Undercover Texas (2 page)

“The info is verified?”

“Affirmative, and action is imminent. According to the chatter, one of the Seattle cells is making a delivery of human cargo tonight.
Your
cargo. Both of them. Final destination—unknown.”

Hunter swore. “Get me off the Kazakhstan mission. Tell General Miller I’ve got the flu. I died. I’ve lost it. Whatever will work.”

“Convincing him of anything is not easy these days, Hunter. You’re his go-to guy for the tougher ops, and he knows you don’t break. He said—and I quote—‘I want him back in the saddle fast after the last trip’s...
unfortunate
outcome.’”

Hunter stilled. “
Unfortunate outcome?
Half the team got shot up. Drummond and O’Reilly are still in ICU at the hospital, hooked up to a million wires and life support. Yeah, that’s
unfortunate.
”

Anger laced every word, but guilt lay heavy on Hunter’s shoulders. There was plenty of blame to go around. In hindsight, he should have seen the ambush coming. Then again, the company should have, too, and well in advance. Either someone screwed up big-time or someone was out to get them.

“I
can’t
go to Kazakhstan. Not until I know Erin is safe.”

“I finagled what I could. You have five days before you have to report. I’ve already set the contingency plan you worked out for Dr. Jamison in motion.”

“You’re an angel.” Hunter snagged his ready bag from the closet.

“The plane is fueled and standing by. You’ll be at Eglin in one hour.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve got your back...Clay Griffin. Don’t mess up.”

Clay Griffin.

An alias he hadn’t used in almost two years. One he hadn’t expected to hear or use ever again. Erin knew him by that name.

As Clay Griffin, he’d loved her, lied to her and left her, but it was Hunter Graham who dreamed of her every night, wishing he’d never been forced to abandon her and the child they’d conceived.

The moment he’d learned she was pregnant, he’d longed to go to her, but he had to stay away...to protect her and his son.

His efforts hadn’t mattered, though. Erin’s genius had put her in danger. Now he had to go to her, save her and his son, and leave them. Again.

Yeah, no doubt about it. His life pretty much sucked.

* * *

T
ERENCE
TENSED
AS
J
IMMY
pulled the van into a run-down urban area and parked. They hadn’t needed to drive far to reach the perfect hunting ground for people who wouldn’t be missed. This was the land of the hopeless.

The surrounding streets were narrow and riddled with trash. Decrepit buildings loomed overhead, and seedy bars, with blaring music and falling-down-drunk patrons, fronted every other building. The homeless shelter huddled between an abandoned church and a boarded-up Laundromat. The haven of choice for the abandoned and invisible.

People shuffled in and out of the doorway of the shelter, heads bowed, defeated—and, to Terence’s mind, disposable.

He rolled down the window. The stench of hot urine on pavement filtered into the van. He coughed, hating the filthy place, but encouraged that, from this vantage point, he could survey potential targets.

A few women with babies walked by. One was the wrong race. Another too fat. Still others were too short or too tall.

Normally, he enjoyed the selection process, but with time short, their lack of success made him nuts.

“What about her?” Jimmy said. “She’s a match for Dr. Jamison.”

Terence looked, then growled at his nephew. “The kid in the stroller is wearing a
pink
hat. Are you blind?”

Jimmy cringed in his seat.

Terence glanced at his watch, his frown deepening. “We’re running out of time. This is taking longer than I thought.”

“There she is,” Jimmy whispered, pointing to a woman at the far end of the block.

Terence raised his binoculars to check her out, not feeling particularly hopeful.

Right height. Right weight.

He sat up, his heart quickening as he took in the tattered blue blanket covering a kid just the right size. The kid must be sweltering, but he wouldn’t suffer for long.

The combination was perfect.

Jimmy fairly vibrated in his chair. “It’s them, right? What do we do now?”

“Start the van. Drive toward them, slow and easy,” Terence crooned, his voice calm as he tried to quell his building anticipation. “We don’t want to spook her. She took too long to find.”

Jimmy turned the key, and the van’s engine rumbled to life.

Terence squeezed between the seats and edged to the back doors. Snagging a wire from the toolbox with one hand, he placed his other hand on the lever. He loved this part. The surprise on the victim’s face. The fear. Then, finally, the realization that death was imminent.

He couldn’t wait.

“Not until she crosses the street,” Terence warned.

Jimmy slowed the van to a crawl, and the vehicle eased alongside the woman.

Terence eyed her struggling with the stroller, one wheel wobbling when the blanket tangled around it. The woman shook her head in frustration, lifted the boy with one arm and tugged at the blanket jammed in the wheel.

“Now!” Terence called.

Jimmy slammed on the brakes; the back end of the van stopped beside the woman.

In one motion, Terence shoved open the metal panel door and hopped out of the vehicle. The woman’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream, but Terence clamped his hand across her lips, wrapped his other arm around her and dragged the woman and baby into the vehicle.

He flipped her on her back and straddled her legs. With one quick loop, he circled the wire around her neck and pulled, cutting off her air supply.

The baby rolled on the floor and wailed in desperation.

“Jimmy, grab the stupid kid and move out.”

“It’s screaming. Are you sure we need it?”

The woman’s eyes bugged. She clawed at the wire, frantic to survive for her child. She kicked out against Terence and he laughed. She couldn’t hurt him. He had her.

The van started moving.

“You gonna be quiet?” he whispered to the terrified woman. “Or do I kill your kid now?”

Immediately, the woman stopped kicking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. A tear trailed down her cheek, but she didn’t move. She thought she could save her kid.

The brat made good leverage.

Maybe Terence’s clients were smarter than he thought.

“Not a word,” Terence warned her. He eased the wire off her throat, noting how the steel had left a red mark, but little else. He smiled. He knew exactly how much pressure would incapacitate, and how much would kill. He wrapped her wrists with the wire. “If you try to escape, this will burrow into your skin, slice through your tendons and eventually sever your hands from your arms. I don’t suggest you try it.”

The blood drained from her cheeks and she nodded.

He drew a finger down her cheek and lifted the tear from her face. He swiped the salty wetness with his tongue. Blood and tears. Ambrosia of the gods. Today was looking up.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let my baby go.”

He frowned at the Southern drawl in her voice, trying to place her accent. She wasn’t a local. Maybe she’d never be missed. “I warned you to shut up.”

He snagged some duct tape from the bin on his right and snapped it in place over her lips. He ran his fingertips down her arm and up again. The woman’s skin erupted in goose bumps.

“You like that, do you?”

Quivering, she shook her head.

“Liar.” He trailed his hand from her neck, over her breast to her waist, watching her cringe and flinch from his intimate touch.

“She’ll do just fine, Jimmy.” The woman’s physique matched Dr. Erin Jamison’s, down to the C-cup size. Terence glanced at his watch. “Our customers will be at the airstrip at seven tonight. We make the switch in four hours, deliver the goods and collect the money.”

“What’ll we do until then?” Jimmy asked, gripping the squalling kid in one arm as he struggled to drive without snagging the attention of the law.

Terence pulled a long strip of duct tape and shifted off the woman’s hips, then moved down to bind her ankles. He slid his knife from its sheath and sliced through her shirt, leaving her stomach bare. One more swipe and he’d cut the frayed material of her cotton bra.

She whimpered as her full breasts spilled free.

He stared at the abundance of curves and smiled. “I’ll think of something.”

* * *

D
R
. E
RIN
J
AMISON
PULLED
HER
old Chevy into the driveway, shut off the car and fell back against the seat. The baby was sleeping in his car seat, and she couldn’t muster the energy to move. She’d left work early to pick Brandon up at day care, but traffic on I-10 had been a nightmare. They were late getting home.

She hated the daily commute, but she needed to be near enough to her research, yet she needed a safe neighborhood with good schools for Brandon to grow into. Granted, he was only one, but she always planned ahead. Always...

Her life consisted of lists, five-year plans, schedules.

Her daily planner was her closest friend.

She was the proverbial “good girl,” and except for the weeklong passion fest she’d indulged in Santorini that had resulted in Brandon’s birth, she’d always colored inside the lines. The lines had been kind of blurry since then, but she still tried.

“Mama!”

Brandon’s excited voice broke into her reverie.

She glanced over her shoulder at the little dark-haired wonder grinning at her as if she hung the moon. Her heart filled. She’d never regret that vacation. She regretted falling so hard for a lying, cheating, sexy daredevil who swept her out of her sensible shoes, but regret her amazing son? Never. Even though he looked exactly like his father.

“Ready for dinner, cutie?”

“Mama,” he chortled. “Mama...mama...mama.”

She smiled and gathered her purse, briefcase and Brandon’s diaper bag, giving thanks that he’d finally moved past “Dada.” It made her sad to hear that word knowing Brandon would probably grow up without a father.

It would be a heck of a long time before she trusted her instincts regarding the male population again.

She opened the car door with a sigh. What an energy-depleting day. She’d fielded dozens of calls from the organizers of the upcoming symposium in Switzerland, concerning everything from computer equipment to what kind of bottled water she wanted. Seriously?

Erin rounded the front of the car and opened Brandon’s door. “Hi, cutie. Guess what?” She leaned in closer and dropped a kiss on his head. “Mommy’s boss says that I’m a ‘rock star’ in nanotechnology. How about that?”

Brandon blew her a raspberry, then tugged a hank of her hair half out of her head.

Erin laughed, even as she rescued her locks. “Thanks. I hope the crowd at the symposium is more impressed by my status than you are.”

After years of dedicated work through the nanotechnology department at Florida Tech, she headed a small research division in a little known location near Eglin Air Force Base. Erin’s latest project had generated incredible buzz in the medical field. With her new working prototype, she could taste personal success on the horizon. Once she delivered the paper on her exciting breakthroughs in nanorobotics, she could write her own ticket.

She unclicked the top buckle on Brandon’s car seat.

Clay Griffin, Brandon’s disappearing Dad, had warned her off the project. Said she might attract the wrong kind of attention. Thank God she hadn’t listened to him.

The leaves on the oak trees lining the street rippled in the slight breeze.

Despite the heat, a weird chill ran over her, as if she were being watched.

Strange. She glanced around quickly, but because of her intense work schedule she didn’t know any of her neighbors. She recognized one or two cars by sight, maybe, but that was it.

After another few clicks to disengage the safety harness, she removed Brandon from his car seat. She balanced him on one hip and settled the diaper bag, her purse and the briefcase holding her laptop on the opposite shoulder. Suddenly, getting her son into the house seemed vital.

Brandon rubbed his eyes and nestled into her neck. She’d love nothing more than to spend the evening cuddling him, but she had a lot to do this weekend to prepare for the lecture. She’d officially present the prototype of her miniature robot at the worldwide conference next week.

The symposium organizers had kept the title of her nanorobotics presentation under wraps as long as they could, but her topic had started leaking out over the past couple of weeks. She’d been fielding questions from the robotics, engineering and medical communities ever since. Would the tiny robot survive the body’s immune system responses? Would the technology work? So far, all the tests had exceeded her wildest hopes.

She walked toward the front door, Brandon tugging on her blouse. He threw her off balance, and the strap of her laptop slipped down her shoulder a bit. Her son had the same unsettling effect as his father.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, forget Clay Griffin,” she complained. But how could she, when every time she pushed back the lick of hair from Brandon’s forehead, she saw a miniature of Clay’s face? Brandon’s black hair and dark brown eyes were so unlike her green irises and blond locks. Clay’s eyes had mesmerized her. She’d thought them a window to his soul.

“Yeah, and that foolishness worked out really well for you.”

Once at the door, she fumbled for her keys and jostled Brandon. He giggled, squirming.

“You are such a wiggle worm.” She stumbled through the door, laughing. “Give me a minute and I can put you down.”

A shadow crossed the floor in front of her. Her entire body went taut. She turned to run.

“Erin, wait! It’s Clay Griffin.”

It couldn’t be...

“Clay?” She slowly faced him, staring in shock at the man she hadn’t seen in nearly two years. He’d changed. His face was leaner, his body harder. His eyes a lot colder. The black T-shirt tucked into his black jeans outlined his sculpted muscles. He’d been breathtaking when she’d first seen him on the Santorini beach. If anything, he looked even better now...the lying, scum-sucking jerk.