by Fiona Quinn
“Special Agent Damion Prescott, FBI.” Gage heard at the door. He wished he could turn his head to see, but the officer’s hand splayed across Gage’s scalp, fastening him in place with what felt like the officer’s full weight.
FBI? Gage’s mind went to the reasons that tonight could possibly play out like it had, and all he could come up with was that the Zoe he thought he knew was not the real Zoe. She must be involved in some pretty deep shit. As the officers introduced themselves as responding to a 9-1-1 call for help, Gage let those thoughts float around in his head. Testing them out. He couldn’t believe for a second that Zoe would do anything outside of the law. Nope. He wasn’t buying it.
Prescott, judging from his institutional looking suit, moved past him to stick his head around the bathroom door. He swung his focus toward Gage. “Is she hurt?”
“She’s in shock,” Gage didn’t move from his wide legged stance, his cheek crushed against the wall. “She needs an ambulance.” He heard one of the officers in the front room call for a paramedic.
Prescott pushed farther into the apartment to stand in front of Zoe’s room. “The apartments been searched and secured? Only two?”
“Yes, sir,” Gage responded.
“Would you let him off the wall already?” Prescott asked the police.
When the officer released him, Gage gave himself a shake.
Prescott looked past him toward the officers, who had tripled in number since Gage had opened the door. “This is a case of national security. The Bureau will be along for the ride.”
Chapter Three
GAGE
Gage stood with his back against the cold surface of the fridge, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was squeezed into the tiny kitchen with DCPD Detective Adamson and Special Agent Prescott. Both of them were asking questions and scribbling notes, even though their tape recorders sat on the counter beside him, digitally capturing every word out of his mouth.
“What can I say? I don’t know what’s going on. I got a text from Zoe saying she wanted me to come over. I finished up with work—”
“At Quantico? Is that your base?”
“Quantico for now, my unit is based out of Lejeune.” Gage scrubbed a hand down his face. “I grabbed a quick shower and drove up here to spend the night. When I walked through the door, Zoe was screaming her head off and some knife-wielding ops guy was lunging at me.”
“Ops? How do you know that?” Prescott asked.
“He was combat trained. It was his stance. His eyes. The way he held his weapon. The knife was held backward in his hand. Once you’ve been face to face with the real deal, it’s not hard to spot someone with advanced training.”
Prescott nodded.
“The only reason I prevailed was that I shocked the hell out of them when I walked through the door.” He nodded his head in the direction of the dead men. “They came ready to restrain a sleeping female, give her a shot, and wait the twenty minutes or so for efficacy in order to do whatever the hell they were sent to do. From their gear, I’d guess a snatch and drag.”
“Sent?” Adamson asked.
“It sure looked like a mission. Someone outside must have been running them.”
“Do you think they were US military?” Prescott asked.
Gage sent him a scowl. “We weren’t exactly exchanging phone numbers to hook up for a beer later. They didn’t say anything from the time I arrived on scene until they were neutralized.”
“So, Zoe screamed. You see two guys. You assumed they were there for criminal reasons, so you killed them.” Adamson skimmed a finger down his notes as he listed off the sequence, then looked up at Gage with raised eyebrows.
Gage closed his eyes then opened them in disbelief. “Serious?” he asked.
“They could have been playacting some kinky scene.” He tipped his head. “Is Zoe into that kind of thing?”
“She’s Ms. Kealoha to you,” Gage snarled as he pushed Adamson back against the counter and pinned him with a hard bone from his forearm against the detective’s windpipe. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he growled through clenched teeth.
Prescott stepped forward to lay a hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey. I apologize for the detective. Let’s cool the temperature down a bit.”
An EMT walked into view as he pulled a stretcher down the hall. When Gage moved toward Zoe, he heard Adamson snarl, “Don’t you ever apologize for me.”
“He just killed two men with his bare hands to save his girlfriend’s life. Do you really want to wrestle with that tiger while he’s in combat mode?”
Gage reached for Zoe’s hand and entwined his fingers with hers. She looked up at him; her beautiful obsidian eyes shining with horror. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” she stuttered out.
Gage kissed the back of her hand. “I’m glad I was here for you. You’re safe now.” He tried to sooth her with the calm tone of his voice. He still didn’t believe this was the end, but those were the words that sprang from his lips. It physically hurt to see her so vulnerable. She shook violently under a space blanket that wrapped her body, keeping her shocked system from further collapse.
“We’ve got to get her to the hospital now, sir,” the EMT said.
Gage bent to brush a light kiss onto her cheek and released her hand. “I’m going to help the police, then I’ll come to be with you.” He looked at the EMT as they headed out the door. “Which hospital?”
“Inova Alexandria.”
“As soon as I can, Zoe, okay?”
The forensic photographer had been in to document every inch of the crime scene. The medical examiner had collected the bodies and taken them to the morgue for identification. The police were finishing up, and Gage was given permission to pack a bag to take to Zoe.
As he moved to the bathroom, Gage kept his ears open for any stray intel being passed back and forth between the PD and the FBI. Just outside the door he heard Prescott cornering Adamson.
“Hey, if anyone from the media asks, it would be great if you all could seed some misinformation about the victim dying in the attack—keep the bad guys off her trail until she can be taken to a safe house for debrief.”
Prescott thought Zoe was in danger too. Enough that she warranted a safe house. His intuition wasn’t off.
“You want me to lie?” Adamson asked.
“Lie? No. That would be hard to backtrack. Just plant a seed. Say something like you need to contact the family, with a look of sorrow in your eyes.”
“Sorrow?”
“Yeah, dust off your acting skills.”
Both men moved, and Gage pulled a travel case from the bottom drawer of the cabinet. He filled it with Zoe’s toiletries and makeup, eyeliner and mascara, some tinted gloss. She liked the natural look. To him, she was effortlessly beautiful. And honestly, Gage couldn’t imagine that she cared enough about what others thought of her to go to any extensive effort.
He bent down to pick up her phone from where it lay on the bathmat, then pulled her purse forward to tuck it in the front pocket. A lanyard with two work identification badges lay exposed on the corner of her vanity. He lifted them to inspect the picture of Zoe in her lab coat. He’d never seen her dressed for work. It was a DARPA issued SCI biometric badge. His brows drew together. “Sensitive Compartmented Information, Zoe? Dr. Zoe Kealoha?” He flipped to the second ID, a tag for Montrim Industries. He examined her photo. Same gentle curve of her lips, same intelligent eyes framed with black plastic geek-girl glasses, same pristine white lab coat, hanging from her slender frame, same Dr. Zoe Kealoha printed beneath. “What the hell?”
Prescott leaned a shoulder against the bathroom door jamb. His gaze moved from the lanyard in Gage’s hand to look him squarely in the eye. “What are you thinking?”
Gage shoved the IDs into the purse and zipped it shut. “She needs her glasses.” Gage crowded past Prescott, moving to Zoe’s bedroom to retrieve her glasses from the top of the alarm clock where she always put them while she
slept.
“Do you know what Dr. Kealoha does for our government?”
They were alone in her room. The techs were in the hall, snapping their cases shut. Gage focused over on him. “Not a fucking clue. She told me she was a lab tech.”
“Yeah, well it’s more like ‘she does tech in a lab.’”
“Do you know what she’s working on?” Gage had tried for nonchalance, but he knew it was colored a deep shade of pissed off. Six months together and he had no clue she held a doctorate or worked for the military. What else was she keeping from him?
“I know one of the projects she developed, because I’m field testing the prototype. But what she’s doing now? I’d say knowing that would give us some pretty big clues as to why someone wanted to take her for a ride tonight. I’d really like to find that out.”
You and me both, buddy.
The last of the law enforcement showed themselves out the front door, encouraging Gage to lock it behind them. Gage checked his phone for the time; it was nearing zero one hundred hours. The hospital probably wouldn’t let him slip in to see Zoe in the middle of the night. He rubbed his index finger back and forth over his chin. Surely, she would have called him if she’d been released. He did a quick search for the hospital number, and dialed. He had little hope of gathering any information because of HIPAA restrictions. But the nurse who answered said that he was listed on Zoe’s advanced directives’ form on file. While he waited to talk to Zoe’s nurse, he wondered when Zoe had filled out those forms. How long had she thought that he was one of the people she could rely on to make a health decision if she was incapable? That thought just about winded him. If any other woman he had dated had been so presumptuous without even a discussion—yeah, he wasn’t really into taking on a burden like that for them. But for Zoe? It felt like a victory of sorts. He’d need to take those thoughts on a long jog after this mess settled down a bit.
“Gage Harrison?” A female voice spoke past the background noise of metal on metal and low-pitched conversations.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dr. Kealoha was admitted for shock and exhaustion. We were having trouble getting her vitals regulated, so she accepted sedation. will reassess in the morning.”
“She’s sleeping now?”
“We have her in room 606 with an IV running, so we can adjust her meds as needed. She’s resting comfortably.”
He remembered how vulnerable she looked on the gurney. How fragile. “Can I come and sit with her?”
“We have an open visitation policy. But between the hours of 9 pm and 5 am, you’ll need to show your ID and sign in for a visitor’s pass.”
His nerves iced. “And anyone can sign in during that time? Anyone can come see her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know that Dr. Kealoha was attacked, and that’s why she’s in the hospital, right? Is there anything that can be done to increase her security?”
“I’ll bring it to the security officers’ attention. We can restrict her nighttime visitation to you and Colonel Guthrie, who is also on her directives’ list. I’m not sure what can be done during regular visiting hours, but I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.”
After tapping a finger on the screen to end the call, Gage opened his gallery to take a good hard look at the pictures he’d snapped of the men who had come after Zoe. Of all the questions asked and answered that night, the one that poked at him was whether these guys had been American. Prescott was insinuating that there might be a foreign group interested in Zoe, or maybe not Zoe as much as her research.
Gage scrolled through his contacts until he got to Titus Kane, a retired Marine Raider now functioning as a force commander for Iniquus. Iniquus was an entity who signed both private and public security contracts with deep-pocketed sources. They often served as intermediaries when the governmental alphabets weren’t playing nice in the same toy box. Iniquus was free to cut through the red tape and push the envelope on what constituted the letter of the law to take down bad guys, especially in politically delicate areas of the world. With Titus’s encouragement, Gage had recently interviewed for a job with them. Iniquus had a sterling reputation, and they treated their operatives with respect and provided them with ample resources to get their jobs done. Gage still had another month to decide whether or not to re-up with Uncle Sam. But for now, it was those resources that Gage had his focus on.
“Kane here.”
“Do you ever sleep, man?” Gage leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Just drinking my morning joe. I’m on graveyard tonight. What’s up?”
Gage quickly briefed Titus on the evening’s events, which was followed by a long pause before Titus said, “Glad she’s okay, man. You followed protocol and took photos and fingerprint ID?”
“Affirmative. The tangos were painted, so it’s hard to see the planes of the face. The ear pics are pretty clear. I was hoping you’d give the data a whirl through your search engines. See if you couldn’t pop up an ID.”
“Roger that. Send them through. I’ll get on it before I punch the clock.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Sempre Fi, brother.”
Okay, that’s good. That’s a step in a forward direction. He needed to take another step and another and another until he figured out who had gone after Zoe and how to keep her safe. He was up and pacing. He felt caged in and wanted to be out beating the bushes for whoever pushed the buttons to make those tangos jump. He’d learned the hard way on his very first deployment, you had to chop the head off the snake to kill it.
Gage ran through the hospital conversation again. Who was this Colonel Guthrie to Zoe? Why was he on her advanced directives list? Was he someone from DARPA? Gage knew a guy named Colonel Stan Guthrie, his unit had run parallel ops on occasion with his. He liked the guy; they got along just fine. He moved to the counter, dragged Zoe’s purse over, and fished out her phone. After swiping the code onto the screen to access her contacts, he looked up Guthrie.
Gage examined the icon next to the Colonel’s name. Same guy. He wondered if the hospital had gotten in touch with him, and if he knew what was going on. Gage considered calling, but then, he didn’t know what kind of relationship the colonel and Zoe had.
Zoe and Gage had never had the “exclusivity” discussion, but he had been monogamous with her. Since he met Zoe, all other women had fallen off his radar. Of course, his decision making wasn’t necessarily Zoe’s decision making. Gage typed the Colonel’s address into Google Maps. He wanted to look Guthrie in the eye when he told him about Zoe’s attack, get some kind of read on what their relationship was all about.
What the hell else am I going to find out about you tonight, Zoe?
Chapter Four
GAGE
“Hooah, son. It’s a might late to be ringing folks’ doorbells, don’t you think?”
Colonel Guthrie was dressed in blue striped pajamas and a plush robe that he held tight against the December cold.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, I’m here because of Zoe Kealoha.”
“Zoe?” The Colonel scanned over Gage’s shoulder at Gage’s car parked by the sidewalk light. “Come on in, Marine.” He stepped back from the door, and Gage moved into the dimly lit craftsman-style home.
Gage shot a look up the stairs.
“You didn’t wake the wife. She’s off visiting her sister. I was just about to have a finger of scotch to settle me in for the night. Can I pour you a tumbler?”
“Thank you, sir, but no.”
Gage stood in the middle of an oriental rug as the colonel moved to a side table crowded with lead crystal decanters. “It’s nigh on zero dark thirty. I’m sure you showing up at this hour means bad things for Zoe.” Guthrie moved over so they were standing side by side and eye to eye, both just over six feet tall. “Let’s have it.”
“Sir, may I ask how you know Zoe? Do you work together?”
“I recommended her for her current posi
tion. At DARPA, I’m her direct supervisor. Her dad and I were in boot camp together. He was smart and got out once he scratched twenty years onto his belt. Every time my contract comes up, I get bitten by the same damned bug and sign up for another round.” He took a swig from his glass. “When Hani Kealoha and his wife were headed back to the islands to retire, he asked me to keep an eye on Zoe for them, be there if she needed me.” The colonel’s face grew stern. “You’re here, and she’s not, so what’s going on? And how did you come by my name as having a connection with Zoe?”
Gage gave him a sanitized version of the night and concluded with, “Both of our names are on her hospital directives, sir. I got your address from her phone. She’s being treated for emotional shock after the break-in. She’s also suffering from exhaustion from lack of sleep. I thought it would be best if I came by in person on my way to the hospital.”
The colonel knocked back the rest of his scotch. “Not hurt though, you say? Just nerves and exhaustion?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. That would be one hell of a phone call to her parents.”
The front window lit up as a car pulled up on the front lawn and parked kitty-corner in the grass. “What in the hell?” The colonel moved to throw the front door wide. He stood with his lips pushed into a tight pucker. Gage could hear a car door open.
“Chuck, you son of a bitch. What the hell are you doing on my lawn, you drunken shit-for-brains?”