by Karen Anders
Chapter 4
He caught himself staring at Dr. Baang without even realizing he was doing it. Not again. He’d lost count of the times he’d looked up from his notes. He tried to force his gaze back to them but failed. He might as well forget about getting anything done; it was almost lunchtime anyway.
It was chilly outside and downright frosty in her lab. She was giving him the cold shoulder. He should be thankful. Kissing her hadn’t really been a genius move. And he was a smart, dedicated agent. But she was distracting, and he couldn’t seem to help it. Every time he looked at her. She didn’t seem to have the same problem. She focused on her work, but he noticed that she glanced at him every so often as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. When she looked at him, her mouth tightened. He must have reminded her that she wasn’t free to do as she pleased.
He had to wonder about that. She’d said her work was her life. Was that something she’d actually chosen? Or was it ingrained in her from the time that she’d been a little girl? He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a world full of people who were older, but not smarter than her.
He liked Sky and was definitely intrigued by her. It was clear to him that she didn’t really know how to interact with a man who was deeply interested in her. She was good at what she did. That was clear from the way she was immersed in her research. But she didn’t seem wholly at ease in her own skin. She didn’t play on her femininity like other women did, which made her only more sensual and attractive. She was so different from Brittany. Blonde, blue eyes, she was a stunning woman, and they’d been together for two years. But she hadn’t understood him, not to his core. He got the gut feeling that Sky had the same kind of philosophy, which made her all wrong for him and someone he shouldn’t even be looking at, let alone wanting. But there was something about her, something he couldn’t seem to let go of.
The thought had tugged on his thoughts through the morning and right up until the lunch hour.
“You ready to get something to eat?” he asked.
She either didn’t hear him, or she was ignoring him. He walked up to her and touched her shoulder. She jumped away and turned toward him. “Are you trying to scare the crap out of me?”
“Ah, no. I asked you a question.”
“What is it you asked me?”
“Whether you were ready to get something to eat. Take a break.” She looked at him as if he’d just spouted gibberish. “You do eat, don’t you?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I eat. I sometimes get caught up in my research and forget.”
He decided to just let it go. She turned to her computer and secured it, and then she walked toward the door. He followed her out and to the cafeteria.
“How is the investigation going?” she asked as she chose a salad, water and some broccoli soup. He picked up a roast-beef sandwich and grabbed a soda.
“We’re rerunning the sketches through facial rec. We didn’t get a hit on any of those guys.”
They settled at a table. “Does that mean they just aren’t criminal types or wanted by the international community?”
“Doubtful. I think running them again can’t hurt. Not sure if they’re mercenaries or not, but from the looks of them and the way they executed your kidnapping, that would be my guess.”
She picked up her fork and toyed with her salad. Her face told him she was trying to remain calm, but her fork kept moving. “What do you think they want?”
He took his eyes off her fidgety fork. “If it was your research, they would have stolen your laptop and been gone, but that’s not it. They wanted you. So, it’s something locked in your head.”
“You don’t think it’s ransom or something like that?”
Now she looked agitated, and he so wanted to still her hand with his own, but touching her again wasn’t a good idea. Touching led to kissing. “No. They didn’t make any demands.”
“Maybe there wasn’t time for that,” she said, looking hopeful.
If it was a money thing, maybe they wouldn’t try again, and the threat would go away. She was scared. That was a given. Anyone would be scared when there were unknown foreign men trying to capture you. He wanted nothing more than to neutralize this threat to her, but he also didn’t want to sugarcoat the danger she was in, either. She was just too smart for that, and talking down to Sky wasn’t an effective way to get her cooperation. “There’s a very slight possibility that they were after money, but I don’t buy it.”
“Then what do you think?”
He leaned forward, capturing her gaze and lowering his voice. “This is just my theory, and I haven’t proved anything concrete right now. I’d like to get my hands on one of the men who took you to get a confirmation, but I think that they kidnapped you for a singular purpose.”
“Linked to my research, then, if not the actual research?”
“Not necessarily. It could be related to your background of knowledge.” There was no way he was going to drop the ball on this case. One way or the other, he was going to get to the bottom of this. He’d examine later why it suddenly meant a hell of a lot more to him than a normal case would. “Kidnappings are, for the most part, the result of a long and carefully orchestrated process. They don’t happen in a vacuum. There are almost always some indications or warnings that the process is in motion prior to the actual abduction. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?”
“I have to confess that I’m pretty vigilant,” she said and took a forkful of her salad, chewing. “I have reason to be. Not only because of my sensitive and classified research.”
The torment in her eyes made his heart jump a bit. “You’ve been abducted before.”
She hauled in a tight, unsteady breath for a memory that had to be pretty terrifying.
Her gaze didn’t waver, though, and he admired her for that. She was direct and intent. “Yes, when I was six after I entered kindergarten. The Chinese authorities got wind of my ability. Without my parents’ knowledge, they tested my IQ. They then showed up one day out of the blue and took me right off the sidewalk in front of my house to a place that looked like a barracks. It was a special program.” She had dropped her fork, her face scored by the same deep torment.
His gut twisted for her, understanding a little bit more about her life. Kidnapped at six, isolated, thrust into an adult world as a child, too smart to not understand and know that she had the potential to be exploited. No wonder she hated being controlled. “How did your parents get you back?” He clenched his fists, thinking about her being taken and used like a human computer. Bent and twisted for the Chinese government’s use.
“Amnesty International. They made a huge stink. My father was Filipino and my mother was American and a lawyer. She fought it hard and there was quite a bit of fallout. The Chinese government relented and let me go home. Six months later, my mother was killed in a car accident. My father was charged with the murder. He ran, and through some family channels in the Philippines, he smuggled me out to a good friend in D.C., and they changed my name. But my father was caught, arrested and convicted. He died last year still in prison. I wanted to get him released, but he insisted that I was to go on with my life.”
He should stay detached. Step away from the raw emotions churning in him, but he couldn’t. Even though he’d had so much practice at it while serving in the marines. Snipers didn’t have emotions. They were blank. The mission was it. That was all it boiled down to, and it was a hard-and-fast, never-take-your-eyes-off-the-ball rule. He reached out, curled his fingers around her hand and squeezed. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
She stilled against his touch. “Being exploited...it’s something sure to set me off.” She worked her hand free and sat back as if his touch was way too distracting. “Anyway, my father’s friend took me in and homeschooled me. She watched me
like a hawk. I grew up always looking over my shoulder.”
There was more there in her eyes, a complex emotion that tugged at his heart. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough with him to talk about it. “You saw no signs that you were being watched or followed?”
“Nothing that looked out of the ordinary to me.”
“As we have noted several times in past analyses, one of the secrets of countersurveillance is that most criminals are not very good at conducting surveillance. The primary reason they succeed is that no one is looking for them. But that wasn’t the case here. We’re dealing with pros.”
“They were very organized. In and out of my house very fast. I hid in the attic, but that Death Head leader of them heard me make a creaking noise, and he...he came up the stairs. I was trapped. I tried to fight, but he was too strong....”
“The hypodermic...” He trailed off and fell silent, getting angry all over again at the thought of anyone hurting her. “In deliberate, as opposed to opportunistic kidnappings based on financial or political motives, the kidnappers generally follow a process that is very similar to what we call the ‘terrorist-attack cycle’—target selection, planning, deployment, attack, escape and exploitation.”
She nodded, biting her lip. “We know they had a particular purpose. We just don’t know what it is.”
“I bet they were beyond pissed when you jumped out that window.”
A small smile curved her lips, her eyes flashing. “He was shouting his head off and probably called me a bitch.”
He chuckled. “That took guts, lady. You were quite fierce.”
“Yes, I was. You had to cuff me.”
He smiled again, and they shared that moment of triumph when he’d rescued her right out from under them.
She looked thoughtful, as if the wheels were turning in her head. “Kidnappers, like other criminals, look for patterns and vulnerabilities that they can exploit. Their chances for success increase greatly if they are allowed to conduct surveillance at will and are given the opportunity to thoroughly assess the security measures employed by the target,” she said. “They had to have been watching me. I never saw them.”
She was a fast study.
“For a high-level target like me and their apparent skill, they must have been a team of specialists.”
He nodded. “These guys must have been good if you didn’t see them. Military good. I’m still betting on mercenaries.”
“That is downright terrifying to think such elite men are after me. I wouldn’t have a chance against them. I know I’ve been contrary, Vin, but I’m glad you’re here.” She looked at her watch. “I should get back.”
He’d finished all his lunch, but she’d left most of her salad and all of her soup.
“How about you eat a little more? The world isn’t going to crumble in the next fifteen minutes if you take the time to eat.”
“You managing me again, Vin?”
“What if I was?”
“I’d tell you that I’m capable of taking care of myself better than you could imagine.”
“But you’re going to eat anyway, right?”
“Did you go to charm school to learn that?”
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the slight give in her voice. “Yes, ma’am, I was at the top of my class.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I bet you were.”
* * *
At the end of the day when they got back to the loft, Miller and Strong were already there, ready to relieve him so he could sleep.
After taking care of their stomachs, she retreated to her room with her laptop in tow. He watched TV with the two agents and then turned in himself while they watched over them both.
He wasn’t sure what woke him up. But the moment he was awake, fully awake, a trick he’d learned as a sniper, something didn’t feel right. Something was wrong.
He pushed himself out of the bed soundlessly and slipped on his clothes. Reaching for his firearm was automatic—a SIG Sauer DAK with a reset trigger that required very little pressure to fire. Racking the slide and chambering a round was deliberate, something he usually did before he fell asleep. Marines were always prepared, even ex-marines.
But he’d been thinking about Sky and her unmentionables. On her, off her, which he’d hoped to hell wasn’t indicative of the way things were going to be, that he’d be so preoccupied he wouldn’t be able to think straight. When he was guarding someone, he did not fall asleep without his gun cocked, locked, loaded and less than an arm’s length away.
He started toward her bedroom door when he saw Miller’s body sprawled in the hall, his throat open and blood still spreading away into a pool around his head.
Adrenaline instantly drop-loaded into his veins, switching on every survival and protective instinct he had. He tightened his hold on the SIG, bringing it up, wrapping his right hand around his left on the gun’s grip, his gaze raking the area.
He went into sniper mode. He couldn’t think about Miller’s pretty wife or his two kids, who would have to grow up without their father. He released everything except his senses, his reflexes honed to a razor edge.
The hall was clear and Skylar’s door was closed. He ran his gaze over Miller again and caught a glimpse of a polished shoe just jutting out from the edge of the wall. They got Strong, too, he realized.
He listened for a breath, for a step, for any little snick of sound that would tell him where the killers were, where Sky was, hopefully still here.
Damn. If she’d been taken from the loft, the odds of him finding her this time were small. They would have made sure of it.
Then he heard it, the sound of keys on a keyboard being pressed, and relief flooded through him.
Vin saw a shadow slide across the window in the living room, and he moved to intercept, silently, quickly, across the open wooden floor. He was waiting for the bastard, his knife now in his hand, when the guy came around the wall.
Shooting him with the SIG would have done the job, but the gun was loud. The noise would alert any other kidnappers who were in the loft or outside.
The loft was big, took up a lot of floor space with many closed doors.
The five-inch deadly KA-BAR blade was just as efficient and far quieter, but there was always the possibility that the guy would fight back. Which he did, instantly countering Vin’s attack.
Vin could feel the man’s desperation as he struggled, but Vin had no sympathy and no remorse. The son of a bitch was fighting for his life, just like Vin would have. But this guy had killed Miller and Strong in cold blood.
The kidnapper got in a good hit with his elbow, catching Vin right in the damned bullet graze on his side. White-hot pain flashed over him like a brand. Stars sparkled in front of his eyes, but he didn’t make a sound, didn’t let go and didn’t let up. The guy bucked and struggled, until Vin body-slammed him hard into the doorjamb and stunned him enough to wrestle him to the floor. He got in one deep cut to the guy’s gut and jerked the blade upward—hard.
As added insurance, Vin grasped the kidnapper’s head and twisted, hard and fast, breaking the guy’s neck. The sound was clearly identifiable. He heard the snap loud and clear.
So did Sky.
Her gasp brought his head around.
She was standing in the ambient light from her open bedroom door, staring right at him, frozen in shock. The look of horror on her face did absolutely nothing to ease the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, jacking him up. He knew he looked fiercely violent, kneeling on a guy he’d just brutally killed. The guy had gone down, and except for whatever screwup had tipped the guy off and the resulting grappling around, Vin had taken him down almost without a sound. If there were other gunmen in the loft, they didn’t know he was on the hunt.
But they would have heard
her soft cry. It was quite audible, and when he saw a shadow materialize behind her, he drew his SIG, his knee still firmly in the dead kidnapper’s back.
Sky’s eyes widened, the blood draining from her face. He would have to make the time to explain to her that when a man pointed a gun at her, that was her cue to run, duck, drop down and grab some real estate. The deer-in-the-headlight stare would only freeze her in place for a kill shot. But it was all over before she could have moved. The kidnapper brought up his own automatic weapon, but Vin was already squeezing the hair trigger twice on his weapon, rapid-fire—precise heart shots. The guy dropped like a stone behind her.
Well, that would do it. He’d just alerted anyone in the vicinity that someone was discharging a firearm. More likely any backup baddies waiting for their buddies to capture Sky and haul her out of there.
Aiming at the unmoving guy’s head, he rose to his feet and, standing between the man and Sky, fired off another bullet. He wasn’t taking any chances.
In the next split second, he grabbed her arm, rushing her down the hall and away from the light before she could get her mouth closed. Holding her close, he shielded her off to his right side, and, as he passed, he squeezed off another head shot into the first kidnapper he’d killed. Neither of the bastards was ever getting up again.
Turning her around, he hustled her toward the front door. He took a few precious minutes grabbing their coats. Jamming his feet into his shoes, he urged her toward hers.
Shrugging into his coat, his hand on the knob, he waited until she had her boots on, then her coat. He pulled her out into the hall and raced toward the elevator, but stopped dead when it dinged, her small body slamming into his back. Reinforcements?
He wasn’t going to wait to find out. He headed toward the stairwell, but when he started to go down, he heard voices. They had effectively blocked all paths out of the building. There was only one way to go. Up.
He switched directions, and she stumbled with a soft cry. The voices got more agitated, and it was easy to make out the Russian clearly.
