Smoky Mountain Setup (17 page)

Her fingers brushed over his chest muscles, lightly tracing the contours and sending delicious shudders down his spine. “I’m not sure wins can be earned. Not in a world this ruthless.”

He curved his palm around her hip and saw, with visceral pleasure, the way her eyelids flickered at his touch. He could still affect her. Still elicit a physical response, deliver on the unspoken promise of pleasure.

“So it’s all luck?” he asked in a growl, pressing his thumb against a point just below her hip bone that he knew could make her squirm.

Her soft gasp sent a jolt of raw desire racing straight to his core.

“Landry—” Her response ended on a soft groan as he flicked his thumb across the sensitive point again.

When he reached for her, she came willingly, her long limbs tangling with his. Her hips settled flush with his, and he was the one who groaned as his arousal amplified a thousandfold.

“I want you,” he whispered against her throat.

She arched her neck as he flicked his tongue against the tendon just below her jaw. “You don’t say.”

Cupping her bottom, he positioned her more snugly over his sex. “Need proof?”

Her laugh was like cello music, deep and fluid. She stretched out, her body sleek against his, and he felt his heart begin to pound. “I was willing to take it on faith,” she said, “but if you insist.”

Suddenly, her hips began to vibrate against his, sending shock waves through his whole nervous system. In the middle of lowering her mouth to his, Olivia stopped short and growled an impressively profane word.

Pulling back until she straddled his thighs, she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her shorts and glared at the display.

“Really, Quinn?” she snarled at the offending device.

“His sense of timing is really something to behold,” Landry murmured, trying to get his breathing back under control.

She answered the phone in a low, hostile voice. “What?”

Landry watched her expression shift from frustration to puzzlement. “Really. He called the agency?”

“What is it?” Landry asked.

“Hold on. I’m putting this on speaker so Landry can hear.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and tapped the screen.

A moment later Quinn’s voice came over the phone. “Cole called around six thirty, asking for you. We told him you were gone for the day and he flat out asked if you were with Landry.”

Olivia arched her eyebrows at Landry. “And you responded how?”

“We told him we’d make sure you got his message.”

“And did he leave one?”

“No. But we were able to get a trace on the number he was calling from. It’s a gym not far from the National Mall. We haven’t dug any deeper, but we’d probably find out that Cole is a member there.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Landry disagreed. “If he bothered to use a phone that doesn’t belong to him, he’d use a number that isn’t easily traced back to him. What we need to do is call him back on his cell phone.”

“You think he’d answer?” Quinn asked.

“I think he’d have to chance it,” Olivia said. “He called me for a reason. I don’t think it’s to catch up on my life these days.”

“He thinks you know how to reach me,” Landry said.

“He called for a reason. We need to find out what it is.” She shifted until she was sitting on the bed instead of his thighs. Missing her warmth immediately, he stifled a sigh.

“Well, give it a try and call me back.” Quinn hung up the phone.

Olivia edged closer to him on the bed until her hip was warm against his, as if she needed to be close to him as much as he needed to be close to her. “You have his number handy?”

Landry had it memorized. It had been the last phone number he’d dialed before the BRI had ambushed him, and he’d spent a good bit of his captivity repeating the number to himself to keep from thinking about his predicament.

He rattled it off to Olivia, who arched her eyebrows at his quick reply. But she didn’t say anything as she dialed the number and put the phone on speaker so he could hear the call.

The phone rang four times before Dallas Cole’s voice answered with a cautious “Hello?”

“You called,” Olivia said bluntly.

“Right. I can’t believe you actually called me back.”

“Why did you call?” she asked, not bothering to hide her impatience. Olivia could be a sweet, considerate woman, but there were times when she could intimidate a bull moose. This was one of those times.

“Cade Landry called me.”

“I know.”

“He’s with you, isn’t he? I knew he would be.”

“Why did you call back?”

“I did what he asked this time. I bypassed Matsumara and Kilpatrick and went straight to AD Crandall.”

Olivia darted a look at Landry, clearly surprised. “What did he say?”

“He thanked me for telling him and said he’d handle everything as you asked.”

“Well, that’s good, then.” Olivia frowned at Landry, clearly disappointed that Cole hadn’t reacted as they’d thought he would. He wasn’t happy himself. Now they’d have to figure out another plan—

“No, it’s not.” Cole’s blunt tone interrupted Landry’s thoughts. His accent, which usually was carefully neutral, held a strong hint of the Appalachian backwoods. “You and Landry thought I’d go through channels again, didn’t you? That’s why he called me again, even though the last time he came to me for help, he ended up in a hell of a tangle.”

“Yes,” Landry said.

“I’m sorry about that, man. You told me what to do, but I did it my way and you ended up paying for it. So this time, I did it your way. But Crandall’s not what you think. He’s not what I thought, either.”

“But you said he agreed to handle it.”

“He did. But I don’t think he’s going to—” Cole’s words cut off on a soft expletive.

“What?” Olivia prodded.

“I’ve picked up a tail. At least I hope it’s just a tail.” His voice rose a notch, tight with tension. “Two sets of headlights, coming up fast.”

“Where are you?”

“Driving south on 231, north of Ruckersville. Thought I should get out of town for the weekend— Son of a bitch!” His words were almost drowned out by the squeal of tires audible over the phone line.

Then the call cut off.

Olivia stared at Landry. “What just happened?”

Feeling sick, he reached for his phone. “I think Cole just got run off the road.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mulberry Creek Diner wasn’t nearly as picturesque as its name, but it offered Alexander Quinn the three things he was looking for in a staging point—lots of strong, hot coffee, free Wi-Fi and a large private room where eight men and four women could meet in relative privacy to discuss their plans to set a trap for a traitor.

“Still nothing from the Virginia State Police,” Sutton Calhoun informed them after getting off the phone with his wife. “Ivy has a friend there who’s promised to keep her informed if they get any accident reports from the Ruckersville area, but nobody’s reported anything so far.”

Almost twenty-four hours had passed since Dallas Cole’s phone call had come to an abrupt end, and still no word about his whereabouts. Quinn didn’t have a good feeling about Cole’s chances for survival, but he was the FBI’s problem. Quinn had his own agents to worry about.

“Maybe they weren’t intending to kill him,” Landry muttered. He was sitting near the end of the table, his chair pulled close to Olivia’s, as if he didn’t want to get too far away from her.

“Landry thinks someone might have taken him captive to question him,” Olivia explained.

“Because that’s what happened to you?” Nick Darcy asked. He sat to Quinn’s left, McKenna Rigsby on his other side.

“Cole told me he didn’t trust Crandall. He said something about their conversation made him feel really uneasy.” Landry turned his coffee cup in circles in front of him. “I figure if a graphic designer’s warning bells were going off during that conversation, an assistant director of the FBI might have had some suspicions, too.”

“I wish there was a way to track Crandall. See if he’s really on his way or if this is another wild-goose chase,” Rigsby said.

“I’m working on that,” Quinn said vaguely. Nobody asked him to elaborate. He wouldn’t have done so if they had. He might not be in the spy business anymore, but he still knew what “need to know” meant. “I’m not sure it matters right now if Crandall shows up himself. To be honest, it’s not that likely. You don’t get to be an assistant director of the FBI if you do your own dirty work.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Darcy asked, his dark eyes snapping up to meet Quinn’s. “What do we think is going to happen?”

“We’re setting a trap,” Rigsby said.

“A trap Crandall’s probably already seen through if he’s sent people after Dallas Cole,” Olivia muttered.

Adam Brand took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “We still run with our plan, in case that’s where Crandall wants to make his stand.”

“He won’t,” Olivia insisted.

Quinn didn’t think he would, either. “He’s put Dallas Cole on ice for a reason. What reason?”

“Setting up a new scapegoat?” That suggestion came from Seth Hammond, who sat across the table from Quinn. Covert Ops weren’t his area of expertise, but he’d been in on this case from almost the beginning, tracking Landry and Olivia up the mountain and keeping an eye on them for Quinn. He’d wanted in on the finale, so Quinn had added him to the team.

“You mean, he wants to pin everything on Dallas Cole?” Rigsby asked. “But what about Landry? I thought he was already the designated patsy.”

“Thanks, Rigsby.” Landry made a face at her.

“You know what I mean. Crandall must know you suspect him by now. Or does he think you still believe he’s one of the good guys?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he sent people to grab Cole in order to keep him from communicating anything more to Olivia or me.” Landry looked at Quinn. “Cole went to the trouble of not using a phone that could be connected to him. So Crandall may not know he’s been in touch with us already.”

“Wonder if Cole had reason to think he was under surveillance?” Hammond suggested.

“I think most people in the government assume their communications can be accessed easily. Especially someone in the FBI,” Olivia said.

“And Crandall knows that.” Quinn pushed away the half-drunk cup of coffee in front of him. “I think Olivia’s right. Phil Crandall won’t show his face here. That’s not how this game is played.”

“It’s not a game,” Landry muttered.

Quinn sighed. “You’re right. Bad choice of words.”

“You think nobody will show up at all?” Olivia asked.

“I didn’t say that. Landry’s a wild card, and if I were Crandall, I’d take one more shot at eliminating him. I’d be thinking, maybe Landry can’t connect me to any of this mess, but what if he can? And I hate to say it, Olivia, but Landry is probably right about your being a target. Crandall must know by now that Landry’s made contact with you.”

“But if they know we’re setting up a trap, why would anybody show up at all?” Hammond looked confused.

“They’re not going to show up at the meeting point,” Brand agreed. “We know that much already.”

“But they’ll do their own surveillance and go after Olivia and Landry once we close down the operation,” Quinn explained. “This is a trap on top of a trap on top of a trap.”

“Like running a long con,” Hammond murmured.

“Sort of.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to prove Crandall was behind any of this just because someone tries to take out Landry and Sharp,” Brand warned.

“No, but we may be able to finally bring some provable charges against some members of the Blue Ridge Infantry. Then the police can get search warrants, warrants to pull phone records, and maybe that will lead to even more warrants and searches—”

“
If
we can pull this off,” Landry finished. “It’s a big if.”

“That could very well depend on the two of you,” Quinn warned him. “We’re going to have to fall back and leave you two exposed for a little while. I’m not going to lie and tell you it won’t be dangerous. It will.”

Landry’s gaze shifted toward Olivia. “I don’t think Olivia has to be part of the bait this time. She can fall back with you, and I can go it alone.”

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “Not happening.”

“She’s right.” Quinn didn’t like the idea of Olivia in the crosshairs, either. She was a good agent, a very good asset to his company, and he’d come to like and trust her during her time as one of his agents, as much as he ever allowed himself to trust anyone. “They almost certainly know you’re together. They’ll be very suspicious if you part company now.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“I’m not,” Olivia said. “This could be your best chance to clear your name and get your life back.”

“If you’re talking about the FBI, there’s no way they’ll take me back, even if I get out of this without criminal charges.”

“There’s more to life than working for the FBI.” Olivia put her hand over Landry’s, just a brief, firm touch, but in the gesture Quinn saw all he needed to know about where Olivia’s loyalties ultimately lay.

Good thing they were chronically understaffed at The Gates these days. If everything worked out this afternoon, it looked as if he’d be adding a new investigator.

“We don’t have time to fight this out,” he warned. “We’re an hour from meeting time, and the roads are still messy. We need to get rolling.”

“I’m not leaving you, Landry. So deal with it.” Olivia’s low, fervent tone left no room for argument. Landry met her gaze and sighed.

“Okay. Fine.” He looked at the rest of the men and women at the table. “Let’s get this party started.”

Quinn pulled Olivia aside as they lined up to pay their dinner checks. “I meant what I said—our best chance to make this plan work is if you stick with Landry. But it’s your choice. If you have any doubts...”

“I don’t.” Her chin lifted and her gaze met his without wavering.

“Good luck.” He touched her arm and walked past her to the checkout counter, hoping this was one of those rare operations that went off without a hitch.

* * *

O
LIVIA
SUPPOSED
THAT
sometime in history, somewhere in the world, an operation had gone exactly as planned.

She’d just never been part of such a thing herself.

The meeting time had come and gone about an hour ago, and as they’d expected, Crandall had been a no-show. So had Dallas Cole or anyone from the Blue Ridge Infantry. But Seth Hammond had sent her a text message a few minutes ago to inform them the covert backup team had spotted about a half dozen men observing the meeting place from a distance.

Quinn and half the crew from The Gates were now headed back to the agency, while Landry and Olivia were on the road to Bryson City. The trip would take them through any number of potential ambush points, with only their stealthy backup team to help them out until more reinforcements could arrive.

By midnight, they’d passed almost all the potential ambush points the operation team had mapped out for them. They were five minutes from the Song Valley Music Hall and the Hunters’ guest cabin.

“Do you think they figured out our plan?” Olivia asked as she forced herself to stay relaxed and focused.

“Check with the backup team.”

Before she typed a letter, a text from Seth Hammond came in. “The men they’ve been following have just peeled off and seem to be heading back to Tennessee.”

“I don’t like this,” Landry muttered.

Olivia didn’t, either.

The Song Valley Music Hall was dark when they pulled into the driveway that wound past the restaurant toward the houses behind it. A couple of lights were still shining in upstairs rooms of the main house, but the guest cabin was dark and quiet.

Prickles of unease crept down Olivia’s spine. “Do you think the Hunters are still awake? There are lights on.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My danger radar is still going off like crazy, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m still on high alert from playing out this plan.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not over,” Landry admitted. “I don’t trust that they’ve backed off tonight. Patience isn’t something I’ve ever associated with the Blue Ridge Infantry.”

Olivia felt sick. “And we’ve just put the Hunters in danger.”

Without warning, Landry pulled the Tahoe to a stop in front of the Hunters’ cabin and cut the engine. “We’d better tell them what’s going on.”

The sense of unease strengthened exponentially once they left the relative safety of the Tahoe and headed up the flagstone walk to the Hunters’ cabin. The weight of the Glock tucked in the holster under her jacket was a partial comfort, but every instinct Olivia had was screaming warnings to stay on guard.

“Wait,” she said as Landry started to reach for the screen door.

He glanced at her. “What?”

She reached in her pocket and pulled out the flashlight she’d carried with her on the operation. She flicked on the light and ran the narrow beam up and down the front of the screen door. She was about to shut off the light when something glinted in the beam, catching her attention.

“Do not move,” she said with quiet urgency.

Landry went still. “What did you see?”

“There’s a wire sticking out between the door frame and the screen door. It might be a loose wire from the screen, but—”

“But it might be a trip wire.”

“Right.” She took a step backward. The floorboard beneath her boot gave a loud creak, and her heart skipped a beat.

A moment later she heard a muffled shout coming from inside. “Get away! The house is rigged!”

“That was Rafe,” Landry growled, stopping his retreat. Olivia saw him eyeing the windows, looking for another mode of entry, but she had a feeling the windows might be rigged with explosives, as well.

She put her hand on his arm and pulled out her phone, punching in a message to Hammond. “We’re not bomb-disposal experts. We can’t get them out of there by ourselves.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Her phone vibrated and she checked the screen. Hammond’s text in reply was blunt and profane. “He’s informing Quinn. Quinn has contacts in the local law-enforcement agencies. He’ll make sure the best bomb squad available shows up to take care of this situation. But we have to get away from this house.” She turned toward the door and shouted, “Rafe! We’re getting help. Hang in there!”

“The guest cabin’s probably rigged, as well, in case we went there first,” Landry growled.

“The music hall may be, too. We need to get the experts here before we make things worse.”

Cade resisted for a moment when she gave his arm a sharp tug, but finally he turned and hurried her down the steps and back to the Tahoe.

As she reached for the door handle, something thudded hard against the front panel of the SUV just as she heard the crack of rifle fire echoing through the trees nearby.

“Get in the car!” Landry shouted, already opening the driver’s door.

Olivia heard the click of the passenger door unlocking and jerked it open as another bullet shattered the side mirror in an explosion of flying glass. One small shard nicked her cheek with a sharp sting.

“Go, go, go!” She flung herself onto the passenger seat and jerked the door shut behind her.

Landry jerked the Tahoe in Reverse and whipped it around in a semicircle until they were facing the road.

Where three dusty pickup trucks blocked the driveway, each one manned guerrilla-style by men in camouflage standing in the truck beds, rifles aimed directly at them.