Next Exit, No Outlet Read online

  “And if things go sideways?”

  “If that happens, it won’t make any difference if they’re here or not.” Damon got up and crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her. “But if we can find the bastard before it all goes to hell, then they’ll be safer here than out there.”

  She was silent for a moment, her face impassive, then she sighed softly.

  “Do you have any idea how much of a circus it will be?”

  He grinned. “No one ever said life was easy, but at least we can be entertained along the way.”

  Alina snorted. “You say that now. Just wait. You have no idea.”

  Chapter Five

  September 28 - Iraq

  Hi John,

  I don’t have much time. I’m moving out in an hour with a team for a search and rescue mission. A corporal went missing last night and intel says he’s being kept in a town a couple of hours from here. It’s a known insurgent stronghold, and I’m not sure how long it will take to locate him. I want to send these before I leave. Two attachments. Keep them safe.

  My buddy Michael is getting suspicious. I think he knows something is going on, but I can’t tell him anything. I can’t tell anyone, but especially not Mikey. He’s Irish, and has the temper to match. He’ll go off and get himself killed if he gets wind of what’s going on. I need you to make sure of one thing: if anything happens to me, don’t let Michael O’Reilly know any of this. He’s too hot-headed to approach it calmly, and I don’t want him getting hurt. He’s already promised to look out for Lina if anything happens to me, so you might meet him. A word of caution: he’ll be even more protective than me, so make sure you treat her right!

  I managed to get a few minutes alone with that war hero I told you about last letter. He’s in intelligence now, and he was very interested in what I had to say. He said I did the right thing in bringing it to him, and he’s going to look into it. He thinks he can take care of it without my involvement getting out, so there might be hope yet.

  I’m running out of time. Someone’s watching me. I can feel it. I’m glad I’m getting out of here on this mission today. A couple days away will give me some breathing room. Maybe when I get back, it’ll all be over. But just in case, keep these files safe. Remember, don’t tell anyone - not even Lina.

  I’ll write again when I have news. At least now I’m not the only one trying to figure this out.

  Give Lina my love,

  Dave

  Dawn was just breaking when Alina came awake, her eyes opening slowly as something pulled her from sleep. Damon was beside her, propped up on his elbow, one finger tracing the puckered incision on her abdomen. His lips were pressed together in a line as he stared broodingly at the healing wound.

  “Hawk?”

  He raised his eyes to hers and Alina found herself looking into deep, emotionless pools, his thoughts effectively concealed from her.

  “It’s healing well,” he said in a low voice.

  After digging out a bullet that went through him and into her, an infection had set in, necessitating a trip to a surgeon to have the wound cleaned out. The doctor had stitched it up last week, but the skin was still puckered and angry as the antibiotic he prescribed worked its magic. The muscles gave her pain every time she moved but, all things considered, Alina would take that over the alternative.

  “It’s getting there.”

  His gaze shifted to her left arm and the two holes that were now almost completely closed. Those had been courtesy of a bullet that went through her outer bicep. Alina frowned at the look on Damon’s face.

  “Three new scars, all in the past month.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you keep track?”

  “Since they started happening stateside. Injuries in the field are one thing. I get my share, too. These are different. These happened because you were here.”

  Alina studied his face for a long moment, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

  “These are nothing compared to this,” she finally said, pointing to the incision on his left side. “This should have killed you. Mine are simply flesh wounds.”

  “Flesh wounds that should never have happened.” Damon sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Long shadows fell across his face. “It’s safer working ops on foreign soil than being home. I went to Georgia, got in, got my target, and got out - all without getting shot. Hell, you went into a Taliban camp in Afghanistan alone, killed everyone there and walked out without a scratch.”

  Alina rolled onto her side to face him.

  “Not exactly without a scratch,” she disagreed, pointing to a faded scar on her jaw. “And either one of those could have gone very differently. You know that. We can’t choose when things will go according to plan. We can only control how we react when they don’t.”

  He smiled faintly. “Are you quoting Harry to me?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “Was it Harry who said that? All the instructors from the training facility blend together in my mind now.”

  “It sounds like something he would have said, right after he just dealt us a blow that probably had us in the infirmary for hours.”

  Alina studied him for a moment. “Why the sudden introspection?” she asked softly.

  Damon was silent for a long moment, then he exhaled.

  “This has to end,” he said, his voice just as soft. “We have to find the bastard and finish this. There are only so many times we can get shot before our luck runs out.”

  “We will. I’m getting close.”

  Damon looked at her sharply. “What?”

  “I haven’t had much time to keep you up to date. I’m making progress.”

  “How much progress?”

  “More since I got into John’s hard drive. The emails make sense now, and I’ve been able to put together a timeline and a map.”

  “The troop movements,” Damon said, sitting up and propping a pillow behind his back. “I saw them on your computer downstairs. Is that what this is all about?”

  She sat up beside him and nodded.

  “Among other things, Dave sent John copies of manifests with missing artillery and equipment. He also sent him maps and satellite images. I thought they were all highlighting troop movements, but they weren’t. Most were of areas where the troops were, but a couple were areas where the military never went.”

  Damon frowned. “What?”

  “Dave thought someone was taking military equipment and selling it to insurgents. The manifests he sent back that up. They were all shipments that were reported lost or destroyed, but Dave believed they were actually stolen and sold.”

  “Did he have proof?”

  Alina nodded.

  “In at least one instance. Two crates that were supposedly destroyed showed up on the back of a truck in a village. Dave saw them himself.”

  Damon whistled. “Where did they go?”

  “Into the mountains. Here’s the kicker. He sent photos that he managed to get of two men with the truck. You’ll never guess who was in the photo.”

  Damon eyed her warily. “Who?”

  “Al-Jibad.”

  He stared at her, his face suddenly impassive.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “That bastard got his weapons from us?!”

  “Not just us. We were working jointly with British forces. And it gets better. The manifests that Dave sent, just the ones he was able to get copies of, totaled over twelve million dollars worth of weapons,” she said grimly. “There were more that he wasn’t able to copy and send.”

  Damon leaned his head back against the headboard and gazed across the dark room.

  “That’s certainly reason enough to put a bullet in his head. No offense.”

  Alina glanced at him. “You need to stop saying that. Why would I take offense? It’s how he died.”

  Damon shrugged. “Yes, but there’s more tactful ways for me say it.”

  �
�Dave’s been dead for twelve years. You can sugar coat it all you want, but he’ll still be dead.”

  Damon looked at her and his lips twitched. “What about the troop movements?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out, but it looks like it wasn’t so much the troop movements that were important, but what was happening at the same time.”

  He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Well?”

  “Each time they moved, it coincided with activity in the mountains and the insurgent camps.”

  “So whoever was selling the equipment knew when they were advancing. That’s not surprising.”

  “No, but it also coincided with diplomatic activity,” she told him.

  “Well, we know the leak is from Washington,” he said slowly. “So, again, no surprise there.”

  “In the second to last letter, Dave said someone was visiting and he was going to try to get a meeting with him.”

  Damon’s lips tightened. “And?”

  “In the last letter, written the day before he died, he said he got the meeting and told him everything.”

  “Why the hell would he do that when he didn’t trust anyone?” Damon demanded. “Hell, he practically committed treason by sending the information to John because he didn’t trust anyone.”

  Viper’s mask slid into place and her eyes hardened.

  “As far as Dave was concerned, there was no reason not to trust him. The man was a war hero.”

  Damon sucked in his breath and looked at her sharply.

  “You think...”

  “Not only that, but he worked in intelligence. If anyone could help him, Dave believed it was him.”

  “It will be a beautiful spring day today with a high of eighty degrees and plenty of sunshine. What a way to start the weekend! Grab the kids and head outside. There are plenty of events going on around the city, and the weather will be perfect all weekend.”

  The morning news droned on in the background as the smell of frying bacon filled the kitchen. The man at the stove set down a pair of tongs and picked up a splatter screen, setting it over the frying pan. Turning, he glanced at the small television in the corner and watched as the meteorologist went through the weather for the upcoming week. Spring was on its way out, and the days were getting longer and warmer. Soon summer would be here, and he would be looking for ways to escape the city and the oppressive heat.

  That is, he would be if he was still here.

  His phone vibrated on the counter and the man glanced at the screen. Sighing, he reached for his Bluetooth, hooking it into his ear.

  “Yes?”

  He turned back to the stove and lifted the splatter screen, picking up the tongs again to turn the sizzling bacon.

  “Good morning, sir. There’s been a problem with the target.”

  The man finished turning his bacon and set the splatter screen back over the pan.

  “I hope you plan on explaining.”

  The voice on the phone cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  “Special Agent Walker is still alive.”

  The man’s lips tightened and his face took on a decidedly unpleasant expression.

  “I was under the impression that I made myself clear the last time we spoke,” he said. “At what point did I lose you?”

  “None, sir. I know she is a priority target. We’re doing everything we can.”

  “Apparently not.” The man lifted the frying pan off the burner and turned off the gas. He set the pan on a back burner. “What’s the complication?”

  “She had help, sir.”

  The man stilled. “What do you mean, she had help?”

  “I sent a highly-skilled team in full gear and they were all killed. She had to have help. One person could not eliminate an entire team.”

  “How many were in the team?”

  “Fourteen, sir.”

  “Oh, she had help all right,” the man muttered, “and I know just who it was. Damn!” He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed at a random spot on the wall. “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re watching her apartment, and we’ve got ears on her office phone and her boss. I’ll have something soon.”

  The man snorted.

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not optimistic. This is not the result I paid for when I hired you.”

  “No, it’s not, and I will make this right,” the voice assured him. “You have my word.”

  “I’m not interested in your word. I’m interested in your results and, right now, they’re very underwhelming. I’ve got desk jockeys that can do better than this.”

  “As I said, it will be rectified.”

  The man disconnected without another word and thoughtfully tapped his finger on the side of his phone. After a long moment, he set the phone down and turned to get eggs out of the fridge. He would finish making his breakfast, eat, and then get to work. Clearly he had to step in and do things himself. Who would think Agent Walker would turn into such an ordeal?

  His lips thinned as he pulled out two eggs and cracked them into a waiting bowl. He hadn’t expected such a fight from her, but he supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, she was a childhood friend of Viper.

  Viper. She was an even larger problem, and had been for a few weeks now. The woman simply refused to be a good soldier and die. He had known taking her down wouldn’t be easy, and so far it was living up to his expectations. Although, he really had thought it would end in Atlantic City. Instead, she’d wiped out his entire senior team. Rather than risking any more seasoned specialists, he’d hired Marcel.

  Marcel’s reputation preceded him. He was a professional, and ran a firm of professionals, all ex-spec ops and mercenaries; these were people trained not to fail. And yet they had now failed twice with Agent Walker. Perhaps his reputation was a bit more inflated than he’d originally thought.

  The man removed the splatter screen from the frying pan on the stove and transferred the bacon onto a plate. Turning the front burner on, he set the pan over the flame and waited a moment for it to heat up again. He was just pouring the eggs in when his phone emitted an alarm tone and he glanced at it with a faint frown. Now what?

  Picking up the phone, he swiped the screen impatiently and glanced at the alert on the screen. His brows snapped together sharply and he sucked in his breath.

  “It’s not possible,” he breathed in disbelief, touching the button to expand the alert.

  The link sent him to a secure site and he logged in with his thumb print, unlocking the account. Fury, hot and fierce, swept through him as he stared at the digital proof that it was, indeed, possible. Someone had found the account in Singapore, the account that he had spent years carefully burying.

  The same account that was the only remainder of what had happened twelve years ago in Iraq.

  Chapter Six

  Alina pulled a mug of steaming coffee out from under the coffee spout and sipped it. Turning, she left the kitchen and walked over to the sliding door where Buddy was waiting, his tail wagging. She slid it open, and he bounded outside and across the deck. She followed at a more moderate pace, watching as he went down the steps and onto the grass. After smelling the air for a moment, he trotted over to the tree line and lowered his nose, sniffing around for the perfect place to do his business.

  Lifting her eyes, Alina watched as Raven glided across the lawn and came to rest on the roof of the garage. The sun was beginning to make its way through the trees now, casting pale streams of light across the grass and dispelling the remaining shadows. A gentle breeze promised a beautiful day, and she inhaled deeply, lifting her mug to her lips.

  A moment later her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a secured message, and Alina frowned when she saw the blinking icon. And it wasn’t from Charlie.

  Turning, she went over to one of the Adirondack chairs and sank into it. After checking to make sure Buddy was still on the lawn, she lowered her gaze back to the screen
in her hand. Swiping the alert, she opened a secure browser and started an antivirus scan. While it ran, she watched as Buddy finally found a perfect spot and crouched down.

  Once the scan had completed, Alina tapped the screen and opened the secure message. Her brows snapped together in a scowl. There was a single line before an icon to connect to another message.

  How well do you know your friends?

  Viper tapped the link and watched as an image opened on the screen. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t what she was looking at. Her fingers tightened around the phone as she stared at an excerpt from a journal. Only one person she knew kept a journal going back well over 12 years. The entry was handwritten, and she recognized Angela’s precise and flowing script.

  June 15, 2005

  Came back from the shore today. The sun was strong, but the water is still cold. I fried, as usual. It drives me crazy that Lina goes a gorgeous tan while I end up looking like an over-ripe tomato. So not fair. Aside from that, we had fun. Got totally wasted last night, and Lina ended up dancing on a table. Stephanie went up to get her down and they both fell off and broke a chair. Good times.

  It’s good to see Lina laughing again. She still misses Dave. He graduates from Parris Island next week and then he’s going to Camp Pendleton. She’s afraid he’ll get sent to Iraq, but Steph and I don’t think he will. We think she’s worrying over nothing.

  Lina still doesn’t know anything about Dave and Stephanie. I keep telling Steph she has to tell her, but she won’t. She says it’s over and all it will do is upset Lina. I guess I can see her point. Lina would flip out if she found out her brother was banging her best friend and no one told her. On the other hand, I don’t think friends should keep secrets from each other. We’re like family. We should be able to tell each other the truth.

  Confusion swept through Alina as she stared at the screen in disbelief. Emotions she hadn't felt in years clamored for attention, but Viper wouldn’t let them take hold. Instead, she took a deep breath and her heart fell into a steady rhythm that she knew very well. Slowly, she raised her eyes and gazed blindly across the back lawn. Sitting very still, her heartbeat steady, she absorbed the sudden realization that she did not know Stephanie as well as she’d always thought she did. Not only that, but apparently she didn’t know Angela as well as she thought she did either. Angela had known a pretty significant secret and had kept it to herself, even after all these years.