Next Exit, Dead Ahead

by CW Browning

  “Wait a minute.” Angela shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was being told. “Just...back up a minute. Obviously you think I know more than I actually do. What do you mean, before he disappeared? I didn't even know he had disappeared!”

  “Oh dear,” Lowell murmured. “Ok. Look. Maybe it would be better if you came into the office and I can explain everything to you.”

  “Come into the office on a Sunday?” Angela rolled her eyes. “Are you insane?”

  “I think you'd better,” Lowell said apologetically. “There's an awful lot to explain, and we need to figure out how he got your passwords. Not only that, but now you have to change them all.”

  “This can all wait until tomorrow.”

  “Miss Bolan, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. There's been a security breach, and he did it with your network credentials.”

  Angela felt cold all at once as she stared out the window and her mind drained of thought.

  “I really think you need to come into the office this afternoon so I can get this sorted out and prevent any more damage.”

  “What kind of security breach?” Angela asked, her throat tight.

  There was a short silence, then a sigh.

  “That's just it,” Lowell told her. “I have no idea.”

  Alina sipped her water and watched Hawk and Michael from inside the sliding door in the living room. They were still firing rounds into the trees and, as far as she could tell, they had moved the can three more times since she came inside. Clearly, they were evenly matched with their respective modified 9mm. She shook her head as Michael ejected his clip and pulled another one from the pocket of his jeans. The Marine and the Navy SEAL. They would be out there until kingdom come.

  Turning away from the door, Alina capped her water bottle and moved to the laptop sitting on the bar. She settled down on a stool and opened it, setting her water down.

  Jenaro Gomez.

  What she told Michael was a bold-faced lie. Alina knew of Jenaro. He was notorious in Mexico, known to be one of the most ruthless and vicious men in the Casa Reino Cartel. Second in Command, he answered only to the head of the Cartel himself. When Hawk put a bullet in that head, Jenaro would have become the acting leader of the infamous Cartel.

  Alina typed in a few commands, linking to her server in the basement. When the three heads were killed two months ago, the three largest cartels in Mexico were thrown into disarray. Power struggles erupted as the remaining leaders waged war on each other, trying to gain control of their cartels. The resulting disruption to the drug trafficking and regional control hurt them badly. The Mexican government was able to regain tenuous control over some of the regions previously controlled by the cartels, resulting in huge losses for the drug trade. The last she heard, the cartels were still in disarray and trying to regroup.

  After a few moments of searching, Viper found herself staring at picture of Jenaro Gomez. His dark eyes were deep-set and his hair was thinning on top. A scar curved over his cheek from the corner of his eye and a tattoo covered half his neck. He looked like a sinister man who was capable of anything. Tilting her head slightly, Alina's lips curved.

  He looked like a worthy opponent for Hawk.

  She minimized the photo and pulled up a security portal into the government databases. After typing in her credentials, Alina stared into the kitchen thoughtfully while she waited for the security check to verify. If Jenaro was indeed in Jersey, then it was becoming more and more likely the Casa Reino Cartel was responsible for the head outside Damon's condo. Was that why Hawk had come back to Jersey? For Jenaro? If the cartel was responsible for the disappearance and dismemberment of Rodrigo Frietas, why him? Why would the Casa Reinos have any interest in Stephanie's informant?

  Alina was still staring into space, lost in thought, when a text message alert went off on her phone. She frowned when she saw the incoming name. Her boss, Charlie, was sending her an image. He never sent images to her cell phone, preferring to use their secure email network for sensitive material. She touched the message file and raised an eyebrow when she found herself staring at another picture of Jenaro Gomez. There was no message or caption, just the photo.

  Setting the phone down, Viper shook her head. She shouldn't be surprised Charlie somehow knew everything that happened around his agents, but she was surprised just the same. If Charlie was sending pictures of the cartel lieutenant to her phone, he had clearly not sent Hawk to Jersey after Jenaro. So why was Hawk here? And why was Charlie warning her that Jenaro was in Jersey? And what did any of this have to do with Stephanie's investigation anyway?

  Shaking her head, Viper sent a secure email to Charlie. Once it was sent, she went back to the databases and started three searches: one on Jenaro Gomez, one on Rodrigo Frietas, and one on Jessica Nuñez. Somehow, all three of these people were connected and Alina had every intention of finding out how.

  “I don't see what good it did having the Black Widow look at the head,” John said, unwrapping his hoagie. “All she did was confirm what we already know.”

  Stephanie glanced up from her salad and watched as her partner bit into his Italian hoagie. Rodrigo's head had been taken away by Larry to join the arm, the Dungeon was locked up and under guard, and she had given the order to shut down the haunted walk. She had a BOLO out on the missing prison guide and the local police were already interviewing family and friends of the actors. When John suggested lunch, she jumped at the chance to take a break from the hellish day Sunday had become.

  “I wouldn't say that,” she said now as she picked up her fork and dug into her salad. “She pointed out the possibility that the head is a warning.”

  “Do you really think there's anything in that?” John asked. He wiped some oil off his lips and picked up a bag of chips. “Seems like a stretch. I mean, who leaves a human head on a stick as a warning?”

  “Who leaves a human head on a stick, period?” Stephanie countered. “And yet, we have one.”

  John picked up his hoagie again and they fell into a morose silence. Stephanie speared a cucumber almost viciously, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond John's right shoulder. The whole situation was ridiculous and she was thoroughly stumped. Why put Rodrigo's head on a stake and leave it outside the prison? John was right. It was a stretch to think the head was a warning, but what else could it be? A warning at least made some sense out of a seemingly vicious and senseless act.

  “Maybe we're allowing ourselves to be distracted,” Stephanie murmured.

  John glanced up from his sandwich.

  “You call an arm and a head a distraction?” he asked incredulously.

  Stephanie's brown eyes moved to his and she nodded slowly. John stared at her and her lips started to curve.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed suddenly, dropping her fork as the truth hit her. “Think about it! Rodrigo was going to give us information about a cyber-terrorist hacking ring working in the area, right?”

  “Right,” John agreed, setting his hoagie down and picking up the chips.

  “And then he disappears before he can tell us anything,” Stephanie continued, leaning forward. “What happens? We're looking for him, trying to discover what he was going to tell us, and we're covertly monitoring all the area banks for any signs of our mysterious hacking ring. Then, suddenly, his arm appears in a locked cell in an old prison museum.”

  “Right.” John munched some chips, watching her. “And?”

  “And we get so caught up trying to figure out how an arm got into a locked cell that we stop focusing on the investigation that brought us Rodrigo in the first place,” Stephanie said softly, her eyes glittering.

  John's eyes narrowed suddenly in shocked understanding.

  “Oh my God...” he muttered.

  “We've spent the majority of the weekend buzzing around Mt. Holly Prison Museum, instead of focusing on the hacking ring that Rodrigo claimed was at work in South Jersey,” Stephanie murmured.

  “And w
hat about Rodrigo?”

  “Whoever is behind the ring is behind his disappearance and murder.” Stephanie picked up her fork again. “Given his untimely demise, I think it's clear someone found out he was going to talk and went through some extreme lengths to make sure that he didn't.”

  “Distracting us in the process,” John added disgustedly. “They knew he came to us.”

  “Yes.” Stephanie chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “And they knew we would be called in as soon as he was ID'd. Are they buying time?”

  “Possibly.” John dropped the chips and propped his elbows on the table. “They already bought themselves almost the whole weekend.”

  “I need the transcript of my interview with Rodrigo,” Stephanie decided, pushing her chair back and standing up abruptly. “I'm going to the office. Why don't you follow up on the missing museum guide? She's the piece in all this that doesn't fit. We need to find her.”

  “Got it.” John wrapped up the remainder of his sandwich and glanced up as Stephanie picked up her purse. “What?”

  Stephanie was staring at him, her gaze suddenly arrested.

  “When you had dinner with the blonde bimbo Friday night, you said she saw Rodrigo meet with someone else,” she said. “Who?”

  “Philip Chou.” John stood up and shrugged into his jacket. “I was going to look him up yesterday, but got distracted with Rodrigo's arm.”

  “Indeed.” Stephanie smiled grimly. “I think it's time I took care of that for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Damon's stomach growled as he went down the stairs and was assaulted with the sweet smell of garlic and tomatoes. Michael had left over an hour before to meet his friend Blake in the city for dinner, and Damon disappeared into the spare room with his laptop and phone. Alina was left to her own devices in the kitchen. By the smell of things, she had been busy.

  “What smells so good?” he asked.

  Alina was standing at the stove. A glass of wine sat on the counter next to her as she monitored a boiling pot of pasta on one burner and a large sauté pan filled with vegetables and what looked like chicken sausage on another. She glanced over her shoulder as Damon came into the kitchen.

  “Dinner,” she answered dryly.

  “I can see that,” he murmured, coming up behind her and peering over her shoulder at the vegetables and sausage in the pan. “It smells outstanding.”

  “I was going to make steak, but then thought better of it.”

  Alina sipped her wine and turned to face him, a rueful smile playing about her lips. Damon's blue eyes met hers and her pulse quickened at their closeness.

  “Should I be worried?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

  “Not tonight,” she retorted. “I'm not tired of you yet.”

  “I'm not sure how I feel about you joking about that,” Damon murmured. He turned away and went into the dining room to get another wine glass from the table. “It's still a pretty fresh memory.”

  Two months before, Alina had made him a delicious steak dinner over an open fire. He enjoyed it thoroughly, right up until she drugged him and ruthlessly relocated him to South America. When he woke up, their old mentor and friend, Harry, was with him and she was gone.

  Alina chuckled now and picked up her wine.

  “I promised you I would never do it again,” she told him. “Trust me.”

  “Trust is earned, and so far, you haven't redeemed yourself,” Damon retorted, returning with a glass. He picked up the open bottle from the kitchen island and poured himself some wine. “Say that again in about a year.”

  “A year!” Alina exclaimed. “It'll take you a year to get over it? Sheesh! I didn't even leave a bruise.”

  “No, you didn't,” he agreed with a reluctant smile of approval. “In fact, I couldn't even find the injection mark. Where did you stick me?”

  “In your ass.” Alina set down her glass and turned back to the sauté pan on the stove while Damon struggled between laughter and outrage. “Can you move the salad into the dining room?”

  Damon picked up a wooden bowl full of mixed greens and vegetables and carried it into the dining room. The table was already set with pasta plates and salad bowls. He placed the salad on the table, set his glass down next to one of the plates, and turned to go back into the kitchen.

  “There's garlic bread in the oven, if you want to make yourself useful and grab it,” Alina said over her shoulder as she poured the pot of pasta into a colander in the sink.

  “You have been busy,” Damon said, grabbing a potholder and opening the oven door. The smell of garlic poured out and his stomach growled in response. “If you keep this up, you'll never get rid of me.”

  He went through the cabinets until he found the plates and transferred the hot roll of garlic bread onto a large plate. He carried it into the dining room, then turned and watched as Alina tossed the contents of the sauté pan into the pasta. She reached behind her for some olive oil, drizzled it over the pasta and vegetables, and grabbed a block of fresh Parmesan. She started grating it over the pasta, glancing up when she sensed him watching her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Damon shook his head and smiled faintly. “It's...nothing.”

  Viper's eyes narrowed and she finished grating the cheese before picking up the bowl to carry it into the dining room. As she passed him, she glanced up into his rugged face.

  “If you make one comment about women in the kitchen, I'll slice out your tongue,” she told him.

  Hawk grinned.

  “I wouldn't dream of it,” he murmured. He grabbed her wine glass from the counter and followed her into the dining room, setting it on the table near her plate. “You forget that I know the real you.”

  Alina shot him a look from under her lashes and sat down. Reaching for the salad bowl, her mind went back to boot camp. She didn't remember much from those long ago days when she first met Damon, but she was fairly certain they hadn't shared a lot with each other. They were too busy competing with each other to get to know each other very well. The 'real' Alina Damon knew was the Viper she had become.

  “Stop thinking,” Hawk said, watching her from his seat. Her gaze flew to his and he smiled. “I know you better than you think.”

  “You know what I've allowed you to know,” Alina retorted as she filled her salad bowl. “Nothing more.”

  “Hmm.” Damon's lips twitched and he accepted the salad from her. “I wouldn't lay bets on that, Ms. Maschik.”

  “I don't even know why we're having this conversation,” she said impatiently. “It's all completely irrelevant. We work together, we respect each other, and we're close friends. That's all we really need to know.”

  “Tell me, does everything in your life always fit so neatly into your boxes for you?” Damon asked conversationally, setting the salad bowl aside and picking up his fork. He didn't miss the flash from the dark brown eyes next to him.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, everything does,” Alina snapped, forking some salad and lifting it to her mouth.

  “Outside of work, nothing in my life fits in boxes,” he remarked, chewing thoughtfully. “I've always found boxes kind of boring.”

  “Do you have a life outside of work?” Alina asked, momentarily diverted.

  Hawk looked at her, amused.

  “Of course I do. The Organization isn't everything.”

  Alina was quiet for a moment, feeling a little sheepish for not knowing anything about Damon's private life. She supposed she should have asked at some point what he did for fun, or where he even lived, but they had lived by an unspoken agreement through the years. Don't ask and don't tell. The less they knew about each other, the better off they both would be.

  “It seems a little ridiculous to be asking this now, but where do you live?” Alina finally asked after a few long moments of silence.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Damon asked softly.

  Their eyes met and she sighed imperceptibly. They had been trained to live alone, in d
arkness and secret. They weren't supposed to know anything about each other, and they certainly were never meant to be sitting here together, having a cozy meal in her dining room. The Organization taught them to be ghosts, and ghosts did not have close friends. They were killers, trained to hunt and eliminate targets that were a threat to national security. They were not normal people, Hawk and Viper, and they shouldn't know anything about each other that could later become a liability.

  Yet, somehow, the unspoken and unwritten rules had changed for them. Since day one in boot camp, an invisible bond had been forged between them. It was a bond neither of them had acknowledged until recently, and with it came a host of complications.

  “Yes,” she decided suddenly. “You know where I live, who my friends used to be, and even who I was going to marry. I think I can at least know where you call home.”

  “You already know where I live,” Damon told her, his eyes glinting with amusement.

  Alina stared at him, her salad forgotten for the moment. Her face was emotionless as her mind scanned back over the years, searching for some mention of his home. There was nothing in her memory. Unless...

  “You grew up out west, didn't you?” she asked. “Out in the boondocks somewhere. Montana, wasn't it?”

  “Oklahoma.” Damon couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

  “Same thing,” Alina muttered, going back to her salad. The mystery was solved.

  “Oklahoma is in a completely different part of the country!” Hawk exclaimed, startled despite himself at her complete disregard for her own country's geography.

  “Anything west of the Mississippi is all the same,” she retorted.

  “Spoken like an East Coast city girl,” he shot back.

  Alina burst out laughing. Her eyes lit up with a laugh that came from deep within her and Damon grinned as his Jersey Girl made a sudden appearance. He missed the mystery girl who lurked deep inside Viper. The last time he glimpsed her was two months ago, on a tropical island.