by Jo Davis
She did as she was told, heart pounding wildly in her chest. He guided them into the corridor using her as a shield, and she was greeted by the horrible sight of a young agent lying on his back. Avery Hanson. His body was riddle with bullets, blood spreading across the tile, eyes staring heavenward. From his position, opposite the agents’, it appeared he’d been with Dietz. She’d never have believed this man would be a traitor.
And now he was dead because of his choices.
“Lower your weapons and give us a clear path to the roof, or I’ll splatter her brains all over the place,” Dietz said to the closest agent. “Make sure everyone knows.”
The agent complied, carefully reaching for his cell phone. Tears stung Emma’s eyes as she continued forward, hardly aware of anything except how surreal this felt. Two minutes ago, she’d been safely ensconced in her office, nervous about the upcoming mission. And yes, excited. She had to admit that now, since she might not get the chance later.
Would Dietz kill her as soon as they lifted off? Or would he keep her around for a while? She didn’t want to die, but some things were worse than quick death. Anyone who betrayed his country by selling out to terrorists could do terrible things to a lone woman under his control.
Blaze.
More than anything, she wished for his protective embrace and scent wrapped around her. His cocky attitude and quirky personality. She’d wasted seven months when they could’ve been together, and now…
Dietz shoved her into the waiting elevator, and the doors slid closed, creating an ominous silence. Much like a tomb.
As the car ascended she steeled herself for whatever was to come.
* * *
“Congrats on the promotion, man.”
Bastian Chevalier, crouched over a stack of boxes in his new office, straightened and turned toward Blaze, green eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m not sure ‘congratulations’ is the right word, but thanks. Come in.”
Skirting a pile of debris, he nodded. “Overwhelmed already?”
“You could say that. I’ve already had five calls from the White House and one from a pissed-off four-star general, all regarding the stolen weapon.”
“Ouch. Sucks to be you.”
“Today, yes. Tomorrow? I hold out some hope.” The other man pushed a hand through his blond hair with a sigh.
“Anything I can do to help?” Blaze didn’t know Bastian very well, but he’d always liked the guy and wondered why the hell Dietz had gotten the CEO’s job over him in the first place.
“I wish. Unfortunately, my system only makes sense to me — and maybe Michael, since he knows me better than anyone.”
Is that so? Interesting, especially since he’d never seen them exchange more than the few cordial words necessary to run day-today operations. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Years. Before he and Maggie…” His gaze shifted to the floor, but not before Blaze caught a flash of profound sadness in his eyes, quickly covered. The other man pushed at his rolled-up sleeves and dug into another box. “Anyway, a long time. How about you? You’ve been at SHADO for three or four years, right?”
“Just two.”
“Former military?”
“FBI.”
“Huh. Had you figured for a Navy SEAL or Green Beret. A real Rambo type.”
“I get that a lot.”
The other man chuckled. “I’ll bet. You give off some serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes, and you do it while smiling. Disturbing, Kelly.”
“Which is why I didn’t last as a Fed.” Blaze grinned. Bastian was an okay guy, friendly and funny. “Too much personality, and most of it is warped.”
Bastian laughed and started to reply, but the chirping of his cell phone cut off their banter. Removing it from his belt, he flipped it open. “Chevalier.” A pause. His eyes widened. “Fuck me! I’ll be right there.”
Blaze tensed, instantly alert as the other man snapped the phone shut and grabbed his gun from the holster on his hip. “What’s wrong?”
“Dietz fucking escaped! He’s heading for the roof and he’s got a hostage,” he shouted, pushing past Blaze.
“Shit! How’d the bastard get loose? Who’s the hostage?” Yanking his own gun from his holster, he sprinted after Bastian.
“Don’t know yet. Goddammit!”
They ran full out, legs pumping, taking the stairs at the end of the hall. Waiting for the service elevator to return would burn precious seconds. Blaze raced up the stairs after Bastian, the rush of adrenaline powerful enough to keep him high into the middle of next week.
But that feeling was nothing compared to the terror that awaited him when they burst out onto the roof to join several other agents, weapons drawn.
Dietz. Clasping Emma’s back against his front. Using her as a shield.
The muzzle of a gun jammed into her temple.
“Emma!” His scream was lost in the thunderous noise of the waiting helicopter. Dietz shoved her inside and dove in after as the skids lifted off the ground. “No!”
He ran, heedless of placing himself in the line of fire, of the barely audible shouts at his back. Too far. The distance was too damned far, and he wasn’t going to make it. But that didn’t stop him from launching himself at the closest skid as it rose and turned.
His body twisted as he arched through the air, arm stretching. His fingers grazed the metal and missed, and he fell hard. Lost his gun. Skidded across the rough gravelly surface of the roof, slammed to a stop against the hard barrier of the short wall — the only divider between him and falling several stories to his death.
He hardly cared. The only thing that mattered was the helicopter escaping with America’s number one enemy.
And with his woman.
Leaping to his feet, he lunged, only to be held back by several pairs of hands. “Motherfucker! I’ll kill you!” He fought them all as they sought to calm him.
“Agent Kelly, stand down!”
“Sir, stop! You’re too close to the edge!”
“Blaze, listen to me,” Michael said in his ear, voice calm. “The helicopter has a tracking device on board. We’ll find Dietz, and Emma, too.”
That softly spoken promise filtered through his rage to the rational part of his brain. For several long moments he stood still, breathing hard. Finally he nodded and shook off the hands holding him, which seemed to let go reluctantly.
“You’re damned right we will. And you’d better pray you get to Dietz first, because if I do… there won’t be anything left of the son of a bitch to take to trial.”
Retrieving his gun, he spun and strode away. Wisely, no one tried to stop him.
Five
Emma hated riding in a helicopter. On the handful of occasions she’d had to climb aboard, it had been on scheduled SHADO business. She’d been able to calm herself beforehand, find her center.
“I need a sack or something,” she informed her captor as the wretched aircraft banked sharply to the south.
“Excuse me?” He gave her a haughty look, face still flushed from the narrow escape.
“A sack. Now.” She panted, trying to stave off the nausea, his weapon the last thing on her mind. After all, if this thing crashed, the stupid gun wouldn’t be a factor any longer.
“What for?”
“I’m going to be sick, asshole.”
“No, you’re not,” he replied in a reasonable tone. Almost conversational.
“Yeah? Why not?”
“Because if you do, you will move beyond merely ceasing to be useful to being a disgusting waste of space. And it’s a long, long way down. Do we understand each other?”
Her blood froze. He might’ve been commenting on what to eat for dinner, he showed so little emotion. She had no doubt whatsoever that he’d push her out.
“Yes,” she croaked. Don’t get sick. Please.
The threat of learning to fly without feathers did the trick, taking her mind off her stomach. Determined to keep herself distracted, she stu
died Dietz’s profile. The man appeared so normal, unassuming. He was physically attractive in an “everyman” sort of way, with sandy hair and strong features. He was nobody’s idea of an archvillain who wanted to assist terrorists in blowing up the world.
You had Lex Luthor, the Joker, and the Green Goblin.
And then you had this guy — Corporate Psycho Ken.
He met her stare, one brow lifting. “Something on your mind, Agent Foster?”
Her name on his lips gave her a nasty start. She hadn’t thought Dietz the type of man to take much note of the worker bees, beyond making certain they did their job. Obviously she was wrong. Errors in judgment like that one could get her killed.
“Yes. Since I may not get another chance, I’d like to know what motivates an intelligent, successful man like you, a man who had it all, to do this. Why betray your country?”
“Why else? Money, Agent Foster. Tens of millions, mine for the pillaging. I have the means and the contacts, so why not?”
He’d kill her this instant if he knew she’d read the file on those contacts, much less the assignment she’d agreed to undertake. She pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the nuances of his speech, his expression.
For a split second, something very much like remorse resonated in his words, flashed in his eyes. A killer with a conscience? Well, most bad guys were human at the core. Weren’t they?
“I think there’s more to your reasons than money,” she said, taking a stab in the dark. “Something more personal.”
His laugh was cold. “Do tell. I’d love to hear your theory on the intricate workings of the criminal mind. Should be quite informative.”
“I’m not an expert on what makes you guys tick. That’s your field,” she said pointedly. “It just seems like there are any number of ways — easier ways — to illegally earn a vast fortune. Ways that, while distasteful and even morally degrading, don’t involve betraying the American people and compromising their safety to the point of annihilation. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re correct in your generalization.” His grudging admiration, and something more heated that shone in his eyes, gave her the shivers. And not in a good way.
“Then my thinking is that something of this magnitude has roots in vengeance as much as money. Not against the country per se but the individuals being hurt by your act.”
“You’re a very smart lady,” he said softly. Reaching out, he stroked one finger down her cheek. “How smart, I wonder?”
“What do you mean?” She barely kept herself from flinching away from his touch. Something told her that would be the worst mistake she could make.
“I wonder if you can apply your intelligence to this new situation and cut your losses. No doubt you’ve realized the probability of my letting you live is pathetically low as it stands, unless you give me an excellent reason to keep you around. Now that we’re clear on this, perhaps you’ll seriously consider the wisdom of joining my team.”
She revised her earlier opinion. He was unlike most criminals in every way save one — his monumental ego. He truly believed she was so malleable and afraid that she’d readily betray the American people to save her own skin.
She was frightened, no doubt about it. But she was made of stronger stuff than this worm had reckoned, and she’d play his game as long as she must, no matter how reprehensible. She’d hold out until she was rescued or killed, preferably the former.
“I don’t know. It depends,” she said evenly.
“On what?”
“Do you have dental benefits?”
He stared at her a moment before laughing, and this time the sound was several degrees warmer than before. “I like you, Agent Foster.”
“Emma.” She allowed him a small smile. Little did he know she was thinking of how he’d squeal when Blaze ripped his balls off and force-fed them to him.
“Wonderful… Emma. That attitude will get you far in my organization. Possibly even save your hide.”
“Well, I value my hide, such as it is. When in Rome, as they say. Besides, it’s not like I’m getting rich working for Michael.”
His expression darkened at the mention of his former mentor’s name. “Indeed.”
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. Her stomach settled somewhat, as much from getting used to the ride as from buying herself some time. How much was anyone’s guess. At least she wouldn’t be thrown out of the aircraft.
She spent the next hour and a half studying her surroundings, not that the scenery yielded much information. The area below was rural. No surprise there. Dietz would hole up in some place secluded yet luxurious, if she had him pegged right. He didn’t seem like a man to give up his creature comforts if he could help it.
Shifting her attention to the pilot, she suppressed a grimace. The big brute with the pockmarked face only a mother could love looked like he belonged on the FBI’s most wanted list along with Dietz. Probably was. As if her perusal was telegraphed to him, he turned in his seat to leer at her, waggling his tongue suggestively. Yuck. She shot him a glare and returned her attention to the countryside below.
Finally, they began to descend, and her relief at being able to get off this hunk of flying metal was overshadowed by new fears. What would be expected of her? Did Dietz already have a duty in mind, perhaps involving her skills as a disguise artist? If that was all he wanted she’d consider herself lucky. But luck hadn’t exactly been her best bud today.
Whatever he wants, you can deal with it. Just for a day or two, until Blaze comes.
He would come for her, and there’d be hell to pay. She held on to that as the copter touched down and settled, letting the knowledge wrap her in a safe cocoon. Until then, she’d do whatever it took to survive. That’s what was expected of a good agent.
As she followed Dietz and stepped into the sunshine, she took in the elegant, sprawling estate. Situated in the middle of nowhere, the two-story mansion was a cream-colored adobe-type design with a red Spanish tile roof. A breezy-looking covered wraparound porch extended across the front, stretched along the side, and turned the corner to continue, she assumed, to the back. She could easily picture sipping wine or sangria in a rocking chair, whiling the afternoon away… if it weren’t for the armed men posted on the corners and on the balcony.
Sort of ruined the idyllic effect.
Dietz placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward, as though he had every right to take possession of her person. She clamped her lips together and said nothing about the gesture, resisting the urge to pop him a good one. All things in good time.
When he steered her into the palatial foyer, she whistled through her teeth. “Nice little shack. Espionage must be profitable.”
“Perhaps I’ll keep you here long enough for you to find out just how much.” Without breaking stride, he barked at a young guard. “You, show our guest to a room and make certain she has proper attire for the evening. And make sure she doesn’t go wandering about. We wouldn’t want her to get lost,” he said with a sly smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are the preparations in order?”
“Just as you requested, sir.”
“All right. Make yourself useful, and see that my other guests are settled in after you take care of Miss Foster. We’ll begin at eight o’clock as scheduled.”
“I’m on it, sir.” The guard stepped a few feet away, waiting for her to accompany him.
“You must’ve had your escape thoroughly planned in advance,” she observed. “Is this a strategy session?”
“A celebration of our plans moving forward,” he corrected. “And perhaps a bit of business mixed with the pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have details to attend to. I look forward to seeing you later this evening.”
She narrowed her eyes at his back as he strode off with confidence, very much a man in his element. The urbane host playing his role to the hilt. Thinking of the casual way he’d threatened to toss her from the helico
pter, she didn’t believe his bullshit for a second.
“Ma’am, come with me.”
Her throat tightened, stomach knotting in dread as an evil little voice whispered that she might be here longer than she’d planned. That Blaze might not find her after all, and she’d be stuck at Dietz’s mercy indefinitely.
“Is the weapon housed here?” she asked, more to prod him for a reaction than out of any real hope he’d answer. He didn’t betray the slightest twitch, simply kept walking, up the elegant stairs and to a room on the second floor.
“You’ll stay in here until Mr. Dietz sends for you,” he said, pushing open the door. “Appropriate clothing for this evening and an afternoon snack will be brought to you shortly.”
“Fine.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say “thanks” when she’d never asked to be kidnapped and brought here in the first place. So she tried another question. “Is this Dietz’s estate?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
She frowned at the young guard. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned about. Enjoy your rest.” With that, he left. The scrape of the lock made her feel like an animal in a cage, though in this case the real animals roamed free on the range to wreak havoc on people’s lives.
Rest, he’d said? Sure, I’ll just have a nice comfy doze while my captors plot more treason and discuss my fate. What a joke.
She paced the large room, hardly appreciating the dark, fine furnishings, including the queen-sized bed. What she noticed first was the crucial lack of any object she could use as a weapon. For all its beauty, the bedroom was as clean and barren as a hotel room. No candles in jars, no knickknacks of any kind. Same thing with the bathroom.
Escape route? Forget it. Both the window in the bathroom and the one in the bedroom were too high off the ground, with no tree, lattice, or other object to climb down. The fall would likely break several bones at best. Besides, even if she could get out, the windows were likely outfitted with alarms. She wouldn’t get two feet from the house once she hit the ground.
