Next Exit, Dead Ahead

by CW Browning

  Michael grinned at her not-to-subtle jab back.

  “And Damon's one of us?” he asked. “I got the impression in Peru he was used to being alone, and so were you.”

  “We are,” Alina replied quietly. “When he was sent to be my backup last Spring, neither of us knew how to work as a team. We still don't. I think we make it up as we go along.” She glanced at him and Michael glimpsed the Lina he met years ago deep in her dark eyes. “What we do is a lonely job. Not many people can understand it.”

  “I guess it's like going to war every day,” Michael said thoughtfully. “When I got back from my last tour in the Middle East, I felt like no one could possibly understand the things I had seen. Blake felt the same way. We helped each other in that regard.”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “It's good you were able to reconnect with him, then,” Michael told her gently. “You probably need each other more than you realize.”

  Alina fell silent for a moment, tamping down the abrupt feeling of melancholy threatening to overcome her. The crisp night air suddenly seemed cold and the sounds of the night owls were starting to grate on her nerves.

  “Damon and I....it's complicated,” she finally said, her face shuttered.

  “I can see that,” Michael answered. He considered her thoughtfully. “How complicated?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  Michael met her gaze unflinchingly.

  “I need to know,” he answered softly.

  Alina stared into his green-hazel eyes and felt something tug deep inside her, something akin to longing, but not as sharp and insistent as the haunting feeling that hovered just below the surface with Hawk. If things were different, if she was different, Michael would have been perfect for her. As it was, he was out of reach to her now, and somewhere deep inside her, Alina knew she regretted that.

  “There's nothing you need to know, Michael,” she replied, her voice just as soft. “Only what you want to know.”

  Michael smiled faintly and raised his hand to cup her cheek gently.

  “There's a lot I want, but most of it's not in the cards, is it?”

  “No.” Alina smiled slightly, bringing her hand up to cover his. “And you don't really want what my reality is. You've seen what I do, what I become, who I am. That's not for you.”

  “You really need to stop thinking you know what's best for everyone else,” Michael murmured. “Maybe it's time you start thinking about what's best for you.”

  “And that's you?” Alina couldn't help the grin that curved her lips, taking the edge off her next words. “You Marines really do suffer from a bloated sense of self-confidence.”

  “It comes with the uniform,” he retorted with an answering grin. He moved his hand from under hers and closed his fingers around it, letting their joined hands drop from her face. “I'm sure Dave didn't anticipate any of this when he asked me to look out for you, but like it or not, you're stuck with me. It may not be in the role I would like, but I'm in your life to stay. You might want to warn your SEAL of that.”

  “He knows,” Alina murmured.

  Michael nodded and looked down at their joined hands. The light from above the deck glanced across them and he traced a soft line across the back of her knuckles. He glanced up at her and the light caught the green glint in his eyes, making them glow like cats' eyes.

  “I'll be here if you need me,” he said softly. “You don't scare me, Viper.”

  Alina flinched at the sound of her codename on his lips, but she couldn't seem to make herself tear her gaze away from those sparkling green eyes.

  “You're a good man, Michael O'Reilly,” she whispered, her voice catching.

  “And you're a good woman, Alina Maschik,” he replied, “even if you don't realize it.”

  Alina smiled faintly and released his hand, turning to go into the house. Michael stopped her as she reached for the door.

  “And you're wrong, you know,” he said, leaning against the banister and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at her steadily.

  “About what?” she asked, turning her head to glance back at him.

  “I've seen what you do and I saw who you become in order to do your job,” Michael told her, “but I haven't seen who you are. Not yet. There's more to you than Viper.”

  Alina felt as if she had been hit in the chest and had all the air knocked out of her. She stared at Michael, the blood pounding in her ears, as she tried to ignore the rush of emotions suddenly crashing over her. Michael watched her mask slide seamlessly into place, effectively blocking her thoughts from him.

  “I wish I could believe that,” Viper answered shortly.

  “You don't have to believe it,” Michael retorted. “It's the truth and always will be, whether you believe it or not.”

  Alina stared at him wordlessly for a moment, her eyes shuttered and emotionless, before she turned and went inside. Once she had closed the door, Michael turned to look out over the darkness. A slow smile pulled at his lips. For a minute, before the shield came down, he had glimpsed her surprise...and fear. For a moment, he had seen Lina Maschik, the young woman he had drunk Jameson with years ago. She still lurked there, buried beneath all the armor and all the years of fighting.

  Dave, I'm trying, Michael thought, glancing up at the sky, but she's not making it easy.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Awareness came to her slowly. It was the silent hour just before dawn, when the birds were starting to stir in their nests and the night was getting lighter, but the sky hadn't started to change from midnight blue to gray just yet. Viper didn't question what had awakened her. She simply opened her eyes and listened. The house was silent, neither Angela nor Michael were stirring, and Raven was settled on his perch, his beak buried in his shoulder, fast asleep. Rolling over in bed, she glanced at the window. It was closed, the sheer curtains hanging still before it.

  Alina yawned and stretched before tossing off the down comforter and getting up. Raven lifted his beak and blinked, gazing at her sleepily as she headed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged and disappeared into the walk-in closet. When she reappeared, Viper was dressed in gray yoga pants, a tank top, and running shoes. Raven stood up and stretched, ruffling his feathers and shaking his head. As she went silently out the bedroom door, he moved to the end of the perch and flew up to the skylight, disappearing through the trap door.

  Hawk watched from the trees as Raven hopped out onto the roof and looked around. His black eyes latched on Damon unwaveringly and Hawk smiled faintly. He swore that bird had radar. He shifted his gaze to the deck as a light came on in the living room and Viper appeared at the sliding door, dressed in yoga pants. He knew she had radar.

  Damon waited for her to come onto the deck before moving out of the trees and onto the grass. She looked at him and stretched, coming down the steps toward him.

  “Morning,” she murmured, joining him near the trees.

  “Morning.” Hawk looked down at her and smiled faintly. “You're up early.”

  “So are you,” she muttered. “How'd it go last night?”

  “Kwan decided Angela wasn't much of a threat after all,” Damon told her.

  Alina nodded.

  “No surprise there,” she said with a quick grin. “Can he still walk?”

  “Of course,” Damon answered, turning to walk with her into the trees. “He may have some trouble typing for a while. His right hand may or may not have some broken bones, but he'll live.”

  “Good. Anything new on Jenaro?” Viper asked, glancing at him.

  “I'm getting closer,” Hawk told her. “Have you found the boy yet?”

  “I'm getting closer,” Alina retorted, drawing an appreciative grin from him. “I have a pretty good idea who has him. I just have to find out where he's keeping him.”

  “I haven't seen any sign of a little one with Gomez,” Hawk told her, stopping and leaning against a pine tree. “Are you sure he's still in New Jersey?”


  “Positive.” Alina stood in front of him and looked up into his face. “Let me find him before you take out Gomez. I don't want to risk losing the boy if you eliminate the only person who definitely knows where he is.”

  “Then hurry,” Hawk said, his blue eyes hard. “I'm not waiting much longer.”

  “I'll find him soon,” Viper assured him. She looked at him, noting the rings under his eyes. “You look exhausted. Did you sleep?”

  “For a couple of hours,” Damon replied. “I checked into a hotel. You have a full house and I thought it was best not to climb in through your window again.”

  Alina tilted her head and considered him.

  “That's probably true,” she agreed softly. “Have you eaten?”

  “Is that an offer for breakfast?” Damon asked with a smile.

  Alina chuckled and turned back toward the house.

  “Yes, and coffee,” she said over shoulder. “You look like you need it.”

  “Throw in access to your command center for an hour and I'm all yours,” Hawk replied.

  “Oh, I know you are,” Alina murmured.

  Damon grinned and reached out to grab her wrist, jerking her up against him swiftly. Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her until she had no breath left inside her. When he finally lifted his head, his own breathing came in ragged gasps and his eyes pulsed a dark, mesmerizing cobalt blue.

  “Just making sure we're on the same page,” he murmured, his lips curving slightly.

  Alina shook her head slightly and pulled away.

  “Come on. Let's get you fed and into the command center before the natives start stirring,” she said, pushing away the rush of desire threatening to send her back into his arms. “They don't know it's there, and I'd rather keep it that way. I want to keep some secrets from Michael.”

  “For a Marine, he's a good guy,” Damon remarked, falling into step beside her as they emerged from the trees.

  “I'm glad you like him.” Alina glanced at him. “He said to tell you he's not going anywhere.”

  “Oh, I'm aware of that.” Hawk glanced up to the roof where Raven watched them protectively. “As long as he doesn't get in my way, I have no problems with him.”

  “What happened in Peru, exactly?” Viper asked, stopping at the foot of the deck steps and looking at him. “You two came back buddies.”

  Hawk grinned at her.

  “It's a guy thing,” he told her with a wink. “We bonded on a goat trail.”

  Alina's eyebrow soared into her forehead and she turned to go up the steps.

  “Oh Hawk, there are so many things I could say to that,” she murmured, “but I'll keep them to myself.”

  Stephanie stood silently, staring at the body hanging from the tree in front of the prison. The rope creaked eerily as a brisk wind caused the body to sway in a slow, grotesque movement that made the corpse appear almost alive. A white screen had been hastily erected around the tree, concealing it from the busy road and curious onlookers, and Stephanie was glad of the semi-privacy it provided as she stared mutely at the sight.

  Philip Chou was missing one shoe and his right hand. His dark hair hung limply over his eyes like a veil and his head was twisted at an odd angle, suggesting he really had been hanged to death. He wore the clothes he was wearing when he disappeared out of the office, according to Scott's statement, and his shirt was liberally splattered with blood. Stephanie knew she should feel ill at the thought that the blood spatters were undoubtedly from his own severed hand, but she couldn't seem to feel anything but numb. After an arm, a head, and a tongue, she supposed she should be grateful that, with the exception of the missing hand, Philip seemed to be all in one piece.

  John rounded the corner of the screen with a large Wawa coffee in each hand and his eyes went straight to the corpse suspended from the tree.

  “Holy Mother of God! You weren't lying,” he exclaimed, staring at the body.

  Stephanie glanced at him and reached out to take one of the cups.

  “Did you really think I would make this up?” she demanded, sipping the hot coffee thankfully.

  “No. And, it is the day before Halloween,” John replied, examining the body from where he stood. “How the hell did they get him up there? It must be at least fourteen feet up to that branch.”

  “How did they do any of it?” Stephanie retorted. “Of course, no one saw anything. He's hanging from a tree, right on a main road, in the middle of the front yard of a prison and no one saw a thing!”

  John raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic sharpness in her voice.

  “Who found him?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

  “One of the uniforms over there.” Stephanie jerked her head back toward the group of policemen standing near the side of the prison. “He drove by about five and saw him hanging here.”

  “Why are they standing all the way over there?” John asked.

  Stephanie shrugged defensively.

  “I may have told them to keep their incompetence contained elsewhere so it wouldn't contaminate my crime scene,” she said.

  John choked on his coffee.

  “And you say I need to work on my inter-agency diplomacy,” he exclaimed, laughter leaping into his pale blue eyes.

  “Well, they are incompetent,” Stephanie retorted. “How do you patrol a neighborhood every night and not see someone get hanged from a tree? Or not see someone put a tongue on the steps? Or leave a head on a spike? I mean, seriously? These people aren't ghosts. There's no excuse for this!”

  “Maybe the Cartel has an ear on the scanners and knows when the patrols go by,” John suggested, turning his attention back to the hanging body of Philip Chou. “What about our guy? Didn't you put one of our agents on surveillance here? Why didn't he see anything?”

  “I don't know.” Stephanie set her coffee down and pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket. “I sent him back to the office and told him to explain himself to Rob directly. I didn't trust myself not to shoot him.”

  “Now you sound like the Black Widow,” John told her with a grin, pulling on his own gloves and turning his attention to the grass around the tree. “Did we send for our techs, or are they all incompetent as well?”

  “Keep it up, Smithe, and I'll send you home too,” Stephanie snapped.

  John grinned and fell silent, bending down to examine the ground. The lack of rain had left it hard, making it impossible to see imprints in the hard-packed dirt.

  “The ground's too hard to get any prints off it,” he said, glancing up at the body. “We'll need the techs to check for any stray DNA.”

  “They're on the way,” Stephanie mumbled, her hands on Chou's legs. She held him steady as she stared at something on his head. “Does that look like a bruise to you?”

  “Where?” John asked, standing up and moving to her side.

  “There, on his temple.”

  John looked at the discolored swelling near Philip Chou's left temple.

  “It looks like he was hit on the head with something,” he answered, tilting his head. “Maybe that's how they got him out of the building and into the van.”

  Stephanie nodded and let go of the legs, releasing the body back into the wind.

  “Probably,” she agreed. “Larry should be able to tell us more when he gets a good look at him.”

  “Where is our trusty ME?” John asked, looking around. “Usually he's right on time.”

  “He's on his way.” Stephanie stepped back and stripped off her gloves. “The van popped a tire in a pothole on the way here. He called just before you got here.”

  John nodded and watched as Stephanie sipped her coffee and stared at the body pensively.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Why are they going through all this trouble?” Stephanie asked, glancing at him. “Leaving bodies around the prison is risky and dangerous. Why bother?”

  “To leave a message,” John replied with a shrug. “Blake and the Black Widow both seem to agree that the
Cartels have a dramatic streak in them. Gomez is leaving a message.”

  “For who? He's running out of audience members to intimidate.”

  “Not quite,” John said slowly. “He still has Kwan.”

  Stephanie stared at John.

  “Or Moon,” she murmured thoughtfully.

  John nodded and pulled off his gloves. His phone started ringing and he reached into his pocket, pulling it out.

  “It's the agent we put on Kwan checking in,” he said, swiping the screen and pressing accept.

  Stephanie nodded, turning her thoughtful gaze back to Philip Chou's body as John turned and walked away, his phone pressed against his ear. She still stood, staring at the body absently, a minute later when John came back, his face grim.

  “Looks like Kwan flew the coop,” he told her. “Peter hasn't seen him since last night. He followed him out into the Pine Barrens, then lost him when his GPS went berserk on him. He went back to Lowell's apartment to wait for him, but he hasn't come back yet.”

  “The Pine Barrens?” Stephanie looked at John sharply. “Where?”

  “Peter doesn't know,” John replied. “You think he was going after Angela?”

  “Call the Black Widow and find out,” Stephanie replied, turning away from the body of Philip Chou. “If he did, he may not be running. He may have just run into Viper.”

  “In which case, we may be looking at another body soon,” John muttered, looking up Alina's number in his phone. “What if he didn't?”

  “We'll get another damn BOLO out,” Stephanie replied grimly. “This is getting to be ridiculous. How many BOLO's can we possibly put out in the space of a couple days?”

  “I don't know, but I'm pretty sure you've already broken the department record,” John answered with a grin.

  Alina reached into her pocket and withdrew her silently vibrating phone. She glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow slightly when she saw John's number flashing.

  “Yes?” she answered shortly, returning her gaze to the large, gray building across the road. Police tape roped off the front yard and she watched the swarming activity, centered around a white screen concealing the body blowing in the breeze.