Next Exit, Quarter Mile

by CW Browning

  “Imports,” he muttered.

  A minute later, he slid behind the wheel and handed Stephanie the pretzels.

  “Are we good?” he asked.

  “Yep.” Stephanie took the soft pretzels with a raised eyebrow. “I thought we were going to breakfast?”

  “We are,” Blake replied, starting the engine. “Those are for my pregnant girlfriend.”

  Stephanie looked at him.

  “Excuse me?”

  Blake grinned and winked.

  “Congratulations, by the way,” he said, putting the car in gear. “You're due in a couple of days.”

  Stephanie blinked.

  “I am?”

  “Yep.”

  Blake pulled out of the parking spot and rolled towards the exit.

  “You could have at least bought me dinner first.”

  Blake grinned and glanced at her.

  “How about breakfast?” he asked.

  Stephanie laughed.

  “Deal,” she agreed, swiping the tablet in her hands.

  He stopped at the exit and glanced at the screen in her hands.

  “Is it working?”

  “We've got him,” Stephanie replied, watching a red dot on a map.

  “Fantastic.” Blake pulled out into the road. “Are we sure it will hold?”

  “Lina says it will,” she said, looking up from the tablet. “I put it high up in the wheel well.”

  “I hope she's right. If not, we lose our only lead to those bombs.”

  Michael unlocked the front door to his house and stepped inside, his mind still reeling. Between his seemingly innocent questions regarding Simon's work and Chris's skillful guidance of the conversation, they managed to get quite a bit of information out of the unsuspecting Simon Peters. By the end of his first plate of egg whites and turkey bacon, he was talking animatedly about Trasker's newest and greatest antidote. According to Simon, it was a game changer.

  Michael closed the door behind himself and shook his head. It was certainly that, but not quite the way Simon envisioned.

  Chris was right about one thing: Simon was fully convinced the antidote was just what it said it was, an antidote for Anthrax. He spent a good ten minutes expounding on the amazing breakthrough that led to the discovery of the antitoxin that could successfully treat Anthrax spores that were inhaled even at advanced infectious stages. Michael now knew more than he ever really needed to know about the timing and severity of various Anthrax infections caused by inhaling the poison. If the antidote Simon was so proud of really did exist, and Michael had no doubt that it did, then the medical community had, indeed, gained a powerful tool in the fight against Anthrax. However, Michael didn't for one minute think the sample Patrick entrusted to his care was the same serum Simon was so passionate about. Somewhere along the line, someone switched the antidote for an infectious disease that had no cure.

  Dropping his keys onto the hall table, Michael glanced at his watch. It was almost one in the afternoon. Brunch took much longer than he expected, but Chris was right. It was worth it. In his enthusiasm, Simon shared the metro areas that were the recipients of the first batch of the antidote. Michael's lips thinned grimly. He now had a pretty good idea of what cities were being targeted.

  As he turned to go into the dining room, Michael thought briefly of trying to call Viper, but decided against it. She said she would contact him. He would have to wait to tell her his news.

  As he was settling down in front of his laptop again, Michael's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he raised an eyebrow when he saw Blake's name.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello yourself,” Blake greeted him. “How goes it?”

  “It goes,” Michael replied.

  “How's your Saturday treating you?”

  “Good. I just got back from brunch,” Michael said, wondering what Blake was up to. “How's yours?”

  “Just finished breakfast myself,” Blake informed him cheerfully. “I gotta say, Mike, this place has great diners.”

  Michael grinned and sat back in his chair.

  “That it does,” he agreed. “How's it going up there?”

  “Things are looking up,” Blake said. Then he cleared his throat. “Did you talk to Chris about getting a few days off like you were going to?”

  Michael frowned. What the hell was Blake talking about?

  “What?”

  “You were saying the other night that you wanted a couple days off,” Blake said pointedly, “to go up and check in on your pop.”

  Michael's eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Yeah,” he went along. “Chris approved it. I'm just trying to wrap up a couple things before taking off,” he added, throwing it out there to see what Blake would do. While he wasn't exactly sure what Blake was driving at, clearly he was trying to get Michael to go somewhere.

  “Well, if you hurry and get on the road, we can meet for dinner on your way up.”

  There it was. Blake wanted him to go to Jersey. Michael glanced at his watch.

  “I don't know how much longer this will take,” he murmured. “When were you thinking?”

  “If you leave in the next hour, we can shoot for seven. Bring your laptop with you and finish up when you get here.”

  Michael's frown grew. Blake was being adamant. What was going on up there?

  “I'll see what I can do,” he said, leaning forward to log into his laptop. “Dinner sounds good.”

  “Great!” Blake exclaimed a little too jovially. “I'll see you at seven.”

  Michael disconnected and set the phone down next to his laptop. Chris was going to wonder what the hell was going on, but there was no help for it. He sent his boss an email, telling him he was heading up to Brooklyn to check on his dad, as they had discussed earlier. He worded the email as if this was something they already decided, and anyone reading it would be none the wiser. Michael had no doubt that Chris would put two and two together and come up with four, but he wished he could see his boss's face when he read the email.

  After checking the rest of his inbox, Michael logged off the computer and shut it down. He glanced at his watch and picked up his phone, turning to head out of the dining room and upstairs to pack an overnight bag. He was half-way up the steps when he remembered Viper and her promise to check in later today. She couldn't do that with him on the road.

  “Dammit.”

  He hesitated, debating whether or not to risk texting her. Caution won out, however, and Michael continued up the stairs. There would be time enough to contact her when he got to Jersey. Right now he had to get moving. Blake wouldn't have called on a whim. If he wanted him up there, there had to be a good reason.

  Michael just hoped that reason didn't involve any more dead bodies.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Damon finished putting the last of the groceries into the refrigerator and closed the door. He turned and picked up the empty shopping bags, glancing around with a thoughtful frown. Did Alina recycle? If so, where? Damon walked over to the sink and opened the cabinet beneath it. Cleaning supplies only. He closed it, looked around again, then shrugged and put the plastic bags on the counter next to the sink. She could dispose of them as she saw fit. That's what she got for not being here when he arrived.

  Damon stifled a yawn and got a mug out of the cabinet, turning toward the coffee maker. When he pulled up and found the house empty, Hawk found a way around her security system and let himself in. He wasn't about to sit out on the deck with two bags of groceries, waiting for her to show up. If the situation were reversed, Hawk had no doubt that Viper would simply let herself into his house.

  He placed the mug under the spout and pressed the button. The silence in the house was broken when the machine began grinding beans and Damon turned to walk aimlessly around the kitchen while he waited for his coffee to brew. It seemed strange to be in Alina's house without her. He reached out and absently opened a cabinet under the island, looking inside curiously. Mixing bowls w
ere stacked next to baking sheets and muffin pans. Damon raised an eyebrow and closed the cabinet. Somehow, he just couldn't imagine Viper baking. He hesitated, then opened the door again and looked more closely at the baking sheets. They were brand new. Hawk closed the door again, a grin pulling at his lips. That answered that question.

  His coffee finished brewing and Damon pulled the mug out, taking a sip of the hot liquid with a sigh of contentment. Finally, a cup of good coffee. His eyes went to the 5 qt sauté pan hanging innocuously on the pot rack above the island. Stepping forward, he lifted it down and placed it in the exact center of the marble top to the island. There was a faint click and the island slid silently aside to reveal the stone steps leading down to Viper's command center. Damon started down the steps, carrying his coffee with him. While he was waiting for her, he might as well check in with Charlie and confirm that Georgia was a success.

  Hawk ducked at the bottom of the steps to avoid hitting his head on the low entranceway, then stepped into the long, narrow room. Both servers hummed and the plasmas on the wall were all alive and streaming. Glancing at the first plasma, Hawk raised an eyebrow. It had paused on a match, flashing silently with two pictures displayed. One was a photo of three men, and the other was grainy surveillance footage from what appeared to be a toll booth of some sort. The face in the surveillance footage matched one of the three men in the photo.

  Viper had found at least one of her targets.

  Hawk moved further into the room and seated himself on a chair in front of one of the PCs. He turned to look up at the other two plasmas. One was still searching, streaming through an endless supply of photos and video footage. The other was not searching at all. Instead, it displayed a road map of the eastern corridor from Virginia up to Boston. Damon studied it thoughtfully. Had Viper found the routes the drivers were using to move the bombs?

  After looking at it for a moment, Damon set his coffee on the counter. He turned to the PC before him and a few moments later, he had logged into his own personal server on the cloud, connecting to his own networks. While he waited for his email to load, Damon's eyes wandered along the counter to the other computers. The screens were dark, but he knew that they were busy working in the background. Viper had everything up and running in her search for Asad.

  Something out of place caught his eye and Damon tilted his head, staring at the corner of what looked like a picture frame. Raising an eyebrow, he rolled the chair a few feet over and reached out to pluck the item from where it was pushed behind a tower. His eyebrows soared into his forehead. It was a picture frame!

  Damon grinned at the much-younger Alina and John in the photo. Seeing her so much younger reminded him forcibly of boot camp, when they were both still green and innocent of the horrors they had seen since. Studying her face in the photo, Hawk searched for any sign of the Viper he now knew, and found none. She wasn't born yet. He moved on to John, standing at her side with his arm around her waist. He'd gained some extra pounds, added a few more lines to his face, and picked up a sardonic twist of the mouth since this was taken, but otherwise, he looked the same.

  Damon turned his attention to the tall, dark-haired man standing on Alina's other side. He tilted his head and studied him thoughtfully. He stood almost half a foot taller than Alina, but it was his eyes that arrested Damon's attention. Alina's eyes laughed out of the man's face. So this was the mysterious Dave Maschik, the brother killed in action. He looked to be a couple years older than her, but even in the photo, Hawk could see the closeness between them. They had the same laugh on their face, the same slant to their eyes, and the same careless joy in their stance.

  Hawk set the photo down slowly, his eyes fixed on the threesome. This was a time before he met her, before she became the complicated and invulnerable woman she was now. The woman in the photo was a stranger to him, as was the brother standing next to her. They were people he would never know, but they were where Viper began.

  Something pulled deep inside him, something Damon hadn't felt in years. He felt almost as if he was on the outside, looking into a party he'd never be a part of. For the first time since before boot camp, Damon felt a sharp feeling of not belonging. He frowned in reaction and pulled his eyes away from the photo. He didn't belong to that time, that was true. He belonged to Viper's present, and that was right where he wanted to be.

  Hawk went back to his email, trying to ignore the photo. However, his eyes kept straying back to the tall man standing at Alina's side. What had Dave been like? Did he like sports? He was good with a gun, and Michael had loved him like a brother. Last year, Damon was surprised at just how well he got along with Viper's gunny. If Dave was anything like Michael, Damon had no doubt he would have liked Viper's brother as well.

  Damon shook his head and tried to concentrate on his emails. It didn't matter now. That was all part of Alina's life that didn't involve him, except as far as it affected her now. Perhaps one day she would tell him about her brother, but until then, at least he had a face to put with the name.

  Hawk glanced at the photo again, his brows drawing together in a frown. In all the years he had known Viper, he never saw any photos of anyone, least of all her family. Viper didn't have photos. Throughout her house, there were prints and artwork on the walls, sculptures and conversation pieces strategically placed on tables and shelves, but not one photo.

  So why was this one suddenly here? And why was it pushed behind a computer, hidden away?

  Alina pulled around the corner of her house, the Shelby's engine growling, and raised an eyebrow at the black Audi Q5 parked outside her garage. Hawk seemed to have upgraded from his usual motorcycle. Pulling up next to it, she turned off the engine and glanced at the sleek vehicle. It was flashier than his usual rentals and Alina pursed her lips thoughtfully. Hawk never did anything without a reason. What was he up to?

  She got out of the Shelby and closed the door, turning to walk across the grass to the deck. Raven appeared from the trees, gliding over the lawn and coming to rest on the railing, waiting for her. Alina smiled as she went up the steps, pausing to greet her hawk.

  “Is he inside?” she murmured.

  Shiny black eyes met hers and Raven shook his head, then his wings, before turning to hunker down on his claws, turning his attention out and over his domain.

  Alina continued across the deck to the sliding door and opened it, stepping into the house silently. Her eyes went straight to the recliner in the living room, where Damon was settled with a laptop. He glanced over as she stepped inside and his eyebrow rose sharply as he took in her short skirt and thigh-high boots with one glance.

  “Not a word,” she forestalled him as he was opening his mouth. She slid the door closed behind her and walked over to drop her keys on the bar. “I needed to get someone's attention.”

  “Well, you certainly have mine,” Hawk murmured, his eyes dancing.

  Alina looked across the living room and couldn't stop the grin that crossed her lips.

  “That was easy,” she replied with a wink.

  Damon chuckled and set his laptop aside, standing up. He crossed the distance between them, his blue eyes locked on hers.

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  “Like a charm.”

  “I almost feel sorry for the guy,” Damon told her. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eye before slipping his arms around her. “You look amazing.”

  He lowered his lips to hers and Alina sighed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “So do you,” she murmured when he lifted his head. “I'm glad you're back.”

  Damon looked down at her, his eyes probing hers, suddenly serious.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  Alina shrugged, her eyes never leaving his.

  “It seems like everything,” she replied, “and it just keeps getting worse. That island in the tropics is looking better and better.”

  Hawk frowned.

  “You'd better fill me in,” he sai
d, releasing her and stepping back a pace.

  “I will,” she promised, turning toward the hallway. “Let me get changed first. These clothes make me feel ridiculous.”

  Damon grinned, his eyes sliding down to the expanse of thigh exposed as she headed down the hallway and toward the stairs.

  “Ridiculous is not the word I would have chosen,” he murmured.

  The man striding purposefully down the wide hallway checked his step when his phone began to ring. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled it out, glancing at the blocked number.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry to bother you, sir,” a voice said apologetically, “but I thought you should know I have movement on Delta.”

  “Talk,” the man commanded, his stride regaining its original pace.

  “He's just left the city,” the voice told him. “All indications are he's going to New York to check on his parents.”

  “Why would he do that out of the blue?” the man demanded.

  The voice cleared itself.

  “I took the liberty of finding the answer before I called you, sir,” it said smoothly. “The father had hip replacement surgery.”

  “That seems like a fair enough reason,” he admitted grudgingly. “You verified the surgery?”

  “Yes, sir. It was yesterday.”

  “He cleared it with Chris Harbour?”

  “Appears so,” the voice replied. “He was trying to get some work done before he left, but headed out of the city twenty minutes ago.”

  “Is he driving?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man reached out and opened the door to the corner office unceremoniously and went inside, closing it behind himself.

  “Keep me posted if anything unusual happens,” he said. “It's the weekend, though, and if he's going to check on dad, I don't anticipate anything. Continue monitoring both his and Harbour's phones, but don't follow him to New York. I don't think we'll lose him in Brooklyn.”