It Takes Two

by Allie K. Adams

  “I have location and now establishing voice pattern recognition,” Shaw stated. “Keep da caller talking.”

  “Do you honestly think I’m going to just drop her off?”

  “I think you’re going to do whatever it takes to keep her alive, even if that means sacrificing her best friend.”

  “Got it!” Shaw then muttered, “Holy scheiße. You won’t believe who da caller is.”

  “Tell me, Jeremy.” The caller talked over Shaw. “Do you think I’m a threat now?”

  He lost all expression as the realization hit him full force. Shaw was right. He couldn’t believe who the caller was, who was behind this entire thing.

  Whitney Harrington.

  This was going to destroy Bree.

  “Take her,” he ordered the agents gathering. She struggled and drew in a breath to scream as two flanked her. One covered her mouth as the other literally picked her up and carried her out the back before anyone else at the gala noticed.

  “You have no play here.” Jeremy explained now that he was free to speak without Bree hearing him. “Threatening to kill yourself isn’t going to get you the attention you’re looking for.”

  “You think I’m the sister-in-law?”

  “Give it up, Whitney. Any minute agents are going to bust down your door. If you don’t surrender, they’ll put a bullet through your brain.”

  “Not if I do it first. You want a bullet in the blonde? I can do that.” The sound of tape being ripped from something had a chill wash up his spine.

  When whimpers turned to cries and then full on screams, Jeremy shook his head in horror as he realized his mistake. It wasn’t Whitney, at least not on the side of the gun he’d thought. Shit. Shit! “Stop. Stop! Don’t!”

  A single gunshot rang out.

  And the screams abruptly silenced.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jason joined Rand as they got into position on the south side of the house. The SAC from TREX Team Two and two of his men had the other sides covered. As he settled, he tapped Rand’s shoulder as the signal he was at the ready.

  “South side in position.” Rand pressed the receiver on his neck and whispered into the lip mic. “Stay close to me, Bowman. You shoot when I shoot. You drop when I drop. You may have experience in the field, but you’ve never been on an ops team.”

  No argument there. The adrenaline pumping through his veins kept his pulse at a steady one-twenty. It was a rush. It was also terrifying. They had no idea what lay ahead for them inside the house.

  “We move on my mark in three…” The SAC announced in a voice so calm, so even, Jason wondered if he even had a pulse, let alone control over it.

  Rand rolled to the balls of his feet. Jason did the same and let out a slow breath to calm his nerves. He was the one who begged to be a part of the raid. If he hadn’t insisted on joining the team, his thick-headed brother would have.

  “Two…”

  What the hell had Jeremy been thinking pushing the killer? They could have gotten to Whitney in time. They could have saved her. Instead, they’d be recovering her body. That was, after they repaid-in-kind the fatal injury that had ended Whitney Harrington’s life.

  “One…”

  Jesus. Whitney was dead. All the agents on the com link heard the shot. They all heard the fear in her cries, tensed as Jeremy begged the killer not to do it. And then the gunshot. And then the silence.

  The sudden darkness pulled in Jason’s focus as the SAC killed the power to the house and ordered, “Go! Go! Go!”

  Rand switched on the light attached to his gun and propelled into action, moving swiftly, shouting as they breached the house. Jason couldn’t understand him, so he shouted for the sake of shouting.

  He couldn’t see a damn thing. He couldn’t hear anything over the yelling. It was utter chaos. Then again, Rand had warned him it would be on purpose to throw off the tangos. They were the distraction as Team Two did the real work and silently took the rest of the house.

  “Organized chaos,” he’d called it. “No worries, mate. We’re just the diversion.”

  So it caught them both off-guard when the gunshot rang out a split instant before the bullet ripped through Jason’s shoulder, spinning him around from the force. An explosion of pain nearly blinded him. The second bullet hit him center mass, slamming him back against the wall. The Kevlar spandex unit all TREX agents wore did its job by stopping the bullet from penetrating, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Jesus, he couldn’t breathe.

  “Contact South!” Rand shouted and fired off a round of cover. “Bowman’s been hit. I’m bringing him out.”

  “I’m fine,” Jason insisted and pressed against his shoulder to slow the bleeding. “Go. Get the son of a bitch.”

  “That’s not how it works. No man left behind.”

  “You’re not leaving me, Rand.” He panted, unable to catch his breath. Shit. The bullet must have cracked ribs. He panted through the pain. At least the shallow breaths didn’t have him on the verge of passing out. “Go! I’ll drag my own ass out of here.” Jason grabbed Rand’s arm. “Get Whitney out of here. She deserves to be put to rest.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Drop him out back,” Seth McKoy said into over the radio. “I’m on my way.”

  “You got it, doc.” Rand grabbed Jason by his good shoulder and dragged his ass out the back. “Stay,” he ordered, then hurried off, leaving him in the eerie silence. Why were they no longer shouting? He’d have to ask once he met up with McKoy.

  The blow to the back of the head sent everything spinning. Damn it. They found him. Jason went to lift his gun, but the tango slammed a boot down, blocking the move. It snapped his wrist. He drew in a breath to holler out as the explosion of pain raced up his arm.

  The second blow knocked him over as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  * * * *

  “Something’s wrong,” Jeremy grunted when the van grew darker. His chest had a vice squeezing it, constricting his airway. His wrist throbbed, as did his shoulder. He’d heard his brother get shot along with everyone else, but none of them felt it. It was the most terrifying, helpless feeling in the world.

  “McKoy, do you have a twenty on Jason?”

  “He’s…”

  Dear God, no. Jeremy’s world slowed. “He’s what?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “What do you mean, he’s not there? We have the place surrounded.”

  “Scene secure,” Allen announced. “The package isn’t here. There’s no body, no sign of anyone being shot.”

  Except his brother. Jeremy jumped out of the van and rushed the house, blind in his desperation to find his twin. “Jason!”

  Two gigantic men appeared out of nowhere and stopped him. “Stand down, Bowman. We’ll find him.”

  “Yeah. We don’t need two Bowmans shot up.” The bigger one touched his lip mic. “We’ve got the brother.”

  “Thanks, R&R. Return him to the van and keep this place on lockdown. I’m calling in Granger and Burns to do a sweep. If he’s out there, we’ll find him.”

  “What do you mean, if? He was just there.” Jeremy struggled against their hold. It was futile. The two men dwarfed him.

  “Go back to the van,” Allen commanded. “That’s an order.”

  He stopped fighting them and stared at the house, the helplessness and grief threatening to break him. Would this moment be the last time he ever felt his brother? Would he be planning his funeral as Bree planned Whitney’s? Would he ever be able to look her in the eye knowing the part he’d played in Whitney’s death?

  Beaten, he let the men drag him to the van and lean him against the front bumper. This was it. This was exactly what he’d feared the most. He’d lost everything. His brother and best friend. His girl once she found out how Whitney had died. His career since TREX would never let him on another find after this.

  “I’m waiting, R&R.”

  “We gotta go,” the larger one stated.

  The
other one slapped Jeremy on the shoulder. He winced, the phantom pain from Jason’s wound throbbing. “Go home, dude. We’ll let you know as soon as we find him.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  The men moved toward the house, slipping into the shadows and leaving Jeremy alone to contemplate his next move. He couldn’t sit here and wait for word of his brother bleeding out before anyone got to him. He’d drive a few miles into the woods surrounding the house and do his own search. He may not be a field agent, but he was TREX. They found people.

  It’s what they did.

  His mind made up, he jumped behind the wheel.

  The distinct sound of metal scraping metal as the person behind him cocked the gun held him frozen. The tango pressed the suppressor screwed to the end of the barrel against the back of Jeremy’s head and relieved him of his only contact with TREX by tossing the earpiece out the window. “Drive.”

  As soon as he heard the voice, he knew the grave mistake he’d made. That the entire agency had made in trusting him.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Why don’t you worry more about you and less about him?” Drew Gleason practically spit in his ear. “If it’s any consolation, you’ll be joining him soon enough.” To prove his point, he repositioned the gun against his shoulder and fired. Blood splattered the windshield and sprayed up his neck and face. Drops of it hit the inside of his glasses and slowly oozed down.

  Jeremy growled against the searing pain and launched forward. The van swerved. Gleason grabbed the wheel to correct. When Jeremy took his foot off the gas, Gleason returned the barrel to his skull. “If you want to see your brother alive again, keep driving.”

  His brother was still alive? It would be so easy to refuse, to fight Gleason for control. Given the man had the gun and Jeremy already had one hole as a result, the odds weren’t in his favor. Besides, for what Gleason had already done, he couldn’t be working alone. Jason’s best hope was for him to do whatever asked.

  “Turn here.”

  He did, driving the van down a long, narrow path so overgrown with brush it was near impossible to see. Tree limbs scraped and smacked against the side of the vehicle. His shoulder screamed in pain. He was losing too much blood for this to last much longer.

  “That’s good. Stop here.”

  Once Jeremy put the van in park, Gleason pulled out a phone. “I’ve got them both as you requested.”

  Both? Jeremy checked behind him and let out a gasp when he spotted his brother lying on the floor. Tied up, unconscious, and losing even more blood than him.

  Gleason slammed his elbow against his cheek, knocking his vision into the spins. “Eyes upfront. No cheating. Put your hands around the steering wheel. That’s it.” He zip-tied Jeremy’s wrists to the wheel. Once he double-checked the fastenings, he kicked Jason, who didn’t even stir. “Not sure if this one is still breathing. Ah, well. I really wanted to see you both die slow and in a hell of a lot of agony. I guess we all have to live with disappointment. At least you’ll die together.”

  “And Bree?”

  “You leave that pretty thing to me,” he sneered and stepped out of the van. “I’ve already got one Harrington eating out of my hand. Why not two? From what Whit tells me, Bree is no stranger to sharing.”

  Jeremy had to blink several times to bring Gleason into focus. When Drew Gleason’s partner walked up, stopping next to him, Jeremy’s blood ran cold. “Hello, Whitney.”

  She propped her hand on her hip before flipping her hair from her eyes. “Bet you never saw that coming.”

  Not at all.

  “Cover it.” The crazed gleam in her eyes was almost terrifying at how much she seemed to be enjoying herself. As Gleason grabbed two large cans and began to cover the van in gas, Whitney smiled sweetly, her attention never leaving Jeremy.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “To get rid of you,” she rolled her eyes mockingly. “For ten years I’ve listened to Bree go on and on about you. Jeremy this and Jeremy that. It broke my brother’s heart to know his wife, the woman he loved, was in love with someone else. When he died, I swore I’d make her pay. She killed him, you know.”

  Holy shit. The woman was insane. “He died from a brain tumor. She didn’t kill him.”

  “She did kill him,” she countered, a maniacal sneer curling her lip. “He didn’t have reason to fight knowing she wanted another man. Their entire marriage was a sham. Peter loved her and would have done anything for her, including letting her go. I, however, am not that forgiving. Now I get to take everything from her the way she’s taken everything from me. I already have control of Goggles thanks to Drew.”

  He chuckled and tossed the cans aside before rejoining her. “A million dollars is a lot of incentive. I usually get one-tenth of that for my hits. Surprised?”

  “That you’re a bargain basement contract killer?” Jeremy laughed. “Not in the least.”

  Gleason lost his smile and lifted his gun. “You think this is funny?”

  “Don’t kill him, baby.” Whitney rested a hand on his arm, lowering it. “We want him to suffer. Shooting him would be too quick.” She regarded Jeremy. “She loves you. I think, deep down, she may have feelings for your idiot brother, as well. That’s why you both have to die. I would have let you live, but your little stunt to give away my money pushed me too far.”

  She nodded at Gleason, who then disappeared behind the van. Within seconds, Jeremy smelled the smoke as it filled the vehicle. Shit. He had to get out of this. He had to break free and get them both to safety. He coughed as the air grew thin. The thick, metallic smoke slowly oozed through the van, robbing it of oxygen. He coughed again, the smoke burning his lungs.

  “Goodbye, Jeremy.” She bit her lower lip as she backed away. “I’ll tell Bree you died slow, crying out her name as the fire melted the flesh right from your bones. She’ll be so distraught. Taking the handful of sleeping pills and washing those down with a bottle of her favorite whiskey won’t come as a shock to anyone. Open those back doors, baby. I don’t want the smoke to kill them. I want them to burn.” Her voice was an octave higher than normal, shrill like someone on the edge of sanity.

  Or, in Whitney’s case, had already crossed the line.

  “You’re the boss.” The double doors opened, allowing the smoke to clear. And then it got hot. Really hot. Drew tossed something on fire into the back of the van. “God, I love my job.”

  “Come on, Drew. We have work to do.”

  “Coming.”

  She turned and took a few steps before glancing back when the unmistakable sound of a bullet passing through a suppressor rang out. Jeremy braced himself for the hit, but it never came.

  “Drew?” Moving cautiously toward the vehicle, she asked again. “Drew?”

  Jeremy struggled while he still had the power to move under his own strength. He didn’t know what had happened to Gleason and right now, he didn’t care. He had to get out of the van before it became completely engulfed. Shaking his head, he dropped his glasses onto his lap and lifted a leg to bring them to his mouth. He bit down on the frame, snapping off one of the temple pieces. Holding it in his mouth, he worked at the hinge, pressing down on the locking bar. It snapped a few teeth down, loosening the zip-tie enough for him to break free.

  Sinking to the floor, he took several breaths to recover from the lack of oxygen when what he saw had his breath seize in his lungs. Jason sat against the side of the vehicle, Gleason’s gun in his left hand, using the flames for cover. He pressed his finger to his lips.

  Stay down.

  Jeremy shook his head. He would not let Jason jump into the middle of the gunfire, not again. Thank God for it being a cargo van, wide open from front to back. He lunged and settled next to his brother.

  “Drew?” Whitney cried as she ran behind the vehicle and spotted Gleason’s body, a lethal shot to the forehead. “No. No! You son of a bitch! What did you do? What did you do!”

&nbs
p; They moved in unison, launching from the vehicle and tackling Whitney together. Jason kicked him away and rolled with her as they fought for the gun. As Jeremy stood to rush them, the gun went off. He staggered to a stop as he feared the worst.

  “Jason!”

  But it wasn’t Jason who fell to the ground in a pool of blood. Whitney rolled to her back and stared straight to the sky, a look of shock on her quickly paling face. “She…took…everything.”

  “Stay with me.” Jason moved above her and applied pressure to the chest wound. “Come on, Whit. Stay with me.”

  “J-J-” She slid her gaze to his. And then it grew vacant as the last breath whistled from her lungs.

  Jason lowered his head to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jeremy touched his brother’s shoulder. “I couldn’t get to her, Jer.”

  “You couldn’t save her from herself. No one could.” The fire hadn’t yet moved to the front of the van. TREX always kept an extinguisher under the driver’s seat. Reaching in, he found it and doused the flames before they reached the gas tank. Once he’d emptied the canister, he dropped it and returned to his brother’s side. “Come on. Let’s call this in.” He pushed through the searing pain in his shoulder. He thought getting stabbed had hurt. This was worse.

  He helped Jason to his feet and, using each other to keep upright, they hiked to the road.

  “I got shot again,” Jason pointed out dryly.

  “Bullets seem to like you.”

  “You got shot, too.”

  “I guess they like us both,” he mused. It was better than facing the reality that Bree’s best friend had been the mastermind behind this.

  “It must be in our blood.” They both laughed. And then winced from the pain.

  “How are you even still alive?” Jeremy asked in jest, but wasn’t entirely joking.

  “Enchufe. A Gadget Master specialty. It’s basically a sponge you shoot directly into the GSW. It expands and applies pressure before you bleed out, well, at least right away. All TREX rigs have them.” He staggered. “It hurts like hell, I have to tell you. Speaking of blood, can I borrow a few pints? I seem to be running a bit low.”