The man staggered to the side, landing hard against the brick of the nearest building. The guy hadn’t expected Holt to resist. Gave him a few seconds to rescue Cecelia.
But she was holding her own. He watched, stunned, as she used her strong grip on her purse straps to jerk her assailant closer and down, while she drove her knee up into his groin.
“Good girl,” he said, coming to her side. He urged her toward the other end of the alley. If the squealing tires had been a team watching Cecelia, they weren’t rushing in to help. He made a note to analyze it later. Right now they needed to escape. On the next street they could catch a cab and be safely out of reach in less than twenty minutes.
But the sound of glass breaking brought Holt back around.
The taller man wasn’t giving up.
“Hand her over.” He waved the bottle and charged, the sharp green edge coming closer, closer, until at the last moment, Holt blocked and turned. Determined, the taller man lurched back to his feet, advancing more cautiously this time.
Holt circled, keeping his face to the bottle-wielding thug and trying to get a line of sight on the other man. The shorter of their assailants squared up, flashing a knife.
Damn it. “Call nine-one-one,” he barked at Cecelia. Drawing his weapon would blow his cover with her.
As Cecelia made the call, Holt evaluated each man, looking for a weakness he could exploit quickly so they could get out of here before agents, authorities or helpful citizens decided to intervene.
The man with the knife was weaker, but wary. Holt feinted left, and the knife flashed wide of his hip. Holt kicked out and caught the man’s knee, and the knife skidded away as the thug crumpled. Cecelia snatched up the weapon.
“Keep that one down,” he told her. Neither he nor Cecelia would be here to give a report, but these two deserved a night in jail.
He heard shouts on the street and a siren in the distance. Time was running out for them to get away cleanly. Cecelia was too well known in the area and the last complication he needed was local law enforcement.
The man swung wild, panicking with Holt’s resistance and the warning that cops were on the way, and the jagged green edge caught at Holt’s coat, dragging at the sleeve. Following the motion, he used the taller man’s momentum to carry his fist into the hard steel of the trash bin.
The man howled with pain, but Holt used a quick series of uppercuts into his gut, robbing him of air and instantly silencing him. While he clutched his stomach, gasping for air, Holt drove another roundhouse into his jaw. The attacker slumped to the pavement, unconscious.
Holt turned back to find Cecelia pressing a Taser to the other assailant’s thigh. The lady was more prepared than he’d suspected. “Nice job. Let’s go.”
“But the police—”
“Can take care of it.”
Sirens wailed closer and he caught the flash of lights. Just what he didn’t need tonight: the fastest response time of Alexandria’s finest. The longer he could prevent Cecelia from learning his real identity and purpose here, the better.
“Let’s go. Your charity doesn’t need this kind of bad publicity.”
She gave him a strange look but she cooperated, rushing through the narrow lane to join the foot traffic on the next street.
They walked briskly for another block before he flagged a cab and opened the door for her to slide in ahead of him. “Your place or mine?”
When she didn’t immediately respond, he opened his mouth, ready to offer the address for the Plaza, but she surprised him.
“Yours.”
He struggled not to fidget or show his surprise over her choice as he gave the address for the marina where he kept his boat moored.
What in bloody hell did he do now?
Chapter Six
Mission Recovery Offices, 10:21 p.m.
Thomas jerked to attention when the phone rang in the outer office. He’d sent his assistant home hours ago, instead calling on Holt’s assistant, Nadine, to fill in.
“The surveillance team on the line for you, sir,” Nadine said.
She’d resisted and tried to make excuses for not staying, but he’d given her an ultimatum: cooperate or resign. Her decision confirmed Nadine wasn’t the mole and she’d answered all of his questions about what Holt had been asking her to do.
Unfortunately for Thomas, she didn’t know too much. Holt wasn’t careless and he didn’t rely on Nadine for all of his scheduling. Based on the information she did have, Thomas sent another Specialist to cover the few hours of reconnaissance Holt had asked Nadine to handle. The appointed observation target had been Cecelia’s house.
Thomas picked up the phone when the call transferred. “Report.”
“We’ve lost her, Director.”
Thomas picked up the painted plaster paperweight on his desk and nearly heaved it at the door before remembering it was a long-ago handmade gift from his niece.
“What happened?”
“You know her GPS isn’t working on her cell?”
“No surprise,” he barked. “How the hell did you lose her in the first place?”
“Everything was fine. We picked her up when she left the Plaza. She met her friends on schedule, but she stayed after they left the bar.”
“And?”
“She eventually left the bar with Deputy Director Holt.”
Thomas fisted his hand around the phone. “Where did they go?”
He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, unsure what he wanted to hear. He had a hard time believing Holt would hurt Cecelia on a professional level, and yet Holt wasn’t the dating type. At least he’d never dated someone like Cecelia before.
Not to mention that damned chatter about her being the target of a kidnapping attempt.
Damn it!
“They went to dinner at Ray’s.”
Thomas struggled to calm himself. “Best steaks in Old Town.”
“Yes, sir. We uploaded pictures of two men loitering near the restaurant.”
“I saw those.” He’d been waiting over an hour for the facial recognition software to spit out something useful.
“One of them went inside about a half hour before Mrs. Manning and Holt came out.”
“No one got any audio on the dinner?”
“Impossible, sir, unless we’d joined them at the table.”
“Understood.” Some logistics couldn’t be out-maneuvered, especially on short notice. “Do we have anything?”
The Specialist on the other end of the line hesitated. “Not much. We have prints and faces on the two men who tried to steal your sister’s purse as she walked back to her hotel.”
“She was mugged?”
“No, sir. The assailants were subdued.”
“Was she hurt? What about Holt?”
“I don’t have a clear answer yet. As I said, we’ve lost her trail. By the time we hit the scene, the potential victims were gone and the assailants unconscious.”
“You left them for the local police to deal with.”
“Yes, sir. Seemed like the best option.”
Thomas agreed. “So the man hired to kidnap my sister might have just accomplished the job?” It didn’t help matters any that Holt had been highly trained in evasion techniques and could effectively disappear without a trace in less than an hour.
After Nadine had spilled her sketchy information, Thomas had gone through Holt’s office with a critical eye. An extra identity remained in Holt’s office safe, but Thomas knew there should have been at least one more, and the cash earmarked for emergencies was gone.
He wasn’t prone to displays of temper, but he was about to lose it this time. This was his sister they’d lost. Every scattered bit of information he had said she was likely in the clutches of a traitor.
A traitor with skills and a past no brother wanted to think about.
“Do we have anything close to a lead?”
“No, sir. We’re about to run down cab companies. It’s the fastest way they could clear the area.”
“Or the bus or—”
“No, we’ve hacked those cameras. She hasn’t boarded any of the shuttles or the metro.”
It could be worse. That was the prime source of his problem, knowing exactly how much worse it could be. The betrayal cut deep. He had handpicked Emmett Holt to replace Lucas when he retired. How the hell could he have been so wrong about a guy with a pristine record?
He let the two agents he’d put on her go do their jobs. Nadine was monitoring the police scanner in the area, but he also tasked an analyst downstairs with the same job to make sure she didn’t miss or withhold anything he needed to know.
His cell phone chimed with a new text message. He grabbed it, ready to chew Lia out for turning off her GPS and dodging the protective tail, only to see Casey’s number on the display.
He dialed her number when he saw the message: Call when you can.
“Hello,” he said warmly, trying not to let on that her mother was missing. “Did Levi’s flight get in on time?”
“Yeah. We’re great. Mom moved over to the hotel tonight.”
“I know.”
“Thought you might. Does the team in the van have any crime-scene equipment?”
“What van?”
“Mom says there’s been a van parked in front of the Millers’ place for days. She assumed they were here on your orders.”
“It wasn’t me.” Damn it. What exactly had Holt put into motion?
“Levi and I can check it out.”
She sounded too ready for action. “Wait. Just leave it alone. I’ll have someone deal with the van. Why didn’t you call the police if you need a crime tech?”
“Because we’re not sure we have a crime.”
“Explain.”
Casey took a big breath that rushed across the line. “We found a bug in the kitchen, then searched the house and found two more. The office and the bedroom.”
Thomas cringed at the implications of those positions. Cecelia didn’t work with sensitive information in her current position at the CIA, but that would change if she made the switch to ops.
“Go on.”
“It’s just a hunch, but I think someone’s been here. Obviously to plant the bugs, but I mean tonight, when I went to the airport to pick up Levi.”
If someone had been in the house, why hadn’t the Specialist he’d assigned reported anything? His first instinct was to get over there and take a look personally. He used his computer to message Nadine, asking her to get a status report.
“I’m probably overreacting. It’s not like I can point to any one thing and say it’s out of place, but I just feel like a few things have been searched. I sent Mom a text, but she hasn’t replied yet.”
His jaw clenched. Being kidnapped had a tendency to interfere with messaging capabilities. “Did you check the safe?”
“Yes. It’s fine. I’m thinking we got home before they found it.”
“Was anything missing or...” He didn’t know quite how to finish the question. Security clearances for the job were one thing, but no matter how much field experience an agent had, investigating family was different.
“Everything looked the same to me. Well, almost the same.”
Thomas thought he recognized the problem. “Was her wedding ring in there?”
“Yeah,” Casey replied softly.
He had noticed Cecelia wasn’t wearing the ring. Obviously Casey hadn’t. That was going to be hard for her even though she would want her mother to be happy and to move one with her life. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She sniffled. “It’s just weird she’s moving on.”
“Only she can know when it’s time.”
“Oh, please. Don’t try and go all wise on me. I know it bugs you, too.”
“A little,” he admitted. William had been like a brother, but he was gone now. Cecelia deserved to live the rest of her life. Just not like this.
Mostly because it was Holt. That wasn’t entirely true. Up until a few weeks ago, Holt had his utmost respect. Now, as Thomas peeled back the layers on cases going back to June, he was starting to get a picture of a very different man. A man who was in bed with a very dangerous enemy.
Isely had every reason to hate Thomas, and it appeared he had bottomless resources to fund the revenge he’d promised years ago. The financial picture was still coming in, but it was clear Isely’s deals since taking over the family business had been savvy, private and lucrative.
“Your mom’s smart. She’ll find her way. The best thing we can do is keep supporting her.” He hoped he hadn’t already let her down.
“Right. You’ve got her covered tonight?”
“Sure thing,” he lied. How in the hell was he going to fix this?
“I’m meeting her late tomorrow morning. We have a mini spa thing at the Plaza.”
“Sounds good. Can Levi stay at the house? Keep it covered in case whoever planted those bugs comes back?”
“We already decided that was best.”
“Great minds,” Thomas said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“We will. See you tomorrow night, Uncle Thomas.”
“Can’t wait.”
Thomas stared at the phone when the call ended. He should get out to Alexandria, but something—that gut instinct he’d learned to trust—told him to wait.
Instead, he called in a favor with the local police. They could check on any cars that didn’t belong in Cecelia’s neighborhood. Then he picked up his cell phone and called his wife to give her an update on the degrading situation.
Hearing her voice would be the only thing good about this night.
Chapter Seven
The marina? It was just one more question on the list spinning through Cecelia’s mind, none of which she wanted him to answer here in the cab.
She didn’t need the echoes of her brother’s warning to reach the obvious conclusion that Emmett Holt wasn’t some average guy with a private security firm, as he’d posted in his online profile. The surprise attack and resulting tension between them made it clear they both knew there was more going on here.
“Are you hurt?”
He didn’t reply, just sat beside her, his body rigid, his hands on his knees. His eyes, she knew, were scouring the street, looking for any sign they were being followed.
Adjusting her purse, she reached over and laced her fingers through his. He startled, then stared. First at their joined hands, then slowly he lifted his glacier gaze to meet hers.
“I’m a good listener,” she said, low enough that the cab driver wouldn’t overhear. She told herself that this was part of what a good field agent would do...but she wasn’t entirely sure that was the motive for her actions.
She prayed she wasn’t being a fool.
Still, of all the things she might have told him, that one point seemed the most relevant. It didn’t make sense. He’d obviously lied to her about a few things, but something about the man beside her—the frown twisting his face, the tension in his body—made her say that first.
She had the odd feeling he was in over his head. As a deputy director of an elite covert team, it didn’t seem entirely reasonable. Her brother’s team of Specialists was well trained to salvage ops that slid sideways and out of reach. Their success rate was ridiculously high because Thomas wouldn’t tolerate anything less. What could possibly worry a man with that kind of experience and expertise?
The potential answers didn’t offer any sort of comfort. Just the opposite.
Remembering how one attacker had demanded her,
she shivered. Her apparent savior shifted, tucking her under the shelter of his arm. She should tell him those same men had asked her for directions just a few hours ago, should tell him she knew who he was. She should tell him about the message Casey had sent a few minutes ago.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say any of those things in the cab. “Thank you,” she said, as the post-adrenaline tremors set in.
He rubbed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her hair. It wasn’t the kind of gesture she expected from a worldly operative or a man supposedly betraying his team and country. There was an inherent kindness behind the comfort he offered her.
“You did well,” he said.
Not from her perspective. “You did all the hard work.” She traced the rip in his jacket sleeve. “It’s ruined.”
“It’s replaceable.”
“We should have a real conversation.”
“Probably,” he said, twisting a bit to peer out the back window.
“Will we?”
He didn’t reply, just squeezed her shoulder once more.
Her tremors eased up as the cab driver turned into the marina entrance. The landscaping on either side of the drive was draped with colorful holiday lights, but it didn’t do anything to lift her mood.
A loud party overflowed the marina building and she did a mental rundown of the local calendar, trying to figure out if she’d know anyone attending, but she couldn’t recall who had rented the space for tonight.
Would she call out for help anyway? Or just keep going with the flow and hoping this man was the hero she wanted him to be?
Maybe her daughter and brother were right. Maybe she didn’t have the right stuff for this kind of work.
“Looks like quite a bash going down,” the cab driver observed as Emmett paid the fare.
“Sailors always know how to party,” he agreed. “Thanks for the lift.”
Instead of leading her around toward the water, he guided her straight toward the raucous party. “We’re not dressed for this kind of event,” she protested.
He looked her up and down and the resulting shiver had nothing to do with fear or adrenaline. Only anticipation. “Not every party is a gala.” The wind caught her hair, but he smoothed it back behind her ear. “You look very good to me.”
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 6