The Line of Duty

by Nichole Severn

  A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall, but Shea forced herself to straighten, to wipe the back of her hand across her face. To do what it’d taken her so long to do the first time: accept help. With the entire Blackhawk Security team on her side, the last people she ever would’ve asked for help, her confidence grew. They were going to get her son back. “Thank you.”

  “I want a location on Anthony and Bennett in the next minute, Liz, or I’m going to partner you with Elliot to hunt them down on foot.” Another nod from Sullivan ended the conversation, and his agents got back to work. He shifted his attention to Vincent. “Get this woman a gun.”

  The buzz in her head died as Vincent pulled a weapon from his lower back and offered it to her, but she didn’t dare meet his gaze when her fingers brushed his. He’d always viewed her as a strong, driven, independent woman, but her weakness had just rushed front and center for everyone to see. She cleared her throat as she checked the weapon. “Did Logan and his wife say anything that will give us a lead on who took Wells? Or how Grillo’s organization found him in the first place?”

  “Last thing Anthony reported back was his intention to move your family to another location because he’d spotted the same man walking past the safe house three times within a couple hours. From what Logan and his wife stated, Anthony left the safe house after telling them to lock the doors behind him, and that’s when the explosion happened. A car bomb right outside the building. It happened so fast, Bennett hadn’t been able to enable the security system before they breached the safe house.” His hand remained on her lower back, steadying, comforting, but nothing could chase back the fear boiling under her skin. “With Anthony out of the way, he wasn’t able to hold off the four-man team as they went for Wells. They were outnumbered and outgunned.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Shea closed her eyes against the images in her head, her fingernails biting into the center of her palms. Setting her forehead against his chest, she listened to the beat of his heart in an attempt to escape the desperation spreading through her. Fire and police were on scene at the safe house, but without the location of her son, there was nothing they could do. “And there hasn’t been any contact from the team that took him.”

  “No, but...” Vincent’s hesitation took on physical form when he didn’t elaborate.

  The tension only increased as she looked up at him. Living through the numbness over the past year had been the worst experience of her life. She didn’t want to fall back into that cloud of darkness. She wanted to be there for her son, to be the mother he deserved, to feel like the woman Vincent believed her to be. But if she lost Wells... “But what?”

  “I need you to understand something, Shea. Anthony and Bennett are two of the best-trained operatives we have. Both served in the military and never would’ve given up Wells easily, even under torture. Anthony’s got a kid of his own and one on the way, and Bennett risked everything to find his sister when she went missing.” Pressure built in her chest the longer he stared down at her. “The only way they would’ve backed down was if the gunmen threatened to hurt your son.”

  She pulled back as the truth hit. “They’re using Wells to draw me out.”

  “You’re not just a loose end anymore, Shea.” His uninjured hand slid along her forearms, eliciting goose bumps along the way. “Whoever’s behind this is targeting you because they know how I feel about you, and they will use any means necessary to take me out.”

  The breath rushed out of her, heat flaring in her face. “How you feel about me?”

  He closed the small distance between them.

  “I lost everything that night. After I recovered from the burns, I couldn’t trust anyone with what I knew for fear it’d put their lives in danger, which only isolated me more from the people around me, including my team. I was at the point of giving up on this investigation, of living with this guilt for the rest of my life because there was nothing else I could do. Not without risking more innocent lives.” Vincent wrapped her hand in his. “Until I met you. You’re the reason I want to solve this case, Shea. Working with you these past few months, getting to know the woman who wouldn’t back down from any challenge in her way, gave me the push I needed to see this through. Because if I don’t solve this case, I don’t have a future. And I want a future, Shea. With you.”

  He did? Her mouth parted, her response on the tip of her tongue. “I—”

  “Vincent.” Elizabeth’s voice penetrated above the buzz of voices and chaos around them. “I’ve got something.”

  The world sped up, throwing her back into the present, back into the safe house filled with Blackhawk operatives and Vincent’s former commanding officer doing everything in their power to recover her son. Had Elizabeth found a location? Shea pulled out of his grip, heading straight for the network analyst, but couldn’t ignore the rush of pleasure rolling through her. He wanted a future with her. “What do you have?”

  “Since Lieutenant Richards has been tracking these guys for a few months, she’s helped me narrow down a list of possible locations the organization might be using as stash houses.” Elizabeth spun the laptop toward Shea as Vincent stepped in beside her. The picture zoomed out to show a map of the city with five circles pinned across the screen.

  “Each of these locations has been used as a drop point for the cash and drugs Grillo’s runners collect off the streets. Runners go in with the goods, come out empty-handed.” Lara tapped each one on the screen. “There’s a chance your son is being held in one of these sites.”

  They had a lead. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, pent-up energy telling her she had to go after him now.

  “Then we split up.” Vincent took the weapon his former commanding officer offered over the table. “And we don’t stop searching until we find him.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shea’s strength didn’t come from how much she could handle. It came from how she’d survived after she’d already been broken.

  Hell, he’d watched her crumble right in front of his eyes, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it but hold her, but she’d held her head high. Only now the cracks had started to show through. She stared out the back passenger-side window as he studied her from the SUV’s rearview mirror, a line of tears in her eyes. She hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the safe house, her expression neutral. She’d thrown those invisible walls he’d worked so hard to tear down back into place the minute they’d gotten into the vehicle.

  “This is it.” Lara Richards pointed to the dominating shadow of the abandoned power plant on the shore of the Hudson River as the sun rose to the east. Two massive smokestacks demanded attention as his former CO shouldered out of the vehicle. Abandoned since 1963, the Glenwood power plant would make the perfect location for Grillo’s organization to operate from, but every window from this vantage point remained dark. No sign of fresh tire tracks as he hit the dirt. Nothing to suggest they had the right location, but Vincent wasn’t about to give up. Not with Wells’s life at stake. Graffiti covered the original red bricks of the building and boards nailed against the windows. “I followed one of Grillo’s men here about two weeks ago. He went inside with a fresh stack of cash for a few minutes then came back out empty-handed.”

  “He didn’t notice you were tailing him?” Hard to believe, seeing as how there was nothing but open water, hills of dirt and rock, and few places she could take cover, but it was possible her suspect had only been focused on making the drop. Shipping containers cut off sight lines to one side of the structure. They’d have to go around to access the main entrance. The odor of river algae and something toxic burned his nostrils as he rounded the front of the SUV. His pulse hiked higher as Shea did the same, and he slowed. She hadn’t given him an answer—hadn’t said anything—since he’d laid it all on the line back at the safe house. They’d risked their lives for each other out there in the wilderness
, trusted each other. In a matter of days, she’d become the single most important connection he had to the world, and she’d deserved to know. If she didn’t feel the same—if she couldn’t because of her past... His stomach jerked. No. He couldn’t think about that right now. Getting to Wells. That was all that mattered.

  “Must’ve been in a hurry.” Lara hiked her hands to her hips, showing off the Smith & Wesson holstered under her jacket. “Guy never even looked my way before he fishtailed out of here like a bat out of hell.”

  Dirt kicked up around Shea as she bolted around the sand hill straight ahead of them and disappeared behind a grass-green shipping container.

  “Shea, wait!” Vincent ran after her, the wound in his thigh protesting with every step. Dust dived deep into his lungs as he raced to catch up with her, but it was too late. She’d already gained a substantial distance on him, not even looking back toward him as she ripped open the door to the plant. Footsteps pounded behind him as he pumped his legs harder. Lara. They hadn’t had time to do a proper perimeter search, to evaluate the risk, to clear the area. Shea could be walking into the middle of a—

  The explosion knocked him back with the force of a brick wall headed straight for him at seventy miles an hour. Air crushed from his lungs as the fire and debris engulfed the door where she’d gone inside in an instant. He slammed into the dirt, rolling head over heels, as the all-too-familiar feeling of fire lanced across his exposed skin. A high-pitch ringing filled his ears. He fought to cough up the dirt stuck in his throat and locked his jaw against the pain as he rolled onto his back. Black smoke filled his vision, and the ringing grew louder. Twisting his head back over his shoulder, he searched for her. No. Not her. Vincent put every last bit of strength he had left into getting to his feet. He stumbled forward and hit the dirt again. “Shea!”

  Her name growled from his mouth.

  The bastards must’ve known they were coming, must’ve rigged the explosion to trigger once the door was opened. “Shea!”

  “Vincent!” His name barely made it through the ringing in his ears. Lara Richards covered her mouth with one hand as she stumbled toward him coughing. Caked with dirt, her normally blonde hair had darkened considerably, the blood from the laceration across her forehead staining the strands red. She clutched him, nearly tugging him to the ground. He had to get her back to the car. His former CO was alive because she’d been far enough back from the epicenter of the explosion. But Shea... He searched the massive hole blown into the side of the building. Had she been lucky enough?

  He fisted Lara’s leather jacket, dragging her to safety. The bullet hole in his shoulder screamed for relief, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. Shea. He had to get to Shea. He deposited Lara near their vehicle. Turning back toward the plant, he forced one foot in front of the other. Fire climbed the boarded windows, scarring the bricks of the plant. He raised his uninjured hand to block the heat of the flames from his face. Images of that night—memories—lanced across his brain. The pain, the smell of gasoline, the screams of his team echoing around him. He physically shook his head to shove them into the box he’d kept stored at the back of his mind for so long, but there were too many similarities. The people responsible, the abandoned building. Only this time it wasn’t his team in danger. It was his partner, and he wasn’t going to lose her. He couldn’t. Her son couldn’t. “Shea!”

  Still no answer.

  The high-pitched keening in his ears subsided with every step gained. Ornate brick fell in chunks at the edges of the hole the device had ripped into the side of the building where the door used to be. Humidity hit him in a wave as he hiked through the opening, loose rubble threatening to trip him up. Pools of water and garbage lined the vast atrium that used to hold the plant’s turbines. Windows above created a cathedral-like feeling, trapping smoke against the glass. A steel girder fell from the second floor, and Vincent flinched as the combination of metal on cement vibrated through him. She had to be here. There were no other options. Not for him. “Answer me, Freckles.”

  Another sound broke over the crackling of fire, and he spun around to narrow it to the source. Had it been her? Brick and remnants of the large wooden door she’d gone through piled against the southern wall after the blast, and he vaulted over the mass in order to sift through the rubble. His heart launched into his throat as he spotted a single ash-covered hand among the debris. There. “Shea.” Tearing his sling from his injured shoulder, Vincent groaned against the pain as he worked to clear the debris from on top of her. He didn’t care how much damage he caused to the muscles and tissues in his arm. He’d take a hundred more bullets if it meant getting to her in time. “Almost there, baby. Hang on.”

  “Vincent.” Her voice came from behind, and every cell in his body awoke with awareness. He twisted around to find her standing at the opposite side of the atrium. Ash clung to her pale skin, eyes shadowed, but there she stood. Unharmed. Alive. But if she’d gotten enough distance between her and the explosion, who had he been trying to unbury from beneath the rubble? She stepped forward, reaching for him as he maneuvered around the piles of rock and steel to get to her. Relief coursed through him as she buried her head against his chest, his fingers threaded into her hair. She shook her head. “He’s not here.”

  “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find him. I promise.” He’d already deduced that fact after the effects of the explosion had cleared from his head. Whoever’d taken Wells wouldn’t risk harming him until they got what they wanted. Her. In order to hurt him. Pushing her back, he searched her for fresh blood, injuries, anything that contradicted the fact she was standing here, unharmed, after the blast. “How did you get clear from the explosion so fast?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her watery green gaze, brighter when surrounded by dark ash and dirt, shifted to the body beneath the rubble. In an instant, she slid her attention back to him, her hand pressed flat over his heart. “Wells is still out there somewhere, and I need to find him.” She leaned her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes. “But after what just happened, after everything that’s happened over the past few days, you should know I...” His beard bristled as she opened her eyes and trailed a path down toward his chin with one hand, his nerve endings burning. “I want a future with you, too.”

  His heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Her nod was all the confirmation he needed. Shea pushed her hair from her face, that brilliant smile tunneling through the nightmare of the last four days and straight into his core. His wounds, the organization they were up against, the case he hadn’t been able to solve for over a year, none of it mattered. This, right here. She mattered. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t give for her. “I was lost, for a really long time, but working with you on the joint cases these past few months has been the most frustrating and exciting time in my life.” Nervous energy played across her expression. “There’s something I need to tell you before we decide to give whatever this is between us a chance.”

  “Shea.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb beneath her eyes, ash and dirt smearing across her soft skin. “I don’t care what’s in your psych eval. I told you before. There’s nothing you can do or say to convince me you’re not the woman I’ve gotten to know over these last few months.”

  Surprise contorted her expression, and she stepped out of his hold. Her mouth parted, eyes narrowing at the edges, and Vincent realized his mistake. Too late. “What did you just say?”

  * * *

  VINCENT HAD ACCESS to her department psych eval? No. Not possible. That information was privileged. In order for him to get his hands on it...

  “Blackhawk Security got a copy of my eval.” The words left her mouth no louder than a whisper, her voice hollow. “They wanted insurance the officers you’d be working with during the joint investigations were trustworthy or mentally stable, right? Even though all that information falls under doctor-patient confidentiality.” T
he blood drained from her face, gravity pulling her body toward the ash-covered floor. She’d managed to avoid getting blown up after charging through the front door. She’d spotted the explosives around the doorframe and pulled Grillo’s man in front of her as a shield before the blast, but right now she felt as though the organization that’d kidnapped her son—that’d tried to kill her—had succeeded. Her stomach soured, bile working up her throat. She shook her head to dislodge the truth. “But this is the kind of thing Blackhawk does, isn’t it? You and your team skirt the law when it suits you. Anything to solve the case. Everyone else be damned.”

  Including her. What had Sullivan Bishop said back at the safe house? That she was one of them, that they protected one another? Rage burned hot and fast in her veins. They protected one another, all right, but she’d never been part of their team. She’d been a resource, an access point in which to collaborate with Anchorage PD and evaluate sensitive information for investigations. Nothing more. But what hurt more? Vincent had been an integral part the entire time.

  “Everything you said is true. Our psychologist vetted the officers we recruited for the task force with the department’s permission in case one of our investigations went sideways.” He tried to close the distance between them, but she countered his every step. A combination of hurt and surprise contorted his expression, but she didn’t have the energy or the motivation to let it affect her. Not anymore. He dropped his shoulders away from his ears, almost as though in defeat. “Yours was one of the evaluations, but Shea, I swear I never read your file.”