Rendezvous with Danger (Reunited Series) (24 page)

“What you do, pick the worse place you could find?”

Alandra chuckled, happy to be near a friend again. One of the things she hated about having a new identity was leaving friends behind and Vance was one of the best. She glanced at him. He was still a looker and such a contradiction. Big, tall and intimidating. He could make a stranger think twice about starting a fight with him. Except on the inside, he had a heart of gold. Friendly blue eyes and an easy smile came in handy when he was on assignment and looking for answers. Women swooned over him willing to give him anything he wanted, and men thought he was just another nice guy. Unbeknownst to them, he was an ex-marine and a CIA operative, capable of killing a person with his bare hands.

She shook her head when thoughts of Quinn crept into her mind. Another one of the good guys. She sighed and willed herself not to cry. So many regrets. If only she hadn’t stayed away. Or if only she had reached out to him years ago to let him know she was alive. Or if only she’d been honest with him upfront, then her heart wouldn’t break each time she thought about him. She didn’t want it to be over between them, but what could she do? She truly believed he loved her, but she couldn’t make him be with her.

She stared out the passenger window appreciating the view of Georgetown’s historic district, an area she’d frequented many of times. L.A was beautiful with great weather, but she would always love the east coast. Unlike most people, she enjoyed how densely populated this part of the country was and missed the rush and the energy of the area. She also liked the historical aspect of the east coast and the ability to be in D.C. one minute and Baltimore or Williamsburg the next.

They turned onto 31st Street and parked a few doors down from her favorite café in Georgetown. A smile tipped her lips.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. You tortured me enough times by picking the same place whenever we were able to squeeze in lunch.”

The inside of the café was long and narrow like many of the eateries in the area. The tables were decked out with white tablecloths and lanterns adorned each tabletop. Artwork of cobblestoned walkways and lush gardens covered the taupe walls. It was quaint, but had several modern elements.

Instead of seating them near the front of the restaurant, the hostess showed them to a round table that sat four toward the back, which was perfect for the conversation they were going to have.

“May I get you something to drink?” The server asked minutes after they’d been seated.

“Water for me,” Alandra said. “And if you still have the smoked salmon, I’d like to go ahead and order that.”

“We still carry it.”

“Actually, I’ll have the same,” Vance said, “but can you bring me a root beer and a glass of water?”

 “Will do.” She collected the menus from the table before she walked away.

“Would you quit staring at me?” Alandra said. “You act as if you’ve never seen me before.”

“I can’t help it. It’s hard to believe you’re alive. It’s been three years. Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story, and I’m too hungry to go into the details.”

“Well, maybe this will help.” He placed a small bag of homemade chocolate chip pecan cookies in front of her. “I made that batch especially for you.”

“Aw, Vance, thank you so much.” She ripped open the bag. His cookies were so good he could put
Mrs. Fields
out of business. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your chocolate chip cookies.”

“Wait.” He grabbed the bag from her. “You can have these after you answer some questions.”

She snatched the cookies back. “I can talk and eat.” She bit into one of the sweet treats and closed her eyes. “Oh my goodness these are as good as I remember.”

“Start talking.” He folded his large hands on the table.

“First, tell me you were able to get your hands on the information I needed.”

 Vance pulled an envelope from his inside pocket and Alandra immediately noticed his holstered gun. Even as a CIA operative, she didn’t remember him carrying a concealed weapon, especially during the middle of the day and when they were just hanging out.

“I didn’t find much,” he said, “but I was able to get a copy of your life insurance information and you were right; Harry was listed as the beneficiary and he did collect.”

Alandra’s heart dropped. How could he? Not only was it illegal to collect an insurance policy on someone who was still alive, but Quinn had been listed as her beneficiary.

“Do you know how he pulled this off?” She bit into another cookie. “He had to know someone in that department.”

“I’m not positive, but he and Tina Shephard were really good friends back then, and she worked in the benefits department. Maybe she helped.”

“Maybe,” Alandra said thoughtfully and ate another cookie. This Tina person had to be more than a friend if Harry was able to talk her into doing something illegal. “Okay. I’ll get in contact with her and see if she can give me some answers, especially since I’m very much alive.”

“Well, that’s going to be a little hard. She committed suicide a few months ago.”

Chapter Seventeen

Quinn stood under the roll-up door of Sarah’s sparsely filled storage unit and glanced around, glad there wasn’t much to look through. Besides a leather sofa, a recliner chair, and a small desk with a hutch, there were five black medium-sized storage containers stacked in the far corner of the space. Hopefully the answers they were looking for would be in one of them.

He called Alandra’s cell phone unable to go more than fifteen minutes without trying to reach her. “Dammit, where the hell is she?” Her voicemail picked up again. He could barely function worrying about her. They still didn’t know who all the players were and for all he knew, she could already be in the hands of an enemy.

“Find anything yet?” Malik asked when he walked over to the unit. He received a call just as they pulled up to the storage facility. He snapped his cell phone into the holster attached to his belt, then shrugged out of his jacket. “We’re not going to find anything if you’re just going to stand here staring off into space.”

Quinn ignored his sarcasm. “If anything happens to Alandra…”

“Have faith, man, we’re going to find her. You’ve taken care of the Congressman and I have no doubt that we’ll find more answers in here.”

They unstacked the containers and went through them one by one. It wasn’t until they reached the last one did they find anything. Inside the waterproof container were photo albums and a keepsake box, the size of a cereal carton. The initials S.M.O engraved on the top. Malik looked through the photos and Quinn went through the wood box.

Records for drug runs, the Congressman’s birth certificate, and documents tying him to Orlando Medina were amongst the information. “I guess we know who was helping the Congressman,” Quinn said and held up a photo of Agent Vance Anderson. There were a few others. One with him talking with the Congressman at a restaurant, one with him accepting a duffle bag from Orlando Medina, and a few of him leaving
Licenciado Adolfo Lopez Mateos
 
International Airport
. The airport that was closest to
Coyuca de Catalan
where Alandra had been kidnapped. The dates on the back of the photos were from 2008 and 2009, but the one with Guerrero’s airport was dated during the same timeframe that Alandra was in Guerrero.

“So Vance had to have been the American Orlando Medina mentioned when Alandra realized her cover was blown,” Quinn said more to himself than to Malik.

“Oh shit. I think we found our man who was hired to do the hit.” Malik handed Quinn a blurry photo. The background was dark, but one thing stood out - the man on the rooftop - Vance Anderson.

“How the hell did Sarah capture this?” Quinn said. The way the sniper rifle pointed at the photographer of the photo would have made any sane person take cover. “This is a helluva shot.”  The back of the photo read: Tzbekystan 2009.

Quinn’s phone vibrated and he prayed it was Alandra, but held out hope when he realized it was Wiz.

“Did you find her?”

“I located your rental truck in Arlington, Virginia and it’s sitting still. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thanks, man, I owe you.” Quinn placed the documents and photos into the keepsake box to take with him. “Wiz, I need you to do something else. Vance Anderson is our man. I need his address, cell phone records and anything else you can find on him. I plan to hunt that bastard down like the animal he is.”

****

“Enough about Harry and Tina, let’s go back to you. Why’d you fake your death?” Vance asked.

Alandra shook her head. “Like old times. Straight to the point.” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Harry’s and by the time I found out, he’d already weaved an elaborate story of my demise.”

“I don’t understand. Why would Harry want to fake your death, well, besides cashing in on your insurance policy?”

Alandra hadn’t expected the question and took a moment to come up with a response. “When I was accused of selling secrets to North Korea, he thought the accusations were true and came up with the idea.”

“Those accusations were dropped shortly after the news broke. Are you sure he didn’t come up with the idea because someone tried to kill you in Tzbekystan?”

A shiver ran through Alandra.
He knows
. Harry assured her that he hadn’t said anything to anyone regarding the specifics of her near death experience. But it was clear Harry had lied about other things.
As long as my secrets are kept, yours will be kept. Besides, you’re in no position to threaten me.
Harry’s words from when he was on the phone in her apartment came back to her. Had Vance been the person on the other line?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally said.

Vance started to speak, but stopped when the server brought their food.

“Can I trouble you for some more water?” Alandra asked their server. She held her head between both her hands suddenly feeling light headed. She mentally kicked herself for going the whole day without eating.

“What about the information on Sarah Olson, were you able to get anything?” Alandra asked after taking several gulps of water.

“No, it’s as if she never existed. Are you sure she worked for the Agency?”

“Positive. She worked under the CIA’s clandestine service division for most of her career and went rogue a couple of years ago.” Alandra glanced at Vance, but diverted her eyes when she was hit with a bout of dizziness. She shook her head and blinked several times. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll be able to find more on her.”

“What exactly are you looking for, Alandra?” He bit into his smoked salmon sandwich. “Does it have anything to do with you moving from L.A. to Chicago?”

A prickle of unease swept up Alandra’s spine. “I’ve always liked Chicago,” she lied smoothly, needing to keep him talking to see what else he knew. “It’s a great place to get lost in. What about you, have you ever been there?”

“No. I’ve been all over the world but never to Chicago.”

Alandra just stared at him.

“So what about Quinn Hamilton, have you seen him lately? I’d think you would’ve reconnected with him since he came to your rescue in Guerrero.”

Alandra swallowed the anxiety running rampant in her body before it could build into full-blown panic.
Think
.
Think Alandra.
There was no way Vance could know about Guerrero…unless… A wave of dizziness gripped her and she grabbed hold of the edge of the table, barely able to hold on to it.
Your American friend got away, but you will not
. Those were the words Orlando Medina said when he held her captive in Guerrero. That was also the time when Alandra realized her cover had been blown. Had Medina been referring to Vance? Was Vance the one who blew her cover?

Alandra wiped the perspiration from her forehead and from the bridge of her nose. Feeling nauseous, she moved her plate over and laid her head on the table. Something was wrong. For the past fifteen minutes, she’d been feeling worse and worse. It was taking extra effort to control her body movements.
It has to be the cookies
.

“Are you okay?” Vance asked, his voice sounding faraway.

She slowly lifted her head and waved him off, feeling herself sway. “Yeah, I just have this head…headache. I’m sure a couple of aspirins will ta…take care of it.” She dug through her bag and instead of looking for aspirins, she found her cell phone, the one that she’d kept off to keep Quinn from locating her. She was sick and Vance was up to something. At the moment she didn’t care if Quinn was still mad at her. She needed him. She turned on her cell and prayed he’d find her.

 “Couldn’t find any?” Vance asked when she put the flap back down on her bag.

“No, but I’m sure it’ll pass.” She covered her face with her hands, but couldn’t hold them up. “I probably—”

“Let’s go.” He stood and dropped a few bills on the table. “We can run by a store and get what you need.”

“Uh, that’s okay. If I just sit here for a few minutes, I’m sure it’ll pass.”

No way was she getting in the car with him. She didn’t want to believe Vance was capable of drugging her, but what else could it be. She was dizzy, drowsy, and was having trouble controlling her muscles and movements.

She looked up and Vance was standing over her, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I said let’s go.” 

Chapter Eighteen

“Here, let me help you up.” Vance snaked an arm around her waist and walked her toward the door of the restaurant, practically dragging her. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate.

“What’s…in… cookies?” she asked when they stepped outside. He all but carried her to his car and put her in the back seat.

“I wondered how long it would take you to figure out I drugged you,” he said when he got in on the driver’s side. “Cyclobenzaprine
and sleeping pills, that’s what’s in the cookies. I couldn’t have you fighting me knowing the damage you can do with your hands and feet.”