Finding the Way Back: A Stealth Ops Novel

by Sahin, Brittney

  “I don’t think we checked,” Luke responded. “We’ve been focused on—”

  “Everyone but Chelsea,” A.J. cut him off. “I think she’s another tenth-floor distraction.”

  Knox’s spine straightened. “You think she targeted Aaron, not the other way around?”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Luke flipped his computer around. “She only applied to that hotel, which seems odd for someone who might be desperate for a job in a new city.”

  “I don’t think I want to wait until tomorrow to talk to her. I want answers now.” He moved to their heavy-duty weapons case at the far side of the room, pressed his palm to the scanner, and waited for it to unlock to grab his 45.

  “You can’t go knocking on her door at night,” Luke reminded him.

  “And shit, she has detail parked outside her apartment, too,” Knox grumbled.

  “Let’s stick to the plan of heading to her place in the morning,” Luke said. “I’ll have Harper run Chelsea’s face through our program and find out what she’s been up to lately.”

  “If she’s framing Aaron, she could’ve easily typed up that email from his computer, too. Someone, maybe Chelsea, planted the threat to lead the Feds to Aaron. A last-minute email that wasn’t supposed to be found until after the shooter killed my dad.”

  “But since the shooter missed, the real gunman couldn’t let Aaron get picked up by the police yet,” Luke added.

  “They need him on the run so they can come after my dad again and make it look like it’s Aaron.”

  “Still don’t get why they let Aaron live in the first place. But then again they picked a guy without two names to frame. They clearly don’t know their political assassination history,” A.J. said. “Lucky for Aaron.”

  “But does this mean what I think it means?” Luke looked at Knox. “That whoever leaked Aaron’s name to the press could be the real shooter, or at least connected somehow?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adriana placed her Sig into her shoulder holster and hid her weapon beneath the blazer. She was hiding so much more than a gun beneath the bulk of her clothes. Her toned body, for one. And maybe more pink lingerie?

  Now was not the time to get hard, he reminded himself at the feel of his cock getting a bit jumpy.

  “You sleep okay?” he asked.

  “I tossed and turned all night. You?”

  He’d barely slept even an hour. Another stupid idea since he couldn’t seem to think straight. “Same.”

  “Does that mean you honored my request not to punch your father?” She closed one eye as if afraid he’d admit to knocking the shit out of his old man.

  “I was good.” He smiled. “Promise.”

  “Show me your hands,” she commanded.

  He held both palms out to show her he hadn’t crossed his fingers.

  “Good.” She grabbed her commission book off the dresser. “By the way, I had to tell Mendez I was heading to Chelsea’s to talk to her again.”

  Work. Yeah, they should talk about that. “Does he know I’m coming with you?”

  “I may have forgotten to mention that detail.” She adjusted the collar of her shirt beneath her blazer. All her buttons fastened. Not much skin. Probably a good thing.

  “And if he finds out?” he asked.

  “I’ll deal with it. I don’t answer to him, anyway.”

  He didn’t want to get her into trouble, but he also needed her help. “There’s something we have to tell you once we’re in the car,” he said when they reached the stairwell.

  “We?”

  “A.J.’s coming with us.” He opened the door leading to the rear side parking lot.

  “No, he’s too close to this. Closer than you since he’s friends with Aaron.”

  He slipped on his Ray-Bans and turned to face her once outside. “I trust him. And if you trust me, you won’t question me on this.”

  “Fine.” She’d dropped the word so effortlessly it took him a second to realize it.

  She went to the parked Suburban waiting alongside the curb and hopped into the front passenger seat.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” A.J. probably waited for Knox to get in the back before flirting to push Knox’s buttons. But hell, Knox had done the same to Liam, hadn’t he? He’d pushed Liam’s Emily buttons, so the man would fess up to his feelings for her. Of course, it’d taken a drunken night in Vegas for Liam to figure shit out.

  But, wait . . . did that mean . . .

  Great. Even his thoughts were stammering.

  Yeah, sleep was needed for sure.

  “Don’t you smell good,” A.J. went on. Damn him.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought your Alabama ass along,” he complained.

  A.J. jerked a thumb toward Knox in the back but kept his eyes on Adriana. “He’s grumpy. Forgive him. When he doesn’t get his beauty sleep, he gets testy.”

  “Don’t I know that,” she returned.

  “So, what is it that you boys need to tell me?” she asked as they pulled onto the main road heading for Chelsea’s loft in the Noda district of town.

  “I think you know where we stand,” A.J. said. “Aaron’s being framed. But what you don’t know is we think the real gunman had help from a petite blonde.”

  “Chelsea?” She shifted in her seat to look between Knox and A.J. “Someone beat her up, though, and she said it was him.”

  This was news to Knox. Intel she probably hadn’t been authorized to share.

  Judging by the flutter of her lashes and the deep inhale of breath, she’d forgotten that fact and was now kicking herself for it.

  Knox edged forward on the leather, remaining unbuckled. “Well, we did some digging earlier. Before Chelsea moved here, she worked as an admin at a trucking company in San Angelo. She made sixty K a year.”

  “Then she up and quit and moved to Charlotte without a job. She applied to every single vacant position at that hotel. And only that hotel,” A.J. added. “Her new job only pays thirty thousand.”

  “People move all the time. I need more.” She remained twisted in her seat and focused on Knox.

  “That doesn’t sound suspicious to you?” Knox asked. “Come on.”

  “Maybe she got out of a bad relationship and needed a fresh start,” she proposed.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Why only apply to the hotel? There were plenty of other places she could’ve tried. And for more money, might I add,” Knox countered.

  “No, she only wanted to work at that hotel. And then she pursued Aaron. He was her target, not the other way around.” A.J. spun his worn-out black ball cap backward as he drove. The only part somehow untouched from age was the American flag on his hat. The colors remained as vibrant as ever.

  “Someone’s pulling her strings? But who?” Adriana straightened in her seat and peered out the front window.

  “We both know there has to be someone higher up calling the shots. This isn’t some crazed lone shooter. This was a coordinated effort by more than one person,” Knox returned.

  “Why choose Aaron?” she asked.

  “Why not? A former sniper with the SEALs. Financial issues. Struggling with PTSD.” A.J. glanced over at her.

  “And what, these people got lucky that Chelsea and Aaron used to live near each other and used that to rope him into dating her?” She shook her head. “I don’t buy it. But I’m willing to go along with the theory Chelsea and Aaron were in on this together.”

  “He moved to Charlotte long before Chelsea, and months before Bennett was a sure thing for the party nomination,” A.J. said. “No way was this planned that far back. Besides, she wouldn’t have waited until the last minute to try and get a gig at the hotel if the plans started a lot sooner. Too risky.”

  Adriana shifted in her seat again. “There still has to be something connecting them, a reason she’d target Aaron if that were the case. Whoever bankrolled the attempted assassination could’ve picked a different city or event, but they chose Charlotte for a reason.”

&nbs
p; “For Aaron,” Knox said.

  She flipped her ponytail off her shoulder to her back.

  “All I know is the real shooter’s mission isn’t complete. My dad’s still alive. And they’ll make sure Aaron’s not been caught until after they assassinate my dad.”

  “We need to see if the reporter who first broke the story about Aaron can provide us with her source,” A.J. said.

  “It was an anonymous tip from a burner phone,” she said.

  “Have the Feds checked Chelsea’s phone records?” A.J. asked. “Her bank statements?”

  She looked down at her lap.

  No one was looking at Chelsea at all. No one except them.

  “Whether Aaron took the shot or not, he had no idea he was going to go down for it,” she said.

  “What makes you say that?” Knox asked.

  “Because he took off from his house right after his name was flashed all over the news. His neighbor saw him. If you’re guilty, you don’t wait until the last second to run.”

  More intel. More regret in her eyes.

  “Well, I’m a bit of a conspiracy buff,” A.J. began, “and if someone is setting up Aaron, they would’ve had a plan for his death around the time of the shooting. You don’t let the guy you’re framing live to talk.”

  “So, now you’re saying Aaron must be guilty because he’s alive?” Adriana raised a valid point, and Knox waited for how A.J. would pull himself out of this one.

  “Hell no. I’m saying that not only did the shooter miss the shot, he must also be an amateur to let Aaron go before he finished the job.” A.J. looked back at Knox. “For the record, I’m glad he sucks at frame jobs.”

  “I don’t know about conspiracies,” she said, “but if Aaron’s innocent and on the run, it’s clearly for a reason.”

  “The Feds didn’t find the rifle at his house, right? The one that would’ve been used in the shooting?” Knox asked.

  “He had a lot of weapons there, but not the kind used at the hotel.” She paused. “I’m sorry I kept this from you. I—”

  “It’s your job,” he cut her off. “And I’m sorry we’re coercing you into telling us.”

  She faced the front again and remained quiet. Knox knew exactly what was going on in her mind—the conflict between an oath to her job and the one she made to Knox as his best friend. He knew how that felt, and he hated putting her in that position.

  “If he’s being set up, someone went to great lengths to ensure all the evidence led back to him, which means they used Aaron’s rifle that day at the hotel.” A.J. parked the car a block down the street from the apartment complex. “And as long as Aaron is still alive and not in police custody, the real shooter can use the weapon to make another attempt to kill Knox’s dad.”

  “I still don’t know what to think, but it’s gonna be a hard sell to Mendez,” Adriana said. “But I guess we’re lucky to have you working the case. I had no idea you were investigators as well.”

  A.J. slapped a hand to his chest. “What? You think we just blow down doors?”

  “I honestly don’t know what to think right now.” She turned back to view Knox, a dozen questions probably hovering in her mind.

  Over seven years of withholding the truth and all it was going to take was working a case together for her to figure it all out.

  “Well,” she said while reaching for the door handle, “you all seem to know more than my team.”

  Knox stepped out of the Suburban and circled the vehicle to get to Adriana’s side.

  “Let me talk to her detail first and—shit.” She tipped her head toward the redhead stepping out of the car parked up ahead. “It’s Quinn. I’ll handle this.”

  “Mendez said you were coming, and he suggested an assist.” Quinn shielded the sun from her eyes. “He didn’t mention Butch and the Sundance Kid would be here.”

  “Okay, are you Butch or am I?” A.J. looked over at Knox. “And don’t they both die?”

  Adriana and Quinn ignored A.J.’s attempt to forestall what was about to go down.

  “They have some unique insight into the case, and I made the decision to—”

  “From where I stand, you were given orders not to share intel with these men without authorization,” Quinn interrupted Adriana. “Foster, a word?” She flicked her finger off to the side, and Adriana followed after shooting an apologetic glance Knox’s way.

  “You think Quinn’s asking about me?” A.J. folded his arms and observed the two women as they spoke. “She’s got the hots for me, I can tell.”

  “Maybe it’s indigestion,” he returned with a low laugh.

  A few seconds later, Adriana turned toward them and motioned for their approach.

  “For the record, I don’t agree with you all being here,” Quinn began, “but since we seem to be on the same page about the girlfriend, I’ll—”

  “Wait, what?” Knox looked back and forth between Adriana and the Fed.

  “Something has been bothering me about Chelsea,” Quinn explained, “so, my team looked into her last night, and we drew the same conclusion as you guys did. I don’t know her angle, but she’s got to be involved somehow.”

  “What’d Mendez say?” Relief hit Knox knowing they had at least one FBI agent on their side.

  “He didn’t want to hear it. Mendez is a good guy, but he’s been in D.C. too long. He wants this wrapped up and quick,” Quinn said.

  “I like this one.” A.J. jerked a thumb toward her.

  “You happen to check her phone records or bank statements?” Knox asked.

  “There are rules to follow. I need more evidence before I can subpoena her records,” Quinn said.

  And shit, he’d forgotten about the red tape.

  Plus, they were operating on American soil, which meant not even his team could violate certain civil liberties for the sake of a mission.

  They’d have to go old school and find information out the hard way until they had enough evidence to prove Chelsea’s involvement.

  “We’ll see what she says and go from there,” Quinn said.

  “Let’s roll then.” Knox followed Adriana and Quinn toward the two-story brick apartment building. There were a hell of a lot of trees in the area, which made him uneasy.

  “The unit posted out front said Chelsea hasn’t left her apartment since they escorted her home last night.” Quinn pressed the buzzer outside the main door of Chelsea’s apartment building. And then three more times when there was no answer.

  “Deep sleeper?” A.J. joked.

  “Something isn’t right,” Adriana said while looking at Quinn. “We need to get—”

  “Someone’s leaving.” Quinn grabbed hold of the door after a teenager left the building, and they followed her lead inside.

  “You think she took off?” Adriana asked as they moved down the hall to Chelsea’s apartment.

  “That’d be the best-case scenario.” Knox retrieved his 45 and kept it low as Quinn pounded on Chelsea’s door.

  “Ms. Baker. FBI! Open up!” Quinn withdrew her 9mm, and now, all four of them were standing armed outside the door.

  If Chelsea was inside with a weapon, the idea of Adriana anywhere near a gun had his pulse racing like a jockey on speed.

  She’s trained, he tried to remind himself, but hell, it wasn’t calming his concerns.

  “What’s protocol here? Can we bust this door down or what?” Knox asked, because hell, he honestly had no clue about standard procedure since he didn’t operate within the realm of typical laws.

  Quinn shook the door handle once more, nodded, then stepped back. “Now,” Quinn ordered, and he used the weight of his body to kick down the door.

  It only took two tries before he breached the place. Thankfully the building was old, and the hinges were shit.

  “Let us go in first.” He motioned for A.J. to enter, not giving a damn whether Quinn would be okay with his decision. He wouldn’t risk Adriana or the Fed’s safety.

  Knox rounded the first corne
r, and A.J. came up behind him.

  The living room and kitchen appeared normal.

  But the place was also dead silent.

  With two fingers, Knox pointed toward the closed door off to their right, and A.J. nodded.

  Knox shifted to the side of the bedroom door and placed his back to the hall wall. He waited for A.J. to get into position on the opposite wall then gave a nod.

  Knox slowly pushed open the door with one hand, holding his 45 with the other.

  The bedroom was a mess, and when he rounded the bed, he found Chelsea facedown in a pool of blood.

  “We’ve got a runner!” A.J. pointed toward the open sliding door and carefully sidestepped Chelsea’s body. “I’m gonna pursue.” He took off as Knox crouched over the body.

  Chelsea’s shirt was covered in blood and the carpet beneath her soaked in it. He checked for a pulse but got nothing. A lamp beside the body had blood on it, but he doubted it was the murder weapon. She appeared to have been stabbed, not that there was a knife in view.

  “Adriana! Quinn!”

  “Oh, shit,” Quinn said from behind.

  “Call it in.” He stood. “Someone just left, and A.J.’s chasing him down.” He moved out to the small patio area, trying to get a glimpse of A.J. through a bank of trees obstructing his line of sight.

  He shielded his eyes from the sun, spotting a flash of movement.

  It was a Thursday morning. Schools had gone back into session this week. And a school was up the block.

  “Inform the area we have a situation. Get the local schools locked down!” he yelled before taking off in the direction A.J. had run.

  Once he’d cut through the wooded area, he had a better view of A.J. and the guy he was chasing.

  A.J. was one of their fastest runners, but Knox was faster. He shouldn’t have stopped to check the body.

  Knox hid his gun at the back of his pants beneath his shirt as he tore through the freshly cut grass.

  No comms. No time to pull out his phone and contact A.J. or Adriana.

  The bastard had taken a right, and he was heading for a busy street, but at least he was going away from the school.

  Knox’s lungs were burning by the time he halted at Tryon Street, anxiously waiting for a chance to dodge the heavy flow of traffic without causing an accident. But a patrol car with the lights and siren going swerved in front of him.