Page 26 of Nothing to Fear

One, the DNI was a liaison acting on behalf of the White House, and the president was Sanborn’s boss. Two, he had things under control until the DNI anointed this backstabbing viper with enough power to do serious damage. The Gray Box might very well get crushed as a result.

“Follow protocol,” she said, jabbing her talon at him again. If she stuck that finger in his face one more time, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t bite it off. “You can’t dismiss the evidence.”

Evidence he didn’t trust. Twenty-seven years of operational experience told him protocol, in this instance, would make matters worse. “It’s within my discretion to handle this as I see fit. Overstep your bounds, and you’ll regret the day you ventured into my lane.”

“If you don’t get this clusterfuck cleaned up, the DNI will whitewash this house.”

They’d both been in the business long enough for the meaning to ring clear without elaboration. Funny how the threat hadn’t been mentioned to him last time he spoke to Lee.

“Do your damn job.” She spat the words. “If you don’t, I intend to salvage what I can of my division.”

Her section wouldn’t survive. Nothing survived a whitewash.

As much as he hated to admit it, a breach of this magnitude warranted a purge if he couldn’t clean his house. This operation had gone from finding a traitor to literally saving his people and the Gray Box—after he’d risked everything to secure its future.

Sanborn tamped down his rage to keep his voice smooth as cold steel and stepped forward, not stopping until Sybil lowered her finger and reeled back. “Don’t presume to tell me how to do my job. In this situation, your reach exceeds your grasp. You have no clue what it takes to run Operations. The only reason Lee gave you oversight is because you have your head shoved so far up his butt, he can’t think straight with his prostate throbbing in his throat.”

“Watch yourself.” Sybil shifted her weight from one hip to the other, balancing on her killer three-inch heels. Contempt set her brown eyes ablaze. “I will go balls to the wall with you. We may have once had a relationship, but I will do everything I can to see you prosecuted if you fail to follow procedure and lock up the traitor.”

Au contraire. She wanted him to burn precisely because they’d had a brief thing and he hadn’t fallen for the Machiavellian maneuvers behind her seduction. A damn shame she’d tried to manipulate him. She was fierce and cunning and would’ve made a formidable ally. Instead, she’d foolishly declared herself his enemy.

As if he’d ever let her win this war.

It was one thing to prosecute a mole for treason, another entirely to prosecute the director of the Gray Box, an organization that wasn’t supposed to exist. Sybil was dancing with the devil, and they were all going to fry because she had a vendetta.

He needed the viper out of his hair. “We never had a relationship. We screwed around to pass the time.” He let his tone dip to the ugly bowels of condescension, the only way to send her scurrying off and keep her out of the conference room. “I’m sorry if our brief and forgettable time meant more to you.”

Her pale cheeks flamed to match the crimson dress that fitted her like a second skin. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She swiped long platinum layers from her eye. “Now I’m going to be sweet, give you a break from my company while I call the DNI and give him an update about the new evidence. Maybe I’ll even pay him a visit and tell him about all this face-to-face.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Sybil. And be sure to wipe your mouth and brush your teeth when you’re done with Lee.”

“Well, you do know how to clean up after a good rim job, Bruce. Thanks for the tip.”

Sybil spun on her heel, flipping her shock-white hair, and strutted off. His blood pressure lowered, but the repugnance left a vile aftertaste in his mouth.

Hard to believe he’d ever slept with her, even if it had been years ago.

Turning to go back into the conference room, he caught sight of Emily “Doc” Duvall, their resident CDC scientist. Her gaze met his and her face lit up bright as sunshine. He couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in him to spark joy.

“Any leads on where the bioweapon came from?” he asked.

Their last op to prevent the sale of a super strain of smallpox left them with this proverbial ticking time bomb of a traitor. Doc was doing what she could to find the origins of the biological weapon.

“I keep getting the runaround, hitting brick walls.” The warmth in her voice wrapped around him like the first sip of single malt scotch at the end of a hard day. “It’s only strengthening my resolve to knock them down. I won’t stop until I find out who created it. My job is usually pretty boring, but this is the perfect challenge.”

Since she’d been at the Gray Box, Doc had been exposed to horrors most civilians didn’t have the backbone to handle, and yet she never lost her optimism and always saw the silver lining.

“Keep me posted on your progress. Is there anything else?”

“I heard there was a meeting.” She strode up to him and stood close, testing the bounds of professional propriety. Teasing him with the scent of her hair, strawberries and cream. “Came to see if you needed me.”

After his divorce, he’d made certain never to need any woman again, but part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

Sanborn shook his head. “No, you’re not needed.”

“Maybe I can be of assistance in another way. I overheard your conversation. Sounds like you’re having a rough morning.”

Oh, crap. He didn’t want Doc to know he’d slept with that hell-raiser Sybil.