by Debra Webb
Using his cane, Lucas levered himself from his chair. He took a couple of steps in Patrick’s direction. “The man who refers to himself as Wheeler is the one we must stop in order to close down this organization he’s built. As Angela pointed out, he’s not going to take the risk of being trapped without one hell of a reason. She might very well be the only motivation compelling enough to get the job done.”
When Patrick would have argued, Simon stepped into the conversation. “I’m sure Lucas is not suggesting that Angela conduct this kind of sting alone. She’ll need backup and we’ll need a flawless plan. As a team we can accomplish both goals—taking down Wheeler and protecting her.”
Angela started to protest, but Lucas cut her off with a stern glance. “No negotiations, madam. This is the way we do things.”
Patrick couldn’t imagine anyone in his or her right mind arguing with that directive.
“All right. If that’s the way it’s got to be.” She looked from one implacable face to the next. “How are we going to do this?”
Angela was still a little behind the curve. Her cognitive reactions were way too slow. Otherwise there was no way these guys would have bested her. But she could work with this. It wasn’t like she had a choice.
At least not on this side of the starting line. When she got in the race she would do things her way.
“Our first move should be to contact Wheeler,” Ian suggested.
“It will be difficult to formulate a plan of action until contact has been made,” Simon agreed. “We need to see how this guy is going to want to play the game.”
Exactly. Angela would have recognized the logic and strategic skills of a fellow agent even if O’Brien hadn’t already informed her that Simon Ruhl was former FBI. He fit the profile of a special agent.
“The plan is simple,” she announced, determined to run this show in spite of the massive quantity of testosterone permeating the room. “I give Wheeler a call and let him know I’m ready to come in. I pretend that to my knowledge, now that my memory is back, the whole Sande Williams persona never happened.”
“You think it’s going to be that simple?” O’Brien demanded. “Wheeler wouldn’t have gotten this far if he were stupid.”
“I know what I’m about.” She was sick of everyone telling her what she should do. It was past time to get this party started. “I’d like to make the call now, please.”
Ian Michaels placed his cell phone on the coffee table and attached a small accessory. When he turned it on she recognized it for what it was. A call diverter.
“When you make the call it will appear that it’s coming from wherever you choose.”
“The coffee shop on Broadway,” she said promptly. Wheeler had shown up there when they were supposed to meet Lyons, which was likely his not so subtle way of letting her know he was responsible for the detective’s demise. Wheeler had likely suspected that Lyons was onto him. Poor detective. He hadn’t had a chance against such a slick piece of work.
Simon made a call to the office and got the number for the coffee shop. Once it was entered into the diverter, she was set. All she had to do was place the call.
“Can we have a moment?” O’Brien asked, his gaze pinning her with a “yes, I mean you” glare.
“Sure.”
She followed him to the study down the hall. The door was hardly closed when he wheeled on her. “You need to lose the attitude.”
“What attitude?” She set her hands on her hips and gave him the same hard-core glower he aimed in her direction. “What you see is what you get.”
He shook his head slowly. “You might want the others to believe that you’re a completely different person from the woman we knew as Sande Williams. But I know better. Beneath that overconfident exterior is that same scared-as-hell individual who’s confused and uncertain about herself and her future.”
Doubt closed her throat. “You’re wrong. I know exactly who I am and what I’m doing. I’m up to this. Are you?”
He ignored her question. “I didn’t get you this far only to see you take a suicide plunge now.” His nostrils flared with the anger simmering beneath that oh-so-controlled surface.
It wasn’t the time, but she couldn’t help wondering if the Doc ever lost control.
Probably not.
“What’s wrong? You never took a chance before? Is playing it safe the way you like to go through life? If so, you’re missing out on all the fun. Chill out and let’s get this done.”
Fury tightening his lips, he clasped her shoulders in those big hands and gave her a little shake.
“Wow. Finally, a gut reaction!” she exclaimed.
And then he kissed her. Maybe just to shut her up, but the effect was the same. She melted against him like ice cream dropped on a hot sidewalk. His lips were desperate, as if he hadn’t kissed in a really long time. His body trembled with the fury she’d seen in his eyes.
She snaked her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss…into that muscular chest. It felt good. It felt damn good.
Then he stopped. Drew back just enough to catch his breath.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
She rose on tiptoe and kissed his damp lips again. “No, but I’m glad it did.”
Before he could gather his wits, she dropped her arms, darted around him and returned to where the rest of the crew waited.
Time to make this thing happen. If she got it going now she wouldn’t have to worry about O’Brien coming up with any more logical reasons she shouldn’t. He was way too rattled.
“Let’s make that call,” she announced as she joined the others.
“Keep in mind,” Lucas recommended, “he’s going to want to meet with you as soon as possible to finish the cleanup of this mess. Don’t let him push you into cutting yourself short on time.”
Angela nodded. O’Brien had nailed her with his psychoanalyzing. She’d pushed the edge of cockiness to get their attention and her way. But inside, where no one but he could see, she was terrified. Maybe it had taken him pointing it out for her to acknowledge it. Bad timing.
She gritted her teeth against the emotion. No amount of fear was going to stop her from taking this bastard down.
She picked up the phone and entered the number she somehow knew by heart. Just as instinctively, her heart started a ferocious pounding.
The voice she would recognize on any side of hell answered on the second ring.
“This is Tapley. I need to come in.”
There was a pause.
Her pulse reacted.
He named a place and time.
The determination and attitude that had earned her the top spot in her Bureau training class roared through her. “That won’t work for me,” she retorted without missing a beat. “Mercy General’s morgue, two o’clock.”
She pushed the end call button and handed the phone back to Ian. “Good job,” he offered.
What the hell had made her pick that location?
Maybe because that was where this damned game had left off.
Maybe because she hadn’t been thinking beyond her need for vengeance.
Truth was, she was worried.
But that wasn’t going to stop her.
“We have three hours,” Simon announced. “Let’s lay out a strategy.”
“Detective Cates should be included,” O’Brien advised.
Angela wasn’t so sure how she felt about the detective. Lyons had given her mixed signals, at least what she had seen of him before she’d sunk into the Sande Williams persona. She’d met with him twice before her brain got scrambled. Cates was an unknown factor. Lyons had never mentioned him and neither had Wheeler. Maybe that was a good thing.
“Call him,” Angela agreed, surprising O’Brien. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Her plan wouldn’t include any of them, anyway. She might as well play nice until the moment she needed to make the leap into a solo act.
Barely half an hour later the detective joined them
at the Colby Agency safe house. Shane Allen, another of O’Brien’s associates, had arrived with several duffel bags of equipment and protective gear.
When the detective had been brought up to speed, he sat back a moment and considered Angela. She met his scrutiny without a blink. He could trust her or not. Didn’t really make a difference to her.
“You sure don’t seem like the same lady I met yesterday,” he commented.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Detective,” she replied just as dryly.
“Two hours from now,” Simon interjected, getting down to business, “we move into place at the hospital.”
Simon and Ian spent the next few minutes outlining their strategy for trapping Wheeler in the hospital’s basement. All of which had to be accomplished without alerting security before the takedown. There was no way to know who at the hospital was working with Wheeler, but someone must be, considering they had denied Sande had ever been in their facility.
“You’ll be fully wired,” O’Brien said to Angela. “Simon and Ian will be aware of every sound and movement around you.”
She had a bad feeling about him leaving his name out of that scenario. “And where will you be?”
“I’ll be right next to you.”
No way. She waved her hands in denial. “That won’t work. No one can be in the room. Wheeler won’t show if there’s a warm body anywhere near there, besides mine. He’ll use thermal imaging.” She looked from one man to the other. “I’m telling you he won’t take any chances.”
“He’ll never know I’m there even if he does use thermal imaging,” O’Brien challenged. “Trust me.”
“He’s too smart to be fooled by any of your twelfth-hour theatrics.” Didn’t O’Brien understand? If he got too close they’d both end up dead.
“You do your part,” O’Brien insisted, “the rest of us will do ours.”
Angela turned to Lucas Camp for backup, but that wasn’t happening. All the men in the room were determined to protect her. She’d spent a lifetime proving she could take care of herself in a man’s world. This was not the time to take a major step back.
“Let’s get prepped.” Ian stood. “We’ll need to test the communications.”
O’Brien pulled her aside to speak privately again as the others gathered around the gear. One look into his dark eyes and she knew he was not buying her team act for a second.
“Whatever you’ve got up your sleeve, Angela,” he warned, “you’d better think twice. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
She smiled, wishing it wasn’t genuine. There was just something about him that got to her, way beneath the skin. Miles deeper than anyone else had ever gotten. “You think you know me, O’Brien, but you don’t. If I decide to make an unplanned move, you won’t see it coming in time to react.”
He held her gaze for three, four, five seconds. The kaleidoscope of emotions there took her breath away.
“That’s what scares me,” he murmured. “That I won’t see it coming until it’s too late.”
As long as it saved his life, she wasn’t worried.
Chapter Sixteen
Mercy General’s morgue was in the basement.
Getting five men into place in authorized-personnel-only territory wasn’t a simple task.
Patrick tucked the final video chip onto Angela’s jacket. The Colby Agency generally coordinated operations with the security team of any facility they were forced to utilize, but this situation was different.
They couldn’t risk involving anyone on staff at the hospital, since the administration had staunchly denied any knowledge of Sande Williams having been in their facility in any capacity.
“You should get into position with Ian and Simon,” Angela told Patrick, her patience obviously growing thin. Ian and Simon were just inside the walk-in cooler, on the other side of the massive door across the room. It was close and the chilly temperature would prevent their body heat from showing up on a thermal scan.
“There’s time,” Patrick said, blowing her off.
“Everyone else is in place,” she nagged.
Patrick had a very bad feeling about all of this. Lucas and Cates were in the lobby directly above their position. They were watching and listening via the communications links placed on Angela, as well as positioned around the room where she would confront Wheeler.
And still Patrick couldn’t get the idea out of his head that things weren’t going to go down as planned. Angela had some sort of scheme up her sleeve. He sensed it with every cell in his body.
He donned the lab coat with its borrowed badge, along with the standard black-framed eyeglasses, and laid facedown on the floor. He would be playing the part of the morgue attendant Wheeler was supposed to believe Angela had disabled. The actual morgue attendant had been persuaded to have coffee in the cafeteria with the Colby Agency receptionist. This operation had a thirty-minute window. It was going to be close.
Five minutes and Wheeler was supposed to show. Simon, Ian and Lucas had already discussed with Patrick the idea that Wheeler surely wouldn’t get himself hemmed into a situation like this.
Angela’s response to Wheeler when she made the call had to have been a code of some sort for a different location. As Patrick had pointed out to her before, Wheeler hadn’t gotten to the top of the scumbag chain by being stupid.
Patrick counted off the seconds. Any minute now he was certain Angela would do the unexpected.
The thought had no more formed in his brain than she did exactly that. She shoved the pin dangling from a chain on the handle into the walk-in cooler door, locking Simon and Ian inside, and made a run for the corridor.
“Damn it!” Patrick scrambled to his feet and rushed after her.
ANGELA HAD TO HURRY. She reached the stairwell door, opened it wide and let go. Instead of hitting the stairs, she slipped into the same janitor’s closet she’d used the last time she was here.
She held her breath. Ignored the voices shouting in her ear via the communications link. Simon and Ian were pissed.
O’Brien’s pounding footsteps passed the janitor’s closet and headed up the stairs. He’d likely seen the stairwell door as it closed leading him to reason that she’d taken the stairs.
She had to work fast now. One by one she stripped off the audio and visual communications links. Then she ran for the elevator.
Lucas or Cates would rush down to free Simon and Ian. One or the other would have hit the elevator call button by now.
As if she’d coordinated her efforts with all involved the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival. She hid around the corner and waited for Lucas to make his way toward the morgue. Just before the doors glided closed, she bolted for the elevator. She hit the lobby button and a few seconds later she was there.
Using the parking garage exit, she was out of the building and putting through a call to Wheeler within two minutes of their original meeting time.
“South side of Mercy General,” she told the bastard. “Now.”
That was the strategy she and Wheeler had always used. The first meeting place stated was never the one. A secondary location was always given, to ensure a way out of exactly the scenario she’d left behind in the morgue.
Another of those stabs of guilt landed deep in her gut. O’Brien would never forgive her for deceiving him. But this was the way it had to be. Wheeler would never have rendezvoused with her unless she was completely alone. He damn sure wouldn’t do it in an area where he might be cornered. Like the morgue. That had been a ruse in order to better control the actions of O’Brien and his associates.
She knew how Wheeler operated.
This was the only way.
He had to go down.
The only way to really stop him was to kill him. That was her plan. She might die in the process but it would be worth it if she got him.
Angela stopped at the corner of the building to catch her breath and look for Wheeler’s car.
Before she killed him she would lik
e to know one thing. What had he done to muddy her memory?
Maybe she would never know.
Wouldn’t matter, anyway. She’d likely be dead.
A hand closed over her mouth at the same time a strong arm coiled around her chest and jerked her up against a hard body.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
She fought his hold, twisted her head to confirm what her ears heard.
O’Brien.
Damn! He was going to ruin everything.
She struggled against his grasp.
“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. Scream or run and I swear I’ll pin you to the ground.”
“He’s coming,” she snarled as soon as his fingers loosened on her lips. “If he sees you he’ll disappear and this chance will be lost forever.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The ferocity in O’Brien’s eyes cut straight through her. “We’ll do this the right way.”
The blood roared in her ears in time with the pounding in her chest.
“What’s your plan?” she demanded, ready to howl with frustration.
“See that building across the street?”
She looked past the cars moving slowly along the asphalt to the four-story medical equipment and supplies shop. “Yeah, so what?”
“Simon is taking a position there.”
That was impossible. She’d locked Simon and Ian in the cooler, and they had no idea where she was. O’Brien had gotten lucky when he took the south side looking for her.
“To your right,” he murmured against her forehead, his lips distracting her, even as furious as she was at the moment, “Ian is watching from that clinic. Shane is in the parking garage watching from the second level.”
“That’s impossible,” she argued, giving voice to her thoughts. “They couldn’t have known which way I would go.”
O’Brien laughed. “I told you I was onto your strategy. I added an extra audio link you didn’t know about.” He plucked it from her hair. “We heard what you told Wheeler.”
Pride welled right alongside the fury and frustration. “You caught me,” she confessed. “Now what’s your plan? We’ve got one shot. Make it count.”