Bound to Danger: A Deadly Ops Novel (21 page)

She didn’t make a sound as she slumped to the floor. Bending down, he hauled her up and threw her over his shoulder. The slim woman wore a dark blue robe over blue-and-white-polka-dot pajama pants. “Grab a few clothes from her room and her cell phone,” he ordered Oto, who immediately nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

Scanning the neighborhood as he hurried to the vehicle, he was pleased to see they didn’t have any witnesses. Not that he cared at this point. They’d be ditching this vehicle as soon as they could. Kristaps got into the passenger seat while Mihails slid into the backseat. Carefully he placed her next to him. Despite hitting her, he didn’t want her injured more than necessary. After an inspection of her jaw told him that he hadn’t broken it, he secured her wrists in front of her with flex ties, then did the same to her ankles before he strapped her in.

When the driver’s-side door opened and Oto slid in, he heard the blare of the alarm before the door slammed
shut. The vehicle jerked to life and as they reversed, he spotted two neighbors walking out onto their lawns, phones in hand.

“We’ve got to ditch this vehicle now,” Mihails said even though he was almost positive Oto was on the same page. They’d always been like that. After they found new transportation, they would reach out to Maria with her friend’s phone. Whether the Davis woman would be cooperative or not remained to be seen, but Mihails would force her to call her friend no matter what. Maria needed to hear her friend crying, in pain, so perhaps if she fought them it would be better for their outcome.

FUBAR: fucked up beyond all recognition.

B
urkhart waited until Cade ended his phone call before asking, “She okay?”

Cade nodded, his expression unreadable. Well, to anyone who didn’t know him. Burkhart had never imagined O’Reilly would get so attached to an asset during an operation. Now he worried it was going to come back to bite his trusted operative in the ass. Of course he’d never thought Jack Stone would retire and marry, but his best damn agent had done just that a year ago. Now O’Reilly had insisted on calling Jack so he could check on Maria before they went any further with the investigation.

Normally Cade was so damn focused on a job that everything else faded out for him. He’d always been like a machine. Not now.

Burkhart didn’t want to lose Cade. He tilted his head at the Miami PD interrogation room where their interviewee waited. “Good. Let’s do this.”

After the raid in the Everglades, Burkhart’s team was running the DNA of the dead terrorists and scanning the entire site for anything useful. The one thing they knew for certain was that neither Mihails nor Oto had been in
that blast. All the terrorists had been visually identified by the team seconds before they’d had to run and take cover. And until his team came up with something solid from the destruction site, Burkhart had another angle he wanted to hit.

And hard.

New evidence had recently surfaced in Clay Ervin’s murder, and instead of sitting on the evidence, Jarvis Nieto had called Burkhart. The Miami police captain was a good man, looking at the big picture, something Burkhart was thankful for. Local law enforcement didn’t always hold the same view as the NSA when it came to joint cases. Considering that the NSA and FBI had kept them out of the loop on the Opulen operation, Burkhart was surprised, but thankful, to have received Nieto’s call. He’d decided to bring Cade along for multiple reasons, the main one that he didn’t want him heading over to Maria’s safe house. But Cade also looked intimidating. It was a psychological thing and Burkhart loved playing psychological warfare, even on the most subtle levels.

Whether the man waiting in the interrogation room would even acknowledge the fear to himself, it didn’t matter. It would be there, lingering at the forefront of his brain, his most primal side aware that Cade was a scary bastard who could break a man in half.

Piers Tennyson shifted in his chair as the door opened, his icy blue eyes landing on Burkhart, then trailing past him to Cade as they both stepped inside. For a brief moment, fear flashed in the man’s gaze at the sight of Cade.

The seasoned operative hadn’t cleaned up after the morning raid, so he was still wearing his military-style fatigues. With his tattoos and pistol strapped to his belt, he put off a lethal appearance.

Tennyson sat up straighter, casually resting his arm on the table. The sleeve of his charcoal gray suit, only a shade darker than the man’s hair, shifted, revealing an obnoxiously expensive watch. His expression was smugly relaxed as he eyed Burkhart. “Why am I here? By the time I’m done with you and this department—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Burkhart said quietly. Yelling at a man like this wouldn’t work. “I don’t work for the Miami PD and I’ll keep you here as long as I see fit,” he said as he slid his ID onto the table.

Tennyson’s icy eyes widened a fraction as he pushed the ID back to him. His hands weren’t cuffed since he wasn’t under arrest. Yet. “What does the NSA want with me?”

“I want to know where Paul Hill is.”

At the mention of Hill, Tennyson’s mouth tightened just a fraction. “Why do you think I know?” Not an answer. He didn’t move a muscle, made sure to keep his body language neutral. That alone was telling; he was trying to give off the vibe that he was unaffected.

“You’re his attorney.”

He lifted one shoulder casually. “Exactly. I’m not his mother.”

Burkhart didn’t have hours to loosen this guy up. There simply wasn’t time when he was searching for two violent terrorists who might strike anywhere in Miami at any moment. Hill was definitely connected to them and he was going to find out exactly how. He pulled a small video screen out of his pocket and set it on the table.

Tennyson eyed it but didn’t respond. Behind him Cade hadn’t made a sound, but it was clear the older attorney was very aware of his presence too. Burkhart had read up on this guy and from all accounts he was normally cool
under pressure. On the surface he appeared to be right now, but Burkhart could see past that thin veneer, could see the fear that had bled into his gaze.

“Before you open your mouth and lie to me, I want you to see something.” Burkhart swiped his finger over the screen, punched in the code to unlock it, then pressed
PLAY
before turning it around and sliding it across the table.

The video had been taken outside, from the end of an alleyway, but the lighting was pristine. It showed a man wearing dark gloves driving down a deserted alley, stopping, getting out, and looking around. When he was positive no one was watching, he opened the trunk of an older-model sedan, pulled out the body of Clay Ervin, then dragged him next to an abandoned Dumpster. As the man stepped away, he glanced around his surroundings again, more nervous this time, before hurrying back to the vehicle.

By now Tennyson had paled considerably, his hands clasped together tightly on the table in front of him as he tried to retain control of himself.

“It’s amazing how clear phone videos are now. I saw three perfect shots of your face, all verified by our facial-recognition software. Not to mention we’ve got a witness who saw you dump the body. And the plates on that car you were driving belong to your gardener. We’ve already got him in questioning and he confirms that he’s let you borrow his car multiple times. He’s letting us search it for trace evidence. You’ll also be happy to know we’ve secured a warrant for your residence and as we speak, the Miami PD is executing it.” Letting his smugness show, he leaned back in his seat and stared the piece of shit down. “Now tell me where Paul Hill is.”

His lips thinned and for just a second, Tennyson looked down at the table before meeting Burkhart’s gaze. “I want to make a deal. Full immunity—I didn’t kill Ervin, just disposed of the body. And I can prove it.”

This was the part of the job Burkhart hated, but if he could locate Hill and subsequently stop a terrorist cell from unleashing another level of hell on South Florida, he’d do whatever it took.

•   •   •

After saying good-bye to her father, Maria handed Jack’s phone back to him and started to head to the lanai outside, where his wife, Sophie, and her friend Hannah were having coffee. She took two steps, then stopped. Through the wide double French doors of Hannah’s parents’ house, she could see the two women sitting together on the wooden swing bench talking and laughing. It sent a pang through her chest. She turned back to Jack and tried not to feel intimidated by the intensity of those pale eyes staring back at her. The man was like a wolf, a predator, watching her. It wasn’t that he was doing anything offensive, but everything about him was, well, a little intimidating. She knew her reaction was strange considering that Cade was bigger physically and covered in tattoos, but she trusted Cade. More than trusted him. She didn’t know Jack except for the fact that Cade had vouched for him. While that mattered immensely, this man still put her on edge.

“Would you mind if I made another call?” she asked.

He shook his head and handed her back the phone. “Why don’t you just hold on to it? You can make as many calls you as you like. It’s encrypted, but don’t tell anyone—”

“Where I am. Yeah, I got it. Trust me, I don’t want
anyone shooting a rocket launcher at me again,” she said, half smiling as she took it. He’d already drilled it into her head on the drive over earlier. After nearly being blown up in the safe house, she had no problem keeping her whereabouts secret. She didn’t have a death wish and there was no way she’d put other people in danger.

Since arriving at the spacious home in a gated neighborhood not far from her parents’ house, she’d showered, changed into clothes provided by the NSA, and tried to get some sleep—at Mrs. Young’s insistence. Hannah’s mom had been so kind, the petite Asian woman reminding Maria of her own mom. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse, but she hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d decided to venture out of the guest bedroom.

Almost immediately she’d run into Jack in the hallway with Cade on the line for her. It warmed her heart that Cade had called to check on her. She’d understood that he’d wanted to be part of the team to bring down the terrorists, but she felt lost without him. Everyone here was still a stranger to her; it didn’t matter how nice they were.

She wanted to be with Cade, to feel those strong arms tightening around her with the unspoken promise that everything would be okay. Even if it wouldn’t, he made her feel safe. She was still slightly sore from their lovemaking, a physical reminder of how badly she wished he were here. But it wasn’t just him she missed; she wanted to be with her family, her friends. She hated that she wasn’t there for her dad. And she’d barely spoken to Leah since everything had happened.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed since she’d
woken in that hospital room, when in reality only days had passed. She’d felt so damn disconnected then, hadn’t wanted to see or speak to anyone. Now she desperately wanted to talk to her best friend.

She’d been holding off because she
didn’t
want to break down, but seeing Sophie and Hannah together was too much. Dialing the number she’d memorized long ago, she headed toward the kitchen, her sandals making soft slapping sounds against the hardwood floors. The scent of coffee grew stronger as she reached the swinging wooden door. Pushing it open, she made a beeline for the waiting coffeepot and mugs in the massive, professional-grade kitchen—which made sense since the Young family owned two successful restaurants.

On the fourth ring, she remembered this wasn’t her phone. When she called her dad he’d told her it had appeared as an unknown number. That was probably why Leah wasn’t answering, because her best friend’s phone was practically attached to her. Maria could leave a message, though. As she waited for the voice mail to kick in, the phone line connected. But all she could hear was breathing.

She frowned, wondering if the connection was bad. “Hello?”

“Maria Cervantes?” a male, accented voice asked.

Her stomach pitched as a flashback of that night slammed into her. That horrible, horrible night. Even though he wasn’t yelling now, she immediately recognized his voice on her most primal level. She wanted to deny the truth, but the instantaneous fear that followed hearing her name on his lips was so visceral, she started to slightly shake. “Who is this?” Her question came out as a harsh whisper as her surroundings fell away.
Everything seemed to disappear as reality started to sink in. There was only one reason for this man to have her best friend’s phone. With her free hand, Maria clutched the counter for support. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

“I take it you got my voice mail.” He sounded pleased.

“What voice mail?” Oh God, had they hurt Leah? Maria tried to banish the thought, but horrible images popped up in her mind. Men who’d killed hundreds of people had no soul, no conscience. They could do anything to Leah.

A short pause. “You didn’t receive a voice mail?”

“No,” she managed to push out past the tightness in her throat. “What have you done to my friend? Where is she? I want to talk to her. Please don’t hurt her,” she whispered, her throat tightening in agony on the last words.

“One moment.” She heard muted movement, then Leah’s trembling voice. “Maria?”

“Oh my God, Leah. Are you all right? Where are you?” Her words were coming out as a harsh whisper as she struggled to talk.

“I’m . . . okay. They haven’t hurt me. They want . . . they want . . . Don’t give it to them! Swear it to me, Maria. Don’t do what they say—”

She was abruptly cut off, the line going silent for a long moment. Fear pumping through her veins, Maria looked at the caller ID and saw the line was still open. A moment later, the same man came back on the line. “Your friend is brave but very stupid. You will trade yourself for her or the next time you see her, she will be in pieces. I will start by mailing you her foot. Next I’ll mail you—”

“Stop, please,” she whispered. She didn’t need the details. She’d give them what they wanted. After losing her brother and her mom, she wasn’t losing someone else she loved. No way. Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to blindly walk into a trap either. She could let them think that, though. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I simply want
you
. You have twenty minutes to meet me. Alone. If I see a hint of law enforcement, she dies.” He rattled off the name of a park near South Beach.

“Even if I break every speed limit law, I can’t be there by then. I need an hour.” She actually could get there, but she wasn’t above lying.

“Twenty minutes or I’ll start cutting her up now.”

“Damn it! Give me thirty! I swear I’ll be there. I . . . I have to sneak away from my guards. If you want me, you’ll give me half an hour.” Beads of sweat rolled down her back even though her body had turned icy, clammy.

Another short pause. “Thirty minutes and no longer. Come alone. If I see anyone with you, or if I even think you brought backup, I’ll blow her head off and leave her at the park. And next time, I’ll target your father.” The line went dead before she could respond.

Her body started shaking as she set the phone down.
Shit, shit, shit.
She wasn’t sure who that had been: Mihails Balodis or Oto Ozols. It had to be one of them, though. She’d heard the same voice the night of the explosion and had seen the pictures of the terrorists later, but she had no clue which was which. Not that it mattered. The only thing that did was that they had her friend.

And would kill her unless Maria traded herself. Maria knew there was a great possibility she would die, but she couldn’t let Leah get cut into pieces or . . . Shaking her head, she shoved that thought away.