by Becky McGraw
Pushing to answer the call, he took the offensive, before Winters could. “I have a proposition for you,” he said gruffly.
A deep sigh. “I told you I wasn’t interested.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be interested now. I’m not offering you a job with Deep Six,” Slade said and enjoyed the slight intake of breath on the other end of the line. Yeah, that’s right asshole, with your attitude, you’re not good enough for us.
“What do you have in mind then? Subcontract work?” Winters asked gruffly.
“No, I want to hire you as an independent contractor. You’ll have no connection to Deep Six at all. You’ll be a double agent guarding Prince Ahmed Khalil, and getting inside information for us. I need an answer right now, and I need you to get him to hire you today, or by Friday, his son will probably be dead.”
The line went silent for almost a minute.
“Did you say Ahmed Khalil?” Winters asked, his voice dark, and the way he asked the question raised the hair on the back of his neck. Like he knew him well.
“Yeah, Prince Ahmed Khalil,” Slade repeated.
“Why is Zami in danger?” And that told Slade that Winters did know Prince Khalil. Well enough to know his son’s name when he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Zami was kidnapped Sunday night or Monday morning and is being held for ransom. Do you know Ahmed?” Slade asked.
“I know of him,” he said in that tone again. “And I’d be pretty damned scared of anyone who has the balls to kidnap Zami.”
“Why is that?” Slade asked, doubting the man would answer him, but he did.
“He has ties to one of the largest terrorist organizations in the middle east. Some say he heads it, and funds it well. Others say that his frequent trips to the US are for reasons other than management of his oil empire. He has plenty of people here and in Saudi to handle that for him.”
And that explained why Ahmed did not want security cameras on the penthouse floor he occupied. It had nothing to do with privacy for his wives, and everything to do with privacy for him and his covert activities. It also explained why he didn’t want the authorities involved in the kidnapping case. Slade’s whole ‘Tariq is behind this situation theory’ flew out the window. Now the world was his acreage to search for the kidnappers, and probably the kid.
It made sense now.
“Would Ahmed recognize you then?” Slade asked, seeing his only hope of getting someone inside disappear if that was the case.
“No, of course he wouldn’t recognize me.” Cade Winters laughed, and it sounded rusty, like he didn’t use it much.
“Then I have a hundred thousand dollars if you can get him to hire you and you can find out what the hell is going on inside that hotel.”
“That would mean he would recognize me after that, and it’s worth more than a hundred thousand dollars to me to keep my anonymity where he’s concerned.”
This guy was something else, a snake who was working him without a conscience to get more money because he knew Slade’s back was against a wall. If a hundred grand meant nothing to him, Slade was in the wrong arm of the security business.
But then if he chose the deadlier end of the business, providing security and private army services in the middle east and other hotspots, he’d probably be just like this man. Slade preferred to keep at least a shred of his humanity.
“Ahmed paid Deep Six extremely well to guard him, so you can probably up that to a quarter-of-a-million or so considering that he’d pay you too.” The line went silent again, and tension wound like a rubber band around Slade’s chest as he counted the seconds.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I need the money first,” Winters said shortly. “If I can’t get him to hire me, I still get the money and will provide consultant services as needed.”
Slade ground his jaw as he thought about it a minute and let the greedy bastard stew for a change while he did. “Agreed. Call Grayson, our finance guy, and give him your wire information.” Slade spouted off Gray’s cell phone number. “I need one other thing though.”
“What’s that?” Winters asked suspiciously.
“The ten-million dollar ransom has been set to deposit on Friday into two different accounts. One is an account I’ve been told is owned by a group with radical ties. Talk to Grayson and see if you have any information on that to help us.”
“Done,” Winters replied, and as Slade expected, the line went dead.
That guy was entirely too Rambo for his tastes. He claimed he was a friend of Logan’s, so he had to have something to recommend him, Slade reminded himself. But Dave didn’t hire him and he was starting to realize why.
With a huffed breath, he walked into Dexter’s office and the geek didn’t even notice or look up. As usual, his eyes were locked on a computer screen, as he played a rapid tune of clicks and clacks with his mouse and keyboard. When Slade got closer, he realized Dex was reviewing a video.
“What did you find?” he asked, as he stopped beside him to lean down and look too.
“I don’t think you want to know,” he replied, clicking an arrow at the bottom of the screen and the images flew by on the screen in reverse. “I keep rewinding it to see if there’s something I missed, but it’s just not there.”
“What’s not there?” Slade asked, with frustration as he stood.
Dex spun in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Any other explanation for the car bomb,” he said.
“What did you find?” Slade ground out, getting frustrated with the geek.
“The only person who was around that car from midnight until the bomb went off was Taylor Kincaid. The car didn’t move either.”
“Yeah, she didn’t stay in the damned Hummer like I told her to when I took Lola out to scent in the parking lot,” Slade grated with a huffed breath.
Dex looked confused, then his eyebrows raised. “No, I’m not talking about when she was out there with you. This was around eleven a.m. according to the timestamp on the footage. She walked by the Mercedes got into her car and drove off. She came back nine and a half minutes later and got out of the car with a large shopping bag in her hand. She stopped, ducked down between the cars for three minutes, then walked out of camera range and I assume she went back in the building.”
“Is that from the restaurant footage or the hotel footage?” Slade asked.
“Hotel footage, but I checked the restaurant tape too and it just made things worse. I could actually see her kneeling down on the ground to look under the car. That bright blue business suit...” Dex waggled his eyebrows. “And that ass was hard to miss.”
Slade could only stand there stunned, as his mind worked to try and find another answer. Taylor hated the prince for choosing Deep Six over her in-house security, despised the man for treating her like she was useless because she was a woman. He would just about bet she saw the writing on the wall that she was going to be fired over the kidnapping, even though she wasn’t responsible for his security.
Was that enough reason for her to want to kill him? How in the hell would she have the skills necessary to both manufacture and place a bomb on a vehicle without blowing herself to smithereens in the process? She was smart, and the internet contained specific instructions these days on how to do it. Kids had done it. Or maybe she’d had help. Maybe she’d planted the device for someone else. For the kidnappers. But why would they want to kill the golden goose before they got the ransom?
Regardless of who she was working with, if the prince was the target, she’d missed. That meant, she was getting inside information from being inside Deep Six to maybe try again, or she could be feeding information she obtained here to the people behind the assassination attempt. The other scenario could be that they thought she’d double-crossed them and sided with Deep Six, and that is why they were trying to kill her.
Goddamn, his brain was fried, and the fucking buzzing was starting in his head again.
“What are you thinking?” Dexter asked.
&n
bsp; “I’m thinking I need a fucking off-the-grid vacation like Logan’s when this is over, and not with a damned woman,” he growled, and Dex laughed. “I’m also thinking I need to talk to Taylor Kincaid, but if I do that, I’ll clue her in that we’re onto her, if she’s involved.” He turned toward the door, but looked back. “Keep looking for another answer. Help me figure out what the hell is going on here.”
“Will do,” Dexter said, turning back toward the computer. Slade walked toward the door, but stopped in his tracks to listen when Dexter mumbled. “At least I got a look at the kidnappers on the restaurant camera. It was too far and too dark for me to get a good look at them, but from their complexion when they walked under the streetlight to get in the car parked at the curb, I think they’re Arab. The traffic camera got the license plate, and I’m working on running it down.”
The buzzing in Slade’s head got louder, the dots in his vision started and realized he’d forgotten to take his medicine that morning. He fought them as he turned back and stalked back to Dex. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that first?!?” he demanded.
Dexter shrugged. “Since you and Taylor were killing cats in your bedroom earlier, I thought that might interest you more.”
“Killing cats?” Slade repeated, his eyebrows crashing together. Dexter lifted brow and his meaning sank in. Blood rushed to Slade’s face, and he spun toward the door again. “Just get me fucking answers, and mind your own business.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Slade walked down the hallway to his own office and slammed the door behind him. He needed some space and time to think about this whole situation, before he went off half-cocked and blew Taylor Kincaid’s brains out like he wanted to do at the moment.
He didn’t trust women to begin with, but her tortured virgin story had really tenderized the hard walls he’d built around his heart over the last five years. And he’d been a fool to let that happen. Hell, maybe she secretly liked sadism, because she was certainly masochistic. Those two mindsets typically went hand in hand.
She could’ve been a willing participant in what those men did to her because she was bent on self-destruction. According to her, her ex-boyfriend almost choked her to death during their potentially deadly autoerotic game, and she got scared. But she hadn’t kicked him out of her house for that. No, she’d only kicked him out when she got the divorce papers and found out he was married.
That said a lot, now that he thought about it.
If she wasn’t bent on self-destruction, a masochist, why else would she have planted that bomb under that car in broad daylight? She had to know she’d been seen and caught. The prince, her target, was a dignitary visiting the US. The bombing was now national news, so the FBI, ATF and all the other alphabet agencies were probably involved. They were reviewing the same video footage Dexter had reviewed, and would come to the same conclusion.
Taylor Kincaid planted that bomb under the prince’s car.
The question they’d have is for whom? It was the same one he had.
Slade was not convinced she’d acted alone, or for the sole purpose of knocking off a man who insulted her though. If she’d acted alone, her partners wouldn’t be trying to kill her. God, he wished now he had chased them down, then he could question them and get the answer, or turn them all over to the police with their moll, Ms. Kincaid.
The buzzing in Slade’s ears grew louder, and he realized he was nearly hyperventilating, so he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing. He hadn’t started having episodes again until she came into his life. They were getting worse by the day, no, by the hour, now.
That had to be her fault too.
And Dave Logan’s for dumping this mess in his lap.
When this case was over, Slade really was taking a vacation. He’d leave his cell phone in a box on Dave’s desk, and see how his best friend liked that. But right then, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and Slade groaned as he sat up and pulled it out.
Excitement shot through him though when he saw it was Jaxson Thomas calling. Slade quickly answered, hoping like hell the ex-SEAL was calling to tell him he had changed his mind about quitting. “When are you coming back?” Slade asked quickly.
Jaxson blew out a breath. “I’m not, man. I need your help though.”
Slade breathed a few moments, wondering if he should just hang up the phone. He had enough problems on his hands without dealing with Jaxson’s. If that’s the only reason he called, he could just take a number.
“What do you need?” Slade asked, cringing when he was unable to just hang up. Jaxson had been a good Deep Six operative, and a good friend. If he needed help, Slade couldn’t bring himself to turn his back.
“I’ve got a tail that followed me from Dallas to DC. I can’t shake them, so I’m leading them to Colorado.”
“Who is it?” Slade asked, sitting up in his chair.
“An Arab hit squad, I think. I saw they were middle eastern, but that’s all I know. It has to be connected to the prince or the kidnapping. They probably think I know something, but I don’t know shit.”
“Why Colorado?” Slade asked.
“My mother lives there and I’m borrowing her van to throw them off. I’ll need wheels, because I want you to keep them on my car. There’s a GPS tracker on it. Make them think I’m dead, or something to buy me some room to finish the case I’m working on. We’re dodging bullets too.”
“Sounds dangerous. Who the hell are you working for now?” Slade asked.
“Guardian Angel Protective Services. GAPS for short. It’s a new security firm opened by some of my former SEAL buddies. I’m on a close protection detail.”
That he got a new job so soon after leaving Deep Six was not good news for them. Hearing he was now working with his former SEAL teammates, men he considered brothers, also cemented that he wouldn’t be coming back.
“Hawk is in Houston, but I’ll call him back. Levi and Caleb are available.”
“Aww shit—you’re gonna let Levi blow up my car aren’t you?” Jaxson asked, his voice shaking. Jaxson loved that damned car, treated it like a woman. He washed it so much Slade was surprised it still had paint.
“I’m going to let them do what they need to do to get those guys off of your tail and convince them you’re dead,” Slade replied, but his mind started working.
If those hitmen followed Jax from Dallas, they could indeed have a connection to the prince or the kidnapping. They could even be the same guys who shot at Taylor for all he knew.
But Jax said they’d followed him to DC, so the logistics didn’t work out for that. It had to be a different crew. Even so, the Dallas connection meant those men probably had answers that would help. Levi and Caleb could kill two birds with one stone. Or keep them alive and put them in a cage until they sang.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got your six, man. Where do you want us to meet you?” Slade asked, grabbing his pen to write down the location in Colorado that Jax spouted off. They hung up, and Slade called Levi, Caleb and Hawk then sat back in his chair to think.
“Lola’s bark reminded me of something...the way she barked and acted the night she found that car bomb, was exactly the same way she reacted when she sniffed the hem of Tariq’s pants in my office the day I was fired.”
Damn, she was good, he thought, with anger building inside of him. The anger built to volcanic proportions as his mind replayed all of the instances of her lies in a loop. He had no idea how long he sat there steaming, until the scratching and whimpers at the door alerted him to the fact he’d locked Lola out of his office when he slammed the door.
He could definitely use her right now to calm down, Slade thought, pushing up to his feet to walk to the door. He opened it, and Lola was there, but so was Taylor Kincaid with her fist raised about to knock. He noticed that she had on one of his t-shirts and wanted to growl. She’d been in his drawers again.
“I, ah, was coming to tell you that I made our appointments. She s
et us up for three and four o’clock next Tuesday.”
“Fine,” Slade said, pushing the door closed, but she stopped it.
“I also wanted to see if you were hungry. I can make you something...”
She wanted to fucking take care of him? This is just the reason he kept his sexual encounters casual. He fell off the wagon one time, opened himself up just a little, cared just a little, and this is what he got. A woman who lied to him and was now acting like they were married to get further under his skin.
“I don’t need you to take care of me, Ms. Kincaid. Levi cooked something and I’ll eat that when I get hungry. It’s for all the employees so fix yourself a plate if you’re interested.”
“Ms. Kincaid?” she repeated, her voice trembling, her eyes glassy.
“That’s your name isn’t it?” he asked, fighting the tug in his gut when she bit her lower lip.
“Yes, but—” she started, but Slade pushed the door closed in her face, and turned backed to his desk. He sat in the chair, and the door opened and closed.
Chest heaving, shoulders near her ears, Taylor stalked to his desk. He didn’t meet her eyes, but her heat and scent teased him as she leaned over him..
“If you forgot my name in the three hours since you pulled your cock out of me, it’s Taylor,” she hissed, and her short breaths bushed his jaw. “Is this another lesson on how a real man treats a woman? If it is, I can’t say I like it.”
His blood pressure skyrocketed, but Slade didn’t respond. Lola shoved her way in between them with a whine to nudge his thigh with her muzzle, and he reached down to scratch between her ears.
“Slade?” a soft husky voice said from the doorway, and Taylor turned around.
Slade’s eyes ticked over a tight sports bra that pushed up a pair of perky breasts, a very toned stomach and rounded hips, down a pair of very athletic legs before gliding back up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes.
“Hey, Cee Cee—come on in.” Relief washed through him as he pushed up to his feet. “Ms. Kincaid was just leaving.”
