Collision Course (23 page)

They
were well past the wind farm now, and off in the distance Trey spotted a
low-slung rambling house set in the middle of acres of flat land. Even at a distance,
he could spot the high fencing surrounding it, topped with rolls of concertina
wire.

“Can you
stop for a minute before we get there?” he asked.

Casey
glanced over at him curiously but pulled the truck to the side of the road. She
put the transmission in park and leaned back.

“Okay,
ace. What’s up?”

“’Maybe
this isn’t the time or place for what I have to say,” he began, “but neither of
us can be sure what’s going to happen now. We have no idea what kind of shit’s
going to hit the fan so I have something I need to tell you before we get to
Joe’s.”

Her
stomach muscles tied themselves into knots. Here it comes, she thought.
Thanks
for helping me, Casey, but you need to know when everything’s over and done
with, I’ll be moving along. I’ll always appreciate what you did. How could I
not? But you know people say a lot of things they don’t mean in the heat of
danger. I guess I’m no different.
Why in hell had she ever let her guard
down? Thought he would be different?

I
can’t seem to stop being a stupid fool.

She
gripped her hands in her lap, steeling herself. So what he did next caught her
totally off guard.

Unsnapping
his seatbelt, he slid as close to her as the console allowed and tangled his
fingers in her hair. Tugging her resisting body, he pulled her to him and
pressed his warm mouth to hers. She was so stunned her mouth opened
automatically and his tongue slipped seductively inside. The kiss was hot and
demanding, but not about sex. It was about emotion, and wanting and even
claiming. Her heart squeezed at the thought.

Her
hands went up to his face, her fingers pressed to his cheeks.

When he
broke apart, they were both breathless.

“Everything
I said to you last night?” His voice sounded raspy. “I meant it. Every word.
I’m not like the asshole you met in Afghanistan. Not even a little. And I’m not
saying it now just because you saved my life.” He gave her an unsteady grin.
“Although you have to know that’s high on my list.”

She blew
out an unsteady breath. “Just so we’re clear, what
are
you saying?”

“When I
told you I love you it…it wasn’t just words. I don’t know what’s going to
happen from here on out but I meant everything I said. Don’t let the past make
you second guess us, Casey. Whatever happens, my feelings aren’t going to
change. Count on it. When—not if, but when—we get out of this fucked up mess, I
want to talk about a life together. A future. I hope you feel the same.”

She
studied his eyes, finding the truth there.

“Okay,
then. Let’s get with Joe and finish things up.”

He
pulled her in for one last kiss before sliding back into his seat. “Now we can
go to Joe’s.”

Her
hands were a little shaky as she pulled out onto the road, but a warm feeling
suffused her body. Torn now between staying in protective mode and throwing
herself into his arms and letting out all the pain and anguish she’d kept
bottled up for so long. Afraid to believe the words he’d said to her.

Wait
until it’s over and done with. If he says it again when he’s safe, then go for
broke.

When
they turned into the driveway at Joe’s, she stopped at the electric gate,
rolled down her window and let the camera mounted on a pole scan her face.
After long seconds, Joe’s rough-sounding voice emerged from the speaker box.
Even after so long, she’d know it anywhere.

“You
lost, sweet thing?”

She gave
an unsteady laugh. “Must be if I ended up at
your
place
.
Got any
fresh coffee?”

“Come on
down, girl.”

The
massive gates swung slowly open and Casey drove through. They shut with a
definitive sound behind her. The house sat at the end of a driveway half a mile
long, even bigger than it appeared at a distance. It sat in the middle of
nothing, empty land as far as she could see.

Plenty
of warning if anyone tries to avoid the fence and drop in by air.

Joe
waited for them in the doorway, as they climbed the few steps to the porch.
Still as lean and rangy as ever, but his hair now touched his shoulders and he
sported a gold hoop in one ear. His posture, as he leaned against the doorjamb,
appeared casual but he had an air of watchfulness to him, as if poised for
action.

But when
Casey reached him and threw her arms around him, he hugged her back. She let
out a slow breath.

Good.
All was good.

She
stepped back and introduced the two men.

“T.J.,
meet Joe.”

T.J.
held out his hand. “Actually, it’s Trey. When Casey and I first met, I couldn’t
use my own name. But I think it’s safe to use it here.”

“Oh?
Okay, Trey it is.” Joe’s face never changed expression but his eyes held
suspicion as he shook hands. He scrutinized Trey as if memorizing every inch of
him.

“This
your friend who’s carrying a bag of trouble?” he asked Casey, his gaze never
leaving Trey’s face.

Casey
nodded. She wanted to tell Joe to relax but she might as well tell water to
stop falling. In his line of work, she didn’t think he ever relaxed.

“We’re
hoping you can help us with it.” She dug up a smile. “I told him you’re the
best there is. Plus you have the safest place for him—us—right now.”

“To be
very clear,” Joe said, his words directed at Trey. “I seldom have visitors. I’d
trust Casey with my life, so you get a pass for the moment, because of her. I’m
guessing you’ll tell me why you’re here? And it better be damn important.”

“It is,”
Casey told him. “If you’ll let us in the door, we can give you the details. I
don’t think we want to have our conversation standing on your front porch. And
believe me, your home is the one place we could come to.”

“All
right, then.” Joe stepped aside. “Come on in. The coffee’s ready and hot.”

Casey
slipped her hand into Trey’s—she’d have to remember not to think of him as T.J.
anymore—as they followed Joe inside. He led them through a huge room decked out
like central command on the Starship Enterprise. Computers were lined up along
two walls like soldiers and above them hung four large flat screen monitors.
One of the screens was divided into segments, each one showing a different view
of the grounds around the house.

“Still
as paranoid as ever, I see,” she teased as he led them through the room.

“Safety
first, I always say. My motto.”

When
they were in the FBI together, Joe had seen conspiracies everywhere. His
paranoia had made him a good hacker. He always dug beneath the surface. Some of
the things he’d found had disillusioned him as far as a career as a federal
agent, but his skills had launched him into what he did now for obscene amounts
of money.

Beyond
the big room full of electronics they found a kitchen that actually looked
like…a kitchen! Joe motioned them to the large round table, poured three mugs
of coffee and handed them out. When they were all seated, he studied her again
then Trey.

“Casey,
you’re one of a handful of people in the world I’d even tell where I live, much
less invite to come here. When you tell me something’s urgent, I know you’re
not screwing around. So spill it. What’s with the guy here and what’s got your
ass on fire?”

*****

The rain
fell in a steady stream, the dreary atmosphere underscoring Charles Bennett’s
attitude. Since the phone call from Holland, his mood had swung between
homicidal and suicidal. He saw his entire empire, years and years of careful
work, crumbling before him. If the truth came out, he’d be crucified in the
media, and avoiding jail would be the least of his worries.

Tobias
Serrano was on a rampage and nothing would stop him. He demanded a meeting at
once, insinuating for Charles it might be his last.

Bennett
had refused to have the meeting held at either Serrano’s or El-Salaki’s; for
his own safety he insisted on neutral territory. Although, he reminded himself,
with those two, no place could be safe enough. He had to shift the odds as much
in his favor as possible. He certainly didn’t want them in his house, so he
designated a private air terminal on neutral ground.

So now
he sat in a small stucco building on the island of Santa Cruz de Tenerife in
the Canaries, waiting. He had three men who’d flown in with him set up in
appropriate places to protect him. Of course, if either of his two so-called
business partners sent someone in with guns blazing, his chance of survival
would be fifty-fifty, but he’d done all he could to ensure his safety. He only
hoped the two men would be more interested in solving the problem than in
killing him. At least for the moment.

The
files were supposed to be his protection, his failsafe, if Serrano and/or
El-Salaki tried to get rid of him or cut him out. If somehow he became no
longer useful to them. But now the situation had taken on a whole new light.
What steps did they all need to take to protect themselves? Trey Haggerty’s
hacking skills had been an unpleasant surprise and for the first time in his
life left him with his bare ass exposed.

He
thought of Holland and Price and their most recent fuckup and anger rose again
inside him. He should have let them stew in their own juices in some hick
county jail instead of having his pet attorney get them out of there. It called
attention to something he needed to keep off the grid. How did the assholes
keep fucking up so badly? They’d worked for him for a good many years and never
been so clumsy before.

At least
they’d managed to get the name of the woman Haggerty disappeared with, but it
turned out to be bad news. Casey McIntyre had been a federal agent who last
year finished her tour of duty with the Army. Including a year attached to
Special Ops. No wonder she’d been able to coldcock both Holland and Price.

He’d
contacted a couple of his tame cops to put out the word on her truck, but no
telling how long they’d be able to track it. If she switched vehicles or even
license plates, they were cooked. Trey had ditched the computer. The last call
from Holland had been from some country dumpster where he’d found the dented
machine lying in a heap of trash.

As he
sat in an uncomfortable chair biting his cigar, one of his cell phones rang. He
fished it from his pocket and answered it.

“What
have you got?” he snapped.

“I hope
it’s what you were expecting,” Adam Rothschild said. “I’ve dug up everything
back to Haggerty’s kindergarten days, and I think I have what you want.”

“Spit it
out.”

“He has
a friendship of long standing with Max Rider, a director at Homeland Security.
They haven’t seen each other in at least a year but I think he’s the one
Haggerty would contact.”

“All
right. Send an email to this phone with all the information on Rider, including
his personal life, where he lives, all the shit you’ve got. I’ll make some
calls and let you know if I need more.”

His
phone dinged to tell him he had a message. Good. Adam had sent it right away.
As he read the information, a plan formed in his mind. It meant bringing in yet
more people but if it fixed the problem, it was worth it. As long as all the
loose ends were tied up at the end.

He had
just finished making the last call when the door to the building opened and
Serrano marched in, followed by four of his
bandidos
, armed to the
teeth.

“El-Salaki’s
plane is landing,” he spat. “He’s in no better mod than I am. You’ve fucked up,
Bennett. And put us all in jeopardy.”

Anger
mixed with dread inside him, a volatile cocktail.

“If
Hassan had waited to make sure who answered the damn phone, or hung up when he
heard a strange voice, none of it would have happened and no one would be
pointing fingers now. So let’s all shut up and dig ourselves out of it.”

The door
to the terminal opened again and El-Salaki strode in, rage flashing in his
eyes, three of his men on his heels.

Bennett
swallowed a bitter smile.

I
guess we’ve established a war zone.

No
homage to social niceties now. No fragrant tea, spiced coffee or cold drinks.
Nothing except the three men facing each other, their personal soldiers arrayed
behind them.

“I think
you should speak first.” El-Salaki nodded toward him. “Please tell us you’ve
taken steps to clean up your mess. Somehow.”

Bennett
clamped down on his cigar and chewed a moment before taking it from his mouth.
“I regret to tell you Haggerty has slipped through our fingers. But I have
information that will lead us to him.”

“Is it
reliable?” Serrano said.

“One
hundred percent. And I’ve taken steps to put it to good use.” He explained
about Max Rider, highlighting him as the probable person Haggerty would turn
to, because of his position. “Even as we sit here, I’ve arranged for a tap and
trace on his phone.”

Serrano
frowned. “How is such a thing even possible? I’m sure the man has a number of
security measures in place. Your Homeland Security will make sure he’s well
insulated.”

“My
people are able to bypass even the most sophisticated electronics.” Something
he’d already had them do a few times when millions of dollars were riding on
decisions. He saw eavesdropping as simply another business procedure. Now it would
save everything he’d built. And his life.

“I hope
you’re telling the truth. We’ve had enough failures, and they’ve put us all in
jeopardy.”

“The
moment he contacts Rider, we’ll have him.”

El-Salaki
snorted. “Like we had him last time? I’m not sure your work is so reliable
anymore.”