Beneath the Surface (31 page)

CHAPTER

40

I
need on the next flight to Denver,” Asher demanded, speaking past the cell phone pressed to the side of his face and the ringing in his ear. Why in the fuck wasn’t Jax answering? He’d sent Quinn a
Hey, how are you? Just checking in
text, but hadn’t gotten a response yet. He didn’t want to scare her unnecessarily if, by some chance in hell, Peterson was fucking with him, but his gut told him this was for real. The guy knew too much about Quinn for this to be anything other than a setup.

When his call rolled over to voice mail, he growled a nasty curse that had the woman behind the counter giving him a disapproving scowl. He ended the call without leaving a message so he could talk to the woman about getting on that damn plane, which was about to leave in the next five minutes.

“What is your name?” The woman asked.

He handed her his ID and she typed his info into the computer.

“It says here you’re scheduled to leave on a flight to Denver in an hour and a half.”

“I know when my flight is. I’m telling you I need to be on
that
plane,” he pointed at the one sitting outside his departing terminal.

“It’s leaving in five minutes.”

“Thank you. That’s why I need to be on it.”

“They’ve closed boarding.”

“Ma’am, it’s an emergency. I really need to get on that plane. Will you please check to see if they have any available seating?”

When she went back to typing on her computer, Asher checked his cell for any missed messages or calls.

Nothing.

Fuck.

Dear God, he prayed he wasn’t too late.

“There is one seat available in the—”

“Great! I’ll take it.”

She shot him an annoyed scowl, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t trying to make friends. If she didn’t like him now, she really wasn’t going to like him if he missed that flight.

“I’ll have to call the pilot and make sure they’ll still let you board.”

As she picked up her phone, Asher dialed Jax again. He was torn over contacting either Agent Meadows or Agent Kellen—unsure right now whom he could trust. They could be the leak, or maybe someone else in the bureau. It was impossible to know, but one thing was for sure—if that assassin knew where Quinn was, then someone on the inside was feeding that fucker intel.

This time when the call went to voice mail Asher left a message. “Jax, it’s me. The whole trip was a setup to get me away from Quinn. The killer knows where she is. Peterson knew about Quinn, the EO, and the CGRN. Get her out of there. I don’t know if Meadows or Kellen are involved. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

He disconnected the call and the woman across the counter was staring at him, pale faced and slack jawed with the receiver halfway between her ear and the desk. She’d obviously heard his message and looked like she was about to shit herself.

“Well?” he prompted impatiently when she didn’t say anything. “Can you get me on that plane?”

“Y-yes . . .” She came around the desk and handed him his ticket. “Follow me.”

The woman led him through the passenger terminal and down the Jetway, his strides eating up the distance as he rushed toward the plane. Fuck it—if Jax and Quinn weren’t answering, he needed to call Meadows.

Asher made one last call as he boarded the Boeing 747. “Sir,” the stewardess approached him as he headed for his seat. The engines were already running and the plane began to ferry down the runway. “Sir, you’re going to have to hang up your call.”

He ignored her, praying to God the agent would pick up on the next ring—or the next—or the next. Asher slid into his seat and fastened his belt as the jet began to pick up speed. “Sir . . . we’re ready to take off. Please shut off your phone.”

The call went into Agent Meadows’s voice mail. Fuck! Panic like he’d never felt before gripped his heart. It was paralyzing. The helplessness of being stuck four hours away from Quinn with no idea if she was all right was the most gut-wrenching experience of his life. There was no doubt in his mind that if anything happened to Quinn, it would be a loss he’d never survive.

“Did you hear that?” Quinn whispered. Downstairs there was a ping of breaking glass followed by a dull thud.

The shot of adrenaline flooding her veins jumpstarted her heart, which was now banging a rapid staccato against her ribs.

Jax held a finger to his lips, warning her to be silent as he carefully set his cards on the end table and rose. She could hear the soft vibration of his cell ringing in his pocket. He ignored the call and reached behind his back, pulling his gun from his waistband. He waved her over. She crept up behind him, taking care not to make any noise.

The buzzing stopped as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, shielding her with his body. As they inched closer to the railing, his cell began vibrating again. She prayed the low hum wouldn’t give away their position. She reached into his front pocket and pulled out the phone. Asher was calling. The temptation to answer was almost too much to resist. It pained her to swipe her thumb across the screen, silencing the call. She’d give anything right now to hear the deep, assured calmness of his voice.

“We need to get you to the panic room,” Jax whispered.

Easier said than done. There was a flight of stairs, a living room, and a dining room separating them from the access door in the kitchen. They approached the railing overlooking the living room and Quinn’s hammering heart leapt into her throat. It was the only thing blocking the scream threatening to rip free. Special Agent Meadows sat slumped on the couch with a bullet wound in the center of his forehead. The back of his head was missing; blood and white matter ran down the wall behind the couch.

Quinn’s stomach lurched. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She turned to make a dash for the bathroom but Jax wouldn’t let her go. He spun them away from the railing and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as he pressed them into the small alcove.

“Shhh . . .” he whispered beside her ear.

Quinn swallowed against the bitter rise of bile burning the back of her throat. But when the agent’s cell began to ring, her broken sob was all it took to give away their position.

Pop. Pop. Bullets tore through the Sheetrock above their heads, sending white dust raining down on them.

Jax swore, stepped away from the wall, and returned fire. “You’ve still got my phone?”

“Yes.” She clutched the cell so hard, her fingers were going numb.

“Call 911 and tell them Detective Tate is in a shoot-out at the O’Brian safe house. One federal agent is dead, the other is status unknown.”

Where was Agent Kellen? Why wasn’t he helping them? Quinn ducked down and made the call to 911 as Jax and the man who’d shot Agent Meadows exchanged another round of gunfire. Jax’s gun clicked; he growled a curse and dropped his clip before pulling another from his pocket. He slammed it into the grip of his gun, released the slide, and began shooting again. They couldn’t stay up here. Jax was going to run out of ammo. She had the gun Asher had given her, but that was only a nine-round clip.

There was another pause in gunfire and Quinn saw a flash of black cut across the living room. The shooter threw the front door open and ran out. It took a whole two seconds for Jax to chase after him.

“Get to the panic room, Quinn.” He charged down the stairs and ran out the front door.

Quinn pulled the gun from the holster on her ankle and started down the stairs. Her sweat-slicked hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through her body.
This is not happening . . .
Her mind told her the lie, attempting self-preservation of her sanity.

Oh, but it was. There was a dead federal agent with his brains blown all over the living room wall to prove it. As Quinn’s feet hit the landing, she kept her eyes averted from the couch. When she passed the front door, she stopped. Another wave of dread crashed over her, threatening to pull her under. Out on the front lawn Jax knelt over Agent Kellen. Both his hands were pressed against the side of the agent’s neck. He wasn’t moving.

Instead of running for the panic room, she raced to the front door. Her knees threatened to buckle as she gripped the jamb. “Oh, God, is he dead?”

Agent Kellen was pale and still. From where she stood, she couldn’t tell if he was dead or unconscious. She prayed the latter and banked on that hope because Jax was still trying to save him. Blood seeped out from beneath his hands, oozing between his fingers as he fought to stymie the flow. There was so much blood . . .

“Quinn, get back in the house!” Jax shouted over his shoulder.

She hesitated to leave him, torn between wanting to help and getting to safety. How many more lives would be lost protecting her? But there was nothing she could do for Agent Kellen now. If she didn’t get to that safe room, then their sacrifice would be for nothing.

“Goddammit, Quinn!”

Jax’s voice spurred her feet into action. Quinn turned and ran back inside, cutting through the living room and into the kitchen. Her fingers had just grazed the doorknob leading to the basement stairs when a sharp pain bit into her scalp. She let out a startled yelp as her head snapped back and she was yanked off-balance. The gun in her hand went off, a wild shot that sent ceiling dust raining down on them. The weapon was ripped from her grasp as she stumbled back, crashing into a wall of muscle.

A shrill cry of terror tore from her throat. The man’s hand clamped tightly around her neck, cutting off her scream. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen and she began to struggle against the merciless grip.

“Let her go!”

The man spun them both around to face the voice. Using her as a shield, he held Quinn pressed tightly against him. One hand still clamped over her throat, the other now holding her gun. The muzzle bit sharply into her right temple.

Oh my God, I’m going to die . . .

“Get back or I’ll fucking kill her!”

Jax was blocking their exit—his gun hand steady and absolutely unwavering. Seeing him from this perspective, the man was almost as terrifying as the one who held a gun to her head. Zero emotion reflected on his face, his eyes so identical to his brother’s, yet it was like looking into the face of a stranger. This man was tactical and decisive. Impending doom reached into her chest with icy fingers and took hold of her heart.

“You’re going to kill her anyway.”

Sirens sounded in the distance—growing closer. As she watched Jax take in the scene, assess the desperation of their situation, what felt like agonizing minutes only took about two seconds. And then she saw the muzzle of Jax’s gun shift to her.

“I’m sorry, Quinn . . .”

Before his words could fully register, his gun fired. Fire ripped through her shoulder and she flew back into the man that was already falling. When she landed on the ground, her head smacked on the tile floor, ushering her into blessed blackness.

CHAPTER

41

Q
uinn woke to her heartbeat in her shoulder. The pain was a throbbing presence somewhere distant in the haze of her mind. Her throat was raw and ash dry. She tried to swallow, sending a little moisture that way. She winced and felt a weight shift beside her. Warm hands enveloped one of hers and gently squeezed. She tried to open her eyes but the invisible sandbags wouldn’t let her.

Confusion clouded her mind, the pain an annoying presence anchoring her to consciousness when she’d much prefer to escape to oblivion—where there was no pain and no one was trying to kill her.

“Quinn . . .” The deep masculine voice held strained emotion that pulled at her heartstrings. She tried again to open her eyes and this time succeeded, but her vision was blurred. She gave her best effort at a smile when she met that beautiful multicolored stare. Worry lines creased his forehead, tension bracketing his mouth.

“Asher . . .” Her voice was barely more than a hoarse rasp.

“No, it’s Jax.”

She blinked a few times, trying to focus her eyes through the haze of painkillers. She abandoned her smile and replaced it with a confused frown. “You . . . shot me.”

Jax’s grip on her hand tightened and he exhaled a deep sigh. “Jesus, I know. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Quinn. I couldn’t let him take you. I knew if he did, you’d be dead before we ever found you.”

“You shot me to save me . . .” she managed weakly, cracking what she could of a smile. “You know how messed up that sounds, right?”

His chuff of laughter held no humor. “Believe me, I know. You can imagine how it went trying to explain myself to Asher. Telling my brother I shot his girlfriend did not go well. He’s off-the-charts pissed at me. I expect him to be barreling in here any moment. If it helps, I shot you because your shoulder was right in front of that fucker’s heart. The bullet went through you and into his left ventricle.”

“So he’s dead?” The idea of having this nightmare over, to know that the man who killed Emily and so many others was dead, almost made it worth the bullet.

Jax nodded. “He is. They’re working on IDing him now. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon.”

“What about Agent Kellen?”

Jax looked away and softly shook his head. Tears filled Quinn’s eyes as guilt washed over her in a crushing wave. Two more lives, gone because of her. Her only consolation was that no one else would die trying to protect her. Thanks to Jax, it was finally over.

She squeezed his hand to draw his eyes back to hers. When they met, she saw all the emotion he’d kept bottled up at the safe house churning inside him—grief, guilt, anger, fear . . . Jax wasn’t the emotionless, hard-hearted cop she’d mistaken him for. He was struggling with the decision he’d made to pull that trigger, no doubt second-guessing his choice. If he’d stayed with Agent Kellen, kept the pressure on his neck, would he have lived? When she put herself in his place—the impossible decisions he’d been faced with—Quinn’s heart ached. The last thing she wanted him doing was feeling bad about the choice he’d made. Most likely he’d saved her life, because Jax was right—the man who held that gun to her head had planned to kill her.

“I forgive you for shooting me.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “You saved my life. Thank you.” The look he gave her was a little surprised—like he hadn’t been expecting her gratitude. “If it helps you feel any better, I’d do the same thing for you.”

A smile tipped his mouth. It wasn’t much, but she’d take it.

“Thanks. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The door flew open and Asher rushed to her side. He took the vacant spot on the other side of her hip and framed her face with his hands. “Quinn, sweetheart, are you all right?” His deep voice was choked with emotion, making it strained and raspy. Just the sight of him made her lose the battle with her tears and they spilled down her cheeks.

Quinn nodded as relief swept over her. “I’m okay,” she told him, trying to sound braver than she felt. “It’s over. He’s dead.”

Asher pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, holding the contact long enough to draw a deep breath, as if needing the extra moment to compose himself. Jax let go of her hand and stood, giving them their space. Now that Asher was here, her bravado crumbled and Quinn lost it. A culmination of fear turned to relief, and now the regret and grief over the loss of so many lives had her sobbing.

“Shhh . . .” he whispered against her cheek. His nose nuzzled against her temple as he gently gathered her into his arms. She wrapped her good arm around him and held on like he was the lifeline he’d become.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” Jax’s voice was strained.

“Don’t go far. I want to talk to you.”

The chill in his voice made Quinn shiver.

“I’ll be down at the cafeteria.”

The door clicked closed softly. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, both seeming to grapple with emotions too powerful for words. He just held her with his face buried in the side of her neck. When his strong muscular shoulders softly shook, she understood the reason for his silence.

“I’m all right, Asher. I promise. I know you’re mad at Jax—”

He lifted his head and met her eyes. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat at the raw emotion she saw reflecting at her through the breathtaking prism of color. “Mad? Quinn, I’m furious. My brother nearly took my life from me. I trusted him to protect you, to keep you safe.”

“He did. Asher, you weren’t there. That man . . . he had a gun to my head. He was going to kill me.”

“Jax shot you.”

“Jax saved my life. He did what he had to do at the moment. You owe him thanks and, I suspect, an apology. Don’t let this drive a wedge further between you two. I can’t live with that guilt, Asher. Not on top of everything else.”

He seemed to concede after taking a moment to contemplate her words. “When this is all over, I’m taking you someplace far away from here.”

When this is all over . . .
Wouldn’t that be nice? Hearing those words was a sad reminder that just because someone wasn’t trying to kill her anymore, it didn’t mean this was over. There was a group of men running a human-trafficking trade on the other side of the world, and she’d vowed to do whatever it took to stop them. She was going to have to testify to what she saw that night—to relive that nightmare all over again. But as long as she had Asher’s love and support, she had no doubt she would make it through this.

“I’d really love that.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I should go talk to Jax. You need anything before I go? Do you want me to have the nurse come sit with you?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just going to try to get some more rest. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Asher rose from the bed, but instead of leaving, he tucked the covers in around her. Cupping the side of her cheek, he whispered, “I love you, Quinn.”

She turned her face and kissed the center of his palm. “I love you too, Asher.”

He left and quietly closed the door behind him. Quinn hit her PCA button, giving herself another dose of pain medication before closing her eyes to rest. She’d just started to drift off when she heard a soft knock on the door.

As Asher walked down the hall, a prickle of unease needled at him. He hated leaving Quinn, especially after what she’d just been through, but the conversation he planned to have with his brother would be best not spoken in front of her. He ignored the feeling of fire ants that had been crawling over his flesh since the moment he stepped off the plane, and followed the signs to the cafeteria.

He’d been a wreck ever since he’d landed and discovered a message from Jax telling him the safe house had been hit. He’d never come so close to losing his fucking mind. When he’d called Jax and gotten the details, nuclear didn’t begin to describe the emotions rocketing through him. Now that he’d seen for himself that Quinn was all right, he no longer wanted to murder his brother, but that didn’t mean he wanted to star on the next Doublemint commercial with the guy either.

In his heart he knew Quinn was right. He needed to get over this and forgive Jaxson for shooting her. The truth of it was he probably did save her life. And as much as it angered Asher about how it was done, it equally upset him to know that if he’d been in his brother’s shoes, he never would have been able to do it. He would have hesitated and Quinn would most likely be dead right now. And quite possibly a murderer would be running free.

That was the one good thing about all this. At least that fucker was dead. Asher still had questions—lots of them, like how that bastard knew the location of the safe house. Or how Peterson knew about Quinn. Had he been a part of the trafficking before the Nisour Square indictment? All of those were answers he expected would come out in the next few days as the FBI headed up its investigation, because they had two dead agents and the bureau was pissed. Heads were definitely going to roll.

Jax was on the phone when Asher walked into the cafeteria. This late at night, the place was empty. The only food anyone was getting would be out of a vending machine. Not that he could eat. The thought of it made his stomach churn. He quickly checked his own phone for any missed messages. He was waiting for the enhanced pictures to come in from Langley any time. They wanted him to show the photos to Quinn to see if she recognized any of the men.

“Call me as soon as you get the prelim back. I want a name and positive ID on that fucker ASAP.”

Jax disconnected the call and glanced up, locking eyes with Asher. It was like looking in a mirror.

“No word, huh?” Asher came over to the table closest to Jax and dropped into the chair.

“Not yet. Soon, though.”

“You couldn’t have just shot him in the fucking head?”

Jax exhaled a sigh and took the chair across from him. “I couldn’t. He had a gun to her temple and I was afraid if I shot him in the head his muscles would contract and he’d pull the trigger. By hitting her first, she buckled and moved out of the line of fire. You think if there were any other way out I wouldn’t have taken it?”

Asher knew he would have. He needed to let his brother off the goddamn hook. “You’re right, Jax. I shouldn’t have lit into you like that on the phone. You saved Quinn’s life, and I’m forever in your debt.” He reached across the table and offered his brother his hand. Jax looked at him a little surprised, as if he couldn’t believe Asher was forgiving him.

“I don’t want any thanks.” He took Asher’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “I just wish it didn’t have to happen like that.”

Asher’s cell buzzed, alerting him to an incoming e-mail. “That should be the photos from Langley.” He retrieved his phone and opened the attachment, then began downloading the pictures.

“They got them enhanced, huh?”

“Yeah. Hopefully Quinn will recognize these guys. It’ll make their arrest a hell of a lot faster when we know who we’re looking for.”

“Forward the e-mail to me, will ya? Maybe one of these guys will be our shooter.”

Asher forwarded it and opened the first picture. Jax’s cell chimed and he downloaded the pics. The images were still a little shadowed, but Asher could see faces now, and they were much closer than the—

“What the fuck?” He zoomed the pic in and out, readjusting the image to get a better look at the man standing off to the side. There had to be some mistake . . . but the fucking camera didn’t lie.

“What’s the matter? You recognize one of the guys?” Jax asked.

Before he could answer, Jax’s cell began to ring. He had it to his ear before the tone could sound a second time. “Tate. What’s the word on that ID?”

His brother’s conversation drifted to the background as Asher’s mind tried to reject what he was seeing.
No fucking way . . . 
He’d fought beside this bastard—bled for the motherfucker.

“What the hell do you mean he’s not our guy?”

Asher’s head snapped up, eyes locking on his brother.

“Hang on.” Then to him, Jax said, “Blood type wasn’t a match to the sample I got from your place. He’s not our shooter.”

“Fuck!” Asher jumped up, knocking the chair to the floor as he ran for Quinn’s room.