Cover of Night

by Laura Griffin

  A horn blast behind him. Ethan glanced up at the green light.

  Cursing, he moved the gearshift and shot through the intersection. He eased into the right lane and slowed down to look at his phone again.

  “Come on, come on.”

  But there was nothing more. Just the Xs.

  Ethan’s chest constricted. He was crazy. Paranoid. No doubt, she’d think he was obsessed, but he needed to check.

  “Fuck it.”

  He careened across traffic and pulled a U-turn.

  * * *

  She’d made a mistake. A big one.

  Instead of confronting him in her apartment—for better or for worse—she was leading him to a public place with innocent people around. Karly’s stomach roiled as she imagined what might happen if she took him into her office.

  She glanced at him in the passenger seat. The gun was out now. He gripped it in his right hand, resting it on his thigh, and his gaze kept darting to the side mirror.

  “Here’s what you’re going to do. You listening?”

  She nodded.

  “We get there, you call your assistant.”

  “I don’t have—”

  “Your coworker. Whatever. Make sure it’s a woman, and have her bring down the pass and the camera. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  “No surprises. Or she’s dead.”

  She cut a glance at him. His accent. It was faint, but he had one. It reminded her of a reporter she’d once known from Wisconsin.

  He was definitely American. And he had to have ties here. Accomplices. People in place to help him carry out his plot, whatever it was. Otherwise, why care so much about the FBI identifying him through a fingerprint or a photo when he was already inside the country?

  “Hey!” he snapped. “You got me?”

  “Yes.”

  Karly’s hands were sweaty. She kept them on the steering wheel, her knuckles white, as she rolled to a stop.

  What could she do? How could she get out of this? Maybe if she spotted a police car, she could jump the curb and get their attention. Or she could do that anyway. She could smash into a lamppost or a parked car. She darted her eyes around looking for an opportunity. The sidewalks were filled with pedestrians, but up ahead was a parking lot.

  “Eyes forward.” He jabbed the pistol against her ribs. “No bullshit, or you’re fucking dead.”

  The light turned green.

  Karly tightened her hands on the wheel. Dread filled her as she pressed the gas.

  * * *

  Ethan was about to lose it. Traffic was a bitch, and he was catching every red light on the way to her place. He’d never been there before, but he knew where she lived. He’d resisted the urge to drive by in the days since he’d been back because he wasn’t some creepy stalker. He felt like one right now, though, racing across town to catch her getting dressed for work so he could demand an explanation for her triple-X text message.

  It was crazy. Probably.

  But if it wasn’t crazy . . .

  Ethan’s pulse was racing. He felt like a maniac. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but the green light ahead of him turned yellow, the car in front of him slammed on the brakes, and Ethan skidded to a halt, cursing. He cast a desperate look at his phone.

  Nothing. Still. And it had been eight minutes.

  He looked around, trying to come up with an alternative route with less traffic.

  And then he spotted her.

  The red Audi sitting in the turn lane opposite him, waiting for the light to change. It was her. Had to be. It looked like her car and her shape behind the wheel.

  And there was someone in the seat beside her. Tall. Ballcap.

  No way. No fucking way.

  But Ethan wasn’t seeing things. It was Karly sitting in that turn lane. And there was some random man in the seat beside her.

  Ethan’s throat went dry. What the hell was he doing? Where was he taking her?

  He was taking her somewhere. No way she was riding with him willingly. Ethan pictured a gun pointed at her, and his gut clenched.

  Karly’s head turned in his direction, and Ethan waited, heart pounding. Did she see him?

  Her light changed to green, and she made the turn. It was her. It was. She had her hand resting on the steering wheel in a closed fist.

  Ethan’s blood turned icy. A closed fist, the signal for stop. His team had used that signal during the op, and Karly had been there. She knew.

  That signal was meant for him.

  * * *

  As Karly neared her building, she was sweating all over. Her back, her front, her palms, her neck. Her heart was galloping so fast she could hardly breathe.

  Six more blocks. Three stoplights. Hadn’t Ethan seen her? Hadn’t he understood?

  But they were minutes away from the destination, and Ethan was nowhere in sight. Not in front of her, not behind her, nowhere. And she hadn’t heard the faintest hint of a siren, so he hadn’t called for help.

  “Get in the right lane.”

  Karly gulped down her fear and did as directed. X obviously knew where they were going. He knew the building was just up ahead, so there was no taking a detour to stall for time. Still, she eased her foot off the gas to slow things down.

  Something smashed into her from behind. The car lurched forward. She slammed on the brakes as both she and X pitched forward into the dashboard.

  “What the—” He jerked around.

  Karly checked the rearview mirror.

  A black Jeep sat behind her car. It was empty.

  Karly shoved her Audi into park just as the passenger door jerked open.

  The terrorist turned with his gun, but a big arm reached in and dragged him out.

  “Ethan!”

  Pop! Pop!

  Karly screamed at the gunshots. She shoved open her door and lunged out, barely missing a car in the neighboring lane.

  Pop!

  She scrambled behind the Jeep, using it for cover as she peered over the hood to see what was happening.

  Her passenger door was open. But Ethan and X were gone.

  * * *

  Ethan sprinted down the alley. The tango darted around a corner. Ethan pulled to a stop to take a look before following so he wouldn’t get his head blown off as he went around the building.

  Tango X was at the end of the alley, scaling a wooden fence. Ethan took off after him. He reached him just in time to grab the guy’s foot, but X jerked free, and Ethan heard him land with a grunt on the other side.

  Ethan scaled the fence in less than a second, then took a leap onto the tango. The guy lunged sideways, and Ethan caught his shoulder.

  Pop!

  The noise reverberated through Ethan’s brain as he rolled to the side. That had been close. He jumped to his feet again and raced after X, who was turning another corner.

  Ethan ran flat out. He ducked low as he rounded the building and saw the tango sprinting toward a busy street.

  A brown delivery truck, no doors, pulled to a stop at the curb. X raced straight for it.

  Pop!

  The driver’s face exploded in a burst of red. X leaped inside the truck, kicked the dead man out, and jumped into the driver’s seat. He threw the truck into gear and swerved into traffic.

  Ethan sprinted after him. He leaped onto the back bumper, grasping for a hold, but there was nothing, and he was clinging to the roof and the side of the truck by his fingertips. He crouched down and grabbed the handle of the rear cargo door.

  Suddenly, the truck swerved left, then right, and Ethan strained to hold on. The tango knew he was back there and was trying to lose him as they sped through an intersection, horns blaring from every direction.

  Ethan pulled the cargo door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Pop! Pop!


  Twin bullet holes appeared beside his head. Ethan gave the door a mighty yank, pulling it open a few feet. He dove inside, rolled across the cargo space, and collided with a tower of boxes.

  Pop!

  Ethan sprang to his feet and lunged for the tango’s gun, elbow-jabbing him in the face as he tried to get the weapon. The truck swerved. Ethan yanked the wheel just in time to miss crashing into the back of a bus.

  Pop!

  The windshield exploded. X punched his jaw, and Ethan’s head snapped back. He shook it off and reached for the gun again, smashing the tango’s wrist against the steering wheel, but the guy held on to the weapon.

  Another sharp swerve, then a deafening crunch of metal as they plowed into a lamppost with bone-rattling impact.

  Everything went gray, and Ethan found himself on his knees by the gearshift, X slumped over the wheel. Ethan reached up and grabbed the guy’s neck, and they were locked in a struggle as X tried to aim the pistol at him. With Ethan on his knees and X in the driver’s seat, the terrorist had the advantage.

  Ethan grabbed the seat-belt strap and hauled himself up, then hit X with a brutal head-butt. X grabbed him, and they fell together through the door, crashing to the pavement. The pistol skidded across the street into traffic.

  The tango got to his feet, but Ethan lunged for him, bringing him back down, grabbing him by the neck to pummel his face again and again. Sirens screamed around them as they wrestled and punched. X managed to roll out from under Ethan and land a sharp blow to his temple. Ethan throat-punched him, immobilizing him for an instant. Heaving himself up, Ethan grabbed X by the arm, flipped him onto his stomach, and gave a fierce yank, dislocating his shoulder. The tango bellowed and kicked Ethan’s knee. Ethan pulled harder.

  “Freeze!”

  Ethan looked up to see half a dozen cops around him, guns drawn. More sirens sounded nearby.

  “Drop the weapon! Hands up!”

  Ethan didn’t budge. He didn’t have a weapon, but he had no doubt that if he so much as moved, his captive would make a run for it.

  “Hands up! Now!”

  “Wait! Stop!”

  Ethan glanced to his left, where a tall brunette in a suit was pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered. Alexa Mays. The agent was holding up a badge, and she was trailed by a refrigerator-size man in a suit. Just behind the man was Karly.

  Ethan’s gaze locked on Karly’s, and relief flooded him.

  Until he noticed all the guns still pointed at him.

  “Special Agent Mays, FBI,” the woman announced, stopping beside the police officers. Her gaze landed on Ethan, and he could see she recognized him. Either that or Karly had filled her in.

  “Mays.” Ethan nodded. “Think this is your guy.”

  “Thank you.” She whipped out a pair of handcuffs. “We’ll take it from here.”

  THIRTEEN

  * * *

  Karly lay with her head against Ethan’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as he sifted his fingers through her hair. Nothing in the world had ever felt so peaceful.

  Their day had been a marathon. The arrest. The interviews. The endless afternoon at the FBI office, answering questions about Tom Green, whose real name Karly still didn’t know.

  He was in custody now, being interrogated by federal agents. And from what Karly gathered, the man wasn’t cooperating. From the news tonight, they’d learned that the terror threat level had been elevated, and Karly had a hunch it was related to today’s events.

  But it was out of her hands now. And Ethan’s.

  After hours of interviews, they’d finally gone home to Ethan’s apartment. And they’d spent the entire night filling up on each other.

  “Karly?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You ready to talk yet?”

  She tensed but didn’t answer. It was after midnight. Soon they’d probably fall asleep, and then he had to be up early to report to base.

  “Honey, we can’t put it off any longer.”

  She gave a heavy sigh, then lifted her head. Light from the hallway spilled into the bedroom, and the serious look on his face made her chest tighten.

  No fear, no tears.

  Karly propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him. “I’m ready.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair. “I report at oh-eight-hundred. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  She took a deep breath. “I know.”

  He watched her eyes carefully, as if trying to read her reaction. “My schedule is unpredictable. That’s just the way it is for me.”

  She nodded and stroked her finger over his chest.

  “I’m gone a lot.”

  “Ten months a year, right?” She looked up at him. “I’ve been doing some research.”

  It was the closest she’d come to admitting she had feelings for him, that she’d been thinking about a future with him after they parted ways last time.

  Why couldn’t she just tell him? She felt like such a wimp, and meanwhile he’d been so up-front about his feelings.

  I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning here.

  She looked at him, and those serious blue eyes made her heart hurt.

  “You told me once you do better when you can picture things,” he said.

  She’d said that on the island, in the middle of the rescue operation. How on earth did he remember that?

  “What? I pay attention.” He smiled. “Especially when it comes to you.” He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I want you to picture something, okay? Close your eyes.”

  “Ethan—”

  “Please?”

  She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Okay.”

  “Picture me in a helo all geared up and ready to jump.”

  “God. No.”

  “Picture it.”

  She shuddered and felt his arms tighten around her.

  “All right, fine.”

  “I’m a hundred percent focused on the mission. It’s always like that, okay? I’m not distracted. But in the back of my mind, I know you’re home waiting for me, and I know the moment I get back, I’m going to come straight over to see you. Because you’re the only woman I can think about. And you trust me completely, because you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  She sighed.

  “Now picture yourself. You’re driving to work. You’re doing your job all day, kicking ass and showing everybody up.”

  “Right.”

  “And maybe later, you’re hanging out with your friends at a bar.”

  “We don’t hang out at bars.”

  “No?”

  “No. I hate the bar scene.”

  “Okay, well . . . good. That’s good. Picture yourself with your friends somewhere else, maybe a restaurant. You’re having fun, right? And you’re not worried. You’re not stressed about anything.”

  “But I will be. That’s the problem. I’ll miss you like crazy.”

  “But you don’t have to worry, because you know however much you’re missing me? I’m missing you, like, a hundred times more. And every time I come home to you, I’m going to do everything I can to show you how amazing things can be with us.”

  She looked up at him and bit her lip. Every time I come home to you. It sounded like he was in this for the long haul.

  “You really think we can do this?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “Because we’re determined,” he said. “And when you visualize something enough—even something that seems impossible—it can happen.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do.”

  She just looked at him.

  “And because I love you.”

  Her mou
th dropped open. “You love me?”

  “Yes.”

  A calm settled over her. Her heart was beating too fast. She felt flushed all over. But it was a good feeling. A happy feeling, because she knew he was right.

  It had been fast, and crazy, and unexpected.

  But it had happened.

  She sat up and smiled at him, gazing into those loving eyes, which had been in her dreams for weeks, or maybe forever.

  “Same,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you, too.”

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  TOUCH OF RED

  the latest in Laura Griffin’s Tracers series.

  Available November 2017 from Pocket Books!

  CHAPTER 1

  It was like any other Wednesday night. Until it wasn’t.

  Samantha Bonner had just finished sweeping up. She’d emptied the dustpan and sanitized the sink and wiped down the pastry case. The burnt smell of coffee beans hung thick in the air, overpowering the vinegar solution she’d run through the machines. But it was quiet. She stood for a moment and let the silence surround her, glad to be free of the acoustic guitar music that had been looping through her head all day.

  Sam grabbed her purse and locked up. Crossing the rain-slicked parking lot to her car, she darted a look into all the dark corners. It was a safe neighborhood, but you never knew.

  She pulled out of the lot, relieved to be on her way home after pulling a double shift. Raindrops pitter-patted on her windshield as she made her way through downtown. She switched the wipers to low, and her phone lit up with an incoming call. Amy.