No Woman Left Behind (4 page)

Chapter Six

I ran across the room and threw myself in his arms, almost knocking him over. His arms went around me.

“Are you alright? Are you bleeding?” I asked.

He held me for a moment before stepping back and studying my face. “I’m fine. Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

I nodded. “We’re good. No one is injured. What happened?”

“He got away. I hit him with return fire. How badly, I’m not sure. I tracked him, but he was good. Highly experienced, whoever he was. I didn’t want to spend more time on finding him in case he was circling back here or serving as a distraction to whatever was going on here.”

The officer who had been questioning me stepped forward. “You’re Slash?”

“I am.”

“What happened here?”

Before he could reply, another uniformed cop ran into the room. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve discovered the bodies of two federal agents in a car parked a little way down the street. Got the CSI unit on the way.”

The officer looked at Slash, who closed his eyes. “My tail.”

My stomach lurched.

“We’ve been instructed to bring this man to headquarters immediately.” He pointed at Slash. “Apparently the chief is coming in to handle this one personally.”

The officer looked between Slash and me for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s highly unusual, but what the chief says is gold. Do it.”

* * *

Apparently the Chief wanted only Slash at that time, so my parents, Beau and I were released from further questioning and permitted to check into a local hotel. The house was a crime scene and we would have people coming and going all night long. I wanted to go home, but Slash had warned me against going anywhere alone until they figured out the purpose of the attack. To make matters worse, reporters arrived just as we were heading out. The police cleared them out so we could get out of the driveway, then escorted us to the hotel, but it wasn’t pretty.

We were all exhausted by the time we got to our rooms. After borrowing a toothbrush from the front desk, I showered, put my T-shirt and undies back on, and immediately climbed in bed. I thought I’d never fall asleep, but I must have been out the second my head hit the pillow.

I didn’t remember anything until I rolled over and realized Slash was passed out next to me, lying on top of the covers fully clothed. His gun lay on the nightstand and his sports coat and shoulder holster had been draped over a chair. Light was peeking in through the curtains. I squinted at the clock. Seven forty-two in the morning. I had no idea when he’d come in, how he’d found me or how he’d got into my room—that was just who Slash was. Master hacker, master of disguise and all-around talented guy.

He made a little noise in his sleep and twitched. I wondered if he was still chasing the bad guy. His face was smashed in the pillow and his mouth was slightly open. He needed a shave.

I reached out and gently pushed back a strand of black hair that had fallen across his forehead. A tenderness, an affection for him, swept through me.

His eyes opened, and he looked at me and smiled. He rolled over on his back, one hand resting on his forehead.

“Hey.” His voice still sounded sleepy.

“Hey back.”

His hand snaked out, catching my wrist and pulling me down on top of him. He rolled me over, kissing me with a warm, lazy heat as if he were still dreaming and wanted to wake slowly.

After a bit, he lifted his head. “Now that’s what I call a good morning.”

I smiled. “Where were you?”

He started nibbling the sensitive skin along my chin, moving toward my ear. “Police station. There was a little party with the DHS, NSA and FBI. Might have had a CIA agent there, too. It was a busy night.”

I struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

He sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows. “The two federal agents who were following me are dead. Executed. As I was directly involved in the incident, I was questioned repeatedly by all the different agencies. They want to see both of us downtown at a CIA satellite office at nine o’clock for more questioning.”

“But I don’t know anything.”

“I know. Something unusual is up. They generally leave questioning like this for local law enforcement.”

I took his hand, pressed it against my cheek. “I’m sorry. I guess dinner at my parents’ house wasn’t a good idea. Except if you hadn’t been there, who knows what might have happened?”

He reached behind my head, pulling me in for another kiss. “You could have been hit,” he murmured. “My worst nightmare.”

“I guess it was my lucky day.”

He cupped my cheek so I was looking directly at him. “And mine. There can’t ever be enough time for me to get my fill of you.”

Before I could say anything, his phone rang.

He swore, but didn’t answer it.

“Get it. It could be important.”

Sighing, he rolled off the bed and snatched his phone from the bedside table. “Hello.”

He listened for a minute, then his gaze raised to meet mine. “Yes, she’s with me.” Frowning, he listened for a bit more. “Twenty minutes.”

Without even saying goodbye, he hung up and set the phone down.

“What was that all about?”

He sat on the bed and rubbed his cheek. “I’m not sure. They want to see me now. Alone. They asked for your whereabouts.”

“They know about us?”

“Of course. They know everything about me, remember?” His voice held a trace of bitterness.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

He leaned in for another kiss, but I could feel the tension in him. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I have to go.”

“Do they still want to question me at nine o’clock?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re safe here for now. There’s an officer stationed outside in the hallway for you and your family’s protection. Stay put until I figure out what’s going on. But you’d better give your boss a call and let him know you won’t be in today.” He pointed at a black duffle in the corner. “I stopped by your place last night and picked up some of your clothes, a toilet kit and your laptop. Order room service and relax. I’ll be back soon.”

He picked up his briefcase and kissed me on the nose. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this sorted out.”

After he left, I took his advice and ordered room service. I hadn’t eaten last night, so I was famished. While I was waiting for the food, I booted up my laptop and called Finn. He wasn’t in yet, so I left a message, giving him the details on my situation. After about twenty minutes, pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausages, pastries, orange juice and coffee were delivered. I dug into the food while surfing the net and tried to return to my happy place, but I had a hard time concentrating.

Someone knocked on my door. I crossed the room, peeked out of the peephole, then opened the door. Rock and Beau strolled in.

“Hey, sis, do I smell coffee?” Beau asked.

“And food,” Rock added, lifting the lid on one plate and checking out the tray. “You didn’t invite us.”

“I didn’t even know you were here,” I said to Rock. “And I thought Beau was still asleep.”

Beau picked up a sausage and ate it. “Nope. Most cops are early risers unless on the night shift.”

Rock grinned. “Yeah, and didn’t you know the early reporter catches the story?” He picked up a mug from the top of the hotel refrigerator and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Speaking of story, what’s going on?”

I returned to the desk, sat, then picked up my own cold coffee. “I don’t know, Rock. Someone shot at us at Mom and Dad’s house last night. I have no idea why. I have to get questioned some more this morning.”

Beau’s eyes narrowed. “How come no one wants to question me or mom and dad? We were there, too. It seems odd.”

It did seem odd, but I wasn’t sure what was going on. I shrugged. “You guys might be next on the list. Slash is with them now.”

Rock perched on the edge of my bed. “So, what’s this I hear about you having a boyfriend? Has the world stopped spinning on its axis?”

“Ha, ha. We just started dating, okay?”

“And he’s already chasing masked intruders through our house?”

“We’re really lucky he was there.”

Rock sobered. “True. Look, something strange is happening. Both Beau and I checked our sources this morning. The incident at Mom and Dad’s isn’t being classified as a burglary or a home invasion. It’s serious, though. Two federal agents were executed. From what Beau tells me, they were following your boyfriend as part of some kind of protection detail.”

“Slash holds a critical position in the US government and is apparently not expendable. Even I’m not sure exactly what he does.”

Beau joined Rock on the edge of the bed. “Well, I thought you might want to know that as of one hour ago, the police reports have been closed out. The incident has been now been classified.”

“Classified? Why?”

“I don’t know, but it’s troubling. Speaking of trouble, how did Mom and Dad like Slash?”

“I don’t have a clue. Dad was cleaning his gun when—”

“Whoa.” Beau held up a hand. “Stop right there. Dad has a gun?”

“Exactly. After brandishing it and informing us he knew how to use it, he interrogated Slash with his finest lawyerly skills before demanding to know about his intentions toward me.”

Rock winced. “Ouch.”

“No kidding. Then all hell broke loose. So, the whole meet-the-parents thing didn’t go as planned.”

Before my brothers could comment there was a knock on the door. Rock looked through the peephole, then opened it. Slash stood there.

“Hey, Slash.” He’d returned sooner than I expected.

“Come on in and join the party.” Rock held out a hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Rock, Lexi’s oldest brother.”

Slash shook hands, then walked in. Beau leaned forward and gave him an open-handed, sideways palm slap that apparently served the same purpose as a handshake.

“Good to see you again, Slash. Can you update us on the situation?”

Something was wrong with Slash. He wouldn’t even look at me, and he
always
looked at me as if I were the only person in a room.

“Not much,” he said to my brother. “But I’m afraid Lexi and I have to leave now for further questioning.”

Even his voice sounded funny. Tense, coiled and worried.

“Can we go with you?” Beau asked.

“I’m sorry. Not this time. They want to see only Lexi for now. But you are all free to go home or to work. I should advise you, however, you’ll have a police detail for the foreseeable future until we get this sorted out.”

“What exactly is
this
?” Rock asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

After another minute more of chatter, my brothers filed out while I shut down my laptop and grabbed my coat.

“What happened?” I asked Slash.

“You’ll find out. We can’t talk about it until we get to our destination, okay?”

“Slash? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

He stopped, gripped both my shoulders and kissed me hard. “Just let me say that I love you and it’s going to be fine. Trust me, okay?”

I stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

Chapter Seven

We took the elevator in silence to the hotel garage, then climbed into his SUV and headed out. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a black sedan on our tail. A new FBI team had apparently been assigned.

He drove to a non-descript building in Rosslyn, Virginia, not too far from my office at X-Corp. Slash flashed a badge and I had to produce my ID to the guy monitoring the parking garage. He checked his electronic tablet for our names, then waved us in. Once Slash parked, we took the elevator to the lobby. We both had to show our identification again, and this time Slash had to check in his gun. We both had to turn over our cell phones and endure a pat-down followed by a full-body scan. Only after that were we permitted to pass.

“I’m surprised they didn’t do a rectal exam,” I joked. Slash looked straight ahead, pressing his badge to the elevator pad and not even cracking a smile.

We went to the ninth floor and I followed him down a hallway to a conference room. I counted six men in suits sitting at a long, rectangular table. They had laptops and papers spread out in front of them and were talking animatedly when we walked in. As soon as they saw us, they fell silent. After a moment, a large man with brown hair and glasses, wearing a black suit, stood up and came to greet us.

“Hello, Ms. Carmichael. I’m Dex Woodward, Director of Cybersecurity Operations at the CIA. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I didn’t know what was so pleasurable about meeting me under these circumstances, but he stuck out a hand, so I shook it. No one else in the room made a move to introduce themselves, so I sat without saying a word in the chair Woodward pulled out for me. For some reason, Slash didn’t sit next to me, but moved to stand in the back of the room, still not meeting my gaze. He knew something I didn’t, and whatever it was, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

“We appreciate your cooperation in coming,” Woodward said. “We have identified the man who shot at you from the blood sample we were able to obtain at your parents’ house.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Abri Pentz.” Woodward paused. He and everyone else in the room stared at me.

I looked around the room and then back at Woodward. “Okay. Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“You’re sure?”

“I have a photographic memory. I’m sure.”

“Well, Abri Pentz is one of the world’s best snipers. He had one hundred and seventy-seven official confirmed kills in various Middle Eastern conflicts while serving in the British army. But the number is probably higher.”

“Snipers keep count of their kills?” It seemed a bit gruesome, but what did I know about the military?

“They do. I assure you, he is a sniper of extraordinary skill. However, at some point during his military service, he lost it. Mowed down a bunch of innocents and was served with a dishonorable discharge. Now he kills for hire. He’s currently a suspect in twelve high-profile political assassinations around the world.”

“He sounds like bad news.”

“He is.”

Woodward stopped talking and just looked at me. I glanced over at Slash, who had started pacing and hadn’t stopped the entire time Woodward was talking.

I folded my hands on the table. “I think it’s painfully clear I don’t have a clue who this guy is or why he was shooting up my parents’ house. But for one of the world’s best snipers, he has pretty lousy aim. If he were aiming at me, he would have had a perfectly clear target. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree and the drapes were wide open. But he missed. Now that I think about it, when he came inside the house, instead of shooting at any of us, he shot at the chandelier. How odd is that?”

“Not odd at all. He didn’t miss. He didn’t hit you on purpose.”

“You’re implying I was the intended target.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Woodward glanced at a man who sat two chairs down. The man nodded and Woodward looked back at me. “Yes. You were the intended target.”

“Me? Why? If this guy is an experienced sniper, why even shoot at me in the first place if he never intended to hit me? You aren’t making sense. None of this is making sense.”

Slash spoke for the first time since we’d entered the room. “He wanted you alive.”

“Why would he even want me dead? I don’t know who he is.”

Woodward leaned forward. “He wants you alive for a game of cat and mouse.”

“What game of cat and mouse? Look, I’ve never even heard of Abri Pentz. What is going on? Slash?”

Slash walked over to Woodward and slammed his palm on the table. “I told you she doesn’t know him. Damn it. Move on.”

Woodward jumped at the vehemence in Slash’s voice. “Fine. We can move on. Why don’t you assist me.”

Slash pulled a chair over next to me. He sat down. “This isn’t about Pentz,
cara
. He’s secondary in all of this. His job was to send you a message, which is exactly what he did.”

“Me? A message? Who would want to send me a message via a high profile assassin?”

“That’s a very good question,” Woodward said. “It might have taken us a long time to figure that out except apparently part of Pentz’s assignment was to personally hand-deliver a message. If it hadn’t been for Slash at your parent’s house, he might have figured a more macabre way to do it.”

Slash frowned and shook his head slightly, stopping Woodward from whatever he might have said next.

I shivered. “Can we just cut to the bottom line, please?”

Woodward took a drink of his coffee, regarding me thoughtfully. “The bottom line is that once we realized we were dealing with Pentz, our agents were able to piece together his activities for the past three days.”

“And?”

“He’s been travelling under the alias of Roman Krusky. Five days ago, he spent twenty-four hours in Tanzania, in the city of Mwanza, where we think he met his client.”

“The client? The one who hired him to send me the so-called message?”

“Yes. Roman Krusky entered the US via Miami two days ago.”

“Okay, so what’s the message? Why is he so interested in me?”

Woodward held up a plain white thumb drive. “We found this in your parents’ kitchen.”

“He left a thumb drive in their kitchen?”

“Yes. It’s addressed to you.”

My stomach clenched. “What’s on it?”

Slash put a hand on my back and began rubbing in small circles. “You need to steel yourself,
cara
. I don’t... I don’t know how to prepare you.”

I felt his hand actually tremble through my sweater. He was scaring me way more than whatever was on that drive.

“Slash, just tell me.” My voice wavered.

He closed his eyes and then let out a breath. His hand tightened on my shoulder. “It’s Broodryk.”

I blinked in surprise. “Broodryk?”

Johannes Broodryk was a cyber mercenary from South Africa. He had his fingers in a wide range of cybercrimes for hire including human trafficking, drugs, money laundering and assassinations. He’d work for the highest bidder regardless of politics or ideology. We’d had an exchange of wits on my last case and I’d come out the victor. While he hadn’t been caught, I’d put a huge crimp in his worldwide cybercrime operations. I’d exposed him and now he was the number-one target of most intelligence and cyber agents all over the world. He had a big bone to chew and apparently wasn’t going to let me have the last word.

Fear changed to anger. “What’s his deal? He put a hit on me with some bigwig assassin and then had the guy miss? On purpose? Help me out here, because I totally don’t get what he’s after.”

Slash reached forward and pulled a laptop close to him. He opened it, typed in a password, then plugged the thumb drive in.

The message was a video.

He pushed play and a roaring sound filled my ears. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

The first image that filled the screen was one of a brown-haired man gagged and bound to a chair.

It was Elvis Zimmerman.