by Linzi Baxter
Zane hit the hands-free button on the steering wheel and barked Brock’s name. “Why are you not calling me on a burner phone.”
“We’re being chased.”
Through the phone, I could hear the clicking of Brock’s fingers on a keyboard. “Where the hell are you?” Brock demanded.
“We are on Interstate 64, heading east, toward the airstrip.”
There was a lengthy pause before Brock’s voice came across the speakers. “I have eyes on you. You have company five miles ahead.”
“I’m more worried about the assholes behind us.” Shots rang out. The back window of the SUV shattered. Broken glass sprayed into the car. I could feel the shards hitting the back of my seat.
Zane gunned the engine. The SUV lurched forward.
“Are you guys alive?” Brock asked.
My mouth was dry, but somehow, I responded. “Yes.”
“Take your next turn in a hundred feet.”
Wanting to help, I sat up to assist with an extra set of eyes. I couldn’t see anything up ahead except trees. Is Brock sending us into a forest to go off-roading? He needed to send a spy plane or something to blow these people up.
“Hold on!” Zane’s demand had me grasping the side door handle with all of my might. Zane rounded the corner, and the force of it made it feel as if the car was about to roll. Somehow, we made it around the corner, all four tires hitting the ground with a thud.
The car behind us wasn’t as lucky. When they took the corner, their vehicle flipped with the defining sound of metal crunching. Zane brought our vehicle to a screeching halt.
Is Zane losing his mind? Why is he stopping?
I heard Brock say, “Go!”
Zane protested. “We need a photo of these guys. If we can ID them, it will help us pull more information together.”
Brock’s voice came over the speakerphone. “Zane, we don’t have time. They must have radioed the other men. Head straight to the airstrip. In a thousand feet, take a right. Head straight for about two miles.”
We had broken through the trees. Corn was the only thing I could see for miles. “Brock, I think you are looking at the wrong satellite. I don’t see a road up ahead.”
I heard Zane chuckle. “He wants us to take a shortcut through the cornfield. Hold on to the dash. This might get a little bumpy.”
Zane turned straight into the cornfield. Visibility went to zero. The SUV tore through the corn like butter.
“Are you sure we are going in the correct direction? I can’t see a thing.” It felt like we were driving in circles.
Zane pointed to the compass on the dashboard. I guess when you couldn’t see the road, you followed a compass.
“In a hundred feet, you will come upon a road. Take a right, and in sixty miles, you will be at the airstrip.”
Satellite imagery would tell them where we were headed. “Are you sure the airstrip is safe? We might be going into a trap.”
“Already took care of that. We have three different planes leaving at the same time as you guys. They are all flying to different locations. We have people dressed as you on the other plane, and we have new identities waiting for you on the plane. Antonio and John are on a flight to New York as we speak. We played a little shuffle game with their plane, too. I will keep an eye on the airstrip to make sure no one is heading that way.”
Wow. Brock and Antonio were good at the spy game.
“I hope you loaded Antonio up with enough ammo for me also.”
“Already done. Talk to you on the other side.” Brock clicked the line off.
Zane continued down the highway for a sixty-mile stretch. We encountered no more agents. The wind whipping in the blown-out window of the SUV was not only a distraction, but it caused the cold to seep into the vehicle.
The airplane screamed money. Before this morning’s excursion, it had been years since I had been so frightened for my life or anyone else’s. I’d heard stories about Antonio and Brock and how their missions would go. Hearing the story from my friends and being at the forefront were two different things. Somehow, it had worked out. We arrived at the airstrip and boarded the plane. The plane door was shut to the outside world, and we were one step closer to my sister.
Zane sat next to me in the plush leather seats. He reached over and grabbed my hand. It was still shaking. The last set of men who had come after us hadn’t seemed to care if we lived or died. It was only thanks to Zane’s driving skills and Brock’s hacking skills, that we were safe for the moment.
A young blonde in a flight attendant’s uniform approached us. “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. and Mrs. White?”
Brock was playing games again. “Our—”
Zane squeezed my hand. “Mrs. White will have red wine, and I will have a Scotch. Thank you.” She turned on her heels and headed to the front galley kitchen.
“Why didn’t you correct her?”
The man's actions irritated me. The game-playing was getting old, and we had only been on the mission for three days. I should have been grateful he was still helping me after getting shot at today.
Zane leaned his head back against the seat. “Brock didn’t give our real names for a reason. Why change something he did to protect us?”
“You guys need to make a manual for these missions. It’s hard when you haven’t gone to spy school. The last mission I had for the director was setting up malware on the computer of the Prime Minister of Russia. It took me two days, and I had a clone of his communication funneling into a storage device. Oh, fuck, I forgot to give him the data I retrieved.”
Zane was silent. He reached up and ran his hand through his scruff.
“You want to tell me why you are just now bringing up that op? This could be the reason he wants you. He might think you overheard or saw something and is cutting you out. Sanchez might think you turned on him, and he wants to bring you in to make it easier to find out what you know.” Zane reached for his glass of Scotch and downed it in one gulp.
The director had contacted me before Jessica was kidnapped, and I had set up the malware to collect the data. But I hadn’t yet logged in to pull the data off. I’d been dodging the devil's calls because I thought they were about Jessica. Zane was pretty smart for figuring that out so fast. Working on so many different projects, I sometimes forgot which ones were still going.
“When we get to the hotel, I’ll find a computer and pull the data off. We can sift through the information and see what he was looking for.”
The virus had been running for weeks. Hopefully, the server had enough storage capacity to have collected everything we needed. I could smack myself for forgetting.
“Can Bridget access the data?”
She could, but I didn’t want to drag Bridget into trouble any further than I already had. She had a family to think about.
Zane reached over and grabbed me around the waist. It was effortless for him to pull me on to his lap. I knew the gesture was intimate, and I should have fought back. But, the day had been draining, and it felt good to be in his arms.
“Yes.” I grabbed the cell phone and texted Bridget the information she needed to give Brock.
“No more talk about the op. I want to know why you left my bed last night.”
I couldn’t have this conversation sitting in his lap. The harder I tried to move, the tighter Zane’s arms became.
“Go on, Red,” Zane encouraged. “Tell me why.”
“Why do you care? Last night was to scratch an itch.”
“I highly doubt that’s all it meant to you. If it were just an itch, you would have still been there in the morning.”
This man was dangerous. He wanted to talk about emotions. Those are best kept buried in the deepest parts of your soul. If you let people in, they could hurt you.
“You could have any woman you wanted. Why are you pressing me?”
He squeezed my wrist and slowly dragged his thumb over the back of my arm. The touch felt so right. But, this man needed so
meone who wasn’t damaged goods.
“I’ve traveled the world. I’m at a point in my life where I want to think about the future. One-night stands do not appeal to me anymore. Last night, we had a connection, and you ran. Why can’t we see where it might go? I’m not saying we need to get married tomorrow.”
“We can’t have a future. When you find out what’s wrong with me…” I was beyond frustrated. Every word he spoke made me think there was hope.
Zane shifted me on his lap so he could see my eyes. He ran his hand down my face. At his touch, my breathing increased, and my heart raced.
Holy shit! This man can make my blood boil.
“Sophie, has any man ever made you feel this chemistry? If I wanted a quick lay, I would get one. I don’t. I want to be with you. Let's see where this goes. I don’t know why you keep acting like you’re damaged, when you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I was damaged. The man we were after took the choice of having kids away from me many years ago. No man would want to be with a woman who can’t give him a son or daughter.
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, letting us know we needed to prepare for landing. I scurried of Zane’s lap to the other seat.
He let out a sigh. “I will drop it for now, but this conversation is far from over.”
10
Zane
The day had been another cluster fuck and it wasn’t doing anything for my mood. Tomorrow, we were going on a partial mission, and doing it blind. If everything went as planned, I would have Sophie in my bed tonight, her long legs wrapped around me.
The problem was that my gut told me something was wrong. My instincts were screaming to pull back and take the mission slow. Brock was tracking the CIA agents who had attacked us earlier, and they hadn’t found our location. Nothing erroneous had surfaced. It was like the mission was too clean.
Being near to Sophie for the past week had my emotions running wild. I needed to go for a ten-mile run to release some of the tension that was building up. Taking out the CIA agents early this week did nothing to settle my nerves. My gut told me something bad was coming, and we hadn’t figured out what yet.
Brock was sifting through the data Sophie had stolen from the Russian Prime Minister’s computer. Nothing was connected to Yermushin, so far.
Antonio was sitting in front of the computer, talking to Brock. Brock was in his conference room, surrounded by operatives. The team was trying to dig up as much intel as they could on Yermushin.
Sophie’s fingers were flying across her keyboard. “This can’t be true. This can’t be true.”
I leaned over Sophie’s shoulder to see what she was looking at. “What can’t be true?”
Deep down, I knew whatever she found would change the course of the op. The op was a snatch and grab. The harder mission would be taking Sanchez out.
When I leaned over to see what she found, I heard Brock yell “Fuck” through the computer’s speakers.
A live broadcast of the director was running on the internet. “Turn it up.”
“Sometime last week, my niece Sophie was kidnapped from her apartment in Ft. Lauderdale. I’m asking anyone who has any information to help find my miss—”
Sophie turned off the broadcast.
“Brock, are you getting this?” Was what he was saying right? It made little sense. My pulse pounded. The director had put Sophie’s face across all the TV stations. She couldn’t leave the hotel or go to the charity event without someone seeing her.
“Yes. Sophie, did you have any clue he was your uncle?” Brock was pacing back and forth on the screen. His team of operatives were analyzing the newscast, taking down all the information as it flowed through the fucker’s mouth.
Sophie had gone pale since the director’s announcement. “If I’d known, don’t you think I would have told you?” she snapped at Brock.
I dropped into the chair and ran a hand across my face. “So, the director tried throwing us a curve ball. It’s time to find an alternative way to extract Kat from Yermushin.”
“Do you think he’s trying to stop us from going to the charity event?” Sophie asked, raising her eyebrows.
Antonio jumped from his chair and glared at Sophie. “We are getting my wife back tonight.” Antonio slammed his hands against the table. “I don’t care who comes with me. It’s happening at sundown.”
“Don’t give me attitude. We are in this together. I’ve been searching for Kat for a long time. I just found out the man I’ve wanted to kill for years is my uncle. Fuck you.” Sophie stormed out of the room.
“You need to watch it,” I growled at Antonio.
Needing to find Sophie, I headed to the bedroom in the hotel suite. She was sitting on the bed, staring at a picture in her hand.
“Care if I come in?” Emotions were running high. I didn’t want to upset Sophie any further.
Sophie waved her hand over the bed. “Sure. This is all my fault,” Sophie whispered.
“How do you feel this is your fault?”
Sophie crossed her arms and glared at me. “If I would have researched Sanchez, I would have realized our connection. Who even knows if what he said is true? I don’t understand why I never looked into him.”
“He helped you when your parents died. He was an adult, and you were a teenager looking for answers.”
Sophie’s phone buzzed. Unknown caller flashed across the screen. She swiped the smartphone and put it on speaker. “Hello.”
“You have nowhere to run. Time to come back. Everyone is looking for you. If you don’t come in in the next four hours, I will tell the public that Antonio and Brock are behind the kidnapping. It will ruin their lives.”
I motioned for her to keep talking and pointed to the living room. Sophie and I rushed back. Antonio and Brock were talking to each other on the computer. John was cleaning his gun.
“Why are you doing this?” Sophie asked, trying to keep Sanchez talking. “If you’re really my uncle, why did you put me in foster care?”
“I didn’t want to raise two brats. If you and your sister had been together, you would have caused me issues. The two of you might have figured out my plan.”
At the sound of Sanchez’s voice coming through the phone, the room went quiet except for the sound of Brock’s fingers flying across the keyboard. I had a good feeling he was working on tracking the phone call. More than likely, the director was bouncing his signal around the globe.
Sophie was vibrating with anger. “If she lived with you, why is she working for Yermushin? Why would you make her work for the men who killed our family?”
Sanchez chuckled into the phone. “For having the IQ of a genius, you’re pretty naive. She was too young to remember the faces. She is a trained killer. Ice does what I tell her.”
Before I could stop her, Sophie threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. I hope Brock found what he was looking for.
Sophie lost it when she realized she had destroyed the phone with the link we were tracing. I looked over at the computer screen where Brock was working, and he shook his head. I had figured it would be a long shot to trace the call.
“I’m sorry. I messed everything up again.” Sophie was sitting with her head in her hands, crying.
I squatted down next to the chair. “Sophie, you need to pull yourself together. Yes, you are angry. You have every right to be. But, sitting here stewing over what ifs, won’t fix anything. Let’s go and talk with the team and see if Brock was able to trace the call.”
“Okay, I’m ready, let's get my sister back.”
Brock pushed his glasses up. “I couldn’t trace the call. He was bouncing his signal all over the place. Steve just arrived with the files I had him steal from Sanchez’s office. We have information on Kat.”
“What information do you have?” Antonio growled. He had been on edge ever since he’d seen the picture of Kat.
“Since the director has been out all day, Steve could snea
k into his office and retrieve the files from his safe. We might need POTUS to help clear his name when this is over.
I was nodding my head already. Zack owed me tons of favors for the things I’d done for him. He would take care of anything I needed. But it might not be necessary. I planned on bringing down the director and any other dirty officials.
Brock uploaded the file of scanned information to our computer. There was one on Kat and one on Sophie. “We could tap into Kat’s phone line. The director called her right before he called you. Sanchez doesn’t know we have this information. He told her he found out you were alive and was trying to get you back. Kat is taking the first flight out in the morning. Sanchez must think you will do as you're told.”
Sophie shifted in her chair to get a better look at the documents on the screen. “We have to get her tonight and worry about Yermushin tomorrow. I want Kat back, and we can’t have her fall into the director’s hands.”
“That was my next thing to pitch. I think we need to get her tonight. She lives in a house outside of Manhattan. There is one more thing.” Brock paused as if he didn’t know how to say what else he had found.
We didn’t have time for games. “Spit it out,” I demanded.
“She has a kid.” A picture a beautiful four-year-old boy showed on the screen. He was the spitting image of his dad.
Antonio leaped from his seat. “You're telling me that low-life piece of shit kept me from my wife and son? I will rip his heart out and watch him die a slow painful death.”
“That was graphic. Before you go hulk and turn green, let’s talk our plan through. I agree we go in late tonight. We’ll have the dark as our cover. If someone is watching her, we’ll need to be quick.”
The mission to take Kat at the charity event would have been more straightforward. We planned to lure her into a hall or bathroom, explain the situation, and get the fuck out. Now, the mission was to go into a residential neighborhood. Her house was more than likely being monitored by Sanchez or her current employer, Yermushin.
