Then the pain started drilling into his back. Holy motherfucker.
A doctor was in his face and he was on a gurney, racing through the corridors, lights glaring, people shouting. Mayhem.
He should call Frazer. He tried to reach into his pocket for his phone but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. The edges of his vision started to fade. Crap, he was not about to die. He’d just found another woman to love and he wasn’t putting her through the hell he’d endured when he’d lost Mia.
“Tell her I love her,” he said to the man who loomed over him. He found a last vestige of strength and gripped the man’s sleeve. “Tell her.”
The stranger nodded, then Jed’s vision tunneled gray and turned black.
***
Vivi woke to a throbbing skull and the sense that something was seriously wrong.
“Michael? Jed!” Where were they?
Her head spun as she climbed to her hands and knees. She’d lost the stupid heels David had bought her. She was going to start wearing sneakers wherever she went, regardless of the occasion.
“Ms. Vincent?” President Hague was on his knees beside her. “Easy. You hit your head.” He gave a chuckle but seemed genuinely concerned. “You better wait for a gurney before you try and stand…” But she was already on her feet, wobbling, leaning against the wall for support.
The president snorted. “Yet another woman who won’t listen to me. I can’t wait to introduce you to my wife.”
Two big, burly men came and hooked hands under President Hague’s armpits and raised him to his feet. Another watched her hawk-like from the corner. “I want to know how your young man is…” The president was still talking as he was whisked away.
Her brain was thick with a painful fog. Where was Jed? Where was Michael? She took a step toward the woman who’d shot at them. Her pretty pink top was riddled with bullets. It was a garish sight. Such an ordinary looking woman and now she was dead. Vivi’s stomach roiled. She glanced at the bed. The poor man in the coma had slept through the whole thing. What was he going to think when he woke up?
“Jed. Michael.” She needed to find them. Where were they? She swayed and someone caught her elbow.
“I’ve got you.”
It was the CIA guy she didn’t like. She tried to pull away.
“Come on, Vivi. We’re on the same team, I promise. Michael’s just outside the door. I’m going to take you to him and then we’re going to get you checked out.”
She looked down at her crimson suit and saw a large smear of blood. But aside from a pounding skull she wasn’t hurt. Panic hit. “Where’s Jed?”
Killion looked pale and shaken. “He’s on his way to the OR.” His voice was tight.
“Take me to him.”
“As soon as the doc clears you.”
She tried to pull away, but he held onto her and forced her to look at him.
“He loves you, and if I don’t get you checked out by the doctor before he comes out of surgery, he will kick my ass.”
She frowned. “He doesn’t love me.”
Killion’s expression was incredulous. “You didn’t hear him declare his undying love seconds after he took a bullet for you?”
She looked around, confused. There was maybe a vague memory of his voice saying I love you. “I-I don’t… maybe. I didn’t want him to die for me.” Her stomach churned and she put her hand over her mouth, Killion got her to the bathroom in record time. As he held her hair back she decided he wasn’t so terrible after all. Suddenly her son was beside her and she hugged him close to her side as soon as she could sit up. “I’m all right, Mikey. Don’t fret, baby. But it looks like today is my day to get scanned and poked. You need to be brave for me.”
David spoke awkwardly from the doorway. “I’ll sit with him.”
She turned to look at him incredulously.
One of the president’s Secret Service agents tapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Nothing like an audience while you vomited.
David shook the guy off. “I can’t. I need to stay with my son.” He stood there eyeing her with a determined set to his jaw. “I owe him this.”
She looked at him dubiously but wasn’t in a position to argue. “Don’t leave the hospital,” she warned.
David nodded.
She tried not to think about Jed as the doctors whisked her off to get a CT scan, but he was all she could think of.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Israeli Colonel Elan Gourda walked down the tunnel to his plane and showed the air steward his boarding pass.
His wounds were healing; the gash on his head hidden by his thick black hair and a wool hat. His shoulder was bandaged and not swollen or hurting. He didn’t think it was infected.
He was going home for the holidays and had never been more relieved, but the death of the woman weighed heavily on him, even though he’d watched from a building across the street, prepared to kill her if the president’s protection detail didn’t do the job for him. They had and he’d been grateful.
The plan had been to put the president in real danger, but they hadn’t wanted the assassination attempt to actually succeed. A member of Kidon, the highly secretive counter-terrorist department within the Mossad, Elan’s job had been to manage the plot hatched between the head of the Mossad and a high level American politician. They’d set up would-be terrorists, led by the mercenary Sargon Al Sahad and given them opportunity. There had been sacrifices, obviously, more people had died than Elan had ever imagined, but these people would have attacked someone, somewhere. At least they were dead now.
His priority had been creating an act of war without killing the US President.
Ironically, he’d almost failed.
Pilah Rasheed had almost gotten to the guy, probably would have clipped him if not for the FBI agent who’d been getting in their way from the start of this op. The bullet probably wouldn’t kill the guy, but it might come close.
Pilah’s death bothered him. Why, when she’d killed so many innocents, he didn’t know. He looked at the picture he’d kept on his cell phone. Two little girls with a female mercenary he’d hired to get them out of Sargon’s clutches. They didn’t know she was a trained soldier. He could tell by the way they held her hand that the girls liked her.
He hadn’t decided what would happen to them yet. At first he’d been going to send them to a refugee camp, but life there would be harsh and cruel. He stared at the screen, a weird understanding flowing over him that he really was retiring. He was tired—no longer the “tip of the spear.” It was over. He was done with death and duty, no matter how great his country’s need, he could not kill anyone else out of political necessity. He touched the little gap-toothed smile and then deleted the image. He knew what he was going to do when he got home. He knew what his next mission would be.
The girls would have a home. They’d be safe. He’d be keeping his promise to the dead mother and moving on to a new life. The plane taxied along the runway, continued to accelerate. Within seconds they were airborne, his head pressed back against the leather seat.
He closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. The image of the little redheaded boy floated through his mind and he sighed. Maybe his God had already forgiven him. Saving the boy meant Elan could live with what he’d done. And he didn’t think that would be true if he’d put a bullet in Michael Vincent as originally ordered.
***
Ted Burger, the Vice President of the United States of America, stared out the windows of his Kentucky home and smiled. It had all worked perfectly. His telephone rang, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone just now. He stood and rifled for the burner cell in his pocket. He pulled out the SIM card and threw it on the fire. Tossed the battery in the wastebasket and the phone casing into the flames after the card.
There was nothing left to link him to the terrorist attack or the staged attempt on the president’s life. He allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Hague was a trusting fool. If things had gone wrong and
the president had actually died, Ted wouldn’t have shed too many tears. He hadn’t gone into politics to be second best. And without his wealthy backers, Hague would never have won the election in the first place. But this plan had worked—consolidating Ted’s position of power, bolstering his strong support both from and for the State of Israel.
Hague was a fool with his pacifistic ways. But most fools could be manipulated as long as you were tough enough to hold your nerve.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
A maid he didn’t recognize pushed in a cart holding coffee and cake. That time already? She was a pretty thing. She smiled at him, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen her before. He would definitely have noticed.
“Would you like me to pour for you, Mr. Vice President?”
“Sure.” He took a wingback chair beside the fire. The smell of burnt plastic permeated the air, but the woman didn’t comment. “Where’s Nancy?”
Nancy had been with him for years and wasn’t so pleasant to look at.
“She came down with the stomach flu.”
Ted grunted. Last thing he wanted was stomach flu. “Have the staff disinfect the place before we all catch it.”
“Yes, sir.”
She carried his coffee across to him. Held his gaze. “Cream, no sugar.” She put it on the table beside him. God, she was pretty. Gray eyes and blond hair. Trim figure with long, elegant fingers.
“Thank you. I didn’t catch your name?” He watched her ass flex under her uniform as she walked back to the cart.
“Rachel, sir. Would you like some cake? Carrot or chocolate?”
“Carrot cake. Please.” He picked up his cup and took a sip. Wondered if he dare make a pass at this female. His wife was away visiting her mother and the rest of the family wasn’t yet home for the holidays. He sipped more of his coffee and watched her move. Cutting him a large piece of cake and putting it onto a dainty, porcelain plate. Probably best to bide his time. She might be a gold-digger or a trouble-maker. Best to check her out before he dipped his wick. “How long have you worked here, Rachel?”
“Oh, not long at all, sir.”
“Call me Ted.”
A wide smile broke out across her features, and she walked over and put the cake next to him on the table.
He drank more coffee, realized he was feeling sleepy. Big day today. He hadn’t slept much over the past week.
“Are you OK, Ted?” The maid squatted by his feet.
A sweat broke out on his brow. His hands shook, and she took the cup from his fingers and placed it on the side table.
“Perhaps I’ve already got the damned flu.” His words slurred. His eyelids got heavier. “Better call the doctor.”
She placed her hand on his forehead. “Oh, I think you just need to rest for a little while, Ted.”
Audacious chit. But his eyes closed despite his best efforts.
“This is what happens when you start meddling in things you shouldn’t, Ted, compliments of The Gateway Project.”
The Gateway Project? That was over, finished! Scattered like roaches under a Mexican sun. He’d shut it down himself. Unless… His heart raced. The muscles pounding so hard and fast you’d think he was running. Someone wasn’t finished. Someone was still taking vigilante justice. Against him… A screaming pain tore through his chest, and his eyes flew open as he clutched at his collar. “Doctor. Get a doctor…” He lunged up out of the chair. The maid sidestepped and he crashed to the floor on the Persian carpet. Rolling onto his back as his breath grew hoarse and thin. His hands clawed the rug. His veins stretched painfully inside him as his blood boiled. “Help. Please help.”
Cool, gray eyes assessed him. “Be grateful it was poison and not a bullet, Mr. Vice President. All those people dead just so you could stir up another war.”
Not cause a war—protect his people, he wanted to argue. But his tongue wouldn’t work. The pain in his chest so intense it was as if his heart was being physically ripped from his chest.
“Sleep now,” the woman said calmly. She squeezed his hand, comforting. This lovely assassin with carrot cake and coffee. The last thing he saw was her gray eyes and pretty face. An angel, a beautiful, deadly angel.
***
Jed woke slowly, through a mist of fatigue and confusion. But one thing was clear in his mind. “Vivi.”
He sensed movement around the bed, indistinguishable as he squinted against the bright light. When his vision finally cleared there was the dark-haired version of the woman he loved. Nothing like a shooter to clarify those emotions.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
She nodded. Jed grabbed her arm as she leaned over him. He didn’t give her time to think, he just held her head between his hands and kissed her on the lips with everything he felt for her poured into that connection. She remained stiff for just a moment and still he held her, refusing to stop until she finally kissed him back.
“Looks like the FBI finally managed to get something right.”
Jed recognized that voice. Killion.
“That’s not the FBI, that’s Brennan genes.” His brother, Liam.
He pulled back from Vivi even though he didn’t want to. He was on enough morphine he was feeling no pain. “I guess we have too much of an audience to take this further?” He winked as she shook her head, exasperated.
Someone coughed. “So much for you taking a break.” Shit, his boss, Frazer. Great.
“He did throw himself in front of the president.” Vivi defended him.
He grimaced. “I threw myself in front of you and Michael, Vivi. The president is just lucky he was in my trajectory.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Frazer raised a brow and came over to the bed. “I think you’re getting a raise, and the chances of me being able to fire you are down to zero.” His grin subsided, but the light in his eyes told Jed how worried he’d been.
“I take it I’m going to live?” asked Jed.
They all nodded.
“Until I kick your ass for leaving when you did,” Liam muttered darkly.
Jed ignored him. “Lose any vital organs?” His back hurt. Jeez.
“One bullet stuck in your back ribs. The other one passed through your right lung but managed to miss all major organs.”
“So your dick’s safe.” Killion sent Vivi an apologetic grin.
Jed tried to sit up, and they all virtually launched themselves at him. The pain was staggering, but he was more humbled by the fact they cared. Vivi handed him the controls and he raised the bed.
“Is the threat over?”
Frazer pulled out his cell phone and showed him a picture of two little girls. “We believe Pilah Rasheed was pressured into acting by the threat to the well-being of her children.”
Crap. She’d been trying to save her children but willing to sacrifice other people’s?
“So this was always the endgame. Not the attack on the mall itself, but the hit on the president,” said Jed.
“Because the president usually comes to visit the victims of a major incident in the hospital.” Frazer agreed.
Vivi sat on the bed beside Jed and he held her hand. She wore a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Running shoes were on her feet. The terror he’d felt at the thought of losing her had cleared his mind about all sorts of things, and he now knew exactly what he wanted. Her. Them.
“But they failed. The president is still alive,” Liam said.
Frazer and Killion exchanged a glance with him. Because maybe the perpetrators hadn’t failed. The country was now on high alert and feeling pretty damn hostile toward the Arab nations. Maybe they’d gotten exactly what they wanted.
“I don’t get it. Who had the most to gain if Hague was killed?” Liam asked. “Not Syria. The US would drop a bomb on Damascus if we thought they’d assassinated our president. Iran, too, for that matter.”
The elephant in the room started trumpeting.
“One country has been calling for the West to
show more aggression toward Syria and other Arab nations,” Vivi said quietly.
Frazer’s phone rang and he took the call.
“One that is surrounded by those who have vowed its annihilation.” Liam was watching them all closely.
“And who takes over if anything happens to President Hague?” said Vivi.
The vice president was Jewish and a much more vocal denouncer of Syria, Iran, and its ilk. If the Israelis could get him into power they’d be much more secure in any military action they used in the region. Plus, they might incite a war if the US believed it was Syria itself who’d attacked the US, meaning Israel could sit back and watch its enemies be destroyed. Without lifting a finger.
“We need to shut this conversation down.” Frazer cut off his phone call abruptly. “Vice President Burger was just found dead in his home. Looks like a heart attack, but the ME is going to conduct an autopsy ASAP.” They all exchanged disbelieving glances. “I need to go. I have a briefing with the president.”
Jed’s pain meds were wearing off and he was anxious to talk to Vivi alone before he needed a fresh dose, which would probably send him right back to sleep.
“Did you catch the man who attacked us in the cottage?” Vivi asked his boss.
Frazer shook his head. “DNA and fingerprints are not in any system we can tap. We did pick up an officer in the local police force who was feeding the terrorists information. Now that Sargon is dead it’s going to be harder to figure out his motives and who really hired him.” Frazer gathered his coat and sent Jed a smile. “Glad to see you alive, Brennan. Take a few weeks off. For real this time.”
Jed looked at his prostate form. He might not have much choice. “I might take you up on that.”
The men all left and Vivi hovered, looking as if she didn’t know whether or not she should leave him.
He held out his hand and she slowly reached out to him. “Where’s Michael?”
“Your mom and dad took him to the hotel to change. Then they are coming back here to see you again.”
Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) Page 28
