by Tess Diamond
At least Maggie was far away. He knew she was probably going crazy because she’d been tossed off the case. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that her absence reduced the chances of getting Kayla out alive. Harrison was as good as dead. Mancuso wasn’t going to let anyone go free, and Black wasn’t going to give Mancuso what he wanted.
Despite that reality, a part of him couldn’t help feeling relieved that Maggie wouldn’t be around when whatever happened went down. Catastrophic damage, lost lives, Jake could see it all looming ahead of them. All because of Black.
He didn’t want Maggie to go through another trauma like losing her sister. Or losing the girl at Sherwood Hills. He knew how much these tragedies had marked and defined her. How they haunted her.
He understood being haunted like that.
But Maggie was out of Black’s line of sight. There was some relief in that, even though watching her fight, watching her try to reason with Black and his cold response, had made Jake shaky with rage.
It was as if Black was deliberately ignoring expert advice. Almost like . . . like . . . he wanted a bloodbath.
Jake straightened, his eyebrows drawing together. Could that be it? Did he not want a peaceful outcome to this? Mancuso dying in a blast might solve a lot of Black’s problems.
Did Mancuso have the goods on Black too?
He needed to get out of here. Jake jerked on the cuffs, but they didn’t give. He was looking around for something to use as a tension wrench so he could pick the lock when the sound of the door opening and closing made him stop.
Black strode toward him, his face blank, but his eyes glittered with triumph.
“Let me guess,” Jake said. “You made some calls about me.”
Black sat down on the bench across from him, interlacing his fingers and gazing at Jake over them. “I must admit, you have an impressive record,” he said. “So many medals. So many commendations.”
“I’m good at my job,” Jake said. God, he wanted nothing more than to punch this guy. He was everything he hated about covert operatives. There were two types of people who were suited for the work: those who came naturally by deception, and those who had to learn it.
When you have to learn it, you learn empathy. Morals. Right and Wrong.
When it’s as natural as breathing, it’s a problem.
“So what’s the plan, Black?” Jake asked, planting his feet firmly on the ground, just in case. He wasn’t going to put anything past this guy. He was sneaky. Underhanded.
“I’ve spoken to your superiors,” Black said.
Jake’s grin was slow and slick. He chuckled, imagining the look on the general’s face when some CIA hard-ass called him up. “How’d that go?”
“You have a very loyal team,” Black said.
“Damn right,” Jake said with pride. He and the general didn’t always see eye to eye, but he wasn’t the kind of man to bow under any pressure.
“It’d be a pity if something happened to them.”
The emotion fled from Jake’s face in an instant. His heart turned to ice and he leaned forward, the cuffs cutting deep into his wrists with the movement. He didn’t even feel the pain.
“You touch one hair on my team’s head, and there’ll be nothing left of you for your spook buddies to find,” he said, his voice low and full of a deadly promise that they both knew he could fulfill.
“You really shouldn’t show your hand so easily,” Black commented, getting up from the bench.
It was exactly what Jake needed. He slouched down in his seat, straightening his legs, and in a lightning-fast movement, hooked them around Black’s ankles. With a practiced twist, his hands still bound, he yanked Black’s feet from underneath him, and the man went flying, his face slamming into the floor of the SWAT unit. He let out a surprised grunt as Jake pressed his boot against his neck.
“I could break your neck right now,” Jake told him calmly. His heart pounded from the exertion and strength it took to keep Black pinned with only his legs. The cuffs cut deep into his skin, and he could feel blood trickling down his arms. “You decide to play the tough guy and threaten my team? For that alone, I should lay you out. But you also sent that man after Maggie. And that was a big mistake.” Jake pressed his boot harder into Black’s neck. “There I go again, showing my hand,” he said pleasantly, like they were buddies having a beer. “You or any of your goons touch Maggie again, and you’ll be begging me to stop.”
“You gonna go all Goldlake on me?” Black sneered.
For a second, shock took over him when Black used that expression. He couldn’t control it. And Black was ready for the chink he’d made in Jake’s armor. He twisted, grabbing Jake’s foot and pushing it backward, hard. Jake slammed into the bottom of the bench as Black leapt to his feet, coughing and red faced. Blood trickled down his forehead and he wiped it away, flicking it onto the ground.
“Fucking animal,” Black spat at him. “I know all about you. All about that week in the desert.”
Jake fought hard to keep his anger off his face—but from Black’s triumphant expression, he knew he was failing.
No one was supposed to know about Goldlake. The mission had been completely off the books—or so he’d thought. Fury twisted in his chest, and he fought hard against the memories that threatened to spill into his head. He couldn’t think about the past now. That’s exactly what Black wanted.
Kayla’s safety was what mattered. And Jake needed to fight for her. With Maggie gone, there was no one else here on her side who was willing to do that.
Black marched over to the door, yanking it open. Jake could hear him shouting for someone to come and cuff his legs. And a few minutes later, an agent scurried in and secured his legs, tightening the cuffs.
“Sorry,” the agent muttered when he saw how torn up his wrists already were.
“What happened with Agent Kincaid?” Jake asked in an undertone. “Did she leave?”
The agent—some guy with red hair—hesitated. And then he gave Jake a short nod before hurrying away, leaving him alone in the mobile unit.
Jake slumped back on the bench as far as his bonds allowed.
At least Maggie was safe, away from this madness.
But that meant this was on him to fix. He allowed himself five seconds, just five seconds of worry and anger, and then he took a deep breath and straightened in his seat.
First step: He needed to find a way out of here.
And then he was going to show Black exactly what kind of man he was.
Chapter 57
She’d gone insane. That’s the thought that spun around in her head as she crept through the woods. The trees provided great cover, the overgrown trails barely visible in the dark. A few times, she stumbled in the dark, nearly falling flat on her face once when her boot caught on a particularly gnarled tree branch. But she forged ahead through the underbrush. She was determined.
She had to be because she was about to take the biggest gamble of her life.
It was unnerving, being this deep in the woods again. She had to go off-trail to make her approach. She’d never admit this to anyone, but she avoided landscapes like this. She ran in well-lit, manicured parks instead of on hiking trails. It helped her avoid the memories of bloody bare feet, every panicked step taking her farther and farther away from her sister.
But now she had no choice. So she sucked it up, pushed down the memories, the guilt.
Erica was gone. But Kayla wasn’t. There was still time.
There was still hope. If her plan worked.
Maggie approached the cabin from the north, where there were only two SWAT officers patrolling. It was the perfect angle, and the line of journalists stubbornly waiting the story out had a prime view, just in case. She reached the final slope, wiggling up it in a crouch so she wouldn’t draw SWAT’s attention.
She lay there, frozen still, flat on the ground, watching them. It felt as if every cell of her body was on fire. Part of her wanted to run away, her flight instinct app
ealing to the lost twelve-year-old inside her instead of the woman she’d become. She didn’t have to do this. She was off the case. No one would blame her.
But if she didn’t at least try, she’d never be able to stand tall, to look Jake in the eye without shame.
She refused to be a coward. She would be brave, like Erica had begged her to be. Crazy, but brave.
Crouching in the bushes, she waited until both of the SWAT agents’ backs were turned. Maggie leapt to her feet, thankful her legs were burning from exertion rather than trembling. She needed all the strength she could muster up. All the speed she could summon. This had to happen. Fast.
Maggie moved quickly, with a confidence she didn’t feel. Her entire body was tensed, half expecting to get shot at any second. Brush and dry pine needles crunched beneath her feet as she hurried toward the cabin.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. This was crazy. This plan was against all her training. But she couldn’t care. There was too much at risk with Black in charge. She needed to put a stop to it, and this was the only way she knew how.
Jake would be furious if he knew what she was doing. She hoped he wouldn’t blame her, that he wouldn’t be too mad—because if this crazy plan worked, she was going to need him.
“Hey!”
They’d caught sight of her. Maggie tensed, but pressed on, surefooted. She was sure any second a bullet would pierce her back, her shoulder, her skull. Her stomach lurched sickly with fear, but she didn’t even look up—if she did, she might stop. So she kept going, concentrating on the door.
Keep moving, she told herself. People are indecisive when they’re surprised, even when they were trained as well as the Omega Teams. SWAT knew who she was, so they wouldn’t shoot her. Probably.
God, please don’t let them shoot her. Thank God for the press—they were recording everything. Black wouldn’t give the order to shoot, knowing it’d end up on live TV . . . would he?
There was a confused murmur, then shouting, as the reporters caught sight of her. Her stomach tightened, knowing that every camera they had was on her. That her insanity was being broadcast all over the world.
She just needed to get to the door. That’s all. Only a few more steps.
“Ms. Kincaid!” Black’s voice boomed over a megaphone. Maggie flinched but accelerated her pace, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at him. She knew he was there. She knew he was furious. She didn’t need to see it. Screw him and the CIA. Kayla meant nothing to them: They cared only about covering up their own misdeeds.
She was done with him and his callousness. He had his priorities, but she had hers.
She was going to show him exactly what it meant to cross a woman like her.
“Ms. Kincaid, you’re in violation of orders. Return to the perimeter immediately!”
But it was too late: she’d reached the door.
With a shaking hand, Maggie knocked. “Mancuso!” she shouted. “Mancuso, it’s Maggie. Let me in!”
There was a pause, an impossibly long second when she was sure she’d end up tackled to the ground and cuffed. She was sandwiched between two horrible options: the cabin full of C4 or Black and his men, clearly ready to shoot to kill. Either way, she might end up dead. But she would die trying to help Kayla. She closed her eyes, waiting for it. For the darkness to engulf her. For it to be over. For her to be over.
Then she heard the scrape of a lock, and the door opened slowly. Maggie held both hands up so he could see she wasn’t going for a gun.
“Why are you here?” Mancuso demanded, his hand clutching the dead man’s switch.
“Let me in before they shoot me,” Maggie hissed.
Rattled and sweating, Mancuso stepped aside.
“Don’t you dare go in that cabin, Kincaid,” Mr. Black shouted over the megaphone.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He stood near the edge of the clearing, his legs spread wide, clutching the megaphone as if he wished it were a gun. He kept looking over at the journalists who were watching with rapt attention, their cameras trained on Maggie.
Maggie barely resisted the urge to flip the jerk off before she rushed inside the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her.
For a moment, she and Mancuso just stared at each other in the dim light. He looked terrible. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his normally coiffed hair was drenched with sweat, and his tanned face was gray and drained.
“I’m just here to help Kayla,” she said.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Mancuso said flatly. “What the hell was that?” He kept looking her up and down, like any moment he expected her to pull a gun. Maggie watched as his fingers tightened around the dead man’s switch.
She needed to start talking fast.
“That was me taking a risk,” Maggie said hurriedly, eyes still on the switch. “I’m willing to sacrifice to get you what you want, Mancuso.” She met his eyes determinedly. “I’m willing to risk my life so we can make a deal. That should breed some trust.”
Mancuso stared at her like she was an alien. “They wouldn’t have shot you,” he said uncertainly.
Maggie shrugged. “Don’t be so sure,” she said. “Thanks, by the way. I owe you.”
“You’re wasting your time trying to suck up to me,” Mancuso hissed. “I’m not going to make a trade.”
Maggie looked around the cabin. They were in what looked like a mudroom. There were boots in a row near the door and a rickety coat rack with a few scarves and a plaid jacket hung from it. The floor was a worn, scarred oak that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
She couldn’t see Kayla or Paul; they must be in the front room. She needed to get in there. Paul was trained for these high-stress situations; he would keep it together. But Kayla was a kid. The stress was likely making her worse.
“I know you won’t make a trade,” Maggie told Mancuso. “But you also know that there’s no way in hell Black’s going to send a news crew in here to talk to you. So it looks like both of us are kind of stuck, aren’t we?”
Mancuso frowned, confused. “Then why are you here?”
“To help you get what you want,” Maggie said.
“You’ve gone rogue?” Mancuso sputtered. He yanked his free hand agitatedly through his hair, staring suspiciously at her. Maggie eyed the trigger in his other hand, but his fist remained clenched tight. “But you just said—”
“I have my priorities,” Maggie interrupted. “The guy who’ll be calling you in a second? He has his. He and I are not on the same page. If you’re going to trust anyone, Roger, don’t let it be that guy. He’ll use it against you—and then he’ll probably kill you. He’s not interested in helping you. He’s interested in eliminating threats. And you’re a threat.”
As if on cue, Mancuso’s phone rang. He dug in his pocket with his free hand, checking the screen. “It’s from you,” he said, looking confused. “What’s going on? I told you, no tricks . . .”
“They took my phone when they fired me,” Maggie explained.
He looked shocked, and then whistled. “They fired you? What the hell did you do?”
“Challenged authority,” Maggie replied. “Pissed off the wrong guy.” She held out her hand. “Let me answer it.”
“Why should I do that?” he asked, suspicion rising in his voice.
“Because I’m better at negotiating than you,” Maggie said brusquely. “And I’ll get us both what we want.”
Chapter 58
Jake had almost worked the spring out of the seat when the truck door opened. He settled himself over the torn upholstery, looking relaxed and bored as Black and two men he didn’t recognize marched inside. He wanted nothing more than to lunge at Black, to crack his skull hard against the bridge of his nose, breaking it—and then finish him off.
Black stared at him icily, keeping his distance. Jake smiled to himself. He’d clearly learned his lesson about getting too close.
“You done already?” Jake asked sarcastically. “I didn’t hear a bomb go of
f.”
Mr. Black’s normally placid expression had vanished, replaced by stormy, barely contained anger. Jake raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. Something had happened. Something that Black wasn’t happy about. This could be good. Or really horrible. Or both.
God, what a mess. The CIA screwed everything up.
“Uncuff him,” Black ordered.
The men scurried to obey, and Jake frowned as they unshackled him.
“Leave us,” Black said to his men.
Only when they were alone, did Black hold out a phone. Jake looked down at it, puzzled when he realized that it was Maggie’s cell. He recognized the red case.
“She says she’ll only talk to you,” Black said.
“She . . .” Jake frowned, his gut churning with dread. No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t be that reckless.
Right when he’d felt some relief that she was safe, out of the fray . . . He should have known she’d never give up. Like a little pit bull . . . He pressed his lips together, his worry sparring with his deep, however grudging, admiration for Maggie’s outsized—and outrageous—courage. What a woman.
He was going to be pissed at her when this was over, but dammit, was she brave.
“Your girlfriend is in the cabin,” Mr. Black said slowly, his voice barely containing his fury. “She’s turned. She’s taken over for Mancuso and she says she won’t talk to anyone but you.”
Jake reached for the phone. If Maggie had a plan, he needed to know it. Black leaned down, hissing in his ear, “Don’t mess with me on this, O’Connor. I will kill you. Creatively. Painfully. You’ve been in the Middle East. You know what men like me can do.”
“Got it,” Jake said brusquely. He knew he should be scared—any rational person would be, because Black was right: He knew what men like him did—he knew it up close and personal, all too well.
But he was too goddamn pissed off to let the fear in. And he had to make sure Maggie was okay. She was inside a cabin with a bomb and a madman. It made him want to sweat. To scream. But he couldn’t lose it.