Secure Target (Elite Operators) (13 page)

Of course, that had been easier when she hadn’t had to face him in person. When she spied his long, lean body powering through the water she rashly decided to give him a chance to explain himself. She imagined him emerging from the pool and pulling her into a soggy embrace, apologizing for being so thoughtless, and making an appropriately humble declaration about how much he cared for her.

Instead she got a cold gaze and a heartless shrug.

She glared at him across the room, full of renewed fury. Had he been using some advanced psychological tactic to make her mad so she’d be full of adrenaline today? That seemed too farfetched, but then again, she had seen footage of him leaping out of an airplane.

Her heart clenched painfully at that brief memory of a happier, warmer moment. Although it was only about twelve hours ago, it felt a lifetime away.

Two patrolmen came in carrying an absurd number of coffees from a nearby doughnut shop, tucked into cardboard travel holders. They passed them around, which seemed to signal the start of the meeting. Thando—who looked far more appropriate than his partner in a muted gray suit—spoke first.

“All right, gentlemen, welcome to the third day. Hardy showed us yesterday afternoon just how slippery he can be, but we’re not going to give him another chance. Sometime around midday he will call Miss Cross and instruct her to meet him at her place of employment, which in this case is the office of Woodward Dental Associates. Timing is normally around sunset, which today is at 5:54 p.m. Step one this morning will be to send a team into the office to fully sweep and secure it. Six months ago Hardy spent over eight hours waiting in a false filing cabinet, so when I say thorough, I mean every corner, every drawer and every unwashed mug and spoon in the break-room sink.”

Heads were nodding, pencils were scratching across paper. Lacey wondered if she was the only one who was really listening.

“Can I ask something?”

Several sets of eyes bobbed up to fix on her, but she ignored them. Thando nodded for her to go ahead, giving her a kind smile. She liked him more each time she saw him.

“What if I just don’t go to the office? Why make it easy for him?”

“The homicide unit tried that earlier in the case,” he explained almost apologetically. “They attempted to secure the intended victim and force Hardy out to find her. It didn’t work.”

“He assaulted and severely wounded two armed guards, permanently paralyzing one of them, then secreted her out of a locked facility,” Bronnik spoke up, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “He transported her to the office where she worked and tortured her for three hours before he killed her. The body was too disfigured to show to the family, so the coroner had to use dental records for confirmation. Torture is not part of his profile—we believe he was punishing the police for failing to comply with his directives.”

A tense hush fell over the room. “Okay then, never mind,” Lacey muttered, wishing she’d never opened her mouth.

“You’re right to ask,” Thando assured her. “Everyone needs to be clear and comfortable with every aspect of this plan. Any other questions?” When no one spoke, he continued. “After the building has been swept, we move into place. We want a highly visible police presence outside, so Hardy thinks that’s where we’ve concentrated our efforts. In fact—and this is a change from previous scenarios—we’ll have the majority of our tactical operators inside, hidden throughout the building. The other major revision in today’s protocol is that Miss Cross will have personal guard, someone whom Hardy will have to get through before he can touch so much as a hair on her head.”

Thando let this sink in, and waited until everyone had stopped writing before he went on. “Detective Harris is in charge of our office sweepers and the external, visible team. Agent Carver will install his operators in the building’s interior. Sergeant Mason will be with Miss Cross, and I’ll act as point to him. Everyone understand?”

Amidst a roomful of obedient nods, Lacey felt the words erupt from her mouth before she’d even realized they were forming.

“I want someone else.”

If the silence after her previous question had been tense, this one was lethal.

“What do you mean?” Thando asked gently.

She raised her chin defiantly. If there was ever a time to stand up for herself, this was it. “I want a different guard. I don’t want Bron—I mean, Sergeant Mason.” She looked pleadingly at Thando, who she was beginning to believe was her only hope in this situation. “Can’t you do it?”

He glanced at Detective Harris, who was glowering at Bronnik, who was staring back at her with eyes like glaciers, his jaw set in a tight line.

“Dismissed, everyone,” Thando said to the room at large, and the officers began reluctantly gathering their things, eager to see the conclusion to this discussion.

He waited while the room emptied. “You too,” he said sharply to his partner, who hadn’t moved from his chair. Bronnik rose slowly and deliberately, his eyes narrowed as he made his way outside.

When it was just the two of them left, Thando sat down on the bed beside Lacey.

“I know why you don’t want Sergeant Mason with you this evening,” he said without preamble, his tone reasonable and patient. “He told me what happened. And in my opinion, I think he was wrong to take things where he did. He’s a professional who should know better, and you have every right to be pissed off at him.”

“But?” Lacey asked miserably, already seeing where this was headed.

He smiled. “But I also want you to be safe, and like it or not, Mason is the best one to keep you that way. He’s younger than me, he’s quicker, he’s stronger, and he’s one of the best operators I’ve seen in fifteen years with the Task Force. I know his judgment wasn’t great with you yesterday, but in a combat situation, I trust him to make the right decisions.”

Thando gave her knee a reassuring pat, and she looked at the gold wedding ring that stood out against his smooth, chocolate-toned skin. She thought of his three daughters, and knew then that she couldn’t ask him to take Bronnik’s place. Whatever her discomfort may be, Bronnik was right—of the two of them, Thando had the most to lose.

Lacey heaved a sigh. “I understand. I’m being petty. Thank you for sitting down with me, Thando.” She smiled up at him. “I really appreciate that you listen to me.”

He laughed—a warm, hearty sound. “I live with four women. All I do is listen.”

Lacey followed him out to the corridor, where the officers were getting organized and discussing plans for each team. Bronnik stood apart from the cluster of blue uniforms, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. His expression clearly broadcasted that his temper was still simmering.

She had to walk past him to reach her room, and as she did, he said her name. When she ignored him, he grabbed her arm to halt her progress. Although his grip was featherlight, it was enough to set her rage boiling over again.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, wrenching free.

“Of course, I forgot you’d rather put yourself at risk than have me anywhere near you. For your own sake, try to be sensible.”

Lacey laughed bitterly. “For my sake! Gosh, you really are dedicated to my protection and security. Let’s just hope that when Hardy’s in the picture you don’t change your mind halfway through and walk out.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, but before he could speak Lacey poked him in the chest, indicating the screen-printed writing on his sweatshirt. “This is news, by the way. I didn’t even know you went to college.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Exactly. And after last night, I’m not sure I can trust what I do know. I’m not sure you’re even half the man I thought you were. For all I know, you wore this to spite me, to show me you’re a fancy college grad and I’m just a pathetic dropout.” Her voice cracked on the last word as she realized she was expressing something buried deep within her, something that came from somewhere much darker than her anger about the night before.

Dammit, not here. Not now
—
not in front of him.

She sucked in a breath, desperate not to cry in a hall full of policemen.

Following her gaze to the crowd down the corridor, Bronnik turned so his back faced the officers, shielding her in the process.

“Lacey, that’s insane.” His voice was hushed but fractionally warmer. “It’s just a sweatshirt. Why would I care that you left college?”

“That’s the problem,” she exclaimed, her voice becoming shrill and desperate, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “You don’t care. Maybe you tried this time, but in the end I’m going to be just like all the other girls Hardy killed. Alone, unloved, a photo in the newspaper next to a sad story that people cluck their tongues at and forget five minutes later.”

She was sobbing now, three days’ worth of tension and worry spilling out of her. Without a second’s hesitation Bronnik pulled her against his chest. She stiffened and tried to push him away, but he held her tightly, and after a moment she relaxed against his hard body, drinking in the scents of chlorine and clean laundry.

“This isn’t about college, is it?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant. “You know I don’t care about that because I’m more interested in the rest of you—the things that matter, that you don’t get by turning up to classes for a few years. Your strength, your bravery, your determination.”

She sniffed and pulled away forcefully this time, holding him at arm’s length. “You can’t flatter me into forgetting about last night. You walked out on me with zero explanation.”

He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, putting a definite physical distance between them. “Maybe we can talk about that after this is over. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Lacey, but today I need to be a cop. I need to do my job. I hope you understand that.”

She didn’t, not at all, but she also sensed they were nearing the end of what he was willing to say on the subject.

“I can’t promise that,” she told him honestly. “I can’t divide this situation into two parts like you want, splitting it into personal and professional.”

His only reply was to hold up his palms in a gesture of futility.

She sighed, resigned. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

He nodded. “You will.”

Lacey spent most of the day drifting listlessly from one end of the hotel room to the other. She checked her e-mail and read the news online, carefully avoiding the links to the videos of Bronnik. More than once she picked up her cell phone, began to punch in the phone number for her brother Wade or one of her old friends from high school, then put it back down again. If anything happened to her, they’d find out soon enough. No need to worry anyone unnecessarily.

Lacey flicked through the TV channels unseeingly, and after poking listlessly at her room-service lunch she crawled into bed and managed a few hours of heavy, dreamless sleep. She was awakened briefly when the phone rang in the room, but it had been patched through to various police officers’ rooms so it stopped almost as soon as it registered through in her drowsy awareness. She knew who the caller was, and she knew what the call signified, and she was certain the flare of anxiety that set her heart racing would conclude her daytime nap.

Lacey rolled over and the next thing she knew the clock screeched that it was midafternoon. She hauled herself up and into the shower, disoriented by such a long stretch of sleep, then spent a long time considering what to wear. Dressing for an appointment with a serial killer wasn’t exactly a regular feature of the fashion makeover shows she sometimes watched, and she didn’t know where to begin. In the end she decided to go for function over form, pulling on jeans, a long-sleeved knit top and her running shoes, which were the sturdiest footwear she owned.

At five o’clock there was a knock on her door. “Showtime,” she muttered grimly, and opened it.

“They’re ready for you,” Detective Harris announced, and beckoned her across the hall to Thando’s room.

Inside, Agent Carver and three other FBI agents were dressed in black SWAT gear, alongside a few uniformed policemen from the local force. Thando had undergone a complete transformation, having ditched the conservative suits for full camouflage fatigues, topped with a helmet. She swallowed as she caught sight of a bulletproof vest resting ominously on a bedside table, realizing instantly that it was intended for her.

Her eyes found Bronnik last. He was at the back of the room, pulling the Velcro strap of a Kevlar vest tight over his broad chest. In a black T-shirt and gloves and camouflage trousers tucked into high-laced combat boots, with a radio headset draped around his neck and a long, mean-looking knife strapped to his thigh, his sun-kissed good looks were eclipsed by his obvious readiness for battle.

He looked every inch the lethal weapon she supposed he was.

His eyes met hers as he buckled the Beretta’s holster around his lean hips, but he didn’t smile. His face was as remote and stony as if they’d never spoken.

Thando gave an updated version of the earlier briefing, with additional details on the layout of the dental office and what the sweeping team had found that afternoon. Lacey struggled to focus on what he said, lapsing instead into a waking daydream about how she planned to change her life once this was all over. She’d sell her house and move away from Topeka, to somewhere warm, like Texas or Florida. She’d take college classes part-time and in the evenings while she worked, so by the time she finished her degree she’d also have amassed enough savings to start her business. But first she’d give herself a graduation present by heading off for a few months’ travel, probably in Europe and Asia, and who knew where else. She’d always been interested in Australia, and maybe she’d even find her way to South Africa. It did seem like a fascinating country, and if Bronnik wasn’t seeing anyone…