by Katie Reus
He looked over at the blond and held out a hand. Without pause the man gave him the first-aid kit. “I think it’s a small sprain. Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to wrap it and put an ice pack on it. You’ll just need to stay off it.”
She nearly snorted. It wasn’t as though they’d be letting her go anywhere. But she kept her mouth shut. No need to piss off the possibly violent men who were being inexplicably nice. At least temporarily.
“I told her my name,” Tucker said, without looking up.
The blond nodded, clearly pleased. “Good. I’ll get the files.” He left the room while Tucker carefully but expertly wrapped her ankle with the ice pack. He made sure to put cloth between her skin and the pack.
She flicked a glance at the other two men to find them watching her. There was no hostility in either of their gazes.
“Escaping like that was smart,” the bearded one said, a hint of something in his dark brown eyes she couldn’t quite define.
She raised her eyebrows. It almost sounded like a compliment.
The other one chuckled, the small action making him a little less feral-looking. “We’re never going to let Cole live that shit down.”
“Fuck all you guys,” the blond—Cole?—said as he entered the kitchen carrying a handful of legal-sized manila folders. The word classified was stamped on top of the one she could see.
“How’s that feel?” Tucker murmured, drawing her attention back to him.
“It’s good. Thank you, Tucker.” She also decided to use his name. It was Psychology 101, but she was going to humanize herself as much as possible to her kidnappers. Maybe it was his real name, maybe not. But she remembered how one of the men in the office had said to “call Tucker” when he hadn’t known she’d been hiding in the closet. He could be telling the truth at least about his name.
His eyes widened, probably at her use of his name. When his gaze dipped to her mouth, his expression going heated for a second, all her fears from earlier about being raped and tortured flared to the surface—until a faint red flush crept up his neck. Clearing his throat, he looked away seemingly in embarrassment and held out his hand to Cole.
As Cole gave him the files, she wondered at the flushing. It seemed so . . . real. Not something he was faking for her benefit. And a man who appeared almost embarrassed by checking her out didn’t seem . . . she couldn’t think of the right phrase. Because the man crouched in front of her wasn’t harmless. He was clearly a trained killer.
A killer who’d just wrapped her ankle and was now looking at her with a tiny spark of hope in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t lying about needing her help. If his name was really Tucker and Grisha was an alias, she knew how legends were built in the clandestine world. Most of the intel would be fake to solidify a cover. Though some would be real. He’d have to be able to back up who his legend was.
He reached over and set the files on the table in front of her, still not moving. She wondered if he was intentionally staying crouched down so he wouldn’t intimidate her with his size. She was average in height, but he was pretty huge. The other three were well built and muscular but not as tall as him.
“These are our real files from the DEA.” He looked away then and nodded at Duck Dynasty. “That’s Kane.”
“Just Kane?”
The one supposedly named Kane cleared his throat. “My first name’s Forest.” He seemed almost embarrassed by that, but Tucker continued, indicating the one with black hair. “This is Paxton Brooks. And Cole Erickson is the one you outsmarted.”
When she risked another glance at him he didn’t seem annoyed or angry, just rolled his eyes. “You’ve given them years of mocking at my expense—if we survive this shit storm.”
At the last part, the men seemed to sober. Tucker shifted slightly, drawing her attention back to him. “We know kidnapping you was fucked up and we’ll pay for our crime, but we need Burkhart’s help. He’s the only one Max trusted. With Max dead, our roles at the DEA have been compromised and we don’t know who to turn to. A team was sent out to eliminate all of us.”
“Did you call the police?” God, why was she humoring them? And why did she ask such a naive-sounding question?
Tucker’s lips pulled into a thin line. “No. We’ve hidden the bodies of the hitters.”
“And some of our places are now under surveillance. It’s subtle, but we spotted watchers at Brooks’s and Kane’s places,” Cole said.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
Cole nodded. “Yeah. We paid for random flower deliveries and the delivery guys got stopped by surveillance. Someone is watching for us.”
“Did you at least get the fingerprints off the men who came after you?” Okay, she’d apparently lost her mind, but if they were going to tell her all this, she was going to ask questions. If they were telling the truth, she wanted to know everything.
Tucker nodded.
At least that was good. She didn’t necessarily believe them, not by a long shot, but if what they were saying was true, having those prints was a good start for figuring out who’d hired the men who’d allegedly tried to kill the four of them. “Have you run the prints?”
“No. We’ve got contacts in other agencies, but running those prints could flag whoever sent the dead men. Since we don’t know who’s after us, we have no idea what their resources are, or if they’re with another government agency. By now they’ve got to know they failed in trying to eliminate us, but we still don’t want to flag ourselves.”
“But you trust Wesley to help you?”
“Max trusted him.”
Apparently it was as simple as that. “So what do you want from me?”
“Read our files and set up a meeting between me and Burkhart,” Tucker said.
“He’s going to know I’m gone by now.” And knowing Wesley, he’d have already formed a team to find her. He’d be beyond angry too. Wesley considered his people family.
“We’re well aware of that. He owes me and Cole so . . . we’re going to throw ourselves at his mercy and hope that counts for something.”
She raised an eyebrow. “He owes you?”
“Yep.”
When it was clear Tucker wasn’t going to continue, Karen looked at Cole.
The other man shrugged. “We helped one of his agents on a fairly recent op. Don’t know her real name but she’s tall, blond, sexy, and really fucking deadly.”
That sounded like Selene, but it was such a general description. Maybe he meant on the Tasev op. It would make sense. Karen had run info given to them anonymously for that op. “So you think I’m just going to set up a meeting with Wesley for you?”
“We’re hopeful,” Tucker said.
“And if I don’t?” For all she knew, the files were fake and they wanted to trap her boss. The reasons for ambushing him weren’t important; he was the deputy director of the NSA. A prime target for all kinds of lunatics and extremists.
“We just need to talk to him. In person is preferred, but with you missing, he’ll be answering all his calls now.” Tucker pulled a badge from his pocket.
The others followed suit, flashing their IDs before putting them away. She’d seen her share of DEA, FBI, and CIA credentials to know when something was real. They were certainly worn enough in a way that told her it was doubtful they were bogus.
She rubbed a hand over her face. “I’ll read your files.” It wasn’t going to matter much for these men, though. After she was done reading, she’d make the call to Wesley, but she knew he’d trace the call and soon these four men would be in handcuffs.
“Thank you,” Tucker said, and after a quick nod, the other three men strode out of the kitchen.
She thought he’d leave too, but instead he pulled up a chair at the table. “You gonna watch me while I read?”
He snorted. “One of us is going to be watching you at all times.”
Fair enough. After her brief escape they’d be stupid not to guard her twenty-four/seven. “Do you have anythin
g to drink here?”
He seemed startled by the question as he stood. “Shit, yeah, sorry. We’ve got bottled water, sodas, some energy drinks, or I could make hot tea or coffee.”
“Hot tea works. Thanks.” At least her kidnapper was polite. The whole situation was too surreal, but at this point a lot of her fear had subsided. Whether these guys were liars or not, she believed that they believed what they were telling her. Her father had been a manipulative alcoholic, so she’d gotten good at reading people over the years. It was one of the many reasons she was so effective at her job.
Another thing she’d noticed very belatedly when Tucker chased her down in the forest was that he wasn’t armed with a gun. None of them were. There was a chance they had weapons strapped to their ankles, but the men she worked with, the agents and military types, were pretty standard about how they carried. Either shoulder or hip holsters.
“Do you have a gun on you?” she asked as he started filling a teapot with water.
He glanced over his shoulder, a kind of surprise on his hard face that told her she’d truly stunned him with the question. “No. None of us do.”
“That’s kind of weird for DEA agents.” Alleged DEA agents, she thought.
“I didn’t say we don’t have weapons with us. I know you still don’t believe us and that’s fine, but we didn’t need firearms to take you. That wasn’t part of our plan. The last thing we want to do is hurt you. We couldn’t take the chance you got hurt with one of our weapons.” He turned away from her and moved to the stove.
Frowning, she picked up the top file and flipped it open. She didn’t want to believe Tucker at all, but if trained killers had been sent after all four of them and they’d come to kidnap her unarmed, they’d left themselves vulnerable. She found that . . . interesting.
If it was even true at all.
Shoving those thoughts aside, she started reading the first page of Forest Kane’s file and found herself half smiling at his first name.
An hour later, she’d made her way through all their files, and hated to admit it, but there was a ring of truth to a lot of what she read. So it was possible they were actual DEA agents. They’d shown her their badges too, and again, they all looked real, but that didn’t mean anything. They could be fakes or they could be real and the men corrupt agents.
Something in one of the files intrigued her, though. “That op you mentioned, where you helped an agent of Wesley’s, where was it?” she asked, looking up from Tucker’s file.
He was at one of the counters making her a sandwich. He’d shed his jacket, and the long-sleeved black shirt fit him as if it had been custom-made for his big frame. She hated that she noticed how built he was.
“Miami,” he said without turning around.
Well, hell. “Tell me more about it.” There had been a brief mention of an op in Miami in the allegedly official, classified file she’d just read on him and Cole. Most of the info had been redacted, but it had been around the same time Wesley ran an op there and it had ended at the same time the NSA brought down a vicious criminal named Tasev.
Now he paused but finally turned and brought the ham and swiss cheese sandwich over to her before sitting across from her once again. “Cole and I were undercover working for a man named Tasev.” Tucker watched her carefully for a moment, as if waiting for a response. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “My alias was Grisha, something I think you already know, considering your reaction when you first saw me. We’d infiltrated his organization when it came to light he was planning a large-scale attack on the United States. You already know those details, so I won’t bother with them. Tasev captured one of your agents—though we didn’t know she was NSA until Max told us later—and we worked together. Cole and I split before your guys infiltrated so we could maintain our aliases for possible future use.”
From the file she had on “Grisha,” she knew the man had worked with Tasev. Wesley had given her Grisha’s file and asked her to run the info they had on him and compile a list of his past jobs. It had been almost impossible to pull info on him, which was interesting all by itself. Just as interesting as what he’d just told her.
“I gave him a tip about the water plant. Well, not him directly, but Max did.”
Karen straightened at that. That information wasn’t even in the NSA’s file on the operation. She didn’t respond, though, wanting to see what else he had to say.
“I called Max from a pay phone on Bayside Drive. And I know you guys tried to track me. Burkhart would have been stupid not to try.”
“You were very good at avoiding CCTVs,” she muttered. She’d been the one who’d tried to track whoever had given Max that tip, and the guy had been skilled at evading. Way too good not to have been trained. She’d never gotten a clear shot of his face. Had it been Tucker?
He had started to respond when Cole strode into the room, his expression dark. “You need to see this now,” he said to both of them.
Before she could get up, Tucker was there helping her stand. Belatedly she realized she should have protested, but he held her elbow as they followed Cole into the living room, his fingers callused and once again incredibly gentle. Her ankle was just sore now, confirming that she hadn’t done any real damage to it.
Brooks and Kane didn’t even look up as they entered. She sat on one of the buttercream-colored couches with Tucker sitting on the armrest directly next to her.
“The conservatory and the Capitol building have all been evacuated. . . .” A female reporter was animatedly talking, though her expression was serious as she motioned behind her to an image of the Botanic Garden in D.C. The woman was stating that a small terrorist group had bombed it, but luckily no lives were lost. And right now the FBI’s bomb squad was in the process of clearing the place.
“Turn it up,” Tucker said.
As Kane increased the volume, pictures of the four of them filled the screen. “The suspects in the botched bombing are all disgraced DEA agents with suspected ties to a Shiâ terrorist group operating . . .”
Karen’s eyes widened as she watched and listened as the reporter continued, showing a video of Kane and Brooks at the conservatory. It looked as if they were planting bombs. Karen knew that videos could be faked, but from the way the men were moving in and out of the conservatory, she doubted someone had faked them actually being there.
“Motherfucker,” Kane growled.
Brooks was silent, but his expression was murderous.
“We were there two weeks ago,” Kane said, drawing everyone’s attention. All his focus was on Tucker, though. “That footage of us is real. We were there, but that shit with us planting the bombs is fucking fake.” The man was practically vibrating with each word, the rage in him vivid.
“I know it’s fake.” Tucker’s voice was quiet but seemed to have an effect on the other man, who calmed a fraction. “Why were you there?”
“Anonymous tip that some shit was going down and they wanted us to get eyes on the place. We used our credentials to bypass security. All standard. I’ll give you the rundown later.”
“They’re saying we planted those bombs a couple hours ago,” Brooks finally said, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Security sweeps the Garden every night. They’re very thorough,” Karen said. She knew because of a couple of security issues they’d had in the past. She went to reach for her cell phone but remembered they’d taken it from her. She glanced up at Tucker. “What time is it?”
“Little after ten,” he said without looking at his watch.
They’d kidnapped her in the early-morning hours, so unless they’d planted bombs at the conservatory directly before that and . . . “Did they say what kind of detonator was used?”
“No.”
“No, of course they wouldn’t,” she murmured, itching to call her people and get more details. More than anything, she wanted her computer. Then she could start running the information they’d given her and fact-check. She felt naked without
her laptop. But she figured that was impossible for now.
Without knowing what kind of detonator was used and the range for the remote, she couldn’t be sure the four men with her were innocent of this crime, but as she analyzed the morning’s events she started thinking that it was very possible they were being set up.
Especially after that conversation she’d just had with Tucker about Tasev. He knew way too many details about that op; details that hadn’t been in the official file. Which he wouldn’t have had access to, so it stood to reason he’d been there. On top of that, they’d kidnapped her with a very specific purpose: to talk to Wesley. Tucker had made it clear that he wanted to see him in person but would settle for a phone call. And Tucker had to know Burkhart would send in a team as soon as he found out Tucker had kidnapped Karen. So the men were taking a big risk by kidnapping her simply to talk to her boss. They’d given her files that, in her experience, looked real. She wouldn’t know more without being able to cross-reference some of the information, and she couldn’t do that without her computer.
“That bombing just happened?” she asked, and realized they were all staring at her. Gah, she sometimes forgot her surroundings when she was thinking.
They all nodded.
It stood to reason they could have an accomplice or accomplices helping them. Someone else who’d set off the bomb even if they hadn’t. But that didn’t sit right either. Not with the time frame when the bombs had been planted. Tucker seemed way too hands-on to let someone else take over something like that. “It’s odd that the news stations have that footage so soon.”
Again, they all nodded. “I thought the same thing about Max’s murder,” she continued. “All that intel the stations had about the Shiâ ties. We didn’t even have that intel.” So there was no way a news outlet got the drop on them. No, someone was feeding the media bullshit.
With the drone bombing at the Nelson fund-raiser, her team with the NSA had been so focused on security the last two days that she hadn’t thought much about the circumstances of Max’s murder since then, but it bothered her. She looked at Tucker again. “You guys are definitely being set up and they’ve got to have government ties. If what you’ve told me is true and your clearances have been revoked, it’s someone in the DEA. But this is bigger than one person. Planting bombs, sending out intel like this to news stations, sending a team of hit men after you guys . . .” She shook her head, trailing off.