Covered in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  “Is someone going to tell me what that means?” Ty asked.

  “Later,” I said as my phone rang. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Jack, hi.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he practically shouted. I held the phone out from my ear. “You’ve put the FBI in an impossible position. We have no choice but to start activating decryption keys.”

  “Jack, no—if you do that, you’re putting a bullet in your own daughter’s head.”

  “No, Declan, that’s on you. You had no right to contact Charkov. You compromised this entire operation! The FBI is storming the mansion in less than ten minutes. If you have a location on my daughter, I need it right now.”

  “If your agents breach the compound, the Russians will kill her.”

  “You better hope that doesn’t happen! Send me what you have about her location inside that house.” He hung up.

  I wanted to crush my phone; I was out of options.

  “Ty, we need to know how the FBI is planning to enter the compound. I assume you still have Bureau contacts who might fill you in?”

  “I’m on it.”

  I looked at Dimitri. “I need to get inside before the FBI storms in. Can you pinpoint where Brooke is?”

  “No. I can only tell you she’s on the south side of the house.” He pointed to the far side of the house from where we were parked.

  Ty was typing furiously in the back seat. Dimitri typed beside me. When Brooke’s phone chimed with a text, we all stopped.

  “Give me that.” I held out a hand, and Ty slapped the phone into it.

  The text was from Unknown: There are two men at the back door just beyond the pool house. They are drunk. I already broke the lock on the back gate for you. These Russians are sloppy.

  Romeo was mocking the Russians and helping me get inside. How did he always seem to know critical information?

  Another text came through a second later. FYI: I’m not done with Brooke. That’s the only reason I’m helping you. She’s currently in a bedroom on the top floor. South side.

  I pushed out of the car and went to the trunk. Inside were all of the weapons Dimitri and I had brought with us, plus the ones Ty had added. I strapped on a holster holding a nine-millimeter pistol at my waist, then slipped an ankle holster into place.

  Dimitri joined me. He held a laptop in one hand, which displayed a floor plan of the main house. “There are grand stairwells one either side of the front foyer, and there are two back staircases. One here and one here. The back staircases lead both to the second floor and the basement. It’s safe to assume the entire house is heavily guarded. We just have to pray Romeo isn’t walking you into a trap.”

  Ty climbed out of the back seat. “The FBI are headed this way. They’ll be here in under five minutes and will immediately storm the house. Difficult to surprise a house of criminals in broad daylight, so they won’t give them time to group and react. They’re coming in hot and with numbers.”

  The three of us looked up at the sky, hearing the distant sound of a helicopter.

  “They’ll have video from the sky,” Dimitri said.

  “They’ll kill her! Dimitri, tell Charkov I’m coming for him. And tell him that if Brooke is harmed in any way, I will kill him.”

  “You want me to tell him you’re coming?”

  “Some part of him wanted a face-to-face with me, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Let’s give him what he wants. Maybe he’ll think I can get him out of this alive.”

  Chapter 38

  I was left alone in one of the bedrooms after I had showered and Charkov had taken another picture of me. Why he’d needed another picture, I had no idea.

  I needed something I could use as a weapon, but this room had no furniture at all, not even a chair. I walked to the closet and opened the folding doors. The closet was bare as well.

  But as I closed the doors, I noticed the knob on one of the doors was loose. I quickly unscrewed it, and it fell off in my hands. A screw stuck out the bottom of it. I squeezed the knob in my palm, allowing the screw to stick out through my knuckles. “Could work,” I said softly.

  When the door to the bedroom opened, I held my hands behind me.

  Yury entered—and he did not look happy. He closed the door behind him and stalked toward me. The look in his eyes sent a chill down my back.

  “Where’s Charkov?” I asked.

  He looked around the room. “Not here. No one here to help you, Brooke.”

  He grabbed the hair at the base of my neck and held tight. I winced from the pain.

  “It won’t be much longer now.” His breath was hot on my neck. “Operation Spider Lightning has begun. And soon you and I, and all the others, will be on our way back to Moldova.”

  So. They planned to keep me alive. As future leverage, or…? I didn’t want to think of the other possibilities.

  “When this is over, we’ll be returning home heroes. We will have done much damage to the United States. The stock market will crash. Airlines and airports will struggle to recover and get back online. And many people will die. It will take months, maybe years, for your country to recover.”

  “You’ll never succeed,” I said.

  “We already are succeeding. Jacksonville, Florida, is already dark.”

  I turned my head just slightly; my eyes widened as I searched his. I struggled to get in a breath. It was starting.

  “If your government doesn’t meet our demands in the next hour—which, I’m happy to say, they won’t—then we’ll take down Atlanta, Boston, New York, and Washington, DC. And a few others, too, though those will be… how do you Americans say? Icing on the cake.” He laughed.

  “You’re fools,” I said. “You showed your hand by taking down one part of the electric grid. The government now will have no choice but to take out this house and everyone in it to prevent you from causing any more harm. My presence here won’t deter them.”

  Yury looked at me, smiled. “The FBI has no clue where we are.”

  I let my lips curl into an arrogant grin. “You really are a bunch of naïve thugs.” I projected confidence, though part of me was nervous that he was right—that neither Declan and Dimitri, nor the FBI, had discovered this location.

  He held my hair tighter, causing me to scream. He slapped a hand over my mouth. “Your billionaire boyfriend thought he could purchase you back from us. Instead, he forced our hand.”

  “Is that what you think he was doing?”

  Yury’s smile faltered.

  Of course, I had no idea what Declan was thinking. But I would play mind games with this asshole until I figured something out.

  The door to the room opened, and Yury quickly released me before Charkov entered. “Get with the others if you want to survive this,” he said to Yury. “Do not deviate from the plan. I’ll handle this one.”

  Yury left without a word.

  I backed up a couple of steps as Charkov strode toward me. “You are my insurance policy,” he said. He grabbed me hard by the arm, and when he jerked me forward, a blazing fire spread through my injured shoulder.

  He forced me into the hallway. I heard panicked voices in the distance.

  “Where are we going?”

  Charkov didn’t answer.

  Something was happening. Had the FBI discovered the house? “Give it up, Charkov. It’s over. You’re caught.”

  He pressed the barrel of a nine-millimeter to my forehead. “You knew they were coming, didn’t you? I should kill you now.”

  Chapter 39

  Declan

  Dimitri dug through the trunk of the car, strapping on a bevy of weapons.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m going with you.”

  I touched his hands. “No, you’re not.” We traded intense looks. “Look, you came to Kentucky. You’ve done your part. You’re not getting caught inside this house with me. I’m covered if anything goes wrong. You’re not. I’ve got this. You and Ty fall back and hang lo
w. If my timing is right, I’m going to get in there and get Brooke and Sam before the FBI gets their bad guys. And besides, I need you to track her in case anything goes wrong.” I pulled a pair of headphones from my pocket. “Call me if her signal shows she’s on the move.”

  The sound of the helicopter got closer. Dimitri gave me a cold stare, then took the headphones from my hand.

  Ty pulled a Kevlar vest from the trunk and handed it to me. “Declan, wear this. If you’re still in the house when the FBI makes their move, there’s sure to be a firefight. And friendly fire kills just as quickly as enemy fire.”

  “Thanks.” I slipped the vest over my head. It at least protected my chest, stomach, and back. “I’m taking Brooke’s phone, too. If Romeo’s playing me, God help him.”

  I walked along the hedges until I reached a gate. Sure enough, the lock was beaten in, and the gate swung inward easily. On the other side of it was a manicured back yard surrounding a large swimming pool in the shape of a kidney bean. To the right was a pool house. I worked around it, using it as cover as I jogged toward the building

  The helicopter drew nearer. I wouldn’t have long now before the sound of screeching tires signaled I was out of time. I picked up speed. I had to reach Brooke before the men inside this house panicked.

  My phone rang. Dimitri. “The FBI is close,” I said. “We have maybe three minutes.”

  “Yes, and Ty just got word from Alli. I’ve got bad news and worse news.” His voice dropped.

  “Give me both and fast.”

  “The FBI cyber squads have inserted decryption keys into the power companies’ servers, but not before Atlanta went dark. The Russians scored another point, but lost their main weapon. And with the FBI arriving…”

  “I’m out of time. I have to find Brooke before Charkov learns that his operation is shot to hell.”

  Dimitri stayed on the phone as I found the entrance that Romeo had directed me to. I pushed through, and to my relief, Romeo had been telling the truth. The door led into a utility room where two men sat at a card table. They were laughing, and obviously drunk. How had Romeo known this? How did he know where Brooke was?

  “What the fuck?” one of them said in a thick accent.

  They both stood, and one of them stumbled backwards over his chair. The other charged at me, but I was faster. I lifted an elbow and drilled him in the face. He collapsed with a grunt, blood pouring out his broken nose.

  Then the second man scrambled to his feet, muttered something in Russian, and charged me. I thrust the heel of my palm into his throat, crushing his larynx. His eyes grew wide in shock as he struggled to breathe. I knifed a foot into his knee, and he crumpled to the floor. He made no effort to get back up.

  “Thank you, Romeo,” I said quietly. I grabbed my phone. “Dimitri, Brooke’s status.”

  “She’s on the move. Still on the south side of the house. Shit! The cavalry just passed us. Time’s about up, mate.”

  Brooke’s phone chimed: Hurry, asshole. Charkov is leading Brooke to the basement. He’ll kill her when he realizes he’s cornered.

  The lucky mobster who suffered only from a busted nose moaned. I reached down, grabbed his shirt with two hands, and forced him to look at me. I pulled my Sig from my holster and pressed the barrel into his chest. “Stairs to the basement. Where?”

  He smiled and squinted his eyes. “Fuck you.”

  I pointed the gun at his foot and fired.

  He cried out like a baby.

  “Stairs,” I repeated.

  He waved a hand to the interior doorway. “Through that door and to the right.”

  I dropped him, closed the door, and locked it behind me, hoping to buy myself some time. I would need every second I could get.

  I padded quietly down the stairs into the basement. It was dark, and no one was looking my way. A half dozen men had their eyes glued to their computer screens; most likely they were trying to work through the decryption keys.

  “No, no, no!” one of the men yelled. He slammed his fist against the keyboard.

  “What’s happened?” another man said.

  I slipped behind a support pillar and peered around it. A man—Charkov, I presumed—was standing with Brooke in the middle of the room. She was cradling her left arm, but otherwise she looked unharmed.

  A brave man leapt to his feet. Charkov towered over him. “Sir,” the man said, “we’ve been scrambled. Our internet access has been blocked.”

  Charkov looked around the room. “All of you? Washington DC was next on our list. Are they dark?”

  The man directly in front of Charkov buried his head in his hands.

  Charkov lifted an arm, pointed a gun, and shot the man in the back of the head.

  Brooke bowed her head. Charkov grabbed her by the arm and yanked her in my direction. I slipped back behind the support pillar and miraculously managed to stay hidden.

  A booming crash sounded from above—a battering ram smashing the front door to the mansion—and gunfire rang out. SWAT had arrived. Charkov was trapped.

  I peered around the pillar. Charkov was dragging Brooke around a corner across the room. A moment later, she cried out, “Please don’t. My father will give you whatever you want. He’ll let you go if you release us unharmed.”

  I looked at Charkov’s hackers. They were shaken, if not still in shock, at the brutal death of their colleague.

  It was time to take a calculated risk.

  I stepped out from behind the pillar and strode across the room after Charkov, as if I belonged there. I walked right past the hackers, sneering at them as I went.

  None of them said a word.

  Around the corner were three makeshift jail cells. Sam Clay was on her knees in the middle one, and Charkov stood outside it, his back to me. Brooke was on the floor a few feet away, as if Charkov had shoved her there.

  I looked at Sam’s face. I had seen that look before. It was the look of someone who had been through something so devastatingly painful that she was ready for the pain to be over. She looked Charkov in the eye, and I swear she was begging him to pull the trigger.

  I was so busy studying Sam’s face that I missed the sudden action by Brooke. She lunged at Charkov, throwing her shoulder into his rib cage. His gun went off as it flew from his hand, but he hit nothing but drywall at the back of Sam’s cell.

  Charkov stumbled, but didn’t fall. He grabbed Brooke by the throat and backed her up against the wall.

  I would have shot him then, but the angle was all wrong. There was as much chance that I’d hit Brooke as hit my target.

  So instead I ran at him.

  I threw my body at his knees. He fell forward into Brooke and released the grip on her throat. She slid down the wall, gasping for breath.

  Charkov turned and assumed a combat stance. I ducked his first punch and blocked his next two. We danced around in the small space before he managed to get a couple of hits in and throw me off balance, sending me sprawling to the floor.

  As I got to my feet, he was moving to recover his weapon. Before he could reach it, I plowed into him again, knocking him to the floor, my body on top of his.

  A vision of Anna Simons flooded my mind, and rage overtook me. It was as if I left my body—was watching myself as a bystander—as I pinned Charkov to the ground with my knees and wrapped my hands around the bastard’s neck.

  His eyes widened with shock as I began to squeeze the life out of him.

  I had no intention of stopping.

  A voice shouted from the stairs. “Police! Everyone down on the ground!”

  Charkov coughed feebly, struggling to breathe. He rasped, “How are you, Irishman, going to explain that you killed a Russian?”

  Brooke moved so quickly and unexpectedly that she completely took me by surprise. She slammed into me with her good shoulder and knocked me aside, then in one quick motion she jammed something into Charkov’s neck. Blood spurted out of his carotid artery, showering her right hand and arm.

 
Agents poured down the stairs, assault rifles raised, sweeping the basement. “FBI! Put your hands on your head!”

  The Russian hackers were already splayed out on the floor. Brooke and I assumed the same position. My eyes were on her, but she wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Ma’am, we’re going to get you out of there. You’re okay,” an agent said to Sam, who was rocking back and forth inside the cell.

  “Is one of you Brooke Waller?” another agent asked.

  “I am,” Brooke said. “I’m Brooke Fairfax. Director Waller’s daughter.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. You can lower your hands. Is this man with you?”

  “Yes. This is Declan O’Roark. He saved my life.”

  Chapter 40

  The last thing I felt like doing after two full days of questioning and debriefing was attend a cocktail party. But it was Marti’s birthday, and Aidan had planned a celebration dinner at the Black Tulip long before anyone had known the Kharkiv Bratva was going to wreak havoc on our state.

  “Double Elkhorn Reserve, on the rocks.” Ty handed me a short glass with one oversized ice cube and a generous pour of Declan’s premier bourbon—his pride and joy of side businesses.

  “Thanks.” I took the glass with my good hand. My other arm was tucked securely in an arm sling, giving my shoulder the rest it needed.

  We were standing on the patio behind the Black Tulip. It was usually packed with diners, but storms were rolling in later tonight, so the tables were going unused, and Ty and I were alone for the moment. He was dressed in gray slacks and a fitted black button-down, matching my simple black dress.

  “They’re calling you a hero,” he said.

  I laughed. “My father isn’t.”

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  I shook my head. “Declan did. But only long enough to tell him I was fine, and that I would call him later.” He left out my exact words: later next year.

  “Well, if you ask me, the FBI won’t be ignoring the Kentucky Office of Homeland Security again any time in the near future.”