Targeted (35 page)

“You son of a bitch! You’re not going to get away with any of this!” The shouting of the petite woman surprised everyone. A stunned silence descended on the hangar.

The pause was short-lived. A loud crack echoed as Vargas backhanded her across the cheek. “Do not speak unless you are spoken to.”

At that, he nodded at the man holding both women. The man shoved Holly in Ronald’s direction, then dragged the other woman back toward the plane.

“Daddy,” she sobbed as she stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Ronald held her tight because that was all he could do.

“Take them to the swamp,” Vargas ordered.

Ronald wasn’t sure what he meant, but he guessed the Everglades. They could dump their bodies and his wife would never know what happened.

Before the thought had a chance to settle in, gunfire and shouting erupted. Holly screamed in his arms and all he could think about was keeping her safe. Using his body as a shield, he threw himself over her. They landed on the floor with a thump. She’d probably have some bruises, but as long as she was alive, it didn’t matter.

Sharp pain sliced into his side. He yelled in agony but didn’t move from his position. Keeping Holly’s head protected with his arms, he risked a glance around. Wesley’s men swarmed the place like bees.

Pops sounded everywhere. Everything was so loud and bright. Like the movies, but a hundred times worse. He put his head back down. Holly was trembling underneath him and he was afraid he was dying. He didn’t know if he’d been shot, but the needles of pain slicing down his left side told something had hit him.

Suddenly the viciously loud staccato pops stopped. Or maybe he’d gone deaf.

•   •   •

Jack trained his SIG on Vargas, who had a gun placed directly on Hannah Young’s head. Sophie was back in the other hangar and he knew she had to be seeing all this through the live video feed.

“Drop the weapon, Vargas,” Jack shouted.

“You’re not taking me in,” the other man shouted back. He pulled Sophie’s friend tighter against his body.

From his limited vision, it looked as though their team had neutralized everyone but one man. Through the video feed, they’d been able to get a decent head count, and one man was definitely missing. He spoke low into his radio. “Johnson, you copy?”

Johnson stood off to the left of him with another agent behind some crates and out of Vargas’s line of sight. They had one of Vargas’s thugs restrained facedown on the floor. Jack didn’t look at him, but he saw him tilt his head and speak into his radio. “I’m here.”

“There’s still one guy missing. Do a full sweep of the crates. Then try to get a shot at Vargas.”

“Copy that.” Jack still hadn’t taken his eyes off Vargas, who was slowly backing toward the plane. As if he thought they’d actually let him leave.

“You’re surrounded. Give it up.”

“Why should I?”

The fact that he asked told Jack he might be interested in cutting a deal. “You’re not who we want. You know that. Let the girl go and we’ll talk. So far no one’s been hurt.” It had been a long time since he’d negotiated with anyone. Normally Jack was undercover as one of the bad guys or the places he infiltrated had no clue he was even there.

Before Jack could respond, one of the thugs he recognized from earlier walked out from behind one of the crates with a gun to Johnson’s head. “Boss?” The guy looked around nervously at all his fallen associates.

Shit.
Jack hadn’t wanted to do this. With measured, slow movements, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cylindrical detonator he’d been holding on to. “Vargas? See this? It’s a pulse laser. I press this button and you die in a fiery explosion.”

Vargas took another step back. “You lie!”

“One of my guys is going to open up the crate labeled X6. Tell your boy not to do anything stupid.”

“Fine.” Vargas nodded at his man.

One of the Delta Force guys kept his weapon trained on Vargas, but walked across the floor. He eyed everyone, then set his weapon down and opened the top of the crate. After digging through stuffing and bubble wrap, the agent gingerly pulled out the rigged pack of C-4 and held it up for everyone to see.

“There’s more placed all over this warehouse. And you’re within strike range, Vargas. You are not getting out of here alive if you don’t cooperate.”

When Vargas didn’t respond, he continued. “Let the girl go. You don’t have a way out of here. Even if you take her, you know we’ll be forced to shoot your plane down—but you and I both know you’ll never even get that far. We only want to know about your Middle Eastern contact.”

“I want immunity.”

Of course he did. Jack gritted his teeth. “It depends on your information.”

“I know names, times, dates, and meetings. You get it all as long as I get immunity.”

At that moment, the hangar door was pulled back. Jack didn’t bother turning around. He knew who it was. After disarming the outside security team, his guys had come in the back and through a ventilation shaft.

This would be Wesley coming in to wrap things up. His boss had heard everything and no doubt would deal with this scum.

“Who are you?” Vargas shouted.

Jack felt before he saw Wesley walk up next to him.

“My name is Wesley Burkhart. I’m deputy director of the NSA. You give us what we want, you’ll be granted complete immunity but you won’t be allowed to step foot in this country again. If you do, the agreement will be void. This is a onetime offer and if I don’t like what you have to say, I’ll hand you over to the DEA.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You have my word and you have it in writing.” Wesley held up a piece of paper signed by the president.

Jack had known they’d have to deal with Vargas. He hadn’t realized Wesley had been
this
prepared. Though he should have expected it. The one thing he hated about this job was the politics. Intellectually he understood that sometimes it really was all about the bigger picture, but he hated making deals with someone like Vargas. Of course, Jack also knew that once they cut Vargas loose, his days would be numbered. Someone would kill him. A sniper, no doubt. The CIA, the NSA, it didn’t much matter who. The guy was a walking dead man.

Vargas shoved the girl away from him and laid his gun on the floor. He looked at the man still holding a gun on Johnson and bit out something in Spanish.

Jack figured out enough that Vargas threatened the guy’s family if he didn’t let the agent go.

Almost immediately the thug dropped the gun and put his hands behind his head.

“Sorry it had to work out like this,” Wesley said low enough for Jack’s ears only.

“It was inevitable.” Jack holstered his weapon and watched as the other men rounded up Vargas’s guys.

Wesley squeezed his shoulder. “Go check on Sophie. We can handle things from here.”

“Thanks.” Jack had turned to leave when Wesley stopped him.

“Check on her, but I want you to help interrogate Vargas.”

“No problem.” He hurried out of the building and borrowed one of the SUVs to drive down to their building.

The sensation humming through him right now was foreign. Different—better—than any rush he’d gotten before. Better than when he’d graduated from boot camp. He had no clue what the future held for them—hell, if they even had one—but he did know he was taking an extended vacation. If Sophie forgave him, they deserved a chance to see where this thing between them could lead. And some part of him he hadn’t known still existed was burning with hope that they might actually have a second chance.

There would be a ton of paperwork and days, maybe weeks, of questioning Vargas, but afterward, he was making some changes in his life. Starting with Sophie. Yeah, he’d lied, but they’d make it over that hurdle. He’d spend the rest of his damn life making it up to her if he had to. And he could think of
plenty
of ways to make it up to her.

As he pulled up to the building, one of his burner phones buzzed. Only the members of the team here had this number. Frowning at the unfamiliar number, he answered, “Yeah?”

“If you ever want to see your girlfriend alive again, you will do exactly as I say.”

“Who is this?”

“Thomas Chadwick. Now listen carefully. Sophie’s life depends on it.”

Immunity: protection or exemption from something like prosecution.

Sophie stared at the live video feed and tried to digest the sight in front of her. Vargas had a gun to her best friend’s head.

She clutched the edge of the crappy fold-out table as she watched the horrifying events unfold on the computer screen. Pieces of wood were splintering off as she dug into the table. Hannah looked so scared it brought tears to her eyes. This whole thing was too surreal.

“Do you need a drink of water?” the man sitting next to her asked. He was one of the analysts.

Her eyes were glued to the screen. “No, thank you.”

Two more analysts sat behind them at another table. They’d been kind enough to set her up with her own computer so she could watch what was going on. Now she wished they hadn’t.

It was as if an invisible weight pressed down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe. In addition to Ronald’s video feed, which was now obstructed, a few of the field agents had worn cameras, giving her multiple views of the situation in the other warehouse.

As a wave of nausea swamped her, she abruptly stood. The chair scraped against the floor, echoing loudly in the large room. She turned to the man sitting next to her. “Bathroom?” Saying any more was impossible. If she attempted she was likely to puke on his shoes.

His eyes widened, but he pointed toward the back. “Small one near the back door.”

Her shoes made rapid clacks as she sprinted across the floor. Focusing on the sound was the only thing that prevented her from hurling.
Breathe in and out.
She repeated it over and over, trying to push down the bile.

Her best friend and the man she’d never stopped loving were in that warehouse. If something happened to either of them, it would kill her.

The bathroom door made a soft snicking sound as it closed. She barely made it before emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Her entire body was chilled, but drops of sweat rolled down her neck and back.

When Sophie was finished, she closed the lid and flushed it. She forced herself to stand on wobbly knees. The stark white bathroom was cold and sterile, but at least the facilities worked. She turned on the cold water and rinsed out her mouth before splashing her face.

The icy sensation jolted through her. With shaking hands she grabbed a paper towel and patted her face dry. Clutching the side of the white sink, she managed to steady herself.

Over the past few days she’d surprised herself by keeping a level head. Maybe it was because Jack had been by her side the entire time. So contained and sure of himself. Now she felt anything but calm. His revelation last night had left her raw and shaken. Jack was Sam. Her first love. The
only
man she’d ever loved. She still couldn’t find the right words to say to him, but she wanted the chance to try. God help her, she prayed he was okay.

The door handle was cold as she grasped it. Clutching it, she pulled the door open and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. She let out a terrified, instinctive yelp. Though she was ready to scream, she froze at the man’s words.

“Scream and die.” The analyst—Thomas something—roughly grabbed her arm and jerked her toward the lone back door. He kept glancing behind him, but his grip on the gun and her never wavered. “You’re coming with me.”

She seriously contemplated screaming but knew it would be a stupid move. He might shoot not only her, but the other two analysts too. She wouldn’t have that blood on her hands.

He shoved open the back door with startling force, then dropped her arm and pulled out a key fob. She jumped when an alarm beep sounded. He trained his gun on her once again and handed her the keys. “You’re driving.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“We’re just taking a little drive.” He took a step forward and pushed the gun to her chest.

She froze at the feel of cold steel pressing through her shirt. Uncontrollable shivers rippled through her. She’d only ever felt like this once before. When her foster father had pressed a knife to her neck—
No! Keep it together,
she ordered herself. After all she’d been through the past few days, now wasn’t the time to lose it.

She clutched the keys in her hand. The jagged metal piercing her skin forced her to think. Wordlessly she moved away from him and toward the SUV. He followed suit and got into the passenger side, never taking that gun off her.

“There’s a back way out of here, so follow my directions. If you listen, you just might make it out of this alive.”

She started the engine, then kicked it into drive. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re my ticket out of the country.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and laid it in his lap. “Follow this way.” He pointed toward the right. The private airport was large, but the layout was simple.

She knew exactly where he was taking her. The back exit was where she and Jack had entered the first time. She kept driving parallel to the surrounding fence until they came to the opening. She started slowing the vehicle even before he ordered her to stop.

“Get out and roll the fence back. Don’t do anything stupid.” As if to prove his point, he shifted his gun to his other hand, straightening it in her direction.

Without looking at him, she slid from the vehicle and did as he instructed. If there had been neighboring woods or any place she could run, she’d have taken the chance. As it was, there was nothing but a semi-demolished building across the street. The building might provide some cover, but it wasn’t likely she’d make it across the four-lane road, over the other fence, and into the building without being shot in the back.