Targeted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 2) (2 page)

“Nope.” And though the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team’s operational tempo was only slightly less intense than what he’d experienced in Delta, he was still looking forward to this change of pace. Most of the time he’d be working stateside, with only the occasional training or mission overseas.

Which was good, because he was sick and damn tired of working in the Middle East. He’d had his fill of chasing militant assholes in some of the toughest terrain on the planet. He’d much rather hunt them down here in the States where he at least had home field advantage.

“Bet you make team leader soon, too.” She looked at him over the rim of her glass.

He wanted that but had to pay his dues first, no matter what his background was. “We’ll see.”

The waiter brought their food and things got quiet as they ate. A little awkward even.

Tuck picked up the thread of conversation in between bites. “Heard you’ve got a new assignment too.”

She shrugged, didn’t look up from her lasagna. “You know I always wanted domestic terrorism. Fits well with my criminology degree.” Now her eyes flicked up to his. “And I hear someone passed along a glowing letter of recommendation on my behalf to Greg Travers.”

The agent heading up the domestic terrorism department in Baltimore. “I’m the one who’s worked with you the closest these past two years, and he wanted to know what I thought of you.”

Her expression softened, an embarrassed flush creeping up her light bronze cheekbones. “Well, thanks.”

“Just told him the truth.” And the truth was, she was fucking amazing.

The meal ended all too quickly and he grabbed the tab before she could. He walked her out to her car in the cold, at a loss about how to make this transition with her. She’d never completely let her guard down around him but he figured she’d let him in as much as she had anyone else in her life.

At her car she unlocked the driver’s side door and paused, turning to look up at him in the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. In the silence that stretched out their gazes locked. Their parting of ways hung between them, heavy and colder than the frosty air.

She was the first to break the tension, putting on a smile as she adjusted the red scarf she had wrapped around her neck. “So. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

That sounded way too much like a goodbye. Because he was an inch away from throwing all caution aside and taking that full mouth in a kiss that would leave her gasping, he stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. “You either. But don’t worry, I’ll be around.”

“Hope so. And for the record, you were the best damn partner I could’ve ever hoped for and I was lucky to be paired with you. You taught me a lot, and for that I’ll always be grateful. I’ll miss you.”

“Hey.” Dammit, he didn’t want her pulling away from him. He couldn’t not reach for her after that, not when she’d just showed him more emotion than he’d ever seen in the two years on the job with her.

He caught her shoulders, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, his cheek pressed against the side of her head. She felt good, all soft, generous curves melding into his body, and she smelled even better. Sin and temptation. “You act like I’m gonna up and disappear into thin air on you or something.”

Celida returned the embrace, gave a tight shake of her head. “You’re moving on. You’ll be busier now than ever and we’ll live an hour apart. It’s not like we’ll be bumping into each other.”

“So we make the effort,” he said, his voice nearly a growl at the thought of losing her now.

“Right,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if it was cynicism or not. She pulled away to stare up at him for a long moment, and Tuck took all his will not to cradle that beautiful face in his hands, glide his thumbs across those high cheekbones and kiss the hell out of her. “Talk to you later, then,” she murmured.

He nodded, jaw set. “Yeah. Drive safely, sunshine.”

She paused at the endearment, then climbed behind the wheel. As she drove away, Tuck was already certain of two things. One, she still wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted.

And two, if there was going to be any keeping in touch going on from this point forward, he knew it would be up to him to make it happen.

Present Day

Of all the challenges she’d faced throughout her life, she had a feeling this was the one that would either make her or break her.

Special Agent Celida Morales took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she paused before the door that led into the FBI’s Domestic Terror Division offices in Baltimore. The name held a wealth of new meaning now, because for her, the job had become personal.

Very personal.

In the glass panel set into the top of the steel door she could see her reflection in the bright fluorescent lights above. Other than the deep pink, two inch long scar on her right cheek from where a bullet had grazed her two months ago, she looked normal enough on the outside. But inside, that day had changed her forever.

Domestic terror had left its mark on her a few short weeks ago. Now more than ever, she was determined to leave her mark on it.

She pushed the metal release bar and strode down the brightly lit hallway, her footsteps muffled by the carpeting. It felt strange to be back here after all this time off. At the second office from the end on the left, she opened the door and switched on the light. Her office was exactly as she’d left it.

The desk was clear except for a framed photo of her and her mom, and one of her and her best friend. Zoe had stayed with her for the first few weeks after the attack and was due back in town tonight for another visit. She was the sister Celida had always wanted, and it didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood. Though the family bond Zoe did share with the man who’d introduced them proved to be an ongoing complication for Celida.

She wasn’t going to think about him right now though.

In her top desk drawer she found the files she’d been working on before her forced leave of absence. She pulled them out, her fingers pausing on the top manila folder marked Xang Xu. The man responsible for what had happened to her. He was currently behind bars in between trials and looking at a life sentence rather than the death penalty because he’d agreed to a plea bargain.

Now he was helping officials with their investigation into the radical Islamic sleeper cell activated here on command from its leaders back in mainland China. Xinxiang province, to be precise, where the ethnic and mostly Muslim Uyghur people were engaged in a struggle for independence from China’s unyielding response to religious groups within its borders, made worse by the recent terror activity there by Islamic extremists.

She flipped open the file and looked at Xang’s picture, the first time she’d seen it since the day she’d been wounded. Her body didn’t react. No elevation in her heart rate, and none of the fear she’d braced for came. But then, Xang had merely ordered the attack and hadn’t been one of the men who’d come to kill her that day.

She should have died in that hotel room. She knew that. She’d let her guard down too far, hadn’t anticipated that the cell members knew of Rachel Granger’s location. If not for Rachel, they’d have put a bullet through Celida’s brain while she lay helpless on the floor, bleeding and concussed and immobile, praying for the backup that had arrived too late.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she booted up her computer and entered in the last of the information into the case file, officially closing her part of it. Even though the case had been in full swing for some time and she’d already given her reports and testimony, she might still be asked to help out or confer on certain aspects of the case. But unless new activity occurred with the Xinxiang terror cell or more members were discovered here in the U.S., she would be moved onto a different case.

She turned when someone knocked on her partly open door. Her boss, Special Agent in Charge Greg Travers, stood in the doorway, his six-foot and muscular frame filling the space. A handsome and well-built man in his mid-forties with a healthy dose of gray sprinkled in his chocolate brown hair and dressed in his standard uniform of slacks and a button down, he gave her a smile. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks. Good to be here.” She’d seen him a handful of times since the attack, had spoken to him plenty over the phone early on but it felt good to be back here in an official capacity again. All that time off had driven her nuts and given her way too much time alone in her head. The concussion and other injuries had healed up within the first few weeks. After that she’d been forced to stay sidelined at the recommendation of the agency shrink she’d been assigned to. Thankfully her appointments with him were few and far between now.

Without waiting for an invitation Travers came in and shut the door behind him. He took a seat in the chair opposite her desk, leaned back and put his hands behind his head, apparently getting comfy because he intended to stay for a while. “You get the flowers I sent last week?”

She smiled. “I got them. Thanks.” He’d been a regular visitor for those first few days after the attack when she’d still been in the hospital, had called to check up on her every so often after that to make sure she was doing okay.

His sharp, pale blue eyes studied her. “How’s your head?”

Travers walked the fine line between blunt and tactless, and she wasn’t sure which side the question landed on. If he meant her mental state, she wasn’t telling him shit. The agency shrink and medical personnel had cleared her mentally and physically for duty, and all anyone needed to know was that she was ready to get back to work.

No one but her needed to know the intimate details of the lingering effects the attack had wrought.

She gave a decisive nod. “Good. Barely get headaches anymore.” Night terrors, insomnia and depression? Yep. Self doubt? Oh yeah. Physically, however, she was good to go.

“I talked to Rachel Granger the other day. She said you met her and Evers for dinner last week.” Jake Evers, another member of the HRT and Tuck’s former roommate, also known as “farmboy”. Tuck had given him the nickname because of his Iowa roots. He and Rachel had been college friends, and when she’d realized she might be in danger she’d contacted Evers. They’d been together ever since and now shared a luxury condo in D.C.

“Yeah, it was good to catch up with them.” They’d talked a bit about Tuck during dinner and they’d both seemed surprised that he hadn’t been in contact with her much lately. “So, what do you have for me to work on?”

Travers’s mouth twitched in amusement, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling. “Ready to dive back in, are you?”

“Damn straight. Got anything substantial for me?” She wanted to sink her teeth into something meaty, something with plenty of investigative work to do.

“Just so happens I do.” He removed his hands from behind his head and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Got a suspect in custody who’s linked to the Xinxiang cell. He’s being held down at Quantico. So are the two assholes who attacked you.”

He measured her with his stare and she didn’t outwardly react to his words. Inside, anger and determination boiled in her gut. Every day she’d waited to hear that they’d finally been captured. Now they had been. “We’ve got some new intel that should help us round up more sleeper cell members here in the D.C. area. You wanna sit in on the interrogation?”

Celida kept her expression impassive even as her heart rate punched upward and her fingers clenched in her lap. She’d thought about how she would react to seeing them in person. The natural reaction of fear was there, yes, but so was the need for justice. They’d nearly killed her. Had kidnapped Rachel and would have killed her and her brother had the agency not gotten a break in the case and the Hostage Rescue Team not gone in to extract them both.

There was only one answer she could give him. “Hell yeah.”

He nodded once in satisfaction, the side of his mouth curving up. “Figured you would. First meeting’s in just over an hour. Wanna drive down with me?”

Well she didn’t have anything else to do here. “Sure, but I’ll take my own car. Have to pick up a friend at the airport at five.” She stood, picked up her purse and briefcase and rounded the desk. “How long have they been in custody?”

Travers waited for her by the door. “Since last night.”

She cut him a sharp glance. “Was it us, or the cops?”

“Us. We got a good tip. HRT went in and served the warrants, brought them in. Tuck’s team.”

Tuck
.

A myriad of emotions flitted through her at the mention of her sexy former partner’s name. All so complicated she didn’t know how to make sense of them anymore. She had no idea what his schedule was these days but he might be on shift right now. Quantico was a big place, but she definitely didn’t want to run into him while on base. Not when he posed the biggest threat to the emotional shields she’d managed to erect around herself over the past few weeks.

“I want to see them,” she said.

Travers nodded and held open the door for her. “After you.”

She followed him during the hour long drive back to Quantico while he filled her in on the investigation over the phone via her car’s hands free device. Apparently Xang had given up everything he knew soon after capture and was going to testify against the men who had attacked her and Rachel.

The agency was closing in on other sleeper cell members here in the States, and they had several leads to investigate in China if government officials there cooperated. The Chinese had already executed several raids that had netted them some of the main players in the cell, mostly in Xinxiang and Beijing. Pinning everything on the men bankrolling the cell was proving harder than originally thought.

Fifty-two minutes later they arrived at Marine Corps Base Quantico. Having served in the Corps for five years before entering the FBI, coming back on base always felt a little bit like coming home for her. She parked in front of the detention center and followed Travers inside. Two uniformed Marines escorted them to the interrogation room at the back of the building. More FBI agents stood outside the room, waiting for them.