Next Exit, Quarter Mile Read online

  With quick, practiced movements, she unplugged John's laptop and reached down to disconnect the charger from the outlet. A short search unearthed the laptop bag behind the desk and she slid everything into it quickly. She was about to leave the office when, without knowing why, she went back to the photo. Before she could think twice, Alina picked it up and slid it into the bag with the laptop.

  “Lina!” Stephanie whispered frantically from the hallway. “We've got company!”

  Viper stepped out of the office and joined Stephanie in the dark hallway, listening. The unmistakable sound of the patio door sliding open caused her heart to surge into her throat before immediately settling into the pounding rhythm Viper knew so well. They switched off their lights and Viper motioned Stephanie to follow her into John's bedroom at the end of the hall. She silently closed the door behind them and, without making a sound, crossed quickly to the window. She pulled up the blinds, looking out. The window faced the parking lot and Viper smiled in the pale light that streamed in from streetlights outside. She motioned Stephanie forward and rapidly draped the laptop bag across her body.

  “Don't lose this,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

  She turned and noiselessly opened the window, sliding the screen up without a sound.

  “Meet me at my house,” she whispered, motioning Stephanie out the window.

  Stephanie nodded and hoisted herself up and out the window, holding the laptop securely. She landed outside with a faint “oof” and looked up at Alina.

  “What about you?” she whispered.

  Viper smiled coldly in the pale light and Stephanie shivered despite her jacket.

  “I'll be there soon.”

  Stephanie swallowed and turned away from the frightening look on her friend's face. Viper watched her go toward the parking lot, then turned and moved silently back to the bedroom door. She bent her head and listened intently. Someone was moving around in the living room. She cracked open the door and peered down the hallway. It was dark and empty and the only noise came from the living room, where a thin white light darted around the darkness.

  Reaching into her inside pocket, Viper pulled out her black leather gloves and slid them on before slipping out of the bedroom and into the dark hallway. She moved along the wall silently, keeping her eyes on the light in the living room. Passing the open door to the office on her right, she glanced in quickly. It was empty. About a foot from the edge of the wall, Viper stopped, watching the light and listening. The intruder was directly around the corner, going through the bookshelf on the wall.

  Her breathing steadied and Viper waited patiently, perfectly still. The intruder was unaware of her presence as he pulled each book from the bookshelf, flipped through it, then tossed it on the floor. When all the books were exhausted, she watched as the light swung to the right, away from her.

  Viper rounded the corner. The intruder was a man, slightly taller than herself, with his back to her. In one smooth, rapid motion, Viper kicked the back of one of his knees. The leg buckled and, as he went down, she wrapped one arm around his neck firmly and twisted his head to the side with her other hand. Her gloved hand closed over his mouth, blocking any sound from coming out or any air from going in, and she tightened her hold on his neck, squeezing firmly as he struggled to get a hand under her arm and pull it off. His struggles grew as he began to panic at the lack of oxygen, and Viper increased the pressure of her arms in reaction. Less than a minute later, he slumped in her arms, motionless.

  She lowered him to the floor silently and pulled out her Maglite, shining it onto his face.

  “Well, hello there,” Viper murmured, looking down at an unconscious Dominic DiBarcoli.

  She bent down and felt for a pulse. Finding a faint one, she patted his cheek in mock affection before reaching down to undo the Italian leather belt at his waist. With sure movements, she pulled it out of his belt loops and rolled him over so that she could tie his hands together at his back. After securing them with a tight knot, she strode over to the front windows. She pulled her knife out of the holster at her ankle and reached up to cut the cord to the mini blinds. Viper slipped the knife back into its sheath and turned back to tie Dominic's ankles together with the cord. Once he was secured, she stepped back and looked at him.

  Anger, hot and fierce, burned through her as she stared at the man who killed Dutch Baker and more than likely tried to kill John.

  “You're lucky I need you alive right now,” Viper informed the unconscious man coldly, reaching down to grab the cord around his ankles. “But I promise you this, your time will come.”

  Hawk sat with his arms folded across his chest, watching the door. He was nearly invisible, sitting in the darkness, dressed in black and blending with the shadows around him. It hadn't been difficult to find a dark corner in the bar. The entire establishment was lit with minimal, subdued lighting, reminiscent of the old Jazz clubs of days past. The table before him was dark, polished wood and a half-empty pint of Guinness was the only indication to other patrons that the table may be occupied.

  As far as American bars went, this one was better than most, Hawk reflected dispassionately. The beer was good, the bartender knew how to pour a Guinness, and the clientele kept their eyes to themselves. He could see why this was one of Charlie's preferred meeting spots.

  Damon glanced at his watch and picked up the beer. He was in the process of taking a sip when Charlie materialized in the shadows next to him, a pint of lager in his hand.

  “Good evening, Hawk,” he said, seating himself.

  “Charlie,” Hawk nodded and set down his beer.

  “It's good to see you home,” Charlie said, his gray eyes studying him in the shadows. “How was the old Soviet block?”

  “Cold,” Hawk answered dryly.

  “You've grown your hair like them,” Charlie observed, his lips thinning into a faint smile. “You fit right in.”

  “When in Rome....or Chechnya, as the case may be.”

  “Indeed.” Charlie sipped his lager. “I need you to go back. It should be a quick trip, for you.”

  “Sir?”

  “I know Harry encouraged you to come back here, but I need you to take care of something in Georgia. You're the only asset familiar with the players there at the moment.”

  Damon studied his boss in the dim light. Charlie appeared completely relaxed, but Damon caught the very faint note of urgency in his voice that conveyed a larger importance on the trip than he was indicating.

  “What's the time frame?” he finally asked.

  “Immediately.” Charlie looked at him almost apologetically. “The target will only be in play for twenty-four hours, leaving you a twelve-hour window.”

  Hawk nodded, his face impassive.

  “Understood.”

  “Good,” Charlie said, picking up his beer and taking a sip. “Now that business is done, tell me why you supplied one of my assets with a clean phone not cleared by me.”

  Hawk's lips twitched.

  “Tell me why one of your assets' location and identity was leaked to the enemy,” he countered softly.

  Grey eyes met blue and Charlie's lips twisted faintly.

  “I'm working on that,” he said.

  “Her cover was already partially blown last summer when Regina went on her rampage,” Damon said slowly, toying with his pint glass. “Now she's been compromised again. This is becoming an unpleasant trend.”

  Charlie studied him silently for a long moment and Damon had no idea what was going on behind those grey eyes. He supposed the goal was to make him feel uncomfortable, but Hawk was too angry to feel uncomfortable. Charlie had to get his house in order before Viper, or someone else, got killed.

  “Let me ask you this,” Charlie finally said softly, “If you had to trust Viper with your life, would you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And me?”

  Hawk crooked one eyebrow.

  “I trust you with my life every day,” he replied wryl
y.

  Charlie smiled.

  “Quite,” he murmured. “Then do me the courtesy of trusting me to take care of this inconvenience for the safety of both you and Viper and all my other assets.”

  Hawk nodded, duly chastised.

  “You asked why I gave her a clean phone,” he said after a moment. “She contacted me and asked me for it. She doesn't trust anyone right now, and for good reason. It's her insurance policy.”

  “I understand,” Charlie murmured. “My concern is that two of my assets began making arrangements outside of protocol. I put the procedures in place for a reason.”

  “Did you take into account treason from within when you put the procedures in place?” Hawk asked pointedly. “Forgive me, but this whole situation is outside protocol.”

  “Fair enough,” Charlie conceded. “You see my point, though? You understand why I may get nervous when my two best assets begin to function autonomously?”

  “I do,” Hawk admitted after a moment.

  “Good.”

  “What do you suggest, then?” Hawk asked, his blue gaze piercing. “I know you. You don't expect us to roll over and become victims.”

  Charlie was surprised into a chuckle.

  “Hell no,” he muttered, finishing his beer. “I expect you to survive and complete the mission, which is why I have new equipment for both of you.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrow and sat back in his chair.

  “Really?” he drawled.

  “Really.” Charlie stood up. “There are two sealed boxes in the trunk of your car. Your names are on them. I'll leave you to deliver Vipers, along with my regards. Destroy the old devices and activate the new ones immediately. I sent ops specs to yours. I need you en route to Georgia tomorrow morning.”

  “Understood.”

  Charlie nodded and turned to leave, then turned back.

  “One more thing,” he murmured, looking at Damon. “Get back as soon as possible.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alina crossed the grass to the deck, glancing up as Raven swooped down from the trees. He glided over her head, wings outstretched majestically, and came to rest on the banister of the deck. Stephanie stood up from the chair where she was waiting, eyeing the hawk warily.

  “What happened?” she demanded as Alina strode onto the deck.

  “Nothing very exciting,” Alina answered, reaching out to stroke Raven's neck as she passed. “It was actually rather anti-climactic.”

  She waved the wand on her key chain in front of the pad next to the sliding door and slid the door open.

  “Who was it?” Stephanie asked, following her into the house.

  “Dominic.”

  Viper shot a quick searching glance over the lawn before sliding the door closed behind them. She watched through the glass as Raven launched off the banister and disappeared back into the darkness of the trees.

  “Dominic!” Stephanie exclaimed, dropping the laptop bag and her purse onto the bar.

  “Yes.” Alina turned from the door and went into the kitchen. Her hand started to go to her back to remove her .45 out of habit, but she stopped herself. Stephanie still wasn't entirely comfortable with Viper. There was no need to aggravate that further by disarming in front of her. “He was searching the living room when I got to him.”

  “What was he looking for?” Stephanie asked, dropping onto a bar stool.

  “I didn't take time to ask,” Viper replied dryly, turning to go to the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Do you have any beer?” Stephanie asked, rubbing her forehead. “I think I need something stronger than water.”

  Alina glanced at her and opened the fridge, pulling out a Yuengling from the back. She popped the top off with a bottle opener and passed it over to Stephanie before pulling a bottle of water out for herself.

  “Thanks,” Stephanie said. “Did he see you?”

  “Of course not,” Alina said, taking a long drink of water.

  “Is he still alive?”

  “Unfortunately.” Alina grabbed the laptop bag and carried it into the living room, setting it on the coffee table. Stephanie picked up her beer and followed her, dropping onto the couch. “I need him alive for the time being.”

  “You and me both,” Stephanie said. “He's the only definite lead we have.” She sipped her beer and looked at the bag on the table. “Is that all we got? John's laptop?”

  “It's all I had time to find, but I think it's all we need,” Alina answered, settling herself in the recliner. “Any information John gathered should be there. He was never one for having back-ups.”

  “He's still not,” Stephanie admitted. “IT is constantly trying to recover files for him. He refuses to back anything up.”

  “That's good news for us,” Alina murmured. “With a little luck, it will all be there.”

  “I didn't find anything in the living room,” Stephanie said, leaning her head back. “I was just heading down the hallway to look through the bedroom when I heard someone working the lock on the patio. I'd go back in the morning, but it will be too late by then.”

  “Too late?” Alina repeated softly, her dark eyes watching Stephanie.

  Stephanie cleared her throat and drank some more beer.

  “I had coffee this afternoon with Matt, our forensic wizard,” she said after a moment, her eyes meeting Alina's. “He told me the explosive used on John's Firebird was a shrapnel bomb.”

  Stephanie paused, waiting for some kind of muscle twitch or eyelash flicker from Alina to indicate she was already aware of the bomb, but there was nothing. Vipers mask was absolute.

  “The residue tests indicate it was a composition used extensively throughout Syria, and the same composition as a bomb that killed the British Prime Minister’s body double last year.” Stephanie never took her eyes off Alina's face. “Given that evidence, Rob will have to bring in the DHS and launch a full investigation. That will include taking all the evidence from John's house they can find. John got himself caught up in something a hell of a lot more complicated than street racing.”

  Alina remained silent, watching Stephanie through hooded eyes. When she used Matt's lab to run her tests, she intentionally left breadcrumbs in the mainframe logs so he would get immediate hits on the residues. It worked, and Stephanie was taking the news much better than Viper anticipated.

  “You could at least pretend to act surprised,” Stephanie muttered, lifting her beer to her lips and eliciting a chuckle from Alina.

  “John definitely got himself tangled up in a much larger web than he realizes,” she admitted, leaning her head back on the recliner. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don't know what I can do about it,” Stephanie answered with a frown. “Matt gave me all his evidence on a flash-drive. Once DHS comes in, they'll take everything. He wanted me to have a copy, but I don't know what to do with it.”

  “Keep it safe,” Viper advised softly. “Somewhere your agency can't get to it.”

  Stephanie stared at her for a beat, then leaned forward.

  “Lina, I know you know a lot more than you're telling me,” she said slowly, picking her words carefully. “I also realize that you can't tell me much, but I need some guidance here. John stumbled onto something, I don't know what, and almost got himself killed. Now, we've got terrorist-made bombs surfacing in Jersey, and I'm not being kept in the loop because I was removed from active duty. I feel like I have to do something, but I don't even know where to start! Blake is working the Cartel angle, trying to get a lead on the drivers so he can pull one in for questioning. I know there's a lot more going on than some smuggling by the Cartel, but I can't tell Blake any of that. I have all this information, but no viable function to contribute any of it. I feel so hopeless!”

  Stephanie got up impatiently and began pacing.

  “John's lying in a hospital bed, fighting to stay alive, and I can't even finish what my partner started because I don't know what he was doing! I know who
put him there, but I can't retaliate because I don't know why and I have no proof. As far as I can see, I'm useless right now.”

  Alina watched her pace in silence for a moment, noting the barely controlled energy in Stephanie's movements and the faint, very faint shortness of breath.

  “Why don't you start by sitting down and taking a few deep breaths,” she finally advised, lowering her feet to the floor and standing up in one fluid motion. “You're about to have a full-blown anxiety attack.”

  Stephanie looked at her, startled, and Alina smiled wryly.

  “You forget, I know you,” she murmured. “How long since you started having them again?”

  “The night you...the night Johann Topamari was shot,” Stephanie answered, sinking down onto the couch. “I haven't had one for months, until this afternoon.”

  Alina nodded and went out of the living room, crossing the dining room to the wine cabinet on the far wall. She opened it and pulled a small bottle from the bottom rack.

  “They're really not worth it, you know,” she said over her shoulder, pulling a rocks glass from a shelf above the cabinet. “They want to disrupt us. They want us to panic. They want us to feel helpless.”

  Alina poured two fingers of whiskey into the glass and carried it back to Stephanie.

  “In the end, terrorists are nothing but school-yard bullies,” she continued, looking down at her old friend, “mortal and fallible. Don't give them so much power over you.”

  Stephanie took the glass, her eyes never leaving Alina's face.

  “Is that how you cope with the horrors of what they do?”

  Vipers mask slid seamlessly into place and she turned to go back to her chair.

  “When you went to John's tonight, what were you hoping to do?” she asked, changing the subject without a flicker of emotion.