Hunted (31 page)

His boys filed out, organized themselves, then covertly infiltrated the area and got into position around the residence to do some up-close surveillance. Matt watched them via satellite link, each member’s heat signature showing up bright green. They’d use camera wires to verify nothing was rigged and take a good look around inside before reporting back to him.

“If he’s here I’ll… Hell, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Celida muttered from beside him in the passenger seat. “We’ve searched this area before, practically all of southern Louisiana, three months ago. Nothing turned up. And you mean to tell me he’s been living right here?”

It seemed improbable, but stranger things had happened.

His cell buzzed with an incoming text. Bauer, reporting that Zoe was being released, Leticia had been reunited with her son, and Ruiz was in surgery.

Take a few days off and look after your girl
, he texted back.
You’ve earned them
.

“Zoe’s being released,” he told Celida.

The other agent sighed in relief. “That’s great news, thanks. Was that Bauer?”

“Yeah. He’ll stay with her.”

She shook her head, an ironic smile on her face. “Gotta say, I didn’t see that one coming. Her and Bauer.”

“Don’t think any of us did.” It did him good to know that the hard-assed Bauer had met his match in a woman strong enough to stand up to him, and beside him. Matt had been lucky to have a woman like that at his side for nearly nine years. If Bauer was smart, he’d recognize what he had and hold onto her.

He shifted his focus back to the screen showing the live feed. Twenty minutes later, Evers, who was acting as team leader for the op, spoke over the team radio link. “We got eyes inside. Looks clear, no trip wires. We good to go?”

“Green light,” Matt told him. Heart rate picking up, he watched his guys ram the back door in to execute the search warrant. The moment they entered he lost sight of them on the satellite feed, but he could still hear them as the team swept the first floor.

“First floor clear,” Vance announced in a whisper a minute later. “Moving up to the second.”

“Copy that,” Matt said and held up one finger to Celida and Travers to indicate the first floor was clear.

“Clear,” Evers said soon after that. “Heading to third floor.”

“Copy,” Matt responded, holding up two fingers for the others.

Celida and Travers were silent, their gazes riveted to the screen of his phone as they awaited word about the third floor. Either al-Tunisi was hiding up there, or he’d somehow gotten wind of the warrant and slipped away before the team had arrived.

“Found him,” Evers said two minutes later. “Third floor’s secure.”

“He alive?” Matt asked, already opening his door and hurrying to the townhouse.

“Nope.”

He glanced at Celida and Travers, who were right behind him, and shook his head. Celida frowned and followed him to the back door in the cool night air. Travers was on his phone, calling the cops to provide a more secure perimeter. Neighbors were already starting to spill out onto the sidewalk in front, talking to the uniformed officer there.

Matt entered the back of the townhouse, stepping into the kitchen. All the lights were on. He could hear the TV going from the attached living room.

Something was cooking on the stove and a carton of orange juice was on the island in the kitchen. Everything suggested that al-Tunisi had just stepped out of the room for a moment.

Together with Celida and Travers, Matt started up the two flights of stairs to the third floor.

“In here.”

At Cruz’s voice from down the hall, Matt turned left and headed down a short hallway.

“He’s in the master bathroom,” Evers said from behind him.

Matt entered the bedroom and stepped up next to Cruz, who angled to the side and allowed him to see into the connecting bathroom. Al-Tunisi lay on the floor, two bullets in his chest and a hole in the center of his forehead, his pants down around his calves.

Assassinated while on the toilet. And from the way the blood hadn’t yet congealed around him, not very long ago.

Letting out a low whistle, Matt eased to the side to let Celida and Travers see.

“Holy shit,” Celida muttered. In the mirror she looked as surprised as Matt felt. “Who do you think did it?”

“No idea.” But he’d love to find out. Right after he verified who’d sent him that text.

Travers got on his phone, had a short conversation and shook his head as the call ended. “Nobody reported gunshots to the cops. Neighbors must not have heard them.”

“A suppressor,” DeLuca guessed, both impressed and a little worried by this turn of events. He was glad al-Tunisi was dead, but who the hell had done the hit? Someone had got wind of it and tipped Matt off.

Confused, he went outside to look around, some sixth sense making the back of his neck tingle. Outside it was quiet, only the slight breeze in the trees disturbing the air. At the end of the walkway he stopped to scan the area. He didn’t see anything suspicious, so he went back inside.

Two hours later when he was back at the field office with Celida and Travers, his analyst called with more intel. Matt put her on speaker.

“I searched through the satellite feed for the area and found something you need to see. Sending it to you now.”

“All right.” An image appeared on the big, wall-mounted screen at the far end of the room. All three of them stared at the picture, and the single heat signature approaching the rear of the townhouse.

“This was thirty minutes before your team’s arrival,” the analyst told them. “Watch what happens.”

Matt stared in amazement as the figure climbed up the rear wall of the townhouse and entered the third floor window. A rifle was outlined against their shoulder.

“Who the hell is that?” Celida said.

“Can you get a shot of their face?” Matt asked the woman.

“Just a sec.”

Another picture came on screen. From her end the analyst zoomed in multiple times and did more fancy tricks with the imaging program until a grainy image of the person’s face became visible.

Shock reverberated through him as recognition dawned.

B.

Matt stared. She had on a skullcap and the image wasn’t good enough quality for him to prove it was her, but he knew it was.

Holy shit.
She’d
done this? And contacted him because why? She’d somehow known he was with Celida and Travers, two of the top agents in the domestic terrorism division?

Matt didn’t buy it. In his business, this kind of information was never free. She had to want something in return. A favor of some sort. What, he didn’t know. And he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know what kind of favor she’d have in mind for something like this.

“What, you know her?” Celida asked. Travers was staring at him too.

“Maybe.”

“Who is she?”

He shook his head, his mouth twisting in a sardonic smile. “I could tell you, but then she’d have to kill you.”

****

“You sure you wanna go back to your place? They’re holding a hotel room for us,” Clay said.

Still nestled in his lap in the back of the SUV Tuck was driving back to New Orleans, Zoe shook her head. “I’m sure.” She wanted to go back to her place. The sooner she faced being there, where she was attacked, the better. “Gonna have to stay there alone when you leave anyhow.”

Clay sighed and stroked a hand over her hair. “Okay.”

No one spoke for the rest of the long drive and she was glad, able to drift in and out of sleep with Clay’s arms around her. When they got into The Quarter Tuck parked at the curb beside her building. “I’ll check in with you guys in the morning,” he said to them. “Celida’s gonna want to see you again, and your parents too.”

They’d all come to the hospital to check on her. Her mother had been frantic but with Tuck, Clay and Celida there to run interference, Zoe had missed most of the emotional drama and had been able to soak up the hugs and fussing both her parents had given her instead. “Sounds good,” she murmured and started to push up in Clay’s lap.

He stayed her with a firm hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her back against his chest. Not having the energy to argue and loving the way he’d been taking care of her ever since he’d shown up at the ambulance, Zoe sighed and rested her head on his muscled shoulder. She was a strong, independent woman, but right now it felt good to be held.

Clay carefully lifted her out of the vehicle and carried her to her gate. It had a new lock on it, she noticed, stiffening as she braced herself for the sight of the blood on the old brick in the courtyard, where her poor elderly neighbor had been gunned down.

“It’s all cleaned up,” Clay told her, striding for the door. A new one. “I put a new door in but didn’t paint it yet. I can do that tomorrow.”

His thoughtfulness overwhelmed her. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Zoe twined her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw anyway, because it wasn’t
nothing
to her. After everything she’d been through, it was amazing to come home to this.

He got the door unlocked and disarmed the security system before reaching back to lock it behind them. “What do you want right now?” he asked, striding for the stairs.

“Shower,” she said. “And a toothbrush.” Not necessarily in that order.

“Sure.”

In the bathroom he set her on her feet and started up the shower. Zoe waited until he stepped out to give her some privacy before using the toilet, then washed her face, brushed her teeth and swished mouthwash around to get rid of the lingering taste of Carlos’s blood she swore was still in there. After rinsing the sink, she finally confronted her image in the mirror. She definitely looked like hell. Or at least like she’d been through hell.

But she was lucky to be alive.

Traces of black eye makeup were still smudged beneath her eyes, her face a little swollen and discolored where Carlos had hit her, her lower lip bruised and a tiny cut on it that stung every time she talked or touched her tongue to it.

Her wounded shoulder throbbed but Schroder had been right and they hadn’t given her any stitches at the hospital. The burning in her throat and lungs would lessen in the next few days, they’d told her. Right now she wanted to get clean then curl up in Clay’s arms and sleep for the next week straight.

Turning away from the sink, Zoe sighed as she stripped out of the XXL T-shirt and sweatpants one of the guys on Clay’s team had loaned her at the hospital. In the shower she tipped her head back and groaned in mingled pleasure and relief at the feel of the hot water sluicing over her, and set about rubbing shampoo into her hair.

She looked over her shoulder as the shower curtain slid aside and Clay stepped into the tub, stark naked. Her heart gave a hard thump at the sight of all those powerful muscles bared to her gaze, but she was too damn sore and exhausted to enjoy him properly at the moment. Not to mention mentally drained.

Without a word he moved in behind her, the tub suddenly seeming tiny with him crowding the small space. He took her hands and pulled them down to her sides, his fingers wrapping around hers.

“Are you really okay?” he asked, staring into her eyes, his expression full of concern.

“Mostly,” she admitted. It would take time to deal with everything, but she was strong and she had lots of support. Support she wasn’t afraid to ask for when she needed it. Beginning with Clay. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Clay pushed out a long exhalation. He gave a terse shake of his head, his eyes tormented. When he lifted a hand to brush a wet strand of hair back from her face, she was shocked to feel the tremor in it. “I thought I’d lost you.” His voice was rough.

Zoe swallowed, blinked back tears. “I thought you had too.” She’d never forget how close those bullets had come to hitting her, or how near those flames had been. That sick feeling of desperation and helplessness at not being able to escape.

He didn’t look away, kept stroking the side of her face. “I wanted to run in there and find you. But I couldn’t without exposing all of us on the team.” He pulled in a deep breath, his anguish clear. “God, knowing you might be in there and not being able to help you was…”

Zoe set her hand against his and pressed her cheek against his palm, her heart twisting at the pain in his voice, on his face. “They got me out. And I understand why you couldn’t leave. You had to get Carlos.”

Clay closed his eyes as though he couldn’t bear it. “Jesus, don’t even say that fucker’s name.”

“Okay.” She pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Just hold me.”

His eyes opened. The hand cradling the side of her face tightened slightly, his expression fierce. “I’ve never felt like that before and I wouldn’t want to again. Do you even realize what you mean to me?”

She smiled, totally undone at how emotionally vulnerable he was allowing himself to be with her. “I think so.”

He shook his head slowly, as if he didn’t believe her. “I swore I’d never let another woman in again, but you… I couldn’t keep you out even if I tried, and I don’t want to.”

Tears stung her eyes at the frank admission. “I’m glad you don’t. And I’ve never let a man in this far before either. Ever. Only you.” Not even her ex-husband. She realized that now. She’d loved and trusted him, but maybe she’d been subconsciously holding back because some part of her had known he wasn’t completely trustworthy. After being officially involved with him for only a day, she’d let Clay in past every defense she had. He’d seen the proof of that in the bedroom.

Something ignited in his eyes at her admission. Pride. Triumph maybe. Whatever it was, it made his gaze more intense than she’d ever seen it. “I won’t ever let you down again.”

Oh, God, Clay…
Zoe swallowed back tears. “I know you won’t.”

He nodded, gave her a little half-smile that turned her inside out before his face became serious again. “I’m not good at this, Zo. Saying how I feel. But I need you to know I’m trying. I’m sure I’ll fuck up along the way so just…be patient with me, okay? You mean so much to me and it took almost losing you to make me confront that. I want this to work. I want to see where this goes and so I’m just gonna say it. I need you, all right? I fucking
need
you.”