by Cynthia Eden
“What do you think Ronald did?” Her chin jutted into the air. She’d spent her life fighting to make the world a better place, and yes, sometimes she’d gotten her hands dirty and sometimes she’d done things that didn’t make her proud.
But she’d never been a coward and she’d never, ever backed down from a fight.
You think I’m easy prey? Think again.
“I think he didn’t have a long time to live, not after my bullet ripped into his chest.”
“He lived long enough,” she allowed.
She hated his smile. Alexandra inched a bit closer to the nightstand. He is familiar. Too familiar. Those eyes...even his smile... For an instant, grief burned through her.
“You’re going to tell me where Celia is.”
“You’re going to give yourself up,” she said in the next instant. “Because you have no idea what kind of enemy I am. You have no—”
He shot her. The bullet tore out of the gun—her own weapon—and slammed right into her chest.
She looked down, truly shocked for an instant. The blood was already pumping from her wound. Alexandra grabbed for the bedcovers as she slid to the floor.
He stalked closer to her. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Then he put the gun right between her eyes.
“I don’t care who you are,” he said. “I don’t care what kind of power you think you have.”
He’d missed her heart. It was still beating. Painfully, so very fast. But beating. “I...know...” Alexandra tried to say. I know who you are. Too late, she understood.
“That’s right, you know. And you will tell me where she is. Celia and Sullivan McGuire won’t destroy me. I’ll destroy everything and everyone around them before that happens.”
* * *
“BEFORE WE LEAVE, I have to check in with Alexandra,” Monroe said. “There’s no way I’m letting Celia walk out of this place without official approval.”
Celia slanted a quick glance toward Sullivan.
“By the book,” Davis muttered. “Still play that way, huh, Monroe?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Monroe snapped. He had his phone pressed to his ear. “I happen to respect my boss, and until she gives the all clear—” He broke off, frowning. “The call went to voice mail.”
A shiver slid over Celia’s skin.
Monroe dialed again. “Look, I know where she’s staying. I’ll just call Alexandra’s room directly.” But his words held an edge now, and Celia could feel his worry.
Alexandra wouldn’t ignore his calls. Not with everything going on.
Davis stepped toward him. “Where is she?”
“The Wattley Hotel. She told me that she always stays there when she’s in town.”
Celia’s breath caught. “And Ronald would know that! He might have told the shooter...” It made sense. He could have told the shooter all about the habits of those in power at the agency.
Learn everyone’s weaknesses.
And if the guy knew Alexandra Sanchez was in town...
“She’s not answering,” Monroe said. The edge in his voice had gotten worse.
Maybe she can’t answer.
Celia and Sullivan were already running for the door. “Call the desk clerk!” Celia yelled. “Make him get someone up to her room!”
Because she was worried the shooter had already gone after another target.
* * *
“YOU JUST MISSED a call, Alexandra,” he said as he picked up her phone and stared at the screen. “Monroe Blake. I’m guessing that’s one of your agents, hmm? Is he the one guarding Celia?”
Every breath was a struggle. Her hands pressed to her chest. He hadn’t hit her heart, but she was bleeding so much.
Is this the way Ronald felt, at the end?
“Alexandra! Look at me!” he snarled.
Her gaze jerked to him.
“Is Monroe the agent guarding Celia?”
She glared at him. She wasn’t going to give up Monroe or Celia to this killer.
“He is, isn’t he?” He smirked at her. “We’re going to call Monroe back. You’re going to tell him that there has been a change of plans. He has to bring Celia to you.”
“No.” She had to keep Monroe away from the killer. Monroe—he was her responsibility. She’d promised his mother that she’d always look after him. I can’t let this man get Monroe. I can’t fail Susan that way!
“Yes. You’re going to do it, or else I will make you suffer every single moment until I finally put a bullet in your head and put you out of your misery.”
“Won’t...call...” She wouldn’t do it. No matter what, she’d protect Monroe. And where was the help? He’d just shot her—surely someone had heard the noise! There had been no silencer on the gun, but...
Maybe no one else is on the floor. I paid for privacy.
Unfortunately, she’d gotten it.
“I’m dialing,” he murmured. And he had pushed the button to return Monroe’s call.
She prepared to scream. To give Monroe a warning—
But someone pounded on her door.
Someone did hear the shot!
“What the hell?” the man next to her muttered. And he ended the call. He kept the phone in his grip as he headed for the door.
His attention wasn’t on her now. So she crawled back, moving toward the lamp.
“Mrs. Smith?” a voice called out as a knock sounded at her door again.
Mrs. Smith. What an obvious alias, but she’d always enjoyed using it. So simple. Why waste time with an elaborate cover when a simple name change did the trick?
She tried to clear her throat so she could call out, but only a whisper escaped from her lips.
The man who’d shot her was right at that door. In another moment, he’d be yanking it open. The hotel employee out there—the poor fellow—would find himself facing off against a killer and probably dying.
She threw her body against the lamp. It wove and crashed down, shattering.
“Mrs. Smith!” The cry of her pretend name was nearly frantic now. “We’re coming in! And I’ve got a crew with me, we’re—”
The shooter opened fire, blasting right through the door.
* * *
“GOVERNMENT AGENT!” MONROE BARKED when they got to the Wattley Hotel and found chaos waiting for them on Alexandra’s floor. “Get the hell back!”
And the crowd did. They were on the top floor, they’d just left the elevator...and Celia could already see the blood.
There were some uniformed cops on the scene, but they looked shaky. One cop—a young woman with dark hair—had her hands pressed to the bloody shoulder of a fellow who appeared to be the desk clerk. Or maybe the concierge. He was wearing a well pressed hotel uniform and a name tag. Justin.
“What happened here?” Monroe demanded. “Where’s—”
A gurney burst out of the suite up ahead. Celia’s breath caught when she saw the form on that gurney. Alexandra Sanchez had never looked more vulnerable. Her face was chalk white, her body shuddering. And the blood—
Alexandra’s eyes darted around the scene as her gurney was pushed toward the elevator, and her frantic stare locked on Celia and Monroe. “Not...here...” she gasped. “He’s...watching...get away!”
Sullivan’s hands closed around Celia’s shoulders.
“The guy just came out of that room, shooting!” Justin’s voice rose. “He was crazy. Just—just firing and then running straight for the elevator!”
If the shooter had been in the elevator, then maybe he’d been picked up on video surveillance. Maybe they could get the guy!
Monroe hurried to Alexandra’s side. “I’ll stay with you. It’s going to be—”
“Get...her...out...” Alexandra ordered, her voice far too weak. “He could still...be here... Get...away...both of you...away! Leave...me.”
The EMTs pushed her into the elevator and they all hurried to follow. Their group closed in around Alexandra and the EMTs as the elevator rushed
down to the ground floor. “Tell us...who was he? What did the guy look like?”
Monroe’s face had turned to stone as he stared at Alexandra.
Alexandra’s stare drifted between Sullivan and Monroe.
“Please, Alexandra, stay with us.” Celia could feel the other woman slipping away. She caught her hand and squeezed. “You saw him. Describe the shooter. What did he look like?” Celia held tight to Alexandra. “Please, tell us.” Alexandra was the key and—
“H-him...” Alexandra whispered. Then her eyes closed.
* * *
THE AMBULANCE ROARED away with a scream of its sirens. Celia stood in the shadows of the hotel building, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze on that ambulance.
Sullivan approached her slowly. “Celia?”
“There’s so much blood and death. Sometimes I feel like it’s all I know.”
More wounded—Justin and a security guard—were loaded into the back of the second ambulance.
“One day,” she said, voice soft, “it would be nice not to worry about a killer. Not to think about attacks or danger.”
The second ambulance pulled away.
“But that day won’t be today,” she added.
He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against him. “The hotel staff members are going to be all right.” He’d checked out their wounds. Superficial. The shooter hadn’t been trying to kill them.
He’d just wanted them out of his way.
But Alexandra...she was a different matter. They’d have to see just how much of a fighter she could truly be.
“Is your brother checking the security footage?” Celia asked.
“Yes.” And Alexandra’s last whispered word kept replaying in his head. What had she meant, the shooter looked like him?
“I’ve been looking at every face. Checking out every person I see. He knows me, but I don’t know him. Hardly seems fair.”
No, it didn’t seem fair. Nothing about this mess did.
The hotel doors slid open and Davis hurried out. One look at his grim expression and Sullivan knew he hadn’t recovered any usable footage.
“The guy is good,” Davis said.
Monroe was right behind him.
“He disabled the security feed before he went up to the suite. There’s no sign of him on the videos. Nothing at all we can use.”
Monroe expelled a frustrated breath. “And the hotel staff couldn’t identify him. When he started shooting, they ducked. They never even got a look at his face.”
“You need to follow the ambulance,” Celia said. “She’s defenseless now—”
“I’ve already got a call in to the CIA,” Monroe said. “A whole team will be swarming soon.”
“But she doesn’t trust a team,” Celia insisted. “She trusts you. She’s still alive, and we need to make sure she stays that way.”
His hands were clenched at his sides. “She gave me an order. I’m supposed to stay with you.”
Sullivan’s shoulder brushed against hers. He needed to be close to her. Her words were haunting him. There’s so much blood and death. Sometimes I feel like it’s all I know. “I’m with Celia,” he said flatly. “You need to follow that ambulance and take care of Alexandra. Right now she’s the only one who can identify the killer. As soon as she’s stable, she can give us the guy’s full description and we can find him.” His lips thinned. “We just have to make sure that she does wake up. We can’t risk him going after her again.”
“That’s why she needs you,” Celia insisted to Monroe.
Davis had his phone out. “And that’s why I’m calling in Mac. I want him at that hospital, too. The more people we have that we can trust on scene, the better.”
Monroe’s eyes glittered. “You’re asking me to go against orders.”
“Sometimes you have to,” Celia said, “in order to do what’s right.”
Like when she’d gone against Ronald to save him. She hadn’t known the guy was a twisted jerk at the time...
She’d just been doing right by me.
Monroe gave a ragged sigh. “You’re going back to the McGuire ranch?”
Celia’s gaze cut to Sullivan.
“Yes,” he said. “She’ll be with me.” They both needed to crash and regroup before they started their hunt. “I’ll guard her, you can count on it. I’ll always have her back.”
Just as she would have his. He knew that with utter certainty.
* * *
IT HAD WORKED, just as he’d planned. By attacking Alexandra, he’d managed to draw Celia right out into the open again.
He stared at their little group. Did they truly think they were safe in the shadows? He’d spotted them the minute they pulled up. The CIA was ridiculously predictable with their black SUVs. Whether abroad or at home, those vehicles truly screamed look at me.
The group was separating. Again, something else he’d anticipated. Alexandra—tough agent that she was—had still been clinging to life when she was loaded into that ambulance. Someone would follow her to the hospital. They’d probably stalk around and try to keep her safe.
There was no point in keeping the dead safe. She wouldn’t survive until dawn. Her wounds were too grave. She wouldn’t be talking about him to anyone else.
So he could move on to his main target.
The McGuires...he figured they’d be going back to the ranch now. Just what he wanted.
So fitting. They thought they were safe out there. So well protected behind their security measures. They couldn’t be more wrong. He knew that ranch too well.
After all, he’d been there before. Many times. He’d even killed there.
The ranch is my hunting ground.
They wouldn’t see him coming.
But plenty of people would see the flames he left behind.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL WAS a scene of total chaos. Monroe Blake had burst through the ER doors just moments before, following the gurney that held Alexandra Sanchez.
At the CIA, Alexandra had always been revered. Respected. And feared. No one had ever gotten close to her there. But—
I share a past with her. As long as he could remember, Alexandra had been in his life. She and his mother had been friends. Always close through the years. And when his mother died, it had been Alexandra who took him in. She’d encouraged him to become a SEAL. She’d brought him into the CIA and the Special Activities Division.
To the rest of the world, he acted as just another agent when he was near her. But...
Alexandra is my family.
And he was afraid she was slipping away from him.
Desperate, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Why had he never noticed just how fragile Alexandra was? She’d always seemed larger than life.
Until now.
“Sir, you need to step back,” one of the doctors said. “We have to get her in the OR now.”
He didn’t want to step back. “Alex...”
Her lashes lifted. Her dark eyes met his. Still alive. Still fighting.
“You should...go...” she whispered. “Told you...”
And he’d ignored orders, for the first time in his life. “You need me.”
Tears gleamed in her gaze. He’d never seen her cry before.
“S-sorry...” Alexandra said. The docs and nurses were pushing her gurney toward the OR, and Monroe was running right with them. “Should have...protected...”
Why in the world would she be apologizing to him?
“He’s...always...been looking...” Each breath she took was a painful rasp. “Always...searching...never thought he’d...find...”
“Who, Alexandra? Who did he find? Celia? Sullivan?”
“Y-you...”
A doctor grabbed his arm and pulled Monroe back.
Alexandra’s gaze lingered on his. He could see her fight to keep her eyes open. “Go...stay with...McGuires...family...”
She was giving him another order. Protect the McGuire family. “I want to
stay with you.”
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Family!”
She was his family. She was—
The OR doors burst open as the doctors took her inside.
* * *
THEY’D JUST PULLED onto the ranch’s property when Sullivan’s phone rang. He lifted it to his ear even as he kept one hand wrapped tightly around the wheel. “Sullivan.”
“She’s in surgery.” Monroe’s voice was ragged. “As soon as I know anything, I’ll call you.”
“Stay with her—”
“Alexandra kept saying for me to come to you! That’s her order...and I’m here because I can’t leave her.”
There was such pain in the agent’s voice. This is personal.
“She’s all the family I’ve got,” Monroe muttered.
Family. It could come in all shapes and sizes, and Sullivan knew the bonds weren’t just about blood. “Mac is coming to the hospital. He’ll help you, in any way you need.”
“What I need...” Now Monroe’s voice hardened. “What we all need is for this SOB to be stopped. He can’t get away from us. He doesn’t get to kill and walk.”
“No,” Sullivan agreed. “He doesn’t.”
He ended the call and drove the vehicle forward. He didn’t head for the main house, though. Instead, he drove them toward the guesthouse.
Her pain-filled sigh almost hurt to hear. “I’m the one who got her down here. I’m the one who thought she’d be able to help me—help us. Alexandra kept SAD going for so long. With Ronald dead, I knew she’d come back to investigate and keep everyone on track. Now...”
Now if she died, the whole unit would fall apart.
He couldn’t help wondering...had that been the shooter’s goal? Just how much was really at play in this deadly game?
“I respect her,” Celia said. “And she deserves so much more than that pain-filled death.”
The headlights cut through the darkness and fell on the guesthouse. He braked and killed the engine, but neither one of them made a move to leave the vehicle.
“I keep thinking about what she said,” Celia whispered. “When we asked her to describe the man, she said—”
“She said he looked like me,” Sullivan continued. Those words had stunned him.
“Maybe Ronald wasn’t lying.”
His eyes narrowed in the darkness as he strained to make out her expression.