Deputy Director Southers’s office,” a perky female voice answered.
“Connect me to Max, please.” They hadn’t spoken in a few months, but he’d served with Max decades ago when they were both in the Navy.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s gone for the day.”
Wesley glanced at his watch. It was only six. “Tell him Wesley Burkhart is on the line.”
“One moment, sir.”
A few seconds later his longtime friend picked up. “Wesley, how are you?”
“Hey, Max. How are the wife and kids?”
“Mary’s good and the boys are still in college, but I know that’s not why you’re calling. What’s going on?”
“Do you have any contacts at Homeland Security?”
“I work with a couple of those guys every now and then. Why?”
The DEA and Homeland Security were bound to overlap, especially in a place like Miami. Thanks to the drug and slave trade, it was a cluster of acronyms in south Florida. “Have you heard any chatter lately
Chapter 6
Operative: an intelligence officer or agent operating in the field.
Wesley tried Jack’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail. He didn’t need to bother one of his analysts to figure out Jack had taken out the battery. If he’d turned off his phone, he’d definitely taken out the battery. And he would have been sure to avoid civilian CCTVs or traffic cameras if at all possible. All easy ways to track him, and if Wesley had been keeping physical tabs on him before he’d gone dark, he likely
could
have tracked the man. Then again, maybe not. Jack was trained well and he was familiar with Miami in a way he wasn’t anywhere else. He could disappear if he wanted to bad enough.
Wesley’s best agent had gone dark without explaining why, and now he wondered if he’d sent Jack into the field too soon. Even though the final purpose of Jack’s last op had been to bring down those Albanian terrorists, any undercover operation dealing with the exploitation of kids was brutal. But Jack had never had a problem acclimating to another situation in the past. The man was like a machine sometimes.
Sophie Moreno was the only soft spot he had. Wesley could have sent someone else in for this job, but he wanted Jack to get over her and find some kind of normal life with someone. Anyone. Wesley had recruited Jack when he was only twenty-six. After eight years in the Marines, Jack had been physically tough and the best sniper he’d ever seen, but he’d also been his youngest recruit for the new black ops team he’d been putting together at the time.
Five years later, Wesley had never regretted his decision. He simply wanted Jack to find a life
outside
his job. The rate for substance addictions and broken relationships in this line of work was high, but Jack didn’t have a problem with either. Hell, the man would have to have a damn relationship in the first place for the latter to be an issue.
Wesley tapped his finger against his mouse and pulled up Sophie’s file. He’d read her dossier half a dozen times and had everything he could possibly want to know about her boss. Still, he wanted more. Especially if the woman was fucking with Jack’s ability to do his job.
Wesley hit one of the intercom buttons on his phone, connecting him to Thomas Chadwick, one of his best analysts. “Thomas?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to run another detailed check on Mandy Abarca, Benson Pollard, and Hannah Young. Go as deep as you can.” He’d had another analyst run their information before, but he wanted this check to see if they’d missed anything.
“What’s their connection?”
“Sophie Moreno.”
“Got it. I’ll send it to your screen as soon as I have the information.”
“Thank you. If you need help, ask Williams to help you. He’s familiar with Ms. Moreno’s file.” As soon as he disconnected, he dialed a friend of his at the Drug Enforcement Administration.
“Deputy Director Southers’s office,” a perky female voice answered.
“Connect me to Max, please.” They hadn’t spoken in a few months, but he’d served with Max decades ago when they were both in the Navy.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s gone for the day.”
Wesley glanced at his watch. It was only six. “Tell him Wesley Burkhart is on the line.”
“One moment, sir.”
A few seconds later his longtime friend picked up. “Wesley, how are you?”
“Hey, Max. How are the wife and kids?”
“Mary’s good and the boys are still in college, but I know that’s not why you’re calling. What’s going on?”
“Do you have any contacts at Homeland Security?”
“I work with a couple of those guys every now and then. Why?”
The DEA and Homeland Security were bound to overlap, especially in a place like Miami. Thanks to the drug and slave trade, it was a cluster of acronyms in south Florida. “Have you heard any chatter lately
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