by Leah Braemel
“I’ll keep her safe.” Because who knew if Sam would let him come back. Without Hauberk, without a job to lose himself in, what else did he have left?
Chapter Three
Lauren was lost. Neither Ed nor the Hauberk agent whom Ed introduced as Andy Walters would tell her where they were now or where they were heading. Oh, she’d recognized Atlanta’s red soil at their first stop, but they’d switched to a ten-seater Lear and from there they’d landed in a series of unrecognizable municipal airports. Each time they’d landed, she’d wondered aloud if Chad would be meeting them there. Each time Ed scratched his fake beard and shrugged while Andy said nothing at all. She’d given up asking three landings ago when they’d switched from the Lear to a Cessna.
She placed her suitcase at her feet and assessed her surroundings as a white panel van approached. The crisp wind cutting through her thin jacket bore no resemblance to the balmy Georgia weather where they’d first changed planes. No mountains in the distance, no skyscrapers. They could be anywhere in middle America. Or Canada for that matter.
After a simple “stay here”, Andy walked across the tarmac toward the van.
Two men jumped out the back, both scanning the area for threats while the driver remained with the van. They’d left their jackets unbuttoned despite the chill in the air, prepared to draw their weapons if challenged. Good. Chad would never have hired wannabe rent-a-cops. These guys were probably ex-police, ex-military. Maybe even a couple of former FBI agents, like Chad. And her.
Andy greeted them then climbed into the van. To warn Chad? She’d never met Walters before, so she couldn’t be sure if he knew that she’d formerly been Mrs. Miller or not. If he did know, would he warn Chad and give him an opportunity to back out before they could get him safe?
Moments later Andy reappeared, as did another man. Lauren’s heart fluttered into a rapid tattoo then plummeted. It wasn’t Chad but Troy McPherson. She barely stifled her huff of disappointment. “What’s he doing here? Where’s Chad?”
“Watson’s probably sending Miller on his own series of hops to make sure he’s not followed either,” Ed guessed. “That way Harris can’t simply follow him to find you.”
“You’re sure Watson bought your cover story?”
“For now. But we both know Hauberk has some fucking impressive contacts within the DSS that even Cooper doesn’t have, so they’ll find out I’m not who I say I am soon enough. I figure we’ve got another twelve hours. Maybe more, maybe less.”
“We should have come up with a better cover.”
“There wasn’t time.” He ignored her scowl. “Anyway, once they do figure it out, you and Miller will both be somewhere safe. Who I am won’t matter after that. Besides, McPherson knows who you are. If you explain to him about Chad being in danger, he’ll help.”
He’d help keep Chad safe. She wasn’t as sure she wouldn’t find herself thrown to the wolves.
“While they’re not looking…” Ed tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. To anyone watching, it would appear to be a familiar gesture of a friend, perhaps even a lover. With luck they wouldn’t see the transponder he’d tucked into her French braid so she could contact him in an emergency. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe, Lauren. Cooper said Harris cracked whatever code they had on the psych files. If he could get in there, who knows if he accessed the rest—you know we can’t use any of our own resources.”
“I know. There are just so many things that can go wrong. On so many levels.”
McPherson said something to one of the men before he and Andy headed their way. His scowl deepened with each step. Troy’s gaze flickered between her and Ed, then dropped to her suitcase. His eyes narrowed when he realized she was the only one with luggage.
“You?” He faced Weir. “This is not a good idea.”
Ed pulled out his cell phone. “Shall I phone your boss and tell him you’re refusing the assignment?”
“So call him. Tell him.” His Irish accent was thick today, where last time they’d spoken she’d not heard a trace. Did he affect it for show or did it only slip out when he was upset? “Sam won’t agree to this either. Standard procedure is the lead op, or anyone else on the detail for that matter, has no personal involvement with the subject. She’s his ex-wife for Christ’s sake.”
Ed tucked his cell phone in his pocket, letting Troy get a look at the Sig Sauer under his jacket. He took off his glasses, pulled off his beard. Without the props, the hardness of his personality was reflected in the sharp planes of his face. “You do it our way or…our way. You don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah. I do. We put Walters in charge of the op the way Chad originally suggested.”
“We can’t accept that, Troy.” Lauren exchanged a look with her partner. They’d worked together long enough that he knew what she intended. After a moment, Weir nodded his agreement. “Whoever is after me may try to get to me through Chad. That’s the reason we manipulated things the way we did today. We had to keep Chad safe as well.”
“Chad’s an effin’ target?” Troy tossed in a few more epithets, though they weren’t in any language she understood. “Might have been nice if you’d let me in on that beforehand. Or Sam.”
“We were afraid you’d tell Miller.”
Lauren jumped in. “If Chad realized he was the target, you know he’d demand to stay in Washington and fight the threat head on. This way we can both keep him safe.”
“By putting you both in the same place? Don’t you think that’s making it a little too easy for Harris? It would be better if you’re kept in separate safe houses.” He was right of course. She’d made the same point to Cooper.
Ed must have realized she was about to relent. He folded his arms and glared at Troy. “You don’t do things the way we ask, we’ll take Miller into protective custody and hold him where you can’t reach him. We can also arrest you for interfering with government agents. That wouldn’t look so good for Hauberk now, would it Mr. McPherson?”
He’d do it too. Ed would call in the cavalry, who would hustle Troy away and convince him to play ball—by fair means or foul—but if it came down to it, they couldn’t press charges. After all, the Brigade didn’t officially exist, according to the government.
Maybe it was the way Ed emphasized his name, telling him they knew he wasn’t who he claimed that had Troy giving a short nod.
Troy held out his hand to her, palm up. “Give me your bloody cell phone.”
Damn it. It wasn’t unexpected; she would have made the same demand. She’d just hoped they’d trust her. Good thing Ed had tucked the back-up device into her hair. “I’ll need to stay in contact with Ed. Otherwise, how will I know when the assignment’s over?”
“Oh, we’ll let you use our phones once we’ve verified everything. In the meantime, I want to make sure you don’t text the location of where I’m about to take you to James Bond here. Or that he won’t use the GPS chip to track you.” No trace remained of the broad Irish accent he’d used earlier. “Then there’s the added bonus that it’ll bug the shit out of you.”
He gestured to one of his companions and tossed the phone to him before turning back to her, his hand outstretched again. “Now your purse, if you don’t mind, Ms. Patrick.”
She handed it over without a word. Other than her lipstick, and her fake ID there wasn’t anything of worth in it. That was a lesson she’d learned long ago.
Instead of him rummaging through it the way she’d expected, he tossed it to the same man who had her phone.
“If this goes wrong, if Chad gets hurt, then I’m taking you out.” Aiming his finger as if it were a gun, Troy pointed to them each in turn. “Both of you.”
His hand firm on her elbow, Troy marched her to the van where he told her to “assume the position”. He did a thorough pat-down, including a sweep with an electronic wand. She held her breath. The Brigade techs had assured them the device didn’t transmit any signal while it was turned off. Andy’s sweep after they’d m
et him hadn’t picked up the transponder in Ed’s pocket. But she wasn’t sure if Troy’s equipment was the same type or if it was more efficient at sniffing out electronics. To her relief, Troy didn’t run the wand over her hair.
Even so she didn’t release her breath until he handed the wand back to the other agent and gestured to the van. “Get in.”
She climbed in and took a seat on one of the benches lining the side. Troy jumped in and sat across from her, his expression hard. “Lauren Miller—excuse me, Ms. Patrick—” he gestured to the young agent beside him, “—meet Kris Campbell. He and Walters will be part of your primary team.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was supposed to leave you here, but I’m thinking I’ll stick around a while.”
The unspoken “To make sure you don’t fuck up” hung heavy in the air.
The third man, the one who had taken her cell phone and purse, closed the back door from outside. He tapped it twice and the driver set the van in motion.
“Isn’t he coming with us?”
“Nope. He’s taking your stuff on a little ride all their own. Just to make sure there’s no hidden tracking devices in them.” Troy glanced out the side of his eyes at her. “You’ll get your purse back whenever the hell this assignment’s done.”
They drove for several hours before stopping at yet another municipal airport. In the cover of a private hanger, Troy loaded her onto a Sikorsky S-76 helicopter where a second pair of agents waited. One she didn’t recognize, though she guessed from his posture he was either a cop or military. The second she did recognize though: Scott Phillips, the single hostage who had managed to escape the guerillas in Colombia before the Brigade had rescued the remainder. Scott gave her a cool look before turning his attention to pulling out a well-worn paperback. She might have thought him engrossed if she hadn’t realized he’d turned the page only twice in the next hour.
From the buffeting that had her clutching the armrests, she guessed they were flying over mountains but were they the Guadalupes of Texas, or had they’d flown north and were over the foothills of North Dakota’s Black Mountains? Then again, thanks to the nap she’d taken who knows how many hours ago, perhaps they’d doubled back and they were over the Appalachians or even the Laurentians.
At the same time she was thinking of their flight into the terrorists’ camp in Colombia, the young agent to her left cursed under his breath about it being Afghanistan all over again. Guess it didn’t matter what country or what battle, bad weather and bad flights were universal.
She craned her neck to see out the windows and realized twilight had long since come and gone, and all she could see below them was inky blackness.
Scott peered down at the circle of lights that suddenly blazed beneath them and exhaled. “Thank God.”
“Please tell me this is our last stop.” She covered her mouth and yawned in an effort to pop the pressure building in her ears from the change in altitude.
“What? Are you bored with our company already?” Troy grabbed a strap over the door when a gust of wind caught the helicopter and it swung around. “You’re welcome to leave any time you want. No skin off my nose.”
Was Troy still pissed off they hadn’t tipped him off to their plans earlier? Or maybe he was offended on Chad’s behalf? If that was his reasoning, she had no argument. She stared out the window, watching the stars disappear behind the treetops that whipped around in the downdraft of the helicopter’s blades. At least Chad had friends who’d stayed with him this time.
As soon as they’d touched down, the lights shut off, leaving them in the dark. “What’s stopping anyone else” —an attacker— “from landing their own helicopter?”
“Oh, I think we’d find a way to discourage any unwanted visitors.”
“Let me guess, you’ve armed your guards with surface-to-air missiles.”
A dark smile quirked the ends of his lips but he didn’t say anything. Holy hell, how had Hauberk managed to acquire SAMs legally? Just who had Sam Watson fucked to get that type of power?
What was she thinking? He probably obtained them from the same place as the Brigade. Cooper Davis had drawn Sam into his circle without Sam even suspecting what was going on. Or did Sam know about Cooper’s real identity?
That single connection between Sam and the Brigade’s leader sent another frisson of worry through her. There were too many threads hanging on this case, too many possibilities for Harris to infiltrate Hauberk’s network.
A camouflaged guard, complete with infra-red goggles and an MP5 machine gun slung over his shoulder, slid open the helicopter door and glanced around the interior. As soon as he recognized Troy, he touched his hand to his forehead as if he were in the military. “Good evening, sir. Everything’s secure.”
Troy jumped out first then reached up to help her out, his expression grim. “I hope you bloody well know what you’re doing.”
So did she.
She ducked her head as she jumped to the ground beside him. Instead of the pavement she expected, soft grass cushioned her landing. Crickets chirped as she took a deep breath, hoping to get some sense of where they were. The scent of fresh mown grass and damp earth filled her lungs. No distant roar of a highway, no bright lights indicative of a nearby city bouncing off the few clouds. With only the stars sparkling above and no moon, she couldn’t see much beyond the field they were in. Rolling hills silhouetted the horizon, increasing her suspicion they’d gone in a circle and were now back east. Vermont’s Green Mountains? The Appalachians? But where? Tennessee? Pennsylvania? North Carolina? Did it matter? Not as long as Harris couldn’t find them.
Her confidence in their plan faltered when she saw Chad at the far edge of the meadow, four men armed with an assortment of MP5s and M4 carbines flanking him. Even with the distance between them, power emanated from him. His alert posture combined with a quiet confidence radiated his awareness of everything surrounding them. No doubt he’d already evaluated everything either as a threat or for use as a possible defense. Would he head straight for the front gate once he found out she was his principal?
His gaze skimmed over her as they approached, then flicked to assess the two agents at her side. Though his expression was bland, there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders.
She arrived beside Troy just in time to hear him say, “This wasn’t my effin’ idea.”
Chad looked directly at Lauren but she couldn’t read his expression; he’d donned the damned implacable mask he’d learned to use thanks to the FBI and the media. “Noted.”
Troy glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “I think I’ll hang around a couple days in case you want someone else to take over.”
The agents hung back as Chad stuck his hands in his pockets, something he only did if he was nervous. Which meant his pockets were rarely used. “Hello, Lauren.”
I’m sorry, please forgive me for leaving you. For not coming back. I despise your sister for what she did to us. I hate myself for trusting her. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ve missed holding you and being held. I’ve even missed the way you hog the covers at night. “Hello, Chad.”
“Let’s go inside.” Not cold. Not warm either. Business-like. Detached. Like she was a stranger.
Maybe she was.
As they walked toward the waiting Humvee, his palm touched the small of her back, igniting a memory of the first time they’d met at the bar where she’d worked her last year of college. How he’d been so careful with her, so tender and gentle. Oh, he had strength. He’d proven that the way he’d handled the drunken patron who had accosted her. He’d waited around until the end of her shift, his friends having ditched him hours before. Once she was done, he’d escorted her to her car, placing the flat of his hand on her back just the way it was now. The same spark of electricity had zinged through her then too.
Lauren closed her eyes, fighting the guilt welling inside. When she told him what she’d done, when she finally confessed her secret, he’d leave. Worse, he might hate her.
Chad stared out the Humvee’s window in a futile effort to pretend Lauren wasn’t sitting mere feet away from him. Did Sam know it was Lauren he’d be protecting?
Damn it, was this all a setup? Some twisted scheme to get them back together? Was Thalia playing one of her manipulative games? Or Sam? No, neither of them liked Lauren. Oh, they’d both liked her well enough until she’d walked away from their marriage. Thalia had been livid on his behalf, while Sam…well, Sam had set him up with an endless number of women. All of whom he’d turned down. Almost all, he corrected himself. It had been almost ten years, and he doubted Lauren had been celibate either. The idea of her being with another man turned his stomach. His gaze slid sideways and he checked her left hand. After all these years why should he feel such satisfaction in not finding a ring? He should want her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with him, damn it.
Something about the whole assignment, about the way Weir had come to them and then the way Sam had suggested he get out from behind the desk and take the assignment had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at a ninety-degree angle. Weir had to have known he worked for Hauberk, had to have known he’d once been married to Lauren. So why seek him out? He ran through the meeting and realized that he’d been manipulated—and from the looks of it, Sam had been part of the manipulation. Which made no sense if Sam knew Lauren would be their principal; there was no way in hell he would have put Chad in charge of her protection. Sam, more than anyone, would realize his objectivity would be skewed. It must be obvious from the way he couldn’t stop staring at her ankles, remembering them wrapping about him as he positioned himself at her entrance, that he was anything but objective. His cock stiffened at the memory of the heat of her pussy as he slid deep inside her. Shit yeah, his objectivity was completely shot to hell.
