Dark Deception (DARC Ops Book 11)

by Jamie Garrett

  Again their faces mere inches apart. Her warm breath on his face. A car pulling away from the gas station swerved in front of the diner, headlights illuminating both of them for several seconds. In those seconds, Asher saw the change that came over her. Her widening eyes, the slack jaw, the frown of consternation. What was her problem?

  “Ellie, I need you to be reasonable . . .”

  She caught him off guard. He wasn’t quite sure how she managed it, but she struck. Her left fist slammed downward into his groin while her right fist lashed out and caught him square on the nose. His balls shrunk upward in pain as tears briefly formed in his eyes and warm blood gushed from his nose. She twisted away, grabbed the door handle, and yanked upward. She thrust open the door with a foot and dashed out, screaming her bloody head off.

  “Shit!” He covered his nose with one hand and cupped his crotch with the other, struggling to swallow the nausea that rose in his throat. Several people emerged from the diner as Ellie ran screaming toward the entrance, pointing at him.

  “The truck, that one, the F-150! He’s trying to kidnap me!”

  This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Ignoring his nose and his balls, he reached across the seat, grabbed the door handle, and slammed the door shut, muttering foul curses as he quickly started the truck and pulled out of the driveway and squealed away from the diner before anyone got a good look at his license plate. Shit. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw one man holding a cell phone to his ear.

  He cursed again. While he had to hand it to Ellie for managing that display, he cursed himself soundly for being played.

  Jackson wasn’t going to be happy. Not happy at all.

  6

  Ellie

  Heart pounding, Ellie barely paid attention to the few people in the diner as she dashed through the door. She darted around the edge of the counter, heading for the door to the kitchen area.

  “Hey, you can’t go in there!” a waitress behind the counter pouring coffee cried out.

  Ellie ignored her and pushed through, eliciting a startled gaze from the cook standing in front of his grill, wearing a grease-stained apron, spatula raised in one hand. The rear door stood slightly ajar, likely to cool the overheated kitchen. She bolted through it, barely missing the corner of the large waste bin as she turned right and made for the darker shadows.

  Heart pounding, Ellie glanced around, not sure which way to run. Not sure if Asher would be right behind her—no, she’d heard his truck engine start, his tires peeling out of the parking lot. She sagged against the corner of the diner, half expecting the cook to come out and berate her, but no one appeared. She took several deep breaths, thankful that she’d managed to get out of Asher’s truck unscathed.

  Well, not exactly unscathed. That kiss. Damn . . . she shook it off. Leftover adrenaline, that’s all it had been. That’s why she’d kissed him back. Of all the stupid things to do. She’d never reacted that way to a kiss before. She should have slapped him. She should have punched her fist through his teeth . . . but no, she had felt something, a warmth spreading through her lips, then her breasts had tingled, and she had kissed him back.

  And then, in that brief flash of headlights, her suspicions already on high alert, she had recognized him. Asher, if that was even his real name. What kind of a name was Asher? That moment he’d turned just so to glance out the window; in that split second, she recognized his face. Slightly different, but the brow, the nose, the jaw line, and that mouth . . . God, that mouth. She remembered where she’d seen him. Dressed in dark, figure-hugging SCUBA gear, in what appeared to be the cramped confines of a submarine.

  Shaking her head, hunched slightly to minimize being spotted, and her gaze sweeping the area, she made her way to the end of the alley. There she paused, looking out onto the street. A chilly gust of wind blew behind her, bringing with it a sheet of newspaper, rolling indiscriminately toward her. She had to get back to her apartment. Had to get back to her computers and wipe her data, before anything more could be compromised. She had no doubt that she’d inadvertently stumbled onto something big. Much bigger than she’d expected. Chances were that Asher or the other man following her might already be there, waiting. Maybe both of them.

  If she could get her hands on another computer, she could remotely access hers. It would take more time, but she could do it, but therein lay the challenge. Where the hell could she gain access to a computer at this time of night? Libraries were closed, and everyone these days had a stupid iPhone, so the good old internet cafés had long disappeared from her neighborhood.

  She sighed, fighting back the headache throbbing between her temples. How many people were actually following her? Who was this Asher guy? Did he work for the Guardian Knights? Could she believe him? Was he a good guy? Ellie shook her head, peering up and down the quiet street, cones of light cast by dull streetlights dotting the road every fifty yards or so. She wouldn’t trust him. It had been a long time since she’d trusted anybody but herself. She had long ago learned that she could rely only on herself and her own wits.

  Slowly, she eased her way back onto the street, seeking shadows next to buildings, peering into their depths while trying not to illuminate herself at the same time. The front of the diner stood quiet, only two cars in the parking lot and another closer to the alley. It probably belonged to the cook. She wasn’t quite sure where she was or how far she was from her apartment. The lights of downtown Boston glistened and sparkled in the distance to the north, past the interstate. Okay, so she was in the southern district. Not the best place to be out alone at this time of night.

  She half jogged down the street in the direction from which Asher had brought her, her gaze continually sweeping from side to side, her thoughts spinning. She kept an eye out for his dark truck. Was he waiting for her at the end of the street? Engine running but lights turned off so she wouldn’t suspect his presence until the last moment? She stopped, looking for any signs of condensation rising from an exhaust pipe in the cool night air.

  Who was the other guy that had been following her? What were the chances that she had not only one but two men following her, from different organizations? She didn’t believe in coincidences. She had definitely stumbled onto something, but right now she had no idea what that something was. Ellie huffed out a breath. If it hadn’t been for Asher, she might be lying dead in that alley now, her throat slit, a puddle of dark, coagulating blood pooled beneath her.

  Questions tumbled through her mind. Had she made an error in judgment running away from him? What if he really was a good guy? She snorted. If he was a good guy, he would’ve told her who he was without hesitation. Wouldn’t he? If he was a good guy, why the secrecy? Who did he work for, and what did he—or they—want with her?

  The timing wasn’t right. If she had stumbled on something that had to do with the Guardian Knights, that access would have occurred only a day or two ago. Then again, this might have nothing to do with the Guardian Knights. What if it was about whomever Asher worked for? She had only found that one photograph of those guys in what she assumed was a submarine after she started researching Guardian Knights. What were the chances of her stumbling onto two groups of people who didn’t appreciate her snooping around at the same time?

  Slim to none. Nevertheless, it was possible.

  Damn it!

  What made her situation even worse was the instant sexual attraction she had felt for her knight in shining armor . . . focus!

  Arms held close to her body, hands shoved into her pants pockets, her gaze continually swept the nearly deserted streets around her for movement. She replayed every second of her interactions with Asher, from the moment he had grabbed her in the alley until just moments ago. She wanted to believe that he was a good guy, but who the hell was he?

  More importantly, how did he know her?

  She knew what she had to do, and the risks involved. It had been a stupid move to run out of her apartment like that without first covering her digital trail. That mome
nt, when she realized that she’d been hacked, had scared the shit out of her. Nothing like that had ever happened to her, so perhaps her reaction was understandable, but nonetheless foolish and unforgivable. She had run out of her apartment as if a thousand eyes had been focused on her, and they very well could have been. She’d never panicked like that before, rushing from her apartment without thinking. She’d needed air. Desperately.

  Look where that had gotten her. From now on, she swore to herself that every move would be planned. That never again would she allow pure emotion to rule her movements. Especially when it came to strange handsome men in alleys.

  She’d tripped up somehow, and her snooping had caught up to her for the first time in her life. Nothing like eating some humble pie. She grimaced. For all she knew, cameras were installed in her apartment, in her computer, watching her every move, catching her every keystroke.

  “You’re so stupid!” she muttered, her temper rising. Angry at herself, her carelessness, at Asher, and at the bastard who’d followed her to the alley . . .

  What she should have done was quickly back up her files on her external hard drive, no bigger than a wallet. She should’ve taken a moment to initiate the hard drive wipe, something she’d never had to consider before. She should’ve taken the time to sabotage her own do-it-yourself server . . . she should have . . .

  Too late to worry about that now. She paused in the shadows of a brick building on a corner, its plywood-boarded windows stained with graffiti spray paint. Was she too late? She considered risking a return to her apartment . . . she glanced toward the east. The telltale signs of approaching dawn had not yet turned the eastern horizon into the familiar washed out pink-orange typical of this time of year. How long ago had she run from her apartment? An hour? Two? Was the guy who had followed her to the alley still watching her apartment, or had he figured she was in the wind? He could be sitting in a car out in front of her building with her none the wiser. As Asher had been. Still, she knew more than one way to get into her building.

  She paused, frustrated by her own indecision. She could go to the police, seek their protection, but she had no proof that someone had tried to attack her. No proof that she had stumbled on a mysterious organization that might be dealing in illegal arms trades with a hostile country. No proof that she had almost been mugged by someone following her.

  Nevertheless, even if she did have proof, an investigation wouldn’t be conducted by Boston police, but by state authorities, perhaps even by the FBI, or even higher. She didn’t need that kind of attention.

  She remained still, gazing up and down the street, the asphalt glistening with the freezing mist that continued unabated. Trees barren of leaves, their black branches reaching upward, also crested with ice lined the cracked sidewalks.

  What to do? Where to go? Maybe she shouldn’t have run from Asher, but there was no taking that back now. Was he out there somewhere looking for her, or had he decided she wasn’t worth the trouble?

  For an instant, a very brief instant at that, she thought of the possibility of stealing a car. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? She had seen it done on TV shows. The thief entered the car, slid a hand under the dashboard, and pulled out a handful of wires. Then what? She snorted again. Stupid idea. She could wait until she saw someone pulling a car into a bank’s ATM, or running into a convenience store, leaving the car running. She could just jump in and take off.

  She shook her head. Not only was such an action on her part improbable if not impossible, cameras were everywhere these days, just one reason she stuck to the shadows as much as she could. Even though this area of town was rather dilapidated, she didn’t doubt that the occasional business or homes on side streets had their own security systems, recording her skulking around in the darkness even now.

  Shit. She grew more paranoid every second. This was not like her. Then again, this experience was totally new. Never before had she faced close and personal repercussions for her investigations. While several of her articles had certainly caught the attention of authorities and government groups, and triggered occasional outrage on the part of the general population, never—not a single time—had anyone been able to track her. Those other investigations, no one knew the source. And now? Somebody had followed for digital footprint. Someone had noticed, someone with the skills to find her, not only digitally, but in person.

  Not just one somebody, either. The more she thought about it, the more she believed Asher wasn’t involved with the Guardian Knights. If that’s what this was about, why wouldn’t he have just kidnapped her, silenced her, perhaps even killed her? Why go to the trouble of rescuing her if—

  But wait. Maybe that was part of the plan. Maybe Asher was connected to the Guardian Knights. Maybe he had been sent to gain her trust, to find out exactly how much she knew that she wasn’t supposed to. She grunted, shaking her head, trying to focus. What the hell was the matter with her? This wasn’t some plot for a spy novel. Why not just destroy her computer setup and kill her? That would be the easiest way to end her investigation and her snooping.

  She continued on, walking quickly, sticking to the shadows, her gaze taking in everything around her. Maybe, if she were lucky, she could find a bus, or even luckier, a taxi. Her heart sank when she remembered that she had no money. She had to find her way home on foot, and preferably before dawn. She had to see if her computers were still intact. Had to track those bastards to where they had come from, reestablish her finances, and then extract the pertinent data that had gotten her connected to all of this. She had the skills to do it quickly. Then she would grab her laptop and get the hell out of Dodge, but only after pulling her meager savings out of the bank.

  Only after she found a safe place could she began to dig deeper. Dig she would. If she had anything to say about it, she wasn’t going to let them get away with this. She had never been so uncertain, so scared, and so pissed off. Never before had she allowed anyone to intimidate her, at least not for long. She had weapons of her own disposal, mental ones. Maybe not the kind of weapons the Guardian Knights might be selling, but she had her skills. She couldn’t allow herself to doubt those skills.

  She had to go back to her apartment. Without her data, without money, she couldn’t do anything. She would be helpless and out on the streets, afraid and growing increasingly paranoid. Doubt flooded her, but she had to go back. She couldn’t protect herself, couldn’t find shelter, or further her investigation without going back to her apartment.

  But she had to do it before dawn. Before anyone noticed her creeping up the fire escape at the northwest corner of her building, facing the service way. Before anyone could make out her upward climb onto the roof. Before anyone could catch her picking the padlock to the door that opened onto the roof from a storage room at the rear of the building’s top floor. If she made it that far, and she had to convince herself that she could, she could be in and out of her apartment within twenty minutes.

  She could do it. She knew she could. Her heart pounding with an increased sense of desperation, mingled with fear of the unknown and a growing sense of anger, she knew she could do it. She just had to—

  A rush of movement from behind her grabbed her attention. She spun around, too late to protect herself against the arms that suddenly wrapped around her and clasped her tightly to a muscular body, a gloved hand roughly pressed over her nose and mouth. Eyes bulging with terror, unable to think, unable to blink, she froze for one endless second, startled by the sadness of the attack. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, her legs collapsing beneath her like wet spaghetti as for several breathtaking seconds, every sense on hyper alert. Large hands tightly clasped her upper arms close to her body. She heard the harsh breathing of her assailant, smelled the scent of coffee on his breath, his scruff-covered cheek pressed up against her ear. A wave of dizziness assailed her. For several seconds, she saw spots. Afraid she would faint, afraid that at any second she’d feel the thrust of steel against the skin of her neck.
r />   She struggled harder.

  A futile endeavor. She couldn’t move her arms, so tightly clasped against her torso. She raised her foot, thinking to strike back at her attacker’s legs, but suddenly her assailant lifted upward, her feet brushing at the air. A panicked curse erupted from her throat as her assailant dragged her deeper into the shadows. Her ears rang and her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode in her chest. Unbidden, hot tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them tightly shut, refusing to allow them to fall. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe! Her chest hitched and she struggled anew. Air . . . she needed air!

  And then it happened. To her mortification, an encroaching darkness overcame her vision, clouding around the edges of her consciousness. And then . . . nothing.

  7

  Asher

  Asher had waited, just a little while, before calling Jackson and informing him that the innocent looking wallflower he was supposed to be watching had managed to slip from his grasp. The thought of Jackson’s disappointed silence on the other end of the call was something he’d rather avoid. But, it wasn’t just Jackson’s disappointment that made Asher’s stomach churn, it was his own.

  How the hell had he allowed that little slip of a woman to escape him? Embarrassment, frustration, and annoyance surged through him. He forced himself to focus, creeping along a dark alleyway toward a dimly lit intersection. He was in a dilapidated part of town, perhaps a half mile from the diner. Asher moved carefully, stepping around a discarded bottle, avoiding stumbling over a pile of trash that contained God knows what, the limp form of Ellie Jespersen draped over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  He’d been cruising the area to the west of the diner, trying to put himself in Ellie’s shoes. No money, important, obviously life-threatening data on a computer . . . what would he do? She had as much as told him what she had to do. She had to gain access to a computer, and her best chances for that were back at her apartment.