Ominous Legacy (Counterstrike Book 4) by Jannine Gallant

Author:Jannine Gallant [Gallant, Jannine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-09-07T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Talia leaned back against the couch cushions and blinked tired eyes. From the dining room drifted the rumble of voices, intermittent bursts of giggling, and an occasional squeal. She smiled as she rose to her feet, tucked her laptop beneath her arm, and headed toward the light and laughter.

Wyatt glanced up when she entered the room, and Bree’s palm came down hard over the card she’d just played with a slap that rattled the table. Beneath it, Stella scrambled to her feet and barked.

“Ha! You blew it buddy. You’re getting slow in your old age.”

Wyatt’s scowl was ferocious. “No fair. Talia distracted me.”

She approached the table. “What in the world are you two playing?”

“Slap Jack. Mindless but entertaining. Bree is kicking my butt.”

His daughter grinned. “My reflexes are excellent. Dad’s, not so much.”

“Probably because I keep wondering what you’re doing in there. Did you learn anything useful?” His tone was hopeful.

“We can talk after you finish your game.”

“You can talk now.” Bree pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ve been off my phone for an hour, and I’m going through withdrawals. I think I’ll head to my room.”

Talia’s lips twitched. “You have your dad’s sense of humor.”

“Thankfully. Most of the time, he’s the fun parent. G’night, you two.”

“Good night, Bree.” He squeezed her arm as she passed. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Tomorrow’s the weekend. I can sleep in.” She gave Talia a quick smile as she strolled out of the dining area. Stella stretched and shook, then scampered after her.

“I like your daughter a lot.” Talia dropped onto the vacated chair. “I’m sorry I interrupted your game.”

“Bree would rather Facetime her friends or Snapchat or whatever the hell she does in there. I’m pretty sure she was just being nice to me since I probably look like a train wreck.”

She studied the lines radiating from his tight lips while he scooped up the cards and tapped them into a neat pile. “You’ve been pretty tense all day and didn’t eat much dinner. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t stop obsessing over who the rat—or multiple rats—are. One minute, guilt eats at me for doubting long-standing friendships, and the next, I wonder if I’m being naïve to trust anyone.”

“Hopefully I can ease some of your anxiety. I’ve narrowed your list down to a few people who have the most potential.”

He dropped the pack of cards on the table. “Who?”

“Not your producer. Rita Chen appears to be squeaky clean, and I couldn’t find anything on her assistant, Gretchen Berry.”

“Good to know. What about Oren Lindquist?”

“Your director made my short list of people with political contacts in D.C. As did Victor Tyson, the head cameraman. He has family in the area, a few of whom work on Capitol Hill.” She opened her computer and consulted her notes. “The key grip, Joel Picket, went to college at George Mason University, just outside D.C. A couple of his fraternity brothers know people inside the current administration.”

Wyatt rested clenched fists on the table. “Anyone else?”

“My background check on your old girlfriend turned up something interesting.

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