Exchange of Fire (7 page)

He palmed two of his knives and headed for the section of road barely covered by the evenly spaced street lamps. He jogged across the street, searching the side of the house, and almost collided with an ancient woman walking an equally ancient dog. Jesus, that mutt could barely lift his legs to move let alone protect his master.

Whap!

His head flipped to the side, and it took everything he had to hold his instincts back and not bury his knife into the old bat. Hard to justify her as collateral damage.

Whap!

She nailed him on the other ear. Loud crinkling and a nasty odor accompanied the hit.

“Peeping Tom!”
Whap!
“Thief!”

Jesus H. Christ. Okay. Maybe not so hard to justify.
He jumped out of range, just barely avoiding getting smacked again. “What are you—” His eyes bugged when he spotted her weapon. “You crazy old bat! Stop hitting me with Fido’s shit bag!”

“What’re you doing out here?” she asked, lifting the plastic bag again.

“Walking,” he retorted.

“You tried to rob me.” She swung the shit-filled bag at him, but her aim was way off and she ended up smacking herself before she could stop its progress.

“Cut it out,” he snapped. How the hell did he get her to shut up so she didn’t bring a crowd? “I didn’t see you when I crossed the street. I’m not robbing anybody.”

A black-clad figure skulked along the edge of the Victorian’s side fence.
Son of a bitch!
Another operative was here.

***

Sandra curled her lip at the destruction all over the kitchen’s tile floor. She garnered all her willpower to keep it together and not break down in front of Grady.
It’s just stuff.
She had been about to abandon it all anyway when she left town, but it still felt like a violation. Fate smacking her in the face, reminding her that she wasn’t allowed to live a peaceful life.

“Anything missing?” Grady asked, pausing beside the microwave with the door hanging on its hinge.

“Not sure yet,” she answered through tight lips, not willing to mention that her stash of false identities had been taken. She couldn’t afford to tear out of here in a rage and make a deadly mistake. “We need to go. Now.”

“What I don’t get is how we beat the cops here. This destruction had to have been loud.”

“Probably.” She stashed her knife away.

He tucked his gun back in its holster and crossed his arms. “On the off chance they weren’t notified, why do I get the feeling you aren’t calling the police?”

“Grady, we can talk about this after we leave.” She headed for the back door.

A floorboard in the living room creaked.

Grady grabbed her arm, halting her progress. “What the h—”

She clamped a hand over his mouth and used her other to motion for him to be silent. She then tapped her ear and pointed toward the living room. He nodded and peeled her hand away.

She jerked her chin toward the back door and knew he understood when he gestured like Vanna White.

She raced forward on the balls of her feet.

Glass tinkled behind them, forcing her to throw away stealth. She bolted for the screen door.

A shot rang out a second before the bullet lodged into the door frame by her head.

Grady grabbed Sandra around the waist and tossed her out the screen door. He kept his head down and zigzagged as best he could behind her as they raced through the neighbor’s yard.

Another bullet whizzed past his head.
Motherfucker.
Someone was actually shooting at them. She had warned him this could happen, but he’d thought she was being melodramatic.
I wish.
What the hell had she gotten herself involved in?

He jumped over a plastic Playskool car.

Dogs howled and barked, filling the air with their displeasure. Even they knew this was completely foul.

They dove through a line of shrubs and continued running. She laid a convoluted path between parked cars, random side streets, and people’s lawns. All the while, he could feel the gunman still behind them. They needed a plan. The only person who was going to win this fight was the madman if they kept this random shit up much longer.

“Don’t slow down,” she called back, as if reading his mind. “Trust me.”

Thank God he ran ten miles at least three times a week or all this running would have sucked. He fumbled with his shirt in the back and grabbed the Beretta out of its holster.

“You shouldn’t have that out.”

What the hell? She have eyes in the back of her head?

“It’ll just draw attention to us. We need to be invisible.”

“News flash,” he said between breaths. “He’s right behind us. I think he can see us just fine.”

“Not to him,” she replied as they burst through the alley. “To them.”

Holy shit. Her convoluted path wasn’t random after all. She had led them to the Ridge Creek police station. He quickly jammed his gun back in the holster and resituated his shirt. Two police officers leaned against a car chatting, but stopped when they spotted them.

“Hey, Grady! You out for a late run?” Officer Brett O’Malley called.

“What’s with the jeans?” Officer Pamela Mead chimed in. “It’s like eighty degrees and humid tonight.”

Sandra curved in, and he took that as a green light that they were stopping. He slowed to a walk and amicably strolled up to the pair as if he didn’t have a psycho aiming for the back of his head. The hairs at the nape of his neck twinged and his skin crawled. The motherfucker had to be staring at them. He flicked a quick glance at Sandra and caught the tightening around her eyes as she gave him a small shake of her head. Shit. He didn’t know what to do: lie to his friends and cover for her until she told him what the hell was going on or narc on her.

As always, he used his gut to make the decision.

“You caught me, Pam.” He grinned at the overweight woman with the huge heart. “I’m afraid I let my male pride get the better of me and accepted Ms. Walsh’s challenge.”

Brett leaned forward, curiosity and blatant interest broadcasting from his handsome face.

Grady ground his teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Brett asked, running his gaze up and down Sandra’s body. “What’s the challenge?”

“Who could run the farthest, fastest.” Grady blurted the first thing that jumped into his head. Lame.

Sandra’s mouth quirked, and she flicked him an amused glance before continuing her surveillance.

Pam laughed. “Only you. I take it no winner has been declared yet?”

“Nah. You saw us. Neck and neck.”

“Hmmm,” Pam said. “I believe Ms. Walsh was in front, if I remember correctly.”

“Ladies first and all,” he retorted, garnering a laugh from everyone.

Sandra straightened. “Can I use the restroom? I don’t want anything slowing me down from my big victory.” She fist-pumped the air.

“Officer Brett O’Malley at your service, ma’am,” Brett replied, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I’ll be happy to show you where it’s at. Think of it as an armed escort to ensure your safety for the glorious triumph over this lug.”

Sandra smiled wide, giving the officer cow eyes as she accepted his arm. “That’d be wonderful, Officer O’Malley.”

Slimy bastard.

Pam slid her arm around his. “Come on, Romeo, I’ll be your armed escort.”

Sandra’s head whipped around, a haunted expression filling her eyes as she searched his face. For a moment, he could have sworn she hadn’t seen him. Did she actually know a guy named Romeo? He tucked it away for further analysis and allowed Pam to lead him inside.

Why had he never noticed how pompous Brett actually was? The guy didn’t act this way when they got together with the others to play poker. Grady tuned in to Brett’s conversation and groaned. Not the armed robbery story again.

“So there I was,” Brett expounded, “standing in line to pay for my lunch, when this ass—excuse my language—when this bad guy runs in with a revolver and starts demanding all the money from the cashier.” He hustled forward a step. “Let me get the door for you.”

Sandra dipped her chin and smiled as she glided past, then waited in the lobby area. Grady grabbed the door from the obnoxious man and gestured for Pam to precede him.

“Where was I?” Brett asked, then continued speaking before anyone could answer. “I dump my food on the closest shelf, pull my gun out, and tell him to drop it.” To make the story worse, Brett actually simulated each action with his fingers. The guy now stood with his hands clasped together in a gun pose.

Ridiculous.

“Then what happened?” Sandra asked.

Grady blinked. She wasn’t seriously interested in this, was she? After he’d witnessed her not bat an eye at her apartment being trashed and a madman shooting at them?

“He shoots me!” Brett crowed.

“If I remember correctly,” Grady couldn’t stop himself from butting in, “that bullet strayed so far left, it wasn’t even close to you. It took out a rack of Doritos.”

Brett’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Yeah, but he was aiming to shoot again. I tackled him before he got the chance.”

“Tripped and fell on him, more like it,” Grady muttered.

Sandra’s shoulders shook, but she didn’t say a word.

“Here you go, madam,” Brett said loudly, holding open the ladies’ room door.

Sandra disentangled her arm and replied with so much sweetness, Grady’s teeth hurt. “Thank you, Officer O’Malley. I’ve got it from here.”

“Of course. Of course.” Brett stepped back, sucked in his stomach, and waved until the door closed.

“Pathetic,” Pam said, patting Brett on the shoulder.

***

Gotchu bastard.
The SBG operative slowed his steps and ducked behind a Dumpster in the side alley. By the time he’d disentangled himself from the senile biddy, everyone was already running. What the hell kind of convoluted path Wraith had them on eluded him, but at least he didn’t lose her.

He should have carte blanche authorization to take out old bats like that when they interfered with his plans. They already had their time on Earth to be useful.

He crept closer. A police cruiser rolled to a stop on the main street ahead of him and parked in a diagonal slot. The operative craned his neck forward and spotted the giant letters affixed to the front of the brick building:
RIDGE CREEK POL
ICE STATION
.

Great.
But now Wraith’s path made more sense.

The top of a red head peered around a doorjamb from a business’s side entrance. The guy’s focus was completely set on the station.

Rookie.

A great operative always knew exactly what was going on in the area around him. Time to teach the punk his last lesson.

He palmed a knife and silently stalked forward.

The first inkling the kid had of his presence was when he clamped a hand over the guy’s mouth and held the blade to his throat. “Hello, Granger,” the operative whispered into the other SBG assassin’s ear.

Granger froze a half a beat before he reared back, slamming the operative into the other side of the door frame. The operative didn’t let go. He wrenched Granger’s head to the side and murmured, “Wraith is
mine
,” just as he swiped his blade over the guy’s vocal cords.

***

Grady gripped the sides of the bathroom sink and stared in the mirror. “What the hell are you doing? Walk away now before you get in any deeper.” The memory of what happened to Ashlyn tripped through his mind as his heart lurched at the thought of walking away from Sandra. “Stupid organs.”

He washed his hands and resituated his clothing better to hide the Beretta. Even though he had a permit to carry the weapon, the last thing he needed was to recount how a slip of a girl managed to knock him out and how he’d been stupid enough to chase after her with a loaded gun. Brett would eat that up as he threw him in the holding tank just to impress Sandra some more.

Supercilious blowfish.

Grady emerged and followed the sound of Sandra’s voice. She sat in an ugly chair beside an equally beat-up desk and told Brett about a time she fell off her bike and a nice police officer was there to pick her up. To help dry her tears, the officer had driven her back to her house in the police car with the lights flashing the whole way.

Nice memory.
Wonder if it’s true.

Stop that,
he ordered his mind. He had no clue what was going on, and heading down that path was only going to drive him crazy.

She captured his eyes and stood. “I think we’ve taken up enough of their time. Shall we decide the winner once and for all?”

He bowed. “By all means.”

She flashed Brett a giant smile. “Thank you so much for your Southern hospitality. You’ve made your mama proud.” She turned to Pam. “It was nice meeting you, Officer Mead.”

Pam’s eyes crinkled. “Call me Pam. And believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”

Sandra laced her arm through Grady’s and addressed the officers. “Is there a back door, by any chance? I want to kick this race up a notch and change the location.”

“Sure thing.” Brett hopped off the edge of his desk. “Follow me.” He led them through a maze of mostly empty desks to a narrow hallway. Only a few rooms branched off before they found themselves at the exit. Brett held it open. “Good luck, Ms. Walsh. I’m rooting for you.” He followed them outside.

“Ready?” she asked as she hunkered into an exaggerated stance.

“Yep.”

“Then go!”

They took off, leaving the sanctuary of the station behind.

Victor flipped the page of Wraith’s legal-size file and stared at the eight-by-ten glossy photo. The woman really was striking. He’d give his predecessors some credit for cultivating the beauty into the deadly marksman she became.

Until she royally fucked up and cost him a shitload of money and resources trying to rein in Delta Squad from tearing half of Mexico apart in their quest to “avenge her death.” Had he just been a sucker to fall for their grieving, or were they
all
fooled? Not to mention the medical bills he footed for Magician’s recovery after that op. He could’ve bought a third-world country with that money.

He glanced at the clock. Granger should have checked in at least once by now. Inducting the young assassin into his own personal assassin squad may have been premature. The kid showed promise, but he was brash and hadn’t learned the art of finesse yet.

A Navy clock in the next room chimed loudly. Damn safe house. He needed to get out of this self-imposed prison, but couldn’t leave until the rogue operative had been neutralized.

What was the point of having his own personal squad to protect him if those sons of bitches couldn’t find a lone female when he supplied the leads? If he had to, he’d command the actual squads to help in the search, but would rather leave them out of it until the last possible minute. No one in that part of the agency knew who was in his personal team, and he’d prefer to leave it that way.

He leafed through the rest of the papers, not sure what he was searching for but hoping an inconsistency would pop out at him. His nephew did his usual thorough job in compiling all this information, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore that small kernel of doubt. He hadn’t missed the way Ted winced when he’d ordered Wraith’s status changed to Rogue, nor had he missed the way Ted’s face reddened, then drained at the plan of giving the MIT roommate all the information to pass on. His nephew had always been a little soft when it came to the messier side of being an operative and doing whatever it took to get the job done, but he remained loyal. Was he still loyal?

Being the CEO of a Black Ops agency when the rest of the world believed it was just a bunch of environmental, tree-hugging activists was not easy. With only him, the Board of Directors, and a few select employees knowing its true formation, every decision he made was to uphold the value and meaning of the word
classified
. Yes, he handed unfortunate verdicts down, but the second an operative showed disloyalty they could no longer be trusted. Like when an operative wanted to quit. He had to ensure that operative’s retirement was short-lived so the stupid son of a bitch didn’t have the opportunity to run his mouth during a drunken episode and expose them all.

Was he going to have to handle Ted now too?

The phone rang.

“Hello.”

“It’s Mars. Wraith is not in Sonora, California.”

Damn. “Fine. Head to the airport; I’ve got another job for you.”

***

Sandra scoped the area again but saw nothing. Her intuition told her the gunman was gone, but where would he have disappeared to? Their little jaunt into the police station shouldn’t have been enough to chase the operative away. Especially one of SBG’s ilk. She hated to admit it, but his sudden departure made her more nervous than his firing at them. At least then she knew what he was up to.

She slowed the pace to an easy, steady jog. Grady fell in step beside her and stayed silent as they moved through the side streets. She took as many alleys as she could and even doubled back twice, but still felt nothing.

“My turn to lead,” he said as he increased his speed.

“What?” She quickened her steps to catch up.

He didn’t answer, damn him. Instead, he continued running in the direction of the park.

“It could be a trap,” she tried again, hoping to get through his thick head.

Nothing. Just more speed. Shit.

They used the side roads to avoid her house and blocked around to the park’s parking lot. He slowed his pace and paused behind an evergreen tree. She stopped with him and curled her hands into fists to prevent them from wrapping around his neck.

She moved into his space and stood on her toes, clamping a hand over his sweaty shoulder and placing her mouth to his ear. He stiffened and grabbed her waist. “That was reckless. This could be a trap, and we just ran right into it.”

His hand tightened and he placed his lips on her lobe. A shiver coursed down her spine, and she liked the feeling a lot more than was prudent for the situation. “No. It was smart,” he whispered. “The more we run in circles, the higher chance we have of being spotted and picked off. We need to put distance between us. Besides, how would he know what I drive?”

Loaded question, but luckily she could sidestep that land mine for now. He was right about one thing, damn it; they couldn’t run the streets all night. “Fine, but we do this my way.”

She scanned the area and spotted another SUV. “Stay here.” She didn’t wait for a response, instead jogging over to the truck and crouching at the back. She fumbled in her purse and finally found her emergency tool kit. Without a second thought, she unscrewed the license plate and headed back.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”

“Protecting you,” she retorted, bypassing him and beelining for the Range Rover. She made quick work of switching the plates while ignoring his squawking about legalities. She ran back with Grady on her heels and screwed his tag onto the other SUV.

“Trust me, he won’t notice.”

“
I
noticed.” He stood with his hands on his hips, his brow creased from his fierce frown.

“Better this than them finding you,” she stated as she finished the last bolt.

“
Them?
Now there’s more than one?”

Shit. She needed to be more careful about what she revealed. She marched back to his truck. “We can’t talk here, and I’ve said too much already. Get in and drive.”

“You haven’t said anything.” For a fearful minute, she thought he was going to refuse. He finally unarmed the truck and yanked the door open. After they settled inside, he put it in gear and drove out of the lot. “Where to?”

If he thought that was bad, he was going to love this. “Your home. You need to pack a bag.”

The SUV jerked. “Why?”

“You own a laptop?”

“Yeah.” He dragged the word out.

“It have Wi-Fi or satellite or some way to get to the Internet?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Pack that too.” She fiddled with the spiral dragon pendant, hoping to channel the strength, courage, and wisdom it stood for.

“Sandra.” His voice gave a clear warning he was reaching his limit. “Stop ignoring me. Why am I packing a bag and laptop? Where are we going?”

Trees whizzed by along the empty stretch of highway. She had never been to his house, but knew he lived beyond the entertainment center, farther into the mountains. Both were in the opposite direction of town, and she could already feel some of the tension leaving her. It was a false feeling of security, but she clung to it.

“I’m going to ask you to trust me,” she finally answered.

“Seeing as how you won’t trust
me
enough to tell me what the hell is going on, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She had to throw him a bone. “If they’ve found me, I’m afraid you may be in danger. Especially if the gunman talks. He knows your name now. I said it in the kitchen right before I heard the floorboard creak.”

“There’s that ‘they’ again.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “He heard my last name. Not the whole thing.”

“I can’t be sure what he knows, but if he’s done his homework, he’ll know exactly who you are just from that.” She chewed on her lip and debated whether to confide her fear or keep silent.

The intensity behind his divided stare as he drove weighed on her.
Fuck it.
It may convince him not to go off half-cocked. “I’ll be honest; I don’t like how he just disappeared. Until I know where he went, you’re in too deep to walk away.” She scowled at her clenched fists and finished softly, “You can’t go back to the life you had if you want to keep those you love safe. Not yet, anyway.”

“What the fuck, Sandra?”

“I warned you repeatedly. Now you can see why I knocked you out and tried to get you to stay away. I didn’t want you involved in this.”

“I don’t see anything! If these supposed ‘mystery men’”—he held his hands up like quotes—“know so much about you, then they’d know you work for me. They’d have found me anyway to locate you when you disappeared. Am I right?”

Her gut knotted at the truthfulness of his words.

“I’ll take your silence as an affirmative.”

They pulled into one end of a circular driveway and stopped at the peak. The house bisecting the land was a beautiful, sprawling rancher. Gorgeous wood and stone made up the facade.

“What a fabulous place,” she breathed, instantly falling in love with it. “It’s so peaceful.”

He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. “It belonged to my parents before they retired to Florida and sold it to me.” He marched around the front, and she hopped out to meet him.

The melodic songs from the crickets filled the air as a warm breeze filtered under her sweaty polo. The hum of a motorcycle invaded the tranquil scene, but even that sounded muted through the dense trees around her.

She already knew how Grady obtained ownership of the house, and pretty much every other major detail in his life, but figured she didn’t need to reveal that bombshell quite yet.

They entered the house in silence. Oh, wow. The floor plan was open with a cathedral ceiling, leaving plenty of space for the light from the spotlights to shine through the expansive windows filling the entire back wall. She bet in the daytime the view was spectacular. A faint scent of furniture polish hit her nose as if he had cleaned recently.

He stopped at a plush L-shaped couch and pivoted. “So what’s your plan?”

Just like that, the spell was broken.

“We go underground.”

“I’m assuming you don’t mean that literally.”

“Unless you know of bunker in the mountains that still has an Internet connection, no.”

“What’s so important about the Internet? You jonesing for a sale?”

“Ha. Ha. I need to jump on a message board.”

He crossed his arms; the position just served to show off his biceps. She suspected that’s why he did it so much. He leaned on the back of the couch. “And?”

“And don’t worry about it yet. I really need you to pack. I’ll raid your kitchen for nonperishables.”

He didn’t budge.

Damn. The first part of the evening she couldn’t convince him to go away. Now she couldn’t convince him to stay by her side for his own protection? What the hell? “Time is not on our side here. We gotta go.”

He dropped his arms and stalked forward. She held her ground. Just watching him move closer had her adrenaline pumping and her skin tingling in anticipation. He stopped inches away, his height looming above her. So not the time to notice how full and inviting his lips were. Nor the time to breathe in his addicting scent and instantly be ready for him.

His gaze darkened as it captured hers. He raised a hand and traced a finger down her cheek. “Since you’ve made it clear time is of the essence . . .” he said, his voice low and husky.

Her heart skipped a beat. Damn her for that statement.

“I’ll make this brief.” He leaned down until he was a breath away from her mouth.

Her lungs stopped working.

“Why don’t we call the cops?”

Huh?

“Since I found you outside of your apartment, I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind that had me lying to two friends who could help.”

Her brain was loath to switch gears from its fantasies to process his actual words, but it was starting to catch up despite his proximity to her lips.

He continued his gruff words. “What makes you so set against their help?” He straightened and held her gaze. “I have to be honest, you’re sounding a little on the paranoid side.”

“Paranoid,” she repeated flatly, the sudden distance from his mouth helping to clear her head. “A gunman chasing us through the streets is a delusion, huh?”

His lips thinned. “No, but
he
chased us. I’ve yet to hear about a
them
this guy works for.”

Even though she didn’t blame him for his doubts, to hear them voiced out loud stung. She could respect him for asking logical questions because she had to face it, she wasn’t giving him anything to go on. “Trust me” was only going to get so far, and apparently that meant to his front door.

“I get it, Grady. I’ve been asking for a lot and not giving anything in return.” She sighed. “We can’t go to your friends because I don’t want them hurt. I promise to tell you what I can, but I need for you to bear with me a little while longer.”

They held each other’s gaze. She could read nothing in his expression, making her heart wring. Normally he was so easygoing and simple to read. Guess she was getting introduced to the other side of Casper Grady, military man.

“I’m only going to go along with this for so long, then it’s time you come clean.”

“Fair enough.”

“I think I might know somewhere we can go.”

“Is it connected to you?”

“Sort of.”

“Then forget it.”

“What I mean is, I have a Marine buddy who got called back overseas, and he owns a place up in the mountains.”

“How do you know about it?”

“I helped build it. It’s remote and not well known.”

“It gets Internet?”

“He’s not a hermit or anything. He just likes his privacy. I’ve got the codes to use the wireless signal.”

“Good. Grab your stuff.”

***

Carlos shut the French doors of his Miami home and strolled across the cement patio. He trod past the shallow end of the pool and hit send on his cell phone. Waves from the ocean crashed against the surf, and a light breeze flipped his silk shirt’s collar against his chin.

“Hey, Tío.”

“Emilio,” Carlos replied, watching a ship’s running lights move across the dark water. “I’m growing very impatient with the lack of progress your professor has made in identifying the woman in the video.”