Enemy Lover (9 page)

There was a long hesitation before Blalock said, “His district office. But—”

“Where in his district office?”

“If you let me go, I’ ll get it for you,” Blalock mewled.

Marcus slowly shook his head. “I work alone. Now tell me exactly where the file is.”

“Please! Let me go, I’ ll get it for you!” Blalock screamed as he struggled to free himself.

“Last chance, Blalock.” Marcus tipped him forward so that he had to stretch his long arms to keep him from falling completely over the rail.

“Fuck you and that crazy bastard you work for!” Blalock screeched.

Marcus smiled and pulled the black mask from his head before standing back, bringing Blalock with him.

He turned the naked press secretary around and with one hand clamped around his neck, lifted him a foot off
the patio floor. Blalock screamed harshly as he looked at Marcus. “What
are
you?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

With one harsh shove, he sent Blalock flying over the rail, the press secretary’s fading screams just more white noise. Marcus didn’t bother to see where he landed. He was dead. Mission accomplished.

He pulled his mask back over his head, strode back into the apartment, and quickly took stock of the situation. There was nothing anyone could do for the girl in the corner. On the plus side, there was one less witness. He scowled, not liking the benefits tonight. He bent over the other girl, but as he did, she gasped, then coughed, fighting for air. Her eyes flew open and she hoarsely screamed.

Marcus slammed his hand over her mouth and shook his head. With his free hand, he put his finger to his lips, hidden behind the mask. Immediately, the terrorized girl quieted.

“I won’t hurt you,” Marcus roughly whispered and cursed himself for the words. Despite his personal code not to 86 children, he was a ghost, and if he was to remain a ghost, there could be no witnesses to his existence.

Wide-eyed, she stared up at him. Her fear tugged at his gut. When the cops questioned her, the only detail she’d be able to give was an estimate of his six-foot-four-inch height and his two-hundred-and-forty-five-pound body. He was dressed completely in black, his skin was completely obscured by gloves and mask, and his unusual blue eyes were camouflaged behind brown contacts. He was sure she hadn’t heard anything that had
been said on the balcony, or even that Blalock was splatter. Hell, until this moment she hadn’t known of his existence in the apartment.

Marcus carefully unwound the cord from around her neck, then grabbed her shirt from the floor and placed what little there was of it over her bare chest. He growled when he picked her up. She didn’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet. He stepped into the bathroom on the way out, grabbed a grimy towel, then wrapped her in it. Once she was secured, he yanked open the door and headed for the stairwell.

She shivered hard in his arms. He didn’t want to look down at her, but he couldn’t help himself. Wide-eyed, blinking back tears, she stared at him. He felt like someone had kicked him in the balls.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” she croaked.

“Someplace safe,” he said, knowing he would regret it.

Thirty minutes later

Senator Rowland.”

At the deep, arrogant voice, the senator stopped in his tracks. The colonel stood behind him, so close that he could feel the warmth of the man’s breath and smell the rich tobacco on it. Rowland’s skin chilled, and every hair on his body stood straight up.

“That’s it,” the colonel murmured. “Keep still and keep quiet. What I have to say will take only a moment of your valuable time.”

Rowland slid his hands into his trouser pockets and fisted them. His gaze darted around the lightly populated private dining room in the ultraexclusive D.C. gentleman’s club, Partisan.

“How did you get in here?” Rowland quietly demanded as he made to turn.

The hard nose of a pistol pressed against his back. “Ah, ah, follow orders, soldier, or pay the price.”

Rowland stiffened but remained still.

“Now, listen to me very carefully. I’m guessing that in the not-too-distant future, you’ re going to get a call from DCPD informing you that your press secretary jumped out of a ghetto apartment building because he couldn’t
live with himself after he killed the twelve-year-old prostitute he had delivered earlier tonight.”

Icy foreboding dug into the senator’s gut. “You bastard!”

The barrel of the gun dug deeper into his back. “Ah, ah.” When Rowland stilled, the colonel continued. “The reality is, Blalock was thrown from the window. And the girl?” The colonel
tsk
ed
tsk
ed. “Unfortunate collateral damage.”

“You don’t know who you’ re up against, Colonel,” the senator bit out.

The colonel chuckled. “No, my friend, it’s you who has no clue who you’ re
up
against.” To accentuate his point, the colonel shoved the pistol harder into Rowland’s back.

Rowland moved to turn around, but the colonel dug the barrel deeper.

“Don’t turn around. I’m here to give you a friendly heads-up so that when the cops call, you have the real facts. And you know how those vultures at the
Post
like to twist everyone’s dirty laundry into a shit pile. It’s going to be very interesting to see how your PR team spins this little, ah, sexcapade slash suicide. Especially since you’ re running such a tight race against that incompetent Democrat.”

Rowland remained still, too angry, too terrified to breathe. This would topple him. It didn’t matter that Blalock liked young whores. Rowland was a California conservative, a virtual unheard-of in that great state. His opponent would pull out all the stops when they got wind of this. “What good am I to The Solution if I lose my seat?”

The colonel laughed low. “I like the way you’ re thinking now, Senator.” Colonel Lazarus relieved the pressure at his back. “It’s simple, really. Reinstate our preferred contractor status, we go back to business as usual, and I’ ll make sure you not only retain your senate seat but you’ ll be hailed a hero as well.”

Rowland spun around and faced his nemesis. The pacemaker in his chest was working overtime to keep his erratic heart rate from fibrillating. His gut gnarled in such a severe contortion that the Maryland crab cakes he’d eaten an hour ago rose in his throat. He was damned either way. Unless—unless he found a way to eliminate The Solution from the face of the earth.

“You forget, Colonel, I have records of every dirty deed you and your cohorts have carried out. All of it poised and ready to be delivered into the hands of the Joint Chiefs if I fall off the radar.”

The colonel’s smile widened. “Isn’t your daughter, Grace, scheduled to begin Stanford in the fall? It would be a shame if she never made it.”

Rowland’s blood iced in his veins and the crab cakes rose higher, clogging his throat. “Touch one hair on her head, and I’ ll personally cut you up one piece at a time.”

The colonel laughed. “Give me what I want, Senator, and I’ ll leave your family out of it.” He looked at his watch. “I’m giving you three weeks to reinstate The Solution.”

“I can’t get it done that soon! My committee doesn’t reconvene for eight weeks!”

The colonel’s smile faded. “There
is
such a thing as an emergency.” He backed away from Rowland. “I want an official certified letter delivered to the address on
record for The Solution in three weeks or less. Once I have authenticated our reinstated status, we’ ll resume business as usual. I also suggest you call a cleaner ASAP. You’ ll be no good to me if you lose your Senate seat.” The colonel smiled sadistically. “And, Senator? Between now and then if I discover you have made other plans or I feel you are not moving quickly enough? No one, especially your daughter, will be immune from my gentle reminders.”

The colonel turned and disappeared into the darkened shadows of the room.

For a long time, Rowland stood silent, terrified and unsure of his next move. He was up against a terrible wall, but if he gave the colonel free rein to annihilate any person, group or organization he considered anti-American, he could bring about war with enemies the American government kept close to the vest.

One thing was for certain—The Solution’s operatives were fueled by their blind faith in the colonel. Cut the head off the snake, and The Solution folded.

Rowland knew of only one man who could help him. A ghost. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made several quick inquiries. Armed with a phone number few knew existed, Senator Rowland exited the club and found a pay phone down the street. For a long moment, he held the phone in his hand, knowing that if he made the call, he put everyone he loved at risk. He also knew that if he walked away, the fate of the free world was just as much at risk. He dialed.

On the third ring, a deep voice answered, “Black.”

The senator cleared his throat and slowly said, “Mr. Black, this is Senator William Rowland.”

“Who referred you?”

“Attorney General Marks. He said to give you the code word Orion.”

“Go ahead.”

“I made a bargain with the devil and need you to eliminate him.”

“I’m listening.”

The next morning
L.O.S.T. Compound, location classified

Jax woke with a start. Her skin was drenched in sweat and her heart rate was through the roof. Even so, she managed to feel a pinch of relief.

Six months ago, her night terrors had been about Montes. Now they were about something else. She’d prefer to do without them altogether, but so long as Montes stayed where he belonged—in her past—she’d take comfort in that.

“Latent performance pressure anxiety,” Dr. Martin had diagnosed right after the L.O.S.T. mission in Vegas. It had pissed Jax off. The op had gone off perfectly, so why the anxiety? She wasn’t a nervous Nelly. Not by nature. And not anymore.

Nonetheless, she couldn’t deny it—something inside her worried the next mission might not go so well. That niggling something kept her up at night. Was it simply the baggage of her past, or was it a premonition?

Shivering, Jax rolled on her side and mumbled, “Don’t get all woo-woo, Jax. Your past would give anyone nightmares.”

But it didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d left her old
life firmly behind. Angela Giacomelli was a stranger to her now.

For a long time she had felt less of a woman because of the internal and external scars left behind by Montes, her squad, and her boyfriend, Judd, a man she had trusted, loved and thought to spend the rest of her life with. She’d remember his horrified looks after the doctors had told him what Montes had done to her. He hadn’t been horrified for her; he’d been horrified at the thought of touching her again. She’d also replay over and over again the way he’d walked away as she’d been wheeled into surgery. She’d understood perfectly: Her very public attack had very publicly disgraced him.

She’d understood, but she hadn’t forgotten or forgiven. She still hadn’ t.

But she’d managed to put it behind her in order to move on with her life.

In time, with Doctor Martin’s help and the help of every operative at L.O.S.T., Jax had shed all of her baggage and emerged clean and reborn. She was a survivor. She had a new life as a highly trained operative surrounded by other highly trained operatives. She worked for the real good guys and knew that this time she would not be left behind as collateral damage. Life was damn good, and she was damn grateful for it.

Suddenly, she realized what was behind her anxiety. She didn’t want to lose this life. And she didn’t want to disappoint the man who’d given it to her.

Godfather had created the ultimate weapon: Jax Cassidy. He had complete confidence in her not only as a woman but also as a prime operative. She
would not
let him down. Taking a deep breath, she rolled from the
bed, dragging her fingers through her dark mahogany-highlighted hair. She’d colored it and had let it grow long. Longer than it had ever been. Maybe it was time to chop it off. She tossed the thick mass over her shoulder and headed for the bathroom.

As Jax got into the shower, she thought of the terror she’d experienced during her night sweats. She couldn’t help it. She was like that. She wanted—no,
needed
—to know the whys of everything. Maybe it was her Catholic upbringing. Asking God why he did this or that. Mostly, she learned God did not have much to do with the whys. It was just life most times.