by Katie Reus
He took another swig as he headed for his room, hoping the champagne would take the edge off. Take away the pain, if only temporarily.
But he knew it wouldn’t. Nothing would. Not when the woman he loved had just run out of his life.
Chapter 19
As he landed at the private Miami airport, his adrenaline spiked. He was here. Soon he would take care of business. Trent had texted him that he had a bead on Samara and Evie. Trent had also told him that he was going dark so he had no way to get a hold of his guy, to tell him he was in town. It didn’t matter because he knew where Samara and Evie were.
There was no way Samara was not working with Evie Bishop. Of course they were working together and would no doubt try to set him up. Even though Samara had always been a bit of a wild card, Evie bled red, white and blue. And Samara had gone to her for help. So even if Samara wanted to play him, to demand money…he didn’t buy it. Her mistake had been in giving him twelve hours. He was going to use that time to hunt her down and kill her. Bishop too, since they’d likely be together.
He would simply take care of them and then return to life as normal.
There was no way they knew what he’d been involved in. If they did, he would be arrested as a traitor. No, they simply suspected and were trying to set him up. Had to be it.
As he descended onto the tarmac, he nodded once at the pilot he’d asked for a favor. He wasn’t using any Agency resources right now. He was using assets and personal favors for this trip. No one else knew he was in Miami. Not even his wife.
And he would keep it that way. The flight here hadn’t taken long and the flight home wouldn’t take long either.
He simply needed to clean up this mess before he got caught in it.
The private car he’d rented under an inactive agent’s alias was waiting for him. He gave the driver the address as he pulled out his tablet and started working.
It had taken some digging, but finally, finally, he’d found out where Samara was staying. He’d thought she’d been at Dylan Blackwood’s house since it was clear that Bishop had hooked up with the man again. So when Trent said he had a bead on them, he’d started thinking outside the box.
And he’d gotten lucky. Samara was staying at a two-story house she’d rented through one of those online places where people rented out their homes. She hadn’t gotten it under her real name, of course. She’d done exactly what he had, used an inactive agent’s credentials as opposed to one of her aliases.
They thought they could come after him? He nearly snarled at the thought. He was smarter than both of them, and soon they would both realize just how deadly he was. They’d never viewed him as a threat. He’d always played his role well, had always been good at the job. But he didn’t get paid enough for the threats and danger he dealt with—for the lifestyle he deserved. He wasn’t going to one day retire with a pathetic pension and nothing to show for his career. He deserved more.
Once he was through with them, he’d need to dispose of their bodies where no one would ever find them. Luckily they were in Florida so it would be easy enough to take them out to the wetlands and dump them.
Without their bodies, it would be hard to make a case against anyone for their murders. Which was what he was counting on.
* * *
Hours later Evie lay in one of the four bedrooms in the cheerily decorated two-story house. She hated the waiting. Especially since it was in relative silence.
A few dogs barked in the distance. She’d heard a couple car horn blasts earlier and the sound of a boat engine revving by someone who’d decided to go late-night fishing. Or just joy-riding on the lake. Between the random sounds and her thoughts, her thoughts were winning.
She should be focusing on what was to come, on that damn traitor. Instead, she was staring at the ceiling, gearing up to tell Dylan the truth. She had it all planned out in her mind. But every time she imagined it, he walked away when she was done. Because that was the only outcome. Him leaving. Ugh.
“I’ve got movement,” Georgina said quietly through her earpiece.
Even though they were on a private frequency, they would be communicating only when necessary. The man they were going to take down was trained so they were being careful.
He would come in here, looking to take out Samara and possibly Evie. They just hoped he didn’t see this particular plan coming into play.
Neither Evie nor Samara answered, not wanting to give away anything audible. No one had tapped into the comm line, but the traitor could be using a parabolic mic, listening to the house. She and Samara were ready, regardless. This needed to end tonight. Knowing that Dylan was with Georgina in the command center made this easier. She hated that he was worried about her now, but she still liked that he was on the periphery of things.
Rolling over, she snagged her tablet from the bedside table and pulled up the various video feeds from the hidden cameras they had set up outside.
There was a flutter of movement across the street on one feed. The residential neighborhood was quiet, but a shadow peeled off from the side of a house across the street. It had to be him. Unless someone else was lurking about at three in the morning.
No doubt he’d done recon of the place and set up audio listening devices to scan for any chatter. It was what she would do. He would also likely—
Yep, there went the video feeds. He must have sent out a pulse to disable all security cameras in the nearby area.
Easing back, she tucked the tablet into the drawer. Cameras outside were down. But he wasn’t as smart as he thought. Once the pulse went out, disabling the current devices, she turned on another set of cameras and started recording.
She withdrew her weapon from under the pillow and moved toward the closet. It was game on.
This traitor was going down.
Chapter 20
After setting off the pulse device, he was certain that all cameras Samara might have set up had been disabled. The two heat signatures were in the upstairs bedrooms so he made his entry at the back of the house, where it was dark. Then he activated the electronic jammer before quickly and quietly cutting a hole in one of the downstairs windows.
At this point, they likely suspected something was going on. That was okay, let them suspect. He would still kill Samara and Evie. With his ski mask on, he slipped into what turned out to be a living room.
He was silent as he pulled his NVGs down and his weapon out. Both women were trained but so was he.
His feet were silent as he hurried up the stairs, his rage fueling him to do this. By the time he made it to the top landing, his adrenaline was pumping hard. From his earlier recon, he knew that the first door on the right had someone inside it. And he didn’t care who he shot first.
The door was already cracked open so he gently eased it farther open with his foot. Light from outside streamed in through the window across the room but he immediately saw the lump in the bed.
Aiming his weapon, he fired at the bed, the suppressed rounds quiet.
But a figure suddenly stepped out from the closet.
He swiveled and ducked on instinct.
Bullets exploded into the doorframe next to him, barely missing.
He fired center mass at the figure near the closet. Once, twice, the shots muted from his suppressor.
The person dropped with a grunt. He started to step forward, but froze as he heard a wisp of air moving behind him.
Before he could turn, he felt the cold steel of a pistol against his lower spine.
“I would say it’s good to see you again, but we both know that’s a lie,” Samara’s steely voice whispered in his ear.
Then she reached around him and shot the still figure by the closet in the head. Then suddenly the room flooded with light.
He shoved his NVGs up. Blinking, he saw Evie lying on the ground with a bullet wound straight through her skull. Holy hell. Shock punched through him, but… No…it couldn’t be real. He’d seen staged crime scenes before. This had to
be fake.
Samara pressed the gun against his back, dug in hard. “You saved me the trouble of doing it myself. Not all of us have rich daddies to take care of them.” There was a wealth of bitterness in her voice.
“She’s not dead.” No way. This was a setup. Even as he stared at Evie’s still body, at her unmoving chest…he couldn’t believe it.
Samara snorted as she ripped his ski mask off and shoved him forward. “Test her pulse, asshole. But keep your hands in the air as you move.”
He did as she ordered, bending down and… Holy shit. Bishop was dead. This…wasn’t what he had expected. Samara hadn’t shot him yet, so she needed him alive at least. Still, unease slid down his spine. “Why’d you do this?”
“I’m doing the talking right now. Keep your hands up and turn around slowly. You and I are about to do some business together, Ben.”
A minute later Ben sat down at the kitchen table in the beach-themed kitchen, staring at Samara in surprise. He’d come here expecting a setup—he’d thought Samara and Evie would try to get him to confess to killing Xiao and taking payoffs. He hadn’t expected this.
Samara had always been the smartass of the team, but he knew that underneath she was an ice-cold operator. She’d been dumped into the foster system at the age of twelve after surviving a horrific childhood. But she’d cleared all her psych tests and she had an aptitude for languages, like Bishop had. Even though she’d never been as polished as Bishop, not in the sort of way that you were when born into wealth, she was a chameleon. Adaptable to situations in a way her upbringing had given her.
“I can’t believe you killed her,” he said, feeling like a parrot even as fear cut through him. He had to figure out a way to get out of this. He was smarter than this bitch.
Samara lifted a shoulder, her expression neutral. “I didn’t want to. And it’s not personal. But she wanted to turn you in. Thank you for disabling the cameras, by the way. I knew you would.”
He’d thought Samara might expect him, he just hadn’t thought she’d be so damn prepared. He’d left DC almost immediately after her call, barely giving her any time to prep for his arrival.
“You never should have sent that hitter after me,” she snapped.
He wanted to ask about Trent, but held off. He had to play this right, to see if this truly was a setup. If it was, the Feds would storm the place if he admitted anything. “How’d you get Evie involved?”
She gave him a dry look. “I went to her when your guy shot me. I didn’t know it was you at the time, but I finally figured it out. You’re not as careful as you think.”
He narrowed his gaze, not confirming anything. He wanted to ask how she’d known he’d sent Trent, but if he did, it would be admitting he’d sent someone after her. He might have disabled the cameras and sent out a pulse to neutralize electronics inside the house, but he had to be careful.
“Who’d you send after me?” she asked.
He didn’t respond. He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a setup, even with Bishop dead.
Samara tapped her weapon against the kitchen table.
“If you’re going to shoot me, just shoot me.” Adrenaline mixed with fear settled in his gut as he pushed her.
“Fine. Whoever he is, you’re going to call off your dog. And you’re going to transfer me two million dollars,” she said as she turned a laptop around on the table with one hand.
He shifted slightly, masking his surprise. He’d assumed she would try to get him to confess to something, to trap him. “You think I have two million dollars?”
She snorted. “I know you do. I found some of your accounts. But you don’t have to admit to it. Now, you’re going to transfer money to me from a couple of your secret black ops slush funds. I know you have access to them and no one will question you.”
He’d seen her finances, and while they weren’t horrible, she wasn’t flush in the way that Bishop was—had been.
Sweat beaded against his upper lip, but he didn’t move. He needed to stall. Once she had her money, she’d have no reason to let him live. “You really going to be able to live with killing Bishop?”
She paused, rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, looking only slightly agitated, but she didn’t lower her weapon. “I’ll live with it. Are you going to be able to live with killing Xiao and Kalinec?”
“They weren’t murdered.” Well, Samuel Xiao had been. Ben had made it look like a heart attack.
She started again. “Please. I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“It was a coincidence.”
She watched him for a long moment.
He lifted a shoulder. “Much stranger things have happened.”
“Fine. Now do it.” She motioned to the laptop. “It’s already set up for you.”
“You could kill me anyway.”
She smiled at him, a tiger watching its prey. That was when he realized people had always underestimated her. She joked around a lot, but watching her now was like watching a lethal predator. He knew she’d killed, more than once. But she had never seemed to relish it. Now, however, if she really had killed Bishop…
“People underestimate you,” he murmured.
“Quit stalling.” She shoved the laptop across the table. “Transfer the money to the account number taped at the top of the laptop.”
“Why should I?”
She tapped the gun against the table again. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And it won’t be an easy death.”
“Why don’t we work together?” he asked, not moving his hands. Tingles of panic had started to form at the base of his spine as he read the intent in her eyes. She would definitely kill him. He needed to get close enough to disarm her, to take her weapon. He might be a tech geek, but he was damn good in hand-to-hand combat. “Two million isn’t much.”
She snorted. “Sure it is.”
“Not for long. And I thought you were smart. Why not play the long game? I can get you more than just two million.”
Her eyes glinted with interest. “Fine, you want to give me money? Add another two to it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something else.”
She watched him closely, her expression tightening. “Quit stalling and transfer the money.”
Though he hated to do it, his fingers flew across the keyboard as she came to stand behind him. He could see her in the reflection, see the weapon pointed at the back of his head. “There,” he said, hitting the final button. “You’ve got your money.”
“Thank you. Now you’re going to take the fall for killing Evie,” she said as she leaned forward and closed her computer. Now was the time. He had to take her out.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I started putting things together and realized that you were going after people from the Jensen op—”
He lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. She tried to knee him in the groin but he was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Her gun clattered across the floor, out of reach. He elbowed her across the face as he yanked his own weapon back. Breathing hard, he held it on her. She lay on the ground, her nose bleeding as she glared up at him.
She was breathing hard now. “You gonna kill me now? Like you killed Kalinec and—”
“Shut the hell up with that. I told you I didn’t kill Kalinec. That truly was unfortunate.” He waited, wondering if backup would arrive. Up until this point he’d confessed to nothing and he’d transferred money to her under duress. Yeah, he’d shot Evie, but so had she. He could still spin this.
“Lies!” she spat at him.
“I’m not lying. Kalinec getting killed in a mugging was a coincidence.” He grabbed the laptop from the table. It was time to go.
Slowly she pushed up from the floor, keeping her hands out at her side as he trained his weapon on her. She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re serious. Their deaths so close together really was a coincidence.”
He simply smiled at
her, enjoying her confusion.
“But you sent someone after me.”
Yep. She’d gotten nosy, digging around in his business. Making a heart attack look real was child’s play for him. He’d been with the CIA for decades. He wished she’d just left well enough alone. But he wasn’t going to waste time explaining to her what he’d done.
“Did you kill Xiao?” she pressed.
Ben motioned for her to back up to the exit. He was going to have to kill her, but it would be easier to do it in the garage and then transfer her body to the car from there. Then he’d have to haul Bishop’s body downstairs too, and dispose of them together. Then this house was going to have an accidental fire because he wasn’t going to waste time cleaning up the blood. He’d never get it all unless he called in a professional cleaner and he wasn’t involving anyone else in this. “Come on, in the garage. Now!”
“How much money are you moving?” Desperation filled her voice as she tried to stall.
“Move or I shoot you here.” He wasn’t going to spill all his secrets.
“So you’re gonna kill me and what?” she finally asked as they entered the garage.
“Then I’m going to dump your body so no one will ever find it.”
Fear etched her face as he shut the door behind them. He kept his weapon up. “Turn around.”
“Fuck you.” She remained where she was.
“Fine.” He pulled the trigger.
Ben blinked. Nothing happened. What the hell?
Samara grinned at him, all fear gone. “You’re gonna want to get on the ground.”
“What?”
“Do it. Hands above your head.”
Before he could ask what the hell she was talking about, two armed FBI agents kicked the door in, weapons up.
“Benjamin Miller, you’re under arrest for the murder of Samuel Xiao, the attempted murder of Samara Sousa, and for selling state secrets,” a female agent he recognized snapped at him as he dropped the useless weapon. “And that’s just the beginning.” Samara had clearly done something to it—probably removed the firing pin—and like a fool, he’d fallen into her trap. “Hands behind your back.”