Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (28 page)

He fired then with the new goal of disabling the vehicle, even as he sensed the security vehicles rolling in on him. When Carlo sped off and disappeared behind another hangar, Ethan lowered the Glock, staring at it in disbelief. Everything was unraveling. The security personnel were screaming at him to put the gun down.

He got down on his hands and knees, then pressed his chest against the pavement, gravel digging into the side of his cheek. Carlo had escaped. What the fuck had just happened?

He explained to the officers he was Shawn Dunn’s private security, and informed them of the SIG Sauer in his holster. That he had a permit for the weapons, and identification, back at Mr. Dunn’s car. He left the
Polezei
with no choice but to bring him back to the hangar before taking him into custody.

How the fuck were the Abramos still giving orders? Carlo wouldn’t make a move this big without permission, and Ethan doubted Carlo had the smarts to pull off the task on his own. The spray of bullets had been directed at the Dunns. What if Laurel’s son had been in the car? His clenched hands ached.

He needed to use his phone and figure out what had happened, but he couldn’t do that when the handcuffs went on. The officer yanked him roughly to his feet.

With every thought racing through his mind, Ethan was also furious at himself. If he hadn’t been so selfish, if he had turned Olivia over to Daniel when he’d pulled her out like he was supposed to, her life wouldn’t be in danger. Carlo had seen them together, meaning she could be useful to Vitale if he wanted information on Ethan. And Olivia had witnessed Gio murder Renzo. Both Abramos would want her.

Ethan sure as shit couldn’t protect her from inside a jail cell.

-20-

Ethan was led through the side door back into the hangar, under the watchful eye and grip of a man built like a linebacker. The handcuffs weren’t tight, but annoying, and he wished Olivia didn’t have to see them on him.

More
Polezei
arrived every second, and some were trying to pry open the hangar doors so the ambulance had better access to Jason.

Laurel knelt on the ground beside her husband, her hands pressed to the wound, her face determined. His hand covered hers, his wedding band wet with his blood.

“It’s okay, L,” he said. “It hurts less than getting shot with the vest on.”

Even if Jason weren’t a terrible liar, Ethan would have known. He’d learned how painful a gunshot wound was, in almost that exact same spot, during that botched op in Syria.

Kara and Shawn stood close, Kara’s hand on Laurel’s shoulder. Olivia’s gaze swept over Ethan. She noted the hands behind his back and the officer attached to Ethan’s arm. The gaze worked its way up, meeting his, and her green eyes were full of relief.

“Are you okay?” she asked. After he nodded, she said, “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. Something’s gone wrong.”

The hand on Ethan’s arm squeezed and reminded him in German to produce the permits and ID. That was going to be difficult to do since it was a lie. “Is this man,” the officer asked Shawn in their native language, “part of your security team?”

“Yes,” Shawn said instantly. Medical was finally on-scene and assisting Jason, an efficient-looking team of three that worked on getting him stable.

“Where is his documentation?” the officer asked Shawn.

His eyes flicked to Ethan’s, silently asking what he should do. What he could do to help. But there was nothing. It was a fucking mess, and Ethan had only gotten the
Polezei
to bring him here to do damage control.

“What can I do?” Olivia asked. “What do you need?”

“I don’t have any documentation,” Ethan said in German, then switched to English. “Get out your phone and start dialing this number. Tell the man who answers everything that happened.”

He spat out the number for Daniel, and then Ethan was seized with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. What was going to happen with them now? The angry hand tugged at him, wanting to pull him away.

“Stay at the hospital. Stay with Kara and Shawn,” he ordered, but it sounded oddly like a plea. “I will find you.”

Her worried expression was haunting, but she nodded immediately in acceptance.

Ethan spent his time in the holding cell considering both what could have happened, and what the Abramos’ next move would be. The attempt to assassinate the Dunns had failed. Ethan’s cover was blown, revealing he was against the Abramos. And Olivia was back on the table. Which of those would attract their attention first?

Two hours after his booking, an officer appeared at the cell door, handcuffed him, and led him down a hallway.

“What’s happened?” Ethan asked.

“You’re being extradited to Switzerland. An Interpol agent has arrived to take custody and transfer.”

The door to the room swung open, and Rance shot him a dirty look. “Bloody hell, Ethan. What are you doing?”

There was no response to give because Ethan didn’t have a damn clue himself. Paperwork was filled out, bagged evidence submitted to Rance, including Ethan’s SIG, his phone, and his so-called eyedrops, the vial which contained enough tranq to put down a horse.

Rance handed it all back to him when they were seated in the Interpol agent’s car, and the handcuffs were removed.

“Tell me, where might I be taking you?” he asked, barely looking at Ethan. “My orders are to drop you at this location.” Rance flashed the screen of his phone, displaying the address of a field office.

“I need to go to the hospital first.”

Rance’s head turned slowly toward him, his expression skeptical. “Are you ill?”

“My cover’s blown. By now, both the CIA and Vitale know Olivia’s still alive. The only thing left to do is turn her over to my handler and get her safe.”

The Brit put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic. “That’s a pity. I rather liked her.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, bitter. “Me, too.” Much more than he’d care to admit to Rance.

But this was the best option for her. She’d come too far and survived too much. He’d finally put her safety above his own personal desires. The man inside him always lost, he needed to get over it. Get used to it. Ethan pulled out his own phone to dial his handler.

Daniel answered immediately. “How the hell did you allow yourself to get taken into custody?”

Ethan ignored that. “What the fuck’s going on? Did we move on the Abramos or not?”

“The order’s dragging stateside. You know how they can be at Center Ops.”

Holy fucking hell.
The Abramos were still operating like normal. “You’re telling me nothing’s happened?”

“Oh, it’s going to happen, now that you’ve gone and fucked up their timetable. Imagine my surprise getting a call from the Abramos’ former pilot, when you told me Giovanni took out the entire flight crew.”

Lying to his handler had been necessary to keep Olivia to himself, and surely pissed the guy off, but Ethan had no options now. “I faked her death to get her out, and put her with the Dunns to lay low.”

“And why the hell did you do that?” The man on the other end of the line sounded livid.

“Because . . . shit, I got involved.”

Rance’s gaze drifted over to Ethan’s, but there wasn’t judgment in his friend’s eyes.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Daniel snapped, “and that I’m just hearing it
now
.” There was a sigh. “Your cover’s blown. It was the last thing we heard on the device in Vitale’s office before it stopped broadcasting. You should have laid low until the op was completely finished.”

Rage nearly slammed Ethan’s fist into the dashboard. “You released me, it was supposed to be done! And if I hadn’t fucking been there, what about the Dunns? They’d be dead, Daniel. Fucking dead, all because the company wanted to
drag its goddamn feet
!”

“Calm down.” Daniel’s tone changed immediately to a reassuring one. He must have sensed how close Ethan was getting to the edge. The last thing the Agency needed was to have Ethan go rogue and make an even bigger mess. “We didn’t know about the kill order on the Dunns. The company’s going to handle it, I promise. Be patient. Come in for a debrief, and we’ll get it sorted out.”

The swelling anger in Ethan made it hard to see straight. He struggled to get a grip on his emotions and focus on what had to be done. “I’ve got a stop I need to make first.”

Olivia had to get out of the hospital. The quiet, German security guard named Markus escorted her to the cafeteria where she bought a bottle of water and he continued to stay close when she said she wanted to step out into the courtyard for fresh air. The smell of disinfectant invaded her nose, the chill of the hospital clung to her skin, and she worried she was going to have a nervous breakdown.

After the helicopter crash, she’d spent a month in the American military hospital Landstuhl recovering from her burns, and that month had been agony. Every day she’d been trapped in an endless hell of burning pain and nightmares. Nightmares that she was constantly reminded of by the media when she returned home. Changing to her mother’s maiden name helped a little. Moving overseas helped a lot.

She sank down on one of the stone benches, the German security guard standing beside her. The relief that flooded her when Ethan returned uninjured to the hangar still lingered in her system. More feelings he’d given her. She’d be so pissed at him if he’d gotten himself shot.

“No,
Frau,
” Markus said, his tone polite but his heavy accent unfortunately made it sound harsh, “if you want to sit, we will do that where I am able to see anyone coming.” He pointed to the bench in the corner. It was warm outside and pleasant, so the pretty courtyard was half full of visitors and hospital staff.

They’d just reached the corner bench and stood beside each other when a man in a lab coat stumbled into Markus. There was a grunt of pain from her security guard, as if he’d been hit much harder by the doctor than it seemed. Her stare accused the doctor as Markus’s rough hand closed on her arm—

Not a doctor. Carlo.

“Gun inside my coat,” Markus gasped with pain, almost inaudible. “Use it.”

The metallic smell of blood was thick. As the grip on Olivia faded, she tried to go for his gun, but Carlo was too fast. He seized Markus and helped him to collapse on the bench in the somewhat secluded corner. Blood was rapidly spreading from Markus’s side, a hand clenched over a stab wound. The knife was bloody when it disappeared into Carlo’s pocket, and his hand reappeared a half-second later, brandishing a gun. He jammed it in her spine just as she was about to scream.

“No,” Carlo warned. “It’s much worse for everyone if you do that. Go with me now, and it’ll give this man a chance to live.”

Markus’s face was pale, stricken with pain, only taking what appeared to be shallow breaths. He wouldn’t last much longer unless he got help. With her and Carlo in front of Markus, they were blocking the view. He was dying.

“All right,” she whispered.

Carlo shoved the gun’s barrel into her. “The exit to our right. Straight out the front doors without a word. Otherwise I kill you and go upstairs to finish my original task, starting with the ballerina.”

Her stomach was lined with lead as she followed the orders. There was at least a shimmer of relief when she was halfway out of the courtyard and heard someone yelling, followed by commotion. People probably helping Markus.