“What’s wrong?” Kelsey asked as Lexie stretched forward into her mother’s arms.
“Nothing,” Alex breathed, not willing to frighten his little girl, his pride and joy, any more than he already had. “We’re leaving. Do you have all your… your things?”
Kelsey nodded, her cheeks red and her eyes bright with concern, but trusting him. As always. That was what he loved most about her. She’d loved him long before he’d been smart enough to admit that he loved and needed her, too.
As he had a hundred thousand times before, he took Kelsey protectively under his arm, ready to die for her if required. He’d guard Kelsey and Lexie like a rabid wolf. Let Catalina try—just once—to come after his family, and he’d gut her.
“Stay close,” he ordered, glancing behind them as they hurried west to the exit, then north to the visitor parking lot. Only when they were on the road west to their Shenandoah fortress did he confide in his wife. “Montego’s back.”
Kelsey shot him a look of disbelief, then palmed her cell, tapped in a code and said, “Ladies. The witch is back. You know what to do.”
“What was that about?” Alex asked as he steered them toward home and safety.
“Our coordinated home defense plan,” Kelsey explained sweetly, her voice as bright as if she were telling Lexie a fairytale. “After everything that woman put us through last time, the wives and I came up with a plan to protect ourselves and the children.”
The wives were the gutsy women who’d married into Alex’s nearly all male TEAM. Former military, most of them snipers, less than five weren’t yet married. As happened with military wives, these women were a close-knit group who looked out for each other when the men traveled. Alex had always considered the wives his secret weapon. They were strong and, like Kelsey, they could be formidable. Alex was as proud of them as he was their husbands.
Kelsey continued, “Instead of waiting for Montego to turn us into her evil little gingerbread cookies, we’re covering each other’s backs. Those of us who aren’t working at the moment, take turns babysitting. Which is why I’m not always home when you finally get away from the office. It’s worked like a charm. You should see what Mei’s taught those dogs of hers.”
Mei Lennox, Zack’s wife, had become a skilled dog handler after her oldest daughter was kidnapped, located in France, then returned, years ago. LiLi, that same little girl, had named their two black-and-white Pitbulls, Spot and Moo. The dogs vacillated between being adorable ‘can-I-slime-your-knees-hands-and-face?’ pets, and the more formidable ‘I’ll-eat-your-face-off’ killing machines, should the wrong person breach the Lennox’s defenses. Nobody got past those monsters, nobody but TEAM children.
Alex could’ve kissed his brilliant wife for this delightful storyline, so he played along. “You want me to push her into her wicked oven like Hansel and Gretel did to that other old witch?”
“Actually,” Kelsey said breathily, “I wouldn’t mind if you did. Montego’s evil. She needs to die.”
“She needs to die,” Lexie repeated excitedly from her booster seat behind Alex. “Witches all needs to die! Kin I hewp?”
Alex glanced at his darling daughter in the rearview mirror. “You like to help, don’t you?”
“Yup!” All bright smiles and big brown eyes, she grinned back at him. “Kin we git ice cweam cones now? I want peppamint.”
For the first time since he’d seen that picture of Montego back on American soil, Alex’s lungs filled. He could breathe. His family was safe. His best agent was on the case.
Peppamint it was.
Chapter One
Three days and Renner had yet to catch up with Jed McCormack or Catalina Montego, aka LuAnn Something-or-Other. Since that first sighting in Arlington, they’d vanished. The Tattle Tale he’d planted in the folds of that red leather nightmare had transmitted a singular location, but no audio. Which indicated either that pricey coat was now hanging in McCormack’s dark closet or the Tattle Tale had failed. If it did, that’d be the first time one of those devices died on the job. Which did not bode well for the conservative statesman.
Montego’s past MO, her modus operandi, was to lure a younger man, oftentimes a military member, into her sexual snare, then torture him into subservience. While she worked that poor guy over in the most heinous ways, she often forced him to watch her torture or murder other young men to break him, thus ensuring his absolute loyalty to her. It wasn’t uncommon for her to snip off a victim’s finger, toe, or even a hand to prove she meant business. She’d been known to toss drugged or dying men into her industrial woodchipper as an effective means of crowd control. And now she had Jed seemingly head-over-heels in love—or lust—with her.
No one knew how many male slaves she’d acquired by now, only that six young male servicemen had recently gone missing from installations along the East Coast. Metro Police were watching Veterans’ hospitals, clinics, and memorials closely. Renner had to be careful. Which was why he’d parked his TEAM sedan downhill from Roslyn at the USMC Iwo Jima Monument.
He knew Montego had been born into a family of absolute depravity. Among other horrors, she’d not only witnessed, but experienced unparalleled cruelty, pedophilia, and child rape at an early age. Her mother and father were known sadists, which explained how she and her brother Roland became absolute monsters.
Agent Seth McCray had already ended her brother. Took the bastard out on his own turf in Cuba. Not that Renner cared how bad things were for Montego as a kid. He frankly did not. She’d chosen to follow in her family business. He was just a TEAM exterminator, tasked by contract with the Justice Department to end her once and for all.
Renner fingered his flask up from the inner pocket of his leather cut, a leftover from his after-the-Corps rough-rider days, back when he’d been giddy and free and still raced his Harley. Before reality declared ‘get a job’. The lightweight aluminum flask was solid USMC, embossed with the eagle, globe, and anchor that matched the ink on his left bicep. A label and a brand, it screamed an ethos only warriors understood. Drinking was a bad habit he intended to whip one of these days. Just not today.
He’d spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours staking out the McCormack Industries complex in Roslyn, Virginia, hoping McCormack would show. Across the Potomac from the District, its prime location kept Mr. McCormack in steady contact with congressmen and defense contractors alike. But he’d never showed, not once in two days. So, where was he? What was more important than the billion-dollar company he’d spent his life on?
Tipping his head back, Renner let the whiskey pour down his throat and work its magic. Some called it liquid courage. He called it ‘friend’. Once it settled low and warm in his gut, he stared up at McCormack’s modern, gold-glinted high-rise apartment building and blew out a breath of frosty air. McCormack had to be in there. At home. With Montego.
Built in the heart of Roslyn, the ultra-modern structure soared above all other buildings. Renner’s job was to get inside without McCormack or Montego knowing. The man was obviously compromised. He couldn’t be trusted.
Pocketing the flask, Renner shifted his focus on the firearms concealed beneath his leather cut. Two Beretta 92FS Inox semiauto pistols, 9 mm; two extra magazines, fifteen rounds each. Beretta hadn’t let him down in the military; wouldn’t let him down now.
He walked the several blocks into downtown Roslyn, not precisely sure what he’d do once he arrived at the building. Jed’s security might challenge him the moment he put in the secret entry code. Then again, they might not. Alex had provided the code. He’d never been challenged. Why would Renner?
Yet things could get ugly. Maybe he should call ahead and talk to McCormack. Maybe the direct approach was the easiest way in. But if Jed were with Catalina…? Jed could already be dead, or like Beau when he woke that fateful day, bound to a table with a digit missing.
Renner cleared the entrance easily. There were no security guards in the lobby, which was odd.
Only the standard drop-down ceiling cameras, and Alex had told him where they were and how to avoid them. So far so good.
Sliding his hands into a pair of black nitrile gloves from one of the many pockets in his tactical cargo pants, Renner keyed in the code one more time. Worked like magic. The elevator ascended smoothly. Quickly. Lined with spotless mirrored walls, he glanced up at the ceiling instead of staring at himself. At the last numbered floor, his ride continued smoothly up four more levels. Which made him wonder why McCormack needed all that space.
At last the elevator doors swooshed open, and Renner found himself in an arboretum and under a glass cathedral ceiling of epic proportion, so epic that full-grown palm trees grew lush and tall. A large, as in twenty-foot tall, smiling Buddha sat off to Renner’s right in a grove of ferns. Next to that a small, red wooden bridge spanned a large koi pond. Trickling water sounded from somewhere, and perfumed moisture scented the air. McCormack had created a lovely Japanese garden, complete with flowering bushes, orchids, and vines, high above the city. Soft golden light emanated from overhead as well as from several stone pagodas along the walk. Which made sense. Mrs. McCormack had gotten into Eastern meditation after their son passed. Jed had no doubt built this for her.
Renner proceeded cautiously beneath the drape of hanging ferns. It seemed this entire floor was devoted to things Lois loved in life. It was a wedge of paradise in the middle of busy Roslyn, VA. But McCormack wasn’t here.
Backtracking to the elevator, once again Renner keyed in the code. One floor down, the doors again swooshed open, this time to a room that looked more like an entryway. Boot rack to the left. Coat rack to the right. Double entry doors with beveled glass inserts straight ahead. A phone sat on the table alongside the elevator. Hmm. Guess visitors were supposed to announce themselves? Not today.
Tugging his B&E kit out of one of his many pockets, Renner worked his pick and the door unlocked like magic. Within ninety seconds he was in, and McCormack’s front door closed silently behind him. Lush carpet underfoot softened his steps as he cocked his head and listened to make sure he was alone. No TV. No music. No quiet conversation. Not that those missing noises meant anything. Still, if present, they were indicators that could spell trouble. Renner didn’t want to create problems for his boss, and McCormack finding one of Alex’s agents inside his private residence would do that.
So, Renner stepped it up and, one by one, cleared the rooms, looking for Catalina Montego. He hadn’t expected to find her in the garden, but there was no sign of her here, either. Chagrined at his streak of bad luck, he headed back to the elevator. It was getting late and he owed Alex a sitrep. Tapping the two-way radio inside his jacket, Renner buzzed his boss.
“Nothing here, Boss.” The words were barely out of his mouth when he spied a silvery glint from between the leather couch cushion and the heavy armrest in Jed’s living room. Yet when he blinked, the glint was gone.
“Then get the hell out of there,” Alex replied evenly. “Rory and Ember are tracking Jed. He’s on his way across the river now.”
“Hold on a sec,” Renner said as he returned to McCormack’s private space. He’d spied something bright and shiny where it didn’t belong.
Back at the couch, he slid one hand cautiously between the cushion and armrest. A disposable plastic syringe slid to the floor, the sharp still intact as if the syringe had been hidden in haste. Renner picked it up and held it against the dim light of the setting sun, tapping it. The few drops left in the vial were green. Bright, vivid green. Not like any medicine Renner had ever seen.
“Ah, Boss. Is Mr. McCormack diabetic or something? Was his wife? Did either of them take injections? Only asking because I just found a syringe in McCormack’s couch.”
“No. Definitely not. Jed’s as strong as I am, and Lois was, too. They didn’t believe in drugs. They are, er, were, health nuts. That’s what makes her death suspicious.”
Renner knew the story. The entire country had been shocked when Lois McCormack became ill while attending one of her famous Heat the World chili cook-offs at the local veterans’ home. That was her schtick. Through those amicable competitions, she raised funding and awareness for veterans. She and her husband knew full well the high cost of war. Their only son Brady, a Marine, had returned home a quadriplegic and, years later, died of complications from his traumatic injuries.
But what if... Renner’s gut dropped at the thought. Could McCormack be behind his wife’s death? He had hooked up with Catalina Montego a little too quickly for Renner’s tastes after Lois’ funeral. Were the two of them in league for some ungodly reason? The thought didn’t feel right. Tugging an evidence bag up from his pocket, Renner secured the hypo for further analysis back at TEAM headquarters. But he had to ask, “Boss, remind me. How long’s it been since Mrs. McCormack passed? Five months?”
“Six, why? What are you thinking?”
Next question. But this one was harder. Yet Mother, the TEAM’s savvy technical genius, was still on leave somewhere in the Pacific. Junior Agent Beau Villanueva, who was every bit as smart a techie as Mother, was on family leave watching his baby girl while his wife started her new job as Alex’s TEAM physician. There was no one else to ask. “Is there anyone in the office who can run this evidence and do a background check on McCormack for me without raising any red flags?” Or biting my head off?
The TEAM had recently acquired the dubious service of a Division of Fish and Wildlife Services reject. Agent Camilla Brinkman certainly couldn’t do this type of research. She was still acclimating to her ‘demeaning’ roles as Alex’s secretary and technical assistant—her exact words, not Renner’s. At the moment, he couldn’t stand the sight of her, and he refused to ask the snarky woman for anything. Even Harley Mortimer, one of Alex’s senior agents, had stopped teasing, cajoling, or trying to make friends with Brinkman. Renner couldn’t see her staying much longer. The woman had no social skills other than looking down her nose at everyone. And if she corrected him one more time with her caustic, “It’s pronounced ‘Kah-me-ah,’ you moron. No ‘L’ sound, got it?” Damn. Just thinking about her snippy attitude made his blood boil.
“Why Jed?”
“Just checking all possibilities. There’s a reason this syringe was hidden in his couch cushions. There’s a couple drops of something green in it.”
“Are you accusing him of murdering Lois? His wife.”
Renner looked down at the carpet. “No.” Maybe. “But we need to rule him out just the same. It’s what you’d do with us, Boss. You’d make sure we were clean if one of our wives died under mysterious circumstances.” Which Renner didn’t have and didn’t want. A wife. He didn’t need the drama.
“Son of a bitch. I sent you to find Montego, not build a case against my friend.”
Renner could almost see his boss grinding his teeth when he said that. Didn’t matter. Alex was under a lot of stress, he got that, but as much as possible, this covert investigation had to be done by the books. “I need an in-depth history on McCormack, Boss. If you can’t get that for me, I’ll—”
“Ember will run the evidence and the numbers when she gets in, damn it,” Alex said, the steam gone out of his voice.
“Thanks. I’m not trying to railroad McCormack. Just need all the pieces to this puzzle we’re working.”
“You’re sure you saw Montego with him at Arlington?”
That again. Alex still couldn’t believe how far off-track Jed had gone. “You saw the pictures. You tell me. Was that Catalina Montego hanging on his arm or not? I know you don’t like to hear this, but they looked happy together. He didn’t look sad. He looked good.”
“Shit,” Alex hissed. “Jed wouldn’t—”
Renner didn’t hear the end of that sentence. The elevator doors had just swooshed open. He ran for the kitchen and ducked inside McCormack’s expansive pantry to listen and watch.
Catalina had no more than breezed into the living room when Renner heard a distinc
t thump coming from the hallway. With Montego on one side and a possible third party on the other, the sniper in him growled to life. Every nerve in his body was suddenly strung tight and vibrating.
Muttering in Spanish, Montego unzipped her jacket and tossed it to the couch. Reaching over her shoulder, she tugged her tank top over her head. Jesus. For a short woman, she was stacked. Voluptuous didn’t come close. Her caramel colored breasts hung like thick clusters of ripened fruit any guy would want to finger and taste.
Renner hadn’t expected a floor show, but her running shorts went next, and every testosterone-filled cell in his all-male body took notice. Not the distraction he needed at the moment, and he certainly was not attracted to this stone-cold killer. But she was there and nude, and he was just a stupid man.
With one fingertip, he pushed the pantry door open wider. With the kitchen dark, he had a clear view of the strip show in Jed’s living room. The last time Montego had been on US soil, she’d been blonde. Her hair was long and black now, which he could see was her natural color given her state of undress. She loosened the tie at the back of her head, her hair spilling like an ebony cape over her shoulders, making her look like a diminutive Eve in the Garden of Eden.
But Renner wasn’t an idiot. Montego was no innocent, and this wasn’t paradise. If anything, she was a viper through and through, nothing more, nothing less. She might look like a typical Cuban diva, olive-skinned, delicate build, and slender, but she was Roland Montego’s evil baby sister, a sadist who enjoyed torturing gullible young servicemen who fell for her—breasts.
Thump. Bump. There it was again. That noise had most definitely come from McCormack’s bedroom. What—or who—could it be? Now totally nude, Montego strutted through McCormack’s palatial living room toward his bedroom like she owned the place.
Renner’s nose wrinkled with disgust. He was no prude, but the thought of Jed bumping uglies under the sheets with this brutal witch went against the laws of nature. Jed was one of America’s finest. Montego was nothing but a deviant. Was the man crazy?
Renner (In the Company of Snipers Book 19) Page 2
