by Jacki Renée
I’m being attached to wires, and the wires attached to machines.
Jessica storms in.
I hear the sound of water running in a basin, then the snap of medical gloves against skin.
“I’ll check and see if imaging is crowded,” Ignacio says.
Warm gel oozes onto my pelvic area. Jessica uses the transducer to search for the baby’s heartbeat. I hold my breath as she moves and presses the device into my pelvic area.
“Hush,” she commands and everyone in the room quiets.
Bryan’s eyes water. His lips tremble. Those long eyelashes glisten as tears spill over.
I watch Jessica as she watches her little brother. She continues to search for...
A fast rhythmic beat is amplified in the quiet emergency room. My baby moves. I let go of the breath I was holding as I laugh with relief and cry with joy and pain.
Bryan looks up mumbling his thanks. He bends over, pressing lips press against my stomach.
I’m in mental and physical pain; defiance will not allow me to share in his joy. We keep ours separate.
His hand reaches for my face, caressing my cheek. I can’t trust the sight of the love beaming from his eyes. I focus on a spot on the wall.
Sadness fills my heart. Our life together has been one big stinking lie.
Jessica continues to move the transducer around my pelvic area, pausing and tapping the keyboard several times.
“He looks good,” she says.
My eyes shoot to the monitor now turned toward us. Jessica points to the image.
“You heard me correctly,” she laughs. “Your son looks to be doing well. The placenta is still attached and there’s no signs of bleeding.” She freezes the image.
His legs are wide open.
Thank you, God, for saving my baby boy.
“Once you’re unstrapped from the spine-board I’ll hook you up to a fetal monitor. I’m keeping you here on bed rest as a precaution.”
I drown out everything and everyone except for the image of my son.
“How are they?” Ignacio walks back into the room wearing scrubs and a lab coat. He places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“He’s fine,” Bryan whispers. “Our son is fine.”
Ignacio’s shoulders relax. “Congratulations.” The men hug, slapping each other’s backs. “I need to get her upstairs.”
Bryan nods, moving to the side, letting the medical team detach the many cords from the machines.
Another sheet is placed over me. Ignacio leads the way.
Vin and Anthony fall in line, asking questions.
“My son is fine,” Bryan tells them, pride resonating in his voice.
This time the medical staff pushes the stretcher down the corridor, but six of us get on the elevator.
My eyes zero in on the gold rings each man wears on the ring finger of his right hand. I never picked up on that.
I block out their chatter until the elevator stops. Vin and Anthony pull their guns. The side of Ignacio’s lab coat is pushed back, his holstered weapon revealed.
Why are they carrying weapons? We’re in a hospital.
The elevator doors open. Two men holding rifles nod. “Sir,” the say.
Bryan nods. They step to the side and my stretcher is pulled off by another set of medical staff while the two men walk alongside Bryan.
I’m wheeled into an imaging room.
Surprisingly, I have no fractures or broken bones. But I have bumps and I’ll have bruises by tomorrow. And I will be stiff and sore for the next few days.
Once I’m settled in a room and hooked up to a fetal monitor, I’m given pain medication.
I fall asleep with my hands on my bump. My son.
***
“I don’t have long to talk. Simon will be home shortly.”
“Is Bryan dead?”
“No, you shot him in the neck or near his neck. I couldn’t really tell.”
“Shit! I was aiming for Danielle. Nothing happened to her?”
“I overheard the on-call doctor on the phone with someone in the ambulance. She fell down a flight of stairs.”
“Did she at least lose the baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any chance you can get to her?”
“Hell no! Secret Service has that floor locked down tight. Bryan has a lot of government pull,” I say.
“That’s why High Commander wants him.”
“Why does owning a bodyguard company make Bryan a hot commodity?”
Even after all these years, High Commander Toussaint still wants him on our side. The bonus is up to twenty-five million.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”
Bryan could care less about her. She’s too stupid to see that. James never cared about her either. I had a threesome with him and his brother.
That was the biggest fight she and I ever had. But at least she got to see James for who he really was. A user.
She failed her assignment. I tried to warn her when the order came down from Toussaint. A million dollars to the person who eliminated her.
Everyone thinks she’s dead.
To avenge her, I plotted and slept my way through the ranks of RAGS to get close to our leader. Their identity within reach.
Three weeks ago, the woman I loved revealed herself to me, and only because she’s angry with her baby-daddy.
“How did you get that close in the hospital?” she asks.
“I dressed like hospital personnel. Bryan doesn’t recognize me as a blonde.”
“Be careful. He’s a dangerous man. Those guys got overzealous on New Year’s Eve. I told them to send him a warning, not take out his family. He can’t prove it was me who hired them, but he suspects it and is messing with my parents. Bryan doesn’t know you’re the true love of my life; otherwise he’d come after you too.”
I’ve waited a long time to hear her admit how important I am to her. But it’s too late. My loyalty’s been swayed by the lure of twenty-five million dollars. My son and I can disappear with that kind of money.
“Have you made progress with that new guy? Ross is his name, right?” I ask.
“He’s just like any other male dog. Dangle a little pussy and he’ll chase it.” She laughs.
“I’m close to discovering who High Commander Toussaint is. Tristan promised to let me search the national registry once he gets back from vacation with his wife and kid.”
“Madelyn, don’t put Jacob’s life at risk. Toussaint’s reach is far.”
She’s just saying that to mess with my head. Three of us signed up for the challenge to bring Bryan to RAGS.
A car’s headlights flash across the window in the living room momentarily casting my shadow against the wall.
“Gotta go, Amelia. Simon’s home. He’s still mad about that video. The IP address is blocked. I can’t figure out who posted it.”
Bryan and Danielle’s Story Continues
In the second novel in the
Men of Phantom Series
Lies You Tell
Coming in April 2017
CHAPTER ONE
“Where’s my wife?” I speak into my vest mic.
“Mama Hawk’s running through the East Wing with Edwards,” Porter reports.
“I’ve got the lobby doors covered.” Ricci’s voice comes through the earpiece in my ear.
“Since they’re in the east side of the hospital, I’m heading to Mobile Command.” Paul’s voice crackles.
I take out the earpiece, make an adjustment, and put it back in.
“MC’s sitting at the loading dock,” Barrett says.
“Porter, did you get that tracker on the ambulance still parked in the emergency room lot?”
“Affirmative, sir,” he replies.
“We’re ready for anything he throws at us.” Acosta secures his weapon in the thigh holster.
They know I’m uncomfortable with Dani being with Edwards.
“Chen, you set?�
� I speak into my mic.
“Phantom Secret Service have freeway exits blocked. And I’ve got eyes on the Baby Hawks,” he replies.
The elevator doors open.
Acosta and I jog to the midnight-black, semi idling at the loading dock in the back of the hospital. The eighteen-wheeler Phantom Bullet is our Mobile Command. Paul’s already activated the hidden fold-down steps. He’s climbing inside the trailer.
We follow. I push the button to retract the steps and bring down the door. Porter’s sitting at a station viewing multiple screens at one time.
Paul’s boots pound the metal floor as he jogs to the front of the trailer. A hidden door slides open, he walks onto the customized step attached to the tractor unit and through the passage of the sleeper to take his seat in the cab next to Barrett.
Paul designed and helped build this rig. It’s bigger and better than the Milk Man truck Langford had when he was Second Command. I hated riding in that thing.
“We’re picking up Ricci at the exit,” I say as I plop down in the chair in front of my station, buckle the seat belt, and let the scanner read my palm. My computer comes online.
“Smoke bomb detonated in the lobby. I’m right behind Mama Hawk,” Ricci reports. His mic rustles from the movement of his body.
I quickly access Riley to dispatch a backup team to retrieve the remains of the bomb and the device that caused the blackout.
On the monitor, I watch as Edwards presses a keycard on a sensor. Porter allows the emergency room doors to open and holds them until Ricci clears them.
Porter pulls up the satellite tracking as the ambulance flees from the hospital.
Our rig slowly rolls out of the loading zone.
The gears on the roll-up door hum. Ricci climbs into the trailer. He pats my shoulder and takes his seat.
Acosta turns up the volume on the speakers at his station. Since we’re not on a seek-and-destroy mission, he’s playing hip hop from one of his favorite artists, Lil-Will.
On the outside, our Mobile Command looks like a regular semi. But the detachable trailer is armored, and inside the cargo haul is a state of the art military setup.
The ambulance is heading north toward Old Towne Arvada. We’re traveling the parallel streets so we don’t spook Edwards.
Paul does a city search and comes up with five possible locations where Edwards might ditch the ambulance. In all the years I’ve known him, Paul’s always been on the money when predicting hiding spots.
Porter types in the locations and watches the map on the screen, directing Barrett on the parallel streets.
Dani knows about the black Suburbans. At this point, I don’t know if she’d warn Edwards to be on the lookout or distract him from noticing.
The orange dot disappears. Porter is still learning, so I verbally tell him how to relocate the signal while I do it on my computer. He’s too green for me to wait and see if it works. Hopefully his memory is as good as his file says it is.
On the central monitor, the image of the ambulance’s last location comes up. The unit is engulfed in flames yet still in motion. It’s on a collision course with the playground equipment.
I dispatch the closest fire station and send a message to Riley to transfer ten grand from my business account to the City of Arvada’s Parks and Recreations funds along with an email to the mayor from Hawkeye Close Personal Protection.
I give Porter the code to activate the tracking chip in Dani’s engagement ring. The green dot is heading south. Barrett makes the block; we change direction and stay on the parallel streets. The satellite view shows Dani and Edwards jogging up a dark street. I hope all this running doesn’t harm the baby. Especially since I blocked her from strenuous workouts.
The car they’re in takes the highway entrance heading toward Boulder.
Having modified tandem axles makes it possible for Barrett to pick up speed once we’re on the highway. Paul went to great lengths to ensure the frame and axles could withstand the weight of the trailer and still move at maximum speed with ease.
Edwards has been bouncing from hotel to hotel since he got to Boulder three weeks ago. With certain highway exits blocked, he has no choice but to go to the one off Baseline Road. It seems to be his favorite anyway. I breathe a little easier knowing he’s heading to a location I can control.
Earlier, Marine Guards evacuated the hotel, planted remote controlled toy cars in every room, and are posing as hotel staff.
Ricci starts cussing in Italian, then throws his phone across the cab. He was on a conference call with his division leaders. They must not have given him the answers he wanted. He’s been barking at them since he sat at his station. This is Porter’s first ride-along with the Elite team. The magnitude of Ricci’s anger can be nerve-racking. He’ll get used to it.
The Bullet exits the highway seven minutes after Edwards, and Barrett parks a block away from the hotel. Paul is using the remote-controlled cars to do a visual search of the rooms. The first thing we notice are the black duffle bags on the floor of Edwards’s room and the room above his. Paul tries an infrared scan of the closest bag, but can’t get a reading.
The rest of us get ready to set up a secondary command center in the hotel and bring in Edwards—alive.
After a back and forth debate, I pull rank. Acosta helps me into the full torso armor vest. No one is stopping me from getting my wife out of here safely.
I disengage the magazine in my weapon and check the ammunition. “Vin, give me a live mag.” No emotion in my voice. I toss the one filled with blanks back to him. “If I were going to kill him, I would have done it in the courtyard.”
He tosses me a new mag. And four more.
Engaging the clip, I take the safety off and rack the slide, then put the safety back on and holster my weapon.
This time Edwards didn’t search the room for electronic bugs. Paul’s had to get creative with surveillance.
“Someone’s trying to tap into our surveillance,” Porter shouts.
The camera feed goes in and out. Wavy lines and static.
The monitors go black.
I rush to my station and start typing in a series of codes while watching the screens.
Nothing.
Don’t panic, Hawk. Stay focused or Dani and the baby could get hurt.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Riley?”
“Yes, sir,” she answers.
“On my mark, shut down all IP addresses worldwide for sixty seconds,” I command.
“Roger that.”
“Porter, you have forty-five seconds to get the U.S. military back online before some serious shit happens. Chen, find the bastard trying to access our feed, block his ass, and send a team to the address.”
“Roger that,” both men respond.
I type a quick message to POTUS while watching the clock on the monitor. “And”—it hits the hour—“mark.”
Porter’s fingers punch the keyboard at his station. In the earpiece, I hear the keys of Chen’s keyboard. Right away the gear of the roll-up door hums. One by one the Elite Team jumps out of the trailer. I’m always the last to exit.
Like the ghosts we are, we keep to the shadows and silently make our way to the back parking lot. I deactivate the fire alarm on the emergency exit and we infiltrate the building, going up the stairs to the second floor.
Even though Porter’s already told me the camera is back online and Danielle is okay, the minute we get into a hotel room a few doors down from Edwards’s, I log on to my laptop to see for myself.
I check the military’s systems as an afterthought. If Langford were here, he’d ride my ass for putting my country second.
Ricci pulls up an area map and we plot our next move based on Edwards’s only exit routes.
Acosta assembles a makeshift lab.
Paul is keeping an eye on Danielle. “Hey. Check this out.” Using the controller, he gives us a close-up of her. She’s blushing.
If I were an insecure man
, I’d kick in the door and beat that traitor’s ass for dropping his drawz in front of my wife.
While Edwards is walking around ass naked, I tell the Marine Guards posing as diner workers, to stall him when he comes in and places an order. We need time to search the room.
Barrett informs us our backup driver is here with an ambulance. I like that he anticipates our transportation needs and makes decisions without me telling him to. He’s the best in his field and an asset to the team.
The guys and I wait until Danielle’s in the shower to sneak into the room.
Paul scans the duffle bags, finding explosives. Using sign language, he assures me the explosives can’t detonate and he’ll examine them once we have Edwards in custody.
Ricci searches the room for weapons, finding several stored in the box spring. Porter’s taking notes for whoever I assign to sweep the room once we leave.
Acosta collects samples of Edwards’s DNA from the bloody gauze pads.
After I check out the equipment on the table and in the backpack, I have Riley block all Wi-Fi signals and cell phone towers within a hundred-mile radius. It’s excessive but necessary.
The water in the shower stops. We quietly leave, going back to our secondary command center.
Acosta tests Edwards’s blood samples so he’ll know how much of the tranquilizing solution to fill in each plastic bullet. We want Edwards to appear dead, not actually be dead. At least not today.
We double-check each other’s gear, then form a circle.
Heads bowed, we stretch our arms around each other’s shoulders. Paul recites our team prayer.
Ricci starts the fight chant.
The ritual started as a way to relax us before our first official mission as the Phantom Elite Team. Since none of us was killed or injured that day, we continued to do it before every operation, big or small. It’s been our thing for nine years.
“I’ll take him out if it comes down to it,” Acosta tells me before he follows the others out the door.
Alone in the hotel room, Edwards and Danielle eat from take-out containers. I watch. Her nostrils are flared. Something’s bothering her. I didn’t peg her as a good liar, but she’s convinced Edwards she’s seen his laptop. Actually, she has. She used it back in December to research home spa stuff. I’d purposely left it out.
