by Linzi Basset
He pulled away. The whistling tunes of ‘Dixie’ filled the void in his car. Damien Whittaker would be pleased, but Adam decided he could wait. If he didn’t see the news, tomorrow was soon enough to inform him.
Chapter Eighteen
“Greer.”
“How is he, Ruark?”
“What fucking kind of bullet did you use, Samantha?” Ruark barked into her ear.
She cringed and then slumped in the chair, her mind exploding with concern.
“Please tell me he’s okay.”
“No. He’s not okay. It’s been two days and he still hasn’t regained consciousness. Or did you hope your bullet would penetrate the vest? Is that it?”
“God no! But I had to make it look real otherwise Bulldog would never have believed his death. Why do you think I told him to wear a double plated vest, Ruark? I needed him to be safe.”
“I find that hard to believe; especially since you haven’t bothered to come and visit him.”
“I can’t. You have to know that!”
“Yeah, of course. Tell me, Samantha, was this the first of a new wave of Ace killings?”
“Damn you, Ruark, that’s not fair. I never killed for the sake of killing. All the jobs I did were under the instruction of the CIA. I was never an assassin. I was a Government paid sniper.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Samantha.”
“Am I that different from you or Rhone, Ruark? Or any of your friends, for that matter? You all do undercover work for the Government and have killed in the line of duty. Why are you brushing me with a different comb?”
Ruark didn’t respond and the silence thickened.
“I love him,” she whispered. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to pull the trigger, Ruark. No fucking idea.”
“Samantha—”
“Yeah, he doesn’t believe me either but it happened and I’m not going to fight or deny what I feel for him anymore. Is it fair to judge me for a past I had no say over? A past that I walked away from the moment I realized I was being used. God knows I’ve tried to forget all the things I’ve done. I deserve to be happy, Ruark.” She drew a staggering breath. “But you just made me realize that as long as Bulldog has a hold over me, I have no chance of living a normal life. So, there will be one more killing. One to sever all the ties I had with Silver Sting, once and for all.”
“Samantha, Rhone is going to be pissed when he wakes up and you’re not here.”
She pressed her hand over her mouth to swallow back a sob.
“I know but this is something I have to do; for both our sakes; also for Lauren, Keon and Beckie.’”
“Let me help you. We have resources—”
“No. This, I have to do on my own. Mano a mano. Him and me. Face to face. I want to look into his eyes when I pull the trigger.”
“Samantha, shooting a man at point blank range isn’t the same as shooting through a scope.”
“I’m aware of that, but this can’t be done any other way. He has to know who ended his miserable life before he enters the bowels of hell.”
“Why don’t you wait until Rhone has regained consciousness? I’ll feel better if you do, and he sure as hell would too.”
“Tell him . . . tell him that I’m still wearing his collar and I always will.”
“Samantha!” But the silence in his ear was followed by the disconnect tone. “Fucking hell,” Ruark grumbled.
“She’s quite the firecracker, isn’t she?”
“Rhone? Thank God! You’re awake,” Ruark took his hand and squeezed it.
“Why do you look so worried? And where . . .” He looked around the room. “Why the fuck am I in the hospital?”
“Clinic. You’re in Ethan’s day clinic.”
Rhone blinked. He pushed himself upright, or rather tried to.
“Jesus! My chest hurts like it’s been hit with a sledgehammer.”
“Looks like it too. Nice to see you’re awake, mate,” Keon said as he walked into the room, closely followed by Lance, Jack and Max.
“Are you saying I’ve been out long?”
“Two full days. Had all of us worried. Ethan said the force of the bullet shocked your heart to stop beating for a couple of seconds. It’s a good thing you were out. Your body needed to regroup.”
“Did he believe it?” Rhone asked no one in particular.
“Lexie said she got a phone call from the NCS division, a woman by the name of Diana Chambers, who asked for the autopsy report. Claimed they needed it to establish if it was associated with an assassination case they were working on. Luckily the bullet was lodged into the steel plate, so she could identify it in the report. He’ll buy it; he’s an ass,” Lance confirmed.
“Who is she?” Rhone asked Max.
“Diana Chambers is the executive assistant for a number of high-level operatives in the NCS, including the newly promoted deputy director, our friend, Adam Baxter. We’ve been scouring their records to see if we can find anyone in that group to link them to any of our cases but so far, we’ve come up blank.”
“Has anyone spoken to Adam? He’s been involved with a couple of cases we’ve worked on, including that recent heist where we confiscated and dissolved that drug smuggling ring from Cuba.”
“I tried to make an appointment but apparently he’s away on a congress gathering with the director of the CIA at the moment,” Keon intoned evenly.
“Might be an idea to phone him. He could shed some light if someone in his unit is working on something specific.”
“Do you think that’s wise, Rhone? Isn’t the person who is forcing Samantha’s hand in the NCS? How well do you know these people? Even Adam? You’ve not been that close to him since varsity,” Ruark frowned at his brother.
Rhone contemplated his response. “I guess you’re right. It might just trigger suspicion if we ask too many questions. I suppose the best we can do, is hope we find some link with the background checks. Include financials and liquidity in your search, Max, especially those with offshore Cayman or Swiss bank accounts.”
He dropped his legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa! Just where do you think you’re going?” Max asked.
“We have work to do. I can’t laze around in bed. There’s still Lauren and Beckie we need to free. Where is Samantha, Ruark?” Rhone asked. He groaned when Ethan walked into the room.
“Get your ass back in that bed. Don’t give me that look, Rhone. Your heart took a major knock. You need to rest,” he instructed while examining him, ignoring the frown on Rhone’s face as he glared at him in return.
“Hmm, your heart beat sounds much better. Another two or three day’s bed rest and you’ll be . . . fuck, Rhone, I said get back in bed,” Ethan ordered harshly. He looked at the four smiling men standing on the other side of the bed. “You talk to him, Ruark. He’s your baby brother.”
“Baby brother, my ass. He’s a force on his own. Or, so he keeps telling me,” Ruark shrugged. He knew it served no purpose to try and talk Rhone into staying in bed. He had one thing on his mind now and no one would sway him.
“Where’s Samantha, Ruark?” Rhone asked again. “Did anyone think to bring me some clothes? Or do I have to walk out of here with my ass on show?”
“It seems I won’t win. I’ll get you something from my office. My clothes should fit you and I have a cap and shades that should aid with a disguise.” Ethan left shaking his head.
“Well?” Rhone looked at Ruark.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Weren’t you speaking to her when I woke up?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Ruark shrugged.
“Jesus, bro! Must I box it out of you? Where is she?”
“I don’t know, Rhone. She wouldn’t say, only that she can’t afford to be seen. It sounds like she doesn’t trust this Bulldog to keep his promise to release her sister. And she’s scared that he would find out you’re alive.”
&n
bsp; “Is her tracer active now, Max?” Rhone snapped as he took off the hospital gown. He pushed his arms through the sleeves of the navy t-shirt Ethan handed him and yanked it over his head. “Well?”
“No. It still doesn’t connect.”
“Damn woman! I’m going to . . . have you shrunk, Ethan?” Rhone asked and stared at the jeans which ended just above his ankles.
“You’re taller than me, mate,” he quipped, which caused everyone to laugh at the expression on Rhone’s face.
“She did say to tell you that she’s still wearing her collar.” Ruark offered, watching Rhone closely. His movements stilled for a moment before he continued to pull on the sneakers. “And that she always will.”
This time Rhone flicked a heated glare at him.
“What she will get is a fucking whipping. And then I’m gonna suck her dry before I fuck her brains out. She’ll walk bow-legged for a goddamned month!”
He stomped toward the door. His confident strides showed no sign of having just woken up from a two-day semi-coma.
“And stop your fucking guffawing. I find no humor in this situation.”
The three men contained their laughter and dutifully followed him.
“Hold on there, mate. You can’t waltz out of here in broad daylight. One can never be too careful. Go to the side entrance and wait at the docking bay under the roof. Here, put this cap and shades on. At least try being incognito. We’ll pick you up from there.”
Rhone took the cap from Ethan and changed direction without a word. Ruark followed him with a shake of his head.
“Did she sound okay, Ruark?” Rhone asked once they reached the platform.
“She sounded tense and was obviously very concerned about you. She knew the impact that bullet would’ve had on you but had to make sure it appeared like a real hit.”
“I know that, Ruark. I’m not blaming her for anything but I am worried about her. I don’t think she realizes how much danger she’s in. She believes that bastard is going to hand her sister over now that I’m supposedly dead.”
“And you don’t?”
“I know he won’t. I have a feeling this was just the beginning. He wants her back and in my opinion, not as a sniper for the NCS. That fucker is working for someone else.”
“The mafia?”
“Maybe. But my instinct tells me it has something to do with the Sixth Order. They hate my guts. Our undercover operations have dismantled many of their drug distribution over the past six years. They’ve lost their prime position as the biggest drug lords in the US because of us—even diamond smuggling. Now, we’re linked to the prostitution bill because we’re protecting the senator.”
“Sounds plausible.”
“Yeah. I have to find her, bro. She’s in danger and she believes she can handle it. I know she’s in over her head. A man like Bulldog always has a backhand to play.”
“And by default, it places Beckie in danger too.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll follow you to the office. Maybe Max can trace her call from my cell phone, but I suspect she used a burner phone.”
“Yeah, I suppose she would have. Goddammit! Why do women have to be so hardheaded?”
Ruark cleared his throat. He gazed at Rhone. “Do you love her?”
Rhone slanted a sideward glance at him. “You know my views on love and shit, Ruark. It’s an overrated emotion. For one thing, I have no fucking idea what it feels like. All the flowery description of love, in my opinion, is a load of crap. I do know I want her and care for her. I have an overwhelming desire to keep her safe and to protect her. I’ll defend her with my life if need be and I’ll comfort her in difficult and painful times. I always want to fuck her; that bit I can’t deny. I’m a Dom, this comes naturally to me, but is it love? I don’t think so.” His shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing, just thinking of Courtney. Come, let’s go.”
“I don’t love her, Ruark. Don’t confuse lust and passion with emotions that don’t exist.”
“Did I say otherwise?” Ruark waved at him as he walked toward the rental car, leaving Rhone to glare daggers into his back.
“Samantha changed her name when she left the NCS,” Rhone told Max as he got into Keon’s Jeep. “Let’s start there. If we can find out her real name is, it might lead us to her. Head to Woodcraft Carpentry and speak to her employees. She’s very close to Dave.”
“It’s a long shot and she might have the resources to hide her old identity very deep, but I’ll see what I can find,” Max agreed. “Do you know where her parent’s farm was?”
“No, but maybe Ziva or Bracus do. I know he spoke to her at length the night she went to ask him to find her sister.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll phone them once we’re at the office,” Keon offered. “If she asked Bracus to find her sister, she would have given him her real name.”
Rhone was relieved that none of his friends seemed opposed to finding Samantha or that they harvested hate or distrust toward her. He had to find her. There was an urgency driving him, pushing at him to hurry.
Maybe it was because of the vision that came to him just before he’d woken up; the same one that metamorphosed into Samantha, right at the end. This time she’d touched his lips and whispered against his mouth, “Come to me. I need you. You are . . . me.”
He’d be damned if he knew what it meant but he knew she was in danger and it was his duty to keep her safe.
But not because I love her. She’s my sub. I have to protect her. That’s all there is to it.
* * * * * * * *
The house was a gray blur through the rain-washed window of the truck where Samantha sat hunched over the steering wheel of a shiny, bulbar bearing monstrosity of a GMC. One, that wouldn’t appear out of place in this neighborhood, according to Dave―his idea of an inconspicuous vehicle. Maybe she should’ve explained better what she needed it for.
She glanced toward the house. It was large, certainly, almost intimidating. She got out and squinted through the rain, watching it take on a more definitive form. Natural gray stone, with all the hues Mother Nature provided in the moonless night. She slinked in the shadows, thankful for the darkness. She couldn’t afford to be seen. Not at all. Not after all the careful planning she and Richard Almer, her hacker friend from her stint in Iraq, had done to find a way to disarm the ultra-modern security system Adam Baxter had installed in his house. Tonight, she was hoping to find something that would help her free Lauren and Beckie.
The trim on the windows was brilliant white and the path wounding up to the oak front door was loose pea shingle. She ignored the door and kept close to the thick shrubbery on the side of the garden. There was no fence in front of the house, which made access easy.
“I suppose that’s why he’s got such an elaborate security system, with cameras and lasers all over the place.”
She looked around. The mullioned windows weren’t large, rather the size you would find in old country cottages. She turned on her ultraviolet flashlight, flicked it over the side of the house and caught the green laser beams not visible to the naked eye. She looked at her watch.
Two more minutes. Richard would be prompt. He knew how important timing was. The earpiece crackled.
“You’re good to go. You have exactly five minutes before I need to switch it back on for at least ten minutes. Be sure you’re under the study desk. It’s the only place you won’t be detected.”
“Roger that,” she responded, already running in the direction of the third window on the west side of the house. It took her less than a minute to disengage the lock and she slipped inside.
The old-world charm of outside wasn’t extended to the interior. It was modern throughout. The floors were polished teak and the furniture Scandinavian; high end, from what a brief glance around the room told her. She didn’t switch on the light but started to systematically search the desk drawers.
She found numerous doc
uments relating to the Sixth Order, which she wondered about. She recalled it was one of the syndicates on the CIA’s radar. It was strange that he would have detailed reports on a certain Damien Whittaker in a file marked Sixth Order in his home.
“Do you know who Damien Whittaker is?” Samantha asked into her microphone.
“Whittaker? Yeah, he’s the CEO of Black Diamond Incorporated; one of the wealthiest global corporations.”
Samantha used the handheld scanner to scan the documents in the file before replacing it neatly.
“Two minutes.”
The last drawer was locked. She decided to leave it till later and moved to the filing cabinet in the corner. She’d just started scanning the contents when Richard warned her, “Thirty seconds.”
She closed the doors and scooted into the boxed-in space under the desk. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she’d survive.
Adam Baxter had sealed his fate when he’d phoned her two days ago. She leaned her head back and replayed the conversation in her mind.
“Good job, Ace. Kill is confirmed. It was about time that motherfucker became worm feed.”
“I want Lauren,” she snarled.
“Not so fast, Ace. There’s one more commitment I need from you.”
“Fuck you. I did what you wanted. I’m warning you Adam Baxter,” she spat out his name, “don’t fuck with me. This is not a negotiation. I. Want. My. Sister.”
“And you will have her. As soon as you sign an employment contract with me. For five years.” He waited but she kept mum. “Come now, Ace, five years isn’t so much, is it? Not if you can have your sister back as soon as I have your commitment.”
Samantha still didn’t respond. Adam sighed heavily. “I’ll be gracious, Ace and give you some time to think about it. I’m leaving DC for a week for a congress meeting, upstate. We’ll talk when I’m back. Oh, and Ace, don’t try to approach your sister. Remember what I told you. Come near her and she joins lover boy in the ever after.”
“I’ve managed to hack into the signal feed of the security company,” Richard’s voice in her ear brought her back to the present. “Once I disarm it again, the status won’t change at their end. You’ll have enough time to search the place uninterrupted. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Sam.”