The Second Betrayal (30 page)

But Karl now had a clearer image in his mind of the pair who had taken down his Boston auction ring. He knew

exactly what both looked like. He would find them.

Plastic surgery would be required to fix his face, which the stupid Chinese bitch had ruined. While he was at it, he would have his surgeon remake his features. No one at the unknown agency would be able to recognize him.

His skin chilled as he realized that his image had likely been captured on security tapes at the airport and the Trump Tower. They would be able to locate him by his real name.

Karl gritted his teeth from the pain and applied more pressure with his good hand to the wound in his thigh.

Because he couldn't put on a headset, the deafening sound of the helicopter made it difficult to think clearly. The pain didn't help.

A new identity. He would have to find someone whose life he could assume. The plastic surgery could give him a face nearly identical to someone of his social stature. Karl's smile was no doubt cold looking as he thought of the exact person whose life he would assume. The man was unmarried, no children, and fairly reclusive. A billionaire whose

looks were close enough to Karl's that it would be easy to become his identical twin.

Then Karl would have the man eliminated and take over his life.

His thoughts churned over what would have to be done. He would have his financial adviser liquidate the balance of

his wealth immediately and store it with the rest of his money in his bank accounts in the Cayman Islands.

Then Karl Bachmann would disappear.

When he did, he wouldn't stop until he found and destroyed the man, the woman, and their organization. Whatever

agency they worked for couldn't possibly have the manpower or financial resources to easily locate him.

No, there was not an agency in the world that had billions in cash that they would be willing to spend looking for one man.

Karl did.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Going home

The plane couldn't get me back to Logan Airport in Boston fast enough to see my mother. And then the sluggish pace

of the people getting off the plane just about made me scream. Dear God.

I wished my legs were longer so that I could walk faster as I pulled my red carry-on suitcase through the much-too-

crowded airport. I'd left the rest of my luggage to be brought back with my team so that I could get home sooner.

My RED cell phone vibrated against my hip and I drew it out without slowing down. When I flipped it open the screen said
Unknown,
of course. Covert is covert.

This better be good.
"Steele."

"You okay?" Donovan's voice, low with concern. "Where are you?"

"Just landed at Logan and trying to get the hell out of the airport." I dodged a reunited family hogging up my path.

"I'm heading out to get to long-term parking where I left my Cherokee."

"I hope your mother is doing better," he said.

She's got to be. She's is going to be okay.
It was like I was mentally ordering all the gods anyone believed in to make it right. "Mama is tough. She's a survivor." My chest hurt the more I spoke. "She'll be okay."

"I know she will," Donovan said. "With you around, I don't think anything would dare hurt her."

If we didn't change the subject I felt like I was going to fall apart. It was hard to believe
Operation Little Red Riding
Hood
had just gone down yesterday. This was the first time I hadn't been around to wrap things up and make sure everything was finalized.

I rubbed my forehead with my free hand. "How are Kerrison and Jenika?"

"Both are in the New York branch of RED's infirmary. They're doing fine." Donovan sounded ready to punch a wall.

"Considering the trauma they both went through."

RED agents never went to the hospital, always to an infirmary that was unknown to any agency.

"The other clubs?" I paused inside the terminal instead of walking through the automatic sliding doors and I closed my eyes. "The girls?"

"Everything was on Giger's hard drive. He had it all well documented, including where all of his clubs are in the city,"

Donovan said. "Not to mention his accountant, a guy named Andreas, was more than willing to cooperate.

"The New York branch of RED and our team are in the process of shutting all of the clubs down and arresting every trafficker involved. We've worked it out so that the NYPD is handling that end of it."

Because of what his sister had been through, I could imagine the pain in Donovan's eyes when he continued speaking.

"We're getting the girls out of the clubs and to hospitals to be thoroughly checked out, along with psych evaluations and treatment before we send them home."

"I just can't imagine," I said as I opened my eyes and stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the terminal. "Is everything okay with bringing in the NYPD and other outside agencies to take care of the girls without letting them know about RED?"

"Yeah," Donovan said. "The agencies are doing their best to help the girls and notify their families that they're okay."

I swallowed. "The girl, Dasha. I promised to save her."

"Dasha was the one who killed Giger, and she killed her handler as well. A guy named Eddie. Apparently with Giger's own gun." Donovan sounded like there was something he was holding back.

"And how is she?" My voice was hoarse as I thought of the girl the last time I'd seen her.

Donovan's sigh was heavy. "After she killed them, Dasha turned the gun on herself."

My legs nearly gave out. "Christ," I whispered as I thought of the pretty blond Russian. Takamoto had briefed me on Giger, Stalder, and the other employees who were dead. But I'd left New York without knowing every detail. And the

fact that Dasha had killed herself was a big detail. One that tore at my heart and made my chest hurt like someone was taking a hammer to my ribs. I'd promised. Even with only my eyes,
I'd promised to help her.
I'd failed.

That wasn't like me, not to be in on everything to do with an op. But getting home to Mama was more important, and I didn't regret not being back finishing up the op in any way. I wasn't about to feel guilty for leaving everything to the team and Donovan to clean up.

I needed to be with Mama.

The automatic doors parted, and I went through them into the cold but clear November day. I hugged my coat tighter

to me with my free arm.

Mental exhaustion wanted to weigh me down, but I wouldn't let it. Not until after I'd seen my mother and after I

climbed into my own bed in Southie.

I thought of Hagstedt, the sonofabitch I wished I could have killed. I didn't care about needing him for information. I wanted him dead. Now.

"Any breaking news on Hagstedt?" I pictured his face before and after the mutilation.

"We're going to need you as well as the two girls who were in the suite to ID him on hotel and airport security tapes,"

Donovan said. "You three are the only ones who have seen his face—before it was mutilated. Once you ID him, we'll know where to start looking. Even if he changes his appearance and identity." The air in Boston usually smelled good to me, but right now everything seemed foul while thinking of Hagstedt

"We'll get him," Donovan added.

"Soon," I said. "I can't believe Ai survived." I remembered her motionless body by the helicopter. "If it wasn't for her, I'm not sure what would have happened to all of us."

"You would have found a way, Steele," Donovan said.

"Yeah, I would." I caught sight of the transport for the long-term parking. "I'd better go. I'll catch up on the rest after I see Mama."

"She's going to be okay," he said quietly.

"I know." I nodded as I said it, even though I was scared to death that neither of us was right.

During the drive to my parents' home in Cedar Grove, I probably broke a dozen traffic laws.

When I parked and climbed out, I didn't bother to lock the door of my Jeep. I bolted from the Cherokee and ran up the walkway to the blue-trimmed white house. I cut across the fall-yellowed grass and hurried past the basketball hoop

where I often played three-on-three with my brothers and new sister-in-law. I ran up the stairs without bothering to knock and I let myself in through the front door.

Neither Mama nor Daddy was in the family room and I ran straight through the swinging door to the kitchen. I came to a stop. My mother was using a pair of hot pads to take a baking pot out of the oven. I caught the wonderful smell of her rice pudding.

"Lexi." Mama beamed as she set the baking pot down and left the white-and-blue-checkered hot pads on the counter.

"I made your favorite. Rice pudding."

"Mama." The word came out choked as I ran to my mother and fell into her warm embrace. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too, pet." After a huge hug, Mama drew away and stroked the side of my face, her look tender and concerned. "Is everything all right?"

It was hard to meet her gaze. It was so hard to see the dark green cloth wrapped around her head, hiding the fact that her hair must have fallen out from the chemo. I didn't want to picture her beautiful gray hair falling out in chunks, leaving her bald.

And she was thin. Way too thin.

"Of course I'm fine." I tried to smile, for her.

That's what she wanted. She didn't want everyone to walk around worried and afraid. That had never been her way,

and I knew that in my heart. But I didn't think I did a very convincing job of not looking worried or afraid.

And angry. My anger at the cancer that was inside her was eating away at me, too.

She frowned as I met her blue eyes, and her Boston Irish accent was strong. "Don't you go moping around on me, you understand? I want to see you out there playing basketball with your brothers and Willow, kicking their arses."

I hugged her again, feeling the softness of her clothing, breathing in her familiar scent. Apples along with the spices she used for cooking.

"I could use your help, pet." Mama put her hands on her hips as she looked at me. "Start peeling those potatoes on the cutting board by the sink. I'm putting together a couple of Irish lamb and potato hot pots."

"I'm on it." I can't cook, but peeling potatoes I can do. I went to the sink and picked up the potato peeler, then glanced back at her. "Do you like your doctors at the cancer center?"

Mama gave a nod and smiled. "The doctors and nurses at Massachusetts General are fine indeed."

My stomach turned at the thought of her having to go there. I turned and started peeling a potato. "What do the doctors say?"

"The cancer is shrinking." The sound of cabinets opening and closing followed her words as I still faced away from her, making myself focus on the potato. "It may be soon enough that the doctors will go ahead and perform the

surgery," she said.

I stared at the potato and stopped peeling it. The ache behind my eyes made the pressure in my head almost

unbearable. "How much longer before they can get the cancer out?"

"Pet, stop." Mama rested her hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at her. She smiled. "Your brothers are coming over for dinner, so I need your attention on getting those potatoes peeled."

I tried to smile back, but failed miserably. "Okay."

"Now tell me about your trip to Stockholm." Mama moved to the fridge, and cool air brushed my bare arms. She grabbed two bunches of green onions before closing the door. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

I studied the potato in my hand. "Not this time."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Black ops. Blacker mistakes

"I missed your cooking." I leaned back on the couch and patted my stomach. We were in Donovan's living room in Back Bay. The brownstone he had bought was incredible. It looked like he'd hired an interior designer for his floor and for Kristin's. "That Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream was a nice touch."

He spooned the last of the banana ice cream with walnuts and chunks of chocolate into his mouth before answering.

"You only missed my cooking?"

"The sex." I grinned at him. "I definitely missed the sex over the last week while you've been wrapping things up in Manhattan."

"That's what you always say." Donovan set the empty container and spoon on the serving tray by our plates. "You miss the sex when we're not together." He brought his hands to my face and cupped my cheeks with his fingers, which were cool from holding the ice cream container. "I wonder if you missed me."

He kissed me before I could say anything in return. His kiss was soft, sweet, delicious. He tasted like banana ice cream and chocolate.

When he drew away, he rubbed his thumb over my cheek. "Are you sure you want to know about my past?"

Surprise made me blink. He was offering to tell me?

"You were right." Donovan brushed strands of hair from my cheek. "You shared your past with me, and I should be willing to do the same."

"About damned time," I said with a pretend grumble. But in some ways I was worried for him because of that cryptic thing he had said the last time we talked.

He gave me a half smile. More a sad smile. Probably because of what he was going to tell me.

"As you know, I was a SEAL before I left the Navy to take care of my sister when our parents were killed," he said.

I nodded, studying his brilliant blue eyes.

"No one knew, but I was still active duty while I raised Kristin." He lowered his hand from my face and leaned back against the couch. "I did local jobs that wouldn't take me away from my sister." He paused. "As a mercenary. Mostly I did private security work guarding senior U.S. diplomats, but there were other more secretive operations that I took care of."

"Mercenary," I said, the word seeming strange when it came to Donovan and the United States, not some foreign country. "But that changed when your sister graduated and went to college? Or did you continue your work as a

mercenary?"