by Aimée Thurlo
As the van skidded to a stop, Kyle rose to one knee, weapon up. That’s when he saw the assault-rifle barrel poking from the driver’s-side window. He only had one quick look at the face but it was a woman, and she looked pissed.
He dove behind a whiskey-barrel planter to his left as a flurry of rounds dug into the ground where he’d been only a few seconds ago.
Prone, Kyle brought his M4 around and aimed it at the van. The men had stopped long enough to grab Hank by the arms and were dragging his inert form toward the van.
Kyle fired two quick rounds, aiming high, not wanting to hit Hank, but hoping to force them to let him go.
It worked. They dropped him and piled into the van.
Kyle rolled behind the barrel just as the woman fired another burst, showering him with chunks of the oak barrel. He moved to the left this time, but his own SUV was in his line of fire now, shielding the van as it backed up.
Jumping to his feet, Kyle tried to get a clear shot, but there was a school bus passing by on the street. He couldn’t risk it.
Hearing running footsteps behind him, he turned his head and saw Erin Barrett jogging toward him in a crouch, gun down at her side. Her eyes were on Hank.
As the van raced down the street and disappeared around a corner, she ran across the asphalt and knelt by the wounded man. “Hank, don’t you dare let them win. You fight and stay here with us!”
Kyle was already dialing 911 when she turned her head to look up at him, fear mirrored on her face.
“Who are you, and why didn’t you get here sooner?”
The question threw him for a beat. “I’m an agent with the IRS,” he said, using the cover that usually brought questions from the curious to an abrupt stop. “Help will be here soon,” he said, coming up to her. “Mr. Leland’s still breathing, so he’s got a chance, just don’t move him. The bleeding isn’t bad, but he undoubtedly has broken bones and internal injuries.”
She put her hand on Leland’s. “I’m here, Hank. Hang on.”
He watched her, trying to figure out if she was a well-placed mole working with terrorists, or the real deal. Until he knew, trusting her was out of the question.
Chapter Two
Erin held on to Hank’s hand and continued talking to him. She remembered someone, somewhere, saying that even if you were unconscious you might still be able to hear others.
“You can get through this,” Erin repeated, her voice trembling. Desperate to sound as if she believed what she was saying, she cleared her throat and tried again, squeezing his hand very gently. “Don’t give up.”
As the ambulance arrived and the medical team rushed over, she rose to her feet and stepped back, allowing the EMTs to work. The Navajo man who’d saved her life, shooting the gunman who’d pushed her out into the line of fire, joined her.
“What’s your name?” she managed. He was almost a foot taller than her, and his eyes were dark as midnight. They held an intensity that scared her a bit, too, even though she knew she had nothing to fear from him. If it hadn’t been for this man, she might have been dead by now.
“I’m Agent Kyle Goodluck, IRS. Who were those people with the guns? Do you know any of them?”
Goodluck... She was alive, and so was Hank at the moment, so maybe he’d lived up to his name. She tried to smile, but the sickeningly sweet scent of blood was making her head spin. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“Did Hank know them?”
“I’m not sure.” Seeing him searching the ground, she added, “Did you lose something?”
“I’m hoping to find a cell phone someone may have dropped during the gun battle. Do you have yours and did Hank have one on him?”
“No. Hank said he left his at home, and mine’s on my desk. They made me leave it behind.”
Fueled by intense fear, her mind was racing. Something about Kyle Goodluck didn’t add up. “You said you’re IRS, but you came armed...and you’ve had combat training,” she added, struggling to focus. She was so scared she couldn’t stop shaking. “I never knew the IRS carried weapons.”
“Field agents are usually armed,” he said. “Didn’t Hank mention I was coming to interview him?”
Seeing her shake her head, he continued. “I was sent to check out some discrepancies in the purchase orders he filed with the Department of Defense.” He pulled out his cover government photo ID, flashed his badge, then quickly placed it all back into his pocket. “If you’re worried, the local police will vouch for me.”
She wanted to trust this man, after all, he’d saved her life, but something was telling her to hold back. “You don’t have to protect me anymore,” she said, noticing how closely he stood. “They’re gone now.”
“For the moment. You’ve seen these people up close and that makes you a threat to them,” he said. “From this point on, expect the unexpected. That’s how you’ll stay alive.”
His bluntness made a chill run up her spine. Agent Goodluck stood straight, shoulders thrown back, a warrior’s stance. The black leather jacket enhanced his powerful build. Everything about him spoke of unwavering self-assurance. She didn’t know much about Kyle Goodluck, but she had a feeling that this was a man who seldom, if ever, second-guessed himself.
“There’s Detective Bowman,” Erin said, seeing a familiar face step out of an unmarked SUV. “I remember him from one of the fund-raisers Hank held for the local police. His brother Daniel’s in the security business, too.”
“I know. They’re my brothers,” Kyle said.
She blinked, surprised by the revelation.
As her gaze shifted to the EMTs still working on Hank, the full impact of what had happened slammed into her again. Men she’d never seen before had tried to kill her and Hank. One of the gunmen had actually died less than ten feet from her. What was worse, she might still be a target.
Tremors ripped through her and she folded her arms around her middle, as if trying to hug herself.
A heartbeat later, Kyle threw his black leather jacket over her shoulders.
“No, I’m okay,” she managed.
“You’re holding it together, but that’s not the same as okay,” he said, his voice gentle.
As Preston came up, he nodded to Erin, then glared at his brother. “Interesting meeting you here so soon after our coffee break. What’s the story?”
“A word?” Kyle said, taking Preston aside, but making sure he kept Erin in view.
* * *
THEY WERE STANDING less than fifteen feet away from her, but Kyle could see Erin’s full attention was on the paramedics getting ready to transport Hank Leland.
“This is part of an NCIS case,” Kyle told Preston in a barely audible voice. “I’m here undercover.”
“Now tell me something I don’t know.”
“Earlier this morning Hank Leland called and asked NCIS for help, claiming he was being blackmailed by terrorists. I’d been sent here to monitor Leland’s activities anyway, so I was told to go check it out and interview him. Everything looked normal up to the time I pulled into the company’s yard, but in a moment, it all went sour,” he said. “That’s all I have right now, but we’re going to need your department’s cooperation during my investigation.”
Preston nodded curtly. “Why did they come after him here?”
“Don’t know. Maybe that was their plan all along. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Leland’s company specializes in building safe rooms but that technology isn’t classified. What’s that got to do with terrorists?”
“Not sure—yet.” Kyle glanced around. “Firearms aren’t hard to get, so let’s begin with explosives and detonators. Does Leland keep any here on site?”
“I’ll find out,” Preston answered.
“One more thing,” Kyle said before he could move
off. “I need you to file this as an armed robbery gone bad or something routine like that—not a kidnapping attempt involving probable terrorists. If you need clearance, I can get it for you. I’ll also need to keep Erin Barrett in my custody.”
“Are you taking over this case? If you are, I’ll have to run it through channels.”
“Do whatever you have to, and I’ll stay with Erin.”
As Preston walked off, Kyle saw one of the paramedics block Erin from climbing into the back of the vehicle. “Ma’am, you can’t ride in the ambulance with him. We’ll transport him to Regional Medical’s emergency room and you can meet us there.”
As Kyle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, Erin jumped back and spun around.
“It’s okay, Erin, relax. Let the EMTs do their job. Hank’s in good hands,” he said. “You and I need to talk.”
“Hank Leland hired me and gave me a chance—the only one I ever got—and I’m going to make sure he gets the best of care. I’m going to the hospital right now.”
“Hank’s already getting the care he needs. Your time’s better spent answering our questions so we can catch the people who did this to him, and you.”
“I’ll tell you everything I can—at the hospital,” Erin replied, refusing to give an inch.
Preston came up and gave Kyle a brief nod. “Your request has been approved,” he said. “I’ve sent officers to Leland’s home to secure the place. I’ve also sent a deputy to the company’s current work site to inform and protect the work crew there.” He looked at Erin. “Right now, ma’am, I have to ask you a few questions.”
She ran an exasperated hand through her hair. “Everyone wants to talk to me and I get that, but first, I have to make sure Hank’s okay. I’m going to the hospital. You can both talk to me there.” She looked over at the emergency vehicle heading out the gates. “I have to go.”
“All right. My brother can drive you there,” Preston said, and saw Kyle nod. “But before you go, could this have been a robbery, maybe for your payroll, or cash on hand?”
Erin shook her head. “No way. If you’d seen them, you’d understand. They were cold and calm, like professionals following a plan. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t cash.”
Kyle nodded. He’d seen extremists with the same attitude she’d described. “Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
* * *
KYLE FOLLOWED THE racing emergency vehicle, staying on its tail by taking advantage of the way its flashing lights, horn and siren cleared traffic. At this speed, he couldn’t risk more than a glance in Erin’s direction, but he was aware of her on almost every level.
She had spirit—the kind that refused to cower or run. Unless he missed his guess, and he seldom did, her courage wasn’t the sort that came from training and preparation. It was the deep-seated kind that you were either born with or not.
“So you and Hank are friends?” he asked, running the red light and staying right behind the ambulance, his skill and training in pursuit driving coming in handy now.
“No, not really, but we work together well, and he’s a good boss.” She hung on tightly to the door handle as he turned left. “He hired me though I had no business experience, and right from the start trusted me to handle the work.”
Kyle had no problem believing that. She clearly wasn’t the sort who lost it under pressure.
“Hank’ll make it through this. He’s as tough as they come,” she said.
He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. “So you’re his assistant, right?”
“Officially, I’m the office manager. Sometimes when he’s away fulfilling a contract, I run the day-to-day business. When he’s here, my job is to make sure things run smoothly.”
“Does Leland have any enemies?”
“Not that I know of. Hank always treats his employees and clients fairly.”
“You really like him, I gather,” he pressed, making another hard right in order to stay close to the ambulance.
She held her breath until they were moving in a straight line again. “I respect him.”
Kyle kept his eyes on the road. His gut was telling him that there was more to Erin’s story, things she was deliberately keeping back. If she was playing a game, he’d see through it fast enough. He was very good at his job, as he’d proven time and time again.
The fox fetish that hung from a leather cord around his neck pressed against his chest, reminding him to stay alert. Fox, a gift from Hosteen Silver, was his spiritual brother, and, according to Navajo tradition, shared its gifts with him. Observation, one of Fox’s innate abilities, had become second nature to Kyle. Whether that was because of the fetish or not, he couldn’t say, he just knew that it was so.
“Why did your brother suggest I ride with you to the hospital? Was it so you could question me, or is there more to it?”
“You wanted to get there fast, so it made sense for me to give you a lift. Hang on,” he added, hitting the brakes and swerving along with the ambulance ahead of him. Its loud air horn blasted. A startled pedestrian wearing white earbuds looked up suddenly, then jumped back onto the curb.
Unsure of which team she was playing on, he intended to be right there when Hank Leland regained consciousness and saw Erin for the first time since the kidnapping attempt. Hank’s reaction might be enough to tell him what he needed to know.
“You saved my life, Agent Goodluck, but I don’t think I ever thanked you.”
“Not necessary. And it’s Kyle.” He only met those honey-brown eyes for a second, but that’s all it took. Just beyond the sadness and fear mirrored there, he saw a gentle vulnerability.
He was a former marine, long ago labeled as a hard-ass, but that never failed to get to him.
He heard the ambulance’s air horn just ahead, and a heartbeat later a large black pickup flew into view, running the light, oblivious to the inevitable collision.
“Oh, damn.” Kyle hit the brakes and leaned on the horn.
Although he avoided the truck, it was too late for the ambulance. The pickup slammed into its right front end, pushing the emergency vehicle around ninety degrees with a sickening crunch.
Kyle skidded and barely missed clipping the tailgate of the pickup as it fishtailed around in the intersection. Hitting the brakes hard again, he finally managed to stop about fifty feet beyond the crash site. He looked back in the side mirror just as a familiar-looking van drove up and stopped a few feet behind the pickup.
“That idiot just ran the light!” Erin cried out, her voice shaking.
“It wasn’t an accident. Get down on the floorboard now,” he ordered, grabbing his pistol. “Call 911,” he instructed the online computer, not taking his eyes off the van. “Federal officer needs help, GPS location.”
“The van! Those are the same men,” she said, her voice rising. “Give me a way to fight back.”
“Here, defend yourself, but stay down.” Kyle handed her the Glock, then threw open his door, reaching behind the seat for his M4 as he jumped down to the pavement. He’d replaced the magazine with a full load when he put it away, but the thought of a firefight in a city intersection brought him back to his deployments in Afghanistan. Yet here he was in Hartley, New Mexico.
Two men wearing ski masks had already exited the van, both upgunned to assault rifles. They were possibly wearing vests beneath fatigue jackets, too, though he couldn’t tell for sure.
As the gunman from the passenger side approached the disabled EMT vehicle, the driver of the van watched the man’s flank and front, providing cover. To their right, the pickup driver was limping away from his badly disabled vehicle, pistol in hand. Clearly the collision had crippled his effectiveness.
Kyle advanced to his left, intending on approaching from behind. There was no cover here in the street, but he was sure they were out
to nab Hank and were confident that surprise and firepower had put them in control.
The gunman came up to the rear door of the emergency vehicle and rapped on it with the butt of his assault rifle. “Open the door!”
The man’s partner, the driver, looked over at Kyle’s SUV. Knowing the fight might shift to Erin’s position, Kyle moved in.
“Put your weapons down!” Kyle yelled, now partially screened by the van.
Both gunmen whirled instantly, spraying bullets in his direction.
Outgunned for the moment, Kyle dropped to the pavement and rolled left as bullets kicked up chunks of asphalt. He returned fire, but he wasn’t alone. As he glanced back, he saw Erin lying flat beside the SUV, firing beneath the engine block at the men’s legs.
Both suspects jumped to the driver’s side of the van, moving out of view.
Not wanting to shoot in that direction and risk hitting the ambulance beyond, Kyle circled to his left.
The pistol-wielding pickup driver snapped off a few rounds, but shots from the SUV forced him to take cover beside the pickup. Erin had Kyle’s back.
Kyle couldn’t see the men any more, but he was advancing, weapon up, when the van roared to life. Tires squealing, the vehicle raced backward straight at him. He fired twice, then jumped to his left as the van brushed by him.
Swinging around, prone, he tried to bring his rifle to bear on the van, which had now done a one-eighty and was racing down the street. A bullet screamed past him from behind. Realizing it had come from the pickup’s driver, Kyle forgot about the van, rolled and squeezed off three rounds at the driver, who was leaning against his ruined pickup, still shooting.
The shooter flinched, grabbed his side, and slid down the side of the pickup to a sitting position.
Kyle jumped up, weapon aimed at the wounded man, and advanced quickly.
“Drop the weapon now!” he yelled. To his left, he could see an EMT sneaking a quick look out the back door of the unit. “Stay inside!” Kyle ordered.