by Fiona Quinn
“Hopefully not.” Deep fobbed the door to his car and scanned the area before he opened it. He moved in front of Lacey and popped the glove compartment open. There was a single piece of paper curled over itself. He pulled it to his chest and moved out of Lacey’s way.
After shutting her door, he gave the area another 360. He stopped at the back of the SUV to read:
Iniquus is a company of high integrity. We take down the enemy wherever and however we can to preserve the rights and freedoms of our citizenry. If a US citizen holds the well-being of America in their heart, and they mean our nation no harm, then Iniquus will stand by that citizen and fight for their freedom. Iniquus policy prevents us from forming an alliance with anyone under any circumstance that would infringe upon an individual’s right to autonomy. However, the United States is also a country made great by its laws, and even if we disagree with them, Iniquus must abide by the laws of our land.
General Elliot
Deep leaned back against the car and scrubbed a hand over his face. This was not what he’d hoped for. But, of course, it was what he knew to be true of his company. That’s why he’d given Iniquus his whole heart and soul since he took up his position as an operative on Strike Force. Deep could feel Lacey’s eyes focusing on him through the back window. He didn’t want to ramp up her stress levels before she even knew what was going on.
Pushing off the car, he went around to his side and climbed in.
“So your critical communication came in, and you’re not happy.”
“I’m not unhappy. This doesn’t offer me any new information, that’s all.” Lifting the steering column out of the way, Deep leaned against his door so he could swivel toward her. “I told you we would have to make decisions when we were done with Dr. Jones. Now, here are some things you should know—”
“Deep before you go any further, I would like to ask you a question, please.”
Deep raised his brows and inclined his head. There was something about Lacey that shifted. She had pulled her shoulders back, displaying her core strength. For a moment, Deep saw her as a six-year-old — when her father died and her mother sunk into her depression – when Lacey was suddenly on her own to face the world. The difference was, now she wasn’t on her own. He would stand next to her.
“Can everyday people hire Iniquus?” she asked.
“I don’t understand.”
“Me. Could I hire Iniquus to represent my best interests? To consider the information that I know, to bring it to the right persons’ attention, to be my liaison, so I know that what is happening is both well-considered but also properly handled?”
“Well, yes, we do private for-contract work all the time. That’s usually us rescuing a kidnapped CEO or doing close protection work for foreign dignitaries, but I could see this falling into the scope of what Iniquus does.”
“I would like to hire Iniquus to intervene on my behalf.” Lacey lifted her chin like a punctuation mark, as though the decision had been made and there would be no discussion.
“Lacey that’s cost-prohibitive, but I promise I’ll do everything—”
“I’m sure I can afford it. I’m an heiress who doesn’t touch her money — not the principal, not even the interest. I’ve wanted to live my own life in such a way that I could prove that I can take care of myself. Up until now, it’s been about me proving that I could support myself on my skills and talents alone. But now, under these circumstances, it’s about using my assets to promote my best interest. I promise you, I can afford an Iniquus contract without batting an eyelash.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Lacey
Thursday
Lacy stared out the window at the winter wonderland of tree branches glistening with icicles. The sunlight glittered the landscape, making their trip towards Iniquus Headquarters a fairytale trail.
Deep sent her a glance. “You warm enough?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Lacey was shivering, but not from cold—more from apprehension. She didn’t know what was going to be happening to her in the next hours and days. Deep reached over and grabbed hold of the seat belt that crossed her shoulders and yanked it uncomfortably tight over her hips.
Lacey’s brow pulled together. As she turned to him, Deep reached out and flipped a red light on his console.
The background music from the radio suddenly disappeared and the airwaves now sparked with the crisp voice of a woman who communicated with military precision. “Echo Zulu, identify yourself.”
“Deep, Strike Force, Code red. Code red. Code red.”
“Copy. We have your GPS coordinates. Tracking vehicle registered as a 1994 black Land Rover Defender license plate Charlie, Tango, Foxtrot, three, niner, zero, zero, one. Over.”
“Affirmative. Patch me through to Panther Force.”
“Roger Wilco.”
Silence filled the cab. Lacey didn’t know what was going on. Deep didn’t seem stressed. His face was relaxed. His left hand wasn’t gripping the steering wheel. His right hand rested comfortably on his gear shift. “Code red,” though that sounded extreme. Maybe it meant something different at Iniquus. Maybe Deep was just coming out of the shadows now and needed those Panthers to know they were headed in to the headquarters. But if this was something normal, why was she losing circulation from her seat belt holding her in place with such tenacity?
“Break break,” hissed over the radio speakers from an unknown voice.
“Panther Force, Titus Kane. State the nature of your code red, Deep.”
“I’m transporting Panther Force’s precious cargo to Headquarters. We’ve picked up a tail. Requesting immediate support from closest available operatives.”
“Roger wilco, we have you on the screen, and we’re dispatching three operatives to your trajectory. The closest is twelve minutes out.”
Precious cargo? That must mean her. Picked up a tail? Lacey leaned back and checked the side mirror. There was nothing there. They were on an empty road. There were no other cars either coming or going.
“Lynx here. You guys okay?”
Deep sent a quick glance Lacey’s way. “We just had some delicious cheesecake. I was going to bring you a piece, but Lacey ate it all before it got wrapped up.”
“Well good then. Thanks Lacey you saved me from a ten mile run. I don’t enjoy jogging in freezing temperatures. You holding up okay, Lacey?”
Lacey moved her mouth to talk but no words came out.
Lynx didn’t wait for her to respond. “Deep, after you texted me your decision to change locations, I had a chat with Dave. He confirmed by photograph that the guy who lost his puppy in my neighborhood was Steve. That’s who made my house. I’m sure you’ve been following counter-surveillance protocol when on the move. I’m wondering if Steve didn’t leave someone in the shadows to plant a tracker on your vehicle.”
“That’s what I was thinking only more along the lines that Steve wasn’t paying close enough attention and lead someone by the nose right to us,” Deep said. “If I’ve got a tracker on my vehicle, I’m not going to be able to shake this guy.” Deep’s voice was conversational. A bad guy was tailing them, but Deep was acting like this was just a day in the life – a walk in the park. “Still,” he said. “I’d like to get off this road. Icy conditions. Poor lines of vision. Can you reel me in?”
“Affirmative,” Lynx replied.
“Titus here. Can you give us a description of the tracking vehicle?”
Again, Deep sent a glance over to Lacey. She stared back, her eyes held as wide as her lids would stretch.
“Black Chevy Silverado, 4x4, dual cab, single occupant visualized. Caucasian male, blonde hair, black coat.”
“Roger that. You’re going to have to stay on the road you’re travelling. The first road with access is seven miles ahead on the left. That’s the first we can get an operative to you, and the first you can get off of a secondary road. Is he up on you now?”
“Negative, I’ve lost visual.”
&nbs
p; “And you’re confident you’re being tracked?”
“Affirmative,” Deep said.
Lacey knotted her hands tightly in her lap.
“You’re heading up on the Potomac Gorge,” Titus said. “There are some tight turns and some nasty sheer drops down toward the water with no guardrails. How are the road conditions? You said ice. Can you try to out run him?”
“Black ice . . .” Deep popped his gaze up to the rearview mirror as an engine gunned behind them.
Despite the tightness of her belt, Lacey twisted around to see out the back window. The enormous pickup truck had shown up out of nowhere and was sitting on their bumper. She felt their vehicle accelerating. Lacey was right back in that moment on the road where she was racing away from Radovan’s house. The man’s truck was suddenly so close to them that she could see his face. See his eyes as they caught on hers. It was the man from the house. The man from the accident. The man with the knife. The one who swore he would kill her and everyone. One after the other, after the other. Deep. He would kill Deep.
A scream tore its way up through Lacey’s body. Shrill, earsplitting sound filled the cab. Her lips vibrated as her cry moved through the Rover, filling every cubic inch of space with her horror. She was trapped and the killer right there behind her. She flailed her arms and legs as if to run away. She had to get free. She had to get out.
Deep’s arm shot out, pushing her against her seat. “Lacey stop,” he shouted at her as their car swerved over the road. Deep hunched his shoulders and gripped the wheel as he righted their course. He reached out to shift gears as they rounded the turn. The truck roared behind them, and she felt a jolt as the Rover bucked forward.
“We’re hit. We’re hit,” Deep yelled for the benefit of the team tracking their path. The Land Rover’s back wheels slid to the right. The front wheels whined and scrambled as they worked to grab hold of the slick pavement, Deep worked the gears. His feet moving between the clutch and the gas. Lacey gripped at the door handle, pressing her back into the seat.
They righted for a split second when, BOOM, they took another hit to their back fender. This time the world spun out of control. It dragged her body up against the door and pinned her there. With a lurch, she was flung forward and back then forward again. The noise billowing around her was deafening.
“Deep. Deep,” Lynx’s voice called over the radio.
Lacey was dangling from her seat belt, her car door opened beneath her feet. She looked down and saw the world was still whirling, then she realized she was perched over the deadly waters of the gorge.
Chapter Forty-Six
Deep
Thursday
Deep brought his head up. His vision was bathed in red. He reached up and wiped blood from his eyes. It hurt to breathe. The sound of his inhale came heavy in his ears. His heartbeat echoed against his eardrums. He was disoriented.
“Deep, report. Deep. . .” He heard his teammate’s voice, and he tried to locate Lynx. He realized she was speaking from the radio. Deep opened his mouth and moved his jaw back and forth. His fingers brushed over his forehead where he found a gash in his brow.
“Lynx,” he gasped. “We’re over the ridge.”
Laughter sounded above him. A heavy thud hit the back of the Rover and clanked its way across the roof. Deep watched a huge rock roll off the hood and out of sight. The Rover seesawed. Terrible screeches, metal against stone, wrenched the air. Deep gazed through the missing front windshield down into the gorge. They hung a good fifty feet above the river. “We need that help, stat.”
Deep reached into the leg of his cargo pants and pulled out a bandana that he knotted over his gash so he could see. He reached out and grabbed the waistband of Lacey’s yoga pants and started to haul her back into the cab. They tipped forward precariously. He froze, then very slowly lowered her to her original position.
“Lacey, you with me?”
Lacey whimpered.
She was conscious—that at least was good news. “Sweetheart, I’m going to have to leave you there. Your seat belt will keep you safe. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. This is very, very important. You are not to move. Not even an inch. Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Lacey said. Terror filled that one syllable to overflowing.
“I have air support headed in your direction,” Titus said.
“We’re dangling here, man.” Deep wheezed, his own seatbelt cutting into his chest and abdomen, keeping him from dropping straight down into the water. “The rotor velocity will have us swimming.”
“Roger that.”
Another rock thumped against the car’s roof and slid. Deep pushed back against the steering wheel as he assessed. The guy above them wasn’t going to wait until their cavalry arrived. Deep needed to act now.
With the windows busted out, Deep could see what lay below them. If they went down, there was no hope of survival, not in those treacherous rapids with water temperatures just this side of freezing. Deep tried to adjust the rearview mirror to see up the hill, but he couldn’t get a good angle. As he searched for possibilities, he spied his jump bag. It had been flung loose in their tumble, and wedged by Lacey’s seat. Shifting his hips to the left to counterbalance his move, Deep reached right and slowly dislodged the bag, dragging it toward him. The Rover rocked. The screech of metal sliced the air, and Lacey screamed. Above him, Deep heard the guy calling out in some foreign language.
Bang. Another rock was flung down. This one landed on the rear hatch and pushed through the shattered safety glass, rolling into the cargo area. Deep flung his arms over his head to protect himself from the shower of shards. Lacey dangled out away from the splinters. As the Rover slid farther down, Deep braced his feet wide and clenched his jaw. They came to a bouncing stop.
“Deep, we’re here. Let us know what we can do,” Titus said.
“Support?” Deep gasped.
“Four minutes, man. Our guys are gunning it. We have EMS en route. We’ve contacted the PD and they’re heading your way. We don’t have their ETA.”
Deep wiped his forearm under his nose, smearing snot and blood up his sleeve. He reached into the bag and pulled out a rope. As long as that guy stayed above throwing rocks, they might be okay for four minutes. Deep just needed to get the Rover tied in so if it slipped, it wouldn’t go far. He had to buy himself those four precious minutes.
Deep stretched his foot outside of the cab and felt rock beneath his boot. Slowly, carefully, he moved his weight from the seat to that foothold. Deep tried to unlatch his seat belt but it had jammed. He pulled the tactical knife from his sleeve pocket and sawed through the webbing with his right hand. At the same time, he leaned out and gripped an exposed root with his left. As the belt gave way, Deep’s full weight dragged him down, but he countered and pulled, maneuvering his body from the cab. He hoped somehow the guy above was too busy finding rocks to have seen him exit.
Deep stretched his neck to look up the embankment. So far so good. Wedging his arm under the root, he freed up both hands and tied his rope into a loop. He swung it out to lasso the wheel, hoping to get his line over the axle.
He missed.
Deep swung the rope to open the loop and try again. This time, the air split with a blast. The rock where his foot rested exploded. He hung from his elbow, while his feet scrambled under him searching out a new foothold.
“Deep,” Lynx’s voice yelled.
“High-powered rifle.” He gasped, hunkering back into the side of the embankment.
“No shit. Are you guys okay?”
“Time’s standing still out here.”
“Three minutes. They’re coming.”
The rifle sounded again and again, but the guy’s shots were missing his area completely. Deep focused down into the side mirror, toeing it gently until he could see that the shooter was aiming to Deep’s right. He was gunning for Lacey. From his present positioned, Deep couldn’t see her to check if she was alright. He desperately wanted to call
out and have her confirm that she wasn’t hit. But he held back, lest her voice help the gunman home in on her location.
Deep locked his jaw and steadied his nerves. He threw the rope again, and it wrapped over the wheel. He pulled the line taut, then reached out to secure it to the oak, standing sentinel just beside them. He pushed at the line and hoped it would buy them a modicum of safety. Then he pulled his pistol from his jacket. With a clear head and a steady grip, Deep wriggled his body, maneuvering around to face his target. The tight ledge where he’d crammed his boot crumbled with every move. Quickly, Deep realized how impossible it would be to get his shot on mark. He had to move.
The last reverberation of rifle fire gave way. Deep froze in place to listen, his body plastered flat to the embankment. Metal pinged against the macadam as the shooter dropped his spent magazine. The respite would last mere seconds while the guy reloaded. Leaping out, Deep threw his body against the sheer drop off and monkey crawled his way toward the oak. Pushing from tree, to root, to rock, to tree, he finally swung up against the side of the ridge. As the hostile brought an AR15 back up to his shoulder and molded it against his cheek, Deep leveled his sights. With a steady pull on his trigger finger, he emptied his gun.
Reloading on the move, Deep scaled upward to engage the shooter and keep him away from Lacey. Is she still alive? A blast of cold filled his core and for a moment he was frozen by the thought of Lacey dangling from her seatbelt. Dead.
Titus’s voice broke through Deep’s alarm. “Iniquus on scene. Hold your fire. Hold your fire. Iniquus on scene. Acknowledge.”
Deep wasn’t about to acknowledge and let the shooter know how close he’d crawled to the roadway. Titus’s voice called again, “Iniquus on scene—”
Just then, the Rover slid away from its perch with a roar
“Clear. Clear” Came the shouts from above.
