by Desiree Holt
Coffee in hand, he dialed the Conductor. If he, Diesel, wasn’t getting any sleep, then neither was the man running this whole thing that had now turned into a shitshow of the first order.
* * * *
The man known as the Conductor wasn’t getting much sleep himself, but for a different reason. The last week had just been a fucking mess. For the past five years, he’d led an effort from the background to put military contractors in a position to get a lock on contracts. To build a group where there was no limit to the money they could make. Where no one suspected what they were doing, what influence they paid for in Washington and elsewhere. Where they wielded influence from the background with a powerful fist.
Lowden Tactical was the lynchpin for their setup. The drones could go anywhere, do anything. Drop explosives. Videotape facilities, meetings, private activities. He thought he’d been so smart, burying his money in numbered accounts, changing his name and altering his appearance. Taking a position that people looked at as secondary, so the focus would never be on him.
The only person who knew where the funds for Lowden had come from was Eric himself, a man smart enough to know that all his power and even his life would go away if he opened his mouth. But there wasn’t much danger of that. He’d made the man rich, and in turn Lowden kept quiet and followed orders when he should.
Mark Hegman had been in a position to blow it all up. Whatever had caught his attention had caused him to call for investigations by his committee of some of the contractors in their group. And not just here in the States. Hegman wasn’t all that happy about using foreign companies to manufacture goods for America’s military. He also had begun to question some of Lowden’s contracts, although Eric always managed to disguise the details. While Hegman’s decision had come out of the blue, the Conductor was sure he’d spent months gathering information.
Shit. Just plain shit. That overly righteous man could have fucked up a wet dream, so he’d had to go. And it had to be done right. First, they’d needed a replacement, one they could engineer into the position who could bend to their will. Baumann, bitter and disgruntled for so many years, had been a perfect choice. The groundwork had been laid and a subtle bill of goods sold to the president of the Senate. With Hegman’s death, they were ready to move forward.
He’d had a bad feeling about picking Hannah Modell to be the fall guy. Yeah, it had seemed simple. A lone wolf, absorbed in her job, no friends, few acquaintances, no family to speak of. No resources. Stash her away while the groundwork for laying it at her feet was set. Then trot her out long enough to announce she was the culprit, whisk her away and bury her body where it would never be found. How easy to tell people she’d escaped and they had no idea where she was.
Then it had all gone to shit, because apparently Hannah Modell’s smarts were not all about drone engineering. She’d turned out to be sharp, resourceful and fortunate. A microscopic search had not turned up any prior connection to the men of Galaxy, so it made her the luckiest piece of ass that she’d run into one of the partners when she’d escaped the hotel and he’d chosen to help her.
Now they were in the soup. Information about Galaxy had been close to impossible to come by, and when they did get some, the Conductor had known they had big trouble. These guys didn’t play around and getting to her would be next to impossible. They had to be smart and figure out the best story. Putting out there that Galaxy had turned bad and was keeping her prisoner seemed the best option. She had to be rescued, and too bad people had gotten killed in the process.
He’d have to monitor the situation carefully, though. There had been too many screwups not to, starting with Paul Santos, who’d let the little bitch bop him on the head and get away. Then he’d have to pull the right strings to make sure Baumann’s appointment came off in time and without a hitch. He filled a mug with coffee and decided that even though the night was just beginning to fade, it wasn’t too early to add a little alcohol to it. Not with what he’d been through and what was to come.
* * * *
While Hannah took a quick shower then threw on jeans and a top, Viper called Tom Hernandez.
“Sorry for waking you, buddy, but I knew you’d want an update on what was happening.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Tom said when Viper finished telling him what he knew. “I told you these were powerful people who operate in the shadows and believe they can do whatever they want.”
“I was shocked that the judge set a bail hearing so fast, and in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, well, you can believe some mighty hands twisted some arms for that. These are people who can make anything happen.”
“Well, you were damn right about that.”
“Listen, Viper.” Tom cleared his throat. “You guys better be prepared. If they were bold enough to try to get to the plane and disable it, I wouldn’t put it past them to launch a full-out invasion on your house with the excuse they were ‘rescuing’ Hannah so they could turn her over to the police.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep her locked up tight. And we’ll make sure you’re in the loop on whatever goes on. Thanks for all your help. We’ll get these guys.”
“I’m counting on it.”
He was just disconnecting the call when Hannah tugged his arm.
“I have an idea that will give us eyes on what’s happening.”
“What kind of idea?”
When she told him, he actually laughed, even in their critical situation.
“I love a smart woman.”
He made a phone call then checked his watch. If this all worked, they’d have pretty good eyes on the situation. Thirty minutes later, the speaker sounded on their security system.
Viper pushed the button. “Who’s there?”
“Pizza delivery.”
Then Tom Hernandez was inside, carrying a grocery tote from a pizzeria—only it didn’t carry any food.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Hannah told him as she grabbed the bag.
“You must be the famous Hannah Modell.” He held out his hand.
She shook her head. “Maybe infamous. And I’m happy to meet you. Thank you again.”
“These guys are like my brothers,” he told her. “I’d do anything for them.”
She looked inside the bag. “I can’t believe you were able to get such a high-end version at this hour of the night. Or morning. Or whatever.”
“I have a client who owns a specialty electronics store and was happy to do me a favor. Although I can tell he was biting his tongue not to ask questions.”
“Well, when this is over, please thank him for us. And thanks to you, for doing this.”
Hannah grabbed the box, pulled out the large box inside and began to assemble the drone it contained. Tom looked at her and Viper couldn’t help grinning.
“Beautiful and smart,” he bragged.
“Well,” she pointed out, “neither of us could exactly walk into a store and buy one with who knows how many sets of eyes on us. Certainly not me. They’d find a way to grab me for sure.”
Tom nodded his agreement. “Still, it’s the edge you need.”
“Well,” she reminded him, “it’s what and who I am.”
“And Viper is damn lucky,” he told her.
“You bet,” Viper agreed. “Okay, let’s get to work.”
Before he could do anything, however, his phone rang again.
“Punch the buttons for the alarm and the garage,” Blaze growled. “I’m five seconds away.”
“Okay.”
Well. That was a shock. Surely Blaze hadn’t left Peyton alone and unguarded? He did as his friend asked, and in seconds the gate to the driveway swung open just as the door to the third bay in the garage rolled up.
Hannah came back into the hallway just as he was resetting the codes.
“What’s going on?”
“Damned if I know, but I’m sure gonna find out.”
He opened the door from the garage into t
he house in time to see Blaze climb out of his truck, carrying a case Viper knew held a rifle, and Peyton unfold herself from beneath a blanket on the back seat. What the hell? He was just about to ask when his phone rang again, this time with a text from Eagle.
We’re heading down your street.
He pressed in the code to open the gate, and in moments Eagle and Rocket walked through the door, each carrying their own gun cases. They stared at Blaze and Peyton, exactly as Viper was doing.
“You were told to stay put at your place,” he growled at Blaze.
“Yeah, right.” He snickered. “You try arguing with a woman who threatens to cut off your balls if you don’t do what she says.”
Eagle burst out laughing.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you afraid of someone,” he told Blaze. “And you must weigh twice as much as she does.”
“Gimme a break.” One corner of Blaze’s mouth quirked up. “You know who wears the pants in our house.”
Peyton planted her fists on her hips and huffed a breath.
“You guys are mentally deficient if you think he’s going to just sit this out when all the action is here and he’ll be chewing his knuckles. We got me here without anyone seeing, right?” When they all just stared at her, she repeated, “Right?”
“She knows it’s always all hands on deck,” Blaze told them. “She said she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to any of you and one more person could have made the difference. That we operate as a team. That if we can’t protect Hannah here, we can’t protect her. And besides, she’s a crack shot with a new toy. Show ’em, honey.”
Peyton’s lips quirked as she reached into her purse and drew out a Glock 19, the special favorite and familiar weapon of SEALs. Although Viper knew Blaze had been training her at the hangar, he was still surprised at the assurance and dexterity with which she handled the weapon.
“I’m ready to do my part.” She stashed the gun at the small of her back and walked over to give Hannah a quick hug. “Besides, I have to take care of my friend.”
Viper saw the quick flash of emotion in Hannah’s eyes, a hint of hesitation, then she hugged back.
“Thank you.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you very much.”
Peyton winked. “We have to stick together. The guys have each other, Now we have our own two-man crew.”
“What all else is going on here?” Rocket asked. “Tom, what the hell are you doing here this time of night? Or early morning.”
“Delivering pizza,” he joked.
Eagle lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Viper tilted his head to where Hannah was assembling the drone on the counter. “Hannah’s idea. Both the drone and how to deliver it.”
Admiration washed over Eagle’s face. “Damn smart, Hannah. Good thinking.”
Her faint blush told Viper she might not be used to compliments, and he wondered why the hell not. The woman was obviously hella smart.
“Let’s let her get it assembled, then we can discuss the best possible uses for it.”
“And we need to sit down and plan this whole thing out,” Rocket reminded them. “Tom, we can use your input on this if you can hang around.”
“I would, but if these people have eyes on your house—which we’re sure they do—they’ll wonder why the pizza guy is still here. But I am only a phone call away for anything you need or any questions I can try to answer.”
Viper lifted an eyebrow. “A two-pronged attack?”
“Uh huh. It might end up being noisy and messy, but in their way of thinking it will get the job done. And they have a ready story, just as we discussed.”
“Then let’s sit down and figure out how to stop them.”
Viper set the blinds on the glass doors and big windows at an angle, so light filtered in but no one could get a clear image of anyone inside. The other three men lifted their cases to the counters and removed the weapons inside. While they were doing that, Viper fetched his own from his bedroom. For the next fifteen minutes the women watched silently as the men carefully checked their weapons, made sure they were loaded and stuck extra ammo in their pockets.
Then, as before, they sat at the dining room table, each of them with a full mug of coffee and their handguns on the table in front of them.
“Okay.” Viper looked around the table. “They won’t approach the house until after dark and they’ll probably hit the front and back at the same time. We need to keep an eye out for boats on the water. Although….”
“Although what?”
He tapped his tablet and searched for a particular page. When he found it, he put it on the table where everyone could see it.
“They could actually slip into the water over here at Seaside Beach and swim over to where we are. The beach closes at nine and there’s no one around to see them. Scuba gear is black, so hard to see at night. Once they’re in the water, they’ll slip beneath the surface and be really invisible. And with the proper gear, weapons aren’t a problem.”
“Also,” Eagle added, looking at his digital watch, “there’s no moon tonight. That could be both good and bad, for them as well as us. Your sea wall is low enough that they can climb over it.”
“They’ll probably bring an EMP gizmo to kill the security system,” Rocket pointed out.
“That’s okay,” Viper assured them. “There are sensors in the water side of the sea wall that will catch them before they try to do that.”
“Plus,” Blaze added, “we’ll be watching for them with night vision goggles. Both front and back.”
“And we’ll have Hannah’s secret weapon,” Viper reminded them. “Moonlight or not, it won’t matter. This drone is infrared-capable, so we’ll have eyes on them regardless of what they do.”
“And they won’t be expecting it,” Rocket pointed out.
“What I’d like to know,” Peyton said, “is how they expect to get away with a home invasion without calling attention to it.”
“It’s dark,” Blaze reminded her. “While they probably think we’re expecting them, I believe they underestimate our abilities. They probably figure that with no moon, they have an edge. Plus I’m sure this isn’t their first assignment like this. They’re experienced and believe they’ll have the element of surprise to a degree.”
“And,” Eagle added, “they’re probably arrogant enough to believe they’re better than we are.”
“We’ll be expecting them to attack us from the rear,” Blaze explained, “while another team climbs over the front wall and breaks in from there. But you can bet they believe the EMP killing our security system will give them the edge they need. They must know the one at the hangar had a backup system, so I don’t understand why they’d count on it working here.”
“Maybe they have a different one with a stronger bolt of electricity. Either way, we’ll be ready.”
“Pardon my stupidity,” Hannah said, “but even as good as you guys are, won’t it take more than the four of you if they have two groups attacking at the same time?”
Viper’s lips curved in a savage grin. “Not with the preparations we’ll make.”
She frowned. “Preparations?”
“Uh huh. Just watch.”
Although for the most part she was occupied with fine-tuning the drone, she was still fascinated watching the men doing their thing. They spent most of the morning at the table with their tablets, planning logistics.
“It’s like getting ready for a mission,” Peyton whispered at one point.
Blaze overheard her. “That’s exactly what it is. We plan it down to the tiniest detail, so we don’t get caught with our pants down.”
“What I’d like to know,” Peyton said, “is how they expect to handle the media fallout from this. A home attacked in this expensive neighborhood. Maybe dead bodies?”
“There’s enough power in whatever this group is,” Rocket answered her, “at least according to Tom, that they can cover up and squash an
ything.”
She shivered. “That kind of power scares me to death.”
“Me, too,” he agreed. “Which is why we have to stop this whole thing.”
Hannah and Peyton fed everyone during the day, but by the time it began to get dark again, no one was interested in food. Viper worked with his partners on their plan, trying to allow for every contingency. Blaze and Eagle had slid out of the back and slithered their way to the front, laying traps for intruders, lying on their stomachs to avoid detection. Even if whoever was watching had infrared glasses, the stone wall that rose five feet from the ground across the front of the house concealed them very well.
They placed the drone on a little table at the side of the patio. It was active but not moving, its ‘eyes’ focused on the bay.
Then, at midnight, in the dark, they began the watch.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah had stationed herself in a chair just to the side of the big sliding glass doors, holding the controls for the drone. Every so often she would send it out over the water for a recon run, then bring it back. Shortly after one o’clock, the drone picked up movement.
“I see people slowly easing from the water,” she told Viper. “Finally. They’re wearing scuba suits and gear and moving slowly.”
“Have they reached the wall yet?” he asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Don’t move the drone until I tell you. What are they doing now?”
“One of them is pulling something from what I assume is a waterproof pouch around his waist. He’s pointing it toward the house.”
“The EMP.”
They’d left a nightlight on at the breakfast bar so they could tell when the electricity died. Ten seconds later, it went out.