Hunted (30 page)

Zoe looked away from him, searching for Clay. He hadn’t been far behind them. Where was he?

Pounding footsteps reached her, then Clay burst out of the darkness into the circle of light created by the emergency vehicles. “
Zoe
.” His painted face concealed his expression but she could see the anguish in his startlingly blue eyes as he drew near.

A funny sound, half-whimper, half-sob escaped from her throat. She sat up, reaching for him and a second later she was engulfed in his arms.

Zoe buried her face against his wet chest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking all over.
Thank you, thank you.

“God.
God
, Zoe,” he whispered against her hair, his arms clamped around her like he was afraid someone would try to tear her away.

She nodded in agreement against his damp uniform, clutching at the front of it with desperate fingers. He pressed his face to her hair and held her, the way his arms trembled telling her just how scared he was that she’d died.

And just like that, everything faded away but him. Even through the faint smell of the swamp water and smoke on him she could smell the scent of his skin and it comforted her. Clay had her. She was safe.

A sob jerked her chest. Then another. And another.

“Ah, baby, I know,” he murmured, cradling her closer.

Zoe couldn’t stop it. She let the tears burst free, secure in the protective circle of his arms. She didn’t know how long she cried but when the sobs eased at last, she barely had the strength to move.

“Bauer. Let me check her over.”

Clay lifted his head at Schroder’s voice, then gazed down into her face as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? He’ll take good care of you, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoe nodded, quivers still wracking her body, and lay back on the stretcher as Schroder moved in. Clay stood at her side, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. His touch helped center her.

“Let’s start with getting these out of the way.” With a pair of medical scissors Schroder cut the plastic cuffs from her wrists.

Immediately she reached up and locked her fingers around Clay’s hand. He wrapped his hand around hers, squeezed tight and didn’t let go. “Th-thank you,” she said to Schroder. She’d hated having her hands bound, it made her feel helpless.

The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Don’t thank me, it was Cruz who pulled you out the window.”

Zoe turned her attention to the other man, offered a teary smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with a shrug, and tucked a blanket over her.

“You hurting anywhere, Zo?” Clay asked, still stroking her hair with his free hand.

“Sh-shoulder.” Her mind was filled with a thousand questions, but the shock was setting in. She was shaking all over, she realized. Rapid jerks of her muscles she had no control over.

Schroder set a hand on the side of her face. “Anywhere else?”

Zoe sighed. Just her lungs, the bits of wood in her shoulder and the scrapes she’d gotten. The few bruises Carlos had put on her face barely registered now. None of it life-threatening, unless she was way deeper in shock than she realized. She shook her head, the motion unsteady.

His eyes met hers. Calm. Sure. Zoe found her heart rate easing. “You’ve got lots of blood on your face,” he said.

“Not m-mine,” she managed, her jaw shaking along with the rest of her. “Bit him.”

“Good for you. Bet he tasted like fucking hell, too,” he said, rummaging through a kit he had with him.

“Y-yes.” She couldn’t wait to wash the taste of his blood out of her mouth.

Schroder pulled back the blanket and swept his hands over her, checking for more blood. “Your right shoulder?”

She nodded, grateful for the pressure of Clay’s hand around hers. Solid. Steady. Anchoring her.

“Just lie still for me, okay? I’m gonna clean you up a bit and see exactly what we’re dealing with. The other paramedics are busy treating Ruiz at the moment, so you’ll have to suffer making do with me.”

Zoe half-chuckled at his teasing tone. “I’d rather it be y-you.” She stayed still while he began cutting her dress off, only a little embarrassed at having him see her in her underwear. He was a highly trained medic and he was so unbelievably calm. She tilted her head back to look up at Clay. “Is Ruiz dead?” she finally asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered with a scowl as Schroder shifted her to get a better look at her shoulder. “He’s in custody and bleeding from a few bullet holes though.”

Good. She hoped he was fucking suffering.

“I’m gonna pull these splinters out. Hold on tight to Bauer’s hand. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She nodded, tightening her fingers. Pain she could handle, but she’d never felt this emotionally raw before. “W-what about Leticia?”

“She’s fine. Paramedics are checking her out right now too,” Clay said.

It really was over.

Relieved, Zoe closed her eyes and tried not to flinch as Schroder began pulling the splinters out of the back of her shoulder. The tiny wounds stung like hell when he cleaned them with something. She clutched the blanket to her chest and tried not to think at all, floating above the pain as occasional coughs wracked her.

“Don’t think any of these need stitches,” he said, “but you’re not gonna want to move this arm very much for the next day or two.”

“She won’t need to, because I’ll be with her,” Clay said.

Zoe clung to his hand, grateful that he was going to stay, but didn’t open her eyes. A few minutes later Schroder put a bandage on her, wiped her face and gave her water to rinse her mouth with. “There,” he said with a smile. “You look much better. Although that blood gave you a real creepy Goth look.”

It surprised a laugh out of her. She coughed, jackknifed into a sitting position as it jolted through her. Clay grabbed her, bracing her against his body, his arms around her. Finally they subsided, leaving her sagging in his hold. God, she ached and throbbed all over. And she was suddenly exhausted.

“Zoe.”

She opened her eyes at the sound of her cousin’s voice. Clay eased back to give Tuck room and her cousin immediately engulfed her in a hug. She flinched as the wounds in her shoulder protested, but didn’t say anything. It felt so good to have Tuck’s arms around her.

Tuck pulled back and took her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. “How are you?”

“Been better,” she answered, a sudden lump in her throat, his familiar drawl washing over her.

“No doubt.” He pushed out a long exhalation, shook his head, then turned his attention to Schroder. “So? How is she really?”

“Great. Little banged up and she’ll have to go to the hospital for more smoke inhalation treatment, but I think that’s it.” His hazel eyes met hers. “She’s lucky.”

Zoe knew it. It was still so hard to take everything in that had happened. She didn’t even know how to begin processing all of this. “Leticia’s son, Xander,” she said to Tuck. “We left him in the woods—”

“He’s fine, darlin’. Cops picked him up and he’ll be taken to the hospital to meet his mom. Happy endings all around.”

The side of her mouth that wasn’t cut pulled upward in a half-grin. “You know how much I love happy endings.”

Tuck smiled. “Yeah, I do. I’ll call Celida and your parents to update them.”

Zoe nodded her thanks and sighed, letting her eyes close as a wave of exhaustion rolled over her. She was hanging on by a thread emotionally and it wouldn’t take much for it to snap.

“I’m going with her to the hospital,” Clay said, lying her back against the stretcher as the paramedics came to load her into the ambulance. No one argued and just before the doors shut he climbed inside, perched his big frame beside the stretcher and took her hand in his.

Matt DeLuca turned away from Celida and Agent Travers when his phone chimed with an incoming text. He didn’t recognize the number but the message itself made everything go still inside him. It gave the name of a terrorist on the FBI’s Most Wanted List and an address.

A terrorist rumored to be a higher up in the cell Ruiz had been waiting for tonight, the same cell the dead tango at the hotel had belonged to. Talk about high fucking value.

From one of the good guys
, it read. No name, no clue as to who’d sent it. Hardly anyone had his private number, so someone sending him a message to this number meant something important.

He glanced over at the others. “Excuse me a minute.” He walked a short distance away and called an analyst he’d worked with on previous cases. “Need you to trace this number and get me a visual of an address,” he told her, and gave her the details. “Call me back when you’ve got something.”

Putting the phone in his pocket, he turned back and surveyed the scene. Celida and Travers were speaking to three other agents. Bauer and Tuck had gone to the hospital with Zoe and Leticia. Schroder had snagged a ride there with a cop. Ruiz was on his way to the hospital as well, and as soon as he was treated he’d be transferred to a holding facility for questioning. Fire crews had put out the fire and forensics teams were on scene gathering evidence.

One double agent tango in custody, none of his guys were hurt, and they’d secured both female hostages. As far as ops went, the mission had been a total success. The scene was secure. Everything was locked down and taken care of, barring a shitload of paperwork and several debriefings. Given that Tuck and Clay were in the middle of taking care of Zoe, DeLuca had no problem letting the formalities of protocol slide until tomorrow.

Travers raised his eyebrows at him as Matt walked back toward them. “What’ve you got?”

“Maybe al-Tunisi.” Rumored to be at the helm of all the sleeper cells in the area, and closely linked to the activity going on in Juarez, including the men who were supposed to link up with Ruiz tonight. Possibly manipulating all of it.

At that Celida stopped talking to the other agents and stared at him. “No freaking way.” She frowned. “Who’s it from?”

He shrugged, pulled out his phone and swiped in the code before handing it to her. “Dunno.” One of the good guys, the message said. Rycroft maybe? Had to be someone with ties to the intelligence community.

“We’ve been hunting this bastard for almost a year now,” Celida muttered, excitement in every line of her body as she re-read the message. She looked up at him. “You sure it’s not a setup?”

“Checking that out now.” al-Tunisi was a high value target. If he was there, they had to expect he’d be well armed with small arms and maybe explosives. Matt wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “Can you get me a warrant?”

“Sure,” Travers said, and got on his own phone.

A second later Matt’s phone rang in Celida’s hand. He grabbed it from her and answered. “Yeah.”

“Number is from a burner phone,” the analyst said without preamble. “The address is in a suburb of northern Baton Rouge, listed as owned by a company called Victory Enterprises. So far I can’t find anything about it. No web presence, no tax information, like it doesn’t exist, so it could be a front. Might be a shell company though, so I’ll keep checking. I’m sending you the link to the satellite images I just pulled up.”

“Thanks. Stand by, I might need something more.”

“You got it.”

“Well?” Celida was practically squirming with anticipation as he ended the call.

“Burner phone. Place is in the northern part of town, owned by some company there’s no apparent trace of. An analyst is tracking it now. I’m pulling up recent satellite images she sent.”

Once he had them on screen he angled it so the three of them could look together. The images showed a subdivision of townhomes in a suburban neighborhood, bordered by a thick greenbelt on two sides. Very private, appeared to be upscale.

But then, al-Tunisi was a chemical engineer by trade, and they made pretty good coin. Of course there was also the influx of money donated by admirers and supporters overseas. Matt wondered what they’d think of their donations being spent on such luxurious housing for one of the cell members.

While he waited for word on the warrant, Matt called Rycroft. The NSA agent answered on the second ring with a gruff hello.

“It’s DeLuca. I got your message.”

A slight pause. “What message?”

“About al-Tunisi.”

“What about him?”

Cold settled in Matt’s stomach at the confusion in Rycroft’s voice. “I’m looking at a satellite feed of his townhouse in northern Baton Rouge. We’re about to act on the tip you sent me.”

“Interesting,” Rycroft said. “But I didn’t send you any message.”

Matt frowned and ended the conversation. He glanced at Travers, who was still on his phone. A warning tingle started at the base of his neck. If Rycroft hadn’t sent him the tip, who the hell had?

Travers lowered his phone and nodded at them. “Got the warrant.” He sighed. “This feels too good to be true but just in case it isn’t, I don’t wanna waste time getting a team together and briefing them all from scratch. Can we use your guys to do the recon?”

“Yeah. Gimme a few minutes to alert them.” He’d already been thinking the same thing, and his guys were the best, but without knowing who’d sent him that text, there was a very strong possibility it was a trap. His boys weren’t going in until they were sure it wasn’t.

Matt got back on his phone. In cases like this where a HVT was involved and the intel was perishable, he had the authority to move in fast. He’d leave Bauer and Tuck at the hospital and have one of the sniper teams cover for them.

He had everyone assembled and briefed within half an hour, and they split up into three vehicles.

Celida grinned as she headed for the one Matt was driving. “Shotgun,” she said to him.

“I get shotgun,” Travers argued, hurrying after her. “I’m your boss.”

“Too late, already called it,” she called over her shoulder. She hopped in the front seat while Travers climbed in back and Matt settled behind the wheel.

He plugged the address into the vehicle’s GPS system and led the way, driving the sixteen minutes to the north side of Baton Rouge. They turned down a quiet side street one block over and parked the vehicles where they’d be concealed by a screen of trees.