“How’s retirement working out for you?” Frazer asked the spook.
Killion cocked a brow as he sprawled in his seat. “Good in terms of remembering how to be a decent human being, but if I don’t go back to work soon I have a feeling Audrey might start grinding a little frog skin into my breakfast smoothies.”
Killion’s better half studied one of the most toxic creatures on earth—poison dart frogs.
“El cartel de Manos de Dios is done chasing her, right? The danger is over?”
Killion nodded. “She’s safe, but I’ve told her that no way is she returning to Colombia, which made her kind of mad.” Then he gave a long-suffering sigh, but Frazer wasn’t fooled. The guy adored Audrey’s feistiness and independence.
Killion played with the label around the neck of the beer bottle. “They want me to run the Farm.”
Frazer’s brows skipped high. The Farm was the CIA’s training facility at Camp Peary, Virginia.
That was a big deal.
“You gonna do it?” Killion pissed people off on a regular basis, but those who cared to look beyond the cocky, cynical veneer discovered the integrity of the man and a depth of unwavering service. Someone somewhere must have recognized that.
Killion shrugged. You’d be forgiven for believing he hadn’t given it much thought. Frazer knew better.
“The powers-that-be offered to set Audrey up in her own private lab facility but she says she wants to work in a university setting. Says it feeds her thirst for knowledge. There are enough colleges in Virginia we could make it work.” Killion shrugged again. “We haven’t figured out the future yet. I’m still on leave. I took six months off. I needed a sanity break.” Killion could talk the hind legs off an elephant, he just rarely talked about himself or his emotions—or his sanity.
Most of the time, people like Frazer and Killion pretended not to have emotions or lives outside the office. It was a miracle any of them had found a person willing to take a chance on them. They were all a little bit warped. A little bit jagged. A little bit damaged.
Alex pulled up a chair.
Speak of the devil.
The south of France suited the cybersecurity expert. His hair had lightened in the sun, his skin was tanned and he’d somehow found the time to get a haircut. Frazer ran his hand over his own skull. He also needed to get a trim before the wedding, but capturing arms dealers and rescuing little girls came first.
“Danke,” Alex said to the woman who delivered his beer. He turned to them and lowered his voice although he kept a smile fixed firmly on his lips. He raised his beer in salute. “I’m gonna drop the Deutsche because I happen to know Frazer’s language skills suck.”
“I hate speaking German,” Killion agreed. “Almost as much as I hate speaking Russian.”
“Maybe they’ll send you to Moscow,” Frazer suggested with a hopeful grin.
“Not enough frogs in Moscow,” Killion replied. “And too many fucking Russians.”
Speaking of Russians…
“You have your keyring?” Frazer checked. Alex was paranoid about electronic surveillance and always carried a mini signal jammer on his keyring. It came in useful and had stopped a domestic terrorist from blowing up a bunch of people, including Frazer, just a few weeks ago.
Alex let out a breath and some of the tension eased from the tight grasp he had around the neck of his beer bottle. “Yeah, but keep the volume down.”
Most of the tables were empty. The waitress behind the bar was noisily restocking mixers.
“When am I going to get one of those things?” Frazer indicated the keyring with a tilt of his head.
“I included one in your best man’s gift.”
Excellent.
“What about me?” Killion asked.
“Hell, no,” Alex replied.
“Why not?”
“You’ll share it with Langley,” Alex said knowingly.
Killion lowered his forehead into the crook of his elbow, which he’d propped on the table. He laughed. “We’re on the same side, you know.”
Alex grunted. “I don’t want them using my own tools against me. Anyway, they’re smart. I’m sure they can figure something out.”
Killion wasn’t pissed. He liked to wind people up to see what they did. That approach didn’t work well on Alex or Frazer. Alex became quiet and Frazer got nasty. It was a miracle they hadn’t all killed one another months ago.
“Ashley’s working on an ID of the nanny from the image you sent earlier. She make you?” asked Frazer.
Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so, but she was staring.”
“Could be your film star good looks,” Killion suggested.
Alex grinned. “Naturally. But she’s gorgeous. As in supermodel gorgeous and there was something about her eyes. Intelligence.”
“Nannies can’t be intelligent?” Killion questioned.
“Of course they can be,” Alex said patiently. He wasn’t taking the bait for an argument. “It was just a certain type of intelligence. I just keep thinking maybe she’s working for someone besides Masook.” He shrugged in a what-do-I-know manner. “Perhaps I’m paranoid.”
Frazer raised a brow. No perhaps about that.
“So, you’re eyeing the hot nanny and Frazer’s kissing another man’s woman. You guys are too fast for me.” Killion signaled for another beer.
“Saw the kiss. Very convincing,” Alex said. “Lucas will kick your ass when he finds out.”
“Randall was watching,” Killion said with a face full of mischief. “He’s probably plotting how to get rid of the body after he kills Frazer in his sleep.”
Frazer suppressed the grin that wanted to tug at his lips. “Randall is a professional.”
“Exactly.” Killion grinned.
“He wasn’t happy,” Frazer admitted, “but it gives me and Chen good cover and I wanted her here. She’s a good agent and skilled at undercover work.” He rolled a shoulder. “It’s not like I frenched her.” He smirked. “I just made it look like I frenched her.” He grimaced. “I better tell Izzy before Randall does.”
“Pussy,” taunted Killion.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you with Audrey. Makes me want to slap the goofy look off your face.”
“Whipped,” Killion added, the offending goofy grin firmly in place.
No one would ever accuse Killion of being politically correct.
“Who else is here?” Alex asked.
Frazer was aware they needed to get down to business, although they couldn’t make a move until the sun went down. “Matt and Scarlett are honeymooning on a twenty-six-foot sailboat. We also have Noah Zacharias and Logan Masters crewing on the Ascension.”
Killion leaned in closer. “Logan’s had his eye on your Russian friend for a while now. Brits have something on him, and I think they’re hoping to use him to flush out his boss.”
Alex looked pensive. “I’ve spotted an Iranian arms buyer and an Israeli. Something tells me this isn’t an exchange. It’s an auction.”
Excitement stirred in Frazer’s blood. This provided a unique opportunity to round-up a whole swathe of terrorists and weapons smugglers in one swoop. “Any idea what’s being sold?”
Alex pressed his lips together. “Not a clue.”
Killion narrowed his gaze. “We could front a buyer.”
Alex shook his head. “This deal will happen in the next twenty-four hours and anyone new to the table would spook them—pun intended. No way would these guys hang around in close proximity for any longer than that. Some of them are sworn enemies.”
“It’s a great way to drive up the price,” observed Killion.
“Do you think the weapon is on the boat?” Frazer asked. The CIA knew the illegal arms game better than he did. Serial killers tended to use more hands-on methods of doling out death.
Killion and Alex frowned in unison.
“Not necessarily, but possibly.” Alex hedged.
“Why doesn’t Ranich sell direct? Why use a broke
r?”
“It allows him to keep a lower profile and have that degree of separation from terrorists. Plus, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.” Killion tapped his finger on the tabletop.
“And it’s possible Ranich is a buyer, not a seller,” added Alex. “I have nothing definitive on that yet.”
“And Masook brought his eight-year-old daughter into this nest of serpents?” Not much surprised Frazer anymore.
“Even knowing there’s an international warrant out for his arrest. The guy has donkey-sized balls.” Killion wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“That’s why Jane thinks local cops might be dirty. It only takes one phone call and he’s outta here.” Alex’s jaw flexed. For all he appeared relaxed on the outside the guy was wound tight. “There’s a copter on the boat and another on the Russians’.”
“Isn’t Masook scared someone might kidnap the kid to make sure they’re the ones who get whatever it is he’s selling?” Frazer asked. Child kidnapping was something he understood on a personal level and dealt with on a regular basis at work.
“The kidnappers would run the risk of being blacklisted and losing their weapon supply chain. Plus, Masook is just the broker,” Alex answered. “The seller might say to hell with the kid.”
“Blacklisted from the black-market? Honor amongst terrorists? Why don’t they just do the transaction on the dark web?” A couple of tourists strolled in, and Frazer eyed them carefully.
Alex shrugged. “Deals happen there all the time for firearms and other ordinance, but they can’t be sure the buyer isn’t an FBI agent or white-hat hacker who is gonna trace their ass back to base camp. More…specialized…items still tend to be sold face-to-face. The players might want to inspect the goods before purchasing, and the seller definitely wants his money transferred before he hands anything over. The different buyers are aware the others all exist but they avoid direct confrontations. I think Masook took the risk with the kid because he’s grown cocky and thinks he’s invincible. He’s either nailing or wants to nail the nanny. Maybe he can’t do that in Dubai. Or maybe he just can’t live without her?”
They all stared a little morosely into their beers.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Alex.
Frazer and the others had discussed the primary course of action on the journey here. “Matt is going to attach listening devices to the hulls of the yachts as soon as it gets dark. Ashley is working on hacking their computers via their Wi-Fi. She’s also planning to piggyback on any city surveillance cams and see if we can pick up any other players lurking in the shadows. We need to find out what Masook is selling and round up as many of the people involved as possible.”
“What about the local cops?” asked Killion. “You have no powers of arrest here.”
“I have the FBI’s Legal Attaché to France, and Interpol agents on standby. They agreed to not involve the locals until the last minute to prevent anyone being warned and escaping. The possibility of a weapon turning up on mainland France has them nervous. The French have suffered enough.”
Alex picked the label off his beer. He was quiet. Too quiet. Finally he asked, “What about the girl?”
Frazer let a smile curve his lips. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re here for, right?”
“Yep.” There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere as Alex relaxed. “Her life probably isn’t in immediate danger, which is the only good news about this mess.”
“How’s Jane Sanders holding up?” Frazer asked.
“Like TNT on a short fuse.”
“Where is she?”
“Back at the chateau wearing out the carpet. I have a man watching her.”
Killion raised his beer in another toast. “So, all we need to do is rescue the child, identify the players, secure the weapon, and scoop the bad guys up without anyone getting hurt?”
Frazer rolled his shoulders. “And get home in time for the wedding.”
“Piece of cake,” Killion murmured quietly.
“Let’s do it,” Alex said. “Let’s go stop these bastards.”
Chapter Eleven
Mallory tried to let go of the tension that invaded her whole being as she fought rush hour traffic in DC after a long day examining the victims of kidnappers, rapists, and murderers.
“Breathe,” she told herself, and felt the phantom of Alex’s smile whisper against her skin.
She missed him.
She was pathetic, but she hated him going away like this.
It was wrong of her. She insisted he give her the space do her job, but now that it was his turn to leave her behind she wasn’t quite so emphatic about this independence business.
He’d be home soon.
Rex grinned at her in doggy reassurance via the rearview from his position in the backseat. He’d fully recovered from the gunshot wound he’d suffered back in February but, not surprisingly, he didn’t like loud noises. He’d come with her to the spa for the weekend, and she’d picked him up from the condo in Quantico before driving back to DC tonight for what she hoped was the last time as a single woman.
“Who’s a good boy?”
He panted in happy acknowledgment as he looked out of the window.
There’d been a floral emergency.
Mallory rolled her eyes, grateful she wasn’t the sort of person who’d lose it over the color of the flowers in her bouquet. Her mother considered this a minor disaster. Mal didn’t give a fig. She’d carry a nosegay of dandelions if necessary, but she was trying to make this wedding perfect for her parents, and they weren’t making it easy. First had been the guest list with way too many politicians for Alex’s comfort. Then issues over the menu and the cake. They’d added a sponge layer to the cake and a vegetarian option to the menu. It wasn’t rocket science. Honestly, Mallory had no clue why people made such a fuss.
It had already been a long day. She and Moira Henderson had been the only ones in the office. Moira had taken advantage of this short window of opportunity to unleash as much spite on Mal as possible in the time she had left before Mallory’s leave started.
Mallory had learned to filter out Moira’s particular brand of venom, and the woman only revealed her true colors when they were alone, which was rare. Jed Brennan was back in the office tomorrow, and she’d be safe from any overt hostility. You’d think hunting serial killers would be enough ugliness for Moira, but apparently not.
Uncomfortable with sitting for so long with the steering wheel so close to her baby bump she shifted and rubbed her aching back with one hand.
She’d underestimated the amount of work left to do before the wedding, but it was all small details. Maybe she should have taken the whole week off, but she was saving her vacation days for the honeymoon and didn’t want to piss off the powers-that-be by taking unpaid leave when she was so close to going on a long maternity leave. She was taking Friday off for a manicure and pedicure and facial treatment with her bridesmaids. The wedding planner should be able to cope with all the other minor details that cropped up.
Seriously. A minister. A groom. Some food and maybe some dancing and she’d be happy. Actually, Alex home safe and she’d be happy.
The baby gave her a sharp kick.
“I’m including you in that thought, junior.”
Rex woofed in reply.
They didn’t know the sex of the baby and didn’t want to know until he or she arrived. The new nursery was neutral in color with yellow walls, pale wooden furniture and white trim.
Mal took a right towards her mother’s ridiculously large home.
It was hard to imagine she and Alex would soon be responsible for a child. Alex was installing as much security as a private home could handle—his version of nesting. There had already been a wall around the property. Now electronic lasers and touchpad sensors monitored the grounds and the buildings. The house had a panic room, sprinklers, steel doors, and bulletproof glass in all the windows. It had cost a fortune to install that without sacrificing the
character of their Victorian house and that had been her one stipulation. They could live in a fortress, but it had to look like a home.
The upgrades gave Alex something to focus on when he started to worry about what kind of father he’d be. Security was something he could control to a certain point—beyond that no one could control anything. Making these basic precautions allowed him to relax, and she knew he was going to need that cushion when the baby arrived.
She pulled up outside her mother’s home and applied the parking brake. Rex gave another woof. She got out and opened the trunk, grabbed the pile of things her mother had offered to give to the wedding planner on Thursday to bring out to the vineyard on Friday. Mallory could have easily taken them herself, but that would be too easy. Rex took a moment to sniff a lamppost and relieve himself. Mallory was careful on the uneven paving stones. She rang the bell to announce her arrival and then headed straight inside. Even after everything that had happened over the years her mom rarely locked the front door.
Her mother’s horrified gasp hit her immediately. “You’re not supposed to be carrying anything!”
Mal dumped the packages on the side table in the enormous foyer. “They aren’t heavy.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and Rex obediently sat, waiting to be noticed. Her mother looked down and gave him a hesitant pat on the top of his golden head.
Mallory studied the senator. Her mom had lost weight since she’d resigned from office last December. The despair that had always pinched her features had lifted some. She looked happier than Mal could ever remember seeing her.
A Cold Dark Promise (A Wedding Novella) Page 6
