Lucy smiled. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t take orders from you anymore. Actually, I never did. I was sent to unearth a suspected Russian spy operating out of the Argentine embassy, and I guess we could say I finally completed the mission.”
The Dickersons had been suspects as had Miranda and all the DSS agents, but so had every other person employed at the embassy. Lucy had been embedded in the hopes the Russian spy would make contact with her or slip up, but they never had. Until now.
Miranda’s expression morphed from feigned confusion to unfeigned anger. “There’s no way you’re some covert operative. I don’t even know how you got a job in the Foreign Service. There are pencils with more intelligence and motivation than you have. I’m going to make sure Catherine hears about this.”
“I am sure Catherine can’t wait to talk to you.” Lucy didn’t take her eyes off the woman, but she moved so she could also see the staircase as she heard furtive footsteps above. “Why did you do it? Spy for the Russians, I mean. It’s obvious the kidnap was for the cash.”
Miranda sneered. “Oh, please, you think you’re going to get me to confess to some trumped up charge.”
“I don’t need you to. Your involvement in this will be reason enough for the FBI to interrogate you. I’m curious about your car though. Did you disable it so I’d have to do the drop?”
Miranda huffed out a frustrated breath. “I didn’t orchestrate anything. My battery was dead. The dealership told me it might need replacing last time it was serviced.” Miranda’s mouth twisted. “I guess I should have started it up a few times, but I forgot with all the excitement.”
“That must have made you furious.” Sudden insight popped into Lucy’s head. “The Russians are the reason you didn’t leave the embassy. It wasn’t concern for Catherine or Phillip. It was fear for your own skin. What did they want?”
Miranda pressed her lips firmly together and didn’t say a word.
“Don’t tell me. It was information about the investigation the Legat was running, wasn’t it? And then when you couldn’t get past Powell’s security measures, they started to threaten you, didn’t they?” Lucy knew she was right. It was exactly what they’d done to her. “Do the Russians know you planned this?” Lucy didn’t think they did, else there would be better security at this property, assuming the hostages were here. “Oh, man, they are gonna be so pissed when they find out.
“Is that why you were in such a rush to get your hands on the ransom money? Because it was obvious arrests were about to be made, and you knew the Russians would never forgive you if their precious oligarch was detained?”
Miranda’s eyes widened enough for Lucy to know the truth had struck home.
“Actually,” Miranda finally snapped. “It was your fault we had to speed things up. You and that negotiator. Once you identified one of the kidnappers, we knew we had to move fast.”
Miranda was no longer pretending not to be involved. That was progress. Lucy hoped Max was getting all this.
“And the fact the Legat launched his indictments tonight was a coincidence?” Lucy pressed. “I find that hard to believe.”
Miranda raised her chin. “I might have warned my contact that I feared the FBI were about to act and that I believed Boris Yahontov was the primary target of their investigation.”
“You used the FBI operation as a distraction for both sides.”
“I had to escape.” Miranda finally acknowledged the truth. “I’m dead if the Russians find out about any of this.”
Suddenly a figure appeared on the darkened stairway. Two figures. Lucy kept her gun trained on Miranda.
It took her a moment to recognize the man hiding behind Kristen Dickerson. The one holding a gun to her head. Lucy didn’t acknowledge the anguish on Kristen’s face. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted.
“My my. The federal police must not pay well,” Lucy said dryly.
Hector Cabral had a feral expression on his face. “What is she doing here?” he asked Miranda.
“She must have put some sort of transmitter in the money.”
“You were supposed to check it.” His voice sounded implacable, but Miranda tried anyway.
“I did check it. They must have lied about what they were doing.”
Lucy let them argue, let the uncertainty remain, let the divisions widen. Then she wedged them further apart.
“I don’t have any beef with you, Cabral. I want Miranda here for selling America out to the Russians. Let Kristen go, and I’ll give you a head start before I call the cops.”
“The Russians?” Hector’s brows rose.
“She’s lying. It was nothing. I had a few conversations with them and, the next thing I know, there’s money in my bank account.”
Lucy smirked. “There’s a word for that.”
Miranda shot her a glare and directed her words toward Hector. “They kept pressing me for more information, even though I said no. They threatened to hurt and expose me if I refused.”
Cabral’s mouth twisted. “That’s why you persuaded me to help you pull this off?”
“No.” Sweat formed on Miranda’s forehead. “I want to be with you. I love you. But the Russians would never have let us alone. We could never have been together without changing our identities and for that we needed the cash.”
Hector nodded but didn’t look pleased.
“Unfortunately, those excuses won’t fly with Langley, Miranda,” Lucy said dryly. “The security services don’t tolerate people selling information to foreign adversaries for any reason.” The stench was starting to give Lucy a headache. Were the cops on their way? She needed to keep stalling. Where was Irene? Was she still alive? “Not to mention how the DOJ will feel about you kidnapping the ambassador’s daughter.”
“I’m not planning to discuss it with the DOJ,” Miranda gritted out.
Hector nudged Kristen down a step. “What exactly are you planning to do with the gun, chica? You want to kill the girl?”
Miranda ran past Lucy, but she stuck out her foot, and the woman crashed to the floor.
Lucy didn’t dare take her eyes off Cabral. She moved toward him, gun pointed, but he still had Kristen in a tight grip, and Lucy knew he would kill her if she got too close. They did a little dance around one another. And she let him circle toward the exit.
Miranda crawled into the kitchen.
“If you so much as think about squeezing that trigger, I will take you out, Cabral. You will be dead.” These weren’t Max’s negotiation tactics, but she was a simple intelligence officer trying to save the girl and salvage her pride.
“So will Kristen,” he replied, unfazed.
“Leave her unharmed, and I’ll let you and your little paramour jump in the car and head off into the sunset.” Technically her mission was uncovering the identity of the spy, plus she wanted the girls more. Hopefully someone somewhere would be close behind Bonnie and Clyde.
Cabral eased backward through the kitchen doorway.
Lucy aimed at his head. She wasn’t about to let them leave with Kristen in tow.
He seemed to realize she wasn’t bluffing. He shoved Kristen hard into Lucy’s line of fire and jerked to the side when Miranda threw a lit piece of paper into the hallway.
Lucy grabbed Kristen, and they both stumbled away from the kitchen. Lucy covered Kristen with her body as the initial whoosh of flame ignited around them.
In seconds, fire blocked the exit to the kitchen. Cabral raised his weapon and Lucy pressed Kristen tight into the corner wall as he started shooting. They were just out of his line of fire, but they couldn’t stay here for long. The fire was already getting too hot.
She waited for another second and risked a quick peek around the corner. Cabral was gone.
“Let’s go!” Lucy yelled.
“Where to?” Kristen asked desperately.
“We need to find another way out of the house.”
Kristen grabbed Lucy’s hand with her bound ones and ran
back toward the stairs. It was hot, and they needed to get as far away from the blaze as possible.
They reached the next floor, but the flames had traveled ahead of them. They went up another level, and Lucy worried they were going to get trapped.
Irene threw a door wide. “This way, quickly!”
Lucy was thrilled to see the other girl alive. Irene led them to an open window which was a good escape route, but the gush of fresh air was also fanning the flames in their wake. Flames rushed up the stairway now and along the walls. Lucy slammed the door shut, trying to slow the conflagration.
She pulled a knife from her boot and cut the rope that bound Kristen’s wrists. Kristen shook out her hands to get the blood flowing again.
Lucy stuck her head out the window. Saw the tree. “Kristen, get your ass into that tree and work your way to the bottom.”
“Have they gone?” Kristen asked nervously.
“I’m not sure, but we can’t stay here. Go!”
Lucy looked at Irene’s handcuffs. At the dirty bandage wrapped around her hand. Damn. She met the girl’s determined gaze. “I don’t have any cuff keys on me.” And didn’t have time to pop the lock.
She held the girl’s gaze even as smoke rose up around them. She coughed. Smoke was starting to get thick.
Irene surprised her with a grin. “I climbed up wearing these. I think I can make it back down.”
This young woman was unbelievable. “Go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Max crouched near the front of the house on the east side. He spotted Miranda Foster and Hector Cabral running out of the house toward a vehicle parked there. Max was confused for a fraction of a second and then he was pissed.
Cabral threw a match into a second car and it whooshed into flame.
Shit.
“I already checked both cars for the girls. They were empty.” Regan’s voice came over the comms system. “Want me to take those two out? Disable the vehicle?”
Max was relieved about the girls not being in the cars but that meant they were probably still in the house. His priority was to get them to safety and find Lucy.
“Negative. We know who they are now. They won’t get far.” He crouched, immobile in the shadows of some shrubs as they drove away.
“Local cops have been dispatched.” Dexter spoke into his ear.
“Inspector Hector Cabral is in the driver’s seat. Locals might not be willing to arrest another police officer.”
“Let’s worry about that later,” Regan said sharply. “The house is on fire.”
Max stood up and, sure enough, the flicker of orange glowed through some of the old, shuttered windows. Cabral had set fire to the house probably to destroy evidence. Question was whether or not the girls were still inside, and whether or not they were alive.
Max ran around to the front of the building looking for a way in. The main door was nailed shut.
He kept going. Where the hell would they be? The place was enormous, and he didn’t have time to search every room.
And where was Lucy? Worry for her ate at him.
And then he saw movement and hesitated. Someone was climbing out of a window on his left. It looked like the Dickerson girl but hard to tell even with NVGs. She flung herself into a tree. Branches bounced. Leaves rustled. She almost fell but managed to cling on to the trunk.
“I see one of the girls climbing down a tree around the west side. I’m going to help,” Max told the others.
“On my way,” Regan said. “Dex, Navarro, follow the getaway car at a discreet distance until we know which way they’re headed. Come back if I call you.”
Max began climbing the tree to help Kristen.
She spotted him and froze for an instant, eyes massive and scared.
“It’s okay, Kristen. I’m an FBI agent. You’re safe.”
She swallowed. “Okay.” She twisted around and looked up. “I’m fine. Please help Irene. She’s still wearing handcuffs.”
“Did you see Lucy Aston anywhere?” But Kristen was concentrating on climbing down the tree and didn’t answer him.
Dammit. Max hated the fear that was clawing at his insides. Was she okay? Or was she trapped in the inferno?
He wanted to check his cell, but he had to get these girls out first. Do his job—although his job usually meant being stuck on the end of a phone line. Not this time.
He quickly scaled the tree and saw Irene trying to maneuver out the window with cuffed hands.
She saw him, hesitated for a split second, and then kept coming. “I’ve got you.” He grabbed her and pulled her over his shoulders in a fireman’s lift.
He glanced up and met Lucy’s gaze for a fraction of a second. Everything he felt exploded inside his mind. Fear. Anger. Pride. Relief. Mainly relief.
“Get the hell out of there,” he yelled.
Hardly the most romantic greeting.
She smiled, and his heart gave a little kick.
He quickly made his way back down the tree, and Jon Regan grabbed Irene off his shoulders. Max went straight back up for Lucy.
She had a leg over the sill and had grabbed onto the nearest branch. He heard the crack as she swung onto it, and the branch snapped. She lurched for the trunk but couldn’t make it. She was falling. He lunged for her, but she had too much momentum for him to hold onto the trunk, but he sure as hell could hold onto Lucy.
She caught at branches to slow their descent and he got under her, determined to break her fall. He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his chest. She landed on top of him.
They both lay there, stunned.
The scent of smoke surrounded him, but he couldn’t breathe. He stared up into the darkness watching the sparks flying up into the night, worried he’d broken his back. Slowly his muscles started working again, his lungs started pulling in air.
Lucy groaned and climbed to her knees, hovering over him. “Max, are you all right?”
He stirred.
“Please. Don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance. I don’t think I can stand it if you’re hurt because I’m an idiot.”
He slowly levered himself up onto his elbows and shoved the goggles off his face. “Jesus, Lucy. Stop putting yourself down like that.”
Jon Regan corralled the girls near the corner of the house. He had his weapon out and was in full protective mode.
Somehow, unimaginably, they’d made it out of the inferno alive.
“I’m sorry for not being completely honest with you before,” Lucy said so only he could hear—except he was plugged into the other guys via the earpiece.
He started to laugh but winced as the muscles in his back complained.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Was it real?” he asked, wanting to know. Needing to know. She’d lost the glasses and pulled her hair away from her face. She smelled of gasoline and smoke. A black smudge streaked her cheek. She had never looked more beautiful.
“You and me.” He pushed. “Was that real?”
She bit her lip, and his heart clenched. He didn’t even care about the humiliation factor. His heart was too busy breaking.
She kissed him long and slow, then pulled back. “It was real, but you might not appreciate my whole sordid life story.”
“You aren’t a traitor.” It was a statement of fact. Not a question.
Her eyes met his. Her gaze open and honest. “I can’t tell you much, Max, but I can tell you I’m not a traitor.”
He dragged her down for another kiss. “That’s all I need to know.”
He felt her melt. Relief and hope rushed through him. Lucy wasn’t who he’d thought she was. He had the feeling she was even better. And maybe now, after completely rebuilding his life after leaving Special Forces, maybe he could allow himself to open up to the idea of a relationship—of at least trying. He knew there were no guarantees and Lucy might not be interested, but he was interested. He was definitely interested in finding out who Lucy Aston really was.
He clim
bed to his feet and pulled her with him. They had to move, but they still needed to be careful. With such a high-level cop being corrupt, who knew who else was involved in this scheme.
Regan led the way, and they wove through the trees toward the road where they planned to rendezvous with Dexter and Navarro. Then they’d get everyone the help they needed while Argentine and US law enforcement searched for the fugitives.
* * *
“Regan and Hawthorne rescued the girls and found Lucy,” said Dexter.
“I am also wearing an earpiece, bruh.”
Dexter grinned. Navarro was surly. It was his way of showing affection.
“I knew Lucy was legit.” Dexter adjusted the air vents.
“You didn’t know shit,” Navarro grumbled.
They both heard the sound of a car engine approaching.
“Did so.” Dexter knocked Navarro’s elbow, and the other man glared at him.
They were well hidden behind thick bushes. They waited a few seconds, letting the car that flew past get a short lead. Then they pulled out.
They both wore NVGs and had all the lights off in the van. Dex was filming the events to record any clues that might help capture the fugitives in the future.
They drove for about ten minutes, maxing out the van’s speed as the fugitives were not hanging around. They went around a gentle curve in the road and through another sparsely wooded area.
Two hundred yards ahead of them the car they were following lost control and careened off the road. The tires looked shredded.
Navarro slammed on the brakes before he also ran over the spike strip.
Dexter froze as four figures rushed out of the shadows, two on either side of the fugitives’ car.
He and Navarro both had their weapons drawn, but they’d barely comprehended the scene in front of them when the men fired through the windows and shot both occupants repeatedly.
“Regan. Anotoly Agapov and three of his associates murdered the two kidnappers right in front of us.” Dexter watched as one man leaned inside the driver’s side and popped the lock. “And now they are making off with the ransom money.” Or maybe they were looking for the hostages?
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 34