by Juno Rushdan
“He’s going to use aggressive surveillance detection tactics to make sure he doesn’t have a tail.”
Charlie was right. Any one of them would do the same. Tailing someone who was well-trained in countersurveillance was a slippery game, best played with multiple trackers doing a leapfrog method. Echo’s efforts were doomed, but it was worth a shot.
“There should be at least two of us on him,” Charlie continued, “tag-teaming, for it to work.”
“Yes.” Bravo cut his eyes to him, seething over the situation and Charlie’s lack of tact in stating the obvious. Squeeze lemon juice on the wound, why don’t you. “Jump and go assist,” Bravo said, deadpan, gesturing over the balcony.
Charlie cocked his head, drawing his brows together in puzzlement, probably trying to determine if Bravo was serious.
“Don’t ever presume to think you know more than I do.” Bravo kept his tone calm yet icy. Never let them see you sweat. “The next time the idea fairy sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, tell it to fuck off because I’ve already considered every course of action. Now go find the address of the FedEx where she mailed that package.”
* * *
Kit scrambled into the passenger’s seat of the SUV as Castle jumped behind the wheel. He fired up the engine, bringing the vehicle to life with a rumble that echoed in her chest.
Castle threw it into gear, and they lurched off down the street. Hitting a corner, he yanked the wheel and the tires screeched.
The hard turn jostled Kit against the door. She caught hold of the grab handle above the window and held on for dear life. Castle wove through traffic, one aggressive turn after another. Finally hitting a red light, he slammed on the brakes. With shaking hands, she fumbled to put on her seat belt and tried to steady her pulse.
Her soaking wet clothes were heavy and clung to her. She trembled from the chill, her bottom lip quivering from shock.
Unbelievable. She’d done it—jumped off the balcony of her building. A jump that could’ve killed her outright if not given her a heart attack, but she’d survived.
It wasn’t as if she’d had time to think about it, fortunately. Otherwise, she might’ve turned into a stone-cold chicken. Bravo had them cornered, and they’d both be dead.
The danger had been as real as those bullets, and self-preservation had overridden panic. She’d endangered Castle—and herself—by going to her apartment. The responsibility was hers to do whatever was necessary to get them out of the jam. Even if that meant pressing pause on her sanity and taking a gutsy leap four stories into the pool, like a wackadoodle action star in a blockbuster movie.
She clutched her chest, reeling from the adrenaline.
The drop into the water had snatched the breath from her lungs, yet she’d never felt more alive. Thanks to Castle whipping her out of the pool and sparing her the exertion of swimming and running to the car, the most taxing part on her heart had been mustering the courage to jump.
The traffic light blinked green. Castle sped off and backtracked for no apparent reason, taking the congested merry-go-round of Columbus Circle.
“What are we doing?”
He responded with a cutting glance, then shifted his focus to the rearview mirror.
Kit rubbed her frozen hands, teeth chattering. She flipped on the heater. Cold air blasted from the vents. Nothing was icier than the deep freeze Castle was giving her, though, and it bugged her for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with his refusal to share information. She didn’t like that uneasy sensation—the shameful desire to make things right with secret agent man. Not one little bit.
The air from the heater finally grew lukewarm.
Still no response from the big guy. She had no clue what the plan was beyond more dizzying turns along a convoluted path past the National Mall. Castle was driving a scenic route to nowhere instead of going to his place to dry off before they both caught pneumonia.
“Why are we driving in circles?”
Castle clenched the wheel like he wanted to tear somebody apart limb from limb as he beat the red light at a major intersection. She suspected that somebody he wanted to dismember was her.
His gaze flicked from the rearview mirror to her. “Shut. Up.”
He had a right to be pissed, no contest on that point, but he did not have a right to speak to her that way.
She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, but he shot a glare at her so blistering it torched the words on her tongue. She snapped her lips closed. He was an active volcano about to explode and she wasn’t quite ready to be reduced to ashes.
“I’m trying to see if we picked up a fucking tick or if we’re clean.”
His first response to her longer than two syllables was a bunch of mumbo jumbo? “A tick? What are you talking about?”
“A tail. I think someone is following us.”
She was quiet, letting that sink in, then turned, looking out the rear window. There were no vehicles riding their bumper in hot pursuit, but beyond what she’d seen in car chases on TV shows and in movies, she didn’t know what to look for.
“I don’t need distractions,” he snapped. “So be quiet for now. But when we get to the house, you better have a damn good reason for this stunt.”
She had a laundry list of good reasons. Her medication, money, passport…
Fine, it was only three reasons, but they were essentials her life and freedom depended on.
Only she didn’t think Castle would share her perspective.
* * *
Castle had conducted a hard surveillance detection route for the last thirty minutes to see if anyone was on them. Getting a potential tail to expose themselves was never easy, unless the person was an idiot. And those guys certainly hadn’t gotten their trained-to-track-and-kill certificates from a Cracker Jack box.
A motorcycle a hundred feet back was playing it so Charmin-soft that Castle couldn’t be certain. At the next intersection, he pulled an illegal U-turn. The motorcycle followed.
A definite tick, but alone. The guy put more distance and vehicles between them, loosening the leash. Perhaps assuming he could tighten it again with minimal effort.
That prospect needed to be tested.
Castle accelerated, barely making it through the next light before it changed, and hooked a right. He caught a glimpse of the motorcycle driver cutting up onto the sidewalk with zero qualms about taking out pedestrians.
The bike afforded flexibility and maneuverability a car didn’t, putting Castle at a major disadvantage. His heart pounded from the chase as well as from the possibility of not being able to shake this guy.
Castle hit I-395 South and crossed the Potomac out of DC. No backtracking. No evasive measures. He wasn’t going to lose this guy on the open road.
An exit was coming up for US-1: the Pentagon, Crystal City, and Reagan National.
For the plan forming in his head to work, he needed more distance between their vehicles. Castle gunned it, taking the ramp. He headed straight for the Crystal City Mall. The restaurants inside didn’t close for another couple of hours, and the parking garage stayed open 24/7.
Speeding down the two-lane road, he whipped over into the right one designated for the garage, cutting in front of other vehicles. He pressed the button for a ticket and zipped inside.
The motorcycle was trapped in line behind two cars. The parking garage was massive, with no fewer than four exits. Castle could take any level to an alternate exit and be back on the road long before their tail had a chance to play catch up.
This was the one scenario where giving a subject too much lead had backfired.
19
Reston, Virginia
10:13 p.m. EDT
Castle brought the car to a jerky halt inside the two-bay garage of his town house beside his Hummer. The automatic door rolled closed behind them.
He was confident he’d shaken the tick, and they hadn’t been followed since the parking garage. It was a good thing Sanborn had recommended using a Gray Box vehicle. Otherwise, those operators would’ve had his personal license plate, putting them two steps away from having his home address.
Castle glared at Kit and hopped out of the SUV. He was usually never at a loss for words, but he didn’t have a clue where in the hell to start. He wanted to shake her and praise her and shake her some more.
To his surprise, the woman had true grit. Courage wasn’t about not being afraid. Everyone felt fear, but not all people faced it and charged into action regardless. To his surprise, the little spitfire had gone from screaming to drinking a cement milkshake and hardening the fuck up. She’d been scared shitless, no doubt about it, but she hadn’t let that stop her. She’d pressed on—right off the balcony.
Jeez. The balls that had taken.
Make no mistake, he was livid—so peeved his teeth ached—but he’d never been more turned on in his life.
One thing was for certain. That was the last time he’d ever underestimate Kit Westcott.
“Why?” Castle slammed the door closed, trying not to blow a gasket. He stormed around the car in front of her, throwing out a string of savage expletives. “What was so damn important that you risked our lives? Wasn’t seeing every member of the Outliers murdered in cold blood enough for you to understand how dangerous this is?”
Bone-deep hurt glistened in her eyes as her mouth slackened and she rocked back on her heels. In the next breath, her eyes narrowed to thin slits and that fiery spark turned into a flamethrower. “Don’t you dare throw them in my face. You don’t have the right. I loved them. They were the only family I had left!” Her voice caught, her body shuddering, as if saying another word would cause physical pain.
All her anger and fire, the quick-witted retorts, were defense mechanisms. Armor-plated shielding to protect herself, a verbal version of his sanctum. But in that instant, it slipped away, piece by piece. He could practically hear the clank against the concrete floor.
“They’re dead because of me.” Her voice was an anguished whisper. “I failed them. Just like I failed my brother. Everyone I love dies. You have no idea what it’s like, carrying around this crushing weight. It’s suffocating me from the inside out.”
Castle knew better than most. The burden he carried gutted him every day.
Petty Officer Second Class Mitchell White was not only dead because Castle made a bad call out in the field but had also been denied the honor of being buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Castle had had to decide between blowing the mission objective and leaving one of their fallen behind. An impossible choice.
Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t sleep much anymore. He never wanted to forget his failure. Or the shame. Not for a second.
“I know exactly what that’s like. The raw helplessness. The guilt. How it eats away at you. Gives you nightmares. I’ve been through that hell and back again. I still carry the blood on my hands.” And the responsibility in his heart.
Castle looked at Kit, really looked at her, and despite her mistakes, tenderness unfurled inside him. And his lack of self-control and how he softened in her presence angered him. He didn’t want to desire her, but he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. Taking out bad guys and protecting innocents was what he did, but when it came to Kit, he had a new primal response as a man to keep this woman safe. A connection to her he didn’t quite understand.
What in the hell was he supposed to do with that?
She held his gaze, those crazy-beautiful eyes glistening with grief. Her despair was palpable, even though she was trying hard not to cry. She was all kinds of vulnerable.
The twinge of guilt in his gut for throwing her dead friends in her face deepened.
He reached out, wanting to comfort her yet not quite knowing how, and cupped her arms. Every time he touched her, he pushed that thinning boundary line. Craved something a little more intimate from her too.
She shivered in his hands. With her soggy clothes and damp hair, she looked like a miserable, cold, half-drowned cat.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned the Outliers. But I need you to tell me why we went there.”
She blinked several times, unshed tears coating her lashes as she chewed on her bottom lip.
“Dammit,” Castle said. “So help me God, if you lie to me again—”
“I needed my meds. I couldn’t have my doctor call in a new prescription.”
“Because they’d track the refill once it was entered into the pharmacy’s system,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Yes. I thought I had a couple of pills left but I was wrong, and I didn’t have any Nitrostat.”
The situation was more complicated than her simply needing her meds, or she would’ve been upfront at the get-go. “At your apartment, you said that you had reasons for being there. Plural. Spit it out, Kit-Kat. Why else were we there?”
She blew out a blustery breath, straightening away from him, and he saw it. The titanium backbone she had forged in the hellfire of loss. She was a survivor. Whatever her reason for going back to her apartment, she believed it had been necessary to stay alive.
“I needed my passport.” Her tone was low, hard. Unapologetic.
In a heartbeat, he burned hotter than the sun’s surface, the taste of betrayal bitter on his tongue. “I warned you. If you tried to renege on our deal—”
“Castle.” She put a palm to his chest as if to calm or reassure him, but he was beyond either. “I would never renege. Never.” She shook her head. “But I won’t accept being anyone’s helpless hostage. Put yourself in my position—you wouldn’t either. I needed options.”
He appreciated a strong, determined woman with a healthy sense of self-preservation. God knew, all that spirit enticed him. But she was like a wild animal caught in a trap, willing to gnaw off a limb to escape.
If Castle hadn’t been tempered by years of training and experience, he’d no doubt be the same. He recognized that part of himself in her. They were kindred spirits in that regard.
“You have zero options,” he said. “You buy an airplane ticket, they’ll track it and have men waiting to nab you the second you cleared customs.”
“Not if I fly out of Canada with a ticket to Russia. But instead of going to my final destination, where they’d expect me, I could get a flight with a layover in a large city and take a train from there.”
Castle barked out a bitter laugh. Kit had given this a great deal of thought, scheming behind his back, but her plan was flawed.
“You’d pick a layover where?” he asked. “Western Europe? Someplace familiar? Take a train headed to a city you’ve been to, where you have friends?”
A disillusioned look washed across her face. She didn’t know how to run and probably would’ve gone to Italy, France, Germany—somewhere that had the best hackers. Europe had a far more robust CCTV system than in the United States. With the ten-to-one difference in the number of cameras, they’d track her from the airport and train. She’d be easy pickings.
“If you run, you die. The only way you make it through this alive is if you stay by my side. Do you understand?”
He was prepared to continue lecturing her on the insanity of options until his lungs gave out, but she softened in his hands.
Relief seeped through him. He wanted to believe she’d finally let him get her out of this in one piece, but Kit was full of surprises.
“When you look at me, what do you see?” she asked. “A mission? Just another POI, nothing more?”
If only. The job would be so much easier.
She’d taken an insane risk going back to her apartment and he’d almost lost her because of it. A person of interest in his charge. Their only lead to finding out who’d stolen the Z-1984. But the clenching sensation in the pi
t of his stomach had nothing to do with the mission.
He’d almost lost Kit—a beautiful fighter who challenged him at every turn. Fired him up like he was in a battle zone until all he could think about was his mouth on hers, tangled sheets, her naked beneath him, her fair skin and soft flesh demanding everything he had to give.
Why her spunk and sharp tongue gave him a hard-on was anyone’s guess, but she excited him, held her own with him—not physically, but in a way that mattered more. His dad had been a tough, principled man, and everyone, including Castle, Maddox, and their mother, had bent to his commands. Castle never wanted to be that way. He loved and respected his mother, but he wanted a partner, someone who’d never cower at his imposing size or the flare of his temper.
Careful what you wish for.
Unfortunately, he wanted Kit, the opposite of compliant. All her moxie that he found so irresistibly attractive, for better or worse, was biting him in the ass.
“What difference does it make?” he snapped. “Either way, you stay with me and you keep breathing. That’s the bottom line.”
“It matters to me! Am I only an asset you’re trying to leverage? Or do you see me as someone fighting for her life? As a person who’s scared and alone? As a woman?” Her eyes searched his, pushing for answers he didn’t want to give. “All my life, people have wanted to use me, for my money, my connections, whatever I could give them. And you’re no different.” She sucked in a shaky breath and a single, forlorn tear slid down her cheek. “I have no one left who gives a damn about me. The only person I can rely on is myself.”
“Kit,” he breathed, his voice rough to his ears, the words backing up in his chest. He needed her to get the hard drive, but he also wanted her because of the way she lit him up like the Las Vegas strip. No woman had ever gotten to him like this, aroused such passion, taking him from furious to delirious with desire.
He jerked her body against him, even as he knew it was a monu-fucking-mental mistake.
There were solid reasons to let her go and avoid the avalanche of trouble bound to bury him. But with her so close, her presence dominating the air and his brain, those reasons evaporated.