Secret Identity (29 page)

Amanda edged toward the doorway with an answering nod.

Punching in a quick call for help, he hit Send.

“Anything?” he asked, keeping his voice at a whisper.

“Very still downstairs,” she answered, her eyes ablaze with adrenaline. As much as he didn’t want either of them to be here, facing God only knew what was waiting for them downstairs, he had to admit that Amanda hadn’t looked this alive since he’d seen her last in Tablis.

“You love this,” he said quietly.

She shot him an odd look. “Oh, yeah, impending death is a big turn-on.”

“You never wanted to leave the CIA.” It was why she’d agreed to the breakup. Why they both had. Because they’d loved their jobs.

“Kind of a moot point now,” she whispered back.

“What if you could get your career back? Would you do it?”

She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Hell, maybe he had. “Can we table the career-day discussion until after we get out of this mess?”

The faint sound of footsteps padded slowly up the stairs to the second floor. From Rick’s vantage point, it sounded like only one person. Amanda turned to look at him and held up one finger, corroborating his assessment. Two on one—better odds than he could have hoped for.

But why only one person?

The sound of gunfire in the woods outside made him jerk. Amanda looked at him in alarm.

Had the SSU operatives found one of his cousins? Or maybe stumbled onto Damon and shot first before asking any questions?

The footsteps on the stairs receded, and now the noise was downstairs again. Rick heard the front door creak open and footsteps on the wooden slats of the porch outside.

“He’s gone, for now,” Amanda whispered.

Rick’s phone vibrated in his hand. A text message from Jake. SSU firing on position—moving to higher ground. Cavalry on way. He showed the message to Amanda.

“Who’s the cavalry?”

“All the Coopers—my brothers and sisters, any of my cousins who are available. Three of my cousins are married to cops who work on the local forces.” Jake typed in a rapid reply and sent it. “Most of them know these woods like the backs of their own hands.”

“Then we need to go out there and help them,” Amanda insisted, already moving toward the door.

He caught her arm, making her wince as his fingers closed around her injured elbow. He loosened the grip. “Sorry. But we sit tight until we know what’s going on.”

“Stay out of the fight?” Her eyes widened with disbelief.

He pressed his fingertips against her lips. “Come here. Sit down. Keep your eyes and your ears open. I just returned a text to Jake letting him know where we are and asking him to let us know where he needs us. But for now, we wait.”

Reluctance painting her expression, she complied, sitting next to him on the bed. She looked like one raw nerve, quivering and ready to snap, jumping when he laid his hand against the middle of her back.

“I just want this over,” she said softly, making a visible effort to relax beneath his comforting touch.

“And then what?”

She shot him another look suggesting he’d lost his mind. “I guess I’ll figure that out if I get there.”

“When you get there.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Are you leaving me when this is over?” The question came out a lot needier than it had sounded in his head when he first thought to ask it. He pressed his lips together in a flat line, annoyed with himself.

Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t thought past the next few minutes, Rick. I have no idea how to answer that question.”

His chest ached. “A simple ‘no’ would have been nice.”

She shook her head. “I have no idea who I am anymore. Or what I want.”

“Or who you want.”

The look that came knifing his way from her blue eyes stung. “You can’t question that I want you. Not after the last couple of days.”

“You wanted me before, but you walked away easily enough.”

Her forehead creased. “There was nothing easy about it. And I wasn’t the only one who walked.”

“I know.” He rubbed his jaw in frustration. Why wasn’t Jake texting him back? Or Gabe? Were they both out of commission?

Were they dead?

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we’d just said to hell with our jobs?” she asked quietly, the question catching him by surprise.

“All the time,” he admitted.

“And what do you conclude?”

Before he could answer, his cell phone vibrated. “It’s from my cousin Aaron.” He retrieved the text message. SSU backed up. About to take cover in cabin. Still inside?

“We’re about to have unwanted visitors again,” Rick murmured as he sent a text in reply.

“How many?”

“I just asked that question, as well as how many of the good guys are out there.”

Downstairs, the sound of gunfire picked up and the door crashed open. A barrage of footsteps and raised voices filled the silent void below.

“Okay, baby, showtime.” Rick stood and edged his way into the hall. “I’m guessing they’ll send at least a couple of guys up here—higher ground will give them an advantage.”

“So we take them out.”

“If we can. They may not be expecting anyone to be up here, so that could give us the advantage of surprise.” He motioned for her to stay where she was while he darted across the stair landing to the two rooms that flanked the stairs to the right. Each of them flattened against the wall, locking gazes across the gap.

I love you,
he thought, the realization washing over him like liquid heat. He wished there was time to say the words aloud. But as he’d guessed, footsteps came pounding up the stairs, moving at a fast clip.

He gave a quick nod to Amanda. She nodded back.

The first man stepped onto the landing, already turning toward the hallway where Amanda stood. She greeted him by grabbing the strap of his rifle and hauling him to the ground. He didn’t have time to react before she was on top of him, stripping the weapon away and sending it sliding out of reach.

Rick barely had a second to see her take action before a second man came into view. As he turned toward the commotion Amanda and the first intruder were making, Rick grabbed him from behind, slamming him against the wall. He jerked the rifle away before the man could react and shoved the barrel of his Walther against the man’s throat.

“Not a word,” he growled.

The man wore a black balaclava over his face, but the glittering brown eyes visible through the narrow slit in the mask looked familiar. Those eyes widened as he recognized Rick, as well. He uttered a foul epithet.

Rick’s gut tightened. “Salvatore Beckett. I could have gone a lifetime without meeting you again.”

“Mutual, Cooper.” Beckett tried to struggle against Rick’s hold, but for all the older man’s burly strength, Rick outweighed him by twenty pounds and his relative youth made him stronger and quicker.

He disarmed Beckett, sliding the rifle out of reach and stripping him of the Glock holstered at the older man’s hip. “Check for other weapons,” he told Amanda as he pulled out the plastic flex cuffs he’d borrowed from his cousin. Hauling Beckett face-first into the wall, he jerked the man’s hands behind him and fastened the cuffs.

Rick glanced over at Amanda. She had twisted the man’s arm up behind his back, applying pressure. She looked over her shoulder at Rick. “Got any more of those?” she asked quietly.

He tossed her a spare set of flex cuffs, and she secured the other man.

“All I gotta do is yell,” Beckett said with a laugh.

Rick pulled his mask off and shoved the knit hood into Beckett’s mouth, pressing his knees hard into the man’s groin when he started to twist away.

Across the hall, Amanda gagged her own prisoner with his mask. “Don’t suppose you have any duct tape in that pocket?”

“Next best thing.” He reached into the survival kit attached to his belt and pulled out a roll of surgical tape, shoving Beckett into the wall again when he started to struggle. He wrapped the tape around Beckett’s mouth to secure the gag in place, then tossed the roll to Amanda.

After they’d stripped both men of radios, weapons and anything they could use to get free, they wrapped tape around the men’s ankles and hogtied their feet and hands together behind their backs. Depositing them both in the closest bedroom and closing the door, they met each other back in the hallway. Amanda was breathing hard from the exertion, but her eyes lit up with blue fire as she grabbed one of the discarded rifles.

“That,” she said in a low, breathless voice, “was bloody amazing.”

He bent and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Welcome back, Tara Brady.”

Her lips curved in a brief smile, but the sounds of gunfire coming from downstairs drew their attention back to the danger at hand. Rick grabbed the rifle he’d taken from Beckett and strapped it over his shoulder.

His cell phone vibrated. He checked the text message. This message was from his cousin Aaron. “There are twenty deputies surrounding the house. They’ve established there are six men in here. We’ve captured two, but there are still four well-armed, adrenaline-pumped men downstairs.”

“How do we even the odds?”

Rick grinned as a memory floated through his mind. “We call a couple more up here,” he said in a nasal Brooklyn brogue.

“Wow, where’d that come from?”

“Remember me telling you about working with Salvatore Beckett?” Rick asked, picking up the radio he’d stripped from the former MacLear SSU team leader. “Well, I forgot to tell you that one of the ways my partner and I passed the time while we were watching Amahl Dubrov was to practice mimicking Beckett’s accent. I got pretty damned good at it.” He thumbed the radio switch. “Need assistance upstairs!”

Amanda crossed the hall again, leveling the procured rifle at the stair landing. Again, her eyes met his across the gap, and this time he said the words aloud. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened, her brow furrowing. She shook her head and whispered, “No.”

Rick’s heart sank, but he didn’t have time to dwell on regrets.

More footsteps were pounding up the stairs, heading straight toward them.

Chapter Eighteen

Two more operatives flooded into the zone. Rick grabbed the first one, gripping the extended barrel of the rifle he carried and hauling him around to smack hard into the wall. He ripped the weapon away, but not before the man yelled, “Intruders!”

For the next few seconds, sheer madness prevailed. The second gunman running up the steps, alerted by the commotion and the shout of his compatriot, came in low and ready. He got off two rounds, gouging holes in the drywall down the hall.

Rick couldn’t see Amanda. Had she fallen?

He forced his mind back to his own problem, shoving the man he’d grabbed to the floor and disarming him as quickly as he could. No time to gag him, and it was too late, anyway, now that he’d set off the alarm. Behind him, he heard gunfire—rifle shots—and he hauled the man into one of the unoccupied bedrooms.