Silent Night, Deadly Night

by Kaylea Cross

  There were no cameras or microphones down here. No one would interrupt them. No one else would hear the prisoner’s screams.

  Kader looked up at him through eyes so bruised they were almost swollen shut. Blood covered his face, his naked body covered with cuts and welts. He was trembling. Not from fear. From the cold.

  “Where’s what?” he slurred through battered lips, his words holding the faintest trace of an Arabic accent. Several of his teeth lay on the blood-spattered concrete floor.

  Joe kept his expression impassive even as anger pulsed through him. “You know what. And I’m losing patience.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know firsthand what happens when I run out.”

  A wheezy laugh answered, followed by a sharp wince as it pulled on Kader’s likely broken ribs. He drew in a shallow breath, his expression hardening, raw hatred in his expression. “I have n-nothing to s-say to you.” His jaw shook, his body jerking with continual shivers.

  Oh, you’d better.

  Joe leaned his upper body toward him and dropped his voice to an ominous murmur. His sources on this were rock solid. “You talked shit about sending those files to someone. That you stole what belongs to me, hid them in a storage unit and planned to sell me out. But guess what? It’s not happening. And you’re gonna die either way.” He was pretty sure Kader was bluffing about the files—but couldn’t be sure.

  Those swollen eyes focused on him, the defiance on that beaten face admirable, if futile.

  Joe smiled. A slow, savage smile as he let the anger flow, and straightened. “Now. If you want me to make this as quick and painless as possible for you, you’ll tell me where the storage unit is, and who you supposedly sent the intel to.” The asshole thought it was his insurance policy. That he could blackmail Joe with it and save his neck. But he was wrong.

  “If I don’t check in with my c-contact within the next six hours, those f-files and the storage unit location will be sent to all the national n-news networks, and the Director.” He paused, pulling in a shallow breath.

  “You think that’s gonna save you?” Joe said with an incredulous laugh. Threatening him with exposure to the Director of the CIA?

  That stare never wavered. “You can k-kill me, but I’m t-taking you down with me.”

  He chuckled softly, the rage growing hotter. How dare he? How dare this piece of shit threaten him with this? “Not gonna happen.” If this asshole really had sent the location and other incriminating evidence to someone, it would spell the end of Joe’s and his accomplices’ long and devoted careers serving their country. It might even mean their deaths.

  Fuck that. Joe had spent over twenty years serving his country, doing the shitty, gray-area jobs no one else had the stomach for. He and the others deserved more than a government paycheck and a lousy pension plan for their service. He wasn’t going down because of the wanted terrorist sitting in front of him.

  Even as he thought it, a thread of alarm spiraled up his backbone. Along with a gut-deep certainty that this interrogation was going nowhere.

  This asshole could have sent someone the evidence and storage unit location. Even after all the beatings, sleep deprivation and psychological torment, Kader still wasn’t talking. He knew he was already dead, and yet refused to talk.

  Torturing him further wouldn’t do any good. Kader had no family or close friends left to threaten him with. And he was too well-trained to break.

  Because Joe was the best trainer in the biz.

  In a single motion he drew the pistol from the holster at the small of his back and put a bullet through Kader’s forehead, the shot ear-splitting in the enclosed space. The body slumped over in the chair, held in place by the bindings as blood poured into Kader’s lap and spilled onto the floor.

  Joe holstered the weapon and turned, speaking to two of his men on the way to the door. “Get rid of the body. Then find out if he actually sent anything.”

  Two hours later he got the grim news from one of his associates. CCTV footage of Kader putting a small envelope in a mailbox just down the street from the motel he’d been captured at yesterday afternoon. Which meant that whatever the envelope contained was now well on its way to the recipient.

  Joe clenched his jaw and lowered his voice as he spoke into his phone. “Go back and tear apart every piece of evidence collected from his room. Find out who he sent that letter to, or we can all kiss our asses goodbye.”

  Chapter Two

  Samarra Sinclair left the laundry room with a stack of folded clothes in her arms and hurried to the master bedroom, only to stop short in the doorway with a gasp of dismay at the sight before her. “What are you doing?”

  Her husband Ben glanced up from where he was busy putting things—at the very last moment—into the carefully packed and organized suitcase she’d left open on the bed.

  “Packing,” he said, as though it was self-explanatory. “Don’t worry, I’m Ranger rolling everything.” He held up a folded shirt, winked at her, and made a show of rolling it tight before tucking it in between some of her carefully rolled-up clothing.

  Her fingers clenched around the clothes she was holding, itching to shove him away and do it herself. “You’re not taking your own suitcase?”

  “Nah, I’m packing light, so it’ll all fit in here just fine.”

  Sam stood there for another few moments, watching him, torn between annoyance and distress as he continued shoving his things in amongst hers. They’d married four months ago, in a double ceremony with his twin, Rhys, and wife Neveah. There hadn’t been a dull moment since, with her and Ben just finishing up different contract jobs for the CIA.

  Some things never changed, however. She was still the serious one and he loved to tease and pull pranks. While Ben still didn’t fully understand her obsessive need for organization and tidiness, at least he didn’t tease her about it like he used to.

  After tucking his last shirt away, he straightened and glanced over at her. “You done with this?” He indicated the suitcase.

  “Yes.” She winced as he dumped one side of it on top of the other and began zipping it shut. Her OCD was going wild. All those things he’d shoved in there, mixed haphazardly with her own. There would definitely be wrinkles.

  “You’re so cute,” he said with a grin, coming over to plant a big kiss on her lips.

  “And you’re lucky I love you so much.”

  “I know.” He kissed her again, one hand slipping down to squeeze her ass.

  She laughed lightly and pushed him away. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

  “I always have ideas around you,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck.

  If she hadn’t been anxious about leaving on time, she would have enjoyed his attentions a lot more. “Stop distracting me. I have things to get done.”

  He swatted her butt. “Get to ‘em, then. Slacker.”

  Somehow she resisted the urge to snatch the suitcase from his hands, rip it open and repack everything herself. Instead she made herself go into their walk-in closet and began putting everything away, either rolled-up neatly on the correct shelf, or hanging on hangers. The way civilized people put away their clothes.

  She eyed Ben’s side of the closet, suppressing a shudder. Absolutely nothing was organized by color. There wasn’t a single label on the edge of any of the shelves, either. Chaos.

  “Did you check for mail today?” she asked as she put away the last of her things. She’d already cleaned their place this morning while Ben was at the gym. It felt good to know that when they got home from this trip, they would walk into a tidy and clean house.

  “No.”

  “I’ll do it. How much longer are you gonna be?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “’Kay.” She strode down the hallway and grabbed the mail key from the dish on the table next to the door, telling herself to chill out more. He wasn’t nearly as uptight as her when it came to schedules and things like that. But when flying she preferred to be at th
e gate early instead of barely clearing security as their flight boarded.

  The front foyer was empty when she arrived in the lobby, unlocked their mailbox and grabbed everything inside. A lot of junk mail, a few bills, and…

  She frowned at the plain white legal envelope. There was something small and hard inside it. It was addressed to her, but there was no return name or address, only D.C. marked on the stamp from the post office it was processed at.

  She opened it on the way back to the elevator. A single, plain white sheet of paper was inside, with a flash drive and small metal key taped to it.

  Someone had scrawled down a series of numbers on the page. Four in the top row, then two rows of seven beneath it. No explanation. No name or signature. Just the drive and key, and they had nothing written on them either.

  Once back on her floor she hurried to the apartment. “Ben? You ready yet?”

  “Two minutes,” he called from the bedroom.

  That should give her enough time to find out what was on this thing, and now she had something to focus on other than being anxious about him taking so long to get ready. She headed straight into her office, fired up her desktop, and plugged in the thumb drive, curious to find out what was on it. Seconds later, a screen of code popped up.

  “What the hell is this?” she murmured, frowning. It wasn’t like any code she was familiar with. Had to be encrypted. She could probably crack it with some software she had, but not now—they needed to leave for the airport. She’d take it all with her.

  Unplugging the flash drive, she put it and the letter in her purse and checked her watch. Damn. “We’re gonna miss the plane if you don’t hurry.” Yeah, he was a lot more relaxed than her, but there was such a thing as being too laid back sometimes.

  “We’re not gonna miss the plane.” He appeared in the doorway, handsome as ever, his pale green eyes twinkling with amusement and his wide shoulders all but filling the doorframe. “I’m hungry. Wanna stop for a bite to eat on the way?” he teased.

  “No.” She marched past him out into the hallway, grabbing her carryon with her laptop in it. “So someone just mailed me a letter with only some numbers written on it, along with an encrypted thumb drive and a small key, and I don’t have a clue who it was.” She pulled her jacket from the hook by the door. “Or what it means.”

  The wheels of their suitcase clicked across the hardwood floor as he steered it to the door. “Did you open the drive?”

  “Yeah. It’s full of code I’ll need to decrypt. So weird. The only thing I have to go on is that it was mailed from somewhere in D.C.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Sure, once we’re at the airport.” She gave him a sweet smile.

  He grinned, cupped the back of her head with one hand and bent to kiss her. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, now hurry.” She pushed him toward the door.

  On the way to the airport she plugged the thumb drive into her laptop to get a better sense of what she was dealing with. The first two encryption programs she ran didn’t work on it, and they were programs she used regularly for her contract work with the CIA.

  “Crack it yet?” Ben asked as he merged them onto the freeway.

  “No. The security on this thing is a helluva lot more advanced than the stuff I normally work with.” That in itself raised red flags. Who was this from? Someone she knew? Why all the secrecy? “Gotta say, I’m not feeling so good about whoever sent this knowing my name and home address.”

  “You bringing it with you?”

  “Of course. I need to find out what it is, and who it’s from, so I know what I’m dealing with.”

  They made it to the pay parking in ample time to catch the next shuttle to the terminal. The whole time they went through check-in and security, she was thinking about the files and encryption. Whoever had sent it had access to fairly advanced technology, so she had to assume it was someone in the security or intelligence field. All the unanswered questions were driving her nuts.

  As soon as she and Ben were through into the departures area, they found a secluded work area in the airline’s private lounge. Making sure no one was around to see, Sam angled her laptop screen down to avoid any cameras picking up anything, then plugged the thumb drive back in without connecting to the Wi-Fi.

  “Here’s the note,” she told him, handing over the piece of paper.

  Ben pulled up a chair beside her, the scent of the cinnamon-flavored gum he always chewed comforting and familiar. She was the one with the fancy degrees from MIT, but he was damn good with technology too, in addition to being a former Ranger with a fifth-degree black belt.

  He made her feel safe and she loved him to pieces—even though his off-kilter sense of humor and prankster tendencies sometimes drove her nuts. Opposites really did attract.

  He studied it a moment. “Last two might be coordinates, but no clue what the first one means. Something to do with the key, maybe?”

  “Maybe. I’m more interested in what’s on this drive, to be honest.” She quietly explained the previous programs she’d tried, then activated a third.

  Nothing. Same with a fourth and fifth. And she was running out of time to crack this before they had to board.

  She blew out a breath. She loved solving mysteries and cracking codes, but not when they were potentially dangerous and mailed to her home. “Only got one more trick up my sleeve, then I’ve gotta reach out for help. And I’d rather not do that until I find out what this is and who sent it, just in case,” she murmured, loading the final program.

  Seconds after she started it, things began popping up on screen. Numbers. A list of them, in three columns.

  “Those look like…bank accounts, and either deposits or withdrawals.” Ben leaned closer.

  “Yeah, they do.” Except the figures made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. There were no names, no other information given. “Wonder what this is about?” It was all so strange. And unsettling. Someone had singled her out for this personally. Why?

  “What about those other attachments at the bottom?” Ben pointed to the three icons.

  She entered some more code manually. One by one, the attachments began to unlock. Three images, showing the same man in various settings. Caucasian. Early to mid-forties, fit, with sandy-brown hair.

  In one he wore military fatigues holding a weapon. In another he wore street clothes drinking a beer at some bar. The third was of him in profile, wearing business casual in some kind of meeting with other men.

  “Recognize him? Because I don’t,” she said.

  “No. Can you run facial diagnostics?”

  “Not here.” Not nearly enough privacy, and she’d need a secure Internet connection. Luke would have one.

  She shook her head in frustration and examined the evidence before her. “Who the hell are you, and why did you send this to me?”

  It creeped her out. She didn’t like the feel of this at all. Why go to the trouble of sending this to her if there was no information about who this man was, or what this all meant? What did the sender want from her?

  A female voice came over the speaker, announcing their flight to Charleston was boarding.

  Sam quickly removed the thumb drive and shut down her laptop. This mystery would have to wait a while longer. “Let’s get going. We’ll have to do more digging once we get to Luke’s place.”

  ****

  While Rayne was happy to be back home in Charleston for the holidays, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something might be wrong. His mom had been ecstatic to see them at the airport, looking as elegant and put-together as ever, but something kept bothering him nonetheless.

  She’d recovered beautifully since the end of her cancer treatment, and for that he was grateful. He just hoped that having everyone here this week wouldn’t be too much for her. She had a tendency to work too hard when she was in hostess mode, so he planned to watch her carefully and intervene if she overdid it. Which she inevitably would.

&nbs
p; He jogged down the curving wooden staircase to the main floor of his parents’ house, smothering a yawn. The stately brick house looked the same inside as it always had, cozy and immaculate, though it was still weird to know his dad lived here too now, after being absent from their lives for so many years.

  He and Rayne had officially buried the hatchet before the wedding last fall, though things were still a little strained between them at times. He’d forgiven his dad for taking off on them when Rayne was a kid, but he hadn’t forgotten.

  Going forward, as long as his dad stuck around this time and made his mom happy, then Rayne was willing to let the past go. As messed up as his parents’ relationship and family situation had been, they’d never stopped loving one another.

  Mentally shelving all of that, he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of lemon oil soap his mom used on the wood floors and furniture mixing with the mouthwatering aromas coming from the kitchen. His empty stomach let out an impatient growl.

  He found his mom and Christa in the bright, cozy kitchen at the granite-topped island, making something together. “Please tell me that’s coconut cake I smell baking.”

  They both looked up at him with smiles, and the sight of them working so comfortably together filled him with warmth. He was so lucky that they adored each other. “No, sorry, that’s for tomorrow,” his mom said. “It’s chocolate stout cake.”

  “I like chocolate stout cake too.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said with a wry smile.

  He walked over to them, slung an arm around each and gave them a big squeeze, his heart full. Christa loved puttering in the kitchen as much as his mother did. “My two best girls.”

  He was an unapologetic mama’s boy, and proud of it. His mom was the best, and as it had just been the two of them for most of Rayne’s childhood and teen years, they’d always been incredibly close. As a result, he was naturally protective of her.