Undetected (Treasure Hunter Security Book 8)

by Anna Hackett

  “If you think Mom and Dad don’t fight and want to kill each other sometimes, then you’re wrong.”

  Darcy saw Alastair heading back. His face was focused and she knew he was running through a dozen things in his head. For now, they had a job to do. That’s what they all needed to be focused on.

  She ran her hands through her hair, tidying it. “Can you guys clear the museum, so I can get back to work?”

  Dec put his hands on his hips and looked at the sky.

  “You’re not going back to work today,” Burke said.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You were just exposed to a chemical. You’re going back to your hotel to rest.”

  “Excuse me, no.” Darcy swung her legs off the gurney and stood.

  Dec was still watching, but with amusement now. “For once, I agree with him.”

  “You, be quiet,” she said.

  “You’re resting,” Burke ordered.

  “N-O. It spells a word that means I’m not following your orders.”

  His face changed, darkening. Then he set his hands on Darcy’s waist. She gasped at the touch. Then he lifted her, and she found herself tossed over a broad shoulder.

  Speechless, all she could do was hang there. He did not just do that.

  “Put me down!”

  “No.” He stalked toward his car.

  “Burke!” She lifted her head and saw everyone was watching them.

  “No.”

  “You are so annoying.”

  She found herself lowered into the passenger seat of his car. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window.

  Arrogant, annoying asshole.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m fine.”

  Alastair ignored Darcy’s assurance as he followed her into the lobby of her hotel.

  He felt unsettled, adrenaline still circulating in his system. He’d been so fucking afraid. The mad drive from FBI headquarters to the Dashwood had felt like it’d taken a hundred years.

  And every mile of the way, his head had been filled with images of Darcy dead. Gone. He’d sprinted up the steps and burst through the agents who’d tried to hold him back, fighting to get inside and get to her.

  Before, vengeance for his mother had fueled him.

  Now, Silk Road had no idea of just what they’d ignited in him.

  Darcy jabbed the up button on the elevator. “I can get myself to my room, Burke. Better yet, I can go back to work.”

  The doors opened and he nudged her inside.

  She spun, attitude radiating off her. “Don’t you think I’ve forgotten your caveman tactics back at the museum, either—” Her words cut off with a gasp.

  Alastair watched her face go pale and she started to wilt. He lunged, wrapping an arm around her and catching her before she fell.

  “You were saying?” he muttered.

  “I’m…I’m a little dizzy.”

  He cursed under his breath and lifted her into his arms. The doors opened and he moved down the hall. “You need to start listening to me.”

  “I might if you quit with the orders. How about asking, discussing, using some manners?”

  “I’m used to giving orders.”

  She snorted. “No kidding.”

  “I’m…not good with niceties.” One, he was out of practice, and two, they took time. He preferred to get the job done as fast as possible.

  “You’re a smart man, Burke.” Dark brows arched over blue-gray eyes. “I’m pretty sure you can work it out. Practice makes perfect.”

  They reached her door and he studied her face. Her color was better. He set her down close to the wall and took the keycard from her hand.

  She snatched it back. “Remember two seconds ago? We talked about asking?”

  He heaved out a breath, then waved a hand at the electronic lock.

  She inserted the card and opened the door.

  She’d taken two steps inside, when he heard glass crunch under her heels. He wrapped an arm around her belly and pulled her back against him.

  “Oh no!” she cried.

  The room was trashed. Furniture had been toppled, the bed was torn up, and her clothes were strewn everywhere.

  “Fucking fuck,” she spat.

  Alastair pulled his Glock, and pushed Darcy back toward the door. “Stay here.” He paused. “Please.”

  She pulled her gaze off her ruined things and looked at him. Her lips quirked. “Since you asked so nicely.”

  He quickly cleared the room. There was no one here now.

  He came back to her, eyeing a scrap of black lace resting on an overturned chair. Darcy gasped and snatched up the tiny panties.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he said. “I’ll call it in. They’ll want to dust for prints.”

  “My things…?”

  “Once the police clear the place, I’ll get them to you.” He yanked out his phone and made a call to hotel reception. “This is Special Agent Burke, FBI. Put me through to your Security.”

  Darcy sighed. “We both know who’s responsible for this.”

  He nodded. “Another warning.”

  She lifted her chin, eyes flashing. “Silk Road can take their warning and shove it.”

  A voice came on the line. “Hotel Security.”

  “I’m in Room 531,” Alastair said. “There’s been a break in. Can you send someone up?” He waited for the response. “Thanks.” He ended the call. “There’s a chance they came looking to see if there was any data on what we have planned at the Dashwood.”

  “I didn’t have anything here,” she said.

  He nodded. “Okay, come on.” He nudged her out the door.

  “I’m sure the hotel can find me another room.”

  “No. The hotel is compromised.”

  “Declan is two floors above.”

  “No.”

  She frowned up at him. “Then another hotel.”

  Alastair grabbed her hand. He could already see that her energy was flagging. After the chlorine gas attack, she needed to be in bed, resting. “No. I need you somewhere safe.”

  She frowned. “Where?”

  “A place I know with top-of-the-line security. Where I can keep an eye on you.” He met her gaze. “My place.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “You can stay with me.” Alastair wasn’t taking any more risks. Not with her life.

  Darcy’s dark eyebrows shot up. “No. No. No.”

  “This is one of those times where I’m not asking.”

  “Burke—”

  “It’s an order, Darcy.”

  The elevator dinged and a man in a dark suit exited. “You called Security?”

  “Yes.” Alastair stepped forward. “There’s been a break in—”

  The man lunged and Alastair barely managed to dodge. He heard Darcy cry out. There was a crackling sound and that’s when Alastair saw the man was holding a stun gun.

  Alastair charged forward, dodged again, trying to land a punch. But the man was fast, swinging the stun gun. One touch and Alastair would go down.

  Suddenly, Darcy rammed into the man’s back, landing a blow to the man’s kidney.

  He grunted, spun, and pressed the stun gun to her belly.

  “No.” Alastair rushed toward them. He had to protect her.

  Darcy collapsed to the floor.

  Alastair felt a sharp pain at his side, felt his knees give way. His body shuddered and his gaze locked on Darcy. Then everything went black.

  “Darce. Come on, open those eyes.”

  Darcy wrinkled her nose. Dec’s voice was interrupting her nap. She felt her brother’s fingers at her wrist. Was he checking her pulse?

  She blinked her eyes open. Why was she on the floor in the hotel corridor? She frowned. She saw people in suits everywhere.

  She looked up at Dec crouched beside her and everything came swimming back.

  The chemical attack. Her trashed room. The man attacking her and Alastair.

  �
�Alastair!” She sat bolt upright.

  Thom appeared behind Dec, his face grim. “What happened, Darcy?”

  “We got here, my room was trashed. A man came, said he was Security. He attacked us with a stun gun.” She looked around. “Where’s Alastair? Is he okay?”

  Thom pulled in a deep breath. “He’s not here.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “Looks like they took him.”

  Her stomach did a slow, sickening roll. “His phone?”

  “Off or destroyed.”

  “Security footage—”

  “I have people searching it now.” Thom looked worried and pissed.

  Darcy pulled out her tablet and let Dec help her up. “I want access. Now.”

  Thom called for hotel security and moments later, she was in their feed. She tapped, running one of her image search programs.

  “Come on, come on.”

  “Darcy, you need to take it easy,” Dec said.

  “When he’s safe.” She looked at her brother. “He came for me. Ran right through the chlorine gas to get me out.”

  Her brother released a breath and nodded. “We’ll find him.”

  Her tablet dinged. “There!”

  She tilted the screen. The video showed a quick glimpse of two men carrying a third between them. She knew instantly the limp, suited man was Alastair. He was clearly unconscious, head lolling forward.

  Please be okay.

  “That was near a service elevator. Seven minutes ago. They know the camera locations and are avoiding them.” She tapped again. “They must have a vehicle close by.”

  Thom nodded. “They can’t go far carrying an unconscious man without people noticing or asking questions.”

  “I’ll find their car.” Using the location and possible exits, she narrowed it down. “These vehicles left the hotel at the right time frame.” The list flashed up.

  “Send it to me,” Thom said. “We’ll run them down.”

  Bing.

  An email notification flashed on Darcy’s tablet. Frowning, she clicked on it. What she saw made her suck in a breath.

  “Oh, my God.”

  The others crowded around her. Dec and Thom cursed.

  It was a live video showing Alastair slumped in the bottom of what looked like a large box made of clear, thick plastic. He was sitting against one side, chin resting on his chest.

  A timer was ticking below the image, showing just less than an hour. Her gut cramped. There was also a message.

  The box is sealed and air tight. You have an hour until Agent Burke runs out of air. Leave the diamonds on the loading dock at the back of the Dashwood Museum, and ensure all security cameras are disabled. Tick tock.

  Darcy shook her head. “This can’t be happening. Damn Silk Road to hell.”

  Thom swiveled. “Find the car. I need to know where it went and where he is. Now!”

  “He can’t be far,” Darcy said. “They only had about ten or fifteen minutes to get him out and send me this message.”

  “Let’s set up in my room,” Dec said.

  Soon, Darcy was sitting at the desk in Dec’s suite, having shoved all the magazines and the hotel guide on the floor. Trying to make herself calm down, she analyzed the image of Alastair. He was still unconscious.

  Panic was an ugly, hard feeling in her chest. “It looks like a warehouse, or basement. Plain concrete walls, empty of anything else.” At least in view of the camera trained on Alastair.

  “You can run a search on warehouses and basements in the search radius, right?” Dec asked.

  Her fingers flew over the screen. “Already doing it.” She huffed out a breath. “But there are way too many results.”

  “Come on, Darcy. Use that amazing brain of yours. There must be a way to narrow it down.”

  “Okay, okay.” She drummed her nails on the desk. Her mind was still sluggish from the gas attack. But Alastair needed her. “Thom, any luck tracing the cars?”

  The agent was seated at the coffee table, phone to his ear and a laptop in front of him. “We think it was the silver Cadillac. It was headed north. Got agents pulling street cameras to see if we can find it.”

  Darcy tapped a finger against her lip. North. That could narrow it a little. She restricted the search to all basements, warehouses, and industrial spaces north of the hotel.

  A rock lodged in her throat. “Still too many!” She smacked her palm on the desk.

  Suddenly, on the screen, Alastair lifted his head.

  “He’s awake!”

  He shifted, studying his plastic prison. He pressed his hands to the plastic, clearly testing it. He pushed with both hands, before ramming a shoulder against it.

  It didn’t give. Darcy bit her lip.

  “Hang on, Alastair,” she murmured.

  Thom appeared, staring at his partner. The time ticked down ominously.

  “Give me your list of locations,” the agent said. “I’ll send teams to start searching.”

  She nodded, but she knew it would take too long to search them all. Alastair would run out of air before they finished.

  Panic ate at her insides. She’d felt like this before, when the THS team was in the field and under attack. She hated the sense of helplessness.

  She kept her gaze on Alastair. He was studying the room now, turning his head.

  Darcy froze. He was wearing an earpiece.

  If he wasn’t too far away…

  She tapped fast on the screen. A quick hack into the FBI’s system and she had the right comms channel.

  “Burke?”

  His head snapped up. “—arcy?”

  The line was terrible, but she could hear him. “Thank God! We’re trying to find you.” She had no idea how much he could hear. She sensed the others in the room moving closer.

  “…basement…large. Some crates…far wall.”

  “Okay.”

  “Something writ…them. Shipping codes… LS, dash, D525.”

  “Got it. I’m running a search now. You hold on.”

  She watched her program churning through data and willed it to go faster. Every second felt like a minute. When she looked back at Alastair, she saw him drag in a deep breath. Her pulse tripped. There was still time on the clock, not much, but he was already feeling the effects.

  “Getting…der to breathe,” Alastair said.

  “Stay calm. Breathe slowly.” She pressed a fist to her chest. “We’re going to get you out.”

  “Darcy—”

  “Quiet.”

  He slumped against the side of the box and pressed a hand to the plastic. “You stop them. No…ter what.”

  “Damn you, quit talking.” She touched her screen. “We’re stopping them together.”

  His face looked calm as he looked up, right at the camera. “I wish—”

  Beep.

  She sat up. The search on the shipping code had found something.

  “I’ve got something. Langsdale Shipping.” She sucked in a breath. “He’s at the Dashwood. They put him in a basement at the Dashwood.”

  Darcy was aware of a flurry of activity behind her. She leaped to her feet and looked at her screen. “Hold on, Alastair, we’re coming to get you.”

  Chapter Six

  His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Alastair let his head drop forward and pulled in another long, shuddering breath.

  That’s when he heard doors slam open and the sound of running footsteps. Cavalry was here.

  People swarmed around his plastic prison and Thom’s face appeared beside him.

  “Hang on, Alastair.”

  Then he saw Darcy.

  She shouldered through the crowd, still wearing her ice-pick heels, although her usually neat swing of hair was mussed. They’d had a hell of a day, but she still looked beautiful.

  Thom was issuing orders. “Get that saw in here and cut this open. Move it.”

  Darcy’s eyes were filled with worry. She pressed a hand
to the plastic. Alastair lifted his own and pressed it to meet hers.

  The electric saw started, the loud noise echoing around them.

  Then fresh air hit him and he breathed deep. Thom and Dec reached through the broken plastic and helped him out. He felt lightheaded but wasn’t planning to admit that to anyone.

  “Shit, man.” Thom slapped his hand against Alastair’s back.

  “I’m fine, now,” he assured them all.

  Now that his head was clearing, all he could think about was the fact that the bastard could have taken Darcy instead of him. He guessed today’s attacks were to issue warnings and scare the fuck out of both of them.

  Darcy grabbed his hand, her fingers brushing his pulse. He saw a glimmer in her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare cry,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  “I’m an only child. A woman’s tears…” Left him feeling helpless and unmanned.

  “He hands any crying witnesses over to me,” Thom said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Completely useless.”

  Darcy sniffed.

  “You’re screwed now,” Dec said. “She knows Cal and I can’t handle tears, either. Woman can wield them like a weapon.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I do not.” Then she looked back at Alastair. “He needs to get checked out—”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “You made me get checked out.”

  “Chlorine gas exposure is a bit different to not having fresh air. I didn’t even lose consciousness.”

  “You did from the stun gun.”

  “So did you.”

  “How about you both take the afternoon off and get some rest,” Thom said.

  Alastair scowled at his partner. “No, I—”

  Thom held up a hand. “You—” he pointed at Alastair, then at Darcy “—and you. Go. Now. No arguments.”

  Darcy stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the dark-blue towel.

  God, she’d just showered in Alastair Burke’s glossy bathroom.

  He lived in a one-bedroom condo in a converted warehouse just north of the city. He’d told her the place had once been a helicopter factory. She loved it. It reminded her of the old flour mill in Denver that she and her brothers had converted into the Treasure Hunter Security offices.

  Alastair’s place had loads of exposed brick, touches of black iron, and a bathroom done in masculine gray tiles.