Zak didn’t question. There was a reason Scarlett was the boss. She was freakishly good at her job.
Zak hustled to his quarters, where he found Caitlin curled up in bed, notes scattered around her like fallen leaves, softly snoring.
Yeah, saying goodbye was going to be hard.
But that wasn’t happening tonight and that’s all he was focusing on right now. He quietly picked up her notes and placed them on her nightstand, stripped and slid in beside her. Pulling her close, he listened to her breathe before falling asleep himself.
Chapter 21
Laird and CJ touched down into New York by 3 a.m. And by 6 a.m. they were showered and ready to hit the streets for some recon before they ambushed the reported head officer of the Faithful, Carl Browne.
CJ tossed back a few almonds along with a handful of M&Ms, waiting to see who came and went out of the stately brownstone. “Man, I went into the wrong business,” he said to Laird, who nodded in agreement. “Fat cats getting rich with religion when we’re busting our humps for change and risking our asses for nothing but bragging rights.”
“Can’t even brag about it,” Laird reminded him. “All that black ops and shadow ops shit is off-book.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Good point. Hell, if it weren’t for Red Wolf, I’d probably be homeless thanks to my shitty government pension.”
“Politics, man. Nothing but crooks.”
“Damn straight.”
CJ offered a few candies to Laird. “Hungry?”
“If I eat that my ulcer will start acting up,” Laird said, shaking his head, pulling a protein bar from his jacket pocket instead. “You ought to try this sometime. Actually something good for you.”
“My liver wouldn’t know what to do with that,” CJ said. “I survive on a steady diet of sugar, caffeine and bad decisions. It’s what’s kept me alive. I don’t mess with what’s not broken.”
“Not broken yet, dude. You’re a ticking time bomb,” Laird warned.
“So say we all,” CJ quipped with good humor, then gestured to a woman walking hurriedly up the brownstone steps, ringing in. “A little early for visitors, right?”
“Too early by my estimation. Someone seems in a hurry, too. Should we crash the party?”
“Hell, might as well. I’d hate to have gotten dressed up for nothing.”
Laird grinned. “Let’s do it, bruh. I’m ready to bring the fun to this doomsday shindig.”
“Amen.”
They exited the car, bounded across the street and up the stairs, and forced the lock. Within seconds they were inside the historic brownstone. One look around and it was easy to see plenty of money flowed through the place. “Damn, definitely got into the wrong business,” CJ whispered, pulling his gun and gesturing with his head for Laird to take the flank while he came around the front.
They had the element of surprise, which worked in their favor, not to mention it was doubtful the Faithful were gun-toting lunatics, judging by the decor.
CJ followed the sound of low-key talking and found an older woman, hair twisted in a severe bun and dressed in an equally austere dress suit, arguing with the man CJ assumed was Carl Browne.
“We’re behind schedule. This is unacceptable, Carleton,” she said in a clipped tone. “As the chief officer, I expect more from you. The congregation expects more. We expect results.”
“Regina, everything is well in hand. Trust that everything is as it should be.” Carl’s voice was calm and measured in spite of Regina’s obvious pique. CJ hated to break up the party but he didn’t have time to listen to their rich-bitch, first-world bullshit.
“Where can I make a donation to the Church of Crazy Mofos?” CJ asked, making his way into the room, his gun drawn and pointed straight at the two. “’Cuz I’m feeling generous.”
Carl blanched at the sight of the gun and Regina actually wilted a little. “Good lord, an unrepentant!”
“Yes, unrepentant and feeling pretty good about it, actually. Now have a seat, would you please. My associate and I have some questions.”
Laird rounded the corner, revealing himself, and Regina sank into the nearest chair as if ready to faint. “Call the police,” she told Carl in a shaking voice. “Do something.”
“Carl, you best have a seat so we can get this over with. I’ve been up for twenty-four hours and I’m nearing my cranky point. Would you mind?” He gestured to the chair and Carl dropped into it, his gaze never leaving CJ’s, and it was creepy as all get-out. “Okay, so like I was saying, if I were interested in making a donation to the Church of Crazy, I’m sorry, the Faith of the Chosen, how would I go about that?”
“You are not one of us,” Regina said, her lip quivering.
“You’re right about that, lady. I’m not a lunatic. My original question stands.” He paused to narrow his gaze at the older woman. “Excuse my manners, and you are?”
“Regina Burke, if you must know, and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers, you uncouth ruffians!”
Laird moved to idly poke through drawers, riffling through papers, chuckling at the mention of lawyers. “Oooo, lawyers,” he mocked with hands in the air. “Please, not lawyers. So scary. They might throw paper at me. Although, kudos for the usage of the word ‘ruffians.’ You don’t hear that very often anymore. It’s definitely deserving of a comeback.”
“What are you doing? This is illegal search and seizure,” Carl said. “Nothing you find here is admissible in a court of law.”
CJ laughed. “Did you hear that? He thinks we’re cops. Sorry, nope. Not the law. We could give two shits about the law. As far as the law goes, we don’t exist, so shut your piehole about ‘illegal search and seizure’ because it doesn’t apply. Tell me about the Faith of the Chosen.”
“We will tell you nothing.” Regina stiffened, the picture of indignant outrage.
“How about this? I’ll tell you what I know and you fill in the blanks because we’re short on time. Okay? Great. Okay, so you crackpots believe that the super blue moon eclipse is supposed to kick off some cataclysmic event that’s going to cleanse the earth as God’s will, leaving behind the Faithful. Is that the gist of it?”
“And if it is? Religious persecution is a crime,” Carl said.
“Hey, I could give two shits about what you believe as long as it doesn’t affect me. The minute it starts affecting me is the minute I care about your silly little religion. Okay, just exactly how are you planning to kick off this cataclysmic event?”
“That’s privileged information,” Carl said.
“Actually, if it involves releasing a deadly bio-agent into the general population of a crowded city, causing massive death and hysteria, that’s no longer protected under the right to worship—that’s called domestic terrorism, asshole.”
“What are you talking about?” Carl said, looking baffled. “Who’s killing who?”
“Nice try. I like the wide-eyed befuddlement, gives it a real authentic touch,” Laird said, approving. “But we have information leading back to your organization that paints a real pretty picture of doomsday proportions. Start talking before I start cracking your soft kneecaps like hard-boiled eggs.”
CJ whistled low. “Yeah, and that’s just nasty stuff. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen anything like that, but it will turn your stomach, especially this early in the morning.”
“Carleton,” Regina whimpered, her bun quivering. “What are they talking about?”
“Okay, let’s start from the beginning since you’re having a hard time remembering the facts. How are the Faithful planning on bringing about this cataclysmic chain of events during the super blue moon eclipse?” CJ asked with feigned patience. He’d really rather just start cracking kneecaps but Scarlett had told him to try to go the non-messy route first. Less paperwork. So he was trying his best to do as she’d asked.
But it was a
pain in the ass.
And boring, too.
“Look, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t know where you got your information from but it’s bad. We’re a peaceful organization. We help the homeless, for crying out loud!”
“Could be a front,” CJ said, shrugging. “Not convinced.”
“We organize a charity ball each February to help the less fortunate. W-we donated to a literacy campaign!”
“Tell me how the Faithful are going to kick off the big event during the super blue moon eclipse,” CJ asked again in a bored tone. “I won’t ask again. My friend is ready to start squishing kneecaps. I can promise you that if you keep testing my patience.”
“I swear to you I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re a peaceful organization that just wants humanity to rise above the ugliness in the world to become better versions of themselves!”
“Then what were you talking about earlier when we came in?” CJ asked.
Regina answered, her lip trembling. “For the charity ball! We’re supposed to have the party favors in by now but the shipment is late and the event committee wanted answers! That’s all, I swear it.”
Laird scratched his head. “Boy, lady, you came in pretty hot on those party favors. You sure that was all?”
Regina’s cheeks heated. “I’m positive.”
Laird and CJ exchanged looks. Was it possible they’d received bad intel? Hell, if so, this was embarrassing. But CJ wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Mind if I look around a bit?” he asked, even though he wasn’t actually asking. He poked around drawers and cabinets and found nothing. He had a sinking feeling that someone had misdirected them.
Ugh. The paperwork on this one was going to be epic.
He holstered his gun with a smile. “False alarm. You can go about your weird church-y business. God bless America.” He gestured to Laird and they stalked past the horrified couple. Before they let themselves out, he said, “You didn’t see us, we weren’t here. Uh, have a nice day.”
They bounded down the stairs and sprinted to their car. “How long before they call the cops?” Laird asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Shit, the old lady’s probably got the cops on speed dial. Let’s beat it out of here. I don’t want to explain myself to a bunch of donut-munchers.”
“Hey, my dad was a cop,” Laird growled.
“Did he like donuts?” CJ asked, peeling out.
“Yeah.”
“I rest my case.”
And they left the Faith of the Chosen behind—as well as their only real lead.
* * *
Scarlett rubbed at her temples. “Shit,” she muttered. Zak had a feeling their intel on the Faithful was bad.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The Faith of the Chosen are just a bunch of do-gooders with a goofy name for their cult. They’re basically harmless but I think CJ might’ve made the two he interrogated crap themselves.”
Zak chuckled. “Well, you did send a bulldog to do precision work,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, well, I won’t do that again. Anyway, we’re back to square one but I have Xander running some names through the FBI database to see if anything pings.”
“You brought Xander in? I thought you didn’t want to do that.”
“Yeah, well, we’re out of options. Don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing.” She watched Zak grab a bottled water from the small fridge and crack it open. “You okay?”
“Something about this situation feels off. I can’t put my finger on it. Bad intel about the Faithful, the radio silence on the dark web... It all feels like the calm before the storm.”
“Like the shoe’s about to drop,” she said, nodding with grim agreement. “God, I hope we’re wrong.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
She asked, “The doc any closer to the cure?” Zak shook his head. Scarlett sighed and rose on legs stiff from sitting too long. “Maybe things will look better in the morning.”
But Zak knew where Scarlett’s head was at and it wasn’t just on the case—it was personal. He took a chance and broached a touchy subject. “Xander is smart. Nothing is going to happen to him,” he assured her, knowing Scarlett was remembering the death of her FBI friend Conrad Griggs, who’d died trying to help clear Xander’s name.
“Conrad was smart, too. One of the best,” Scarlett reminded him. “And he got killed. I live with that guilt every day. Honestly, Zak, I couldn’t function if something happened to Xander and it was my fault.”
“We had to bring the FBI in at some point anyway,” he told her. “The fact of the matter is, we work dangerous jobs. The people we love understand this. Xander understands this better than most.”
Better than Caitlin ever could. How would she handle the stress of being attached to him, knowing that at any given moment he could eat a bullet on a mission? Her work was too important to waste on worrying about him. Zak forced a smile for Scarlett’s benefit. “You’re the lucky ones. You and Xander get it. Fighting about your job is never something that will become an issue.”
She nodded, ceding his point. “I’m just on edge. Losing our first real lead has me second-guessing everything.”
He got that. “We’re all on edge,” he agreed. “Something will come up. It always does.”
“But will it come up in time?”
“We have to hope.”
Scarlett blew out a short breath, her expression all but saying what they were both secretly afraid of—what if they were all out of hope?
Chapter 22
Caitlin awoke to Zak shaking her with an urgency she’d never seen, and her insides immediately cramped with fear. Oh, God, something had happened; she could feel it. “What is it?” she asked, holding her breath.
“The CDC reported an outbreak of something that sounds a lot like our bioweapon in New York at a local hospital.”
“Oh, my God.” Caitlin kicked the covers free and stumbled to struggle into her pants. “We have to get to New York. If it’s the same viral agent, I can get a test sample from one of the victims and compare against the profile of what we had on our sample. This could be our big break!”
“Or this could be the beginning of the end,” he countered, his mouth set in a dark line. “I’m not sure I want you anywhere near the contagion.”
“Zak, this is what we’ve been waiting for. I can’t stay behind. You know that.” Fear mixed with excitement as she shoved her arms through her shirt and pulled it over her head. “Seriously, nothing could keep me from going.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” he said, giving up. “We’ve got transport ready in an hour. The CDC has been apprised of the situation. They’ll meet us at the hospital.”
“Good. I need Rebecca, too. Also, we’re going to need to bring some of the BSL-4 safety protocols for transport. Thankfully, this place is equipped with everything under the sun that we’ll need. I’ll go pack.”
She left Zak behind, practically sprinting to the lab as Rebecca joined her, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You think this is the real deal?” she asked, fear in her voice. “I mean, our sample had a one hundred percent mortality rate.”
“Are you scared?”
“Hell, yes, I’m scared and if you had the brains God gave a goose you’d be scared, too.”
“Do you want to stay behind? I can take Jonathan if you prefer,” Caitlin said, trying to be accommodating.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying... Hell, I’m just scared, that’s all. But I’m excited, too. Is that weird?”
Caitlin broke into a nervous grin. “That’s exactly how I feel, too. This is our chance to get the sample we need. There’s a chance it’s mutated but we can isolate the cellular structure and get to the original genome, and we can use it to reverse engineer the cure as we’d been trying to
do before the sample was stolen.”
“But the mutation could render the sample useless,” Rebecca said, worried. “And we could become exposed for nothing.”
“We’re going to take every precaution necessary,” she assured Rebecca. “But we can’t miss out on this chance. Besides, the CDC doesn’t know what they’re dealing with. They need our help.”
“I guess we could be heroes if this pans out right,” Rebecca said.
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Caitlin said, chuckling wryly. “Okay, let’s get packed up.”
They loaded up the car with the supplies they’d need and prepared for the transport to New York by private plane.
Caitlin had never flown by private charter before but her anxiety didn’t seem to care if it was flying in luxury or coach.
“You okay? You just went all pale,” Zak said as they climbed the short staircase into the plane.
“I’m fine. I just don’t like flying.”
But Rebecca had no problems and exclaimed, “Holy moly, this is amazing! Red Wolf has its own plane? Talk about riding in style. Wow. This is nice. A girl could get used to this. You know what they say, once you fly first class, it’s impossible to drop back down to economy.”
Caitlin dropped into her seat and wiped at the sweat beading her brow, ignoring Rebecca as she oohed and aahed over the plane’s amenities. Zak came over to hold her hand. “Do you need anything?” he asked quietly.
This was the scenario she’d been hoping to avoid but she risked a small smile for his concern. “I usually take a Xanax before a flight and fall asleep but I need my wits about me when we land, so I’ll just have to tough it out.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of people don’t like flying.”
“I know, but it’s a real bummer when it happens to be you.”
He chuckled. “True. How about this? I can’t get you a Xanax but I can fix you a whiskey neat. That’ll settle your nerves a little bit.”
She nodded with gratitude. “That would be awesome, thank you.”
Soldier Protector (Military Precision Heroes Book 2) Page 18
