Cheyenne McCray - [Lexi Steele 01]

by The First Sin

  The floating sensation in his head made this lead seem surreal. It could be nothing, but it could be everything. “Let me know if you hear anything else,” Nick said.

  “Absolutely.” Carlene sounded like she was swallowing down a lump in her throat. “Find her. Please.”

  “I’ll find her.” Nick looked at Lexi and his expression said, “And the sonsofbitches who took her will pay.”

  After Carlene said good-bye, Nick pushed the speaker’s off button and he met Lexi’s eyes.

  “Something about this isn’t right, Nick,” Lexi said. “Could the blond student the men had been talking about be Kristin? Whoever bought her could have shot her up with that designer drug, Lascivious. The man could have made her do anything he wanted her to do.”

  “Fuck!” Nick clenched his fists and slammed them onto his thighs. Rage burned within him like before. “We’re going to find that fucker and I’m going to blow the sonofabitch’s balls away. Before I kill him.

  “It might not be her,” he continued. “But the whole thing is too big of a coincidence.” Nick reached for his RED-issued cell phone. “I’m calling everyone we can get on this.” He opened his cell so hard it was a wonder he didn’t snap it. “I’m going to find who this sick bastard is and see if he’s got my sister.”

  Nick

  April 24th

  Wednesday early morning

  “Damnit.” Nick’s strides were long as Lexi tried to keep up with him from the parking garage elevator of RED’s HQ, into the lobby. He scanned his fingerprints, and walked into the elevators with Lexi at his side. “You should be resting,” he said as he narrowed his eyes at ber.

  Lexi had insisted on going with Nick to work even though she was supposed to be on leave. “You couldn’t hold me back no matter how hard you tried.” And he’d tried. The only thing he didn’t do was rat her out to Oxford.

  Tuesday, yesterday, after the call from Carlene, Nick had immediately called Oxford on her cell. With her clear go-ahead it hadn’t taken Nick long to put together a plan and set up a K-Team—K for Kristin—via phone with the best special agents available to start on the Harvard op.

  When Nick and Lexi stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor, they passed Special Agent Rani Ogitani who gestured to Lexi’s cast and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be home resting up, Steele?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not you, too, Rani.”

  “Hope for your sake Oxford doesn’t see you.” Agent Ogitani shook her head before going down the stairs to the command center.

  “Same here,” Lexi muttered. Nick turned away from Ogitani. Oxford would be all over them both if she found out Lexi was here.

  As soon as they got to Conference Room Four, Nick notified his team to meet them in the conference room. It was only a matter of moments after he and Lexi were seated at the conference table when Takamoto, Jensen, Smithe, and Karl Weiss made it to the room.

  It was obvious Lexi didn’t want to attract too much attention since she wasn’t even supposed to be there. She stayed clear on the far end of the table away from the head of the table. Nick was at the head of the table where he’d be leading the strategy session.

  Still, all four agents who came into the room greeted Lexi in one way or another. Takamoto asked if he could sign her cast as he gave a wink. Smithe took one look at her face, grinned, and told her she looked like shit. Weiss shook his head and made a smart-ass remark about the size of her cast. And Jensen told her that she should get herself back home.

  Nick was too wired to park his ass when his team assembled around the conference table. He still had a slight limp from the bullet wound, but he didn’t really notice it.

  He leaned over the touchpad mounted into the table, just long enough to pull up a vertical holographic grid map. The map of Harvard Square and Harvard’s main psych building hovered over the center of the conference room table.

  Nick held his anger in check—barely—as he laid out all the info he’d gathered from Kristin’s friend. He clenched his jaw. What the girl had said wasn’t pretty. And if it was Kristin—

  The thought left him cold.

  “Weiss.” Nick directed his attention to the sandy-haired agent who had a knack for appearing to be anywhere between his thirties to his fifties. “I want you on the inside today. Do what it takes to pass yourself off as a psych professor. Early fifties but acting like you’re fifteen years younger.

  “Our target area is currently the floor where the girl heard the conversation.” Nick ran his hand over his stubble. “Let it slip you’re into kink if you think you’ve found a mark. As soon as you leave this conference room get to that building. RED already has you on the roster using your undercover name, Karl Zimmer.”

  “Harvard, eh?” Weiss, who was actually in his early thirties, grinned. “Haaah-vaaahhhd. Never thought I’d pass onto those hallowed grounds.”

  “Jensen.” Nick didn’t feel a damned bit of amusement. He moved his gaze to Jensen and met her eyes as he stepped closer to the table.

  The redhead looked expectant. Nick said, “You’ll play the pretty co-ed who likes to have sex with professors in exchange for good grades. Weiss will tell the mark you’ve made excellent grades with him. We’ve got you registered as Brittany Jacobs and we’ll give you a list of classes that you’re going to attend, starting today.”

  Jensen winced. “Brittany?”

  Nick braced his hands on the conference table as he continued to speak to Jensen. “You and Weiss will have to act the part if our plan falls into place.” He looked at Weiss. “I want it clear Weiss is a perv.”

  “Won’t be hard.” Smithe snorted a laugh. “Perfect assignment for Weiss.”

  “Bite me.” Weiss made an obscene gesture with his hand at Smithe, but Weiss was grinning.

  “You’ve got it, Donovan,” Jensen said as she ignored Smithe and Weiss. “Ready to start when you give the go-ahead.”

  “Takamoto, how’s the surveillance?” Nick turned to the agent.

  “After you called last night, I got a hold of every agent I could find and we did our thing,” Takamoto said. “When everyone was out of the building last night, we took over.

  We’ve got that whole floor wired from faculty lounges to offices and restrooms.”

  Takamoto went on, “I’ve got a thorough, fast team and we’ve got some new kick-ass gadgets from the RED research and development team that Martinez provided us with. Excellent equipment that’s going to allow us greater surveillance with less manpower in all areas.”

  “Good.” Nick gave a sharp nod. “Keep on it.”

  Nick turned to Smithe. “Smithe, stay on those surveillance vids and the Internet, and keep working on tracking down that van and any nightclub that Benjamin Cabot might be tied to.”

  “We’ve been searching ownership records for every nightclub as fast as we can.” Smithe looked frustrated. “But there are hundreds and so far we can’t trace any of them back to Cabot. Not even the Champagne Slipper, if you can believe that.”

  “The clubs held by foreign investors are probably the ones we want to keep our eyes on,” Nick said.

  “My thoughts, too,” Smithe said. “However, that doesn’t narrow the field down a whole lot.”

  “It sure doesn’t.” Nick shoved his hand through his hair. “In the meantime I’m going to snag a few more agents and continue to work every other angle we can come up with.”

  Nick rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension between his shoulder blades. “Maybe we’ve missed something that will match up between the other girls’ disappearances and Kristin’s.”

  “Besides the fact they vanished while at nightclubs and we have all twelve of those nightclubs under surveillance,” Jensen said.

  “We know the nightclub Kristin was taken from was used twice.” Nick scowled and balled his fists on the conference room table. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and the idiots will go back to one of the others.”

  Nick pushed himself away from the table and turned t
o Smithe. “Anything else on the Internet?”

  “Rollins has come up with a few new chat rooms that we’ve been tracking down,” Smithe said, “but nothing that relates to the one we believe was associated with your sister.”

  Nick slammed his fist on the table. “Let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Don’t call me chick

  April 24

  Wednesday late afternoon

  The grid that Donovan currently had up in his war room at Kristin’s was huge. It was a detailed map of the Harvard psychology hall. I had an antsy feeling all over and I had a hard time sitting still in my chair.

  Donovan frowned at a monitor showing a series of transcripts from some of Harvard’s professors and students. We’d recorded these today while Jensen and Weiss went in and did their thing.

  From the fact that we knew Kristin was in the Boston area, that she had attended Harvard, and from what Carlene had said, my bet was on the Harvard lead, too.

  In the meantime, we were all following every other damned lead we hit. Internet chat rooms, snitches, surveillance tapes—

  So far everything led to nothing.

  The doorbell rang.

  I frowned at Donovan.

  “It’s probably the guys.” Donovan’s eyes looked so tired.

  The doorbell’s ring was more insistent and I stood. “The special, special specialists?”

  Donovan started to get up, but I reached the door first. “I’ll go see if it’s your special, special guys.”

  A little amusement crossed his features, and I turned and headed for the front door.

  The doorbell rang again. I yanked the door open.

  A huge man was on the other side. And I mean huge.

  His intense black eyes and a deadly air about him that said he’d kill a person without thinking twice about it had my heart pounding and blood pumping.

  I stepped one foot back, just enough to anchor myself, and my whole body went on guard as I took a loose-limbed stance.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He gave an amused aren’t-you-a-cute-little-thing look. A thick braid brushed his back as he looked over his shoulder and at the same time braced one hand on the door frame. His huge biceps flexed, as did the Bengal tiger tattooed there. “Some chick is here, guys. She’s pretty hot, but I think she’s got a temper.”

  Speaking of hot and a temper, heat flushed beneath my skin and I ground my teeth before speaking. “First of all, I’m not some chick. Second of all, I don’t appreciate being talked about like I’m not here.”

  The man looked back at me and narrowed his black eyes. I narrowed mine.

  “Tiger, the five-four agent with the attitude of a six-seven linebacker is my partner,” came Donovan’s voice from his war room. “You can let them in, Steele.”

  Them? The guy was so huge I hadn’t seen the men behind him until I peeked around his arm.

  “Jeez,” I muttered before letting by all that steely muscle and testosterone.

  “Oh, yeah,” the first guy said. “That’s the naked chick we found.”

  “Don’t. Call. Me. Chick,” I shouted at his backside. The naked part I ignored.

  The tiredness in my bones totally fled when I came face-to-face with another man who had “killer” written all over him. The soreness of my body was just an afterthought as I stepped back and two more huge men passed by. One of them had an earring and winked at me.

  I just stared at their backsides for a moment before I shut the door and followed them into Donovan’s war room.

  The four huge men crowded the relatively small space. The guy called Tiger was the closest to me. Including Donovan, I was in the Land of the Giant Testosterone Factories. My brothers were big guys—with the exception of my twelve-year-old brother—but this. . . . I felt like a peg about to be pounded by five huge hammers.

  Donovan stood and with one hand rubbed his eyes, which looked as tired as I’d felt before I’d come face-to-face with Tiger.

  Donovan braced his hand on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and looked from me to the men surrounding me. I saw another flash of amusement. “These guys worked Special Ops with me when I went back into the service, and you might say we’ve kept in touch.”

  I hadn’t realized Donovan had gone back into the service. I had wondered what he’d done after Kristin turned eighteen, but we just never had a chance to have another heart-to-heart.

  “Guys, this is Special Agent Lexi Steele,” Donovan said, “and you’d better play nice because she was a sniper in the Army Special Forces, and a trained assassin.”

  The guys looked interested, if not disbelieving, as they looked down at little ole me. Jeez, these guys were all anywhere from ten to twelve inches taller than me.

  All four of the Special Ops guys were even more powerfully built than Donovan, a couple of them more muscle-bound than the others. I wouldn’t call Donovan muscle-bound, but he was damned muscular, and if there was the tiniest bit of fat on him I’d kiss that tight ass of his.

  So what if I’d like to bite that ass anyway?

  I kept my expression clear as I looked from man to man to man to man. Tiger moved so close to me my skin prickled.

  Donovan gestured to the guy beside me. “Tiger Manning.” Then he named off the other three guys as he pointed to them. “Aaron Lloyd, Mike Freeman, and Eric Harrison.”

  The men came up to me one at a time and we shook hands, each guy making me feel as small as a child as they took my hand in their big grips.

  I went for the casual you-don’t-scare-me-one-damned-bit approach as I was introduced to the guys. “Hi, Lloyd,” I said as he gave my hand a firm squeeze. Aaron Lloyd had a hawk’s amber eyes—totally amazing eyes.

  Mike Freeman was next. “Didn’t know Donovan had such a sexy partner,” Freeman said in a slow, deep, Southern drawl that could curl a girl’s toes.

  “Didn’t know Donovan had such oafs for friends,” I said with a sugar-sweet smile as he released my hand and he grinned.

  “We usually call Freeman ‘Tank,’ ” Donovan said.

  Yeah, the man with the blond crew cut, barbed-wire tattoo around his biceps on one arm, and a big stocky build did look like a friggin’ tank.

  Next, Eric Harrison took my hand in the firmest grip yet. He had an even more vicious air to him than Tiger had, if that was possible. It was in his grin, and in his brown eyes as he looked at me.

  “Harrison,” I said as I assessed him, taking in his long brown ponytail and gold earring. He was the one who’d winked at me.

  I made myself shake Tiger Manning’s hand and he gave me a wicked, wicked grin. Jerk. “Manning,” I greeted him before I removed my hand from his grip.

  By this time we were all crowded into the small room, me at the center. “Bet you guys are a real kick at a keg party,” I said, and Freeman laughed while the others grinned.

  I braced my hands on my hips. “So what’s the deal?”

  Donovan gestured to the other chairs. “Have a seat, guys.” I swear it was a wonder those chairs didn’t bust beneath their power-packed bodies.

  I took my seat close to Donovan. So what if I’d rather be closer to him?

  He started laying everything out to the guys, all our plans for tracking down the professors at Harvard who were involved in the “sex with a student dropout.”

  “We’ll take care of that at RED.” Donovan didn’t notice my stunned expression because he’d named our agency. “What I need you guys to keep working on is to find that soon-to-be-dead sonofabitch Cabot. We’ll keep in close contact, and I’ll call you in if we think we’ve found Kristin.”

  The guys talked a little more and I mentally took full measure of each man. Speaking of, these guys were mean sonsofbitches, every one of them. I calculated what I thought their biggest weaknesses were, just for the hell of it. Wasn’t easy, and I knew it wasn’t necessary. If Donovan could trust them, then I would.

  I glanced at Tiger Manning. Didn’t mean I had to like t
hem.

  April 24

  Wednesday evening

  The sheaf of papers I’d printed out, of notes from the Harvard team, almost slipped from the fingers of my good hand when I picked them up, and I had to tighten my grip.

  After the “special special team” left, Donovan and I spent all of our time doing everything we could to search for Kristin. We couldn’t find her fast enough. Already she’d been missing far too long.

  The ache in my heart was like an anchor weighing me down. I hurt for both of them. Especially Kristin. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to help Donovan find his sister.

  Okay, one of the last two things I did. I was going to help find Kristin, but I was going to avenge Randolph’s death by gunning for Cabot, too. Even if I had to chase him around the world.

  Why did every breath I take in seem to hurt? It wasn’t from my broken ribs.

  The back of my eyes ached. I closed them and tried to slow my breathing. It wasn’t going to do anyone a bit of good if I lost control because of what was happening to Kristin.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes.

  My gaze rested on Donovan. So serious. So intense.

  The words on the Harvard notes blurred. My focus was nonexistent and my brain started misfiring. A loud growl sounded in the room, and it took me a moment to realize it was my stomach making all that noise.

  Donovan looked away from what he’d been studying and pushed his chair back from his desk. He swiped his hand down his stubbled face. “I’ll fix dinner.”

  “You so know how to sweet-talk me.” I managed a tired smile as we stood.

  Talk about a long day. It had started with the early morning meeting with the team penetrating the school, work at RED, then more work at Donovan’s, then meeting Donovan’s “friends,” and then more time on reviewing the first day’s notes from the Harvard op. It was hard to believe Carlene’s call was only last night.

  Donovan caught me by the shoulders before I could leave the room. “Why don’t you listen to me and rest? You don’t need to be doing this.”