Bridal Armor

by Debra Webb

  “Morning, Grant.” After a quick thank-you for the warning about Whelan, Lucas got to the point. “I’m sure you have other orders, but I’d like you to consider what I’m about to ask.”

  Jason was more than happy to listen to the man; he was a legend. As Lucas spoke, Jason’s concerns gave way quickly to anticipation at the plan he outlined to protect the director.

  “Sir, I’ll head straight for Glenstone now. You should be aware I found information that the director is under an investigation.”

  “By whom?”

  “The Initiative. An agent by the name of DeRossi intercepted him at the airport yesterday afternoon.”

  “DeRossi?”

  “Yes, sir. The files I found are hard to believe.” Jason worried the call had dropped again when the former deputy director didn’t reply right away.

  “Then don’t believe them. Is DeRossi the person you referred to as Whelan’s date?”

  “No, sir. I believe there’s another woman on the director’s trail. I can’t confirm her purpose or affiliations as of yet.” He merged onto the Interstate while Lucas thought that through.

  “I’m sending the Drakes to meet you. You realize I can’t officially authorize any action, but I’m trusting the three of you to do whatever it takes to contain Whelan and protect the director. I’m certain we all want him safe and I need him here in time to walk his niece down the aisle.”

  Jason grinned. “We won’t let you down, sir.”

  “Specialists never do.”

  As the call disconnected, Jason felt the spike in his energy level and knew it had nothing to do with the caffeine. He still didn’t have all the facts, but he felt much better about this course of action. Thomas Casey respected and trusted Lucas Camp. That was all Jason needed to know to move forward with this plan.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Good morning!” the snowplow driver called, leaning out of his window. “You folks doing okay up here?”

  Thomas waved, but he let Jo do the talking.

  “We’re great, thanks,” she replied, sending him an odd look. “We lost power last night, but there was plenty of firewood and the power was back on this morning.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Want some coffee or anything?”

  “No, thanks,” the driver declined. “I’m all set. I’ll just clear a path here and be on my way.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how glad we are to see you.” Jo looked immensely grateful they weren’t going to be trapped here anymore.

  “How are the other roads?” Thomas stepped up and put his arm around her shoulders, mostly to give the driver the impression they were a couple. Then again, they’d sure as hell been acting like one before he arrived.

  “Clear as glass. Frosted glass anyway,” he said with a chuckle at his joke. “You won’t have any trouble getting down the mountain.”

  Thomas nodded. “Thanks again.”

  “Oh, nearly forgot.” The driver reached over to the passenger seat and pulled up a small box. “This came into the office.” He jerked his chin at Jo. “Tried to deliver this the other day, but you weren’t in and I didn’t want to leave it just sitting out. It’s marked fragile.”

  Jo tensed. “Addressed to me?”

  “No, just the cabin number, but seeing as you were the only one booked for this month we figured...”

  “Appreciate it.” Gingerly, she accepted the package and stepped away from the truck.

  She didn’t return to Thomas’s side. He assumed she shared his concern that this little surprise was from Whelan.

  But how the hell would he know to look here? And if he suspected they were here last night why not make a move?

  That one was pretty easy to answer really, Thomas decided. Whelan didn’t just want to take him out—he wanted to take him all the way down.

  With a tap to the bill of his ball cap, the driver cleared the snow from behind the SUV and headed back down the road.

  When the rumble of the engine faded, Thomas and Jo stared at each other.

  “Thoughts?”

  He had several, not the least of which was how far she might be able to toss that package into the trees. “Someone has far better access than they should.”

  “Agreed.”

  He walked toward her, wincing when she twitched. “Careful.”

  “I’m fine. You should stay back.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He took another step.

  “Thomas, please.” She raised the box to her face. “It doesn’t smell like oranges.”

  “Hooray,” he deadpanned. “Now set it down and come here.”

  “Just a second.” She was slowly examining the package from every angle. “There’s a loose flap.”

  “For God’s sake, Jo, put the box down.”

  “What if it’s the virus? Or a clue that can clear you?”

  He strode forward, heedless of the irritated glare she shot him. “And it could just as easily be another bomb that will kill us both.”

  He looked at the label and judged it useless. It could have been printed from any computer at any given time, and covered with clear packing tape, recovering a fingerprint was a lost cause.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s been rattling around in his truck, it can’t be that volatile.”

  She had a point, but that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it. “Show me this loose flap.”

  “Right here.” She shifted the box so he had a better look. “Isn’t that the same number that was on the German euro?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a Washington, D.C., phone number, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “We need to find a phone and call it.”

  “No point.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s Deputy Director Holt’s private line.”

  She gasped. “He’s behind this setup?”

  “We don’t know that.” He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. If the man had been turned, the whole team was at risk. His stomach rolled at the deadly potential if Holt had shifted his loyalty. Just because Thomas didn’t want to accept it, didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

  “What’re you thinking?” she prompted. She was getting nervous; he could hear it in her voice.

  “I’m supposedly selling bio-weapons on the side.” They both knew that wasn’t true. Still, he felt like he had to warn Lucas. Holt had access and the reliable resources to dig up what he couldn’t find on his own. “It looks bad, but it doesn’t make sense. What’s Holt’s play here?”

  “Control of Mission Recovery,” she said with a tone that implied he was a dunce for not thinking of it himself.

  “He’s going to get that soon enough when I retire anyway.”

  “You’re planning to retire?”

  “Someday,” he hedged, not wanting to get into that discussion here and now. “And Holt knows that.”

  “Something, anything could have upped his timeline.” She shivered.

  He didn’t want her catching cold. This wrinkle meant they would both have to be at their best to squeeze out with their lives and reputations. “We’ll discuss this inside. Leave that here.”

  “We need to open it.”

  This was the wrong time for her to exhibit the famous DeRossi tenacity. He sighed. “We will. After we go inside, warm up and develop an exit strategy. In light of the circumstances, I’m not opening a strange package until I know we can mitigate any consequences.”

  “Okay. I’ll just leave it here under the tree.”

  He didn’t breathe easy until they were safely inside the house and the cabin door closed against the mysterious package.

  She shrugged out of his overcoat. “What do you think it is?”

  “It could be anything,” he said, hanging both coats on the peg by the door. “You should change out of those wet clothes.”

  “In a minute. You’re worried it is something specific.”

  She was like a dog
with a bone and he knew he wouldn’t shake her loose. “It could be a beacon, a bomb, or like you said, it could be the virus I thought I confiscated five years ago.”

  “If it’s the virus, leaving it out there isn’t smart.” She rubbed her arms.

  Seeing her chilled, he considered warming her up with more kisses, but that look in her eyes told him she wouldn’t be so easily distracted. The fun was over for today. Truth was neither one of them could afford to be distracted right now. “I’ll keep watch and put out the fire. Go change into dry clothes. We should leave as soon as possible.”

  She started down the hallway and stopped short. “If it is a bomb, can you defuse it?”

  “Can you?”

  She shook her head. “Who’s your best explosives expert?”

  He didn’t want to answer that. All of his Specialists were trained in what he considered essential skills for fieldwork. At the moment, among the active roster at Mission Recovery, Holt was the most qualified to deal with an IED. That detail did nothing to ease his mind. “The better question is where my best explosives experts are. And the answer would be too far away to help.”

  “Is there anyone among the wedding party who—”

  It was a fair question and probably the smart thing to do. But this was his problem and he meant to resolve it without taking that step. “I am not going to disrupt the festivities or worry Casey or anyone else with that kind of request.”

  “I see.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that reply, or the sadness weighing those two little words. “As you said, it’s probably not a bomb since it’s been rattling around in a truck for who knows how long,” he said defensively.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Go change,” he barked. “Before you catch pneumonia.”

  “Don’t you go out there without me,” she snapped back, with an equal bite in her voice.

  “I promise.” He looked up. It wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say. But the effect was worth the potential error. Judging by her expression, his choice of words startled her, then a smile bloomed across her face.

  Mussed from his kisses, her clothes soaked in places due to the snow, she remained a breathtaking beauty. Helpless to do otherwise, he watched her walk away until she disappeared into the bedroom.

  Only then did he turn back to the hearth and smother the fire burning low. As he broke apart the logs, recent events ran through his mind a few times.

  It might defy common sense, but he just couldn’t lay all of this on Holt. Not without a clear motive or proof beyond the convenient and circumstantial evidence.

  He stared out the window, even as he heard Jo return to the front room.

  “Did I miss anything?”

  “No.”

  “You should change clothes, too.”

  “I’ll dry in the car.” He wanted to get away from here, with or without the package, before anything bad happened to the cabin her mother left her. He remembered that she’d spoken so fondly of her mother. Jo didn’t have any family left now. He didn’t want bad memories ruining her obvious love for this place. “I think the sooner we go the better.”

  She nodded. “I figured as much.” She stepped aside to gather her tablet and he noticed she’d wheeled out the suitcase she’d brought for him. He resisted the urge to thank her. Bringing him clothing had been thoughtful, but it was still on the unnerving side to think of her rifling through his apartment.

  “How did you bypass my security system?”

  “I didn’t have to.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “For the search, I went in when you were at the gym.”

  He shook his head. It was the only time he didn’t set the alarm. The gym was in his building, didn’t seem necessary. How could she know him so well? “I can’t believe I didn’t miss my own clothes.”

  “I didn’t steal your laundry, Thomas. I just went through your credit card statement and then reordered a few of the same items you most recently purchased.”

  “My credit card statement,” he echoed, dumbfounded.

  “The gift for the newlyweds was inspired.”

  Despite everything, her praise on that score made him feel better. He’d worried that ordering a painted portrait of Casey and Levi’s engagement photo had been a lame idea. Her support and how it eased his mind startled him. Why was he feeling anything but anger over her intrusion into his personal life?

  Because for some inexplicable reason, he saw her differently from other agents he’d worked with. He’d learned quickly to value her observations and opinion. Just because she’d gone to the Initiative when he’d invited her to Mission Recovery...get past it. Going there wouldn’t change a damned thing.

  “Ease up, Thomas. It wasn’t fraud. I paid with my own card.”

  “So I should thank you?”

  She opened her mouth and promptly snapped it shut again, clearly rethinking her reply. The smile that followed wasn’t anything close to friendly. “Think of it as belated Christmas and birthday all wrapped up together.”

  “In one neatly packed suitcase.”

  “And five years too late. Forgive me.” She took a step closer and instinctively he backed away from the irritation sparking in her dark eyes. “I promise never to think of your comfort again.”

  “My comfort? You planned an abduction here, Jo.” Why was he starting a fight? Maybe so he wouldn’t be so damned tempted to throw her across that couch and show her what he really wanted. They had at least one killer after them and there was an unknown package only a few feet away. Where the hell was his head?

  “An abduction!” She turned the air blue with a cloud of Italian curses. He was somewhat surprised to find himself still standing when she stopped. “I wanted a conversation, an open dialogue so I could help you.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Thomas Casey, you don’t know the full extent of what I planned and as of now you never will.”

  He believed her and marveled at the sudden emptiness in his chest. Was it regret? He’d spent his career making tough choices, but never regretting anything. Except walking away from her. Her pain was obvious, pain he’d caused.

  More regret.

  “Jo, I’m sorry. When we get out of this—”

  She lurched forward, covering his mouth with her hand. “Listen,” she whispered, pointing to the ceiling.

  He heard it then, the whump-whump of a helicopter rotor. He watched her expression, knowing they were both ticking off the plausible reasons it was in the area. Traffic. Unlikely since this area of the mountain had never been populated enough to create congestion. Weather, but he dismissed that, too, as news agencies would be focused on getting shots of the more popular ski resorts. Out here in the wilderness, he couldn’t come up with anything worthy enough to warrant a chopper—other than the two of them.

  “Beacon,” they said at the same time. They both turned toward the window and the package under the tree.

  “Any way out? Place to hide?”

  She shook her head. “No on both counts.”

  The nine-millimeter and one extra clip wasn’t enough to make a stand. They couldn’t make it out on foot. Not only would they leave a clear trail in the deep snow, but they also didn’t have the gear to make hiking practical. Even on adrenaline, neither of them had the stamina to keep up a pace that would outdistance the enemy in these conditions. Making a run for it in the car was their only chance.

  “Keys,” he demanded. She tossed them his way. “I’ll start the car. You get the package.”

  He could see she wanted to argue. “We have to lead them away from here.” He couldn’t bear it if her mother’s cabin were destroyed in the witch hunt aimed at him.

  “They’ll tear it up anyway,” she protested as if she’d read his mind.

  “Just do it.”

  He slung her duffel bag across his chest and she did the same with her purse. Opening the door, they raced across the snow that had been a playground a mere hour ago.

  This ti
me they were running for their lives.

  He tossed the luggage into the back, slammed the door and then leaped into the driver’s seat. Stabbing the key into the ignition, he threw the car into Reverse and whipped around to put Jo closer to the passenger door.

  She scrambled inside, dumping her purse and the package on the floor at her feet so she could secure her seat belt.

  He checked the gas gauge, hoping the repair would hold up as he went tearing down the narrow mountain road.

  “What’s the plan?”

  He didn’t know. It wasn’t the first time he had to wing it, but this time felt more important. It wasn’t just a matter of national security or his professional pride. There was more on the line now. Casey and Levi. His sister and Lucas and his family. His team. Jo. All of them were at risk because someone wanted to add his funeral to the weekend festivities.

  He had news for that someone: he wasn’t going down easy.

  He rolled down the windows and turned off the heater to make it easier to hear the helicopter.

  “It’s getting closer,” he said. “Can you identify it?”

  She listened and twisted around in her seat, trying to get eyes on it while he did his best to keep them on the road in the lousy conditions.

  “Definitely not civilian.”

  He agreed. The taller trees obscured their view, but they also reacted to the rotor wash. “Behind us.” The treetops were bowing. “Right flank.”

  “Got it,” she said, straining against the seat belt as he took a hairpin turn too quickly. “Oh, no.”

  “What?” But he thought he knew.

  “It’s a Russian Hind.”

  “Good.”

  “What? You do have a death wish.”

  “Not as maneuverable. Very memorable.” And not American meant privately contracted or a European enemy. If Holt were involved he could have mustered U.S. equipment without too much paperwork, especially here in the backyard of both the Air Force and NORAD.

  But analysis took a backseat to evasion as a tree exploded in front of them.

  “I should have rented an up-armored Hummer,” she muttered as they bounced around and through the debris.

  “Is that an available option package?”

  After a stunned pause, she laughed. “Only at select dealerships.”