Rush (Phoenix Rising) (27 page)

“We’re all in this, Quaid.” She came up behind him. “The rest of the team is in just as much trouble for breaking into that lab and rescuing Cash. Whoever’s after us is after us all because of who we are, what we know.”

“Not if Alsadani is from my past. Not if the reason someone is sending assassins after us is because of something I’ve done that I don’t know about, that I can’t remember.” He turned toward her and even though he’d seen her every moment for the last thirty-some hours, just looking at her again still gave him the urge to sigh in pleasure. “There’s so much I don’t know about what they’ve had me doing the last five years, Jess. And if this is about one man wanting control, not a government entity trying to silence us, it’s more likely he’s after me, maybe Cash, but not everyone. I don’t want to put you all at risk.”

“We’re all at risk all the time,” she said. “We all have shadows that follow us night and day. They always know where we are and what we’re doing. And if we get too close to something they don’t want us to know, like I do with Schaeffer, they threaten and throw their weight around. This could just as easily be Schaeffer pissed off at my intrusion into his life for years as it could be something you’ve done that you don’t know about.”

Q frowned. “Why would Schaeffer be pissed at you? What intrusion?”

She hesitated and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’ve been harassing Schaeffer for years, collecting dirt on him.”

“What kind of dirt? Why?”

“Anything and everything. To create whatever misery I can.” A bitter anger crept into Jessica’s voice. “Not only did he cover up what happened to us at the warehouse while he was still with DoD, but he dismissed your death as an
accident
and to push the heat in another direction, he insinuated your actions added to the safety hazards, because dead men don’t talk.”

Q’s chest coiled tighter with every word.

“If you want to know the truth,” Jessica said, her gaze distant over the ravine, her voice an angry rasp, “I stalk him. I’ve stalked him from the day I came to Washington. I photograph him whenever we’re at a function together and I make sure he knows I’m taking pictures. If I know he’s going to be at another event, and I’m not working, I show up, mingle, wait for him to engage in conversations with the right people and snap photos. I’ve even been known to set up accidental meetings just to get a photograph. I’ve placed trackers on his cars. I’ve dropped bugs in his pockets or pinned them to his blazer lapels when he’s left his jacket on a chair.”

She grew more animated, more forceful, more passionate and Q’s stomach joined in the tension.

“He’s coming up for office in a few months, and I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure he rates so poorly in the polls, even the garbage collectors union won’t hire him.”

Q took a moment to find his voice. “Did I . . . was it my fault?”

She opened her mouth and tipped her head, confusion sliding through her gaze, but then clearing in an instant. “The fire? No. Absolutely not. You did everything right. Which is another reason why it was so wrong for Schaeffer to cast doubt on your reputation. And, goddamnit, no one—
no one
—disgraces someone I love that way.
Ev-er
.”

Now, his lungs had grown tight, too. She had sacrificed so much, and all after she’d believed he was dead. Even after he’d been gone, she continued to fight for his name, for his reputation. For his honor.

He stepped into her and pulled her close. “How did I get so damn lucky with you?”

“I was always the lucky one.” She curled into him, her head fitting just under his chin. “They e-mailed the video of Reggie to Schaeffer. He’s probably wigged out by now, which is when Mitch wants to call him. We should get back.”

He released her, but instead of stepping away, she wrapped both arms around his neck, slid up against him and kissed him. God, she had a beautiful mouth. One that could ease his worries, make him forget immediate problems.

Which meant he should have been happy as they headed back to the bunker for the all-important phone call to Schaeffer. But when she took his hand and they walked through the trees with Jessica explaining her work as a lobbyist in Washington and how she’d been able to gain such access to Schaeffer, Q held on tighter than he had to, tighter than he should. And instead of relaxing into the buzz radiating through his body or savoring more happiness than he’d ever hoped to find, Q scanned the terrain for intruders, more fearful now that he had so much more to lose.

Q
opened the supply room door and guided Jessica in with a hand low on her back. Before he followed, he made another sweep of the area, scanning as far as the trees allowed. No movement, no odd colors, no unusual landscape. He’d been listening closely during their walk and hadn’t heard any indication of human movement. The guards at the borders of the property were out of range. Still . . .

“Quaid?” Jessica’s voice brought his attention back and he closed and locked the door behind him.

Mitch was back, in fresh clothes, hair still wet from the shower, but he didn’t look like his frame of mind had improved. His eyes and cheeks now appeared hollowed, his coloring still too pale, giving him an overall drawn quality. His jaw jumped with stress, his mouth pulled tight as he stared down at his phone and paced in a short line.

“Sure you don’t want to talk?” Kai asked Alsadani. “This is your last chance. Then it’ll be all about what we say you told us. You’ll be toast, man.”

The prisoner just stared from beneath that horrid bulbous purple eye.

Alyssa bent beside him, her fingers at his wrist. “He should be cuffed in a different way. He’s losing a pulse in this wrist and his hand is swelling.”

“So what?” The words were out of Q’s mouth even while another part of him knew he should have held them back. Everyone looked at him. “He was going to kill us. Every one of us. He would have killed Kat and Mateo, too. Wouldn’t have given any of us a second thought.”

Everyone looked at each other. Except Mitch. He just scrolled on his phone and said, “I’m with you, Q.”

Strange to have someone here call him Q. And while he still thought of himself as Q, he wasn’t sure he liked anyone else thinking of him that way now. When he looked deep inside himself, fear burned like acid as he wondered if he knew how this Alsadani thought because he’d once been that kind of man. God, he hoped not. And if he had been, Q hoped he never remembered.

“Quaid’s right,” Kai said.

“And Alyssa’s right,” Teague said, and then looked at Quaid. “You and I both know how much it hurts to have our hands cuffed behind us that long.”

He ground his teeth. “Fine. But I’ll move him.”

Across the room, Mitch pulled a Glock 9 from a holster on his hip, dug the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Teague. “If he breaks and I shoot one of you taking him out . . . not my fault. Just sayin’. I’m really in the mood to shoot someone. Creek, why don’t you stay real close to him?”

Teague jingled the keys in his palm and crossed to Alyssa. “You’re so lucky I was damn head over heels for you before I met that fucker.”

A grin edged up her mouth. “Teague.”

A heated smile lit Teague’s blue eyes and eased his mouth into a lopsided smile. “I’ll pay up for that curse tonight—personally.”

“T-M-I, Creek,” Mitch muttered.

Teague handed the keys to Q, wrapped an arm around Alyssa’s shoulders and walked her back across the room.

Q moved behind the prisoner and bent to insert the key into the lock. At the guy’s ear, he said, “I’m doing you a favor, here. If you cause any trouble, if you hurt anyone in this room . . .”—he lowered his voice to a scraping whisper—“I’ll break your neck with my bare hands.”

And, son of a bitch, he meant it. Deep down, he knew he’d do it. Couldn’t imagine how, but was one hundred and ten percent positive he’d know how when it came time.

“Are we clear?”

Alsadani nodded once.

Q held the man’s arm and clicked the lock open. He felt the guy start to push out of the cuff before the key had made a full turn. The next three seconds shifted into slow motion—Alsadani pushing out of the chair, twisting toward Q with his now free arm arching up. The sound of a Glock slide sounding to his left—Mitch, aiming. Q swiveled behind the man, swung a forearm around his neck, slapped his other hand to the opposite side of his head—

“No! Quaid,
stop
!”

Quaid froze an instant before pulling the man’s head around and snapping his vertebra, Jessica’s voice echoing in his head. Mitch held the blue-black barrel of his Glock an inch from Alsadani’s head. Q could let go now. The guy wasn’t going to do anything with a gun in his face. But he couldn’t. Something inside urged him to kill.

To
kill
.

His breath came fast. Sweat ran down his face. His entire body shook with unshed adrenaline.

“Quaid,” Jessica pleaded at his back, terror and tears in her voice. “Please, don’t. Quaid, pl—please don’t. This isn’t you.
This isn’t you
. This is who they created in a
lab
.”

The torment in her voice made him weak. There was no room for weakness here. No room for error. No room for miscalculations. No room for . . .
others
....

“Quaid.” Jessica’s voice was closer now. She was an
other
. An other he wanted to make room for. “To make
us
work, you have to stop. If you want
me,
you have to let go of
him
.”

Q dropped the man. Just completely let go of him so fast, Alsadani fell to the floor. If Jessica hadn’t come up behind him and wrapped him in her arms, he might have—no, he
would have
kicked the man to death.

Mitch kept the gun trained on Alsadani’s chest while Kai dragged the prisoner off the floor and slammed his back against the wall.

“That’s the second time we’ve pulled him off you, fucking moron,” Mitch said. “Third time’s a charm and I, for one, am losing patience with you. Next time, nobody’s going to get in his way.”

Q turned away from the sight of Kai handcuffing one of Alsadani’s hands to the metal bed frame bolted into the cement wall. Turned out of Jessica’s hold and stalked to the opposite end of the supply room, where he felt like he’d been transported back in time to the day before, scraping his hands over his head, pacing the short length of the room, unable to get rid of his violent thoughts, unable to stem the fear of what he might have done to others already.

Then Jessica was there, holding him, running her hands over his shoulders, calling him back.

“It’s over. Everything’s okay. I’m here.” She pulled at the hand covering his face. “Quaid,” she whispered, her voice so soothing, so calm. “Quaid, look at me. You made the right choice. You proved you’re stronger than their programming. You can beat this. We can beat this together.”

“Why?” He rubbed his face one last time and dropped his hands. “Haven’t I caused you enough pain? Why would you even want to try?”

He looked away, ashamed he couldn’t be something more, something better. But she took his face in both hands and turned it until he was looking into her eyes.

“Because I believe in you.” She said it with such sincerity, such conviction. “I believe in you the way you’ve always believed in me.”

Q shook his head in disbelief, humbled by her inner strength, and pulled her close in a fierce hug.

“Making the call,” Mitch called from across the space. “And I’m recording, FYI. I know it’s a lot to ask from this group, but don’t say anything stupid.”

“We’re listening,” Jessica said, still holding Q close.

Mitch dialed and put the phone on speaker. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and straightened his spine.

Q braced himself for the worst. Jessica slipped her hand into his and squeezed. How foreign and fabulous it was to have someone stand by him in a stressful moment. A group of someones standing by him. Cash was right—everything he’d ever wanted, ever dreamed of having in his life was right here.

“Schaeffer,” the man snarled into the receiver on the other end of the line.

His voice was deep and gravelly, sounding far older than his reported sixty-two years. Q picked up the unmistakable wheeze of air battling in and out of damaged lungs even across the phone line. And he instantly attached the voice, the wheeze, to his face. When that clicked, he could also recall every time he’d seen Schaeffer and at which facilities. He leaned down and whispered to Jessica, “I need paper and pen.”

She read the urgency in his eyes and immediately set out on a search, returning to him with heavy packaging torn from a bag of rice and a pencil Kai had been using to sketch surveillance routes for the guards.

“Senator,” Mitch said, tone even, matter-of-fact, void of emotion. “Mitch Foster. I hope this is a good time to resolve our mutual issue. With the election only a few months away, I’d like to get this straightened out as soon as possible. I know how distractions during a campaign can damage a candidate.”

Q jotted down the nicknames and general locations of the facilities where he’d seen Schaeffer, adding the type of security available at each location. He wrote
“Schaeffer met with Gorin at these locations”
at the top of the paper and handed it to Mitch.

“And I know how problems with the bar,” Schaeffer said, voice now cool but clearly threatening, “can damage a lawyer’s career.”

“Better men—and women—have tried, senator. Let’s just skip the threats and get right to the deal. We propose a live and let live scenario.” He sounded so easy and unaffected. So ready for an afternoon stroll through those gorgeous woods outside. “We leave your assassin’s confession off the airwaves and you leave us the hell alone.”

“You have quite an imagination, but I don’t have time for games, so we have nothing to talk about.”

“Reggie would disagree.” Mitch waited a beat. Silence filled the line and his mouth lifted at one corner. “Reginald Baker Alsadani is quite talkative with the right incentive. He’s already told us all about his time with MARSOC. How you’ve got Owen Young running this little side black op now that Jocelyn is out of the picture. Strange to consider there are legit and non-legit sides of black ops. Your world fascinates me.”

“You can say anything you want, Foster, but no one’s going to believe a terrorist.”

“Is that how you’re going to spin this, Gil? Really?” Mitch asked with condescending humor in his voice. “You can see how this is going to go, can’t you? You slander us, but with no evidence the issue falls away and I file a few more lawsuits against the government and you personally. You did hear how successful those were for Creek and my sister, didn’t you?

“Then,” he continued without pausing, “we slander you, and with the shitload of evidence we’ve collected, you’ve got big problems. As a gesture of early discovery, let me give you just a sample of the type of evidence we’ve collected against you.

“Campaign fund fraud, misuse of federal funds for uses including recreational drugs, political bribes, personal travel, and prostitutes—these photos will be sensational in the press, don’t you think? We also have documents exposing kickbacks you’ve received from weapons, drug and chemical manufacturers for votes in the senate. Videos reminding the public of your very close link to Rostov—boy, wouldn’t that look bad just weeks after the inferno that killed women and children?”

Mitch tsked as he studied the notes Q had scribbled.

“Well”—Schaeffer let out a heavy sigh—“that would all be problematic—
if
I was dead set on running for senate again, but as much as I’d like to serve another term, it’s not my grandest goal in life, Foster. Unlike you, I have more than one reason for living. Besides, I could argue that exposing a homegrown terrorist cell will win me a lot of votes. Having to fight for my reputation when said terrorists create fraudulent accusations against me will only make me a more sympathetic victim. You know how the American people love to root for an underdog.”

Every muscle in Q’s body coiled and twisted. He couldn’t see how they had more leverage than Schaeffer. Couldn’t see how they would pull this off.

“Hmm.” Mitch’s hum sounded completely unconcerned. He was frowning at Q’s notes. “What about Millennium Manufacturing?”

A beat of silence extended. Then Schaeffer’s low, angry, “What about it?”

“Do you care about your business? Your multibillion-dollar business raking in the green from government military contracts?” Mitch waited, but got no answer. “Because Quaid can put you at several testing sites meeting with Gorin over the past few years. Years while you were in the senate. Years while you served on the Armed Forces Committee. Sites located all over the US—California, Nevada, Idaho, Arizona, Utah, Texas, Tennessee, Florida—”

“By the time we get through discrediting Q as a lunatic, no one’s going to believe—”

“It’s Quaid, Gil, not Q.
Quaid Legend.
He’s a person. A man. Who had a w—” For the first time, Mitch faltered. His gaze flicked up and held on Q with unmistakable apprehension. Something tightened uncomfortably in Q’s stomach. Whatever his misstep, it was obvious Mitch didn’t make them often, because he sucked at covering. His gaze shifted to Jessica, the message in them clear apology before he started pacing again. “Who had friends and dreams and purpose. Remember his name, Gil.
Quaid Legend.
I promise it will haunt you to your grave.”

Q pulled on Jessica’s arm and whispered, “ ‘Who had a’ . . . what? What was he going to say?”

Jessica shrugged without looking at him.

Anger burned in his throat. He gripped her arm harder. “Jessica, I told you I can’t handle any more secrets.”

She covered his hand with hers and looked into his eyes. “We have years of memories to revisit, Quaid. It takes time. We’re not keeping anything from you.”

“And you didn’t let me finish, Gil.” Mitch’s even, overly patient tone had to be killing Schaeffer, because it was irritating the hell out of Q. “We can corroborate Quaid’s statements with security camera footage we’ve already collected from the sites.”

Kai held his arms out to the sides, palms up, with his face crunched in a what-the-hell expression. Mitch returned a shrug, then made the motion of wings with his hands.