Dangerous Lies (Shades of Leverage)

by Claudia Shelton

  “Do whatever’s needed to persuade compliance. Right?” She stared into his eyes as she asked her question.

  “Something like that. We call it leverage.” Her color had come back, besides which, now she was the one up and walking.

  “Okay. What could they possibly want my dad to do?”

  “We’re trying to figure that one out. Drake got a CT List update five minutes before I jumped on the personal watercraft to get here,” Josh said.

  “They keep a list of people to use?” she asked.

  The truth was always best. “Yeah, they keep a list. Every so often we intercept one, or they let us see the update.”

  “This time we think our contact on the inside was able to send the info out.” Josh raked his fingers through his dark hair. “The list has Liz’s name next to her father’s.”

  Her name being added to the list didn’t surprise Mitch. “Any other remarks by her name?”

  “Nope. Funny thing, though,” Josh paused to look back outside. “A few lines later, her name was first, then her father’s as leverage.”

  The two agents shared a glance that said what the fuck’s going on? Double lines on the list were few and far between. Usually didn’t end well, either.

  What was so damn important on this case?

  He’d already picked up on the urgency back at the Mariner’s Bar and Grill when he found out Keith had been added to his team. Having Cat in the house from the beginning, and Josh arriving as backup, had only skyrocketed Mitch’s intuition. The confluence of so many top OPAQUE agents on one job meant there was a high probability the assignment was headed straight up. Hot and fast.

  In fact, if you added in Reese, Stealth, and Joey, you’d have the entire Shades of Leverage team on the case. That meant a lot of OPAQUE groups were out there without their usual team leader. Either way you looked at it, the situation was a clusterfuck waiting to happen.

  Keith rushed back into the great room, pointing to the room’s surveillance screen. “You need to see this, stat.”

  In one quick move, Mitch tapped the tech-band strapped to his forearm and took in the dynamics of the trajectory on the screen in the closeup. He pushed the security-scrambled speaker button for direct access to OPAQUE. “Do you see this, Drake?”

  “On it. I’m sending more agents even as we speak. FBI’s ETA three minutes max.”

  “The way CT’s surrounding us, this will be an all-out attack. What’s going on, Drake? What aren’t you telling us?”

  “I’ve told you everything we’ve got.”

  “None of this makes sense. Why would they set up for a direct attack?” Mitch motioned Liz to his side. “They know Liz is here. They know we’re here. Yet they’re willing to charge the house to get her. I’m thinking her dad has been involved in something else for quite a while. Something they really need.”

  “Get out of there right now.” Drake’s tone edged on controlled panic.

  Mitch didn’t care what the old man said. Once an agent was put in charge of a team, that agent had complete control. Even when he was in charge of other team leaders. “Since when does OPAQUE run from CT?”

  “When I gave you the team lead, I stipulated you had one objective. Keep Liz safe. Keep her alive. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir. But—”

  “Leave the team. Put someone else in charge. Don’t even take time to think, Mitch. Get Liz out of there right now.”

  There’d been very few times an OPAQUE agent had been told to desert his team. Drake had always drilled that extreme circumstances call for extreme measures. Extreme circumstances meant the client was more important than the team itself. More important than each agent.

  He didn’t like this.

  “Don’t think,” Drake shouted. “Go. Now.”

  “I’ll chance the panic room.” Liz’s voice held a tremble. So did her body as she turned toward the hallway.

  Mitch processed his options. Liz. Panic room. Coercion Ten. Explosive. Chance? Liz—dead. Together. Escape. Fight. Survive. Chance? Small.

  He made his decision. “Josh, you’re in charge of the team. Liz and I will head to the beach.”

  “I’ll take your back. Are we going out the tunnel?” Keith slammed a new clip into his gun.

  “No.” Mitch scanned the screen one last time then gripped Liz’s hand and pulled her along with him. “The tunnel would bring us up in the middle of CT’s main force. We’re going cross-country.”

  Keith raised his arm to show his tech-band had ended up busted in the prior fight. “If we get separated, that’s gonna be tricky in the dark.” OPAQUE’s tech-bands handled everything from sonar to radar to GPS to texts, phone calls, and more. Kept everyone in sync. Without one you were fighting solo.

  He motioned Liz to stay next to him. “From now on, you don’t leave my side. I’ll try to hold on to you. If I can’t, grab my shirt. And keep up.”

  “Got it.” Liz glanced around at the agents—Keith, Josh, Cat, and two more who had appeared from nowhere. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  Mitch would slow his pace enough for her to stay right behind him. If she fell, he’d stop. If she couldn’t get up, he’d make his stand there. They’d have to go through him to ever take her.

  “Josh, what kind of personal watercraft did you guys come in on?”

  “The new Quantum40s.”

  “Where?”

  “Three houses down. Across the marsh. Across the beach. Far side of the pier.”

  “How many?”

  “Two. Enhanced GPS. Secure tracking by OPAQUE. Silent running.” Josh kept his eyes on the security screen. “Looks like CT is setting up.”

  “Got it.” Mitch pushed the speaker button again. “Drake, we’re going out on a Q40. You track us and stay in touch. I’ll head us straight across the Gulf. Once I find a safe island, I’ll wait for your signal.”

  “On it. Good luck.”

  Luck and training were all any of them ever had. He pulled Liz next to him and positioned them by the door they’d be exiting. Her hand felt small in his, but she gripped with a strength he doubted she even knew she had. The look she gave him as she quickly nodded indicated she’d do whatever he said.

  “I have a question,” she said, taking a half step back. “What’s does Quantum40 mean?”

  “First of all, OPAQUE means Operation Protector Agent Quantum Elite. Quantum—Q40—means it’s one of our specially designed pieces of equipment.”

  She cocked her head to the side, mockingly lifting the corners of her lips as she shot him a demanding spill-the-beans look. “Nice try. Now. What is a Q40?

  “Let’s just say it’s an upgraded PWC.”

  “You mean like a WaveRunner?”

  “Not exactly.” He always hated being the one on the receiving end of pointed questions. But since he’d already figured out Liz was a smart, serious, and searching type of person, he might as well answer her question. “Yeah, it’s basically got the same style, but this baby’s got state-of-the-art technology. Sleek aerodynamic body design. And technological capabilities for the next century.”

  “Sounds like something the government or the military would want to know about,” she said.

  “OPAQUE works hand-in-hand with the FBI, CIA, military, and on and on. If it’s in the U.S. interest, it’s our interest. And vice-versa.” He grinned. “Does that answer your questions on the Q40?”

  Biting the inside of her cheek as she nodded, she lifted her eyebrows. “Now, about you and me riding one together…uh…”

  “Nothing to it. Just like riding a motorcycle without wheels across the water.” He decided not to tell her how fast the thing could go. How a zero-turn was the latest upgrade. Or that its energy core was pushing infinity.

  “Maybe I should tell you that—”

  “Tell me later.” He glanced at the agents waiting for his signal. “Time to go. Everyone, take your place.”

  Josh kept staring at the security screen. The others scattered to their spots. Keith s
tood directly behind Mitch and Liz, ready to bring up their rear.

  Mitch checked his gun one more time then patted the knife strapped against his thigh. All they had to do was flat-out run for a hundred-fifty meters without being shot, stepping on an egg-laying turtle or a scavenging gator. Never mind the no-see-ums, pests that would eat them alive as they ran through the marsh and across the beach.

  Cat rushed to the door with an extra gun, handing it to Liz. “You said you can shoot.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s loaded.” Cat grabbed a small pump bottle from the side table and sprayed Liz. “The guys are already slathered up with pest repellent. This’ll help you with the no-see-ums.”

  Liz tucked the small pistol in the side pocket of her shorts.

  Mitch tugged her close and gave Keith and Josh the thumbs-up. “Ready. Go.”

  Josh shut down every light in the house and on the perimeter as he and Liz and Keith darted out the door, across the patio, and into the yard next door.

  CT would know something was going on. They’d be confused. They’d regroup. They’d move out into the open without knowing. Josh would pop the lights back on. Confuse them again. Easily target a few of them.

  Everything would be only seconds. That worked. A few seconds might be all that was needed for them to make it into the marsh. The marsh and mangroves could hide them from CT’s line of sight, but not from the GPS. They’d for sure have their tracking system lit up—just like OPAQUE.

  Mitch didn’t let go of Liz’s hand and barely slowed his pace for her, although going through the undergrowth hindered them anyhow. Keith’s movements synced with their own—his counterpart would do what was necessary to keep them safe. The three of them bunched together before heading across the beach to the pier.

  “Liz, you ride with me. Make yourself small and hug my back.” Mitch pointed to the Q40s on the far side of the pier. “CT will think there’s only one of us.”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Later.”

  “But—”

  He stop-signed her with his hand then popped his fingers against his mouth for her to be quiet. She nodded, but her eyes said she was fighting the urge to argue.

  “We’ll head northwest across the Gulf.” Mitch tucked his gun in his leg holster.

  “I’ll take one of the Q40s and head south,” Keith said.

  “Sounds good. CT may think we all were headed to the Keys.”

  “Hey, we’ll grab a beer or two at the Mariner’s when this is over,” Keith said, as he and Mitch fist-bumped.

  “You got it, big guy. That’s a promise I can keep.” Mitch grinned then glanced toward the pier. “Thanks for having our backs. I owe you one.”

  “You’d do the same.”

  Mitch led the group as the three of them ran low and fast across the short stretch of sand until they reached the two Q40s tied up at the pier.

  Taking the first one in line, Keith jumped onboard and tapped the navigation screen. “Damn, first my tech-band gets busted during the fight. Now, there’s a black screen of death on my ride. Nothing’s working for me tonight.”

  “Use mine.” Mitch yanked the tech-band from his arm and handed it to Keith. “Find us once you think it’s safe.”

  “I’ll use the muffler silencer till I’m a good way down the shoreline. Then I’ll rev the engine and kick it in high gear in the other direction. Maybe I can lure them off of you for a while.” With a grunt, Keith strapped on the tech-band and took off across the water at a slow and easy pace.

  Mitch straddled the other Q40, motioning Liz onto the back.

  She didn’t move. Just looked at him. Looked at the whitecaps rolling in. Looked back at him with scared eyes. Suddenly, gunshots echoed across the marsh from the direction of the beach house they’d fled.

  Things had just amped up a hundred percent, and that meant only one thing—the two of them were on their own. Help wouldn’t be coming any time soon. And, even if it did, they’d be better off completely gone. Evidently, this case had cascading undertones none of them were grasping.

  “Get on, Liz.”

  “Life jackets?”

  “Nope. Now, get on.”

  She shook her head. “I tried to tell you back there.”

  “What?” If he had to get off the Q40 to set her on, he was not going to be happy. “What’s so damn important that you won’t get on?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve got you.” He held out his hand.

  “What if I fall off?” Her voice trembled with fear, but still she reached out to him.

  “I’ll stop. You get back on. End of story.”

  “Okay. But for the record…” She stepped from the pier onto the Q40 footrest, straddled the seat, and slid up close behind him. Wrapping her arms tight around his waist, she leaned her lips toward his ear, “I can’t swim.”

  Chapter Six

  Even with the darkness of night, Liz was close enough to read the furrows in Mitch’s brow, the pinch of his eyebrows, as he halfway turned to face her. She should probably have mentioned not swimming back at the beach house.

  “Say again.” He placed his gun in an open compartment next to the Q40’s dash panel, his earpiece beside the gun.

  “I said I can’t—”

  A dull thump sounded from down the shoreline. A deep, whiny rumble zipped through the air, heading away from them. A flash of explosive light shattered the horizon.

  “—swim.”

  Mitch slid from her hold, and with a hand to her back, he pushed her down against the seat as he plunged, feetfirst, into the water next to the Q40. Obviously still able to stand on the sandy bottom, he crouched low, barely raising his head above the waterline. “Don’t move.”

  She couldn’t move if she tried—too many worst-case scenarios were flicking through her mind like someone using a View-Master, anxious to see all the pictures. Her cheek hugged the seat, and she stared at the fire in the distance. “What was that?”

  “Stay quiet. Stay down.” His expression had steeled, eyes narrowed.

  Without another word, he physically maneuvered the Q40 down the length of the long pier. Once the water was over his head he pushed off on the pier’s legs, from one to the next and the next and the next. He paused at the end of the pier, but still didn’t get back on the personal watercraft.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why don’t you start the engine and use the silencer like Keith did at first?”

  Catching his breath from the exertion of manhandling the Q40, Mitch held up his finger, motioning her to give him a second. Suddenly the screen on the dash panel lit. A bright green wave pattern pulsed in the upper right corner.

  The slight yet audible gasp she made sounded decibels louder to her tension-filled body. She pointed at the glow on the dash. “What’s that?”

  “Sonar. Now, lean in the other direction,” he said as he straight-arm muscled himself upward. He looked at the screen before sliding back in the water. “Push that green wave symbol.”

  She steadied herself with the tilt of the Q40 then tapped the screen. “What about the red dot?”

  “What red dot?”

  “It just showed up on the screen. Coming from the left. No, wait. It’s circling back in the direction it came.”

  “Green is OPAQUE tracking. Red dots are a problem.” Mitch glanced in the direction of the still glowing explosion on the horizon. “We’ve got to get past the wave break before I feel safe starting the engine. See the toggle switch on the far side of the screen?”

  “Got it.”

  “Click that down.”

  She did, and instantly the screen went dark. At the same time, Mitch grabbed the safety lanyard from the ignition then shoved the Q40 away from the pier, looping the rope lanyard through a metal grommet on the front side of the Q40. After making an improvised secondary loop, he slipped it over his shoulder and started to swim out, away from the beach. Slow and steady, they ventured closer and close
r to the wave break.

  Heading straight into the surf, he paused. Once again watching him gasp for breath, she figured the moisture on his face was part water, part sweat. The intensity in his expression said he wouldn’t stop. She hoped he knew his limit, otherwise he’d die trying.

  “What can I do? Should I get in the water and help push?” The mere thought sent her insides flaring into a jumble of nerves. Yet she’d do whatever he asked. Like Cat had said earlier, Mitch was in charge.

  “No. Stay where you are.” He sucked in three big breaths, flipped over into a backstroke, and headed straight into the oncoming surf. One wave after another crashed against the Q40, but he kept them going forward. Finally, the path cleared.

  “Mitch…Mitch…we’re clear,” she said in a quiet voice.

  As if he were in another zone, he just kept pulling them forward. One backstroke after the other. His muscles straining against the water. She doubted he even heard her. Surely, they had to be far enough out to chance starting the Q40. She had to get his attention. Had to make him stop.

  She couldn’t chance trying to reach the rope lanyard for fear of falling in. Of becoming a hindrance to all he’d done. That thought chilled her insides. Yelling wasn’t an option, either. What could she do? There was no wave resistance now, only their machine gliding smoothly on the surface of the water.

  Smooth…gliding… Maybe, she should…

  She stood on the footrests and bounced up and down, harder and harder. Gripping the handles with all her strength, she swayed from side to side. Finally, the Q40 rocked back and forth with her change of weight, splashing water in his direction. The lanyard tightened on his shoulder.

  He jerked his head up. Swiped his palm down his face. And blinked. He stared into her eyes as if he’d forgotten she was even there.

  She pointed ahead of them. “Clear. We’re past the wave break.”

  “Flip the toggle switch on.”

  She flipped the switch upward, and the screen lit. “Green wave symbol like before.”