by Debra Webb
“Back off,” Tanner muttered to her.
Aikman grinned, obviously enjoying the dissention. “Well, aren’t you the brave one? Come on over here and I’ll let your friend go.”
Sadie stepped forward.
“Don’t do it, Buchanan,” Tanner warned, his attention zeroed in on Aikman.
“It won’t be my first bait and switch, Sheriff.” She looked directly at Smith as she said this but quickly shifted her gaze to Aikman. “I’m not afraid of this guy.”
Aikman smirked. “That’s an astounding statement considering the dead bodies lining the room.”
It was in that moment—that fraction of a second when Aikman thought he had to prove how scary he was—that Flynn made his move.
He twisted and dove into Aikman’s knees.
Sadie dropped to the floor.
As if he’d been in on the plan from the beginning, Tanner fired one shot straight into Aikman’s right shoulder. The fool’s weapon fell from his suddenly limp fingers as he was propelled backward by Flynn.
Flynn grabbed Aikman’s weapon and pushed to his feet. Aikman clutched at his shoulder, right where that major nerve center would be, and howled.
“Good shot,” Flynn said to Tanner.
Sadie pushed to her feet but her knees had gone so weak she had no idea how she would remain upright.
Tanner took over the prisoner and Flynn walked toward her.
Her breath caught at the injuries to his face or maybe just at the sight of him moving toward her.
He was alive.
She was alive.
And they were getting out of here.
Flynn wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. The weapon in her right hand slipped to the floor. Her arms went around him.
“Thanks for coming back to rescue me,” he murmured against her hair.
She turned her face up to him. “It’s what I do.”
He smiled then grimaced.
“Your face looks like hell,” she pointed out.
“Feels like it, too.”
* * *
The next several hours were filled with rounding up prisoners and getting medical attention to those injured, as well as identifying the dead.
Flynn refused to bother with being checked out until the work was done. By the time they were off that mountain, Sadie was ready to drop.
George was in the DA’s office making a deal. Sadie was glad. He’d paid in that tunnel for whatever he’d done wrong. Aikman was trying to work out a deal, as well. As it turned out the remains in that rock hole at Aikman’s compound were those of Jack Kemp. The FBI had waited a long time to learn this information but both Ross and Tanner assured Sadie that Aikman wouldn’t be getting any sort of deal beyond the possible setting aside of the death penalty.
Aikman was like Prentiss; he didn’t deserve a deal. He deserved a long life behind bars where he’d have plenty of time to reflect on his bad judgment.
Deacon Ross had accompanied Levi Winters for his statement.
The place was crawling with federal agents.
Sadie’s SAIC had called and made sure she was okay. Flynn had been sequestered to one of the interview rooms for his debrief. She had called her parents just to hear their voices. There was really no reason at this point for her to stay. She had done what she came here to do. She could go home. Maybe even call her sister.
Maybe if she told herself a couple more times there was no reason to stay she would talk herself into walking away without waiting for a chance to say goodbye to Flynn. He’d already thanked her for rescuing him. Goodbye wasn’t actually necessary.
Except it felt necessary.
“Agent Buchanan.”
Sadie looked up at the sound of her name. Cece Winters smiled as she walked through the door of the sheriff’s office where Sadie had taken refuge. It was about the only room in the building that wasn’t filled with agents and deputies. Tanner had told Sadie to make herself at home.
“Hey.” Sadie returned the smile. “I’m sure they’ll allow Levi to go home soon. This part takes a while sometimes.”
Cece nodded as she sat down in the chair next to Sadie. “I wanted to thank you again for saving my brother not once but twice.”
“He did his part,” Sadie told her. “He’s a good guy. A little confused maybe, but a good guy.”
“Deacon and I plan on seeing that he gets back on the right track.”
Sounded like the two were definitely a couple. Sadie had gotten that impression.
“Ladies.”
Sadie’s attention swung to the door once more. Flynn stood there, still looking a little worse for the wear.
Cece got to her feet. “I should see how Levi’s doing.”
She slipped out of the office and Flynn walked in. He closed the door behind him. Sadie looked from the closed door to him, her pulse starting to pound.
“I was afraid you’d left already.”
“I was just getting ready to go.” She tried to think what to say next. “It’ll be good to get home.”
He nodded. “I don’t want to keep you.” He exhaled a big breath. “But I was hoping we could get a bite to eat first. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
As if her belly had just realized how empty it was, she nodded. “I could eat. Sure.”
“Good.”
They stood there for a moment without saying more. Sadie suspected he felt as awkward as she did. Neither of them was the kind of person who did this well.
“We both live in the Nashville area.”
“Home sweet home.” She felt heat rush to her cheeks. What a totally dumb thing to say.
He smiled, grimaced. “Yeah. Anyway, I hoped we might spend some time together. You know, get to know each other better.”
She felt certain the grin that spread across her face said way too much about how happy his words made her. “I would like that very much.”
“It’s been a long time,” he admitted, “since I’ve met anyone who understood this life...who made me want to get to know them better.”
She was certain it would be entirely dorky for her to say the same thing. Instead, she put her hand in his. “I’m ready.”
“I could take you home,” he offered. “I heard you lost your car.”
She laughed. “I would love for you to take me home.”
That was all she needed to say. The rest would take care of itself.
* * *
Undercover Accomplice
Carol Ericson
Carol Ericson is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”
Books by Carol Ericson
Harlequin Intrigue
Holding the Line
Evasive Action
Chain of Custody
Unraveling Jane Doe
Buried Secrets
Red, White and Built: Delta Force Deliverance
Enemy Infiltration
Undercover Accomplice
Code Conspiracy
Red, White and Built: Pumped Up
Delta Force Defender
Delta Force Daddy
Delta Force Die Hard
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Prologue
He ducked into the cave and swept the beam from the weak flashlight around the small space. Releasing a frosty breath, he slid down the wall of the cave into a crouch and faced the entrance, balancing his weapon on his knees.
After he’d helped Rafi and the others fight off the intruders who’d attacked their village, he took off for the hills—but not before he’d arranged another meeting with Pazir.
The last time he’d tried to meet with Pazir, it had led to the death of an army ranger, the possible death of one of his Delta Force team members and his own decision to go AWOL. He hoped for a better result this time.
A bush outside the cave rustled and he coiled his thigh muscles, getting ready to spring. His trigger finger twitched.
A harsh whisper echoed in the darkness. “Denver? Major Denver?”
He rose slowly, his jacket scraping the wall of the cave, the light from his flashlight illuminating a figure on hands and knees at the cave’s entrance. “If you have any weapons, toss them in first. If you’re not alone...you soon will be.”
Pazir sat back on his heels and tossed a small pistol onto the dirt floor. He rummaged through the clothes on his body and flicked a knife through the air. It landed point down on the ground.
“That’s all I have.” Pazir continued forward on his knees, his hands in the air. “I had nothing to do with the ambush at our previous meeting. I barely got out of there with my life.”
“The other Delta Force soldier? Asher Knight? Do you know what happened to him?”
“He survived.”
Denver almost sank to the dirt again as relief coursed through his rigid muscles. “You know that for sure?”
“I know that he and the others are challenging the story that’s out there about you.”
“They are?” Denver’s spine stiffened, and he lined it up against the cave wall again.
“Your men are loyal to you, Denver.”
“But they haven’t cleared me yet?”
“They’re getting close. My sources tell me there’s a battle raging about your guilt in the highest levels of government.”
“You have good sources, Pazir.” Denver gestured with his weapon. “Sit. What else have they told you? What do you know about those weapons at the embassy outpost in Nigeria? What do you know about the car bomb at the Syrian refugee camp?”
“Al Tariq.”
Denver cleared his throat and spit. “Too small. I know that group and there’s no way they could pull off what they’re doing.”
“They’re the front group in the region. They’re being used to do some of the grunt work. They’re being used to track you down.”
“By whom? Who’s behind this and what do they want?”
“As far as I know, it’s an international group, moles from different government agencies working together. They want weapons, and they’re close to getting their hands on a nuclear device.”
Denver swore, finally loosening the grip on his weapon. “That’s what I was afraid of, and now you’ve just confirmed it.”
“Has to be more than a rumor, Denver.”
“I wanna know who’s at the top. It’s not good enough to finger Al Tariq.”
Pazir scratched his beard and squatted across from Denver. “I know Al Tariq wasn’t responsible for kidnapping that CIA agent.”
“That female?”
“She was getting too close to the truth—just like you.”
“They released her.”
“She escaped.”
“And you think the people who kidnapped Agent Chandler are the same ones pulling the strings for Al Tariq and trying to get their hands on this nuclear device?”
“I know it, Denver. Don’t ask me how.”
“Then I need to figure out who kidnapped Chandler.”
“From here?” Pazir threw out one arm.
“I have to stay in hiding. You don’t.”
Pazir snorted. “I can’t exactly run around the globe and travel to Washington, either.”
“No, but you can get a message out for me, can’t you?”
“Yes.” Pazir reached into his pouch and pulled out a piece of flatbread. He ripped it in half and thrust one piece at Denver. “You want me to try to send a message to Agent Chandler?”
“I want you to send a message to one of my Delta Force team members. Hunter Mancini worked with Chandler on a covert mission once, and they got...close. You get a message to Mancini, and he can contact Chandler. Maybe she has some insight into who held her and what she was working on, but she’s afraid to say anything.”
“I can do that.” Pazir pulled a pencil and pad of paper from his bag. “Give me the details.”
As Denver chewed through the rough bread, he rattled off instructions to Pazir for contacting Mancini. “I don’t have to tell you not to let this fall into the wrong hands.”
“I give up nothing.”
“Shh.” Denver sidled along the wall of the cave and peered out the entrance. “We’re not alone.”
Pazir lunged for his weapon. “We’ll fight them off together.”
“You go.” Denver grabbed a handful of Pazir’s jacket. “I’ll distract them. Get that message to Mancini if it’s the last thing you do.”
Chapter 1
Sue slipped the burner phone from the inside pocket of her purse. She swiped a trickle of sweat from her temple as she reread the text and ducked into the last stall in the airport bathroom. Her heart fluttered in her chest just like it always did before she made a call to The Falcon.
He answered after one ring. “Seven, one, six, six, nine.”
The numbers clicked in her brain and she responded. “Ten, five, seven, two, eight.”
“Are you secure?”
The altered voice grated against her ear as she peeked through the gap between the stall door and its frame at several women washing their hands, scolding children, and wheeling their bags in and out of the bathroom, too concerned with their own lives to worry about someone reciting numbers on a cell phone.
Their nice, normal lives.
“Yeah.”
“You got the name of the barbershop wrong. There’s no Walid there.”
“That’s not possible.”
“You misheard the name...or they purposely fed you the wrong one because they made you.”
Sue swallowed and pressed her forehead against the cool metal door. “They didn’t.”
“Because they would’ve killed you when you were with them?”
“That’s right.” Sue yanked off a length of toilet paper from the roll and stepped in front of the toilet to make it flush automatically. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’d know.”
“That’s what I like about you, Nightingale. You’re a pro. You’ve already proven you’ll do anything for the cause.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed. “Next move?”
“We need the correct barbershop.”
“I can’t exactly call up my contact and ask him.”
“You’ll figure it out. Like I said, you’re a pro.”
The Falcon ended the call before she could respond.
Sighing, she pushed out of the stall and washed her hands. On her way out of the bathroom, she almost bumped into her stepmother.
“Where have you been? We need to get to our gate. I can’t wait to get out of this place. I hate D.C.”
Sue dropped to her knees in front of her son, regretting that she’d sp
ent their last precious minutes together on the phone with The Falcon—regretting so much more. She grabbed Drake’s hands and kissed the tips of his sticky fingers, inhaling the scent of cinnamon that clung to his skin. “Be a good boy for Gran on the airplane.”
Drake batted his dark eyelashes. “You go airplane, too, Mama?”
“No, cupcake. Just you and Gran this time, but I’ll visit you soon.”
Linda fluttered a tissue between the two of them. “Wipe your hands, Drake.”
“That’s not going to help, Linda. He had a cinnamon roll for breakfast. He’s going to have to wash his hands in the restroom.” Sue waved her hand behind her at the ladies’ room.
Pursing her lips, Linda snatched back the tissue. “Cinnamon rolls for breakfast? You spoil him when he’s here. I’ll get him a proper lunch once we get through security, if he still has any appetite left.”
He will unless you ruin it.
Sue managed to eke out a smile, as Drake was watching her with wide eyes. “Nothing spoils Drake’s appetite. He could eat a horse and ask for dessert.”
“We don’t eat horses, Mama.” Drake giggled and Sue pinched the end of his nose. “Give me another hug.”
Drake curled his chubby arms around her neck, and Sue pressed her tingling nose against his hair. “Love you, cupcake.”
“Love you.” Drake smacked his lips against her cheek. “Can I live here?”
“Not yet, my lovey, but soon.” Blinking the tears from her eyes, Sue straightened up and placed Drake’s hand in her stepmother’s. “Give my love to Dad.”
Linda sniffed as she yanked up the handle of her suitcase. “I don’t know why some people have children if they can’t be bothered to take care of them.”
“Linda.” Sue ducked toward her stepmother and said through clenched teeth, “I told you. This...arrangement won’t be forever, and I don’t appreciate your talking like that in front of my son.”
Linda’s pale eyes widened a fraction and she backed up. “I hope you’re not going to be landing in trouble every other month, or you’ll never have Drake with you. You were right to leave him with your sister. Children need stability. You should give up this crazy job and find yourself a husband to take care of you, a father for Drake, and settle down like your sister.”