Special Ops Exclusive (21 page)

The three of them hopped out. McAvoy stumbled slightly, then attempted to regain his balance, a difficult task with his hands yanked tightly behind him. Rebecca took pity on the deputy secretary and grabbed his arm to steady him, which earned her a look of grudging gratitude.

“Thank you,” he muttered as they climbed the porch steps together.

Connor went in first to do a sweep of the house, then returned to collect them and the three of them marched into the study.

Rebecca’s gaze roamed the various oil landscapes hanging on the wood-paneled walls, then focused on the majestic deer head mounted over the fireplace, a slightly terrifying visual she hadn’t paid much attention to during last night’s visit.

But now she paid
a lot
of attention, because that taxidermy head was precisely what McAvoy made a beeline for. Then he halted and turned to scowl at his keepers. “You’ll need to uncuff me,” he said darkly.

After Connor removed the cuffs, McAvoy turned back to the mantel and ran his fingers along the bottom of the wooden frame the deer was affixed to. Rebecca’s brows soared when the wood panel popped out to reveal the gleaming stainless steel vault behind it, and just when she thought her eyebrows couldn’t go any higher, she noticed the small panel next to the safe’s keypad and her brows pretty much collided with her hairline.

“I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie,” she remarked as she watched McAvoy bring his left eye close to that electronic panel.

The unit emitted one continuous beeping sound as it scanned the man’s eyeball—whose personal safe required
eye scans,
for Pete’s sake?—and then it beeped three times and flashed a green light. McAvoy proceeded to type a long series of numbers on the keypad before the safe finally opened.

He didn’t waste any time reaching inside and rummaging around. His hand emerged with a small black case, roughly the size of a cigarette pack. He flicked it open, peered at the contents and nodded as if pleased with what he saw.

Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca approached him and peered over his shoulder to find two flash drives secured inside the case.

“The data on these are identical.” To her surprise, McAvoy pried one out and handed it to her. “Keep this on your person. I’ll hold on to the other.”

He tucked the black case into his pocket while Rebecca shoved the little drive into the front pocket of her jeans.

“Let’s get out of here,” she told Connor, who was watching the door with a vigilant eye.

A minute later, they were rushing out the front door with Connor in the lead, McAvoy right beside her and no longer handcuffed.

The gunshot came out of nowhere.

It exploded in the night air and made Rebecca’s ears ring, adding to the confusion taking flight inside her. Her heart pounded, then stopped altogether as the man in front of her collapsed facedown onto the porch floor.

Oh, God. Connor. He’d been
shot.
He was...dead, she realized as his limp body rolled down the porch steps and landed in a motionless heap on the driveway. Blood pooled around his head, bringing a rush of nausea to Rebecca’s throat.

Another shot cracked in the air and suddenly McAvoy was no longer beside her.

Rebecca instinctively flattened herself on the ground and began crawling toward Connor’s body, her gaze zeroing in on the silver key in his lifeless hand. The car key.

McAvoy’s cry of pain and surprise was cut short by a second gunshot, then a third. A fourth. And then silence.

No, not silence. Footsteps.

Someone was running toward her.

Rebecca grabbed the key from Connor’s hand and heaved herself to her feet. Something hot whizzed by her ear, but she didn’t stop, didn’t turn around.

She threw herself into the driver’s seat and stuck the key into the ignition. There was a blur of movement in the rearview mirror. Two men were running toward the SUV. Both held gleaming black guns in their hands.

Drive, darn it!

Her foot slammed on the gas pedal, her heart sticking in her throat as the SUV lurched forward and peeled away from McAvoy’s house.

She sped through the gate and went right over the curb, bouncing so hard that her head nearly smashed into the roof of the car. When her hands started to tingle and her lungs started to burn, she realized she wasn’t breathing.

Oh, God. Connor. McAvoy. Both of them dead.

She sucked in a deep breath and got so light-headed she nearly went off the road.

Keep it together, Becks. Get to Nick. Expose Ferguson
.

She repeated the plan over and over again in her head, clinging to it, needing it to stay calm. Her foot continued to shake over the gas pedal, but somehow she managed to drive in a straight line. Somehow she managed to speed away from McAvoy’s neighborhood without passing out. And without being pursued by some ominous black van.

Inhaling another breath, Rebecca went over the plan again. Get to Nick. Expose Ferguson.

But first...she just had one little stop to make.

Chapter 19

“M
cAvoy’s dead. Parker got away.”

The report came five minutes after Ferguson stepped off the podium to the thundering applause from the guests gathered in the ballroom. He’d ducked into the corridor to take the call, and now he couldn’t decide whether to feel satisfied or enraged.

“What do you mean she got away? Why was she there in the first place?” he hissed into the mouthpiece.

“I don’t know. All I know is what my man reported. McAvoy showed up at the house with Parker and a DoD agent. My men engaged and eliminated two of the targets. Parker managed to escape.”

Panic seized his throat. He lowered his voice, barely above a whisper. “She saw McAvoy and a federal agent get gunned down?”

There was a pause, then, “Yes.”

Son of a bitch.

This was a disaster. Fred McAvoy and the threat he’d posed had been eliminated, but now an even bigger threat loomed on the horizon. The star correspondent for the country’s number-one news network had witnessed the murder of two government employees.

“You have to find her. Now.”

“I’ve already got my people on it, but you should be prepared. There’s a chance she might go to the Barretts for help, in which case, she’d be heading your way, sir.”

He tamped down his panic by drawing in a deep breath. “I’ll tell my staff to detain her if she shows up here. Did your men clean up the scene at McAvoy’s house?”

“They staged it as a home robbery. Maybe you can explain away the agent’s presence by saying McAvoy requested heavier security because of some trouble he ran into in Beijing.” Carraway’s tone became apprehensive. “There’s one more thing. My men found a flash drive on McAvoy’s body.”

His chest stiffened.

That little rat.

Clearly McAvoy had somehow managed to compile evidence against him. Jesus. Well, luckily Carraway was in possession of the flash drive now. That was good news at least.

“But the case he was holding it in had slots for two drives,” Carraway went on. “There’s a chance Parker might have the second drive.”

His stomach dropped. So much for good news.

“Find her,” he growled.

“Yes, Mr. Vice President.”

Ferguson hung up without another word, then gathered the pieces of his shattered composure and walked back into the ballroom.

* * *

Throughout Ferguson’s heartwarming speech about patriotism and heroism and every other “-ism” relating to the troops, Nick had stood next to his father and studied the vice president’s every move. He had to admit, Ferguson was skilled at captivating a crowd. He made them laugh, made them smile, made them cry. By the time the man left the podium, he’d succeeded in making every person in the ballroom love him.

“He lied to us,” Nick muttered. “I don’t care how convincing his story sounded. My gut is telling me he was the one behind Project Aries.”

“Mine, too,” his father admitted. “But I’m not sure what more we can do tonight.”

“Do you really think he’ll brief the president about this?”

“If he does, then he must be extremely confident that he’s covered his tracks and can never be tied to the Meridian virus.”

Both men’s head shifted in a sharp motion as Ferguson began walking toward the ballroom doors. With the Secret Service agents flanking him, it was hard to be sure, but Nick thought he saw the VP taking a sleek black phone out of his pocket.

Nick took a step, but his dad shook his head in warning. “Be smart, son.”

He forced himself to stay rooted, knew his father was right. He couldn’t just go running after the vice president and try to spy on the man in front of a room full of people. He ended up using Ferguson’s brief absence as an opportunity to check his phone, but there was no message or missed call from Rebecca. She was still at the motel, then, tucked out of sight with McAvoy. Good.

“Somebody’s upset,” Secretary Barrett said in a low voice.

Nick’s father was right—Ferguson had just returned to the ballroom, and although he had a smile pasted on his face, his gray eyes revealed a flicker of unease.

Nick frowned. “Something’s happened.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a skinny male aide hurried over to the vice president and whispered something in his ear.

There was no mistaking the way Ferguson’s shoulders stiffened, or the discernible gleam of triumph in his eyes. He’d just received some important news.

Very important, Nick amended as Ferguson immediately marched toward the doors again.

This time, he didn’t allow his father to stop him. His instincts were buzzing again, telling him not to let Ferguson out of his sight.

Without a word, Nick left his father’s side and threaded his way through the crowd toward the exit. He tried to keep his gait fast but relaxed, a difficult feat, but it was better than the all-out sprint his brain was ordering him to employ. He emerged into the wide hallway just in time to see Ferguson and his security detail round the corner at the end of the hall.

Two agents stood guard outside the ballroom. Nick attempted to look nonchalant as he walked past them, but the men weren’t fooled.

“Stop,” one of the agents barked.

Nick ignored him and picked up the pace.

“Sir, you were asked to stop!”

He was practically running now, praying that neither man drew his gun and shot him in the back before he reached the end of the hall. Fortunately, he remained bullet-free as he rounded that same corner where Ferguson and his guards had disappeared.

“Let go of me!” A female shout bounced off the walls.

He halted in his tracks, and his heart jammed in his throat when he spotted a flash of red amid the array of black across the hallway.

Rebecca.

Wishing like hell that he had a weapon, Nick lunged toward the source of the commotion, then skidded to another stop when half a dozen weapons snapped up in his direction.

“Nick,” Rebecca cried out when she spotted him.

He had a clear view of her now. She stood there surrounded by six agents, three of whom had their guns pointed at her while the other three kept theirs trained on Nick.

Rebecca wore the jeans and tank top she’d had on back at the motel, but her long hair was a tousled mess and there was a smudge of what looked like motor oil on her cheek.

“Detain her,” Ferguson snapped. “Him, too.”

The vice president took a step away from his horde of agents, then shot Nick an irritable look.

“I took the time to listen to your accusations tonight, son, even though it was highly insulting, and frankly, humiliating.” Those gray eyes blazed with anger. “But enough is enough. I can’t have the two of you spreading lies and slander—”

“Go ahead and arrest me,” Rebecca interrupted. “It’s already too late.”

A suspicious groove appeared in Ferguson’s forehead, but he didn’t ask her to clarify. Instead, he glanced at his guards. “Detain them,” he said again.

To Nick’s dismay, Rebecca took a step toward Ferguson, completely unfazed by the weapons being pointed at her. The damn woman stalked right up to the vice president of the United States and crossed her arms over her chest.

“The truth is out,” she announced, sticking out her chin as if to dare Ferguson to argue with her.

Nick’s heart did a little proud somersault. Christ, he loved that stubborn jut of her chin. Loved that she was totally oblivious to her diminutive stature, that she had no qualms about squaring off with men twice her size.

And her enthusiasm. He loved that, too.

Not to mention her determination. Her fearlessness. Her fire.

Aw, hell.

Had he fallen in love with her?

The startling thought slid into his consciousness in one rapid swoop, but he just as rapidly pushed it away. This was
not
the time to sift through the confusing emotions swimming around in his stomach.

“You can arrest us if you want,” she went on, her green eyes glittering with satisfaction. “But it won’t change a gee-dee thing—”

Despite himself, Nick’s lips twitched in amusement.

“The whole world will know the truth in about two minutes, if the news hasn’t already broken. In that case...” She just shrugged.

“The truth about what?” Ferguson asked coldly, continuing to play dumb.

“That you conducted biological weapons testing on innocent people. That the Meridian virus was your brainchild.”

“Lies,” he snapped. “That was McAvoy’s doing.”

“Oh, McAvoy?” Her lips twisted in anger. “You mean, the man you just ordered to be shot to death in his own home?”

Nick’s shoulders set in an ominous line. McAvoy was dead? When he studied Rebecca’s somber expression, he knew she was telling the truth.

And he also knew something else—if McAvoy had been shot at his house, then that meant Rebecca had disobeyed orders. Again.

Why was he not surprised?

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” Ferguson muttered.

He turned to his guards, no doubt to bark out another order to detain them, but Rebecca interrupted in a cheerful tone. “Is there a TV around here?” she asked. “There’s gotta be, right? I mean, look at the size of this place.”

Nick found himself grinning.

“Because I really think you need to get to a television,” she told the VP. “I think you’ll be singing a different tune once you see ABN’s eleven-o’clock segment.”

Ferguson’s face turned red, his eyes burning with fury. Without a word, he stalked toward one of the doors in the hallway and threw it open. Two of his agents went with him, but the rest stayed with Rebecca and Nick out in the corridor.

With Ferguson gone, Nick glanced at the redhead with a wry smile. “What did you do, Red?”

“Nothing much.” Her gorgeous green eyes twinkled. “McAvoy had incriminating evidence against Ferguson on a flash drive. He gave it to me before he died.” The twinkle faded into a dull gleam. “Connor’s dead, too. But I managed to get away.”

Fear and satisfaction mingled in Nick’s blood, though he discovered that the latter overpowered the former. The thought of Rebecca in the middle of a gunfight scared the living hell out of him, and yet at the same time, he suddenly realized he wasn’t at all surprised that she’d managed to escape.

Rebecca was smart.

Resourceful, strong, brave.

Of course she’d made it out alive.

Something hot and painful squeezed his chest, but he ignored it and focused on what Rebecca was saying.

“I stopped at an internet café on the way here and emailed all the transcripts on that drive to the network.”

Nick took a step toward her, then froze when two Secret Service agents cocked their weapons.

“Relax, fellas,” he said with a sigh. “We’re not the bad guys here. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

None of the men blinked or responded.

Rolling his eyes, he glanced back at Rebecca. “So you sent ABN the evidence. Good thinking.”

“Oh, I didn’t just send it to ABN. As of right now, every media outlet in the country, as well as a few key markets abroad, has a copy of every email and phone call Ferguson exchanged with McAvoy.”

A smile stretched across Nick’s face. “Nice.”

Rebecca spared a pithy look at one of the agents. “The whole world now knows that Ferguson was responsible for creating a biological weapon, testing it on innocent people and accidentally allowing it to be released on U.S. soil.”

She turned back to Nick, her expression becoming defiant. “I’m not going to apologize, by the way.”

He frowned. “Apologize for what?”

“Not staying put at the motel. I know I took a risk by bringing McAvoy to his house, but we needed to get our hands on that flash drive.” She stuck out that sassy chin of hers again. “And by disobeying your orders, I exposed Ferguson, so I refuse to be sorry for that, Nick. I don’t care if tonight reinforces every last thing you think makes us incompatible, but I won’t say I’m sorry.”

She finished in a rush, and he lifted a brow at her. “You done?”

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“Good, because I wasn’t expecting an apology.” He shrugged. “And I’m not sure I want one.”

Her eyes widened. “For realsies?”

A laugh bubbled in his throat. God, he loved this woman.

Yep, he
loved
this woman. He frickin’ loved her to death.

“For realsies,” he confirmed. “You got the proof we needed, darling, and you showed it to the world. There’s nothing left to cover up. Ferguson can’t kill us and make up some bogus reason for our deaths. He can’t do a damn thing to us now.”

Rebecca’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Damn right, he can’t.” She suddenly clapped her hand over that sexy mouth. “Crap. I swore.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” With a dry expression, he glanced at the army of guards who didn’t seem inclined to lower their weapons. “I’m sure these dudes won’t either.”

He could have sworn he saw a muscle twitch in one of the agents’ jaws, but when he peered closer, the man was once again stone-faced.

Ferguson was still behind that door, and Nick could now hear the faint murmur of voices. They were most likely wafting out of the television the VP had turned on, the television that was tuned into the ABN newscast, which was, at the moment, airing Troy Ferguson’s dirty laundry and unconscionable actions to the entire country.

And even though Nick knew that now was definitely not the time to have a heart-to-heart—what with the armed men surrounding them—he couldn’t stop himself.

Besides, it seemed comically apt to be having this conversation during a situation that just oozed danger.

“I’m an idiot,” he told Rebecca.

She looked flabbergasted. “Why?”

His voice grew hoarse, thick with emotion. “Because I was so busy thinking about what ‘the one’—” he used air quotes to emphasize the words “—ought to be like, that I didn’t realize she was standing right in front of me the whole time.”

Rebecca’s breath hitched in pleasure, but then she faltered. “Wait. Is it me? You mean me, right?”

A soft chuckle filled the air, and they both turned to stare at the Secret Service agent who’d made the amused sound. The man guiltily cast his gaze downward, and when his head lifted again, his face had reverted back to robotically expressionless.