by V. R. Marks
"Thanks. But I was referring to the sniper you think is loyal to Abe."
"Provided he's not already dead for missing you."
"Let's think positive."
"Okay." She reached for her pendant, raised it to her lips. "I'm positive I don't know how to trap Bakr now that we're in this rustic, yet lovely, cabin."
"I'm in no rush to end our good start here, but I have a couple of ideas."
She leaned forward. "Share."
"If there is a leak in this hide-Eva operation, we can use it to draw him to us. Only the people on your security detail knew we were going to the range today."
"Right. You said they were clean."
"And I believe it. But what if the FBI equipment is bugged."
"The leak is on the FBI side?"
He nodded. "It fits."
She played it out in her head. "How would Bakr have convinced anyone in the FBI to cooperate?"
"Does it matter?"
"No. It just makes me sad. Americans aren't supposed to be traitors."
He reached out and covered her hand with his. "Isn't that the black and white thinking you claim not to indulge?"
"No fair turning my words back on me."
"I could be wrong."
She shook her head and pushed back from the table to pace in front of the window. "You're right. It fits. I might even know who it is."
"Nichols."
She spun back to face him. "Now that's creepy. It's like you're in my head. Why do you think that?"
"Who better to get him into the country than an FBI agent? Nichols isn't a regular in town, but people know his face because he showed up here when Allie was attacked."
"Maybe I just want to think badly of him. He's so damned arrogant."
"It's just a theory."
She clutched the pendant again. "Ross and I handed Abe right over to him." Dropping her head against the window, she swore softly. "Stupido!"
"Pretty sure I know what that means and I'm not buying it."
She let Carson turn her around, let herself wallow and lean a little. "How do we get him? Get them both?"
"For now we sit tight. You try to recall what Bakr wants to know. When the sheriff gets here we can finalize plans."
"When did you tell the sheriff we were coming here? When did you know?"
"Yesterday? The day before? It runs together." Carson shook his head. "I didn't really tell him though. Knowing we might need a fallback location, I left him a message. When he figures out I wasn't just being stupid, he'll show up."
"Clever, aren't you?"
"I have my moments." He nuzzled her neck.
She slid her hands over his shoulders, down his biceps. "You certainly do."
Kissing him, she let go of the worries of the case. "I might not know what to do with myself, all disconnected from the world like this."
He boosted her up and she wrapped her legs round his waist. "Good thing I'm feeling another moment coming on."
"A girl could get used to this." She laughed as he carried her out of the kitchen toward the bunk rooms. A bed would be a nice change of pace.
Hours later she came out of the nightmare like she'd been shot from a cannon. One minute lost in the hell of the failed mission, the next in absolute quiet of the cabin.
"Shhh," Carson murmured. "You're safe."
His voice was a touchstone in the dark and his long body a comfort stretched out beside her.
"You finally remembered?"
"Yes." Her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs. "Yes," she said with more confidence. It explained why the sniper took a shot at Bart, kidnapped Matheson. In an effort to save Abe's son, Bart had been with him, had heard his final words. So had the rest of the team. But none of them had understood.
She hadn't even understood. Until now. She'd purposely left it off of the report, editing it to protect Bart's feelings. No one would know the difference and the whole mission would be locked away in a vault somewhere anyway.
But Bakr, with his long reach and psychotic determination, had found it. Found all of them.
She murmured a prayer to St. Michael and turned to the comfort of Carson's warm embrace. With his heart beat steady under her ear, she waited for sunrise and prayed the sheriff would find them soon.
She was more than ready to be free of the Morcos brothers and the nightmares that came with them.
Chapter 13
Carson came awake at the sound of boots on the porch. He slid out from under Eva and pulled on his boxers. Picking up his gun, he crept out of the bunk room.
Staying low, he followed the sounds of movement outside as one set of boots circled the cabin. That didn't mean others weren't hiding elsewhere outside.
The firm knock on the door was unexpected, but the voice that followed had him smiling with relief. "Turkey hunting license," the sheriff called through the door. "I considered docking your pay for stupidity."
"Hope you didn't," Carson answered.
"Not yet. Better get some clothes on, deputy. We're wasting daylight."
"Yes, sir."
"Here." Eva, wrapped in a blanket, hair tumbled from sleep, stood in the hallway with his jeans.
"Told you he'd figure it out," he said, rushing forward to kiss her soundly. "I'll start coffee."
"Good plan." She shuffled off toward the bunk rooms.
When they were gathered in the kitchen with hot coffee, the sheriff brought them up to speed. "Abraham has been kidnapped."
Carson exchanged a look with Eva, knew they were thinking the same thing. "From the FBI."
"Yes."
"Has Abe's man made contact?"
"No, but the FBI got a chip on Abe somehow. He's at the rectory behind St. Michael's Episcopal church."
Eva touched her pendant. "Should've anticipated that one."
"He's sent photos and threats already. The man doesn't have long unless the 'queen' shows up or unlocks the file. Whatever that means."
"Even if she gives him the information he wants he'll kill his brother." Carson couldn't imagine how that would weigh on Eva.
"And we can't let Abe die," she said.
"Your boss agrees," Sheriff Cochran said. "He and I have worked up a plan, providing you two can carry it out."
Carson listened, watched Eva's face go pale as she took it all in. When the sheriff left he pulled her into his arms. "You've said it yourself. The sniper is on our side."
"If he's alive."
"You've gotta think positive." He pressed her close until he could feel her heart thudding against his own. "We'll get through this."
"He will hurt you just to spite me." She ran her fingers over the bruises at his neck.
"Don't chicks dig scars?"
"Yes. We do." She gave him a watery smile as she pulled his face down for a kiss. "But try to keep them off this handsome face."
* * *
Nothing in her previous experience prepared her for the stress of sending Carson out to bait Bakr nearly twenty-four hours earlier. Almost an entire day knowing what could happen to him, picturing the worst. While Ross read her into the full details on Abe, the FBI, and the code phrases she needed to memorize, she couldn't shake the fear that she'd never be in Carson's arms again.
It was the worst mission assessment of her life. She'd had the training, knew fear had to be squashed. But Carson wasn't a solider. He was a small town deputy. A decent, southern gentleman with a big heart, who hadn't been trained to take on the likes of Bakr.
She shivered. Think positive.
The sheriff had said they'd learned the sniper had reported the attack at the range as successful. Bakr probably didn't know anything about Carson or what he looked like. She could only hope he'd believe the deputy's appearance at the abandoned church was a matter of inconvenient timing.
Still, Ross' dire warnings echoed in her head as she crept through the cemetery toward the back door of the rectory behind St. Michael's church. Bakr had resources and at least one man still on his side. He k
new how to rig explosives and had proven himself capable of cold-blooded murder.
At the cemetery gate she paused, looking for a sentry. In another context, she might admire Bakr's choice of meeting places. Today she had to hope the patron saint of the US Army Airborne was standing ready to provide back up.
She held her breath as she rushed across the open space between the gate and the back door, staying low, a prayer on her lips. Making it without incident, she wondered if the intel was wrong or if he'd ordered them to let her come.
She checked the door for any sign of a tripwire and said another prayer as she tested the handle. Unlocked. Braced for anything, she pushed the door open and closed her eyes. When nothing exploded, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"All hail the queen!"
She recognized Bakr's voice, though she hadn't heard it in years. It was one sound, along with the many others of that night, permanently etched on her memory.
"Do join us."
Us. He sounded too happy. Too confident. She stifled the worry and dread, a dangerous blend of emotions that threatened to swamp her. Whatever surprise he had in store, they both knew he needed information only she could provide.
She eased down the dark, narrow hallway toward the light seeping from the kitchen.
Peeking around the corner, she saw two hostages. Bakr had Carson duct taped to a folding chair, his head slumped forward on his chest. Unconscious.
Please let him just be unconscious. Across the room, Abe was shackled with a short chain to the pipes under the sink.
Where was Bakr? He'd arranged this scene just for her, for the sole purpose of gaining her attendance. Why wasn't he here, front and center, ready to gloat?
Eva rounded the corner, advancing with her arms outstretched, the revolver cocked and ready.
Bakr stepped out of the shadow and put the muzzle of a gun to the back of Carson's head. Her stomach churned as she recognized Carson's service weapon. "Stop right there."
He smiled, a smug, reptilian expression. "At last I have my audience with the queen." He gave her a bow better suited to a royal court of ages past.
She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. His arrogance would be his undoing. She could take him. Her finger tightened slightly. Just a smooth squeeze of the trigger would send a bullet through Bakr's forehead. She could end this right now.
"Give me the word," he snapped.
"Let them go first."
"Don't you understand? This is checkmate, your highness." He fired once, into the air. Suddenly the red dot of a sniper's rifle appeared on Abraham's chest. "They live or die at my whim."
"Cheating? Really?"
"You are out of moves." He flicked a remote and a computer monitor flickered to life. A picture of him standing behind her mother at the grocery store popped up.
She refused to panic. "I thought you had more confidence than that."
"I have your knight," he hissed. "Your rook will be next if you don't cooperate. Checkmate."
She tilted her head, studying him as if he were a curious exhibit in a zoo rather than a homicidal monster. Terror pounded through her veins, but she wasn't about to give up. Or give in.
"I shouldn't be surprised. You killed your nephew after all. How many more lives will it take for you to give this up?"
"Only those who matter to you, if you fail me." he said. "The game is over." He motioned with the gun. "Go on. Give me what I need."
She agreed the situation looked bleak. Impossible even. Her .22 was ridiculously outmatched by Carson's 9mm and the added advantage of a sniper.
Silently she prayed to St. Michael. "You'll never get away with this," Eva said through gritted teeth. "Even with the code, you can't get away with this." There had to be a solution. There was always a solution. "You'll never even get out of the county."
"Still you underestimate me? I have friends in high places, your highness."
Her eyes darted from Carson to Abraham. The red dot of the sniper's rifle scope held steady on Abe's chest, Bakr's pistol remained pressed to the back of Carson's head.
Her palms itched and a red haze seeped around the edges of her vision. She struggled to beat it back, to find the solution.
The Army needed Abraham's intel. Without him, they couldn't prosecute business owners working against American interests. They'd be right back to square one.
She needed Carson. No further rationale required. It was simply the truth of her heart.
Training, target practice, analysis – none of it mattered now.
"Do you believe in karma?"
"I believe in power."
"You certainly believe in drama." Eva lowered her weapon a fraction, hoping Bakr would instinctively follow suit. He didn't. "That surprises me. You've played this game, manipulated people accordingly –"
"Stop stalling and tell me what I need to know."
"None of this dramatic presentation was necessary. I have complete and perfect recall of every communication that night."
"Tell me!" Bakr roared and fired at Abraham. "Tell me," he repeated. "Or all you love is dead."
If Carson would just come around. According to the plan he was supposed to be awake now. She looked to Abe, slumped against the counter.
"It is over." The older man said with a groan. "Just let him win."
"Shut up!" Bakr yelled. "I have earned this!"
In the chair Carson jerked, raised his head. She glanced his way. Had he just winked at her? It was hard to tell with one of his eyes swollen nearly shut.
"Let it be done," Abe whispered, drawing her attention, his hand clutched to his stomach where Bakr had fired. "I will soon join my son."
"Tell me!" Bakr repeated.
Every word mattered here, no one was willing to take the chance that Bakr's allies weren't listening in.
"Your heart is black," she said, in English, her voice catching on the altered code phrase. It wasn't fear that had caused the hitch, it was sheer relief. The sniper's sight had shifted to Bakr's throat. Ross, St. Michael, or someone, had arrived to back her up.
"That is the phrase?"
Eva's smile was full of malicious intent. "That is the truth."
Bakr fired at Carson's head as she raised the revolver and unloaded all six rounds, each shot accompanied by a prayer of protection for Carson.
Bakr collapsed, his screams of pain ricocheting around the small room.
She rushed forward to move the gun out of Bakr's reach, but it was a moot point. The sniper had opted to blow off Bakr's hand rather than take the kill shot.
She'd wasn't ashamed that the knowledge of him suffering pleased her. Death was too quick, too easy for a man who'd tortured his family so mercilessly.
"You blew out his knee," Carson said, completely alert, his eyes shining with pride. "Nice job."
"Dammit!" She rushed to him, tearing feverishly at the duct tape. "I was aiming for his gut."
His rich laughter rolled over her and she paused her effort to free him long enough to plant a hard, grateful kiss on his healthy side of his battered mouth.
"No fair," he protested when she leaned back. He struggled against the remaining tape. "I want to hold you."
"Me first. My heart stopped when he shot at your head."
"Blanks, remember?"
"Tell it to my heart." The moment he could move, he opened his arms and she went gleefully into his embrace, wrapping her arms tight about his waist. "You don't ever get to be bait again."
"Deal. You did it. You won."
He rained kisses over her face, both of them heedless to Ross and the others releasing Abe and treating Bakr with the minimum required compassion.
"Ms. Battaglia."
Reluctantly, she eased away from Carson. "Special Agent Nichols." She looked him up and down. He'd traded in his suit and perfectly knotted tie for a jacket and cargo pants in a hunting camouflage pattern.
Knowing now that he'd been behind the sniper scope, that he'd been working undercover as the man 'loya
l to Abe', she rushed to hug him.
"Thank you." Bart and Carson were both alive because he'd stepped into the breach. He resisted for a moment and then awkwardly patted her back. Taking pity, she released him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Active duty looks good on you."
He rolled his eyes and his strong jaw jumped with impatience. "We'll need you to come in and give a statement."
"Sure thing. Right after Christmas."
"The car's waiting now."
He motioned her forward, but she ignored him to help Carson to his feet. "Not tonight, Dan. It's Christmas Eve."
"Certain things have come to our attention."
"By 'things' do you mean certain possible infractions?" They couldn't have been happy with a few of the firewalls she'd managed to breach when she'd sent the ghost on a few wild goose chases.
The muscle in his jaw jumped. "Let's just go in and sort it out."
"No sir. I have plans." She sent a questioning glance toward Carson, got the slight nod in return. "Do you have plans?"
"Yes. At the office," he said scowling as paramedics rolled Bakr away.
"Consider your plans changed. If you want to talk to me, it will have to be after dinner with the Morris family. His grandma is delightful. I think she'd like you."
"She makes the best Red Velvet cake in the county," Carson added.
"It's Christmas Eve, Nichols. Live a little."
"Give me the address, I'll think about it while I get everyone here sorted out."
"That's the spirit." Eva patted his shoulder. "We'll tell her to expect you."
"Ms. Battaglia." Abraham paused, signaling Nichols to go on, but the agent waited. Taking Eva's hand in his he said, "I owe you more than can ever be repaid. Thank you."
She couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. No matter the shady sidelines this man dealt with, she respected him and his hard fight to keep the balance. "I'm sorry for your loss." Through greed and murder, his brother had torn apart the Morcos family and nearly crippled the business. But he was a still a brother.
It was impossible to understand the depth of his shock and despair, knowing his brother hated him enough to kill. Had it not been for the blanks in Carson's gun, he would have bled out on this dingy kitchen floor.
