Colder Than Sin (Cold Justice - Crossfire: FBI Romantic Suspense Book 2)

by Toni Anderson

  “Send me his name,” Parker instructed. “Let’s see if we can find out where he’d traveled or who he’d been communicating with in the months before he died. I’ll get some of my team tracking other soldiers who deserted. Maybe we can triangulate some communication data.”

  It wasn’t that long since the Indonesian government had been fighting against separatist groups in Aceh. Eban scratched his jaw, needing a shave but not caring. “Could the attack on the hotel have anything to do with the Muslim extremists who want the country to enforce stricter religious laws?”

  Hawthorne paused in his pacing. “Finding tattoos on those dead terrorists in the woods would be unusual if that was the case. Many Muslims believe tattoos to be haram.” Forbidden.

  “The foreign minister who attended the conference is a known moderate.” The legat got up and poured himself fresh coffee. “I would have thought that extremists would have attacked when he was there, rather than after he left if they were trying to promote a political agenda.”

  Eban had no clue.

  “Well, whoever carried out the attack on the hotel definitely had some sort of military or militia training,” Alex said. “They waited until virtually no security was on site. They shut down communications from the hotel so no one could call for help, then eliminated almost everyone there.”

  “Why take Quentin and Cramer and no one else?” Armstrong asked.

  “It’s often about money with these guys—even IS regularly released captives in exchange for cash. I suspect they took Quentin when they discovered he was FBI. Even if they couldn’t ransom him, there are other groups who’d pay a lot of money to get their hands on someone from the Bureau. Haley was probably taken because she’s beautiful and extremely wealthy.” Alex’s expression firmed, and he looked like he was struggling to swallow. The thought of his friend being taken captive had hit the guy hard. Eban knew exactly how he was feeling.

  The FBI had run background checks on the woman and the company she and Alex Parker and another man owned. Everything came back shiny. But Eban was thinking the man on the other end of the video-link could alter any damn online thing he wanted if he was as good as his reputation suggested. Still, Haley Cramer was a multimillionaire who owned her own private island. She didn’t need money, and their company didn’t need this sort of attention.

  Even though Quentin had requested a background check on the woman, it was possible that had been for personal reasons. FBI agents couldn’t be too careful about who they hung out with.

  Maybe they’d hooked up, or Quentin had wanted to. Which would have been good news as the guy had been hurting since he’d lost his wife five years ago.

  Although—talk about bad timing or bad luck or both.

  “Did you talk to the survivors?” Alex asked. The baby stirred again, and he adjusted her position against his chest.

  “Tricia Rooks is in a coma. I spoke to Chris Baylor last night who apparently was in the 101st with Savage. They’re friends. He says he saw the ceiling collapse on top of Quentin and Haley after they rescued him from the burning building, and is convinced they’re dead. He was pretty cut up about it. Grant Gunn left Indonesia without me speaking to him. We’ll track him down Stateside for an official statement. I had planned to go back to the hospital this morning, but then we received the ransom demand.” He checked his watch. “Chris Baylor and Tricia Rooks were supposed to be on a private medivac chartered by Tricia’s company, Raptor, heading back to the US right about now. We’ll need agents on the ground to talk to them again as soon as they arrive. I want to know where they are at all times until we figure this out.”

  “What about Cecil Wenck?” Alex Parker’s tone was mild, but Eban wasn’t fooled.

  “I’ve put in a request to the Australian authorities to interview him but no word yet as to whether or not he’ll comply.”

  “There was a call from his room at around eleven PM,” Alex told him. “He was at the airstrip and on his private jet by 11:30 PM.”

  “What about his cell phone activity?” Eban asked.

  Alex rubbed his palm soothingly over the baby’s back. “You’ll need a warrant to access those records.”

  Eban held the man’s gaze through the camera. There was no way Alex Parker would wait on a warrant, but equally no way he could admit that to a room of FBI agents.

  “I’m sure if there’s any suspicious activity we’ll find out about it,” Eban said with as much diplomacy as he could muster.

  Alex tipped his chin. “I’m sure we will.”

  “Can we raise enough bitcoin for the ransom?” the legat asked the room in general.

  “We can,” Alex stated as if it were no problem. Welcome to the private sector. “We can even trace it.”

  Eban’s brows went high. He’d heard it was possible but hadn’t had that verified before now. Crooks thought they were invisible and untraceable. The fact they weren’t made Eban bare his teeth in a grin.

  “The US will not officially allow a ransom to be paid for one of its agents,” the legat reminded them.

  “They might if they believe it’s fake money,” Alex argued. “Also, maybe that’s what the kidnappers are hoping for as an excuse to kill Quentin Savage. US policy. Then they can blame the Americans when they torture and kill him on YouTube.”

  Eban flinched. “Is it fake money?”

  Alex Parker stared into the screen and avoided the question. “Before we pay, we need the kidnappers to prove Haley and Quentin are still alive. We need some sort of communication I can trace, which can be as simple as them opening an email.”

  “I’ll craft a reply to try and draw them out in an exchange and buy some time.” It wasn’t unusual for kidnappers to start off behaving with violent aggression to frighten the family of their victims into action. It wasn’t even unheard of for captors to kill hostages on deadline. But it was unusual for groups who actually wanted to claim their money.

  The baby started fussing. Alex rocked backward and forward, but the crying grew louder. “Looks like I need to get this little one to her momma. Let me know immediately if the kidnappers get in touch. And send me the name of the guy they executed in Sumatra. I’ll also see if I can track any of the calls the kidnappers made to your hostage negotiator in Jakarta in the past. Maybe they weren’t as careful as they thought they were.” He stood. “I’ll be here if you need anything else…and, if you hear anything at all about Haley, please let me know, day or night. Even if it’s bad news. I’d rather know.”

  Eban pressed his lips together and nodded. He felt the same way about Quentin. The sense of urgency, the need to do something, was escalating. They had mere hours until the first deadline.

  Quentin was smart. He’d behave and make himself the perfect captive knowing these negotiations often took time. Eban grabbed himself a coffee while everyone got to work.

  Chapter Twenty

  Haley handed out food pouches for supper. Hers was pasta with a carbonara sauce with a side of M&Ms as a treat. She was starving after lugging all those rocks around. Their SOS looked pretty impressive by the time they’d finished and she knew Alex would be desperately searching for some sign she was alive. She would deal with the guilt of interfering with his new role as a father later, as soon as they were all home safe.

  Please find us, Alex. She sent the wish into the air as close to a prayer as she got these days.

  They’d decided to make camp in a small clump of trees farther up the mountain from Darby’s original base. It gave them an excellent vantage point to watch the waters surrounding the island, except if someone approached from the north side, which was unlikely as it was composed of barren rock and steep-sided cliffs. The trees kept them concealed and protected them from the scorching tropical sun. They’d left Darby’s tent in place in case her kidnappers came looking, but they’d retrieved her bedroll and sleeping bag, and the one small camp chair Darby had brought along to sit on. Haley still had the blanket she’d taken from the hut and had washed it in the sea
and then rinsed it in the stream and left it to dry in the hot sun. It would come in useful tonight when the temperature dropped. Thankfully the bugs weren’t so bad here due to the brisk sea breeze.

  They’d also filled and ferried enough water containers up the hillside to see them through several days of needing to lay low should the terrorists appear.

  Darby had packed a sudoku book for entertainment, and Haley spotted a sketchbook in one of the coolers they’d lugged up the hill earlier. All in all, they’d made the journey five times, but now their camp was well supplied, and they just needed to construct some sort of basic shelter in case it rained.

  “I’ve only got one fork and one spoon,” the young woman apologized, before handing Haley and Quentin the utensils.

  They exchanged a look. Darby was holding it together, but it was only a matter of time until something snapped.

  “You weren’t exactly expecting visitors,” Quentin said with a smile and then winced as if worried he’d said the wrong thing.

  Darby forgave him with a smile.

  “You have the fork first. I’ll wait.” Quentin handed it back to Darby who shook her head.

  As a negotiator, he paid attention to the words spoken, Haley noticed, but he also seemed hyper vigilant about body language and tone of voice. She liked the fact he paid attention. It made the guy even sexier than he looked, and he was already in the hot zone.

  She needed to remind herself not to go and fall for the guy. What they had could never be more than a fling. Anything more serious always threw her after a week or two. She couldn’t stand being bossed around by anyone or having her decisions or movements questioned.

  FBI agents seemed to be particularly assertive, which might be fine while running for your life, but not so great while living it. Still, she liked him. Really liked him.

  “Hang on a minute,” Darby exclaimed, digging through the cooler with all the food. “Aha. I have a multitool with a fork thingy on it. I’ll use that.”

  “Thingy” was so unscientific they all smiled. Finally, they could start eating.

  “This is so delicious.” Haley savored the linguini, which tasted way better than she’d expected from a packet—as good as any five-star restaurant back home.

  “Mine too.” Quentin was eating curry. Darby some sort of bacon and egg dish.

  “I eat these packs when I’m hiking so I know they’re good,” Darby mumbled between bites.

  It didn’t take long for Haley to finish hers. She’d be embarrassed if the others weren’t just as ravenous.

  “Where are you from originally?” Quentin asked Darby.

  “Alaska.” Darby smiled. “I did my undergrad there and started a Ph.D. program last September. I always wanted to travel.” She grimaced and looked away.

  “Don’t let what happened prevent you from pursuing your dreams, Darby,” Haley said vehemently. The idea that being assaulted might stop this bright young woman from moving forward with her ambitions horrified Haley. “I’m not saying take crazy risks but with the right safeguards…” She trailed off because sometimes safeguards weren’t enough. Sometimes the bad guys got to you anyway—which was why firms like hers existed.

  She swallowed. “Look, I was raped when I was fourteen.” A wave of ice rolled over her skin. “It was my father’s younger brother, who happened to be living with us at the time after his wife kicked him out. He came to my room one night and said if I told anyone what he was doing, he’d tell them that I’d come on to him. He alternated that threat with threats against my life and my grandmother’s, saying how easy it would be for her to trip and fall down the stairs. He kept telling me my father would never believe a filthy slut like me over the brother he adored. Turned out he was right.”

  Haley wasn’t seeing the lush tropical island anymore, she was seeing the door of her bedroom ease open and a shadow loom over her in the darkness. He’d been drunk, or pretended to be that first time, as if that would somehow reduce his crimes.

  She inhaled sharply, not knowing if this would help Darby or make things worse for everyone. Haley desperately wanted to help her. She didn’t look at Quentin but knew he was watching intently. She didn’t need anyone’s pity, but she wanted Darby to know some people did get over being assaulted even though it wasn’t easy and it wasn’t simple. It was a process that could take years. “The assaults went on for over a year until one day I thought I was pregnant and finally worked up the courage to tell my mother what was happening.” She snorted. “You can imagine how well that went.”

  “What happened?” asked Darby in a tiny voice.

  “She didn’t believe me. She told my father, and he confronted my uncle…who denied it. Said I must have been sleeping with some boy and wanted to cause him as much trouble as possible.”

  Resentment swept over Haley. The sense of hurt and injustice poured acid over badly healed wounds. She’d thought she was over this bullshit, but she’d never truly be over it until her uncle admitted his crimes. The problem with that was he’d been dead for over a decade after driving head-on into a garbage truck while three times over the legal alcohol limit.

  She’d wanted to send the truck driver flowers but had decided that would reveal too much of her inner rage.

  “I realized pretty quickly that my parents didn’t believe me. I was scared what my father’s brother would do to me if he caught me alone. I packed a bag one night and ran away to my grandmother’s—my mother’s mother. We hadn’t been close until then, but I had no one else to turn to.” Haley blinked at the rush of emotion that hit when she thought about that determined, old woman. “She took me in and believed me immediately. Made me an appointment at the clinic, but it turns out I hadn’t been pregnant after all. The bastard had given me an STD. It went untreated for so long it spread to my fallopian tubes and I ended up…” she inhaled rapidly three times before she could finish. “I ended up infertile.”

  She met Quentin’s gaze but couldn’t read what he was thinking. Darby reached for Haley’s hand.

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Darby swallowed noisily.

  How much fresher was the hell this woman had gone through? Haley covered Darby’s hand with her other one as if she could cradle and protect Darby from all bad things.

  “I’m terrified I might be pregnant. My father is pretty strict and if he found out, he’d make me keep it.” Darby shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want any reminders of what they did to me.”

  “I wouldn’t want that either. You need to talk to a doctor and a therapist as soon as we get back,” Haley told her. “Your father doesn’t get to have a say in this. It is your decision.”

  Darby glanced at Quentin. “I know. But I’m scared to do it on my own.”

  “I will make sure you get the help you need, Darby,” Quentin said softly.

  Haley leaned in closer to the other woman. “He’s an FBI agent. He keeps his promises.”

  Darby cleared her throat. “What happened with your family, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Haley raised up her face to the sky and laughed. “Actually, in the end there was some divine sort of justice. I mean, I didn’t get to cut my uncle’s dick off and feed it to him before he died, but he did come to a nasty end.” The dreams of vengeance had been graphic and wonderful. “My grandmother let me live with her while I finished high school, and we bonded over chocolate cake and episodes of Friends.” They couldn’t have been closer if they’d been best friends. “She died when I was twenty-one, left me every cent of her fortune, which my father had assumed my mother would inherit. It left him a few million down from where he’d expected to be in retirement and he tried to sue me for it.” Her smile felt sharp as a blade. “My grandmother had been explicit in her instructions and absolutely sound of mind. After Dad lost the court case, he divorced my mother.” Haley watched clouds boiling on the horizon. They were overdue a storm given the time of year. “Mom and I reconciled our differences eventually, but I guess I’ve never really
forgiven her for not supporting me.”

  “I would have believed you,” Quentin stated.

  She held his dark gaze and knew he was telling the truth. “Thank you.”

  “I’d have believed you too,” Darby said quietly.

  “Thank you.” Haley shifted to look into the girl’s green eyes, seeing the shadows flickering there. “Don’t let what happened destroy your dreams. Adapt them if need be. But don’t let them beat you down. You are smart and beautiful and pure of heart.”

  “Ha.” Darby wiped her eyes, and Haley realized there were tears on her cheeks too. Then the other woman raised her eyes to the skyline. “We’re going to get rain within the hour.”

  Quentin got to his feet. “I’ll build a shelter.”

  Haley grinned. “Very Bear Grylls.”

  “I have a machete in the cooler.” Darby raised the blade from the plastic tub.

  “I love a girl who’s prepared. Hand it over. I want to impress Haley with my survival skills.”

  Haley took a sip of water. “It’ll be more impressive if you take your shirt off while you’re doing it.” She wiggled her brows at Darby and leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the view as Quentin whipped off his shirt and flung it straight at her face. She caught it with a laugh, and her breath stopped at the same time.

  Wowzers.

  Her face went hot. It was the first time she’d seen him shirtless in the sunlight. He was hard and lean with well-defined muscles she wanted to lick. His dark hair flopped into his eyes as he grinned at her. The guy was smoking.

  She let out a long slow whistle to prove she wasn’t unnerved by his raw masculinity. Darby thankfully laughed at their horseplay.

  “I always thought FBI agents were stuffed suits full of nothing but hot air, especially negotiators.”

  “Exactly how many negotiators do you know?” Quentin held the machete in one hand and struck a pose, grinning like a pirate.

  Her lips curved. “One.”

  Then he glanced at the sky and grew serious. “I think we’re about to get soaked. If anyone wants to help before the clouds burst, that might be a good thing. I’m a little rusty in the shelter building arena.”