by April Hunt
“Good.” Grace nodded less than a second before darkness washed over her, and this time she couldn’t pull herself back out.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Two hours earlier, Hogan Wilcox had strutted himself down to Steele Ops headquarters with an easy “I heard you were looking for me” and plopped his ass in a chair as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.
At least until now.
Wilcox might have been a difficult man to read, but Cade saw the concerned narrowing of his eyes. Finally.
“You’re seriously going to sit there with your mouth clamped shut?” Cade asked, exasperated. “After everything I’ve just told you?”
He’d spent all night wailing on a heavy bag and cursing himself for letting Grace walk away. Now her words from the night at the motel came back to bite him in the ass too.
She’d been right. When it came to his father, he’d held on to that anger so long it had become an automatic physical response. If he ever wanted to move the fuck forward, he needed to break the cycle—and it needed to be him who did it.
Cade sat across from Hogan and nodded to the five pictures they’d taken from Sanctuary. “We got a mystery man, you, and three dead former military with questionable service records. You got to give me a little more than you were all work buddies.”
“We were friends, and we worked together.”
Cade ground his teeth. “I got that much. These three men have already been systematically hunted down and assassinated. Whatever beef Rossbach has against you all is obviously a big deal—at least to him. And you don’t look the least bit worried.”
“I can take care of myself, son.”
He bit his tongue to keep from reminding Wilcox that he wasn’t his son. He was. The man may not have raised him, but his stubbornness ran through his own veins, and as flawed as they both were, they had one other thing in common.
They weren’t afraid to haul out the big guns.
“You’re on Rossbach’s radar.” Cade nodded to the picture. “And unfortunately, not everyone working for him is a total idiot. How long do you think it’s going to take for him to figure out that there’s a connection between you and Zoey?”
His father flinched, the first time in hours he’d showed signs of faltering. Bingo.
“Didn’t think of that, did you, Pops? Well, I did. If the bastard’s smart enough to identify and locate you and three former black ops soldiers, then he’s smart enough to realize that one of his targets has a brand new shiny family.”
“Is Zoey okay?”
“Zoey’s fine. But she won’t be totally in the clear until we understand what’s fueling Rossbach. Why does he think that getting rid of you is going to give him his happily-ever-after?”
“I’ve never met the man at any point in my life, and that’s the damn truth.”
“And yet we have three dead men with a potential for two more.”
Leaning heavily on the table, his father sighed. “I can’t tell you specifics. I can’t tell you our mission goals or the details of our assignments.” His gaze flickered to the mystery man image. “And unless there’s some kind of national emergency, I can’t tell you his name.”
“So you were part of a team?”
“I was the team lead, yes.”
“I’m not asking for your daily journal. I’m asking for a motive, so we can create a plan of attack.”
His father took a deep breath and nodded. “We were out on another assignment when our unit got word that human traffickers were about to send a convoy through our area. Normally we would’ve let the local authorities handle the situation, but then there came word that one of the people being trafficked was an American woman who’d been in the area working for an NGO group.”
“And?” Cade coaxed for more.
“And we were told by our COs back in the States to let the locals handle it as usual.”
Cade already guessed where this was heading because, hell, he’d been in a situation a lot like it. Brass and politicians thousands of miles away made decisions about in-field tactics and people’s lives all the damn time. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that your team didn’t listen to those orders.”
Wilcox scrubbed a hand over his face, looking a lot older than his fifty-some years. “No, we didn’t. Our base command had us follow the caravan. We couldn’t leave them—none of them—to those monsters.”
“You executed a takedown.”
“We did recon. We planned. We ran drills. We had a local who was able to get a little friendly with the traffickers and get exactly the intel we needed for a night raid. We couldn’t have had a more perfect setup, but one of those bastards ended up with a case of the shits. He pegged one of our guys on his way to take a dump, and all hell broke loose. We flipped immediately to our backup plan, but at that point, there wasn’t a single prisoner that wasn’t panicking, including Addison Parker. She ran straight into the gunfire.”
Addison Parker. The name didn’t ring any bells in the background they’d dug up on Rossbach. “Who was she to Rossbach?”
The conference door opened, and Grace strode in. “His fiancée.”
Cade’s attention snapped to her, and his stomach dropped.
A dark purple bruise covered her left jaw, and another was already forming higher up on her cheek. Her hair, a tangled, matted mess, was pulled back, clumped with what couldn’t be anything else but blood.
“What the fuck happened?” He rushed over to her and, cupping her face, brushed his thumb over her swollen lips.
She winced.
“Shit.” He pulled his hand away, realizing that after the way they’d parted, she probably didn’t want his dumb ass touching her. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” Instead of throwing a punch, she latched onto his hand with both of hers and held him close. “And what happened? Let’s just say that Mother Dearest had second thoughts about leaving without saying goodbye.”
“We’ll get back to actual details in a minute. Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“Because she’s a damn Steele.” Ryder walked into the room with his brothers, Tank, and Jaz close on his heels—and Rhett Winston. “I told the EMTs to dose her with Versed and throw her in that damn ambulance, but she pulled that soothing voice shit and had them agreeing with her in less than five minutes. Freakin’ witch magic.”
Grace was already rolling her eyes. “Please. It’s a slight concussion—which I’ve had before, thanks to growing up with four stupid cousins.”
Rhett muttered something under his breath that sounded a hell of a lot like, “And a bullethole.”
Cade’s vision went red. “You were fucking shot!”
Grace threw Winston a glare. “No, I was grazed, and I’m not so sure it wasn’t from the exploding glass.”
Her mother. Bullets. Exploding shit. Cade ran his hands down her arms and froze at the sight of the rope burns circling her wrists. He nearly went nuclear.
“Nope. Up here, big guy.” Grace tugged his gaze back up. “You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good—because I’m not going to lie. I have a splitting headache, and I really don’t want to repeat myself.”
“Okay.” He braced himself to hear a whole lot of shit that was going to piss him off and steered Grace into the chair next to his father. “Sit and explain.”
“My mother put the twist behind the twisted mind of New Dawn. The whole idea of retribution and payback? Hers. Every demented thought about duty and rights and serving the good of the Order? All her the entire damn time.”
“You’re fucking shittin’ me.” Cade apologized when she flashed him an annoyed look. “Sorry. Let’s get on with whose necks I have to break for hurting you.”
“You don’t have to break anything, because Rebecca, Todd, and Simon Reynolds are already in FBI custody, thanks to an off-duty agent spotting Simon not too far from Zoey’s place.”
“Well, I beg to differ about that.”
Cade slid Ryder and Rhett a look. “And when the hell did you two come into play?”
Rhett, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer himself. “After the showdown at my place, I went looking for Grace and ended up running into Ryder here. He took me to the apartment, and when we got there, the FBI already had the place surrounded.”
Cade took a moment to process everything, and then he went through it all again for good measure. “And Rossbach?”
“He’s still on the loose—and dangerous,” Grace pointed out. “He may not be the mastermind, but everyone in the Order still worships him as if he were. Vance is personally interrogating Todd and the others now, so she’ll probably have his whereabouts sometime within the hour. She’s freakishly good at prying information out of people.”
Director Vance.
Cade couldn’t help but think about the last time they’d mentioned Grace’s boss. “I thought she ordered you back to New York.”
“Yeah, well, those plans changed this morning.” Grace’s swollen mouth tilted into a small smile. “That explanation’s going to have to come later. Right now, we need mystery man’s identity.”
Cade’s father stood. “You know Rossbach’s motive. Isn’t that enough to help you catch him and put him away? Hell, use me as bait.”
“No,” Cade growled.
“Why the hell not? My actions made this mess. Besides, there’s no way in hell those New Dawn bastards are getting to him.” Wilcox nodded to the unknown target. “Of all the people on this earth, he’s one of the best protected in the world.”
“That sure of yourself, huh? Why? Does he live in Timbuktu or some equally remote location?”
“Hardly. He lives right here. In DC.”
“And you think that makes him untouchable?”
“No, but the constant Secret Service presence does.”
Cade registered his father’s words at the exact time Grace did.
“Secret Service?” they asked in unison.
Wilcox nodded. “I’ve always found it ironic that our duty station commander, the one who made up his own security measures, suddenly had to submit to someone else’s.”
A bad feeling twisted Cade’s insides. “Is this the same duty commander who gave you the orders to raid the trafficking ring that killed Teague Rossbach’s fiancée?”
“One and the same. But from what I hear, Brandt’s significantly increased his detail these last few days. The only people who can get within sniffing distance of him are his family.”
Grace released a string of profanities. “Sarah. Rossbach and my mother were waiting for the right time to send her back home so she could do their dirty work for them—two New Dawns for the price of one quick and dirty assassination.”
“The Elite Guard isn’t going to take out Brandt. His own daughter is.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Grace dialed the number to the White House switchboard and listened to the same irritating message as the last four times she’d tried: Your call cannot be connected. Good day.
She growled, shoving her cell in her pocket. “I think that switchboard operator blocked my number!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have asked the last one if his brain was the size of a pencil eraser.” Cade glanced at her from the driver’s side, a small smirk in place as he weaved their SUV through the busy DC traffic. “They probably have you on some kind of watch list now.”
Grace shot him a glare. “When someone tells you the vice president’s in danger, you should transfer the damn call, or at the least, jot down a freakin’ message. Not give some scripted response and offer to transfer you to the Visitor Information Center.”
“Just sayin’ there’s a big difference between vinegar and honey, sweetheart.”
“I wouldn’t have to worry about the acidity of my sarcasm if you guys had a direct link to your client.”
“He’s the VP. He’s not exactly difficult to find.”
“Yeah? How’s that going for us right now?”
It wasn’t. Not even Vance, who was leading the charge to find Rossbach, had been able to get through to the vice president. They had to do this the old-fashioned way and hope for the best.
Grace took a deep breath. Even with the two-ton weight hanging over their heads, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else besides in that car sitting next to Cade. Leaving him and her family behind just wasn’t an option, and once Sarah was in custody and on the road to recovery, she vowed to have a sit-down with everyone who was important to her.
Cade was first.
She loved that he didn’t want to be the driving force in her decisions, that he wanted her to do what was best for her, but the truth was that he was what was best. Everything that happened after she’d phoned Director Vance back at Zoey’s place confirmed she’d made the right decision.
Grace could have her job, her family, and her man—and she wasn’t settling for anything less.
She pointed toward a side street that ran along President’s Park and butted up to the White House grounds. “Go through here and pull up to the guard shack.”
Cade turned the SUV and grimaced, warily looking at the armed guards squared off along every inch of the building and beyond. “Why the hell couldn’t we have had this break last night when there wasn’t a state dinner? I feel like we’re already in a sniper’s crosshairs.”
“We probably are. They guard this place to the nines when there are so many dignitaries in house.”
Cade grumbled. “If we miraculously don’t end up shot, do you seriously think Brandt’s going to welcome what you have to say about his daughter? He could’ve listened to you the first time around and he didn’t. You think that’s going to change now?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to try.” Otherwise, the vice president would find out firsthand how right she’d been about New Dawn, and by then, it would be too late to turn back time.
“Stop slowing down! There’s the guard shack!” Grace pointed to the left.
“I’m going eighty miles per hour. Do you want me to plow through the building?”
“Will it get us there any faster?”
“You’re going to get us shot by Secret Service.” Cade cursed, but did as she asked. He flew straight up to the guard shack and came to a loud, screeching halt. The two guards inside immediately aimed their guns in their direction, both barking orders.
Grace whipped up her hands, her FBI credentials facing them. “FBI Special Agent Steele!”
“Do not lower your hands!” the first guard barked while the second, gun still aimed into the SUV, spoke to someone on the radio.
“We need to get into the White House!” She moved to open her door and both men gripped their guns tighter.
“Don’t move!”
Cade snapped, “Fuck, Grace, do what they say!”
“We don’t have time for this.” Grace plastered her creds on the front window. “Use your frontal cortex, gentlemen. Read. The. Badge.”
They stared at her credentials a good ten seconds before the second guard nodded to the first. They reluctantly got into position, one at each door. “Get out. Very slowly, and keep your hands where we can see them.”
Grace frowned. “And how exactly are we supposed to get out without using our hands? Pull the latch with our tongues?”
“Fucking hell,” Cade muttered.
The agents glanced at each other and came around Cade’s side first, one manning the door and the other with his gun aimed into the front seat. Two more guards ran out from behind the gate and did the same with her.
Grace kept her creds opened and raised. “We need to get into the building. Vice President Brandt’s security is compromised.”
“I assure you, ma’am, the vice president’s safer than he’s ever been.”
“And I assure you that he’s not. Call whoever you need to call, but we need to get into that damn building. Now.”
Another guard frowned, his gun never wavering. “That’s the White House, ma’am, not just any damn building.”
Grace took a deep breath and cleared her head and her agitation. Honey instead of vinegar. “Agent Jake Corelli. Brandt’s head of security. Get him and tell him that I’m out here. Tell him what I told you.”
One of the newer guards turned away as he softly spoke into his radio. A minute later, he came back. “Are you armed, ma’am?”
“Back holster. A .22 Magnum.”
“And there’s a Colt on my right side,” Cade added.
The guard nodded to one of his buddies, who then came around and patted them each down, taking the weapons out of their holsters. She gave Magdalena a longing glance but kept her mouth shut.
Once the guards were satisfied they were clean, the one with the radio nodded. “Agent Corelli will be waiting for you inside the east entrance.”
“And your friends aren’t going to make it rain bullets?” Cade eyed the snipers standing on top of the building, assault weapons pointed toward their position. “Because I really don’t feel like getting shot today.”
“You’re good to go, sir.”
Grace took off, every inch of her body protesting the run. Cade kept an easy pace beside her until they reached the building.
A tuxedo-clad Corelli opened the back door. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Someone called me ma’am and took away my gun,” Grace joked dryly.
“You’re either ridiculously brave or courageously stupid, Special Agent Steele.”
“I’d go with both options,” Cade grumbled.
Grace chose to ignore both men. “We don’t have time for egos. We need to make sure that Sarah Brandt’s secure, and that the vice president’s in a safe room.” At the man’s silence, Grace’s internal alarm system blared. “You’re not giving me the warm-and-fuzzies, Corelli.”
“The vice president is in a room with the president of the United States and dozens of foreign dignitaries and their security details. He’s in as safe of a room as there’s ever going to be.”
“And Sarah? You didn’t say that she’s secure.”