Web of Shadows

by Susan Sleeman

  She waited for him to say something. He huffed out a breath. Took in another, blew it out. She wanted to look at him. To see what he was thinking. But if she did, her tears would return in full force.

  “Why did you go to the falls in the first place?” he suddenly snapped.

  His angry tone made her spin. His jaw was clenched, his hands fisted. Gone was the caring man. A SEAL warrior now stood before her, all hard angles and rage. She had no idea what had changed, but something had.

  “Answer me, Nina,” he ordered. “Why’d you go?”

  “I told you. The caller said he’d kill Hamid. I couldn’t let him do that.”

  “Instead, you’d rather he kill you?” The words shot out of his mouth like an accusation.

  “I also told you, he doesn’t want to do that. If he did, I wouldn’t have made it back from the falls.”

  “You can’t know that.” He shoved his hand into his hair. “Geez, Nina. Anyone could see that you would have been trading your life for the kid’s. You’re an agent, for crying out loud. How can you not recognize that what you did was a dumb move?”

  “Dumb?” A bolt of anger shot through her, replacing the grief in a flash. “If I was being dumb, then so are you, every time you rush off to rescue someone.”

  “But I’m trained for it. You aren’t. Big difference.”

  She glared at him. “I’m trained.”

  “But not to my level.”

  “I’m quite competent at my job, Quinn.” She clenched her hands. “Make no mistake about that.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t competent, but SEALs aren’t just competent. We’re outstanding in everything we do or we keep at it until we are. We train to excel, then train some more. But that’s what it takes to pull off a rescue without people dying in the process.”

  “I get that you’re the big, bad SEAL, the ultimate fighting machine. And you think that none of us can measure up. You’ve made that clear in the last few days.” She fisted her hands. She was actually glad for the anger—it kept the other emotions at bay. “But I’m a qualified federal agent, and you’re acting like all the other men I run into on the job who refuse to take me seriously. Suspects. Cops. Even an agent or two. They take one look at me and dismiss me. I don’t take that from them and I won’t take it from you. If you can’t start respecting my skills, it’s time for you to walk out that door and head back to San Diego.”

  WILEY RESISTED clapping his hands. Things were going just as he’d predicted. He’d followed Brandt back to the cabin and knew she’d have called her big, dumb protector by that time. And anyone with an ounce of brains could predict the SEAL would come running back to the cabin and slip down the steps to make sure she was okay.

  Exactly what the SEAL had done. Wiley hadn’t expected the goofy kid brother to come along, but even he trotted down the steps and left Wiley to do his thing.

  Wiley also guessed that the SEAL was questioning how he’d found them at the cabin. Made sense that he’d search the vehicles and their possessions for hidden GPS trackers. If Wiley wanted to keep tracking them this way, he couldn’t let the SEAL find the trackers.

  He eased out of the scrub and quickly, but silently slid under the vehicles and removed the little devices, then scampered back to his hiding spot, resisting squealing in glee. After the SEAL came lumbering up the steps to search the vehicles, Wiley would put the trackers in place.

  He sat back to wait, his gun in his hand just in case, and enjoyed the thought of besting the SEAL again.

  QUINN GRITTED HIS teeth as he checked under the vehicles tracking devices. Finding none, he slammed a fist against the truck’s hood.

  If not via tracker, how in the world did this creep find them? Quinn was certain they hadn’t been followed from the restaurant. Was someone in Kait or Becca’s inner circle betraying their confidence or had Hamid’s killer somehow recorded the other agents’ conversations?

  Quinn would discuss it with Becca when he next saw her. Right now, he had to focus on moving them to a new safe house.

  He jogged down the stairs and found Nina staring out the window. She spun and met his gaze, anger still lingering in her eyes.

  What had he been thinking? She could have died and there he was only moments ago yelling at her. Being mean and ugly when all he wanted to do was draw her close. Confirm she was alive and well by touching her. Get rid of the residual fear from almost losing her.

  How could he still be angry? He was a jerk, that’s how. He was good and mad and couldn’t seem to get a hold of it. He had to before he did or said something else stupid.

  With her heated gaze still on him, he started to pace, letting the anger subside with each step. Maybe he was really angry at himself for not having her back. Point blank, he hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. Like he hadn’t been there the day she’d given him the ultimatum. The day she’d needed him to man up and consider what walking away without a word would do to her. Instead, he’d stormed off in a huff. Then, he’d been too proud to discuss things after he’d cooled down.

  Yeah, he was mad at himself, not her.

  He stopped. Turning toward her, he met her gaze and tied to convey his sincerity. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t respect your skills, sweetheart. I do. I’m just mad at myself for leaving you alone and giving you no choice but to head up to the falls.”

  “Even if you’d gone with me, Hamid would be dead. That wouldn’t change.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  His mind flooded with thoughts of her getting the call. Taking off. Racing to the falls without a thought for her safety, her mind solely on helping Hamid. Putting her life on the line. He couldn’t handle it. Just the thought . . .

  “You’re usually so careful. I don’t have to worry about you.” He took her hands. They were cold and clammy. “But rushing into danger like you did today? That’s not good, sweetheart. Not good at all. Don’t you care about what losing you would do to me?”

  Her eyes flashed wide in surprise. She jerked her hands free. “That’s priceless, Quinn. Totally priceless. Did you forget that you deployed, leaving me feeling this way all the time when we were together? But I do it once and suddenly, you can’t handle it?”

  Her allegation hit him square in the face. He’d known she’d taken his deployments hard, but had he ever actually taken the time to understand how she felt? Really understand it? No. He’d never had to feel the visceral worry twisting his gut right now. She’d never given him reason to experience it before. He could always count on her need to weigh things. To think them through before acting. While he . . . man . . . he’d never really gotten it. Until now.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I get it. I didn’t before.”

  She shrugged. “We’re not together, so it doesn’t matter if you understand.”

  Oh, it mattered all right. He just didn’t know what he could or would do about it.

  “What’s important right now is figuring out how we’re going to handle Hamid’s death,” she continued. “I can’t be certain he was murdered, but with his hands and feet tied, I have to assume someone killed him.” She paused and lifted her eyes in thought. “Or maybe Hamid was actually involved in the hacking scheme. Maybe something went wrong in their plan and they killed him.”

  Quinn shifted his mind back to the problem at hand. “Your team has scoured the kid’s life. If he was involved in this, wouldn’t they have discovered that by now?”

  “Likely, but it’s possible they missed something.”

  “Did you call Becca after you found him?”

  “No. I need to think this through, first. I didn’t even call 911—the calls are recorded.” She shook her head. “What kind of a person does that make me? I left the poor kid lying there and didn’t do a thing.”
r />   And he’d yelled at her when she was struggling with all of this. What a jerk! “We can go somewhere and make an anonymous call from a payphone.”

  “It looks like Hamid’s killer already did. As I was leaving, I saw County cruisers race past me so I doubled back and spotted deputies climbing the trail. I’m guessing the killer hoped they’d find me with the body.”

  “Thankfully, you got away.”

  A shiver claimed her body, and Quinn worked hard to resist the urge to hug her. She didn’t want him to treat her like a damsel in distress. She also clearly didn’t want him to care for her, but he did. Big time. And now that a murder had occurred, protecting her became his primary mission. And he’d never failed on a mission yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WILEY IGNORED THE dank air in the tunnel and hovered his finger over Tyler’s laptop while Crash watched. As much as Wiley wanted to hit enter and show Crash what he could do, he also wanted to savor the moment.

  “Get to it already,” Crash said, irritation coating his words. “The sooner I confirm the hack, the sooner we both get paid.”

  Wiley drew in a breath, held it, and hit send. Instead of looking at the screen, he watched Crash for his reaction. Wiley saw the screen colors flash in his peripheral vision and waited for Crash to be impressed. To praise Wiley’s prowess.

  “What the . . . ?” Crash’s eyes went cold and hard. He glared at Wiley. “You trying to make me mad?”

  Wiley peered at the screen. He felt the color drain from his face.

  “Wait, no,” he said, already knowing the vulnerability had been patched, but needing to confirm it. “Let me try it again.” He started the hack sequence over. Followed every step. Double-checked each one. Hit enter again.

  FORBIDDEN. The big, bold word flashed on the screen.

  “Amateur hour.” Crash shot to his feet. “My rep is gonna take a beating for this. No one will do business with me again. I want my forty Gs back. Now!”

  “No wait,” Wiley begged and hated every minute of it. “I can fix this. It just needs some tweaking.”

  Crash’s steps stilled, suspicion consuming his expression. “Fix it how fast?”

  “Tomorrow. Next day, at the latest.” The words shot out before Wiley could think about it. If Tyler had managed to hack the database, Wiley could do it, too. But in such a short time? Not likely.

  This was all Brandt’s fault. She’d worked with Homeland Security to fix the vulnerability. Yes, she was to blame. It was the only answer. Now he had nothing. Nothing! As usual. He’d been so close, but others had stepped in, ruining it all. They were coming after him. All of them. Taunting. Trying to control him. Do him in.

  He clamped his hands over his ears. Crash was speaking, but Wiley didn’t care. Or maybe Crash had done this. Somehow, he’d gotten his hands on the hack and changed things. Stolen the idea out from under Wiley.

  Wiley eyed him. His anger grew hot. White hot. He’d kill him.

  He slid his hand into his pocket to grip his gun.

  “See here’s the thing, Fagan. Seeing this fail has me thinking—who would want to buy a hack like this, when it has the risk of not working in a day or two? And when it failed, wouldn’t the buyer come after me? Why should I get involved in this?”

  “DHS eliminated this vulnerability because they were told about the hack and knew where to look. When I hack it again, they won’t have a clue about the path I took,” Wiley promised.

  “Makes sense, I suppose. But you better be on the up and up or . . .”

  Crash didn’t have to finish. In prison, Wiley had seen Crash’s payback in action. “I hear you.”

  “Okay, fine. It’s better for my rep to put the buyer off than renege,” Crash appraised Wiley. “If I give you a second chance, you’re sure you can do this?”

  “Yes,” Wiley lied, his fingers still caressing the gun.

  “Fine.” Crash narrowed his eyes. “I’ll tell the buyer we’ll deliver in forty-eight hours. If they go for it, don’t bother getting me down here again unless you can deliver the goods.”

  “I won’t,” Wiley said.

  Crash climbed the steps and disappeared into the night.

  Instead of feeling secure as usual, the space was suddenly a tomb. Wiley felt as if he’d died. Much like the day he’d gone to prison. Sure, he’d already succeeded in ending Brandt’s life as an agent. She would do some time for the hack and murder. But he was once again left out in the cold. Hurting. Penniless. On his own, with no one to count on.

  He slammed a fist on the table. Tyler’s laptop jumped.

  “So now what do I do?” He stared at the screen and almost wished he’d never found Tyler’s computer. At least that way, he wouldn’t know what he’d lost.

  “Wait, that’s it.”

  Tyler was the answer. He’d completed the initial hack and knew the steps that hadn’t worked for him, which would make him able to work faster this time.

  Wiley would find a way to get Tyler out from under the Feds’ eyes and bring him to the tunnel to complete the hack. But what if he didn’t cooperate?

  No problem. Wiley had nothing to lose. Nothing. If the little punk didn’t go along with him, things would get ugly. Very ugly indeed.

  WITH THEIR SAFE house compromised, Quinn remained vigilant as they prepared to depart to a new location he’d arranged with his buddy Oscar. His dad owned a floating home—a houseboat in Quinn’s book, but that’s not how the people who lived on them thought of them—that he rented out to tourists. Quinn hated to put Nina in such close proximity to water again, but she’d agreed to the houseboat without a blink of her eye.

  Quinn crossed the room to Ty. “You can drive the truck. Nina and I’ll take the SUV.”

  “Me, alone?” Ty’s voice broke in an adolescent squeak.

  Quinn nodded. “It’s a good idea to have a fallback vehicle that no one can trace to us. I’ll be right behind you. But if you’re uncomfortable alone, I’ll understand.”

  He bit his lip. “You need me to do this, right?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Then you can count on me.”

  Quinn clapped his brother’s back. “Thanks for stepping up, Ty. I really appreciate it.”

  His face lit with pride, a wide grin following. “You do this spy stuff all the time, don’t you? It’s so cool.”

  The last thing Quinn wanted was for Ty to glorify Quinn’s work. He didn’t want the kid to follow the family tradition of going into the military. Quinn loved his job, but Ty wasn’t built for that kind of life. “Not so cool when someone is gunning for you.”

  Ty blanched.

  “Hey, no one’s gunning for us here. We’ll be fine.” He gestured at Ty’s backpack. “Get your things together, okay?”

  “K.”

  To be on the safe side, Quinn had to shift a few things, too. He went to the kitchen counter, loaded a clip in his Mark 23 pistol, holstered it, and dropped extra ammo into a cargo pocket. He set three burner phones on the counter, then started transferring cash and his fake ID to another pocket.

  Nina came up beside him and snatched the ID from his hand. “This is what you picked up on your errands? You keep stuff like this sitting around?”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” He laughed.

  “I’m serious, Quinn.” She eyed him. “Why would you need something like this?”

  “With my job, you never know what to expect. It’s better to be prepared than sorry.” Though her expression still held questions, he picked up an iPhone and handed it to her. “Before you think I have a closet full of phones, this is the only one I had on hand. I bought the others today.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like that makes it any easier to understand the other things.”

  He shoved another phone in his pocket, then gave one, along
with the truck keys, to Ty. “It’s fully charged. I’ve programmed our numbers in, as well as Becca’s. Only use it in an emergency. Don’t turn on the GPS whatever you do.”

  “Got it,” Ty said, already on checking out the device.

  Quinn put his hand over the phone. “You’ll have plenty of time to look at it when we get to the houseboat. For now, keep your head up and stay behind me on the stairs.”

  As they stepped out into the cold evening air, Quinn wanted to give the same warning to Nina, but he knew she’d take offense at him taking charge, so he kept his mouth shut. If they ran into trouble on the road, he could only hope that she’d listen to him, so that none of them met the same fate as Hamid.

  BECCA GRITTED HER teeth and stared at the body. At Hamid. The belligerent teen she’d recently interviewed was lying there, lifeless, his body illuminated by the harsh rays from a trio of Klieg lights. His eyes were open, staring and vacant.

  Medical examiner Marcie Jensen squatted next to him. They were lucky the short and petite firebrand with hair the same color as Nina’s had caught this case. She always went the extra mile on investigations she worked. Multnomah County Sheriff deputies were on the scene, too, but the sheriff had agreed to let Becca and Connor take lead on the investigation.

  Marcie suddenly stood and held out a cell phone. “This was under the body.”

  Connor held the evidence bag with the cell found in Hamid’s hand and compared the two. “Same make and model as this one. Want to bet the texts on this phone came from that one?”

  “Odds are good you’re right.” Becca took the phone and thumbed through the device to review the recent texts, then gave Connor the only number that appeared in the log.

  “Bingo,” he said. “We have a match.”

  Becca continued to search the phone. “Phone’s registered to Nina. Just like the one found at her house.”

  “With the 911 call claiming she’s after the kid and this phone,” Connor said. “It’s not hard to see someone wants her to take the fall for the murder.”