by Dana Marton
He checked all the drawers within arm’s length. Nothing. “And then?”
“We talked a little. She was nervous. And then she left.”
“Are you sure?”
Eileen nodded. But then she said, “She used the bathroom first.” She pointed down the hallway.
He strode into the small space, looked around. A pine-scented candle burned in the window. Nothing seemed out of place. He looked in the medicine cabinet. It held the usual: makeup and pills, toothbrushes. Nothing but cleaning supplies under the sink. He picked through the garbage, even looked under the trash-can liner. Nothing. He looked under a snowman-patterned floor mat. Nothing. He opened the tank. Empty, save for water.
Dammit.
He needed the information on that CD. He glanced at his watch. It was close to 8:00 a.m., Sunday. He had six days until Christmas. Every instinct he had said that whatever attack Kenny’s group was planning was going to come on Christmas Day. Their communications had become more and more frequent as the holidays approached. There was a marked increase in their phone and Internet activity. The cell leader’s identity was unknown. The FBI had a list of foot soldiers, but had determined that picking any of them up would gain little information while resulting in increased security within the cell, putting them on guard. Only the men at the very top would know the exact details of the attack. They’d keep everyone else in the dark until the very last moment to prevent a leak.
Kenny Briggs, however, had earned a promotion not that long ago, according to an informant who’d dropped off the face of the earth since his last report. Unfortunately, the FBI hadn’t been able to find him for further questioning. Neither could they find Kenny. He kept slipping through their fingers.
Reid had been counting on Jen’s CD.
They’d been this close before. In Hopeville they’d almost had Jimmy Sparks, another thug who’d worked his way up in the cell. But then Reid’s cover had been blown and Jimmy had disappeared. He couldn’t let that happen again.
He was ready to turn when his eyes caught on the open toilet lid. It was decorated with a fuzzy toilet cover, held in place by a circle of elastic. He closed the lid, pulled the cover off—same snowman pattern as the bathmat.
“Hot damn,” he whispered under his breath.
“You found it?” Eileen’s eyes were round with surprise when he came back to her.
“Lucky for everyone involved. I need your permission to take it, or I’ll have to call in for a warrant.”
“You can take it.”
Of course, he still had to have her sign a form giving him permission to take custody of the evidence. Luckily, he had just such a form in his pocket. He’d taken one to the meeting with Jen, in case she had something for him. Never got around to having her sign it for that cell phone. Which was now with Ben. Ben was a whiz with everything electronic. He could break the code and download the call history from the cell, even if it had been deleted.
He whipped out the sheet and slid it on the counter. “Would you sign here?”
Five minutes later, he was in his car, heading away from Philly, talking on his phone to Mark Adams, his FBI handler. “I have the CD. I need someone to meet me and pick it up. Then I’m heading back to the safe house. As soon as you have the info from the CD, you can send it over there for me. I’ll ask Ben to leave his laptop.”
“Good work, Graham. Where are you?”
He gave his location.
“Okay. Take the next exit. Pull over at the back of the truck stop. What car do you have?”
He gave make, model and license plate.
“I’ll have someone there to pick up the evidence in an hour. And, hey, the Allen guy you were asking about was found. Apparently, he was shaken up and went out back for a smoke. Then he had a panic attack or some thing and passed out. He’s fine now. They let him go home.”
He called Ben’s cell phone next to check up on them. The line was busy. He had call waiting, so he’d know Reid was trying to check in. If he couldn’t talk now, he’d call back later. And he remembered that he hadn’t called out for food before he’d left. They’d probably gotten hungry. Ben was probably ordering.
He tossed the phone on the passenger seat and took the next exit. Once he’d pulled behind the truck stop, there was nothing to do but wait, which did little for his resolution to not think about Lara and the babies.
Over the years, he’d talked himself into believing that she hadn’t meant any more to him than the others, that there hadn’t been anything special between them. The last couple of hours had blasted that nice, comfortable facade to hell.
Dammit.
He should have known all along. If she hadn’t been anyone special, he wouldn’t have broken all the rules and slept with her in the first place. If she didn’t mean more than the others, he could have forgotten her over the past two years. The truth was, he had little power to resist, and even less good judgment when it came to Lara Jordan.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kissed her tonight in the safe house’s kitchen.
Otherwise, he would now be thinking of nothing but the job, instead of wishing for impossible things.
Getting distracted was the very best way to get both of them killed. He wouldn’t have it. They had a past. A past that had more to it than he’d thought. Zak and Nate.
That had been a shock. He could have kids. At some point, he needed to sit down and think about the implications of that. His life was partially based on the assumption that he would never be a family man, never be a father. He was now. A father. To twins.
Well, he was the worst person ever to attempt to raise kids. He’d never be around, for one. Two, his job was dangerous. What if someone figured out that he had a family? What if they decided to use his family to get to him?
Having any kind of relationship in the future with Lara and the boys was out of the question. For their sake.
He would help financially. Through a third party. Make sure the money couldn’t be traced. That was the best thing he could do. That was the safest thing he could do.
Logic said he needed distance.
A dull ache deep inside his chest said something else. He decided to ignore that ache.
It wasn’t like he would miss them. The very thought was completely illogical. He barely knew Lara and he didn’t know the boys at all. You couldn’t miss people you didn’t know.
The pickup car’s arrival interrupted his musings. The agent showed ID. Signed for the evidence. Bagged it properly.
Then Reid was on his way back to the safe house. His mind swam with all the thoughts and questions he had regarding those kids. Lara and he needed to have a good, long talk about this.
He picked up his phone to call Ben again to make sure that everything was okay, but it rang before he could dial.
“Have you heard from Ben?” Adams asked.
“I was just about to call him.”
“He’s not answering his phone. Gunshots were reported in the neighborhood. Local law enforcement is on the way.”
He closed the phone and tossed it on the passenger seat, stepped on the gas and shot down the highway, ignoring when horns blared all around him. The very thing he wanted to avoid the most—Lara and the boys in danger because of him—had already become reality. Dammit.
He was at least thirty minutes away. Even as the needle on the speedometer climbed up, he knew he’d be too late.
Chapter Five
The drive to the safe house was the longest of his life. He’d been tortured before, brutally, when the pain that seemed to have no beginning and no end had the power to bring time to a standstill. Now, as then, the seconds ticked away with a desperate, agonizing slowness that drove him crazy.
It was nearly noon by the time he was finally flying down the right street. The sight of cop cars and two ambulances by the curb was enough to make him go gray. He pulled over and jumped from his car, burst into the house—and nearly got shot.
“Reid Graham, I’m with the FBI.
” He flashed his temporary badge as guns pointed at him. “Where are they?”
The two officers inside the living room lowered their weapons, scowling at him for causing unnecessary excitement.
“Your man?” one of them asked, gesturing to the corner.
Ben, unconscious, lay on the floor, a pool of blood under his head. Half of one ear was missing. Looked like he was shot from behind.
Anger twisted through Reid. “How is he?”
“Massive head trauma,” an EMT said without looking up as they transferred Ben onto a waiting stretcher. “But if he makes it to the hospital he has a chance.”
“The woman and the babies?” Reid demanded.
Then Lara’s broken voice came from somewhere in the rear of the house, and his heart gave a hard thud. He pushed his way past the men as they rolled the stretcher out. In the hall, another officer was coming from the babies’ room. Reid identified himself again. The man nodded and kept going, letting him pass.
The first thing he saw in the small bedroom was another EMT. Then the man shifted, and Reid spotted Lara sitting on the bed, a large bruise on her cheek. She looked catatonic, her eyes staring but not seeing, tears shining on her checks, trying to get away from the man who was treating her.
No babies.
Some people reacted to strong emotions like fear and anger by blowing up like a volcano. Reid had a stone-cold rage that others sometimes mistook for calmness, missing the killer instinct behind the controlled facade. He held strong and still, when what he wanted to do was tear the whole damn house apart. But he would wait and focus his powers of destruction until he found the men who were responsible. Then God help the bastards.
“Lara?” He stepped closer.
The EMT was treating lacerations on her knuckles and wrists with one hand, holding her on the bed with the other. “Take it easy. I wish you’d lie down, ma’am.”
She didn’t say a word, just tried to get past him. If she weren’t so drugged, she would have evaded him, but as it was, her movements were too slow and uncoordinated.
“How is she?” Reid’s control kept his voice even. The EMT glanced at him for a split second before focusing back on his work, wrapping gauze around Lara’s wrist. “They tied her up. Wounds are mostly superficial, but she’ll have to keep them clean to prevent infection.”
Reid pushed back the rage a sliver, surprised when an overwhelming tenderness immediately filled the void. He moved forward to kneel next to her, put a hand on her arm to hold her in place. “Lara, honey?”
She stilled and slowly lifted her gaze to him, her expression tortured. “They took Zak and Nate.”
“I know, honey.” He squeezed her hand.
“It’s your fault! You brought us here.” She shook him off. “Don’t you honey me.” Her words held a tigress’s growl.
The EMT started tending to the rope burns on her ankles.
Reid sat next to her on the bed and pulled her to his chest, rested his chin on the top of her head. “Hey, nobody messes with my boys. I’ll find them. You better believe it.”
But she didn’t seem to hear him. She tugged free. “I begged them to take me, too. Why wouldn’t they take me? I want to be with my babies.”
He put a hand on her arm to hold her on the bed. “Did they tell you anything? A message to give me?”
“The taller one said you had to hang on to some CD.” She tried to yank her arm out of his grip. “If anything happens to the twins because of your stupid job, I swear to God, Reid—”
“You need help over there?” The cop was coming back to check on them.
“I got her.” He held her firmly, but at the same time made sure she wouldn’t hurt herself with her incessant tugging. “Any clues as to who the attackers were and where they went?”
“Nothing. The ambulance is leaving with your buddy,” the officer told Reid. “You want to go with him?”
“I’m staying. But I want to be notified when he regains consciousness.”
The cop gave a brief nod before disappearing from the doorway.
The EMT patted his handiwork and stood. “That should do it. She needs to rest as much as possible.” He flashed Reid a pointed look.
Of course, even now, she was swatting his hands away, trying to get away from him. “Bad news,” she mumbled.
And while the EMT probably didn’t know what she was talking about, Reid did. She was talking about him. He was the bad news in her life, bringing nothing but pain, over and over again. He didn’t protest her words. He agreed wholeheartedly. And the fact that he had brought trouble to her door once again was killing him.
He stepped in front of the door to block her from leaving the room on the EMT’s heels, then pulled his cell phone out.
“Who are you calling?” Even the question was spoken in a tone of accusation.
“Backup. I need you to be taken someplace else while I look for Zak and Nate.” And skin anyone alive who laid a finger on them. The veneer that held him in check was wearing awfully thin.
“Like hell.” She stepped up to him. “Do you hear me? I’m going after the twins. I’m going with you. If you dare leave me, I’ll just get away. I’ll follow you.” She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “I can do it.”
The desperation underlying her anger came through in her voice and twisted his guts.
He closed the phone and pulled her hard against his chest. His arms tightened around her on their own. Truth was, he didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He didn’t want to let her out of his arms. Ever. And because that thought unsettled him, he dropped his arms away from her.
“Sit on the bed. Let me think,” he ordered.
She did, probably knowing he was about to give in.
A cell phone rang in the living room. When nobody picked it up after several rings, he strode out to get it. Through the window, he could see the cops combing the front lawn, casting tire molds. He grabbed the cell phone from the coffee table—Kenny’s backup phone that Jen had passed on to Reid, then Reid had passed on to Ben.
“Hey,” he answered, hoping someone was calling Kenny, hoping he could fake his way through the conversation and come away with something usable.
But the call was for him.
“We got the kids. You got the CD. Let’s trade.”
Everything inside him went cold. “Say when and where.” He wasn’t about to let on that he had nothing to negotiate with.
“I’ll be calling you,” the voice said, and then the line went dead.
He swore a blue streak.
“What is it?” Lara was coming from the bedroom because, of course, she wouldn’t stay put. Her gaze went to the pool of blood on the dingy carpet. She blinked hard. “How is Ben?”
“He’s a tough bastard. You’re not to worry about him.” She had plenty on her mind without starting to feel guilty now that someone had gotten hurt protecting her and her babies. Ben had known the risks when he’d signed on. This was the kind of job they both did. When you were on protection detail, you were paid to step in front of bullets, not hide from them.
“Who called?” Lara was asking.
He flexed his jaw to keep it from clenching. “The woman who was killed at the restaurant was supposed to give me something. They want it in exchange for Zak and Nate.”
“You have to give it to them.” She charged at him on unsteady legs. “Whatever it is…”
“I already passed it off.” How much sedative had that idiot EMT given her?
“Tell whoever you’re working for to give it back,” she demanded, then wrapped her arms around herself and swore like a commando soldier. Which was a first. He’d never heard her say words like that before. A whole new Lara, definitely.
“They won’t. The people I work for don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
She swayed, all the blood running out of her face. He caught her, hating to see her all drugged up like this. He picked her up and carried her to the couch, ig
noring her uncoordinated attempts to get away from him. He practically had to sit on her to keep her from running while he dialed his phone and spoke.
“They just took Ben to the hospital. Doesn’t look good. I have Miss Jordan. Both babies are missing.” Saying the words out loud seemed to amplify the emptiness in his chest. He rubbed a fist against his breast bone.
“Got anything?” Adams asked on the other end.
“Ben was in no condition for a debriefing. The EMT had to sedate Miss Jordan. I’ll talk to her as soon as the drugs wear off. I got a call on Kenny’s cell. I’ll call you from that in a minute so you have the number. See if you can trace all incomings and outgoings for the last couple of days. The bastards think Jen gave me that CD. They want a trade.”
“They can want it all day long. We don’t do exchanges with terrorists. Any negotiations will be conducted by our special hostage negotiators. That CD is staying exactly where it is.”
Reid let the CD thing slide for the moment, with every intention of getting his hands on it one way or the other.
“Any idea how they found the safe house in the first place?” Adams was asking.
He’d thought about that on the way here in the car. He picked up Kenny’s cell now from the coffee table, and turned it over in his hand. “I’m guessing the phone Jen gave me has some kind of a locator. Could be Kenny didn’t trust her. Or Kenny’s boss, whoever that is, didn’t trust Kenny. Someone was trying to keep tabs on someone and, by accident, ended up having our location.”
A moment of silence. “Maybe the cell leader has locators in the cell phones of the others. Somehow they figured out that Jen was defecting. Went to the restaurant to see who she was meeting with. Tried to take both of you out. You escaped, and they realized that you had the phone.”
“Which led them straight here.” Pretty much the theory he had come up with. His muscles tightened as he thought of the danger he’d put Lara and the babies in. He was too dangerous for them to be around. Once he found the boys, he would make sure that he set them up as far away from him as possible.
Here came that chest pain again. Once more, he rubbed it away.
