by Lora Leigh
Kell had known the horrifying realization that he wasn't Superman. That sometimes the odds were against him, and he had learned at a very young age the fatal results of being on the wrong side of the odds.
The odds had to be with them, she prayed as he pulled her against his chest and surrounded her with the warmth and strength of his body. They had to be, because God help her if she lost him.
Chapter Twenty-two
It was late when Kell and Emily left the bed to head to the kitchen for a late dinner. As Emily turned on the low living room lights and moved into the kitchen, AC/DC's "Hells Bells" sounded from Kell's cell phone, drawing a smile from her lips.
She should have guessed the dark, hard lyrics and music of that particular group would appeal to Kell. Though she knew his music tastes were eclectic, simply because of the CDs he carried in the Bronco parked in the driveway.
"Come on over then. Use the patio entrance and try not to create a damned traffic jam," she heard Kell mutter. "This is insane."
She turned as he disconnected and stared back at her with offended male irritation.
"Who's creating the traffic jam?" she asked as she glanced down at the clothes she wore. Loose cotton pants and Kell's T-shirt—because she wanted to keep his scent wrapped around her.
"Your father." His voice simmered with frustration. "Admiral Holloran and Captain Malone."
"Captain Malone?" She frowned as she pulled the deli-wrapped sandwich meat from the refrigerator before reaching in for the rest of the sandwich fixings. "That's Nathan Malone's uncle. He was with Dad and Uncle Sam before he left the SEALs."
The three men had been part of an elite strike force, along with two others. One had died several years back, but Jansen Clay, one of her father's best friends, and the father of one of the girls kidnapped with Emily, was still close to him as well.
As she laid out the sandwich ingredients a frown flitted between her brows at the thought of the men. Why would Jordan Malone be with her father and the admiral?
She dreaded seeing him. She still felt vaguely responsible for the SEAL who had died rescuing her. When she had learned that SEAL was Nathan Malone, her grief had been nearly unbearable.
He was Kell's age, but she had known him all her life, just as she had known Risa Clay all her life. Risa was still in the hospital, her young mind damaged by the effects of the Whore's Dust she had been given during her kidnapping.
Jansen hadn't contacted her since the rescue, and she hadn't seen him or Risa. The doctors were allowing only supervised visits by family members.
"... reports that Nathan's alive."
Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice.
"What did you say?" She had been so involved with her memories of Risa that she hadn't caught his last sentence.
He stared back at her, his gaze somber.
"We received a report that Nathan's still alive and being held by Fuentes's spy. Pictures were sent to Macey, and it's definitely Nathan."
She stilled, the lettuce she had been tearing apart forgotten as shock resounded through her.
"It's been almost two years," she whispered.
"Nineteen months, and from the looks of those pictures, Nathan has suffered every day of it." Fury flashed in Kell's eyes, and Emily knew that if he ever managed to get his hands on whoever was spying for Fuentes, the man would die. Painfully.
"How could a spy hold Nathan that long?" She shook her head in confusion. Nathan wasn't a weak man. He was one the strongest she knew. "And where?"
"Where, we don't know." He pushed his fingers restlessly through his long hair as a tight, feral grimace twisted his features. "We'll find him though."
Her lips parted in surprise at the violence that gleamed in his eyes before her head jerked to the patio doors and the soft knock on the outside glass.
Kell turned out the living room lights before checking outside then opening the panel wide enough for the men to slip through.
Her father was first, followed by the admiral, Captain Malone, and then the rest of the SEAL team Kell was working with.
They all looked at the bar where Emily was laying out the food.
"Help yourselves to sandwiches." She waved her hand at the mounds of lunch meat and vegetables before setting out two loaves of bread from the cabinet and pulling a gallon of sweet tea from the inside of the refrigerator. It was a good thing she'd gone grocery shopping before heading to D.C.
She hadn't seen Jordan Malone in years. He was several years younger than her father; he would be forty-five or so. He had just signed on to her father's team the year her father had been wounded and forced into a training position.
His hair was still mostly black, though there was more gray than she had noticed last time. He stood a little over six feet, with dark grayish-blue eyes and a hawklike expression. Texas born and raised, he had a rough-and-ready demeanor, even now.
He was a childless widower and she knew he had loved his nephew as though he were his own child. The report of Nathan's death had hit him hard.
As Emily set out the paper plates and large plastic cups she kept for the rare instances that she had company, she watched the men who filled her living room, along with Kira. They were hard, dangerous men, but they were men whose expressions were also tempered with compassion and friendship.
Helping themselves to sandwiches and sweet tea, they pulled the available kitchen chairs into the living room, arranged them around the living room, and sat down to go over the details of the information they had on Fuentes, his spy, and the missing SEAL they had all grieved for.
The pictures Macey's contact had sent were horrifying. It was Nathan, but if wasn't the Nathan Emily had once known. His large powerful body was rangy and thin now, his ribs standing out beneath the flesh of his abdomen. His face was swollen, bruised. Fresh wounds were cut into his legs, arms, and chest. His face was barely recognizable, and his eyes, deep, deep sapphire-blue eyes, were glazed and bright with violence.
"We've received a little more information from Judas," Macey muttered as the pictures were spread over the coffee table. "The last transmission was several hours ago. We tracked it here, to Atlanta, but that's as far as I've managed to get. He's been pumped up with Whore's Dust during his captivity. The spy, who we've only been able to identify as Mr. White, is determined to break him. He thinks if he can make Nathan break his marriage vows by screwing another woman, even under the influence of drugs, then Nathan will break and give him the information he wants."
"And what does he want?" Jordan's voice was lethal, rasping with fury.
"Information." Macey sighed as he wiped his hand over his harsh, weary face. "Nathan was one of the elite, as you know, Jordan. He had information very few men have. So far, he hasn't broken, but our Mr. White thinks it's only a matter of time."
Emily flinched as she sat on the floor beside Kell's chair. That name, Mr. White. She frowned, feeling the dark areas of her mind shifting, shadows within shadows and a haunting cry. Who was crying?
"Okay?" Kell's hand settled on her shoulder as she nodded quickly.
The doctors had been confident that those memories were never going to return. They were locked in forever by the effects of that drug.
She lifted her gaze, meeting her father's eyes as he sat in the chair across from them. His expression was somber, and filled with grief for Nathan, she knew. He had helped train Nathan, had loved him as he had loved all the men he had fought with and trained.
"Our Mr. White gets around," Jordan spat out with loathing. "He's managed to betray the identities of several SEALs on mission as well as DEA and Homeland Security agents over the past year alone. He's feeding Fuentes, but my sources say he's feeding the terrorist Sorrell as well, and betraying Fuentes with each turn of the knife."
"He's also taken out several OHS Agents," Kira confirmed from where she sat at the bar.
Printouts were laid out on the table from several files. Transmissions and agency reports that had been gathered over
several months.
"Fuentes doesn't deal in terrorism," Ian muttered then, his ruined voice gravelly and harsh. "The information we've gathered says he's fighting the merger Sorrell is attempting to make."
"Because it's not a merger, it's an overthrow, with Fuentes standing as cover for the terrorist. It takes Fuentes's power and his control and leaves him vulnerable against the law enforcement agencies searching for him," Jordan mused, while the others went through the papers, took in the information, then placed them back in the folders.
"So we have Fuentes, his spy Mr. White, and Sorrell all with their little fingers involved in our operation now," Kell bit out. "Fuentes has definitely sent out a kidnapper. Are there any other threats?"
Emily watched her father flinch before he answered.
"There's information that Sorrell has asked to take possession of Emily once she's been kidnapped."
Emily reached up, gripping Kell's leg where it tensed beside her. She had heard of Sorrell. The unidentified terrorist traded regularly in human flesh. Kidnapped young women whom he kept drugged and used as sex toys within his organization.
"Without Fuentes's network and his contacts, Sorrell can't achieve the foothold he wants here in the U.S.," Macey broke in at that point. "And without Fuentes, Mr. White can't eliminate the threat the senator is posing."
"Have we gained any information on what that threat is?" Kell asked.
"Whoever Mr. White is, he's a known associate of mine," her father answered, his jaw clenching in anger. "I've figured out that much. And he has to be one of the senators or private members of the committees I'm on. The bill I'm trying to get through Congress at the moment focuses on a stronger checks-and-balance system for assuring that those committees aren't infiltrated by men like Mr. White. The bill has an investigative plan attached to it. If it's passed by the Senate, then Mr. White won't be able to hide any longer."
"Bingo," Kell muttered. "Then it doesn't have anything to do with the destruction of the Fuentes compound during the rescue, or the new laws you're trying to put through against the drug suppliers and dealers that are arrested?"
Richard Stanton shook his head wearily. "I suspected that was it, until the last transmission Macey received. Mr. White agreed with Sorrell's demands that he hold Emily in exchange for my good behavior," he snarled, his tone cutting. "If it were retaliation, they would have killed her outright by now and that bill is the only thing that could interest Sorrell, Mr. White, and Fuentes all at once."
Which meant the stakes were much higher than any of them had realized. If Fuentes's kidnapper actually managed to take her, then she may as well consider her life over.
Kell tightened his hand at Emily's shoulder briefly as he stared back at the senator, meeting the other man's gaze directly.
He had to fight to keep from pulling her out now, to steal away to that safe house he knew was available. He would keep her there, protect her himself, shadow her every move. But for how long? Without her, the kidnapper would fade away, and Fuentes would make certain the next strike was one they couldn't guard against.
As with all his games, he was playing by a predetermined set of rules right now. Keep the queen on the board, and the game would progress. Remove the prize and he would strike immediately.
"Judas is certain the attempt is going to be made at the Andover ball," Ian said then. "Sorrell and Fuentes's spy, Mr. White, will be in attendance. There will be over six hundred guests at that party. There's no way in hell to narrow down who is who in the amount of time we have, even if we did nave the information to do it."
"So we're walking in blind," Emily said faintly then, looking at each of the men, as Kell fought to hold back the fury he could feel rising in his gut.
"Durango Team will be at the party," Reno said then. "All of us will be there before you arrive and our priority is making certain you aren't taken. Kira Porter has also been assigned to the mission. White won't have the chance to take you, though he and his cohorts will feel confident enough to make the attempt. Then we'll have him. And our sources say he will know who White is."
White. The name clashed inside her head, sending an ache of tension to center behind her eyes. Why the hell did that name keep affecting her?
"Emily?" her father asked then.
She shook her head. "Mr. White." She worried the name through her mind. "Every time you mention him I swear I get cold chills and a headache." She rubbed at her brow.
"Whore's Dust will do that." Her father grimaced. "You likely heard the name while you were there, sweetheart. It's a code name Fuentes gave his spy. And Fuentes likes to brag to his victims. That's probably where you heard it."
It was a reasonable explanation. She had been in the Fuentes compound nearly forty-eight hours before her rescue; he could have done a lot of bragging in that time.
"The party is in two nights," Kell stated behind her, his voice dark, the shadow of his Cajun accept barely coloring his words—but the fact that it was there was telling. "There are some things I need. I'll make a list and give it to Ian tonight."
"You'll have everything you need, Kell." The admiral spoke up at that point. "Myself and Captain Malone have also been invited to the party. We'll provide what backup we can."
"What about Jansen Clay?" Emily asked. "He'll want to help, because of Risa."
Her father and the admiral shook their heads at once. "This information is need to know only, Emily," her father said. "As highly as I think of Jansen, I can't trust his temper. Risa's in bad shape, from what I hear. He's as likely to go vigilante as he is to follow orders."
Daddy! Help me! Emily jerked violently at the cry that tore through her head and the sense of terror that had her coming to her feet, nearly stumbling before Kell rose and caught her in his arms.
"Emily?" he questioned her roughly. "What's wrong?"
She swallowed tightly, fighting back the burning bile that rose in her throat.
"I'm sorry." She shook her head fiercely as she fought the revulsion building inside her. "I didn't meant to do that." She felt like tearing her hair out in an attempt to tear out the memories.
"It's the discussion. Talking about it pulls at fractured memories that make no sense." The admiral's voice was a vicious growl. "That bastard Fuentes has a lot to answer for."
Emily nodded jerkily. The doctors and psychologists had pages of information they had given her, enough for a book, on the side effects of the synthetic drug Fuentes's genius scientist had created. The mad bastard had at least been paranoid enough to keep the secret of how to make it hidden from Fuentes. With his death, the secret had died with him, making the remaining Whore's Dust a lost commodity on the drug market.
"I'll be okay." She pulled back from Kell slowly, avoiding his gaze, feeling weak, ineffective in her own defense now.
"Yes, you will." His hands tightened on her shoulders before one lifted and moved to her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "It's not your fault, Emily."
She was aware of the other men in the room and the fact that they, along with her father, were witnessing her weakness. And she hated that. It only proved to her father that she wasn't as strong or as brave as she thought she was.
"I know that." Her smile was tight as she pulled back. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need to go wash my face."
She needed to escape. She needed to regain her composure before she talked any more about Fuentes.
Kell watched her leave, his jaw bunching with the effort it took not to follow her, not to comfort her. His head swung around to encompass the men staring back at him thoughtfully before he pushed his fingers through his hair and started after her.
"Kell. Give her a minute," the senator said, his voice rough. "Just a few minutes." Kell jerked around. "Why?" The other man shook his head. "She's feeling weak. If you go in there and comfort her, you'll make her feel weaker, and she'll hate that."
"This coming from the man who tries to chain her to any and every controlling asshole he can find?" Kell snappe
d back furiously. "How would you know what makes her weak
or strong?"
Rather than becoming angry, the senator's lips twitched with an edge of humor.
"Between me and you, son, I knew those controlling assholes didn't have a chance. Just as I knew that eventually you'd get tired of watching me send them to her and take the job yourself. Just as you've done."
Kell's eyes narrowed as Richard leaned back in his chair and regarded him with a slight smile.
"She can outshoot most men I know." He ticked off a finger. "She goes to Gator Jack's to learn how to fight. She's nearly talked her shooting instructor into letting her into an open practice range normally reserved for law enforcement and military, and the woman can maneuver through rush-hour traffic like a defensive-driving instructor." He continued to count off fingers. "She thinks that damned research will help her write a book, when the book is just an excuse to research crap guaranteed to piss me off and make her bodyguards crazy. On top of this, you've been following her for the better part of five years whenever you're home on leave, and you have an annoying habit of threatening her bodyguards whenever you catch them looking at her with anything other than polite interest."
