by CW Browning
“Hey!” Stephanie opened the door. “What's up?”
Blake smiled at her.
“Sorry it's so late,” he apologized. “I wanted to stop by on my way back to the hotel to tell you we found the catering van.”
Stephanie raised her eyebrows and stepped aside, motioning him inside.
“When?” she asked, closing the door behind him as he stepped into her living room.
“About an hour ago,” Blake answered, glancing around. “It was abandoned at an old empty building down in Riverside.”
“Anything useful in it?” Stephanie asked, crossing back over to the couch.
“Not really.” Blake shook his head. “I sent it over to have the forensics team go through it. Maybe they'll find something.” He crossed over to sit on the edge of an armchair, looking at her thoughtfully. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” Stephanie admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can't seem to settle down.”
“You've got one hell of a mess on your hands,” Blake said. “Your best bet to figure it out, though, is to get some sleep. You won't be much good without it.”
Stephanie looked at him.
“How are you making out with Jenaro?” she asked. “Any luck?”
“I think I've narrowed down the neighborhoods he can be in, but it's slow. I know how he works and he's like an eel. Just when you think you have him, he slips away.” Blake shrugged. “But I think we're getting close.”
“I got some information today about Jessica Nuñez,” Stephanie told him. “It's her testimony, on a flash drive. I'll get you a copy. Apparently, her parents were murdered in Mexico by Gomez. He followed her to the States and was bought off by her husband. He left them alone after that, until now.”
“Sounds about right for him,” Blake murmured. “What does he want from her?”
“He used her to run errands for him, one of which was placing Rodrigo's arm inside the cell where we found it,” Stephanie said tiredly. “He has her son. That's how he guaranteed her cooperation.”
Blake whistled softly.
“There's a complication,” he murmured. “Any ideas where?”
“Nope.” Stephanie shook her head and yawned widely. “We've put out an amber alert, but we have nothing to go on.”
“Where is Ms. Nuñez?”
“In protective custody, of sorts,” Stephanie muttered. “I don't have access to her yet.”
Blake stared at her and she waved her hand, her face showing her frustration.
“Don't ask,” she told him. “I can't tell you. Suffice it to say she's in good hands until Jenaro is no longer a threat.”
Blake stared at her thoughtfully for a long, silent moment.
“So, Ms. Nuñez is in hiding and her son is being held by Gomez,” he finally said slowly. “And the husband?”
“He and the daughter have two agents with them,” Stephanie answered. Her brown eyes met Blake's. “Not for nothing, I'm confident the boy will be found sooner, rather than later.”
Blake raised an eyebrow.
“That's optimistic of you,” he commented. “Any particular reason why?”
Stephanie smiled faintly.
“He's got a couple aces on his side,” she murmured, “and I'm starting to learn they never lose.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hawk shook his head and grimaced as Michael stepped on a dead branch. The resulting crack echoed through the trees, causing both men to freeze, listening to the night. An owl hooted nearby and the night air was cool and crisp. Hawk took a deep breath of the fresh air, enjoying the fall bite. His ears strained for noise outside the normal creaking and popping of scavenging animals, and he motioned to Michael when he detected the sound of movement a few yards away in the trees. Michael nodded and slipped behind a thick tree trunk, watching the darkness as Hawk moved silently around to the other side. Between them, they had Lowell flanked.
Michael waited patiently, watching for the tell-tale beam of light to show him Kwan's location. He didn't have long to wait. A thin slice of light cut through the darkness a moment later, a few feet away. He glanced over to where Hawk had moved, but his companion seemed to have disappeared into the darkness. Michael frowned slightly, then shrugged to himself. Pulling out his 9mm, he silently slid the safety off and waited in the shadows for Lowell to come closer.
The beam of light grew brighter, and Kwan emerged from between two trees, his attention focused on the ground. He never glanced up as he passed the tree concealing Michael, and was caught completely by surprise when Michael stepped out behind him.
In one fluid motion, Michael had his arm wrapped around his throat and the barrel of his gun pressed against his neck.
“I seem to remember telling you this is private property,” Michael growled.
Lowell froze for a split second before twisting swiftly and bringing his hand up in a quick jab. Without quite knowing how, Michael found himself pushed backwards, his gun skidding across the ground into a drift of dead leaves. He caught the white flash of teeth as Kwan grinned briefly in the dark before swinging his foot in a high arc, aiming it at his head. Michael's military training came back to him in an instant. Swiftly blocking the kick with his forearm, he twisted his wrist and latched onto Lowell's ankle. Where Lowell was small and wiry, Michael had sheer strength on his side. He pulled, throwing Lowell off balance. Lowell flew backwards, tried unsuccessfully to catch himself with his other leg, and ended up on his back. Releasing his ankle, Michael raised his foot to bring it down on his other knee, but Lowell twisted out of the way hurriedly. He kicked one of Michael's ankles and Michael stumbled heavily with a curse.
“You people and your Kung Fu,” he muttered, reaching down and picking Lowell up by the neck of his shirt. His fist connected solidly with his jaw and Lowell's head snapped back painfully, his body going limp. “All your fancy moves, and still no match for an old-fashioned, hard punch,” Michael said disgustedly, dropping Lowell's unconscious form onto the ground.
“There's nothing wrong with martial arts when used effectively,” Hawk remarked, materializing from the shadows. Michael glanced at him as Damon looked down at Kwan. “That was not effective.”
“Where the hell were you?” Michael demanded, leaning down and scooping up his gun from the pile of leaves. He flipped the safety back on and blew debris off the gun. “Way to be a wingman.”
“I figured I'd let you show me what you've got,” Hawk answered with a grin. “I know how you Marines like to show off.”
“If you want lessons, you just have to ask. We're always glad to help a squid out,” Michael retorted, drawing a laugh from Damon.
They stood and looked down at Lowell together. He lay unconscious, across a dead tree branch, his head tilted at an odd angle.
“What are you going to do with him?” Hawk finally asked.
“Damned if I know,” Michael admitted.
Damon glanced at him, his lips twitching.
“You've really thought this through, haven't you?” he asked.
“Give me a break,” Michael said. “Your agency has expressly forbidden me from touching him. All I can do is keep him away from Angela. This is new territory for me.”
“My agency?” Hawk raised an eyebrow. “How did they find out?”
“I accessed his file in the system. They had it flagged and came down hard on my boss.” Michael scratched his chin. “Technically, I suppose I shouldn't have even touched him.”
Damon grinned at the unrepentant look Michael's face.
“You knew that when you came out here?”
“Yep.”
“And you still came?”
“What was I supposed to do? Let Viper come and show Angela that she clearly isn't who Angela thinks she is?” Michael asked with a shrug. He glanced at Damon thoughtfully. “You know, I can't touch him...”
Hawk grinned as Michael's voice trailed off.
“You're gonna owe me another beer,” he told him, referring to a bet they
made two months ago on the trails in Peru.
“Bullshit. You still owe me beer,” Michael retorted with a grin, reviving the old argument.
Hawk chuckled and bent down to grab Lowell's wrist. He was in the process of hauling him up to toss him over his shoulder when Lowell started to come around. Without missing a beat, Hawk slammed his fist into Lowell's jaw, sending him back to never-never land.
“Tell Angie to rest easy,” he said, hefting Kwan over his shoulder. “I'll make sure he gets the message.”
“I know you will,” Michael murmured.
Alina and Angela were waiting for him on the deck, settled in the Adirondack chairs with glasses of wine, when Michael stepped through the trees into the back yard. The back spotlights were on and Raven perched on the banister, watching him as he emerged onto the lawn. As soon as he appeared, Angela jumped up and ran down the steps to cross the lawn.
“I watched the whole thing on Lina's security camera thingy,” she told him, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Michael blinked, taken aback when she launched herself into his arms. His arms closed around her automatically and he sent a startled look over her head to Alina. She just sipped her wine and shook her head.
“Uh, you're welcome,” he mumbled.
Angela pulled away, not seeming to notice his surprise at her impulsiveness.
“Where did Damon take him?”
“I've no idea,” Michael answered truthfully, walking up the steps of the deck.
“Lina doesn't know either. I wanted to say thank you.” Angela sounded disappointed. “Does this mean I can go back to my house now?”
“No.”
Michael and Alina spoke in unison and Michael grinned. Angela seated herself on her chair again and looked from one to the other.
“Why not?” she asked. “He's going to leave me alone now, right?”
“After Damon's finished with him? Most likely,” Alina said, a trace of amusement in her voice. “But it's better to be safe and make sure.”
She reached down beside her chair and picked up a cold bottle of beer, passing it to Michael.
“How long do I have to wait?” Angela demanded.
“As long as it takes to be sure,” Michael said, taking the beer with a smile. “Thanks. You're a woman after my own heart.”
“I thought you deserved something,” Alina replied, her eyes glinting in the dark. “It wasn't quite the show I hoped for, but it was beer-worthy.”
“I appreciate that,” Michael murmured.
“I thought it was wonderful,” Angela announced. “Really, Lina, sometimes I think you're just blood-thirsty. What did you want him to do? Blow his head off?”
“That would have been one option,” Alina murmured with a faint smile, “but he is a federal agent. I guess I shouldn't expect too much.”
“Keep it up, buttercup,” Michael retorted without heat.
“Lina, he was a Marine,” Angela pointed out, coming to his defense.
“My point exactly,” Alina said swiftly, winking at Michael.
He chuckled and Angela looked confused.
“But....I don't get it. Your brother was a Marine,” she said, looking at Alina.
Alina laughed.
“I know. I'm being a smart-ass,” she told her. “It's a Navy thing.”
“There's an oxymoron,” Michael murmured, drawing another laugh from Alina.
“Touché,” she murmured.
Angela shook her head and glanced at her watch.
“Well, I'll leave you two to insult each other as you see fit,” she said, standing up with her glass of wine. “I have to feed Annabelle and I want to catch The Voice on TV. Thanks again, Michael.”
“You don't have to thank me,” Michael said, watching as she went to the sliding door.
Angela disappeared into the house and Michael took her place in the Adirondack chair. He and Alina were silent, looking out over the dark lawn and darker trees. The breeze ruffled her hair and Alina sighed, sipping her wine contentedly. She leaned her head back against the chair and listened to an owl hoot in the trees while the raccoons chattered back and forth to each other. The sky was overcast, but some moonlight shone through the clouds and a crisp, cool breeze ruffled her hair. It was a perfect fall evening.
“What will he do with him?” Michael broke the comfortable silence.
“Persuade him that Angela isn't a loose-end that needs tying,” Alina answered.
“Your agency tied my hands with him, you know,” he told her.
Alina glanced at him sharply.
“How so?”
“Someone from the CIA came down on my boss pretty hard today. Essentially, I was told I can't touch Kwan,” Michael said, looking at her. “Any idea why they're protecting him?”
Alina's dark eyes were hooded and her face gave nothing away.
“I'm not privy to the Director's files,” she said. “If I had to venture a guess, I'd say they want him for themselves, but I really have no idea.”
“That's my thought,” Michael agreed, lifting his beer to his lips. “That or they're running him.”
Alina turned her attention back to the dark trees silently. She couldn't tell Michael about Moon, but she suspected he already knew about him anyway. If the CIA had taken the trouble to warn Michael off Kwan, his boss would have wanted to know why. What concerned her was why they had approached Chris Harbour at all. Why were they so worried about keeping Kwan safe?
“So, have we scared you away from Jersey yet?” Michael asked after another lengthy silence.
Alina chuckled and shook her head.
“You're getting close,” she admitted, “but not yet. With any luck, Stephanie will wrap her case up and take Kwan off our hands for good. Then, at least I'll get Angela out of the house.”
“She really has no idea, does she?” Michael asked, leaning his head back. “About you?”
“I don't know,” Alina said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Angie sees more than she lets on. I don't know how much she's figured out, if anything.”
Michael glanced at her.
“It really bothers you, doesn't it?” he asked quietly. “Having so many people know what you do.”
Alina's glance was swift, her mask firmly in place.
“The more people who know, the more dangerous it is for them,” she said shortly. “I've made a lot of enemies who would have no compunction about taking out innocents to get to me.”
“Would it make you feel better to know all the files pertaining to Washington DC two months ago were sealed?” Michael asked.
Viper laughed shortly and humorlessly.
“Not really,” she replied. “I know how easy it is to get into sealed files.”
Michael remained silent, knowing nothing he said would convince her that her identity was fairly safe. It wasn't the sealed files or the fact that they were all federal agents that made it so, but the fact that they all loved and respected her. They had an emotional investment in the woman at his side, and Michael knew it was stronger than any oath or sealed file. He also knew only time would prove it to Viper. She had forgotten what true friendship meant, and it was going to take a long time to remind her.
“What about Damon?” Michael changed the subject. “He was compromised as well.”
“He's still cleaning it up,” Alina said, finishing her wine. She got up restlessly and moved over to lean against the banister, setting her empty wine glass on the edge. “Regina left a trail of pictures with every mercenary, assassin, and government agent out there. We were able to seal off the digital path, but there's no way of knowing how many times it was saved or reproduced. The one thing working in his favor is the habit most of us have of permanently deleting pictures and files of a hit once we've read them.”
“She really did a number on you two, didn't she?” Michael asked softly. He didn't miss the flash of anger in her eyes as she glanced at him. “I'm surprised they still
have him in the field.”
“As I said, he's still cleaning it up,” Alina answered, tamping down the sudden flash of anger ripping through her at the thought of Regina. “For now, he's considered uncompromised.”
Michael nodded and watched her thoughtfully. Her restlessness grew and she turned to look over the dark expanse of grass, tension in every fiber of her body. She was still furious, he realized. Killing Regina hadn't appeased the fury still simmering below the surface, fury he suspected was due more to what Regina did to Damon, rather than to her.
“What's done is done,” he said quietly. Alina turned her head slightly, her only acknowledgement of his words. “You can't change what she did. All you can do is help repair the damage and hope for the best.”
“I never was much good at just hoping for the best,” she muttered, turning to face him again. She had reigned in her anger, he noted, and her face was back in the neutral expression she habitually wore. “If Hawk becomes compromised because of her, it will be my fault. I can't just brush that away with happy thoughts of butterflies and daisies.”
Michael couldn't help the chuckle that escaped at that.
“If he was going to be compromised, it would have already happened,” he said, standing and joining her at the banister. “It's been two months, plenty of time for any enemies he's made to get hold of the picture. They would have moved by now.”
Alina thought of Jenaro Gomez and her lips tightened.
“Perhaps,” she murmured.
“You two are pretty close. You met in basic, didn't you?” Michael asked, lifting his beer to his lips.
“Mmm.” Alina turned to look out into the darkness again. “We haven't seen much of each other over the years. It's only the past few months we've had the chance to reconnect.”
“So what's the story there? I always got the impression you secret agent people were loners.”
Alina smiled faintly at his weak jab at her agency.
“We are,” she answered. “Unfortunately, some people like to ignore that.”
