Deadly Holidays

by Lisa Phillips

  “Making it that much harder to find him.”

  Rachel groaned. “Steve is never going to be able to come home, is he?”

  The phone she’d used to call Mrs. Anderson rang. Adrian answered it. Immediately his eyebrows rose, and he glanced at her.

  “What?” She mouthed the word.

  He said, “Yes. Thank you.” And hung up. “Bradley is downstairs. They’re sending him up.”

  “That’s great.” The look on his face didn’t say it was great. “Isn’t it?”

  “Security says he’s covered in blood.”

  Rachel brushed past him and went to the conference room. “Alexis!” Her friend met her at the door. Rachel set her hands on her friend’s shoulders. She was just about to explain what Alexis should expect when she gasped. Rachel lowered her hands right as Alexis brushed past her. “Bradley.”

  Alexis stopped right in front of her husband, hands lifted like she wasn’t sure she was supposed to touch him or not.

  “Don’t get this stuff all over you.” He took one of her hands, his knuckles bloody. “I’m okay.”

  “You look like a wreck.” Rachel had no problem stating the obvious. Plain for everyone looking at his bruised face, torn up arms, and bloody T-shirt. “What happened?”

  Alexis shot her a frown over her shoulder. “Bradley needs to sit down, not be interrogated.”

  Bradley said, “I left an anonymous care package for the cops, and told them to call Adrian.” He turned to the FBI agent Megan was in love with. “It likely won’t be long before you get the call.”

  “You killed someone?” Adrian’s voice was dark.

  Rachel knew that was part of Bradley’s life, and the work he’d done as a SEAL. She wasn’t naïve. Still, she didn’t exactly want the fact that he’d killed, and not just in the past, right up in her face.

  Bradley shook his head. “More than a few broken bones, though. Maybe a concussion. I tied them up and called emergency services from one of their phones before I left.” He nodded in Adrian’s direction. “I put your name on one of the other phones.”

  Adrian nodded, then turned away with one of the other agents. Rachel recognized the flash of focus that jump-started a period of intense investigation. Though FBI agents rarely switched “off,” they did frequently move between action and a kind of resting action. There wasn’t a lazy one among them.

  “Let’s go sit,” Alexis suggested.

  “I just need to clean up,” Bradley said. “But I’m guessing none of you can wait that long.” His face split with a wide smile.

  “Well ex-cuse us.” Rachel set her hands on her hips.

  Bradley took a step toward her, closing the distance, and whispered. “Steve will be all right.”

  They went into the conference room. Rachel tried to process what he’d said in order to make herself feel better about this situation. But it didn’t work. There was next to nothing that could be said or done that would make her relax, or feel like this was over. Not when it was far from over.

  She paced the length of the conference room while Bradley spoke.

  “I’m not sure what happened between him and the guy he knew. David Sanders.” He glanced at Mint, who got out his phone. “I think they were teammates like the others, and for some reason it’s just the two of them left.”

  “To do what?” Alexis asked.

  Rachel didn’t enlighten her. She glanced around, trying not to make it obvious she knew—but also knowing she was so far past anything normal, they’d likely be able to figure it out. Sure enough, Bradley turned his assessing gaze at her. She shook her head.

  They could talk about it together, but she wasn’t going to do that in front of the whole group. Alexis, Mint, Emma, and Megan. Otherwise Steve would have told them himself.

  Instead, he’d told her.

  And not so she could feel better. No, he’d fired that statement about an assassination attempt at her to prove that he was somehow…stained. Not worthy of her time or attention. Her care.

  It was like Nicola had said. He needed someone to convince him that he was a good person.

  Rachel was trying her best to allow the team as a whole to combat the blackmailer. She was willing to do her part, but this situation had forced her to trust them all. Each had skills. A certain reach. Contacts. Steve was in the middle of it, and she had to believe he knew what he was doing. God was behind the scenes, working as He did. And He had given her these people for a reason.

  That was what Alexis had told her.

  Rachel only needed to trust that it was true.

  These were the only people who didn’t think of her as damaged for the rest of her life for what had happened to her. Or as a reason for them to assume she did something to warrant it, as some did. No, they’d cared for her. They supported her. They loved her. Steve was different, and what she wanted from him was different than what she got from everyone else.

  Rachel had hardly been able to think about romance after what happened. Tenderness was difficult. Trust, even harder. But if there was a man who would treat her with both respect and kindness—and someone she was interested in treating her that way—then it was Steve.

  Was that why God kept bringing them into each other’s lives?

  When they first met, there had been undeniable sparks. Since then, things had been more bad than good. She’d pushed him away. He’d let her, knowing what had happened to her and giving her time—part of that respect. Now it was he who needed her respect. He needed her to be safe, and to allow him to take care of this situation. It would be so easy to wade in and throw around her weight as a senator. But if Steve needed her to do that, then he would ask. It was more important for her to trust him now. To trust his skills. His honor.

  Part of her believed that if he came into the FBI office, they could straighten out this whole thing. He wouldn’t have to be a fugitive. But that would take her tricking him into surrendering himself, and she just couldn’t do that to him.

  Steve had proven he was the right man. And now, more than ever, Rachel was certain that he was the one who would take down the blackmailer.

  She needed to keep from doing anything to jeopardize that.

  “He’s supposed to kill the president at the summit tomorrow.”

  Rachel whirled around. The atmosphere in the room went electric. “Bradley!”

  Adrian’s head whipped to her. “You knew?”

  “Uh…” What was she supposed to say?

  Bradley sat back in his chair, no remorse on his face. “You did know.”

  “It isn’t like he’s actually going to do it!” They all knew that, right? They were supposed to be his friends. Surely they didn’t believe he could actually be coerced into this.

  Emma shifted in her seat. Mint reached over and touched the back of her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair. They needed to get married soon—if they hadn’t already done it while on the road. Whether it was a huge event with two hundred people or only a handful in a country church with the pastor, who cared? The intent was the same. If they were going to get closer, then Mint needed to make an honest woman of her.

  Megan frowned, her attention on Adrian. When had he come back in, anyway? “I think you need to tell us what you know, Rachel.”

  “Why am I in the middle of this? It was a throw-away comment. It isn’t like he’s actually going to do it.” Yes, she was repeating herself, but maybe they needed to hear it again. “Everyone the blackmailer could use as leverage in order to coerce him into doing something he would never in a million years do, is standing in this room. Or they’re hidden so the blackmailer can never find them.”

  Megan’s mother was gone on “vacation,” and anyone else Steve cared about was here.

  Bradley frowned. “That is true.”

  “It’s probably why he told me to stay close.” Plus he’d wanted her to have the protection of the FBI. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide.

  “And then the phone rang,” Bradley said.
>
  “What?” Was he trying to make sense or just processing out loud?

  “And whoever was on the other end of the line told those guys to kill me.”

  “But you got away.”

  Bradley nodded. “Steve doesn’t know that.”

  Realization dawned. Steve thought Bradley was dead, or at the least, still a captive. Was it enough to force him to go against everything he believed in?

  Was Steve going to try and shoot the president?

  Chapter 18

  Steve’s muscles burned. His head was back at such a weird angle that pain shot through his neck. He blinked against the blur of his vision and tried to shift. Lying on a floor.

  Not the first time in his life he’d woken up not knowing where he was. And usually it didn’t spell anything good.

  He pushed himself up to sitting, his back against the wall. All he could see was sunlight streaming through a window. And a black figure.

  A weapon fired. He flinched and the tang of cordite filled the air. He tried to breathe and had to cough. He lifted his head but it lolled forward instead. Then his whole body tipped sideways and he landed face first on scratchy carpet.

  “Wha…”

  His brain swam like the rest of his body. A warm floating sensation that had to have been drug induced. Concussions didn’t feel like—

  Someone stepped over him. Heavy, booted feet that narrowly missed his face.

  “Hate to cut and run old friend.”

  David? What had he just done?

  Steve managed to make a groaning noise from his throat but not much else. He was just barely able to think.

  A shot.

  His friend.

  Drugged.

  “Dave…”

  A gloved hand patted his cheek. “Sorry. Can’t have anyone knowing what I did.”

  David tugged on his hand. Steve felt the cold metal of a revolver press into his hand. No. His former friend shifted the gun…so it was pointed at Steve. Moving toward his chin.

  He ignored the blur that meant he missed the look on David’s face. Steve shifted his leg to kick the man away.

  His leg didn’t move.

  Steve pushed against the gun. David’s grip on his hand pinched the skin so hard a breath hissed out between Steve’s lips.

  He moaned again. “No…”

  “Accept the inevitable,” David said. “We all have to die sometime. I’m just sorry I told you now. But I’ve gotta say there were more than a few times I wanted to put a bullet in you. Now I’ve got the chance.”

  Steve kept pushing against the hand. But in his drug-induced state, there was no way he could put up enough of a fight against David.

  He tried his free hand. It shifted.

  Steve kept up the fight against the hand wrapped around his on the gun. With the other, he pulled at the knife he knew was on David’s belt. Dragged it out of its sheath and across whatever it encountered.

  He didn’t have the wherewithal to figure out actually stabbing his friend. Just pushed with as much pressure as he could at this awkward angle and tried to keep from being shot in the process.

  David cried out, mostly due to surprise. His hand let Steve’s go and the gun toppled to the floor.

  Steve blinked as much as he could. He could still see David’s form and the sunlight shining in the window, but it was all clearer now. A black rifle on a stand. David’s palm, covered in blood. He cried out in frustration. In the distance he heard sirens. Steve held up the knife, blade pointed out.

  David got up and ran for the door.

  Steve swam in and out of consciousness trying to figure out what on earth had just happened. David had used that sniper rifle. On the president? Were they at the summit?

  He needed more information. Help. For this drug to get out of his system. He rolled over, tried to push himself to his feet and ended up falling back on his face.

  He roused for a few seconds with hands jostling him.

  Then again, hearing the sound of an ambulance siren.

  Flashing lights moved over him. A bed. He was on a bed. Someone stuck a needle in his arm, and then he was out.

  He woke up in a hospital bed, one hand cuffed to the rail. Like that was going to stop him if he wanted to leave.

  He didn’t know what day it was, and there was no clock to tell him the time. A doctor came in accompanied by two uniformed police officers. He didn’t say one word to Steve. Sometime later, he actually saw a familiar face. The cop posted at his door let a man into the room. He was followed by two others. All three wore suits, ties. Badges were tucked away in breast pockets. Steve didn’t need to see them to know all three of these guys were feds.

  FBI, or Secret Service?

  “The doctor said you were coherent.” Adrian stood at the end of his bed. “You know who I am?”

  A test, to see how well his brain was working? Steve could stall, get more time for himself so he could figure out what was happening. He didn’t want to, though. He’d rather know what was going on here.

  “Special Agent Adrian Walker, FBI.”

  Adrian motioned to the other guys. “Special Agent Franklin, Homeland Security. Special Agent Bryans, Secret Service.”

  Steve gave himself a second to contain his roiling thoughts, then said, “Who did David shoot?”

  Homeland and Secret Service shifted, not liking what he said. Adrian was the one who spoke. “The vice president.”

  Steve frowned. He repeated it in his head while he tried to make sense of it. These guys didn’t need to be privy to his thought processes, though likely they could read the confusion on his face.

  “He’s dead,” Adrian said.

  “David?”

  Adrian shook his head. “The vice president.”

  Steve closed his mouth. Personal feelings about the man aside, it was a tragedy. The nation couldn’t afford a loss like that. It shook people’s confidence in law enforcement that they couldn’t prevent such a thing.

  One of the agents said, “Who is David?”

  Steve shook his head. He tried to figure out where to start. How to explain who David was to him. “Killed a woman. In Mexico.” He tried to contain his thoughts, and ended up saying, “Me too.”

  No, that wasn’t what he meant.

  The two feds he didn’t know shared a look. Steve tried to figure out how to explain about the woman. The pistol David had tried to shoot him with—tried to make it look like Steve shot himself. Setting him up for the vice president’s assassination.

  “Kill me. Blame it on me.” Steve shook his head. “Stabbed him, I think.” He focused his attention on Adrian. “Blood.”

  “At the scene?”

  Steve nodded, grateful this man understood what he meant.

  “Techs are at the scene now. If there’s evidence of another person present, then they’ll find it,” Adrian said. “We do need a complete statement from you, but not now. We have a lot of questions, and there are several things to clear up. The crux of the problem I have is that you were found at the scene, covered in gunshot residue. But you were drugged. Enough that it’s unlikely you were able to make such a shot considering the state you were in.”

  He was giving Steve what he needed to make his defense. Steve had to base his argument on the fact he had a substance swimming through his blood. He needed to give the feds enough so they could prove David was there, and then convince them that his former teammate was the one who took the shot. Then there was the matter of Steve shooting at those feds in the restaurant parking lot.

  This was going to be a lengthy process, with multiple fights to be won before he could go free.

  And David was still out there. Along with the vice president’s brother.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” the Secret Service agent said. “I’ve seen your file. You won’t like what happens if you try to leave.”

  Steve stared at him, but said nothing.

  Adrian said, “I’ll be back when you’re feeling better. We’ll get this ironed out.
”

  He nodded and watched the men go.

  The nurses acted like he was a killer who would lash out at them at any moment. The doctor wasn’t much better. The cops at the door—he saw two before their shift changed and they were replaced by another two—weren’t much friendlier.

  Steve shifted in the bed and managed to sit up. There was no phone. A remote? Maybe he could get some news on TV…if there was one.

  He sighed and leaned his head back on the pillow. The fog was almost completely gone now, and he was seriously ready for information. Or company. He wanted to know what was going on. If they were searching for David. If Rachel and the rest of his family were safe.

  Hours ticked by. This was more than punishment and the worst kind of torture. Leaving him here with no update, no idea when the solitude was going to end. Sure, he’d been alone before. Solo missions. He’d even hiked Kilimanjaro on his own as a vacation. Steve enjoyed having the peace of only his own thoughts for comfort. Having to draw on his strength to get through.

  Maybe it was the residue of whatever David had given him. Or the stress of the past few weeks. Not knowing what was going to happen.

  He needed to check on Mrs. Cromwell.

  At worst, he’d have to spend the rest of his life in jail. At best he’d lose his business. No one was going to hire the team whose leader shot at the FBI. The feds would tell everyone and he’d be blacklisted. If he hadn’t already been completely destroyed in the media as public enemy number one.

  He figured that now he felt at least somewhat of all Rachel had gone through. It wasn’t the same, but he could certainly relate in part. He’d known all along that he wasn’t good for her, but had been willing to set that aside. Now it was clear that his past was entirely too dark for him to deserve anything close to the happiness he knew she would bring to his life. Two damaged souls weren’t going to be able to heal each other. And he would hate himself if he only made her feel worse. There was no way Steve would risk a relationship when it would most likely fail.

  He drifted through a nap and dreamed about Rachel. Images that didn’t help his resolve to do what was best for her. Especially not when he woke up with the taste of her kiss on his lips.