Safe Harbor (5 page)

Hell. Jonas wanted to hit something all over again. How many kids had he seen die? For nothing. For power or money or somebody else's ideology. His vision blurred and he touched his face, shocked when his fingers came away wet. He was too damned old for this. What was he doing?

Jackson dropped a hand on his shoulder, and they both halted, crouching low. "You can't save them all," he reminded him quietly.

Jonas didn't respond. Hell, no, he knew that, but he should have been watching out for Terry. He was weary of death and ugliness, of the mess people made of the world. And he was damned tired of running. "You sure on the count?"

"I saw four, but they aren't the ones behind us. I'm only hearing two and they aren't very quiet, definitely not Karl or the Gadiyan brothers. We've got two others circling around trying to get in front of us. I think the big guns are pulling out and leaving the expendables behind."

Jonas checked the loads in his gun. "Why would they do that?"

"They tore up the hospital. Someone had to have called the cops," Jackson said as they rounded a corner. He stopped running and signaled Jonas to keep going.

A bullet hit the wall behind them and plaster rained down on them. Both hit the ground rolling for cover. Jackson went to the left and managed to lie flat behind a low wall of bricks, and Jonas crawled his way through a thin hedge to crouch behind a small outcropping on a utility building.

"Did you see where it came from?" Jackson asked, his gaze coolly quartering the surrounding area.

"Nope. But I think he was above us from the angle of the shot." And that wasn't good. The shooter would have better vision.

"My thoughts exactly. Cover me." Jackson scooted fast along the brick wall, until he came to a small opening. "Ready?"

Jonas took his gun in a two-handed grip, finger on the trigger. "Go." He kept his eyes on the roof of the small utility building.

Jackson was up and over the wall, avoiding the opening, but diving into a hedge that lined the narrow walkway right beneath the building where they were certain the shooter hid.

Jonas kept his gun steady, finger taking up the slack. A flash of movement above their heads and he pulled the trigger, a steady, one-two-three barrage of shots. A body teetered for a moment and then tumbled from the roof, gun landing on the metal and sliding down to the ground.

Jonas kept his weapon trained on the shooter, moving up to check for a pulse even as gunfire erupted to his left. He saw Jackson roll and come up firing. The second man was caught in the throat and went over backward, blown off his feet to lie facedown in the dirt.

"We may have company," Jonas said. "There are still two of them out there."

"I'll do a quick recon and make a call," Jackson said. "Can you identify either of them?"

"Definitely Boris Tarasov's soldiers," Jonas replied. "I've seen this one in the mug shots a dozen times. He's all over the war room next to Duncan's office."

With two of the mobsters and the worst of the bunch, the Gadiyans and Karl, still unaccounted for, Jonas wasn't taking any chances, sinking back into cover while Jackson went up onto the roof tops to try to make the call for backup. Duncan had a lot to answer for. Sending them in blind as if they were a couple of rookies was bull. More importantly, someone close to Duncan had betrayed them.

"I called it in," Jackson said, returning. "Duncan's sending a team to mop up and get us out of here. There's no sign of the other two. He said to stay out of sight."

"You mean stay away from his team?"

"That's what I understood."

Jonas muttered an obscenity and then crouched a distance from the bodies, sending out a silent call.
Hannah? You okay
? He knew what it cost her to expend so much energy.

A soft breeze kept leaves on the trees fluttering, but she didn't answer. His chest tightened. "So do you think she's all right?" Jonas asked. "I've tried connecting with her, but she isn't responding."

"Hannah?" Jackson was silent for a moment, turning his face up to the sky. "Yeah, she's all right. She's weak, but you knew she would be."

Hannah, answer me
. Jonas despised the desperation he felt when he couldn't reach her. His adrenaline overloaded, heart beating too fast, too hard. Even his mouth went dry. Hannah had to be all right all the time or he just went to pieces, and for a man in his position, that was a death sentence. He definitely had to resolve this issue.

The wind swept over the building, this time more of a soft breeze. It rustled leaves on the trees and dropped down into the narrow lane where they crouched to ruffle his hair and touch his face as if soothing him. He heard his name, a soft sigh of a sound, a whisper teasing at the back of his mind.
Jonas. Come home to me
.

He glanced over his shoulder at Jackson. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I heard it." Jackson stared over Jonas's head to the street, watching for their enemy while they waited for the man who had gotten them into so much trouble. "How long have you known the Drake family?" he asked.

"I think I met them when I was around seven. My mother was very sick and I took over the household pretty early. It could get lonely and, when mom was bad, pretty scary for a kid, so I spent a lot of time in their home. The Drakes just let me come and go as I grew up. I used to climb in through a window when the front door was locked because I didn't want to bother going around to the back of the house, but they never said a word about it to me."

"And now the girls do the same thing," Jackson said.

Jackson was forcing conversation to keep him on his feet. Jonas knew Jackson rarely talked, not even to him. He didn't like physical contact, yet there he was, one hand on Jonas's sorry shoulder, the way he'd been doing all night, the way he did every time they went into battle together. "Yeah, they're my family and I'm not dragging them down into my world, especially Hannah."

Jackson flashed a small, humorless smile. "I hate to break it to you, bro, but she's already in your world, they all are."

Jonas shook his head and reached out again.
Hannah, are you alone tonight
? He hadn't felt the presence of any other energy like he normally would have if her sisters had helped provide the storm.
Where's Sarah
? Hannah needed someone with her after all the energy she'd used. He felt her touch, a small tentative brush… as if she was too tired to do more.
Are you still outside, on the captain's walk
? It was difficult maintaining the connection, the distance too far, and Hannah too weak. She was the stronger psychic and usually kept the bridge open between them.

Jonas felt anxiety creeping in. "I think she's still on the captain's walk, Jackson. She's alone and cold and weak. No one's there to help her. I've got to get back to her." She'd sacrificed tonight for him—for both men—and he wasn't about to leave her alone, drained of her energy. She needed to be inside, where it was warm, a cup of her special tea in her hands and Jonas watching over her through the rest of the night.

Hang in there, Hannah. I'll be there as soon as possible.

There was that gentle breeze again, so soft, brushing over his face like the touch of fingers.
I could use a little help tonight
.

That was a rare admission from Hannah, and his heart turned over.
I'm coming, baby, just give me a little time to wrap this up. Can you make it into the house
? He didn't want her lying in the biting cold, too weak to move. He was a four-hour drive away, not too far as the crow flew, but a long distance on winding roads.

I'll be waiting.

To Jonas's astonishment, Duncan arrived and shepherded them to his car while, behind them, his men moved out of the shadows to take control of the situation. Duncan drove them through the streets of the city back to his office, entering through a back way. It didn't take long to discover what they had captured on film. Duncan erupted into a barrage of swearing. Petr Tarasov murdered an undercover officer right in front of their eyes. It was the kind of evidence that could bring a death penalty conviction without too much trouble.

"We thought he was in solid with the Tarasovs." Duncan swore again and passed his hands over his face.

"No wonder Karl and the Gadiyans kept coming after us and then sent their soldiers when it got too hot. I'll bet they're already making tracks out of the country," Jonas said.

"Petr Tarasov is going to fry for this," Duncan snapped, fury in his voice.

The three watched in silence, a gasp of shock the only reaction until the man in the coat and hat walked up to Boris, the head of the crime family, and Boris turned his head to stare straight at the camera.

"Any ideas who tipped him off?" Duncan asked in a tight voice. "We'll need the guys in the lab to enhance this as much as possible. We need to find out who this son of a bitch is as soon as possible."

"He has to be one of yours. He must have tipped off Tarasov you had an agent undercover and then he got wind you sent someone in to film the low-level meeting. Only there was no meeting because the information your undercover fed you was his own setup. They got him there to kill him," Jonas said.

"We'll find the son of a bitch. He doesn't know who you are. No one does. I kept your names out of it on purpose."

"Because you suspected you had a leak," Jonas guessed, exchanging a long look with Jackson. He felt sick that he'd been standing there filming when another agent had been murdered in front of him. "At least you have enough to fry Petr Tarasov."

"Good job," Duncan added as an afterthought.

"Yeah, thanks," Jonas replied, working to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I'm out of here."

"Sit down, Harrington, you're not going anywhere until we pick Petr Tarasov up and make absolute certain you're in the clear. I've lost two men and I'm not about to lose any more."

"Thanks for the concern, Duncan, but I'm not part of your team anymore and you sure as hell aren't tying me up tonight," Jonas protested. "I've got somewhere important to go."

"Not until this is cleared, Jonas," Duncan said. "Petr Tarasov murdered an agent and we've caught him red-handed. There's no way to dispute that tape. We've got a traitor in the department and I'm not taking chances with your life. And if that isn't good enough for you, Boris Tarasov believes in retribution. You killed several of his soldiers. He's going to want your head on a silver platter and I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't know who you are before I let you go home. Until we pick up Tarasov, you're going to be kept under wraps."

"Not happening," Jonas said. "I'm not part of the team anymore, Duncan. Obviously you knew you had a traitor or you wouldn't have gone outside the team for this recon. You suspected your undercover, the one who was killed, didn't you? And you wanted me to get evidence on him because you thought maybe he had a partner on your team."

"Something like that," Duncan said, his voice tight. "And I'm not chancing losing another agent. So unless you want this war to follow you right back to where you live, you're going to stay here under wraps until I make sure you're in the clear."

Jonas opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it. Damn it. He didn't want to stay but there was no way in hell that he'd risk bringing that bloodbath in the alley home to Sea Haven. There was no way he'd risk putting Hannah in danger.

"I need to make a phone call."

"That's not happening and you know it, Harrington. No calls, no e-mails, no text messages. We do this clean with nothing pointing back to you. We're taking you out the back way and stashing you until Tarasov is picked up and I'm satisfied he doesn't know your names."

"Who knew we were in the field?" Jonas asked.

"No one should have known. I asked you to help out as a personal favor and gave you Terry to drive. No other member of the team knew about the recon and I wanted to keep it that way. That's why I personally picked you up and got you out of there before the team moved in to deal with the bodies. The Russians play for keeps, Jonas."

"Hell, Duncan, I know that. And I'm sorry about your men." He didn't want to think too much about Terry or the fact that an agent had been murdered not fifty feet from him while he held a camera. The thought sickened him and he couldn't look at Jackson. Sometimes, like now, he was just so fucking soul weary he didn't know what to do. He needed Hannah or he was going to drown.

"I'm not adding you to the list of dead men," Duncan decreed, "so resign yourself, Harrington."

Jonas slumped back in the chair, pushing his hand through his hair. He was dirty, exhausted, covered in blood and hurting like hell now that the anesthesia was wearing off. He looked over at Jackson, shrugged his shoulders and gave in.

Hannah. I'm not making it back tonight.