Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3)

by Marissa Garner

  Groaning, Ben opened his eyes. “What…happened?” he asked groggily.

  “Natural gas. The fuckers must’ve had it rigged so they could turn it on and ignite it remotely. I heard a hissing and clicking sound as Kat and I hauled ass out of there, but no smell. But damn, it was strong when I opened the back door. Saved our butts by giving us a few seconds to dive behind that wall.”

  Ben groaned again when he turned his head to look around. “Holy shit. How’d we get out of there?”

  Dillon leaned over and punched him in the arm. “You’re a slacker, Alfren. Got a little bump on the head and you had to catch a ride.”

  Ben covered his eyes with his hand and groaned again. “Fuck off, O’Malley…or my head will explode all over you. Why didn’t you man up and carry me yourself?”

  “I was crawling out of there with your sorry ass on my back when this prick showed up and stole all the glory.”

  “Well, excuse me for saving both your sorry asses,” Conrad interrupted.

  “Stop it. Just stop it. Don’t you realize what…what almost…” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t continue.

  “Of course we do.” Dillon grinned through the grimy mask on his face. “This is how we deal with it.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m glad you can joke about it because I can’t.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard before snuggling against him. “If you were on all fours with Ben on your back, that’s why you looked like a huge grizzly bear through the smoke.”

  “Guess so. Don’t recommend it as a mode of transportation, but I wasn’t stable enough with this damn ankle to carry him standing upright.”

  They all looked up when screeching sirens filled the air and ended their conversation. Two fire engines, a police car, and two ambulances roared down the street. People scattered out of their way.

  The first responders poured from the vehicles and immediately set to work. The firefighters and police shouted orders. The gushing of the hoses added to the roar of the fire. Organized chaos reigned.

  The paramedics swarmed the two injured men. Someone wrapped a blanket around Dillon and another fastened an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. A voice hammered him with questions. The frenzy of activity made him nauseous.

  Dillon tried to keep one eye on Kat and Conrad as they were buffeted by the shuffle of faces, but when he closed his burning eyes for a second, he lost them. Minutes later, before he could stop them, the EMTs loaded him onto a gurney and shoved him into an ambulance.

  “Where’s Kat?” he yelled at Conrad who appeared at the ambulance door just before it slammed shut.

  * * *

  Kat lay on the pullout bed beside Skye’s crib in the hospital room. She should’ve been dead asleep because she was beyond exhausted, but residual adrenaline from the night’s events had her staring at the ceiling.

  Thank God, the ER doctor’s examination of Skye had revealed no problems other than slight dehydration. She had no drugs in her system and no signs of physical abuse. The pediatrician on call strongly recommended admitting her for observation until late morning. Kat concurred. By the time they had reached this hospital room, Skye had fallen asleep in her mother’s arms.

  Kat rolled onto her side so she could see her baby and reassure herself that Skye was safe. It would probably be a while before she’d be comfortable leaving her daughter with anyone, even her folks.

  The door opened, and someone shuffled into the room. Kat closed her eyes. She really couldn’t handle any more questions right now. It would only prolong the adrenaline flow keeping her awake.

  She heard the person approach the crib. An instant of terror struck, and her eyes popped open. But when she saw Dillon, she closed her eyes to slits. Why she didn’t say something, she didn’t know. But the need to watch him, unaware, overwhelmed her.

  Rigid and still, he stood beside the crib and just stared at Skye for a long time. His face revealed no intense emotions, but something more akin to bewilderment. Tears began to leak from Kat’s eyes.

  Dillon reached over the side of the crib as if he wanted to touch Skye, but his hand stalled several inches above her.

  You can touch her, Dillon. She’s your child, our child, our creation. Touch her, please touch her. Let me see that you care.

  He remained frozen for several minutes. Then he grimaced. He yanked his hand back and slammed his fist against his thigh. Without a backward glance, he trudged out of the room.

  The sound Kat heard was not his footsteps. It was her heart breaking.

  Chapter 30

  Late Friday morning, Dillon lay in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. His body ached from head to foot but not with anything serious. Considering the events of last night and this morning, he considered himself lucky to be alive. He’d been shot at and almost blown up, but those things were part of his job so he knew how to deal with them.

  His mental and emotional condition worried him more. Learning he was a father had shaken his world to the core.

  This morning, he’d tried to process exactly what it meant for him and Kat. And he still wasn’t sure. They needed to talk—that much he knew.

  When he’d called her cell about an hour ago, she hadn’t answered. Fearing he might wake her and Skye, he hadn’t tried again. Then the doctor had shown up, done a final examination, and discharged him. So Dillon had called Conrad to bring him some clean clothes and to give him a ride. His buddy had been at the office and sounded upset on the phone, but he’d agreed to help immediately.

  When his iPhone rang, Dillon grabbed it from the bedside table. Disappointed it wasn’t Kat, he sighed before answering. “Yeah, Boss?”

  “How are you feeling?” SSA Rex Kelley asked.

  “I think I’ll pass on my ten-mile run today.”

  His boss snorted. “That good, huh?” He hesitated. “Actually, it’s good you won’t be working out because we need you to come in for…debriefing.”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah. ASAP.”

  “But I told you pretty much everything before we raided the power plant.”

  Rex paused again. “I know. This is for ASAIC Carter, not me.”

  His boss sounded odd. Caution tinged with anger maybe. Something’s up.

  “Carter? If he can’t wait until tomorrow or Monday, maybe he could debrief me over the phone.” Dillon really didn’t want to spend the day in meetings. He needed to talk to Kat, wanted to spend the day with her, making sure she and Skye were all right after last night.

  “Not happening, O’Malley. He’s set up a meeting with who-the-hell-knows how many people.”

  Shit. Something’s definitely wrong. “Seems like overkill. What’s up, Boss?”

  “The State Department is poking its nose in our business,” he said almost in a whisper. “Just get your ass in here so you can help defend yourself and then we can get rid of them.” Rex disconnected.

  “Defend myself? What the hell?” he muttered. Concern tightened his chest.

  He carefully got out of bed and paced the small room, limping slightly on his bandaged ankle. His mind sorted through the events of the past week, looking for any screwup. He was so deep in thought that Conrad startled him when he opened the door.

  His friend marched into the hospital room, his expression strained. “Got your clothes. The apartment manager said to let her know if you need anything—anything at all. I don’t think she was offering Tylenol.”

  “Cut the crap, Regis. What the fuck’s going on?”

  “Complete and utter bullshit. That’s what’s going on.” He threw the plastic bag of clean clothes on the bed and held out his hands in a defensive gesture. “Remember, don’t kill the messenger. They searched your apartment, O’Malley.”

  “Damn. On whose authority?”

  “Two State Department suits flew down from LA early this morning. Apparently, some muckety-muck at State in DC got a honcho at FBI Headquarters to agree to get search warrants to search your place and your computers,” Con
rad explained.

  “What the hell are they looking for?”

  “Personally, I think they’re looking for a scapegoat. But honestly, I don’t know.”

  They stopped talking when a nurse walked in carrying a small hospital bag. “Here are your clothes, Mr. O’Malley. I’m not sure if any of them are salvageable. Your wallet and keys are in here too. And you’re free to go. Take care now.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  “Finally,” Dillon said. He yanked off the flimsy hospital gown and dressed in the clothes his buddy had brought. “Where’s my truck?”

  “At your apartment. Staci and I managed to get it home for you this morning.”

  “Great. We’ll stop by and pick it up. Then I can see what they’ve done to my place.”

  Conrad cleared his throat. “Sorry, O’Malley. My orders are to bring you straight to the office.”

  They exchanged worried glances.

  After dressing, Dillon rummaged in the hospital bag for his wallet and keys. He spotted the burner phone sticking out of the pocket of his singed, filthy pants. He grimaced. Chaos. I have to protect him.

  On their way out, they stopped at the nurses’ station.

  “I need to leave a message for Katriona MacKenzie in room three oh two,” Dillon said politely.

  The nurse typed and then peered at the screen. “I’m sorry, but Ms. MacKenzie was discharged two hours ago.”

  Two hours ago? And Kat hadn’t bothered to contact him first. What did that mean? He shook off the hurt; he couldn’t deal with that whole situation right now.

  Ten minutes later, Conrad pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed for the freeway.

  When Dillon spotted an old gas station down the road, a plan formed. “Pull in there. Would you mind getting me a Coke? I’d go, but you’d be faster,” he said, angling a glance at his bandaged ankle.

  Conrad parked the car and disappeared inside. As soon as he was out of sight, Dillon grabbed the bag of ruined clothes and jumped out of the car. He hobbled as fast as he could around to the rear of the station and found the dumpster he’d expected.

  He pulled out the burner phone and then tossed the bag into the huge bin. After he removed the battery and SIM card, he dropped the phone on the concrete and smashed it with his shoe. Then he wiped his fingerprints off the crushed casing and threw it in the dumpster.

  A quick survey confirmed no witnesses before he ducked into the men’s restroom. Locked inside, he flushed the battery and SIM card separately and then flushed a third time for insurance.

  Conrad greeted him with a Coke and a questioning look when Dillon returned to the car.

  “My clothes reeked of smoke so I didn’t want to smell up your car. I dumped them and then hit the john. You got a problem with that?” The truth, just not all of it.

  His friend studied him. “You do what you gotta do. I trust you, O’Malley.”

  When they arrived, the sight of Rex waiting for him at the door of the FBI building shot an arrow of uneasiness through Dillon. “What? I’m so dangerous that I need a two-person escort. Are you going to cuff me too?” Hopefully, his surliness would camouflage his growing anxiety.

  “Lose the attitude, O’Malley. This is a show of support, not restraint,” Rex explained.

  When they reached the conference room, Conrad gave him a nod of encouragement and left them.

  “Be very careful with your answers,” Rex warned before ushering Dillon inside.

  Two unfamiliar suits and ASAIC Carter sat at a table. “Have a seat, Special Agent O’Malley,” one of the suits said, pointing to a chair a few feet in front of them. “Supervisory Special Agent Kelley, you can sit here.” He gestured to an empty chair on the other side of Carter.

  “No thanks. I’ll stand,” Rex said tightly.

  As Dillon walked to his seat, he noticed one of the office’s IT technicians at another table in a corner, working on a desktop and a laptop computer. Dillon’s jaw clenched. Resentment burned in his gut. He’d bet those were his Bureau computer and his personal laptop. Damn. Thank God for his man cave.

  He dropped onto the chair and glared at Carter. “Why am I here, sir?”

  The ASAIC had the decency to look embarrassed. “Mr. Fraser and Mr. Blakely from the State Department have some questions for you. We appreciate your cooperation, Special Agent O’Malley.” He kept his gaze on the papers in front of him instead of meeting Dillon’s or Rex’s angry gazes.

  “I had a tough night. Let’s get this over with so I can go home.”

  “Well, to hurry things along then, please provide your IT man with the password to your personal laptop,” Fraser said.

  “What are you looking for?” Dillon asked.

  The man gave him a blank stare. “We have a search warrant. The password…please.”

  He complied. Reluctantly.

  “Good. Let’s begin,” Mr. Blakely said, taking over the proceedings. “Special Agent O’Malley, we’re here today to determine your connections to Charles Lee, the Chinese government, and TSK.”

  Dillon blinked in disbelief. Then resentment bubbled closer to the surface.

  “Let’s start with Mr. Lee. When did you first meet him?”

  “Last night. Shortly before I killed him,” Dillon said sullenly.

  “So you hadn’t actually met, although you had communicated with him.” Blakely stared at him expectantly.

  “Our first communication was also last night when Charlie warned me not to shoot or he’d blow a hole in Ms. MacKenzie the size of the Grand Canyon.”

  “We’re searching your computers and your phone records so there’s no sense in lying, O’Malley.”

  “Search away. I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched into fists.

  Blakely whispered something to Fraser who pulled out his cell and quietly made a call.

  “When did you start cooperating with the Chinese government hackers?” Blakely asked.

  “I never cooperated with them.”

  “When was your first communication?”

  “Last night, when they called Ms. MacKenzie after kidnapping her daughter.”

  “Whose phone did they call?”

  “A burner phone they’d left in her house.”

  “And where is that phone now?”

  “I don’t know. As the Chinese instructed, we left it at her house when we went to rescue Skye. I doubt it’s still there. They probably broke in again and took it.”

  “You have easy answers for everything, don’t you, O’Malley?”

  “Telling the truth is easy. You should try it.”

  Blakely’s face flushed slightly. Fraser finished his call and set the cell phone in front of his colleague who studied it for a minute. “Let’s discuss TSK.”

  Dillon’s insides curdled, but he maintained a casual demeanor. “Rex mentioned it. A hacker group, right?”

  Blakely scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. “A person with your credentials and skills would be a valuable member.”

  “You just insulted everyone with a master’s degree in computer science.”

  “This group used to be quite active, but we haven’t heard much from them in the past few years. Seems odd that they would suddenly surface and send a data dump to just the right person involved in the Diablo Beach op.”

  Dillon feigned confusion. “What? You mean me? Hell no, they didn’t send me anything.”

  “Not you. Your boss.”

  Dillon turned to Rex. “Is that true?” He pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t smile.

  Rex straightened away from the wall where he’d been leaning and walked over to stand behind Dillon’s chair. “No, that is not true.”

  Blakely darted an impatient look at Fraser. “Weren’t we advised that Kelley received the information directly?”

  Fraser nodded nervously.

  Rex snorted. “I received the data dump directly, but TSK contacted the Bureau through the regular, electronic tip line. They were smart enough to mark it as
urgent information regarding an imminent terrorist attack on DBNPP. The TSK tip was routed to me at the highest priority. I personally followed the steps to download the data. And, by the way, it proved everything Ms. MacKenzie, not Agent O’Malley, had been trying to warn us about.”

  Blakely avoided Rex’s steely glower and peered menacingly at Dillon. “Did you send the tip about the data?”

  Not on your life. Thank you, Chaos. He lifted his chin. “No, sir.”

  “Gathering that kind of information would require masterful hacking skills. Did you post the data for download?”

  Nope, posting is Chaos’s job. He struggled not to grin. “No, sir. I believe all this was going down while I was at Ms. MacKenzie’s house without my computer. And we were never on hers. As you may have forgotten, we were a little busy figuring out how to stop a domestic terrorist, prevent a nuclear meltdown, appease the Chinese government, and save Kat’s daughter.”

  Blakely reddened even more. “What do you know about the virus that erased Lee’s software changes and reactivated the uncorrupted operations programs?”

  “Now that really interests me. I’ve heard stories about an amazing program called the Kraken. It sounds too incredible to be true. But I can’t tell you if that’s what was at work at Diablo Beach. I really cannot say.” Lucky for him, knowing it was different than saying it. “Maybe you should ask TSK. Maybe you should hire them because something like the Kraken would be incredibly useful in fighting cyber terrorism.”

  “What do you know about TSK?”

  Dillon’s resentment boiled over. “If you’re telling me that TSK is the creator of the virus that prevented a nuclear meltdown, then I know they just saved thousands of lives. If TSK is the source of the data dump proving China’s involvement, then I know they’re more dedicated to stopping the bad guys than you are. And finally, I know your time would be better spent going after the Chinese government, not TSK. Nothing’s going to happen to the Chinese hackers or kidnappers, is it?”

  Blakely and Fraser gaped, speechless. ASAIC Carter tried to hide a proud smile.