Final Stand

by Lisa Phillips

  “Of course I don’t know,” she cried loudly in the car. Loud enough his ears rang. “How would I know? I’ve never seen his face in person or even had a conversation with him. I barely know the man, and yet he’s determined to kill me and a bunch of other people.” She let out a frustrated sound.

  Mark shook his head, gripping the wheel as he followed the highway toward home.

  “You two fight like a married couple.” There was a measure of humor in Talia’s voice. “It would be cute if you weren’t talking about mass murder.” Her tone had switched to being sardonic.

  He gritted his teeth. “So that explosion in Bremerton was, for sure, all Langdon then.”

  “Well,” Talia said. “Not exactly.”

  Mark waited for her to explain.

  Victoria said, “Middle man?”

  “The surveillance shot we got of who we think stole the chip and caused the explosion is a man with a long rap sheet. He just got out of prison a matter of months ago, off a stint serving time for aggravated assault and burglary.”

  Victoria said, “So he’s going to take it to Langdon, get the balance of the money he’s owed.”

  Mark saw an opportunity there. “Can we find out where? Get in, and get the chip back...before Langdon gets his hands on it?”

  “If he didn’t already.” Victoria didn’t sound quite so hopeful now.

  Talia chimed in. “To save all the back and forth, I did find out where I think he might be going. It’s an art auction in Portland. Right up both of their alleys, considering it’s uh…off book sales.”

  “Black market art auction?” Mark would need to meet with the special agent in charge of the FBI office in Portland. Form a joint sting operation. They’d need to get in there incognito, get the chip, and then take down the whole auction. Arrest all those participating.

  Not just one chip. This was now a full-blown operation that would take people and time.

  “Mark will let you know when he’s figured out what the plan is.”

  “Copy that,” Talia said, humor in her voice. “I’ll send everything I have on this guy.”

  “When is the auction?” Mark slowed the car for a red light, not far from his house.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Of course it is.” Victoria shot him a look. Mark saw what she tried to hide below the humor.

  Mark said, “Thanks, Talia,” and hung up the phone. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “Why would I need a doctor?”

  “You know, for a spy, you’re kind of bad at lying.”

  “It’s not that.” She shook her head. “It’s you—you’ve always been able to tell when I was up to something. Whether I liked it or not.”

  “Lot of good that did me.”

  She said nothing.

  The worst day of both their lives. A day that cemented everything going forward. One where she’d kept something from him, and he’d let her. The consequences…

  She said, “Maybe it’s that when I did keep a secret, things went so terribly wrong. I think I’ve just never tried with you since then. Because it could go badly again.”

  Mark reached over and squeezed her hand again. An hour later, after a detour to a 24-hour emergency room for Victoria to get restitched, he pulled into his driveway. The lamp in the front window was on, illuminating Bear, sitting there, waiting.

  The dog barked. Mark couldn’t hear it, but he saw the lift of the snout.

  “He sees you.”

  Victoria climbed out and waited at the front door for him to unlock it. Bear came trotting over, tail wagging. His whole body shifted and wiggled. “Hey, buddy.” She stroked his sides as he leaned his head into the side of her leg.

  Mark’s chest ached watching them. The knowledge that they could have this very thing every day…along with the rest of what a relationship could be. Marriage. Kids. He knew she wanted both.

  He’d been married for two years in his late twenties—a mistake from start to finish.

  “Get me a blanket?”

  “I’ll get one for myself,” he said, heading for the linen closet. “Since I’ll be taking the couch.”

  “Mark—”

  “Nope.” He wasn’t even going to talk about her being between him and whoever could break in. “I’m the one with the gun, remember?”

  “I’m the one trained not to need one,” she fired back. “Remember?”

  He nearly laughed, but figured she didn’t need to be encouraged.

  “Come on, Bear. Let’s go get some sleep.”

  Of course, she was going to take his dog with her. “We’re not even going to talk about that kiss?”

  She turned back, one hand on the stair rail. Bear went to the landing midway up the stairs and turned to wait for her. He shouldn’t be doing this. She was hurt and tired. She’d had a long day. Sure, they both had, but he hadn’t been on a mission. He’d been in the NCIS office working the case.

  Was she going to deny that their kiss was a big deal? Maybe she didn’t think it was anything worth talking about.

  “I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Victoria shrugged. “I mean, overanalyze it until it’s less than what it was.”

  He nodded slowly. “I can get on board with that, I guess. If you tell me what it was.”

  “A very nice kiss.”

  “It was. Very nice.”

  “And maybe…when the case is over...we can talk about doing that more.”

  Mark had to know. Otherwise he would lay awake until breakfast wondering what she meant. “You want things to change?”

  He saw her bite her lip. “I at least want to talk about it.”

  Hope swelled in him. “Okay.” She looked about ready to fall asleep standing there. “Good night, Victoria.”

  She gave him a soft smile and turned to the stairs. Mark fell asleep quickly, knowing everything he cared about in the world was right here under this roof.

  Two hours later he woke up.

  He knew immediately something was wrong and reached for his gun under the couch cushion before he was even fully awake. But it wasn’t a threat he could fight with his weapon.

  Smoke filled the downstairs.

  His house was on fire.

  Chapter 17

  Seattle, Washington Friday 4.45a.m.

  Victoria sucked in a breath. Panic was an elusive friend. She’d been trained to process things entirely differently. To assess and then react, instead of simply reacting. Usually without the full picture as to what was happening.

  Bear clambered to his feet onto the bed. He came close to her, and she heard a low whine.

  Victoria ran her hand through the fur on the side of his neck. “Okay. Let’s figure this out.” Though, she’d already gotten most of it. House fire.

  The room was full of smoke.

  She could hear Mark yelling her name.

  Victoria shoved back the covers and moved to the door, the dog running alongside her leg. He stuck with her like the best-trained canine companion. A fact, for which, she was extremely grateful. As though someone, somewhere, knew that Bear was exactly what she needed and had given him to her. A gift.

  Moving tugged at the skin on her side and the new stitches she’d been given last night. She felt like she’d slept for just ten minutes even though the alarm clock said it’d been a few hours.

  “Hang on Bear.” She waved him off. No way did a dog need to go first. Especially one as protective as Bear.

  Victoria rotated her hand and touched the back of her index finger to the door handle. Warm, but not so much that she would be burned.

  She lifted the hem of the T-shirt she’d “borrowed” from Mark and covered her mouth. The door was hot. Mark still yelled, probably at the bottom of the step. If he wasn’t up here already, that meant he couldn’t get up here.

  She twisted the handle and gingerly pulled the door open.

  Flames roared up the stairs, licking the walls. A wave of warm, smoky ai
r wafted toward her and breezed at her hair.

  She lowered the T-shirt for a second. “Mark!”

  “Victoria! I can’t get to you!”

  “Just get out!” She wanted to ask what had happened, and if the fire department was on their way. But neither would get her out of this situation. Instead, the minutes spent on conversation would probably cost her safety. Maybe even her life.

  She looked back at the bedroom and then raced to the window to see if there was a way down where she wouldn’t wind up breaking her leg. The world outside was dark and quiet. A light came on at the house belonging to a neighbor across the street. The front door opened, and the porch illuminated a man standing there. Phone to his ear.

  She looked at the ground. Whatever instinct that drove her to protect herself at all costs, it fired then. She glanced up the street.

  At the edge of what she could see, a man stood beside a pickup truck. His body was in shadow, but light shone from a street lamp onto the blonde of his hair.

  Langdon.

  She raced back to the hall. “Mark, Langdon is outside! White pickup, he’s west...up the street on the other side!”

  “How are you going to get out?”

  “I’ll figure it out, go get him.”

  She couldn’t climb out his bedroom window. Bear wasn’t going to be able to jump that far, and she didn’t especially want to either. No, the window across the hall would be better. She yelled, “Patio!” and then ran for the spare room.

  Bear followed her in, working his way around paint cans and drop sheets. Buckets of rollers and brushes. At the window, she jimmied the lock and had to shove at the pane to get it to raise.

  Another gift, the pergola over the patio was wood covered with regular roofing tiles. Mark had paid a guy to redo them so they matched the new roof.

  Victoria climbed out, wincing as her foot touched the scratchy tile. Abrasions were never fun. But she was alive to care, which was a good thing.

  “Tori!” He hadn’t called her that in a long time. She saw him on the grass, looking up at her.

  “Go get Langdon!” Why was he back here? He needed to go out front with his gun and a pair of handcuffs and get the guy. The one who’d probably set this fire.

  Victoria called Bear out. He hopped onto the tile and surveyed the pergola roof. She crouch walked to the edge and looked down.

  “I’ll catch you.”

  “No,” she yelled back down. That was a disaster waiting to happen. “Get out of the way, I’m going to jump.” She looked at the dog. “Call Bear first.”

  Talking made her need to cough. The air was better out here but still laced with smoke that smelled funny. Not just burning wood like a bonfire, there was an added tang in the air.

  Too bad she couldn’t call Sal or Allyson. ATF agents were either trained to work fire scenes, or they had people on their teams who were fire investigation experts. They were the ones you wanted working the scene of any bombing or explosion.

  Was that what this was?

  Victoria half expected Langdon to walk into the backyard any second, brandishing a gun, and shoot them both. Bear. “Call him.”

  “Bear, come.” Mark waved at him.

  The dog took one look at the distance and jumped down onto the grass. His leg gave out. Victoria held her breath while he took a couple of steps. He favored his back left leg for a second, and then seemed to recover. He trotted off to do some business on the grass like this was any other night.

  “Come on.”

  Victoria moved to the edge. “You need to turn around, or you’ll get an eyeful when I climb down.”

  He turned his body to the side, but looked back.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman federal agent?”

  “We all know the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He even folded his arms.

  Victoria shot him a look. “Go get Langdon.”

  “That’s not my priority right now. You are.” He pulled one hand free and waved his phone. “I’ve got agents on the way. Langdon is their priority.”

  Victoria tried to figure out how to hang, and then drop. In the end, she just hopped down. Breath escaped her lungs in a whoosh. She rolled to displace the force and came to a stop pretty much on Mark’s feet. Bear trotted over to lick her face.

  “I’m okay.” She pushed the dog away and sat up. Which hurt.

  “Did you pull out all your stitches again?”

  “No. Now go get Langdon.”

  He snagged her hand and started walking to the front of the house. They were doing it together? “I don’t have shoes.”

  He kept tugging all the way to the front lawn. A fire truck pulled up at the curb and the firefighters got to work.

  Victoria pointed. “He was over there.” The truck was gone now.

  “You and I, and Bear, are alive and mostly unscathed. We’ll get Langdon.”

  She spun to him. “Mostly unscathed?”

  He swallowed, mouth closed, not hiding his attempt to keep from wincing.

  “Smoke?”

  Mark shrugged. “Ambulance is—” He coughed. “—on its way.”

  Victoria turned back to the street. The need to double check that Langdon wasn’t still standing there watching them was powerful. She would have jumped in her car and taken off after him, looping Talia in on the search…if she wasn’t in just a T-shirt with no shoes. But then, she didn’t even have her car keys, so she couldn’t have taken off even if she wanted to. No, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Had Langdon heard that Genevieve was dead? He had likely done this for revenge, if that was the case.

  Langdon might have hired those men in France to get Genevieve and kill Victoria in the process, or kill them both. Victoria didn’t know which it was. But that hadn’t worked, and now Genevieve was dead. Langdon was probably tying up loose ends, getting rid of whoever still knew he was the last corrupt FBI agent still out there evading capture.

  Buying himself time to enact whatever plan he had going on.

  But why do that himself, when at every point in this process so far he had sent someone else to do the deed?

  Two SUVs passed them on the street. Mark lifted a hand to wave. “There’s my guys.”

  “They’ll get him?”

  “They’ll do their best. That’s all anyone can ask of anyone.”

  Victoria pressed her lips together. Mark tugged her elbow, moving to face her even as he pulled her to face him. He tipped his head close. “Are you okay?”

  She made a face. Her throat hurt. “I could use water.”

  Mark leaned in and kissed her forehead. Apparently that wasn’t enough, because he pulled her into a hug and held her against him.

  The chattering voices penetrated. Firefighters. A couple of uniformed cops had shown up in their black and white car.

  She twisted to look at the people around them. “Are you staking a claim right now?”

  Mark didn’t let her go. He still held her in that loose hold, but she spotted the curl of his lips.

  “You are.” She pushed at his shoulders. “Let go.”

  “You need a blanket.” He glanced down at her legs.

  “Am I showing more skin than if I was at the pool, or the beach?”

  “We aren’t at the pool, or the beach. And it’s cold out here.”

  She shook her head, turning to look at the house. Mark walked her over to an ambulance as it pulled up.

  They were still there when the sun started to come up.

  She’d been checked out but had refused transport to the hospital. Mark’s breathing seemed worse than hers anyway. Though it occurred to her that the two of them were simply trying to out-stubborn each other in their attempt to prove they were fine.

  Mark hung up his phone and strode over. “They saw the pickup, but lost Langdon.”

  “So we have no idea where he is?” He was here, though. Not a pleasant thought considering the man was responsible for hauling her unconscious to South Africa and dumping her
into a prison with no ID, taking months for Mark to find her.

  “We’ll find him.”

  She shot him a look, holding a blanket around her that the paramedic had given her. Probably she didn’t look as threatening as she was trying to. But Mark had always seen that kid he’d known so many years ago, even now. Just like she often saw the teenage boy he’d been, that old-soul kid with too much on his shoulders. He laughed more now than he ever had then.

  Time healing old wounds, and all that.

  “Together.”

  Like she was planning on leaving? She had no actionable intelligence. No leads she could run down—by herself. “I’ll have to get a change of clothes.” She glanced down at her bare feet, then shot him a pointed look. “You have things to do here. Paperwork, and phone calls. Your stuff is ruined.”

  Plus there was likely going to be an operation tonight. A mission to go get Langdon before he could purchase that guidance chip. Take him down before he hurt a lot of people.

  His eyes flashed with humor. “Nice try. But Langdon burned my house down, which means he knows who I am.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “That means I’m in danger. He could come back at any time and try to kill me, so you’ll need to protect me. The FBI doesn’t have the additional resources to waste on a detail at a time like this.” He actually grinned, the rat. “You’ll have to make sure I’m safe. Personally.”

  She glared at him.

  “My life is on the line.”

  Chapter 18

  Portland, Oregon. Friday 9.14p.m.

  Mark walked into the art gallery opening, Victoria on his arm. Not that anyone would recognize her in that glittery black dress and the short, black bob wig. She even had serious heels on, so that she was four-inches taller than normal. It was a wonder she could walk in them.

  Mark handed over their embossed invitation and Victoria allowed a security attendant to give a cursory inspection of her purse. Her hand slid around his forearm and they moved to the three steps that led up to the main gallery area. A wide, open room with display pillars the height of the ceiling, under a balcony that ran around the room. The whole place was white. Ceiling, walls, and floor.