Deep Rising (An Outside the Lines Novel) (Entangled Select) (17 page)

His continued scrutiny made her blush. “Um, is there anything else geology-related that you wanted to discuss?”

His wry grin told her he wasn’t fooled by her obvious change of subject. But he played along. “Is Los Angeles really going to succumb to some great earthquake and fall into the Pacific?”

She smirked. “Nope. The city is situated directly along the San Andreas Fault so it will always be subject to quakes, but LA is safe from an Atlantean fate. The Pacific Plate is actually moving northbound with Los Angeles riding atop it. The North American Plate is pushing south. Over the course of a couple million years, LA will end up in Washington.”

“Fascinating. I hope you don’t mind me picking your brain.”

“Not at all. Although I’m sure your stories are far more intriguing.”

Lana watched his expression change, and she regretted her comment. He’d already warned her about the necessity of maintaining secrecy. She’d watched him single-handedly kill a dozen men. Terrorists or not, taking lives obviously didn’t sit well with him. Plus she recalled his justified speech about the necessity of his job. She knew a guilty conscience when she saw one.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to bring up the past.”

“I’ve seen…” Jared frowned. “You wouldn’t enjoy the stories I have to tell.”

Blood and death and destruction. No, she wouldn’t. “Straighten your leg, Jared. Rest for a while.”

He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep; she could tell by his breathing. But he relaxed, and it relieved her to witness some of the rigidity leave his body.

It had not been her intention to summon bad memories.

Like every other thoughtless individual, she’d succumbed to the intrigue of his covert masquerade. As if there was something romantic about dealing with death. Sure, his heroism hit her in all the right places, but it came at a cost to him. And that cost was high. Her heart fractured in that moment; he was so…scarred. She wanted to reach out and rest her hand on his leg, to somehow extend comfort and solace. But if she tried, would he accept? Would she actually be comforting him or seeking to alleviate her own discomfort? Unwilling to test any of her questions, she tightened her hands on the wheel and focused on the road.

He trusted her now. That was enough.

Chapter Twenty

October 15 - 6:48 pm

McAlester, Oklahoma

Lana drove for another four hours.

When the fuel light switched on, she nudged Jared awake. His eyes opened, flashing sharply, immediately assessing his environment.

“We need to get gas soon,” she told him.

“Stop at the next station.”

The monotonous routine of driving frayed her nerves. Sweat beneath her palms made it difficult to clench the steering wheel. As the miles droned on, Lana wondered if the old Suburban would run out of gas before they reached a service station. It seemed like an eternity passed before they saw a sign for another rest stop. Their situation had seemed dire before, but the prospect of getting stranded and having to continue to flee on foot forced her to thank the heavens for a relatively unadventurous ride thus far.

She angled into the lot, cutting into the service station. The engine rumbled loudly, resulting from a decrepit muffler and a low roof covering the fuel pumps. Wrenching the shifter into neutral, she activated the emergency brake.

“Can you handle the fueling?” Jared asked.

“Of course.”

“I’m going to make a call. With any luck, the local cops and sheriffs will detour elsewhere for their coffee and doughnuts.”

“Should I leave the truck here until you’re finished?”

“No. Fill it. Then get back inside and drive down the road. I’ll meet you. If our cover is completely compromised, they’ll think we split up.”

She wanted to tell him not to call. To leave the situation alone. If they were headed toward somewhere isolated and unbeknownst to these people, why bother speaking to them? But as the thoughts materialized, Lana understood the impracticality. At some point they would need to surface in order to work, travel, to move forward with their lives. They couldn’t run forever. Whatever lay before them, they needed to combat it head-on.

Living in fear was no way to live.

Lana followed Jared’s instructions, all the while watching him from the corner of her eye, praying that whoever he spoke to would be able to help. Leaving without him, watching him turn away, caused a flood of unexpected panic and pain. She blinked back tears as his image faded from view. Knowing he would return didn’t assuage this crippling anxiety. She drove a quarter of a mile and pulled to the shoulder.

She waited and she prayed.

…

If the abandoned vehicles and run-down apartment buildings offered any indication, this store was a key meeting place in a lower-income portion of this town. Judging from the diesel trucks and collection of Hispanic day laborers lingering outside, Jared counted his blessings for the old truck guzzling all its gas when it did. If this had been a full-scale Company assault, he and Lana would be dead by now. It wouldn’t take a data analyst more than five minutes to piece together the location of the Jeep they had discarded and the make/model of the stolen car they now occupied. Tapping into highway patrol or traffic cameras would’ve turned up their location in a matter of hours. But since that had
not
occurred, Jared had to reassess. Did he still think there was a mole within the Agency? Hell, yes. But that mole lacked the access or authority to pursue them further. Lower level then. Low enough that Jared was willing to make at least one call to his boss…

He sauntered inside the convenience store. He grabbed a cheap, prepaid cell phone card from a wall featuring discount cash plans and immediate texting ability. He approached the clerk.

“I need a phone loaded for five hundred minutes.”

“Fifty bucks,” the man replied.

Jared passed over an assortment of small bills.

“It will take a few minutes to activate the number,” the clerk said.

“No problem. Can I get a phone with a fully charged battery?”

“Of course.” The clerk pivoted partially to retrieve the cheap phone and battery packs from a locked display case. “We’re required to keep the batteries ready until they’re needed.”

The clerk never turned completely around. A shop like this with beer, cigarettes, phones, and scratch-offs probably attracted petty theft and armed robbery on a regular basis. Jared purposely stepped away from the counter, offering the cashier a clear view of his hands. “Thanks for your help. I’ll just mosey along and fetch a cup of coffee while you get the phone ready.”

The man behind the counter smiled, revealing a row of uneven, tobacco-stained teeth.

“It’s mighty impressive of y’all to cater to such new technology,” Jared commented from his position near the coffee station.

The clerk beamed. “We have immigrants and they pay to call home. The truckers,” he explained, “they talk to their female friends on these lines.”

Jared nodded. “No need to leave a phone bill for the missus to find when you’re on the road.”

The clerk winked. “Exactly.” He looked both ways, then lifted his shirt to reveal three phones attached to his belt.

“Impressive,” Jared remarked.

The clerk grinned.

Jared poured an extra-large cup of flavored coffee. The aroma suggested someone had brewed it hours before and left it to stew on a hot plate for the duration of the day. Not that he minded. At a time like this he preferred his coffee unleaded. But for Lana’s sake, he tossed in a shot of cream.

When he returned to the counter, the clerk extended the phone for Jared’s inspection. Jared punched a button and waited for the device to turn on. A jingle of sound and full reception bars popped onto the screen.

“Perfect.”

“Have a nice day,” the man said.

With a wave, Jared headed for the door.

He dialed the emergency number for the Company. As he paced along the rigs, he noted the license plates. One from Texas. A second read Florida. Two others hailed from Missouri. Across the lot, he detected tags from New York and Ohio.

He conveyed his clearance codes, typing in his numerical password.

“State your—”

“My cover is compromised,” Jared interrupted, once he detected a human voice on the line. “Put me through to Gordon Quaid.”

The person didn’t respond. Jared heard only the automated processing beep assuring him the operator had patched his call through.

“Gordon,” he said, the moment he heard someone engage the line.

“No,” a female voice replied. “This is Katherine. We have your location, Jared. I can have a team rendezvous with you in thirty minutes.”

“Don’t bother; I won’t be here when they arrive. I’m heading south until y’all sort this out.”

“Where?”

“Louisiana.”

“What happened?” Katherine asked.

He briefly outlined the altercation at the cabin. “The security is compromised. The integrity of this mission has gone straight to hell.”

“I don’t see how it’s possible, Jared. We made a positive ID on the body. Sergei Aleksandr is dead. He was the most likely suspect. If he were alive I’d agree, seeing his connection to Lana and his previous knowledge of her whereabouts. But, like I said, he’s dead.”

“What about the two men who escaped the cave with him?”

“You tell me. Did the men at the cabin match their descriptions?”

“No,” Jared admitted. That John Gelonese fellow was still missing. That cold, calculating son of a bitch remained at large. Something about the impersonator from Hawaii encouraged Jared to believe the criminal would’ve personally seen to the hit. The John Gelonese imposter epitomized the hands-on breed of assassin. He would want to stand over you and gloat while he twisted the knife. Jared had encountered several of those thrill-to-kill types. Many of them worked for the CIA. Jared acknowledged that he accomplished the same job; the difference was in his loathing of the task.

Could the John Gelonese imposter be a CIA employee?

“Did you send the assassins?” he asked in a low voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Katherine snapped.

“I told Gordon I was retiring…”

“And what? He decided to have you executed rather than receive retirement pay? Don’t be obtuse. He’d never reward a patriot with murder. Neither would I.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t admit it.”

“You’re paranoid right now. It’s understandable. However, I can assure you the Company is not responsible for this.”

Katherine’s heartfelt words failed to convince him.

“Is the girl with you?”

“No,” Jared lied. “We parted ways outside her cabin. She took it into her head to go hike out into the Continental Divide with a tent and a shotgun. I decided to head south. I’m thinking Louisiana, but I’ll touch base when I arrive.”

“Too bad you couldn’t keep her with you. But no matter, I’ll have a team locate her and one rendezvous with you. Where in Louisiana are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call you as soon as I’m situated. Is the field station in New Orleans operational?”

“We have four men currently stationed there. I’ll tell them to expect you.”

“Sounds great. I appreciate it. Oh, and are the military teams still in place at the tsunami hot spots?”

“Yes. But it’s been a month, and we’ve had no action. I can’t say how long the teams will remain there. Their presence draws undue attention to areas that should be ignored.”

“You have a point. I’ll be in touch.”

“Be careful, Jared. Good luck.”

After disconnecting the phone, Jared strolled to the tractor-trailer with the Texas tags. He tucked the phone into the toolbox beneath the rig. CIA protocol would be to track his movements. The phone could hitch a ride to wherever the rig was headed. Hopefully, it’d head south for a while, as he’d told Katherine he intended to do. If not, she’d presume he was being overly cautious or evasive. Didn’t really matter which. Despite her assertions, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was corruption up the ranks. He had Lana with him, and her safety came first. It was better to be safe than sorry. So as much as he’d like to trust his superiors, he couldn’t. Somebody had come after them in Lana’s cabin.

No way in hell would he trust anyone again.

Chapter Twenty-One

When Jared met up with Lana and climbed into the truck, she punched him.

He rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”

“Making me worry.”

She wrapped her arms around him. Her body melted into his and she kissed him.

“Adrenaline is one hell of an aphrodisiac,” he muttered, threading his hands through her hair. He kissed her hard, then eased back a couple of inches.

Lana lifted her mouth for another kiss, but he kept it brief.

“We have to get moving, huh?”

He nodded.

Lana heaved a deep breath. “Okay.”

She resumed driving.

“Take the next exit,” Jared told her. “We’ll head south-southeast.”

She followed his instructions and turned off on the ramp. They passed a single stoplight, a diner, an abandoned drive-in theater, and a roadside vegetable market before the road sliced through the woods and all signs of civilization fell by the wayside.

Long-armed trees with bare limbs flanked the desolate highway. The truck’s headlights flashed against them, illuminating the alternating wood and darkness. Lana caught sight of the flickering pattern in her periphery. It had an oddly lulling effect on her frazzled nerves.

“What took so long?” she asked after they were under way for a while.

“I had to run interference.”

At her furrowed brow he explained, “I placed a call to the home office on a prepaid cell and told ’em I was headed to the Big Easy. I dumped the cell on a eighteen-wheeler bound for Texas. With any luck the truck will head toward the panhandle. If not, it doesn’t matter. They’ll assume I switched plans.”

“Am I with you?”

“No.”

“Got it.” She grinned. “I don’t know what’s worse, that I’m starting to understand how this stuff works, or that it doesn’t seem aberrant anymore.”

“Our bodies react to situations. We adapt and learn from them. In the course of a month, you nearly died in a sinkhole, drowned, got threatened by sharks, were blown away by your brother, got blasted by a bomb, and were targeted by assassins.”

“James Bond’s got nothing on me,” Lana laughed. “You left out ending up with you.”

Jared clasped her hand. He kissed her knuckles. “Saved the best for last.”

They drove another twelve hours, meandering through the outskirts of towns, adhering to back roads and dodging all major cities in their southerly trek. Jared manned the truck for the majority of the time, but Lana, in this last leg of the journey, found herself once again behind the wheel.

“We’re looking for County Road Seventeen.”

“Okay.”

Lana veered, cutting off the main thoroughfare—which really was just a paved road in the middle of nowhere—onto a rambling stretch of dirt. Ditches fanned either side. Tall grass and reeds, the type indicative of ponds and marshlands, grew deceptively level with the road. If Lana had failed to initially detect the drop-off, she would not have suspected the trenches alongside it. She strained to see ahead of her. Her palms continued to perspire, but she didn’t dare take her hands off the wheel.

“Where are we?” she asked him.

“This is the maintenance road. It runs along the backside of the property.”

“This is it, then?” She could hardly imagine finally reaching their destination. It felt as if they would drive forever.

“This is home.”

“Should we really come here? Won’t we endanger your family?”

“We’re going to my sister’s house.” His shoulder jerked. “She’s dead and the kids are with my mother.”

The absence of overhead streetlights made trekking along in the dark a difficult task. The tar-black sky reminded her of the night dive in Hawaii, a memory she did
not
want to dwell on. Lana concentrated on the winding path with its precarious ruts and ditches. She downshifted, slowing the truck to a near-crawl, and when the road emptied into a clearing flanked by towering magnolias, she nearly cried with relief.

“We’ll grab what supplies we can and stash this truck in the barn,” Jared explained. “I’ll wipe it down for prints, then we’ll settle into my sister’s house for the night. If the house is compromised, we’ll hike into the backwoods to my father’s old hunting cabin.”

Lana nodded to illustrate she heard him, but she agonized over their decision. If something happened to Jared or if she brought additional hardship upon those orphaned kids, she’d never forgive herself.

“Turn here,” he said.

She followed the road to its end where it made a T. “But won’t they know about this place? If your sister lived here?”

He nodded. “The property is in Gram’s name. But, yeah, the phone and utilities are—were—in Julia’s name. This isn’t a permanent solution.” He pointed to a giant elm. “Park there. I’m going ahead on foot to scope out the area.”

Lana swallowed hard. “I’d rather go with you.”

He thought for a moment, likely calculating her vulnerability with him versus alone in the vehicle. “Okay.” Then he pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss.

Striding toward the house, keeping with the tree line of the neighboring woods, Jared bypassed the front entrance of the house and crept through the garden. He kept one hand on Lana’s, the other on his gun. He noted the overgrown weeds, the invasive brambles and vines. It had been nearly five months since his sister’s death, he thought grimly. The garden had not seen a caring hand since.

When they reached the back stoop, he cautioned Lana to hang back.

If someone lingered they would’ve heard him pull up. Even parking a quarter-mile down the lane and hoofing it to the house, if a team waited for them to show up here, they likely would’ve known the moment he and Lana had turned off CR-17.

Anyone could be hiding within the shadowed house, lurking behind virtually any door or piece of furniture. Or waiting to pick them off with a sniper rifle from a distance of nearly a mile away. Shit. What had he been thinking, coming here?

As a trained operative, he knew the first place they would check would be his “home.” But since for all intents and purposes that address was eight hundred miles away in Florida, he felt a measure of confidence that this place was safe. Then there was the whole “it’s so obvious he wouldn’t be dumb enough to go there” routine, and in that sense, again, he figured it gave him the upper hand.

What if I miscalculated?

His blood iced in his veins, and a chill tickled along his spine. This is why he’d avoided relationships. Why he’d kept things simple and cut ties before things ever got too serious. Caring about someone, worrying about their safety… It sucked. Right in that moment, he knew he was screwed. And had been from the start where Lana was concerned. The thought of something happening to her did all sorts of bad things to his system, accelerating his heart until he feared the organ would beat its way out of his chest. He’d told her once that adrenaline didn’t have an effect on him. Well, that was only partly true it seemed, because
she
had a major effect on him.

I need to keep it together to keep her safe
.

He motioned Lana to stay still, gesturing for her to press against the house in the shadows. She squatted beside the stairs.

Jared crept onto the back porch. Beneath one of the flowerpots, he found the house key. He opened the door, stepped inside, and keyed off the alarm. The code was easy enough, their father’s birthday. Security wasn’t really needed this far out in the hills, but being paranoid, okay, more paranoid than most, he’d installed the system for his sister himself. Granted, he could get around it. So too could anyone from the Company. But hearing those first beeps and seeing “system ready” flashing on the display screen made him feel a hell of a lot better than he had a few seconds ago.

Still, he knew they weren’t out of the woods just yet.

Jared listened and he waited. After a few seconds he ducked outside and motioned for Lana to come in. She kept a few steps behind him, Glock raised in the same position he held his Beretta, as he swept through the living room, inspecting every coat closet and storage area. He checked beneath the tables, behind the couches, and up the chimney. He worked his way through the kitchen into the cluttered basement, back up into the living room and study. Taking the stairs to the second floor, he pointed to his feet. Lana followed his lead, stepping only on the stairs he trod upon. She mimicked his steps, holding the gun ahead of her.

A search of the bedrooms yielded more of the same, nothing.

“It’s clear,” he said, rejoining her in the upstairs hallway. “Let’s bed down for a couple of hours. Tomorrow will be hectic enough.”

“Here?”

“No. We’ll grab supplies and hump it to the old hunting cabin.”

“But first, come here.”

She rose on her toes to meet him. Her soft, sexy mouth hungrily seeking his. Their tongues tangled, and he lost himself in her embrace. Contrary to what she claimed, he had limits and he surely wasn’t invincible. He was only a man. And Jared knew far better than most about the fragility of life.

“You okay?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He guided her toward the attic. “Last spot to inspect. Not much sense in someone hiding up here, but… Hang back while I check.” He’d looked for holes in the ceiling while searching each of the upstairs rooms. No point in a hit man hiding in the attic if he couldn’t take a clear shot. Still, he was cautious as he took hold of the cord and pulled the stairs from the ceiling. Using a small flashlight, he extended the light in the opposite direction, popped in for a second, then ducked back down.

Lana gasped.

“Just playing duck,” he told her in a low voice.

He ascended the drop ladder and within seconds surmised what he’d already suspected: the attic—aside from spiders and possibly a bird that managed to slip beneath the awning to nest—was clear.

“I need to grab a few things. It’s pitch black and the ceiling is low. Wait down here. I’ll pass the supplies to you.”

Lana nodded.

Jared took the creaking stairs and waited for a moment for his eyes to adjust. He’d tucked an emergency survival kit in this house. He had several of them scattered about the country. One in a storage locker in New York. Safe-deposit boxes with money and guns in Atlanta, Houston, and Las Vegas. But this cache would serve him best. It was the one he’d left specifically for his sister, with maps to the others, and a shitload of money should she ever need it.

He squatted and worked his way to the rear of the attic. He felt along the wall until he found the short board. He forced his fingers into the gap and lifted the wood. Beneath the attic floorboards, he found the fireproof box with cash and IDs. A duffel bag with two automatic guns, ceramic knives, a plastic firearm, and one Tavor assault rifle.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, dragging the ammunitions toward the attic stairs.

He passed the bag down to Lana. “Careful, this one’s heavy.”

She caught the green pack with her good arm and grunted.

With the fireproof box beneath his arm, he descended the stairs, folded them back up, and sealed the attic.

“May I?” Lana asked.

Jared nodded.

She bent and unzipped the bag, took a cursory glance. “Hmm. Now I understand why we came here. This is a mini-arsenal.”

“I’ve got money and fake IDs for any situation, including traveling with a companion. If we’re on the run and we need to stay hidden for a prolonged period of time, we’ll need the cash and IDs to open bank accounts and rent a place to stay.”

“Let’s focus on the immediate future,” she said. “I can’t really process the idea of hiding for the long term.”

“All right.” If they’d truly been ‘burned’ then running was their only option. Not that he’d bombard her with that reality. Not yet, anyway. He took the pack from her hand. “The hunting shed is built into the side of a mountain. I’d feel a heck of a lot safer there. No one would think to look for the place because it isn’t listed on any map or survey.” It would be a bitch to navigate to in the dark, but he’d trekked through worse places at night. “Without bloodhounds, they’d never find us.”

“What about your family?”

“I can send a message to my mother without it being intercepted. I’d rather not stay here,” he admitted. “Only Gordon knows about my sister. He’s the friggin’ director of the CIA. I can’t imagine him being corrupt, but if he is then we’re as vulnerable here as we were at your cabin.”

October 16 - 3:12 am

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

Gordon glanced at the message light blinking on his phone and ignored it. He hadn’t left his office in twenty-nine hours. If someone wanted to speak with him they could knock on his door. If the matter could not be solved without his proficiency they would’ve called back or spoken with one of his subordinates.

Christopher Parkins dispensed with courtesy and charged into Gordon’s domain.

“You are not going to believe this!”

Gordon rubbed at his temples. His head ached so bad it distorted his vision. “What? Did you locate Jared?”

“No.”

“Did Katherine hear back from him?”

“Not since his initial call.” Christopher shuffled up to Gordon’s desk. “I need your computer. May I?”

Gordon rose and stepped aside. Christopher snatched his seat.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Gordon warned.

Christopher smirked. His fingertips flew over the keyboard. After a couple of seconds, he cued the sound on a digital recording.

“…The plan proceeds, Wolf,” a digitally altered voice instructed. “If you think to take final payment, the oceans must rise.”

“I cannot locate the wave maker,” The Wolf replied.

“It matters not. You have one week. We will reap unimaginable wealth, my friend. But fail me and I shall feed you to your enemies.”

Garbled static filled the office, then the band went slack.

“It was intercepted by our voice recognition satellite,” Christopher explained.

VRS tech was as accurate as a fingerprint.

The Wolf’s voice allowed them to locate the transmission, and the arms dealer should’ve known better. A hasty mistake on The Wolf’s behalf or an intentional ploy? And the conversation took place in English. For the sake of the co-conspirator or, again, to throw them off the trail?