The Enigma Series Boxed Set

by Tierney James

  Seat belts released, and the children gathered up supplies.

  Sean Patrick put on his wise-ass voice. “How about switching on some lights? It’s pitch dark in here.”

  Two overhead lights snapped on immediately. “Are we good?” the voice continued.

  Sean Patrick blinked as he surveyed the area outside the car. “Yeah. We’re good. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, Sean Patrick.” Then the voice signed off.

  “How did she know me?” he asked as they closed car doors and headed up the steps. “Mom, what is going on? Shouldn’t we call Dad?”

  “I miss Daddy,” Heather whimpered. She’d been quiet during their escape, as if she’d understood the seriousness of their situation required concentration. “I’m scared.”

  “I’m hungry,” Daniel said pushing inside and flipping on a light. “Whoa, get a peek at this place. Pretty nice.”

  The kids dropped snack bags on the kitchen counters then went straight to the refrigerator to check out the contents. There weren’t any.

  Tessa squatted down by her daughter and helped her remove her hat and coat. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re safe here.” The adjoining living room featured expansive windows and a stone fireplace in the middle of the farthest wall with French doors on either side of it. Darkness was falling and snow piled up on the deck.

  “Let’s pull all the shades.” She found the switch for the gas fireplace and flipped it on. “This should warm things up. No more lights. Let’s pretend we’re camping and don’t have electricity.”

  “I wanted to watch Battle Bots tonight.” Daniel frowned and flopped down in a beanbag chair.

  “Toughen up, soldier,” Sean Patrick barked like a four-star general, which he claimed he would be someday after going to West Point and saving the world.

  “I hate it when you pretend to be some weird general,” Daniel moaned. “It’s ridiculous. Sounds stupid.”

  “The only thing stupid is your complaining about not getting to see some nerdy robot show.”

  “Enough, boys. Be good to each other. Come help me get some snacks together, and we’ll eat in front of the fire.”

  “Like a picnic!” Heather clapped her hands and skipped to the kitchen.

  Sitting before the fire, their spirits lifted. They talked about their skiing. Tessa bragged on their improved abilities before each retold a funny story about their attempts down more difficult slopes. They especially enjoyed telling Tessa how she reminded them of a cartoon character when she rolled down the slope in a lopsided cartwheel. When their laughter quieted, the roar of a snowmobile cut through the night. Tessa motioned for the kids to get behind the couch as she watched the doorknob turn.

  Chapter 3

  T he woman dressed in a black sequined dress moved like a panther down the long hall of rooms located on the tenth floor of the Paradise Bay Hotel near the waterfront in San Francisco. She walked with the grace and confidence that comes with having others both admire and fear you for most your life. Tonight, she was a redhead with a bob haircut framing her face like a fine painting. The hazel-green eyes, known to paralyze a man with his own desire, shifted from side to side as if expecting hidden danger. The dress hugged her tall frame like a glove and hid the muscles enabling her to punch a man hard enough to induce a heart attack. Only an index finger twitched as it rested against the small clutch where she kept her weapon.

  The soft ding, followed by the swoosh of the elevator opening, slowed the woman down. Another woman rounding the corner made eye contact then nodded a cool greeting as her gaze slid over the competition’s body. This new player appeared more businesslike than threatening, more careless than observant. One hand pushed shoulder-length blonde hair behind an ear as she glanced from a note she held to the room numbers.

  “Excuse me,” the panther woman said in an Italian accent. “Is it still raining outside? I’m afraid I left my rain jacket in”—she glanced back down the hall—“a friend’s room. I don’t really want to go back and disturb him.” The panther woman smiled with the coyness of a fox eyeing a henhouse.

  “No. And the temperature is still around thirteen degrees Celsius.” An eyebrow arched as the new arrival paused in front of a door and compared the number with her note. “You should be fine.”

  Besides the foreign propensity of using Celsius to measure temperature, the woman spoke with a slight South African accent. “Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

  The woman turned her head slightly as if to acknowledge the gratitude. The panther woman moved away as the door squeaked open and a man’s voice invited her in, followed by a nervous chuckle.

  The panther woman stopped two rooms away. “Yeah. Didn’t go to her own room. She’s not alone.” She backed up against the wall and stared straight ahead for a few seconds before reaching into her clutch to remove a thin ski mask and a small pistol. In these situations, she preferred a slimmer, easier-to-conceal weapon. The trigger was an easy pull with less recoil than some of her other toys. She also didn’t want to waste time reloading, so this little Colt made sense tonight.

  The exit to the stairs opened. Three men dressed head to toe in black, with only their eyes and mouths showing through their ski masks, joined her. The bigger man set down a dark backpack. She unzipped it then pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie that she quickly slipped on over her elegant gown. Tennis shoes replaced her stilettos.

  “We’ve got twenty minutes,” he said, snatching up the backpack and tossing it to the shorter man who bobbled it.

  “Careful,” he moaned as he cradled it.

  He was ignored as the third man entered each elevator and short-circuited the control panel.

  “This way,” she said checking her weapon. “She carried her briefcase.”

  “Did she seem nervous, Sam?” He leaned in to speak close to her ear.

  “No, Chase. She seemed annoyed I dressed better than her. Which, of course, I had.”

  The two other men came up beside them and pulled out their weapons.

  One smelled of cigarette smoke and spoke with an Eastern European accent. “Let’s do this. I have some Valentine’s shopping to do.”

  “Since when do you shop, Zoric?” Vernon, the third man, sounded surprised. “Am I on your list?”

  The man called Zoric shifted dead eyes to the young tech genius who took a step sideways as they moved toward room 1115. “No.”

  When Captain Chase Hunter jerked his head around to silence them, a ding at the far end of the hall split the silence. Another elevator opened.

  Vernon pulled a key from the backpack, inserted it in his already-open tablet then waved it across the lock on the room across from 1115. It clicked open to an empty room that had been secured along with several others on both sides of the hall. They entered the room and let the door close on its own.

  The captain stared out the peephole and waited. In seconds, a waiter in a white jacket pushed a cart in front of 1115. “Appears our target intends to do a little celebrating on some poor schmuck’s dime.”

  Given the nod to proceed, Zoric slipped out and wrapped his arm around the waiter’s neck. Even though the man was taller than Zoric, he struggled to free himself, gasping to breathe. He lost traction as Zoric pulled him backward. By the time he’d gotten him inside the room, the unsuspecting man had lost consciousness and fallen to the floor.

  “I was going to ask if anyone brought restraints, but I see you thought of everything.” The corner of the captain’s mouth lifted in a smirk.

  Sam drew handcuffs from her purse and kneeled down to secure the waiter as Zoric flipped him over with his boot. “I’m always prepared for a good time.” She stood then leveled a gaze of interest toward her boss. “If you know what I mean.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds as if evaluating the suggestion. “No one could ever accuse you of being subtle. Someday you’re going to make some guy very happy.”

  This time she couldn’t resist trying to send a dazzling smile
to match the unexpected compliment from the one man who eluded her charms. “I stand ready when you are.”

  ~~~

  The idea lost momentum as the four slipped out into the hall.

  Vernon tapped on the door of 1115. “Room service.”

  He stepped back when a woman with her blouse unbuttoned to her waist flung the door open and called to someone over her shoulder in a laughing tone. “Room service. Just in time…” She faced the large man pointing a gun in her face.

  “Not a word”—he pressed the silencer to her forehead—“or I’ll put a neat little hole on this side and will resemble the Grand Canyon when it comes out the other side. Understand?”

  Although fear leaped to her eyes, she didn’t cry, whimper, or beg him to take her money if the intruder wouldn’t hurt her. Holding up ten fingers, Sam let Chase know time was running out then secured the woman’s hands behind her back with zip ties she’d carried in the pockets of her hoodie after removing them from the backpack earlier. Vernon applied a piece of adhesive to her mouth then searched for the woman’s computer. Everyone knew their job and tended to it quickly.

  Sam led the woman to a chair across the room from the bathroom. When she shoved the target down, the chair scooted, and the woman glared dangerously at her. Her open blouse revealed a black lace bra that pushed up small breasts appearing bountiful.

  Chase raised his chin at both Zoric and Vernon as he pulled the cart inside the room and sampled the chocolate-covered strawberries.

  ~~~

  “I’m sorry, Reeva,” came a male voice from the bathroom. “I couldn’t hear you. I had the shower on.”

  In his haste, he didn’t notice the three men lined up on either side of the bathroom door as a man walked out rubbing a towel across his head, torso naked above a pair of suit pants. He took several more steps into the room toward an open suitcase atop a luggage rack.

  “Sorry, Reeva, about this.” When his eyes fell on Reeva in the chair, a stranger standing next to her with a gun pointed at her temple, a confused expression took over his face. “What. Is. Going. On?” The words came out slow, as if tangled in thick molasses. The gulp in his throat sounded cartoon-like.

  The room occupant spun around only to face a man much bigger than himself, pointing a gun at his chest.

  The four intruders froze and exchanged glances with one another.

  “I think you’ve made a mistake,” he said, raising his hands. “I’ve got some money in my wallet. Three hundred dollars. It’s yours. Then leave us alone.”

  The person standing next to Reeva crept closer to the other three and stared long and hard at him then over at the woman in the chair. Directing her attention back to him, he noticed a flare of anger in squinting eyes when the intruder landed a fist upside his head, knocking him on the bed. He moaned in pain as he stole a glance at his attacker.

  The tallest of the intruders pushed the man with the gun back. “What is your name?” He spoke with a South African accent, like Reeva’s that, until a few seconds ago, he’d found charming.

  “Robert Scott. Please. You have us mixed up with someone else.”

  The man grabbed him up by his hair and threw him against the wall where a shorter man who smelled of cigarettes held him in place by wrapping his hands around his throat.

  “Robert. Scott,” the big man repeated with a growl. “Is this your wife?” He pointed to Reeva.

  “No. I’m. I’m not married.” The four exchanged glances with the one who’d struck him. The tall man—likely the leader—paced in an agitated fashion. The one with his fingers on his neck tightened his grip. Another of the intruders rifled through his suitcase. He stopped at Reeva’s briefcase, sighing nonstop and shaking his head like a paranoid schizophrenic off his meds.

  But the big guy frightened him the most, dark eyes staring at him, lips puckered up and in, several times. “You want to try your answer again? The ring on your finger says different.”

  “Yes. Okay. I’m married. Not to her. We met tonight.”

  “Where’s the wife?”

  What an odd question. “Skiing with my kids, at Tahoe.”

  “Convenient.” The broad-shouldered man stepped inches from his face.

  “It’s not what you think,” Robert insisted.

  The person who’d hit him rushed toward him, a guttural growl emitting from a delicate mouth. The big man stopped the attacker by throwing out his arm then shoved the body aside like a pesky gnat. “We’ll take care of him later. Do your job.”

  Fingers snapped, drawing the leader’s attention. The silent one held up Reeva’s computer, inserted a flash drive, and started copying files. Reeva jumped up only to be shoved back down by the same person who’d hit him. She squirmed and tried to stand again.

  He noted the half-open blouse and wondered if these thugs had taken advantage of her. “Reeva, calm down. Everything will be okay.”

  She rolled her eyes and tried to talk in spite of the adhesive. From the way her eyes squinted and her nose flared, it didn’t seem to Robert she cared about being cooperative until his attacker pushed their faces in so close their noses touched. Whatever the whispered words were, Reeva stopped her efforts to get free.

  The wiry guy with a smoky smell dragged him over to Reeva then shoved him to the floor in front of her. To keep from toppling over, he placed his hands on her knees as someone clicked several pictures with a cell phone. Could this get any worse?

  The computer guy snapped Reeva’s laptop shut then connected it to one he’d pulled out of a backpack. Robert was amazed how effortlessly the man balanced both computers. Then, like a choreographed dance, the group moved toward the door, grabbing Robert as they went.

  “Don’t worry, Reeva!” he called as her captor dragged her to the bed to toss her facedown. He figured she’d be fine, but he was concerned about being taken from the room. Why? “No. Stop. Let me go. I have a family.”

  The big man swung the door open and peered left and right. “Should’ve thought about that before getting mixed up with her, you worthless piece of crap.” They moved into the hall. “Keep your mouth shut, and we’ll release you once we’re out of here.” He touched Robert’s chest with the tip of his silencer, smirking. “What were you thinking?”

  “I can explain.”

  “I bet you can.”

  Chapter 4

  T he elevator dinged at the far end of the hall as Vernon reconnected the circuits of one of the panels, securing their ability to go straight to the underground parking lot. Chase shoved Robert to the back of the car so hard, he bounced off and into Sam who gave him an elbow to the gut. With a grunt of pain, he huddled into a corner and breathed like he’d run a couple of miles. Captain Hunter didn’t have time to worry about Robert. Whoever got off at the other end of the hall might be coming for Reeva or to assist in whatever she planned for Robert. There was the matter of the waiter, too. Had he been missed?

  The elevator doors opened with a quiet hum as a van advertising Sheply’s Cleaners stopped in front of them. Zoric pulled the side doors open and manhandled Robert like a sack of dirty laundry into the space filled with miscellaneous boxes and dry-cleaning bags. Wedding gowns hung on racks in the far back. He, too, scrambled inside and struggled to adjust himself to peer into the front seat where a man stared back at him through a mask resembling President Nixon.

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Carter Johnson asked when Chase climbed into the passenger side.

  Chase stole a peek at Zoric, who slipped a black sleeping mask over Robert’s eyes. Sam secured his hands behind his back with a zip tie.

  Chase continued in the South African accent. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him?”

  “Yes!” Carter circled through the underground parking toward an exit. “Then your problems would be solved.”

  His friend referred to Tessa Scott, who’d managed to get under his skin. The two of them had played a cat-and-mouse game with their feelings for a couple of years until she was coerced
into service with Enigma, a secret government agency sanctioned by President Austin. She continued to be both a pain in his neck and an ache in his black heart. He couldn’t live with her, and he didn’t want to try and live without her, either. The problem flaring up between them remained she was married to this jerk he’d kidnapped.

  “You said you’d let me go if I was quiet,” Robert’s voice trembled, and he moved his face away to avoid the piece of adhesive being applied to his mouth.

  “I say a lot of things.” Chase removed his uncomfortable mask as Carter did the same.

  The others in the back lay down and pulled a black tarp over them. They stopped at the exit stand to pay. No words passed between them as Carter stuck out his ticket then his money after being told the amount. The van eased out into traffic without further incident, headed toward Orinda, a seventeen-mile drive, a half hour, but due to a traffic accident, took almost an hour.

  Robert settled down while the others sat like statues. Carter found a country music station on the radio, but Chase clicked it off soon afterward. He needed to think, and country music wouldn’t help his predicament. His buddy behind the wheel didn’t try to engage him. Silence kept their unwilling passenger from remembering their voices. Since he’d been the only one to speak so far besides Carter losing it for a couple of seconds, Robert probably would be lucky to remember his own name by the time they let him go.

  All of his team carried a special fondness for the bumbling housewife, their newest Enigma agent. The transformation from a scared rabbit to a valued team member, who carried her own weight during times of need, earned Tessa a great deal of respect.

  The only person he kept tabs on concerning Tessa was Samantha Cordova, or Sam as they called her. The two women were oil and water, yin and yang, good and evil. The list could go on for eternity. Leaving the two of them alone for very long gave him nightmares. Sam could easily kill Tessa and make it appear an accident. On the other hand, his little Grass Valley housewife knew exactly which of Sam’s buttons to push to stroke her out. Thinking about the innocent expression on her face when she accomplished such moments created a warm feeling inside him.