Seeking (PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense, #15)

by Calle J. Brookes

  Her hands shook as she touched the keyboard.

  With a few quick strokes, she had the dummy schematics on the screen. "There. That's the most current floorplans."

  They weren't. Things were very altered; she knew that with one look.

  This had been one of the scenarios she'd trained for. She just needed a minute to enter what she had to.

  She looked at Ezra. "I can't do this."

  Hopefully, he'd get the message.

  FIFTEEN

  MAX'S PHONE BUZZED just shy of hour seventy-five. He grabbed it quickly.

  —Bombs. PAVAD. Evacuated. Shannon Toliver sent message.

  It was followed by a set of GPS coordinates. Coordinates that he didn't think were too far from where he was. He texted back quickly to get more information. He battled back the hope. It never paid to get too far ahead in this game.

  Ken Chalmers' team joined his. "The dog has picked up their trail again. Here." Chalmers pointed to a position on a printed map.

  "GPS coordinates lead here." Max showed the other man his own phone. The maps overlapped.

  "At least one of them is still alive," Ken said. "As of fifteen minutes ago, when the message was received. It's most likely Shannon. Let's just pray Ezra's somewhere nearby. And they didn't just eliminate him from the beginning."

  Max understood. "It wasn't Ezra they wanted to begin with. Not if they have let Shannon near a computer. They may as well have given her a phone to call home. It was like tossing her a loaded gun."

  Ken's face was equally as grim. Shannon, smaller, easier to handle, having the skills they obviously wanted, or Ezra, six-foot-five, two hundred pounds, strong and fit. And unnecessary.

  Chances were good they weren't going to find Ezra alive.

  They might get lucky and make it to Shannon before something else happened to her.

  He refused to let himself think of what condition she would be in when they did find her.

  Leaves rustled nearby, and he turned to see a ghost of a woman and the dog that was taller than her waist appear at his side. She came to him, ignoring the other men and two women circling around. "There's a cabin three hundred yards southwest from here. With lights on. Two men are outside on the porch. A third is near the rear entrance of the cabin. All three are carrying, but it’s too dark for me to see what. Semi-autos would be my best bet."

  Max put one hand on her back and leaned closer. They weren't speaking loudly. He wanted to make certain she heard him. "Thank you. Go back to the command post with Carrie Lorcan. Your sister's working there."

  She nodded. "I'm going to get Karma back to where it's quiet. It's hard for her out here like this."

  He had a feeling she wasn't talking about the dog at all.

  He looked at the agents surrounding him. Ken and Paige had the most seniority. By rights, it should be their case. But with it being their agents missing, protocol demanded it was the next senior agent. That meant him.

  "We have two options. Make our presence known and demand their return. Or we storm," he said.

  "If we go in loudly, we're looking at the unsubs taking Shannon out. They've gotten what they wanted out of her," Ken said harshly. His worry was thick on the air.

  "I'm of the same mind," Paige Brockman said. "We know we're dealing with at least four unsubs. There is nothing to stop one of them from taking out Shannon and Ezra while we're trying to play nice."

  "We go in quick, the element of surprise is on our side. And numbers. We'll need to get the heat sensors out here. See what's going on inside." Max knew what was involved. It took planning, details, and a whole lot of luck to pull off. What they had were nine agents at the present. They could tap the remaining eight back at the command post. Some were from the geek pack. All were fully vetted, damn good agents. But they were there for Shannon. He had no doubt of that.

  He hoped the rangers were prepared for what was going to happen.

  He looked at the two agents he knew had the most SWAT and tactical training—Djorn and Armitage. "Evaluate. Get a working plan. How long will it take?"

  "We have vests on now," Djorn said. "We need size and entry points. Then we'll roll."

  Max nodded.

  If they screwed this up, it would be Shannon Toliver who would most likely pay the price.

  No one would forget that.

  Max waited until people were in position. And then he gave the signal.

  And prayed.

  SIXTEEN

  "What did you do?" The asshole grabbed for Shannon, yanking her from the chair. She yelled out.

  Ezra didn't hesitate. Somehow, the other man had figured out she'd double-crossed him. And Shannon was about to pay the price. He lurched to his feet as fast as he could. The asshole turned toward him after shoving Shannon into the desk. He lifted the gun.

  Shannon jumped toward him just as Ezra rammed his shoulder into the man's gut.

  They all went down. The gun discharged. The bullet went wild.

  He couldn't fight with his hands, but he was going to use his larger size and greater determination. Shannon rolled away, but then she was back. Clinging to the asshole's back like a burr, yelling.

  The sound of gunfire nearby had him kicking the sonofabitch aside and rolling toward Shannon. She was down. The bastard had kicked her hard in the chest.

  The bedroom door burst open.

  Ezra expected to feel a bullet slam into him at any moment, but he wasn't giving up. Not for Shannon. Ezra scrambled across the floor toward her. "Go! Take cover!”

  "That won't be necessary," a familiar voice said. "We'll happily give you both a lift out of here."

  Ezra looked up into Max Jones's face. And then at the body sprawled between him and the door. The asshole would never strike a woman ever again. No doubt the agents filling the room had taken care of the other three problems, as well. Whether in custody or body bags, he honestly didn’t give a damn.

  He’d never been so happy to see people in his life. "Damn, am I glad to see you."

  "Likewise. We thought...it was just her we were coming for. And we didn't know if we'd make it in time. Happy we were wrong on both counts. Glad to see your ugly face."

  "I am sure as hell glad that you did. Get me up. And get my damned hands free."

  "Happy to oblige."

  SEVENTEEN

  HANDS ATTACHED TO a handsome man she recognized lifted her from the floor. Her usual partner, tall, beautiful, and right there in front of her. “Alec!”

  Her teammate grinned at her. “Hey, kitten. Get a bit tangled up in the yarn?”

  “Thank God. Is PAVAD...” The idea that it could be gone had terrified her.

  “Perfectly fine. Evacuated, as is the St. Louis field office, but everyone is safe.”

  She started sobbing. Shannon always had been a crier. It took her a moment or two to stop. “Carrie Lorcan?”

  “She and J.T. were just waiting for you to send your secret message. Received loud and clear. Everything worked exactly like policy stated,” a voice said from behind her. Shannon turned.

  Ken stood there, looking ragged. “We’ve searched for three days for the two of you. Your message this morning gave us a direction to turn.”

  “Carrie worked in a small script that backtracked anyone using that protocol. All we had to do was type in our particular passcode. It worked.” She didn’t realize she was repeating it over and over again until Ezra’s hands went around her shoulders. He shook her lightly.

  “Snap out of it, babe.”

  “We’re alive. I get to be crazy for a while, Hahn.”

  “No shit. Think you can hold off on that until we actually get out of here?”

  “You’re an asshole, Ezra Hahn. But I am glad you’re alive.”

  “Me, too.”

  His hands lingered for a moment. “We made it. I say we get out of here.”

  Ken nodded. “We have an ambulance on its way. The two of you are going in for full work-ups. Shannon, Leina is waiting at the hospital now with
some of your things. Clean clothes.”

  “They were in my apartment.” Her stomach turned when she thought about it. “That is my blanket. Made by my aunt. I don’t want it getting lost into evidence, Ken. I don’t want them to take it from me.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll have it photographed, processed, and then I’ll talk to Kelly Compton. You’ll get it back. I promise.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Enough. She needs the hospital and food. Something to drink.” Ezra interrupted. Shannon looked at him quickly.

  “He’s in worse shape than I am.” They had only messed with him when she hadn’t been cooperative. But he’d barely been given water, he hadn’t had any food at all, and they’d kicked him whenever they could.

  It had been one of the hardest things in the world to pretend cooperation when she wanted to fight them. Stop them.

  It was hard to believe that she had.

  And it was over.

  At least for now.

  “I think he was working for someone else. Someone they called the company. Someone with a serious grudge against the bureau.”

  “Tell me.” Ken said.

  “Some of the things he wanted me to get him into in the databases. He had no idea what they were.” And that had made it easier for her. She’d been able to lead him right into the dummy database she and the rest of the computer investigative services agents had been able to create. It had been her, J.T. Thompkins, and Jazz Therez before she’d gone on maternity leave, under the supervision of her real PAVAD supervisor, Carrie Lorcan.

  PAVAD’s structure had changed when they’d added teams Four and Five. Carrie Lorcan had taken over all the computer investigative services agents—which was Shannon’s actual title for the bureau now—and handled all their training, weekly case reports, and team assignments. Ken was her acting supervisor, but she was technically on Carrie’s team.

  They’d discussed abduction and threat scenarios at every training meeting they had.

  Members of the geek pack were notoriously paranoid. It had paid off this time.

  It had saved every PAVAD and FBI agent in St. Louis that day. And possibly every other person in the area between those two buildings.

  The enormity of what could have happened had her shaking. She looked at her supervisor. “How many people? How many were in the PAVAD building today?”

  “Three hundred and eighty plus thirty-nine support staff. We had twenty plus searching these hills for the two of you,” Ken answered. “They’re safe, Shannon. I promise.”

  “For now. Someone’s out there. And they have a real beef with the FBI.”

  “With PAVAD?” Alec asked.

  “I don’t know. It could have been. Or it may have just been the FBI in general.” Motivation would help them find out the rest. She knew that. And that it would was going to take a lot of time to really get to the bottom of things. It wasn’t like it was on television. Investigations of this magnitude could take weeks. Months.

  But Shannon couldn’t think about that right now. Her stomach was telling her the truth—they hadn’t fed her or Ezra in nearly forty-eight hours. They’d barely given her any water. Him, not at all. And she was starting to feel it.

  Adrenaline was wearing off. She’d be crashing at any moment.

  She wasn’t about to do that in front of everyone. Not today.

  EIGHTEEN

  IT WAS IDLE curiosity and a sense of accomplishment that had Chas turning on the television instead of googling the target’s name on the computer. He wanted someone else—even if it was the pretty Asian newscaster—to tell him of his work.

  The man he’d shot at today had been an FBI bigwig at one time. He was now a political activist for the city.

  It made him forget that he was paid to be invisible and completely efficient for a little while.

  Chas had been almost invisible his entire life.

  His target had died almost instantly. Exactly has he’d intended. He might be a killer, but he didn’t want his targets to suffer. That was just inhumane.

  What really concerned him was the collateral targets. Two were just college co-eds. Pretty girls. He was glad to hear they’d survive relatively minor wounds. It had been fortunate they’d walked a bit faster than he’d calculated.

  He hadn’t aimed just to wound; he’d aimed to kill.

  No sense doing half a job. But there were some things he liked to leave to fate.

  Another man in his forties was in critical condition, but prognosis was good. Chas pushed aside the guilt when the man’s obviously pregnant wife appeared on the television for a moment, clutching a rather homely toddler to her ample chest.

  The middle-aged woman hadn’t made it. Pity.

  But the former politician was what the newscast was mostly about. The newscaster went on to list the man’s most recent political accomplishments and his work with childhood obesity causes.

  Everyone was saying the politician was a good man who would be most definitely missed.

  He watched for a moment, absently, while picking at the food on his plate. He was getting tired of eating alone. Maybe tomorrow he’d leave the hotel, eat in public for once. It would be a nice change.

  He’d sit at the small table, possibly near the front of the room. The waitress, a pretty brunette in her twenties, would smile just at him. “What are you having?”

  Chas would smile in return. “Just the special. With a soda.”

  “Of course,” she’d say. Her smile would widen. “You eating all alone tonight?”

  He’d nod, studying her. She wasn’t very big. He didn’t like big women. Thanks to illnesses when he’d been a teenager, he’d never made it past five-eight and one hundred sixty pounds. He didn’t want a woman larger than he was. That was just too wrong. But this little lady would have all the right curves and her mouth would be perfect for the bedroom.

  It wasn’t disloyal to Amelia for him to smile at a pretty waitress.

  Chas would eat the rest of his meal quietly. He’d watch her closely. But he wouldn’t get the impression that she minded. In fact, she’d start shooting sly little glances at—

  Chas jerked back to the Mongolian beef in front of him when the TV newscaster broke in with a special report.

  The FBI building flashed across the screen, the letters PAVAD emblazoned across its red brick surface. He’d heard of it before. He knew someone who was big in PAVAD. It was one hell of an organization to work for. Everyone in every circle—criminal and investigative—had no doubt heard of it by now.

  Chas stopped eating when his former friend’s face flashed across the screen.

  Ezra Hahn.

  Chas hadn’t thought about Ezra in weeks, not really.

  He tried to put all of that behind him. To forget Ezra and the rest had even existed.

  But there Ezra was, right on the screen.

  Ezra looked like someone had mistaken him for a punching bag. There was a woman next to him. She was small, younger, pretty.

  She’d been hurt.

  He’d always hated when women like her were hurt.

  Chas turned up the volume and watched as she was ushered past the cameras.

  He shouldn’t. He should focus on the tasks at hand. He had fifteen.

  Most of those fifteen tasks were harassment gigs. Terrorizing members of the FBI and their families.

  He had no connection to them or this area. No one would ever connect him to what he was going to do.

  But he was a planner. A studier of everything. A strategist.

  He should be doing that.

  Instead, he was glued to the television. Watching this woman.

  And remembering another.

  NINETEEN

  IT WAS ALMOST anticlimactic. Ezra did what he’d been told. The paramedics scooped him and Shannon up and then they were separated. He could see her, barely, from where he sat on the gurney.

  “You’ll need x-rays, Agent Hahn,” the pretty paramedic told him. Ezra nodded. He’d expected as mu
ch. Punks had taken pleasure in knocking him around when he couldn’t fight back. But they hadn’t been very good at it. He’d gotten the impression they were young losers wanting to please the boss.

  Except for the one known as Jim. He had been a sexual predator. Of that, Ezra had no question. Jim had had plans for Shannon. It had just been a matter of time.

  Jim had gotten a thrill out of threatening her with that for hours. Days.

  He would never regret watching Alec Djorn take the shot to end that threat to her once and for all. Jim would never be hurting another woman again.

  The paramedic dabbed antiseptic on the scrape across his cheek. He hissed but kept still. He wanted to see Shannon. Check on her for himself.

  He’d had enough. Ezra slid off the gurney, against the paramedics’ protests, and crossed the drive. He needed to see her for himself.

  Something about not having eyes on her royally pissed him off.

  He needed to see her. So that was what he was going to do.

  The siren lights flashed around them all, shouting to all that could see that something had happened to someone somewhere. Every time he saw sirens, he’d remember the pain that he’d seen. Tonight would be no different, of that, he had no doubt.

  Only he’d never forget how she looked with the sirens flashing around them both.

  Shannon was talking with the paramedics treating her. They were shining a penlight into her eyes. Checking her pulse. Cleaning the scrapes on her face.

  The assholes hadn’t done much physically to her. They hadn’t had to. She’d have bruises. Be sore. Have nightmares. But...she’d survive.

  They’d used Ezra to terrify her into complying.

  He looked at the paramedics. “I need a minute alone with her.”

  “She needs a full work-up at the ER,” the older paramedic said. “So do you.”

  “We’ll get there,” Ezra said. “I need to talk to her now.”

  “It’s best not to argue with him,” Shannon said quietly. “It never goes well.”