Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  “Listen to me, Gina. Focus. Do what I say. He’s going to be fine.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to believe it. “Okay. Tell me what I have to do.”

  When Izzy was done, she felt sick at what was to follow. “Trace?”

  “I trust you.” His callused fingers gripped the head-board. He managed a ghost of a smile. “Do it.”

  With a clean towel over his chest, she sterilized the knife with alcohol, doused his chest and then cut exactly where Izzy told her. Trace’s jaw worked and his arms twitched once, but he didn’t make a sound.

  Blood welled over the towel. Somehow she kept her hands steady.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Gina lifted a small sliver of gray silicone from under the skin of his collarbone and set it on the nightstand. “Did you find it?” Izzy’s voice sounded loud through the speaker she had activated on Trace’s cell phone.

  “Removed. It was just where you said.”

  “Good job. You did exactly what he needed, Gina. Now clean him up with alcohol and bandage his shoulder. Trace, can you hear me?”

  “I’m here. Where the hell are you?” His voice was still harsh with strain.

  “About an hour out.”

  Trace looked glad to hear it. “You think what I think?”

  “Not much doubt.” Izzy sounded grim. “He’s flexing his muscles. He must have picked you up.”

  Who? Gina wondered. And what was the gray piece of metal she’d pulled from Trace’s shoulder?

  It was time they gave her some answers. She couldn’t help if she was kept out of the loop like this.

  She glanced at Trace. “I need to know what’s going on. What did I just cut out of Trace and who is flexing his muscles?”

  The man called Izzy cleared his throat. “What you cut out is classified, Ms. Ryan. And the man in question is even more classified. Trace will tell you what he can, but I can assure you now that it won’t be much. You’re going to have to trust us.”

  Before Gina could reply, the phone went dead.

  Twenty minutes later Trace was a little pale, but on his feet, shoving one hand into his shirtsleeve. Gina fumed in silence, then pushed away his arm and pulled on the shirt for him. “You’re an idiot,” she snapped. “Both of you are. You should be in bed recovering. You should also be telling me exactly what is going on.”

  “Can’t.” His voice was steady.

  The bleeding had stopped, Gina noted. He seemed to heal amazingly fast.

  “What happened to you? What was that thing I removed?”

  He didn’t answer.

  More secrets.

  “Okay, I get it. Boys’ toys and security stuff.” She shrugged. “Something else I didn’t tell you. I used to be Seattle PD, so I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  He turned awkwardly, one eyebrow raised. “You were a cop?”

  Gina shrugged. “Operative word, was. As they say, shit happens. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But we will talk about it,” he said quietly. He grimaced a little as he slid a shoulder harness over his shirt and slipped a compact SIG-Sauer semiautomatic into place. “As soon as this is over. I get the feeling you didn’t leave because you wanted to.”

  “Not going to talk about it.” Her tone was firm.

  Gina watched him slide extra magazines into his pocket. So things were getting serious.

  An enemy was aboard the ship, and Trace was going after him. Why did this feel like a High Noon moment?

  She squared her shoulders. If she had her way, she’d be beside him. She had top skills at the shooting range—a little rusty maybe, but she could provide covering fire, if necessary. “You have an extra gun?”

  He hesitated, then pulled out a smaller semiautomatic with a two-inch barrel. “Para Ordnance Warthog. Light and very powerful. All yours.”

  Gina felt awkward holding the small handgun. It had been five years since she’d carried.

  Five years since she’d been charged with mismanaging department-confiscated property, thanks to her greedy ex-partner and one-time lover.

  But some things you never forgot, and the grip returned, along with the stance and the calm focus that came with carrying a lethal weapon. She checked the chamber, tested the sights and then put the gun and three loaded magazines on the bed. “I think I’d better get dressed. If the shit hits the fan, I’d rather not be in a bathrobe.”

  Trace was going through equipment in his silver case. “Be careful. Things may not be…the way you think they are. I can’t say more, but take nothing for granted.” He turned, his expression grave. “If I’m at the door, I’ll use this signal.” He knocked twice fast, then four times slowly. “No matter what you hear or see, if the code’s wrong, don’t say a word and don’t throw the lock. If I phone or we meet, I’ll call you Princess. Remember that.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  He pulled her against him, kissed her hard. His fingers gripped her waist.

  Then he released her and stepped back, his expression cool and blank.

  Thousand-yard stare again.

  Once Gina had been damn good at delivering the same stare. She’d been sure that world was far behind her. The laugh was on her.

  She tugged on her jeans, feeling unreal, as if she were walking through a role in a movie.

  Except this was real. People’s lives would depend on what she said and did.

  She pulled on her white chef’s jacket. “Any other sage advice before you go?”

  “Yeah,” Trace said. “Stay here and don’t go out. I’ll contact you if I have anything to report. Remember the Para’s gonna have one hell of a kick when you fire. Keep your grip tight and squeeze off the rounds.”

  “I remember.” Gina slipped the small gun in the pocket of her chef’s jacket. “Small barrels mean evil recoil, no way around it.”

  She picked up something red from the corner of his desk and studied it carefully. It was her piece of stray yarn from the knitting club. She stared at him in surprise. “You kept this?”

  He shrugged and put the yarn in his pocket. “My good luck talisman. Laugh and you die.”

  Warmth filled her. He would protect her at all costs. She would do the same for him. “Later on…I’ll knit you something for real.”

  “You want us to have a later on?”

  Gina didn’t hesitate. “You’re not ditching me now when I’m just getting my first taste of wild, reckless sex. How about socks, Lieutenant O’Halloran? Maybe a matching pair of gloves?”

  “Take your time. I’ll be around to collect.” He brushed back a strand of her hair and then pulled his jacket closed, hiding the gun beneath. “One other thing.” He stood in the room’s single light, his face hard. “This could be a bad night, but whatever happens, we’re going to get through it and any other bad nights that come along. We’ve got a future ahead of us. It may not include a white picket fence, but it will be damned good. Some way I’ll see to that.”

  It was a clear, unbreakable promise.

  Gina liked the sound of that just fine.

  But something told her they had a long, long way to go until morning.

  THREE DECKS BELOW, Ford McKay walked down the corridor toward the infirmary, gripping his daughter’s hand. Sunny had gotten sick again right before dinner. Her fever was up, too.

  More flu. He was starting to think this whole cruise was jinxed.

  The possibilities that Trace O’Halloran had outlined weren’t helping his mood, either.

  He glanced up as he passed the darkened security office. Inside a man was outlined in an interior office, talking on a phone.

  “I’m sorry I’m sick, Daddy. I don’t want to spoil the vacation.”

  “Hush, Sunshine. You’re not spoiling anything.” He made an effort to distract her, keeping the worry from his voice. “By the way, those were great photos you took today.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  His voice tightened. “But I don’t want you three running off again—
not ever.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Sunny looked up at him, her brows drawn together. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle, Sunshine.” Ford squeezed her hand as they reached the door of the infirmary. “Here we are. You’ll feel brand-new in an hour, I promise.”

  Her fingers curled, linked with his, absolutely trusting as he pushed open the door and guided her inside.

  SUNNY FELT FUNNY.

  Ten minutes had passed. She was sitting in the waiting room, drinking a glass of apple juice and watching a lame cartoon show with talking giraffes. Usually she liked cartoons, but not tonight.

  Her father was inside talking with the doctor, and she was pretty sure he was worried about something.

  She hated to be sick.

  It didn’t happen often. Mostly it happened when she was thinking about stuff like going back to school and about whether Mei-ling would still be her friend when she got back.

  Right now she was worried about what would happen to the white kitten and whether it would have a good home when she left. She hated the thought of leaving Trouble behind.

  But she didn’t tell her mom and dad that.

  Then they’d worry, too, and this was their first real vacation in as long as Sunny could remember.

  She wriggled in the leather chair, listening to her dad talk with the doctor, who had given her a pink pill to chew. It had tasted icky, but her stomach did feel better now.

  She listened to the conversation through the open door and relaxed a little. The two adults didn’t sound so worried now, and that made her feel better than the medicine had.

  She bent down, digging in her backpack for her notebook.

  When she looked up, she saw a door open down the hall. A tall man stood in the doorway, looking out. He had skin the color of burnt cinnamon and a little bit of gray in his hair. He stared down the hall, back and forth, for a long time.

  Something moved near his feet, but he didn’t notice. He checked his watch and then went back inside.

  Sunny sat up. The thing on the ground near his feet was the white cat.

  Her white cat.

  She glanced frantically at the door of the exam room where her daddy was talking to the doctor. She’d promised not to go off alone….

  The cat turned, headed straight down the hall.

  Her heart hammered. She didn’t think or plan. If Trouble got loose again, someone might toss him overboard. Tears burned in her eyes and all her good intentions fled.

  Sunny grabbed her backpack, opened the door and ran after the cat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ENRIQUE CRUZ CROUCHED in the darkness, sweating.

  His body was stiff, wedged into the small electrical room off the aft engineering area.

  The appearance of the two women aboard the yacht had been arranged well in advance and had provided the perfect distraction, giving him time to wire in his remote network the night before. Cruz had made certain the crew in the nearby engineering room was otherwise occupied at the window before he went to work.

  Cruz checked his watch, then slid his earphones back in place, scanning all ship communications in every department. Nothing new to note.

  Riley’s body had caused temporary panic, but the captain had wisely kept the news contained. Now Cruz had another set of wires to modify. After that, his key card would override all other access restrictions aboard the ship.

  Once he was upstairs, he would deal with Tobias Hale. Izzy Teague’s cooperation would have speeded up the process, but Cruz was prepared to handle any interference by Hale. The covert video feed Cruz had made over the past hours had revealed the location of the safe hidden behind the inside door, as well as Hale’s access code. Cruz had actually passed himself off as Riley, one of the security staff, to gain entrance. Hale hadn’t suspected he was seeing a perfect illusion created by classified chips and the focused energy of a superior mind.

  Foxfire technology had its uses, Cruz thought coldly.

  He spliced his last wire and then checked his watch.

  Current mission complete.

  Three minutes ahead of schedule.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  TOBIAS WAS CHECKING a malfunctioning lightbulb in the hall outside his office when his cell phone chimed quietly. He glanced at the LED screen, walked back inside and closed the door.

  Stay calm. Keep it professional.

  “Hale here.”

  “Teague.” His son’s voice was cool and impersonal. “I just spoke to Trace. He’s having some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Not at liberty to discuss it.”

  Tobias figured as much, but he’d still needed to ask. “How bad?”

  “It’s temporary. I’m just giving you a heads-up.”

  “Always good to know when you’re headed into deep shit. Any other news I need to hear?”

  Like I miss you, Dad or Maybe we can get together and talk about why you left.

  But Tobias knew that wasn’t going to happen. A reconciliation wasn’t in the cards. His son considered him a stranger, and that knowledge broke Tobias’s heart.

  He sat down at his desk and tried to relax.

  Tried not to care that his only son hated him.

  “No, there’s nothing more to add.”

  “Where are you now?” Tobias asked the question mostly to hear Izzy’s voice.

  “Less than an hour out. I’ll contact you when my ETA is firm. Stay alert. Things are in motion.”

  Tobias clenched his fist on the desk. In an hour he would see his son. It was the last thing he should have focused on under the circumstances, but he was only a man.

  Only a father separated too long from his only child.

  “Roger. It would help if I had a few details, like what I’m up against.”

  Silence stretched out. Then Izzy’s voice chilled even more. “What you’re up against? Let me put it this way. Take the worst thing you’ve ever dealt with or imagined dealing with. Then double that. You just may be close. Our man on board will relay any other information as needed.”

  The line went dead.

  Tobias stared at the phone. He knew that Izzy wouldn’t exaggerate, and yet the conversation told him next to nothing. When he tried to put a face to the danger they were facing, all he could conjure up was shadows.

  Finally he put down the phone, then turned out the lights in his front reception area. After rechecking the cameras and the lock on the outer door, he went back into his office. He opened the hidden safe, verified its contents were untouched, then secured the safe again.

  All quiet.

  He thought about the thick alpaca yarn stashed in a locked desk drawer, ready to make a vest with detailed cables. His fingers itched to pull out the project, but he resisted the urge. Work was work.

  Meanwhile there was always official paperwork to tackle. If he worked 24/7 at nothing else, there would always be more to do. Somewhere the paperwork gremlins were laughing at him right now.

  He put his feet up on the desk and pulled out a pile of recent personnel forms.

  His cell phone chimed.

  He glanced at the number and frowned. “Hello.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I couldn’t talk to you those other times. Now I’m—well, this is a private line.”

  Izzy.

  Tobias’s heart began to pound. He sat up slowly.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have said those things. After everything that has happened—” Izzy made a short, confused sound. “I want to understand. I really do. We need to talk as soon as this business is over.”

  Tobias felt his eyes blur. He’d waited so long and prayed so fiercely. Now he’d heard the words.

  “Okay.” Only a tremor betrayed his emotion. “You name the time and I’ll be there. Obviously, it won’t be right away.”

  “Things are happening fast. I can’t fill you in over the phone, but I’m on deck. The chopper just put me down. Can you come meet me?” />
  Izzy was on deck.

  Tobias shot to his feet. His fingers trembled as he shoved his key card in his pocket. “I’ll be right there.”

  He strode through the room, a stupid grin on his face.

  As his hand met the cold metal of the doorknob, he stopped.

  Frozen.

  Unable to move.

  Too easy, Hale.

  Too damned easy after all these years.

  Slowly the joy and excitement left his face. Not like this. It was exactly what he wanted to hear, which was why he couldn’t believe it.

  A long and often deadly career spent in dangerous places made him stand motionless, scrutinizing every detail of the conversation with Izzy. The words had been right and the voice pitch perfect.

  But somehow Tobias didn’t buy it.

  He held his key card, frowning up at the cameras. What a fool he’d been to hope.

  He fingered his receiver. Trace answered instantly.

  “Teague’s up on deck. He just called me on a new number. Apparently, the ETA was pushed up and he wants to talk with me, so I’m going up. You got all that? I know this changes things, so I wanted you fully informed. Izzy says you’re hit pretty bad. Better stay in your cabin and take it easy for a few hours.”

  Like hell Trace would.

  The thought made Tobias smile coldly. All warfare was based on deception.

  This man Trace was after was smarter than Tobias dreamed possible. He had access to private details of his life and probably some kind of high-tech voice synthesizer. Tobias didn’t reveal his suspicions to Trace, but the SEAL would get the meaning from the bungled details Tobias had dropped.

  Trace would be the first to know when Izzy arrived—not Tobias. Trace would know Tobias had been given false information leading to what was almost certainly a trap.

  If their unnamed enemy had access to Tobias’s past, what else did he have access to? Could he have penetrated the security of this room, too? Hale looked around and saw that the drawer where the cat had been sleeping was empty. Hell. Tonight the stowaway was on his own.

  Grimly, he unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a Kevlar vest. Next came his old government-issue service gun. It was comforting to feel its well-oiled weight back in his hand after months of nonuse.