“Which is why we need to find him now.” Harlan sounded every bit the reassuring father. He was older than the other team members on the ground. In his early forties, he let the younger men lead the attacks, but no one developed strategies as well as he did. “He’s promised to do some pretty nasty things.”
“Against you guys?” she asked.
Harlan made a face as he shot a quick glance in Josiah’s direction. “I wouldn’t—”
“Yes.” The hell with secrecy when it came to that point. Benton aimed straight for them and they all had to be on guard. That included Sutton for however long she stayed. And if his initial concerns turned out to be true and this was the best acting job ever, she needed to know that her plan would not work.
She stopped rubbing her hands together and stared at him. “Who did he take from you?”
Josiah was not ready to go there. Didn’t think he ever would be. He still hadn’t recovered from watching his mother’s car explode the decade before. He’d planned his entire adult life and career over stopping people like the ones who’d accomplished that. “Why do you think Benton got to me?”
Her gaze traveled over his face as her frown deepened. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Poetic,” Mike said, sounding less sarcastic than usual.
But she didn’t take her eyes off Josiah. “I recognize loss.”
He broke eye contact first. Glanced away and back to that truck. Watched the men crowd inside and head for one of the garages lining the strip. For some reason facing her seemed like a mistake in that moment. She acted as if she could see right into him and it spooked him.
He was about to come up with some response when Harlan started talking. “Then help us prevent more loss.”
“On one condition.” All the fear and confusion had left her voice. Now it boomed through the small enclosed space.
The confidence had Josiah looking at her again. “Frankly, you’re not in a position to make demands.”
“That’s the only way you’re going to find out what I know.”
No one could be that naïve. “Not to debate the point, but there are other ways.”
“You mean torture?” She pulled back a bit, putting a little more room between them. “That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t really kidding.” But he was ready to curse Harlan and Mike. They sat there, listening in, and in Mike’s case, grinning like a fool. They didn’t rush in or take over. They let him handle this, as if truth telling and veiled threats were his specialty areas.
She waved off the comment. “I’m going to ignore that and pretend you’re the good guys.”
“We’re close enough.” As close as anyone could get. No one in this business had clean hands, and Josiah didn’t kid himself into thinking he did.
“If he is as dangerous as you say—”
Mike nodded. “Worse.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched Josiah. “Then your job, your number one job, is to keep me safe until I can find out what I need to know.”
Good speech but Josiah knew she still didn’t get it. “Benton or Bane, whatever you call him, will find you. Thanks to that file you found, I assume while snooping for this personal assignment of yours that you refuse to talk about, you are a loose end. So long as you’re alive, he will need to dispose of you.”
Mike scoffed. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
Her gaze shot to him again. “Then I guess you better aim that rocket a little better this time and actually kill him.”
Silence greeted her comment. Harlan was the first to break it. “You heard the woman.”
That time Mike laughed. “I’m starting to like her.”
Josiah didn’t say anything because he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. She tended to jump around, leaving him to figure out how to catch up. He figured sooner or later she’d get to the point.
She didn’t disappoint. She stared right at him. “I hope you are, too, because you’re stuck with me for now.”
The tension crashing into him stopped and the weird twisting inside him eased. Rather than risk saying the wrong thing, Josiah repeated her earlier comment back to her. “Lucky me.”
7
BENTON PICKED Ronda, Spain, by accident. Ever since the incident in Pakistan, he craved warmth. He also needed an area one associated with tourists. Hiding in plain sight would defy expectations. Throw the Alliance off as they searched in vain. A place free from dictators but where powerful people, the right influence, and a measure of loyalty, if only temporary, could be bought.
After years in Morocco and too many months living first in a glorified shack, then a cave carved out of a mountainside in Pakistan, the villa with its open archways and cool breezes suited him. Sitting high on the steep hill that separated the old city from newer developments, Benton could feel the rich history of the region. Its medieval roots. The centuries of conquering and fighting. The days of invasions and executions. The blood of the land seeped into his bones.
A city perched on a scaling rock wall. A landscape that created a dramatic fortress. This was the perfect place to stage his siege.
Frederick Heinz cleared his throat before walking out onto the veranda. “They have Ms. Dahl.”
Of course they did. Send fifty men after the Alliance and they still somehow escaped with the woman. So predictable. The mix of chivalry and rescuer instincts eventually would lead to their downfall but for right now they proved an annoyance.
Benton appreciated the training on an objective level but the group had become a fucking nuisance. Always showing up where they should not be. First they grabbed the toxin and that brilliant scientist kid before he could exploit either. Then the attack on his supply chain in Pakistan and, worse, the killing of Jake Pearce, a man Benton had come to depend on for verifiable information. Retired CIA with serious intel and connections Benton needed to expand his operations to every corner of the world. Pearce had fed him information and warned of intelligence resources tracking his movements. Helped Benton stay under the radar.
But the cancellation of the Dark Web auction for that toxin had started it all. The loss cost him credibility. One thing Benton depended on was his reputation. He counted on being able to manipulate details and events to his benefit. The Alliance popping up at the least welcome times threatened that, which was why his attention had switched to the group. He’d toy with them, causing enough pain to wound them, then deliver the killing blow.
And it looked like the final days of the Alliance would start with one woman. Sutton.
“She clearly figured out something about the file. That’s the only explanation for the Alliance to come running to find her.” He’d seen her that night, sneaking into his office. She never registered until then. But she set off his motion sensor, and then the hidden cameras clicked on. He watched the whole thing unfold on video through his phone.
She’d gotten into his safe and found the file. At first he thought she might be a new Alliance agent, one sent in to search his known property, but he couldn’t figure out how they’d found him. He’d covered his tracks so well.
A little investigation into Sutton Dahl gave him the answer. She was a loose end he should have tied up years ago. But, really, who knew the daughter of a throwaway cop would grow up to cause so much trouble.
Benton had debated wiping her out of existence while standing with her in the hallway that night. He’d grown to appreciate his choice not to act. Leaving her alive ended up bringing the Alliance to his doorstep sooner than intended, but he could make allowances. Make it work for him.
Having witnessed the Alliance team’s never-ending and quite annoying need to play hero, Benton knew he could use Ms. Dahl. She’d unknowingly act as bait, then die with the rest of them. But not yet.
“We could have shot the helicopter and taken out at least three of the team plus the woman.” Frederick stood at attention in the doorway as he always did. Trained by the Bundesnachrichtendienst, or BND, Germany’s intel
ligence service, he possessed the obedience-to-command gene. One of the many characteristics Benton liked about his right-hand man. That and his background, which had proved invaluable.
When Frederick’s enthusiasm on the job for catching human traffickers had morphed into what his file described as an “unnatural excitement” for eliminating them, his superiors moved him to a less visible spot. Working behind the scenes fueled his rage and boredom. He developed underground contacts and caught the attention of black-ops types, which was where Benton found him two years ago. Pulled him out of a backroom job that didn’t suit his talents and dropped him in the middle of the action. To the extent Benton trusted anyone, and he didn’t, Frederick came closest.
But that didn’t mean he filled Frederick in on every step of an operation. “Too soon.”
Frederick folded his hands in front of him. “I understand, but while your focus is on the Alliance, our contacts are getting nervous.”
Dangerous men in search of very dangerous toys. “They should concentrate on being grateful for what I have supplied to them already.”
“People are looking to you to—”
“What?” Benton snapped back.
Frederick visibly swallowed. “The chemical weapons. You promised an undetectable dispersal system that would work in large metropolitan areas.”
Benton tried to tighten his hand into a fist but the burn scars tugged against his flesh and forced him to loosen his grip. “I am aware.”
“The rebel group in Yemen wants to test it. The central government is destabilized and the U.S. has withdrawn its embassy personnel. That leaves U.S. special forces still on the ground, and the rebels want to launch an attack in a very visible way.” Frederick handed over a piece of paper. “Send a significant message to the U.S.”
Benton crumpled the paper in his good hand without reading it. Coded demands didn’t rile him. He didn’t care what anyone in Yemen wanted. What anyone anywhere wanted. He didn’t take sides in conflicts and political bartering. He’d willingly furnish weapons of mass destruction to both sides of a war, if there was money in it. His end goal had not changed one bit since he started: destroy and profit.
“Waiting to supply the weapons will drive up the price.” Benton spelled out a rudimentary explanation of market theory, or his version. “Scarce resources lead to higher demand. That’s how my business works.”
“These people are not particularly concerned with financial theory.” Frederick’s accent had him emphasizing each word in a staccato burst.
“They should not be concerned with anything.” They could either wait and be satisfied with his placating gift of surface-to-air missiles, or he could unleash the toxin on them first as a test case. Seemed simple enough to him.
“The whispers I’m hearing have to do with your attention being split,” Frederick said.
Benton’s nerves reached the snapping point. No one questioned him. Not anymore. He’d tried to play fair, follow the rules. That life brought a bloodbath to his door. Now he fought without emotion and eliminated all dissent.
He eyed his assistant. The man who possessed a bulky muscular build and was an expert shot. That did not make him invincible. He needed to remember his place in the organization . . . at the bottom. “Is that your theory, Frederick?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what do you say to those accusations?”
“I support you.” Frederick nodded. “Always.”
Benton guessed Frederick’s comments came more from not knowing the full plan than an actual failure of loyalty, but the question in his eyes made Benton want to pluck them right out. “I would hate to hear a different answer from one of our so-called contacts.”
“Of course.”
“This side business is a service to every group that comes crawling to us, asking for assistance. Destroying the Alliance assures the ongoing survival of rebel troops and freedom fighters everywhere.” Benton learned that while lying in that medical tent, having the burnt flesh stripped off him. As he’d regained his voice he strengthened his resolve. Every Alliance member would die. “Remind our whining clients of that.”
For the first time, Frederick moved. He shifted his weight. Even looked down for a second. “They want proof.”
The words sent a flash of white-hot anger spiking through Benton. He struggled to maintain his tone because the fire had made it impossible for him to yell without straining his throat. Just one more reason Harlan, Josiah, and Mike would feel the most pain. They had fired the rocket that caused this. Now they’d feel the fire.
“These are dangerous people,” Frederick said.
“So am I.” Benton walked past Frederick and back into the villa’s great room. Sofas sat clustered around a fireplace on one end. He headed for the bar at the other end. “Where is Josiah now?”
Frederick poured Benton his usual drink, whiskey neat, and handed him the crystal glass. “Outside of Paris. We lost contact.”
Benton tightened his grip on the cool glass. “How?”
“We tracked them to the airport, then they evaded. They’re experts at that sort of thing.”
The simple comment almost cost Frederick his life. Benton had a gun on him at all times. He never did anything without protection and had honed his skills until he could shoot better than most highly trained military personnel. And he didn’t show any weakness. Unlike most of the Alliance members, he killed without regret.
The fact Frederick did not seem to comprehend the reason for involving Sutton in this operation without it being spoon-fed to him proved to be a significant disappointment. She led him to them. But Benton reined in his fury, funneling it instead into his hatred for the Alliance. They thought they’d won this round, but he had an alternative strategy. He always did. “I thought I was paying for expertise.”
“That’s how good the Alliance team is.”
The words sliced into Benton. The last thing he needed was for his man to become their cheerleader. “It’s time to draw them out with a new personal target.” He tipped the glass back and downed the shot before slamming it on the bar with a loud clank. “Who is closest?”
Frederick’s gaze went from the bar to Benton’s face. “The boy.”
Perfect. “Grab him.”
Sutton liked to think of herself as smart and resourceful, but she had no idea where they were. They’d traded a helicopter for a car and now had arrived in what looked like a field. She’d been blindfolded with her arms tied behind her and her body tucked down on the floor of the backseat. She’d thought about complaining until she realized Josiah likely would shove her in the trunk in retribution.
Then the circling started. They winded their way around. Turned and swerved, sending her body flying from one side of the small space to the other. She felt every turn. When the car finally stopped she almost crashed through the window and kissed the ground.
Her nerves screamed for her to do just that as a strong hand lifted her up and helped her out. Her legs shook but held her. She could hear the wind whistle through trees and the steady thump of what sounded like a door banging open and closed in the distance.
Fingers brushed against her skin, then the blindfold was gone. She opened her eyes and stared into a palm. Panic rose up from her stomach but quickly subsided when she realized Josiah was shielding her eyes, giving her time to adjust before he dropped it again.
The sun had come up and morning had arrived. She glanced around, taking in the rolling hills and bright green lawns. They stood on a driveway consisting of what looked like beige sand and pebbles. She caught the scent of something, dried herbs maybe, and saw a small shed with a door that inched open and banged shut every time the wind caught it.
Josiah swept his hand over the landscape. “Here we are.”
She followed the arc of his arm. Took in the grove of trees and the fence outlining the property. What looked like a farmhouse made of stone. “Where exactly?”
“We’ll discuss that later.”
&
nbsp; She would have bet all her money, which admittedly was not much, that he’d say that. “You really need to find a new response.”
He put a hand under her elbow and steered her toward the house. “Noted.”
Mike met them at the door. He stood in the opening with a big smile and an even bigger gun strapped to his side. Without a word, he stood back and let his body language signal for them to come inside.
She didn’t see Harlan or anyone else. Just these two and her. A creak had her spinning around. Mike closed the big wooden front door, trapping them inside, but not before scanning the distance. Then he turned around to face her. They both did. Seemed to be a staring problem with this team . . . or whatever they were. She couldn’t really keep track of all the ways they didn’t say who they really were.
The verbal sparring, the running, the lack of sleep. It all combined to give her a pounding headache. She didn’t have the energy or the will to go another round with Josiah.
“What happens now?” She hoped the response would include the words “shower” and “food.”
Mike let out a hmpf sound, then took off for the doorway to her left. “I’ll be in the kitchen, checking on the status.”
Status of what? “That sounds ominous.”
When no one answered she let her eyes wander over the sparsely decorated room. She stood in a room with a big stone fireplace and overstuffed chairs sitting in front of it. Two doors on the opposite side of the living area led somewhere. She guessed bedrooms. The place was small and cozy but bright from the sunshine streaming through the windows.
Josiah stepped in front of her. “You need to answer questions.”
“I don’t know anything about the man you call Benton, unless he really is Bane, which I still doubt.” The last of her energy reserves gave out. Every muscle turned to liquid and all she wanted was to curl up in one of those chairs and drift off to sleep. Not a smart choice for a captive, but she didn’t sense Josiah wanted to harm her.
He talked tough and could frown a person into submission, but if they wanted her dead they would have shot her and left her behind in the apartment. Or that’s what she kept telling herself.
Facing Fire Page 7