Always Been Mine (32 page)

“I knew I was being watched. I knew Baxter had suspicions it was a trap. But I also knew he couldn’t resist the bait.”

“You are just as insane as Baxter.” She pulled on the bandage with more strength than she intended. The admiral winced, and she felt guilty, but not enough so she’d back down from giving him hell. He let himself be taken by Harold Baxter, also known as Frank Wilkes and a host of other aliases. In the CIA though, the man was known as Baxter. Beatrice had a sneaking suspicion that the two men actually admired the other’s cunning. Judging from what her father told her, he and Baxter had a civilized conversation in the man’s hideout until Baxter ordered one of his men to kill him. Somehow, the admiral gained the upper hand and managed to transfer some files, but soon after, Baxter’s security team swarmed in. Her father managed to get away but had been shot. “What’s on the jump drive?”

“Everything that incriminates him with weapons sales to Colombia and allowing drugs into the United States so the rebels could pay for them,” the admiral said. “I’m hoping there’s enough information there regarding ST-Vyl virus that would tie in to what Gabe had retrieved from Ryker’s room. We can nail him on the charge of conspiring with a faction in the Russian government to commit a terrorist act.”

“You think the Russian president is involved?”

Her father shook his head. “Not likely. He is up for re-election and can’t afford to take risks. I’m putting my money on one of his generals with the support of some companies poised to gain from the end of the Ukrainian conflict.”

“How has the world become so fucked up?” Beatrice muttered. “War everywhere. Terrorism on the rise.”

“Is there anything on Project Infinity or the specter agents?” Caitlin asked. The expression on her face broke Beatrice’s heart.
 

Her father’s face softened in regret. “I’m afraid not, Caitlin. I’ve dug into it before, believe me. Those files have been destroyed. There’s also strong evidence that the foster homes used by Baxter to recruit the kids for the program have been razed to the ground.”

“Oh, my God.” Caitlin’s eyes widened, mirroring the shock Beatrice was feeling.

“What kind of soulless bastard is this guy?” Beatrice asked incredulously.

“One you don’t want in charge of National Security,” her dad said. “Baxter was next in line for Deputy Director of the CIA. This was over fifteen years ago. He fucked up a high-profile op and was demoted to missions that have low political risks, which is how he became involved in South America. At that time, the war and attention of the public was shifting to the Middle East. He took advantage and made money.”

Footsteps thudded outside the control room. Seconds later, Nate burst in. “Three black SUVs are speeding down the driveway. I want you girls to lock yourselves in here. You up for a fight, Admiral?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll alert Viktor and the others,” Tim announced from the video feed.

Beatrice was feeling something else. “I can help.” When both men were about to protest, she added, “If any of you say I should stay behind, think again. I’m good with a gun.” She looked at Nate. “You can have the RPG.”

“I—” Caitlin started.
 

“You need to stay here, Cat,” Beatrice said, nodding to Nate who signaled he had to head back outside. Porter followed Nate. “You’re the one who can operate”—she looked around at all the monitors and keyboards—“whatever these are. And it looks like you’re still transferring the files.”

“Be careful,” Caitlin said.

“I will,” Beatrice replied.
 

Nate started yelling that the SUVs had pulled up in front of the house.

“You have the schematics of the underground tunnel leading outside, right? Just in case they trap you in here.”

“Bee,” Caitlin whispered and couldn’t say anymore. They hugged each other tightly. Afterward, Beatrice exited the room and dragged the sliding door shut.

“Seal it!” Beatrice shouted.
 

Hydraulics whirred as the locks bolted into place.

Seconds later, the frenetic din of assault rifles blasted through the night.

*****

“Bee, go upstairs and cover the back! Take Rhino with you,” Nate shouted, taking a moment behind the reinforced wall by the door to instruct her. Sam was at the other end, firing at will. She didn’t see her dad, but the trap door leading to the armory was open.
 

The German Shepherd was circling in excitement in the middle of the living room.
 

She nodded and grabbed her two Sigs and a can of pre-loaded magazines that were under the kitchen cabinet. Grabbing a short-wave radio from Nate, she confirmed the frequency and scrambled up the stairs.
 

“Come on, boy!” She looked back to make sure Rhino was following her. The walls and windows were bullet-resistant, but wouldn’t hold off a continued assault for long.
 

Beatrice had Rhino lie down on the side of the bed away from the windows. She fitted the suppressor on her Sigs. The lights in the room were off. She slowly slid the window open a smidge. For a while there was no movement in the backyard. Her eyes roamed far and close to the side of the house. The lighting in the back was also behind bullet-resistant glass.
 

She ignored the raging war that seemed to be taking place in the forefront of the safe house. At least with the fierce exchange, it was a good sign that her father, Nate, and Sam were putting up a good fight. The bad news? So were the hostiles.

Her eyes caught a stir by the wall, a minuscule peep of a leg that quickly disappeared. She focused on that spot, though in a way, she was omnipresent-aware. It was hard to describe the feeling where all she could hear was her breathing and all her senses were alive. Three figures broke away from the cover of the wall. Beatrice didn’t fire yet, waiting to see what they would do.
 

One of them was carrying a large weapon that looked like—

Oh, my God! It’s a RPG.

Before the hostile could shoulder the weapon, Beatrice aimed and squeezed off two shots. The remaining two scuttled in opposite directions, firing haphazardly at the house. She ducked behind the walls momentarily, gauging where the bullets were hitting. The suppressor disguised her muzzle flashes and the sound of her gun, so they didn’t know from where she was shooting. The line of the lights that ran along the middle of the house also made it difficult for the attackers to aim and fire into the house.

Satisfied that they were shooting far from her location, she peered over the window edge again. Her blood turned to ice. There was a body on the ground, but the RPG was missing.

It was a split second before she caught the movement right behind the tree line. She fired the same time she heard the
whoosh
of the rocket. An instantaneous explosion rocked the floor below her.

Cat!

The control room was reinforced, but Cat better be ready to make a quick exodus.

She heard shouting on the first floor and from her radio. Nate was yelling out orders to put out a fire. Beatrice was able to pick off another shooter, but her eyes were searching for the man with the RPG. Rhino was whining in agitation.

“Shh . . . quiet, boy,” Beatrice said. She spied a gunman lurking, trying to sneak into the back patio. She managed to disable him, sending him crashing to the ground. She was about to fire another shot when a bullet ricocheted off the edge where she was shooting from. Amid the crazy ruckus of gunfire and more explosions, Beatrice thought she heard the blunt rhythm of a chopper.

Another bullet struck near her. Same spot. Shit, they were using a special scope and must have clocked her.

Which meant
 
. . .

Oh, shit.
 

She saw it, the rocket heading straight for her.

She scrambled to her feet and ran across the room toward the bed.

“Rhino!” she screamed.

A thunderous roar and a fireball shot past her, sending her flying on top of the bed. The blast wave further rolled her off the mattress. Pain exploded on the back of her head before darkness claimed her.

*****

It was a war zone.

The muzzle flashes of carbines and assault rifles lit up the front yard like a firework show. Smoke was rising from the safe house and the stucco walls were heavily pockmarked.

Their Black Hawk’s machine gun did quick work on the attackers, not giving them an opportunity to use the RPG on them.

“Get us down there,” Travis growled.
 

“Hold on, Blake,” Viktor said. “You don’t want to drop dead before you hit the ground, do you?”

Gabe clenched his jaw as he gripped his carbine tight, but Viktor was right. He also understood how Travis felt because an overwhelming desire to make sure Beatrice was all right prickled the expanse of his skin.
 

The chopper swooped to the back of the house and raked the ground there as well, tearing a path and taking down two more of Baxter’s men. The assailants appeared to be a different faction from the guards at the meet and they were not the U.S. Special Ops team either. How many schemes did Harold Baxter/Frank Wilkes have?

“Looks good here,” Viktor spoke to the pilot. “Lower the bird.”

Gabe jumped off, got on one knee, and had his carbine shouldered, sweeping the area. Maia followed in seconds, repeating the same motion and clearing the other side.

Travis exited the chopper but walked toward the house with his weapon trained in front of him.

A hand landed on Gabe’s shoulder as Viktor shouted into his ear. “Go! We got you guys covered.”

Gabe nodded, rose from his crouch, and trailed Travis into the house.

His heart sank when he walked into the debris of destruction. The back door was partly blasted in, the windows shattered, and plaster littered the floor. Gabe walked through the door just as the control room door slid open and Caitlin launched herself into Travis’s arms.

Porter was leaning heavily against the stairs, a fire extinguisher in his hand. He didn’t look good and was bleeding steadily. Gabe’s eyes scanned the room. “Beatrice?”

“Nate went to check on her,” Porter gasped out. “Explosion. Upstairs.”

Gabe saw the hole and smoke coming out of their bedroom when they first landed. The gears in his mind clicked as he processed Porter’s words. Beatrice was in the bedroom when the warhead exploded? Fuck no!

He leapt on the landing and was about to bound up the steps when he heard his name.

“Gabe?”

He looked up. Green eyes framed by a face covered in soot stared at him. Beatrice was standing at the top of the stairs with Nate’s arms around her. This time, Gabe didn’t feel any jealousy at all, just a buckling relief that she was alive and standing.
 

“Fuck, babe,” Gabe said raggedly. He took the steps two at the time and pulled her from Nate’s arms, clenching her so tightly, he was probably squeezing her too much. It was as if he couldn’t get close enough to her.

He shifted away slightly and kissed her desperately, deeply.

“I love you so fucking much,” Gabe muttered.

“Oh, Gabe,” Beatrice whispered. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“Don’t ever think that. Don’t ever,” he growled fiercely. “I will always come for you.”

He kissed her again.
 

*****

“Baxter’s dead.”

Viktor was speaking to the admiral who was being patched up by Maia.

Caitlin and Rhino were the only ones who escaped unscathed from the siege on the safe house. Nate, Sam, and Porter received non-life threatening gunshot wounds with the admiral possibly sustaining a couple of broken ribs from the explosion. Beatrice had a concussion and a few minor lacerations. Since she was unconscious when Nate found her, Gabe would be insisting she receive the full battery of tests. Dr. Ryan had been notified and was on her way with a medical van.

“We have confirmation?” Porter asked. The body of Harold Baxter was found alongside the other dead hostiles who attacked the safe house.

“I sent an image to Tim for facial recognition. It’s a 99% match,” Viktor said. He looked at Gabe. “You also confirm that you’ve seen him with Zorin?”

Gabe nodded. He definitely had seen Harold Baxter meet with his former crime boss at least twice before.
 

“Too bad he couldn’t be held accountable for his crimes,” the admiral said. His eyes drifted to Beatrice. “However, I, for one, will sleep better at night with Baxter gone.”
 

Porter’s gaze continued moving and landed on him. Gabe inclined his head in silent agreement. It was a selfish thought because they could have found out the depth of Baxter’s deception if he were alive. But in this, Gabe was sure that he and Porter were of the same mind—fuck the whole world, they had paid their dues in blood for far too long.

There had been a revolving door of Guardians in the safe house, which was technically not safe anymore given the blasted doors and windows. The big guy who Gabe had met in the woods earlier walked in and approached Viktor.

“Our Quick Reaction team was able to apprehend Dr. Devlin and sequester the ST-Vyl virus. Should we inform the CDC?”

Viktor contemplated the question before deferring to Porter. “Admiral?”

“Fucking tired of making decisions,” Porter said wearily.
 

“We’ll actually have to involve the FBI and Homeland Security on this one since it’s on U.S. soil,” Viktor said. “I’m sure the CIA will have to work intel on the Russian buyer. Tim is mining the data right now.”

“This would mean a POTUS brief,” Porter muttered. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

Gabe pushed back from the wall and walked over to where Beatrice was talking to Travis. She looked at him questioningly when he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
 

Travis cleared his throat and grinned knowingly. He stood up, squeezed Gabe on his shoulder, and muttered that he was going to look for Caitlin.

“You okay? Dizzy?” Gabe asked.

“My head hurts.”

“You’ve got an egg-size lump on the back of your head.”