Dire Distraction (19 page)

“You seem to have thought of everything,” Avery said, more to keep him talking than because he cared. All he needed was a little more time.

Over Brecht’s shoulder, Sydney’s gaze collided with his, and a million unsaid things were communicated with a single look. It was as if they were connected in some kind of cosmic way. Avery had never felt this way about another woman. Not even Evangeline. And his gut clenched at the thought that Sydney had come up on Brecht’s radar only because of her association with him. If he managed to get them out of this in one piece, he fully intended to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

“I didn’t get where I am by neglecting details,” Brecht was saying, thankfully not noticing their brief exchange.

“Heading up the Consortium, you mean.”

“That”—he shrugged—“and other things. You’ve no idea how many pies I have a finger in.”

“We have more information than you’d think. Certainly enough to have thwarted several of your attempts to upend peace accords and throw off political balance.”

“All the talks,” Brecht said, “they’re nothing more than false hope. Sooner or later it will all come unraveled. Human nature is to conquer and destroy. Anything else is simply a fool’s game.”

“But this isn’t about the Consortium, is it? At least not at its core. This is about you and me.”

“Beyond anything you can possibly conceive.” Brecht’s face contorted, rage turning it red. Hatred flashing in his eyes. “But now, finally, Gerhardt will have peace.”

“Gerhardt is dead. Whatever peace there is in that, he found sixteen years ago.”

“When you killed him.”

“It was self-defense. The kid drew a gun. He didn’t give me a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Mr. Solomon. You just made the wrong one.”

“Or you did. As I remember it, Gerhardt was there representing the seller. A last-minute replacement due to a conflict. So instead, it was his job to sell thirty-five Soviet cruise missiles. We’d been tracking them for months. And when word got out that they’d surfaced, we set up the sting. Gerhardt’s die was cast the minute you sent him in to make the sale.”

“My brother was my life. And you’re right, I did send him in. But you’re the one who pulled the trigger.”

“And your guilt is what’s driven you all these years.”

“Make no mistake, Mr. Solomon. It’s not guilt that’s driving me. It’s hatred. For you and for all the others like you. Sanctimonious pricks who believe they’re serving the greater good. The only people you serve are yourselves and your need for the next adrenaline high. You’re modern-day cowboys, and people like my brother get caught in the crossfire.”

“Then why the hell did you send him into that kind of situation?”

“Because he begged me.” Bitterness filled Brecht’s voice, his pain palpable. Above him, in the shadows of the loft, Avery saw a flash of movement. “And I never could say no.”

“And so all of this—” Avery waved a hand as if a gesture could encompass it all. “Evangeline. The Consortium. Sydney. This is because of one bad decision?”

Brecht roused himself from his memories, pulling a gun. “This is because of you. You killed Gerhardt. You took him from me. And so I’ve taken everything from you.”

“That you have. But you promised you’d let Sydney go, if I came. So now is the time to honor that promise.”

“Ah, but there is no honor among thieves, surely you knew that much.” He leveled the gun, pointing it at Sydney. Terror clawing at his gut, Avery launched himself at her, tackling the chair, driving both it and her to the ground, covering her with his body, mindless of the barrage of bullets exploding around him.

For what seemed like an eon, he held her, praying that he’d been in time, that she was still breathing. Bullets ricocheted everywhere. He could hear the reverb as it bounced off the barn walls.

And then everything was quiet. In his peripheral vision, he could see Michael Brecht, gun still clutched in lifeless fingers.

Slowly, almost afraid to breathe, Avery moved back, his hands reaching for Sydney, fumbling with her bonds, and then she was in his arms. Warm. Alive. His heart started to beat again. And he held her close, content for the moment just to feel the rhythm of her breathing.

“Hey, I know you’re happy to see each other again,” Drake’s voice broke through the silence. “But, really, I’d think you’d find a moment to thank the cavalry.”

Drake stepped into the first pale rays of dawn as they slanted through the barn. Behind him stood Harrison and Hannah. Nash and Tyler dropped down from their places in the loft. And the team stood quietly surveying the damage. Brecht was dead. As were most of his men. A few, like Gregor, had been taken captive. The backup men from MI5 were already moving them out to be transferred for interrogation.

It was a win. And hopefully a death blow for the Consortium.

“Are you okay?” Sydney asked, pushing back from his embrace to search his face.

“I’ve never been better,” he said. “It’s finally over. Brecht is dead. And we’re alive and we’re together. And I love you more than you can possibly imagine.”

“Well, if you like, you could try to show me.” Her lips curved into a sexy smile, her eyes full of invitation.

“I don’t know, it could take a while.” Behind him Drake cleared his throat, but Avery just smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Not a problem,” she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing against his, “thanks to you and your team, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

S
ydney looked out over the large group of guests assembled in the college’s elegant ballroom. It had been a marvelous wedding, and the reception was turning into quite a party. Dignitaries talking with spooks. Desk jockeys mixing with people who served on the front lines. Politicians making nice with bureaucrats. Even the vice president was here somewhere. Although Sydney hadn’t voted for the woman.

In truth, there were enough dignitaries present to make for a politically star-studded event. Many of them had been invited because of her father, but there was also a large group attending to honor Avery.

She glanced over at her husband of exactly two hours. He was deep in conversation with Drake and his wife, Madeline, Drake waving his hands as he told some story or another. Probably something to do with baseball. As if he’d felt her gaze, Avery looked up, his smile contagious, his eyes telegraphing his love. Sydney felt her heart swell with pride. She’d never known she could love someone so completely. And to think that she’d been given the chance to share her life with him. The idea excited and humbled her all at the same time.

Farther across the room, her father and mother were talking with Nash and his wife, Annie. Between them, their son, Adam, was looking slightly bored, but incredibly dapper in his tuxedo. Annie laughed at something Sydney’s father said, and she swelled with pride again. This was her family now. Her parents, and her new friends from A-Tac.

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Hannah said, handing her a glass of champagne. For once, she looked almost subdued, and most definitely gorgeous, dressed in the pewter satin gown that had been chosen for Sydney’s bridesmaids, her usually wild hair pulled into a chic chignon.

“You and Harrison should jump right in,” Sydney teased. “I promise the water’s fine.”

“While I applaud you and Avery taking the plunge”—she laughed—“I can assure you Harrison and I are just fine. We’ve already made all the commitment we’ll ever need. For us, it’s enough just to be together.”

“As long as you’re happy.” Sydney smiled, lifting her glass as Tyler, also clad in gray satin, walked over to join them.

“I think Owen and Tucker are going to duke it out. Apparently the bar has the baseball game on, and Owen wants to change it to soccer. I told them they should both be over here with the bride and groom. But who knows if they’ll listen.” Tucker was Drake’s brother, and Owen, a former MI6 agent, was Tyler’s husband. And, in the way of small world connections, it turned out also a friend of Tim’s.

He’d joined with Avery in working to find out the real truth about Tim’s death. And in the end, it turned out that Shrum had been right. It had been Wai Yan. And now, thanks to the joint operation, he’d been apprehended and was being held at some undisclosed British stronghold. Hopefully, selling out his compatriots in an effort to save his miserable life.

Gregor Ivanovich had also proven quick to fold. It had been only a matter of days before he’d broken, giving A-Tac the information they needed to take down the Consortium once and for all. There were probably still other members out there, but the organization had been crippled from the top down. And with additional investigation, Sydney had no doubt that any outliers would be identified and captured as well.

“Tyler said we have to behave,” Owen groused, breaking into Sydney’s thoughts as he and Tucker arrived, also carrying glasses of champagne.

“It wasn’t just Tyler.” Alexis Flynn, Tucker’s wife, grinned. “I’m sorry they’re not behaving.”

“It’s a party,” Nash protested as he and Annie joined the group. “We’re not supposed to behave.”

“I’m just sorry Lara and Rafe couldn’t be with us,” Hannah said. “You’ll love her when you finally get to meet her.”

“I know I will.” Sydney nodded, meaning every word. All of Avery’s friends had accepted her without question. Making her feel as if she’d been a part of their lives a lot longer than the four months she’d actually known them.

“They’re supposed to be here next week,” Harrison said, slipping an arm around Hannah. “Although she’s technically not supposed to travel with the baby.” They’d just adopted a little girl from Nicaragua and had been forced to miss the wedding. “She swears that she’s going to make you go through the whole thing again.”

“Not that I’d mind a bit.” Avery’s deep voice surrounded Sydney like a caress. And she leaned back into his arms as he pulled her into his embrace.

“What I think we need,” Simon Kincaid, a former A-Tac operative and current Sunderland professor, said, “is a toast.” He and his wife, J.J., passed out additional glasses of champagne to the assembled company.

“Yes, definitely a toast,” Madeline agreed, as she and Drake took champagne from the tray.

“To my wife,” Avery said, lifting his glass. “It’s been a long time since I felt this happy.”

“And I can’t remember ever feeling this loved.” For just a moment, it was only the two of them. And Sydney relished the fact that, as long as they were together, anything was possible.

Then she widened her smile. “And to all of you.” She lifted her glass higher, surrounded by her new family, people she’d come to care about so dearly. “It seems that sometimes, the good guys really do save the day.”

Avery nodded his approval, his proud gaze encompassing his team as they all clinked glasses. “To A-Tac.”

Have you missed any of A-Tac’s adventures? See where the series started with this excerpt from
Dark Deceptions
.

See the next page for an excerpt from

T
here’s got to be a mistake,” Nash said, his mind still reeling. “There’s no way Annie would sign on for that kind of thing.”

“People change.” Avery shrugged.

“Someone want to tell me who the hell Annie Gallagher is?” Drake asked, his dark gaze falling on Nash.

He tried to find words, but couldn’t, his brain still trying to make sense of the idea that Annie was playing for the other team.

“She was Nash’s partner before he came to A-Tac. A trained assassin. One of the best, if rumors are to be believed,” Tyler said, coming to his rescue. She and Avery were the only ones who knew just how much Annie’s defection had cost him. “Nash and Annie worked special ops. Mainly in the former Eastern Bloc. Some of the Company’s most dangerous missions.”

“So what happened?” Hannah asked.

“She jumped ship in the middle of a mission,” Nash said, fighting against his anger and the memories. “Fucking disappeared. And I damn near died because of it.”

“Maybe something happened to her,” Emmett offered. “I mean, our line of work doesn’t exactly lead to winning popularity contests.”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Nash said, his tone laced with bitterness. “And believe me when I say that I explored every possibility. But everything I managed to discover only underscored the idea that her disappearance was planned. Annie was always good at details.”

“Sometimes there are good reasons to jump ship,” Drake said, eyes narrowed, “but that doesn’t excuse her leaving you to die. What the hell happened?”

“Long story.” Nash shook his head. “But the short version is that we got cornered in a building in Lebanon. Saida. My last mission before leaving to join A-Tac. Anyway, Annie and I got separated and I got pinned down in the firefight. There was an explosion and half my shoulder got ripped off. I was trapped, but she never came back. Just left me there to die.”

“But you made it out okay,” Tyler said, her eyes dark with anger.

“Yeah, I did. No thanks to Annie.”

“She betrayed your trust,” Emmett said.

“Which shouldn’t be all that surprising. Hell, it’s part and parcel of the gig.” Drake grimaced. “They train us to doubt everything we see and hear. Trust nothing and no one.”

“Except your partner. If you can’t trust him or her, you might as well pack it in.” Lara frowned, shooting a look in Jason’s direction.

“Maybe I just picked the wrong person,” Nash sighed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Whatever the hell kind of relationship he’d had with Annie, it had imploded in Lebanon. Along with any loyalty he might owe her. “So, Avery, what have you got that makes you think it’s her?”

“Intel picked up three separate references to Titian while picking through the chatter,” Avery said. “Two of them directly referencing what we believe to be plans for the assassination.”

“Titian as in the painter?” Jason asked, typing furiously on his laptop.

“Indirectly.” Avery nodded. “Annie has red hair. Titian was her code name.”

“Bit of a blinding glimpse of the obvious.” Drake frowned.

“Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight.” Emmett shrugged.

“Yeah, but in this case it doesn’t make sense. Annie’s disappearance was without sanction. That means that she’s persona non grata as far as the CIA is concerned. So surfacing now using an old CIA code name would set off all kinds of alarm bells.” Nash shook his head, frustration cresting. “I think it’s far more likely that someone’s playing us. Trying to make us believe it’s Annie, when, in fact, it’s not.”

“The possibility occurred to me, too,” Avery said, his expression, as usual, masking any emotion. “But there’s more.” He picked up a remote and pressed a button, the screen behind him filling with the photograph of a man entering a small hotel. “This picture was taken yesterday afternoon in D.C. The man is Emanuel Rivon, a Bolivian national with known terrorist ties. He operates a coffee conglomerate and uses it to cover travel in and out of questionable countries. Including Pakistan.”

“Has he been specifically linked to Ashad?” Lara asked.

“Not specifically, no.” Avery shook his head. “But intel can establish that he does business with people who do have ties to the group.”

“Guilt by association,” Drake said to no one in particular.

“Sometimes it’s all we’ve got. But in this case we can verify that Rivon met recently with two suspected Ashad sympathizers. Both Pakistani and both alleged to have strong ties with radical Islam. This photo was taken about sixteen hours after that meeting.”

“I assume you have something connecting Rivon to Annie?” Lara asked.

Avery nodded, hitting the remote again. The screen filled with another photograph, same hotel, but this time the camera had captured the image of a woman. Nash struggled to breathe, long-sequestered emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Despite the passing years, Annie looked just the same. The fall of her hair, the slant of her eyes, even the small scar that bisected her left eyebrow—a souvenir from a particularly incendiary operation—nothing had changed.

“This photo was taken fifteen minutes after Rivon entered the building. If we hadn’t been watching him, we’d probably never have seen this.”

“It could be coincidence,” Nash started, trailing off as he realized just how delusional he sounded. Annie was clearly a part of something big. And the fact that she’d fucked him over eight years ago only gave credence to the idea.

“In our business there’s no such thing,” Drake said, his expression hard, as he stared at the photograph.

“Is there anything more?” Tyler asked.

“More chatter. This time a veiled reference to a meeting between Titian and El Halcón.”

“The Falcon,” Emmett repeated. “Rivon’s code name?”

“Exactly.” Avery nodded, his expression harsh.

“And if you play connect the dots,” Drake said, “you end up with Rivon hiring Annie to do Ashad’s dirty work.”

“Makes sense.” Hannah shrugged. “With security what it is, it’s a hell of a lot easier to hire someone already in country. Especially if said person is a professional assassin.”

The label hung in the air, no one willing to look at Nash.

“So you think Annie’s turned mercenary?” Nash said, his jaw clenching as he fought his anger. It was a reasonable assumption, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“She wouldn’t be the first.” Jason shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning as he tried to sort through the facts. “Don’t you think it’s a little suspect that she’s showing her hand after all these years? Usually when people fall off the grid, they go out of their way to stay that way. Meeting with a known terrorist in the middle of D.C. is like waving a red flag.”

“Or maybe she’s just lost her edge,” Lara said. “It’s been a long time.”

“You don’t know Annie.” Nash shook his head, anger mixing with frustration.

“But you do,” Avery replied, his tone brooking no argument. “Which is exactly why the boys in Virginia dropped this in our backyard. They want you to spearhead the effort to bring Annie Gallagher down.”

Annie paced in front of the hotel window, the traffic below indicating that it was rush hour in Baltimore. Time had lost all meaning, her every waking moment occupied with thoughts of finding her son. It had been almost thirty-seven hours since Adam had disappeared.

Less than two days. But it felt like years. The kidnappers had made their instructions clear. A phone call that had sent her across the country to D.C. and a meeting with a man named Emanuel Rivon.

It was dangerous coming out into the open after so many years, but she hadn’t had a choice. The kidnappers had made it clear that there would be no negotiation. And that they were watching. Any attempt to contact the authorities, particularly the CIA, would result in Adam’s death.

Not that she was tempted to go that route. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe anyone from her old life would step in to help her now. For all practical purposes, black ops agents operated off the radar. And once they’d ceased to be useful, they ceased to exist, all ties with the past severed irrevocably. In return for her safety and her freedom, she’d agreed to a cover story that painted her a deserter.

It was for the greater good. At least that’s what she’d been told. But now, standing here waiting for Rivon’s call, she wondered if she hadn’t made a bargain with the devil. In trying to save her son, she’d opened the door to a far more hideous danger.

So far they hadn’t allowed her to speak with Adam. The only proof she had that he was still alive was a grainy photograph Rivon had given her. She picked up the picture for something like the thousandth time, studying every angle, looking for something—anything—that would give her some idea where they were holding him.

But the generic room gave nothing away.

She clenched her fists and stared at the PDA on the nightstand, willing it to ring or signal an incoming text message. Rivon had given her the phone at their meeting. Untraceable, it was no doubt rigged to track her movements as well. Although she hated the idea, she couldn’t ditch it. It was her only link with Adam’s kidnappers. Rivon had said they’d call her when everything was finalized.

He’d also promised a video call from Adam.

But so far… nothing.

She blew out a breath and leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Life below her went on without so much as a pause. It was as if the universe were completely unaware of the nightmare she’d been thrown into.

Rivon hadn’t exactly been a font of information. He hadn’t even told her who it was he was working for. But clearly it was someone who knew who she was. Who she’d been. Someone who knew that taking Adam was the only way to pull her back into the game.

She fought against a sob, knowing that this was no time for emotion. She had to keep a clear head. Figure out where they were holding her son and find a way to get him out. And failing that, she’d have to follow through with their demands.

It meant crossing a line, but the choice was an easy one. Adam was her son. And if necessary she’d sacrifice her life for him. Or someone else’s. Rivon had made that much perfectly clear.

She sighed, a shiver working its way up her spine.

It wasn’t as if she’d never killed anyone. But in the past, she’d always believed she was working on the side of right. Fighting against corruption and evil. Making the world a safer place for children like Adam.

Maybe it had all been bullshit. Maybe there was no right or wrong. At least not in any absolute kind of way. The world was a dangerous place. And her involvement with the darker side of espionage was the only reason she was standing in a seedy hotel room praying for word from her son. All she knew for certain was that she’d do whatever it took to make sure that Adam was freed. Securing his release was the only thing that mattered.

She still had no idea who the target would be. Someone of great importance, Rivon had said. A major player. A roadblock in the continuing battle to bring America to its knees.

She sank down on the end of the bed, desperation threatening all rational thought. Nothing had changed. It was the same war. Different opponents maybe. But still the same fight. And her son was caught in the middle of it.

Beside her the phone rang, and heart pounding, she snatched it off the bed, fumbling with the buttons in her rush to answer.

“Hello?” She held her breath, waiting. “Adam, is that you?”

“No, Ms. Gallagher. I’m afraid it’s not your son.”

“Rivon.” The word came out more a curse than a name. “I want to speak to Adam.”

“In good time. But there are a few things we need to discuss first.”

She wondered if it was possible to hate anyone as much as she did this man. “So speak.”

“It’s almost time for you to make your move. And so I’ve been instructed to reveal the target.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll tell someone?”

“Not particularly,” he said, his tone smug. “You’re more than aware of what would happen if you were to try to bring in outside help.”

She sighed, knowing there was little point in arguing. Better to play along and keep alert. She needed to talk to Adam. “So who is it you want me to take out?”

“Spoken like a consummate professional.” He laughed. “The target is an official with the U.N. Blake Dominico.”

“The U.S. ambassador?” She tried but couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice. Not only was the man a patriot, he was probably, thanks to his often extreme views on eradicating the country’s enemies, one of the most protected men in the country. “You’re asking the impossible.”

“That’s why we have you. Your reputation precedes you.”

“I haven’t been a part of that world in years. And even then I wasn’t operating on my own. I don’t have the resources to pull something like this off by myself.”

“I think you’re underestimating your abilities, Ms. Gallagher. And besides, you’ve got more resources than you realize. Which is why I want you to go to New York and survey the situation. Then when you’ve come up with a plan, we’ll see that you get whatever it is you need to make it happen.”

“I’m not sure you have access to the kinds of resources that might be necessary. Blueprints, surveillance equipment, entrance codes, not to mention weaponry. Since 9/11, access to U.N. diplomats has become increasingly difficult. Particularly at the Secretariat.”

“Yes, but Dominico doesn’t spend every waking hour at the General Assembly. You’ll find a way, Ms. Gallagher. After all, we have Adam. And it would be a shame for his life to end so soon. Wouldn’t you agree?”