Exchange of Fire (13 page)

Grady’s mind raced as he continued to make his point. “How long can he go without contact?”

“A few hours, tops,” Romeo answered.

“I’d say the company just got a really big red flag when Granger dropped off the grid over fourteen hours ago,” Cappy said.

“And they’re sending someone else here to find out why, aren’t they?” Grady finished.
Sonofabitch.
He ignored the sheen of tears in Sandra’s eyes and the way her skin now appeared drawn. Fury pumped too hotly in his veins for him to even contemplate one iota of compassion.

“Probably,” Romeo agreed.

“This is why a Marine never runs. We stay and finish the fight. Everyone, out,” Grady announced, pointing to the front door.

“So I should’ve just stuck around and allowed this Granger guy to find me in the entertainment center,” Sandra stated flatly, moving toe-to-toe with him to block his path.

Damn, he hated how he noticed how hot she was when she got riled and that his dick just pulsed in reaction.

“What you should have done was confide in me from the beginning. All this cloak-and-dagger bullshit has now put everything I’ve worked for at risk.”

Sandra snorted. “Like you would have believed me.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But you never gave me a chance.” The word
target
kept scrolling through his head, and he narrowed his gaze on her face. “Do you even know what you’ve done?” Why was he bothering to reason with her? She obviously only looked out for herself.

“Yes,” she retorted, her chin lifting a notch. “I tried protecting you by keeping you out of this. You insisted on following me, remember?”

“Damn, you have a selective memory. You forgot the part where I pointed out that your cryptic warning didn’t matter. ‘They’”—he air-quoted the word—“were going to find me anyway.” He swiped his hands through his hair. “You brought a goddamn spy war into this sleepy community. Into the sanctuary I built for those kids.”

She jerked like he’d hit her, her eyes widening further.

“Some of those children have nowhere else to safely play. How can I keep the center open, knowing there are assassins descending on Ridge Creek and ultimately landing in Gradwick when they retrace your footsteps?”

“You don’t have to close,” Cappy’s chain saw voice rumbled as he moved behind Sandra. “We can help provide extra security.”

Grady scanned the rest of the faces crowded closer to where he faced off with Sandra, all of them with varying levels of pity . . . or outright aggression. Talon, the asshole, was probably enjoying this.

“Thank you, but no.” Grady met the CO’s eyes. “As much as I’m going to take a hit financially since Labor Day weekend is one of my busiest times, I can’t risk the safety of those kids because of Sandra . . .” He paused, impaling his gaze into hers. “Is that even your real name?”

She opened her mouth, but he swiped a hand. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know.” Grady forced himself to maneuver through the group toward the living room to give himself some distance. It was either that or redecorate his buddy’s walls with some fist-size holes. “I don’t have time to chat anymore.”

“Grady—”

“Now’s not the time I can listen to a word you say,
Wraith
.”

She flinched.

“You can keep the polo shirt in the dryer, but I need you to hand over the keys to the center. You’re no longer employed or welcome in Gradwick.”

Sandra sucked in a breath and paled.

“I understand you’re pissed,” Cappy said, his tone placating. “But don’t make any drastic decisions now.”

“Drastic?” Grady laughed hollowly. “Despite my stupidity in falling for her, you think my choosing the center and this community over a woman who I’ve just learned I don’t even know is drastic? We have very different definitions, you and I.”

Grady thrust out his hand. “I’ve got to go. I can still make it to the center before it opens for the day; it’ll cut down on the amount of lies I’m going to have to tell to get my employees to go home.”

Sandra’s shoulders snapped back, and she marched past him to the other side of the couch. Memories of her straddling his lap while he sucked on her nipple roared through his mind. If he only knew then what seducing the information out of her was going to lead to.

“—your staff?” Romeo asked, ripping him out of his X-rated thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What’s the reason you’re giving your staff and customers for closing?”

Grady snorted. “The only one I can that won’t raise too many red flags: maintenance problems. Multiple sections’ worth of problems to justify closing the whole place.”

Metallic jingling sounded to his left. Sandra dangled a set of keys, then dropped them into his outstretched palm. Her eyes snapped with fury and pain.
I know the feeling.
The serrated edges bit into his hand from the clenched fist he formed over them.

He turned away, unable to look at her beautiful, lying face any more. It only took him a minute to pack his laptop back into the computer bag; the hardest part was fighting the memories of her crowing about how she’d won the right to use it and him kissing her, then ultimately fucking her against the wall.

“At least let us help with something,” Cappy said as Grady strode past to grab his clothes out of the dryer.

Grady paused. “You want to help? Put an end to this battle before too many innocent civilians get hurt.” He turned, then a thought hit him. “I’m sure on your secret missions you’ve had to develop covers. Why don’t you put that to good use and see if you can come up with some vans or trucks with company logos for mechanics. I’ve got to figure out some way to make this charade plausible.”

“We’ll work on it.”

No one else spoke a word as they watched him grab his seabag out of the back bedroom—fighting more memories—and gathering the rest of his stuff.

“Lock up when you leave” was the only thing he had left to say. Too many emotions coursed through him to come up with anything better.

Cappy met him just as he opened the front door. The grizzly warrior slapped his Beretta into his hand, then held out the ejected cartridge.

Adding insult to injury.
Grady finally knew what that fucking phrase meant.

Sandra winced at the slamming of the door.
Sonofabitch!

A sob caught in her throat as she listened to Grady’s footsteps pound across the wooden porch and down the front steps. He had twisted her words so thoroughly, she still couldn’t process it all. She dropped her purse strap across her shoulder and slumped against the back of the couch. The same goddamn couch where he had brought her to the brink of orgasm as he seduced secrets out of her with his wicked tongue.

Clasping her mouth, she couldn’t stop the phrases from running through her mind.
Was seducing me a sacrifice you made in order to accomplish those goals? I guess acting lessons are right there at the top of required courses.
An actress? He thought she’d enchanted him as part of some sinister plot? That she could possibly fake that kind of ecstasy last night? Or this kind of pain? Hardly.

He never even gave her a chance or opportunity to explain. She had trusted him. Opened up and confessed a part of her past that
no one
beyond SBG was ever allowed to know. And he’d walked out.

Talon moved through the milling members of her former team and slouched beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. It was an awkward position, and the guy really didn’t have the warm, fuzzy personality to show comfort, but she welcomed the effort.

Her gaze traveled across the seams in the hardwood floor. Stupefied didn’t even begin to cover the maelstrom inside. She’d defied her closest friends’ requests to stay quiet just so Grady could stare at her with cold incredulity and make her out to be this horrible, wicked person.

An unladylike snort escaped as the turmoil settled into pain. How could she finally allow herself to give in to the fantasy of having a normal life? To make love to her dream man, only to have him abandon her a few hours later?

A sense of foreboding pumped into her system, competing with her shattered heart. She’d save everyone the trouble and leave town. Not only could it possibly protect Grady, but it would also allow him to move on with his life and forget her. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed back a lump. Without him, there was nothing left to keep her here.

She untangled herself from Talon’s embrace and accepted the napkin Magician dangled in front of her.

“Thanks.” She gave her friend a watery smile and blew her nose.

Wallowing in grief was not going to help anyone and her team was now in jeopardy. She needed to disappear to protect them all.

Romeo crossed his arms, the speculative look he roved over her made her squirm. “I take it this is the first time you’ve been truly honest with him?”

What kind of question is that?
Of course she couldn’t have told him anything before today. “What do you think?”

“I think you just hit him with two barrels filled with shrapnel,” Romeo stated bluntly. “Damn, woman, that was painful to watch. I feel sorry for the guy.”

“I don’t understan—”

“What about us?” Talon asked, cutting her off.

Every eye focused on her. She straightened to at least even some of the height discrepancy, not that it helped her feel empowered. She really needed to see if her jeans were dry.

“Talon—”

“No, Wraith. My turn.” He palmed a Ka-Bar and fiddled with the blade. “I killed a man earlier this evening. For
you
. To keep you alive, though you were content to have me grieve your death.”

Tears crowded the corners of her eyes again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic you’re breathing and among us again, but what the fuck?” Talon’s jaw ticked as he gazed at her with his beautiful icy emerald eyes, then he yanked a leather cord from beneath his T-shirt and held it out as far as it would reach. “You’re wearing our emblem like a goddamn accessory instead of what it represents. The bond between us all it symbolizes.” The dragons winked in the light as the pendant spun on the end. “Strength, courage, and wisdom. We barely had any of that while dealing with your death on top of Magician’s injuries . . .”

Romeo shifted,
his
jaw now ticking. He looked away, but not before she caught the haunted expression.

Magician didn’t move a muscle. Her head remained cocked to the side, but she wasn’t showing whatever thoughts whirled inside her beautiful mind.

Sandra couldn’t meet their accusatory stares anymore. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, studying the floor. Away from their rightfully condemning expressions.

She marched toward the laundry room. “I need some air.”

***

Targeted.
A goddamn mark.
Grady gripped the steering wheel and slowed for another turn. Luckily, the sun was high enough that he could see without his headlights. Hitting a deer or whatever would be all he needed to end these past twenty-four hours.

She had picked him out of a magazine, for Christsake. Like he was some fucking sweater or pair of pants. No wonder her résumé read like his wish list; it was. She had researched him so well, she knew everything she needed to say in order to score her position with his company. God, he was such a fool. He played right into her hands like a sucker.

His mind flashed up the memory of her confidently striding into his office in a pair of sexy red heels with her résumé in hand. His heart had stopped beating, then thumped double-time, singing “She’s the One.” Every day since, he found himself falling a little more in love with her and fantasizing about their future once he convinced her to take a chance on him.

What a joke.

How she must have laughed at his attempts to get close to her. And last night? While he was thanking God at finally getting the chance to live out a fantasy by making love to her and hopefully jump-starting their new life together, she was congratulating herself for winding him deeper into her web. His tattered heart flipped. No wonder she had kept him shut out all the time. She hadn’t felt anything at all.

She deserved an Emmy. Not once did he suspect a thing. Even when she ran out of the center last night and they were getting shot at, it never occurred to him that she had purposely sought him out to use him as a way to complete an item on her agenda before moving on.

He pushed the gas pedal to the floor and passed a trucker who had pulled off onto a side lane built on this stretch for just that purpose.

So she was in hiding. From whom? A private military company? Special ops? CIA? The crazy thing was, he believed her; not about the urban myth—that stretched a little far for him—but about working for a secret agency. The whole team had the same vibe he’d once had with his old unit. The kind you only get through experiencing hell together and living to tell about it. He’d even spied the same dragon pendant that Sandra never took off hanging around more than one neck. As if by all of them wearing one, they showed their cohesiveness and bond. The symbol was so unique, it couldn’t be a coincidence.

And the look on her face when she’d admitted to the reason she left—a fourteen-year-old girl dying by your bullet? He couldn’t imagine what abyss that had to have plunged her into. But she brought that shit
here
.

Ashlyn’s smiling face rose up in his mind, then flipped to him grabbing the bully by the arms to stop the boy from kicking her curled body on the ground. The silent vow he’d made that day could only take him so far.

“I’m sorry, Ashlyn. I tried, but she’s not interested in saving anyone. Especially me or the safe haven.” Grady rubbed his chest.

Another wave of anger ripped through him at what he was forced to do in order to keep the center out of the war.

Sandra slipped through the woods. Cappy’s vehicle was parked around here somewhere. The man had ghosted inside the cabin, which meant he stashed the car about a mile out and hiked in with Magician so he wouldn’t be heard.

She crested the hill and grabbed on to a tree, studying the area behind her. So far she hadn’t seen or heard anyone following her, but that didn’t mean much with this group. They were all trained to virtually disappear while tailing their prey.

Her heart thundered against her rib cage. She needed to be on the road already so she’d have a shot at making it to her storage locker before they figured out she had snuck out of the house. A prick of guilt stole through her. Using the team’s sense of integrity against them in order to creep away was low, but the log cabin really
should
be scrubbed clean of the team’s presence before they left. The added bonus that it required everyone to split up to accomplish it faster gave her the opening she needed to bolt.

A jumble of Grady’s accusations flooded her mind, each trying to compete with the others for supremacy in crippling her. Unwanted tears flowed down her cheeks, making it hard to study the landscape. God, he thought she was a coldhearted monster.
You brought a goddamn spy war into this sleepy community. Into the sanctuary I built for those kids.

How could he think she’d do that on purpose? The last thing she wanted to do was bring harm to a child. The fourteen-year-old reached out a pair of phantom arms to Sandra as she fell back into Sanchez. Blood splattered across her chest.

No.
She couldn’t think of this now. She pushed Grady’s voice from her mind and swiped the tears from her eyes. If only Granger hadn’t stolen her IDs. Those things were expensive, and finding a forger who wasn’t on SBG’s radar was damn near impossible. She had never met the former assassin, so she had no real picture in her mind other than wishing it had been
her
knife slitting the bastard’s throat. Asshole destroyed not only her possessions but her means of an easy escape.

A bright patch of light winked about a quarter mile below to her left. Finally. She trotted down the slope, uncaring as to the path she left behind. By the time they found her it wouldn’t matter that she’d led them to Cappy’s car. They’d already know it.

She needed to clear out of Ridge Creek. Lure SBG away so Grady’s allegation couldn’t come true. He may call it deserting, but she’d call it choosing her own battlefield.

Flinging the silver Jeep Laredo’s door open, she lifted the floor mat, searching for the keys. Nothing. She pulled the driver’s side visor down. Empty. The keys were here somewhere. They always left a set behind in case they needed a quick escape and the driver wasn’t available or able to hand them over. She stepped back and felt under the fender, over the driver’s side tire. A metallic object hindered her progress.
Success!

She yanked the small box out and slid the cover back. A single car key nestled inside. She tossed the box on the passenger seat and shut the door behind her.

You’re wearing our emblem like a goddamn accessory instead of what it represents.
Talon’s angry words lashed through her mind.

“No, my friend. I’ve never forgotten what it represents.”

It took strength and courage to walk away; the wisdom of it she was still struggling with. She threw the truck in gear and followed the narrow dirt path back up to the main road, bouncing and jolting the whole way, too afraid to take it slower in case the team caught up to her.

***

Mars turned up the scanner he had purchased at a twenty-four-hour supercenter on his trip from the airport.

“Roger, Officer O’Malley,”
the female dispatcher said.
“Coroner has been notified. En route to Frankford Cleaners. ETA thirty minutes.”

Mars cruised past a blue Victorian with maroon trim. He checked the house number nailed above the door against his GPS. A match for Sandra Walsh’s address. He pulled into the parking lot of a quaint park across the street. The lot was almost full. He glanced at the time: nine a.m. A bit early for the ruckus, but he didn’t care about joining the mothers and screaming kids taking advantage of the pleasant holiday. He managed to squeeze into a spot beside the exit.

A couple strolled by, their arms linked together as an English Boxer tugged on the leash in front of them. They nodded politely to him, then resumed their animated conversation over which groomer to use for Daisy. Yee gods. Save him from suburban life.

He jogged across the street and followed a well-worn path along the side of the house. According to the address, Sandra Walsh lived in the lower back right apartment. Exuding an air of confidence, he marched up the three wooden steps and noted how only a screen door barred him from entering.
Shit. Does that mean she’s home?

One peek inside and Mars knew that wasn’t the case. The kitchen was wrecked.

Granger’s handiwork.

Rumors circulated among Victor’s go-to assassins about how the young upstart liked to cause as much destruction as possible. Be it through actual physical devastation or well-placed comments to cause as much turmoil in people as possible, it didn’t seem to matter to him. As long as Granger walked away with the knowledge he’d ruined something, then he appeared happy.
Newbie prick.
Hadn’t the boy figured out by now that damaging places caused too many questions from the local authorities? Victor needed to handle this if Granger wasn’t already dead.

The dispatcher’s voice ran through Mars’s head. With confirmation that Granger had definitely visited Sandra’s apartment, Mars’s sense of foreboding increased. He jogged back to the road and stopped an old woman pulling a small two-wheel cart filled with a sack of groceries. The dog beside her growled, but he was so old, Mars ignored the ineffectual mutt.

“Excuse me,” Mars said, holding up a finger. “Can you point me in the direction of Frankford Cleaners?”

The old bat’s milky blue eyes narrowed, and she studied him shrewdly.

He smiled and held back the impulse to choke the answer out of her. God, he hated people, especially the old ones. Why good money was wasted on medical research to keep people living long past their usefulness was beyond him.

“Two streets over, that way,” she finally said, her Southern drawl no longer honey but vinegar with her stale voice. She pointed to the vicinity behind the Victorian.

He pivoted and strode along the sidewalk, following her simple directions. Sure enough, two streets over he saw a sign for the cleaners tacked on the facing above the door. Bypassing the front entrance, Mars slowed his pace and casually strolled into the alley behind the store. A cop car angled itself at the end of the small road, so Mars went around to the other side and sauntered up from that direction.

He got to about ten feet away before a pompous officer barked, “Sir, you need to leave the area. Nothing to see here.”

Mars held up his hands in surrender and backed away. He’d seen enough. No need to get any closer to confirm Granger lay in a heap by an overfilled Dumpster.

He pulled his phone out and redialed Victor. “I found him.”

“I take it not alive, since
you’re
calling me and not him.”

“His throat was sliced open.”

“This can’t be a coincidence. What else did you find?”

“Police are on the scene now. I can’t get closer unless you need me to.”

“No. Not necessary. Find Sandra Walsh. She may not be alone. If Sandra is Wraith, then Delta Squad may be with her. Her teammate Talon has an affinity for knives.”

“I’ve heard the rumors. Send me updated pictures of everyone and their phone numbers, including Sandra’s. I already have the equipment to track their locations through their phones’ GPS in the Explorer. If she or Delta Squad are here, I’ll find them.”

***

Grady slapped the last of the hastily made signs onto the side entrance’s door and held it in place while he yanked a premeasured piece of tape off the back of his hand. With every smash of the tape onto the glass, he cursed a little more fluidly.

It wasn’t about the money, though the loss in revenue for however long this thing took to end would definitely hurt his bottom line for the year. But he’d be okay. He wasn’t maxed to the limit on his lines of credit, nor was he strapped for cash to cover the expenses that would still incur even without any customers. It was the principle of why he had to close the doors. The disappointed faces he anticipated seeing on the security screens when the children couldn’t get in.

His cell phone rang. He mashed on the last piece of tape and pulled the phone out of his back jeans pocket.

“Hang on, Henry,” Grady said, strolling away from the door that would normally lead patrons to the Paintball Arena outside. The Arcade section still trilled and flashed their videos even though the house lights weren’t on to further invite guests to test their skills. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a row of machines that had him almost throwing the phone. Lined up, pretty as you please, were the shooting consoles. The black sniper rifle from Silent Scope mocked him as it rested in its perch, waiting for someone to take out the bad guys.

Before he realized it, he found himself touching the end of the stock as he pictured Sandra—no, Wraith—lining up her target. It seemed so foreign, yet so right at the same time.
Son of a bitch.
He choked on the swallow that shot down his throat.

“CASPER?”

Grady pivoted and marched out of the Arcade. He slapped the phone to his ear and steeled himself for the old guard’s inevitable inquisition. “Sorry, Henry. Needed to finish hanging the signs.”

“So it’s true? I got a call because of that phone tree thing you instituted, but I didn’t believe it,”
Henry groused.

Grady caught his sarcastic response and said instead, “It’s true. We need to close for the next few days, maybe longer, due to maintenance problems.”

What a crock. He stormed into his office and dropped into his leather chair.

“Maintenance problems,”
Henry repeated, then added,
“Kinda sudden, eh?”

“Yep. Not real happy about it, as you can imagine.”

“Yeah, you sound madder than a mule chewin’ on bumblebees.”

Grady snorted.

“So, this abrupt closing of the building wouldn’t have anything to do with Sandra knocking you out and running away, would it? Did you find her?”

A swift jolt of bitterness caused a few beads of sweat to pop out on his forehead. He dashed them away and breathed in, then out heavily. “I found her, all right.”

“Did you take my advice and let her go?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“My cop instincts are raging, young man. You’re holding out on me.”

“You’re damn right I am.” Grady swiveled in his chair and grabbed the remote for the TV, hoping the usual Sunday morning hype before the day’s NFL games would distract him. “I’m not gossiping to you or anyone about my personal life.”

“Ah, so it’s personal now, is it? Last night she tears out of there as your Operations Manager and this morning she’s off-limits for personal reasons. That’s telling, son.”

Damn shrewd old man. Grady stayed silent.

“So the building’s closed but the employee shindig Wednesday night is still on?”

Grady closed his eyes and counted to five. “Yeah. I’m hoping to have all this cleared up by then. I’ll get word out on Wednesday for sure but I didn’t want the employees making other plans.” This crap had
better
be resolved by then.

“Hmph. Don’t you still need security to show up while your closed?”

His stomach clenched. The
last
person he wanted snooping around would be his most observant guard. Figuring out how to make this story stick was going to be hard enough without someone with the ability to spot bullshit from a mile away hanging around. “I have just a skeleton crew scheduled. You take advantage of the break and treat that patient wife of yours to a few days away.”

“Humph.”
Silence.

Grady counted the paper clips in the dish. When he reached thirty, Henry finally spoke, his voice a lot smaller than a second ago,
“So you don’t need me?”

Rip out his already shattered heart. “I’ll always need you, Henry, but you don’t have to be here twenty-four seven. Trust that your training and skills have translated to some of the other guards.”

Henry grunted.
“What about the Children of the Fallen Heroes event tomorrow? You canceling that?”

Oh
CHRIST
. In all the chaos he’d completely forgotten about the annual event. He’d been hosting it every Labor Day since he’d opened Gradwick’s doors; it practically ran itself.

“Haven’t figured that part out yet,” he answered truthfully.

“Well, I bet the lovely widow Doreen McKenna would be happy to help,”
Henry drawled with a certain amount of glee.
“She’s been offering for years to become a larger part of the event.”

Grady almost choked. That’s not all she’d been offering to be a larger part of. Ever since she lost her husband four years ago while he had been stationed overseas, she had been dropping not-so-subtle hints that she’d be open to settling down again . . . with him. Sure, she was pretty, but she never once got his heart racing. Not like Sandra—nope, not going there.

Grady sighed. “Good idea, Henry. I’ll give her a call now and set it up.”