by Katie Reus
Sophie looked at Jack. He shook his head and mouthed the word “office.” Then he mouthed ten seconds.
She nodded. “No. It’s too public. I want to meet in your office.”
“Sophie, I don’t know—”
“I’ll be there tonight at eight. Be there or I’m going straight to the cops. I’ve got to go.” With wide eyes, she hung up the phone.
“That was good,” Jack said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Not giving him a chance to argue and threatening with the police was perfect.”
She sighed and sagged back against the seat. “Thank God.”
Jack flipped on his blinker and pulled into a gas station.
“What are you doing?”
“Filling up with gas. Do you mind paying the attendant?” He handed her a couple of bills before getting out of the car.
Keeping an eye on her while avoiding the one video camera outside the station, he started the pump, then used the same phone Sophie had used and called Wesley. He’d be ditching it as soon as this call was over, so he might as well get some use out of it.
“Wesley here.” His boss sounded pissed.
“It’s me.”
“Where the hell are you? You should have checked in by now.”
“I think we might have a leak.”
“What?”
“Miguel Vargas’s men tracked us down last night.”
“And where exactly were you?”
Jack ignored the question. “Levi was with them.”
Silence.
“You still there?”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“What’s going on? You haven’t said two words about Levi since I’ve been back.” Truth be told, Jack hadn’t asked either. He’d assumed his friend was on a mission and Jack had other things on his mind. Namely Sophie. While Levi was one of the few people Jack trusted, he hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. Just the way this business was sometimes. Jack had been so deep undercover for his last operation he’d been unable to reach out to anyone once he’d been completely embedded. Not that he’d been in the right frame of mind to do so anyway.
“He went off the grid six months ago. No one has seen him since.”
“Why? What about Meghan?” The gas pump clicked off, so Jack placed it back in the holder.
He slid back into the front seat as Sophie emerged from the gas station carrying two foam cups and a plastic bag. He leaned over and opened the door for her.
“I didn’t want to tell you like this, but Meghan is dead.” His boss’s gravelly voice was strangled.
Bile rose in his throat. “Dead?”
Sophie slid into the passenger seat and set his cup in the coffee holder.
“Yeah. Seven months ago she was murdered and Levi disappeared a month later. He’s been like a ghost.”
Jack started the car but didn’t move. “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
He hated to ask the question because he knew the answer would make him sick. “What happened to her?”
“She was tortured and executed. It was professional. By the methods used, we guess it was the Russians.”
Meghan was one of their best agents. No, she had been. Even thinking that she was dead felt wrong. After nearly a decade of undercover work, she’d finally taken a desk job because she and Levi had wanted to start a family.
“There’s more, Jack. She was five months pregnant when she was killed.”
An icy flash of raw anger snaked through him as the words sank in. Torturing a pregnant woman? He was surprised Levi hadn’t gone off the deep end completely. “Why did Levi disappear?”
“Revenge is my guess, but I honestly don’t know. He sold their home, got rid of all his belongings, and fell off the face of the earth.”
“Is there a connection with Vargas and Meghan?” As far as Jack knew, Meghan had never done any work in South America. If there was a link, it was possible Levi was out for revenge. Or maybe he was using Vargas to get to someone else. That would make more sense.
“Not from her time with us,” his boss growled.
Jack understood his frustration. There were too many variables. Levi obviously had his own agenda, but it wasn’t what Jack originally thought. “Someone on the inside helped them track us. I overheard part of Levi’s conversation with Vargas, and that bastard has a contact on the inside.”
More silence.
“Wesley?”
“I was afraid of that. Someone sold Meghan out, so after her death I began a discreet investigation. I haven’t come up with anything solid.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Don’t call me anymore. Use the same backdoor channel we used when you were in Lebanon.”
Most of his missions were off the books, including that one. And that channel hadn’t been used in years. If anyone was listening to their current conversation, they’d have no clue what he and Wesley were referring to. “Okay. I’ll contact you soon. And, Wesley?”
“Yeah?”
“You should have told me about Meghan before now.” It was a shitty thing keeping him in the dark about one of their own. It wasn’t as though he could have gone to the funeral, but he should have been told. Because no matter what, he’d have reached out to Levi.
“I know.”
Jack disconnected, then rolled down Sophie’s window. He popped out the battery and handed it to her. Without him having to ask, she tossed the pieces into the trash can by the pump.
“Is everything okay?” Sophie asked. She’d been completely silent until then, sipping her coffee and carefully watching him.
“Yes.” The answer was automatic as he steered out of the lot.
“No, it’s obviously not.” He nearly jumped out of his skin when she placed a light, reassuring hand on his arm.
The soft way she touched and looked at him tore the truth from him. How did she do that? “I just found out a friend of mine died last year.” It wasn’t like he was telling her details of something classified. It was the only thing that eased his conscience about opening up.
“Oh . . . God, I’m so sorry.” And she was. The sincerity in her voice was real. Something else he loved about her. Sophie didn’t say anything she didn’t mean.
“Thanks,” he murmured as he pulled back onto the main road.
Just being close to Sophie grounded him in a way he’d never expected. Or even imagined. He’d learned at a young age to only depend on himself. So why did he feel this sudden need to bare his soul to Sophie? Maybe not exactly bare it, but he wanted to open up to her. For once he wanted to be honest with a woman. Tell her things he’d never told anyone. He just wanted to let someone in. Okay, not someone. Only Sophie. That scared the hell out of him.
Chapter 11
PHOTINT: photographic intelligence, usually involving high-altitude reconnaissance using satellites. Also called IMINT.
Hannah could hear the distant sound of male voices and another, more insistent tapping sound much closer. She kept her eyes shut. She was afraid of what she might see when she opened them. Visions of wrestling with a man, then being knocked out with some sort of drug tickled her memory. It wasn’t a dream, that much she was sure of.
“Are you awake?” a soft female voice asked.
Hannah cracked open her eyes at the question. A pretty blond woman wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt sat huddled against a wall. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her arms were wrapped around them. The blonde looked as though she was barely out of college. Glancing around, Hannah realized they were in a matchbox-sized concrete room with one bed and one toilet. And she was stretched out on the uncomfortable mattress.
Pushing up, she tried to ignore the pain splintering through her skull. “Where are we?” Her voice was raspy and unused, making her wonder how long she’d been unconscious.
The blonde shrugged, but the action was a little jerky. “I don’t know. Cuba maybe. They just brought me here a couple day
s ago and one of the guards told me we’re moving again very soon. He said I’d be seeing my family, so I think we’re going to Miami.”
“Moving? They? What’s going on?” Hannah gingerly touched the back of her head. A small bump had formed on the bottom side of her skull. She moved her jaw back and forth, not surprised her face was sore.
“The men holding us work for Miguel Vargas. He was here earlier, but you were still unconscious.”
“Who’s Miguel Vargas?”
The girl frowned at her. “He runs one of the biggest South American drug cartels. You don’t know who he is?”
“Oh . . . maybe.” She couldn’t remember if Sophie had said anything about that on the phone. Her head was still fuzzy. Stretching out her arms in front of her, she looked at herself, then down at her clothes. Dirt stained her white T-shirt and jeans, but she didn’t think she’d been hurt anywhere else.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked.
She stopped her assessment. “Hannah. What’s yours?”
“I’m Holly. Do you know why you’re here?” Her voice slightly trembled.
Hannah shook her head. “Not really. The last thing I remember, my best friend called and told me to pack a bag and hide somewhere for a few days. She said someone was after her and . . .” She trailed off as she realized that anyone could be listening to them. The more she came awake, the worse off she knew she was. This was a bad situation. The other girl had said they might be in Cuba? Holy hell. Bad, bad, bad.
“Who’s your friend?” Holly asked before Hannah could speak.
She contemplated not answering for a second, but this girl was a captive too. And even if she was faking it for some reason, Hannah had no reason to lie. “Her name is Sophie.”
Holly’s forehead crinkled. “Sophie . . . Sophie Moreno?”
Hannah couldn’t hide her surprise. “Yeah, you know her?”
“She works for my dad. I’ve known her for years. How is she involved in this?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is. Why is some drug lord holding you hostage?”
“It has something to do with my dad’s company. I tried to ask one of his men once, but—”
The sound of heated male voices drifted through the steel door of their room. “Who is that?” Hannah whispered.
There was a spark of fear in Holly’s eyes as she held a finger to her mouth. “Shh. Roll over and close your eyes. I’ll tell them you’re still sleeping.”
Without pause, Hannah did as she asked. She tried to keep her breathing normal when she heard the door creak open. A man said something in Spanish, but she couldn’t understand him. Holly answered, and then another man spoke, but his voice was much softer. Nicer. They continued talking. Hannah could pick out some words, but bonita was the only one she understood.
There was some shuffling around behind her. Hannah prepared to be shaken awake—or worse—but nothing happened. The door shut and after a few minutes Holly spoke.
“You can turn over now,” she whispered.
She cringed as the mattress creaked. “What happened?”
Holly held out a handful of celebrity Spanish magazines and a faded paperback. “They wanted to know if you’d woken up and they left these.”
“Have they . . . hurt you?” Hannah hoped the girl understood what she meant.
For a moment, her blue eyes darkened, but she shook her head. “No, thankfully. One of the men tried to rape me when I was first taken, but the guy who brought these in stopped him.” She held up the magazines.
“Have you tried to escape?”
The other girl shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself again. “No way. They all have guns and I don’t even know what country we’re in now. Before they brought me here, they actually let me out of my room a few times, but I was in the middle of the rain forest. I wouldn’t have known where to run anyway. Everyone around here is really scary.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“You said you think we’re in Cuba?” Hannah stood on shaky legs and stretched her arms above her head. Her body was sore, but at least she could move.
“Yeah. I heard one of the guards talking.”
Hannah had started to ask another question when the door flew open. A man with a scar down the left side of his face looked back and forth between them. He nodded once at her, then said something she didn’t understand.
“He wants you to go with him. He said they have questions for you.” Holly’s voice shook as she translated, and a fresh wave of terror swept over Hannah.
Just because these men hadn’t harmed Holly didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt Hannah.
• • •
His heart pounded wildly in his chest as his fingers flew across the keyboard, entering commands at record speed. Hurry, hurry, he ordered himself, even as he tried to will his heart rate to calm down.
But that was impossible. Nothing could soothe his frayed nerves at this point. He’d hacked in through a back door he’d left during a mission that had ended over a month ago. Luckily no one had discovered it. Of course, he’d hidden it extremely well. And it couldn’t be traced back to him. Unfortunately if anyone found him in this control room, he’d be in a shitload of trouble. Which would mean questions and detainment and inevitably his arrest if they dug deep enough. And they would.
A dark part of him loved the thrill of going behind everyone’s back at work. They would call him a traitor once his sins were discovered—as he knew they eventually would be, but after he’d left the country—but he didn’t care. He was smarter than all of them. At first he’d started selling secrets to pay off gambling debts. There had just been so many and he’d been out of control. So he’d had to find a way to pay them or be killed. The answer was simple. He had access to information people would pay good money for. And why shouldn’t he cash in?
After he’d paid off his debts, he hadn’t stopped. The money, the rush, it was too good. Too intense. He was so addicted to the thrill of making more money. Six figures a year wasn’t enough. Some days he wondered if anything would ever be enough. He simply couldn’t stop now anyway—even if he’d wanted to. He was in far too deep with very dangerous people. Miguel Vargas would never let him walk away until he was done with this job. But then he was out. Of course he didn’t plan to stop working. He had a valuable set of skills, namely hacking, and he planned to use them any way he could.
As the screen he’d been waiting for popped up, an alert dinged that he’d found something. Before leaving work last night, he’d entered Sophie Moreno’s picture into his secret program. The NSA hijacked CCTVs all over the country for their own use, so he’d simply piggybacked onto one of their programs and put in his own parameters.
And now it looked as if he might have gotten what he needed. A few clicks later and his breath caught in his throat. A CCTV from a gas station less than an hour from Miami had captured her face clear as day. Thankfully the system was wireless and had an online backup, which was easy enough for him to hack in to. It was set on a forty-eight-hour loop, though, but it looked as if she’d just left. Holy shit, he could locate her if he got lucky. He forwarded through the video until he spotted her getting into a car.
From the angle he couldn’t see the license plate, so he pulled up a map of the direct area and found a bank a block down. After hacking in to their system, he smiled to himself as the car she was in drove by less than a minute after she’d left the gas station. He couldn’t see in the vehicle because the windows were tinted, but he got a clear shot of the license plate from one of the three cameras.
Now that he had what he needed, he quickly shut the program down. All he had to do was enter the license plate number into another database. And this one, he could track from his cell phone. Once he got a hit, it would alert him immediately. Then he could bring something directly to Vargas. Something that would get the man off his back.
It wasn’t as if he gave a shit what happened to the Moreno woman, and Vargas was just
going to kill her anyway. No torture would be involved. Just a quick, clean kill.
• • •
Jack glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned when the white SUV he’d first noticed about ten blocks earlier switched lanes after he did.
Again.
He and Sophie had made it to Miami without any trouble, but he was edgy and ready to ditch this car. They’d had it too long, which increased their odds of being tracked down. And Sophie’s friend Hannah still hadn’t left a message. Sophie had asked about it a few times and he hated that his answer was always no. The worry and fear on her face tore him up inside. But he shelved those feelings as he smoothly switched lanes. They were leaving the business district and about to enter a sketchy part of town.
The SUV had stayed almost exactly two car lengths back. It kept its distance but didn’t stray too far. The driving seemed precise and somewhat trained. Could be nothing. Or it could be a tail.
He was about to find out.
As they neared the upcoming intersection, the light turned yellow, so he gunned it. Normally on an op—and especially since he had Sophie with him—he tried not to break simple traffic laws and draw any unnecessary attention to himself. But he wasn’t going to drive around in circles trying to figure out if they were being followed.
Either the SUV would follow and give the occupants away, or Jack was just being paranoid. As he tore through the intersection, the car directly behind him slowed and stopped at the light. But the SUV honked, swerved, and plowed through the line of cars. He cursed under his breath.
Sophie glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. “We’re being followed.”
“Yep. We’re going to have to ditch this car and run on foot. We’ll be fine,” he said to reassure her even though she seemed calm.
“Okay.” She picked up her wallet from the center console and tucked it into the back pocket of her stolen jeans. “Should I have a gun or something?”
He didn’t like the thought of her actually needing one, but he still had an extra weapon. And if something happened to him, she needed to be able to protect herself. “Once we’re out of the car I’ll give you one. And if something happens to me, call Wesley. His number is the only one programmed into the burner phones.” Jack wasn’t supposed to call him, but if he went down, Sophie had to have someone to turn to and there was no way the local cops could do shit to protect her. Not without knowing all the facts.
