Deadly Agenda

by Lisa Phillips

  A vindictive enemy who had changed the course of her whole life.

  And for what? Revenge. Money. Power. Maybe he was just sadistic, and this whole thing was nothing but a power play.

  They were just pawns in some game.

  Megan couldn’t see her phone. It’d probably fallen between the seat and the floor. She grabbed the keys out and headed for the bathroom. Then she needed fuel—like an energy drink and a huge bag of chips. She needed to jump-start her brain so she could figure this out.

  She hit the hallway to the bathroom and pushed the door open.

  Someone crowded in behind her.

  Arms banded around her waist. Pain tore through her arm.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  **

  Adrian followed Hank all the way to the gas station, after he’d borrowed an SUV from one of the other agents. Where on earth was the man going?

  When he pulled off the highway and headed for a gas station, Adrian knew something was up.

  Hank pulled in across the lot, in an out-of-the-way spot.

  Right beside a fire exit door.

  The SUV Adrian had been driving earlier was parked by the front doors of the gas station. Megan was here.

  He headed inside, walked all the aisles, and then went to the restrooms area. A dank hallway with a wet floor sign at the far end. The exit door clicked shut.

  Adrian picked up his pace.

  He pushed out the door to the bright light of the day, weapon drawn. Something really wasn’t right here.

  Hank pulled a limp Megan to his SUV. He held her with one of her arms over his shoulder. Like she’d passed out, and he was “helping” her.

  “Cromwell!” Adrian lifted his weapon as he strode over. Was he really going to do this? Would he shoot Hank if the man pushed him to it? He didn’t know if he could. Let alone whether he actually believed his boss would push him to that point.

  He turned, narrowed his eyes, and then the older man dumped Megan on the back seat. Before Adrian could say something, he saw the curl of Hank’s lips.

  Pain ricocheted through Adrian’s head, emanating from one spot on the back.

  The sidewalk lifted up and slammed into his face.

  Everything went black.

  How much later it was when he finally woke up, Adrian didn’t know. His head hurt like he couldn’t believe. His thoughts swam like the time he’d gotten a concussion playing football in high school.

  He shifted enough to get his hands under him and pushed against the gritty concrete.

  “You okay, man? That was some blow.”

  Adrian could only grunt.

  “Might wanna take it easy, yeah?” The voice was older, and gravelly. “Should I call the cops?”

  “FBI.”

  “You want me to call the FBI? Seems overkill, since you just fell or something.” The older man paused. “You drunk?”

  Adrian wanted to shake his head, but that was not a good idea right now. “I’m FBI.” Those were all the words he could push out. Bile rose in his throat, and he managed to sit up. “Where did she go?”

  “Lost your girl?” An older man crouched. Denim shirt. Gray stubble. “She do this to you?” He nodded for a few seconds. Or Adrian had blurry vision. Then he said, “I had a woman like that once. Kept me on my toes for sure.”

  Adrian tried to locate his weapon. Not on the ground. Not in his holster. Even his backup, the small caliber revolver he wore on his ankle, was gone. And his badge. His phone.

  “Help me up.”

  The old man held out his hand, and Adrian clasped the man’s wrist. He used as much of his own strength, not wanting to pull the man over onto the floor.

  The world shifted when he was finally upright. Adrian waited for it to still, then reached up to touch the back of his head.

  The older man grabbed his arm. “Your hands are dirty.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. “This is cleaner than your fingers.”

  Gravel was still pressed into the skin of his hands. Adrian wiped them on his pants and took the cloth. He touched it to the back of his head and nearly dropped to the floor again. He shifted his legs, tried to get blood flowing around his body so he didn’t pass out.

  “Probably need an ambulance.”

  Adrian turned for the door of the gas station. He needed to make a call. Hank had taken Megan. Shoved her into his SUV before he took her…where?

  And someone else had hit Adrian over the back of the head.

  He turned back to the older man. “Did you see what happened?”

  “Nah. Found you on the ground there.” He waved to the asphalt.

  Adrian needed security footage. And a first aid kit. He needed to know who he could trust, otherwise he wasn’t going to get Megan back. Was her vehicle still here?

  Was his?

  He patted his pockets. Keys were still there, but they’d taken everything else.

  Adrian stumbled to the entrance and went inside, right to the register, all the while trying to figure out what on earth had just happened. Hank had acted like a father figure in Megan’s life. He’d called her “Meggie,” and it seemed almost like he doted on her.

  Until he suspected her of being part of all this—and not in a good way. Now he’d stuffed her in his SUV and driven off with her.

  This had to be the work of the blackmailer. Or Hank was, for some reason, on El Cuervo’s side just like Zimmerman. Maybe he’d even betrayed Megan and her partner years ago while she was undercover. Or all of it was connected somehow, in some other way, which put Hank in the middle of everything.

  Could he be the blackmailer?

  The cashier was on the phone. “Looks like he might be okay.” He hung up.

  Adrian said, “A woman was just kidnapped out of the parking lot. I need witnesses, I need local cops here now to take statements, and I need a first aid kit. Not necessarily in that order.”

  The cashier’s eyes widened.

  The TV, hung high in the corner, interrupted whatever he’d been about to say.

  “…breaking news story,” the commentator said. The words ALERT flashed across the bottom of the screen. A local news show. “The FBI have just released a statement confirming that their missing agent, Daniel Zimmerman, is working in cohorts with another former agent. A woman who retired from the bureau due to medical issues, including mental instability.”

  A picture flashed on the screen. Zimmerman. Beside his picture was one of Megan. A bureau photographer had taken it years ago from the look of it. Definitely before Mexico. Shirt and blazer, neat hair pulled back. Minimal makeup.

  She was working with Zimmerman?

  Hank had taken her so the blackmailer could put it out on the wires that she was working with Zimmerman? Adrian had just suffered a head injury from someone working with Hank, who was clearly in cahoots with the blackmailer, but he could figure this much out at least. Yet more connections.

  The blackmailer. Digging deep to make sure his plan came to fruition.

  And Megan was going to take the blame, along with Zimmerman.

  The idea that the blackmailer was Hank ran through his mind again. Adrian didn’t want to believe it, but it was possible he supposed. Megan knew she was a target.

  But they hadn’t known just how deep the threat went.

  “The FBI is now on the lookout for Daniel Zimmerman and Megan Perkins in connection with a missing weapon they may attempt to use. The two are considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see them, call the number on the screen immediately. Do not approach them.”

  Chapter 17

  Megan’s cheek pressed against the carpeted floor of the SUV. Her head throbbed where Hank had shoved her in, and she’d clipped the door frame with her injured hip. Hank. She should be angry—so angry. She should be hurt by his betrayal. Inside, where that feeling was supposed to live there was nothing but…cold.

  The sun flashed into view through the window. Megan winced and shut her eyes.

  She could hear
Hank breathing, each inhale coming rapidly as he drove wherever. To whoever. She had plenty of guesses. This whole thing had been a puzzle from start to finish. If she was going to maintain her sanity and not get dragged down into the crazy, then she had to hold back. Keep her defensive position intact. Not fall into all this, so she didn’t end up dissolving into a ball of uncontrollable emotions.

  She didn’t need to do it. They didn’t need to see it.

  What she should do is figure out a way to get free of these bindings that had her arms locked behind her. Shoulders wrenched.

  Hank swung around a corner. Megan’s body swayed and her shoulder pressed against the seat. Against the bandage over her wound. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Sweat rolled down her forehead. Megan stared at the back of Hank’s chair. There was nothing she could do but lie here and wait for them to get wherever he was taking her.

  Nothing but pray.

  She’d needed God before, and she’d prayed then. Will had still died. But Megan had lived. And for what? This life certainly wasn’t anything noble or great. She hadn’t devoted herself to much of anything except survival and doing the best job she could for Steve.

  She hadn’t even gone after El Cuervo.

  Because she knew, if she did, that he’d have destroyed her. Truth was, she never wanted to see El Cuervo again in her entire life. She knew that as well as she knew it was where Hank was taking her. Megan might have been looking for him but frankly, she hadn’t found many leads. And maybe that was because she hadn’t wanted to actually find much of anything.

  Fear had held her back. It had kept her in a box of her own making.

  If she’d gone after Will’s killer, then she’d have destroyed the one thing God allowed to survive—her. She’d have thrown his gift of life back in his face.

  And that was why she hadn’t been able to do it.

  Megan didn’t know why she was saved when Will wasn’t. She’d rather have lived in a world with him in it. Or for her to have died, and him to have lived. Will would’ve made the world a better place. After all, he’d done that for her.

  Now she had Adrian in her life. The two men were so vastly different, she didn’t even know where to begin comparing them, even if she’d wanted to.

  Megan prayed.

  Hank drove.

  His phone rang. “Yeah.” Pause. “I’m ten minutes out.” Another pause. “Okay.” He hung up, then said, “Not long now.”

  “You’re taking me to El Cuervo?” The question filled her mouth with the taste of an acid that ate at her resolve. She’d tried to sound strong, but what was the point? Hank had done this, and he knew he’d won.

  Hank said, “Nothing personal.”

  “He’s got your life in a vice, right?” He’d know she was talking about the blackmailer. “So you’ll hand me over, and say you had no choice.”

  “Coercion is a valid defense.”

  “I don’t buy that. You’re an agent.” She’d had compassion for Steve, but there was none for Hank. “You know what we can do when we’re faced with any kind of threat.” She paused. “But you didn’t choose that. You chose to bend and let him do this to you—get you to turn against me.”

  Then again, had he ever felt any loyalty toward her? Maybe it’d been nothing but a ruse to draw her in so he’d have exactly this opportunity.

  “Does this have something to do with my father?” Remy seemed to think that was the connection.

  All that talk of loyalty to her family because of the work Hank had done years ago with her dad might have been nothing but lies—keeping her close. For this.

  She thought about it while he said nothing. Maybe he’d decided that he wanted to be there out of loyalty in the beginning. But anything after Mexico was suspect, and she didn’t believe any of it was other than the blackmailer twisting his life for whatever scheme the puppet master had in mind.

  “What does he have on you?” She asked the question out loud, even as she wondered again what the blackmailer had on Steve. “Did he kidnap Zimmerman’s family? Is that what he does? Threaten the people closest to you to force you to do what he wants.” But Hank didn’t have a family.

  She’d thought he considered her kind of like a daughter. Now she knew that couldn’t be true. “What does he know that you don’t want to get out?”

  The question hung in the air. He was willing to sacrifice her for whatever it was. Maybe she didn’t want to know. She might end up disappointed she was worth so little. She huffed out a breath—not anywhere near a laugh, but headed in that direction. The ability to be a little sardonic, especially at a time like this, helped shore up those defenses.

  If she could focus on Hank, then she didn’t have to think about—

  The car slowed, and they pulled under the roof of a building. A warehouse.

  El Cuervo.

  She tried to stay cold. Tried to keep her mind divorced from what was happening. Adrian…she couldn’t think about him. Did he hate her for leaving? She had no idea what Hank had told him about her taking the car and going. Apparently not the truth, at least as far as she’d known it.

  This was supposed to have been about baiting a trap for El Cuervo. Instead she was the target, and it was Hank who had snapped it shut. On her.

  Lord… There were no words. Her eyes burned. Her nose stung.

  The door opened and a man stood there. Megan didn’t look at whoever it was. She just lay still on the floor behind the front seats.

  He grabbed her foot and pulled her out. Her shoes slapped the floor. The man ducked his head and pulled her upper body over his shoulder. He stood, causing a grunt to rise in her throat. Her head swam along with the throb, upside down with all the blood pooling there.

  He lumbered under the weight of her. Yes, she needed to quit her pizza habit. She didn’t need the reminder, thank you very much. He shifted her again and deposited her on the concrete floor.

  Megan blew out a breath and tried to relax every tense muscle. Her jaw screamed from being locked so tightly. Her shoulders were on fire. She took another moment to get some more breaths in her.

  And then she looked up.

  El Cuervo stood over her, dressed in the same suit. Did he have several in that color because he liked it so much? She pictured them lined up in his closet like uniforms. The scar peeked out his collar on the left side of his face, wrinkled skin from there to his ear. Burns—probably suffered years ago. Had that been instrumental in him becoming the man he was now?

  Why did her mind keep coming back to his obvious injury?

  “We meet again.”

  She’d pretended not to know Spanish the first time he spoke to her. Now she replied in English, just because she knew it would irritate him. “The pleasure is all yours, I’m sure.”

  **

  Adrian buckled himself into the airplane seat. He’d gone right for Megan’s SUV before anyone else got to it. First thing he’d done was try and look inside. The doors were locked. A check of the bathroom, the hallway, and the ground between the back door and where the SUV had been parked, yielded her car keys.

  Inside the vehicle, he’d found her phone and purse. He’d taken the phone. It didn’t matter that local cops would discover her ID and wallet, and likely her FBI badge, inside the SUV abandoned at the gas station.

  Agents in DC at his office hadn’t been able to locate the GPS on Hank’s vehicle. They’d gotten nothing back but, “Error.”

  Adrian leaned his head back against the airplane seat and shut his eyes. His entire skull throbbed, but that was nothing compared with what Megan was likely going through. And she was being implicated as a terrorist along with Zimmerman. Two “rogue” FBI agents, supposedly acting on some prearranged plan. A stolen sonic weapon. Both of them knowledgeable about police and federal agency response times and high value targets.

  It was a smart move to blame it on them.

  Adrian decided then that the blackmailer really had taken Zimmerman’s family. That had to be why no o
ne had been able to find them. Now the blackmailer was leveraging their lives against Zimmerman’s cooperation. Demanding he bring revenge on men who had wronged the blackmailer through a military operation undertaken years ago.

  Years in which hatred and anger had festered and turned cancerous. Infecting the blackmailer.

  Now the blackmailer was like patient zero with the virus being spread to unsuspecting people. His targets were suffering symptoms and passing it on. Forced to fight for him, so that more and more people were drawn in.

  “You need to turn those off, sir.”

  Adrian opened his eyes. He glanced from the airline hostess to the phones he had in each hand on his lap. He turned off his, and then Megan’s.

  He’d tried her mom half a dozen times on the way to the airport. Calling out using her phone, while his rang on the passenger seat. Local FBI personnel trying to reach him, probably wondering what happened. Where Hank was.

  No one had tried to call Megan’s phone.

  He tried to doze on the way to Denver. Mostly his head went around and around, whirling between worry over Megan to where she was, what Hank had done with her and where El Cuervo fit into all this. Not to mention how it related to the blackmailer. Did Remy know the answers?

  All Adrian could do was head to the conference, find those two Navy guys, and make sure they were safe.

  Protect Megan’s mother, Sylvia, because that was what she would want him to do.

  He knew that the same way he knew trying to find her was futile. Hank wouldn’t leave his phone on so it could be hacked. He knew about GPS in their vehicles, so he’d disabled it. If he was part of El Cuervo being here in the US, or the blackmailer’s business, he would need Megan alive. For now.

  Adrian figured her time was limited. Dead or alive, she’d still be a scapegoat for them. Someone to blame all the destruction on. The target was those two Navy officers, so that was what he could focus on—stopping the blackmailer. That had been his job all along. He was supposed to have protected Megan, and he would do everything he could to stand up for her. To prove she was pulled into this against her will, just like the rest of them.