Firewall

by DiAnn Mills

  The other matter that needed attention was the dialogue between the two LNG companies using Gated Labs’s Nehemiah software. Although he knew one was located in Kitimat, Canada, and the second in Corpus Christi, he didn’t know the dynamics of the personalities in charge.

  He walked to the kitchen to steal a look outside. The backyard with autumn touches of gold, orange, and purple produced color that Joe enjoyed. Flowers and bushes were planted according to the latest gardening magazine with the perfect balance of whatever the soil required. Joe had a tool belt of talents, while Grayson could kill a cactus.

  “Found him.” Taryn lifted her arms in more of a stretch than a victory sign. She winced and rubbed the area around her head wound.

  Grayson rejoined her. “Who?”

  “Buzz. I wanted to find substantial evidence to prove he and Murford aren’t the winners in this game. Those two aren’t as brilliant as they’d like to think.” She tilted her head, and auburn hair captured his attention. “Anyway, I have footage of him at Brown’s Restaurant picking up dinner. Got the date and time, and it coincides with one of my evenings with Murford.”

  Grayson leaned over to see the computer screen. The camera had a clear facial shot of a square-shouldered man. “He’s got quite a build for a limo driver.”

  “Go figure. Do you want me to ID him, or do you want to send it to the FBI?”

  “Both.”

  She laughed, and her fingers raced over the keys. “His name is George Breckon, and he trained as a Navy SEAL. Dishonorable discharge involving the death of another SEAL. He was acquitted due to lack of evidence. Same unit as Murford.” She scrolled through her information. “He’s been busy. In the fall of 2012 while living in Phoenix, he was charged with assault and battery. Early 2013, he knifed and killed a man in self-defense—a bar fight. I can look deeper to tie him to Murford after their military release. Your choice.”

  “Go for it. It’s your thing, and you obviously do it well.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I’m hoping some of Murford’s favorite restaurants were places the two visited before they put their plan into action.” Her eyes glued to the screen while her fingers tapped at lightning speed.

  “The two could have been the ones who tore apart your condo,” Grayson said.

  “The jerks.” She narrowed her brows. “Destroyed everything I owned when they already had what they needed.” Her arms lifted to the ceiling again. “Yes! Here are both of them at Tony’s.” She turned the laptop his way. “More evidence to send to your boss.”

  “Maybe you should join the FBI.” Grayson hugged her shoulders.

  She stiffened.

  He released her as though she’d shocked him. For a moment he’d forgotten Murford’s betrayal and the pain she’d gone through. “Hey, I’m sorry. Out of line.”

  She paled and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s all right. I’m a little apprehensive. Getting over what happened will take some time.” She turned her attention to the keyboard. “Even to a man who’s saved my life more than once.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll work on the security system backup at Murford’s condo. See if pics of others are there.”

  Grayson mentally kicked himself for upsetting her. This woman had experienced one tragedy after another in a matter of twenty-four hours. Despite the bruises and lack of sleep, she was gorgeous—drop-dead gorgeous, as Joe would say. Wow. Highly intelligent. Courageous . . .

  He reined in his wanderings. Not the time to be thinking about a woman in that way.

  As soon as the SSA gave the okay, Grayson would bring her into the office, where they’d keep her protected until arrests were made. Who was giving FBI information to bad guys?

  “This one will take me a few minutes,” she said. “Not sure why the security office claimed they couldn’t immediately recover the condo’s footage.” She gave him the first eye contact since he’d touched her. “Maybe they needed to cover their behinds while they tried to retrieve it. Admitting they lost information doesn’t do much for a security company’s credibility.”

  “Makes sense. I’ll send the SSA your updates.” He typed a message to Alan Preston and pressed Send.

  “Shouldn’t Joe have been back by now?” Her voice held a ring of uneasiness.

  He glanced at his watch. “You’re right. His trip to the FBI office might have taken longer than he expected. What’s on your mind?”

  “Joe thinks we won’t find Zoey alive.”

  “He doesn’t want to build false hopes. Disappointment can destroy a person, and you’ve already gone through a lot of heartache.”

  “I understand, and I know Joe wants me to be prepared.” She didn’t look his way. “Murford pretended to adore her.”

  “If his actions were legitimate, that’s good for Zoey.” Grayson had studied the worst of criminals, and many had no conscience. The adage of “the end justifies the means” fit most profiles.

  “Grayson, you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it. But Murford treated me the same way and left me to die in a bombing.” She pointed to the drape-covered window. “I want to catch a glimpse of light in this nightmare. Claire used to tell me to put my problems in God’s hands.”

  “My faith keeps me going when I want to quit.”

  “So you and your uncle are Catholic?”

  Unusual question when they didn’t have anything in the house pointing to Catholicism. “We’re Protestant.”

  “What about St. Francis hanging from the rearview mirror of Joe’s car?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “It came with his T-Bird twenty years ago. Sentimental value, that’s all.”

  “He kissed it before going in after you at the theater. I think he needs to hold on to dear old St. Francis.”

  “Joe’s saved my rear more than once. What about your faith?”

  “I attend Claire’s church, a Messianic group.”

  “Interesting. Do you celebrate Old Testament festivals? Then add Christianity to it?”

  “It’s a weaving of the entire Bible, like fitting the pieces of a puzzle together. Very rich, with lots of themes carrying from the Old to the New.”

  He contemplated her Messianic beliefs. “Once this is over, I’d like to visit your church.”

  “Sure.”

  Strange she’d agree so quickly. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me, Grayson, you interviewed the people at Gated Labs. What did you think of Kinsley Stevens?”

  The blonde bombshell? “Smart. Has her own agenda. What about her did you want me to see?”

  “I don’t trust her, especially after I caught her on my computer. Haden is definitely smarter, more conniving. Anyway, when I asked her what she was doing, she simply laughed and hit Escape before I could learn more. Told me to go to Haden, our supervisor, which I did. I was furious and didn’t think about the consequences.”

  “What happened?”

  “He accused me of being paranoid and suggested a psychiatrist who could prescribe what I needed.”

  “Do you still think it’s more Rollins than her?” The BlackBerry rang before she answered. It was Joe.

  “Get out of there now,” Joe said.

  Grayson was on his feet, reaching for his Glock. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

  “I’ve been driving around trying to ditch a tail. Got a bad feeling, son. Go.”

  He turned to Taryn. “We’ve got to run.”

  She wrapped one hand around the laptop and coaxed Buddy with the other.

  “Go out the back,” Joe said. “They could be waiting for you in the front.”

  “Joe, are you sure about this?” he said.

  “This is my fault. You wanted to leave, and I talked you out of it.”

  Grayson didn’t waste a moment shoving Taryn and Buddy to the rear of the house. Joe’s manicured backyard offered little protection except for an oak tree shading a concrete bench and ornamental shrubs and flowers. Grayson
grabbed an Adirondack chair as they raced out the back. A seven-foot wood fence bordered the sides of the yard, but the rear had a brick wall separating the property from the street. They’d need to use the chair. How could he manage with his side bandaged and Taryn’s head injuries?

  “Where are you?” Grayson said.

  “Heading toward the FBI office. I’ve called Alan, and he’s sending two cars and HPD to the house in hopes of nabbing this guy. Alan says we’re bringing you two in.”

  Grayson didn’t have time for any more dialogue. He ended the call and stuffed the phone in his pants pocket. A spray of gunfire and shattered glass burst through the quiet neighborhood. He grabbed Taryn and pushed her to the ground, placing her body under his and covering her head.

  CHAPTER 24

  11:25 A.M. TUESDAY

  Taryn’s chest ached from attempting to steady her trembling body. The gunfire stopped. Nothing hurt. She could think, feel, and analyze what had happened. Joe had been right, and by the grace of God, she and Grayson survived. Her arm wrapped around Buddy’s head. He licked her face, and she didn’t care how bad he smelled. Grayson rolled off her onto the grass.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  “Yeah. What about you and Buddy?”

  Taryn took another glance at the shepherd. Unharmed. No doubt frightened, as she was. “We’re good.” She focused on Grayson. Blood stained through his bandaged side. “You need medical help.”

  “I’ll take care of it after we’re clear of this place. I heard car doors slam. Two of them.”

  So had she.

  He struggled to his feet, Glock in hand.

  “Are they waiting for us, Grayson? Or are they sure we were in the house?”

  “We’re about to find out.” His gaze panned the area.

  “Hand me the extra gun.” Rage burned in her stomach. Everyone who tried to help had been targeted.

  “You don’t know how to use it.”

  “Doesn’t take much technology to pull a trigger.” She’d come close to killing Murford with her bare hands. Taking a life went against all she believed and advocated, but she’d do whatever it took to block the road of the greedy and end this nightmare.

  “And you’d kill us. Stick to what you do best.”

  “Okay. So what’s the plan?” Taryn whispered as though those who wanted him dead and her in their clutches might hear. “Other than staying alive?”

  He pointed to the right side of the house. “They’ll come through that gate or the rear of the house.” He took her hand and raced to the left side behind a gas grill. Buddy trotted beside them. The dog looked ferocious, which might help the situation.

  Once there, she anticipated the screech of the gate opening. Maybe Joe kept it oiled, because nothing met her ears but the sound of neighborhood dogs. Something from the gate area had Buddy’s attention, and he growled.

  “I’m sure they’re planning to rush us,” Grayson said.

  “Want me to kick in the fence behind us?”

  “I’d do it, but my side’s killing me.”

  She whirled around and kicked in two vertical boards, then two more. Her hapkido practice had been in a private studio. No one had been around . . . danger hadn’t been an element. It was just a means to work off stress and work through whatever bothered her. Whatever it took when her mind flew faster than cyberspace.

  The other side of the fence was clear of shooters. For now. She expected to hear a police siren, or maybe those were wishful thoughts for a quick rescue. A white car sat at the curb in front of the house. Engine running.

  Grayson squeezed through the fence, and she followed. Buddy seemed to have no fear. One day she’d figure out the purpose of her angel dog—where he came from and why he’d befriended her, like Grayson. She kept tossing a look over her shoulder, expecting an armed man to aim and fire. Yet she knew Buddy would warn them.

  “Stay with me.” Grayson crept along the side of the brick house until they reached the front corner. He pressed in numbers and requested backup. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he turned to her. “A driver’s waiting. That means at least two more to deal with. One of them might be in the house. But my guess is they will come from behind.”

  She studied the driver. He held a gun in his right hand. “He looks like George Breckon. Great. Trouble in every direction. We’re toast.”

  “Depends. I’d like to have a few answers, but I doubt he’ll let me arrest him.”

  Breckon emerged from the car with a phone to his ear. He dropped it into his pocket and checked the clip on his gun.

  “FBI. You’re surrounded,” Grayson shouted.

  Breckon aimed in their direction, and Grayson fired.

  Breckon slumped over the hood of the car and disappeared onto the pavement.

  Where were the police? The FBI? Glass littered the front yard. Grayson’s and Joe’s homey setting looked like a demolition site. Buddy brushed against her legs. She was finished with all the tragedies.

  “I’m going to bargain with them.” Her gaze darted back and forth to where the danger lurked. “They want access to Nehemiah.”

  “Then they’d kill you.”

  “It would buy time.”

  “Listen, superwoman, neither Buddy nor I will allow it. Look, these guys will promise anything to get you out in the open. They’re in the business of extracting information and eliminating the source.”

  An image of Zoey’s sweet face and dark curls cut through her heart.

  And the nightmarish disregard for human dignity.

  “Backup will be here soon, and those guys know it. Right now, without a getaway vehicle, they need to get the job done or hoof it.”

  A siren sounded in the distance. The FBI wouldn’t give an alarm. One man rushed from the front door. Murford. Why wasn’t she surprised. A moment later, a second bolted from the opposite side of the house.

  “Stop! FBI!” Grayson leveled his weapon.

  The two dashed across the street and jumped over a fence, but not before Grayson squeezed a bullet into the second man’s shoulder. Murford raced away.

  A car sped down the street with two police vehicles behind it. More police cars stopped, and Grayson pointed to where the men had disappeared. Two plainclothes men and an HPD officer hurried in that direction. A female officer who looked like a defensive end made her way toward Grayson and Taryn.

  Buddy growled, and Taryn attempted to relax him. He didn’t have a collar, so if he took off after the officer, she’d shoot Buddy. “It’s okay,” Taryn whispered. “We’ll be all right.”

  “Control that dog,” the officer said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Taryn said. “He’s protective.”

  “So am I. Stand up. Sir, put your weapon down.”

  They obliged.

  “Both of you lift your hands above your heads. Step out here where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Sit, Buddy,” Taryn said, and miraculously he obeyed.

  “I’m FBI,” Grayson said. “Can I show you my ID?”

  “No thanks. I’ll wait for backup.”

  “As soon as those men return, they’ll confirm it.” Grayson’s voice contained an irritated edge.

  “Wonderful. In the meantime, you can do what I say.”

  Taryn raised her hands. Grayson set his gun on the ground and complied. Breckon used to tease her about being a computer geek. Now he lay dead. Had she grown so callused in the past two days that a dead body meant nothing sacred? She shivered. Life was sacred.

  She viewed the front of the house. Every window exposed jagged pieces of glass from the barrage of shooting. She could only imagine what the inside looked like . . . especially where she and Grayson had been sitting. Thank God for Joe’s warning call. She’d done a lot of thanking Him lately. Grayson’s face hardened at the home’s damage. Anger seethed from every inch of him.

  “I was furious when I saw my condo destroyed,” she said. “I felt violated. No words can describe it . . . only reliving the same e
xperience.”

  “This is more than brick and mortar,” he said. “Joe took me in when I couldn’t handle living at home. He taught me how to be a man. This was my first real home in years. Guess that’s why I’m still here. Whoever did this will pay.”

  Deadly determination she understood.

  “The home is registered to Joe West,” the officer said.

  “My uncle. He’s retired FBI.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Meeting with agents at the office.”

  “Right. I’m no fool. Too much has happened the last two days for me to believe you. How were you injured?”

  “Doing my job for the FBI.”

  “Right.”

  Grayson’s tensed muscles showed his stress mode.

  The two officers who’d gone after the shooters returned with the injured man, a Hispanic with a hard face and wiry body. Murford must have escaped. Taryn wanted to believe she was finally in good hands and stole a look at Grayson. Yes, she trusted him and Joe. But what about the other law enforcement officials? Would they lock her up? Charge her with an unspeakable crime? Not look for Zoey?

  CHAPTER 25

  12:46 P.M. TUESDAY

  Taryn gripped the sides of the chair opposite Houston FBI Supervisory Special Agent Alan Preston. His office alone, and all it represented, intimidated her. The man steepled his fingers while fear and innocence warred with her emotions. A bit of indignation nestled there too, for anyone who’d think she’d be part of an airport bombing or steal software from Gated Labs. Grayson sat beside her, but she wouldn’t look his way. She didn’t need to be rescued—only believed.

  “I’ve heard your story from all sources,” the SSA said. “Now hearing it in your words backs up Special Agent Hall.”

  Did she dare breathe relief? “Then you see I had nothing to do with the airport bombing.”

  He poured confidence into every movement, his dark-blue eyes clear. Definitely in charge. “That doesn’t release you from your connection to the bombing or the accusations by Gated Labs.”

  Taryn released her hands from the chair. Anger was her enemy at this point, and she fought it hard. “Sir, I have spoken the truth in every answer I’ve given you. I figured out things, like George Breckon’s identity, that you were only speculating. I accessed sites no one in your office could have found and at a speed that left your whizzes in the dust. I secured information and gave it to Special Agent Hall. What else do you want me to do? Take a polygraph? I’m not an idiot—” She almost swore but caught herself.