Next Exit, Use Caution

by CW Browning

  “Angie!”

  “What?” she grinned. “It’s what I’d do if I could get someone like him to look twice at me.”

  Stephanie shook her head, laughing reluctantly.

  “I’ll give you that one.” She pressed a button on her key fob and beeped her alarm off, then opened the trunk. “I haven’t had time to go by the house. If I don’t hear anything by tomorrow, I’ll swing by.”

  Angela nodded and grabbed one of the bags from the trolley, lifting it into the trunk. Stephanie grabbed another bag and they had the trolley empty in no time. Looking around, Angela shrugged and pulled the empty trolley off to the side.

  “You’re not going to leave it there, are you?” Stephanie demanded.

  “I’m certainly not carting it all the way back to the terminal. Someone will come get it.”

  She went around to the passenger side door and got in, leaving Stephanie to shake her head.

  “So tell me what happened,” Angela said as Stephanie slid behind the wheel and started the car. “Don’t leave anything out.”

  “John had an accident street racing the Firebird,” Stephanie said slowly. “The front tire blew. He flipped and slammed into a tree.”

  “Why was he street racing?”

  Stephanie glanced at Angela as she pulled out of the parking spot. She had to be careful what she said. Angela could never know much of what happened. Not only was it classified, but it would also reveal that Alina most definitely was not a security consultant.

  “One of his friends was killed a week before and John didn’t believe it was an accident. He started poking around, looking for answers. His main suspect was a street racer and he was following a lead; or so we think.”

  Angela was silent for a moment.

  “Do we think John’s accident was just an accident?” she asked quietly.

  Stephanie’s lips curved. Angela was a lot smarter than she looked.

  “No. The blow-out was caused by a bomb in his wheel well.”

  “What?!”

  Angela stared at her, shocked. Stephanie nodded grimly, pulling into traffic heading for the airport exit.

  “Turns out he was right about his friend. He was murdered, and when John started asking questions, they went after him as well.”

  “Did you catch the bastards?”

  “No.” Stephanie scowled. “They both disappeared.”

  “Son of a...what’s being done to find them?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Stephanie muttered.

  Two days ago, Alina had assured her Dominic DiBarcoli and Tito Morales, the two responsible for John’s crash, would not get away. Yet Stephanie had heard nothing since. While she suspected both men had been detained, or worse, by her old friend, she didn’t have confirmation. As far as she knew, they were both still at large.

  Angela shot a searching glance at her.

  “Why don’t you know?” she asked. “In fact, why aren’t you at work? It’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday.”

  Stephanie sighed and took the exit ramp onto I-95 north.

  “I’ve been placed on leave of absence,” she said reluctantly. “It happened just after John’s accident.”

  Angela stared at her.

  “What? Why?”

  “The Bureau is running an internal investigation on John. I was guilty by association. My cases were reassigned and I was advised to take some time off.”

  “On what grounds? You’re not the one who was street racing!”

  “I know. Rob wouldn’t say anything except it wasn’t disciplinary.” Stephanie switched lanes as she merged onto the highway and pressed the gas pedal down. “Then John died and now he says I need the time off to rest and cope. Something’s going on, but I haven’t been able to figure out what yet.”

  “What the hell, Steph!” Angela exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I go away on business and all hell breaks loose. What else happened? And don’t tell me nothing because I’m not stupid. I watch the news. I know there were bombs found in DC, Philly, New York and Boston.”

  Stephanie looked at her, amused.

  “Yes, there were, and yes, I was there in Philly. And no, I can’t tell you anymore than you already heard on the news.”

  “Was that what John was poking around in when he got himself killed?” Angela asked bluntly.

  Stephanie was startled.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t treat me like an idiot,” Angela said. “You know me better than that. It really doesn’t take much to realize street racers don’t go around putting bombs into other racers’ wheel wells.”

  “Fair enough,” Stephanie said grudgingly. “Yes, that’s why John was targeted. Some of the street racers were smuggling products up and down the East Coast, and some of those products were bomb parts.”

  Angela nodded and looked out the window, absorbing all the information.

  “Does Lina know John was targeted by someone?” she asked after a long silence.

  Stephanie glanced at her, hesitating for a second.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s not angry, then,” Angela said decidedly. “She’s furious.”

  Stephanie nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Angela sighed and stretched, rolling her head a few times.

  “What’s going on with the funeral?” she asked.

  “His body was just released this morning. Our ME did an autopsy. He was waiting on a tox screen to come back.”

  “Have you spoken to his parents?”

  “Yes. They’re flying in Thursday. They were waiting for his body.” Stephanie’s voice broke and Angela looked at her sharply. “Now we can work on funeral arrangements. I don’t know if they’ll have the funeral here or take him back to California.”

  “I would think they would have it here,” said Angela. “He lived and worked here. Just because they retired to California doesn’t mean he should be buried there.”

  “That’s not our call,” Stephanie said quietly. “Absent a will, they’re the ones who get to make the decision.”

  “He had a will,” Angela said unexpectedly.

  Stephanie looked at her sharply.

  “What?”

  “He drew it up a few years ago,” Angela said. “I have the name of the attorney at home. He gave me the name in case...”

  “What?”

  “Well, in case something like this happened.”

  Stephanie stared at the highway in front of her, stunned. It had never occurred to her John would have a will, or that he would tell Angela about it. She knew for a fact his parents were unaware of it.

  “You could have told me that sooner,” she muttered.

  “You could have told me he was dead sooner.”

  Stephanie choked back a short laugh.

  “You’re really not going to let me slide on that one, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Stephanie looked at her.

  “God I’m glad you’re back,” she said suddenly.

  Angela glanced at her and reached out to squeeze her arm.

  “Me too,” she agreed. “You said on the phone Blake was staying with you. Is he still here?”

  “He went back to DC last night. He’ll be back for the funeral, if not before.”

  “Why don’t you come stay with me?” Angela suggested. “So you’re not alone.”

  Stephanie shook her head.

  “Thank you, but I have to face it on my own,” she said slowly. “Blake helped a lot and I’ll miss him, but the worst of the shock is over.”

  Angela studied her profile for a minute, then shrugged.

  “Well, you know where I live if you change your mind.” She leaned her head back on the headrest. “In the meantime, I have some Ativan if you need it.”

  “Already got it covered, but thanks.”

  Chapter Three

  Washington, DC

  Michael O’Reilly climbed out of his truck and slammed the door, nodding to the tall man w
aiting for him on the sidewalk.

  “That was quick!” the man called.

  Michael beeped his truck locked and strode toward his old friend.

  “I wasn’t wasting time after a call like that,” he replied, reaching the sidewalk. “Where is he?”

  Blake Hanover motioned to the building behind him.

  “Inside,” he said, turning to walk toward the entrance. “It was pure luck I was in the office when the call came from Metro PD. I just got back late last night.”

  “How’s Agent Walker?” Michael asked, opening the door and holding it for the other man.

  “Not good,” said Blake. “I’m going to arrange to work out of the Philly office for a few days. I didn’t like leaving her alone.”

  Michael glanced at him.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “She’s trying to hide it, but the whole thing has been a blow.” Blake led the way down a sterile corridor, navigating the city morgue like the seasoned FBI agent he was. “Have you talked to your Black Widow?”

  “Not since Sunday,” Michael answered, a frown crossing his face. “I haven’t been able to get hold of her.”

  Blake glanced at him.

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  They reached the end of the corridor and Blake pushed open a door, holding it for Michael to pass into the large room beyond. A technician in a white lab coat was waiting for them.

  “Agent O’Reilly?” he asked.

  Michael nodded and pulled out his Secret Service badge, holding it up for examination. The technician studied it for a moment, wrote something on his clipboard, then held it out to Michael with a pen.

  “Sign on the last line, please,” he instructed, “next to Special Agent Hanover.”

  Michael scrawled his signature and the technician took the clipboard back.

  “Follow me.”

  Michael glanced at Blake and turned to follow the technician through another set of doors at the far end of the room. Blake fell into step beside him, and they were silent as they entered a sterile room lined with freezers on one side. Tables were arranged in a row across the center of the room, all of them empty except for one.

  “Here he is,” said the technician, walking up to the lone occupied slab. “Hanover said you might be able to confirm his ID.”

  “Possibly.”

  “If you can, it would be a relief. I need to make arrangements for the disposal of the remains if he is a devout Muslim.”

  Michael nodded and stopped next to the steel table. The outline of a body was visible, concealed beneath a sheet. The technician looked at him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  The technician pulled back the sheet and Michael stared down at the bloated, discolored face lying lifeless on the table.

  “They pulled him out of the Potomac this morning,” said Blake. “He floated up near the banks in Georgetown. Cause of death was a stab wound to the neck. It went right through the carotid artery. Death would have happened in seconds, or so I’m told.”

  Michael was silent, staring at the face as thoughts swirled through his head. The wound to the neck was precise, the weapon entering at exactly the right angle.

  “Any other injuries to the body?” he asked.

  “Just the wound to the neck,” the technician replied. “There aren’t even any defensive wounds.”

  “So he was either surprised or knew his attacker,” Blake said. “Is he one of the terrorists you were tracking?”

  “Yes.” Michael looked away from the face and glanced at Blake. “He’s one of them.”

  The technician replaced the sheet, concealing the body again.

  “Do you know his name?” he asked.

  “No, but I know someone who does,” Michael answered, turning away from the table. “It’s safe to start making your arrangements. He’s definitely a devout Muslim.”

  Blake followed Michael back into the larger outer room.

  “That’s one down,” he said in a low voice. “You said there were three? We think Viper took care of one already. Do you think she’s responsible for this one too?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael answered, striding toward the door to the outer corridor. He pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor. “I just don’t know.”

  “It’s a very professional wound,” Blake said, following. “Who else knew they were here, and could do that?”

  “The list is longer than you’d think,” Michael replied grimly. “I’ll see if I can at least get his name for you.”

  Blake glanced at his friend.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  Michael looked at him, but was silent until they got outside in the fresh air.

  “Something just doesn’t feel right about the whole thing,” he finally said, stopping and running a hand through his short hair. “I know what Viper does. She’s an assassin. The wound, the target, everything is just what an assassin would do. Except I don’t think she would have dumped the body into the Potomac. It’s not clean enough for her. She’s been trained to leave no trace. A body floating in a river is a really big trace.”

  Blake pursed his lips for a moment.

  “Fair enough, but a body isn’t that easy to dispose of. What else would she do with it in the middle of the Capitol?”

  Michael shook his head with a frown, his eyes troubled.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but this just isn’t sitting right.”

  Blake studied him thoughtfully for a moment.

  “You think there’s something else going on?”

  Michael thought about the background Viper asked him to do on one of Washington’s elite.

  “Yeah, I just don’t know what.”

  Dawn was lightening the sky outside while the city still slept. Alina opened her eyes and stretched, rolling over in the bed. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at Damon, tracing a faint scar on the side of his neck. The injury happened three years ago, in London. He told her about it the first time she saw him at her house in Medford, New Jersey, last year. Alina tilted her head. Now why did she suddenly remember that?

  His dark hair had flopped over his forehead and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. She smiled and brushed a long, dark lock out of his eye before lowering her lips to press them softly against his.

  “Mmmm.” His blue eyes opened and he smiled at her. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” Alina smiled softly. “I don’t know if I can get used to this. I’m not sure how I feel about waking up next to you.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow, amusement lighting his eyes.

  “Is that so?” he drawled, pulling her down on top of him. “Let me help you make up your mind.”

  Alina laughed as his lips captured hers and he rolled her onto her back. She was just wrapping her arms around him when a cell phone rang stridently through the room. Damon groaned, tearing his lips from hers.

  “It’s yours,” he muttered, shifting off her.

  Alina rolled over and reached for her phone, glancing at the screen.

  “It’s Charlie,” she said, propping her weight on her elbow with her back to Damon. “Yes?” she answered.

  “You made it to Singapore, I see,” Charlie said, his voice brisk. “I got the check-in notification. Did you have any problems?”

  “No. The hotel was a surprise. What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” said Charlie easily. “Fantastic view of the water.”

  “Yes, it is. Why are we here?”

  “Not very subtle, are you?” Hawk murmured behind her.

  “There’s someone there: someone you need to find,” Charlie said cryptically.

  “Who?”

  “He used to be a soldier. He’s made Singapore his home now. As you know, it’s one of the financial hubs of the world. Tread carefully, but move quickly.”

  “How quickly?”

  Alina bit her lip as Damon slid his ha
nd over her thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

  “The reservation is for three days.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “That’s what you have to find out.”

  Alina rolled her eyes.

  Oh, is that all?

  “Understood. What’s happening with Kasim?” She swatted Damon’s hand away. “He’s still at large somewhere with two of his cohorts.”

  “One of his cohorts. The other one just floated up in the Potomac,” Charlie said after a moment. “I don’t have much information yet, only that he was stabbed in the neck. For now, the FBI and DHS are looking for leads on Kasim. When you’re finished there, we’ll re-evaluate.”

  “They can’t handle him. You know that.”

  “I don’t want him handled yet.”

  Alina stilled, her body stiffening.

  “What do you mean?” she asked softly.

  “I want to make sure what we stopped is all he has planned. I’m monitoring the situation.”

  “You think there’s something more?” Alina frowned. “What does Sgt Curtis say?”

  “Not much. He passed away unexpectedly,” Charlie said dryly. “He did infect himself with the Ebola virus, and his organs shut down faster than expected.”

  Alina pursed her lips.

  “That’s unfortunate,” she murmured. “What about the medical personnel who were exposed?”

  “They’re being monitored by your Dr. Krupp, or at least, their blood is. He’s working on it.”

  Alina ran a hand through her hair and sat back against the pillows. Damon was watching her with those unfathomable eyes of his, and she carefully avoided meeting their gaze.

  “And the antidote in the hospitals?”

  “Already pulled.” Charlie sounded amused. “Stop worrying about what’s happening here. I sent you to one of the most beautiful and exotic cities in the world. Enjoy it.”

  Alina glanced at Damon, devastatingly gorgeous with his sleep-tossed hair and stubble on his strong jaw.

  “Oh, I am.”

  She disconnected and reached over to set the phone back on the bedside table.

  “Well?” Damon prompted.

  “I have three days to find someone he thinks I need to find.”

  “Ok. Who is it?”

  “He didn’t say.”