Exchange of Fire (17 page)

Carlos sat on the edge of the chaise lounge and accepted the tall glass of whiskey and soda from his poolside staff. Warm rays of sun soaked into his bronze skin, but the normally soothing sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore irritated him.

He surged to his feet, pacing to the patio’s edge. He took a deep drink, inviting the cool alcohol to numb his nerves. His wife strolled by on the beach before him wearing a skimpy red bikini. He had to give the woman credit; she kept her body in top physical condition. Of course, screwing her personal trainer had a lot to do with the many hours she dedicated to the gym. But whatever. Kept her out of his business. As long as she continued to be discreet with the affair, he’d hold his tongue.

If he stayed alive long enough, that is. He gulped the rest of the whiskey. If he didn’t catch that bitch who’d ruined his family’s name in the sex-trade business soon, he’d have a civil war on his hands. After their father, Ramon, had been killed during a raid of their Mexican compound six years ago, he and Sanchez had taken over as dual heads of the Osvaldo Cartel. They had wrangled the sex-slavery business away from their uncles and claimed it for themselves, growing it into a small empire. Then Sanchez had been murdered and that bitch tried to blow him up, killing a well-respected supplier in the fallout.

A few of his more loyal members had informed him of the recent murmurings happening behind closed doors. It seemed as if talk of deposing Carlos as head of the family was gathering strength.

The ice in his glass tinked and shifted from his vibrating hand. The income from their international drug trade was still substantial, but between Sanchez’s murder, Carlos’s injuries in the bombing, the Osvaldo Cartel losing their reputation with the sex-slave suppliers, and the hit on their overall profits, his cousins now viewed him as weak. The only way to remedy the coming coup was a show of strength. A demonstration of his power and reach if anyone decided to cross him. He needed that
puta
’s head mounted on a pike for all to see that no one could escape. No matter how far she ran, he’d exact justice not only on her, but on anyone helping the bitch hide.

***

Talon kicked the tire of the abandoned Explorer and scanned the area again. Birds twittered and a light breeze shushed through the growth of pine trees surrounding the public golf club.
Not an assassin in sight.

Son of a bitch!

“Ron! What the hell are you aiming at?” one of the two men on the tennis courts beside Talon shouted as he laughed his ass off.

His friend, Ron, jogged to pick up a ball now rolling toward the corner. “So, Lou, does that make it thirty all?”

“You wish!”

Talon tuned out the argument over who was cheating whom and what the actual score should be.

The golf club’s parking lot was a perfect dump site—just busy enough to blend in, but not a private venue to stand out. He yanked the SUV’s door open. Too many goddamn cops on the road had prevented him from hauling ass after the Explorer. He hadn’t been able to catch up to it, only got the one glimpse as the guy turned in here.

He had wheeled into the parking lot spraying gravel and jumped off the bike. Ripping his helmet off, he ran the perimeter of the lot, but couldn’t get a bead on the guy’s direction. None of the trees were swaying as if reacting to a force running into their branches, and the grass had been freshly cut, not yielding any foot impressions. The non-pro tennis players had paused their game, staring at him as if he was a loon before he gave them a small wave and strode toward the Explorer.

His gaze narrowed onto the laptop perched beside a mess of wires and other equipment on the passenger seat. A road map, similar in appearance to a couple of popular programs offering driving directions, filled the screen. The area of Ridge Creek was displayed in colors of white, gray, and yellow with a few landmarks labeled. Two red dots blinked an ominous warning, causing the muscles in his shoulders to draw tight: one very close to where he had passed Wraith and Magician on his way here, the other across town, not in the vicinity at all.

Playing out a hunch, he marched to the Ninja and snatched his phone out of the cradle. He pressed send next to Cappy’s name and stared at the laptop.

“You get him?”
Cappy asked by way of greeting.

A third red dot flared to life on the screen. In his exact position.
Son of a bitch.

One of the dots suddenly disappeared. “Did you just hang up with someone?”

“Yeah, Romeo, why? What’s going on?”

“I’m staring at a GPS tracking system for all our phones. The bastard’s been tracing us by our calls.”

“Goddamn it. Explains how he found Wraith and Magician, though.”

“We need to lose the phones. Get burners to replace them.”

“Agreed.”

“He’s gone from here, but your position was still displayed when I got to the Explorer. I’m assuming the address is Gradwick’s?”

“I’m close by.”

“He’s probably headed your way.”

“Then we’ll all take shifts covering Grady until this is done.”

Oh joy.
Just want he wanted to do. Protect Wraith’s unworthy fuck-buddy.

***

Mars studied the map inside the bus stop’s little hut. No one route took him where he needed to go. Not that he should use public transportation, anyway. Most cities installed cameras to capture passengers getting on and off buses. He couldn’t afford to get caught on tape. That would be a sloppy rookie mistake. And he had passed the beginner stage a long time ago.

But the stop allowed him to get his bearings and memorize how to get to where the other red dot had been flashing. He had no clue if the member of Delta Squad would still be there, but that dot had been stationary for a while. Important business? It’d be worth the trip to see what had held the operative on the phone so long.

A bedraggled woman holding a small boy’s hand crowded inside the hut. The child’s face was sticky, as if he was proud to show off the messy barbecue, and he chattered nonstop about nothing. Disgraceful. Mars curled his lip and made a wide berth around the pair, escaping into the sunshine. Not everyone should be allowed to procreate.

Spying a church not too far away, he headed for the spire. Rich aromas of burgers, hot dogs, and barbecued ribs beckoned to him, making his mouth salivate. When was the last time he ate? On the plane, too many hours ago. He’d have to remedy that.

A large group of people hung out on the church’s side lawn, eating, drinking, and laughing. Three portable barbecue grills were churning out smoke from roasting the mouthwatering delicacies. Two very overweight men and a third rail-thin man safeguarded the meat with their long metal spatulas and goofy aprons. Three picnic tables sat just to the side, weighed down by a massive amount of food. Lines of parishioners formed with disposable plates in their hands, either grabbing proffered grilled items or helping themselves to the other choices.

Damn. He wished he could snatch a few items, but the risk of him standing out in the crowd was too great. The churchgoers all seemed familiar with one another. He’d attract too much attention and invariably someone would strike up a conversation, thus increasing the risk of being remembered later.

He stole toward the parking lot on the other side of the church. With all the merriment and festivities, no one seemed to notice the stranger strolling amongst the cars.

Within five minutes he had himself situated in a Honda Civic and cruising toward the other red dot’s location. Before he let too much more time go by, he needed to call Victor. A pall washed over him. The man was not going to be happy.

***

“Senator Harris, I’m sure it’s an oversight, but I didn’t see your donation to the wildlife association last month,” Victor oozed into the phone, still trying to wipe Alan’s threat from his mind. “You don’t want anything to happen to the families, do you?”

“You know very well I made my contribution,”
Senator Bob Harris barked.
“Fifteen thousand a month is plenty to cover their protection.”

True, but Victor needed to shore up a little extra “rainy day fund” money. He had a feeling a storm was fast approaching.

“Hmmm,” Victor responded. “Not sure what I can tell you. I’m reviewing the account now and don’t see it.” He twined the phone cord around his finger. “How about this: You make your contribution for August now, and I’ll allow you to hold off on September’s for two weeks.”

“What the . . . You expect me to pay you fifteen thousand dollars—”

“Thirty thousand,” Victor cut in. “I thought we just established you didn’t pay in August.”

Senator Harris squawked, rambling on about not paying and seeing that Victor got what he deserved. Blah, blah, blah.

Victor interrupted again. “I’d hate to think about what would happen to the children. Males in particular are such a difficult gender to watch die.”

“Are you threatening—”

A tone chimed.

“I’ve got another call,” Victor said over the man’s ranting. “I’m confident you’ll do the right thing.”

He hung up and switched to the second call. “Victor.”

“Sir, we have a situation,”
a young male voice said breathily, like he’d run a marathon or something.

“What? Who is this?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s Mitch. I work for Ted Byrnes.”

“And? Why are you calling me instead of your boss?” Victor didn’t have time for this. The correspondent from CNN was supposed to call in ten minutes, and he still needed to prepare a statement.
Take that, Alan.

“That’s just it, sir. I can’t get a hold of Ted, and a warning flashed across Server One’s screen with a message to call Ted or you.”

Victor straightened, a shiver curling down his spine. “What do you mean you can’t get a hold of Ted? I just talked to him earlier.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what to say except maybe he’s out enjoying the holiday weekend.”
The nervous edge in the boy’s tone didn’t help soothe Victor’s anxiety.

The gnawing feeling ratcheted up to full-blown alarm bells.

“When was the last time you talked to Ted?”

“Friday,”
Mitch answered.
“He worked his normal shift, then left for the day. I thought he was supposed to stop in over the weekend, but he left a message on my voice mail asking me to work a few hours today and tomorrow at time and a half.”

“He did, huh?”

A high, jittery laugh preceded,
“I didn’t mean to get Ted in trouble, sir. I just didn’t know what to do about the warning. It’s been quiet except for this.”

Idiot.
He should know better than to speak to an underling like an equal. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll discuss it with Ted. What’s the warning say?”

The bells clanged in his head. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what Mitch was about to recite.

Mitch cleared his throat.
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s just a bunch of numbers and letters, then the next line says to notify you or Ted.”

“Read me the exact sequence.”

“Sorry.”
Mitch read the line, and Victor’s stomach flipped.

“Thank you. I’ll take it from here. You can clear the message.” He hung up.

Son of a bitch.
Things were spiraling out of control.

His nephew had disappeared, and Romeo’s and Magician’s FBI aliases were just used in Ridge Creek, North Carolina. A far cry from where they were supposed to be stationed.

Sandra watched Talon slide his bike to a stop beside the F150 SuperCab in the driveway and pull his helmet off. He swiped a masculine hand through his blond hair and kicked one leg over the back to stand beside the Ninja. The man was definitely handsome and typically her type. More than once over the years of working so closely together she had asked herself why they never dated, but the sweaty-palm, toe-tingling, heart-pounding attraction just wasn’t there. And now, thanks to Grady, never would be. The Marine had ruined her chances with every other man. She’d keep comparing them to him and knew they’d never measure up. She pressed her fist to her lips and swallowed against the painful tightness in her throat. How could the new world she’d built collapse so fast?

Magician shifted beside her, thankfully pulling her out of her thoughts before she got so far down the depression rabbit hole, she’d never climb out. Grief-inducing breakups and near-death experiences did not go well together. Her poor body was on an emotional roller coaster, still trying to cope with it all.

The cement porch of their temporary digs was definitely large enough to hold her former team, but she itched to get inside. She planned on dropping into a coma, and when she woke up, she hoped to find the past twenty-four hours had been nothing but a nightmare . . . Well, not the fabulous sex with Grady part.
Those
hours she’d like to relive.

“I need a beer,” Romeo announced, fitting the key into the lock and opening the door.

“I’ll second that,” Talon muttered, hauling a jumble of equipment he had pulled from a myriad of places on the bike. He slipped past her with no acknowledgment that she existed or had escaped incarceration by the police. That she hadn’t died from the sniper’s bullet. Guess she really had blown her chances of receiving his forgiveness.

Her shoulders drooped under the weight of the supplies. Couldn’t she catch one small goddamn break?

She lumbered behind Magician and Romeo. The large barren floor plan reminded her of Grady’s, but instead of having floor-to-ceiling windows, this one had Palladian windows overlooking a large covered deck. The stone fireplace acting as a partition between the living and dining rooms was the same, but this house lacked the character and warmth. The bland beige carpeting and white walls did nothing to bring the space to life.

She tried to ignore the little voice in her head saying that it was actually the six-foot-three gorgeous blonde that gave Grady’s home that welcoming spark.

Following the others through the empty rooms, she dropped her load just outside the kitchen. The rest of them had found spots on the counters and designer island, but she really couldn’t take much more human interaction.

Romeo systematically searched each plastic bag on the counter before asking, “You guys didn’t get any beer?”

Magician pushed a stack of white plastic satchels to the side and pulled a paper bag forward. She held up a six-pack of beer and said, “You’re lucky our shopping trip lasted a little longer than we planned. The clerk told us that North Carolina law prohibits the sale of alcohol between two a.m. and noon on Sundays.”

“Seriously?” Romeo snatched a can off the ring and slumped against the counter. “And this cheap crap is what you chose?”

“Yep,” Magician answered, thrusting the pack toward Talon. “This was all they had. Something about a delayed truck delivery.”

Three cans cracked open.

Sandra waved away Magician’s offer of one and sagged to the floor. She hefted an oversize store bag toward her and dumped the contents out. “Choose your bed.”

Magician scooted forward and snatched an electric blue sleeping bag from the pile and pulled a pillow out of a different bag. Sandra picked up a green one and motioned for Magician to hand her a pillow too.

Would anybody care if she crawled down the hall and passed out in the first bedroom she could find?

Romeo chugged the rest of his beer, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Cappy, we’re here.” He pushed a button on the side and Cappy’s response blared out of the speaker.

“Good. We can’t stay on the phone long.”

“You know we’re fucked, right?” Romeo asked, crossing one arm over his body while holding the phone out. “That asshole ran our IDs and those aliases are logged in SBG’s database.”

“Yeah.”
Cappy sighed.
“It couldn’t be helped.”

Sandra hung her head. Christ, what a mess.

“We should’ve taken the time to swap them out when we got the call that Wraith was still alive,” Magician said. “But I was so frazzled, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Neither did I,” Romeo admitted, motioning for another beer.

“So, basically, we just told SBG we’re here,” Magician said, handing it to him.

“In the same place they suspect Wraith,” Talon stated, crumpling his empty can.

“And the same place they lost an operative last night,” Romeo added after popping his open.

Sandra swallowed. “And now the same place an operative has a confirmed sighting of all of us.”

Romeo nodded. “Like I said, fucked.”

The room plunged into a somber silence.

Ominous bells like a death toll filled the kitchen as Talon’s cell phone rang. Then Magician’s and Romeo’s. It sounded like a funeral had dropped in from nowhere. Everyone had the same ringtone, their team’s F-you to SweetBriar Group so they’d always know whether to pick up or not.

“Guess SBG just found out. Don’t answer it,”
Cappy barked.

“Shit,” Talon spat. “That was faster than I anticipated.”

One by one the tolling ceased.

“We’ve all just gone from suspected to Rogue.”
Cappy’s voice was very grim.

Sandra’s stomach plunged. “Maybe not, you guys.”

“No, I think Cappy’s right.” Romeo grimaced. “When you were declared a Shade, we were all put on probation pending the outcome of the second investigation.”

Magician popped a second can of beer and said, “Us showing up here and not taking their calls is the same as giving them the finger. You know that.”

Spots danced before Sandra’s eyes. “Why didn’t you guys tell me you were on probation?”

“Why?” Talon demanded. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Hell yeah, it would have,” Sandra cried. “I’d have kicked you out this morning.”

Talon snorted. “I’m presuming that would’ve happened before you made the decision to run?”

Air flew out of her lungs. Damn, the man liked to hit where it hurt.

“Enough,”
Cappy yelled.

“I think I might have a lead on something,” Talon said, his voice dripping with ice. “It seems as if the high-level contact who gave me the tip has a crush on Wraith.”

Sandra blinked.

“This whole episode has not sat well with him,” Talon continued, not looking at her, but out the window above the sink. “He hinted that he may have information that could help us.”

“Excellent,”
Cappy exclaimed.
“First good news in a while.”

***

Mars kept to the speed limit and pressed the speed dial on his phone.

“Victor,” Mars said, swallowing around the bitter taste of defeat.

“You find Wraith?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”
The enthusiasm made Mars gnash his teeth.
“Have you taken her out?”

“There’s been a complication.”

Silence.

Mars inhaled sharply and plunged into the explanation. “Your instincts were right. Delta Squad is here.”

“And?”

“I failed at eliminating Wraith. Magician was with her at a store, and I tried to take Wraith out in the parking lot, but missed the shots. They attempted to flee in a car, but I wasn’t successful in running them off the road.”

More silence, then Victor asked softly,
“Did anyone see you?”

“No, sir. One of the members of Delta attempted to chase me on his bike, but I got away. I’ve wiped the Explorer clean and ditched it.”

“This is very disappointing news, Mars.”

The heart in Mars’s chest threatened to thunder through his rib cage. “Yes, sir.”

“I can’t afford to have any mistakes on this one. Do I need to replace you with someone more capable?”

He swallowed. Hard. “No, sir.”

“Hmmm.”
Long pause.
“I will give you one more chance.”
Victor’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“Get creative and draw that bitch out. With her looks, she probably became romantically involved with someone. Use him if you have to.”

“I have KOS authorization on a civilian?” Mars needed to be sure he’d heard right. One more fuckup and his replacement would have KOS orders on
him
before he could complete the mission.

“For walking off their assignment to protect the Shade, Wraith, Delta Squad is now considered Rogue. You have KOS authorization for every member.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As for the civilian, I only authorize the use of deadly force if you have
no other
means to capture Wraith, and by extension Delta Squad. We must be delicate about this since it could expose SweetBriar Group. And I absolutely cannot have you do
anything
that puts our clandestine side at risk. Do you understand me?”

Mars breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, sir.”

“Check out the work address I gave you. Someone there might be able to give you a lead on Wraith.”