Code Name: Baby

by Christina Skye

  He bent down, and she jammed the scalpel into him again, this time at his chest. Cursing, he struck her hard, knocking her against a chair.

  She looked up blankly. The room whirled and then she fell back onto the tile floor.

  Pain shafted through her neck, and she realized she couldn’t move. The agony in her wrist faded. For some reason the floor felt distant and indistinct beneath her.

  “Too late,” she whispered.

  “You’re bleeding. Don’t move.”

  Cruz’s face swam in front of her. She frowned when she felt her hair catch on her tangled necklace. It was cheap silver, a gift he’d given her on their one clandestine vacation to Mexico.

  “I’ll call someone,” he said thickly. “I’ll get help.”

  She shook her head, the movement using up the last of her strength.

  “Why did you change?” he rasped.

  “Not me—you. You’re different now.”

  “But our plans—we were going to go away.” His voice seemed to fade in and out and she felt blood under her arms. Her legs were numb.

  She must have fallen on the scalpel when he hit her. Now all her plans were finished.

  She swallowed thickly, trying to see his face. “Couldn’t leave,” she managed to say. “I loved you once.”

  Dimly, she felt his hands on her face.

  “You still can,” he said hoarsely.

  She swallowed blood, the numbness climbing to her neck. “Loved you, Enrique.” She drew a rattling breath. “But they made you like this. Into a m-monster. Too late now…”

  Her breathing slowed.

  She closed her eyes and felt the cold slip over her.

  CRUZ FUMBLED FOR HER cell phone, ready to call 911.

  But something stopped him. Instead he gripped Liz’s wrist, trying to find a pulse.

  It was too late for an ambulance or a doctor.

  He didn’t move, watching her lifeless eyes. Blood pooled up underneath the scalpel at her spine. Seconds passed and he realized her necklace was digging into his palm. The cross was tarnished and thin, all he could afford at the time, but she’d smiled when he gave it to her in Acapulco. But the man who’d given her that gift no longer existed. He set her down carefully on the floor and her blood darkened on his hands. Gently he touched the scalpel that had lodged in her back when she’d fallen. Then he sat beside her, unable to believe she wouldn’t wake up and answer him.

  He needed her.

  Thoughts of her had kept him alive these last months. Now he’d killed her and her blood oozed across his hands like grief, deadening his mind, smothering his energy.

  He smoothed her hair and whispered her name, his eyes burning. Then, after a great effort, he stood up.

  He put away pain and shock, his only thoughts escape, survival and a final revenge.

  One more death to be laid at their door. One more thing he would see that they paid for.

  Outside he heard garbage cans rattle as a truck rumbled up, making its early rounds. People were coming. His brother was waiting for his call. He had to sedate the dog and leave immediately.

  He lurched toward the examining table, but now the IV line swung back and forth, yanked free when Liz had fallen. The dog was gone. He focused, spreading a net to locate an energy trail, but the pattern kept shifting. The puppy was blocking him somehow, and time was running out.

  He tried to focus, keening with anger and grief like a wounded animal. Car lights flashed against the windows, and he heard tires crunch on gravel, then the sound of voices.

  Cornered, he shrank back. Survival instinct kicked in, replacing logic. He grabbed half a dozen bottles of pills and shoved them into his pocket along with Liz’s cell phone. His eyes stung as he jerked open the back door. He was careful not to look down at her cold features. He had no time for regret. Wolfe Houston would be tracking him right now and Houston was dogged as well as skillful. Cruz hadn’t expected him to find his surveillance point by the railroad tracks so soon. He would be careful not to underestimate his former teammate again.

  He pulled the remains of the night around him like a cloak and limped outside, his shoulders stooped. There were men watching the clinic from a van across the street, but they didn’t look up when Cruz crossed the small driveway. Wrapped in shadows, he was part of the darkness, visible only to another Foxfire member—and even then with difficulty.

  Caught in his grief, he never saw Tommy Woo’s terrified face peering through the waiting room door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  IZZY HUNCHED OVER a laptop in the kitchen with a telephone at his ear. “Yes, sir, I understand that. We’ve already run the plates and there’s a police bulletin out for the vehicle Cruz was driving. Nothing located so far. I suggest immediate removal to a more secure location.”

  Izzy’s second cell phone rang, and he checked the source number. “Ryker, I have a call coming in from my field team. Hold on.”

  Izzy punched a button on the other phone. “Joe’s Pizza. We deliver.” As he listened, his mouth flattened into a tight line. He turned and motioned to Wolfe, who was trying to teach Baby how to play dead.

  When Wolfe looked up, Izzy shook his head, covering his mouth with one finger as he nodded toward Kit at the stove.

  Neither man spoke until they were out on the patio with the French doors closed.

  “What’s going on?” Wolfe snapped.

  “News from the clinic. Bad news.”

  SHE DIDN’T EVEN like eggs.

  Why Kit was cooking, she couldn’t say. Her stomach was so knotted up that she couldn’t swallow anything.

  On the other hand, cooking kept her from thinking about Wolfe and Izzy and the big silent men in black uniforms positioned all around the house. Frowning, she broke another egg in the pan and drew circles in the yolk, her movements slow and mechanical.

  Some days sucked. At least she had experienced one of her oldest fantasies. She could definitely agree with the rumors about Wolfe: the man was an unforgettable lover.

  A hand touched her arm.

  “We need to talk.” Wolfe’s face was masked, and there was something like regret in his eyes.

  He’s leaving, she thought. This is it. Goodbye.

  She turned away, stirring the eggs blindly. “They’re almost ready. Then I have to see Diesel at the clinic.”

  “Honey, we have to talk. I think you should sit down.”

  “I’m cooking.” Her voice was stiff. “I don’t want to talk.”

  Wolfe caught both her shoulders and turned her gently around to face him. “We need to talk,” he repeated.

  This time there was no mistaking the regret in his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Her heart pounding, she glanced at Izzy, who picked up his big titanium case and vanished into the living room.

  Bad news. They might as well have worn signs across their chests.

  “Is it my brother? Has something happened to Trace?” Her voice shook.

  “He’s fine.” Wolfe pulled a chair beside her and sat down, taking her hands between his. “It’s Liz.”

  Kit checked her watch. “Is she going out on an emergency call? I was just getting ready to leave, but I can wait if…” She saw something flicker across Wolfe’s face. “Tell me.”

  Wolfe looked down at her hands, caught in his. “She’s dead, honey. We just had a call from the police officer who found her at the clinic. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, watching his mouth, but the words didn’t make any sense. “I don’t know who told you that, but I have to go now because she’s waiting. I said I’d bring coffee.” She tried to stand up, but Wolfe held her hands tightly.

  “I’m sorry, honey. Liz isn’t there. They took her body to the hospital, but she was already dead. Your friend is gone, Kit.”

  A bubble seemed to expand in her chest, making it impossible to breathe. “No,” she whispered, trying to pull away. “You’re wrong.” Looking at his fixed expression, she felt the bubble grow until she was shakin
g. She jerked free of his hands. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, calm but relentless. “There’s no mistake.”

  Kit sank back into the chair. “I don’t—understand. I talked to her and she wanted coffee and I said—” Kit closed her eyes, trembling. “You’re wrong.”

  Wolfe pulled her into his arms. “There’s no mistake. She’s been identified.”

  “But why? What happened?”

  “The police are still trying to determine that.” Wolfe paused. “It might have been a robbery. She had drugs in the office.”

  Even before he had finished, the tears began to slip down her face. She reached out blindly and felt his arms encircle her.

  Panic made her hands tighten. “If Liz is dead, what about Diesel? I have to go get him now.”

  “WHO THE HELL is Tommy Woo?” Ryker was shouting into the phone, and Izzy raised it away from his ear until the noise stopped. “How did he get past your team?”

  “Woo is the high school student who worked at the clinic. He did cleanup work for Liz Merrigold, and he found her body. The boy is shaken up. From what we put together, he went back for a notebook he’d left at the clinic. When he used his key and went inside, he found the vet on the floor, dead from blood loss. She had a scalpel imbedded in her spine. My people got to him as soon as he came out, but it took a few minutes to get his story since he was incoherent.”

  “Did he get a look at the man?”

  “Afraid not. He only heard a few words, and he never saw who was there with her.”

  “Any reason to doubt his story?”

  “None that I can see. He’s an honor student and his father’s a local deputy.”

  “What in the hell happened? Cruz knew Liz Merrigold’s brother because he was assigned as Hank Merrigold’s bodyguard on a number of occasions. Cruz probably met her once or twice. But was she involved with Cruz? Was she helping in his escape?”

  “We’re still working on that, sir. Liz and her brother did research together when they were fresh out of Duke. Hank had her overseeing the medical records of Kit O’Halloran’s dogs, too.”

  “Did she know about the full scope of Project Home Run?”

  “Hard to say.”

  Ryker was quiet, breathing faintly. “Someone will get his ass fired for this.” There was a brief silence. “We’ll have to question Hank Merrigold. There’s a chance that he might be in this with Cruz. Wouldn’t that leave us in deep shit.”

  “I already checked. Right now Hank Merrigold is away on a two-week vacation.” Izzy cleared his throat. “In Bora Bora, as it happens. No phones or faxes. The place is some kind of eco-resort.”

  “So maybe he’s there or maybe he’s not. Perfect cover potential.” Ryker sounded disgusted. “Send one of your people to track him down.”

  “He left ten minutes ago, sir.”

  “Fine. What about the dog that was at her clinic?”

  Izzy spoke quietly but with precision, missing no details. When he was done, Ryker chuckled, a thing he rarely did. “So Cruz missed the dog. Looks like his luck just started to head south.”

  About time, Izzy thought. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. Cruz was exceptionally skilled and as tough as they came. With those traits, he didn’t need to be lucky.

  Ryker continued talking curtly, outlining the next move against Cruz. “A witness was able to identify the chopper leaving the small airport where his brother worked. Tell your team to keep it on the radar, but no pursuit. I repeat, no pursuit, because he’ll know he’s being tracked. And no one gets near him when he lands. Strictly surveillance.” Papers rustled. “The White Mountains?”

  “So far. Rough country up there.”

  “Exactly where a rat would go to hide,” Ryker mused. “Give Houston the heads-up.”

  KIT WAS DOING search training through the house with Butch and Sundance when Izzy cornered Wolfe in the kitchen.

  Izzy gestured. “How many so far?”

  “Three hundred and twelve.” Wolfe wiped sweat off his forehead with one hand.

  Izzy grimaced as he watched Wolfe pump out twenty more push-ups without a break. “Ryker said to give you a heads-up. You’ll be leaving soon. And my team finally found Diesel. He was wedged in the back of a bird cage, hidden behind a fake set of branches. He was drugged, but he still tried to bite the field operative who went in after him.”

  Wolfe didn’t stop his push-ups. “How about his asthma?”

  “I’ve got someone checking him out now. They found Dr. Merrigold’s current lab tests, but Diesel’s reports were gone.”

  Wolfe snapped out another dozen smooth push-ups, enjoying the control and the slow burn. “She must have pulled them.”

  “Or Cruz did, before he left. Although how the hell he got inside past all my men violates a few laws of physics.”

  “It’s what we do. You know that Cruz was good.” Wolfe frowned. “Did the boy see anyone at all at the clinic besides the vet?”

  “Not that we know. His mother said he couldn’t answer any more questions until he rested.” Izzy rubbed his neck. “Hell, you ought to be on one of those late-night infomercials. You could probably sell about a million dollars’ worth of equipment.”

  Wolfe just kept moving, up and down, no signs of strain.

  Izzy shook his head. “I’m sweating to watch you. Most of my battles are fought with pixels and encryption arrays. Different skill set.”

  “I’ve asked around, Teague. You’ve done your share of sweat equity. Don’t pretend you’re just another IT geek.” To Wolfe’s amusement, Izzy looked faintly embarrassed. “I also hear you look pretty good in panty hose and an orange wig.”

  Izzy muttered a short phrase.

  “You have a definite flair for eye shadow, too.” Finally done, Wolfe collapsed on the floor, sweat rolling off his chest and shoulders.

  Izzy’s cell phone rang. As he turned away to talk quietly, Wolfe did a few slow stretches. He was emptying a liter bottle of vitamin and electrolyte-enhanced water when Izzy hung up.

  “Tommy Woo didn’t see anyone inside the clinic—but he said a truck came down the service alley.”

  “The kid has sharp eyes.” Wolfe wiped his face with the towel. “Did he see Cruz leave?”

  “Nobody saw anyone leave the clinic. Cruz must have been doing some of that weird stuff you do. But we’ve got something better—the kid got a number for the plates. He thought it was weird to see a truck delivering spring water after the vet had just put in an expensive filtration system.”

  Wolfe nodded slowly. “But the truck was probably stolen.”

  “We still tracked it, thanks to Tommy Woo. It was a vanity plate.” Izzy’s lips twitched. “‘H2O2GO.’ Easy to remember.”

  “Never steal a truck with vanity plates.” Wolfe pulled his towel off a nearby chair and flipped it around his neck. “Has your surveillance team picked up anything on the family of Cruz’s brother? You said you had them all under surveillance.”

  “Not a peep. But the brother had access to the choppers where he works, and one of them went missing about thirty minutes ago. As a precaution I had them all radio-tagged. We’re tracking the outbound chopper now.”

  Wolfe frowned. “Do not attempt an approach. Cruz will pick it up instantly.”

  “Ryker said the same thing. The chopper is about two hundred miles west of us.”

  “Where could he be headed?” Wolfe took the map Izzy held out and reviewed what he knew of eastern Arizona. “This is all forested mountain terrain—not many roads and lots of rough country. You’ve got a small population and potential boltholes everywhere. An excellent place to hide.”

  “That’s my assessment.”

  Wolfe knew that if he got close enough, he could pick up Cruz’s energy signature. The man couldn’t block 24/7 or his brain would be fried. But first he had to get close enough—without triggering Cruz’s defenses.

  Izzy drummed his fingers on the countertop and shot a glance up the stairs. “Are you going
to tell her goodbye?”

  Wolfe frowned. Part of him wanted to stay put and watch over Kit. But no other man could track Cruz the way he could, matching him skill for skill, energy sense for energy sense.

  But an uneasy twitch had started in the back of his mind. Cruz was clearly unstable now, driven by demons no one else could understand. That made Wolfe more reluctant than ever to leave Kit. Where she was concerned, he wasn’t content with speculations. He needed to be absolutely certain that she would be safe.

  “She’ll be fine, Commander,” Izzy said quietly. He took the map from Wolfe and folded it carefully. “I won’t leave her, no matter what Ryker says.”

  “Reading my mind, Teague?”

  “Reading your face and that way you keep glancing up, as if you’re watching for her. If Cruz tries anything, I’ll be right beside her. I may not have your…talents, but I have a few modest skills of my own.”

  Wolfe nodded. Under the circumstances, he had no other choice. “What’s the ETA on that chopper?”

  “Roughly ten minutes. If it’s any comfort, ours is a lot faster than the one Cruz’s people hijacked.”

  Wolfe glanced at his black duffel on the kitchen counter. “I want detailed topo maps and weather data. It’s always nice to know if you’re walking into a blizzard.”

  “Already ordered, along with full terrain gear. They’ll be stowed in the chopper.” Izzy glanced at his watch. “Better get moving.”

  Wolfe didn’t waste time on more questions. He zipped his bag, dropped it by the door and headed upstairs to see Kit.

  To say the goodbyes that had come far too soon.

  SHE WAS PERCHED on top of a high-backed sofa, trying to pull a dirty leather glove out of a Chinese vase displayed on a tall bookcase.

  Wolfe didn’t know much about art, but he knew this piece looked old and valuable. The dogs were watching for him even before he reached the door.

  Baby’s tail thumped. Sundance whined.

  Kit continued to tug at the vase, unaware of his arrival. “No more hiding things up high to fool you three. It never works.” Frowning, she clutched the top of the bookshelf for support. “Almost got it. Then we can head outside and—”