Handling Neve (NCIS Series Book 6)

by Zoe Dawson

  But she’d been attacked by someone who’d wanted to end her life, and she didn’t know why. A killer who was associated with an unknown someone she didn’t know how to fight. The uncertainty and fear overwhelmed her for a moment. She dropped her head and, with quick, anxious breaths, breathed carefully around the panic.

  This threat wasn’t just against her. It was against her whole family. Thane, her oldest brother: tough, opinionated, an alpha male, teacher and Naval hero. Tristan, also a hero, decorated, another alpha and so strong and capable. Nova, her twin; they were eerily connected like two beating hearts joined as one. Smart, sarcastic, bold, and beautiful, a crack helicopter pilot who had saved countless lives. And her mother, who had given her Inuit blood and features, born of a proud and rich culture of hardship and survival that ran through her blood and was embedded in her bones. A sweet, happy homemaker, a huge support for her family and her husband, who was away so much. Then, her father, a Bering Sea fisherman, stoic, honest to a fault, tight-lipped and with integrity to spare, and a big bear of a man who had shaped her into the woman she was today. He was so damned good at what he did, braving the elements and the odds year in and year out to support his family. She loved them all, and her throat got tight at just the thought of losing any of them. She squeezed her eyes closed and maintained her composure only by sheer, stubborn will.

  She would prove that she could do this, save her family, just as she’d been forced most of her life to prove herself. First on her father’s fishing boat, then the challenge of the Coast Guard, one she welcomed. She could blame her dad for her need to strive for excellence. Now her mettle would be tested again, and she wouldn’t fail. Get to the task first and complete it with dazzling competency. She didn’t need to ask for assistance; it made her feel helpless in the process.

  She opened Russell’s medicine cabinet, searched around, carefully avoiding the box of condoms, and found ibuprofen. Popping three pills, she washed them down with a swallow of water from the tap.

  Packing her bag, she walked out of Russell’s bedroom, pushing away all her thoughts about him, even as she felt a twinge of jealousy as to who he was using those condoms on. Then that made her think of his gorgeous body again. She swore softly at the way that image made her knees weak. It was necessary to get her head screwed on right.

  Neve entered his bright and spacious kitchen. The aroma of something hot and cinnamony, mingled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, made her mouth water. Seeing his kitchen in the bright light of day, she was suddenly floored. There were splashes of bright colors, lush, healthy plants everywhere, and the granite countertops were as neat and inspection-ready as any Marine barracks. Even the whimsical ceramic frog near the phone was full of organized pens and pencils. The stainless-steel fridge sported an array of Post-It notes, flyers, Chinese food and pizza menus and what looked like…childish artwork.

  She hadn’t noticed any of this last night because she’d been too mired in her own reactions and thoughts from the afternoon’s events.

  She got closer to the drawings and smiled at the depictions of cars and robots. She read the name at the bottom: “Georgie,” penned in colorful crayon. That had to be the artist. Her heart melted as she thought that there was someone in Russell’s life named Georgie who proudly drew for him.

  Curiosity gave her a moment’s reprieve from her heavy thoughts of death and Panamanian hitmen with wing tattoos.

  The door leading to the garage opened, and she heard the sound of footsteps and the opening and closing of a door. Then Russell, glistening and bare-chested, with only a pair of snug black running shorts on, his well-muscled thighs bulging beneath the hems, came into the kitchen.

  He stopped and smiled and said, “Good morning.”

  Wow, the man had a knockout smile, and those shorts left very little to the imagination. She whipped her eyes back up to his, only to meet his deep blue gaze and see the glint of knowledge that said he knew what she was looking at and thinking about.

  He cleared his throat and sidled by her as the timer on the stove started chiming. Donning oven mitts, he opened the oven, pulled out what looked like coffee cake, setting the pan on the stove.

  “Perfect timing,” he stated.

  “That looks good enough to eat.”

  He raised a brow. “Think a jarhead can’t cook?”

  “No, just one more thing I didn’t know about you.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said cryptically, his voice a husky rasp, hitting her hard where it hurt. Damn the man. “My mom made sure both Dex and I knew the basics. This is her recipe, and I loved waking up to this smell.”

  “Yeah, it’s wonderful how smells bring back good memories.”

  “And bad, sometimes,” he said.

  She nodded. Too true.

  She was relieved when he ran upstairs and took a shower; they ate what turned out to be the most delicious coffee cake, and he took her home. He insisted on walking her up to her apartment, but she just needed him to go. The new door was in place, thanks to Dex. She went inside but stopped Russell at the threshold.

  “Neve—”

  “I’ll be fine. You get back to your life. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

  “I’m always here for you,” he said.

  She closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes darting around her apartment. Just as she set down her purse and dropped her bag in her bedroom, her cell phone rang.

  “Chica,” Marco said when she answered. “¿Qué pasa, beautiful?”

  “Marco, thank you for calling.”

  “Yeah, sure. Anything for you, chica. What’s so urgente? Marco is here to help.”

  She took a breath. “I was attacked last night.”

  “Santa mierda! You are okay?”

  “Yes, thanks. I am, but the man who tried to kill me is dead, and I don’t know why he targeted me.”

  “This is very upsetting to me. Why do you think I can help?”

  “He spoke Panamanian Spanish.”

  “What did this hijo de puta say?”

  “That I couldn’t escape, that he would have revenge against my whole family.”

  “¡Basta ya! Tell me all the details. Exactly what he said.”

  “Marco, he mentioned the White Falcon. Does that mean anything to you?”

  There was utter silence on the other end of the line, ominous. The skin on the back of Neve’s neck prickled.

  “Dios mío.” His breath hissed out, and she bet he was making the sign of the cross. He always did that after that phrase. “Are you sure that is what he said? El Halcón Blanco?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. What does it mean, Marco? Tell me straight. Don’t hold anything back.”

  “Muy, muy dangerous. Muy ruthless. Did this hombre have a wing tattoo on his neck?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dios mío, chica. You must get protection for you and your family. Rápidamente. This White Falcon is a gunrunner, Egyptian-born, very bad. Did you receive a plain envelope with the line ‘death will come for you on swift wings’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Esto es malo. This is bad. He will never stop coming after you.”

  “Why? I have no idea what he thinks I’ve done to him.”

  “What has happened recently in your life? Have you been to Panama or Colombia?”

  “No. I broke my collarbone trying to save three people from a terrible storm off the coast about ten weeks ago. I haven’t been anywhere.”

  “These people. What are their names?”

  “Just a minute.” She went to her laptop and opened it up navigating to the official report. “Cadoc, Galina, and Tai—”

  “Saad?”

  The surname jumped off the page at her. “Yes.”

  “Santa Madre de Dios! That is…Dios…was his brother and two sisters. He blames you for not saving them. He must have taken all this time to track you down, and now that he’s found you, you are not safe, none of you are safe. But he will c
ome after you first, there is hope there.”

  “Marco, do you know where he is?”

  “Yes, but only rumors, the Darién Gap, a very bad place. I am ready to help. My life is yours, bella.”

  Two days later, Neve settled into the conference room in a comfortable seat across from Agent Davis Nishida and Special Supervisory Agent Kai Talbot at the NCIS San Diego office. “We’ve looked into this White Falcon threat, and Agent Nishida has talked to Marco de Cruz. The White Falcon is Ammon Blanco Saad. He changed his name to Set after the deity of disorder and violence. If you asked me, he’s an egotistical maniac with delusions of grandeur, and that makes any slight toward him personal. That is why he is coming after you, even after you attempted to save his family. He’s part Egyptian, part Colombian, an international gunrunner who is married to Lizeth Maria Sosa Torres de Set. She’s the daughter of Raúl Torres,” Kai said. “His wife’s crest is a falcon. Combined with his Colombian mother’s last name, that’s where he gets the moniker,” Kai said.

  “His wife is one of the most powerful people in the Latin drug world, leading one of the largest trafficking rings in South America. She’s transporting thousands of pounds of cocaine into the US and is on the DEA’s watch list. But her money laundering has her marked by the US Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control, or OFAC,” Davis said.

  “What does this all mean?” Neve asked, her stomach lurching, dread settling in the pit of her belly.

  “The hitter was identified as Juan Ramos, assassin for hire and a dead end. We have no hard evidence Set put a hit out on you or was involved in the attempt on your life. I think his motive is clear. He is blaming you for the deaths of his brother and sisters.”

  “What happened during that rescue, Neve, so we’re all aware?” Agent Nishida asked.

  “I have a copy of the report.” She handed them a sheaf of papers and swallowed back her guilt and discomfort. Retelling the story wasn’t going to be easy. “It was off the coast during a terrible storm. I had an argument with the pilot. He didn’t want to risk me or the crew, but I argued that I could handle it.”

  That storm spooked her. It reminded her of the pressure of being a woman rescue swimmer, and of what her father used to have to fight against while crabbing. She hadn’t been sure the pilot’s bias against her winching down to the survivors didn’t have to do with her being female. She didn’t want those people to die because of some sexist pilot.

  “The wind took the helicopter and me with it like a feather in the breeze. I slammed against the side and fractured my collarbone, but I didn’t quite realize it at the time.

  “They winched me to the surface, and one of the survivors was already floating face-down. I tried to get her in the basket first, hoping that they could revive her, but her brother panicked and took me under. The seas were so rough, and I was fighting him for my life. I almost drowned and my arm was going numb. But I was able to get away from him. After that, I lost track of him in the waves. His body was recovered an hour later, but the sister who had already drowned…they never found her. His other sister had severe hypothermia. She didn’t make it.”

  What had happened was so tragic. It was unfair to her, but he wanted to blame someone, and grief affected people differently.

  “We’re opening an investigation and will actively pursue this, but at this time we don’t even know where they are hiding,” Agent Nishida said, dragging her out of her thoughts.

  “The Darién Gap. Marco told me that’s where they have a compound.” She knew of the stretch of wilderness; she’d even hiked it once. She’d worked the Panamanian waters on the California-based Coast Guard National Security cutter Crockett around Panama City for two years before her acceptance into the rescue swimmer program, nabbing drug runners in narco submarines, self-propelled semi-submersibles that stuck close to the coastline, carrying tons of drugs from South America to the US.

  “That’s also problematic, Neve. The DEA and ATF have an active investigation on them, although they don’t know exactly where they are. It’s hampered by the dense wilderness, the sheer number of baddies in the area and their ability to hide. Now that we have a definite location, thanks to Marco, we can begin searching, but that could take months. It’s a dense area with plenty of obstacles for any kind of force, along with the red tape we have to hurtle to get permission from Panama.”

  “You’re basically telling me there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Other than putting your family members into protective custody, and that is in the works, we’ll investigate this hard, joining with the DEA and ATF, working it out. In the meantime, as a precaution preliminary to moving your family members to a safe house, the local police will up the patrols in your area. Have you notified your family?”

  “Yes, I contacted them after Marco told me why he thought I might be targeted. My brother Thane is in the hospital from a hit-and-run. The cops don’t think it was an accident. My parents are in their early fifties, and Dutch Harbor isn’t a hotbed of criminal activity. The local police have indicated they will patrol their home. How can I keep them all safe? I can’t wait days, let alone six months.”

  Kai’s face showed her frustration and concern. “We’re taking this seriously, Neve. I promise you. It just takes time.”

  “Thank you for looking into this for me. I appreciate your efforts.” She got up from the table and both agents exchanged a glance, one filled with discontent and worry.

  “Call us if you need us,” Kai said, rising and setting her hand on her arm. Neve nodded and realized that she had to do something. Because she’d been unable to help Set’s family, he had targeted her and her whole family for death.

  This was now up to her.

  As soon as she was out of the building, she put in a call to Marco, now hyperaware of her surroundings. Looking over her shoulder was something she was going to have to do until Set was in custody or dead. When Marco answered, he said, “What’s the plan, chica?”

  The thought of losing her family, or even her own life, while the DEA and ATF took their time building a case against the White Falcon and his notorious wife made her sick and terrified. There was no way she was going to sit back while this threat was active. There was only one thing she could do.

  “I’m going to have to kill him before he kills us,” she said.

  Rock had been trained to kill the enemy. Trained and carried out that mission every day he was in combat. But he’d been shadowing Neve for two days, and what he saw made him realize that she was going on the offensive. She was preparing for battle.

  A stone-cold warrior in a body to die for.

  Everything she did, every line of her body was poised. Set was Rock’s enemy now.

  He was pissed because she was gearing up and she was leaving him out. Leaving everyone out. He’d been carrying around all this anger inside him. She had never seen him, not once. He was a ghost that was as close as her shadow. It was what he’d done for a living, and he’d been damn good at it.

  Solo. Lone she-wolf.

  Well, she was going to get the shock of her life.

  Soon.

  He’d followed her to the shooting range. He loved watching her as she loaded the M9, chambered a round, then released the magazine and topped it off with another cartridge before loading it back into the pistol. With the spare ammo on her belt and the M9 in her holster, she was ready to go. Thirty shots for ten targets, some stationary, some moving.

  In addition to their Coast Guard training, Tristan had taught both the twins to shoot for protection. But Neve had come here with a different goal in mind—to protect others. Nova was good and Neve was…well, she was even better—a natural. Gifted.

  She would have made a hell of a sniper.

  And damn if that didn’t make him hard as a rock.

  They would have to go through him first, and he’d made himself damn hard to go through.

  She took a breath, relaxed, stretched out her right arm and rolled her shoulder, trying, no
doubt, to release the kinks she’d gotten from that clavicle break.

  From experience, he knew shooting was both a science and a skill, and both were best practiced with cool, calm deliberation.

  With smooth, gunslinger quickness, she drew her pistol and started unloading her first magazine. When it was empty, a flawless tactical reload gave her another fifteen cartridges to run through her M9. Bam! Bam! Bam! The 9mm bullets smacked through the targets, one shot after another. Her second reload found her cleaning up on the moving targets, trying for another shot on each. Three on every target was the goal, as tightly grouped as she could get them.

  When she’d run through her ammo, she released the pistol’s slide, flipped on the safety, holstered the gun, then pushed the button to inspect her targets.

  Then she started the process all over again. That was his cue to get out of there and over to her apartment. Once he was there, he used the extra key Tristan insisted she give him just in case.

  He went directly to her laptop, which was up and running. After waking it up he checked her email. Sure enough, there were plenty to a guy named Marco de Cruz talking about specs and gear she would need.

  As he was reading, he moved his elbow and displaced the papers near the computer. He found a space-available travel fax for a military transport that would take her to Panama City. Bingo.

  From the list of supplies she’d sent, Neve was preparing for war, and he was frustrated and feeling like a big, protective jerk. She was trying to go it alone, but he was determined that she wouldn’t. He dialed Austin, and even though he was reluctant to give up the details, since this mainly affected Neve, Austin told him everything.