by Cherry Adair
"Give me the coffee before you drop it on River's lap." Ram reached for the heavy pot, lifting it up and away from Mike. "Want some?" He held it over River's half-full mug.
"Thanks."
His buddy seemed to have a crush on River, and looking around at the faces of his operatives, Daklin suspected several of the others did, too. And why not? She was every damned thing a man could want and more in one package. The thought of any other man’s hands on her bored straight through him like a drill bit to the brain. He didn’t like it, but claiming her wasn't an option. He had just too many damned issues to saddle her with. End of story.
"Just want you to know what to expect when we land," Daklin said curtly, annoyed that he was annoyed by the way River seemed to charm his men without even trying. The fact that he suddenly had the irrational urge to lock her up somewhere where only he got to see her alarmed him. "Your brother will leave the plane first with a security detail. He claimed, under the effects of the truth serum, that he'd ingested a Nut. Until we ascertain if he did indeed swallow an explosive device, we'll hold him at our bomb disposal facility."
It was the same facility where Joshua had died on Daklin's watch. Full fucking circle. River, who'd lifted the mug to her lips, paused to look at him over the rim. "I'm sorry. I thought you said my brother swallowed an explosive."
"So he claimed before he lost consciousness."
Putting down her coffee, she glanced around the table. "Do you believe him? How could he even detonate a bomb inside himself?"
"Some sort of remote control device. We didn't find anything on him when we searched him before boarding. And no. Despite the truth serum, we don't believe him, but we'll err on the side of caution and have him X-rayed anyway. As soon as we get the all clear, I'll take you for a short debriefing." He would do that only after notification that the twelve story underground facility was bomb-free. So far, the operatives there had found nothing.
They'd been ordered to look harder.
There was a strong possibility it was a ruse to make them endlessly chase their tails.
Sullivan had given them the exact location of the bombs in six out of the seven locations. He'd left out only T-FLAC HQ. Claiming to be under influence of the serum, he’d said that he had no knowledge of where that one was located. Still, the fact that Dr. Sullivan was aware of precisely where the other six explosive devices were located proved that he was more knowledgeable about Xavier's operation than he'd wanted them to believe.
"Then you can re-board and head straight to Portland.” Shadowed by unobtrusive bodyguards for as long as it takes to confirm Xavier actually died in that chopper. "Couple of hours, give or take. Unless you'd like to take a scenic tour of all that Montana has to offer?"
Like me.
What the fuck could he show her? His employee apartment—-room—-that contained an excellent sound system and a ninety-inch television? His imagination instead led him to the idea of entering his apartment, not bothering with a light or the scenic tour, but making love to her on his narrow bed. It’s good to want things.
"Thanks, but I'll pass. I have a business to get back to, and friends waiting for all the gory details." She put up a hand. "Strongly edited, of course." Smiling, she swiveled her chair and crossed her legs as she picked up the mug in both hands to sip her coffee. "It'll be good to be home where I know nothing will blow up. I'll never get used to that. Plus, I'll have to apply for a new passport since I left everything behind."
"That's already in the works," Daklin told her, damning the efficiency of T-FLAC ground staff who'd allow no delay in her departure.
Setting down her now empty mug, she got to her feet. All the men rose respectfully with her. Holy shit, Daklin had never seen that happen. "Thanks, guys. Sit down and finish your coffee. I'll go back and clean up, then come back up here, if that's all right and you don't have covert, secret decoder ring, top secret conversations you don't want me to hear?"
Daklin hungrily watched the sway of her perky ass as she walked away.
"I'm a tit man." Coffee forgotten, Nyhuis watched her with hungry eyes. "But I swear, I'm converted to an ass man right now."
"Convert to keeping your eyes and your thoughts away from Daklin's lady unless you want him to stab you with that steak knife he just picked up," Ram warned, thereby saving Daklin from lunging at the man across the breakfast table.
"Help Mike get this cleaned up before landing," he told Nyhuis, pointing to the dirty dishes. He got exactly the bitching complaints he expected. "Do it anyway," he said unsympathetically. He'd cooked the steaks and bacon, Gibbs had done the eggs, and Ram had made the endless carafes of coffee. It was a fair division of labor, and no one was exempt.
River returned as they were swiveling the large chairs back into position, the tables lowered, and the men seated for landing.
Sitting beside Daklin, she gave him a smile that pierced his heart and made his throat ache. "I’d forgotten I had nothing to pack. It's weird not even having my purse." Curling her legs beside her, she made herself comfortable. "Not to excuse anything, but I believe Catherine was the first woman Oliver ever slept with. Sex is a powerful motivator, especially to a guy like my brother. I suspect he'd have done anything for her."
"She was a Black Widow spider, and yeah. Seymour had a way with men. God help him, if she was his first sexual experience. That would scar any man for life." No doubt, Seymour had introduced Sullivan to a crapload more than 'sex'. She had an appetite for violence and perversion. After her death, the appetites Oliver had acquired had been catered to and fed by Xavier. Daklin suspected it was a means of controlling the younger man in his grief over losing the love of his life.
Too bad Sullivan had turned the tables and gone from learning at his master's knee, to being the puppet master.
River watched him with curious liquid gray eyes. "Did you have sex with her?"
"God, no."
She smiled. "That's pretty adamant."
"Seymour wasn't just a rogue operative. She was a deviant, a sexual predator. If she’d set her sights on your brother, he wouldn't have stood a chance."
"He's always been easily swayed, but that means, with the right motivation and encouragement, he can go from bad to good, right?" She frowned. "He's always been as focused as a weapon. Damn, I probably shouldn't tell you that." She waved her hand as if erasing the words. "What I mean is, he's always been hyper focused, and will go wherever he's pointed, be that a math problem, or whatever." She shrugged. "Whatever. A woman. A cause. God, I hate saying this, but the truth is, he lacks a moral compass. To him, the world is just a series of complex math problems. This stuff they found in Franco's emerald mine was a new and fascinating problem to solve. I'm sure he never gave any thought at all to the end result. So there's a chance he can be redeemed, right?"
"Yeah," Daklin told her, forcibly not leaning over to kiss her. "Anything's possible." He didn't have the heart to share his doubts about her brother’s ability to be rehabilitated. The plane landed on one of T-FLAC’s private landing strips. Several black SUVs waited to transport them. "Can I give Oliver a hug goodbye?"
"He's still groggy, but yeah. I'll go with you." Daklin accompanied her to the first vehicle, where four operatives were about to help Sullivan into the back seat. A nod had the man closest to Sullivan step back.
River awkwardly wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and buried her face against his chest. "I love you, Oliver. Please tell them everything they ask you so they know what a good guy you are. When this is over, come and stay with me for a while until you're ready to go to work, okay?"
With a frown, he untangled her arms from around his waist and shoved her away from him. She took a stumbling couple of steps back, and Daklin caught her by the arms, then left his hands there.
"I still have a job, River." Turning, he climbed into the vehicle, slammed the door, then rolled up the window and looked straight ahead as an operative got in after him.
Dick. Daklin tightened his
fingers on her arms, feeling the shiver that ran through her despite the warmth of the sun.
One look from Daklin to Dan Greeves, the lead operative in charge of Sullivan, instructed Greeves to stay on the scientist for the duration. With a nod, Greeves opened the door, then slid into the seat, keeping Sullivan sandwiched between himself and another operative on the other side of him. The car pulled away.
"This way." Daklin led her to one of the other waiting cars. Biting her lip, her eyes dark with hurt, River held it together as she walked beside him.
When they were on their way to the HQ building a mile away, he said quietly, "Your brother's not himself. He's still medicated. I'll make sure you get to see him again before you leave. By then, the drugs will have left his system." Daklin figured the guy was still a dickhead, medicated or not.
And if he doesn't fucking cooperate further, the second you're wheels up, we'll drug the son of a bitch again.
#
River was unimpressed by the low, one-story building in the middle of a clearing covered with wild grasses. A small herd of black cattle grazed nearby and there was pretty much nothing else to see. They were in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. In the distance, what looked like a forest of Douglas fir, Lodge pole pine and the bright yellow of Aspen leaves gave a clue about the natural vegetation cleared to construct T-FLAC's headquarters building. Several shrub and tree-covered berms were scattered about, humps against the vast blue sky.
It was nice to breathe fresh, clean air after being cooped up in a plane for twelve hours. The mid-morning sun felt good on River’s face, but wasn’t enough to drive the chill out of her. It was a chill of confusion and heartache, inspired by both her brother’s behavior and Ash’s. Her brother, well, she should have seen it coming. But Ash? No way could she have anticipated meeting a man like him. He'd landed in her life with the impact of a meteor.
After dropping them off, their SUV made a U-turn and disappeared down a gravel road. They were alone. She looked around. No people, no cars, and other than the disinterested cows, not a sign of life. "Is today a holiday?"
"We never adhere to holidays." He pointed to a thick, unmarked glass door leading into the single story concrete building.
Great. They were back to monosyllables and hand gestures. It wasn’t the most comforting situation, especially given their surroundings. Grays. Stark. Empty. Not even a potted plant to liven up the place. "This is cozy."
"The tip of the iceberg," he said without a smile. The lover of last night was gone. The man in black was back, and in full operative mode. "This way."
He led her into an elevator. Her stomach jumped to her throat as the floor seemed to drop from under her feet a second after the doors closed. Staggering, she grabbed Ash's steel-like forearm for balance. "Did we just freefall?”
"High speed elevator. Twelve stories underground."
"Did they find the bomb?” she asked as they exited into a wide, brightly-lit hallway. Full spectrum lighting gave a feeling of fresh air and space. Stunning and starkly beautiful, large black and white photographs of trees in simple black frames lined the walls. None of the doors had plaques or signage of any kind. River wondered what was behind them, but figured with a place like this, if one asked the question, they’d have to kill you once they’d answered. Preferring to stay very much alive, she kept her questions to herself.
Asher shook his head. "No. It could've been a red herring. Your brother was unable to give us any proof that an explosive device was planted here. HQ is as impenetrable as Fort Knox. Stronger than that, even. The only person who could've feasibly set a bomb inside undetected was Seymour, and she's been dead three years."
She glanced up at Ash as they walked. "So Oliver lied?"
"Nuts were found, and they are in the process of being defused as we speak, in all the other places he told us about under the truth serum."
Opening a door, he led her inside, where a giant of a man sat behind a modern, metal table. Though well lit, the room was painted a thundercloud gray, and the carpet was the exact same shade, making it look as though the metal table floated weightlessly in a stormy sea.
The somber color made River's mind go to a design for a fetish-style bra and panties. Something in hard gray, but with sheer see-through silk and small silver embellishments. Blinking the room back into focus, she mentally set aside the design, and concentrated on the here and now.
Leaning up against the table within reach, a pair of strange looking metal crutches indicated the man behind the desk had been injured in some way. He half-smiled. Or maybe that was a scowl, she wasn't sure. His mouth was slightly distorted by a wicked looking scar. "River, this is Dare. He'll take your statement. Tell him anything you can. Hell, anything you saw or overheard in Los Santos. Everything's relevant. I'll wait for you outside."
River turned to look at Ash. His features cold, his eyes looked distant and shuttered, void of emotion. His expression was that of a man impatient to get back to work. He'd already washed his hands of her. This was merely a formality before he politely shipped her home.
"Everything?" she taunted, just to get a rise out of him. Any emotion would be good right now. This place was sterile and cold, intimidating in a way River had never experienced before. It was all alien to her, and having a friendly face would've gone a long way to put her at ease.
"Yeah." He met her eyes. "Everything." Turning on his heel, he strode to the door, shutting it quietly behind him. Her throat tight, River felt as naked emotionally now as she’d been physically open to Ash a few short hours ago. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, her fingers curled around the pouch of emeralds as if they were a talisman. The gems clicked softly as she rolled them between her fingers like big expensive worry beads.
Several large, flickering screens illuminated the enormous width and height of the man behind the desk, reflecting small squares of light in his eyes.
"Miss Sullivan." His voice was deep, smooth, and illogically comforting. “Please take a seat.” He indicated the straight-backed chair in front of him with a wave of a surprisingly elegant, if enormous, hand. "This will be painless, I promise.”
The hell it would. Reliving every day, every moment she’d spent with Ash, just to have him jerk it away, was like having someone peel off your skin while you were wide-awake. Painful wouldn’t even begin to describe it.
River glanced around the barren room. There was nowhere for her to go. No way to get there.
Get it over with. She sat down.
Dare tapped his keyboard twice, opening up a blank screen, the cursor blinking expectantly. “Start with the five million dollars your brother wired into your checking account."
#
15:02:08
"Daklin? We just ripped out wall on eleventh floor. We are hot," Rafe Navarro interrupted.
Fucking hell. "Hold," Daklin addressed the others he'd been monitoring as he ran to the stairs in response to the news.
Nuts had been located worldwide in each city, exactly as Sullivan had told them. T-FLAC's best and brightest were at each location. When Navarro cut in, Daklin was talking to the six lead operatives as they attempted containment of the devices.
Sullivan, even under the influence of the drug, had refused to divulge a rational method on how to defuse the Nuts. That lack of information ate at Daklin’s gut. This was Josh, times a million.
As the prime conductor of this clusterfuck of a discordant symphony, Daklin was responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives. Lives lost if he fucked up.
Detonation timer set at 3:33.
"On my way. Dare? No. Topside ASAP." Dare suggested taking River to the SCIFF room, built to even more exacting security measures than the entire building housing it. It was on the same floor as the interrogation room, but Daklin wanted her above ground, as far away as possible from a potential explosion.
"Done," the operative assured him.
"Gibbs?"
"En route with Sullivan," Ryan Gibbs responded. "ETA, three minutes. X-ra
y shows no anomaly ingested."
Not necessarily good news. He didn't give a flying fuck if Sullivan wanted to blow himself up. He only cared how it would impact River. Ignoring the almost debilitating pain, Daklin took the stairs three at a time to the floor above, while River sat beneath a potential explosion, large enough to level T-FLAC HQ and the surrounding area for miles and vaporize every living creature.
He had to trust Dare to get her clear, just in case. God, he hated like hell to depend on someone else to keep her safe. But this was not something he could ignore. From headquarters to London, Barcelona, Moscow, Tokyo, Mexico City, LAX and Sao Paolo—-thousands of lives were in his hands right now. He had to do his job. Focus.
The comm was open so everyone heard what he heard. They'd speak when necessary, but he sensed their tension buzzing through the open line.
15:08:40
Busting through the doors on the eleventh floor, Daklin saw several operatives wearing bomb suits standing by. The air smelled of the spray paint they had used to mark an X on areas already searched. Rafe Navarro, who wasn’t wearing a suit, held the gear out to him. "What do we have?" Daklin asked, waving away the gear. “No point putting it on. That won’t protect any of us if it blows.”
"Looked like cat shit on first pass," Rafe told him, indicating part of the wall that had been ripped down to the steel studs. Five dark-brownish black Nuts lay scattered inside the cavity, with cording threaded through each small, one inch round explosive like pearls on a necklace.
"What the fuck." Daklin looked from the explosives to Navarro. "These are Nuts."
Rafe raised a brow. "Yeah, so?"
"How the hell did Seymour have access to Nuts four or five years ago?" Daklin demanded. "We didn't know about E-1x until eighteen months ago ourselves." He hadn't been surprised that Nuts had been found at the other locations. Xavier had been selling the product for years, and any one of his buyers, or he himself, could've set the explosives to detonate at the same time. But knowing Catherine Seymour had left Nuts here that long ago, came as a fucking revelation. Seymour had had connections, intel, and motivation to wipe them all off the face of the Earth. The trifecta of fucked.
