Dangerous Games

by Tess Diamond

  Trust me, her eyes begged. And so he did.

  Jake hurried to open the rear doors of the car, and Mancuso put Kayla in the back seat, getting in to sit beside her.

  “You keep your hold tight on that,” Jake told Mancuso, nodding at the switch.

  Harrison came out last, free of the vest, free of the danger, his hands firmly zip-tied behind his back. He hurried toward the car. “Maggie, please, take me with you,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

  “You have to stay, Paul,” Maggie said earnestly. “That’s the deal. If we don’t keep our word, none of this will work.”

  “Maggie—”

  “You promised,” she reminded him firmly. “Please, Paul.”

  He sighed. “You’d better be right,” he said.

  “I usually am,” she said, with a forced smile. “Now go,” she added gently.

  Paul looked at her as if it was the last time he’d ever see her, his brown eyes desperate, trying to memorize her. “You get her back safe, O’Connor,” he said under his breath as Maggie got into the front passenger seat gingerly, mindful of the C4.

  “I will,” Jake promised.

  As soon as Harrison walked behind the cordon, Jake slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car. He turned to face Maggie, who was looking pretty damn calm for a woman who had explosives strapped to her chest.

  “You know there’s no plane at the airport, right?” he asked in an undertone, trying to keep Mancuso from hearing.

  “I’m not stupid,” she said. “And Roger knows we’re not going to the airport.”

  “Of course we aren’t,” Jake replied, unsurprised. “Care to fill me in where we are going?”

  “In a second . . . do you have my phone?” she asked.

  Jake dug in his pocket, holding it out. As she reached for it, she slipped him a folded piece of paper, careful not to let Mancuso see. Her phone in hand, she turned in her seat. “Mancuso, you doing okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Mancuso said.

  “How’s Kayla?”

  “I think she’s all right,” Mancuso said. “Maybe if you two stop flirting and start driving, we’ll get somewhere.”

  “Just a sec,” Jake said. He unfolded the note, scanning Maggie’s neat handwriting.

  Maggie Kincaid’s exquisite instincts were no joke. The second Jake read the words she’d written, he had to hold back a spontaneous low whistle of approval.

  Instead, he let out a little huff of breath, impressed, maybe even a little frightened at her superhuman savvy. Thank God she was with the good guys. He didn’t want to even think about what would happen if this woman had turned her smarts to the criminal side of life.

  “You ready?” Maggie asked.

  “Remember when you were lecturing me about taking risks?” Jake asked.

  She let out a laugh, a short, almost frantic sound that revealed her nervousness.

  Jake reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ve got you,” he told her.

  She grabbed his hand, her fingers tightening around his. “Let’s do it,” she said.

  Jake pressed down on the gas.

  They drove.

  Chapter 61

  What the hell does this bitch think she’s doing?

  Mr. Black’s frustration was pouring off him in waves as O’Connor pulled away onto the dirt road, heading out of the park. From the beginning, this situation had been badly handled. He didn’t do messy. He was clean. He was in and out. No trace. No bodies. No press.

  But Maggie Kincaid didn’t play by his rules. She’d trampled over them, gleefully, willfully, all because of her mushy feelings about some stupid kid and a man she couldn’t even be bothered to marry.

  As he and the caravan of SWAT trucks and news vans tailed the car down the service road, out of the forest, and onto the highway, Black could feel his lip curling in disgust. What in the world was Kincaid’s plan? She had to know there was no way out. She was mouthy and didn’t know her place, but she wasn’t stupid. She must know they put a tracker in the car. Wherever she drove, he’d have ten cars on her. It was standard in a situation like this.

  Or was she just leading them on a wild goose chase while she tried to come up with a plan on the fly? Black hit the accelerator, changing lanes to keep the car in sight. He glanced in his rearview mirror. The caravan of news vans was still following them, and he heard choppers in the air close behind. He gritted his teeth. His bosses weren’t going to like all this press attention. But he’d find a way to contain the journalists. To manipulate them. He’d have them dismissing Mancuso as an aggrieved brother who’d lost his mind down the conspiracy-theory rabbit hole. He’d find a way to spin it, to weasel out of telling the truth. It might involve silencing a few people—maybe permanently—but he never minded that part of the job.

  Which is why he was so angry over his obvious gaffe. He’d made a big mistake not disposing of Mancuso after he’d taken care of his brother in Riyadh. It was sloppy to leave a loose end. He knew better. Now he had to deal with these ridiculous heroics from people like Maggie Kincaid.

  It had been messy. He’d thought Joe was smarter than that. That he cared about his brother enough to not involve him in this. But he’d been wrong.

  Suddenly, the car veered across three lanes. Taking a quick turn, it merged onto the highway that led downtown and sped off.

  A smile crept across Black’s thin lips. So they wanted a chase, did they? He jammed down the accelerator. With a sharp jerk, he skidded through empty lanes, chasing them. In the rearview mirror, he could see the news vans faltering. They were too cumbersome and heavy to react in time. Good. He didn’t need more witnesses. Most of his men hadn’t recovered fast enough—he’d need to have a discussion with them later. But a few SUVs managed to make the turn. And the police chopper was still in the air.

  Black pressed harder on the gas, his car jerking forward, tires squealing, as he raced after them.

  The game was on.

  And he was going to win.

  Chapter 62

  “You’re driving like a maniac, O’Connor! Where the hell are we going?” Mancuso demanded, hanging on to the back of the driver’s seat. He gulped, looking a little green. Jake swerved in and out of traffic with an expertise that impressed Maggie despite her jangled nerves. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to stay as still as she could. She was all too aware of the deadly cargo strapped to her chest. The vest felt like a lead weight crushing her heart.

  They sped by blocks dotted with high-rise buildings. She felt sick every time they passed a building or house, knowing how much danger she was putting the public in by bringing a bomb into a populated area.

  You had no choice, she told herself. Stick to the plan. It’s the only way.

  Jake glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’ve lost all but three of the cars,” he told Maggie.

  “The chopper’s still with us,” she said, peering out the window at the sky. “Mancuso, calm down. And don’t throw up. Check Kayla’s pulse. Is it still rapid?”

  Mancuso gulped, pressing his hand against the unconscious girl’s neck. “It’s pretty fast.”

  “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t thrown a fit and broke the insulin,” Maggie snapped.

  Mancuso glared at her. “Maybe remember who’s holding the trigger, Maggie,” he shot back.

  Maggie pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “Just make sure she’s strapped in tight.”

  She turned back to Jake. “Can you lose the other cars?”

  “On it,” he said.

  The light switched from green to red as they approached the intersection. But Jake didn’t slow down; he accelerated. The SUV zoomed through the intersection, narrowly missing getting T-boned by a sedan. Honking filled the air. Maggie’s eyes widened, an involuntary shriek rising in her throat as Jake slammed hard on the gas. The SUV jerked forward, approaching two semis, one beginning to merge into the left lane. He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t . . .

 
But he did. Maggie’s hands gripped the dashboard, her face turned away. She braced for impact as Jake jerked the wheel. They shot forward, pulling in front of the merging semi, inches away from clipping it. Another jerk and a surge of speed, and they were aligned in the lane, safely sandwiched between the two trucks. Temporarily hidden from Mr. Black and the other tail’s view.

  Maggie took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder. A silver SUV was gaining ground in the next lane. “Black’s still on us,” she said, grimacing as they zoomed down the street. The other SUV had been run off the pavement and skidded onto the shoulder, with no way to catch up.

  “One down,” Jake said as they whizzed past a sign that read Welcome to Downtown DC.

  “We’re almost there,” Maggie said breathlessly. Her pulse was probably beating as fast as Kayla’s. Would this work?

  It had to.

  “Where are we going?” Mancuso demanded, sounding nervous.

  “There’s an area around the Capitol that’s prohibited airspace,” Maggie said. “Even for the police.”

  Mancuso’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “So the chopper can’t follow us?”

  “That’s right,” Maggie said, peering up at the sky. The chopper was still there, looming in the sky, the spotlight illuminating their car, making it hard to see.

  “Hang on!” Jake called, braking suddenly. Maggie’s hands slammed down on the dashboard, her seat belt cutting into her chest, dangerously close to the explosive pack. She froze, sure that any second they would all be consumed in the blast. But the C4 held, the wires connecting the device staying stationary. Nodding to her in warning, Jake made a sharp turn from his dead stop. The gray SUV following their car shot past them.

  “Two down,” he said, wiping sweat off his forehead, glancing at the rearview. “It’s only Black following us now.”

  “Gun it,” Maggie ordered. As the car surged forward, she looked at Jake’s chiseled profile, a picture of determination. No matter how this ended, she knew he’d do all he could to follow her plan and to save Kayla, even if it endangered his own life. Maggie was grateful, because if something happened to her, if Jake survived, he’d be the only thing standing between Kayla and Mancuso, and Kayla’s only protection against Mr. Black.

  They flew down the street, Maggie turning her eyes to the sky. As they hit downtown, just as she predicted, the police chopper veered away.

  “Jake,” she said, nodding upward.

  It was time. Her stomach leapt.

  It’d work. It was crazy, but it had to.

  She had Jake by her side. He’d make sure they succeeded.

  He glanced over to her, and she nodded again.

  “Hey! Mancuso!” Jake said loudly. “Look at me. I’m going to need your help in a second.”

  Mancuso’s focus shifted to Jake. It was just enough time, just the right opening. Maggie twisted in her seat, leaning back. Lightning fast and smooth as hell, she snatched the switch out of the startled Mancuso’s hand, keeping it shut.

  “Got it!”

  “Hey!” Mancuso protested, scrambling forward. Maggie jerked her elbow up, catching him hard on the chin. His head popped backward, and he slumped in his seat, dazed. Her fist clenched tight on the switch, she curled her body around her hand, protecting the trigger from any more pressure. For a moment, she thought they were home free, but Jake’s eyes had been on her and Mancuso for a moment, not the road.

  The bumper caught the concrete barrier with a horrible crunching sound as it, the fender, and the side panel collapsed, jerking them back and forth as the car spun into the middle of the street.

  Dizzy and disoriented, Maggie took a deep breath of relief as Jake gained control of the car again and slowed to a stop, pulling over off the lane, onto the shoulder. Unfastening her seat belt, she tried with her free hand to open the door. But it was partially smashed in, so she rolled down the window and climbed carefully through the twisted opening, clutching the switch. Jake heaved himself through the window after her. As soon as she was on the street, he rushed over to help her wriggle out of the bomb vest. Swiftly walking a safe distance away, she gently set it on the ground. Jake bent down, examining the vest as Maggie kept her fist clenched around the switch.

  “Can you disarm it?” Maggie asked.

  “Give me a sec,” he said. “Go check on Kayla. And keep holding that thing shut.” He nodded at the trigger.

  She raced back to the car, jerking the back door open. Kayla was still unconscious—but she was alive.

  “Got it!” Jake called. She turned to see him gingerly remove two red wires connecting the C4, her breath in her throat, terrified that he might have chosen wrong. He jogged over to her and they positioned themselves behind the car, just in case. “Moment of truth,” he said, nodding to the switch in her hand.

  Maggie didn’t want to let go. What if they were wrong? What if Mancuso had built in fail-safes?

  Slowly, carefully, her heart in her throat, she released the dead man’s switch.

  Nothing blew up.

  Oh, thank God. Maggie sagged against the car in relief as Jake shot her a huge grin.

  “See, no sweat, Goldilocks,” he told her. “We’ll get bomb squad out here to do the disposal.”

  Just when she thought they were in the clear, she heard a screech of brakes, and whirled around to see Mr. Black’s SUV skidding to a halt in front of them. “I need an ambulance!” she shouted to him as Jake dragged Mancuso out of the car.

  But when Black got out of the SUV, his gun was drawn.

  “Black, wait!” Jake called out as the man pointed his Glock at Mancuso. “Maggie!” he shouted in warning.

  She started to move forward, toward Kayla, but Black pointed the gun at her. She froze.

  “Hey,” she said, holding her hands up, thinking fast. She needed Kayla safe and away. That was the priority. “I’m just getting the kid out of your line of fire, Black. You don’t want her hit by a stray bullet.”

  “I never miss,” he replied, but pointed the Glock at Mancuso. Stripped of the dead man’s trigger and all of his power, he cowered, defeat twisting his gray, sweaty face, blood trickling down his cheek from a cut on his forehead sustained in the crash. Maggie leaned into the back seat and grabbed Kayla in a fireman’s carry. Pulling her out of the car, she walked swiftly to the side of the road, setting the girl down at a safe distance.

  “Come here now, Ms. Kincaid,” Black demanded.

  With a shaky breath, Maggie straightened and walked slowly back to the wrecked car. She couldn’t help but feel like she was walking to her death sentence, that these were likely to be her final moments. She bit the inside of her lip, her wrists burning. She wanted to reach for Jake’s hand, but she knew she shouldn’t. She had to be ready to fight, just like he would be.

  They’d go down fighting. It was who they were.

  “You idiots drove to a spot with no witnesses and no press,” Black sneered, advancing toward them with confident strides. “My job is to contain the information—and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Mancuso’s unarmed, and he’s not a danger to anyone anymore,” Maggie spat out. “Look at him.” She gestured at Mancuso, who was hunched over and dazed, blood still dripping from his wound. “If you do this, it’s murder.”

  “Yes, it is,” Black agreed. “Just like with his brother.”

  Mancuso stiffened, wincing at the pain the sudden movement caused. “You killed Joe?” he shouted. “You bastard!”

  He tried to lunge forward, but Jake caught him with an arm to the chest, holding him back.

  “Don’t be stupid,” he warned.

  “I didn’t anticipate your rat of a brother contacting you,” Black went on with a cold smile. “It was a significant breach of protocol. I should have realized it. I should have killed you then too, just to be safe.”

  “You bastard!” Mancuso yelled. “I’ll kill you! You took him away from me! Just for telling the truth! For doing the right thing! All he wanted to do wa
s work for his country—he was a patriot!” Maggie watched as tears of fury filled his desperate eyes. Mancuso had no recourse; they all knew it. Black had him.

  Black had all of them.

  Dread swirled inside her, mixing with fear and sadness. If it ended this way, at least Kayla was alive. Black would make sure of it, just for publicity’s sake. But regardless of the motive, she’d get the help she needed.

  She and Jake wouldn’t die in vain.

  “Your brother didn’t see the whole picture,” Black continued, clearly relishing finally having the upper hand. “When he uncovered the smuggling, he was focused on the senator’s involvement. He didn’t realize he was implicating his own bosses at the CIA too. We had no choice. I had my orders.”

  “So the CIA killed their own agent?” Maggie asked.

  Black shrugged. “It’s unfortunate, but sometimes it’s necessary.” He raised his gun, just feet away from Mancuso, aiming between his eyes. “And so is this.”

  “You’re wrong about one thing, though,” Maggie said, her voice ringing out clearly in the empty street.

  Black frowned, his eyes skittering to her for a moment.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket, holding it up. “There are witnesses,” she insisted. “While I was carrying Kayla to safety I speed-dialed the Washington Post. Care to elaborate on the CIA’s cover-up, Mr. Black? Andrea Yates, the Post’s editor-in-chief, is listening.”

  Black’s face drained of all color, and then just as swiftly, a red haze filled his cheeks. “You bitch!” he exploded, swinging his gun arm toward her, his finger closing around the trigger.

  Maggie froze. She had no weapon. No time to run. This was it.

  The end.

  At least everyone was safe. At least everyone knew.

  At least she’d be with Erica again.

  She closed her eyes.

  Bang.

  She expected to fall back, to recoil from the piercing pain of a bullet in the chest, to feel the blood, the life surging out of her.

  But when she opened her eyes, it was Black who was on the ground . . . Black who was bleeding.