She couldn’t let a statement like that go unanswered. She walked to the window and lowered the blinds. “I’ll open them again after you tell me what I want to hear.”
He gave a wry snort through his nose. “The computer’s a nice touch. What’s your plan with it? To film how you’re planning to torture me so you can relive it over and over again?”
She pressed a finger into the scab of the gunshot wound on his leg until he closed his eyes and groaned. “It’s time for you to come clean about John.”
“Clean how?” His voice was weak and raspy, but she could tell he wasn’t going to make this part easy on her. “He helped me try to kill you.”
“No, he didn’t,” she said with absolute confidence. “That was all you.”
“Where is he now?”
“Gone.”
He reopened his eyes, looking intrigued. “Gone like dead or gone like gone?”
Her throat tightened. Gone like out of her life forever, but she refused to let Rory see her pain.
“Gone like it’s just you and me here, and I’ve been thirsty for revenge against you for a long time.”
“I’m honestly shocked that he didn’t follow you here. He never was very good at being on his own and in charge. He’d rather be a lackey.”
She harnessed the rage that Rory’s words filled her with, wound back and slapped him hard across the cheek. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.”
John was no follower. He’d saved her life and her spirit. He’d taken her by the hand and pulled her up from the dark place she’d let herself languish in for far too long. He led her back to life with his love and his steadfastness. Her eyes stung with unshed tears that she willed away.
She turned her back to Rory and faced her computer. Pain wasn’t going to work as a coercion technique, not that she’d had much faith that it would with an elite soldier like Rory. Which was why she’d devised a backup plan to break his will in a whole different way.
She detached the laptop from the power cord and walked it to Rory. “Before you and John joined our black ops crew, I ran my own background check on both of you. Sure, the tech team at the Department of Homeland Security had, but I wanted to know for myself who these men were whose hands Diego, Ryan and I were putting our lives in.”
She clicked to a photograph she’d hidden on her laptop since that background check, a photo she looked at nearly every night before bed and in her darkest moments. It was of John and Rory in their early twenties, linked arm in arm in their Green Beret uniforms. The sight of John, all confidence and smiles in his uniform with his army-issued rifle and gear, made her heart squeeze painfully. He was so handsome, so admirable a man. Even back then, just from his pictures and service record, she’d been in awe. She’d had a crush on him before he’d walked through the door of the tactical planning room where he and Rory had first met the black ops crew.
“We’re going to get nostalgic? That’s your tactic? Too bad for you I don’t give a crap about any of that.”
She smiled, no longer caring if Rory saw her emotions. “When I first saw this photograph, I thought, there’s no way John Witter is a sniper. Even then, I could see the huge heart he had.”
“Then you were already delusional about him because he’s one of the most lethal operatives I’ve ever worked with.”
“I know that now. The more I learned about him, the longer you two were with our unit, the more complicated and wonderful I realized he was.”
“You’re killing me with all this lovey-dovey talk. Get to the point.”
“This is the point. He doesn’t deserve what I put him through and he definitely doesn’t deserve what you put him through. I think, in your own sociopathic way, you love John as much as I do, different, but just as much.”
He laughed as if she were crazy, but she knew she’d hit a nerve.
“You said on the roof that the point of killing me was so John would join you, so I know you care about him. You owe it to him to come clean about his innocence. For everything you two had. You went to war together.” She clicked on another photo of them, Rory in a hospital bed with a bandage on his forehead and John standing next to the bed. “You saved each other’s lives.”
He flinched at that. Emotion glimmered in his eyes for a brief second. For the first time, Alicia allowed herself to hope this would work.
“You’re going to kill me, anyway, so why would I talk?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Why not do one last act of good for the man who was the most loyal person in your life.” She clicked on another photo, this one of the two of them deployed in their fatigues, squatting down, a mangy, three-legged dog between them and run-down desert dwellings behind them. The dog was licking Rory’s chin.
Rory’s torso seemed to deflate along with his bravado. Alicia stayed quiet, giving him time to remember.
“I loved that dog,” he said quietly. “We named her Lucky because she came wandering out of this building where we were setting charges to blow it up. We took her back to base.”
“What happened to her?”
“No idea. That was when we got tapped to join ICE. We left her in Afghanistan. I hope she’s still kicking it on base.” He sighed. It was a bone-weary sigh that ended with a wince of pain. “All right. You win. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but you have to do me a favor in return.”
She heard a helicopter, loud and close, and chanced a look through the blinds. Her stomach twisted. American forces were gathering outside. She had no idea how they’d found her, but it didn’t matter. She only had minutes to get Rory on tape, then herself, before the situation was taken out of her hands.
“They’re coming,” Rory said.
“I know. What’s the favor you want?” She braced herself for him to demand his release when he was done.
“Before they get here, I want you to kill me. Or give me your gun and let me do the honor. I’m not going back to prison.”
She met his gaze. Conviction poured from his expression. For the first time since he’d shot her, she could see the warrior he once was. The sliver of goodness and honor left in him.
“Are you sure, because until the hurricane, you wanted to live so desperately that you killed civilians and risked a hurricane trying to escape.” She couldn’t believe she was trying to talk him out of it, but she didn’t take this lightly. Not now that they were here together and he was totally helpless and at her mercy.
“You’re not going to let me go, and ICE is going to put me right back in that hellhole. I’m done with this life. I thought I had this all figured out. I thought I knew what I wanted.”
She directed the laptop at him. It was still recording, though he didn’t seem to realize it. She pressed a button and turned the broadcast live, feeding straight into ICE headquarters.
“I screwed up,” Rory said. “It was supposed to be golden. Me and John taking the world by storm, making money and living the good life we deserved. I thought getting you out of the picture would be the jolt he needed to come around to my way of thinking, you know? But I underestimated how shooting you would affect him. I knew you two were hot for each other, but I didn’t know he loved you like that.
“It was a stupid oversight that cost me everything because he chose you over me. I didn’t see that coming. He testified against me—his blood brother—so I did the only thing I could think of. I lied about his involvement because I wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt me.”
He stopped and looked her way, unshed tears and a lifetime of pain in his eyes. “Is that enough?” he croaked.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.” Then she turned the laptop toward herself, took a deep breath and looked into the camera. “Rory isn’t the only one guilty. I framed John Witter in the prison break of Rory Alderman by planting a false trail of evidence that led to him because I
thought he was guilty of conspiracy and treason. But I was wrong.
“John Witter is innocent of all the charges that Rory Alderman, Diego Santero, Ryan Reitano and I accused him of. Even before learning the truth about John’s innocence, I had decided to abort my plan to frame him, but in my haste to break Rory out of prison and kill him, I didn’t do a good job of erasing the false trail I’d planted. I will spend the rest of my life tortured by my regret over the ways I ruined John’s life.”
She paused as a wave of sorrow passed through her. After another deep breath, she continued, letting a first tear slip over her cheek. “I broke Rory Alderman out of prison so I could kill him in retaliation for his attempt to murder me. John Witter stopped me from killing Rory. All he wanted was to recapture Rory and convince him to tell the truth about his innocence. I hope this broadcast isn’t too little too late to help clear his name.
“As far as other crimes he committed during this past week, I have this to say—John Witter engaged Special Agent Logan McCaffrey in combat on the island of St. Croix because he thought I was in danger. Logan McCaffrey and his team had gone undercover and had taken me into custody. John saw the bruises and wounds I’d sustained when McCaffrey took me into custody and thought I’d been kidnapped.”
She had no proof of that, but if it helped John’s cause, then a little white lie was forgivable. “John was trying to protect me. And if you want to know why he’d do something like that, since it might jeopardize his future standing in the eye of the law, the truth is that he’s the best man I know, with more integrity than every other person in ICE combined.”
The irony of all that had happened struck her then. She’d so deeply feared losing her power and sense of self to men, when the whole time since the day she was released from the hospital, she’d been destroying those parts of herself all on her own.
Noises sounded outside, men shouting, thumps and thuds like doors were being broken down and soldiers or agents were flooding into the building. She could sense the presence of the law surrounding them. In a matter of seconds, she was going to be taken into custody and go to prison for the rest of her life.
She closed her laptop, then picked up her gun.
“Are you ready?” she asked Rory.
His expression was stoic. He closed his eyes. “Yes.”
Emotion tightened her chest and made her sinuses sting as she steadied her gun against Rory’s temple. What a waste she’d made of her second chance at life.
Boots sounded in the hallway, then through the open office door, along with the sense of tension and energy of troops moving in to surround a hostile. She took a last look through the closed blinds at the hint of ocean beyond and turned toward the sound, ready to face her fate.
* * *
Gun at the ready, John led the way up the stairs into the building where Alicia and Rory were, with Diego in the back. Avery’s diversion tactic had bought them a small window of time to sneak undetected through the front of building, skirting the felled tree.
They conducted a fast search of the ground floor, then the second floor. As soon as they crested the stairs on the third level, they heard Rory’s voice and, all at once, without a word from anyone, they stopped to listen.
Rory was confessing.
John tipped his ear toward the door, his mind going a mile a minute. While they listened, Rory confessed to shooting Alicia as a way to convince John to join him as a team of mercenaries, and then, after their arrests, that he’d lied about John’s involvement because he hated John for testifying against him, for choosing allegiance to Alicia instead of his blood brother. He was coming clean about everything. How had Alicia managed to convince him to do that?
He replayed Rory’s words in his head as Diego, Ryan and Avery stared at him, their faces looking as shocked as John felt.
I thought getting you out of the picture would be the jolt he needed to come around to my way of thinking, you know? But I underestimated how shooting you would affect him.
He’d fantasized about this moment, when the people who’d spurned him heard the truth. He’d fantasized about the feelings of vindication—the high it would give him to prove to them all how wrong they’d been about him. But standing there on the wrong side of the door from Alicia, regret and shock playing on the features of his former teammates, while U.S. authorities were closing in to neutralize the woman he loved, he couldn’t have cared less about vindication.
All that mattered was getting her out of harm’s way.
Then she started talking. I framed John Witter in the prison break of Rory Alderman by planting a false trail of evidence that led to him because I thought he was guilty of conspiracy and treason. But I was wrong.
Love and sorrow burned hot inside him. He was going to get her out of the building, away from the Feds, then spend the rest of his life making up to her that he’d walked away without giving her a chance to explain herself.
“Let’s get in there,” John said. He cleared his throat against the lump that had settled in it. “I have the love of my life to save.”
Diego swallowed hard. “After you.”
Rory sat in the center of the room, bound to a wheelchair and looking so beat up it was a wonder he was still conscious. His right arm hung limply at his side at an odd angle. Alicia stood over him.
She turned to face John and the rest of the crew as though facing a firing squad. With solemn dignity. When she registered who it was, though, she stumbled back, eyes widening. “John? You shouldn’t be here. You have to save yourself.”
“I’m getting you out of here.”
She looked past him, to the rest of the crew. “Diego, Ryan, Avery—what are you doing here?”
“We heard you could use some friends,” Ryan said. “You’ve always been there for us, so it was our turn to pay it back.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m in a bit of a jam.” She sounded so fragile. John couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms. “How did you get here so fast?”
“We can explain all that later. Right now, we have to move,” Ryan said.
Behind her, Rory wheezed. “This is a hell of a thing, isn’t it?” His head lolled to the side, but his eyes were sharp. “Here we all are, together again. The old crew.”
Rory was right. They hadn’t been in the same room together since the morning of the RioBank operation. John looked around, filled with a rush of bittersweet memories. So much had changed since that morning. Every one of their lives altered in irreversible ways.
Alicia was a wanted criminal, Rory a traitor of his nation and murderer on his last breath. Diego was no longer a black ops soldier, but clearly a devoted husband, and Ryan was engaged to an operative John had never heard of and living in France. None of them were the people they were two years ago, for better or worse. But they were all here for Alicia, and for that, John would forever be grateful.
“Did any of you miss me?” Rory said in a sniveling, wheezing voice.
Diego prowled across the room to Rory and socked him hard in the stomach. Rory doubled over.
“Shut up. I’d kill you right now except you’re not worth getting blood on this shirt that my wife gave me. Plus, if I killed you, then you wouldn’t be able to testify in court that you were lying about John’s involvement.” He shoved him hard in the chest. “And you know how I know you’re gonna do that?”
“Why don’t you go ahead and enlighten me?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to be the one to break you out of prison again so I can end your miserable life.”
Boots sounded in the hallway. “Who’s that gonna be?” Diego said to John.
Avery walked to Alicia and stood like a bodyguard in front of her, gun out and ready.
John picked up his rifle from where it hung by a strap across his shoulders and walked to the doorway, prepared for ba
ttle. At first sight of who it was, he huffed, then glanced at Diego. “You’re not going to believe it if I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“Get ready, because you’re about to meet our replacements.”
Chapter 17
“A new ICE black ops unit?” Ryan asked. “I must have missed that memo.”
Diego snorted and shook his head. “Replacements? Gimme a break. Nobody could replace us.”
“I think it’s time we remind them of that,” Ryan said.
Diego gripped his rifle hard and stood shoulder to shoulder with John and Ryan to form a protective wall in front of Alicia and Avery. “Just a heads-up, I’m naming you all as witnesses when I explain to Vanessa how this shirt got wrecked.”
In the doorway, Logan appeared in full SWAT gear, surrounded by his two remaining crewmates.
“Logan McCaffrey?” Diego said, sounding shocked. “You’re my replacement? Were the stiffs smoking crack when they gave you the job?”
“Diego Santero. Wish I could say this is a surprise, seeing you all here, but I figured John and Alicia would summon the rest of their band of misfits sooner or later.”
Diego tipped his head toward Ryan. “This guy’s a comedian.”
“I prefer to think of us as ne’er-do-wells,” Ryan deadpanned.
“When did they let you out in the field?” Diego asked.
“When they needed someone to clean up the mess you left behind. They tasked me with keeping tabs on rogue agents—Alicia and John, in particular. We’re here to bring them in, and if you know what’s good for you and your wife, you’re not going to stand in my way.”
Diego looked at Ryan again. “He just threatened my wife, didn’t he?”
Ryan, ever the master of understatement, shook his head in Logan’s direction. “Not cool.”
John was done standing there watching Diego and Logan posture. “I’ve delivered Rory to you, Logan. And I’ve somehow managed to refrain from killing you any number of times in the last week, so it’s time to take Rory and your life as the gifts they are before things get messy.”
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