Perfectly Exposed (Command Unit Book 1)

by Faulkner, Gail

  Twelve fifteen Jack called his girl, wanting to know what she was doing for lunch since he knew her breakfast had been him and a bagel. Heat zipped up his balls as he smiled on that thought and waited for her to pick up. It went to voice mail.

  An hour later he tried again. Voice mail.

  Ten minutes later he called the museum and asked for Hailey. The slightly miffed voice told him she was off again today, could he leave a message?

  “No, she went in this morning,” Jack corrected. “Are you sure she isn’t in one of the conference rooms?”

  “I’m positive since she missed a huge meeting with a collector who wants to—” Jack hung up.

  Turning, he strode out of the detective’s office he was temporarily using for the operation and grabbed his Dade County liaison on this case, Detective Phil Cruze.

  “I need this morning’s accident reports,” Jack demanded urgently. Phil got the vibe instantly and sat down at a terminal.

  “What we lookin’ for?” Phil’s hands were already logging in his authorization.

  “’08 Sentra, burgundy.” Jack rattled off her plate number and Phil typed. What came up was bad.

  “Hit and run, vehicle abandoned. Driver missing, investigation ongoing.” Phil read but Jack was already gone. The spot the accident happened was around the corner and six blocks from the apartment complex. Her route to work in the opposite fucking direction from the one Jack drove to get to the precinct this morning.

  Jack was in his truck on the way to the site, calling his real boss. Brad Marks had talked him into to working for the good guys in a whole new capacity after his honorable discharge. By design, the organization did not have a name but pulled badges from Homeland Security when needed. Brad’s title, if you could call it that, was simply Command.

  Brad picked up on the first ring. “Jack, yo.”

  Jack didn’t bother with greetings. “Boss, got a problem,” he opened and continued in rapid fire. “Hailey May Lindale left her apartment at nine ten a.m. Her vehicle was hit around nine twenty a.m. She is missing from the scene. No further information on the hit. I’m in transit to her vehicle, fifteen minutes to site.”

  Brad’s calm voice responded in operation mode. “Call me at site. I’ll get into ground chatter. We’ll get your girl, Jack,” Brad finished and clicked off.

  Jack narrowed his focus, ruthlessly refusing to consider anything but the facts and his current destination. He couldn’t afford speculation, fear or any other damn thing besides getting to Hailey. That Brad knew what Hailey meant to him wasn’t a surprise. Living where he did, the amount of time he spent watching her at social events, it didn’t take a genius to figure his shit out. Brad was one of the most dangerous, powerful investigators who ran an organization of the same. It was going to be good. Somehow.

  A tactical, mission-focused genius, Brad was a man whose loyalty was written in blood. The rest of the group only added more of everything deadly to that.

  Pulling out his badge, Jack stalked past the onsite LEO to her car, crushed all to hell. The vehicle had been pushed off the road by a larger, stronger machine. At the driver’s door the grab was written in the broken window and cut seat belt. There was some blood on the scene but not enough to be life threatening. She’d been taken, hard and fast.

  Chapter Six

  Rico pulled up. Jack didn’t have to ask how he knew to show up with an evidence kit. Silently the two of them gloved up and went to work.

  Working fast, they went over the rest of the vehicle and Jack called in the visible information to Brad as they moved through it. He also outlined his concerns with the op he’d just completed in conjunction with an international team that included way too many agencies.

  By the time they were done with the car, they knew Brad’s deeply unsavory associations as well as his highly classified contacts had no noise on a job to take a woman out of Florida.

  They had no clues. No direction, no reason for this besides the loose fucking association to Jack’s op by her being present at that meeting with Yatzic Friday night. That case was over and there was no logical way someone could have made the deep connection between her and Jack that fast.

  Jack and Rico headed to Hailey’s apartment to comb that sucker. Brad sent another operative, Mike White, to go over Jack’s cover apartment. There was little hope of information but they were working anything, no matter how improbable. It was the only other place she’d been that was also connected to the case.

  An hour later Jack was holding on to sanity by will alone. Her apartment housed a harmless young woman. There was nothing there that made her a target. Nothing hidden under, behind, inside any piece of furniture. No mystery compartments, no false walls, no secrets that gave them one single fucking lead.

  Jack’s phone rang and he grabbed it, staring at the screen. Brad calling. “Mike has cameras and mics at your cover place,” Brad clipped. “Not cheap and not sloppy. Serious sophisticated shit we have not seen before. Check your place.”

  Punching off, Jack called to Rico. “New tech. Mics and cameras at my other place. Check here again. I’m at my apartment.”

  Forty minutes later the men were in Command’s office. Along with Brad, Jack, Rico and Mike were Trace, Sam, Dean and Jason. The eight-man core group of their slightly larger organization. They went over the few bits of information they had.

  “Jesus fuck. No idea where these came from.” Trace turned a combination camera and mic over in his hand. “Think the guy made them himself. Materials are from all over the globe but the tech required to create this is not public and I haven’t even heard a whisper about it being developed.”

  “New player,” Brad stated. “Introducing himself? Making a statement?”

  Snarls of agreement sounded around the room. That was the only solid fact any of them could make fit. Every other theory was sand, sifting away as soon as they touched it.

  Jack’s phone lit up. Hoping for something, a ransom demand, anything he grabbed it. His dad. Jack rejected the call, keeping the line open in case the dead-and-didn’t-know-it bastard reached out to him.

  Brad’s phone rang. Everyone looked at him as he activated the call, his deep voice greeting, “Stone.”

  Jack’s brows rose as he realized his father not only had Brad’s number but knew the man would answer.

  Brad’s side of the conversation progressed into the silence. “Yeah, send it to this number. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  His father’s voice came from Brad’s phone. “I know you got trouble, gentlemen. I received a note three minutes ago.”

  Brad interrupted, “It’s coming up on my computer screen now.”

  More silence as they all moved around to read Brad’s laptop.

  I have waited long for this. What I take now is less than the woman you took from me, but, Stone, even from the grave, I will have retribution. Any woman a Stone claims will die a used animal.

  “You have some other information to share?” Jack questioned as his eyes moved over the damn message again.

  “What’s the SITREP. I might be able to help,” Smoke Stone asked. “The content refers to an operation that is classified.”

  Brad briefed him on the information they had, the new tech bugging one of Jack’s places, the fast-grab evidence at her car and the whole lot of nothing they’d come up with.

  Smoke immediately had a shit load of direction. “Look for a boat that left dock today. Something registered in Eastern Europe with cargo deliveries in the Black Sea. Check every port on both coasts.”

  “On it,” Brad stated, nodding at Mike who was already working his laptop. “Tell us why we’re focusing on a boat?”

  Smoke Stone sighed. His regret whispered through the phone as he continued. “My team took a woman from this guy. It ruined his life in a big way, both professionally and personally, but his pockets were deep. Shipping money from way back. The op is still classified. How we did it made us more and him nothing. Made him a fool. He vowed retributio
n and attempted to retrieve our girl, several times. Eliminating him and his resources was logical. It was only after we realized he’d planned for that contingency and attempts on her life continued. You were a boy, Jack. No reason to guess his scope included you, son. I underestimated his level of hate. Wouldn’t have kept it from you.”

  Jack regarded Brad’s phone as his father talked. Nothing coming out of it was anything but shit-on-a-stick bad. Steeling himself not to respond to the knowledge that Hailey’s chances of survival had just taken a nose dive, he listened.

  “Before the boat reaches international waters, I recommend going in heavily armed. Could be legit commercial sailors, could be professional pirates.”

  “How well connected is this guy from the grave?” Brad drawled. “Have you seen new tech in his party bag before?”

  “The bastard has financed this operation with zero return for thirty years. First attempt to retrieve our woman was in eighty-four. Bastard died in ninety-two. I watched the lights go out myself. His company and fortune were dismantled at that time. We were aware he had an accomplice by the end of ninety-three but even that went quiet by two thousand four. Someone looking for opportunity this long is a disciple who I had assumed was running out of cash. Level of armament is a crapshoot because it looks like he’s found a money maker. The new tech toys.”

  “I got three possible boats,” Mile stated. “One out of Port Canaveral and one out of Tampa. Both are already underway. A third leaves Jacksonville tonight at 0100.”

  “Pick the vessel likely to get to international waters first. Coast Guard can board the other two,” Smoke suggested from the phone.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Brad said.

  “You’re welcome, Commander,” Smoke acknowledged. “Anything I can do, son. Let me know.”

  “Later,” Jack clipped, eyes on Brad who had addressed his father as an equal. He didn’t have space in his brain to deal with the fact that his father, a rancher in Montana, had always avoided discussing his own service experience. Much like Jack currently did because almost every mission had been classified.

  Nor that his dad’s two lifelong friends, both buddies from military days, also worked and lived on the ranch he’d been raised on. No. No time to deal with the information that strung together in a way that indicated a fuck of a lot more than his father had ever disclosed.

  The room went wired as guys opened maps and got down to planning the operation. Jack watched silently, aware he had little to offer at this stage. His emotional involvement a question no one was asking out loud.

  Controlling the lip-curling snarl, Jack was honest with himself. He had to get his head in the war room. Any other thoughts were unacceptable. She needed his focus. He had to give her that. She deserved it.

  “Let’s move,” Brad clipped. The others had wrapped up what they could do from this location. It was time to move. Thank fuck.

  ***

  They had to go with the obvious target. The Sidonya Nadya was registered deep in Eastern Europe and had set sail an hour early according to the freight forwarder’s information. A cargo ship.

  Already it had taken too damn long to gear up and get underway. Jack forced his focus into the constricted timeline of the operation, going over the mission. Mentally working the actions required to get to the objective, every possible contingency, and its necessary response.

  The weather gave them a pirate’s night. High cloud cover, no moon, calm seas. Coming at the ship in its wake, the men stayed low, reducing their silhouettes as they entered the danger zone when it was most likely to be spotted. Pucker factor on this part of a mission was always high but for the experienced operators deadly calm was the only discernible expression on their black-painted faces.

  It wasn’t possible to go silent on a wet, topside approach, they used the huge vessel’s engine noise to mask their own. The inflatable boat zipped into the ship’s massive wake without incident, all eyes were trained on the deck above them, but nothing moved.

  Grapples with coated hooks to reduce sound snaked up the hull. Black-clad figures slithered up and over deck rails of the commercial vessel without an alarm sounding. The bitch was too huge to search cold so the plan was to start on the bridge, take out the radio room, and seize control of the engine room. Then they’d see if anyone wanted to live by giving up information.

  There were only two crew members on the bridge, and they wanted to live. Jack wasn’t willing to guarantee that because the fucking bastards knew exactly why they were there as soon as they entered. The rats gave up the rest of the crew as fast as they could, which meant every soul on board knew about the party planed in the crew mess. The number of survivors now depended on what they found at the “party”.

  Rico remained on the bridge to cover the ship with his sniper rifle in case the unfriendlies had friends.

  Down on the upper deck, doors to the crew mess were open. It was easy to hear the bidding as men bought a position in line. The two naked women tied to tables were the obvious objects the men were bidding on. Neither woman moved, both were obviously beaten, faces swollen, contusions visible across their bodies.

  Brad and Mike were on point after the flash bang went off, swiftly incapacitating the crewmembers closest to the door. Jack and Sam took down whomever was between them and the two women. The fourteen commercial seamen were not a challenge to the highly skilled operators.

  Ruthlessly keeping his focus narrowed to the next step in getting her safe, Jack checked Hailey’s pulse. It was strong. He went about the business of freeing her unconscious body from the damn table and checking for broken bones. Bones felt good. Dean was at his back as he completed checking and freeing her. Jack lifted her to his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and moved out for the deck.

  Sam was lifting his unconscious girl off her table when Jack glanced back at the room. Trace guarded Sam’s back as he got his girl out and followed Jack and Dean.

  The crew was in restraints. Brad was on his sat phone. Moving a prone and restrained sailor out of his way via boot to gut, Brad made his way across the room to where Jack and Sam were exiting the area.

  “Coast Guard ETA three minutes,” he relayed. “We’ll get this.”

  Jack tamped down the burn. Hailey was his first responsibly and he wasn’t going to leave her to someone else’s care. She was still unconscious and uniquely vulnerable. The security of being in his arms if she woke was what he had to give her. In light of every damn thing he was refusing to think about what could have already happened to her, it was all he had to offer. He hoped like hell she had been kept out the entire time, but that was a fucking best-case wish. His next pressing concern was that these bastards never saw the inside of a cushy U.S. prison.

  “Guard out of Gitmo?” Jack asked. Having the prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay instead of a stateside base would be his preference. Made the questioning process less gentle and shit.

  “Yep. This boat is full of Al Qaeda tangos,” Brad confirmed.

  Across the room one of the captives started protesting loudly, demanding rights and spewing information that marked him as the probable captain. None of the sailors had identifiable officer indicators on their clothes. Mike deployed the boot method of shutting him up then explained the obvious.

  “You are in U.S. waters, shithead. You were bidding the order of rape for that man’s woman.” Mike nodded at Jack. “You are already a kidnapper, slave trader and I believe we will find significant weight in drugs on board. He would rather shoot you than transport your ass to any damn place. I feel the same. Gonna give us a reason to satisfy that urge? Because I gotta confess, that bitch is riding me hard.” Mike smiled in a way that displayed teeth and deadly desires.

  The man on the floor shrank into himself as he shook his head no.

  Jack headed for the deck to wait for the chopper. The few minutes’ wait meant he could wrap her in the Mylar blanket that was part of every man’s pack.

  Chapter Seven

  Hailey fought
it, but the haze of unconsciousness gradually evaporated, taking away the nothingness and, with it, her hiding place. But the wave of pain didn’t rush over her. Instead she found a new type of nothing. This one was warm, soft and filled with muted sounds. Rather pleasant.

  The only hard thing was the hand holding hers. Wait. Hand holding hers?

  She’d learned the hard way not to tense, not to move, not to give away consciousness in any way at all. One time jerking awake had accomplished that. Now she tried to focus on her surroundings without actually opening her eyes. It was difficult until someone spoke.

  Softly, deep tones communicated, “Wheels up whenever you’re ready, man.”

  Right beside her the response. “Yeah, be out in a minute.”

  Jack!

  Jack was sitting beside her. Afraid to open her eyes and test the hallucination she did it anyway. He was still there. His face was turned in the direction of the other voice. Hailey had no time to investigate that as his gaze dropped to her.

  “Baby,” he breathed as their eyes met.

  He seemed real but her world felt in some way soft focused. Hailey didn’t dare believe he was actually with her but this was a very nice break from reality. He appeared older, there were lines bracketing his mouth. His skin was stretched tight, features accentuated in brutal relief. It was Jack but different, more elementally male. Perhaps extreme stress colored one’s fantasies.

  “You’re good. It’s over,” Jack informed her gently.

  That was nice. Fantasy Jack was comforting her.

  “We are headed home in a minute,” he continued. “Buddy of mine has a helo so you can sleep if you want. No worries.”

  Hailey felt unease slither into her comfy world. This was a lot of information for a hallucination. Having a buddy with a helicopter wouldn’t be a stretch for Jack. Perhaps he actually was in the container with her. Making sense of how he might have joined her wasn’t as important as warning him. Disjointed panic knifed across the pleasant dream.