Axel Morrow leaned in across the table, anchoring his elbows. “So we’re dealing with devices like the ones used in the Boston Marathon.” Short blond hair and sharp green eyes gave Axel the stereotypical “boy next door” look. His easy smile spoke of mild manners and a wholesome upbringing, but looks were deceiving. At thirty-four, Axel was the team’s supervisory agent, a fierce friend and formidable opponent.
“Exactly.” Max nodded.
“And there was nothing unique left behind at the bombing sites?” Axel asked, swinging his attention back to Alana. As the team’s criminal profiler, Axel was in his wheelhouse looking for patterns and clues in the details. “No calling card or other source of pride?”
“None,” Alana answered.
“Is he targeting a specific neighborhood?” Axel asked. “Could these be locations of convenience? Maybe random sites near his home?”
“Possibly,” Alana conceded, turning to examine the screen as Opaline changed the image once more. “The businesses aren’t in close proximity to one another, but it’s possible the bomber frequented the locations, making them familiar and emotionally comfortable.”
A map of the city showed the bomb sites circled in red. Clearly several miles apart.
Opaline danced her fingers over her laptop’s keyboard. “I’m sending you all everything I have so far. Photos, police reports, initial findings, witness accounts...”
Phones buzzed and chimed collectively before she’d finished speaking.
“Local law-enforcement officials weren’t able to make any connections between the victims,” she said. “The detonation days and times were different. The casualties had no obvious commonalities in appearance. A basic surface review revealed nothing useful. I, on the other hand, hope to have plenty of leads for you by the time you reach your temporary headquarters in Grand Rapids later today.”
“Which will be at the local police department.” A familiar voice sprang through the open door a moment before Rihanna Clark entered. The former special agent and current TCD liaison for local PDs, press and the public smiled widely at the team. Her sleek black hair fell over her shoulders and her onyx eyes sparkled as she set a pair of stacked cup carriers on the table. “I thought you could all use a little help waking up. So I made a stop on my way in, while I worked out some details by phone with Grand Rapids PD.”
The team went for the coffees, thanking Rihanna as they made their selections and returned to their seats. Dr. Carly Welsh, the TCD toxins expert, abstained, having brought her own large cup, as usual.
“TCD has access to a large conference room at the Grand Rapids PD for as long as we need it,” Rihanna continued. “I’ve been assured the space is ours alone. We won’t have to share or move for any reason, and we have access to anything within the department we might need. Personnel included. Their force is aware of what’s going on, and they’re highly motivated to protect their city and its citizens. As always, I’ll be there to make any other arrangements you need. Just ask.” She nodded at Alana, then took a seat near Opaline.
Alana nearly chuckled at the notion of anyone having to ask Rihanna for anything. She was a troubleshooting genius who anticipated the needs of her team with uncanny skill, then met those needs with precision and efficiency.
“Grand Rapids PD is expecting you this morning,” Alana told her team. “Go home, make arrangements, then meet back here for departure. You know how to reach me if you need anything more.”
Satisfied, and with a scheduled conference call in only a few moments, Alana excused herself from the room, confident the men and women of her TCD would get the job done.
* * *
MAX FLIPPED THROUGH the details Opaline had sent to his phone, grimacing at the senseless carnage. This wasn’t the work of kids, drunks or idiots screwing around. Those kinds of people blew up old washing machines, microwaves or vehicles. This was someone who wanted to kill. Someone who intended to get the job done. Max pressed a palm to his knee, soothing the phantom pain several inches below the joint, where a prosthetic limb had long replaced his own calf and foot.
His insides tightened and ached at the memories. He’d thought for sure he’d die on that dirt road, a world away from home. And worse, he’d thought he’d gotten his team killed, as well. In reality, they’d all lived that day, though they hadn’t all come home.
“Hey.” Axel slid onto the seat beside him, delivering a cup of coffee Max hadn’t been motivated to collect himself. He’d nearly finished a pot on his own before driving in today.
“You okay?” Axel asked, leaving the question open-ended. Allowing Max to decide what and how much to share.
“I’ve been better. I’m glad we’ve got the case, but I wish I could’ve talked Allie into leaving the city for a few days.”
Axel pursed his lips. “No go, huh?”
“Not even close.”
He bobbed his head in understanding. Axel had been around for the whirlwind romance Max had shared with Allie. And for the divorce that had followed less than two years later. He tapped his thumbs against the table. “Alana wants you to take the lead on this. Are you okay with that?”
Max dipped his chin. “No problem.”
The rest of the team moved in closer, filling the space around Max’s end of the giant table.
“Have you spoken to Allie?” Opaline asked, her voice thick with genuine concern.
The question earned her a hard, slashing glare from her sister Selena’s eyes.
“I did,” Max said, defusing the sibling tension as simply as he could. “She’s aware of the bombings, but given there’s no reason to suspect she’s a target, she plans to go on with business as usual.” Taking their son, Max Jr., along with her. All over town. To any number of places where a bomber could be setting up to kill another enemy.
Worse, she’d barely spoken with him when he’d called. Max Jr. had been up, crying, teething, according to Allie, and she was in no mood for a directive from her ex-husband. So he planned to talk to her in person as soon as he got to Grand Rapids this morning. Hopefully, he’d have a better chance of changing her mind by light of day.
He rubbed his chest where a dull ached formed at the thought of his family as collateral damage. Max had already screwed up once, putting his job continually before them. Letting his desire to protect others take precedence over his duty to be present with his wife and son. He’d ignored Allie’s warnings, and she wasn’t one to wait long on someone else to make her happy. She’d left him and moved to Grand Rapids, where she could be with her parents and sister. They’d been there for her as she built her small company and raised their son. All while Max was off saving lives and preserving other families instead of his own.
The gonging silence turned his attention back to the team, now staring. Their expressions ranged from supportive and understanding to compassionate and clearly laced with pity.
“What do you make of what we have so far?” Aria Calletti asked, breaking the silence. Aria was the rookie on the team, a narcotics expert and an agent who’d earned his respect on her first TCD mission not long ago. She was young, beautiful and petite, not the package bad guys expected to find disguising a powerhouse. Folks underestimated her, and she knew it. She used that to her advantage often and well.
“I think this is about revenge,” Max said. “The bomber’s not blowing up old appliances to see if he can. He’s blowing up people at work. He’s not going for crowded marketplaces. He’s not detonating at the busiest times of day. He isn’t killing to kill. His goal isn’t mass destruction. It’s pointed. He wanted someone dead at each of these two locations and at those specific times. Times when the target would be one of the few people around.”
Carly nodded at that, sipping gingerly from her home-brewed coffee. The tall blonde had been with TCD for three years and specialized in biochemical terrorism. Her honey hair and willowy stature reminded him of
Allie, but Carly was guarded. His teammates all had a ghost or two in their pasts, something that kept them quiet at times, even mildly haunted. “Revenge,” she said. “It’s a powerful motive. And certain unstable individuals view bombings as loud and clear ways to assert their strength after feeling small or weak for too long.”
Aria straightened, eyebrows high. “Well, all right. Let’s go to Grand Rapids.”
The team agreed and headed for the door. Pulling their lives together on the fly, well enough that they could leave for an indefinite amount of time, meant a serious hustle. Most were used to it. Max kept a well-equipped go bag that would carry him up to a week without having to call for laundry service.
He stretched out of his chair, eager to get on the road. He’d requested this assignment, and even offered to take vacation time and go alone if Alana didn’t think the situation required the entire TCD. He’d planned to show up at the Grand Rapids Police Department and beg them to let him consult. Thankfully, Alana had worked it out. Max was good on his own, but better with his team.
Axel sauntered along at Max’s side. “You know, Allie and Max Jr. are going to be fine,” he said. “We’ll be there soon, and shut this bomber down before he ever sees us coming.”
Max dared a look in his buddy’s direction, wishing like hell he could will those words to be true. “You can’t know that,” he said. There were too many variables. Too many unknowns.
“Sure I can.” Axel clapped Max on the back as they made their way to the elevator, smiling that trademark smile. “I know it’s true because we’ve got you.”
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9781488067143
Alaska Mountain Rescue
Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Heiter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 21
