Deadly Holidays

by Lisa Phillips

  Mrs. Anderson glanced between them, mouth agape.

  He said nothing.

  “I will get the evidence I need to expose you. And you will pay for all the lives you’ve destroyed.”

  “Very well,” he said, blank-faced. “I hope you’re not too disappointed when you find nothing at all.”

  She looked out the window, saw where they were, and rapped on the partition between her and the agents in front. “You can let me out here,” she called out.

  The convoy pulled up in front of a building about halfway between the Capitol and the White House.

  Rachel climbed out of the limo and strode into the FBI office.

  Chapter 8

  Nicola gasped for breath, flat on her back on her kitchen floor. Blood pooled around her. Steve grabbed her phone and dialed emergency services. He knelt in the blood and handed her the phone, mouthing, “Hold on.”

  She blinked and managed a short nod.

  He grabbed the dishtowel and balled it up over the wound, then placed her free hand on it. The hand slipped away, but he replaced it.

  He had to go.

  She mouthed, “Go.”

  Steve took the stairs two-at-a-time down to the back door, the rear exit of the apartment building. As he raced to where he thought the sniper might have been set up, he prayed she would live. Faith was something that had enabled him to keep his sanity when the lines blurred between duty to country and morality.

  In college, he’d been a youth pastor. The army and his subsequent operational career meant little time for ministry, but he’d made some of it work when he was home. Lately he’d been thinking about getting plugged in again at church.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he ran, the moisture immediately chilling. He pumped his arms and legs, almost frantic. He couldn’t stay with Nicola and make sure she was okay. What he could do was take down her killer.

  Someone he figured was one of his old teammates. If he had to guess, he’d say it was Petey. Jerome was the one who’d tried to kill Rachel in the street. How many of the others were here, active?

  A door opened on the adjacent building and a man strode out, looking both ways. A case in one hand.

  Sniper rifle.

  His eyes snagged on the blur of Steve as he barreled toward him. But there was no time for him to react before Steve slammed Petey against the side of the adjacent apartment building and smashed his fist into his former friend’s face.

  “I don’t know what he has on you, and I don’t care,” Steve snarled. He planted his fist in Petey’s face again. But the man didn’t lift a hand to defend himself.

  That was what took the fight out of Steve.

  Sirens whirled behind him. The blue and red of emergency services lights shone in Petey’s eyes. Steve said, “I should drag you over there, rifle and all, and turn you in.”

  Petey frowned. “If you wouldn’t get arrested yourself.”

  Steve shoved him against the wall and then took half a step back. “She’s probably going to die because of you. Bleed out on her kitchen floor. And for what?” Nothing but one man’s greed and ambition.

  Steve was over the whole revenge idea. He pretty much figured this was about grabbing as much power as the Vice President thought he could have.

  “Dude—”

  “Shut it.” Steve couldn’t handle conversation right now. He felt like screaming out all his frustration, right in Petey’s face.

  “I wouldn’t’ve hit anything vital if you hadn’t warned her.”

  Steve stared at him.

  “I shoulda shot you. Done the world a favor.”

  This was what he had come to? Alone in an alley with a man who was supposed to have been his friend. He hung his head and sucked in breaths. Petey might kill him while Steve wasn’t watching, but maybe that was for the best. Rachel didn’t need him in her life. Seemed like he’d brought her nothing but trouble. Maybe he was even the link between her and the blackmailer. Why else target her?

  Everyone else in their thirties and forties involved in this were the children of those who’d been part of that original mission.

  Steve had nothing to do with it. Neither did Rachel. Except for his connection to the general.

  Now the general was dead, and Steve’s old team had been co-opted into this while his new team were all targets.

  He straightened.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  Steve shoved him against the wall again, then stood back.

  “Good as it was to see you,” Petey said, a sardonic tone to his voice. “I’m gonna go now. Don’t wanna be standing here when the cops decide to canvas the neighborhood looking for anything anomalous.”

  “Car?”

  Petey pointed to the end of the building. “Around the corner. Need a ride?”

  Steve had more questions, and he wasn’t past the urge to kill the man, so he said, “Yes.” He glanced once in the direction of Nicola’s apartment. The broken window Petey had shot out. And then followed Petey. He got in the passenger side. When Petey pulled out of the parking lot, Steve said, “What does he have on you?”

  Petey’s fingers flexed on the wheel. “Too much.”

  “Family?”

  He shook his head.

  “So then what?”

  Petey said nothing.

  “I can’t help you if you don’t give me something.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does, or you’d have said no.” Steve motioned with his hand.

  He’d tried the same tactic Nicola had come up with—shoot to miss. The one Steve had toyed with himself. But was it going to work? There were entirely too many ways this could backfire on all of them. People would get hurt.

  “Jerome was supposed to kill your girl this morning.”

  Steve shook his head. “That was yesterday.” Jerome was the man who’d come at Rachel with the knife in that alley.

  “Told me he was supposed to go to her office and take her out. He’d set it all up, passes and everything. So all Jerome had to do was get in like a tourist and kill her. But he had to do it barehanded ‘cause of the metal detectors.”

  Not to mention the security guards. Steve pulled out his phone and sent Rachel a text. Was she all right?

  “If he killed her, I’m going to hunt him down and put a bullet in his brain.”

  “And you’ll do the same if your friend back there dies?”

  Steve said, “Probably.”

  The world thought he was some kind of crazed killer, so why not prove them all right? He flipped the phone over and over on his thigh, waiting for her to reply. His stomach sank as the minutes ticked on.

  Petey pulled over. “This is your stop.”

  Steve figured it was as good of a place as any, no matter that this was a residential street he didn’t know. He grabbed the door handle. “Tell me something I can use to get us all out of this.”

  Petey thought for a second, then shrugged. “He had me pick up the weapon from Franklin. Might not be something you can use, but that’s all I have. Everything else was untraceable.”

  The same place Steve had been instructed to pick up his own sniper rifle from. “You better start praying she lives—”

  Petey cut him off. “Dude, you were always better at that stuff.”

  “Pray, Petey. Because this is going to take some serious divine intervention before it’s over. We’re going up against a man who thinks he’s untouchable and so far we’ve sustained heavy losses.” Petey probably didn’t even know about the two Double Down teammates that had been killed. Or the lives affected so far.

  Jerome. Petey. Was David part of this, too? Steve said, “Things are only going to get worse before they get better.”

  He climbed out of the car and started walking. Rachel still hadn’t texted him back. Should he call her? His own former teammates were hunting her, trying to kill her. Nicola had been shot. Bradley had Alexis to worry about. Adrian and Megan were fighting an uphill battle trying to convince
the rest of the FBI this threat was legitimate. Emma and Mint were trying to come up with evidence, and hadn’t told him the results of their trip to her safety deposit box—which didn’t mean anything good.

  Could they actually survive this, or was it a pipe dream?

  Like his shot at a future.

  **

  Rachel sat at the conference room table. Megan settled into the chair beside her. Two steaming mugs of tea sat on the table between them. Rachel sighed and took a sip of hers.

  Megan huffed out a laugh that was barely above a whisper. She shot Rachel a wry smile. “I know, right?”

  Rachel had to smile. The woman had been traumatized as part of her own kidnapping, back in the days when she’d been undercover with the FBI. Megan’s connection with them was a little looser these days. She worked for Double Down and was dating Adrian.

  Still, there was something elemental that connected Rachel and Megan.

  They both knew what terror was.

  They had survived some of the worst things a person could do to another person.

  “Sitting beside him in the car…” Rachel shuddered. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get to the place where I’m totally comfortable being close with anyone, apart from the few people I know really well.”

  Megan nodded. “I’m going to stick with Adrian, my Mom and Double Down.” She shrugged. “The rest of the world can deal.”

  Rachel got updated on the navy officers, one now dead and the other at large. Under surveillance, because Adrian thought there was a chance that might lead them back to the blackmailer. She said, “Sounds like you’ve had about as much progress as I have getting conclusive evidence.”

  Megan nodded. “Adrian is hoping that following Captain St. Germaine will get us something to go on. The judge gave us a surveillance warrant for his phone and computer, so we’re watching. We’ll have to wait and see if the blackmailer reaches out, though the last person who heard directly from him—Aaron Jones—had an untraceable phone.”

  Megan was the one who had shot Jones, saving Emma from being kidnapped or killed. Jones hadn’t ever shared the blackmailer’s identity. If he’d known it.

  “Seems like there’s a lot going on, but not much happening in the way of results.” Rachel set her mug down. “People keep trying to kill me.”

  “I know,” Megan said quietly.

  “I…” Her voice broke. “Killed a man this morning.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I’m not going to tell you that you had no choice. Or that it was you or him, and you were forced to make a horrible choice, even though that’s true. I know what it feels like to take a life like that.”

  Rachel opened her eyes and looked at her friend. They hadn’t even spent that much time together, but they were connected. She said, “My therapist is going to have a field day with this.”

  Megan grinned. “Tell me about it.”

  Rachel shifted in the chair. “I keep reaching for my phone without even thinking about it.”

  “Habit.”

  She nodded. “And not a good one. Maybe I need to turn the thing off and like, fast from it, or something.”

  “The tech guys should be done checking it soon.”

  Rachel leaned her head against the high back chair. She wanted to know for sure that she was safe from being spied on by the blackmailer. The FBI were going through every part of her phone, looking for an intruder. They had also dispatched an agent to do the same thing with her office computer and her home setup.

  She would rather know if she was being watched. Or tracked. It would explain how hired killers kept finding her.

  “Thanks,” Rachel said. “I’d like to find out if Steve is okay.”

  “Worried about him?”

  She nodded. “He’s putting himself on the line.”

  “Not unusual for him,” Megan said. “That’s why he hasn’t been caught yet. He was trained too well in escape and evasion. Especially in an urban setting. There are a million places to hide in the city.”

  Rachel nodded.

  “He’s probably more worried about you.”

  Maybe. Rachel wasn’t sure if that was true, or not. “Yeah?”

  Megan nodded. “I’m sure one of the main reasons he didn’t leave town is because you’re here.”

  Rachel saw something in her eyes. “What don’t I know?”

  Megan took a pause. While she measured her words? Rachel didn’t like that she was thinking on what she was going to say. Why would Megan need to do that?

  Megan said, “Steve has been keeping Bradley in the loop. But also, we’ve been watching the local news, to see if anything pops up on the police band.”

  “And?”

  “A short time before you showed up here, a woman was shot in her apartment. Looks like a sniper hit.”

  “Who?”

  “She’s a reporter. Nicola Starns. She dated Steve a few years ago, and we think she was drawn into this.” Megan paused again.

  Rachel said it for her. “The cops investigating think Steve was the one who shot her?”

  Megan nodded.

  The fact that Nicola Starns had been special to Steve and a part of his life meant something. For how long they’d been together, Rachel wouldn’t ever know unless she asked, which she wasn’t going to do. Didn’t matter. Ten minutes, or ten years, Steve wouldn’t do that to someone he cared for.

  She wanted to believe he cared for her too, but he’d never said anything about it. She knew he’d been interested in her. His pursuit of her before the video came out had made that clear. They were adults, and he made plain that he’d wanted to take her to dinner.

  But then she’d been targeted by the blackmailer. After that she hadn’t wanted to be around any man. Least of all one she cared for the way she cared for him.

  Rachel shook off her morose thoughts. “The vice president is stacking up charges against Steve, trying to implicate him in so many things that no one will ever believe he’s not guilty of at least something.”

  “The evidence is compelling.”

  “Well, it’s wrong. Because he didn’t do that. He wouldn’t shoot someone he cared about. He didn’t shoot those feds when you went to take down El Cuervo, right?” Megan couldn’t argue against that. Especially not when she’d been there. Didn’t she trust her boss? Or was she just playing it neutral, being a part of the FBI case now?

  Megan sat back in her chair and sighed. “We’re doing everything we can to prove it wasn’t him, but unless we have evidence that ties the blackmailer to every single attack, then it doesn’t provide reasonable doubt for Steve. He’s been convicted in the court of public opinion already. Any jury would be swayed by what they’ve heard in the media and seen online. Everyone has an agenda. It’s basically impossible to be impartial.”

  “You think he’ll end up in jail?”

  “I’m just saying it’s bad.” Megan leaned a little closer. “I want you to be realistic, Rachel. Because if anything else happens, and he’s blamed for that as well, then this is going to get even harder.”

  “I don’t care. He’s innocent.”

  Maybe she sounded naïve. Or a little like a child digging in her heels. But Rachel was going to stick to her guns. Her office would be behind Steve—the man she knew him to be and not the man everyone believed he was.

  She’d been trashed in the media. Alexis, too. The two of them had been sucked into the scandal surrounding her video. They had intentionally spun the narrative, knowing what it would do. She knew exactly how it felt to have people make up their minds about you and not be able to do anything to change it.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  Rachel turned to her friend. She opened her mouth to deny it, but didn’t get the chance.

  Adrian stuck his head in the door. “The agents following St. Germaine lost him.”

  Megan shot up out of her chair. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I know,” Adrian said. “He’s gone.”

&
nbsp; Chapter 9

  The fact the blackmailer knew the location of this house wasn’t useful to Steve. At least, it wasn’t more information than they’d known already.

  So he was in their pasts and their computer systems. Did instructing Steve to come here actually mean something?

  He climbed out of the car—a beater he’d purchased for five hundred in cash—and slammed the door. He was pretty sure the car hadn’t been the property of the man who had sold it to him. Steve wasn’t going to worry about that right now. On the list of his transgressions, it didn’t rate all that high.

  He was in West Virginia, not even two hours from Washington. His phone had buzzed the entire way there. Bradley wanting to know what was happening. Details about Nicola—alive, critical, and in surgery. Adrian had even called a few times, using a burner phone Steve had given to Megan. Asking where he was. Megan’s message had been entirely in that cold tone of hers, the one she used when she wasn’t happy.

  Rachel had been attacked again. She’d killed the guy. They were going to try and figure out who the assailant was.

  Steve didn’t text back any names, though the list would have been limited to five, including Petey. His old team was in play, and one of them had tried to kill Rachel. Gotten close enough, according to Megan, to leave bruises on her throat.

  He had his weapon out before he even registered it. Nothing but a reflex. The intention to kill had underlain his career for decades now. Cold moved through him, shutting off all feeling so that his emotions had no air time here. It was how he’d functioned for so long—in those days when he’d been a covert agent. No feeling.

  He bent forward and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Someone he had called friend had squeezed her throat, intending to crush her windpipe and stop her heart.

  If she hadn’t killed him—and he thanked God that she had saved herself—he would’ve killed the man himself.

  Rachel was the only thing that broke through the resolve of his training.

  He should be with her, protecting her. He wanted to be. But Rachel was entirely too well known to be flanked by a wanted felon twenty-four seven. It would only get both of them in trouble.