Reign of Fire

by Casi McLean

  His phone buzzed, startling him into the present moment, and he threw back the final sip of merlot before digging the device from his pocket. Glaring at the screen, he felt a lump solidify in his throat, and he swallowed hard. Damn. A flash of heat swirled down his neck and into his stomach. Now what? He couldn’t afford any more bad news.

  Reluctantly, he pressed Accept then held the phone to his ear while the voice spoke. “C.H. are you there? For God’s sake say something. I have to talk to you.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “Because I’ve known you since college and I know I can trust you. I’m in this up to my balls and I need help. Besides, this is a burn-phone and can’t be traced.”

  Carlton’s back went rigid as if clamped by a vice grip. “I don’t care if it’s a burn phone…and assisting you is Ben’s problem, not mine. I can’t be involved…you know this.” He squeezed his eyes together and drew in a long breath. “Whatever friendship we had in college is of no significance now. I can’t help you. How the hell did you get tangled up with The Association in the first place?”

  “You know the answer to that question. I owe them. I would never have experienced this kind of success without their influence.”

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Carlton paced. “You don’t owe Ben shit. Even if you did, why the hell did you let the situation get out of hand?”

  “The pawn failed, and my job was to ensure the threat was neutralized. I had to do something.”

  He shook his head. “Killing her wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “That’s why I need your help. The bitch is still alive.”

  “She’s what?” Bile swirled into Carlton’s throat and he coughed to tamp down the sting. “How do you know?” He flashed on the cliffs lining the Potomac River near Chain Bridge and his heart pounded. “No one could survive that fall.”

  “She’s in Georgetown Medical. I didn’t kill her. So that’s good news, right? I just need to make sure she doesn’t talk.”

  “No, that is not good news. If the girl saw your mark, she can identify him, and it’s only a matter of time before the police start connecting the dots. You’re a dead man walking.”

  “Not if The Association erases the problem. They’ve covered far worse than this mess and they’ll take care of this too if you ask them to do so.”

  “You freaking idiot. I’m as much of a pawn as you. They call the shots. If Ben won’t step in, you’d best convince them of your value. Otherwise, they’ll terminate you before the cops get close.”

  “Come on, man. You could try.”

  “No, damn it. You started this. You end it.”

  Carlton pressed End then tossed the phone on the sofa and huffed into the kitchen to search his wine closet for another bottle of wine. His wife and kids would be home tomorrow, and if this crap wasn’t buried by then… “Damn you, Mathis,” he mumbled. “Damn you all to hell for putting me in this situation in the first place.”

  His gaze shifted to his car keys lying on the kitchen counter. He grabbed them and spun toward the garage. Slamming open the door, he jumped into his Lexus, still seething at the turn of events. Someone would have to pay for this screw up, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Darkness crept around Emily’s hospital bed like a shroud. She tugged the blanket over her face and curled onto her side. Feeling totally alone for the first time in days, she released the emotion hidden behind her stark façade in a burst of silent tears that splashed to the surface then streamed down her cheeks. Why Alyssa? How could she go on without her twin? They were two parts to one whole. Emily clenched her eyes, refusing to envision a life without Lyssa, but the image pierced her armor and shattered her heart into tiny fragments that pricked her like needles scratching over her skin from the inside.

  “I’m here.”

  The whisper spoke as clearly as her own.

  “Alyssa, please don’t leave me. Tell me what to do.”

  Part of Emily craved the suspense, the thrill of being thrust into the middle of a real-life murder mystery. The intensity drew her in, displacing her grief, and allowing her to push reality into the corners of her mind where the need to deal with Alyssa’s death silently slept. But now, as she huddled alone in this sterile, cold hospital room, she smelled the stench of death as it slithered around her.

  She glanced at her watch. 3:00 a.m. Still groggy from the Ambien the nurse gave her only a few hours earlier, she closed her eyes and listened to the silence. The nurse’s station down the hall had only two night attendants. Tucked into her corner room, Emily felt alone and isolated.

  Knowing Ash or one of his trusted friends had eyes on her held little comfort. They couldn’t see the invisible threat battling her sanity. No one could––no one except Alyssa. Emily shivered as tears dampened the scrunched pillow beneath her head. Memories fluttered through her mind, mingling with visions, and haunted by dreams. She barely heard the nurse enter her room and fiddle with the machines monitoring her vital signs, and she hoped the night shift wouldn’t disturb the ghosts vying for her attention.

  When the door slammed open, Emily’s back went rigid. She jerked forward, clinging to sheets as the blanket slipped to the floor. Her hands fisted and shot to her swollen, blurry eyes. Surely her tears distorted her vision. She wiped away the remaining moisture then peered again at the man standing before her.

  Ash stood at the entrance, legs splayed, and pistol drawn, pointing directly––at her. Frozen in place, she tried to speak, but nothing came out. She stared, pulse racing, as her thoughts spun to make sense of what her heart told her couldn’t be true.

  “MPD. Don’t move, or you’re dead.” Ash glanced at case the room then took a step forward.

  “I…I won’t move.” No longer could she hide her tears, spilling from already dampened cheeks they dripped onto her hospital gown. “Why––”

  “She is alive.”

  The stranger’s voice came from directly behind Emily, but before she could spin and focus on more than a blur of his dark-hooded sweatshirt, a gunshot spit past her, silenced by the device attached to the nuzzle of Ash’s gun. Stunned, Emily watched as the man dropped a needle he clenched in his hand––undoubtedly meant for Alyssa––and fell to his knees. Moaning in pain, he clutched his shoulder, his hand already drenched in crimson.

  A sudden sense of calm swathed Emily as if her sister’s arms welcomed her into a tight hug. Again, she felt Alyssa’s soothing presence. Emily threw off the covers and stared at the gunshot victim. “That’s him.” Her gaze shifted to Ash then to the figure crumpled on the floor. “That’s the man who killed me.”

  The room fell silent as both men flashed a simultaneous glare.

  “Come here…Alyssa.” Hooking his finger, Ash motioned for her to stand next to him.

  Emily tugged at her IV, disengaging the connecting tubes then edged beside him.

  He handed her the gun. “Hold this while I cuff the son-of-a-bitch. If he does so much as breathe, shoot him.”

  Nodding, she aimed the pistol at the prisoner’s head.

  Ash stepped toward the downed man, reached for the handcuffs tucked into the rear belt of his jeans, and drew the man’s wrists behind his back. After yanking off the man’s surgical gloves, he locked the cuffs in place then recited the prisoner’s Miranda Rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” He gripped the wounded shoulder and visibly squeezed. “Now talk. Or I swear I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

  Wincing, the man sat on his calves and shook his lowering head. “You might as well kill me. My life is over either way.”

  “Maybe.” Ash’s eyes narrowed. “But who would you rather deal with? Me, or whoever sent you here?”

  The man raised his gaze to Ash. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. If you kill me
, others will simply replace me.” He scowled at Emily. “I swear I didn’t push you over the cliff. It’s a miracle you survived that fall.”

  Scowling, Emily twisted her finger over the trigger. “If you didn’t intend to kill me” ––she angled her head toward the syringe still lying on the floor only a few feet away––“what’s in that? I doubt seriously it’s a dose of B12.”

  He glanced at the needle and rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to believe me. I had no choice.” He shrugged then cringed at the movement. “I don’t know what’s in it, but I’m reasonably sure it would have killed you…Oh God. He said to inject the substance into your IV…I don’t think I could have killed you.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”

  Ash dug his fingers deeper into the wound. “He who?”

  Squeezing his eyes, the prisoner cringed. “I don’t know…but I do know they’ll stop at nothing to recover their property. She can run, but no matter where she hides, they’ll find her…and kill her.”

  Emily lowered the pistol and shot him a hostile glare. She knew the threat he spoke of was true. The faction responsible for Alyssa’s death had shifted their target to Emily. She had no doubt the man on his knees before her would have killed her if Ash hadn’t kept constant surveillance. Her stomach lurched at the realization. She had to give them their property…wait… “What property? I didn’t steal anything from anyone.”

  “First it’s ‘he’, now ‘they’?” Again, Ash gripped the man’s shoulder. “Which is it and what the hell do they think Alyssa has?”

  “Damn it. I said I don’t know.” He stretched his upper arm to his face and wiped at the sweat dripping down his cheek.

  Ash’s eyes went wide, and he stared at the man’s hands. “You don’t know who they are, or you don’t know what they’re looking for?”

  “Both. All I know is the guy told me to find a manila envelope with an insignia over the seal, and if I don’t find something…they’ll kill my wife and son.” He glared at Ash. “You just signed my family’s death warrant.”

  Scooting around them, Emily snatched a tissue, retrieved the syringe from the floor, and placed it into a plastic cup.

  “That you’re wearing.” Ash hooked a thumb toward the man’s cuffed wrists. “Is that the insignia on the envelope?”

  He furrowed his brow. “How’d you know that?”

  “Lucky guess.” Ash slipped the ring from the man’s finger and tucked it into his pocket then turned to Emily. “What do you think?”

  She shifted her gaze and glared at the man. “What’s your name?”

  “Gunnery Sergeant Logan Steel, ma’am.”

  Widening her eyes, Emily stared. “You’re a Marine?”

  “Yeah.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “You’ve got to believe me…I had no choice.”

  “So, you said.” Shaking his head, Ash added, “Choices always exist, Steel. For the last time, who sicced you on Alyssa?”

  “I don’t know. Do what you want with me. Nothing matters now.”

  Emily shrugged and splayed her hands in frustration. “So, you tried to kill me…twice. And you know nothing? Do you hear how lame that sounds?” She turned to Ash. “I think he’s lying. Two attempted murder charges will keep him in prison a long time. Just take him in and book him. He’s useless.”

  “The area was dark…late at night, under the Whitehurst Freeway. God, the bastard who met me said they kidnapped my family. All I was supposed to do was find out what she knew, so I followed her for a few days, hoping to learn something so they’d let my family go.”

  Ash shook his head. “Why the hell didn’t you go to the police?”

  “They set me up. If I went to the police…forget it. Either way I was dead. I didn’t push Miss Rose into the river. She fell…I thought she was dead. When they discovered she survived…I got another unknown caller…he said if she was alive by 2:00 p.m.…my wife and son would die.”

  “And you have no idea who threatened you?” Ash’s question was met with silence. “What the hell did they have on you?” He grabbed Steel’s wrists, forcing him to stand. “Let’s go.”

  “No. Wait.” Logan yanked his arm loose. “Blackmail…but I was set up. I don’t know who threatened me, who met me that night or who took my family…but I know damn well who was behind the threat.”

  Ash’s glance met Emily’s then they both stared at Logan with raised brows.

  “Now we’re talkin’. Who?” Ash clenched his jaw.

  “The Association.”

  “Oh, the association…that explains everything.” Ash’s glare burned into Steel.

  Logan squeezed his eyes tight. “Benedict Mathis,” he spit out.

  Emily pursed her lips and held back a contented smirk. The Association had to be the Deep State, and if she was right, this name was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Ash grumbled. “Are you honestly telling me that the––”

  “Yeah. The Director of the FBI…he’s untouchable and as dirty as they get. But I’m warning you, if you go after him…The Association will completely decimate you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Staring into the river at the crime scene, Ash heard footsteps and turned to see the Director crossing the bike trail as she approached the old aqueduct. “Harper, it’s nice to see you again.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “Thanks for coming. I hope meeting here didn’t sound overly clandestine. The circumstances of this case demand a high level of confidentiality––too much to trust normal MPD channels––and when our perpetrator identified himself as a Gunny Sergeant, I knew I could trust you regardless of who this case might expose.”

  Harper Drake, Director of the United States Naval Criminal Investigative Service known as NCIS, had received Ash’s call before sunrise. As the primary law enforcement agency of the United States Department of the Navy and Marine Corps, Harper’s team worked cases involving military rank and file on a daily basis. But only rarely was she called on her private line to personally contain a rogue Marine. “You did the right thing by calling me, Frasier.” She glanced at Emily and smiled. “So, Miss Rose, you’ve been through quite an ordeal. I’m truly sorry.”

  “Thank you, Director.”

  “I’m surprised to see you without your driver or security detail.” Ash peered past her, scanning the area.

  “An intentional executive decision. If what you said on the phone is accurate, the fewer people who know about this situation, the better chance we have to break open the case, especially if NCIS has a mole.”

  Drake opened the rear door of her vehicle. Then, with a hand on Steel’s shoulder, she guided him to the prisoner seat and locked him inside. Only after she put enough distance between the imminent conversation and the prisoner did she continue the discussion. “Now, your hesitance to talk over the phone and the late”––she glanced at the dawning sun peeking over the horizon––“or more accurately, the early morning call to my private line tells me your investigation broached an unusually sensitive incident that involves national security.”

  Ash kicked at the dirt in front of him, considering how much information to disclose. He had little doubt Harper could be trusted, but he didn’t want her to think he or Emily were initiating a conspiracy theory. “Have you ever heard of The Association or The Deep State?”

  Harper’s eyes widened. “Go on.”

  Ash nodded. “I’ll take that response as a yes.” He turned away from the prisoner’s vision before continuing. For the next twenty minutes, he and Emily filled in the details of their sting and what they now validated as proof the Deep State was a clear and present danger, not only to individuals but the very fabric of America’s democracy.

  “As you probably inferred by my initial reaction, this incident isn’t the first time The Association has come to my attention. Your analysis of the situation rings true, and if so, this break is the first we’ve had.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Marine sitting in her car. “I’ll see what more
we can get out of Gunny Steel. I’d like to be able to trust a team to help with this investigation, but the elite core of NCIS might have been breached as well. If Mathis is a member of The Association, our government has been infiltrated at the highest ranks.” She drew in a long breath and shook her head. “As much as my gut tells me I can trust my team and department, I can’t rely on anyone yet. We need more time to investigate the breach.”

  “I might have an answer for that, ma’am.” Emily raised her eyebrows. “My brother, Staff Sergeant Wyatt Rose is a––”

  “Wyatt Rose is your brother?” Harper angled her head and smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am, and he’s flying into Ronald Regan National Airport this morning…to help plan Alyssa’s funeral. He went to tell our folks about my sister first. Everything happened so fast since I got here, Wyatt has no idea what’s going on, but he’s a Marine, and I guarantee you can trust him.” She shifted her gaze to Ash. “I need to call Wyatt. He has to be worried I haven’t touched base yet.”

  “Wyatt Rose. Damn, he’s the perfect choice.” Harper glanced at her watch. “What time does he land? I’ll have someone meet him.”

  “He booked an American flight from Charleston and lands at six this morning. He’s planning on catching a cab to the Key Bridge Marriott. Ash’s friend, Brad, said he’d meet Wyatt, but you would recognize my brother. If you’d pick him up and let him know what’s going on, Ash and I could follow up on a few other leads.” Emily snatched her smartphone from her back pocket and glanced at the time. “Yikes, maybe we should let you go now. Do you want us to keep watch over Steel until you return with my brother?”