HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “I’m not keeping you in the dark, Johnny! This isn’t one of your operations. It’s ours. Hand over Annabelle Archer, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

  Mendez leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. Over his dead body. “Too late for that, Sammie. Leonov took Ms. Archer’s daughter hostage. He also took a friend and her daughter. And that kind of thing is exactly how we get involved. This is a HOT operation now.”

  *

  Annabelle’s phone rang after only two hours. Dex nodded for her to pick it up. They’d moved her into the room with his teammates after sanitizing as much classified information as possible. Dex was her escort, which meant she couldn’t go anywhere without him. Not even to the bathroom.

  But having her with them was important because she was the one communicating with Leonov and they needed to control the conversation. A set of headphones perched on Billy’s ears so he could listen to the phone call. Dex grabbed a set off the table and slapped them on.

  “Hello?” Annabelle said.

  “Mrs. Archer, we speak again.” Leonov sounded smug.

  “I still have an hour,” she told him. They were all aware of how much time was on the clock. Billy had found the bank—a bank in Switzerland—and now he was running account numbers. They were almost there, but not quite.

  “I’ve added some incentive for you.”

  Annabelle closed her eyes. “I told you, Mr. Lyon—”

  “Yes, the mother-bear thing is all very fun, but I haven’t hurt your daughter. Or any of my hostages. Yet.”

  His pause was long in order to spike Annabelle’s anxiety. Dex hated the man. If he ever got his hands on him…

  “I am very angry with Archer Industries,” Leonov continued. “Your product is a sham. It does not work as promised.”

  “It’s still in the testing phase,” Annabelle said. “Eric was wrong to tell you it was finished.”

  He snorted. “Yes, well, it’s too late for that. And too late for Archer Industries. Turn on the television, Mrs. Archer. CNN if you please.”

  She shot Dex a wide-eyed look. Iceman went over and flipped on the television. CNN blared to life. A building burned, the flames licking higher and higher. Fire trucks crammed the site, pumping water into the blaze, but it didn’t abate.

  Annabelle gasped. “That’s Archer Industries!”

  “It used to be,” Leonov said, chuckling. “Your house is next, Mrs. Archer. And then the houses of your employees—”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I can. I will. Unless you give me what I want, this will never end. I’ll take everything you love—and everyone as well. Including that handsome military man who rescued you yesterday.”

  Dex wasn’t surprised that Leonov knew he was military. All it meant was that Leonov was too, or had been. Like recognized like. He wasn’t worried about the threat. It was meant to rattle Annabelle, but the likelihood of Leonov actually finding him was low. And even if Leonov did, Dex welcomed it. He’d kill the motherfucker and be glad.

  Billy looked up and punched a fist in the air. “Got it,” he mouthed.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Archer. I’ll be in touch.”

  “No!”

  But Leonov was gone.

  “I fucking got it,” Billy exclaimed. “There are five accounts, not just one. Each account has one hundred million dollars. Holy shit, that’s a lot of money.”

  “We have to give it to him,” Annabelle said, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’ll call him back and—”

  “No, Belle,” Dex told her. “We can’t do that.”

  She shot to her feet, her eyes flashing. “Why the hell not? You see what he’s capable of. He’ll kill my daughter and my best friend and her daughter. He’ll raze everything to the ground if he doesn’t get what he wants. We have to do it.”

  Dex gripped her by the shoulders. “Honey, if we do that, he’ll have no incentive to return the people you love. He will kill them and then he’ll dump them and you’ll never see them again.”

  “You don’t know that—”

  “Actually, I think we do,” Iceman said. Everyone turned to look at him. He was staring at his computer screen and the map on it. “He’s airborne over the Atlantic.”

  15

  “But what does that mean?” Annabelle asked the man who’d spoken. He was big with dark hair and tattoos, sitting in front of a computer screen. Hell, they were all big men. Tattoos seemed to be a requirement for the job.

  Dex touched her arm and she jerked her attention to him. “It means he’s fled the country, Belle. And he didn’t go alone.”

  Drums danced in her chest. Her lungs squeezed. She wanted to scream. Dex folded her hand in his. Didn’t take a genius to figure that didn’t mean good news.

  “You’re saying he took Charlotte with him? And Molly and Becca?”

  Dex looked grim. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

  Annabelle worked to get air in her lungs. She thought about what Gina had said—about her son Eli being kidnapped and taken to an island in the Caribbean. About how frantic she’d been, and how numb at the same time.

  “Trust them,” Gina had said. “They know what they’re doing.”

  Breathe, Annabelle. Trust. Try to be logical. “So what now?”

  “We go after them.”

  “We have the money,” Billy added. “You have negotiating power, Mrs. Archer.”

  Power. That’s what she needed. And strength. She had to be strong if she was going to get through this and find her daughter. Stronger than she’d ever been in her life.

  “Please call me Annabelle.” She didn’t want to be called Mrs. Archer. It made her skin crawl. All she could hear was Lyon’s slimy voice saying it.

  A man entered the room and everyone snapped upright. Even Dex. He’d let go of her hand. Someone barked, “Attention!”

  The man who’d caused all the fuss said, “As you were,” and everyone relaxed again. He was tall and handsome with salt-and-pepper hair and a tough look that said he meant business.

  This was Agent Gibbs. The man she’d asked Dex if they had in their organization. He looked every bit as competent as the NCIS agent. Except that was television and this was real life—she hoped this guy really was as skillful as the fictional character.

  “Mrs. Archer,” he said, coming over and shaking her hand lightly. She appreciated that he didn’t squeeze too hard. Some men thought handshakes were a strength contest.

  “Please. Call me Annabelle.”

  His skin was warm and his grip easy. He was devastatingly handsome. Her pulse throbbed a little hotter and she couldn’t think. She wasn’t interested in him, but his magnetism short-circuited her brain anyway.

  “I’m Colonel Mendez,” he said, dropping her hand. “Thank you for coming here today and for helping us find the accounts your husband opened in Switzerland. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “No, it’s definitely not.” It occurred to her that she’d heard a figure mentioned earlier. She’d been thinking of the fact that Mr. Lyon was on a plane, she had no idea where her daughter was, and her company was burning down live on CNN. Billy had said… what? Five accounts. One hundred million in each.

  Oh dear God…

  “You look pale, Annabelle,” Colonel Mendez said. “Would you like to sit?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He ushered her to the chair she’d so recently vacated, and she sank down on it. Then she gazed up into those dark eyes. “Five hundred million dollars—half a billion! How did he manage it? The technology doesn’t work—or not yet anyway. Not consistently.”

  Mendez dropped onto his haunches, bringing him to eye level with her. “I assume you have the research backed up somewhere.”

  “We do. Marshall—Marshall Porter, he’s the lead engineer—was working on some modifications.” Her eyes widened. “He’s been working late the past few weeks—what if he was there?”

  “I’ve been in contact with the authorities
in Briar City. There was no one inside except for security and the janitorial firm. According to your badge reader, every employee had badged out by the time the fire started.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” She should have asked that first, but she was numb and trying to process everything. Her brain compartmentalized each horror rather than connecting them into one big picture.

  “There was an explosion in your laboratory. One of the janitors was injured. He’s in stable condition at the local hospital.”

  “Oh my god.” She swallowed. “And he said there would be more—my house, the houses of my employees—”

  “We’re not going to let that happen.” Mendez looked up at someone. “Get a list of employees and alert law enforcement.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mendez turned the force of his attention on her again. Her belly squeezed tight. “Annabelle, what else do you know about Helios?”

  She had to clear her throat. “Not much. Marshall and Eric spent a lot of time on it. They’d made progress, but it wasn’t working as planned yet.”

  “It must have worked enough to sell a prototype.”

  She nodded. “It probably did, so long as the buyer didn’t test it extensively. But it wasn’t consistent. Any hard field tests and it would have failed.”

  “Tell me, how much did the project depend on each man’s contributions?”

  “Eric was a decent engineer, but not a genius. Marshall is. Without him, there would be nothing.” She lowered her gaze for a moment. “But Eric took all the credit. Marshall is socially awkward, so he didn’t mind. The arrangement worked. Eric was dynamic. He could talk to people, get them to invest. But he couldn’t build the technology without Marshall.”

  Colonel Mendez rose and she tilted her head up. “Thank you for your help, Annabelle. With this information, we’ll be able to figure out how to rescue your daughter and your friends.”

  She could only nod and pray he was right.

  *

  Her phone rang at the precise moment the last hour was up. Annabelle answered, knowing who would be on the other end of the line.

  “Did you find my money?”

  She’d been told what to say to him. “Yes. I have the account numbers now.”

  “Then you will transmit the money to me and I will release your child along with the others.”

  “How do I know you’ll do that?” Her stomach clenched into a fist, her pulse hammered, and her throat was tight. Her skin prickled with heat. She hated confrontation. Always had. She’d rather hide—but she couldn’t, not when so much was at stake.

  “Because I will kill them if you do not.”

  “If you kill them, you’ll never get the money.”

  He was silent for a moment. “So we are at an impasse. What do you propose?”

  “An exchange. When I see their faces and hug them, I’ll have my people transmit the money.”

  He chuckled. “Well, well, Mrs. Archer has found her spine. But how do I know you have the money?”

  “Five hundred million. It’s a lot of money.”

  “It is indeed. Your husband could have told you that, however.”

  “He could have—but he didn’t. The money’s in Switzerland.”

  “Is it? Very well, we shall do an exchange. I do hope you enjoy traveling, Mrs. Archer. It will be a long trip.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Then I will be in touch with instructions. But be aware, if you are lying to me—if you hope to fool me into handing over your loved ones and you do not deliver as promised—I’ll kill them one by one while you watch. And then I’ll kill you.”

  The call ended and Annabelle sagged, her body vibrating with a cocktail of fear, rage, and revulsion. Dex was at her side, ripping off the headphones he wore.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “You did a good job.”

  “Stellar job,” Matt Girard added. “That’s exactly what we wanted to happen.”

  “He doesn’t really plan on letting them go, does he?” There had been something about his voice, something about how casually he did things like burn her company and threaten to burn houses, that told her he lacked empathy. He wanted the money, but he also wanted to kill.

  “It doesn’t matter what he intends,” Dex said. “We don’t plan based on his intentions. We plan based on the worst-case scenario. So, yeah, we’re going to plan for a situation in which he intends to kill them. But we aren’t letting it get that far.”

  She didn’t know if he could deliver or not, but she had to believe in him—in all of them—or go mad. She reached for his hand, tangling her fingers in his. “Thank you.”

  It was a small gesture, but it felt right. For once, he didn’t seem to mind the contact. He squeezed her fingers in return.

  It was another hour before they wound everything up. The team packed up their equipment.

  Matt said to Dex, “Take her home for a few hours. We’ll get everything squared away here. We’ve got his signal so we can track where he ends up whenever he pings into a cell tower.”

  “What if he calls again?” Annabelle asked, scrubbing her hands over the goose bumps taking up residence on her arms.

  “They’ll be able to listen in,” Dex reassured her. “Your phone is linked into the system now. Doesn’t matter where you are when he calls. Same thing if he calls mine.”

  It took a few minutes to wrap everything up, but they finally exited the building and walked out to his truck. The night air was chilly and she shivered. It had been a long damn day, and her jaw cracked as she yawned.

  Dex opened her door and she got inside. He went around and started the truck, then they backed out of the space and drove a short distance to a group of three-story buildings with stairwells on either end. Annabelle frowned.

  “Where are we?” she asked when he turned off the truck.

  “Home.”

  “But we didn’t leave the base.”

  “No, I live in the dorms.” He shrugged. “It’s an option. Some of the guys do, some don’t. I didn’t intend to stay, but I’ve also never worked too hard to find a place off base.”

  “Am I staying with you?”

  He nodded. “It’s like a small apartment. There’s a living room with a foldout sofa and a kitchenette in addition to the bedroom and bath. It’ll be fine. Unless you prefer we go to a hotel.”

  “No, this is fine.” They’d already stayed overnight in a cabin together. What was a night in a dorm? It would be like college all over again—except there she hadn’t had a living room or a kitchenette. Or a bath, come to think of it. That had been down the hall.

  They walked to the first building and she followed Dex inside. He stopped halfway down the hall and inserted a key in a lock. Music thumped from somewhere, but it dialed down considerably when they stepped inside his room and he shut the door. He flicked on a light switch and she took in the place.

  Small, yes. Neat—spartan, actually. A television, a magazine on the table, some speakers, a couple of books, a laptop. The kitchenette was between the living room and bedroom. It was galley style with a stove, fridge, and a few cabinets.

  She didn’t know what the bedroom looked like because the door was shut. Dex went over and opened it.

  “Unfortunately, the bathroom is through here, so the bedroom door will have to stay open.”

  “That’s not a problem for me.”

  “I just didn’t want you getting inside and locking it on me.”

  She blinked. “Oh—no, of course not. But I’ll be on the couch, so it’s fine.”

  “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

  “Dex, really, it’s not necessary.”

  “Belle, you’ve had a helluva shitty day. You need to rest. At some point in the next few hours, we’re boarding a plane and heading for God knows where in pursuit of that fucking nutjob. As much as I don’t want you along, you’re going. We need you close because this fucker is too smart and he’ll know if you aren’t there.”

  Des
pair and weariness washed over her. “Do you mind—could I just take a shower, please?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He led her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Good thing she’d wanted a shower because there was no tub. But the bathroom was spacious with white tiles and white towels, and the shower was large and glassed in. “It’s not fancy,” he said. “But the water gets hot quick.”

  “Thanks.” She stood there, not knowing what else to say or do. It was as if her mind had stopped working. Just shut down and couldn’t come up with a word or an action.

  Dex backed out and pulled the door with him. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here.”

  It took her a long minute before she was able to move, before the idea taking a shower kicked in, and she reached in to turn on the tap. She shed her clothes and stepped under the spray. Warmth seeped beneath her skin.

  Her heart hurt and numbness hung over her like a blanket. She groped for whatever bottles Dex had and found a two-in-one shampoo/conditioner. She washed her hair and then used the same stuff to wash her body.

  But she didn’t get out straight away. She let the water flow over her, let it wash away her fear. Except it didn’t work. Nothing could warm that cold pit inside her that wouldn’t go away.

  She started to shake. Then she sank down on the floor as the tears she’d been holding in broke free. Vaguely, she heard the door open. The water shut off, and then strong hands lifted her, wrapped her in a towel, cradled her against Dex’s chest as he strode from the bath and laid her on the bed.

  He grabbed another towel and worked to dry her exposed skin, his touch sure and clinical. She didn’t even care that he’d seen her naked. No man had seen her in so long she couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be a woman.

  Maybe, with Dex, she could.

  She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and he stilled. “Stay with me, Dex. Please stay.”

  16

  Now that he had her in his arms, Dex was trying very hard not to look at Annabelle’s body. He’d heard her crying in the shower—sobbing, actually—and he’d acted. Didn’t matter that she’d ripped his heart from his chest five years ago. He couldn’t listen to her sob when he knew what she was going through.