Agent U7: Keegan (The D.I.R.E. Agency Series Book 7) (14 page)

To his left, a long, dark tunnel that curved out of sight. Dammit.

Sighing mentally, he made his way to the bottom of the steps, stopping to survey the area under the stairs. An electrical charging station sat beside them, its hose wrapped around the holder beneath the dormant digital display.

An electric car. That meant this tunnel could go on for miles—to the farm.

He’d bet his lab on it.

“Holy shit, what is this place?”

Clint jolted where he stood, the man’s words echoing in the narrow cavern. Looking up the stairs, the hostile neighbor stood at the top, peering down into the tunnel.

“How did you get in here?” he said.

The man started down the stairs and stopped behind Clint. “I know where Rachel kept the spare key.”

Small towns.

“Where does it lead?” he said, bending to look down the tunnel.

Clint squinted at him. “Who are you again?”

His frown was slight as he held out his hand. “Mark Robards. I went to school with Rachel and Aidan.”

“Clint Robinson, D.I.R.E. lead scientist.” He shook Mark’s hand.

“How far do you think it goes?” Mark said.

“Miles, I would guess.” He pointed at the charging station. “This is a car charging station.”

“Car?” Mark pulled back his head in surprise.

“Have you ever heard any noises coming from down here?”

Mark shook his head. “Glenna and I moved in next door about three years ago. I’ve never heard anything.”

“Who lived in this house before Rachel?”

“It was in Jock Brewster’s family for decades. Several years back, he sold all of the houses on the block. They sat vacant for a few months before they renovated them, repaved the block, put in sidewalks, re-named it and opened it up again.”

Mark added, “Knowing Brewster, I bet he used it to slip illegal immigrants into the country to work for him. He used to own a ranch south of here and still owns land all around Creekmore. He works them to death and pays them below poverty wages.”

Ranch?
Farm.

According to Mitchell’s files, Jim was not happy about Brewster’s affair with Kate. That’s why he’d hidden all of the money he made from the sale of his weapons and split it between D.I.R.E. and the trusts he set up for Rachel and Aidan. Jim would’ve never done business with the man. The purchase must’ve been Carol’s doing.

Regardless of Brewster’s reasons for the tunnel, it was a convenient way for his mother and Jim to travel back and forth from the electronics store to the farm. Rachel would’ve never questioned her father’s presence in her house, and Kate would’ve never suspected her husband’s affair.

Now that he thought about it, he wondered if his mother had made Jock’s affair with Kate part of the entire agreement. It had alienated Kate in Jim’s eyes and forlorn, he would’ve been easy prey for Carol. Insert the serum and she had him right where she’d wanted him.

“I’ve got two bikes.”

Clint turned to look at him. “What?”

He nodded toward the disappearing tunnel. “Don’t you want to find out where it leads?”

It wasn’t a question of want, but necessity. “Yes.”

“We can follow it. You have a gun, don’t you? I’ll bring my shotgun.”

Gun? He was not prepared for ricocheting gunfire in a tunnel.

“No, I don’t carry a gun,” Clint said.

His phone vibrated. Austin.
Hell
.

Keegan had woken up and discovered him gone. She’d realized he’d deserted her and gone to work for his family.

She must hate him now.

Hate him after he’d convinced her to give him the very heart of herself, to make the most mind-blowing, selfless love over and over again. She would never know he’d done it for her.

She would only think she’d been right all along.

Ignoring the call, he turned off the flashlight. “You can’t go with me. This is official business, Mark.”

“You need backup.”

This guy watched too much television. “No. Just stay here and keep an eye on the house.”

“No one has stepped foot in this house in years. I can get my baseball team to camp out here. They’re loyal to Tristan.”

“
No
.” He couldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt. There were already too many people in danger.

Mark posed in a martial arts stance. “Tristan taught me some of that kung fu shit. I can defend myself.”

Clint chuckled to himself. Small towns.

“Just bring me a bike. It’ll go faster if I go alone.”

Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “The bike and I are a pair. Where it goes, I go.”

Hell. What did he do now? The super agents would probably laugh at him in this predicament.

He didn’t have time to argue. And truth be told, Mark probably had as much experience with a gun as he had, despite working for D.I.R.E.

Shaking his head, Clint said, “Fine. Go.”

With a wide grin, Mark ran up the stairs. Clint went to the bottom and looked up at him. “And Mark? Bring two guns.”

* * *

Keegan rushed down the security wing hallway, Monica beside her. The Clint she knew, the generous, patient lover and brilliant scientist, would never be a part of something like Cyrus and the Madam’s plan. Anyone that knew him would balk at the idea, just as the agents had at the rehearsal dinner.

When she had doubted him.

Clint had sacrificed himself for her and the others. She just knew it. Somehow, he’d convinced his mother to take him. But, how would the others be released?

“We should just tell Austin to move in.” Monica stopped beside the fingerprint scanner outside Angela’s security wing cell and stared at Keegan. “Do you have access?”

“I don’t need it.” Moving aside the cover plate on her D.I.R.E. armband, she slid her thumb over the scanner. Closing her eyes, she felt the blood pump wildly in her veins as an electrical current shot through her system, activating the gold and copper compound. Thick, green plasma billowed around them before she felt the floor drop out from under her and resurface a second later.

Inside Angela’s cell.

Mitchell’s widow stood at the window, looking withered and frail, as though
she
were the one that had died, not her husband. She wore yoga pants and one of Mitchell’s t-shirts Monica had retrieved from their apartment. Her blonde hair was mussed, her face makeup free.

She had given up.

“You can teleport,” she said with a slight smile. “That’ll come in handy.”

Walking to the door, Keegan pressed a button on the scanner, clearing the program that refused Angela’s prints. Monica entered.

Keegan said, “Clint has gone over to the other side.”

Angela’s response was immediate. “To gain intel?”

“No,” Monica said, “To work with them.”

Shaking her head, Angela gave a bark of disbelief. “No way. He was fiercely loyal to Mitchell and D.I.R.E.”

Angela’s response confirmed her own beliefs. He wouldn’t do this. Not to her, or the others.

Not to the world.

“I’m surprised he gave you an enhancement.” Angela took Keegan’s hands in hers and studied the armbands. She looked up at her. “Can you turn invisible, too?”

Keegan stared at her with solemn intensity. “He gave me all of them.”

Her brows rose in surprise as she released Keegan’s hands. “That’s never been done before.” The corners of her eyes turned down, her smile watery. “He wanted to keep you safe.”

Keegan’s gaze met Monica’s doubtful stare. “That’s what he told me.”

Angela’s gaze turned hopeful. “Did he include time travel?”

Keegan knew why she asked and hated to disappoint her. She gave a slight shake of her head.

Angela spun back to the window.

In that moment, Keegan knew she had to do something. Yes, this woman had committed crimes in the past, had worked with Nathan Chalmers to buy weapons technology. However, like Clint, she was fiercely loyal to Mitchell, and had found a love with him that transcended time. How many people could say that?

She supposed Angela should consider herself lucky for the last few years with Mitchell. She’d lived for decades without him. If Keegan were in her shoes, she’d want the opportunity to avenge his death. There was nothing else to live for.

“I’m going to the farm,” Keegan announced. “I want you to go with me, Angela.”

Gasping, she whipped around, her eyes alive for the first time since she’d entered the room. “Me?”

“You know how to defend yourself.” Keegan lowered her voice. “If I were you, I’d want someone to give me a shot at them.”

Joy blossomed in her violet-blue eyes, but never reached her mouth. She gave Keegan a brief embrace. “Thank you.”

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Monica said.

Shaking her head, Keegan couldn’t risk it. “Carol’s intent on killing you. Besides, you’re still recovering. You’re not at your best.”

Scowling, Monica pointed a finger at her. “If you think I’m going to stay behind while all of you fight my fight, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Keegan lifted her chin. “This isn’t your fight, Monica. It’s mine.”

“Give her an armband and a gun.” Angela said. When Keegan hesitated, she added, “She’s a trained assassin, for cripes sake. She can handle it.”

Come to think of it, the two women were actually quite skilled for the job.
She
was the third wheel.

But, came with a lot of horsepower.

“Monica, tell Austin to stand by. I’ll call him in a few to discuss my plans.” The assassin smiled as she texted Rose.

Glancing at Angela, Keegan said, “You’re getting an armband and a gun, too.” Looking at Monica, she said, “And, we’re all raiding Clint’s Kevlar suit closet.”

The three of them shared a determined grin.

“It’s time they learned they’ve messed with the wrong women.”

Chapter 14

At about the ten-mile mark, Clint realized the tunnel had changed. The jagged rock walls were covered in thick steel, the concrete floor smooth rather than rough. Mark had stayed with him, the two mountain bikes quiet and sure as they made their way through the dark space, a small headlight illuminating their trek. They each carried a small handgun in the back of their waistband, though Clint prayed they didn’t have to use them.

Rounding a bend, cool, conditioned air hit him in the face. He stopped short, the bike skidding to a stop. They had to be close. Mark stopped beside him and got off the bike, leaning it against the wall right before the turn. Clint followed suit, propping his behind it.

Pulling up a photo of Keegan standing in Seagrove Park during the wedding rehearsal, it illuminated the tunnel with a dim glow, giving them enough light to see their way through. They continued on, keeping against the wall to stay out of sight. After a few more miles, a door came up on the opposite wall. It melded into the steel, almost unnoticeable, if it wasn’t for the keypad cover beside it. Lifting it, Clint noticed it had recently shorted out, the panel burnt and disabled. Running his hand along the seam of the door, he felt no air, saw no light, heard nothing from inside. Looking at Mark, he shook his head.

A loud, metal clunk sounded above them, startling Clint. Staring up at the ceiling, he realized it wasn’t directly overhead but had echoed from down the tunnel. Mark took off at a fast trot. Clint cursed in his head and followed. The idiot was going to get himself killed.

Catching up to him, he grabbed Mark’s arm from behind and did a slicing motion across his throat. Holding up a gun in one hand and a hunting knife in the other, Mark cocked a brow.

Clint took a deep breath and let it out. If the situation wasn’t so serious, he’d laugh aloud.

The noise came again. This time, it sounded like it hit the ground, then traveled with a hum along the length of the ceiling. Although he’d only descended one floor back at the house, they must’ve descended further into the earth, the tunnel angled at a slight slope. He guessed they were about twenty feet underground at the lowest point.

He checked his phone. No signal.

Clint whispered in the darkness. “If we run into trouble, I want you to head back to the house and get the police.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Clint said, cutting him off. “We’re trapped in here. We’re going to need help.”

“Okay.” Mark’s voice held a note of disappointment.

Several feet down the tunnel, the sound stopped with a clunk. He waited. Listening.

Nothing.

Tapping him on the shoulder, Mark pointed over their heads. Clint nodded.

Running now, they rounded another corner and spotted light shining down into the tunnel from the ceiling. Approaching it with caution, Clint closed the photo on the phone, leaving them in the dark, save for the ray of light from the hole. Stepping closer, he saw it was actually a hole in the floor above. He heard someone rummaging around in the area.

Looking into the hole at an angle, he couldn’t make out anything but a man’s feet in a pair of dusty, hiking boots. He moved around the room, boots shuffling on the grimy surface, granules crunching against the ceiling above them.

The butt of a rifle appeared in the opening and dropped to the ground, the crash resounding in the narrow cavern. Him and Mark backed against each wall, out of the way. Another rifle followed, then another, a variety of guns, ammunition, and knives dropping through the opening in quick succession.

A backpack dropped, kicking up a cloud of dust. Clint covered his mouth. Mark coughed before slapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. The footsteps stopped overhead. He and Mark backed further into the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

Curse words rebounded in Clint’s head, while Mark stood with his back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut. A flashlight beam appeared in the opening, flipping up then around the area. They backed farther down the tunnel, in the direction they’d come.

“I said, who’s there?” The deep voice sounded aggravated, curious.

They didn’t move.

The feet moved again overhead. A minute later, a bundle of dynamite dropped into the tunnel, on top of the weapons. Clint’s heart shot to gallop, his eyes connecting with Mark’s across the space.

He heard the flip of the lighter. The flame flickered brightly as it dropped on top of the pile.

“
Oh, shit…
”

Clint’s heart pounded against his ribs as he raced down the tunnel, in the opposite direction of Mark. The faint scent of burning plastic carried to his nose, the taste of dirt on his tongue. He had to find an alcove or room, or he’d be dead in seconds.

The sizzle chased him around the bend, his legs moving faster than they ever had before. Why was someone destroying weapons? It didn’t make any sense. They would need them now, more than ever.

The tunnel got darker the farther he ran. He raced with his arms outstretched, feeling for any change in the surface of the wall. He’d come to the farm, knowing he would die here.

He’d just hoped to free the others first.

He heard the first stick ignite. His hand caught on air. He dove into the space, just as the explosion erupted.

* * *

Keegan teleported into the woods outside of the farm, Angela at her back. Thank God for the D.I.R.E. Agency chief’s wife. She knew more about Keegan’s enhancements than Keegan did. She’d shown her how to teleport someone at her back and had located the gloves Aidan used to boost his electrical conduction. Keegan wore them now, along with one of the men’s Kevlar suits. Angela and Monica wore the spandex suits, too, giving them some sense of safety.

Considering Clint had left immediately after her install, she thought she was as prepared as any new super agent could be in the situation. Yes, he’d left her in the hands of his capable staff who could’ve trained her—if she’d had the time.

But, he’d left her, nonetheless.

Monica surveyed their surroundings through a set of binoculars. “It smells like they used some kind of gas.”

A low whistle came from an area to her right. Keegan glanced around, looking for the source of the noise. A rock dropped from a tree and rolled to a stop beside her.

Agent Cody Colfax. The D.I.R.E. agent sat in a tree a few yards away, a M14 rifle perched between two branches. His eyes were huge above the hazardous materials mask he wore over his face, as he eyed her enhancements from head to foot. She climbed up the tree with succinct movements before stopping beside him amongst the oak leaves. “What’s happened?”

He pulled down the mask. “They flew a drone overhead and gassed us while we waited. I had this mask in my pack from the op with Austin. I was lucky.”

Mitchell had been right. They
were
miles ahead of them. Their well-placed defenses proved they’d had this planned for a while. They had an answer for everything.

Except her.

“Where are the agents now?” she said.

He nodded toward the farm. “One of them dragged Rose through the fence.” His voice lowered to a grave rumble. “The others are lying where they stood.”

Trepidation fueled her heart, the blood pumping swiftly through her veins. “Dead?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know. I thought I’d better stay put so someone was here to carry out orders.” He patted his rifle with a lopsided smile.

Honor and integrity buoyed Colfax’s words, his dedication to the op, a reminder. They were all that was left of the D.I.R.E. Agency and what it stood for: defense, intelligence and reconnaissance enforcement. The men and women that served the agency shared a common belief that everyone deserved to live in peace. Their job was to eliminate any threat against it. She wanted to make that happen by being part of a team that fought crime and terror throughout the world.

Hope stiffened her spine and accelerated her muscles. The D.I.R.E. Agency would not die today. Not if she had any say in it.

Nodding toward the compound, she said, “What have you seen?”

He pointed at his lowered mask. “Men hanging around, doing nothing, wearing these things. It’s been a quiet, efficient takedown.” He looked into her eyes. “They know what they’re doing.”

“Well, we’re about to put a wrench in their plans.” She gave him a confident half grin. “Are you good here?”

“Yes. I hung out here on the op with Rose. I can pick off people in the yard.”

“Okay. I’m cloaking so I can see what we’re up against down there. I may not know the lingo but you can reach me through this.” She held up the armband.

He nodded. “Who’s with you?”

“Angela Jacobs and Monica Montgomery.”

His eyes widened for a second before agent-issued calm resurfaced. “Dr. Robinson?”

Keegan nodded toward the farm. “He’s somewhere down there.”

Colfax frowned, his brown eyes curious, but he said nothing.

A rumble started in the distance. They shared a confused glance.

Seconds later, a muffled explosion roared to life, rocking the ground beneath them. A tractor behind the barn lifted in the air with creaking expectancy, before crashing to earth. The guard tower leaned on its side, teetering in the balance, before slowly falling to the dirt in a tangle of metal limbs. Men raced across the yard, yelling and taking cover, as billows of smoke drifted from the interior of the barn.

“That was underground,” Colfax said, meeting her gaze.

Her racing heart stopped dead.
No
.

Jumping to the ground, she yelled at the three of them, sheer terror ripping through her. “I’m going in. Angela, you know what to do.”

Checking the chamber of her gun, Angela nodded with assurance.

Keegan said, “Monica, come with me. I need a distraction.”

Monica backed against her and locked forearms. Sliding over the cover of her armband, Keegan pressed her thumb to the scanner. Colfax and Angela faded into the green plasma before the ground disappeared beneath her feet.

* * *

Clint woke to the sound of incessant chatter. Raising his head, he shook it, trying to clear the bass drum pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was too small for its contents and wanted to detonate, just like the explosives he’d left behind in the tunnel.

Pulling out his phone, he turned on the flashlight and looked around, expecting to see debris. The tunnel remained intact, save for the hundreds of bullet holes marring the walls. Whoever had destroyed those weapons knew where they were kept, had done so out of plain sight and in virtual safety.

Sitting back on his haunches, he took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head. The voices continued, more prominent, more urgent.

He listened closer. That wasn’t chatter.

That was arguing.

Rising to his feet, he willed away his headache, hoping to focus on the voices. Turning off the flashlight, he pulled up Keegan’s photo again to illuminate his way. She had to be pissed at him by now, gloating to Monica, saying she’d been right all along.

His stomach clenched. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she’d always be safe.

Ahead of him was a three-way intersection, illuminated by a lone bulb. Stopping in the center, he looked around, the voices louder. Glancing to his right, he noticed a doorknob protruding from the wall a few yards away. Heading that way, he stopped short, in front of a large inset that appeared to slide into the outer wall. If it was an entrance panel, there was no handle.

Several feet down the same wall was an ordinary, metal door with a standard issue handle.

Finally, something he could access.

He took a step toward it when a loud clunk sounded overhead. Stopping short, he glanced up. A large, steel panel lay overhead. It appeared to slide open like some sort of service elevator door. Looking around, he spotted a keypad on the wall behind him.

Yes
.

The panel started to open. Clint ran down to the metal door and slipped inside.

The small, narrow room was dark, empty, save for a wall of windows running the length of one wall. Walking to the edge of the glass, he peered around the corner.

The D.I.R.E. women sat in a windowless cell below, dressed in their wedding finery, talking amongst themselves. Other than pale faces and circles under their eyes, they seemed fit, other than Teague lying on a cot against the far wall.

Thank God.

Drawing closer, he peered over the edge of the window into the room directly below. A wall of thick glass divided their cell, separating them from the D.I.R.E. super agents.

Clint winced at the chaos below him. Dylan skirted around the room with his back against the wall, his eyes wide and darting around the space. Riordan knelt in the far corner, his eyes shut, his back bowing at slow intervals as if he were being struck with a whip. Aidan yelled at Cass on the other side of the window, pounding on it with both fists, his words vulgar and critical. Jaydan struck the wall with his fist, over and over again, a large crater worn into the steel. Dar walked around the cell, his hands over his ears, talking to himself in a raised voice. Tristan sat beside Mitchell’s body, knees bent, his arms covering his head.