Wanted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 8) (19 page)

“Dominic Grande’s barricaded himself in a house just outside Quantico. Cops wounded him twice but he’s not going down without a fight.”

They never did.

“SWAT’s on scene, but if there’s a breach, it’s going to be us, because he’s been labeled a domestic terrorist and Gold Team’s currently taking care of business elsewhere. Get to HQ.”

Yes
. He didn’t ask questions. “Be there in ten.”

“I’ve already called Celida. She’s heading over to stay with Zoe. Should be there in a few.”

Clay appreciated his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, man. See you soon.” He hung up and rushed to their walk-in closet to grab his fatigues.

Zoe was sitting up in bed, watching him. “You’re being called out?”

“Yeah,” he said, quickly getting dressed.

“Is this about tonight?”

This was one of the things that not being married made hard. For security reasons he couldn’t tell her certain things about his job, including active investigations or ops. He nodded anyway. “We’re going to finish what they started.”

She started to get up.

“Don’t,” he said, striding back to the bed. He made her lay back down, covered her up with the blankets and kissed her softly. “Stay put. Celida’s coming to stay with you.”

She seemed to calm a little at that. “Grab me my robe?”

He snagged it from the back of the closet door and handed it to her. Fear lurked in her eyes. He smiled at her, cupped her jaw. “Don’t, baby. I’ve got my boys backing me up.”

She nodded, blew out a breath. “You be careful.”

“Always. Love you.” After kissing her once more he left, and sped to base.

In the team room, all the guys were gearing up, except for Vance, who was watching everyone else get ready with a frown on his face, his arm still in the sling. “Sorry I have to sit this one out, boys,” he muttered, looking dejected.

“It’s all right, man,” Tuck told him.

It would be weird going in without Vance, but it had to be done. They’d be working this op with another HRT member named Miller instead. All members trained together regularly, just for this reason. “You gonna hang out on scene?” Clay asked Vance. His flight to Miami with Carmela was just over seven hours from now.

Vance nodded once. “Absolutely. I’ll help DeLuca from the mobile command center.”

“Sounds good.”

“Team briefing,” Tuck announced. “Let’s go.”

In the conference room DeLuca and other agents informed them of what had gone down so far. Grande was apparently wounded in the abdomen and left shoulder, so it was likely he wouldn’t be too mobile. At minimum he had a sniper rifle and maybe some explosives. SWAT was attempting to get eyes inside for them now.

The team reviewed the layout of the house he was holed up in. A one-story rancher in a middle-class neighborhood.

Grande was refusing to talk to negotiators and the worry was he wanted to do a suicide-by-cop if he couldn’t make an escape. With those wounds, Clay doubted he’d get very far, if he was able to make the attempt in the first place. But if Grande wanted to die tonight, he’d be more than happy to accommodate the bastard.

They spent the next half hour coming up with various assault plans, covered different contingencies they might face during a breach, divvied up responsibilities and brought Miller up to speed to make up for Vance’s absence. All the houses in the immediate area had been cleared already.

“So we go in through this door,” Tuck said, tapping the rear door that led out onto a small back deck because it provided them the best cover during approach. “Bauer, you’ll take the heavy side of the room with me.” He indicated the side with the long wall. “Evers and Blackwell will take the light side, with Cruzie and Schroder coming in to clear the center. Miller brings up the rear. Neighbors have said there’s a crawlspace entrance in the laundry room. Trapdoor. He’s probably down there.”

Everyone nodded.

“Questions?”

No one said anything. Once again someone had targeted one of their own, and the entire team was anxious to take care of business.

Tuck gave a decisive nod. “Okay, let’s load up. I want everyone in the trucks for a comms check in five.”

The team hustled to follow the order.

****

When the knock came at the door thirty minutes after Clay left, Zoe frowned. Celida had a key to their place, but maybe she’d forgotten it in her haste to get here.

Tying the belt of her robe around her more securely, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked out of the bedroom, through the living room and kitchen to the front door. But it wasn’t Celida standing in the hallway when she checked through the peephole. It was two men dressed in business suits.

She frowned. “Who is it?”

“Police detectives, ma’am. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She bit back a groan, having forgotten they’d wanted her statement tonight. Clutching the lapels of the robe to keep it closed tight over her breasts, Zoe licked her lips. “Can I see some ID?”

Both men reached for their badges and held them up where she could see them. They could be fake, though. She’d just been kidnapped by someone posing as a cop, so she wasn’t taking any chances. Her pulse drummed in her ears as she stood there, the hardwood floor cold against her bare feet.

“Ma’am?” one of them prompted. “Your security checked us out downstairs. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Still a little unnerved, Zoe slowly opened the door and stepped back. “Come in,” she murmured, wishing she had something more substantial on than just a layer of thin satin.

Rather than close the door after the men came inside, she left it open a crack. Maybe she was being paranoid, but right now she felt safer knowing she wasn’t locked in here with them, just in case.

The younger one studied her for a moment, must have noticed her disquiet. “We’re sorry to disturb you so late, and I can understand why us being here would upset you. Maybe you’d like to go change before we conduct the interview?”

“I’ll just grab a blanket,” she told him before heading for the red velvet sofa. But as she moved she was careful not to keep her back to them.

It had been like this for her the last time, too, in New Orleans. Months had passed before she was comfortable being around strangers again. When the men kept their distance and sank into the chairs opposite the sofa in a completely nonthreatening manner, she relaxed slightly.

Pulling the bat-and-jack ‘o lantern-lap quilt up to her shoulders, she curled up and faced them. The blanket helped, made her feel warmer and more secure. “So, what can I answer for you?”

“We’ve been to the crime scene already,” the older one told her. “Forensics teams are processing the car now, and taking possession of the body.”

Zoe hid a flinch at the word
body
, one hand tightening around the fold of the quilt she held to her.

“We know you’ve already spoken briefly to federal agents earlier, but we need to review what happened for our own records, since we’re part of the taskforce working on this case.”

Zoe nodded. She’d expected this, but not this late. Clay would be furious when he found out they’d come here at this time of night. She just wanted to get it over with though. She’d get this all cleared up and dealt with tonight, and the interview would help take her mind off the dangerous op Clay was facing. At least for a little while.

The older detective pulled a notepad and pen from one of his suit coat pockets. “Can you tell us what happened, from the beginning?”

Taking a deep breath, Zoe did, starting with what had happened at the dress shop. Her muscles grew tight as she described the shots and what had happened to Sophie, the explosion and the woman she now knew had been named Amanda approaching her in police uniform.

The younger one waited until she’d gone through the car chase, the crash into the building and Zoe shooting Amanda. “If your hands were cuffed behind you, how did you get the gun?”

“The left one was loose. I managed to pull it free.” Lifting a hand, she showed them the marks and bruises discoloring her wrists where she’d struggled to free them from the metal.

The older detective was scribbling down notes while the younger one kept asking questions. “And describe for us again what happened with the gun. How you were holding it when the shot went off.”

They were checking to see if she was lying about the shooting being an accident.

The unease she’d managed to hold at bay so far began trickling into her consciousness, growing stronger by the second.
Stupid
, she told herself.
You did nothing wrong and you know it
.

But she’d never taken a life before, except for in the pages of her books, and it didn’t sit well with her conscience. Even if she knew in her gut that she would have died had she not shot Amanda.

At that thought all the emotions she’d been holding in check rushed to the surface. It was like she was reliving it all over again, the memory and sensations of it all spinning through her mind in rapid succession. She drew the blanket tighter around her, tried to force the images from her mind.

Struggling to win that fight, Zoe nodded to the detective, described in detail the struggle for the weapon and the moment of shock when the shot had gone off. “I was just trying to disarm her. I wanted to get the gun away from her, get out of the car and run. That’s all.”

But the younger detective was frowning, and her paranoid brain wondered if he still didn’t believe her. “Yet you managed to take possession of the weapon, pull the trigger and hit her in the side with one shot.”

Her spine went rigid. A rush of anger surged through her as the implication of his words hit home. Were these guys seriously thinking about maybe pinning a murder charge on her after everything that had happened?

Zoe raised her chin, staring back at them defiantly.

Oh,
hell
no.

****

The team drove to the target house in two groups in both HRT tactical vehicles. Local agents and cops had already formed a secure perimeter and were waiting for them.

When they arrived at the mobile command center DeLuca was already there with the SAC. Someone had managed to patch into the home’s security system, giving them a live feed of what was going on inside.

Unfortunately only the camera in the kitchen was working, which didn’t help them much. Except to prove Grande wasn’t in that room.

Clay filed out of the mobile command center with the others and settled in to wait. Twenty minutes later DeLuca opened the door and whistled. “We’re up.”

Tuck started giving orders. Within minutes they were lined up alongside the neighbor’s seven-foot-high cedar fence. SWAT was providing backup, holding the perimeter around the target house and patched into their comms.

Clay lined up behind Tuck. A firm hand landed on his shoulder, signaling that Blackwell was in position behind him. He squeezed Tuck’s shoulder once, alerting him that the team was ready to rock.

Tuck waved them forward and together they crept around the end of the fence and onto the target house back lawn. SWAT had already disabled the security lights. They moved silently toward the back of the house and stopped to the left side of the door they’d use.

They waited in place for a few moments, then DeLuca’s voice came through their comms. “Still no visible movement. You’re good to go.”

Clay gripped his M4, butt to his shoulder. His heart rate was steady, his respiration normal, his mind and body locked in op mode.

But underneath it was the knowledge that the man who’d tried to kill Zoe was somewhere inside that house. He wanted closure, whether it came with an arrest, or with a dead body. That decision was up to Grande.

Tuck murmured the order. “Execute.”

Blackwell stepped past him to ram the door open with the breaching tool.

The second it swung open Tuck tossed in a flash bang and surged through it to the left. The stun grenade exploded in a burst of noise and light as Clay rushed in behind his team leader, Blackwell and Evers taking the right side. The beams of the tactical lights on their weapons lit the room up.

“Clear,” Tuck announced.

“Clear,” Blackwell echoed from the right.

“Got you guys on camera,” DeLuca told them. “Still no visible movement on our end.”

A warning tingle started up in Clay’s gut. Things had gone smoothly so far. Far too smoothly. It made him edgy.

After clearing the back of the house they moved to the other end, toward the laundry room. At the front door they found a trail of blood leading in the same direction. “Got a blood trail,” Tuck murmured.

Clay kept checking around them as they moved, but most of his attention was on the laundry room doorway. Their boots were nearly soundless on the laminate floor as they crept toward the doorway.

Then the beam of Clay’s tac light caught on something. Something thin, shining silver in the bright light.

Shit
.

Instantly he grabbed Tuck’s shoulder to stop him from going forward. One more step and it might have been ugly.

“Trip wire,” he murmured.

The entire team froze as everyone focused on the nearly invisible booby-trap barring their way from the barricaded suspect waiting somewhere in the house to kill them.

Fuck this. She wasn’t guilty of anything but defending herself.

Resentment burned through Zoe, wiping away the shaky feeling the vivid memories had brought on. Narrowing her gaze, she shook her head slowly at the younger detective. “It wasn’t premeditated, it was self-defense, pure and simple.”

He inclined his head, put on a reassuring smile that did nothing to defuse her anger. “We’re just trying to get the facts down. There were no witnesses in the car, just you. We need your story for our records.”

Meaning it was her word against whatever evidence they found.

More annoyance snaked through her, feeding the sense of outrage. Screw this, she ordered herself. And she didn’t need to bother calling a lawyer because she’d fucking
been
one up until not too long ago, and besides, she was the victim here.