Emma’s USB device is sending in tiny packets, hopefully small enough to keep it below the threshold of any signal detection BHC has in place. But when Daniel transmits to Agent Roth, the signal has to reach a hell of a lot further, and it’s going to be a lot stronger. There’s no way around it, though. We have to get the data to a secure location away from BHC’s headquarters as rapidly as possible in case shit hits the fan or something happens when Gunner and Daniel are trying to make their exit. We all agreed that we can’t count on being able to physically carry the data out of here on a device.
The signal will be immediately detectable, and the guys are going to have to evacuate pronto. Rigging the roof with a series of explosions will create chaos and buy them some time. That’s if everything else goes well up to that point.
There’s a lot of things that can go wrong in between now and then. The increased security, for one. That heightened our concerns by several notches — if we were on high alert before, now we’re orbiting the moon. It’s obvious BHC knows something is going on.
From Emma and Jeremy’s elevator conversation, they don’t know exactly what’s happening, but they’re expecting something. They’re ready. We don’t know what other measures they might have put into place that our inside man, Agent Theo, isn’t aware of. And none of us know just how far they’re willing to go to guard their secrets… but we suspect it’s pretty damn far.
The main issue that has us all tense is how long Emma’s going to be in there. The FBI program grabbing all the data works similar to a peer-to-peer network, just siphoning fragments of the encrypted files a little at time. She has to get them all. If we’re missing even one piece of the puzzle, it’s going to take a team of forensic scientist months to try to piece together the scrambled bits. None of us know what BHC could come up with in that time, and we don’t want to give them the chance. We need the whole program, or this entire sting operation will be for nothing. And it’s all riding on Emma to make sure we get what we’re coming for.
Settling my sights on my girl once more, I study her closely. I see little hints of the anxiety she’s feeling — that we’re all feeling — but she’s doing a great job of keeping it off the surface. She’s mostly monitoring the computer in front of her, but once in a while she looks around the room, darting her eyes to the window as she does. I know she’s looking for me.
I reach to my neck, turning my connection with her back on. “You’re doing great, babe.” Through my scope, I see her back straighten as she hears my voice, her head held higher now. “Everyone’s in position, and Daniel and Jax are receiving your transmission. Just hang in there. We’ll all be back together in no time.”
6
Jude
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in full tactical gear. It feels damn good, like a second skin. I’m pumped and ready for battle. This is my arena. And that’s my woman up there, counting on me to have her back if things go south.
There’s bulletproof armor underneath the tactical vest housing extra magazines and an identifying chem light in case the lights go out, then radio package, flash bang, and a blowout kit — just in case. I have my favorite pistol strapped to my right thigh, along with extra clips, and on my left are a Taser gun and a retractable, carbon fire wand that can, in all reality, snap a bone with a single blow. Further down, my tactical knife is strapped to my right calf, exactly where I want it if I need to go to hand-to-hand combat.
I left my old Marine vest back at home — the one with my name emblazoned on the chest. Today, I’m wearing gear that nearly matches the standard issue FBI tactical uniform, only there are no identifying patches on my chest or bold yellow lettering running across the back of my shoulders. My face is covered by a mask over my mouth and nose, tactical goggles over my eyes, and a helmet snugged down tight. All of it provides anonymity — an intentional choice, because unless the data is recovered, the FBI won’t sanction our involvement.
Jax is in identical gear one floor below me. He usually fights his battles wearing a lot less, but I insisted he suit up. This is no angry brawl in a bar, and these fuckers won’t come at him with fists. He isn’t happy about having to sit tight in the HVAC closet for now, but he knows a backup download site needs to be established in case Daniel and Gunner are jeopardized up on the roof. He’s under orders to stay right the fuck there, but who the hell am I kidding? If Trigg gives us so much as a hint that Emma’s in trouble, he’s going to be sprinting up the stairs to storm the executive floor with me.
I roll my shoulders and draw my assault rifle nearer my chest. I’ve always hated the radio silence part of a mission. But it’s par for the course to keep comms from being intercepted. The only open communication we’re willing to risk is Trigg speaking to Emma. Everything else is low priority. Even the static-based Morse code we’ve employed has been kept short and sweet.
Minutes feel like hours ticking by as I wait, and I’m getting antsy. It’s too silent. Something feels off. I grab my comm and tap out one word: Status.
The response comes back from Daniel’s unit a split second later: Sixty-eight.
I rotate my wrist a hair so that I can check my watch. Something’s definitely not right. This is taking too long. We timed it, and Emma’s code takes an average of seven and a half minutes to download. Her program only has another minute before it’s finished downloading to their server, but only two-thirds of the vault data has been transferred.
I watch the seconds tick by, my muscles stiffening in anticipation. There’s a subtle shift in the air, as if I can feel the tension growing in the silence between all of us. No doubt, we’re all arriving at the same conclusion — all hell’s about to break loose. As soon as her data stops flowing into the computer, the FBI’s program will no longer be able to mask the fact that data is flowing out of BHC’s vault.
Fucking hell.
No matter how much I plan, there’s always a weak point in every mission. I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to think of every possible thing that could go wrong. All of us have. But this is the goddamn ace on the table we didn’t see coming. They should only have the most essential information on that dedicated server. Just the things they never want anyone to find. What the fuck are they keeping on there that the download is only at sixty-eight percent?
The muscles around my ribs tighten as I take in a breath and hold it there. Forty-five seconds left. There’s no way to stop the program from running once Emma’s download completes, apart from yanking the USB out and cutting off the transfer. But that leaves us with a fucking mess of file fragments — we’d be months away from piecing it together well enough to have the dirt on BHC to take them down.
But there’s also no way a third of the files are going to be transmitted in the time remaining.
I begin bouncing, my knees pumping one after the other. It’s taking everything inside of me to stop from running up those fucking steps right now. Fuck this radio silence. I have no goddamn idea what’s going on, and it’s eating away at me.
Trigg breaks the Morse code static communication, and his voice booms over the comm, “The shitstorm’s about to hit, boys. Go time!”
Adrenaline shoots through my body like a fucking freight train on rocket fuel, and I lunge up the steps, taking them three at a time, my legs pumping hard. I turn the corner and keep hauling ass up the steps to the top floor. I manage to open my comm unit as I go. “Status!”
“They’re still trying to figure out what’s going on,” he says, “but I’m only giving it thirty seconds.”
Trigg is calm and steady, just like he always was on overwatch, but I still hear that extra timbre to his voice. It’s Emma in there we’re talking about, not highly-trained Marines with weapons and protective gear. BHC could dismember her in seconds if they wanted. But damn if any of us will let that happen.
“Fuck!” Jax snaps, rage in his voice. “I’m coming.”
I pass the exit to the twentieth floor at a dead sprint. “Stay where you are. Get that
data.” I know it’s a pointless suggestion. Nothing would keep me from charging up these steps right now, and my twin’s no different.
“To hell with that,” he growls, and I can tell by the sound of his breath that he’s already on the move. “I’m coming for Emma.”
“Eighty-three percent,” Daniel says. “Maybe sixty seconds and we’ll have the rest. It’s coming faster now.”
“Shit!” Trigg yells, losing his cool momentarily. “They’ve made her.”
I hit the wall as I jump to the last landing and readjust my balance, hurtling up the final flight of steps. “I need a play-by-play, right fucking now.”
“The executive team is leaving the office, and security is pouring in,” he relays, and I can hear the bolt action of his rifle as he quickly chambers a round. “Goddammit. I’m gonna have to kill some motherfuckers.”
I yank open the door to the top floor. “You do whatever the hell you need to do to protect our girl.”
7
Emma
“Pull the goddamn USB drive,” Jackass thunders, lurching at me so hard, his chair goes flying and the monitors on his desk wobble.
Sonofabitch. I don’t have a choice — pull it myself or let them get their hands on it. I grab the device and yank it free from the computer then hold my hands up in a surrender position.
“Where the fuck is the data going?” Ice Queen’s teeth are gritted, and her eyes are burning with rage. The rest of the executive team left the office, but she stayed. She’s their axe man, and it’s her job to clean up the mess, through any means necessary.
Jeremy shakes his head, bending over his desk, typing furiously as his head switches glances between the monitors. “It’s all low-frequency, that’s why we weren’t picking it up before. It’s too weak to travel far. It’s being sent somewhere in the building.”
With the Ice Queen and Jeremy distracted for the moment, I back up slowly, away from the work stations, my eyes darting around the room. There’s only one door to the office, and it’s being swarmed by BHC’s private security guards. If I can’t run, I need to hide. But there’s nowhere to go.
As if he can sense my thoughts, Trigg’s voice enters my ear. “Stay in front of the windows where I can see you. When this shit goes down, I need to know where you are at all times.”
Outside the room, I can hear the voice of our inside agent Theo Burlowski as he directs the armed guards to secure the other executive offices. A tiny surge of relief races through me. I don’t trust anything associated with BHC, and in the back of my mind, I’ve wondered if he would double cross us. But he’s following our plan — heading off the security guards and keeping them away from the hallway leading to the service stairwell.
I edge more squarely into the center of the room, my hands still up. The Ice Queen approaches me with one of her security goons. “Where are you transmitting to?”
There’s nothing about her tone that’s patient, and I know I’m playing with fire, but there’s no fucking way I’m telling her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to look astonished and confused at this turn of events.
She nods at her security guy. He draws his pistol and holds it low with both hands, ready to aim it at me as soon as he gets the signal. I draw in a steadying breath as his eyes fixate on me.
“It’s your decision on how you exit this building,” the Ice Queen says, her voice dripping with distain. “Walking, or in a body bag. Personally, I don’t mind if things get a little messy. How about you?”
A loud bang disrupts our standoff, and I quickly try to assess where it originated from — near the reception area, I think. That means the guys are out of the stairwell and moving toward me. A quick spurt of gunfire erupts, and several masculine voices bark out shouts, but none of them sound like Jude or Jax.
“How close was that?” I ask.
The Ice Queen assumes the question is for her, just as I hoped. “It doesn’t matter. You think we didn’t expect this? We’re ready for whatever little tricks you and those Pentabyte assholes have planned.”
Trigg, on the other hand, knows exactly what I was asking. “The transfer was at ninety-seven percent. Just keep her talking. Jude will be there soon with Jax right behind him.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know what’s going on,” I insist, stalling for time.
She bares her teeth, and I see her left eye twitch with fury. It gives me an odd sense of glee, to see her coming unhinged. “You’ll take your last breath in this room if you don’t tell us where you were transmitting to,” she snarls.
I meet her gaze and shrug. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. Maybe your equipment is malfunctioning.”
Jeremy is still working furiously at his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. “I can try to trace the signal from the device,” he suggests, his eyes never leaving the monitors.
The Ice Queen’s fist balls up as though she’s going to deck me, but she reaches her hand out slowly, and I see her fingers shaking with anger as she uncurls them and holds her palm out. “Give me the goddamn USB drive. Now.”
She glowers at me, waiting, but I’m thinking back to Trigg’s words. Ninety-seven percent. So close. It’s hard to think with all the yelling and running in the hallway outside the office, but I do quick math in my head. It’s sketchy, but it’s very possible the last three percent of the data is all on the USB drive and it just didn’t have time to transmit before I pulled it out, killing the power to it. It could be all there — everything that we need. There’s no fucking way Jeremy or the Ice Queen are getting their hands on it.
I’m still holding my hands up in a surrender pose, my right thumb locking the tiny USB drive against my palm. In one swift movement I swivel my hand around, toss it into my mouth, and swallow hard, making it look like I’m forcing it down my throat. I draw in a breath with a rasp, as though it’s lodged halfway down, and swallow again, pretending to strain with greater effort.
Then I straighten my back and look at the Ice Queen with defiance in my eyes, a tone of mission accomplished written all over my expression. If she doesn’t buy my act, I’ll swallow the damn thing for real.
Her eyes go wide, and she shrieks at me hysterically, losing her shit. “What the fuck did you just do!?”
Jeremy is out from behind the desk and storming toward us as the Ice Queen closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to maintain control of herself.
“That was a very bad idea,” she says calmly when she opens her eyes. “You just sealed your fate.”
She flicks a finger at the security guy, and he raises his pistol. He steps toward me, aiming the weapon at my head, inches from my temple. No sooner is his arm outstretched than I hear a sharp crack paired with an almost imperceptible zing. A millisecond later, pink mist erupts from the man’s wrist, and the weapon drops to the floor, his hand still wrapped around the grip.
The security guard screams and crumples backward, clutching his arm to his body, blood flowing down his chest from the gaping wound. The rest of the security team is the first to react, going into a low crouching position as their gaze trains on the windows, their eyes wildly searching for the shooter.
“Don’t move, babe,” comes Trigg’s firm voice. He sounds eerily calm, completely focused. “I need you to stay exactly where you are.”
I clench my stomach and make tight fists, standing ramrod straight in front of the windows as Jackass turns and dives under his desk, cursing as he goes. The Ice Queen hits the floor, reaching for her phone. A second later, she has it to her ear. “Do it. Nuke the server and clear the building. And don’t let the bitch get out alive,” she instructs the person on the other end.
All around me, the security guards draw their weapons, several of them aiming at me. I hold perfectly still as the slight crack of glass sounds again, bullets penetrating the windows, a series of soft whizzes passing through the room.
In rapid succession, the security team goes down one after another as bulle
ts rip into flesh and bone. Chaos erupts outside the office as their bodies twist and jerk, crumpling to the floor. It all happens so fast, I can’t even tell where Trigg’s shots are hitting them, but within a span of a few seconds, there are no more weapons aimed at me.
Before I can say anything, gunfire sounds in the hallway, from one rifle at first, and then more join the fray. The shouts increase, and I can hear twenty-five yelled right before the noise of a sharp explosion rings through the halls.
I clap my palms to my ears, my knees buckling. “Trigg?”
“It was just a flash bang. Stay where I can see you, babe.”
A man in a gray BHC security uniform whips around the corner of the doorway, the butt of a rifle positioned at his shoulder. His eyes snap to mine, and the muzzle lifts, training in on me.
It happens in an instant. Another crack of glass, another soft zing in the air, and the man’s eyes go vacant. He slumps to the floor, revealing a deep red splatter on the wall behind him, and I clench my eyes shut, trying to vanish the image. My stomach rolls, and bile rises in my throat.
“Copy that, Chief,” Trigg’s voice says. “Emma, I’m sorry, but you’ve gotta move. There’s more on the way, and the FBI team isn’t going to be able to head them off in time.”
I run my tongue along the USB drive tucked against my cheek and nod affirmatively as I recenter myself. This is why we ran through this plan so many times. This is why Jude kept hounding it into my brain over and over. “Point A?” I ask.
“Yes. Go, now.”
Just as I start to move, I see one of the security men in the room lift his pistol above the small sofa he’s hiding behind, just to the right of me in the seating area of the office, his forehead peeking over the top edge. Fabric and wood explodes into a shower of white fluff and splinters a mere inch from his face, and the man ducks out of sight once again. I run for the door and stop short, my eyes fixed on the man lying in the doorway, a dark circle between his eyes, a puddle of blood beneath him.
Perfect Design: A Reverse Harem Romance (The Code Book 5) Page 5