by Mia Dymond
She smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes. “Buckle up, Safety Man.”
Max stretched the seatbelt across his body and snapped it together. She started the car, lowered the top, and giggled as the rays of sunshine bounced off her diamond-studded sunglasses.
“This won’t mess up your hair, will it?”
“Just drive,” Max grumbled.
Cameron swung her sports car down the expressway and finally into Rachel’s drive.
“Straight inside,” Max ordered.
Cameron frowned. “I need to run home for a minute.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she insisted. “If you intend to hold me hostage, I need to get something.”
“What?”
“Something.”
“What do you possibly need that you would risk being killed by a terrorist?”
“My cat.”
“Your cat?”
“Yes. I won’t stay here without him.”
“Hawke has people. He can arrange for your cat to be cared for.”
“No. He doesn’t like strangers.”
“Oh for the love of – I’ll get the cat.”
“I don’t think so. He definitely won’t come to you.”
“Your choice, Princess. Either I get him or he stays home alone.”
“Fine. Need to borrow my car?”
Steele ambled outside.
“No,” Max told her, “I’ll take Steele’s truck.”
“Good thing.” She whacked his biceps with her bag as she pulled it from behind the seat. “You couldn’t handle this much power.”
Max exited the car, helped Rachel out, then he and Steele met at the truck. He watched the ten-gallon drum of gunpowder bounce to the front door then disappear inside the house. He blew out a rough breath. Wouldn’t take much to light that fuse.
Steele cleared his throat. “The perimeter’s clear, Captain.”
Max nodded. “Shouldn’t be long before we can wrap this up. I need your keys.”
“You have new Intel?”
“No. She won’t stay without her cat.”
Steele grinned and handed him the keys. “And you volunteered.”
“Don’t start.” Max climbed in the truck and started the engine. “Besides, she’s all yours until I get back.”
Steele’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “What am I supposed to do with her?”
“If I were you, I’d steer clear. Just secure the house and fade into the background. Any engagement you choose with the enemy is at your own risk.”
Rachel wiped a hand across her forehead and closed the door. “Want some ice cream?”
“You go girl!” Cameron squealed. “What flavor?”
Rachel grinned. “Whatever you want. I stocked up for a few days.”
Rachel led the way into the kitchen. She pulled out several gallons of ice cream from the freezer, set them on the table and pulled off the lids.
Cameron grabbed two spoons and handed one to Rachel. “You are prepared!”
“There’s nothing better than ice cream right out of the carton.” Rachel filled her spoon with a full, rounded scoop of the dessert. “Do you know it takes an average of fifty licks to polish off a single scoop of ice cream?”
Cameron attempted to wipe the strawberry ice cream off her white tank top and giggled. “Guess I’ve never counted.” She scrubbed harder on the stain. “How are you doing with the Build a Block party?”
“I’ve got a few people lined up, but several of our usual volunteers are having trouble committing.”
“Just like men.” Cameron switched tubs and waved her spoon wildly, sending a river of chocolate ice cream spiraling down her arm.
Rachel giggled and tossed her a towel. “You’re going to be sticky by the time you’re through.”
“No doubt.” Cameron dabbed the chocolate mess. “I’ve got a few more calls to make. Surely there’s someone I can intimidate. Do we need more donations?”
“Always.” Rachel replaced the lids on the ice cream cartons. “We really need more muscle. Maybe you can get Max to help.”
Cameron froze with her spoon in her mouth. “Now, why would I want to do that? Godzilla and I get along much better away from each other.”
Rachel bit her bottom lip and gave Cameron a desperate look. “It’s for a good cause,” she continued, knowing Cameron’s big heart would get the best of her.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Cameron tossed her spoon in the sink. “You know I can’t say no to you when you look like that.”
“I know,” she said smugly. “That’s why I’m doing it. Is it working?”
“Okay,” Cameron huffed, “I’ll see what I can do. But only for you, Rachel. Only for you.”
“Thanks, Cameron.” Rachel gave her a quick squeeze. “You’re the best friend a girl could ever have.”
Cameron giggled as they left the kitchen and returned to the living room. “Enough with the syrupy stuff.”
“It shouldn’t take long then." Rachel paused at the thud near the front of the house. She looked at Cameron and frowned. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.”
Cameron walked to the front door and eased it open just a crack.
“Open it further. I can’t see.” Rachel attempted to widen her view, but Cameron held tight.
“Um, Rachel, I think we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
Cameron opened the door and Rachel gasped. Parked in front of the door instead of in the garage, her Mercedes sported five huge scratches down the passenger side, from the front bumper to the rear. Something was written in red lipstick across the front windshield.
“What does it say?” she asked, trying to get around Cameron.
“I can’t tell from here.” Cameron blocked her path. “What are you doing? Whoever did that could still be out there!”
Rachel closed her eyes and felt the hair stand on the back of her neck. “Cameron, Max closed the gate when we came in.”
Cameron bit her bottom lip. “Where’s the blonde Adonis?”
Rachel stuck her head out the door. “Brett?”
When he didn’t answer, Rachel stepped onto the porch to look around the area.
“Oh God, Cameron.”
Brett’s limp body lay in a heap near the side of the house, a baseball bat next to him.
Cameron grabbed her cell phone and started frantically pushing buttons. “I’m calling Hawke.”
“Hawke?! No! Call the police!”
Cameron held up her other hand to silence Rachel’s hysteria. “He’ll bring King Kong. We’ll get better results if we call him.” She tapped her toe in impatience, ready to scream when Hawke finally answered. “Hawke! Where are you?”
“On my way back to Rachel’s. What’s wrong?”
“Max just dropped us off. Brett’s passed out on the lawn and somebody vandalized Rachel’s car. There’s a message on her window written in red lipstick.”
“What does the message say?”
“We didn’t get close enough to read it.”
“Are you still inside?”
“Yes.”
“Shut the door and arm the house.” Hawke released a loud breath. “Shit, Max is on my other line. Do not hang up, Cameron.”
“Bossy.” Cameron huffed and headed back out the door.
“What are you doing?” Rachel pulled on Cameron’s arm. “You can’t go out there.”
Cameron grabbed Rachel’s hand. “We’ll just take a peek and see what the message says, then run back inside.”
“Did Hawke send us out here?” Rachel asked as they inched closer to the car.
“Um, not exactly,” Cameron hedged. “Sometimes it’s necessary to take things into your own hands.”
Rachel took a step further down the driveway toward the area where Brett lay. “Get back over here,” Cameron hissed at her.
“We can’t leave him out here. Help me drag him inside.”
Cameron lift
ed the cell phone back to her ear. “Hold on a sec, Hawke.”
A colorful string of curse words flew from the handset as Cameron slid her phone inside her bra. She followed Rachel past the car and onto the front lawn where Brett lay face down.
Rachel bent beside him and placed two fingers to Brett’s neck. “Oh thank Heaven. He’s still breathing.”
Cameron sucked in a quick breath. “That’s an ugly lump on the back of his head.”
“How should we do this?”
Cameron twisted her lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t move him. What if he’s hurt somewhere else?”
Rachel frowned. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that.” She tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her ear then reached to push Brett’s hair back from his face. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s just knocked out.”
Cameron threw her hands into the air. “Let’s just do it.”
Rachel nodded. “I’ll roll him over, then I’ll take his hands and you take his feet.”
As soon as Brett lay on his back, Rachel and Cameron lifted him.
“Good grief,” Cameron grunted, “he’s solid, that’s for sure.”
Within the next few minutes, Brett rested on one side in the living room behind the sofa.
Cameron plucked her phone from her bra, still sucking air from carrying Brett. “Hawke?”
“I’m still here.”
“The message says: He’s mine. You’re dead.”
The line went silent for a split second and panic began to creep up her spine. “Hawke?”
“I’m here. You went outside?”
“Duh.” Cameron rolled her eyes. “We carried Brett inside with us.”
“Is his earpiece still in his ear?”
Cameron bent and pushed Brett’s hair back from the side of his face. “Yes, wires and all.”
“Okay good. What flavor was the lipstick?”
Cameron frowned. “What?”
“The lipstick on the window, Cameron. What flavor was it?”
“How should I know?” Cameron turned to Rachel and widened her eyes. “You won’t believe this. He wants me to taste the lipstick.”
“He’s got an unusual talent,” Rachel mumbled.
Cameron stuck one hand on her hip. “I’m drawing the line, Hawke. You can do it yourself.”
Hawke lowered his voice. “Max is on the way.”
“Oh great!” Cameron gave a weak laugh as her tightly strung nerves began to unwind. “I can’t wait until he gets here.”
“Who?” Rachel pushed her hair back from her forehead.
Cameron raised both eyebrows. “Superman.”
“Even Superman can’t help you now,” a voice said behind them.
Rachel grabbed Cameron’s arm and they both spun around to see who addressed them. Cameron had to blink twice to focus.
Monica Kensington stood in Rachel’s front entry with a gun centered right at Rachel’s forehead.
“By the time anyone gets here, you’ll be dead.” Monica glanced at Cameron. “Hang up the phone and throw it across the room.”
“I gotta go,” Cameron said into the phone before she snapped it closed and threw it at Monica.
Monica dodged the flying object and cocked the trigger. “You really want to start something with me?” She moved the gun to aim at Cameron.
Cameron folded her arms across her chest. “Not really.”
Rachel took her hand and squeezed. “Cameron,” she whispered, “don’t aggravate her.”
Monica waved the gun in circles. “Shut up! This is all your fault. If you hadn’t found the flash drive, I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“You don’t have to kill us.” Rachel inserted herself between the crazed woman and Cameron.
Monica gave an evil smile. “Oh yes, I do. I’ve waited years for this opportunity.” She used the gun to point. “In the living room.”
Rachel took Cameron’s hand and headed into the living room. “I don’t understand,” she said when she stopped near the sofa. “I haven’t known you that long.”
“You see, Rachel, Kensington is my maiden name. Bridgewater was my married name.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “You’re not the woman in the papers.”
“A little hair dye, colored contacts, and no one ever suspected.”
Rachel’s mind spun, thoroughly confused by the whole turn of events. Monica was the terrorist? Or did Hawke have it all wrong? “Monica, just put down the gun and we’ll talk about this.”
Monica snorted. “Sure, and then we’ll go shopping together on Saturday.”
“There’s a shoe sale on Saturday,” Cameron suggested weakly.
“Stop!” Monica shrieked. “Everything was on track until you intercepted the flash drives. But I can fix this. I’ll take you out and everything will be fine.”
Rachel swallowed hard, now convinced they were on borrowed time. “Diego will kill you, Monica.”
Monica’s face reddened and she cocked the gun. “You know nothing about my relationship with Manuel Diego.”
“I know enough to figure out he’s using you.” Like Hawke used me. Rachel ignored the pain in her heart. “You’re a pawn. Once he gets those flash drives, you become unnecessary.”
Monica laughed. “You underestimate my influence, Rachel. Without me Diego would have a hard time getting the drives.”
Rachel resisted the urge to shake her head at Monica’s unbelievable insanity. Did she not realize Diego most likely employed an unlimited army of peons under him? “I don’t understand.”
“Diego’s cronies can’t get in and out of the building as easily as I can. The security manager of our building and I are very close. I erase myself from the surveillance tapes every time I visit the mail room.”
***
Brett awoke to the sound of a persistent voice in his left ear.
“Steele, damn it, wake up!”
He lay still for a few seconds and took stock of his body parts while he tried to locate the source of his pain. He lifted his hand to the pulsing area of pain on the back of his head, cursing under his breath at the mountain-sized knot.
“Steele! If you can hear me, don’t speak, just tap the earpiece twice.”
Brett frowned at the sound of Shadow’s voice. That didn’t make a whole helluva lot of sense, but he tapped the microphone.
He opened his eyes and finally managed to figure out he was behind the sofa in Rachel’s living room. With the mother of all headaches, he crawled on all fours to the kitchen.
“Welcome back.” Shadow released a heavy sigh. “Long story short, the perp took a baseball bat to your head. We need Intel. Sterling should be entering the house now.”
Distracted by the pounding in his temples, Brett swallowed a wave of apprehension when his left leg was suddenly yanked out from under him. Years of military training kicked in as he spun around, his fists primed to pummel his attacker. Sterling grabbed one fist in mid-air, squeezed, and pointed back at the living room. Brett nodded a silent understanding and inched closer to their target.
***
Rachel decided she and Cameron had a better chance of survival if she kept Monica talking. “How did you get in here?”
Monica shrugged. “It really wasn’t that difficult. I climbed a tree and waited.”
Rachel glanced at Cameron. Environmentalism probably had its advantages. Any other time.
“Brett saw you.”
Monica nodded. “Only for a second.”
“Monica, really.” Rachel worked to keep her voice calm. “This is so unnecessary. Don’t you think this will make matters worse?”
“Save it. This wouldn’t have gone so far if the gargantuan bodyguard wasn’t quite so skilled.”
“Yeah,” Cameron mumbled. “A major overachiever.”
“I would’ve taken you out long before now, Rachel. When the Rohypnol failed, I was sure the bullet would prove my point.”
“Perfect.” Rachel squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Only on
e in fifty groupies becomes a stalker and I found the one.” She lifted her head. “So you tried to kill me.”
“Not kill you, dear. Just scare you away. How does it feel to be denied something you treasure?”
Rachel lifted an eyebrow. “Just peachy.”
Monica shrugged. “I tried to warn Hawke about you but he just didn’t understand.”
“He was probably too interested in the lipstick,” Rachel mumbled.
***
Brett walked his elbows across the cool, marble kitchen tile, his body slithering behind him, as he attempted to gain access to the action in the living room. As soon as he was close enough to tuck himself into the shadows behind the sofa, he glanced over his shoulder to secure Sterling’s location. Sterling gave a silent nod from behind the archway of the kitchen. The moment Brett eased to his knees his heart pounded. Things just officially got real complicated.
He motioned for Sterling to go back to the kitchen.
“New development,” Steele whispered. “Somebody invited Diego.”
“Take. Him. Out.” Hawke’s low voice shook the airwaves with his rage.
Steele’s eyes widened and he glanced at Sterling for clarification.
Sterling shook his head and spoke clearly into his headset. “Stand down, Hawke. Wait for my signal.”
Steele felt the hair stand on the back of his neck when he heard a short, high-pitched whistle from the other room. He glanced at Sterling. “Silencer, Captain. Someone’s down.”
Hawke’s voice was the next across the waves. “Somebody tell me who.”
Steele crawled to the doorway and stood up just inside the arch. “Relax, Hawke. It’s Monica.” He signaled Sterling to the side opposite him while he monitored the activity in the living room.
“Ladies, it looks like I have a small dilemma.” Diego casually waved the gun in the air and stepped over Monica’s body. “I could just kill both of you now and be done with it. Or, we could wait for your SEAL team and I could eliminate all of you at once.”
Rachel’s already pale face lost even more color. The barracuda next to her, however, cocked her head to one side and narrowed her baby blues on Diego. “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.”