Next Exit, Quarter Mile

by CW Browning

  “That's not all,” Hawk said, letting the subject of John drop for now. “You're still looking for three travelers?”

  Viper stilled and looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

  “Yes?”

  “You'll want to rethink that,” he told her grimly. “Asad has an identical twin. There are four of them here, not three.”

  Stephanie looked up from her tablet as Blake opened the door and slid behind the wheel.

  “Well, Sherlock?” she asked.

  He closed the door and started the engine.

  “You're never going to believe it,” he told her, putting it in reverse and backing out of the spot. “Did you get the tracker on there?”

  “Yes.” Stephanie tucked the tablet away into her purse. “It's reading loud and clear on the software. We've got tabs on both him and Ricardo.”

  “Good.” Blake pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “But I don't think Tito will be leaving there anytime soon.”

  “Why?”

  “He's getting stitched up,” he answered, glancing at her. “The man's got multiple lacerations on his left arm and torso.”

  Stephanie let out a low whistle.

  “How did he manage that?”

  “Oh, it gets better. He also has electrical burns. They're doing an EKG to make sure his heart isn't fried. They took one look at his blood pressure and wanted him to go to the ER, but he refused.”

  “What?!” Stephanie stared at him. “Where are the burns?”

  “Also on his torso,” Blake said, slowing for a red light. “He told the intake nurse he had an accident working on an engine.”

  Stephanie snorted.

  “One hell of an accident,” she muttered. “What do you think happened?”

  “I managed to catch a glimpse of his arm. The cuts are very deep, and they’re uniform. There's no way they happened by accident on an engine,” he said. “I didn't see the burns.”

  They were silent for a few moments and Stephanie stared blindly out the window. What on earth were they missing?

  “You don't think the Cartel got a hold of him, do you?” she asked suddenly.

  Blake glanced at her.

  “That's certainly something they would be likely to do,” he mused thoughtfully. “You saw their methods in practice last fall. Torture is their thing. But why? Why go after Tito when, from what we can tell, they're using his drivers to move product? They need him, and they need him able to drive.”

  “I don't know,” Stephanie shrugged. “I can't think of a better explanation for the injuries, though. Can you?”

  Blake pursed his lips and was silent for a moment.

  “I can,” he said slowly, “but you won't like it.”

  Stephanie frowned and looked at him.

  “What?”

  “The Cartel aren't the only ones with questionable methods for getting information,” Blake pointed out.

  Stephanie gasped as his meaning sunk in.

  “You think Viper did it?” she demanded.

  “I don't presume to think when it comes to her,” Blake replied dryly. “I'm just pointing out facts.”

  Stephanie was silent for a minute, then she let out a long sigh.

  “I like the Cartel better,” she muttered, “but you're right. She would have no reservations about doing whatever it took to get what she needed from him. And it would be just like her to leave his right side free and clear to shift gears. She knows we need him to lead the other drivers.”

  “Why don't you call and ask her?” he suggested with a quick grin. “We can clear up the mystery right now.”

  “Thanks, but I like my head right where it is.”

  “Fair enough.” Blake glanced at her. “I'll tell you this much, if our man was assaulted by something other than a car engine, someone is a few steps ahead of us. No way he went through that kind of pain and didn't talk.”

  Stephanie nodded in agreement, her lips pressed together grimly.

  “In which case, I almost hope it was Viper,” she told him. “At least then we have a shot at finding out what's going on. If it was the Cartel, we're screwed.”

  “Tell me.”

  Viper settled herself into a chair in her command center with a full bottle of water. Hawk sat down beside her and glanced up at the photo of the three terrorists on the plasma. After he dropped his news on her in the kitchen, Viper had stared at him for a full minute before she reached for the sauté pan above the island. Not by the faintest flicker of an eyelid did she display any sign of surprise at his news. If anything, she seemed almost relieved by the information.

  “His name is Kasim, and he's younger by six minutes,” Hawk told her, opening his bottle of water and taking a sip. “When Asad left Turkey to join Al-Jibad, Kasim stayed behind. That's why, for the past ten years, Asad was the only name we knew. He garnered all the attention while his brother lived in obscurity in Turkey.”

  “That explains everything,” Alina murmured. “How did Charlie miss that? For that matter, how did I miss it?”

  “Why would you look for it? By the time you went after Al-Jibad, Kasim was already in Cancun. There was no reason for you to think there might be a brother,” he pointed out. “As far as Charlie goes, he only knows the information he gets, and the information coming out of Turkey is sketchy at best. Hell, the only reason I uncovered it was because I happened upon the nephew of the woman who helped watch both boys when they were small.”

  “So Kasim is the bomb-maker, not Asad,” she mused thoughtfully. “He's the one missing fingers?”

  “Yes.” Hawk glanced at her. “Did the man you saw in Damascus have all his fingers?”

  “I couldn't see his hands,” she answered. “Not for lack of trying, but the angle was difficult and it was cold that day. He had his hands in his pockets most of the time, and when they were out, they were obscured. What else did you find out?”

  “When Asad went with Al-Jibad, it was Al-Jibad who wanted Kasim to stay behind in Turkey. Asad didn't want to leave his brother, but Kasim convinced him to go. In the end, Kasim was right. They were able to achieve much more separately than they ever did together.”

  “They're close?” Viper asked, looking at him sharply.

  “Very.”

  She nodded

  “What about habits?” she asked. “Likes? Dislikes? Anything unusual about either of them?”

  Hawk shrugged.

  “Kasim has a weakness for American muscle cars,” he offered with a grin, “the GTO in particular.”

  “Not a bad weakness to have,” Alina said with an answering grin.

  “They were normal kids growing up, not too loud and not unusually quiet,” Hawk continued. “Kasim was the smarter one of the two in school, but by all accounts he had no common sense. His brother saved his skin a few times. Then, ten years ago, they fell off the grid. Even though Kasim stayed in Turkey, he moved to a different city and started a new life. The people who knew him as a child have no idea where he is or what he does now.”

  “And the people who know him now?” Viper asked softly.

  “Look at him as kind of a mad scientist. Well, let's face it, the guy blew off two of his own fingers. Seems natural enough for them to be a little wary,” Damon told her. “He's got a temper, though, and he's not above using it.”

  Alina nodded slowly.

  “That's something he shares with his brother,” she said. “Asad has a temper as well, and he uses it freely.”

  “Can you use that?” Hawk asked, looking at the picture on the wall.

  “Maybe,” Viper replied thoughtfully. “I might not need to, not if his brother is with him.”

  Hawk looked at her sharply.

  “Be careful,” he warned. “You already killed their leader. If you go messing with his family, you'll be playing defense before you ever get on offense.”

  Alina glanced at him and her lips curved humorously.

  “Did you miss the Broncos winning the Super Bowl?” she demanded.
“Sometimes all you need is a good defense!”

  “And sometimes you can just pass for 460 yards and win the game,” he retorted promptly. “Don't go making it even harder than it already is.”

  Alina's eyes met his and she laughed reluctantly.

  “I love that you know football,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly sparkling.

  Damon grinned and lifted his water bottle in a silent toast.

  “I love that you love football.”

  “Don't think I'll let you go for mentioning Tom Brady stats, though,” she told him, turning her eyes back to the plasma on the wall. “I hate the Patriots.”

  “So do I,” Damon admitted, “but you can't deny the man's a great quarterback.”

  “Hmpf,” was her only response.

  He glanced at her and couldn't stop the rush of affection that rolled through him. The sudden appearance of his Jersey Girl was unexpected, but very welcome. From the moment she walked into the house wearing those sexy boots, all he'd seen was Viper. It was nice to know Lina was still in there.

  Damon sipped his water and turned toward the PC behind him while Alina was silent, lost in thought. His lips tightened and his mood sobered when he caught sight of the photo, sitting where he left it earlier. John was dead. She had stated it so matter-of-factly, then he saw the wall come down and she closed off from him. Viper was in full control now. John's death had tipped the scales, making that sudden emergence of his Jersey Girl all the more surprising.

  “Now where do you think you’re going?”

  Alina's voice broke the silence a few minutes later and Damon glanced around from the computer screen in front of him. The far plasma screen had changed and a red dot was moving along a map.

  “Who's that?” he asked, turning around fully and looking at the tracking dot on the screen.

  “Dominic DiBarcoli. I put a tracker on his car.”

  “Looks like he's heading south,” Damon said with a frown. “He's on the interstate.”

  “I knew he was going to move soon, but I expected it to be to the airport,” Alina said with a frown. “He's got tickets to Belize, leaving tomorrow morning from Philadelphia. What's he doing on the interstate, heading through Delaware?”

  “How do you know he has tickets to Belize?”

  “I found them in his safe.” Viper glanced at her watch. “If he's headed south, he must be planning on being back in time for the flight.”

  “Unless he changed it to leave from a different airport,” Damon suggested. “I'll check it out and see if that's what he did,” he added, turning back to the computer. “What airline was he flying?”

  “United,” she answered, her eyes on the red tracker.

  Damon nodded and started typing while Alina fell into a pensive silence again, her eyes moving between the plasma screens while she thought. A few moments passed before Damon found what he was looking for.

  “Got it,” he announced triumphantly. “The tickets were switched to a flight leaving from Dulles at noon tomorrow.”

  “He's going to DC,” Viper said, turning her attention back to the red dot. “How inconvenient.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm supposed to eliminate him.”

  “What?!” Damon spun around. “Charlie has you targeting Dominic DiBarcoli?!”

  “No.” Viper turned in her chair and rolled over to a laptop a little further down. “Frankie Solitto does.”

  Hawk's brows snapped together sharply and he stared at her, his face suddenly harsh.

  “You've got to be kidding,” he exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing, Viper?”

  “Nothing, yet,” she replied, unfazed by the look on his face. “Frankie wants Dominic taken care of, and I want Frankie to stay out of Dominic's way, and therefore, out of mine. I made a deal with him.”

  “To kill Dominic?! Are you out of your mind?”

  “Oh, calm down.” Viper glanced at him, amused. “Dominic’s not making it out of this alive. Do you really think Asad will leave him alive to bear any kind of witness to anything?”

  Hawk blinked, then he smiled slowly.

  “You're going to wait for Asad to take care of him,” he murmured. “Then all you have to do is tell Frankie it's done.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And in return, he stays out of your way and there's no risk of spooking the drivers or Asad.”

  “See? No reason to get your panties all in a bunch,” she told him, opening the laptop. “You really need to stop doubting me, Hawk. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid.”

  “I never doubt you,” he retorted, “but I also never underestimate your tendency to do idiotically insane things.”

  “I keep it fun. Admit it.”

  Damon grinned.

  “That you do,” he conceded. “How are you going to keep tabs on Dominic if he's in Washington?”

  “I'll have to follow him, which is a complication I didn't plan for,” Viper replied, opening up a secure database. “This is going to throw my timetable off, but it can't be helped.”

  “I'll go,” Damon offered. “You concentrate on Asad. Let me handle Dominic.”

  Alina looked up, her eyes meeting his thoughtfully.

  “What if Asad shows up personally?” she asked.

  “I'll let you know. Don't worry. If he shows, I won’t touch him. He's all yours,” he answered. “If I can help you stick to your original plan by babysitting, then I'm down with it. Anything to get this done.”

  Alina was silent for a moment, then she nodded slowly.

  “It would be a big help,” she admitted. “What about dinner?”

  Damon shrugged.

  “It wasn't meant to be this time,” he replied. “Whether you go or I go, dinner is out.”

  “Figures. I was actually looking forward to that.” Viper turned her attention back to the laptop screen, missing the flash of surprise in his eyes. “Give me your phone and I'll copy the tracking software onto it.”

  Hawk handed over his phone.

  “While you're doing that, I'll go upstairs and grab a shower, if you don't mind,” he said, standing. “If I'm hitting the road again, I want to feel at least half human.”

  “You don't have to ask,” she said, glancing up at him. “Make yourself at home.”

  He nodded and turned toward the entrance at the end of the room.

  “Trust me, that was always my plan.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Alina looked up as Damon came down the hall from the stairs. She had her gun in pieces on the coffee table in front of her, meticulously cleaning each part. His hair was still damp from the shower and he'd changed into different clothes. She raised an eyebrow as he strode into the living room, heading straight for her.

  “What happened?” he demanded, his blue eyes searching.

  “What are you talking about?” Alina asked, setting the barrel in her hands down on the soft cloth.

  “There are bandage wrappers in the trash can in the bathroom and your first-aid toolbox is under the vanity,” he informed her. “So, spit it out. What happened?”

  Alina had the grace to flush slightly and she shrugged.

  “I might have had a little accident,” she murmured.

  “When? For God's sake, Lina, I was only gone for two days!”

  “So you've said,” Alina said dryly, standing. “Really, you should know by now that a lot can happen in two days.”

  Damon's lips twitched and were sternly repressed.

  “Clearly. What happened?”

  “I told you I went to West Virginia to see Dr. Krupp,” she said, turning and heading around the couch and toward the kitchen. “The one who figured out what kind of weapon we're dealing with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I wasn't the only one interested in Krupp.”

  Hawk followed her into the kitchen and leaned one hip against the bar, watching as she pulled a mug out the cabinet and put it under the spout of the coffee maker.

  “Someone else went
after him?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yep.” Alina hit the button to brew and turned to face him, her eyes serious. “They arrived while I was still there, thank God. They weren't interested in talking to him. I got him out, but just barely in time. One of them winged me in the arm.” Damon's eyes went to her arms and she sighed, raising her left arm. “It's fine. The bullet went right through.”

  “I think you're setting a new record for getting shot in Jersey,” he muttered, striding forward. “Let me see it.”

  “For God's sake, Hawk, it's just a flesh wound!” Alina exclaimed in exasperation. “I'm not redoing the bandage again just so you can satisfy your curiosity. And if we're going to start keeping track, it happened in West Virginia, not Jersey.”

  “Where did it go through?” Damon asked, reached out and taking her arm.

  She smacked his hands away.

  “The outer bicep. It's nothing. It's already closing up.”

  Damon looked down at her and shook his head. He settled his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, lowering his head to rest his forehead against hers.

  “You get hurt more than anyone I know,” he murmured. “Seriously, how do you manage it?”

  “That's ironic coming from you,” she retorted, sliding her arms around his waist. “You forget I've seen all your scars, and one of them is still healing.”

  Damon grinned.

  “Fair enough,” he conceded, brushing his lips over hers. “Do me a favor? At least tell me next time?”

  “Why? So you can brood over it when you should be concentrating on work?” she demanded, a laugh in her eyes. “I don't think so.”

  “I never brood,” he informed her a scant second before his lips covered hers.

  Alina's heart started pounding as fireworks exploded between them. Her eyes slid closed and she pressed herself closer, sliding her hands up his solidly muscled back. In an instant, the nagging feeling of sorrow haunting her for two days disappeared. Damon's arms were strong around her, his skin was warm against hers, and suddenly that was all that mattered. Dave, John, and Asad all faded into the background. She sighed against his lips and gave in to the powder keg that seemed to exist only for them.

  Damon groaned deep in his throat and tightened his hold, pulling her harder against him. His lips left hers and slid down to her throat, his breath hot against her skin as his lips lingered over the pulse beating a wild tattoo at the base of her neck.