Next Exit, Pay Toll

by CW Browning

Except, apparently, Viper.

  Cat got your tongue?

  Michael grinned despite himself and sat forward.

  Not yet, but the night is young.

  Michael grimaced to himself at the lame reply before catching himself. He shrugged. He didn't need to impress the woman. He needed answers.

  How's the head?

  A wave of irritation washed over him at the gloating reminder of their one and only meeting.

  Just started hurting again.

  Two Advil and a shot of vodka always work for me.

  I'll be sure to have some on hand for you if we ever meet again.

  Michael waited for her response, a grin tugging at his lips. It was slow in coming.

  I'll give you a fair shot next time.

  And I'll take it, don't worry. Why was The Engineer in Jersey?

  Michael sat back and watched the blinking cursor on the screen. Would she answer? She had made contact, which indicated she was willing to talk, but the seconds stretched into minutes and still the cursor blinked mutely on the screen. Michael was just leaning forward to try a different tact when the cursor started moving.

  He was paid to kill Johann Topamari after he executed his terrorist attack.

  Michael stared at the screen, his breath catching in his throat. Of course! Why hadn't he realized? Viper wasn't just after the person who had brought an assassin into the country. She was after the person who had brought a terrorist into the country!

  But you killed Johann, didn't you?

  My, you have been busy, haven't you?

  I had a cozy chat with a nice young woman in the FBI. Stephanie Walker. You know her?

  Oh, you can do better than that.

  Michael was surprised by the chuckle that bubbled up and out of him. He was grinning freely now and realized, with something of a shock, that he was actually enjoying himself.

  Where's The Engineer now?

  Do you really think he's anywhere?

  Michael stared at the words, surprised despite himself. If she had killed the assassin, then she had to know who brought him into the country already. That meant...she wanted him to know. She wanted him to know who she was chasing.

  Now who's been busy?

  Oh, Gunny, you have no idea.

  Enlighten me.

  Someday. Would you like some help?

  With?

  The Engineer

  What have you got?

  His real name was Dimitrius. Check with the Israeli Secret Service. They can tell you

  anything you want to know about him.

  Michael felt his mouth drop open. The assassin had been Israeli-trained?

  Thank you. I have something that might help you too.

  Michael typed the words with misgiving. He was about to shoot himself in the foot, but Viper was clearly trying to help him. It was only fair that he reciprocate.

  Do tell.

  An alert was issued to all the Federal agencies today saying you're in the DC area.

  Really? That couldn't be farther from the truth just now...

  Michael stared at the screen thoughtfully. A part of him acknowledged relief at the words. Were they true? He suddenly found himself, inexplicably, hoping that they were.

  Good, because by tomorrow you'll be the prime suspect in the murder of two

  men. What kind of gun do you carry?

  Thank you for the warning. I'm running short on time. Do you have any more

  questions?

  Aside from the gun? Hundreds.

  I'll give you two more, but no comment on the gun.

  Michael sat back, his mind spinning. She was giving him two freebies. He quickly sorted through all the questions he had and tried to prioritize them in his head. He was still thinking when the cursor moved again.

  Clock's ticking.

  Michael sat forward slowly, trying to decide which were the most pressing questions. He may never see or hear from her again.

  Why me?

  Michael waited, staring at the screen. The answer was a long time coming.

  I told you before, I'm partial to gunnies.

  Michael smiled slowly. She knew a Marine gunnery sergeant...or had known one. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was a clue to her identity. He had worked with less.

  Why kill the assassin? Why not use him as leverage?

  Let's just say I took offense to something he tried to do.

  Michael was still staring at the screen thoughtfully when the black screen disappeared and his normal desktop returned. He cursed under his breath, quickly going to his system tray. The alert was gone and all trace of the chat had disappeared. He frowned and opened up a system log, cursing more loudly when the log showed no signs of the alert, chat, or script that had run on his laptop.

  After a moment of frustrated searching, Michael finally gave up in defeat, logging off and shutting down. He was completely unaware that by doing so, he was initiating a wipe that would remove all traces of the files that Alina had installed on his laptop five days before. Any evidence that she had ever been inside his network was erased as soon as his laptop turned off, severing all connection to Viper.

  Damon struggled to pull himself back from the darkness. Had he been sleeping? He must have been, but he had no way of knowing for how long or how much time had passed. The feeling of weightlessness had faded and now every part of his body felt very heavy. He felt like he was being weighted down and was going to sink into...into what? He still couldn't see anything, but he had the impression that he was laying on something soft. A sofa? A bed?

  Hawk tried to swallow and discovered that his tongue was no longer swollen but his mouth was still dry. He felt as if he had swallowed a desert. Where was Viper? And how long ago was it that they had eaten steak? It had been so good...just like he remembered from the bonfire at the end of boot camp.

  He tried to open his heavy eyelids and they fluttered slightly. Hawk concentrated on the motion, focusing all his limited energy on getting his eyes open. His eyelashes lifted slowly, feeling as if they were glued shut, until a shot of bright light exploded into his head. Damon groaned and hastily let his eyes close again, but it was too late. The light had caused an explosion of pin-pricks and sun-bursts behind his eyelids, and the comfortable darkness that he had been existing in was shattered.

  “He's coming around.”

  A deep voice made it through the fireworks and Hawk stopped trying to sink back into the abyss. He knew that voice. Remembered it well. It had barked orders at him from a loud speaker in the jungle.

  “Harry?”

  Hawk tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. He felt his lips moving, but could only hear a croaking noise coming from a distance. Deciding against trying to speak again, Hawk refocused his efforts on trying to get his eyes open. The sunbursts exploding in his head didn't seem as painful as they had before he heard Harry's voice. Harry was there. Harry would know where Viper was. Harry knew everything.

  Hawk was still trying to get his eyes opened and focused against the blinding light when something touched his lips. He frowned and tried to turn his head away from the sharp object being pressed against his mouth.

  “It's just a straw, Hawk,” a voice said soothingly. “Stop fighting me.”

  Viper!

  Hawk turned toward her voice and parted his lips. The sharp object was gently inserted into his mouth and his lips closed around it. Still struggling to get his eyes open again, Damon was grateful for the rush of water that followed a tentative suck on the straw.

  “He'll choke.”

  That was Harry's voice again, deep and even, further away now. Damon could almost hear Viper smiling.

  “No, he won't.” Her voice was calm and steady, full of assurance. “He knows better than that.”

  As if on cue, Damon's throat suddenly stopped obeying his commands and closed up abruptly. The straw left his mouth as he started choking. In his heightened state of awareness, he heard a soft sigh above him before his head was forc
ed on its side. The water ran out of his mouth and Damon started coughing, gasping for air as his throat re-opened in protest.

  “Well, I thought he did.” Viper sounded resigned.

  “He doesn't have all his muscle control back yet.”

  Harry was speaking from directly above him now. How could that be? The rush of air that followed the coughing fit was starting to clear his mind, and Damon realized that he was lying down, his head turned to the side. Was Viper on one side and Harry on the other?

  “So I see.”

  Viper sounded like she was drifting away. Damon shook his head, re-doubling his efforts to get his eyelids unglued.

  Wait! No! Don't go anywhere! What happened?

  “Leave him to sleep the rest of it off,” Harry advised, his voice moving away now.

  No! Give me more water. I can fight through this!

  Hawk felt the cold fingers of sheer panic grab hold of him for the first time. They couldn't leave! They had to stay until he got his eyes open! He had to see them. He had to touch them. He had to know that he wasn't going insane. Was this all a dream? Damon fought to get his eyes open, focusing all his energy into confronting that painful, blinding light. Shards of white light pierced through the darkness and elation surged through him, holding the panic at bay. The shards became a line and then the line exploded into the blinding whiteness that had caused so much pain and confusion a few moments before.

  Hawk forced himself to fight the blinding light, ignoring the pain and pushing it to the back of his head. He blinked once, then forced his eyes back open, confronting the light and trying to see past the white orbs that were blocking her from him. Viper was still there. He could feel her beside him, but it wasn't enough. He needed to see her.

  And then, suddenly, he did.

  The blinding whiteness shifted and broke up, and there she was. Viper was leaning over him, her red hair falling around her face. Her dark eyes were watching him carefully as he struggled to focus. In an instant, Hawk realized he was lying on a narrow couch of some sort, and she was perched on the edge with one hand braced against the wall beside him. He wanted to look around, to see where they were, but the white orbs were blocking his peripheral vision now and Hawk was afraid to move his eyes from her face in case he lost her again. They stared at each other for what seemed to him to be forever, and then she smiled slowly.

  “Welcome back,” Viper said softly, her brown eyes suddenly warm.

  Hawk didn't know if the smile in his heart made it to his lips. He didn't care. He was just happy to see that Viper was alive and well. He reached out his hand to touch her and felt her fingers close around his firmly.

  “What....”

  Damon tried to speak and his voice croaked out painfully. He frowned and swallowed. Before he could try again, Viper laid her finger against his lips softly.

  “Don't speak yet,” she told him gently. “Sleep now.”

  Hawk focused on her dark eyes and was sucked into chocolate lava. They were so warm and dark and, with her words, he was suddenly exhausted. His eyes were growing heavy again.

  “You're fine. Rest now.”

  Viper moved her finger from his lips and he felt her hand smooth his hair back on his forehead. His eyelids started to droop, but he fought to keep them open. He didn't want to rest. He wanted to ask her what had happened! She was smiling slightly, her eyes glinting in that unique way of hers, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Rest now,” she repeated softly.

  His mind was racing now, trying to process all the thoughts and impressions of what was around him. Through all the chaos in his head, Viper's dark eyes kept him centered. He stared at them, fighting to keep his own open even as they were sliding closed.

  No! Wait!

  But the abyss was claiming him again, pulling him under and wrapping him in its darkness.

  Viper faded away as Hawk sank back into oblivion, his fingers entwined with hers.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stephanie poured herself a mug of coffee and turned to leave the kitchen. Sounds of shooting and random explosions echoed around the living room and she grit her teeth. John was playing Call of Duty on the game system, and had been playing it all morning. When she finished her morning workout and went into the shower, he was shooting people. When she came out of the shower, he was shooting people. When she made breakfast, he was shooting people.

  And he was still shooting people.

  Stephanie swiped the iPad off the end table as she stalked by and headed down the hall into her bedroom. Slamming the bedroom door behind her, she felt some satisfaction in the resulting bang before immediately feeling a little guilty. She sighed and settled down on the bed with her back against the headboard. It wasn't John's fault she was irritated. His shooter games were distracting him from their forced inactivity, just as her books on the tablet were supposed to be distracting her. It was just that her books didn't make so much noise.

  She was swiping the screen to go back to reading one of them when her bedroom door swung open again unceremoniously.

  “You ok in here?”

  John leaned against the door jam and studied her with lazy eyes. Stephanie sipped her coffee and set it down, not looking up.

  “Just swell,” she muttered, missing the grin that passed over John's handsome face.

  “You sure?” he asked. “Because your door just knocked a picture off the wall out here.”

  Stephanie did look up then.

  “You're lying,” she said.

  “Come see for yourself.”

  Stephanie's eyes narrowed and she swung her legs off the bed to stomp over to the door. She looked out into the hallway and saw a picture laying face-down on the floor. John watched as she went into the hallway and picked it up. She hung it back on the wall, straightened it, and turned to go back into her bedroom.

  “Oops,” she muttered as she passed him.

  John forced back a laugh and followed her into the bedroom.

  “Now that we've established that I wasn't lying, care to tell me why you're throwing a tantrum?” he asked, following her to the bed and flopping down across the foot of it.

  Stephanie glared at him and sat back against the headboard.

  “I'm not throwing a tantrum,” she retorted. “I'm just irritated. You've been shooting people all morning and it's annoying.”

  John's eyebrows soared into his forehead.

  “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “Did you want the TV for something?”

  “No!” Stephanie snapped.

  John studied her thoughtfully. Stephanie was awkwardly aware that she was acting like a spoiled child, but she couldn't seem to help herself. If they didn't get out of this apartment soon, she felt like she would scream. And it had only been two days!

  “You're getting restless,” John decided. He stood up and held out his hand to her. “Come on.”

  Stephanie eyed his outstretched hand.

  “Come on where?” she demanded. “Out to the living room? Be still, my heart.”

  John grinned and reached forward to grab her hand, yanking her up.

  “Smart ass.” He pulled her across the room and out the door. “You can't go stir-crazy on me after only two days, partner. That will make for a long vacation.”

  “It's already a long vacation. I should have gone down the shore,” Stephanie retorted, following him into the living room. “At least I could be getting a tan right now.”

  “Quit complaining.” John picked up the gun-shaped controller and handed it to her. “Shoot some people instead,” he added with a grin.

  Stephanie rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, but John grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, laughing.

  “I'm serious!” he told her, pulling her over so that she was in front of the couch and in line with the sensor bar. “Try it.”

  He picked up a second controller and hit a button. The screen came alive and Stephanie found herself moving his character out from behind an army truck
, where she was immediately confronted with people in desert camos shooting at her. She shot John a startled look of panic and he grinned. Stepping behind her, he put his arms around her and his hands on the controller.

  “Watch.”

  Stephanie let him take charge of the controller and watched what buttons he was pushing. When he shot all the bad guys, he let her have the controller back and showed her how to move it so that the sensor bar picked up the movements.

  “You have to get to that building over there,” he pointed to the screen, his cheek next to hers.

  Stephanie nodded and John stepped back, moving away to watch from the couch. As he left and the heat of his body disappeared, Stephanie suddenly felt alone. She frowned at the unusual feeling. A second later, someone appeared out of nowhere on the screen before her and she swung the controller up to shoot them. They fell with an unrealistic cry and Stephanie looked at John.

  “I got one!” she exclaimed with a big grin. John nodded.

  “And you just got shot,” he pointed out with a laugh.

  Stephanie looked back to the screen and saw her life meter at the bottom of the screen flashing.

  “Well, what the hell!?” she cried.

  John burst out laughing and pointed.

  “Quick! There's another.....too late,” he said as the screen flashed and an option came up to save or continue.

  Stephanie hit continue and John chuckled as the sequence started over. He settled back on the couch, watching as she began bumbling her way through her first shooter game. He hoped it would help distract her from wondering what Alina was doing the same way it was helping to distract him.

  Michael was at his laptop at six-thirty in the morning, coffee in hand. He sent off an email to the only person in Israel that he knew personally, Ori Katchman. Ori just happened to be Mossaud. If anyone could dig up information on an ex-Israeli patriot, Michael was confident that person was Ori.

  Once the email had gone, Michael started to pull up information on Jason Rogers' SEAL team. He got the names of all the members who received the tattoo and then compared it to a list from the Navy. An hour later, he was still cross-referencing lists and checking names and locations. Two of the team members were still active military and Michael reached out to them to see if they kept in touch with Jason. Someone, somewhere, had to know how he had ended up breaking into Michael's house. He just had to find that someone.