by Rachel Grant
Nicole leaned back and smiled. “You made peace?”
“More or less.” Probably less, but hoping for more.
“Did you talk to her about Vincent Dawson?”
“I did.”
“Are you thinking her theory of what happened to Dawson has merit?” she asked.
He wondered what Nicole expected him to say almost more than he wondered what she wanted him to say. “I have to consider it, given what happened to me.”
Nicole cocked her head. “You think you were dragged off into a cave and tortured?” There was a hint of alarm in her gaze, but she hid it well. He had no doubt if he said an emphatic yes, she’d say she believed him, even as she mentally composed her report to the company shrink.
“No. But something happened to me, and I ended up deep in the woods with a blow to the head, and I can’t remember it.” He wouldn’t mention the potential for infrasound now. He wanted to talk to Keith and maybe even Curt first.
“I bet Barstow or that weasel Stimson is behind it.”
“Norm Stimson is a shit and a dirty politician, but I don’t think he’s that dirty. Simon Barstow on the other hand… I think he’d kill me in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it.”
“Shit, Rav. Do you really think it was attempted murder?”
“Unless they knew Isabel would find me and had the skills to stop the bleeding and get me out of the cold, yes. I probably would have died if not for her.”
“You seem so fine now. It’s hard to imagine it was that bad. What if you’d come to on your own? You could have stopped the bleeding and hiked out to the road.”
“I had no clue where I was. I could just have easily hiked for days in the wrong direction. I had no supplies. I’d have been screwed without her.”
“Can you get your buddy Dominick to investigate Barstow?”
“Curt is aware of my suspicions of Simon Barstow, but he can’t simply sic the FBI on the bastard because I’m mad his company is swiping my best operatives. Nothing Apex has done is illegal.” That we know of.
Nicole opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time, her assistant knocked on her open office door. “Falcon team has gathered in the northwest conference room.”
He thanked Hans and headed to the meeting with Nicole. When he reached the open double doors to the conference room, he frowned. Only seven operatives sat around the table. He glanced sideways at his director. “Three down? I thought it was only two.”
“Ted Godfrey tendered his resignation yesterday afternoon. I was just about to tell you. Barstow again.”
“Apex made him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”
She nodded.
Alec cursed. The rival company had been cherry-picking his best operatives for eighteen months. He didn’t know what the hell Simon Barstow could be offering, because Alec paid top dollar, and in exit interviews, his former employees never uttered a complaint about Raptor, work at the Alaska compound, Nicole as director, or anything that explained why they’d chosen to leave the company. But he suspected Barstow made his employees sign a confidentiality agreement that was even stricter than Raptor’s.
He entered the conference room and paused by his seat at the head of the table, nodding to the men already seated, among them Brad Fraser and the others who’d invaded the remote cabin just twelve hours ago. Three of them had been with Brad at the Roadhouse earlier. Nicole took her customary seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Because this has been a long day for most of us, I’m going to keep this short and sweet.” He’d intended to tell Nicole before announcing to Falcon, but he’d spent precious minutes looking up infrasound, and by the time he made it to her office, there hadn’t been time. It was entirely possible he’d made a subconscious choice, knowing this would upset her, but she’d keep her cool in front of Falcon. “Tomorrow, Keith Hatcher, a former Navy SEAL I worked with on several ops when I was a Ranger, will arrive at the compound. Keith is coming here to tour the facility, meet my top operatives, and observe the training, because when I return to Maryland, I will officially step down as CEO of Raptor and Keith will take over.”
A few operatives allowed surprise to show on their faces, but only one, a young man Alec couldn’t name, made a low whistling sound as his gaze darted from Alec to Nicole in shock.
For her part, Nicole sat in stone-faced silence.
“I wanted Falcon to know before anyone else, and I ask that you all refrain from sharing this information until the official announcement.”
“Is this because of the campaign?” Nate Sufentes, an operative who’d been on Falcon team since before Alec bought the company, asked.
“Yes. If I win, all my financial assets will be folded into a blind trust. Physical assets, like Raptor, remain my property, but because of Raptor’s government contracts, I’ll be forbidden from being involved in any management decisions. I’ve decided to step down early so I can focus on the campaign during the final days.”
“And if you lose?” Dev Kalla asked. Kalla was from India and a relatively new hire. He was the first Raptor operative to come from a foreign army.
“Then Hatcher’s tenure as CEO will be short,” Alec said.
“So, wait…” the operative who’d whistled asked. “Then who’s running the training this week? You? This Hatcher guy, or Markwell?”
Nicole stiffened and cast a glare at the young operative.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name?” Alec said to the man.
“Johnston, sir. Chase Johnston.”
Alec remembered him now. One of the few hires who didn’t have a military background. He’d gone through police academy training and was waitlisted for a job in Anchorage when he’d applied to Raptor. That someone without combat experience sat on Falcon was telling. Simon Barstow had swiped too many experienced operatives. “Director Markwell will remain in charge of the compound. There are no changes planned for the structure and running of this facility,” Alec said.
Nicole stood again. “Is that all, Mr. Ravissant?” Nicole hadn’t mistered him in a long time. She was well and truly pissed.
“Yes.”
“Great. We’ll gather again as soon as Mr. Hatcher arrives. Dismissed.” She stood and headed for the door.
“Nic. Wait. I need to speak with you.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and spoke with her back to him. “Yes, of course, Mr. Ravissant.”
The members of Falcon team couldn’t escape the room fast enough. In a flash, only Nicole and Alec remained in the conference room.
“Sit down, Nic.”
Even though she was no longer in the Army, Nicole knew when to comply with a direct order. She sat.
“You’re angry,” Alec said.
“Damn right I am. You know I wanted that promotion. Dammit, Rav. You led me to believe—”
“No. I didn’t. I told you I was looking outside the organization, because I need you to continue as compound director. I said that if I couldn’t find a replacement from outside, you topped my list of internal promotions.”
“I could sue. Sex discrimination—”
“Don’t threaten me, Nicole. You know it’s not true. The simple fact is, there’s a lot of upheaval going on in the organization. We’ve lost too many key operatives to Apex; if things don’t turn around in Texas, that compound will be closed. And, I’m leaving. I want you to continue as Alaska compound director to ease the transition. I’ve already completed the paperwork with human resources to raise your salary. You’re being given the title Vice President of Operations in addition to compound director.”
“But my duties won’t change.”
“Not really. Not for the first six months anyway. We’ll see what happens with the election. If I win, Keith will be calling the shots, and I’ve made sure he knows how valuable you are to the company.”
She pursed her lips then asked, “How big is my raise?”
Alec smiled. Retaining her would cost him, but he was ready to pay. “Two grand a mont
h.”
The rigidness of her posture slipped a fraction. “I suppose that eases the sting a bit.” She glanced around the conference room. “Although I have no idea what I’m going to do with extra money when I live in a windowless monstrosity in the middle of a frigid wasteland.”
“Vacation in Hawaii?”
She leaned back in her seat and looked at him speculatively. “You have a house there, right? I’m not talking about at the compound on Oahu, but on Kauai. The beach house. The one that was in Architectural Digest.”
Alec smiled, knowing where this was going. “Yes.”
“I want the house for a two-week vacation. In February—when this place is so damn cold I feel like I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
“No problem. I’ll have HR add the stipulation to your contract.”
“Not just this year. Every year.”
He laughed. “Deal.” He rarely visited the Kauai house anyway, and if offering it as an employment perk helped retain a valuable employee, so be it. He’d do anything to keep Apex from stealing Nicole too.
“Fine. When, exactly, do I get to meet my new boss?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Maybe he’ll agree to change the format of the hostage scenario…”
Alec smiled. “A week from Monday, you can collude with Keith to change my scenarios all you want, but until then, we do the trainings my way.”
Chapter Ten
Isabel jolted awake, unsure what had pulled her from sleep. Then she heard it again. Someone was shooting bear bangers outside her cabin. Her first reaction was irritation that the Raptor boys were messing with her again. They’d shot off bear bangers a few times in the past. The first time happened right after a congressional committee investigating safety measures at the compound voted to close the facility for two months so they could evaluate the training safety procedures.
She’d reported the harassment, and Officer Westover had conducted a halfhearted investigation. Alec had made a statement through his attorney that there was no evidence his men had trespassed on her property or, for that matter, that anyone had shot bear bangers outside her windows at all. And that was it.
Now they were at it again. The dregs of sleep left her as they fired a third shot. A loud report, like an M-80 firework, it was designed to startle bears—but it worked equally well on humans, and Isabel couldn’t help but feel more than a little freaked out.
Why would Raptor operatives do this to her now? She had a truce with Alec, and the compound was set to reopen in a few days.
For the first time, she considered that it might not be Raptor who’d been harassing her, and the idea that some unknown person or group wanted to scare her sent an extra chill down her spine.
She grabbed her shotgun from the closet and went to the living room to grab the cell phone that had been delivered several hours ago. Her cabin was dark inside, but outside, the gray light of the late summer night made it all too easy to see across the meadow to where a man stood. He reloaded his bear banger pistol, and pointed it directly at her.
She lunged for the phone, then dropped to the floor, scooting backward, away from the window, wondering if the man had seen her, or if he’d just been aiming for the single front window.
If she called 9-1-1, Westover would take his sweet time in getting here. Alec was closer. She hit the Call button as another banger sounded.
His voice was groggy. “I hope this is a booty call and not an emergency, Iz.”
“There’s someone in the meadow shooting bear bangers again.”
He didn’t respond, and she wondered if he didn’t believe her. He never had before, why should this be any different?
“I saw him—” Before she could finish, the window shattered. “Oh my God! The front window—”
Pain exploded in her head. Had she been hit by whatever shattered the window? She groaned as nausea settled in her belly.
“Iz, are you okay? What’s happening?”
“H-hh-hurts. S-s-ooo much…”
Isabel let out another groan—the kind Alec had heard in combat, when a soldier was in serious pain. Infrasound again? He pulled on his jeans as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “I’m coming, honey. Hold on. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Gonna be s-s-ick.”
“I know. Hang on. Stay with me. Keep talking if you can.”
“W-wh-what’s that?” She gasped, and the next sound wasn’t a high-pitched screech. It was a low wail of torture.
A crashing boom sounded; then he heard nothing at all.
Hurled by an explosion, Isabel flew backward as a scream erupted from her throat. She slammed into the rear door of the cabin. Pain shot from her wrist, along her arm, and across her shoulder. She grunted and twisted to see the devastation that had been her living room and was stunned to see the room wasn’t filled with smoke.
There was no shrapnel, no smell of gunpowder. Not even a wisp of flame. However, some sort of shock wave had upended her furniture—a 9.0 earthquake confined to her living room.
What the hell was that? First she’d been struck by pain that made her think her head would burst, and then her cabin was hit with a flameless explosion? Indoor windstorm?
Again, her head started to throb. Just like right before the shock wave, pain shot down her spine. She dropped to the floor, doubled over with nausea. Cold sweat broke out on her skin. She couldn’t breathe.
She was going to die.
Alec drove far too fast on the rutted dirt road and arrived at Isabel’s cabin less than twenty minutes after their call had abruptly cut off. After he lost connection with her, he’d dialed Nicole and instructed her to rouse Falcon and send them to Isabel’s. He estimated the team was five minutes behind him.
The night was still and quiet at her cabin. The only indication something had occurred was the shattered front window. A breeze stirred the wildflowers as he climbed out of the vehicle, causing them to ripple in a shadowed, sepia-hued wave. The calm normalness of it set his nerves on edge.
He scanned the area, then decided to approach the cabin head-on. With his pistol in a two-handed grip, he darted for the front door. He should wait for backup but feared Isabel didn’t have that sort of time. “Isabel?” he shouted through the shattered window.
No hurled rock had broken the double-pane window. The glass had fractured across the entire surface—just like his car windshield. A high-pitched sound wave had probably shattered it—similar to infrasound but a different frequency.
With his back to the wall, he twisted the knob on the front door—it was unlocked—and shoved it open. He entered, gun out, shifting from target to target until he was certain the room was clear.
There was no sign of Isabel, but the room was a wreck. The couch was on its side, lodged in the archway between living room and kitchen. Bookshelves lay facedown on the floor, with the contents scattered beneath.
What the hell?
“Isabel?” he called out again.
An eerie screech came from the corner, behind an overturned end table. Alec crouched down and saw wide, glowing eyes. Gandalf. Cowering. Was he injured?
He reached toward the cat, slowly, tentatively. “Where’s Isabel?” he asked the cat, feeling foolish even as he said the words. Gandalf didn’t hiss or strike out, and Alec stroked the soft fur. The cat mewed in a way that seemed to signal Alec’s touch was okay. He wanted to pull the creature out and check for injuries, but he needed to find Isabel first.
He stood and hit the Redial button on his cell, hoping to hell she’d answer this time. He startled when the tinny notes of a muffled song—he recognized the tune as “Call Me Maybe”—filled the cabin. The chorus repeated. The song was a ringtone.
She’d had the phone for only a few hours, and she’d downloaded “Call Me Maybe” for his ringtone. He was fairly certain he knew what that meant. He’d celebrate that little victory as soon as he knew she was okay.
He follo
wed the music, but it cut out before he could find the phone. He dialed again and searched the kitchen, which looked normal in comparison to the overturned living room.
The sound came from under the range.
He plucked out the phone. The screen was cracked. It must have taken a fall before it slid beneath the appliance.
Where the hell was Isabel?
Chapter Eleven
Isabel jolted awake, unsure what had pulled her from sleep. Then she heard it again. The song was playing. Someone was calling her. Not just someone. Alec. That was his ringtone.
She groaned and rolled over in her bed, then yelped at a sharp pain that shot up her wrist. What the hell? Her wrist throbbed. She was bleary and her head hurt as if she’d had too much to drink, and she couldn’t remember how she’d injured her wrist. Her stomach rolled. Had she vomited?
How much did I drink?
She’d had half a beer at the Roadhouse. Given the pain in her head, she felt like she’d had several. Maybe she’d opened a bottle of wine after Alec left? It seemed like she’d remember that.
“Isabel?” someone shouted from the living room.
She pulled her pillow over her head and groaned. Bad enough he’d called and woken her, but he was here?
Was it morning already? The gray light through the window hadn’t given much hint as to time, and she wasn’t a fan of opening her eyes to check the clock.
No way could she hike out with him today. All she wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep off the worst hangover of her life. “Go away,” she muttered into the mattress.
“Jesus, Iz. I was scared to death. What happened?”
“Leave me alone. I just need sleep.”
“You need to tell me what happened. I heard the explosion.”
He could hear her head exploding? That made no sense. “Nothing happened. I just have a hangover. Go away.” She curled into a ball, then whimpered when she again put her weight on her wrist. “Why does my wrist hurt?” she whispered. She turned over and met Alec’s concerned gaze. “Did I drink too much last night?”