by KT Bryan
“Me?’ he roared, getting his breath. “I’m not the one who got my hands on a flash drive Sanchez is willing to kill for!” He reached out to grab her, to stop this sudden assault when he suddenly took a heel to the thigh, right where he’d been shot, and the blow nearly took him to his knees. “Stop it! I’m just as worried as you are!”
“Worried? Worried? You don’t have a clue!” She spit the words with such outraged intensity he wondered if she actually meant to do him real harm.
“The hell I don’t!” He’d lost everyone he’d ever loved to Sanchez, dammit, and he wasn’t going to let Sara’s worry over her still living brother beat the hell out of him.
“You don’t! You can’t!” she bellowed, and tried slamming her knee into his groin.
He pivoted and, as he swept her feet out from under her, pushed her onto the bed. “Damn it, Sara, that’s enough! We don’t have time for this!”
Hysteria bubbled and then it didn’t. Sara went completely limp and seemed to age right before his eyes. He got up and pulled her to her feet. “You know I’ll do everything I can to find Matt. To bring him home alive and safe.”
She hunched away from him. “I’m sorry, I--”
“I’m taking you to a more secure location.” A place where not even God himself could find them. “Then I’m going after Matt.”
Her head jerked up. “You’re not going to just dump me somewhere.”
Oh, hell yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. “Earlier tonight, it seemed like all you wanted was to get away from me.”
“That was before we started getting shot at.” Something ragged flicked across her features. “Before Sanchez said he had…Matt.”
“Any idea on how Sanchez got a hold of your brother?”
“I…” She shook her head. “No.”
“All the more reason to get you somewhere safe. I can do this faster, and easier, without you. It’s too dangerous to take you with me.” He looked away, frustrated, worried, and grabbed the duffel bag. “Let’s go.”
“I’m going with you. I have to.”
Dillon let that go without a comment and turned toward the hall. Gun drawn, he looked for any signs of an intruder, and seeing none, motioned for Sara to follow.
When they made it to the garage, he went in first. He pulled two sleeping bags off a shelf and tossed them into the rear of the SUV he’d switched with the Corvette on the way here. Then he boosted Sara up into the passenger seat and quietly closed the door. After climbing into the driver’s seat, he gave her a long, steady look. “Get down and stay down.”
<><><>
With a deep breath, she did, burying her head between her knees, Sara got down and stayed down and wondered when this miserable night would ever end.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Hold on,” Dillon muttered, and started the ignition. He shifted into reverse, hit the headlights, and a second later she heard the garage door open. The tires screeched backward and he cut the wheel as they hit the blacktop with a thump.
She grabbed her knees.
Dillon cursed.
Tires screeching, Dillon spun the car in the opposite direction, shoved the gear into drive, and jammed his foot on the gas. He didn’t slow down until he got on I-5 heading south.
Raising her head, Sara looked at Dillon, down at herself, then back over her shoulder. No bullets, no blood. “Dear God, Dillon, is this how you live? What you’re used to?”
“No, I usually get shot at in other countries. And I’m thinking I’m not the main target this time around.”
“Do you think that was Sanchez shooting at us?”
“I doubt it. He called seconds before the shooting started.”
“I realize that. But he could’ve used a cellphone. Been right outside.”
“He’s too smart to get that close. Besides, why barter Matt if he knew where we were? What I think is that someone else is involved in this. Someone who has as much to lose as Sanchez if the flash drive falls into the wrong hands. There must be something pretty damn important on that drive because Sanchez and someone else are in one helluva big hurry to get it back.”
And if Sanchez didn’t get it back?
Baby brokers. Sweat shops. Sex trade.
A bullet to Matt’s head.
Her skin crawled and she felt sick.
Struggling to maintain the fragile hold on her composure, she clamped her hands on her quaking knees. She was so tired, so far past exhaustion she could barely keep her head up, and if it wasn’t for the fear still racing through her, she’d have collapsed hours ago. But the fear was there, and it would be until this bleak scenario came to an end.
And what kind of end would it be? The only thing she knew for certain was that she was not going to let Dillon dump her somewhere like a used wad of gum. Especially not now that she knew Matt’s life, and Ellie’s, were at stake. Whether Dillon liked it or not, that put her smack dab in the middle of things. For now, she’d put her fear on hold and get through this with logic and determination.
No matter what Matt was involved in, he was her brother, he’d saved her life, twice now, and she owed him.
But, what if Sanchez killed him before they were able to return the flash drive? And who else was involved in this? If Matt was going to stand half a chance, she had to come clean with Dillon.
After everything Dillon had done to save her, everything he was still doing, he deserved to at least know the truth. She looked over at his set face and took a deep breath. “What do you know about what’s going on with my brother?”
“I haven’t heard from him since Craig’s team put him in jail for smuggling drugs.”
“What? My brother is not a drug smuggler.” Or was he? He’d been on that boat with Sanchez after all. And which was the cover, archaeology or drug running? Did Matt work for Craig or Sanchez? And why work for either one, he had enough money to fund his own studies, his own work in his field, he didn’t need to work for anybody. And how was it that Dillon didn’t know more? What about Matt’s relationship with Dillon’s sister? A year ago they’d been engaged. Had Lisa ended things? “Are you sure? Jail?”
“No,” he said wearily. “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
Something wasn’t right. Why didn’t Dillon know Matt was working undercover as Vega? And wouldn’t Lisa know, and have something to say about it? Or at least have told Dillon? True, she herself hadn’t known until she’d seen him on the boat, but she’d been gone for a year. Still, Dillon kept up with the whole Sanchez group, so why didn’t he know? Craig was pretty high up in the DEA. Craig and Dillon were friends. Wouldn’t Craig have told him about Matt?
Apparently not. But why? The leak?
God, how much more confused could she get? Had Matt gone too far? Was he really in with Sanchez? Was Craig lying? What if Craig was the leak?
It didn’t add up. In fact, nothing made sense any more. Her head throbbed with fatigue and confusion. “What...what about Manny Vega?”
Dillon’s face went hard. “Vega started making a name for himself a couple of years a ago. A short while before I got made. He’s taken down two cartels by himself, his reputation as a ruthless killer’s been growing and for Sanchez to get him to his side must have been a real coup. Still, he’s a ghost. He’s working for Sanchez, and he’s the person responsible for everything that went wrong on the pier that night.”
“How was he responsible?”
“It was his deal.”
“But I thought Sanchez--”
Dillon shook his head. “You asked earlier and I wouldn’t tell you. I will now,” he said, and looked none too happy about it. “We got a last minute tip from the DEA that a huge shipment of cocaine had just come in and the sellers were trying to unload it in a hurry. Somehow, the buyers they had lined up got scared off. Vega set up the buy. Sanchez showed, tipped off ahead of time, I’m sure, that I was going to be there, and got his revenge. Only he got you instead of me.” He let out a resigned breath
. “So yeah, I blame Vega for the whole friggin’ mess. As soon as I find him, he’s going down.” He glanced at her. “Why the interest?”
Sara studied her knees before looking out the window and did a mental about face. “Nothing really. I just remember you mentioning him earlier.” She’d tell him about Matt later--maybe--when he wasn’t driving a million miles an hour, wasn’t quite so upset, and when she wasn’t ass deep in fear and fatigue. Maybe by then she’d have figured this whole mess out. “Where are we going now?”
“Our first stop is to borrow some gear from the Naval Amphib base.”
She sat in silence and before she knew it, they were crossing the Coronado Bay Bridge. To her right, a myriad of lights sparkled from the airport and Harbor Island below. As they passed through the small city of Coronado, she thought it looked cheerful and cozy and in direct contrast to the way she was feeling.
A Victorian style hotel loomed ahead and even in the dark, the building was stunning. The Hotel Del Coronado was like a fairytale castle, and held way too many fairytale memories. Memories about moats and dragons and handsome, loving husbands.
“Move over, you beast. You’re ruining my castle.”
“Hey, I’m making you a moat.”
“Dragons don’t care about moats, they just fly over.”
“Then I’ll make this an extra special moat. I’ll put in radar.”
Sara laughed and tossed her plastic sand shovel at Dillon’s backside. “King Arthur did not have radar.”
“I think if we want him to have radar, then he should have radar.”
“But if it’s my castle, then it should be my moat. And my moat doesn’t have radar.”
Dillon sighed with a grin. “Okay, fine. Moats are nasty things anyway. How about one of those tinfoil helmets, then? He can wear that and his shield and keep all the alien dragons at bay.”
“Alien dragons?”
“Aye, like me.” He growled and hissed and rolled her over, kissed her and nibbled on her neck until she forgot about whose moat it was and melted into the sand…
They’d had so much fun, so many happy times.
She’d believed they’d have forever.
She let the thought drift off as she sat in miserable silence, hating the fact that she couldn’t have her old life back, couldn’t let Dillon close his arms around her and hold her, let comfort become desire, and desire become hunger. She wished she could lie down beside him and feel his strength, his heat, as their breaths mingled, limbs tangled, until control broke and the world faded away.
Something had to give soon. The what and when were the issues. And at the end of it all, the truth.
A few minutes later, they turned left at a light and soon they were at the base. Dillon stopped at the gate, dimmed the headlights and flashed an ID.
The soldier at the gate saluted and waved them through.
After parking in a spot away from the main buildings, Dillon turned off the lights and killed the engine.
“I’ll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes, tops. Stay here.”
She nodded. Where, exactly, did he think she’d go? For a swim? Stretching as much as the inside of the car would allow, she turned sideways and rested her feet on Dillon’s seat. Then she locked the doors, closed her eyes, and tried to relax. What she really wanted was sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen, not yet, so she sat back and waited.
And wondered what else she didn’t know about her brother and the man she’d married.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dillon crept through the inky blackness to an off limits, darkened building toward the back of the base. He worked his way around to the rear of the building and checked the door.
Locked. A locked door on a base full of Navy SEALs seemed ironic as hell and he managed a small grin despite the evening’s events. Checking over his shoulder to make sure no one had spotted him, he picked the lock and slipped inside.
As quickly as he could, he grabbed a duffel bag off a nearby table and emptied it, then looked around for the supplies he would need for this mission. He was just reaching for two hand-held radios when the hairs on the back of his neck twitched.
Someone was behind him.
He heard the distinct chambering of a semi-auto and froze.
Great. Now he was going to have to disarm some green sailor, or worse--go up against another SEAL.
He turned around slowly with his hands up.
And yep, there it was, the barrel of a nine-millimeter pointed dead on center mass.
Hands held high, standing as still as a stalled car, he didn’t so much as blink.
“Caldwell? What the hell are you doing here? Damn, man, I almost put a bullet in your chest.” The man’s voice was friendly. And familiar. Even though his face was in the shadows, Dillon knew that voice. Aaron Chance--a comrade in arms.
As Aaron holstered his gun Dillon grumbled, “Don’t you know better than to pull a gun on a friendly?”
“Yeah, yeah. Like you were acting all friendly like. So, what are you doing here, and what’s with the stealth?” Seeing the open bag, ready for supplies, a light dawned. “Or maybe I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not official.”
Aaron nodded, waiting. Once you were Special Forces, one of the elite, you learned fast when to ask questions and when to stay silent.
Aaron stayed silent.
Dillon watched him for a minute. Aaron was ex-Secret Service, now with EDGE, and this wasn’t his normal hangout. “I suppose I could ask you the same question. Pulling guard duty isn’t exactly your M.O.”
Aaron grinned. “I’m stealing supplies, same as you. I’ve got a private party with an Al Qaida death camp in a few days,” he glanced around the room, “and I wanted to snitch some extras just in case.”
“How many are going?”
“Seven. Plus me.”
“Sounds like suicide.”
“Yeah, well, no one else is moving those four Americans.” He shrugged. “Someone’s gotta do it, and the admiral’s teams are the best.”
Dillon had to give the guy credit for understatement. The men on the admiral’s teams were beyond good. They were damn near God-like. Considering the favor he was about to ask, and the fact that Aaron had been straight up with him, Dillon figured he owed Aaron some kind of explanation. “I’ve got some private business with Rafael Sanchez.”
At the name, Aaron’s head snapped up.
“I need supplies. Long story, but suffice it to say, Sanchez issued a kill order on a friend of mine and I can’t go through the normal channels.” Regardless of what the admiral had said.
Aaron whistled between his teeth. “That’s some serious business. What do you need?”
“Everything.” Dillon decided he’d better get supplies in twos just in case things got hairy and he couldn’t get Sara to a safe house right away. “A pair of NVG’s, a week’s worth of MRE’s for two, two canteens. Grenades, some C-4 with detcord, etc., an HK MP5 with a few thousand rounds, two Kevlars—one of them small, and anything else you can think of. Surprise me. Oh, and I need a couple sets of small fatigues and a pair of broken in, size seven’s.”
At the last, Aaron’s eyebrows rose.
“Don’t ask.” Dillon shook his head. “You don’t even want to know.”
“Okay. I can do this, take me about ten minutes. Another five to get the clothes and boots.” He paused. “On one condition.”
Dillon’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”
“When this is over, you bring your friend by and let me meet her.”
You already know her, but since I don’t have time to explain...
The last time Aaron saw Sara had been at a beach barbeque and she’d been happy and carefree, and very much in love. Still, he knew what Aaron was saying, that he’d get through this alive and so would Sara. He appreciated the faith. “You got it.”
They bumped knuckles and Aaron disappeared. True to his word, he was back in less than twenty minutes with two duffel bags full of
gear.
Dillon shook his hand. “Thanks, man. Can’t say how much I appreciate this.”
“Appreciate what? I never saw you.”
“Don’t get yourself buried in the sand.” Dillon gave him a quick salute and left, hoping like hell Aaron’s faith was warranted.
He made his way back to the SUV and tried opening the rear hatch. Locked. He tapped on the glass. When the latches flipped, he opened the rear and tossed the gear into the back. He heard Sara ask something but couldn’t quite make out the words. “Wait, I didn’t hear you. And why’d you lock up? Cripes, woman, no one’s going to get you on a base full of Navy SEALs.”
“Easy for you to say, you have a gun.”
He scowled at her but made his voice patient. “I have several, you want one?”
After Dillon climbed in and closed the door, Sara laid a hand on his arm in apology. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.” Dillon didn’t say anything, but he did give her a long, unsettling stare. Clasping her hands in her lap, she looked out the window, looking awkward as hell. “So, now where?”
Dillon drove off base and headed south. “My original plan was Canada, but since Sanchez called, that idea’s history. So, I guess now we’re going to Tijuana. It’s late, we need to sleep, Tijuana’s overcrowded and touristy and hopefully, we’ll blend right in. With any luck, Rafael, his men, and whoever the hell was shooting at us won’t think to look for us there. At least, not tonight.”
“I thought Sanchez lived near TJ.”
“Not for over a year now.” And he wouldn’t be back if he wanted to keep on living.
“What if they do find us?”
“Nobody’s following us, Sara. We’ll be safe for the night.” Dillon took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at her. She wanted reassurance and she was looking for him to give it to her. He wanted to stop the car right then and pull her into his arms and kiss her until all her fears melted away into the night.
Except, of course, they had no time for kisses because people were trying to kill them and, oh yeah, given her disappearing act twelve months ago, they still had some issues to settle.
