by J. L. Saint
“Couldn’t just let him escape.”
“It’s quite an interesting situation you and Sergeant Johnson have here, don’t you think, Corporal Santana?” SA Gibson moved to take a seat and motioned for Rico to do the same.
“What do you mean?” Rico kept his reply calm and his voice even as he sat. Inside he wanted to gnash teeth and kick ass. How many times was he going to go under their microscope?
Gibson lifted a brow. “What are the odds of you both accidentally being in the park today? That you both have recently suffered serious, traumatic injuries and that you’re both innocent bystanders?”
“You can see our dilemma, right?” McKay paced across the room.
Rico exhaled. No telling how long Gibson and de Jerk had been observing both him and Sergeant Johnson during the interrogations. “When you put it that way, SA Gibson, it does sound almost unbelievable,” Rico conceded. “But given we’ve been at war for ten years, the odds are more than you’re insinuating they are.”
“Did you actually see Sergeant Johnson with a rifle?” Gibson shot back.
“No. I only saw Johnson wearing fatigues and running from the park. He went crazy when I tackled him. That all said ‘guilty’ to me.”
“So, it’s possible his story is true?” McKay paced back and sat down next to Rico.
“Yes.” Rico nearly strangled on the word. If Johnson wasn’t the sniper that meant Rico had done almost irreparable damage to the investigation. He’d sent the police after an innocent man while the real sniper had escaped.
“And it’s also possible you two are in this thing together, isn’t it? Creating a confusing, but believable story while the sniper slipped away?”
Gibson’s forceful question almost had Rico admitting that it was a theoretic possibility, but he wasn’t about to play into their hand. “No. Until I tackled him in the park, I’d never seen the man before.”
“You wouldn’t have to have seen him,” McKay said. “The Internet makes all things possible these days.”
Rico shook his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, men.” He gave the SOO a hard look. Why wasn’t the SOB throwing his weight around as usual?
“Maybe so,” said McKay.
“We’ll see,” Gibson amended. “You know anybody who’d be in Manhattan today? Times Square to be exact.”
“Not that I know of. You want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“How about Beverly Hills? Got a contact there?”
“What the—”
“Texas? DC? Miami? Chicago? Seattle?”
The barrage hit Rico like machine-gun fire. His shoulder and head throbbed to the point he’d broken into a cold sweat. “I’m not saying a damn thing more until you tell me what’s going on.”
SOO de Jerk spoke up then. “Sniper attacks occurred simultaneously in each of those cities today. Fifteen dead and more injured.”
Rico blinked as he processed the info. Eight cities around the US under attack? As if all of America had been thrust into a war zone? This was serious shit. Rico exploded from his chair. “Why in the hell are you wasting your time on me then? Why aren’t you—?”
Full of venom, the SOO put his face in Rico’s. “Out of all the cities, Corporal Santana, you’re the only supposed witness and Sergeant Johnson’s the only supposed suspect.”
Chapter Twelve
Rico sat back down, hard, and glanced at his watch. “Then we are seriously screwed. If the sergeant is telling the truth, you’ve wasted five hours chasing white rabbits while the real sniper escaped.”
“That would be thanks to your intervention, wouldn’t it?” asked de Jerk. “You have any buddies with a grudge against the government, Santana? Anyone who’d go to any length to get back at the US for supposed grievances?”
It was clear to Rico that de Jerk had DT, Roger and Beck in mind. Yeah, the team had infiltrated a drug lord’s Peruvian compound against orders, but every one of the men he’d fought years with would die a thousand tortured deaths before allowing an innocent to die. Whereas, according to DT and Roger, the same thing couldn’t be said for de Jerk. If Lauren’s sons had died while the CIA waited for more actionable intel on Menendez, de Jerk would have likely just shaken his head and shrugged his shoulders. “No, I don’t. Do you?” Rico attacked back.
The SOO lifted a brow then stepped back as Gibson moved in.
“What else did you see after you found the shell casings?” Gibson demanded.
Rico pressed his fingers to his temples trying to think. “I don’t know. I was so focused on Johnson that nothing comes to mind. Sure, there were people about, cars on the street. Everyone running to get out of the way as I chased Johnson. But no specifics come to mind.”
They questioned him another thirty minutes but Rico still couldn’t come up with anything. Why the hell not? He’d been trained to notice shit. He’d been trained to withstand days of interrogation under depraved conditions, so why was he barely keeping things together now?
“Why don’t we let Corporal Santana go on with his plans in Atlanta, sleep on the matter, and see if he comes up with more information in the morning?”
Considering the suggestion came from SOO de Jerk, Rico thought it was a twisted joke. At this point, he’d half concluded that he’d be spending the night behind bars in between interrogation sessions. The surprised look from both McKay and Gibson said they were thinking the same.
Rico glanced back into the interrogation room, probably because the “leave no man behind” creed was in his DNA and this was definitely enemy territory. If Sergeant Johnson was in the same innocent boat as Rico, he wondered what was going to happen with the soldier. The room was empty. SA Farrell had taken Johnson out of the room while Rico was being hammered. Rico almost asked about the man, but bit his tongue. He had to seriously consider Johnson could be lying and was part of what had to be the most widespread domestic terrorist plot in American history.
He turned his attention back to the men. Both SA Gibson and SOO de Jerk were looking at him, and had clearly read his interest in Sergeant Johnson. Well, shit. There went Rico’s bid for freedom.
Twenty minutes later, Rico followed McKay through the precinct, having left Gibson and de Jerk in the interrogation area. He had a feeling they were going to dig into Johnson next. Rico heard Angie even before he saw her.
“Officer Cox, this is your last chance. After today’s events, it will only take one phone call to the press to turn this place into a media nightmare. I suggest you let me speak to someone who has contact with Corporal Santana right now or I am going to make that call.”
“Ms. Freemont, I assure you that Corporal Santana will contact you the moment he is able—”
“She sounds like a force to be reckoned with,” McKay said.
“She can move the earth,” Rico muttered, distinctly remembering the ground shaking when he finally planted his mouth on her ripe lips. The fierceness in her voice as she dealt with the policeman sent a flood of warmth through him. Rico knew he could count on the team no matter what, but as for anyone else in his life, not so much. His father had split before he’d been born. His mother had been too strung out on drugs to care much before she OD’d in a back alley. And his grandmother—that had been a different story. He sucked in air and shoved that memory back deep into his gut.
“I don’t think you quite heard what I said, Officer Cox. I will—”
“Angel, I’m here.” Rico turned the corner and saw her. She looked as if she’d been through the wringer twice and had never been more beautiful. Her crazy red hair curled in every direction possible and impossible. Her green eyes were red-rimmed and misty with tears. Her face was pale and creased with worry and her clothes were wrinkled, stained with blood.
“Thank God.” Heedless of anything or anyone, Angie rushed toward him. He absorbed the impact of her warm curves pressing hard into him and wrapped his left arm around her. Nothing in his whole life had ever felt as good as she did at that moment.
“What’s going on?” she muttered against his neck as she pressed even closer to him. “You haven’t called or anything.”
Rico allowed himself another second of bliss then eased back from her. “Come on. I’ll explain after we’re out of here. How’s Franz?” Rico had his ID back but not his cell phone. That, the FBI held on to.
“Franz’s blood pressure dropped and it was a little hairy, but he’s going to be fine.”
“I wish I could have been there for you.” It pissed him off that he’d been sitting his ass here instead.
“It’s all right, honest. Doctor says he can go home in a couple of days. My mother is with him and right now Franz is more worried about Caesar behaving for Lauren than anything else. She and the twins have dog-sitting duty until morning.”
“Two boys and three dogs, sounds like a circus not to be missed. Did she happen to mention if she called DT?”
“Yes. He’s coming. I don’t know when.”
“Good.” Rico glanced at the GBI agent as he urged Angie toward the exit. “I’ll call you when I wake up, McKay. You tell that to Gibson and the SOO too.”
Looking pale and a bit odd, McKay nodded. Rico turned away, wondering what in the hell that meant then blew it off a second later. His head hurt from too many questions. He figured that the FBI would be monitoring anything and everything—phone calls, actions, computers, and, hell, if they could have stuck a bug in his brain they would have done it. On one hand Rico wanted to talk to his team, but on the other hand, he didn’t necessarily want to draw them into this mess. He knew that both General Dekker and Lt. Col. Weston already had to know what was going down the pike here. He was damn certain all phone calls from any known source, meaning Angie’s cell and home phones, and her mother’s cell and home phones would be tapped. He needed to get to a safe line before he called to talk to anyone. He didn’t want anything he had to say about SOO de Jerk being overheard. That would all have to happen tomorrow. He was done for the day and wanted nothing more than to hold Angie as close to him as possible. If someone from Bragg wanted to talk to him, they’d have to call him. He was out of the loop for the time being.
They stopped for Chinese takeout and reached Angie’s house shortly after. By then, Rico had given her the full story of what happened from the moment he’d left her to go after the sniper until he saw her at the precinct. He also heard radio accounts from the other cities attacked. The snipers’ targets had him reeling. A freaking school bus full of children?
Learning the horrible scope of the sniper attacks across the country amplified Rico’s responsibility.
“What if I fingered the wrong suspect today, Angel? More people may die and their blood will be on my hands.”
Angie pulled into her driveway and hit the brakes. “How can you possibly take the blame for this tragedy?”
“My mistake has caused a day’s loss in finding the guilty party.” He rubbed his temples hard, barely seeing the quaint, red-bricked ranch house in front of him.
“Is that the crap they fed you at the police station? Your head’s going to explode if you keep filling it with bull. No wonder you can’t think. I don’t want to hear another word until you’ve had a chance to rest.”
He wrestled with his duffle bag and silently cursed his inability to effectively help as she juggled the Chinese food while opening the front door. The weakness in his arm was worse than it had been before chasing down the sniper. He was sure he’d reinjured the nerves he’d recently had surgery on.
“I don’t know about you, but I need some major relax time.” She skipped the kitchen/dining area with the food and headed for the coffee table in the living room.
He followed and set his bag on the floor. “I’m in as soon as I can hit the restroom.”
“Down the hall on your left. You like light jazz?”
“That works.”
Angie turned on the stereo and the melodic sounds of a sax filled the house. Rico had no doubt the FBI and NCS had ears on the place. He hoped they went nuts trying to hear them over the music.
Checking out the photographs on the walls, he moved down the hall. The interior had her personality stamped all over it—vibrant colors and unique art. Each photograph evoked a feeling, be it a sunset across a graveyard, a child reaching for an ice cream cone, a flower glistening with dew, a waving flag, or a collection of mischievous smiles at different ages from a pair of identical twins he had no trouble recognizing. Matt and Mitch. Angie’s godsons, which by now felt like his too. His stomach twisted again at the thought that the boys were supposed to have been at Piedmont Park today. He could still see and hear that little girl running for her murdered father and the subsequent bullet directed her way. If she would have been killed… Hell. He couldn’t go there. Not now. Not ever.
Now that he was out of the interrogation fire, he could see a bit more of SA Gibson and de Jerk’s hard-ass positions in questioning him so intently and so long. He was the only witness to a horrific crime that involved the entire country. Apart from de Jerk’s witch-hunting grudge against the team, the men were obligated to search out the tiniest clue possible to find the perpetrators.
Rico shuddered under the heavy responsibility that he was obligated to shoulder—just as soon as he had a few hours to regroup and rest. He quickly used the facilities and hurried back out to the living room.
Angie looked up as she plucked open a carton. “I have a confession to make.”
“What?”
“I’m a pot-sticker fiend.”
“That sounds like a warning, not a confession.”
“You have no idea.” Threat delivered, she dug into the food—a little fried rice, a little Mongolian beef and possibly more than half of the pot stickers.
He laughed and twisted off the caps for the beer then dished up his food. Several bites disappeared before he even sat back to breathe. “It’s been a long time since breakfast.”
She halted mid-bite then swallowed, her brow knotting. “You mean they didn’t feed you at all?”
“Coffee was it. The police station isn’t the Ritz.”
“Still, they could have been decent. I can’t believe they think you had anything to do with this horror. That bowling-ball buzzard should have vouched for you. He was there in Peru. He knows you’re legit. And one phone call to your commander or to Jack should have put you in the clear.”
“They did all of that first thing, but the situation is a little more complicated than just having an alibi and character vouchers. The scope of the sniper attacks implies that there is a well-planned conspiracy underway involving a number of men highly skilled with weapons. I am the only witness they have and the other man is the only suspect they have out of eight attacks all over the country involving over fifteen murders.”
“I get that, but it sounds as if you are excusing their deplorable treatment of you. How can they believe you’re involved?” She popped a pot sticker in her mouth and licked sauce off her bottom lip. She sat snuggled next to him, which put her mouth within easy reach of his. In fact every part of her was in easy reach.
Rico’s blood heated and it took him a second to realize she’d asked him a question. Was he sick in the head? They were in the midst of a terror attack on the whole country and he was thinking about her naked and licking sauce from every place he could pour it?
Hell, maybe he was just human and so thankful she hadn’t been hurt today, so thankful that he was alive and not sitting in a jail cell tonight that he wanted to let loose and live the moment to the fullest.
What more could he do about the sniper thing at that moment? He’d been going around and around with it to the point his head was about to explode. He needed a break from it all. He needed her.
“In their line of work everyone connected to a case is guilty until proven innocent. I’m not excusing them, but understand that they do have to investigate everything thoroughly. I do too. I have to be damn sure I didn’t see something that I’m just not remembering yet, but all o
f that can wait until later.” He set his half-finished dinner on the coffee table and turned her way, watching her eat another pot sticker. The dumpling eased between her lips. Her mouth closed over the delicious tidbit. Her silky tongue slipped out, its pink tip sliding through spicy droplets. His erection pressed hard against his fly at the thought of him doing all of that to her and her taking all of that tongue action to where he wanted to feel it the most. He groaned.
Her gaze flashed to his and her eyes widened. Her mouth moved more slowly as she chewed then swallowed. “Uh, considering the CIA kept Lauren for weeks, I, uh, guess we’re lucky you’re here tonight.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at the plate he’d set down. “You’re not hungry?”
“I’m starving. Hungrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” He’d waited for weeks for the right time and even though it was the worst timing possible, he couldn’t wait a second more.
Her jaw dropped as he took her plate from her wobbly grip.
“I, uh, am in desperate need of a shower.”
“Me too,” he whispered, then leaned in and pressed his mouth to her lush lips. She opened immediately for him, inviting his tongue and more as she sighed and sank closer against him. He thrust deep into her mouth, tasting the spicy sauce, tasting her, and plundered for more as pleasure washed over him like a benediction from heaven.
Chapter Thirteen
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
He was in hell, Roger had no doubt that was the case. Asking Mari to ditch her abaya might have been a tactical error on his part. They’d talked about several things as they ordered the pizza and, with each question he asked, she opened a little more to him, genuinely surprised at his interest in wanting to know what she thought and felt. Currently she was telling him about her favorite TV show.
He could sit next to her and watch her lush mouth move and slide into shy, soft smiles forever. And he’d never grow tired of the sparkle in her thick-lashed, golden eyes.
