by Evans, Misty
Retaliation. Adam wanted to send a message to the men and women who’d attacked his father, and what better way to do it than by using their own weapons against them?
“Agent Punto’s right,” Harris said. “He wants retaliation for Wrightsville.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud, but Thomas and Dupé were nodding in agreement. Clearing her throat, she added, “For his father, the rightful Messiah, who was crucified by the U.S. Government. He’s building another Army of God and preparing Heaven’s Gate for martyrdom.”
Which meant a peaceful outcome for the undercover sting was highly unlikely.
Ronni reviewed another page in her binder, held up the picture of a man she believed was in charge of amassing weapons. “This is Jacob Warren. He appears to be Adam’s right-hand man. He’s former Army, dishonorably discharged for selling US weapons to insurgents in Panama. He was off the grid for years, now he’s emerged at the farm and is supposedly in charge of iChurch’s website and social media.”
Bianca tsked. “The pen—or computer in this case—is mightier than the sword?”
“We doubt he’s had a change of heart. He’s still violent and possibly the one in charge of obtaining weapons for the cult.”
“So what’s our next move?” Nelson asked. “Can we get a search warrant based on what the mule told Thomas?”
Thomas shook his head. “I never talked to the guy. What I have is hearsay, and the mule disappeared yesterday. He works for a lot of dangerous people. He may or may not turn up again.”
Bianca raised an eyebrow. “What about the woman?”
“She had a car accident this morning.” Thomas flipped the pencil end over end. “She’s in intensive care in a coma.”
No one actually sighed out loud, but Ronni sensed each of them releasing a mental one. Was it coincidence that their two best leads were incapacitated? Ronni didn’t think so. From the way the muscles in Thomas’s face tightened, he didn’t either.
“You need to place the woman under security,” Ronni told Dupé. “Immediately.”
He leveled her with his serious gaze. “Two guards are stationed outside her door around the clock.”
“Are any of the hospital staff related, even distantly, to anyone living at the farm?”
Gazes came up and focused on her, questioning. Dupé scratched a note on the paper in front of him. “I’ll have my assistant check.”
“Why?” Bianca frowned.
Ronni ran a finger over the edges of her binder. Nerves. “A relative might commit murder to help Adam and his followers.”
Disbelief danced in the woman’s eyes. She shot another look at Nelson. He shrugged. They still weren’t on board a hundred percent.
Something inside Ronni threatened to snap. My mother died in the Wrightsville siege, she wanted to scream at them. Don’t you understand?
Instead she cleared her throat, stopped drumming the table. Cool. Professional. “A gas station attendant, who happened to be Daniel Karsni’s brother-in-law, tipped him off about the ATF’s raid in Wrightsville,” Ronni said. “While we can’t presume a relative would go so far as to commit murder in this situation to silence a defector, we can’t presume they won’t.”
Bianca seemed to like playing devil’s advocate. “Sometimes a car accident is just a car accident, Agent Punto.”
“And sometimes it’s not.” She sounded paranoid—and bitchy—but she didn’t care.
Dupé was staring at the table, seemingly lost in thought. His voice and body language suggested a calm Ronni didn’t feel. Finally he spoke. “We need a pair of agents to infiltrate the compound.”
Oh God. “Bad idea.”
Dupé’s attention rose to meet her eyes. He didn’t like being contradicted.
“Sir,” she added, rushing on, “Cults are always recruiting, but it’s a process. You can’t just show up at the gate and ask for admittance. Adam needs to know who you are, why you want to join The Church, and what you can offer him and the group. Even if you do all of those things, you have to prove your loyalty. Once you’re inside, you’re under 24/7 watch while they indoctrinate you with the cult’s teachings. If you pass all the lessons, you may gain unlimited access to the community, but it can take months for all of that to happen.”
Thomas rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip. “And we may not have months before he strikes.”
Nods around the table as the group’s attention shifted back to Dupé.
The director gave her a patient smile. “Unless the person seeking admittance is already a trustworthy ally. Someone Adam knows.”
No. No, no, no. All these years, this had been her secret. She was a Wrightsville survivor. One of the few children who stayed until the end and made it out alive. They’d told her it was a miracle; that she was a hero for saving Adam. Now she faced the realization that she’d saved a boy who’d grown into a man bent on hurting people.
Chest tight, she swallowed back the emotions pulsing in her throat. She wanted to yell. To scream. To hit something. Her eyes clouded with unspent tears and she blinked them away.
“Wait,” Thomas sat forward, his brow furrowing. “You know Adam?”
Gripping the arms of her chair, Ronni kept her eyes pinned on the papers in front of her. The truth wanted free, but it was too damning. Too awful.
The truth. How ironic. The exact thing Adam was pursuing, or claimed to be pursuing. After years of studying her brother, she knew it would be his downfall, this search for the truth about Wrightsville and his father. His drive for vengeance would see to that.
But the burden of her secret about Adam was hers and hers alone. How dare Dupé use it against her?
He dares because he’s smart and cunning and good at his job. In his place, she would have done the same in order to stop a madman. Why do you really think he requested you to join his team?
God, she was tired of being manipulated—and then abandoned—by the men in her life.
She swallowed again, drew a deep breath. “Adam was only three at the time. I doubt he remembers me. We were separated afterwards and never saw each other again.”
“You were there?” Bianca said. “At Wrightsville?”
The trained agent inside Ronni kicked in. A calm she hadn’t felt in a long time surfaced. She met Dupé’s gaze head-on. “It’s risky. He’ll know I’m FBI.”
Dupé gave her one dip of his chin in acknowledgement. “But you’ve recently suffered a great trauma as an agent. A trauma brought on by your job. The FBI is at fault for what happened to you. You’ve been persecuted. Angered. Your trust has been betrayed. Your belief in the system irrevocably destroyed. You’re disillusioned, Agent Punto, and you want revenge on the government.”
Not all lies. Half-truths. Some full truths. The way he said it was almost believable. He made her want to believe it. Made her want to agree.
Just like Daniel.
Dupé continued, refusing to let her off the hook. “Can you sell that line of propaganda?”
Could she? Was it all propaganda? She took a breath, released it slowly, turning the idea over in her mind. “I have information I can offer him. I know the internal workings of the FBI. I can train his army. I know how to outthink the enemy because I am one.”
Another dip of the chin. “Gaining his trust and acceptance will be challenging, but you bring an offer to the table I don’t think he can refuse.”
“You can’t be serious,” Thomas said from the other end of the table. His gaze bounced between her and Dupé. “She can’t go inside the cult. It’s too dangerous.”
Yes, it was. One wrong move and Adam might kill her. She stood, gathered her papers. “I’ll do it.”
Thomas started to argue, but Cooper laid a hand on his shoulder. He fell silent, but invisible steam nearly poured from his ears.
Dupé didn’t smile, yet still conveyed he was pleased with her decision. “Communication with the outside world will be limited, perhaps even nonexistent. What do you recommend?”
The confidence she’d felt a moment ago vanished. Because Adam couldn’t trust her, she’d be cut off from the world. Cut off from Thomas and the others. “I’ll be searched when I enter, so that means I can’t take anything in with me. I’ll have to figure out a way to get in contact once I’m inside and find what we need as proof.”
Thomas shot to his feet, shrugging off Cooper’s hand. “Send me in with her.”
Ronni shook her head. “No.”
“Yes. I’m your partner. I’m coming with you.”
The two of them glared at each other over the heads of the taskforce members. “You don’t understand what we’re dealing with.”
“The hell I don’t.” Even though there was an entire table length between them, Ronni felt the heat in his stare as if he were as close as he had been when they’d squared off across the car door. “I’ve got a damn good idea what we’re dealing with, and you’re not going in alone.”
Dupé folded his hands on the table. “Agent Mann would be an asset. Could you get him in with you?”
She could if she wanted to. The FBI could give him a false background. She could claim he was a fellow disgruntled agent. Her boyfriend, even.
No way. Not boyfriend. They fought like cats and dogs. Pretending she loved him would stretch her acting abilities a little too far.
Regardless, she refused to throw Thomas into the lion’s den. “There’s no reason for both of us to risk our lives. He can stay out here and act as my contact.”
“You’ll be unarmed and out of touch.” Thomas tapped his index finger on the table emphasizing each point. “You’re dealing with a madman. The FBI may send agents in alone, but the taskforce doesn’t. We always have a partner.”
Silence. Dupé faced Cooper. “Your call, Agent Harris.”
All eyes went to Cooper. The Terminator crossed his arms, sized up Ronni. “Make contact with Adam. See what happens. If he agrees to meet with you, we’ll go from there.”
Thomas rounded on him. “But—”
Cooper held up a hand. “But nothing. First step of Operation Truth is to make contact. If that works, we’ll lay out a plan. Meanwhile, I’ll listen to any input you have. At this point, Agent Punto takes lead. She’s our way in, and until we are in, we can’t—and won’t—make a move without her approval. Understand?”
The two men glared at each other, but after a tense moment Thomas drew a deep breath and nodded. He returned to his chair, jaw set and lips in a tight line. A muscle jumped in his hard-set jaw.
“Besides,” Cooper added. “You have an undercover operation of your own to finish up. When is the Ortega deal going down?”
“Call could come at any time.” Thomas drummed his fingers on the table. “Ortega’s antsy to offload at least a thousand cop killers.”
Dupé offered up the details. “Jose Ortega runs a legitimate ammunitions factory outside of Chula Vista. His business supplies the US military with certain kinds of armor-piercing bullets and door busters, which requires he make them to a certain spec. The US military recently came across evidence that suggests he’s selling the same cop-killer bullets and other munitions to our enemies, domestic and foreign. Agent Mann has been undercover inside Ortega’s operation for three months, and he’s now Ortega’s transporter for the Mexican corridor. We’re waiting for the next exchange to bring Ortega down.”
“Word from Sandoval’s lieutenant should come soon,” Thomas said. “Guy is supposed to be in town this week to inspect the goods before the exchange with Ortega is made. He wants a demonstration.”
“Drugs for bullets,” Ronni said. “Interesting exchange.”
“Sandoval wants to expand his operations. He’s looking to wipe out the competition.”
The meeting proceeded for another hour, half a dozen cases examined and plans made. Ronni tried to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering to Adam. To Daniel and her mother. She hadn’t had the fire dream in years—the one where Armageddon finally came to Mount Royal like Daniel had predicted. She wondered if Adam ever had nightmares about the siege. Maybe he’d been too young to remember.
Nausea threatened her stomach. She’d once saved her little brother’s life, and here she was about to bring Armageddon down on him all over again.
Chapter Four
Two hours later, Ronni arrived at Cooper and Celina’s place in Carlsbad. She’d followed Cooper and Thomas in Cooper’s SUV, enjoying the peace and the ocean breezes along the Pacific Highway while she mulled over the assignment. A part of her was relieved—maybe not relieved, but something close. Content? Excited? A mix of all three?
Focus on the positive. She was back in the field, and San Diego was a nicer gig than a lot of Bureau spots. Getting out from the desk job was a big plus—she’d nearly gone crazy in her solid blue cubicle in Des Moines. She was also on her way to see a good friend whom she had missed terribly. It would be good to catch up with Celina, to laugh and joke and tease her like before.
Before Valquis.
At least her new assignment would take her mind off him and what he’d done to her. Logically, she knew it was way past time to get over the incident and move on, but it seemed her heart and mind had other ideas. The therapist had told her it was akin to grieving. She’d lost something precious to her—not her innocence, per se, but a level of security. Like a person whose house had been broken into and discovered their most valuable possession had been stolen. It was personal, the psychological aftereffects cutting as deep and doing as much damage as the knife that had laid open her back. Hence, her anxiety attacks.
As the mental tape of the past few months started to unwind in her brain once more, she cut off the racing thoughts, instead turning her focus to Adam. At three years old, he’d been rambunctious and vivacious. Weren’t all kids at that age? He’d also had moments of depression, rage, and temper tantrums. He suffered from classic separation anxiety any time he was sent away from Daniel. She’d suffered from it, too, during different times inside the compound when she wasn’t allowed to see her mom. But was what she and Adam experienced normal childhood angst or had it been amplified by the nature of the cult?
Cooper’s SUV left the highway and took several turns through Carlsbad. A few minutes later, they climbed a hilly drive and came to a stop in front of a mid-century ranch. Ronni wasn’t even out of her car when a delivery guy showed up with four boxes of hot pizza.
While Cooper paid, Ronni followed Thomas inside, his booming voice calling out, “Honey, I’m home! And I brought company!”
Celina appeared from the kitchen on the left, and Ronni was swept up in a hug. “You’re here. Finally!”
Her old partner looked good. Happy. She enjoyed the hug, noticing that the clean, modern lines of the house showed little touches of Celina’s vibrant personality everywhere.
Cooper entered, carrying the boxes and did a head-cock at Thomas. “She made it, no thanks to butt-wipe, here.”
Thomas feigned shocked. “I showed. She refused to ride with me.”
“You were in handcuffs and smelled like a goat,” Ronni countered.
Celina arched an eyebrow at Thomas. “Do I wanna know?”
“No.” Thomas and Ronni said in unison.
As they loaded paper plates with slices of pizza, Cooper handed out drinks, and they sat in the couple’s stylish living room, looking out at the patio and pool. Down the hall, a door opened and a young boy and Chihuahua emerged, the boy following his nose to the pizza and the dog beelining it for a spot at Cooper’s feet.
Celina made introductions. “Ronni, this is Thunder.” She scratched behind the dog’s tall, upright ears. The boy wandered into the living room with a full plate, giving Thomas a high-five as he walked past. “And this is Cooper’s son, Owen.”
Cozy family, complete with a dog. Ronni’s heart pinched. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Owen around a mouthful of sausage and mushroom. He held out a small hand, and they shook.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and tipped h
er head down at Thunder. The dog had trotted over to sit at Owen’s feet, his bug eyes wide in his tiny face as he watched the boy’s plate with singular focus. “And you, Thunder.”
Thunder turned his head, noticed Ronni had food as well, and gave up on Owen. His nails clicked on the hardwood floor as he trotted over, his pleading dark eyes and cute face hard to resist.
“Aw, you’re a cutie.” Ronni patted Thunder’s head. He licked her fingers, then put his paws on her leg and continued giving her puppy-dog eyes.
“Now you did it,” Thomas said, grinning.
He sat on the other end of the love seat, his body taking up too much space. His personality even more. Ronni ignored the way his T-shirt sleeves strained over his biceps. “Did what?”
“The dog’s a leach. You’ll never get him to leave you alone now.”
Owen plopped down on the floor by the coffee table. Thunder climbed in his lap, but when the kid told the dog to lie down, the Chihuahua obeyed.
“What was that you were saying?” Ronni teased. “Looks like a well-trained pet to me.”
Owen grinned, and Celina rolled her eyes. “How was your flight?”
For the next twenty minutes, the group talked and ate and laughed. Owen performed a couple of songs on his guitar. Thomas pulled a piece of sausage from an uneaten section of pizza and flipped it to the dog when he thought no one was looking. Thunder gobbled it down and went to sleep at Thomas’s feet. In the middle of a story Celina was telling about her latest crime scene investigation, music rang out, the opening notes to Bad to the Bone.
Thomas withdrew a cell phone from his shorts pocket. He shot a look at Cooper and Cooper silenced everyone with a finger to his lips.
“Yeah, man. What’s up?” Thomas paused, listening to the person on the other end. His brows drew together. “Tonight? What time?” Another pause. He did a thumbs-up gesture to Cooper. “I’ll be there.”