by Trisha Telep
“No, but you have it anyway,” she said, knowing it was like rubbing salt in a wound. Petty, but satisfying. “Now where are my men?”
Eight
Thirty minutes later, Kate sat in the Kashanis’ kitchen watching the FBI bundle the four kidnappers off in a white van camouflaged as an appliance repair truck. There’d been only one gunshot and the neighbours were none the wiser.
Agents had been sent to her house for the kid in the basement. Another agent was debriefing her bodyguards, none the worse for being tied up and gagged for twelve hours, but who were embarrassed about being overcome by amateurs. That’s what Taj and his accomplices were – young, stupid, fanatical, foolishly overconfident amateurs. Sure, they’d gotten the drop on Kate’s men posted at the house, but after that there were too many variables. Not just her, but Amir Kashani as well. He’d been playing along. Waiting for the right moment. Some would have said it was cruel to let his family suffer, but that was why he made a hell of a negotiator. He knew when to play his hand. Sooner or later he’d have taken action.
There was no need now, since the two conspirators accompanying him had been quietly arrested and replaced by FBI agents. Kate would get her people sorted out and replace the agents with her bodyguards. If Kashani still trusted her.
“They won’t let their guard down again,” Reese said from where he sat beside her.
“Still reading my mind?”
“Just saying.”
“They won’t get the chance to screw up again, not in my employment.” She twisted to look at him. “And since when do you suffer incompetence?”
“They’ve learned an invaluable lesson.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Mike Kovaleski can make the decision easier.”
She laughed softly, derisively, at the roundabout job offer. “I’m not taking orders from the FBI again. But I’d be happy to consult.”
“You think Mike will go for that?”
“Yep. He gets the credit if a kidnapping ends well, and he has a nice, convenient scapegoat if it doesn’t. It’s a win–win for him. Not to mention he can dump all the unsavoury protection gigs on me.”
“That’s what I told him your answer would be. He said to tell you to send him your standard contract and they’ll keep it on file. Along with mine.”
She turned to look at him for the first time since he’d sat down beside her. “Yours?”
“I quit.”
And there it was, the flood of feelings she’d been trying to ignore, buoyed this time by hope. “It’s about time,” was all she said. “What are your plans?”
He shrugged. “Got an idea or two.”
She dropped her gaze so he wouldn’t see how much she hoped she was on the list. “You could always come to work for me.”
“Taking orders from you?”
“Yeah, you didn’t exactly wait an hour.”
“You didn’t expect me to.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I knew it wouldn’t take you an hour to scope out the situation. I let you make the first move.”
“I noticed that. I guess I could take it as a sign of your trust. If I were an optimist.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I could work for an optimist. And anyway, I was thinking more of a partnership.”
She twisted around and stared, speechless for a second. And then the outrage took over. “Partnership? You don’t want much, do you? After leaving me hanging for five years, you think you can waltz back into my life, assist me with one successful op, and I’ll just—”
He buried his hand in her hair, took her mouth, and kissed her, long and deep and mind-scrambling.
“What was that?” she said once she’d caught her breath.
“My credentials for the partnership I suggested. We can talk about the professional possibilities later.”
“Sure. Talk. Later,” she said, and kissed him back. “Much later.”
Cane River
Rinda Elliott
“I’m calling in the favour.”
Marcus Bellany swallowed the tongue-lashing he’d been about to lay on his friend for calling at one in the morning. He sat up in bed, flipped on the lamp and reached for the glass of ice he’d left to melt. His thin white sheet had been kicked to the floor. No wonder. A sheen of sweat covered his naked body despite the air from the ceiling fan. “Must be serious.”
“It is.”
Tony’s voice was tighter than an over-tuned guitar string. Alarm skittered up Marcus’ back. No one did chill like Anthony Falk.
“I know you’re on leave,” Tony continued. “But it’s Erica.”
Marcus swung his legs over the side of the bed, ran his left hand through his hair. He could kiss his entire vacation goodbye if it had anything to do with that woman. “Oh no, not the brat. Come on, Tony, I owe you and I owe you big, but pulling your brainiac sister out of whatever mess she’s gotten into this time w—”
“Marcus. I can’t trust anyone else.”
His voice wasn’t only tight. That was real fear darkening the edge. Marcus set down the glass without taking a drink. “What did she do?”
“She hacked into the wrong computer network this time and stumbled on something that will make you think this world isn’t worth shit.”
Marcus had come to that conclusion on his very first mission for the US Marshals’ Special Operations Group. He rubbed the old knife scar in his thigh. It was supposed to have been a simple prisoner transport for one of the nastiest creatures to walk this earth. It had gone wrong. Very wrong. “What do you need me to do?”
“Get her somewhere safe. I’d do it myself but I’m still in Italy. You’re closer.”
“She’ll fight me. I’m probably her least favourite person on earth.”
“That’s not true and you know it. But if she fights, knock her ass out and carry her off. This went past serious, Marcus, and the stubborn idiot won’t listen to me. She’s playing vigilante, thinks she’s in hiding – thinks these guys don’t know she’s collecting data on them. I got word through my channels that something’s going down and I’m sure it’s her.”
“Who is she messing with, Tony?”
“Reyes.”
Adrenaline flooded his muscles. Red hot fear burned along his lower back. Marcus stood, paced across the hardwood floor. “She’s already dead, Tony.”
“No, I just talked to her. And don’t call it in either. There’s a leak. I’m sure it’s in my group, but you never know. Just get her out now. She’s hiding out in an old cabin along the Cane River, right outside of Natchez. I’m pretty sure she’s under surveillance already. You have to leave now,” he insisted.
“I’m up. Going. But why wouldn’t Reyes’ men just kill her?”
“I think Reyes is fascinated with her. She managed to crack their code and sabotage an entire section of his kiddie porn ring. She turned over the locations of a dozen kids to us, Marcus. Three have been rescued already. It’s possible Reyes is thinking of using her. But if that doesn’t work, we both know he’ll kill her.”
Marcus closed his eyes, his gut twisting into a sick knot at the thought of little Erica in the hands of that monster. It had been five years since he’d seen her. Her gorgeous, pouty lips had tightened into a thin line the minute he’d shown up at Tony’s parents’ house for dinner. His every attempt at making conversation had been met with smart-mouthed responses or glaring silence. She’d never forgiven him for that night he’d turned her down in college.
Didn’t matter that his college room-mate’s sister had the sweetest, most athletic little body he’d ever seen. Didn’t matter that she’d been the cause of many a night sweat. When she decided to test her new womanly wiles on him, she’d been only sixteen.
Her humiliation at his rejection still haunted him.
“Wait, did you say she’s single-handedly been responsible for the rescue of three missing kids?” he asked, snagging a pair of jeans from the floor.
“She’s fucking amazin
g, isn’t she?” Tony was silent a minute and Marcus knew real fear was twisting up his friend. “The only reason my people haven’t got her is she ran. And now I don’t know who to trust. I need you to take care of her, Marcus.”
“I know. Give me the directions.” The knot in his gut sat heavy and thick. He couldn’t let anything happen to the brat. Still holding the phone, he grimaced as he pulled denim over the sweat on his legs. He yanked a T-shirt from a shelf in the closet then opened the nightstand to get his wallet and Beretta. Before he flipped the phone closed he made a promise to his friend. “It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get there. I’ll keep her safe, Tony.”
Erica Falk rubbed late-night tiredness from her eyes before staring at the computer in shock.
Dammit, he’d gotten away again!
She pushed her wheeled desk chair away from the computer and jumped out before it crashed into the wood panelling on the wall. Sweat plastered her white tank to her chest, so she ripped it off and threw it into the corner of the room before stomping through the hallway into the cabin’s tiny bathroom. She turned the shower on frigid and aimed the spray at a monster palmetto bug latched on to the white ceramic tile.
She loved the Cane River. Loved the rich, citrus smell of magnolia blossoms on the breeze. Loved Louisiana.
Hated. The. Freaking. Huge. Bugs.
The insect managed to get away. Buzzed past her ear as it flew out of the bathroom. “Probably into my bed,” she muttered as she peeled off her khaki shorts and white cotton underwear. She draped a towel over the curtain rod and shrieked as she stepped into the stream of water. That first hit of cold was a bitch, but it still felt better than the sauna of this cabin. Midsummer was not her favourite season in the south. She spent the month as a walking puddle of misery. She’d have to find another hiding place – one with air conditioning.
While she soaped off the sweat and the grit that permeated the air, Erica went over the hacker’s tracks in her head. She still couldn’t believe he’d cracked her system. She’d used everything she had to catch him; had installed more than one intrusion detection software and even the prototype to a new tracer program she’d written. It was better than anything on the market, but this guy was good.
Had to be one of Reyes’ men. Trying to get into her files, see what she’d managed to gather on the scumbag.
Someone in her brother’s organization was a damn mole. That was the only way they could have traced her because she’d left too long a trail. And the beginning of that trail started with a fake identity. She hadn’t shared that little titbit with her brother. Mr By The Book wouldn’t approve. But that was the only thing that had slowed them down.
Her brother’s call tonight had let her know it was too late now. Her real name had been leaked. She’d made the hit list. Tony would hunt that person down and make him or her regret the spill, but Erica would have to stay in hiding. Probably forever. Reyes’ tentacles reached far and wide. Even if he was taken down, others would come after her – the bottom feeders who made up his sick client list.
Familiar anxiety curled in her stomach but she quickly squashed it and let fury flow through her veins. They’d find her eventually, she didn’t doubt it. And her death would probably be a long, slow one. But the rest of her life, short or not, would be filled with nightmares of those first images of children she’d stumbled upon. She didn’t feel she had had a choice.
Hot tears joined the cold water gushing over her head. She snatched the shampoo bottle and proceeded to take her raw emotion out on her hair.
That first little girl couldn’t have been more than seven years old.
A sob tore from her throat and she tilted her head back to let the water and lather pour down her face. The shampoo was gone long before the tears.
When she turned off the shower, Erica took a deep, shuddering breath and blindly reached around the curtain for the towel. She buried her face in it, wishing it were one from home, which would be softer and would smell of the flowery dryer sheets she liked. This one had a nappy, cotton surface that scraped her skin. At least it was big.
When she stepped into the hallway, every sense went on alert.
There were no out of the ordinary sounds or smells and because she’d left on the lights, there was enough illumination streaming from the open bathroom. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet, it felt like someone had rubbed sandpaper down her spine.
Her brother’s words from their earlier call went through her mind.
“These people have invested millions setting up this porn ring. The client base alone took years. They know who tipped off the feds. They’ll kill you.”
Maybe she’d been too cocky in thinking she could hide. She hadn’t gone through any sort of special training – not like her brother. But she was a nonentity on the Net – a faceless being who bounced through many computers on her way to her destination. Officially, she was a software developer. Or she had been. She’d missed her last deadline.
As she stood there weighing her options, a noise from outside sent her heart into overdrive. Her few years of aikido training were great for self-defence, but what she really wished for in that second was a gun. Or two.
Erica took three cautious steps into the bedroom and scanned every dark corner. Leaving the light off, she raced to her suitcase to grab another tank top and pair of shorts. She hurriedly pulled on the clothes and dropped to the rug so she could reach under the bed. She’d stashed a backpack there with everything she’d need in case she had to run: snacks, water bottles, flashlights with extra batteries, her wallet and, the most important thing when a Louisiana river was involved, bug spray. What kind of damage would it do to someone’s eyes? As quietly as possible, she pulled out the can and uncapped it.
She set the bottle on the floor and tugged on her socks and tennis shoes, then pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail.
Erica felt the warning slide of real panic along her ribs and she took a second to find her calm. Her biggest urge was to crawl down the hall and grab her laptop. The rest of the equipment would be lost, but she had to try to salvage something. She was taking her first step into the hallway when a hot hand smelling of the outdoors closed over her mouth.
Gasping, she kicked backwards. A male grunt sounded behind her. She yanked the bug spray up and was taking aim over her shoulder when the can was knocked out of her hand. It clattered down the hall.
“Shh, Erica,” whispered a deep, familiar voice. She felt the heat of his body as he pulled her back against him. “It’s Marcus. Keep it down. I took down one man out front, but there could be more on the way.”
His words caused the strangest mix of relief and terror. Her body didn’t know whether to relax or run. Someone was here to help her, yet someone else was also here to kill her. She sagged against him.
His other arm came around her as he took his hand off her mouth. His presence made the already small hallway feel miniscule. Marcus Bellany, six feet two inches of raw, dark-haired, Italian male. The man who’d inspired every schoolgirl fantasy she’d ever had.
“How long have you been here?” Her whisper shook. Someone was here to kill her. Kill her. Plus, her rescuer was none other than the man she would have once done anything to make her knight in shining armour.
“Long enough to see that you unpacked all your computer equipment and none of your clothes.”
She frowned at the amusement in his tone. “You think it’s funny that someone is here to kill me?”
He turned her to face him and she stilled the urge to touch him. Stupid, damned urge had sprouted when she’d first met him at sixteen when her older brother had brought him home from college for a visit. She’d taken one look at his broad shoulders and big hands and wanted things that had never occurred to her before. She’d spent that entire first night with red cheeks and a throbbing, uncomfortable warmth in her gut.
Those dark eyes narrowed, his breath brushed over her cheek. “I don’t think any of this is funny. Tony called me, told me w
hat you’ve been doing. Messing with Reyes is crazy. Courageous, but crazy.”
When she opened her mouth, he put his hand back over it. “We can argue on the road. You’re coming with me before they send anyone else after you.”
“I doubt they would,” she said behind his palm. “I’ve learned a lot about Reyes. To him, I’m just a woman. And a geek. Both weaklings in his eyes.”
The corner of Marcus’ mouth lifted. “Don’t underestimate what Reyes knows or thinks. There’s a reason he hasn’t been brought down yet. The man is smart and he surrounds himself with smart.”
“Not that smart or you wouldn’t have taken one of his men down already.”
“The bright ones aren’t the muscle. Lucky you. In fact, I think this one was mostly just enjoying the show. You should really put some curtains up in that bathroom – or pin up a sheet or something.”
“Oh, man.” She was out in the woods, miles from another house. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
“Sweets, there isn’t a manly thing about you.”
She wanted to smack that grin off his face. Yeah, once she’d wanted to crawl all over his big body and explore, but she’d spent the last few years in a state of “Marcus Hate”. Or, more realistically, “Marcus Resentment”. And not for the reasons he thought either. But she had no plans to set him straight. It was easier to just stay away from him – something she’d managed to do every time her sorry brother brought him home for the holidays. “Just let me grab my laptop.”
“Not a good idea. Don’t want to haul it through the woods.”
“What? You didn’t drive here?”
His thick black eyebrows came together in a frown. “I certainly didn’t park here.”
“Then we’ll take my Jeep.”
Marcus didn’t say anything, just waited.
“The bad guy messed with my Jeep, didn’t he?”
“That’s what I would have done first. Come on. We’ve only got a mile to walk. I’ll secure a safe house for you – a real safe house with good guys who guard it with guns.” He held up his hand.