by LENA DIAZ,
“Where did you say you’re from?” Cyprian asked.
“I didn’t. But I’m from Savannah, Georgia. Moved to Boulder a few months ago.”
Something dark passed in the depths of Cyprian’s eyes. Savannah didn’t have pleasant memories for either of them, and Jace figured the older man was weighing the odds, making connections, perhaps wondering if Jace knew any former enforcers who’d been based out of Savannah—like Devlin. Cyprian hadn’t survived this long in his line of work without being careful. But then again, neither had Jace.
“Who did you work for there?” Cyprian asked.
Melissa gave her father a reproachful look. “Stop badgering him. We haven’t even introduced ourselves.”
Taking her cue, Jace said, “I’m Jace Atwell. And in answer to your question, I was with Dawson’s Personal Security Services. I was one of fifteen bodyguards working for the owner, Luke.” He gestured toward Cyprian’s car again. “Looks to me like you could use an upgrade in the bodyguard department. I could give you Luke’s number.”
Melissa put her hand on her father’s shoulder as if to hold him back and frowned at Jace.
Cyprian surprised him with a rueful grin and offered his hand. “You might have a point there. Cyprian Cardenas. Pleased to meet you.”
Jace forced a polite smile and reluctantly shook Cyprian’s hand. What he really wanted to do was retch as soon as he touched him—or put a bullet in Cyprian’s brain to make the world a safer, better place. Men like Cardenas were the reason Jace had joined the Navy right out of college. They were why he’d later become a bodyguard, and why he’d recently joined the Equalizers.
Thanks to Devlin and Mason, the coleaders of the Equalizers, Jace knew all about EXIT and the infamous CEO before him. EXtreme International Tours described the Fortune 500 company’s public mission. But it was far more appropriate to its true purpose, its clandestine side. EXIT Inc. was a front for a brutal organization of professional killers who were supposed to protect innocent people by taking out bad guys. But the abuses of power within the organization meant that all too often, EXIT’s enforcers ended up killing the very people they were supposed to protect.
The Council that served as liaison between the company and the government had determined just last year that EXIT was manufacturing fake evidence to trick some of the enforcers into killing innocents while believing them to be criminals. And they’d put Cyprian on notice that the enforcement side of EXIT could easily be taken away from him if he didn’t follow their rules. The Equalizers were therefore understandably sworn enemies of the man standing in front of Jace, the man who’d once been their boss. And they had no faith that Cyprian would abide by the Council’s dictates.
“And this is my daughter, Melissa,” Cyprian announced.
She smiled and held out her hand. This time, Jace didn’t hesitate. Based on the reports that he’d read, and his own in-depth investigation, he was inclined to believe that she probably knew nothing about EXIT’s secret charter and the double life her father led. He fervently hoped that was true. He couldn’t imagine that the kind woman that he knew so well, on paper at least, would have anything to do with the evil that her father perpetuated.
His observations had also convinced him that she loved her father deeply. Which meant that when Jace and his teammates brought EXIT down and exposed Cyprian for what he was, she’d be hurt. And if Jace was able to manipulate her into offering him a job, thus getting him into EXIT’s headquarters, Melissa would blame herself for what happened to her father.
For that reason, he’d argued against this mission. He’d spent hundreds of hours working up alternatives, trying to figure out a better way to infiltrate the top levels of the company that wouldn’t take a ridiculous amount of time and had a chance of fooling Cyprian. But none of the other plans seemed viable. And the longer they waited, the more likely it was that innocent people were still being killed. So he’d finally caved.
The only stipulation he’d insisted on was that he would only “use” Melissa in her professional capacity as an officer of the company. He refused to try to develop a romantic relationship with her for the purpose of manipulating her. That was a personal line he would not cross, no matter how incredibly appealing she was.
He reluctantly let her hand go. “Miss Cardenas.”
“You saved my life. You’ve earned the right to call me Melissa.” She smiled again. “I’m the president of EXIT Incorporated. My father is the CEO. Dad, can you give him a business card? My purse is in my car.”
Her father took a card from his suit jacket pocket and handed it to Jace. “We’re both in your debt, Mr. Atwell. If there’s ever anything that I can do for you, name it.”
Jace studied the white card with elaborate gold letters and a green logo on top showing smiling tourists in a raft. “EXtreme International Tours, huh? I think I’ve heard of that. You take tourists white-water rafting up and down the Colorado River.”
Cyprian’s eyelids drooped as if he were insulted by Jace’s simplistic description. “Quite a bit more than that actually. Although we’re primarily headquartered here in Boulder, we have satellite locations all over the world, and a fairly new, secondary headquarters in Asheville, North Carolina. The trips we offer are unlike anything you’d ever experience from a traditional tour company. I’d be happy to give you a premium vacation package, on the house.”
Jace shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t have much leisure time these days. Since leaving Savannah, I’ve been living off my savings, which is getting pretty slim. If I don’t find a job soon, I’ll be living on the street. Which is why I’m on my way to an interview right now. Or, I was.” He checked his watch. “Not sure they’ll still give me a chance since there’s no way I can make it on time now. I assume you’re going to call the police to file a report. But I’d rather not wait around. Can I give you my cell-phone number and have you explain to the cops why I had to leave? I’ll head straight to the police station after my interview and answer any questions they have.”
Cyprian’s eyes narrowed. With suspicion? Or something else?
Melissa shot her father an odd look, then stepped forward, putting her soft, warm hand on Jace’s forearm. “Mr. Atwell, you don’t have to run off to an interview.”
He frowned, not at all pleased at his body’s overeager response to the simple act of her touching him through his shirtsleeve. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to the way his pulse was crashing through his veins.
“I’m sure that in a corporation as large as ours, we have something that will fit your skills and experience,” she continued. “Several of our guides are former military. And if you prefer an office job, we could arrange something along those lines as well.”
Her offer genuinely surprised him. Somehow, in spite of the fiasco that Ramsey had made of this mission, Jace was still getting exactly what he’d set out to get—a way into EXIT Inc.
Operation Trojan Horse had begun.
AFTER PULLING THE white van to the shoulder and waiting several minutes to make sure Atwell didn’t follow him, he’d shoved his ski mask in his pocket and continued down the mountain. A few miles later, he took the first exit ramp. A few hundred yards beyond that, he slowed and turned onto a gravel road.
The van bumped along until it reached the dead end beneath a bower of snow-covered pine trees. He killed the engine, flipped the interior light on, then squeezed between the two captain’s chairs and headed into the cargo area.
A low groan emanated from the man lying in a fetal position on the metal floor with his eyes closed. Surprise, surprise, Ramsey was still alive. The interrogation had been brutal, out of necessity. The former enforcer had held out far longer than he probably could have. Admirable, really. And as much blood as Ramsey had lost, he should have been dead. But since he wasn’t, a decision had to be made. Let him live? Or finish it?
He inspected the zip ties around Ramsey’s wrists and ankles to make sure they were still secure. Before trying to rouse his u
nconscious guest, he put the ski mask back on that he’d taken off before driving down the mountain. Might as well protect his identity until he made up his mind about Ramsey’s fate. Before today, the two of them had never spoken to each other, so he wasn’t worried about voice recognition. But if Ramsey had been watching EXIT for a while, there was definitely a chance of being recognized. It was better to be careful.
He poked him in the chest with the muzzle of his pistol. “Look at me.”
Ramsey jerked, and his eyes fluttered open. He squinted as if to bring the world around him into focus. When he saw the gun, he sucked in a breath and arched back, trying to scoot away. But his movements were sluggish, and all he managed to do was plaster himself against the sliding side door.
“You did good, Ramsey. You didn’t lie. It played out the way you said it would.” He shrugged. “Except for the touches that I threw in.”
Ramsey’s mouth tightened. “Whatdidyoudo?” His words were slurred, running together.
Using the barrel of the gun, he shoved some of Ramsey’s shoulder-length hair back to check the worst laceration on his scalp. Ramsey cursed and made a feeble attempt to move away.
“Easy. Just wanted to see how bad it is. Bad enough. Even if I don’t finish you off, you probably won’t make it. Especially not out in the cold. After losing so much blood.”
The mumbled reply was too garbled to understand. But the anger in Ramsey’s eyes wasn’t.
He tapped the gun against his knee and considered his options. Killing for killing’s sake had never been his thing. He did what needed to be done. But did this need to be done? If this rogue enforcer survived, would he, or his SEAL partner, interfere with his plan? Or would they help, simply by keeping Cyprian busy and off-balance? Ramsey’s immediate fate hinged on the answer to those questions.
It had been a lucky break that he’d even noticed Ramsey earlier, performing surveillance from a car in EXIT’s parking lot. He’d assumed, as the Council had, that the rogue enforcers from last year’s debacle had backed off, gone underground to allow the Council to deal with Cyprian’s mistakes. But that wasn’t the case. At least, not with Ramsey.
Surprising Ramsey and forcing him to drive the van from EXIT to a secluded spot for the interrogation had worked out perfectly. A few hours later, Ramsey had revealed all the details about the planned fake assault on Melissa Cardenas, including the fact that it was a two-man operation involving a former Navy SEAL named Jace Atwell.
Taking Ramsey’s place up on the mountain today had given him a chance to see Atwell up close, to put a face with the name. And since he knew what Ramsey and Atwell hadn’t known—the exact time Cyprian had left EXIT—he was able to use that knowledge to his advantage. He’d known when Cyprian would come up that mountain. So he’d played up the assault ploy, taking it beyond what Ramsey and Atwell had planned.
Waving a gun at Melissa had been a brilliant move. Now Cyprian would be worried about whether this was random, or whether someone was trying to hurt his precious baby girl. That would make him vulnerable, distracted, and hopefully easier to manipulate than he’d been these past few weeks. He was so close to pushing Cyprian to the tipping point. Hopefully, this would send him right over the edge.
Of course, things could have gone better. He certainly hadn’t expected Atwell to point a gun at him. But he didn’t blame Ramsey for that even though Ramsey said no guns would be involved. Atwell struck him as an unpredictable sort of guy, a fast thinker on his feet. Kind of admirable, really.
Ramsey, the former enforcer, his comrade of sorts, had gone very still, a wary look on his face as he waited for his fate to be decided. Dead? Or Alive? Really, it could go either way.
He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Heads or tails. Live or die, Ramsey. Call it.” He tossed the quarter into the air.
Chapter Two
In response to Cyprian’s 911 call to report his daughter’s encounter with a gunman, the Boulder Police Department had sent no less than four patrol cars and an ambulance. Jace couldn’t believe the hoopla going on twenty feet away as BCP’s men in blue fell all over themselves chatting it up with Cyprian and Melissa through the limo’s open rear window. Either the Cardenases had a lot of friends in the department, or their wealth and social position were buying them special treatment. Jace was just jaded enough to assume the latter.
The whine of a winch had him looking at the flatbed tow truck pulling the wrecked Jag out of the ditch. At this rate, Melissa’s car would get off the mountain before he did. He leaned back against his Buick, waiting for BCP’s permission to leave.
The police had already interviewed him. They’d made sure every t was crossed and i was dotted in his concealed-handgun permit before allowing him to keep his SIG Sauer. And they weren’t happy that he’d broken one of Cyprian’s bodyguard’s kneecaps, sending him to the emergency room. But with it being self-defense, and Melissa vouching for him, they couldn’t do much about it. Standing here, waiting, was apparently Jace’s punishment for causing them so much trouble. At least he had his jacket back, so he wasn’t freezing. And the fact that it smelled faintly of Melissa’s tantalizing perfume, reminding him of her curvy figure and smooth silky skin, was a bonus.
His attraction to her wasn’t new. But it was certainly inconvenient, and an unwelcome by-product of the time he’d spent monitoring her. If what he felt for her was just desire, he could manage it, control it, tamp it down and . . . endure being around her for as long as it took to accomplish the mission. But it wasn’t merely physical. He liked her for who she was even more than he desired her as a woman. And as hot as his blood ran whenever he saw her, that was saying something.
He admired her business acumen, her keen intelligence, how she treated her employees like equals, regardless of how far down they were on the corporate ladder. And he had an enormous amount of empathy for the tenuous position that she was in because of her father. Everything about her life was a lie.
And she didn’t even know it.
Or at least, he didn’t think she did. There was still that niggling doubt, that annoying voice in his head reminding him that, as smart as she was, if she wanted to hide her role in EXIT’s clandestine side, she probably could.
Jace’s current boss, of sorts—Mason Hunt—didn’t trust Melissa at all, a fact that he’d grilled repeatedly into Jace, warning him to keep up his guard until they could be sure how much she knew. No matter how innocent she might seem, for now they had to assume she was dangerous and as much an enemy as her father.
One of the BCP officers straightened from his position by the limo’s open window and motioned to Jace, then pointed down the road. Not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind, Jace slid behind the steering wheel and took off.
The sight of the bullet hole in the hood scoop sent a pang of loss jolting through him. This was his baby—his jet-black 1984 Buick Grand National—a car he’d painstakingly restored over the past six years with the help of his two older brothers and his now-deceased father. Working on the Buick had been his reward every time he’d survived another deployment. And it was the one thing that he could share with his family, with no need for any secrets between them.
They’d spent countless weekends toiling on this car, sharing beers, tall tales, and deep belly laughs. And when his father’s lung cancer had him on an oxygen tank, struggling for every breath, Jace had settled him in a comfortable chair in the garage where he could order his sons around and still feel like he was contributing to their project. This was more than a car. It was a symbol, a reminder of the people he loved and why it was so important to make this world a better, safer place.
And now that cherished symbol had bullet holes in it.
Jace’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He fully intended to take the time and effort of fixing those holes out of Ramsey’s hide. And while he was at it, he’d teach him about sticking to mission plans and not pointing guns at women.
But before dealing with h
is out-of-control partner, he had to give a long overdue situation report to the kid that Mason Hunt had left in charge of their headquarters while the rest of the Equalizers were out of town on other missions—the most recent addition to the team, Devlin Buchanan’s baby brother, Austin.
Having never been to the Equalizer’s headquarters, even though he knew where it was, Jace had yet to meet Austin in person. And he knew very little about him except that he’d recently gotten out of rehab. For what, Jace had no idea. What he did know was that every time he’d spoken to Austin on the phone, he came away with a sour taste in his mouth. The twentysomething-year-old kid had a prickly attitude that rubbed Jace every way but right.
He braced himself for another unpleasant conversation and set his phone in the console on speaker mode. “This is Jace, calling in the sitrep.”
“It’s about damn time,” Austin’s gravelly voice bit through the phone. “What’d you do, take a side trip down the Colorado River? You should have called an hour ago.”
“Where’s Ramsey?” Jace was determined not to rise to the bait.
“Wasting my time and making me wait, just like you. He hasn’t bothered to report in.”
Probably because he didn’t like Austin any more than Jace did. Or maybe because he didn’t want to admit he’d screwed up.
“I imagine Ramsey’s reluctant to face us after his showboating. And he got way too serious with his role as bad guy, waving a gun around and shooting at me. He risked being recognized when he got out of the van, and now my classic muscle car looks like Swiss cheese.”
“Hold it. What are you blathering about? Ramsey got out of the van? And shot at you?”
Blathering? Was this kid a jerk to everyone, or did he pull out the special treatment just for Jace? “That’s what I said. It’s only through luck and the grace of God that no one got hurt.”
The sound of typing echoed through the phone. “Yadda, yadda. Whatever. Back it up. Tell me exactly what happened. And make it quick.”