by Jordan Dane
When she merged into traffic with Seth on her mind, she missed the dark sedan maintaining a safe distance behind her.
“Stick with them until I tell you to break it off,” Garrett Wheeler told the driver, a trusted operative who worked for him. From the backseat of the sedan, he watched the rental car as it changed lanes.
He hadn’t planned on close surveillance of Alexa Marlowe, but after he’d seen her meeting a man at the airport, he had to admit that a pang of jealousy had caught him by surprise.
Over the years, he had played countless games with her and arranged for clandestine encounters that had turned sexual. They both enjoyed them. Yet this time on the phone, she had played him as much as he played her. This he knew because he’d seen her do it. He’d listened to her guarded responses on the phone as he watched her from a discreet distance.
What could he expect after what he’d pulled a few months ago? For her own good—and for the good of the Sentinels—he’d let distance grow between them. And later he knew it would take more than that for Alexa to realize their relationship was over. He’d set up a scenario that looked as if he were having an affair with another woman. It didn’t take long for Alexa to do the right thing and dump his sorry ass.
Her playing him over the phone today reminded him how he had ended it. A self-inflicted wound. They were no longer lovers. And any future he had once hoped for was over. She had moved on and handled their split with admirable professionalism.
Good for you, Alexa. You deserve more than I can give a woman like you.
And the man meeting her at the airport was Seth Harper from Chicago. He recognized him from the booking photo in the Chicago newspaper after the guy had been falsely accused of murder not too long ago. Jessie Beckett’s friend. That piqued his interest, too.
What are you up to, Alexa?
She had promised to call. And he knew her well enough to know she’d take the assignment, especially once she heard Jackson Kinkaid was in trouble. That left him wondering about her out-of-town guest.
What plans had she made with him? Or was he in town to surprise Jessie? Perhaps he needed to rethink who he would send on the Haiti assignment, but there was one thing for certain.
Any man who could capture the interest of both Alexa Marlowe and Jessie Beckett was a guy he wanted to know. One way or another, Garrett made up his mind to meet Seth Harper whether Alexa and Jessie welcomed his intrusion or not.
New York City
Sentinels Headquarters
Alexa had convinced Seth to stay at her place while she was gone. And he’d promised to change his return trip to Chicago and leave his itinerary open. That made it easier for her to leave. When she returned from her assignment, she’d press Jessie for the truth about her and Seth. She had no intention of letting a man get between her and her new partner. Now with that settled, all that remained was her mission briefing with Garrett. From experience, she knew to be packed and ready to go after they’d talked.
After Garrett served her coffee, they sat at a glass conference table in his office.
“You were a little vague about getting together on our phone conversation earlier. Did I interrupt something?” he asked.
She wasn’t prepared for Garrett’s interest in her personal life.
“No, not at all.” She wouldn’t give in to his prying. “I’m here now. Tell me about the assignment.”
He stared at her for a long moment. And with his swarthy good looks and penetrating steel gray eyes, he hadn’t lost his touch in grabbing her attention. Eventually, he got down to business.
“A hostage-rescue operation in Haiti. Out of Port de Paix to be precise.” He filled her in on the call he’d received and the research he’d done.
In his thorough manner, Garrett laid out his assessment of the situation, starting with the profiles of her team, a layout of logistics and communications for the op, and an overview of the region that included speculation of known terrorist and drug-trafficking activity.
“Haiti and the outlying vicinity have become an integral route of the drug trade. Product and laundered funds are moved between South America and the Eastern Seaboard of the U.S.” Garrett pointed a red laser light to a map on an overhead monitor.
“As you know, anything afloat in the Caribbean is watched by DEA, DHS, the Coast Guard, and countless other acronym agencies,” he continued. “So you’ll have to watch your six on this one. No telling who else might be tracking these bastards. And the wire services have covered the assault and are hungry for more. I don’t want our organization to get caught in the limelight. This is an out-and-back mission with no frills.”
He clicked a remote and other images came on the screen. He enlarged them.
“I used the time frame of the abductions and tracked the activity in the area. These images came from our satellite. The terrorists escaped with hostages from a fund-raiser, but got caught at a medical clinic. They held the captives there until they used grenade launchers to make their exit. After that, the Haitian police lost track of them.”
He used the red laser again to point out a series of dark shapes in the water. Several boats.
“It’s my understanding that your contact in Haiti will have better intel,” he told her. “You’ll have to narrow the timeline and sift through these satellite images to determine which bogey to pursue. Just keep a low profile and get the job done.”
He handed her a file that included satellite images as well as maps of other locations in the region. “Take this file. You and your contact will need it.”
“And who is my contact?” she asked.
“The man who called me was Joe LaClaire.”
She knew Garrett well enough to know he was holding something back. There was more to this mission.
“I don’t recognize the name,” she said, and pressed him for more. “How do you know him? Why’d he contact you?”
Garrett wasn’t exactly in the yellow pages. LaClaire had to know how to get in touch. With Sentinels’ security, getting directly to Garrett wouldn’t have been easy.
“He works with someone we both know. Jackson Kinkaid.”
She tried to hide her reaction but couldn’t. At one time, she had seen a future with Kinkaid. A lifetime ago.
“I know you’ve worked with Kinkaid in the past, but he’s not the man you used to know.” Garrett’s somber expression got her attention. “Trusted sources have told me he hires out to the highest bidder in a drug-cartel war out of South America. He’s nothing more than a mercenary.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Then get over it. Because if he can be bought, no telling how much you’ll be able to trust him. His motives are suspect.” He slouched back in his chair and stared at her. “Or maybe he was the reason the terrorists picked Haiti and took hostages at a school fund-raiser in his honor.”
“Since when do mercenaries get honored at school fund-raisers? None of this makes sense, Garrett.”
“Tell me about it. If I didn’t owe him one, I’d tell him to fuck off. But I have confirming police reports that these hostages are for real.” Garrett reached for her arm. “If you see that this is too dangerous…or that Kinkaid isn’t on the level, I want you to pull the plug on the operation and let the locals take charge. A handful of hostages isn’t worth it. Don’t risk your life…and your team for a guy who’s a turncoat. You understand?”
“Yeah, sure.” She nodded. “I’ll assess the situation and make the call.”
Even though it was hard to picture a man like Kinkaid selling his services to a ruthless drug cartel, she’d seen it happen before. Greed and burnout made good men cross the line and sell out.
“You’ll have tracking beacons and a backup team standing by on your order, Alexa.” Garrett clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Something else was on his mind.
“You’re leaving something out. What is it?”
“Two things. I have a history with Kinkaid that’s between him and me. Expect hostility.
Your link to me will make you a target, but you can handle whatever he dishes out. If I thought he’d lash out at you and put you at risk, I’d call this off.”
“Okay. Expect flak. What else?” she questioned. “You said there were two things.”
“There may be another reason to make this a quick trip.” He turned toward one of the monitors on the wall and hit one with his red laser pen. A swirl of color magnified on the screen. “There’s a tropical storm forming in the Atlantic. It may miss Haiti, but tracking these bastards just got more complicated.”
She watched the hurricane tracker project a path for the growing storm. The odds were against her.
“We’ll be in constant communication with you, tracking this storm,” he said. “If I tell you to take shelter, that’s an order. You understand me, Alexa?”
Garrett didn’t bother to hide the concern in his voice.
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“I’ve got a charter at LaGuardia ready to leave in an hour from my private hangar,” he told her. “The jet will be stocked, and your team will be waiting. Once you get to Haiti, call this number.” He handed her a piece of paper. “You’ll get instructions from Kinkaid and LaClaire on where to meet.”
The reality of seeing Kinkaid again twisted her gut into a tight knot. The rescue op would be tough enough without the added complication, especially if he took blood money from drug cartels. She blocked that disturbing thought from her mind to ask Garrett one more question.
“Why wasn’t Jessie assigned to this mission? Is she on the backup team?”
“No, I’ve decided not to send her. I need experienced operatives.” When he caught her obvious disappointment, he asked, “Is there a problem?”
“No. It’s just that she’s ready for an assignment. You know how it is after training.”
“Yes, I remember.” He fixed his eyes on hers and connected in a way only he could. “But this mission won’t be easy. If she’s along, you’ll be distracted. And I need you focused one hundred percent.” His gaze softened. “Take care of yourself, Alexa.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Garrett.”
Alexa packed up the files and headed out of the building with plenty on her mind. And driving to LaGuardia Airport would give her time to think about the mission and the man who had instigated it. But before she left New York City, she had a loose end to take care of. Her out-of-town guest would need a distraction to keep him busy.
She reached for her cell and hit the speed dial for Jessie. When her friend didn’t answer, the call rolled into voice mail. If she’d be out of town anyway, having a backup plan for Seth Harper seemed like a good idea.
“Listen, Jessie. I had to cancel my plans with Seth. I’m heading out of town now. An unexpected trip.” She smiled and added, “But I need a favor.”
She concocted a story about building maintenance being done at her place and asked Jessie to pack a small bag to stay overnight and make sure the work got done. An apartment key would be in an envelope with the manager. Alexa gave her the address and ended the call, content to let nature take its course. If nothing happened between Seth and Jessie while she was gone, then she’d know for sure that Harper was up for grabs.
And she had a feeling that when she returned from this mission, she’d need a good diversion. The difficult assignment ahead took firm hold and dominated her thoughts, clouded by memories of Jackson Kinkaid. A complicated man. Only now he’d be her assignment.
And someone she shouldn’t trust.
Port de Paix, Haiti
Wrapped in a pitch-black world, Kinkaid heard quiet voices in the distance that magnified. Had someone called his name?
Faces emerged from the gloom in rapid-fire succession. They warped and twisted and taunted him. Some looked familiar, but all of them made him anxious. And as he tensed, the sound of gunfire erupted. The sudden outburst culminated in a mind-numbing explosion that forced him to run. He struggled to break free of the treacherous dark chasm, but couldn’t. Everywhere he turned, it loomed in front of him. And the incessant hum of voices wouldn’t stop. They grew louder, more distinct, then dropped off to a vague whisper he couldn’t understand.
“What? No!” He heard his own voice. It echoed in his head. “Make it…stop.”
Strong hands took hold of him. The more he thrashed to break free, the harder the hands gripped him until a sliver of light broke through the emptiness. He focused on it and willed it to stay. And when he stopped fighting, the hands let go.
That was when he felt her presence. He sensed her near him. Her essence lurked in the shadows beyond his reach. And the familiar smell of her skin and blond hair calmed him—a heady floral scent of gardenias. The details of her face never came into focus until a light pierced the blackness and took her from him. She dissolved in a swirling crimson mist.
“No,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”
A wash of gray swept the remaining gloom aside, and blurred images took shape. His eyes watered as the light intensified, and his face and body raged with heat. His bare chest and arms were slick with sweat. And he ached all over with a fierce pain radiating from his belly.
“Jackson, it’s me, Joe. I’m not going anywhere.” He recognized his friend’s voice. The sound of it forced the cobwebs from his brain, and LaClaire’s face came into focus. The man stood over him.
“You’ve been delirious, boss. Are you with me?” Joe wiped a cool wet cloth across his face. After he nodded, his friend continued, “I had a doctor come here. Discreetly, of course. He’s got you on pain meds and strong antibiotics for an infection.”
Kinkaid raised his throbbing head to look at his surroundings for the first time. A small motel room with two beds. And a plastic bag of clear liquid hung over his head with a tube connected to an IV in his arm. Dank sheets covered him, and heavy bandages were taped across his belly.
“What…happened?” he asked.
“You were shot. It went clean through. Does that ring a bell?” His friend tried to jog his memory. “It sure would with me.”
Images of the academy fund-raiser rushed to his mind, an event marred by armed gunmen, a screaming little girl in danger—and Sister Kate. And judging by the fact he was in a motel room rather than a hospital with doctors who asked questions, he realized Joe had done his best to keep a low profile.
“How did you find me? I don’t remember…” He attempted to sit up and winced in pain.
“Oh, no. Stay put, big guy.” Joe held his shoulders until he settled down. “You want some water.”
When he shook his head, his friend went on.
“I called in some markers and triangulated your position using the GPS on your phone. Remember? You’re the gutsy guy, and I’m the clever one.” Joe smirked and sat in a chair near his bed. His amusement eventually vanished. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Not sure. Too…tired.” Kinkaid had a hard time staying awake. He heard Joe, but his words faded in and out.
“You lost a lot of blood. And the pain meds are potent,” Joe explained. “Police said a group of terrorists attacked that school fund-raiser you were at. They used heavy firepower and got away with hostages. You told me a friend was in trouble. And you wanted my help, no matter who I had to ask. Remember that?”
“Kate. She’s in trouble. We’ve got to…help her.” Despite his condition, Kinkaid picked up on Joe’s hesitance, but he was too weak to stay focused. “Who did you get…?”
He wasn’t sure he’d spoken or merely thought the question. He shut his eyes and sank into the black void again, hearing Joe’s voice in the distance.
“Help is on the way, boss. But we gotta talk. Stay with me now.”
Kinkaid couldn’t open his eyes. He drifted into a fitful drug-induced sleep—an agonizing stupor where he couldn’t tell what was real or a nightmare—and he wondered if death felt like this.
If it did, he couldn’t recommend it.
CHAPTER 7
Port de Paix, Haiti
1
0:00 P.M.
“Jackson. Come on, wake up, man.” A voice jolted Kinkaid from a deep sleep. Joe LaClaire’s voice. “I hate doing this, but you’ll wanna hear what I gotta say. Trust me.”
“What? What’s…happening?” He opened his eyes to a dimly lit motel room with another unmade bed and his friend leaning over him. An IV was still plugged into his arm.
“That help I promised you?” Joe winced, looking apologetic. “They’ll be here soon. We gotta get you up. And right now, you don’t look so good.”
Hell, he felt like crap. Why would he look good?
“Who? Who’s coming?” Kinkaid struggled to sit up in bed. His side ached, and his head throbbed without letup. Joe slid another pillow under him.
“I have a confession to make. You were so desperate for help…to rescue a woman named Kate, that I called someone you might not…”
Now he knew something was up. Joe was a straightforward guy, and he didn’t mince words. Apparently he had something in his craw.
“Spit it out, Joe. Who’d you call?”
His friend paused long enough for him to glance up and stare him in the eyes.
“Garrett Wheeler.”
“What?” Kinkaid glared at Joe before he tore the IV from his arm with a grimace. He swung his legs off the bed and protested, “I thought you understood. I’ve got history with Wheeler. He’s not…”
Before he finished, Joe interrupted.
“The thing is, he’s the only one who sent a team. And he’s got the resources to get the job done.” Joe waved a hand and urged him to get up. “Come on. Alexa Marlowe will be here pronto. We gotta get you looking presentable.”
“Alexa? She still with…Garrett?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘with’ him. He sent her with a team. You know her?”
