Surviving Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  “No,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as she snuggled close. “I decided to upgrade.” Looking into his face, her heart skipped a beat as she took in his rugged handsomeness, unable to believe he was here with her. “I wanted to treat you since you’re doing all you can to protect me.”

  Pulling her close, he replied, “Sweet girl, you don’t owe me anything.” Seeing doubt flash through her eyes, he rushed to explain. “No, no, not just because this is my job. But because you’ve got to know that I’d do anything to keep you safe.” Bending down to hold her gaze, he promised, “You’re in my heart.”

  Lifting on her toes, she kissed him, soft and gentle, letting her lips say what her heart was feeling. As she settled back on her heels, she glanced at the clock. “Do we have time to play before we have to be back downstairs?”

  “Oh, yeah…plenty of time to play.”

  With that, he scooped her up and deposited her in the middle of the bed, both willing to skip lunch for time together.

  *

  Nick and Monty met with Hank at a restaurant in town at the insistence of the young FBI agent. They had been planning on returning to Virginia, when Hank contacted them early in the morning for a meeting.

  Hank was already in a booth when they arrived, his eyes darting around as they slid into the booth opposite of him. Neither spoke, waiting to see what Hank had to say.

  “Look, I know you all suspect me, but I had nothing to do with Marc’s plane—”

  “You weren’t there? You didn’t walk away and not continually observe them?” Nick interrupted, his eyes glaring at the agent sitting across from him.

  Hank dropped his head as he sighed. “Yes, yes…I know. I fucked up and I’ll be paying for that mistake for a long time. But I’ve learned from it and I can’t believe you never made a mistake.”

  The tic in Nick’s jaw was the only outward expression of irritation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Monty stepped in. “You found something?”

  Hank nodded several times before leaning in and saying, “I’ve been checking into everything. Kevin asked me to work on ‘cause, like everyone else, he’s pissed at me, but he was the only one in our office to know that Dr. Kenneth Rhodes was being flown back to Louisiana.” Rubbing his hand over his face, he added, “I don’t know who to trust other than you two.”

  “And…” Monty prodded.

  “I’ve checked the IDs of the men who were supposed to show up that night and it’s no surprise that they weren’t the two men I let in. Obviously the names were the same and they had fake badges. I’ve been trying to figure out who they were and started with some of the known members of the terrorist cell we have here in Alaska.”

  Nick, calmer now that Hank was making sense and not excuses, nodded for him to continue.

  “Okay, so far I haven’t identified them, but in doing more research, I have learned that the cell recruits heavily from universities, especially the young who might be gullible or financially needy. I’ve been going through the database of who we know is there.”

  “No hits yet?” Nick asked.

  “Not positive, but I’ve compiled a list of some names, though I don’t have pictures of all of them.” Sighing heavily, he added, “We’re a small office and Kevin’s already given me another case to work on. I just thought that maybe with your resources you would be able to help.”

  “Give me what you’ve got and I’ll send it to my people,” Monty said, glancing at the list that Hank immediately pushed across the table. Lifting his gaze back to Hank, he said, “We were going to leave today, but I think we should stay at least another day, to give my group a chance to look this over.” Nick nodded, but stayed mute.

  Hank heaved a sigh and, with a look at his watch, said, “I’ve got to get back to the office.” Standing, he added, “Thank you,” before he left the restaurant.

  Nick moved to the now empty side of the booth and asked, “You believe him? Or is he blowing smoke to take suspicion away from himself?”

  Rubbing his chin, Monty shook his head. “Don’t know. But let me get this to Luke and see if we can start making sense of it all.”

  *

  Jack and Patrick settled around the conference table with the other Saints. Looking over to his computer experts, Jack asked, “What have you got for us?”

  Luke smiled at Charlie and said, “Take it away.”

  Rolling her eyes at his comment, she turned her focus to the others around the table. “As you know, Luke and I focused originally on the security feeds from the hangar to see what we could discern, but they had been interrupted. So, while we knew we were dealing with professionals, we had no way to counter what they had done to protect their identity. So, next, we went after the financials of any and all possible suspects. We began combing through the agents in the FBI office in Fairbanks and the people who worked in the NCBRT.”

  “And,” Luke interjected, “as you know, there are a lot of people to consider and it takes a long time to work through all the possible money routes. But, we have made a few connections worth digging into further.”

  “As far as the Alaskan group, we haven’t found any money concerns with Kevin, Hank, or Sharon. But we did find that Sharon Chikuk’s family has been involved in protests against the government taking over native Alaskan territories for oil routes. No terrorists’ activities, but something to note in case she would be susceptible to blackmail. So far, we’ve found nothing overtly suspicious with Kevin or Hank, but I’m still digging,” Charlie reported.

  Flashing more information onto the wall screen, she continued. “Now, here’s where it gets interesting, and it’s with the people in Louisiana. I finally found an account with a significant amount of money deposited into it, in the name of Fahdil Mahdi.” At that, only the sounds of the Saints cursing could be heard.

  “Hang on guys,” Luke interrupted, gaining their attention once more. “The problem is that the account is not set up with his social security number—it’s a fake one. So, we don’t know if it’s his account, and that’s how he’s hiding things, or if it’s someone else’s account and they are using his name.”

  “How do we find out?” Blaise asked.

  “We’re still working on it,” Charlie admitted. “Like I said, these things take some time.”

  “Is he the only one right now that’s suspicious?” Chad queried.

  Shaking his head, Luke admitted, “Nope. Estelle Barnaby has not hidden her displeasure at being assigned to the backwaters of Louisiana.” His fingers made air quotes around her description of her assignment.

  Charlie added, “I’m also looking into Dr. Cliff Wallace. His unhappiness at being under Dr. Kenneth Rhodes is well documented and he’d be a perfect candidate for wanting to get rid of both Dr. Rhodes. Now, whether or not either his or Estelle’s professional dissatisfaction comes out strong enough to want to kill…we’re still trying to find out.”

  Jack nodded thoughtfully for a moment before continuing assignments. “Charlie, you keep working the financial angle to see who might have the money to pay to have Marc’s plane sabotaged. Chad, you and Patrick work with Luke to compile the pictures of all known ISIS members, from any and all databases, and get them to Monty. He’s informed me that one of the agents there is trying to identify the men who came into the hangar. Since he’s not sure he trusts the other agents, he’s working rogue with Monty and Nick. Cam and Bart, you two head up to D.C. and assist Marc in keeping an eye on the NCBRT delegation. We’re missing a link…somewhere there’s a connection and we’re not seeing it yet. Keep on it.”

  With those orders, the group went back to work.

  Chapter 25

  Marc was allowed entry into the Homeland Security meeting, but sat near the back as he watched the proceedings with great interest. The large room held a massive wooden table in the middle with comfortable leather chairs all around. Along the walls was another row of chairs, filled with those taking notes and supporting the main delegates at the table
. He observed Kendall as she sat in between Cliff and Fahdil. Estelle was sitting with some of the DHS personnel and members of the IOC that filled out the table. Will, Karen, and Bob sat behind the others from the NCBRT. Karen held some of Kendall’s papers and handed them to her as needed.

  Cliff began speaking but as he began to babble in techno-terms the other could not understand, Fahdil interrupted, suggesting Kendall present her research findings. Cliff’s eyes narrowed in anger as he shot Estelle a pointed glare, but he kept silent.

  Marc knew Kendall preferred the lab to public meetings but noted with pride as she spoke eloquently, captivating the audience.

  “As Dr. Wallace was saying, we all recognize the potential for terrorism to come not from a bomb, but in a way that would be designed to overwhelm our emergency rooms, hospitals, doctors, and build terror in people who would not know if their food, water, or even air was safe. And obviously, at an event such as the Olympics, where you have a large gathering of people from all over the world, the threat of such a terrorist act is concerning.”

  Looking directly at the members of the IOC, she continued, “Most of these biological causes need an incubation period. This affords the terrorist time to escape or to keep terrorizing before anyone knew what had happened. It could take the medical community days to even realize what they were looking at was a biological terrorists’ attack.”

  “So the symptoms could look like something else?”

  Nodding, she looked behind her to indicate Karen should begin the PowerPoint. As it flashed on the boards on either side of the room, allowing all occupants a chance to view it easily, Kendall continued.

  “As you can see, many of the symptoms could look like food poisoning or flu—”

  “But not necessarily death?” another person asked.

  Nodding, Kendall agreed. “The attack does not have to cause a large number of deaths to be effective since the intent is terror, which causes panic and chaos. In fact, many of the biological agents on the lists you have been provided are not fatal.”

  Fahdil continued with the presentation, reviewing the different agents to be aware of and the potential symptoms they could cause. Cliff jumped in as well, at times talking over Fahdil, causing Marc to grin at the pompous scientist’s fight for attention. As his eyes wandered back to Kendall, he saw her gaze land on him, her lips curving ever so slightly. They shared a quick smile before the IOC began asking about prevention and treatments, areas of Kendall’s expertise.

  Nodding to Karen and Bob to continue to the next presentation, Kendall said, “As long as incapacitating agents aren’t used, making sure to have national planning for these attacks is effective. Recognizing the signs and symptoms early is paramount. The strategic stockpile of antibiotics and antivirals, which can be expensive, would be beneficial. Although a terrorist group might be able to create a variant that is resistant to most antibiotics, this is unlikely.”

  The others around the table began to murmur as she mentioned, “Anthrax, Ebola, Plague, Botulism, Smallpox, and Cholera are, of course, on the lethal end of the spectrum. On the low end is Brucellosis, Tularemia, Q fever, Mycoplasma, and Mycotoin.”

  As the meeting droned on, Marc studied the participants carefully but was unable to ascertain any overt discord or danger. As the meeting came to a close, another session was planned for the next day.

  Walking over to Marc, Kendall smiled up at him, leaning back as she asked, “Were you bored silly?”

  “Not at all,” he replied, honestly. “It was nice to see you at work.”

  Scrunching her nose, she replied, “I prefer my lab work, but the dissemination of my lab results is important.”

  “I thought you were sexy as fuck,” he whispered, his breath tickling warm against her ear. Looking at the now empty room, he said, “Do we need to go back to the hotel with the others?”

  Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, we were all going to have dinner together to make sure we’re ready for tomorrow’s summit.” Cutting her eyes upward, she peeked at him through her long lashes. “But after we eat, you and I can disappear to our room.”

  With a quick kiss, Marc leered his agreement.

  A few minutes later the group left the building and stepped outside to hail taxis. Kendall’s phone vibrated and she stepped away from the noisy group to answer the call.

  “Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you,” she said, stepping further away. The sound of squealing tires brought the group’s attention toward the road behind where the taxis were lined up against the curb. Several pedestrians screamed out a warning as a black sedan with dark-tinted windows jumped the curb, heading straight for Kendall.

  Marc sprinted toward her, his arms outstretched as he took her down, twisting mid-air so that he landed on his back, taking the brunt of the fall. Grunting as he rolled quickly, he placed her underneath him before jumping up to pursue the vehicle, but it had already bounced back onto the road, swiping the taxi nearest them. With no identifiable license tag, he cursed as his head swiveled around toward Kendall again. He ran to her noting her disheveled hair and torn stockings.

  Kneeling by her side, he noticed her skinned arms and knees. Scooping her into his arms, he placed her in one of the waiting taxis and, turning to the others standing open-mouthed, he shouted, “Get back to the hotel. I’ve got her and I’m taking her somewhere safe.”

  Karen ran over with Kendall’s purse and shoved it into the back seat. Marc thanked the intern then slid into the seat next to Kendall. Giving the driver an address, he turned to assess her injuries. They appeared to be superficial but she was holding her wrist, which was beginning to swell. Bending swiftly, he slipped off his shoe and unwound the elastic bandage tape from his ankle.

  “Marc, don’t. You need that!” she protested through gritted teeth. She kept her eyes on him, not wanting to look down at her wrist and seeing what she was afraid she would see.

  With the tape in his hand, he said, “Right now, you need this more than I do. Come on, sweetheart, let me have your hand.”

  Afraid to let go, she twisted around to face him. She grimaced again and his gaze jumped to her face. “Where else does it hurt?”

  “Just some aches,” she replied. “My wrist is the worst of it.”

  He gently wrapped her swollen wrist in the bandage, keeping just the right amount of tension on it. He lifted his gaze and saw pain flash through her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her focus on her wrist and not his face.

  “You’re sorry?” he said, eyes wide. “Kendall, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Seeing her confusion, he shook his head, cursing. “I took my eyes off you. I allowed you to step away to take the call. Then, in my haste to get you safe, I didn’t get my arms wrapped around you low enough for you to fall without you hurting your wrist—”

  “Marc,” she stopped his tirade, her eyes focused on the man who had saved her life, more than once, sacrificing his own body to do so. Gaining his attention, she continued. “This is not your fault. This is the fault of the asshole who tried to run me down.”

  Sucking in a deep breath as his nostrils flared, he nodded. “You’re right, and I’m not giving him another chance.”

  After the taxi dropped them off at the hotel, he rushed her into the elevator and said, “We’re going to the room and then I’m calling my co-workers. We’ll get someone to pick us up and then we’re getting out of here.”

  “But the meetings—”

  “Your team can handle them. I want you out of here.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, her brain having trouble keeping up with his plans.

  “My place,” he announced.

  *

  Several hours later, Kendall gazed out of the window of the SUV as Bart drove her and Marc along the country road toward his house. Blaise was in the front seat, having come along to check her out. He had re-wrapped her wrist as well as Marc’s ankle, having had the forethought to bring along a first aid kit. She had wanted to make a quip about th
em always rescuing her, but the words stuck in her throat as the enormity of the situation hit her. Instead, she had melted into Marc’s embrace as they sat in the back seat. She remained quiet as the men talked around her and about her. It should have been offensive but, truthfully, she was glad someone else was in control because out-of-control was all she felt right now.

  Marc breathed easier as they approached his driveway. He had insisted Kendall call Kenneth and, after assuring her father that she was fine, Marc took the phone and told Kenneth of his plans, letting him know that the rest of the delegation would finish the week of presentations, but she was going home with him while the Saints continued to work on discovering who was after her.

  After gaining Kenneth’s unequivocal appreciation, Marc had disconnected and handed the phone back to Kendall, noting the way she quietly cradled her injured wrist with her hand. Wrapping his arms around her shoulder, he had pulled her in, allowing her to rest her head on his chest.

  Now, as Bart turned the SUV onto Marc’s driveway, Kendall moved slightly so she could see more. The winter had stripped the leaves from many of the trees, allowing the evergreens to stand out in stark relief, their lush, green branches creating a backdrop for the log cabin coming into view. Smiling for the first time in hours, she leaned closer to the window, amazed at the picturesque scene. Whirling around, she grinned toward Marc. “When you said you lived in a cabin, you really meant a true, log cabin, didn’t you?”

  “He built it by himself,” Blaise commented from the front seat.

  “I had some help, as I recall,” Marc replied.

  “Yeah, but only with the heavy stuff. We helped with the framing, but you did everything else,” Bart stated.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” she gushed.

  “You haven’t seen the inside yet,” Marc joked.

  Giving him a pretend glare, she said, “I’ve lived in a true shack in the middle of the woods during a blizzard. I have a feeling this is much more than that!”

  The group laughed as Bart came to a stop outside the front porch. Sobering, Bart added, “Jack wants the two of you at the compound as soon as you can make it.”