Edge of Danger

by Katie Reus

  Tucker was willing to kill the bastard, especially if he’d had a hand in Max’s death.

  As if Burkhart read his mind, his jaw tightened. “We need him alive. I can’t protect you if you kill him.”

  Tucker might want to, but he wouldn’t. “Understood. I want to bring Cole on this with me.” His guys were at a D.C. safe house lying low. It wouldn’t take Cole long to meet him. He knew his other men would balk at being left behind, but he needed at least some of them safe. It would be better to go after Vane with a partner. The two of them facing off with Vane would scare the shit out of the man. Right now they needed all the intimidation factor they had.

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll be part of the on-the-ground command center, monitoring everything,” Karen added.

  He glanced at her, and it took all his restraint not to cup her face or pull her into his arms. The woman was incredible. He loved that she believed in him and was so concerned about him. “Good,” he said quietly, which earned him another soft blush from her.

  He gritted his teeth, willing his body under control. Forget a simple date. When this mess was over he was taking Karen on a long vacation, somewhere warm where they’d be naked the entire time. Somewhere deep down, he knew she was it for him. He’d seen what his parents had, two seemingly mismatched people who worked in every way that mattered. His dad had told him he’d known his mother was it within a day of meeting her. Tucker had never truly understood that until now. Hell, he’d never thought about settling down or having anything solid, real in his life. He could see all that happening with Karen. Wanted it so badly he could damn near taste it.

  But he had to keep his head in the game. He looked back at Burkhart. “If we leave soon we can catch him before he heads into work.”

  Burkhart’s expression was hard and determined as he nodded. “That’s the idea.”

  Rayford nearly jumped when he heard his wife’s heels clicking across the kitchen tile. Taking a deep breath, he shut the refrigerator door and smiled as he turned to face her.

  Impeccably dressed as always, Johanna smiled at him, her pale pink lipstick perfect against her ivory skin. Her black peacoat was draped over one arm, her black Gucci purse hooked over the other and she wore, of course, a black sweater and a black-and-white wool skirt. She didn’t deviate much in her wardrobe colors and knew what worked well with her petite frame. He loved his wife, but he also loved what she did for his own career. She was smart and beautiful, so he could take her to any function. Not to mention that she had a job of her own, something that kept her driven and occupied her time. They had the perfect setup together.

  “You’re off to work early,” she said, smiling.

  “I could say the same to you.” He held out an organic energy smoothie to her, which she took.

  “Early showing. Very nice commission too.” Her eyes glinted as they often did when she talked about money.

  Though her parents were disappointed she’d gone into real estate after getting a law degree, no one could argue that Johanna Osborn wasn’t good at her job. She’d had the connections going in thanks to her wealthy family, but that wouldn’t have mattered long if she’d been a bad saleswoman. As it was, she made four or five times more than her husband annually. Some men might have a problem with that, but not Rayford. He was proud of her. Unfortunately she read people well and he could tell she was eyeing him curiously now.

  “You’ll make the sale,” he said, confident in her abilities.

  “I know,” she murmured, brushing her mouth against his as she leaned into him.

  For a moment he let his hands slide down to her waist and held her loosely. He was too tense to think about anything else and she wouldn’t want to have sex this early anyway. Not after she’d already done her makeup and gotten dressed.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows pulled together as she stepped back.

  Sighing, he played up his reaction. Since he couldn’t hide his stress from her, he’d just give her a line about work. Which wasn’t technically a lie anyway. “Just work stuff. You know how it is.”

  Her lips pulled into a thin line, but she nodded. “He’s lucky to have you. Something he’d do well to remember.”

  Smiling at her biting tone, he shook his head. “It’s not him, just the stress of everything, that’s all.”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. Her parents were huge supporters of Rayford’s boss and he didn’t doubt she’d ask them to say something if she thought he was being mistreated. He didn’t want that to happen. Ever. He was his own man.

  “You’re going to be late,” he continued, knowing talk of work would distract her.

  She let out a short curse and glanced at her phone. “You’re right—turn on the news, Rayford. Now.” But she was already racing from the kitchen, her heels clicking quickly as he followed after her into the living room.

  She flipped on the big flat-screen. They rarely watched anything other than the news, so it was already on CNN. His gut twisted as he listened to a reporter animatedly yet somberly deliver an account of another drone strike.

  One that he’d had no knowledge of.

  The International Spy Museum, while not part of the national landmarks they’d discussed striking, was still symbolic and had been on their list of places to destroy eventually. Hillenbrand had gone behind their backs. He must have been planning it even last night when Rayford had seen him.

  “This is terrifying,” Johanna whispered, her eyes riveted to the screen.

  Anger punched through him, but he nodded, not needing to feign his own alarm. He didn’t think Hillenbrand would target him. No, the man needed Rayford, but he didn’t like this turn of events. He should have been kept in the loop. With trembling hands, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, not surprised when it started ringing. One of the staffers.

  He answered on the first ring. “Get Daphne to start on the press release,” he snapped out, not bothering with a greeting. He and his team at work had way too much to deal with right now. As soon as he got into his car, he’d call Hillenbrand from one of his burners and ask him what the hell was going on.

  He didn’t care how powerful Hillenbrand was. He’d be shooting blanks without Rayford’s help in their end game. Leaving him out of the loop on any of this was not going to be tolerated.

  Chapter 17

  Black operations: covert operations that are not ascribed to the organization performing them.

  Tucker glanced at Cole as they slipped into Vane’s backyard. The sun had risen, but the middle-class neighborhood was quiet in the pre-work hours. Soon enough people would be getting up, getting ready and leaving their homes, but for now a blanket of snow and quiet had descended around them.

  From the time Burkhart had requested that he go after Vane till now. The man and his team moved fast when motivated. Tucker had read over the impressive files the NSA had collected on Vane on the drive here and reviewed the layout of his home.

  Standard three-bed/two-bath with more room than one man probably needed, but from the real estate records, Vane had gotten a good deal on it when it went up as a short sale. Couldn’t blame the guy for jumping on that kind of deal.

  But Tucker definitely blamed him for hanging him and his guys out to dry. He was going to bring this dirty piece of garbage down and make sure he paid for everything he’d done.

  Cole reached up and touched his earpiece as they hunkered behind a thick tree trunk. Tucker knew his friend was muting it, so he did the same to his. Now no one on the other end of the comm could hear them.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “You really trust them?” Cole asked just as quietly, referring to Burkhart and the NSA. “We’re moving on a DEA agent’s house with no authority. If things go south, it’s our asses on the line. They won’t admit knowledge of being involved with us.”

  What they were doing was definitely off the books, but if it got them the answers they needed, Tucker didn’t care. Right now wasn’t about
following the letter of the law. They’d already crossed that line when they took Karen. He frowned. “You worried it’s a setup? Why bother when they could just arrest us now?”

  Cole tugged on his black skullcap. “Just wanted to make sure you were really on board.”

  They hadn’t had a chance to talk one-on-one since the NSA picked Cole up on the way here about ten minutes ago. “I trust Karen. She believes us and she’s doing everything she can to help us.”

  Cole’s eyebrows lifted, likely at Tucker’s heated tone, but he didn’t say anything, just turned his earpiece back on, giving them full audible capabilities.

  Tucker did the same. From this point on, until they breached the house and incapacitated the target, they wouldn’t be talking except when necessary.

  “Moving in,” he said quietly to the others on the other end of the line. Burkhart had put together a small but highly qualified team for this op. Tucker liked the way the guy operated too. As deputy director, he didn’t have to wait for operational approval for the most part. He made decisions instantly and got things done.

  “The front and sides are clear,” Karen said. She was currently in the nondescript van the team was using as their command center. The sound of her voice kept him focused.

  She had eyes on the front of the house and most of Vane’s neighbors’ homes, thanks to temporary, nearly invisible cameras a team had set up along the street before Tucker and Cole even arrived. As soon as this op was over, the cameras would come down.

  “Affirmative,” he murmured. “At the back door.” There were multiple possible entry points, but they were going to use the back door. It was the best tactical point of entry for multiple reasons. The back door didn’t empty into the kitchen or the master bedroom, two places Vane would likely be in the morning while getting ready. They could have gone through a window, but this should work well. And he liked the privacy fence in the back. That, combined with the overcast, dreary sky, gave them decent cover.

  “Security is going to fail in three, two, go,” Selene said.

  Tucker nodded at Cole and began his magic on the lock. Opened it in less than ten seconds with a silent snick.

  Weapon drawn, Tucker stepped into the small tiled utility room, Cole behind him. A washer and dryer were stacked on each other with a laundry basket full of towels and socks on one shelf. Detergent and other similar items were on another shelf. Not much else in the tight space.

  The room should open up into a hallway. Pausing at the closed interior door, Tucker listened. When he heard nothing, he motioned to Cole that he was opening it and would be making his way to the stairs while Cole should move to the kitchen. They’d already gone over the plan, but he wanted to reiterate anyway. Tucker would take the upstairs and Cole the downstairs. Nice and easy sweep. Of course they knew that Vane would have at least one weapon. He wasn’t some clueless civilian. He might not have military training, but the DEA had trained him well and he’d been in the field for years and knew how to use a weapon.

  Just because Tucker expected this to be simple didn’t mean he was letting his guard down.

  On silent feet they spilled into the hallway. Tucker went right, his rubber-soled boots quiet against the long carpet runner covering the wooden floor. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear water running upstairs.

  Could be the faucet, but he was betting on the shower, given the time of day. Moving quickly, he hurried up the stairs, stopping at the top to survey his surroundings. Doing a quick sweep of the two extra bedrooms, one of which was an office, he moved on to the master bedroom.

  The door was half-open, so he slipped inside without touching it. Water was still running from the bathroom. That door was shut, but steam and light streamed out from the crack at the bottom.

  “Target in the bathroom,” he murmured in a low voice, wanting Cole to know he had Vane.

  “Affirmative,” came Cole’s reply. “Downstairs clear.”

  After a quick sweep of the room, Tucker found two pistols. One in Vane’s nightstand drawer and the other in his closet. By the time he’d pulled them both out and handed them off to Cole, who remained in the hallway, the water shut off.

  Perfect timing.

  Pumped up on adrenaline, Tucker took a deep, steadying breath. He couldn’t lose it with Vane. Not until they had the information they needed. Tucker had to remember that, but it was hard when he knew Vane could have had a role in sending hitters after him, his men, and Karen.

  He moved to the walk-in closet and slipped inside. The door had been partially open just like the bedroom door, so he left it exactly as it was. From his position he had a perfect visual of the bathroom door.

  Moments later the door opened and Vane stepped out wearing only a towel around his waist. He had a smaller one in his hands, using it to dry his blond hair as he hummed a nonsensical tune. In his forties, the man was in good shape. When Vane was by the bed, putting enough distance between himself and the bathroom door, Tucker made his move.

  Without touching the closet door, he stepped out from his hiding spot, weapon drawn and aimed right at Vane. “Move and you’re dead,” he said as Vane’s eyes went wide with fear.

  No, not just fear.

  Raw terror.

  Vane swallowed hard, his gaze flicking over to his nightstand for just a moment.

  “I took your weapons. Got that one and the one in your closet. Even if you have more, you’ll never make it to them before I pump your gut full of bullets. And I’ll make you suffer. There will be no easy death for you, you fucking traitor.” Rage vibrated through him. Tucker was in full battle mode, taking on the type of persona he used when doing undercover work. Hard, unrelenting. Vane needed to believe Tucker was capable of anything, would kill him without pause.

  “What do you want?” Vane asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

  Tucker motioned with his weapon to the bedroom door. “Move.”

  “Can I put some clothes on?”

  “No.” Tucker needed Vane terrified. Keeping him half-dressed took away any illusion of control Vane might feel he had over the situation at this point.

  Jaw clenched tight, Vane turned, his body tense as he did what Tucker ordered. He opened the door only to fly back as Cole landed a vicious punch to his face.

  Vane cried out, his hands going to his nose as blood spurted everywhere.

  That hadn’t been in their original plan, but Tucker went with it. By nature, Cole was the least violent of all his guys, so it was a surprise he’d made a move like that. Not that Tucker blamed him for his reaction. Vane had betrayed all of them. Even if they hadn’t been friends, they’d still been on the same side. Obviously not.

  “Quit whining,” Cole growled, grabbing Vane by the arm and hauling him up. “A broken nose never killed anyone.”

  The man started to struggle but then seemed to get himself under control. Likely because he knew it was pointless to take on both of them. In his mind, Vane would just be biding his time, waiting for a chance to escape or overtake them. Too bad for him that time would never come.

  Cole twisted him around and slammed him against the bedroom door before slapping flex cuffs on his wrists and pulling them tight. “We’re going to have a little talk and if we believe you, we let you live. If not, you know what will happen. No one will ever find your body.” His voice was a menacing rasp.

  “Why the hell are you two here? You’re wanted for treason, you pieces of shit,” Vane snarled as Cole shoved him out the door. “Thought you’d be in Canada by now.”

  “We’re wanted because of you.” Tucker remained behind them, keeping his own weapon out even as Cole put his in his holster.

  “What?” The single word came out high-pitched, unsteady.

  Cole shoved him as they entered the kitchen, definitely harder than necessary. The move surprised Tucker, but he didn’t say anything. They needed to be a unified front.

  “Sit,” Tucker barked, motioning with his pistol to the kitchen table.
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br />   Cole turned one of the chairs around for Vane and stood next to it, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the man.

  Trembling, Vane practically collapsed into the chair, as if his knees had gone out on him. Cole restrained his ankles to the legs of the chair with more flex cuffs. He released his wrists from behind his back and quickly restrained them to the arms. Tucker could see the rage in Vane’s eyes, but it was mixed with resignation. He could fight back, sure, but he’d lose and get seriously roughed up in the process. Because Tucker and Cole didn’t need weapons against this piece of garbage. Vane might be trained, but he wasn’t anywhere near as lethal as Cole and Tucker. There were some things only military training and being embedded in a war zone in a foreign country could teach you. Experiences Vane didn’t have. It was almost a disappointment he didn’t fight back.

  “The International Spy Museum was just hit by that missing drone. Minimal casualties,” Karen said over their earpieces. “Push that angle too.”

  Tucker was glad Karen could only hear what was going on. He didn’t want her to see what was about to happen. Plus, it wouldn’t do to have any of this on video. Not if it was used later in a trial. Not that there was much chance of that happening, since this was off the books.

  Cole’s gaze snapped to Tucker. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tucker shook his head once.

  Tucker holstered his weapon and made a show of placing his gloved hands on a bamboo knife block and slowly sliding it out from its position on one of the kitchen counters. He moved it over to the center island and first removed a Santoku knife. It was about seven inches and decently made. He knew that really good ones could go for a grand and upward.

  Wordlessly he laid it on the island counter in plain view of Vane. The man’s eyes tracked it the entire time. Next Tucker pulled out a paring knife. “I once saw a man remove another man’s ears with one of these. Bloody and impressive.” And true. It had been on an undercover job and the man on the receiving end of the handiwork had deserved it, so Tucker hadn’t lost any sleep over it.