“He did say the hotel was rigged with explosives,” Jesse said. “Fuck.” The thought that his son and teammates were potentially sitting on a ticking time bomb made him ill and he had to swallow back a surge of bile. For the first time in…he couldn’t remember how long, he sent up a quick prayer. If the Big Guy Upstairs was listening, they needed all the help they could get.
“Let Tank and me worry about any explosives,” Ian said and gave the dog’s head a pat.
Lanie smiled at Ian—which, yeah, irked more than a bit—but then she turned that smile on the dog and her expression went all soft and sweet. Jesse’s annoyance faded and he silently castigated himself.
Jealous, now? Really? Dayam. He had to get control of himself.
Lanie gave Tank an ear scratch that made the dog’s leg thump the ground. “Will he be okay?”
Ian looked down at his dog and something that might have been a smile twitched at his lips. “It’s what we’ve been training for. He can handle it.”
Lanie turned to Jesse. The whole group did, and he realized belatedly they were looking to him for a game plan. He had nothing, but he was still holding Lanie’s phone with the picture of Paul-slash-Jerome Briggs. He passed it around so everyone saw Briggs’s picture. “According to Tuc’s dossier, Briggs was Army, served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and signed on with Defion Group after leaving the military.”
“Defion?” Danny said and scrubbed a hand through his hair, making the dark locks spike up. “Damn, that’s who we’re up against?”
“You’ve heard of them?” Marcus asked.
He nodded. “They’re a legitimate military contractor with very illegitimate dealings that have only come to light recently. The State Department has been eyeing Defion for an investigation, but there’s a lot of money involved. A lot of politics. They’ve been slow to respond to the accusations flooding in.”
“What kind of accusations?” Lanie asked.
“Everything from overcharging the government for paperclips to war crimes. It’s believed they’ve had their hand out to both sides of every war. They don’t care which side wins as long as they get paid.” Danny took the phone as Marcus held it out to him. He frowned at the picture of Jerome Briggs. “This isn’t Defion’s typical MO, though. They profit off war, not hostage situations.”
Ian barely glanced at the phone when it reached him. Typical Ian. The phone chimed and he passed it back to Lanie. She squinted at her screen, then grinned.
Jesse leaned over. “What is it?”
“Tuc sent blueprints of the hotel. Does anyone have a laptop? Tablet? Something with a bigger screen?” she asked the group.
“Phoebe and I were planning to disconnect for the weekend,” Seth said. “I only have my phone so I can keep in touch with her until she gets here.”
“I have a laptop, but it’s still in the hotel room,” Marcus said, and Danny nodded.
“Yeah, my tablet’s there too.”
“I don’t carry any of that shit,” Ian said when everyone turned toward him. “That’s Harvard’s job.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, we can make do.” She turned her phone horizontal, and used her fingers to enlarge the image. “You know, this used to be a plantation house. I bet there’s a… Yes. Right there.” She held her phone up for the others to see the stairs leading to the third floor at the back of the building. “The old servant’s entrance. That’s our in.”
Danny frowned. “They’ll have it guarded.”
“They don’t have enough men to guard the hostages and every exit,” she argued. “I saw ten men. Jean-Luc killed one. Tank and I took out two more. That leaves them with seven.” She pointed to the blueprint. “They’re holed up in the lobby which must be a logistical nightmare to secure with that big window out front. The walls are almost all glass. But unless they want to move all the hostages over to the convention center—”
“Another logistical nightmare,” Seth added.
“Exactly. They’re not moving. They’re dug in, and the only place in the main building big enough for everyone is that glass-plated lobby.”
“She’s right,” Marcus conceded. “If they don’t show enough force, the hostages might take their chances with a mutiny, and right now those hostages are their only leverage. They’ll focus most of their manpower in the lobby.”
“And use explosives to secure the building,” Ian finished. “Which won’t be a problem.”
Lanie nodded. “So here’s what I’m thinking, guys. These stairs don’t go all the way up, so we’ll take them to the third, then take the fire exit to collect Jean-Luc and the recruits from the fourth floor. From there, we fight our way down. They won’t expect us to come from above. Especially if…” She trailed off and Jesse’s inner alarm started clanging.
“If what?” he demanded. Until now, he’d liked her plan, but he was sure he wasn’t going to like the next thing out of her mouth.
She faced him. “If you stay behind and distract Briggs. Make like we’re searching for the doctors. Try to get more time out of him. Basically, be exactly what he accused you of being—exactly what you are. A medic with a big heart who wants everyone to survive.”
I can’t. The thought blasted through his mind with a sizzle of panic. To play that part convincingly, he’d have to open himself up to all the emotions he barely had a handle on. And if he let himself feel everything as deeply as he could, he’d lose his mind. His anger would take control, and he’d say something that would get them all killed.
Marcus clapped his shoulder. “Once again, our girl’s right, Jess. Like it or not, dude, you’re the point of contact. And you have a bum ankle. You can’t go with us. You’ll slow us down. If he calls again and you don’t answer, he’ll know something’s up.”
“No.” He shook his head. Slowly at first, then harder. “No, I’m not sittin’ back while—my son is in there!”
“And our teammates,” Lanie said softly. “Jesse, you need to trust me.”
His gaze caught hers, held. “You’re one of the few people I trust.”
“And the rest of those few are standing right here with us,” she pointed out.
He gazed over her shoulder at the group. Seth, Marcus, Danny. He trusted these men with his life every time he went out on a mission with them. Ian, too. While he’d probably never like the guy, he knew the volatile bastard would have his six whenever it counted. He returned his attention to Lanie and reached up to trace the line of her jaw with one finger. “It’s not you—or them—I don’t trust.”
It’s me.
He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to. Not with Lanie. She knew his demons, which was probably exactly why she wanted to distance herself from him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trinity Sands Resort
Main Building
4th Floor
The recruits had all been taking turns watching over the woman and Jean-Luc in shifts while the rest tried to get some sleep. They were all exhausted, but Connor couldn’t seem to sleep no matter how hard he tried. He wandered down the hall to Jean-Luc’s room, where they’d dragged the wounded, to see if whoever was on duty needed a break. He found Sami on her computer, two cans of an energy drink on the table beside her.
He stepped into the room and stared down at the wounded woman on the first bed. “She doesn’t look good.” Her skin was the kind of white usually only seen in paper or freshly bleached sheets and her teeth clinked together as she shivered.
At his voice, Sami looked up from her laptop and scooped the longer side of her asymmetrical haircut away from her eyes. She frowned at the woman. “She was restless. I gave her another shot of the pain meds from your dad’s kit about twenty minutes ago.”
Connor stepped further into the room. “How about Jean-Luc?”
“He’s still out. Your dad did say he would be for a while.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think we should give him more fluids? I was reading that helps with blood loss.”<
br />
“I don’t know.” He wished he did. At that moment, he wished more than anything that he was more like his father. Dad always seemed to know exactly what to do in a crisis. Then a thought struck and he looked at Sami again. “You can get online?” The wifi had been cut off when the hostage situation started, and his phone didn’t have an international plan so it was useless.
She snorted. “I always can.”
“Are you seeing anything about this in the news?”
She turned her head slightly to one side. “Actually…no. Not a peep.”
“So the local police ignored our calls for help and nobody’s talking about us? I mean, you’d think there’d be all kinds of police and news reports, but it’s like we don’t exist. Like this isn’t even happening. It’s weird.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands. “Maybe I’ve played one too many Resident Evil games, but this is some Umbrella Corp shit happening here.”
“Well, she is a doctor.” She nodded toward the woman. “And she does study viruses. She was here for the virology conference this weekend.”
A chill of dread prickled across the back of his neck. “That’s…not comforting, Sami.”
She held up her hands. “Hey, you’re the one who brought up Resident Evil. I’m just telling you what I found out about her.”
Connor sat on the end of the woman’s bed and studied her pale face. Her eyelids twitched, and a cold sweat broke out across her brow. “You know who she is?”
“Dr. Tiffany Peters. I found her listed on the virology conference’s website. She and her partner were supposed to present their research on something called Akeso.”
“What’s that?”
“The description of their presentation was vague. Maybe some kind of antiviral? They named it after the Greek goddess of the healing process.”
A sound from the doorway made them both glance over. Schumacher stood there. “Your shift’s up, Blackwood,” he said to Sami with little enthusiasm. “I’m taking over.”
She frowned. “I thought Wolfe had the next shift.”
“He’s still sleeping.”
“So wake him up,” Sami said. “We go by the schedule we agreed on.”
“He’s sleeping. I’m awake. I don’t see what the big deal is.” As he stepped into the room, the woman—Dr. Peters—started to thrash. Her eyes were open, but glassy. Her mouth moved as if she were trying to speak. Connor scooted closer, leaned down to hear her words. It sounded like she was saying…sneakers?
Sami rushed to her side and soothed a hand over her head. “Get out, Christian. You’re upsetting her.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Schumacher said defensively.
“Then maybe she just doesn’t like assholes,” Sami shot back. “Get out!”
Dr. Peters continued to thrash around, though she was losing strength. And she was definitely mumbling something about sneakers over and over again, which didn’t make any sense.
“Fine.” Schumacher raised his hands and backed away. “Whatever. I’m going. I didn’t want babysitting duty anyway.”
As he stalked away, Connor’s gaze dropped to the flash of color at his feet. And the rest of what Dr. Peters was saying clicked. She wasn’t just talking about sneakers. She was talking about orange sneakers. Like the expensive high-tops Schumacher was so damn proud of.
“What about them?” he asked softly. “Dr. Peters? What about the orange sneakers?”
“Bad…” she muttered.
“What?”
But she was already drifting back to unconsciousness.
Connor stood. “Are you okay with her?”
“Yes.” Sami’s voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the doctor. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Connor.” She hesitated. “Don’t take any stupid chances.”
“I know how to take care of myself, Sami. I’ve been doing it for a long time.” He slipped into the hallway in time to see Schumacher go into one of the empty rooms two doors down. Moving as quickly and silently as he could, he darted forward and stuck his foot in the door before it closed. There was a loud bang from inside the room, like Schumacher had thrown something. Connor held his breath, but seconds ticked by and Schumacher didn’t come out and demand what he was doing. Instead, he heard Schumacher talking to someone. A phone call? He eased open the door just a bit more so he could hear better.
“We’re fucked,” Schumacher said.
…
Briggs paced the length of the hotel desk.
Fuck. This should have been a simple snatch and grab job. They’d had Tiffany, and all they’d needed to do for their big payday was grab Claire. But, no. HORNET had to get involved and fuck everything up. Now they had hostages and they couldn’t make a move with the threat of HORNET hanging over their head.
“It’s getting close to the top of the hour,” Mel Kennion said, sounding out of breath even though he’d only been standing guard over their hostages.
Briggs glared over at the man. Kennion was close to aging out of mercenary work, going both bald and paunchy around the middle. He’d been one of the best operators Defion had at one time, which was the only reason Briggs had approached him about this job three years ago. One last lucrative op before he called it quits. But now the old man was sweating profusely and his face had flushed an unhealthy shade of red. He wasn’t cut out for this anymore.
“Losing your nerve, Mel?”
The other man scoffed. “I’ve been doing this since you were pissing your diapers, kid. I have titanium nerves.” Kennion swiped at his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s hot in here, is all. What if they lose their nerve? Hour’s nearly up and we haven’t heard from them.”
“They won’t.”
“You’re so sure of yourself. That pride’s gonna bite you on the ass someday.”
Probably, but it wouldn’t be today. HORNET’s medic would come through for him. They’d trade the women for their guys. He was sure of it. What other choice did they have? He was also sure they’d then try to rescue the doctors, because they were heroes after all, but he had something up his sleeve to squash that.
Although Kennion did have a point. They were cutting it very close. Maybe it was time to light a fire under the medic’s ass.
“Mel.” He tilted his head, indicating Gabe. “Go point your weapon at his face.”
While Kennion shuffled over to their prisoners, he decided they were probably due for a shift change. “Coombs, go upstairs and relieve Armstrong.”
“Still say we should blow that door,” Kennion muttered.
“And I told you we can’t risk hurting the doctors.” Plus they couldn’t use their explosives until they were well on their way off the island. He’d bribed the police to look the other way and ignore any incoming calls, but that wouldn’t last if more shit started blowing up. “We know Tiffany is in there with them. One of you fucktards already shot her and she’s probably going to die.” He ignored the lump that thought brought to his throat.
Kennion snorted. “Rookie move.”
“What?”
“You fell for the target, didn’t you?”
Briggs’s heart thumped so hard against his rib cage, he was surprised it didn’t pop out of his chest. He pictured Tiffany, her dark hair bedraggled, her brown eyes sparkling as she laughed at one of his lame jokes over breakfast. His jokes were lame, too. He’d never had much of a sense of humor, but as Paul he’d made an effort to make her laugh. She had a great laugh.
No. He swallowed back the surge of emotion. He wasn’t capable of love and even if he was, Tiffany Peters wouldn’t be the kind of woman he’d fall for. “Fuck you, old man. If she’s dead, we’re not getting paid. Simple as that. Now do your goddamn job and let me do mine.”
Grabbing his phone, he speed-dialed the medic, then switched to video mode and pointed the camera at Gabe just as
Kennion raised the gun.
Chapter Twenty-Four
4:23 a.m.
Trinity Sands Resort
Cabana 47
Jesse was losing his goddamned mind. Half his team and his son were all in incredible danger. Meanwhile, the other half of his men and the woman he loved were taking on a rescue op with nothing more than a couple of stolen guns and a pocketknife. And what was he doing? Hobbling around the beach, waiting for a call that might never come.
I should be with them.
He stopped and stared toward the hotel, as if concentrating hard enough on the glow of lights above the trees would somehow solve everything. He took a step in that direction—and froze when his phone rang.
Goddammit.
He had a part to play like everyone else, and that was his cue. He sucked in a breath and hoped like hell he didn’t fuck this up.
He answered, but only heard distant voices and looked at the screen. It wasn’t Briggs calling.
“Connor?”
“Dad.” Connor’s voice was little more than a whisper and Jesse’s stomach cramped with dread.
“Everything okay?”
A pause. “Schumacher’s not on our side.”
“What?”
“I overheard him talking to someone on the phone this afternoon, and he kept saying they weren’t ready to go to war yet. Then again, just a few minutes ago, he reported to the guys downstairs. Then he made another call and said he was out of options and had to get out because things had gone to shit here. I-I think he’s here to kill someone.”
Fuck. How could that be? They’d thoroughly vetted every one of the recruits. Harvard had run the background checks himself. Had Schumacher decided to switch teams mid-game, or had he been playing for the other side all along?
A Defion plant in their training program.
Holy shit. Had Schumacher infiltrated the program to get close to someone in HORNET? But then why was he reporting to Briggs, when it was likely Briggs and crew had gone rogue from Defion?
“What do I do, Dad?” Connor asked.
“Do not let Schumacher anywhere near Jean-Luc.” Though if Jean-Luc had been the target, the Cajun would be dead by now. No, it was someone else. But who?
Code of Honor (HORNET) Page 15