Storm Warning (Security Specialists International Book 4) (27 page)

“Man, if you find out where MacLean is exactly,” Crocker said. “I’ll go in and put a bullet right between his eyes myself.”

“If I find out where he is, one of my SEAL brothers will beat you to him.” Tweeter grinned. “They’ve been itching to go after the bastard ever since he had his goons torture Keely.”

“Yeah, I heard about that way after the fact. Read the report and saw the pictures of the warehouse where they held her. That was when the CIA—and I—got involved, even though it was on U.S. soil. The ramifications of MacLean’s actions were global. He had to go. Plus, Keely was one of NCS’s contract employees at the time. Say what you will about my bosses, they don’t like it when their civilian COMINT and HUMINT operatives are hurt.”

Tweeter examined the man’s face. Everything in what he said and how he said it told him Crocker was telling the gospel truth. “Tell Ren that when you meet him. He might not take off your balls and shove them down your throat. Vanko, well, you might want to stay away from him for a while longer. You actually touched Elana. Ukrainians have long memories.”

“Don’t blame Petriv at all. If I had a woman and someone kidnapped and terrorized her with her biggest fear, I’d be looking for retribution, too.” Crocker stood. “You need to be on your way. I’ll lag behind y’all by an hour or so.”

Crocker turned toward Conn. “There’s a bar in the small village that built up around the resort. Let’s say I meet you there mid-afternoon for a drink and then I’ll show you where I’m set up. We can then reconnoiter the area around the resort together. You might see something I missed. I’m still trying to figure out why Oraio bought the damn place.”

Conn stood and clapped a hand on Crocker’s back. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring you one of our headsets and give you our rolling frequency code, so we can stay in touch with each other.

“Sounds like a plan.” Crocker turned away from Conn and toward Tweeter. “Good luck, Walsh. I hope you’re as good and as fast as you think you are.” Crocker turned to go down to the swim deck, then paused and spoke over his shoulder, “Keep in mind. These guys get even the hint you’re more than you appear to be, you’ll be dead on the spot, and neither Conn nor I will be close enough to stop it.”

“We’re aware. You watch your own ass,” returned Tweeter.

“Always.” Crocker waved and climbed down to lower aft deck, then dove off the swim platform and returned to his boat.

Tweeter turned to Conn. “Conclusions?—Is he on the up-and-up? My reading of him says yes, but you know him better.”

“He is,” Conn said. No doubt in his face or voice at all. “The man was an excellent Marine. If I stuck him, he’d bleed red, white, and blue.” He paused and took a drink of his beer. “When he left the Marines, I was shocked. Thought he’d be a lifer. It makes sense now—he was recruited for NCS black ops shit by the CI-fucking-A.”

Conn’s confirmation settled any remaining doubts Tweeter might have had.

“Are you going to let Ren and Keely know you might already be compromised?” DJ turned to Tweeter.

“It’s a very slim possibility, but yeah. No matter what I said to Crocker…” Tweeter took a drink of DJ’s soda. “It’s Ren’s decision if the op’s still viable.”

And Keely would make Ren see reason. Tweeter was that good and that fast of a hacker.

“What if one of the other hackers recognizes you from somewhere?” DJ shoulder-bumped him. “I’d hate to have to shoot up a resort with civilians present and then steal an Apache helicopter the first night we’re there.”

Tweeter grinned. “You do what you have to do. Just promise me, you’ll stay away from the Albatross.”

Rossi had a sick history with women, and leggy blondes were his prey of choice. The women he pursued often ended up dead, or wished they were once the fucker was done with them.

DJ’s eyes went blank for a few seconds. Dammit, was she having a flashback? Then she shuddered. Her eyes full of life once more, she laid her cheek against his arm. “I read his dossier,” she said. “I saw the photos of his victims.”

“Fuck, sugar, if you—”

“Shh.” She rubbed her cheek on his arm. “I’ll be fine. What Varney did to me has no resemblance to what this sick fuck did to his victims. Plus, I’m not helpless. He tries anything with me when you aren’t around, I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” He rose. “You finish eating. Conn and I will go up to the bridge and get us moving again. Then I’ll call Ren.”

“I’ll be sunning. Come get me when you’re done.” DJ looked at him through her lashes. “We can take a nap. I don’t see us getting a lot of sleep once we’re at the resort.”

“If I do my job, we’ll leave in the early morning hours tomorrow.”

“That fast?” DJ looked surprised and pleased.

“I’m that good.” He winked at her.

“Oh, I knew that, Ace.”

When Conn laughed, Tweeter shoved him against the bar.

February 25th, Gato Grande Resort, Belize

After a short wilderness walk in the rainforest to scope out Crocker’s hiding spot, DJ and Ace took a leisurely stroll by the tennis courts. Sitting on a bench, they pretended to watch the couple attempting to play tennis. There were more misses, than hits, and the woman giggled a lot. Since they were told upon check-in the whole resort had been rented out for the hack-a-thon, it seemed another hacker had brought his “arm candy.”

“So? What do you think?” Ace whispered into her ear and while there took a little nuzzle and then a nip of her lobe.

“They both need lessons.” The man had just swung and missed a ball she could’ve returned when she was four.

Ace chuckled into the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. “Not them. I meant the other reason we’re sitting here in the heat and humidity instead of taking a shower together.”

She turned to give him a kiss and muttered, “It’s a helicopter. I can fly anything with a rotor on it.” She sucked on his lower lip then let it go. It was also loaded with some heavy duty ordnance. Once they’d completed their mission and were well away, they’d need to give the Belizean Defense Force a heads up.

“Itching to fly it?” She shrugged. Ace chuckled. “You so are.”

“Yeah, but flying that particular bird means something went horribly wrong.” She looked into his eyes. “I’d like to avoid a goat rope.”

“We’ll be fine. Not one of Oraio’s men gave me more than a passing glance when I picked up my packet. I got more response from the other hackers when they heard O’Riley call me the Phantom.” Ace pulled her closer and leaned his head against hers. “I think those two are drunk or on something. No one can be that bad at tennis.”

“Um, I think it’s foreplay,” she replied.

“Why would you say that?”

DJ snickered. “You mean you hadn’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“Darlin’, she isn’t wearing a bra or panties. Her double-Ds are bouncing all over the damn place and she has a Brazilian wax—and I think I saw a tattoo on her butt cheek when she picked up her ball a second ago.”

Ace whistled. “Damn, I didn’t even notice. No wonder the guy’s distracted.”

“Yeah, he isn’t even trying to hit her the balls so she can return them. She’s playing along. Do you think she’s a paid companion? Because that guy, bless his heart, has a face only his momma could love.”

The guy was also middling height, skinny, pasty white and getting a sunburn fast, and had no muscle tone. And wasn’t that superficial of her? He was probably very smart and nice. But since meeting and falling for Ace, she’d compared all other males to him, and they all ended up on the losing side.

“Now that you’ve pointed out the elephant on the tennis court.” He rubbed his cheek over her hair. “I can say your breasts and ass are much, much nicer than hers—and real.”

“Aww, thanks, Ace.” She patted his thigh. “Now, tell me what’s going on after dinner?”

“O’Riley has set up a lightning round hack to weed the lesser talents out before he explains exactly what Oraio wants to see in the later rounds from a potential employee.” Tweeter grinned. “Plays right into my schedule, since I can mine what I need from the system while I’m doing the preliminary hacks.”

“Why take a chance where people might catch you?” She frowned. “I thought you were going to get what you needed from the safety of our suite after the evening’s fun was over?”

“That was the plan. But, according to the information packet, their closed network will only be live during hacking hours.” Ace’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Oraio and his people are smarter about closed networks than either Keely or I thought. Of course, back then we were under the impression Oraio was a clueless Brazilian businessman who needed cyber-help, not a former Defense intelligence officer who just needs a top-notch hacker.”

“Well, hell.” She settled into the curve of his arm. “Are we still on target for leaving before dawn tomorrow?”

“Yeah, as long as Oraio hasn’t planted any traps in his programs. Most of what I need to find out will be obvious by merely accessing the closed network. Since closed networks are to hackers what catnip is to cats, I probably won’t be the only hacker poking around. If more than one of us is trolling around in his network, there’s a good chance Oraio will shrug it off.”

“Or kill the hackers caught doing it,” DJ said. A realistic possibility considering with whom they were dealing.

“Don’t worry. I’d be surprised if they even caught a whiff of me in their system.” He kissed the side of her head. “Once I have what I need, we’ll bug out. Seen enough of the lay out?”

While they’d talked, DJ had taken in more than just the inept tennis players. “Yeah, the chopper maintenance crew may be A-type, but the security guards are lax.”

The two men guarding the Apache and whatever else was in the hanger were smoking and playing with their cell phones rather than making security rounds and keeping eyes on their surroundings. She could take both of them out at once, if she had to.

“Yeah. My dad would have their asses on report.” Ace eyed the building and the area around it. “They do have cameras, though.”

“Not worried,” DJ said. “If we have to use the Apache, we’ll have other issues than security cameras.”

Ace stood and gave her a hand up. “We’ll be fine. Let’s go check out the big shower and lie down before dinner.” He guided her away from the tennis courts, his arm around her waist.

“But I’m not tired,” DJ said.

“Neither am I.” He squeezed her waist.

****

Dinnertime

The resort’s dining area was in a faux palapa-styled building open to the outside along two walls. The area was lit with torches that seemed to keep the mosquitos away, for which DJ was grateful. Her dress, what there was of it, revealed her shoulders, lots of cleavage, and her back. At least the outfit covered her legs to her ankle which protected her from vampire bugs and allowed her to carry a small gun and a knife strapped to her thighs.

As Ace seated her at their designated table, he kissed her bare shoulder. “You smell and taste like vanilla and lemons.”

“So do you.” She grinned up at him. “I’m stealing as many bottles of the resort’s body products I can when we leave.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice since this was her role—the superficial piece of arm candy.

The other couple at the table laughed. The only other occupant was a single girl who was a picture of unrelieved black set off against white skin—black hair, dark brown almost black eyes, and black Goth-like clothing that made DJ hot just to look at her. The girl’s nails were sensibly hacker-short and painted in a dark, blood red polish.

Goth girl stared at DJ as if she’d crawled out from under a rock.

The haughty expression struck a note of familiarity, but for the life of her, DJ couldn’t figure out why. She was fairly sure she’d never met anyone who dressed that way.

The woman from the couple smiled. “I love the body products also. I’ve already put them in my case, hoping they’ll give me more when they do the room tomorrow.” She offered her hand to Ace who sat next to her. “I’m Bev Landry and this is my husband Jeff. Jeff is here to try out for the job. I’m just along, because I love traveling with him. He goes to such interesting places.”

Goth girl rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath that DJ thought sounded like “fucking plum.” It didn’t sound like a compliment.

Ace smiled and shook the friendly woman’s hand. “Hi, Bev and Jeff.” Jeff nodded. “I’m Erik Slade—”

Jeff gasped and looked impressed—and maybe a bit worried about making the cut.

Ace’s fake name had Goth girl straightening in her chair and turning a piercing stare on him. The expression on Goth girl’s face was shrewd and intensely perceptive, and it was one DJ had seen somewhere before. While DJ still couldn’t remember who or where or when, she knew one thing, for sure—this girl wasn’t as young as she wanted people to believe and she wasn’t just another hacker.

“This is my fiancée, Dahlia. One name. She’s an up-and-coming model.” Ace smiled at DJ as if she were a goddess among mere mortals. The best thing about his adoring smile, was she knew he really felt that way about her.

“I’m Dawn Wilson,” Goth girl offered in a cultured British accent that didn’t gibe with her punk looks. “I haven’t seen you in any magazines.”

Even the name seemed familiar. If it wasn’t her real name, it was damn close.

DJ gave Dawn a big smile. “Because I haven’t actually been in one yet. The photographer Evan Moreau asked me to model for him. He discovered Calista and Tessa, you know?” Best to stick as close to the truth as possible. She fingered the bright turquoise silk of her dress. “Evan got me this Dolce & Gabanna dress from their new resort wear line.”

Evan at Callie’s request had overnighted it to the yacht. The photographer actually did want her and Callie to model for him after the other woman had given birth. Would never happen, but DJ could use it as part of her cover story.

“Really?” Dawn raised a very nicely groomed dark brow. “What kind of shoots? I do so like the fashion scene.”

Well, that was a bald-faced lie. Dawn’s tone said she could care less.

“For a new line of fragrances from a designer whose name I can’t divulge at this point. Callie will be Venus and I’m to be Athena. Evan also mentioned a
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit gig. My darlin’ doesn’t want me doing that.”

“Absolutely not. The only man who gets to see you nearly naked is me.” Ace picked up her left hand and kissed her ring finger. Bev and Jeff smiled their approval. Dawn just looked slightly nauseated. “So, Dawn, what’s your avatar? Mine’s Phantom.”

“Well, Phantom,” Dawn smiled slyly, “I’m known as Queen Maeve.”

DJ knew something of Celtic mythology. Maeve was a very powerful Celtic goddess, a warrioress, and—

“The king-maker,” Ace replied. “I’ve seen your work. You’re good.”

But not as good as Ace, DJ concluded, since Dawn frowned.

“Yeah, well, I figure you have a few years on me, mate,” Dawn replied, a snarky tone to her voice. “When I’m your age, we’ll compare hacks.”

Then Dawn teethed the tip of her tongue.

Bingo! The nervous habit brought all the puzzle pieces together. Dawn Wilson had also been her name while they’d worked together on a joint drug task force in Central America. Dawn had been on loan from Interpol, and DJ had flown Dawn and the rest of the team around the Darien Region. The petite Brit was close to DJ’s age. While her hair was actually black, the things that had thrown off DJ’s identifying her sooner were the shapeless clothes hiding a pocket Venus figure and the dark eyes. Dawn’s eyes were a pure peridot green.

DJ had liked Dawn. The agent had to recognize DJ, because they’d been the only two women on that particular task force.

“Well, Dawn…” DJ picked up her water glass and saluted the other woman. “We’ll have to talk fashion later. Maybe when you take a break during the hacking session.

“Maybe.” Dawn returned the gesture with a can of Diet Coke. “But I won’t be leaving my computer often. I want to win that job.”

“We’ll find some time. I’ll be in the conference room all evening. My darlin’ loves for me to massage his shoulders.” DJ turned and kissed Ace’s cheek. “His neck gets so stiff hunching over that dang computer. I’ll just check on you, too, and bring you a drink and a snack since you’re all by your lonesome. We can talk then.”

“You are too kind.” Dawn narrowed her eyes at DJ.

The Brit was pissed. Too bad. DJ wanted to know what the fuck the Interpol agent was doing here and if it was going to mess up SSI’s op.

Ace looked between DJ and Dawn. Knowledge flashed in his eyes. He understood she knew Dawn. “My Dahlia is such a good little masseuse.” He played with DJ’s engagement ring. “She keeps me all loose and relaxed. Dontcha, sugar?”

DJ nodded, then blushed as Dawn muttered loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear, “I’ll bet.”

****

“Quick before O’Riley and the others get here.” Tweeter murmured against her ear. To anyone entering the currently empty conference room, it would appear he was being amorous. “You recognized Dawn Wilson. Who is she?”

“Real name is Dawn Wilson. She’s Interpol, on their drug task force. I met her in Central America when my unit was assigned to help the Panamanians in their fight against the narcotrafficantes.”

“Well, hell.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to—” DJ went silent. Her eyes widened with alarm and then she stiffened. “Fuck.”

Tweeter turned and saw that Rossi had entered the room along several other people. The enforcer’s black, hundred-yard stare was fixed on DJ. The Albatross had DJ’s scent now and was on the hunt.

Rossi had first singled DJ out during dinner. He’d made his interest known by joining their table during dessert, taking the empty seat between Dawn and DJ. He’d ignored everyone else at the table and practically salivated over DJ.

DJ had sensed Tweeter’s unease and had pulled his hand to her thigh, the one where she’d strapped her gun. The gesture had been her not-so-subtle way of reminding him the female was often deadlier than the male, especially his female.

“That man’s evil.” DJ shuddered. “I hate to admit it, but after reading his dossier back at Sanctuary, I had a tiny flashback to the rape.”

Tweeter’s stomach churned. He wanted to throw DJ over his shoulder and take her away from here—and fuck the mission. But while the action would make him feel better, doing so would belittle DJ’s abilities and courage. He couldn’t hurt her that way. She trusted him to believe in her.

Of course, the reality that she could defend herself didn’t allay his need to protect her. Right now, his primitive side wanted to destroy the fucker for even breathing DJ’s air.

“Can I just shoot him?” DJ turned toward him, a glint in her eye. “I could take a walk. The bastard will follow.
Bam, bam
. Two bullets, heart and head. He’d be food for the big cats this resort is named for.”

“Don’t even think of going anywhere alone.” Tweeter winced at how overbearing he sounded. But just the thought of her, alone, in the dark, with no backup, threatened to drive him bat shit crazy. He caressed her lower back and spoke in a more pacifying tone, “Please … I want you within my line of sight or hearing all evening.”