When they emerged from the elevator, she gawked at the room before her.
She knew AGS was high tech—she could tell from the app Jake was using, but this was on a different level, like she’d stepped into a science fiction movie.
A holographic map she recognized as Virginia Beach beamed from the center of the room. A board of glass stood beside it with flashing LEDs on a side panel. This could only be a touch-control board.
“Is this room always like this with all these gizmos at work?”
Jake chuckled. “Nah, I fired them up before I came to get you.” He angled his eyes slyly at her.
“You trying to impress me Jake Banning?” she teased.
“Maybe. Is it working?” he bantered back.
Shaking her head and laughing, she replied, “The geek in me approves.”
Jake Banning in a serious grumpy mood was mysteriously sexy, but when his face lit with the most disarming grin, he was irresistible to all her lady parts. If he pinned her to the wall now, she would let him have her.
“Ready to chat with Pearl?” he asked.
And apparently, he had the power to make her forget her worries, at least temporarily.
“You bet.”
Jake sat her in front of a screen and called Tex. After a few minutes, his face materialized in front of them.
“You doing okay, Stel-Bear?” The Navy SEAL-turned-hacker asked. “Banning treating you right?”
Jake made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat.
“He is.”
“Caroline went to fetch … here she is.”
Pearl’s face filled the screen. Her grandmother’s eyes were swollen, and her heart broke for her at the same time a twinge of guilt lanced through her that as she was lusting after Jake, her gram was worried sick.
“Gram.”
“Oh, my baby girl. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Pearl glared over her shoulder. “Is he the man who took you?”
“Good evening, ma’am,” Jake said. “I’m sorry for the worry this caused you.”
“You scared the crap out of me,” her grandmother sniffed. “Tex and Wolf explained the situation.” Her gray eyes narrowed. “That you saved her. Still don’t understand why you can’t come home, Stella.”
“Gram …”
“It’s a good thing your watch commander came by before I actually knew you were okay. Otherwise, I’m not sure if my acting skills would’ve passed.”
“The L-T came to see you?” That would have made sense though. Lieutenant Desmond was always on top of checking on family in case a patrol officer got injured in the line of duty. He didn’t exactly give Stella all the good shifts, but she understood it was part of being a rookie.
“Yes. He was regretting he put you on watch last night. He said it was supposed to be someone else, but that person got sick.”
“Yes. Mercado got the flu,” Stella mused to herself and realized the implication. Mercado was a veteran on the force who, according to the grapevine, had no desire to become a detective. He liked keeping the streets safe according to the L-T. Would he have frozen the way Stella did? Would he have shot Jake? Thinking of this, her heart cramped.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Tears filled her gram’s eyes.
“I really am.”
“Wolf explained why you had to stay behind. He doesn’t approve of it.” She glared again at Jake. “Could you give us some privacy, young man, or is my granddaughter still a prisoner?”
“Gram!”
“What?” she replied, with not an iota of repentance.
Jake cleared his throat and put a hand on her shoulder. “I need to get going.”
Without saying another word, he headed for the elevator.
“Jake, wait!”
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
She glanced at Pearl who was looking on curiously. “Give me a sec.”
Stella swiveled on the stool and sprung up to go to Jake who had his head bowed and was staring into nothing, but when he peered up at her, his eyes were guarded. “You shouldn’t keep your grandmother waiting,” he chided. “You’ve been wanting to talk to her all day.”
“Yes … but, I thought … maybe just wait until tomorrow.” She caught herself before she said Schneider’s name. “Before you go see him.”
“Now is the best night to see him. While things are hot. He’s more likely to slip up.”
Stella knew he was right, but she didn’t want to let him go without backup.
His eyes softened. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
A cold fist of fear clutched her heart. “Don’t.” At his confused expression, she added. “Bad things happen when promises are made before leaving.”
“Stella …” He reached for her arm, but she evaded his touch and hurried back to her web session with Gram. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, so she focused all her attention on the woman in front of her. “So, are you watching the race tomorrow?”
She heard the elevator doors clank close and exhaled the suppressed turmoil inside her.
“I’ll try,” Pearl answered absently. She was eyeing Stella so shrewdly that it made her squirm.
“You should go.”
“I’m worried about you.”
Despite her anxiety over Jake’s mission, she emitted a brief chuckle. “He’s really one of the good guys, Gram.”
“I think I see that. Doesn’t mean I forgive him for lassoing you into this mess.”
“He saved my life.”
Pearl sighed in resignation. “Yes, Tex explained it to me. I just don’t know how to redirect all this pent-up anxiety. I’m still worried.”
“I’m sorry. I hate that I caused you this, especially after—”
“No. No, child. It’s not your fault. It’s my issue alone. You live your life the way you want it, Stella. Don’t let the fears of an old woman hold you back.”
“You’re not old. And you matter, Gram. Remember that.”
“Okay, now that we got that out of the way,” Pearl paused. “What’s going on between you and Jake?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I deal with organic chemistry, my dear.” Gram’s voice was all-business and matter of fact. “And there’s nothing more reactive than what I just saw between the two of you. This room was set to combust.”
“What?” Stella exclaimed in consternation. “You hardly saw us interact.”
“And yet I can feel the tension between the two of you from across the wire.”
“You’re imagining things. Can’t you see how different we are? And don’t give me that line about opposites attracting because this isn’t the case here.”
A delicate eyebrow rose. “An ionic bond. How interesting.”
“Oh my gosh, Gram,” Stella groaned. “Stop!”
“You’re very defensive.”
“I’m not.”
“If you say so.”
Grr … Pearl could be adorably aggravating. “So are you looking forward to your keynote at the convention?”
“I am, but I’m a little nervous. I haven’t given one of those in years. Ten, to be exact since I resigned from the board of the Chemical Weapons Convention.”
“It was too stressful for you. I remember that time,” Stella said. Being a part of a global body that policed the proliferation of chemical weapons was a massive responsibility for Pearl. Not only the politics of it, but also the threats aimed at its leaders. Pearl never admitted to any danger directed at her, but Stella wondered if she’d kept quiet about it so she and Sam wouldn’t worry. “In any case, I wouldn’t miss your keynote.”
Stella had volunteered to be the patrol officer for the event and her watch commander approved. Thinking of Lieutenant Desmond, she asked, “What else did the L-T say?”
“Just that he’d let me know as soon as possible if he has news.” A troubled expression crossed Gram’s face. “I’m feeling guilty about hiding thi
s from him. He looked so torn up about what happened.”
“We’ll clear this up soon.”
“You better,” Pearl stressed. “I don’t know if I can keep up these pretenses if he comes by again to give me an update.”
Keeping her watch commander in the dark wasn’t sitting well with her, too. Hopefully, the Guardians would fix this mess in the next few days.
She and Pearl fell into their old chats about chemistry or what Gram was consulting on. Later, Caroline joined them, and it was like old times.
With one difference.
A certain guy kept popping up in her thoughts. He weighed heavily in them actually and it was hard to keep track of the conversations on chemical reactions, equations, bases, and bonds.
Stella hoped he was okay.
9
A midnight blue Silverado pulled into a parking space near Last Call tavern. It was where the local blue-collar workers congregated—truckers, dock workers, veterans-turned-bikers. The tavern was full that evening judging by the vehicles parallel parked along the street from the overflow parking.
“Sure you wanna do this?” Viktor asked over the phone that was mounted on the dash.
“Do I have a choice? You got confirmation that Schneider is in possession of A-301, right?” The A-301 was a derivative of the Novichok chemical agent, a weapon deadlier than VX nerve gas.
“Yes, but a small quantity. Our intel believes he is set to deliver that to a cartel contact.”
“Then we do this,” Jake replied. “If Schneider’s gonna replace Gould, he’ll be looking for a man here,” Jake said. “Want to get a read on him, and if he’s still looking for the guns.”
“Oh, he is.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“The one thing I know about Schneider is his ego,” Viktor said. “He will never rest until he gets them back, no matter what the cost. If you weren’t protecting Stella, I’d tell you to go ahead and embed yourself. But we know that’s not why you’re here.”
Jake sighed. “You’re psychic now?”
“Don’t need to be,” his boss said. “I have your file, remember? You’re one of my most morally centered men.”
At other times this would irritate Jake because that seemed to be the same evaluation by the CIA. Not unscrupulous enough to do what might be called for. But at this moment, knowing he wanted to be worthy of Stella? He embraced it wholeheartedly.
Lewis Wheeler was the name of the dock worker who was killed. A former Navy petty officer first class, he was dishonorably discharged for dealing Meth. Stupid addiction destroying a man’s career after which he was involved in small time smuggling at the Port of Virginia. Jake knew him. He was Gould’s top choice before he came along. Wheeler may have deserved the bullet, but he didn’t deserve the bullet meant for Jake.
“In this business of espionage, mistaken identity happens frequently,” Viktor said.
“Not if I can help it,” Jake replied and climbed down from the pickup and approached the establishment.
He entered the tavern with as much swagger as someone who wanted the attention to be on him. As crowded as the place was, that was next to impossible, but a few heads turned his way and he noticed the bartender Sal lower his head to whisper to a heavy-set man who Jake knew worked for Schneider.
He walked up to the end of the bar which, amazingly, still had a vacant seat. He leaned onto the counter and ordered a Bud when Sal came up to him. He then turned around, leaning against the bar, and pretended to peruse the room with a bored look, when in reality he was scouting the tables.
Sal came back with his order. “How goes it, Leroux?” He knew him as John Leroux. In the past weeks he’d been coming here, he and Sal had established some sort of a bartender and patron bond. Small talk. Gossip. Sal’s sympathetic ear. He did most of the hiring at the bar. He also did the firing. He lamented how hard it was to find good people. He also had the deets on some of the customers. “Didn’t you work with Gould and Wheeler?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, turning to the bartender. “What did they do?”
“Wheeler’s dead, man.”
Jake feigned surprise. “What? Just got back into town.”
“And Gould is missing.”
He made the appropriate sympathetic responses and took a thoughtful swig of his beer. “The man pissed me off when he promised me a side job and reneged.” Another pull of his beer. “But not enough to wish him harm, ya know?”
“Yeah …” Sal agreed, then looked over his shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be getting the job after all but, I’d think twice about it.”
“Huh? Whatcha talking about?”
Sal leaned in to wipe the area in front of him. “I like you, John. Don’t get mixed up with them.” After that statement he moved to the side, pretending to be vigorously polishing the bar’s surface.
Fingers tapped Jake’s shoulder and he glanced over and recognized another of Schneider’s lackeys.
“You John Leroux?”
“Depends,” Jake paused and grinned at Sal as if they shared a private joke. The bartender didn’t return his amusement and showed a bit of nervousness. “Who’s asking?”
“My boss wants to talk to you.”
“Name of your boss?”
“Douglas Schneider.”
“Uh, the trucking company, right? Hell, Gould promised me some side work there.”
The man glared at him. “Shut your mouth about Gould.”
Jake smiled slowly. “Did my pal get in trouble with your boss? He’s always been a little weasel.”
“Are you interested or not?”
Jake drained his beer. “Depends. Is your boss gonna buy me another drink?”
As Jake followed the man to a private room in the tavern, it reminded him of one of those mob movies where there was always a secret room for meetings or for breaking someone’s fingers. Well, Jake was planning to keep his, thank you very much. He realized he was channeling some of Tom Gould’s nonchalant behavior. Funny how it seemed easier to do this undercover shit when something personal was at stake—Stella’s safety and hopefully a future with her.
The man in question sat behind a round table, shuffling a deck of cards.
Jake had never seen Schneider up close, but now that he was face to face with his quarry, Jake catalogued some observations. The man was big, not exactly muscular nor fat, but somewhere in between. He had bulky shoulders which somehow made his neck disappear and his shaved head only emphasized that. But what he noted the most about Schneider were his eyes. They were dark and beady. This was a man who asked no quarter and gave none.
“John Leroux.”
“That’s me.”
“Have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind,” Jake said, calibrating his nonchalance. “And I’d prefer it if your man stepped to the side where I can see him.”
Schneider’s brows raised to his hairline, or rather where his hairline should have been, but his mouth spread into a pleased smile. He signaled his crew to do Jake’s bidding and moved slightly in front of him.
“If I’m not mistaken you were the person Gould was supposed to recruit for me.”
Jake shrugged. “He found someone better.”
“That someone is out of the picture.”
“I heard about Wheeler. You guys did that?”
Schneider burst out laughing. His lackey laughed too, but it was an uneasy one.
Jake waited patiently for them to stop.
Schneider wiped the tears from his eyes, then his face turned cold and intimidating. “Don’t go throwing accusations. I don’t like that.”
“It wasn’t an accusation. I just wanna know what he did so I don’t end up with the same fate.”
“Hypothetically,” Schneider said. “If Wheeler did work for me, the only reason he would be dead is because he fucked up.”
“What did he fuck up?”
“He lost something of mine.” Schneider’s eyes narrowed. “Something I
want back.”
“I’m sorry. Was out of town. You need to catch me up.”
Schneider waved his hand. “Long and short is. We’re still talking hypothetically, mind you. Gould is dead … shot by that cop. You know what happened to Wheeler. I need a man on the dock—be my eyes and ears and enforcer. That last statement—not hypothetical.”
“Me?” Jake asked.
“Yes. I recall Gould telling me you’ve been in Naval Special Warfare.”
“I was. Not SEALs. Washed out of that.”
“They’re a bunch of sanctimonious pricks anyway and so is their leadership,” Schneider commiserated. “Think they’re better than everyone.”
“That’s right.”
“Have a seat, Leroux. Drink?”
“Could use some whiskey.” Jake scraped a chair back and planted his ass in it. He and Schneider were establishing common ground and he wanted to play that up. According to Viktor, the Krieger United proprietor had been German Special Forces—a Tier One, no less—until he’d been kicked out for his neo-Nazi beliefs. He moved to the U.S. and somehow became a citizen and started his company as a front for his doctrine of hate. Disenfranchised ex-military were easy recruits which was dangerous since people like Jake were trained to kill.
Schneider’s man brought back a bottle of Jameson and he motioned for Jake to help himself. He continued to shuffle cards, splitting the deck, laying some cards out before folding them back into the deck and repeating the process. It was as though he was divining an answer from them and doing it over and over until he found one that he’d be happy with.
“Something is going to hit the news tomorrow.” If evil had a smile, that would be Schneider’s right now. It sent chills up Jake’s spine. “You know who’s in the middle of this fucking mess?”
Confused, the question he asked Schneider was genuine. “Well if you say Gould is dead—”
“He is.”
“And Wheeler is out of the picture. Who else is left?”
Schneider slapped his palm on his lap and guffawed, and just as suddenly he stopped laughing and pierced him with a pointed stare. “Keep up, Leroux.”
When he didn’t answer, Schneider leaned back against his chair. “Our lady cop friend.”
Protecting Stella (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) Page 7
