by CW Browning
She would just close her eyes and enjoy the lack of excruciating pain for a brief minute, then get back to the business of trying to find a way out here.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alina slid open the door and stepped into the house silently. It was just past midnight and the first floor was dark, but she knew Hawk was still up. There was too much to do for him to have gone to bed yet.
She walked to the bar, setting her bag down on one of the high stools before continuing into the kitchen. Not bothering with the light, she went straight to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. The door was just closing when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Glancing at her watch with a frown, she moved out of the kitchen and looked down the dark hall just as Michael rounded the bottom of the stairs.
Her shoulders relaxed and she opened her water, lifting the bottle to her lips as he came towards her.
“When did you get back?” he asked in a low voice.
“Just now.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.” She watched as he went into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. “I heard you cracked the Singapore accounts.”
He glanced at her as he opened the door and the light from the refrigerator illuminated his face. It was drawn and tired.
“Yes.” He pulled out a bottle of water. “I’m moving all the information into spreadsheets to make it easier to pick out the trail. It’s mind-blowing how much money he moved around over the years.”
Alina’s lips tightened, anger welling inside her at the thought of how many people had died so that Harry could accumulate his fortune, her brother included.
“And it’s definitely him?”
The fridge door swung closed and darkness descended on the kitchen once more.
“Absolutely.” He opened his water, took a sip, and came back to where she was standing near the hall. “He was sloppy with two transactions. That’s all I needed to backtrack everything.”
“How far back does it go?”
Michael met her gaze and in the dim light, she saw her own anger reflected on his face.
“Iraq, about a year before Dave died.”
She was silent for a long moment, then exhaled and straightened up away from the wall.
“That’s good work, gunny,” she said softly.
“I did my part,” he told her in a low, hard voice. “Make sure you do yours. He doesn’t get away with this.”
“Oh, he won’t,” she assured him, “but your part’s not completely over yet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You know how you keep reminding me that you’re a Marine? Well, now’s your chance to show me what you’ve got.”
He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not talking about desk work, are you?”
She smiled faintly. “No.”
“Thank God. I’m tired of staring at monitors all day. I need some exercise.”
“Oh, you’ll get it. Damon will brief you tomorrow.” Alina turned to go over to the bar and pick up her duffel bag. “Be ready to roll tomorrow afternoon.”
“And Blake and Stephanie?”
She turned to move toward the hall, glancing at him.
“It’s too risky for them to leave this house,” she said. “Just you.”
Michael walked with her toward the stairs.
“That’s not going to sit well with either of them. They won’t want to stay behind.”
“Oh, I know.” Alina started up the steps. “And I’ve planned for that.”
Alina came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find Damon in the process of pulling his Beretta from the holster at the back of his jeans and setting it on the bedside table. He glanced up as she came out and his eyes swept over her quickly, causing her heart rate to quicken.
“You got back fast,” he said, turning toward her. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added, slipping his arms around her and dropping his lips to hers for a quick kiss.
“I took a leaf out of Dutch’s racing book and ran up the interstate with night vision goggles and no lights,” she said with a grin, pulling away and going towards the walk-in closet. “My speed hovered around 130 all the way up.”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you glad I got a Porsche now?”
“It’s fun,” she admitted from the closet. “I can see why they did it.”
Damon walked over to lean against the door to the closet, watching as she pulled a large, rolling suitcase from the back corner.
“You’re heading right back out?”
“I’ll try to catch a couple hours of sleep, but I have a plane leaving from Philly Northeast at seven,” she said. “How’s it going here?”
“The command center is dismantled and everything’s packed up.” He moved out of the way as she carried the case out of the closet and over to the bed. “I’ll move the servers and armory out in the morning before anyone’s up. Are you sure about leaving the rest?”
“Yes. It will be taken care of. Just make sure everything sensitive is out. It can go to the address I gave you. It will be secure there until I can move it.” She turned to the dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out a black pair of yoga pants and a tank top. “I talked to Michael. He went down for water when I came in.”
“Did you tell him about tomorrow?”
“Only that you’d brief him,” Alina said, pulling on the pants. “You’ll need to get him gear. I didn’t have time to do it while I was in DC. I ran into a small hiccup that ate into my buffer time.”
Damon frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “What kind of hiccup?”
The towel dropped to the floor as she pulled on the tank top.
“Harry had someone following Charlie,” she said, her head emerging from inside the shirt. “I couldn’t risk him seeing me, so he lost another agent tonight.”
“Fantastic. Did you find out who he was?”
“No. I didn’t take time for conversation. I wanted to make sure there weren’t more.”
“And?”
“There weren’t.” Alina glanced at him. “Charlie knew he was being followed. He said he would have lost him before our meeting.”
Damon met her gaze steadily. “And Harry?”
“He was holed up in his house, packing.” She smiled coldly. “He hasn’t found the camera I left. He’s getting sloppy.”
“Or he just doesn’t care,” he said. “Don’t underestimate him.”
She nodded and opened a drawer to the dresser, lifting out a pile of shirts and carrying them over to the case on the bed. Damon watched her for a second, then sat back against the headboard.
“I heard back from my contact in Guerrero,” he said as she began rolling the shirts to pack them. “She found something.”
Alina shot him a quick look. “And?”
“On the surface, it didn’t look like much,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and swiping the screen. “It was an old file from two years ago involving a couple of arrests the military made in connection with the Casa Reinos. One of the prisoners garnered some interest from our government.”
She paused in the act of rolling up a tank top and looked at him. “Interest from whom?”
“Harry. He brokered a deal with the Mexican government to have the prisoner released into US custody on the basis that he was a US citizen and was wanted for questioning here.”
Alina raised an eyebrow. “Who was the prisoner?”
“His name at the time was Marcus Rodriquez.” Damon held out his phone with a photo on the screen. “Look familiar?”
Alina stared at the photo and her lips formed a silent whistle.
“Well hello Kyle March.”
“Exactly.” Damon pulled the phone back and swiped the screen again. “He was released from the military prison where he was being held and, according to their records, taken over the border.”
“But?”
“He never arrived on US soil. He dropped off the face of the earth until he showed up in Madrid
using Jordan Murphy’s name a year later.”
Alina tucked the shirt into the case with a frown.
“Harry had dealings with the cartel even then,” she murmured. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. Who were the others arrested with Kyle?”
“One of them was my old friend Jenaro Gomez. He was released not long after Kyle.”
“What the hell was Kyle doing with the cartel?” she wondered, turning to go back to the dresser for more clothes. “What was Harry up to?”
“That’s for Charlie to find out,” Damon said, stretching and setting his phone next to his gun on the table. “I made a copy of the file and sent it to him. The only thing that concerns us is that it establishes firm contact with the cartel going back at least two years, probably more.”
“Everything keeps circling back to them.” Alina returned with a stack of pants. “Harry had the perfect set up. You realize the only reason any of this is coming out now is because La Cabeza made the decision to go after you last fall, right?”
Damon grinned. “You’re saying this is all my fault?”
She shot him an amused look.
“No. I’m saying that if he hadn’t tried to get revenge on you for killing his predecessor, we would probably never have known about Harry’s connection to him. Why would we look at the cartel? And Blake certainly wouldn’t have found it.”
“No, and the connection from Dominic to the street racers was so removed that if Dutch hadn’t been killed, and John wasn’t close with him, no one would have ever connected the cartel with the terrorist attack.”
“Exactly.” Alina felt a wave of anger wash through her and tamped it down firmly. “Harry covered every angle and made sure that every connection couldn’t lead back to him. He accounted for everything.”
“Except us.”
She looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment.
“I think he even accounted for us,” she said slowly. “Think about it.”
Damon raised his eyebrows. “I have thought about it. I don’t see it.”
“When I asked you for that clean phone so that we could communicate, you arranged it, but then you came here,” she reminded him. “You didn’t have to come. You knew I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but you came anyway.”
Damon sucked in his breath sharply.
“Because Harry contacted me!” he exclaimed, his eyes meeting hers. “Holy hell, he’s the one who told me you were in trouble.”
“I think Harry wanted you here, with me, so that he could take us out together. At the very least, he had to have been hoping that you would lead him to me.”
“But why? It makes no sense. He trained us!”
“I have absolutely no idea,” she confessed, rolling a pair of black jeans into a tight cylinder and setting it in the bag. “It’s not just us. Other Organization assets have been targeted overseas and those that are left are being forced into inactivity until we finish this. Charlie’s shut all ops down until he knows it’s safe for them to continue. We can’t fail.”
Damon was silent for a long moment, then he exhaled loudly.
“Does Charlie have any ideas as to why Harry would go on a rampage against the operatives he helped train?”
“If he does, he’s not sharing. I’ll tell you this much, before I kill Harry, I’ll find out why. He’ll be more than happy to tell me, I’m sure. You know he can never resist talking.”
Damon made a face.
“That’s true.” He watched her pack in silence for a few minutes, then sighed again. “I’m going to grab a shower while you do that,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and heading for the bathroom. “I haven’t seen Raven yet, so I’m not sure how you’re going to get him squared away.”
Alina glanced at the skylight and smiled.
“He’s out there. He’ll come home now that I’m back.”
Damon paused at the bathroom door and looked at her curiously.
“Do you really think he’ll stay at the ranch when you leave?”
Alina shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Alina came awake slowly in the pre-dawn hours. The room was still dark, and she was warm and comfortable with a strong arm wrapped around her. She laid for a moment, breathing in the fresh, woodsy scent of Damon and allowed herself to savor the feeling of safe contentment that washed through her. Her bag was packed and near the foot of the bed, the hidden safe was emptied of her stash of passports and cash, and a large plastic carrier was sitting near the window. Everything was ready for her to leave, but she wasn’t quite ready to move and start the day. Perhaps she was simply delaying the inevitable. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over, and either Harry or herself, or both of them, would be dead.
Alina stared across the dark room. It wasn’t fear or uncertainty that she felt as she contemplated the next twenty-four hours. She was far too experienced in her job to allow basic human emotions to cloud her thoughts. Rather, it was the simmering anger that bothered her. It had been there since John was killed, and had grown steadily worse over the intervening weeks. Now that she was close to bringing justice to the man who had caused the deaths of so many, the building pressure of rage was demanding to be released. Alina knew that that rage, fed by emotions she had tried to ignore, had the ability to defeat her more effectively than Harry or any of his cartel henchmen. She had to find a way to ignore or overcome it if she was going to have a chance at all.
Damon stirred against her and she exhaled silently. There was more at stake now than just herself. The game had changed drastically when she’d agreed to his insane idea of marriage. She wasn’t alone anymore. It was a realization that filled her at once with both comfort and fear. Anything that happened to her now affected him, and vice versa. The days of walking into an op without any attachments were over.
The arm around her tightened briefly as he shifted behind her and Alina felt warm lips press against her bare shoulder.
“You awake?” he whispered.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Alina stretched and rolled onto her back, looking up into his face. His eyes were still heavy with sleep and he nodded tiredly before stretching, yawning widely.
“Everything okay?” he asked when he was finished.
“Yes.” She forced a smile and raised a hand to run a finger along his jaw. “I’m just procrastinating. I’m not ready to starting moving yet.”
He caught her hand and turned his head to press a warm kiss on her palm. Lifting his head, he glanced at his watch.
“It’s not even five yet,” he said, his voice husky from sleep. “You have some time.”
He turned onto his back and pulled her into his side, his arm around her shoulders. Alina laid her head on his shoulder and, after a few minutes, his even breathing told her he had gone back to sleep. She laid there, relishing the warmth of his skin and the feel of his arm wrapped around her. Sliding her hand across his flat stomach, she paused when her fingers touched the fresh scarring on his left side.
Alina let her hand rest over the healing skin where the bullet had torn into him, and her lips tightened. That shot should have killed them both. Instead, she had walked away with a scratch and he had been rushed stateside to undergo the surgery that, ultimately, saved his life; a life that he was now going to risk again on her behalf. It didn’t matter that it was their job, or that they had been trained for situations just like this. The rules had changed. It wasn’t just about the mission anymore. Now it was about survival.
And vengeance.
His chest moved steadily as he slept, and she felt a wave of something close to panic crash over her. All at once, Alina needed to feel his heart beating strong against her chest and his lips against hers. She needed to feel that they were both alive and together, even if it was only for a brief time. Propping herself up on her arm, she looked down at him and lowered her lips to trail them softly along his jaw. His even breathing shifted when she reached the side of his neck and Alina knew he was awak
e. His arm tightened around her and she smiled against his skin when he rolled her onto her back, his lips coming down to move over hers warmly.
Her arms went around him and her heart pounded against her chest as the feeling of panic was replaced with a more powerful surge of desire. No matter what happened today, and no matter how it ended, right this second they had each other. Damon’s lips were demanding a response from her that she was more than willing to give and, at least for this moment, the reality of what the day would bring could be ignored. There would be time enough to focus on Harry later. Right now, she had this, and she was rapidly coming to accept that this was more important to her. Harry’s time would come.
Right now was for the two of them.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hawk turned away from the coffee maker with a full mug of steaming coffee and watched as Blake opened the back door to take Buddy out.
“You don’t look like you got much sleep,” Michael commented, opening the cabinet and taking out a mug.
Hawk glanced at him and shrugged. “There’s a lot to do.”
“Lina said you’d fill me in today,” Michael said in a low voice. “Anything I can do, just let me know.”
“Let you know what?” Stephanie asked, limping into the kitchen without her cane.
“Where’s your cane?” Michael asked, watching as she limped toward the fridge.
“I can’t keep coddling my leg,” she said over her shoulder. “It won’t get better if I don’t force myself to use it.”
“You also don’t want to set it back,” he said. “Are you doing your physical therapy exercises?”
She made a face as she pulled a box of frozen waffles out of the freezer. “Yes, Dad.”
Michael grinned and pressed the button to start his coffee brewing.
“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”