Dirty Little Secrets

by AJ Nuest

  A glacial gush drenched her back, and she gasped, her spine arched to keep the water from shearing off a layer of her skin. Dammit, her core temperature had to be hovering near hypothermia. As it was, her eyelashes were already sporting a layer of frost.

  “That’s disappointing. I’d really hoped you’d be more accommodating.” The shadow’s head tipped to the side. “Maybe we should give you a few hours to consider the options. Think through the consequences before you decide.”

  Yeah, yeah, whatever. If the odds were in anyone’s favor that person was her and they both knew it. But what none of these idiots seemed to get was that keeping her mouth shut was about so much more than some stupid formula or whether or not Ryan released it onto the market. Had they spent two seconds digging into her past, they would’ve known no matter what kind of torture methods Mr. Slap Happy used on her, she’d never crack.

  If she did, it would be nothing more than a betrayal of every person she’d ever cared for, both present and past. Danny, Ellis, Eden, Mocha…hell, even the people she’d met at Malcolm’s wake would suffer if she talked. There was no way she’d ever put them in that position.

  One of shadow man’s arms bent, and she squinted as his hand met his ear. “Thank you. That should come in handy.”

  God, now what? He’d received a message through a wireless com link?

  “I’ve just been informed Mr. Dade is quite upset that you’re missing, Ms. McGovern, and it appears he’s called in a few friends to offer their support.”

  Shit, they had Xander’s real name. Had him under surveillance.

  But he knew. After the way she’d been snatched, the first conclusion he’d probably come to was that the manor was being monitored. The only real question was how they’d done it, and whether or not the douche bag who’d ordered her taken in the first place fully understood how badly he’d screwed up.

  Pissing off a guy like Xander was a bad idea under the best of circumstances. But this? She huffed. Yesterday would’ve been a good time to get their affairs in order.

  Grit rasped as record-o-voice pivoted, his dim outline pacing left. “I’d hoped to avoid bringing anyone else into our discussions, but I must admit having you as our guest may provide another alternative I hadn’t considered before.” The click of his heels stopped, and Charlie braced. “I guess we’ll just have to see how important you are, Ms. McGovern.”

  So…what? They planned on holding her ransom? On using the delay to try to beat some confession out of her, all while contacting Xander and negotiating a trade in exchange for the formula?

  Dear God, these idiots had no idea what they were doing.

  A chuckle pressed against her breastbone, the force gradually building until she finally gave up and a burst of air heated the back of her throat. “G-good l-l-luck with that. H-he’s gonn-na eat you f-f-for lunch.”

  Pain exploded across her jaw, and the world spun. Jagged glass tore through her side as she crumpled to the floor in a confused heap.

  Curling her knees to her chest, she hissed through her teeth and fought to breathe past the razor-sharp throbs threatening to tear her body apart. God, shit, that hurt.

  Somewhere past the loud clanging in her ears, the door screeched open. Darkness fluttered at the edges of her vision, and she shook her head as a pair of steel-toed combat boots kicked the metal chair aside and approached.

  A beefy hand grabbed her arm and jerked her to sitting. She glanced up and light reflected off a bald head as a clenched fist slammed her chin right.

  Stars crackled through her skull. The fragile bonds of consciousness unraveled through her fingers.

  But Charlie smiled.

  Now that she knew who he was, his days were numbered. Once she got out of here, there wouldn’t be a single place on Earth he could hide.

  Chapter 15

  “I got it. You were right, X.”

  Xander looked up from where he’d been studying the formula over Nick DeFranco’s shoulder, pushed off the library conference table and quickly rounded the end for the back of Molly’s chair.

  Thank God, hopefully they’d finally hit on something that would develop into a useful lead. So far, every rock they’d flipped over exposed nothing but another shallow hole that had circled them straight back to square one. Any more chasing his own tail, and he’d be tearing the room apart with his bare hands.

  Assuming the same stance he’d used all afternoon, he braced one arm on the table, fingers grasping the chair between Molly’s shoulder blades, and leaned in for a better shot at the screen.

  A narrow stream of code ran down the left-hand side, a live feed of Smith Manor centered in the corner traffic camera on the right.

  He’d suspected as much. Whoever was behind the attack had hacked into the signal at the end of the block, changed the trajectory and focus of the lens to monitor the house and that’s how they’d confirmed he and Charlie were alone.

  His hand bunched in a hard fist he knuckled against the wood. Calculating the perfect chance to strike had probably been as easy as waiting for everyone to leave after the wake and then just tossing in another twelve hours for good measure. His jaw creaked under the strain, locked in the same desperate grind he’d been unable to loosen ever since the reality of Charlie’s abduction set in. Once that happened, all they’d had to do was disable the cameras around the property and wait outside until they could catch her on the ground floor without him.

  “Should I cut the feed?” Molly’s index finger hovered over the enter key.

  “No.” Based on the radio intercept device Tanner had found stuck to the back door and the way the frequency had been tuned to disable the security system, whoever had them under surveillance was smart. Either had enough tech to reroute the traffic cameras on their own or had greased the right palm over at the Department of Transportation.

  Considering the activity around the property, they already knew he’d called in backup, and shutting down the feed would only wave a red flag their cover had been blown.

  Xander wasn’t about to take that risk. Not while he was still no closer to finding Charlie than when she’d first disappeared. With each excruciating second that ticked past, a dense pressure continued to squeeze his chest, and the tighter it got the more he became convinced she was already doing her best just to hang on by her fingernails.

  Shoving up from the table, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Rewind it. Timestamp 10:55 AM. Let’s see if they were dumb enough to catch themselves in the act.” And if that didn’t work, step two would be tracking the signal back to the source. “I need a name, Molly. At the very least, give me someplace to start.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She sat forward, fingers flying over the keys, and Xander spared a quick check around the status of the room.

  Eden’s fiancé had been right. Not ten minutes after he’d ended what could only be classified as a cryptic call with FBI Special Agent in Charge Elias Byrne, Xander had swung open the manor’s front door to find Ben Archer standing on the stoop, pissed to high hell over the news of Charlie’s kidnapping and dragging an entire entourage along with him. Molly, DeFranco, Tanner and even a slightly hysterical Mocha had filed inside, each of them ready to do whatever was necessary to get Charlie back. Anxious to hear what had happened as if she were one of their own.

  In the few short minutes it had taken Xander to head upstairs and throw on some clothes, they’d set up a base of operations in the library, gear prepped and all ears for him to bring them up to speed.

  As complicated as the whole thing was, he’d done his best to distill the details, keep the information as straightforward as possible. And when it came to his vague account of how Charlie had gotten her hands on the formula in the first place? Whether or not the group suspected she’d stolen it, no one said a damn word. And then they’d even gone the extra mile by directing their follow up questions toward the specifics of the attack.

  Once those had been handled, other
than explaining the visit they should be expecting from a few unlikely friends later in the day, he’d stood there like an idiot, trying to fight off the numbing wall of shock as everyone dove straight into work.

  Xander’s gaze landed on Tanner and Mocha, standing before the fireplace, heads lowered as they discussed the schematics of the new commercial-grade security system and the equipment they’d spread over the floor.

  Asleep. At this very moment, Charlie could be suffering any number of vicious attacks and he’d been fucking asleep. The same dark panic he’d been battling ever since he’d shot down the stairs flickered at the edges of his vision. Christ, he’d never forgive himself for proving Charlie wrong. Exactly like his days on the streets, relaxing for even one second had never brought on anything but heartache and pain.

  But as it turned out, he was human, after all.

  “I got the lab results on those tire tracks.”

  He pivoted toward the door as Archer entered with an affirmative nod.

  “Late model four-door Pontiac.” Molly hit enter with an authoritative rap and Xander spun back to the conference table as she bumped her chin toward the screen. “They screwed up big-time, all right. License plate is registered to one Weston Finch.” Another click and the photo ID of a bald dude with the neck of a gorilla popped up, and Xander stepped forward to scan Mr. Not-So-Clean’s face.

  A curtain of red rage dropped before his eyes. There he was. The asshole who’d trailed them right up through airport security.

  “What’s his last known address?” If the fucker was home when Xander got there, he could say goodbye to taking a piss while standing for the rest of his life.

  “Hold on.” Molly rattled her keyboard, frowned and shook her head. She rattled a second time and her shoulders fell. “Something’s not right here.”

  Understatement of the year.

  She opened a new browser, fed the ID into the police database and tapped enter. “Crap. This driver’s license has been flagged 625.”

  “Shit.” Archer crossed his arms. “The guy’s a ghost. Probably why he didn’t give a rat’s ass if we caught him on video. At this point, I’m surprised he didn’t smile and wave.”

  Xander glanced between them, and the dim hope they’d finally caught a break spiraled through his stomach like water circling the bowl. Police jargon aside, the frustration on their faces said it all.

  “It’s a forgery.” And how ironically brilliant he’d used the same scam enough times to know.

  “Yep.” Molly sighed. “Which makes the guy pretty much impossible to trace.”

  Dammit. Xander tipped his head back and expelled a long, slow breath toward the ceiling. Dammit to hell, not again. Frustration crawled into his shoulders, and he closed his eyes against the urge to repeatedly slam his forehead off the nearest brick wall.

  Around and around they scampered like mice in maze, and no matter what path they followed they always ran headfirst into another dead end. If they didn’t find something soo—

  “We got movement out front.”

  His cell chirped, and he glanced at Molly, squinting at the front view of the manor through the traffic camera feed. A black SUV eased to a stop at the curb, and Xander inched close to get a read on the plate.

  Different number than the one in New York, but the make and model were a close enough match, his internal switch was instantly flipped from terrified anger to full-blown pissed off.

  That son of a bitch. He gritted his teeth. If Byrne had been playing some stupid game with Charlie, he’d better be ready to fork over a damn good reason why.

  Pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, Xander checked the caller ID and then snapped his fingers to make sure he had the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s the Feds. Lock it down, people. Tanner, you’re up.” He slapped the phone to his ear as she nodded and strode from the room. “It’s about fucking time.”

  “Stow it in your ass, Dade. I had to commandeer a flight out of Reagan to make it here before nightfall and I got a deputy director busting my balls for walking off a case. Whatever this is about had better be worth my time.”

  Nightfall? Xander spun toward the bay windows, and alarm discharged through his gut with the force of a sonic boom.

  Jesus. He tightened his grip on his cell.

  The first inklings of an early fall dusk bled across the sky, the evening star hovering near the cusp of a dark blue horizon streaked orange, and all the movement in the room crawled to a stop as the most arresting set of eyes he’d ever gotten lost inside shone like some telepathic beacon in his head.

  Charlie. Those colors were an exact replica of her amazing two-toned irises. And not knowing where she was, the hell she might be facing without him there…

  Christ, he needed her home. The pressure in his chest increased until he could barely drag air into his lungs. More than he needed to see tomorrow.

  The front door slammed, and he lowered his cell to his thigh. Wherever she’d been taken, whoever was responsible, he was getting her back. Before the sun came up on a new day. And if Byrne had to yank every agent off a case or break every rule in his stupid fucking book to ensure that happened, then he’d better just suck it up and strap on a cup.

  His power and rank within the bureau didn’t make him untouchable. After the jobs they’d pulled together, Xander had enough dirt on the guy, he could’ve easily made Chicago’s residents question if Lake Michigan had ever existed.

  Tanner cleared her throat and he turned toward the door as three suited men entered. He scanned each face, trying to determine which was Byrne, then snapped his gaze back to the one on the left.

  The light-blond hair, that dark creased suit…

  A growl formed in Xander’s throat, the connections in his brain firing so fast, his vision shrank to the head of a pin. He was one of the goons who’d been eyeballing Charlie outside the hospital in New York.

  “You.” Xander jabbed a finger at the agent from across the room. He knew it. Hell, he’d known the Feds were sniffing around her all along.

  The guy stole a glance toward the dark-haired man on his right, but it was too late. Legs eating up the distance, every muscle locked in attack-mode, Xander seized the prick by the front of his lapels and drove him back against the wall. “Eyes on me, you piece of shit. Your boss can’t help you now.”

  The agent grabbed Xander’s wrists, and he wrenched the guy forward, slammed him back a second time and jammed his forearm under the Fed’s chin. Bisecting his jugular, Xander applied just enough pressure to weaken the dude’s balance but keep him talking…which he’d better do damn quick.

  “Why were you following her?” Several sets of hands grappled with his shoulders. Shouts rang out, but Xander dug in, thighs flexing. Air wheezed from the agent’s throat and his face flushed to a deep red. “New York Presbyterian. Remember that? I saw you there last week. Now tell me what you’ve done with her or, I swear to God, your pals will be carting you out of here minus several vital organs.”

  “I told you we should’ve used the siren.” Eden sighed on his left and Xander glanced toward the door. Kelly stood behind her, one eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed, staring at Xander past the bridge of his nose. “And here I’d hoped we’d make it back before the fun had started.”

  Eden’s attention shifted right and silence descended. The room inhaled a collective breath, and Xander froze as she tracked the cool metal of a loaded handgun, landing dead center against the side of his temple.

  The safety clicked, and Mocha gasped.

  “Now would be a good time for you to release my agent.”

  Xander swiveled his head the rest of the way to peer over his left shoulder, and met a pair of sharp gray eyes filled with more steel than the cocked barrel digging into his head.

  Byrne. And damned if the impatient glint in his gaze wasn’t just begging Xander to call his bluff.

  Fine. An added shove for emphasis, and Xander stepp
ed back. But if Byrne was using that threat as some sort of test, he was about to lose. Xander would’ve happily taken a bullet for Charlie any day of the week.

  The agent sputtered, his hands scrambling to loosen the black tie around his neck. The wood grain snagged part of his hair and it stretched over his head like an exclamation point as he slid to the floor.

  “Well, Dade, I gotta hand it to ya. You sure know how to make a lasting first impression.” Byrne retracted his Glock and reset the safety, nodding toward the agent sprawled against the wall. “Ash is one of my best men. Last few weeks he and Sparks here have been keeping tabs on a woman our department has flagged as a person of interest.” A tip of Byrne’s head, and Xander squinted at the brown-haired dude sizing him up from a few paces behind Byrne’s right shoulder.

  His face didn’t ring any bells, but it didn’t matter. And neither did those ridiculous names Byrne had concocted to cover their asses in case the shit hit the fan.

  The point that jabbed his brain was how Byrne had just let on the Feds had classified Charlie as a person of interest.

  Xander cocked a brow. In other words, they weren’t looking to arrest her. She simply possessed certain characteristics that warranted their further attention.

  Okay. He’d give them that. Problem was, whether the tail had anything to do with Ryan’s formula or they were watching her for a different reason altogether remained to be seen.

  Crossing his arms, Xander locked his knees against the impulse get up in Byrne’s grill. Demand some answers. That’d be a bad move on his part. The two of them had just stepped onto very dicey ground. And until Byrne offered a few more details, Xander wasn’t about to do or say anything that would cause Charlie more harm than good.

  “Thing is, this case is so high level, no one but us is even supposed to know it exists.” Byrne cut a harsh glare toward his goons as Ash climbed to his feet. A short stroll toward the conference table, and he smiled at Molly, using the opportunity to steal a peek at her laptop.