Taken aback by the tone of her friend, she didn’t speak for a few seconds. “I am here, in the kennels.”
He exhaled audibly. “Annabelle, I’m sorry. I just got off the phone with my dad and he wasn’t feeling well. He was having chest pains that he assured me was indigestion. I tried to talk him into going to the hospital to get it checked out, but he’s stubborn as a mule. I took it out on you. I apologize.”
“None, necessary,” she assured him, understanding now the reason for his distress. “I’m on my way.”
#
Tucker Nash loved his job working the entry gate for COBRA Securities. His booth was actually a state-of-the-art office with high definition monitors broadcasting feeds from cameras covering every inch of the grounds, a television that he usually kept tuned to CNN, a mini-fridge and microwave, air conditioning in the summer and a heater in the winter. His chair was so comfortable, he could sleep in it—and had. Pictures of his beautiful wife and twin daughters sat on his desk and at the other end of the space was a table where the girls liked to sit and draw pictures when they visited.
Tucker wasn’t stupid—he knew his buddy Logan Bradley and his partner Luke Colton created this position specifically for him. A biometric scanner could easily do his job, and much cheaper. But both men insisted he was needed, and he was deeply thankful. Their encouragement had pulled him from a dark place. Without their support, he wasn’t sure where he’d be today. It shamed him to admit it’d probably be six feet under by his own hand, leaving his wife a widow and his daughters without a father. He suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and sometimes had trouble dealing with crowds. Working alone kept him sane. It also gave him time to work on code for the computer security programs he helped Tyler Redmond develop, like the latest one they’d almost perfected. Tyler was an Einstein-level genius and the brains behind the programs. Tucker’s specialty was finding bugs or loopholes that could render the programs ineffective. They made a good team—and a hefty bonus when Luke and Logan sold the programs to businesses.
Tucker was deep into the code, looking for any weakness when a double beep sounded, alerting him that someone was entering the outer gate using the electronic device attached to the cars. He glanced at the screen and then back down at his computer before his head snapped up again. His eyes narrowed. He knew every single vehicle that entered the compound and he didn’t recognize this one. He jumped to his titanium feet, having lost both legs in the Hindu Kush serving in the military, the main cause of his PTSD. Activating one of the cameras, he zoomed in for a better look and froze. An SUV full of men decked out in all black with guns in full view stopped to let three men out. In their hands, they held—“Son of a mother…RPG’s.” The Russian-made rocket-propelled grenades would easily destroy any target in their path.
He slammed his hand down on the red button he hoped he’d never have to use. “Lockdown, lockdown. Initiate defense strategy. Incoming tangos. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”
#
Wyatt Hollister stepped out of the hangar into the sunlight and slid on his shades. The last time he flew the Gulfstream, he’d felt an unfamiliar tug on the yoke. He’d learned early on in his career in the Royal Australian Air Force to trust his instincts. Even the smallest glitch could mean the difference between a safe flight or a harrowing water landing in the middle of the Hudson River. He’d shared his concerns with Chet Rudd, the lead pilot. Chet took the plane up for a test flight and concurred with Wyatt’s assessment that something wasn’t quite right. Now the maintenance crew was going over the plane with a fine-tooth comb under Chet’s direction. He had no doubt the issue would be diagnosed and corrected in no time. They didn’t need him sticking around, looking over their shoulders, so he decided to head back and get in a workout.
The deep, reverberating thumping of helicopter blades caught his attention and he glanced skyward. It couldn’t be the COBRA Securities chopper. Though the office building sported a landing pad on the roof, they kept the bird housed inside when it wasn’t being used. He’d just passed it on his way outside.
This helicopter was flying low—too damn low. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He squinted, trying to make out any logo or insignia, hoping that maybe it was one of those choppers that provided aerial inspection of power lines. Only…it was headed directly towards the hangar. Something fell from the bird before the pilot cut sharply away. Suddenly Wyatt was lifted off his feet and hurtling through the air as the world exploded.
Chapter Twenty
Annabelle left Quinn and Echo and headed for the arena to meet Gabe. She spied him pacing back and forth on the sidelines as Riley and Morgana ran drills with Charlie and Delta. He looked up and spotted her, his body slumping with relief.
“Annabelle.” He gripped her shoulders and pulled her tight against his body. “Thank you for coming.”
When the hug morphed from comforting to uncomfortable, she stepped back. “Are you okay?”
He blew out a breath. “I’ve been better. I wanted to show you this new trick I taught Echo. I knew you’d enjoy it. But the phone call has me rattled. My dad’s getting up there and we have a long history of heart disease in my family. Both his father and grandfather died of heart attacks.”
“I understand—”
Beeeeep. Beeeeep.
A shrill alarm blared through the building and red lights attached to what looked like fire alarms flashed.
Lockdown, lockdown. Initiate defense strategy. Incoming tangos. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.
Annabelle glanced around in confusion. “What’s happening?”
Gabe looked just as bewildered. “I have no idea.”
Quinn sprinted into the arena with Echo on his heels. “Gabe, Riley, get the dogs from the kennels and meet at my office. Morgana, harness Charlie and follow me.” He grabbed Annabelle’s hand and hustled her down the corridor.
She had to run to keep up. “What’s happening, Quinn? What are tangos, besides a vibrant and playful Latin American dance?”
Her attempt at a joke fell flat. “Military speak for enemy. I don’t know what’s up, but I need to get you safe.”
He stopped in front of a panel and punched numbers on a keypad. The wall slid aside to reveal a hidden opening. “This will take you to an underground bunker. I’m sending Gabe, Riley and the dogs with you. Once the doors open, follow the hallway. It’ll lead to the main chamber. Wait there with the others until you get the all clear.”
Annabelle’s head spun, figuratively and then literally as a blast shook the building and she fell to her knees. Quinn urged her to the ground and covered her with his body. Echo dropped beside her protectively. When the rattling stopped, Quinn asked, “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He jumped up and helped her to her feet. She wanted to hug Echo to thank him, but he was in full warrior mode and she knew not to distract him. Gabe and Riley appeared with the other dogs.
“What is this?” Gabe asked, indicating the elevator.
“Get inside, both of you,” Quinn urged, ignoring the question. “Tell them what I told you, Annabelle.” The door slid shut and the elevator descended.
“What the hell? Open up.” Gabe slammed a hand against the steel door. “Where are we going?”
“Calm down,” Riley snapped. “You’re upsetting the dogs.”
He turned to her with a feral scowl and bared his teeth. “You calm down. I don’t like enclosed spaces,” he enunciated. “And we could be descending into the bowels of hell for all I know.”
“It leads to an underground bunker,” Annabelle jumped in, hoping to ease the tension between the two, currently squaring off like pugilists before a title fight. “We’re supposed to wait down here until we get the all clear.”
Gabe’s chest rose and fell rapidly and a line of sweat broke out along his forehead. He really didn’t like tight spaces, Annabelle thought. Then he forked a hand through his hair. “Something’s hap
pening. We should be up there.”
“We’re not agents yet,” Riley reminded him.
“Close enough,” he groused. “I did my stint in the military so I’m pretty damn sure I can handle whatever’s going on.”
“I did, too,” Riley reminded him.
Thankfully the door opened, and they stepped into a well-lit hallway, the walls painted a crisp, bright white. The floor was carpeted in durable rubber tiles. Her cell buzzed and she stopped to check the screen. Kellan. Her shoulders slumped in relief. He was okay. He wanted to know if she’d made it to the bunker. She texted back that she had and told him to be careful. What she really wanted was to have him here with her. The underground lair might be secure, but inside his arms was her safe place.
Gabe and Riley had continued walking, so she jogged to catch up. The hallway opened to a huge open space where people were already gathering from other corridors funneling into the room. Amelia entered from one direction and BeBe wheeled in from another.
She beelined for BeBe. “What’s happening?” she asked the office manager, who looked as worried as Annabelle felt.
“I’m not sure, but I think we’re under attack.”
Breath lodged in her throat. Under attack? “Why aren’t Kellan and the others down here yet?” She knew her voice was frantic, but she couldn’t help it. That blast that knocked her to her knees had to have been a bomb and it had been close.
Amelia squeezed her arm. “Hon, they don’t back down from a fight. They run to it.”
#
Logan Bradley glanced at the other men gathered around the boat-shaped conference table constructed of cherry wood. His younger brother Dan sat to his right, while his partner Luke Colton and Luke’s brother Grant were on the opposite side. Resting on the table between them was a phone that looked straight out of the Starship Enterprise. They were wrapping up a teleconference negotiating the largest contract in the history of their business. If all went as planned—and it was pretty much a done deal—they’d need to add more agents to the staff to handle the increased workload.
“Gentlemen, I believe we have an agreement,” Ross Asher announced. “My lawyers will overnight the paperwork to you. I look forward to doing business with you.”
They exchanged pleasantries with Asher and his team and then Luke pushed a button to end the call. Silence reigned for a solid ten seconds while they all processed what had transpired. Then all at once, they let out a collective whoop, complete with high-fives and back-slaps all around. They’d been working on the contract for months. All the hard work and long nights just paid off, big time.
“This calls for a celebration.” Dan reached under the table and produced bottles of Dom Perignon in each hand. “What do you say to some bubbly, my brothers?”
“I say, I’ll get the glasses.” Grant pushed back his chair and stood, but before he could take a step, simultaneous alarms beeped on their watches to coincide with ones ringing through the building.
Lockdown, lockdown. Initiate defense strategy. Incoming tangos. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.
The earlier euphoria was instantly forgotten. Logan slapped a button to activate the intercom. “Tucker? What the hell’s going on?”
“We’re under attack! An SUV’s breached the perimeter. Three men got out with RPG’s—” His words were cut off by a loud boom that shook the building. “Oh hell, the airport hangar’s been bombed.”
“War room, now.” The others dashed to their offices for their weapons and comm devices. Logan whipped open a drawer to grab his Sig Sauer and inserted his comm in his ear. Snatching his bulletproof vest off a hook, he slid it on as he rushed outside. His secretary Karen stood pensively beside her desk. He instructed her to make sure the support staff descended to the underground bunker as soon as possible, her included. She nodded and picked up her phone to issue the orders.
“Where’s Grant?” Logan asked when they met at the stairs, bypassing the elevators.
“He and Sawyer are heading to the airport to check it out,” Luke told him as they sprinted down the steps.
They’d run through worst-case drills in case something like this happened, so everyone was familiar with the protocol. Any agent in the building should be on their way to the war room. The others were to check in with the comms and await instructions.
Logan was terrified for Jade, Isabella, Christopher and Isabella’s poodle Fiji. The alert system was set up to ring to the houses, so they should be on their way to the safe room. All the homes had them built into the plans. Still, he’d fired off a text asking Jade to contact him. His heart wouldn’t start beating again until he knew his family was secure. When his phone beeped a text from his wife letting him know they were okay, he was able to breathe again.
Several agents were already gathered in the room when they arrived. Peter Dennis rushed inside and aimed a remote at the largest screen. A picture of the lake outside appeared. “Two people in scuba gear are climbing out of the water now.”
Dan dove for the chair in front of a control panel, his hand hovering over a switch awaiting instructions.
“Section fourteen,” Peter told him.
Dan keyed in the number and flipped the lever. As soon as the intruders tried to breach that section of the fence, ten thousand volts would shock their system and stop their hearts.
“Land, air and sea,” Luke noted.
“Damn,” Logan muttered. “This is a sophisticated, coordinated attack.”
#
Dante Costa was spotting Dorian Demarchis at the bench press when an alarm sounded and a red light flashed throughout the training facility. Then an announcement stated that this was not a drill.
He dashed for the intercom as Dorian sprang to his feet. Noah and Ethan Addison were right behind him, as were Kellan, Kayla, Hillary and Alex Mylonas.
“All agents gather up front. Grab comms and a vest,” he announced through the facility. Comm devices were located on charging stations around the gym and the supply room near the entry held an array of Kevlar and weapons. “The rest of you, proceed to the bunker immediately.”
“I’ll make sure everyone gets down there,” Amelia offered. “Be careful.”
He fit his comm in his ear and checked in. “What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack,” Logan told him. “Three men are unaccounted for in the woods by the front gate, heavily armed with RPG’s. Gear up. I need you to take the lead to neutralize them. Use the tranquilizer darts if possible so we can find out who sent them, but you have the authorization to use any means necessary to stop them. Quinn has two of the dogs ready to hunt.”
“Roger that.”
#
Wyatt came around to discover his ears ringing and every muscle in his body aching. He was disoriented, trying to recall what he’d been doing before he was tossed at least thirty feet through the air like a boomerang to land in a heap on the unforgiving blacktop. He was lucky he hadn’t split open his skull. He couldn’t tell if any bones were broken, but it felt like his skin had been peeled off by a cheese slicer. It all came rushing back to him when the acrid scent of smoke burned his nose. The rogue helicopter. It’d bombed the hangar. An overwhelming sense of grief washed over him. The entire maintenance crew had been inside at his request: Manny, Laurie, Beau, Carrie and Jamal, not to mention Chet Rudd. It’d been their day off, but he’d called them in and now they were dead. Not just dead—incinerated.
Movement out of the corner of his eye had him blinking to focus. The chopper was circling back. Horror struck when his blurry gaze landed on the tank holding hundreds of gallons of jet fuel. If they bombed it, it’d wipe half the city off the map.
His whole body throbbed, but he ignored the pain and scrabbled the last few feet to his SUV. Thankfully, he’d landed close to the vehicle when he’d catapulted through the air. He ripped open the door and withdrew his sniper rifle. Falling to his stomach, he braced his arms against the ground and sighted the pilot. He had a slight case
of double-vision, but he’d faced worse. Taking a deep breath to calm his heartbeat, he squeezed the trigger, nailing the pilot between his goggle-covered eyes. The man’s head whipped back with the impact and then he slumped over the controls. The passenger shook him, frantically trying to dislodge him as the chopper wobbled out of control. Then the copilot jerked his wide-eyed gaze to where Wyatt was waiting calmly to end his life. “Rot in hell, you son of a bitch.” Applying pressure to the trigger, he put a slug through the man’s frontal lobe. The chopper lurched and sputtered, going in a hard circle before plunging nose-first to the ground in a giant fireball. Wyatt rolled to his back, placed the rifle across his chest, closed his eyes and his last thought before he gave into the darkness was, what if they’d bombed the gas tank first?
#
Tucker followed the progression of the trespassing SUV after it unloaded the three men with rocket launchers. His timing needed to be precise and he was pleased to note that his hand wasn’t even shaking—that is, until a loud boom sounded and the ground rattled, sending him tumbling to the ground. Gripping the counter, he pulled himself upright and focused on the monitor. He finished briefing his bosses and then tuned out the chatter. When an alert flashed on his computer, he hit a button. One minute the SUV was speeding along the road, the next it was gone from the screen, having dropped a jarring ten feet into a giant hole. The steel panels in the road slid shut, trapping the SUV. The two tangos were well and truly entombed inside an impenetrable box, unable to open their doors or use their cell phones. The only light would be illuminating a sign on the wall in front of them that said: You picked the wrong people to mess with, assholes.
Once the bosses were ready to question them, the chamber would fill with knockout gas, strong enough to penetrate closed windows. Cameras allowed them to observe the occupants, making sure they were unconscious. Then the floor would ascend via a hydraulic lift to bring the vehicle to the surface where the perps would be cuffed, questioned and turned over to the authorities. Eventually.
The Viper (COBRA Securities Book 15) Page 23
