Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14)

by Irish Winters

  “Ellie will make that call for you.” Randy leaned back in his seat and blew out a sigh. “You never know. With the right handling, Courtney might brush today off like it never happened. Kids are resilient, but you and his mother will need to watch closely for signs of withdrawal or guilt. The world used to be a safe place. It’s not anymore. He learned a hard lesson today at the hands of someone he trusted. He may experience out-of-control moments of anger or shame. He may have nightmares or regress to bedwetting.”

  “Got it,” Hunter said. “He may have some PTSD.”

  “Exactly.” Randy’s eyes lit up. “I take it you’ve had some experience with post-traumatic stress?”

  Hunter started to shake his head, but what the hell. If Courtney could man up, so could he. “I guess,” he admitted. There was no sense lying.

  Randy cocked his head. “Are you angry all the time? Hyper-vigilant? Do you have night sweats? Nightmares? Have you gotten professional help?”

  Hunter swallowed his pride. Hell, he’d been angry for years. “I will now.”

  “Good.” Randy held out a hand. “Have a good night, but understand—this child trusts you, and right now, he’s fragile. He needs someone in his corner who’ll fight the monsters under his bed. Another thing, find that dirtbag father of his and end the son-of-a-bitch.”

  The doctor’s vehemence took Hunter by surprise. He shook Randy’s hand with a sincere promise. “Don’t worry. I intend to.”

  Exiting the cubicle, his gaze landed on Courtney sitting with Nurse Ellis and still squeezing the daylight out of that black plush bear. “Hey, buddy. You ready to go?”

  Courtney dropped Black Jack and ran headlong into Hunter’s arms. He crouched to catch him, but damn. The second the kid hit his chest, Courtney wrenched his heart all over again. “You safe, Hunner,” he breathed. “I gotcha.”

  Didn’t that beat all? It had been a long time since Hunter had been safe, or safe to be around, for that matter, but here was this little guy. Reaching out. Thinking of someone else instead of dwelling on his own nightmare. Yeah. This was definitely Meredith’s son.

  And someday, he’d be Courtney Christian.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Being forced to stand-down and wait, having to rely on someone else’s rules of engagement, made for the worst times in war for Hunter. Yet, there he and Lee were, hunkered down in a TEAM SUV, parked outside Welch’s mansion in Woodland/Normanstone Terrace—waiting. Hunter sat in the driver’s seat while Lee took shotgun. He would’ve been inside with guns blazing if he’d had his way, but no. The Feds were in charge, and everyone knew they moved at the speed of bureaucratic bullshit.

  With Courtney safe with his grandparents, Hunter was free to engage—once he got permission from the almighty Bureau. That didn’t stop him from setting up The TEAM game board with a little help from his friends.

  Maverick and Taylor were now in the courtyard at MI, watching for Meredith and the dayshift to arrive. Zack and Seth were hanging out on the street outside McCormack Industries, handling the unexpected unknowns that never failed to screw up an operation. Murphy’s Law never took a day off, and Hunter wanted them close at hand if needed. Mother was back at the office, backtracking the creator of that designer drug in the hypos he’d found.

  Ember and her husband, Junior Agent Rory Dennison, were double-teaming Welch’s vast empire of ill-gotten assets, digging into his financials and the history between him and his conquests. Rory had a theory that Welch wasn’t just lucky in the corporate world, that he’d specifically targeted—or blackmailed—certain CEOs. For what, Rory didn’t yet know, but he suspected it had something to do with what Hunter had found at APG.

  Hunter let the Dennisons run with it. It’d be good to know how Welch had gotten wealthy as quickly as he had. The jock Hunter had known in college just wasn’t that smart.

  To put it mildly, Welch’s mansion was outrageously extravagant. Red clay tiles topped the three-story Mediterranean-style residence. Hunter best guessed it at twenty thousand square-feet. Three stories. Stucco exterior. Arched windows. Manicured lawns. A multi-toned gray brick driveway curved around a concrete pool in the front yard, itself barricaded behind black iron fencing and overflowing with lily pads and water hyacinths.

  When they’d been on duty, Maverick and Taylor had detected Meredith’s soft voice soon inside the residence, but they hadn’t gotten much more than muffled conversations since. It was almost as if Welch had intentionally soundproofed certain rooms in his home. Interesting…

  The few snatches Hunter had detected of Meredith’s voice hadn’t sounded panicked. Distressed, yes, but she didn’t seem to be in danger. So far, Welch had been civil with her—the only reason he still breathed. That and the very real fact that Hunter could get inside that house in seconds and end Welch if need be. God knew he wanted to.

  His mind drifted back over the day. The final count out of Aberdeen was nine little boys, all under the age of ten. They hadn’t been starved, but all had been sadly used and all claimed Welch kidnapped them. For now, their parents had been notified. Aberdeen’s commanding officer held off releasing any information to the press, pending the alleged FBI imminent takedown of Welch. God, they were slow to move.

  Alex was somewhere working contingency scenarios with Jed McCormack, Welch’s primary target. He’d used Courtney to get to Meredith, and Meredith to get to Jed. That was the only thing that made sense. The question was how Welch intended to strike back. And when.

  The bastard didn’t know it, the FBI either, but they both had until sunrise to make their move. After that, Hunter was going in—with or without the Bureau’s permission.

  Suddenly, Meredith’s voice came through his earpiece loud and crisp. “A… a bomb?”

  Hunter stilled while Lee adjusted the highly sensitive microphone to better amplify the conversation. Hunter couldn’t make out Welch’s reply. Only paper shuffling, a snap and a click and a—slap?

  “And I said…” Meredith’s terse reply trailed off, but damn. Welch’s garage door lifted just as a sliver of sunlight broke to the east. An immaculate silver Maserati GranTurismo eased out of the driveway and onto the street.

  “Game time,” Lee alerted The TEAM, relaying license plate number, make and model of car, and the direction Welch was heading.

  A quick “Copy that,” came back from Alex, then Zack and Maverick, then Mother. Hunter squinted through two sets of darkened windows, his and Welch’s, hoping to catch a glimpse of Meredith.

  “Do not break cover,” Alex reminded his guys.

  “Copy that,” Hunter replied as he shifted the SUV into drive. Not until I have to, Boss.

  As suspected, Welch hooked into I-66 and crossed the Potomac, then swung right onto Lee Highway, headed directly for Rosslyn, Virginia, the home of McCormack Industries.

  “Coming straight to you,” Lee informed The TEAM just as Hunter took a quick detour that put him ahead of Welch by seconds. He and Lee rolled to a stop at the intersection in time to watch the Maserati pass by.

  “You’re playing this awfully close,” Lee muttered.

  “I know,” Hunter grunted. Not as close as I’d like.

  Feeling lucky, he pulled a U-turn and parked a block ahead of the Maserati on the same side of the street. The passenger door swung open and there she was. Meredith. Still breathtaking, dressed to the nines in a slim red dress, one of those designs that hugged her hips and accentuated her full breasts. Hunter couldn’t tear his eyes off the goddess in his rearview. If he had his way, he’d be out there with her. Protecting her. The FBI had better get their act together—soon!

  “Here she comes,” he told his guys.

  But the woman was tense, her shoulders taut. Her spine ramrod straight. Her chin set and her face forward. The high-priced Halliburton carbon fiber attaché case in her right hand caught Hunter’s attention. He’d used the same type of briefcase once in Indonesia when he’d exchanged a ransom for a kidnapped five-year-old girl.

  “The
queen is wired and carrying explosives,” Lee apprised The TEAM. “You guys know what to do.”

  “I’m going in,” Hunter decided, his hand already on the door handle. Either Welch had the detonator or he’d planted a timer inside the case. Or both.

  “Stay,” Alex hissed. “Cut her some slack, Hunt. Meredith’s no dummy.”

  “Then everyone needs to stand down. Do not approach. I repeat, don’t approach Meredith. Welch will blow that case in her hand if you do!” I gawddamned know he will.

  Meredith came to a dead halt in the center of the MI courtyard. She seemed frozen, staring straight ahead at nothing. She’s afraid. “You can do this, Baby. I know you can,” he breathed, his heart pounding like a mother in his chest.

  Damned if Jed didn’t step out of nowhere, smiling in that easy way he had as he fell in step beside her. Hunter about lost it. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He owns the place,” Lee replied.

  “I know that,” Hunter snapped as a chill shuddered up his spine. “Where the hell’s the FBI?”

  “Still in transit.” Alex whispered so softly that a visual instantly sprang to Hunter’s mind. His boss. Flat on his belly. His scope up against his eye socket. The crosshairs dead center of Welch’s forehead. That picture of his lethal boss actually—helped. Alex had his six.

  Hunter kept one eye on the Maserati behind him, the other on McCormack Industries ahead. Everything was up to Meredith now.

  All Hunter could do was wait.

  McCormack Industries

  Established 1990

  Rosslyn, Virginia

  The gold lettering etched into the magnificent red sandstone, itself standing on end in a bed of red gravel, declared Jed McCormack’s success for the world to see. Fingers of water trickled in grooves from the top of the monolith. In weathered copper, an artist’s rendering of Jed graced the red brick walkway, almost as if the man himself welcomed visitors and business associates alike into his world. Darkened by time, the statue’s smiling eyes seemed fixed on Meredith. She couldn’t take another step.

  Jed McCormack. Ever watchful. Extra kind. Almost fatherly.

  Meredith Flynn. The liar come home to disappoint. The traitor. The destroyer.

  Forced to endure a night of meticulous planning without much sleep, she’d come to MI wired to the gills with caffeine. Sporting a unique pair of wrap-around Oakley sunglasses, everything in her line of sight and every spoken word was now transmitted back to Eddy, hiding down the block in his sports car like the snake he was.

  Choice had ceased to be an option. Motherly instinct controlled her every thought and desire, her every action and reaction. Today was about getting Courtney back, and, if she lived long enough—killing Eddy.

  Paralyzed with fear, she stood stock still, her mind on fire with the treachery of her mission. Could she go through with Eddy’s scheme? Could she cause untold death and misery, unimaginable destruction and suffering to others—just to save her child?

  In a word—yes. Courtney would die a slow death at Eddy’s hand if she didn’t.

  “Remember who depends on you, Mom,” Eddy’s sarcastic voice threatened through the earpiece secreted deep inside her ear. “Do this, and you’ll get your kid tonight. Double-deal me, and you’ll never see him again. I’ll just send pictures. Maybe body parts.”

  Grinding her teeth so hard that her jaw hurt, Meredith took a deliberate step toward the classy entry to MI. She walked up to the doors. The reflection in that plate-glass almost looked like her. The simple red A-line dress with black piping fit her style. So did the practical black pumps. Even the sunglasses. From head to toe, that stern-faced woman staring back at her looked like the top-notch technical assistant to MI’s hotshot engineer, Teague Horton. The spy within was hidden well.

  “Hold up, young lady.” Jed sprinted from behind, his hand outstretched. “Let me get that door for you.” Tall, white-haired and regal, he never seemed out of breath or common courtesy. He ushered her inside as if he simply worked there instead of owned the place.

  “Speak,” Eddy prompted. “Open your mouth. Flirt. Kiss his ass. Do your thing.”

  She coughed, bile climbing up her throat at her deceit. “What are you doing here this early?”

  “I might be asking you the same thing. Why aren’t you home with your son?” Silvery brows narrowed over gray-blue eyes full of energy and life. Jed was a man above others, yet humble enough that he knew his workers on sight, and he called them by name.

  “I, umm, needed to get my head back in the game,” she lied just as she’d rehearsed.

  “Are you sure? I’m not a slave driver.” He stepped aside to let her enter first. “There’s still time to leave. I wouldn’t blame you. Go on. I’ll cover for you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Eddy hissed.

  “I... I’m fine. Really.” The subterfuge came easier. Meeting Jed was an added bonus to this awful day. With him at her side, she wouldn’t have to submit to the customary screening all MI employees endured upon entry. With a world of proprietary information locked behind every door, security was the order of the day. Like it or not, the world had changed, and she was there to change it again.

  Unexpectedly, the gentlemanly CEO reached down and relieved her of Eddy’s deadly briefcase. She nearly shrieked. “You d-don’t need to do that. Please. I can carry it.”

  He ignored her as together they circumvented the security system “A mother should be home with her son. Didn’t that little guy miss you while you were gone?”

  Her heart pinched at the cavalier way Jed had taken over, but what could she say? Unwittingly, her target had become her accomplice. And she’d let him. Like the coward she was.

  “He’s fine,” she murmured, her resolve shaken. What a lie. I don’t even know where he is! I need help, Jed. “If Xander doesn’t need me, I’ll go home. I just wanted to make an appearance.”

  Jed cupped her elbow and steered her toward the elevator, the briefcase still snug in his other hand. “Well, good, see that you keep it short. I need to talk with Xander myself. Might as well walk you to your office. Heaven knows mine can wait. Once I show up there, Donna will just expect me to work.”

  “Excellent,” Eddy hissed. “You’re good at this, sweetheart. You’ve got him eating right out of your hand.”

  She lowered her lashes, ashamed to her soul and hyperventilating at the high cost of betrayal. Jed was as good a man as any she’d ever known. No one matched his consideration for the military or his employees. God, how can I do this to him? To my friends?

  This entire wing was devoted to research and development. It was geared toward helping the men and women who fought for freedom, at home and abroad. Guilt for her wicked intentions chilled her core. How could she ever explain this day to Courtney? Would he understand how desperate she was, or would he blame himself?

  Darkness filled the elevator as it smoothly plummeted three levels belowground to the Research, Development, Testing and Evaluation Lab. Only Eddy had called it the kill box, and the darkness was in her soul.

  When the elevator door hissed open, she reached again for the deadly briefcase.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Jed shook his head, holding Eddy’s brand of Armageddon at arm’s length. “My mother raised a southern gentleman, Miss Flynn. You wouldn’t want me to disappoint her, would you?”

  She gulped at that revelation. “Your mom’s still alive?” How can I kill another mother’s son? That’s what I’m doing. I’m murdering sons and daughters, and—I can’t.

  “Not exactly. She’s up in heaven with my old man. Now, what’s so important you had to leave your son? Courtney, isn’t it?” he asked, his brow lifted in mischief.

  “Jesus Christ, don’t let him open it,” Eddy snapped. “The bomb has to be inside the lab when it goes off, you dumb bitch! Get the briefcase back and stick it under your desk like I told you!”

  I’m trying! Her throat clenched as tightly as her empty fingers. “Just reports and comments I made du
ring the beta test. Please. Let me take it while you speak to Xander.”

  “It’s no trouble.” Jed seemed intent on escorting her to her desk, the briefcase still in his care. At the secure entry to the lab, he pressed his thumb to the fingerprint reader. Once the electromagnetic lock beeped its approval, he leaned into MI’s next line of defense, the iris scanner. There was no audible signal that time. The latest technology in security simply authenticated the pattern in Jed’s iris, and, just like that, she and the bomb were—in.

  Meredith stopped as the thirteen-inch thick door hissed shut behind her. She and Jed were now standing inside the steel-reinforced walls of the world’s finest research lab. Blast resistant glass doors lined the wall at her left, each one the entry to one of MI’s top-secret research labs. The ActiveCamouflage suits. The stealth drone prototype. The next generation geostationary satellite system.

  “Hey, Meredith!” Xander waved at her from across the bay. “Good to see you back.”

  Her hand lifted in a half-hearted response. This was the last time she’d see this place. These men. The walls would contain the blast, turning everything and everyone within this section of MI to ash. There’d be no fire because there’d be no ventilation. No oxygen. There’d be nothing left of—anyone.

  “How’s your headache?”

  In a daze, Meredith blinked at Jed, not sure when he’d turned around to look at her, or how many times he’d asked that question. “My h-h-headache?”

  He took a step toward her. “What’s wrong? You’re still wearing your dark glasses. I figured you had a migraine.”

  If you only knew. “Oh, umm, yes. A migraine.” She was falling apart little by little. “I’ve already taken extra-strength pain reliever. Hope it works soon.”

  Jed reached for her, his fingertips barely skimming her jaw. He frowned. “You’re trembling, Meredith. Are you sure you should be here today?”

  God, what a question. “I, ah—”

  “Let him keep the damned briefcase! Get your ass out of there,” Eddy hissed. “If he’s staying to talk with the engineer, your work’s done. Move it.”