Finding the Way Back: A Stealth Ops Novel

by Sahin, Brittney

  It was Adriana. “Get in!”

  He quickly climbed into the passenger seat and pointed in the direction A.J. had gone.

  He took a few quick breaths and swiped at the sweat on his brow as she jerked the car to the other lane and made a sharp turn to cross the road.

  “How’d you—”

  “Borrowed it from the detail parked out front.”

  “I’ve lost sight of them,” Knox said. “If he shoots someone else . . .”

  “There!” She shifted the car to the other lane and made a left.

  They were closing in on A.J., who had gained some ground on the killer. Thank God. But seconds later the patrol car was sideswiped by a pickup truck. Adriana kept going, but when the truck came back for more, they knew it hadn’t been an accident. Someone was gunning for them.

  “What the hell!” Adriana floored the gas, then yanked the wheel to the right, and their car veered away from the Ford F-150.

  He looked back. The truck was still following them. “The killer must not have acted alone.”

  The truck spun to the side in the middle of the road. “Gun!” Knox yelled at the sight of a muzzle peeking out of the driver side window.

  Bullets punched the frame of their car as Knox retrieved his 45. “We gotta draw him away from here. Too many people.”

  More bullets popped, tapping the sides of the squad car. The back window caught two slugs. The first punched through the glass creating a wicked hole, the bullet hitting the floorboard of the vehicle. The second ripped clean and more precise, but the glass surrounding the entry point, while remaining in place, shattered.

  Neither shot hit them, though, but they needed to get the hell out of there in case their luck ran out.

  “I don’t have a clear shot,” Knox yelled. “Step on the gas.” There were too many civilians who might get caught in the crossfire. “Take a right!” he said when spotting a side street without houses.

  She grabbed the cruiser radio and rattled off the license plate and called for backup without ever losing control of the vehicle.

  And if they weren’t in the middle of a high-speed chase, he’d take a moment to be proud.

  “He’s gaining on us again,” Knox warned, wondering what the hell happened to A.J. and the runner. “Dead end ahead.” Shit. They’d be trapped.

  “Hang on.” Adriana threw the car into reverse without turning her head, clutched the wheel, and watched her mirrors as they flew backward, then slid into the other lane within inches of hitting the truck, but . . . she did it.

  She let up on the gas, cranked the wheel, and the weight of the vehicle shifted to the rear tires. She was breaking traction and inducing a controlled spin.

  After pulling a complete 180, they were now in forward motion without losing speed.

  The truck slammed on its brakes, and the guy jumped out in a hurry.

  “He’s running! Let me out.” Knox grabbed the handle as the man ran toward a park on their left. “Stay in the car and wait for backup,” he ordered.

  “The driver’s on foot. Armed and dangerous,” Adriana said into the radio as he took off.

  Clutching his 45, Knox sprinted toward the entrance of the park but came to an abrupt stop when he got a view of what awaited him a hundred yards away.

  The shooter was facing him with two guns drawn—but the weapons weren’t aimed at Knox.

  Knox’s stomach dropped at the sight of one gun pointed at two kids playing about fifty feet off to his right with their mom. The other gun pointed at an elderly couple slowly walking a hundred paces on his left.

  The bastard began walking backward, his firearms still positioned on his targets as a threat to Knox not to follow.

  Knox could attempt a head shot and end this, but not without guaranteeing the gunman didn’t have time to get a shot off, too.

  “He’s getting away,” Adriana cried from behind. She was supposed to stay in the car, damn it. He couldn’t protect her and everyone else out there.

  A shriek hit his ears. The mother had spotted the weapons, and she forced her kids to the ground and threw herself on top of them.

  More screams pierced the air, and Adriana shouted for everyone to get down.

  “He’s almost to the tree line. He’ll turn and run once he hits the woods, and I can follow then.” He blocked Adriana with his body and kept his arm locked straight in front of him, his gun on the man in case he changed his plans. “Now,” he announced when the gunman turned for the trees.

  “No.” Adriana clutched his bicep. “He has the advantage. Wait for backup.”

  “I can’t let him get away.” As soon as the man ducked behind a thick oak, Knox took off.

  The shooter had two football fields on him. And now he was deep in a wooded area, and Adriana was right. If the man decided to wait for Knox, he’d have the element of surprise. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t let him get away.

  Knox neared the trees and slowed his approach, then used the first oak for cover.

  A twig on the ground snapped, maybe thirty paces out. He slowly stepped from behind the tree and moved ten feet before relocating behind another oak.

  His heartbeat kicked up at the sound of a sob from somewhere in the woods.

  A young girl, maybe.

  He ditched his protection of the trees without thinking and followed the sounds. If the son of a bitch had a kid as a hostage . . .

  A girl, maybe twelve, hugged her knees at the base of a tree, rocking herself as tears tore lines down her face. She didn’t appear hurt, thank God.

  “Are you okay?” He checked left and right for the shooter then crouched in front of her. “You see someone?”

  “I-I skipped school. I was cutting through the woods.” He helped the girl stand. “A man ran past me with a gun. He-he put a finger over his lips and told me to be quiet. I was so scared.”

  “You’re okay now.” He pulled her to his side. “Which direction did he go?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried. “I fell to the ground and couldn’t move.”

  “It’s okay.” He kept her close and reached for his phone. “Gunman is still on the run. He got away,” he told Adriana. “I have a kid with me. I’m coming back to you.”

  “Police are here,” Adriana replied. “They’ll find him.”

  “Any word from A.J.?” he asked as another call came over the line. “That’s A.J. calling me now. Hang on.” He switched lines. “You okay?” he asked him.

  “I lost him. I’m sorry.”

  Damn it.

  “I had the shot, but I couldn’t take it.” A.J.’s breathing was labored. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We’ll find him. Where are you?”

  The line was quiet for a moment. “I was wrong,” A.J. said in a low voice, guilt cutting through his tone with heavy strokes.

  “What are you talking about?” Knox stopped walking when they neared the open area of the park.

  “It was Aaron, man. The guy I was chasing . . . it was him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Knox had his head bowed, his palms on the side of his Suburban, which was still parked outside Chelsea’s building. It was as if guilt was raking over his skin with sharpened claws, and it had her cringing. But what happened wasn’t his fault. Not even A.J.’s, even though A.J. blamed himself, too.

  Uniformed officers and Feds swarmed the area outside the apartment complex. NCIS was there, too. The city was once again on high alert.

  Two people had been at Chelsea’s apartment. And one of them had been Aaron Todd.

  She and Knox had lost sight of A.J. when they’d unexpectedly had to deal with the truck driver, and A.J. had cornered Aaron in a Target parking lot. In hindsight, not the best idea, but he’d been out of options.

  Too many moms and their kids attached to their hips. Too many employees pushing those red carts. The risk too great for a potential shoot-out.

  And when Aaron had shoved a twenty-year-old off his motorcycle, the guy’s newly bought co
ndoms falling to the ground . . . it was then that A.J. tackled him to the ground.

  They’d fought. The knife had fallen. The bike owner had fled out of fear.

  And eventually, Aaron got away on that motorcycle, because A.J. couldn’t take the shot.

  Maybe it was all those moms and employees, or maybe it’d been because Aaron was a friend. She couldn’t imagine being in A.J.’s shoes, though, staring at a friend on the other side of her muzzle.

  “This is my fault,” Knox said, defeat in his tone.

  “You were in an impossible situation. There were innocent people. Protect first. Shoot second. You know that.” She wrapped a hand over one of his extended arms and urged him to face her.

  “No, this is on me. I was so convinced Aaron was innocent.” He dropped his arms and turned into her. Warm hands on her cheeks. Foreheads touching. He whispered, “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Please, don’t blame yourself.” She clutched his forearms but didn’t budge from their united position. “We wouldn’t have even been here had you not pushed to talk to Chelsea,” she reminded him. “We know more than we did yesterday. Aaron dropped the knife when A.J. tackled him, so we have the murder weapon now.”

  He lifted his head and found her eyes, keeping his hands on her cheeks. His dark eyebrows knitted as he stared at her. “A.J. couldn’t shoot him, though. Too many people.”

  “I know.” She let go of him and stepped back, reminding herself she was on the job. “I’m sure he blames himself like you do. And you both need to stop.” She glimpsed A.J. talking to an agent off in the distance. “But we’ll find both these guys. Don’t worry. And I’m sure one of the traffic cams snapped a photo of the truck driver, so we’ll get his name soon.”

  Knox was quiet for a moment, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “You were incredible out there,” he said in a low voice. “The way you held yourself. The way you drove. I was impressed.”

  “It’s the training,” she said with a small smile.

  No one but Secret Service drove the president, which meant agents had to handle a car like a driver from Fast and Furious.

  “It makes me think maybe I’ve been a bit too overprotective.”

  “You think?” Her smile stretched.

  “You can handle yourself,” he said, sounding almost remorseful. Guilty for being too protective. Or was he sad because he didn’t think she needed him anymore?

  But she’d always need him. She could handle herself on the job, but that didn’t mean she wanted her best friend to stop caring so deeply. She’d even told him as much last night before he left her room. But she didn’t want him being brotherly or fatherly with his protection. God no.

  “Does this mean you’re a changed man?” she asked, part serious, part teasing.

  His lips curved briefly at the edges, his eyes flicking to hers. “I’ll still stand in front of a gun for you,” he said gruffly. “Every day. All day.”

  “Like you did at the park?”

  He gripped her bicep. “I guess I feel better knowing if I’m ever not around, you’ll be okay.”

  “Ever not around? Like as in not in the same city? Or as in . . .” She pointed to the sky, knowing he’d get the reference to her mom.

  “I—”

  “There you are.” Special Agent Quinn’s presence had Knox shifting away from Adriana. She had her FBI vest over her white dress shirt now. Probably more so to signal to others what department she was with and less to do with a concern the shooter would return to the crime scene. “Come with me.”

  Adriana exchanged a quick look with Knox, wishing they could finish the conversation that’d twisted her nerves into a heap of scrap metal.

  Was he worried he’d die on the job? And if so, it had to mean his position at Scott & Scott was riskier than he ever let on. He was protecting her from the truth, too, so it seemed.

  “We should go.” He pointed to where Quinn now stood fifty feet away.

  “Yeah,” she said under her breath as she matched his steps and followed him.

  “I want answers,” Quinn said to the two officers in front of her. “Two squad cars were supposed to be here. One parked at each side of Chelsea’s building.” She shifted her sunglasses to her head. “Where was the second vehicle?”

  Shit, that was right. How could she have forgotten?

  “We were between shift changes,” one officer explained. “The other car was due any minute.”

  “How’d Aaron and the truck driver know that?” Quinn asked.

  “You suggesting someone from our department leaked that information?” The tall, muscular officer had at least a hundred pounds on Quinn’s lean frame. And when he took a defensive step forward, she did, too, not a speck of intimidation.

  “All I know is someone is dead, and we have two suspects on the run.” Quinn held her palms in the air as if she wanted to shove the guys out of her line of sight.

  “There was no sign of forced entry, so either Aaron had a key to her place, or she let him in,” Adriana pointed out.

  “If Aaron was tying up loose ends by killing her, why send that email from his home computer, which placed the guilt on his shoulders?” Knox chimed in.

  “I don’t know what their story is,” Quinn began. “But Aaron stabbed her in the back. Literally. The lamp on the floor with blood—maybe she swung it at him. The bedroom was a mess. They clearly fought.”

  “An Ontario MK3. A SEAL knife.” Knox put on his shades as if he wanted to hide any signs of emotion in his eyes.

  “Maybe Chelsea double-crossed him. He found out about the email and that she used him in a scheme to not only kill Bennett but to stack the evidence against him as the killer,” Quinn suggested, turning away from the uniformed officers and facing Adriana and Knox.

  “And the truck, why’d that guy come after us?” Knox asked. “If he was Aaron’s ride, why risk getting caught by hunting us down?”

  “He wanted to make sure Aaron got away because he’s still the fall guy,” Adriana said. “Whether or not Aaron was the one who actually took the shot at your father, someone still wants to make sure we think he did.”

  “Aaron killed his girlfriend. If he was innocent of anything, he wouldn’t have done that,” Quinn remarked. “And based on how he killed Chelsea, it’s looking to me like Aaron felt betrayed, which means he didn’t know he was going to be thrown to the wolves following the assassination.”

  Adriana spotted Mendez and Rodriguez stepping out of an unmarked vehicle down the street. Mendez was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. He’d flip a lid when he saw Knox and A.J. at the crime scene.

  “This is a mess. How the hell did this happen?” Rodriguez snapped, pushing his dark blazer back as his hands secured a grip on his hips above his black belt. “And what in God’s name was the son of the presidential candidate doing in a vehicle chase . . . which involved bullets flying? Our job is to protect the Bennetts, not get one killed.”

  “This isn’t her fault,” Knox came to her defense. “I made her bring me here. This is on me.” He stood his ground, eying Rodriguez.

  “And Aaron should never have gotten into Chelsea’s building unnoticed,” Quinn reminded everyone.

  “Are you at least ready to accept the fact Aaron’s the gunman?” Mendez directed his question to Quinn. He’d yet to make eye contact with Adriana, and maybe he was too angry to do it. Afraid he’d blow a fuse.

  “Aaron was clearly involved somehow, but now we know there are others connected to the shooting as well,” Quinn answered him. “This isn’t a case about a pissed-off guy shooting a presidential candidate.”

  “Really?” Mendez cocked his head. “I doubt that. The truck belonged to a friend of Aaron’s who works at his cousin’s construction company. We have men going to his house now.”

  “What?” Quinn’s brows shot up in surprise.

  “Aaron and his friend planned this whole thing together. Sarah Reardon’s probably in a ditch somewhere. And Aaron killed Chelse
a because he blamed her for talking to us. End of story.” Mendez huffed and set his sights on Knox. “You and your men are too involved. I called the president on the way here to tell him I’m revoking your privileges. You’re officially off the case, Bennett.”

  “But, sir—” Adriana began.

  “That goes for you, too,” Rodriguez interrupted her, his voice low. Guilt-laden. “You violated orders by bringing Bennett here. Pack your bags. You’re going back to D.C. today.” The word sorry hung on the tip of his tongue, but she knew he couldn’t say it in front of Mendez.

  “Wait.” Knox removed his sunglasses. “Don’t take this out on her.”

  “I can’t make you leave the city since you’re Bennett’s son, but if I so much as hear you’re looking into this case, I’ll arrest you for obstruction.” Mendez got in his face. “I assume that won’t look too good for your father’s campaign, am I right?”

  Knox’s jaw clenched. His fists tightened at his sides.

  Adriana wrapped a hand around his arm, a plea to back down.

  “Gentlemen, enough of the pissing match.” Quinn worked her way between where Knox and Mendez stood. “We have eyes on us.” She tipped her head toward the media. This was going to be all over the news today, and Knox’s dad would lose his mind.

  “We got a problem?” A.J. asked while striding toward them, removing his hat in the process as if he had no problem throwing down with everyone.

  “No problem at all, right?” Mendez sidestepped Quinn to get a direct line of sight on Knox.

  Adriana looped her arm around Knox’s and tugged. “Let’s go. Please.”

  “Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Knox bit out.

  * * *

  “You’re sure this is what you want?” Knox asked Adriana as they stood in her hotel room a few hours later. “I don’t want you getting fired when you go back to D.C.”

  “Your dad bought me some time with Rodriguez. I don’t have to be back until Monday.” She had the ball to attend in Atlanta, which had been her saving grace. Her mother was somehow still looking out for her.