“Are we still in Palo Alto?”
If they were at a distance from town, how could they quickly pivot when they got the information on Reeves? The well-tended waterfront houses looked more like an upper-class suburb than a college campus.
“We’re between Palo Alto and Mountain View, less than five miles from the campus. This is the house Jordan, Dean’s oldest daughter, lived in when she was a student at Stanford. Jenkins Security installed all the latest in security when she resided here. Richard, also a Stanford graduate, is on the board of trustees and attends regular meetings, and periodically gives special seminars for the faculty and graduate students. Since he frequently stays here, the house has the most current surveillance equipment and the capacity to function as a safe house. It will be our temporary headquarters.”
An armed man opened the gate.
“By the look of the guard’s Glock 17, you aren’t solely relying on tech.” She approved but didn’t say anything. Nick Jenkins didn’t need approval. The man knew his business.
“Hell, no. We’re all trained for combat, not cybercrime. That’s Reeves’s job.”
“But without Reeves …” She hated that her voice quivered just mentioning his name. “We need top tech on this. Molly is the best at the CIA, but she is tasked with the malware search at the moment. I’ll call the director and see if he’d be willing to reassign Molly to our team.” She’d use her connection to Richard Dean to get what she needed for Reeves.
“No need for Molly. Izzy Benson is already on board. She’s my brother Sten’s fiancée, a female version of Reeves. Izzy is NSA’s superstar, so we’re covered. Reeves is family. Everyone is working to bring him home.”
Nick’s words eased the persistent panic in every breath she took since she’d learned of Reeves’s abduction. She wasn’t alone. Reeves wasn’t alone. He had a family with incredible skills and resources.
She slowed her breathing, trying to suppress the image of Tex’s battered body that replayed in her brain. Knowing the Sureños could be torturing Reeves accomplished nothing. She usually could compartmentalize, but her feelings for the sensitive and caring man were messing with her head. She was a trained CIA officer. Get a grip, Darcy.
“It is most likely that the Sureños are holding Reeves. And they’re being directed by an unknown partner. If we’re lucky, their partner hasn’t sent more manpower to assist the Sureños.”
Nick pulled the SUV in front of the home’s entrance. He killed the engine and turned. “We’re already watching all possible entries into the city. This has cartel written all over it with the drugging, kidnapping, assassination, but the big question that remains is who is paying for the services of the Sureños?”
“The Sureños wouldn’t commit blatant acts of terrorism. They might sell guns to our enemies, but attacking the embassies is bad for business and calls attention to their activities. My money is on Russia, who is very interested in the natural resources that Africa has to offer. They’re doing exactly what they did in the Ukraine—offering assistance before they slowly overtake the infrastructure, and their military is insinuated to take control. And how better to solidify their position than by knowing their enemies’ covert intelligence?”
“Our team’s focus is to get Reeves out of the hands of the scumbags. The whole link between the Sureños and Russia is more within the CIA’s purview. But I’m expecting you have some experience taking out the garbage?”
Now, this was a mission she could wrap her head around. She almost smiled, but it hurt too much to move her face. “Yeah, I’ve had my share of scumbags. And I need a Sig, but I can work with a Glock 17.”
“Like the attitude.” He jumped out of the car, ducking his head inside to talk with her. “I’ll give you a hand down. You’ll find your equilibrium is off if you’ve never been in a sling. You’ll learn pretty quick that two arms are a big help to balance.”
Darcy nodded. She had to swallow her pride. Never easy for her, and then to be forced to accept help. Also, not her greatest strength.
Nick opened her door and held out his hand. She swung her legs around and took his hand.
“It sucks to be injured. I’ve been there.”
“Thanks.”
She followed him into the house, thinking of when she had followed Reeves into another safe house. Her body had stored the memories of their time in the pool, her skin on fire by his sensual and tender touch, the wiry hair on his chest abrading her nipples, his mouth on her. She would find Reeves. He wouldn’t escape her. He owed her a night together.
“We’ve set you up in one of the bedrooms. It’s this way.” Nick gestured to the clear circular steps. “I’ll wake you when we have intelligible action.”
Like Merissa Storm’s, the main floor had wall-to-wall windows to view the lake and a surrounding outside deck to take advantage of California’s sunny clime. It was an open-floor plan with three steps up to the main floor and then a stairwell to the bedrooms.
“Thanks, but I’m ready to work. Can I get a cup of coffee?” Darcy headed toward the kitchen, where she spotted a coffee maker. A long marble-top island divided the kitchen from the living room.
Two dark-haired Nick look-alikes came into the living room from a room on the main floor. The genes were potent in the Jenkins family. They were all broad, big men with sharp features, piercing eyes, and determined chins that spoke of will and stubbornness. They had the arrogance that only spec forces emitted. Total confidence in who they were and their impressive capabilities. In the presence of such powerful men, relief washed over Darcy. These men would succeed in hunting Reeves’s captors. Failure wasn’t in their DNA.
“Hey, looks as if you took one for the team.” He offered his large hand. “I’m Finn Jenkins, and this is my baby brother, Lars.”
Darcy had to look up to see baby Lars. She shook their hands, both callused and firm.
“We’ve all been waiting to meet the woman who was willing to put Reeves on the terrorist watch list.” Lars’s eyes sparkled in amusement.
It did sound rather lame now that she knew Reeves. But she wasn’t backing down. Used to her brothers’ challenging humor, she recognized Lars’s ploy.
“I never added him to the list. But it’s never too late to add names.” She raised her eyebrow and immediately regretted the motion. She tried to hide the grimace, but there was no fooling these men.
“Let me get you some ibuprofen. Dislocated shoulders hurt like a son of …”
Darcy thought it was rather sweet that Finn stopped cursing for her sake. He would learn pretty quickly that nothing he said could shock her.
“It could be worse. It could be your gun hand.” Lars walked behind the island. “You want coffee, right? How do you take it?”
“Black, please.”
She didn’t miss that the men didn’t mention Reeves. “No leads?”
Nick put his hands into his worn jeans. “Nada yet. This is the worst part. The waiting.”
Finn returned with a bottle of pills and then, realizing that she couldn’t easily open the bottle with her left arm pinned against her chest, took out two and handed them to her. She dry swallowed them.
It was worth it to see the surprise on all three of the brothers’ faces. They hadn’t seen anything yet.
“Reeves maybe with a spook … but a dogface, a tough-ass spook? Didn’t see that coming.” Finn had the same glint in his bright eyes as Lars.
Darcy didn’t have the energy to correct Finn that she and Reeves weren’t a couple.
“Does Reeves have some sort of SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training to withstand the torture?” It would be a lot easier, and a lot less painful, for Darcy to remain in denial of what the Sureños were capable of. Her job was to assess the risk to Reeves and his survival.
Nick and Finn’s shared look was enough of an answer. “We never considered it for Reeves since he’s tech, not an operator.”
“Hey, I get it.” She tried to raise her hands an
d stopped herself. “I’m not judging.”
Lars came around the island and handed her a steaming cup of java. She inhaled the dark scent before taking her first sip. “Thank you.”
“Caffeine is as necessary as C4 for a successful mission.” Finn winked at her.
“Finn was a SEAL, and they’re really into blowing things up,” Lars deadpanned.
“We take our demolition skills seriously.” The macho joking was familiar and comforting since it reminded her of home and her brothers.
“Reeves has a license to carry, but I’m assuming he’s never fired his pistol in a live situation.”
“He’s improved at the shooting range, but his ability to kill someone?” Finn shrugged his shoulders. “He’s not trained to react, but he’s a quick study. He’ll handle himself if he has to.”
“I agree with Finn’s assessment. Reeves is analytical. He’ll do an assessment, weigh his options and, if his best option for survival is to stop the bad guys, he won’t hesitate,” Nick said.
“I hope that it doesn’t come down to Reeves having to be in a firefight. Reeves doesn’t need that on his conscience.” She was attracted to more about Reeves than the obvious fact that he was sexy as hell—he wasn’t like the men she knew. But she hadn’t realized until now that part of her need for him was because he wasn’t hardened. He didn’t have blood on his hands as she and other soldiers did. And she never wanted him to. She liked him as he was, a nerdy geek and a tender, hot man.
Chapter Fourteen
Reeves waited behind McDonald for him to unlock the door that kept him prisoner. Confident that Reeves could never make it to the door or have the opportunity to use the seven-digit code, or just plain stupid, McDonald made no effort to safeguard the code.
“Whoa, sorry. I’m so damn dizzy.”
Reeves fell against McDonald, interrupting the keypad sequence, forcing McDonald to repeat the code to reinforce the numbers in his drug-addled brain and simply to piss the guy off. Maintaining your captors off-balance was one strategy, and the other was to pit them against each other. If he hadn’t been poisoned, he’d already have developed a plan. He wanted out now. He wanted Darcy. And he wanted to see these assholes behind bars for the rest of their sorry lives.
McDonald held the door for Reeves to leave his cell/room. Reeves walked into the rectangular cement room with hanging fluorescent lights. He had no memory of being carried through the empty warehouse. Probably wouldn’t be empty for long. Since the Sureños dealt in arms and drugs, this spot likely served as a secure holding area to store their goods. The Sureños weren’t very creative in where they stashed their captives. Warehouses were almost redundant in the business of kidnapping.
Reeves followed McDonald to the bathroom, which was on the opposite side of the room. McDonald’s heavy shuffle echoed off the thirty-foot ceiling.
McDonald pushed the door open and shoved Reeves into a small, dingy bathroom. It smelled like a gas station toilet. The linoleum floor was cracked, the previously white sink was gray with rust marks around the handles, and the toilet seat and rim were covered in things Reeves didn’t want to consider. A purple sanitizer was attached to the filthy toilet in an attempt to obliterate the awful smell. The harsh chemical sanitizer, scented to mimic grapes, made Reeves gag and his eyes water.
“Take a piss,” McDonald barked.
“You’re going to watch me?”
McDonald’s face didn’t change.
“FYI, I’m cool with your choice. But I’m not into dudes.” Always worked with these macho types to insult their manhood.
“Shut the fuck up. Or I’ll shut you up.”
“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
McDonald pulled his Glock from his jeans. “Take a piss, now!”
Reeves turned and unzipped his fly. What the hell was he thinking by provoking the asshole? Focus. This wasn’t the time. Yet. He stored the idea for future reference of taking one out in the bathroom.
“You could just have said ‘please.’”
At the sight of the gangbanger’s Glock, Reeves suddenly remembered that his Glock was in his computer bag. He had no idea if the guys confiscated the firearm since he had no memory of anything after the scotch. Talk about having a cocaine hangover; he’d lost track of everything, including his firearm. In his defense, this was the first time he had needed to carry a gun. His world was protected, and his only threats were cyber. The Jenkinses would be disappointed to know that despite all of their training, he lost track of his piece. But he’d been poisoned and had seizures, so he hoped it gave him a pass. He really needed a coffee to jumpstart his brain.
Nick had made sure that Reeves had the latest weapon—a Glock 19 Gen 5, faster and with more firepower than McDonald’s older Glock 17. And one rule of thumb with gangbangers was they knew their firearms. His Glock 19 would give him a psychological advantage, but he was still at a disadvantage. McDonald wouldn’t hesitate to kill. It was there in his flat, empty eyes.
Reeves wasn’t discouraged in the least. He’d pit his intelligence against blind brutality any time. And he had a chance that his captors hadn’t checked his bag.
First on his plan—convince his captors to get him coffee. He would have to be at four cups, full strength to finesse his escape.
Reeves dragged his feet and staggered twice. “Tell your bosses not to give you a pharmacist job. I still see pink bunnies. Not sure how much help I can provide.”
Reeves bantered, continuing his assessment of the warehouse as he was led to his room. The only exit was twenty yards from his room, a doable distance. It had the same Schlage lock. He checked for cameras, motion sensors. Two cameras were over the exit, and one over the door to his room. He didn’t want to think about who else the Sureños had held in the room. He noted the smoke detectors and fire alarms on the walls and ceilings. When your shipment was worth millions of dollars, it was essential that your competition did not steal or burn your product.
Things were looking up. He was two locks and two idiots away from freedom. He had to get out of here before Galina arrived. Just the name brought up images of the Gulag and torture.
Although he didn’t need to, Reeves watched McDonald enter the code again, not trusting his memory and concentration. He had never before doubted his capability. He had been identified as gifted by age five. His father was a brilliant mathematician, so it was no surprise when Reeves demonstrated the same facility. No hand-wringing or doubts in his family about what to do with the weird kid. It was accepted that he was brilliant like his esteemed father, who had been lured away from Oxford to teach at Harvard.
“Listen up. If you want me to work, I’m going to require coffee. And a lot of it. You scrambled my brains, and without caffeine, I’m no good to you.”
Muscle sat on one of the chairs, his feet on the table next to Reeves’s bag. “He’s a real pain in the ass.”
“I could go for some food. The crew should be here with the shipment soon.”
McDonald was the weaker link.
“You need to eat again?”
McDonald shrugged. “Babysitting this dumb shit is boring.”
Reeves had to suppress the need to retort, “You won’t be bored soon.”
“Once Galina gets here, you can go. But not for long. Grab it and get back here before the crew arrives. Ramirez won’t be happy if you’re not here when the shipment arrives.”
“I’d like the French dark roast if you’re going to Easy Brew.” Reeves hoped McDonald would give him a clue how far he was from Palo Alto. He could be in San Diego or, God save him, in Tijuana for all he knew. A shiver of apprehension slithered down his spine. He decided not to calculate the probability of his escape. He would never admit it aloud to anyone, but sometimes the numbers lied—only because the human factor was hard to calculate. And Darcy and the Jenkinses would go against all the odds to save him. He had that much faith in them. Of course, they were missing his skills in narrowing down the search, but I
zzy was no doubt coming to the rescue.
Reeves lifted a chair and took it to the other side of the table, not wanting to sit next to Muscle. He needed to prevent Muscles from spotting the Glock if it were still in his bag. He thought the chances were close to zero that these guys hadn’t searched the bag. Knowing firepower, how to restrain and harm people, and how to kidnap was Gangbangers 101.
“Do we know when this Galina is going to arrive? And since when do the Sureños take orders from the Russian mob?” Reeves kept talking as he unbuckled the bag. “What’s so special about Galina?”
“Don’t touch your bag until Galina gets here.”
“Why not? It’s my bag, and you guys already opened it?”
“If you’re thinking of shooting your way out of here, forget it. And thanks for the upgrade.” Muscle pulled Reeves’s gun from the back of his jeans.
After his sister’s life had been in danger, Reeves had focused on honing his ability to defend himself and the people he cared about. But he never considered it would be necessary since the Jenkinses stood between him and the bad guys. Now, he was on his own. And he would do what he had to—avenge Tex and get more time with Darcy. He wasn’t losing his chance with her without a fight.
“Leave the bag alone. You’re only to access your computer when Galina is here.”
Scratch plan A. But Reeves was persistent and solving the most difficult problems was his forte. Strategically, he should wait until McDonald left to even the odds. He had to assume that Galina was an SVR agent trained in torture and assassination. He would need to get close to her to immobilize her, but what to do with an armed Muscle? The alternative was torture and death. Analysis could only get you so far. It all came down to the right opportunity.
He had to escape before they got to the torture. He had a high pain tolerance, but he’d rather skip the whole experience. He assumed she was going to make him give her the unique coding that they used to develop the game. Whoever was running this operation seemed to think Reeves needed his computer to access the files. Not sure if he saw the logic in this line of reasoning. If they planned to “extract” the code, why couldn’t he use any computer?
Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7) Page 10
