Broken Page 29

  Agents Fields and Rutherford hurried off the elevator as if afraid the doors were going to close on them, which was entirely possible.

  Rutherford took the lead, his perfectly coiffed hair gleaming in the yellow fluorescent lights. Did he use mousse or some other product? Dana would love to get that kind of volume. “Why the hell aren’t any of your phones working?” Rutherford asked, looking out of place in the dingy office with his smooth, shiny gray suit and polished loafers.

  Dana winced. Hadn’t anybody told the agents about the burner phones? Probably not. She kept silent, figuring Angus could handle the HDD guys.

  But it was Nari who spoke first, stepping out of her tiny closet office. “We’ve been busy working on all the case files you dumped on us last week.”

  Oh, good point. Dana had forgotten those case files, as had everyone else, as far as she could tell. Roscoe abandoned her shoe and stood, turning around and positioning himself between her and the agents. Ah, that was sweet. She reached out and scratched him between the ears, calming him. His butt dropped and he sat, his focus still remaining on what he must consider a threat.

  Fields kept his gaze on the dog. Sharp man.

  Rutherford wasn’t that smart. He looked at Angus, his stance belligerent. “I’ve requested to interview your team, and I’m tired of waiting for you to cooperate with the people paying your salary. So, we’re going to conduct said interviews right here and right now.” He angled his neck and looked beyond the elevator. “I believe there are a couple of interrogation rooms in this dump?”

  Dana’s burner phone buzzed, and she jumped, scrambling for it on the desk and knocking over a cup of pens. “Hello? Hello?” she said frantically, pressing it to her ear.

  “Hi, baby.” Wolfe’s voice came through strong.

  Her entire body went limp, sagging in relief so strong she almost started crying. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but Jethro is having surgery on his leg right now. Sorry about the delay calling, but we got pinned down for quite a while and then had to take evasive measures. It was all quiet until we landed at the Fort Sam Houston hospital early this evening.” Wolfe sounded strong and sure. Alive and well.

  Dana pressed a hand instinctively against her abdomen and looked up to see everyone watching her intently. Wolfe was on a secret mission, and she instantly tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said.

  Wolfe was quiet for a moment. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, just working away in the office with everybody.” She smiled and Rutherford’s eyes narrowed.

  “Is there somebody present you can’t speak freely in front of?” Wolfe’s voice had turned all business.

  She forced a laugh. “Yeah. Definitely.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “No. Annoying like the summer weather.” She wasn’t good at this subterfuge crap.

  He sighed. “Fields and Rutherford.”

  “Yes, that would be a lot of fun, Mom. I can’t wait,” Dana said, getting into the act.

  Malcolm snorted quietly next to her.

  “You’re not very good at this, sweetheart,” Wolfe murmured, making her smile wider in response. “When you can talk, tell Force that Jet took a couple to the leg and might have shattered an ankle. Surgery will take a few hours.”

  “Yeah, Mom, I like the blue shoes,” Dana replied.

  Wolfe chuckled. “Stop talking and just nod. I want to speak with Jethro’s doctor. Then I’m going to hop a transport in about two hours. That’ll get me home six hours from now, and I can’t wait to put my mouth on you.”

  Her answer strangled in her throat, so she followed his directions and just nodded, her face warming from her neck to her forehead. Wolfe disengaged the call, so Dana waited a sec, said good-bye to the silence, and put her phone on her desk.

  “Your mother?” Agent Fields asked dryly.

  She cleared her throat and reached to pet Roscoe again.

  Force strode out of his office toward the agents, and Roscoe stood again, his fur rising along his back. “Down, boy,” Force murmured, pausing by the dog. “Here’s the deal. We’re in the middle of a couple of those cases you shoved down our throats, and we don’t have time to chat today.” He looked over his shoulder at Brigid, who finally peeked out of her computer room. “Bridge? Would you create a schedule for everybody on the team to meet with these fine gentlemen—starting on Monday after we clear these cases?”

  Rutherford’s patrician features darkened, and he stepped forward, stopping only when Roscoe growled a clear warning.

  Fields sighed. “We need a better handle on what caused the explosion the other night.”

  Force shrugged. “I’m no expert on explosions. We received an anonymous letter here at the office, didn’t really think it was true, and went to check out Frank Spanek just to make sure. Got there, knocked on the door, and the world pretty much volcanoed around us.”

  “Where’s the letter?” Rutherford asked softly.

  Dana listened intently. If this was the story, she wanted to remember it. Although, apparently, she wasn’t very good at playing this game.

  Force winced. “It must’ve gotten caught in the fire. I haven’t seen it.”

  “That’s handy,” Fields said, reaching into his pocket for a green sucker, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth.

  “Not really,” Force countered, resting his hand on the vibrating dog. “I don’t know anything about the explosion other than it hurt to hit the wall on the other side of the hallway. Might’ve been motion activated, on a timer, or even detonated from afar. I really have no idea.”

  Fields studied the assembled group. “All right. The rest of your team can wait until Monday, but you and Clarence Wolfe need to be interviewed today.”

  Force turned on his heel. “You can interview me in my office. Wolfe is running errands, and you’re welcome to wait for him, but it might be a while.”

  Rutherford looked around the small group. “I’d advise you all to remember that lying to federal agents is a felony, and I would love to prosecute every single one of you.”

  Force halted at his office. “It’s now or never, gentlemen. I have a hot yoga class in an hour.”

  Raider coughed out a laugh.

  The two agents strode through the space, giving the dog a wide berth.

  Malcolm waited until the door had closed before standing. “Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.”

  Dana nodded, packed up her belongings, and jogged toward the elevator with the rest of the group, including Roscoe. Kat had stayed home with Pippa for the day, so she didn’t have to worry about him. Once outside the building, Roscoe seemed as happy as she did to get away from the office, jumping into Mal’s truck with a wag of his tail.

  They shared companionable silence on the way home, and Pippa had dinner waiting at Mal’s house.

  “I love her,” Dana said, taking a deep breath of the fragrant air and preceding Mal into his home.

  “So do I,” Mal said, smiling.

  They had a wonderful dinner of chicken and rice before Dana yawned and decided to take both Kat and Roscoe home. She had another baby doll to wear to bed, this one a sexy black, and she wanted to get ready for Wolfe, so she walked between the backyards, with Malcolm watching her. Maybe Wolfe had some candles somewhere so she could make it more of a romantic night.

  Daylight was fading, but not the oppressive heat when she opened the door, entered the alarm, and breathed in the cool air inside. She moved to the fridge for a glass of wine, remembering at the last second that she couldn’t drink. Kat sprawled across the table, sleeping, and Roscoe conducted a quick survey of the house, hitting every room.

  Should she tell Wolfe about the pregnancy tonight or wait until the morning, after, well, welcoming him home the right way? Excitement flushed through her.

  Roscoe returned to her and sniffed at the door.

  “Why didn’t you go while we walked over?” She sighed, punc
hed in the code, and opened the door. The dog bounded out. She laughed, watching him play. He was so sweet to check out the house before relieving himself outside. What kind of training did he have, or was that just instinct?

  He stopped cold in the middle of the yard and spun around, looking at her.

  “Roscoe?” She stepped near the slider. What was wrong with him?

  Silent as death, a man twisted off the roof, hands on the eaves, and swung inside. He hit her with his legs, knocking her several feet back to land on her butt. Pain ripped up her back to her neck, and she slid across the floor, striking the lower part of the kitchen counters.

  Roscoe bunched and ran full bore at the intruder, impacting him and shoving them both inside. Roscoe slashed with his teeth and growled, furiously going for the guy’s neck.

  The man covered his face, fighting back, and reached for a gun at his waist.

  “Roscoe!” Dana scrambled up and jumped for the duo, but the man turned and fired. The gun barely made a sound. It had to have had a silencer. The dog yelped, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Roscoe stopped, his eyes wide, then fell back, blood spurting from his side.

  The man stood and slid the door closed, turning to face her. He slowly dropped a backpack to the floor.

  Gary Rockcliff.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Dana cried out and dropped to her knees, reaching for Roscoe. His eyes had shut, and blood poured from above his belly. She frantically turned and ransacked the second drawer for a towel to press against the wound. The dog didn’t move.

  She looked up, her body going numb.

  Gary Rockcliff stared down at her, the barrel of the gun pointed at her head. “It’s time for us to go.”

  She shook her head, pressing the towel against Roscoe’s fur, the blood welling up between her fingers. “You’re crazy. How could you shoot a dog?”

  Kat jumped to all fours, arched his back, and hissed at Gary from the table.

  Gary pointed the gun at the kitten.

  “No!” Dana exploded, jumping for Kat, snatching him up, and shoving him into the small pantry. She shut the door, leaning against it, her nerves misfiring from adrenaline and terror.

  Gary pointed the gun at the unmoving dog. “Come here, Dana, or I’ll shoot him again.”

  She rapidly thought through her options, glancing between Gary and the dog. “I don’t understand what you want.” Wasn’t there a knife in the drawer by the oven? She had to get over there somehow.

  “You will.” Gary was as tall as Wolfe and as broad across the chest, but his eyes showed a madness that made the bile rise in Dana’s throat. He’d dressed in all black and had a knife visibly strapped to his thigh. “Here’s the plan. We go out one of the windows to the east, away from that other house, and then we quietly walk through the forest to the vehicle I have waiting.”

  “Is that how you got here?” Dana panted.

  “More or less.” Gary stepped toward her, his hand steady on the weapon. “I was on that roof forever, waiting for you.”

  She shook her head, frantically seeking a way out. “Wolfe will kill you for this.”

  Gary chuckled, the sound scratchy. “Oh, you have no idea what he’ll want to kill me for, but you will soon.”

  Her stomach dropped, and her hands shook.

  Without warning, Gary grabbed her and yanked her in front of him to face the backyard, pressing the gun to her head. She shrieked, fought his hold, and then subsided when the cold metal cut into her skin. She blinked several times, looking out at the darkened night through the slight reflection in the sliding glass door. Outside, Malcolm stood, a rifle in his hands.

  Gary angled himself behind her. “Do you think he could hit me and not you through this glass?”

  “Yes.” Her lip trembled.

  Malcolm took several steps back, the fury in his eyes evident even across the distance.

  “Guess not,” Gary said, pushing her toward the sliding glass door. “This changes our plans, now doesn’t it?” He shoved harder with the gun, and she winced. “Draw the blinds shut. Now.”

  Roscoe whimpered behind her. “Let me put him outside,” Dana said. Then Malcolm could get the dog some help.

  “No.” Gary sighed. “Here’s the deal. You shut these blinds, or I’m going to shoot you in the knee. It won’t kill you, but it’ll hurt like hell, and you won’t even get a chance to run. Don’t you at least want a chance to run?” he crooned, dropping his head to whisper in her ear.

  The thought of the baby inside her nearly dropped her to the floor. She had to stay alive. Malcolm knew Gary was there; he’d get the rest of the team. All she had to do was stay alive. “Okay.” She drew the blinds closed, instantly feeling cut off as Malcolm disappeared.

  Gary nudged her toward the keypad. “Engage the alarm.”

  She punched in the code and then pushed him. “It’s locked and we’re secured. Will you please let me put the dog out on the front porch? Malcolm is out back, so I can do it without him seeing.” She had to save Roscoe. Maybe she’d get a chance to run, too.

  “No.” Gary maneuvered them to the living room and shoved her onto the sofa. “You move, and I’ll shoot you.” His smile revealed one too-long canine. “In the knee, of course. We want time to play, don’t we?”

  She looked around the room for something to use as a weapon if the chance arose, but there was nothing. How could she get through to him? She thought back to a television show she’d watched a while ago, trying to concentrate. “You saw me at the golf course the other day, right?”

  Gary lifted the blinds to check the darkened road. “Yeah.”

  “I was there with my family.” She remembered an investigator on the show telling people to personalize themselves to bad guys. “I have three sisters. Do you have any?”

  “No.”

  Tires screeched outside. Gary nodded. “Backup has arrived. That was quick—must’ve been in the neighborhood.” He let the blinds fall back together and turned to face her, looking like one solid lump of muscle.

  It couldn’t be Wolfe outside. He’d probably just be landing, and the airstrip was at least thirty minutes away. Dana sat on the edge of the sofa, her body tense and ready if an opportunity came. “I’m a journalist because I like to write.” She tried to look into the kitchen but could only see Roscoe’s motionless tail. Her eyes filled and she batted emotion away. “Articles right now, but like most journalists, I’ve thought about writing a book. Maybe some sort of young adult novel with an element of science fiction.”

  Gary’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Dana? Do you think my getting to know you is going to help somehow?”

  “It can’t hurt,” she said. “Why don’t we talk and get to know each other?”

  He stared at her chest. “I want to know two things about you. First, how loud can you scream, and second, is your blood sweet or spicy tasting?”

  Something buzzed, and he reached in one of his many pockets for a small phone. “It’s about time,” he muttered, lifting it to his ear while also pointing the gun back at her. “Where the hell have you been?”

  If she could get into the bedroom, she could lock the door and run for the window. She stiffened.

  He shook his head and dropped the aim of the gun to her leg. Then he frowned, his nostrils widening. “What are you saying to me?”

  Dread slammed into Dana.

  Gary focused on her, his eyes hardening. “All of it? Are you sure?” He swallowed and red infused his thick neck. “I’m going to kill you when I find you. Just so you know.” He clicked off, his face frighteningly intense. “Well. I guess we know where Wolfe is.” He tucked the phone back into the pocket and reached for a wickedly sharp-looking knife. “We should get started.”

  * * *

  Wolfe swung open the helicopter door and jumped from the military transport, his mind on Dana. Maybe she’d wear that yellow baby-doll thing again if he asked nicely, after he’d taken a shower and gotten out of this black mission clothing. H
e stopped cold at the sight of Brigid waiting for him next to a souped-up sports car. Her Irish green eyes swallowed up her pale face. He reached her in seconds. “What’s happened?”

  Her teeth chattered. “Gary Rockcliff is at your place right now.” She’d barely gotten the words out before he ran around and dropped into the driver’s seat. She opened the passenger door and sat, securing her seat belt as he ignited the engine and spun away from the tarmac.

  “Tell me everything,” Wolfe ordered, opening up the throttle, his hands cold on the steering wheel. Fury threatened to take him, and he tamped it down, only to be assaulted by a great wave of fear. His body bunched as if he’d taken a blow, and he wrestled all feeling into nothingness. “Brigid?”

  She swallowed, her hands pressing against the dash when he took a corner too fast. “Raider, Nari, and I were having a late dinner when Mal called and said Gary was inside your house with Dana. Angus was already on his way to Mal’s for some reason, so he got there quickly. Raider and Nari took his truck to go cover the house as well, and I borrowed Nari’s car to pick you up.”

  “How long has he had her?” Wolfe asked, his chest pounding.

  “Thirty minutes or so. Raider and Nari should be there by now.” Tears filled Brigid’s eyes. “She’ll be okay.”

  Wolfe drove faster, winging between other cars and driving on the shoulder when necessary. “His plan must have been to kidnap her, and Malcolm ruined that. He’ll be pissed off to have his plans changed.” He barely missed a motorcycle rider but sped up again anyway.

  “Mal thinks Roscoe has been shot,” Brigid whispered.

  Wolfe tightened his hold on the steering wheel and punched the gas pedal to the floor. “You have a phone?”

  “Yes.” She fumbled for her burner.

  “Call Force.” He’d be there by now and was the planner on most operations.

  She speed-dialed and pressed the speaker button.

  “Force,” Angus answered.

  “It’s Wolfe. Give me a status,” he ordered, taking a corner on two wheels and barreling down the country road.