by DiAnn Mills
Joe’s gaze flew to her. “What can I do for you?”
“Be yourself.” She held her breath to manage the pain. “Both of you, what else happened tonight?”
“You tell her, Grayson,” Joe said.
“You can. She likes you better.”
“You’re younger. Better-looking.”
“Guys,” she said. “It hurts to laugh.”
“Okay,” Grayson said. “Haden Rollins came through with a name.”
“The New York person?”
Grayson explained how the man confessed to what he’d done for an oil and gas trader by the name of Iris Ryan and that she’d hired a hacker to give her access. “We’re looking for her.”
“The BOLO thing?”
“Yes, ma’am. He indicated feelings for Kinsley Stevens. She’s his biggest concern.”
“Good.” Taryn whispered a prayer of thanks. Soon they’d all have answers. “Why did she have the airport bombed?”
Grayson gripped the steering wheel. “Haden doubts she initiated the bombing.”
The hope from moments before died in her throat.
CHAPTER 55
2:13 A.M. FRIDAY
I sit on my bed in the hotel room and call my attorney ex-husband. He hates being wakened in the middle of the night, but that’s why he’s paid far more than he’s worth.
“I’m not asleep, Iris,” he says. “The FBI issued a subpoena for your office, and they’re going through every inch of your hard copy and online files.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“What good would that have done? I know you don’t have anything incriminating there.”
“I’m not surprised by their search. Always a step behind the masterminds of this country.”
“Iris, you weren’t honest about your involvement with Gated Labs or LNG.”
He speaks to me like I’m an insolent child. “Excuse me?” My voice rises.
“Haden Rollins talked to the FBI. Named you as the prime mover behind the attempts to steal software from Gated Labs. There’s a warrant for your arrest, and you’re suspected of kidnapping a child.”
Rollins would pay for his loose lips. “Build a case against him. I’ll give you all you need.”
“I’m not in the mood to take orders. What have you done?”
“Just business. I’m tough, but I follow the rules.”
“What about the law? You’re also being linked to the airport bombing in Houston.”
“Your job is to represent me.”
“You pulled that off? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Right. I called you, remember? I’m not surfacing until you go to the FBI and work out a deal. I’ll name the CEO, Brad Patterson, as the originator and Rollins as his accomplice. Formier ordered killings and the confiscation of top-secret files at Gated Labs. I’ll claim I was sleeping with Rollins, and he confessed his part to me. I was afraid for my life and ran.”
“Sure you don’t want to implicate Taryn Young?” His dry tone didn’t deter me.
“I’ll take care of her myself.”
“So that’s why you’re in Houston?”
“None of your business where I am or why. Call me when you have this messy thing handled.” I end the call and pour myself a drink. Finishing it, I flip on the TV for the latest news. The first image I see is my photo, actually two. One is my professional shot and the other is with the blonde wig I’m wearing now. I brought a third disguise, a pixie wig with purple streaks. It looked great with green contacts and black-framed sunglasses. Each look has a different set of clothes, and those outfits are with me.
A reward’s been offered for information.
I pour another drink. He hasn’t called, and that’s dangerous. I know he’s here, so what’s he doing? I pull my gun from my purse and wrap my fingers around the cold metal. It’s ready for when he makes his appearance.
I call Save to make sure his work is on schedule.
Young designed a false entrance into the software, and it shut down his computer. He’s behind on his commitment. Timing is everything.
CHAPTER 56
3:25 A.M. FRIDAY
Taryn walked with Grayson and Joe from the treatment center of the hospital ER much sooner than she’d expected. There were perks to being escorted by the FBI. Her arm rested in a cast that extended to her fingers, and she cringed at the thought of maneuvering a keyboard. Oh, but it throbbed. When hadn’t she hurt somewhere over the past four days? She’d refused an injection for pain and instead requested some non-drowsy pain medication. She hated existing on pills and injections that blocked out the real world—not her style of living.
Joe whipped out a pen from his shirt pocket. “I need something permanent to write with. Your arm is a canvas.” He turned to a young woman at the receptionist desk. “Excuse me, miss. Do you have a marker?” He followed up with a smile that must have won him every female within miles when he was younger. She gave him black, green, and red markers.
Taryn offered her casted arm. “Make it good.”
Joe winked and wouldn’t let her see his masterpiece. She grinned at Grayson, but the look on his face shook her. They were there, his feelings for her, and he wasn’t hiding them. Her face grew warm, her own vulnerability seeping through the pores of her skin.
“There you are.” Joe beamed like a little boy.
Taryn took a peek and laughed. He’d written the words in green and added a touch of red. To the girl who hacked her way into my heart.
“That’s cheesy,” Grayson said. “My turn, and don’t look. The artist is at work. I need the red and green markers.”
“You two are incorrigible.” She sealed the light moments to memory.
“Yeah, and I taught him everything he knows,” Joe said. “His charm and good looks come from me.”
Grayson seemed to take forever before he capped the markers and handed them to Joe. “My words will go down in infamy.”
“Read it aloud, Taryn, for the full effect,” Joe said.
Taryn drew in a sharp breath to keep the tears buried. “‘To my new partner, who’s never let me down.’ You two are going to make me cry.”
“Won’t be the first time.” Joe wrapped his arm around her waist. “Last time I had the honors.”
She shook her head to dispel the wave of emotion. “When this is over, I’m taking both of you to dinner.”
“When this is over, I plan to tackle a lot of things.” Grayson opened the ER door to the parking lot. It had rained, and the parking lot was a mess of puddles, as though the world were cleansed and the end was in sight.
Joe laughed. “When this is over, I’ll shower our lady with fine pearls.”
Taryn startled and stopped in the parking lot. “Pearls.”
“What?” Grayson said.
They knew her every move. Murford had planted a tracking device . . . but what? Not her wedding ring . . . She touched her ears. “Claire gave me a pair of pearl earrings for my wedding day. When Murford saw them, he suggested I not take them off until after the honeymoon.”
She yanked out one and then the other. “I think their GPS is here.” She tossed them into a puddle of water. “Now try to find me.”
As they picked their way through the parking lot, Joe updated them on what was happening. Cameron Wallace had slipped under the radar and was suspected to be on foot. But his exploits around the globe had proven him highly skillful in avoiding law enforcement types. Why had he kidnapped her when his specialty was pulling the trigger? So many questions while the clock ticked closer to the 11:00 a.m. export launch of LNG. No threats had been made to the companies. No anticipated delays. Just a group of shrouded people who were intent on stopping the export with a series of bodies to prove their point.
Earlier, after Taryn had been at the convenience store, Grayson retrieved her purse and phone from the trash. A plus in the havoc of the night. She checked her cell for a message from Save. He’d texted her.
“Guys, I nee
d to call Save.” She pressed in his number, and he answered on the first ring. “Got your text. What’s up?”
He cursed. “Problems and more problems. The developer has nested more layers in this program than I have time to penetrate.”
“I thought you were in and testing it. I’ve had the flu and haven’t done a thing.”
“False front. When I tested the software, a virus shut me down and froze my computer. Now I’m on another laptop and working my way through this labyrinth.”
“Send me what you have, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Make it fast. The boss is all over me. Wants the access now.”
“What did you tell her?” Taryn said.
“That I’m a hacker, a professional who needs space to think through each calculated move. Don’t ask her response.”
“How far are you into the system?”
“Depends on what I find. I want to be sure before I hose this laptop. I’ll text you the details.” Save ended the call.
Taryn ordered herself to stop trembling. “The virus worked, and now he’s trying to reverse-engineer things. Wants my help.”
“This will be okay,” Grayson said. “Can you toss him a bone?”
“Sure. I’ll wait a few minutes and text him. His boss is impatient.”
Grayson opened the pickup door for her. “Iris Ryan is anything but tolerant. Joe, do we have an update on what’s going on with her?”
Joe entered the passenger side and searched through his BlackBerry. “Agents report her ex-husband had nothing to state and has no idea where she is. I don’t believe that for a minute. He claims she’s been framed, and he’s working on a statement. Nothing found in her office, but a sweep is being done of her entire building.” He held up a finger. “A search warrant has also been issued for her residence.”
“Anything on the other investigations?” Grayson pulled out of the hospital parking lot. One more time she was en route to the FBI office in Houston and not alone.
“Authorities are still looking for Zoey. People from Claire Levin’s church are going door to door in the Huntsville State Park area, and a motorcycle club has volunteered in the search.”
Taryn swallowed the sobs threatening to steal her composure. “I still think she’s in the area. Murford mentioned more than once his love for fishing and a cabin there. I know the cabin was empty, and the fingerprint sweep revealed no one in your database. But I think whoever has Zoey took her to a similar site.” If only the answers were a few keystrokes away. She was fishing too.
God, help us before it’s too late.
“Dear lady,” Joe began, “the search teams are combing every inch of that park and surrounding homes.”
“Am I a fool to think when we find Zoey, we’ll unlock this whole mess?”
Neither man responded.
“I’m going to think back over every conversation with Murford. No man is smart enough to guard every word.”
“Maybe I can rattle something loose,” Grayson said. “Unusual phone calls? Private conversations with George Breckon?”
She concentrated on the man and his moods. “I remember a phone call in which he mentioned ‘some walls were thicker than others.’ Now I see he meant Nehemiah’s firewall, or my refusal to sleep with him, or my reluctance to leave my techno gadgets alone with him. If he and his buds broke into my condo while I was in the hospital, why didn’t he go that route before?”
“Fear of getting caught. And he thought he had the situation under control,” Grayson said. “Control ranks at the top of his motivation. Along with a heavy dose of narcissism.”
Taryn studied the clock on Grayson’s truck. Even with all the agents and law enforcement agencies working on the bombing, the prospect of compromised software, and a missing child, how could it all be resolved before 11:00 a.m.?
“Hey, we have company,” Grayson said.
Taryn whirled around. An SUV rapidly approached from the rear. “Wallace,” she whispered. The highway ahead lay void of traffic . . . the perfect spot to be intercepted.
Both agents pulled their weapons.
“Taryn, get down in the seat.” Grayson stepped on the gas.
“He must have watched us leave the hospital,” she said. When would this be over?
She bent over in the cramped space, favoring her left arm. The SUV crashed into their rear. Stifling a scream, she jostled and banged her head against the steering wheel. A rush of wind and sound met her, and she assumed Joe had lowered his window. An exchange of fire left her trembling and wishing she had her own gun.
“It’s me they’re after,” she said. “I’ll go with them.” No one else needed to be hurt or killed.
“Fat chance,” Grayson said. But his words might get him killed.
A pop sounded, and a rear tire sank to the concrete. The Dodge bounced, swerved, and leaned to the right on two wheels. She rose to see Grayson steering wildly to keep the truck on the road. She braced herself as the vehicle flipped.
CHAPTER 57
3:55 A.M. FRIDAY
Taryn screamed, and the pickup ceased rolling, upside down.
Odd how life could spin and drop at the same time.
The door on Joe’s side clicked open. Her mind wavered between consciousness and the safety net of blackness. A hand steadied her and then lifted her from the truck. She wouldn’t say a word but listen—and pray Grayson and Joe were okay.
The scent of Cameron Wallace met her nostrils, and with it rose fear, raw and primal.
He tossed her onto the backseat of the SUV and raced off. She believed they were the only two in the vehicle and opened her eyes a slit to confirm it. She mentally checked herself for additional injuries and didn’t note new ones.
“I heard you moan, Taryn,” Wallace said. “Can’t outrun me. I’ll give you credit, though. You know how to think on your feet.”
Suck it up. Play the role. Pray Joe and Grayson aren’t hurt badly. She slowly sat.
“You also have a daredevil streak,” he said.
The tag meant more when it came from Grayson. “Is that a compliment?”
“I’ll put it in your epitaph.”
She was so tired that she no longer cared about his threats. The game needed to end. But she’d not give up. She’d play until the last whistle blew. “Nothing’s changed since we were together?”
“This isn’t a date.”
Her arm throbbed along with her head and eye. She shuddered at what he’d do in retaliation. “Okay, I get it that you killed Murford. I get it Iris Ryan wants access to the software. I get it she has a hacker working on that access. I get it she has Zoey to force me into giving her what she wants. Those things make sense. And I get it that I won’t live to see many more sunrises. But why did Ryan bomb the airport?”
He chuckled. “You don’t have all the facts.”
“What am I missing?”
“I don’t work for Iris Ryan. She and I have the same boss.”
Was the FBI aware of this? “Does your boss have the little girl?”
“If you’re referring to the Zoey person, that was Iris’s plan.”
“Will I meet the woman?”
“Before or after I kill her?”
The pieces had shifted. All this time she thought the New York connection was the mastermind linking Nehemiah and the bombing into one bizarre picture.
“A contract to kill the Ryan woman and Murford is why you’re in the States?”
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You sure ask a lot of questions. But yes. You’re a bonus.”
“Am I a third victim, or are you going to transport me to your boss?”
“Depends on your attitude.”
She stared out the window, noting they were driving toward Houston on I-45. Had the FBI been able to follow them? Lights of businesses lined both sides of the highway as they drove through the Conroe area. More traffic. A state trooper passed them. How were Grayson and Joe? Neither had uttered a sound when Wallace took her
from the truck. She reached for the door. Locked.
“Don’t give up, do you?” Wallace said. “By the way, you look awful.”
“I’ll go down fighting.”
“I have no doubt. You’re fun, Taryn. I’ll be sorry for this to end.”
“Glad I’ve been so entertaining.” But playing the witty, assertive, aggressive woman had lost its charm. Taryn Young wanted to give up. The past few days had drained the life out of her with no results. Her thoughts rested on Claire, all the dead and wounded, and Zoey.
“Lost your FBI buddies when I nabbed you the first time. Just you and me now.”
“It’s not over.”
“I’m a calculating kind of professional.” He turned left and drove north again. “Never talk to my prey. No need to. Plan the killing and do it. You’ve seen a side of me no other victim has. Hope you feel special.”
This wasn’t over yet. Did she really have a choice but to give her best a little longer? Had Zoey given up too?
4:14 A.M. FRIDAY
In the flipped truck, Grayson opened his eyes and did a quick body assessment. Nothing hurt, except his head, and that was the hardest part of his body. He gave Joe his attention. In the shadows, blood trickled from a nasty gash on the right side of his uncle’s forehead and down both sides of his face. He must have hit the door. Grayson listened to his uncle’s chest. Breathing. “Joe, are you okay?”
When his uncle didn’t respond, Grayson released his seat belt and turned off the engine. Whoa, where was Taryn?
He’d failed to protect her.
Cameron Wallace or Iris Ryan had nabbed her.
He exited the driver’s side and hurried to help Joe while pleading for his uncle to hold on to life. A semitruck stopped, and the driver waved. “I called 911.”
Grayson shouted thanks and yanked on the passenger door. A low groan met him. “Stay with me, Joe. Help is on the way.”
The truck driver approached, a fence-post-thin man with a tattered Astros cap. “I saw a car take off.”
