COPYRIGHT © 2026 by Patti Ann Colt

United States of America

Long Past Deadly - Kindle Edition

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental. Any mistakes are unintentional and my own.

Any brand names and/or product names in this book are trade names, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publisher, author, and book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned. No companies referred to within this book have endorsed the work.

Cover Art by Patti Ann Colt

Cover design created using licensed images purchased from Adobe Stock Photo. Elements may include AI-generated content as provided by the artist and vetted through Adobe’s contributor review process. Cover and interior typography created using fonts available through a licensed Microsoft Office 365 subscription and Google fonts.

For information about publishing longer excerpts from this book, please contact the author at patti@pattianncolt.com or pfcopublishing@gmail.com.

Publishing History

Long Past Deadly, First Edition Digital and Print, August 2026

PFCO Publishing, Arlington, Texas

Kindle Edition ASIN: B0HFLN4FK6

Print ISBN (paperback): 979-8-19-339116-6

File Last Updated: August 2026

Books By Patti Ann Colt

PattiAnnColt.com

The Defenders Series

1 Lucky Charm (Hunt and Cait)

2 A Spark of Luck (Hunt and Cait – a prequel to Lucky Charm)

3 Luck Be Mine (Hunt and Cait)

4 Long Past Deadly (Quaid and Alanna)

Echo Falls, Texas Series

1   The Daddy Spell (Chad and Robin)

1.5 Christmas Magic (Chad and Robin)

2   The Sweetheart Dance (Meg and Bret)

3   Kiss Me Goodnight (Tom and Summer)

4   A Winter Romance (Olivia and Tom)

5   Canyon Hearts (Matt and Trina) written with Kelly McCrady

6   Boo and Lindy’s Matchmaking Adventure (Adam and Juliette)

7   Smitten (Rand and Laurel)

8   A Wedding to Remember (Rand and Laurel’s Wedding)

9   Hexed (Gage and Ruth)

10 Blessed (Meg and Bret)

11 All the Gift I Need (Tom and Summer)

Echo Falls Collection with Book 1-3

Parson Corners, Colorado Series

1 The Rock Star’s Sheriff (Zach and Leia)

Red Sofa Club Library

Echo Falls Between the Chapters

Hometown True (Adam and Juliette - free story)

The Defenders - Baxter Trilogy

#1 No One Left Behind (free story)

Table of Contents

Books By Patti Ann Colt

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

What’s Next?

Excerpt – No One Left Behind

Red Sofa Club Magazine

About the Author

Dedication

For those who chose their family –

and for the family who chose them back.

Chapter One

QM International Communication Check: 01:00:05 PST 12/15 San Diego HQ. Personnel status: Normal. No active threats. Ϙ

The main entrance double doors of QM International sighed open on a breath of night air and the faint echo of celebration.

Quaid Daniels stepped outside into the quiet. Upstairs, the wedding of Cait Hunter, his chief medical officer and friend, to her Navy SEAL husband had been reduced to brooms and vacuum cords after a touching ceremony and a rowdy reception. San Diego glittered on the horizon through it all, a spilled jewelry box in the dark night.

He loosened his tie and exhaled. The company’s first big party and they had survived the mayhem; he apparently had not. Watching a woman he respected promise forever made his own life shallow and scripted. The world saw a playboy. It made good cover. Lately, though, the disguise itched.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, flicked his lighter, and drew in on the single cigarette he allowed himself a day. Smoke curled into the warm, salt-scented dark. His phone buzzed – an unlisted number. He ignored it.

“Mr. Daniels?” Jensen, the security night shift, lingered in the door. “Everything all right?”

“Fine. Needed some air.” He shifted toward the parking lot, letting the night air and greenery settle him. Order soothed him. Which was why the odd pocket of shadow caught his eye; the dwarf junipers and ornamental grass along the building formed tidy, private alcoves.

He dialed his grandfather, one of many times tonight, and swallowed the surprise when he connected. Static, a story about monsoons, his mother reuniting with his father, and a Tokyo layover due to weather were not surprising excuses for the failure to arrive for the wedding. Same distance as always. He disconnected after a few minutes of conversation, rubbed the back of his neck, and put out his cigarette. The city noises had thinned to silence.

Quaid drifted further along the sidewalk and around the side of the building, destination unknown.

The parking lot was painted in fresh white lines, angled for efficiency, and bordered by native shrubs trimmed to regulation height. No weeds, no oil stains, no forgotten traffic cones. When people came to you with their troubles, they didn’t want to see a place with maintenance issues, so QM cultivated an immaculate setting somewhere between curb appeal and tactical advantages.

Cell phone in hand, Quaid mused on turning points. Growing up, he had a world-class gambler for a father, a dependent mess for a mother, and a globetrotting, money-making machine for a grandfather with not much in the way of belonging. His mother and father had separated and reunited dozens of times until his skepticism about their relationship formed a bedrock of doubts about all things marriage. The Marines and the CIA reinforced the doubt.

Lately, he’d found strength in this place with his Aunt Elizabeth, his partner Mackey Reynolds, and Cait and Hunter. These ties were the strongest, grounding and inspiring him.

About to retrace his steps, a whispered scuff stopped him.

He reached for a weapon he didn’t have.

“Down!”

He hit the pavement hard on his shoulder as the first gunshots shredded the side of the building. Concrete chipped in a shower of grit smelling like dust and ozone. He rolled into one of those quiet alcoves with a soft, firm body wrapped around his. The scent of citrus, honey, and cinnamon registered.

“Someone’s shooting at you,” the voice snapped.

Alanna Williams, FBI agent and currently a liaison to QM for a case.

He patted his pockets, but somewhere in the dive he’d lost his phone. Dammit.

“None of your people are covering this side.” She peeked over the bushes, light glancing off dark hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin.

He yanked her to better cover. More fire, suppressed and disciplined flew in the confined space. Concrete spewed in mini-shards.

She shoved at him. “Dammit, could you stop?”

“Can you stay down?”

She got in his face. “I am trained, Mr. Daniels. We have to get around to the front.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Left it inside.”

“Terrific.” Cut off in his own parking lot with most of the staff distracted by wedding cleanup. “Where’s the shooter?”

“By the parked cars on the street edge.” Two hundred feet.

“Aiming at us specifically?”

“Yes. I didn’t see the weapon, but definitely a rifle.”

“Doesn’t sound like a standard issue. Sounds more like a Barrett MRAD. Will he follow, Doctor?” Who would know better than a profiler.

Alanna tipped her head, her cheeks flushed – whether pissed at him or the situation, it didn’t really matter. “Most likely. He’s invested now.”

More shots had them ducking.

He patted his pockets again. His fob. Car was four spots away. Glock in the glovebox.

“Move.” He grabbed her elbow and kept them below the shrub lines. Any half-trained moron could follow their route, but it was the only play.

“Where are we going? There’s no exit here.” Though she argued, she followed.

“My car. Three more spaces. Weapon, vehicle. Exit.”

“Why? Help is right there?” She pointed toward the front of the building.

Grinding his teeth, he struggled for a neutral tone and failed. “And how many civilians are in the building doing wedding cleanup, Williams? Do we want them in our crossfire?”

“No.” Her eyes were murderous, but, miraculously, she moved with him.

“Run,” he whispered harshly.

They sprinted for the vehicle. He hit the fob. Beep-beep.

Gunfire followed, hitting his car. Fuck. His red Alfa Romeo 4C was just out of the shop this morning.

Alanna returned fire. Quaid dove in. “Get in! Get in!”

He squeezed into the driver’s seat and swore. He needed his SUV.

She fired again – rapid rounds and loud, then she was inside and slamming the door.

He stomped on the gas, steered to the gate, and accelerated. A dark-suited man appeared, firing a Glock 19 this time. Even in the dark, Quaid would know that handgun anywhere. The man’s sniper rifle – the Barrett – hung  from a strap on his back. He’d been prepared.

“He transitioned,” Alanna muttered.

“Switched when he lost the shot.” Quaid made a sharp turn and careened past him and into the street.

Alanna checked her weapon. “Four rounds left.” She twisted in her seat to search for the man. “He’s getting into a black sedan. We have to tell Mackey!”

“Agreed.” He skirted around other cars, speeding and watching the rearview. “Sorry. Something caught up with me.”

“Something caught up with you?” Alanna shifted in the seat to check the side mirror. “Let me out. I can make my way back.”

“No, he saw you, too. These guys don’t leave witnesses.”

“Weapon?”

“Glovebox.”

She pulled on the latch and the door popped open. “Ammunition?”

“Only what’s in the gun. I wasn’t planning on getting shot today.”

She kept her mouth shut and checked behind them again. “I wasn’t planning on an assassination either.” She slapped the dashboard. “This car might as well have a neon flashing light on it – bright, beautiful, and banged up. Where are we going?”

Quaid refused to look at her. What came next was non-negotiable. “Safe Harbor.”

“What? What is that?”

“Cait and Hunt’s house. It’s seven minutes from here. We can take back streets and lose him. They won’t be home. They’re on their honeymoon. But I can get in.”

“Why?”

“Guns. Phones. First aid. Clothes. Then we figure this motherfucker out. And may I point out you’re FBI. A hunter of serial killers. It could be you.” Alanna’s presence rubbed his every nerve the wrong way. Sexual tension he could handle, but this wasn’t attraction. Annoyance qualified, though.

She gave him a deadly glare. “It’s not me. I wasn’t working on anything that would escalate to this. You’re gonna steal from them?”

Quaid huffed loudly. “Borrow, Williams. Borrow.” While he was pretty sure Hunt wouldn’t kill him for taking his guns, Cait would not be happy her Safe Harbor sanctuary had been invaded with violence – even though it was prepped daily for such an occurrence. His course set, he accelerated, finally losing the shooter in a maze of turns through the surrounding neighborhoods.

The man had ambushed the playboy but triggered the warrior.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna studied the neighborhood. Even with her past in San Diego, she had no idea where they were. Large expensive homes were surrounded by long stretches of rolling lawn. Christmas lights and yard scenes decorated house after house, lighting the area with a welcoming coziness. But they were trying to hide, and visibility was not helpful.

Quaid slowed and turned off his lights. “Hunt and Cait’s house is around the corner, and they live next door to a San Diego police sergeant. We’re pulling in the driveway and getting this car hidden in their garage as soon as possible.”

“Why do you have access to their house?”

“QM manages the security of the property. I check the house personally from time to time. Deal I made with Hunt when we hired Cait. Although, it was supposed to be protection from SEAL threats, not mine. He’s not going to be happy.”

“We need to call in.” She brushed off her black slacks and bit her lip to stop from saying more. She’d repeated the phrase multiple times already.

“Cait has a landline. We’ll use it. I need out of this tuxedo, too.”

“Then what? The office?”

“No. They found me there and party breakdown has left it vulnerable. We’ll Uber. Coronado Regency Patton Hotel. I have an SUV parked there.”

“I have no wallet on me.”

“Me either. I’ll use the business account – but we’ll have to move again.”

“Where to?”

“The LA Downtown Regency Patton.”

“Did you pick Patton hotels on purpose? There are other more discreet places.”

Quaid pulled in the driveway to a lovely, one-story home stretched across the lot in spacious, modern elegance. Doctor/SEAL pay. She had no frame of reference for big spacious homes. She barely managed her tiny LA apartment.

He killed the engine and swiveled in his seat. “Yeah, I picked them on purpose because I am familiar with the staff, and the Downtown Patton has a security chief who is on my ride-or-die list.”

“That still makes no sense. Better to use the resources at QM than to move away from those assets.”

Quaid glared at her, and she leaned away from the irritation oozing out of him like blood on a flesh wound.

He frowned. “QM has resources many places. But I’m getting the inkling you don’t recognize me.”

She opened her mouth to sass back, then thought better of it. The man’s handsome presence and entitled attitude drove her nuts. In her two weeks at QM, there’d been no evidence of the warrior ethos that was the hallmark of QM. Granted, she hadn’t been looking for it, but shouldn’t it have been obvious?

Quaid’s face blanked. “Congratulations. You are the only woman on the planet that can’t identify my face. Zephren Patton? Hotel magnet with dozens of hotels across the world? I’m his grandson. I’ve been in every hotel, know the weaknesses and strengths of each location, their staff, and how to go unnoticed in each and every one.”

Disbelief flowed. She’d never been close to a billionaire in her whole life – even working for the FBI. No one had briefed her on QM’s personnel even during the many frequent collaborations on the Tenney case.

She stayed silent a second, then gave in to defending herself. “I didn’t know. How would I?”

Quaid shrugged and opened the door. “Social media, news, gossip. They don’t leave me alone.”

Alanna sighed and got out, too. “I don’t follow those unless it pertains to work.” Whether he believed her or not, she didn’t care. She’d been chastised for having singular focus at Quantico, but she saw no reason to branch into the latest day-to-day insanity unless it involved a case. Serial killers were all she could handle on her plate.

Quaid entered the code and the garage door rolled. Inside, he went to a side panel and put in another code. Fortunately for them, Cait’s SUV was in the driveway not the garage.

“Put my car in the empty spot.” He went to a cupboard and exposed a different panel, input a code, and opened a door into the house. With a quick stop at an inside panel there, he tapped in another code and disappeared. Jesus, talk about security.

Alanna went around to the driver’s side and carefully moved the red wreck into a tight spot in the garage. Grabbing the two weapons, she squeezed out of the driver’s side and stopped cold at two bullet holes in the door. Punched right through. Too, too close.

Blowing out a puff of air, she worked her away around large first aid boxes and some exercise equipment. She followed Quaid into the house.

She stepped into a cozy breakfast nook and stopped in surprise. Their kitchen stunned with rich white walls and smooth oak cupboards with miles of white marble countertops and several kitchen gadgets by the sink including a coffee pot. She’d kill for a cup of coffee.

Quaid was on a white wall phone. “We aren’t staying here long. Have Elizabeth send us an Uber.” Quaid opened a drawer and pulled out a Walther P99. “No, I’m headed to Barker. I’ll call you when I get there. Have Harrison listen to chatter.”

Harrison Scott. QM’s Chief Operating Officer. Elizabeth was their Chief Financial Officer and handled all the money. Barker she’d never heard of. She studied the weapon Quaid was checking for ammunition. She swore in her head, swung to the panel by the back door, and pushed a button she thought would close the garage. It did. She shut the kitchen door and locked it, too.

Two weeks of meetings at QM International did not introduce her to the ins and outs of the involved relationships. Mackey and Quaid she understood. They were partners. Elizabeth was Quaid’s aunt, but his relationship with Cait defied explanation. At first she was sure they were having an affair, then she had observed Cait with Hunt and knew the conclusion didn’t fly. And how Harrison fit into the tight knit matrix at the top, she had no idea and hadn’t cared to find out.

This job was a consult only and a cover. A cover for her to find Whit, her protector, mentor, guardian, family, who had disappeared two weeks ago from the streets of San Diego. She hadn’t briefed her boss on this part of it. She shoved aside that worry.

If Quaid was a billionaire’s playboy grandson, what had he been doing in the Marines and the CIA? Was the background false or the persona maintained for cover purposes? Who was trying to kill him and why? She hated being confused, despised not understanding the situation, and her world lately was filled with exactly that. No answers, more questions, and tons of doubt.

Quaid hung up the phone. “Don’t stand there. We’ll raid the closets for more casual clothes, gather ammo, and Hunt has burner phones.”

Borrowing the couple’s clothes bothered her at a level she refused to speak about. Growing up poor and homeless at times, she wore whatever was handed to her. But when she could finally afford to buy her own, wearing anything but new ceased. “I’m fine. I don’t need different clothes.”

“You look like an FBI agent, Williams. Which works at QM, but not in the field. Ditch the black suit and get into a pair of Cait’s jeans and a T-shirt.” He led her across a dark living room, sensors in the plugins throwing bits of light across the carpet. One glance told her the room was a comfortable spot for friends and family. He flipped on a light in the bedroom, went to the bedside table, and pulled a Glock from the drawer.

She balked.

This was their bedroom. Their private space.

“We already have two Glocks. We won’t need any more.” She forced herself to move to the closet and pulled the doors open. One side was definitely Hunt’s. The other Cait’s. But there were only dresses, jackets, suits, and dry cleaning bags with work uniforms.

Quaid put the weapon on the bed and checked the other nightstand. “Two is one and one is none. And in this case, with both of us, four would be better, six is prepared given this man’s expertise. There’s a Smith and Wesson at the front door. I’ll raid Hunt’s workroom for ammo and knives.” He came to her side and pulled a pair of khaki chinos and a blue-striped shirt from the rack. Dropping his tuxedo jacket on the bed, he rapidly undid the studs and the cufflinks, shedding his shirt in another swift move.

His bare chest, scars and all, drew her gaze. The man had muscles with miles of tanned skin. Lord! His pants came off, showing tight, black underwear shaping an impressive package. Snapping out of it before he could smirk at her for staring, she turned her back. He had no intentions of guarding his privacy while changing.

She pulled open several dresser drawers. Finding dark jeans and a plain blue t-shirt in her size, she grabbed a navy jacket to cover her gun and exited to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she shut the door behind her and went to the counter. Her face was pale, her blue eyes huge, and a piece of concrete had nicked her cheek. What was she in the middle of?

“Hurry, Williams. Turn out the lights when you leave the room. Meet me in the kitchen. Check the drawers. There’s a couple of burner phones in one of them.” His voice sent a shiver through her.

She heard him stamp his feet into boots and still she stood staring at the mirror. Get it together, Alanna.

Stomach rolling, she tugged off her jacket and white shirt. She had to kick off her shoes before shedding her dirty, torn pants. Left in white utilitarian underwear, she stalled. Don’t dwell. Do it.

She used the facilities, then moved through dressing steps with an efficiency designed to stop wandering thought.

She took a hair tie from Cait’s stash and twisted her hair into a tight ponytail. She slipped her feet back into her best work shoes while transferring her lip balm to the jean’s pocket.

She hung her damaged suit next to Quaid’s tuxedo, closed the closet, straightened the room, and turned out the lights. Back in the kitchen, she glanced to the hallway and noted another door open.

There was a bag on the marble counter, all five of the weapons laid out like a gun shop – what an insult to the beautiful marble. She opened each drawer and found the burner phones and a first aid kit. She took two of the three phones and the kit and moved on. She needed water – in the fridge, and something to eat – in the pantry. Breakfast bars.

The wall phone rang.

Alanna answered it. “Williams.”

Harrison’s rough voice came over the line. “Uber there in ten minutes. Be careful. Police are here. Car abandoned. Rental.”

Of course it was. “Understood. Quaid’s car is hidden in the garage.”

“Copy.”

“We’ve got burners. We’ll get them connected as soon as we can.”

“Call in after you do.”

“Understood. Out.” Alanna hung up and went to do something she knew how to do. Checking each weapon. The three of Hunt’s were fully loaded and ready to go. They needed ammo for their two.

“Uber ten minutes out, Quaid.” Hopefully, her voice carried.

“I’m right here.”

She jumped, slapping a hand to her chest. “Do not do that.” In the casual clothes, the man still looked like a playboy, and he smelled too good.

“Do what, Williams? Sneak up on you?”

Fighting for equilibrium, she pointed a finger at him. “My body is adrenaline-flushed and ready to fight, Daniels. Have a care.”

His gaze lingered on her face and lips. “Noted.” He handed off the ammo and went to a different cupboard. He came back with cash in his hand.

“Do we need that, too?” All the borrowing was ripping at her where the bad memories lay.

He stuffed the money into his pocket. “Tip for the uber driver, and we’ll need food. We don’t have time to stop at the hotel for a meal. We’ll grab my car and go.”

“Okay, but can we leave now?” She hated the whine in her voice, but this beautiful day had turned into a shitshow. She was done.

Quaid laid two knives and a roll of duct tape on the counter. “Yeah, pack up. And for reference, I usually pay them back double at least. Hunt will come out ahead and so will Cait’s emergency fund.”

Her conscience refused to view things that way, but she didn’t comment. Quickly loading the bag, she handed Quaid a breakfast bar. “Are we going out the front or the garage?”

“Front is easier. Let’s go.” He zipped the packed bag and slung it over his shoulder, then devoured the breakfast bar in three bites.

Alanna glanced around to check if they’d left a mess. They hadn’t. Doors were closed, lights were off, security alarms reset, and everything was as it had been when they first stepped in. Except things were missing. “According to Harrison, the police are at QM.”

“Not surprised.”

“Will they involve them?”

“Depends. Mackey will decide. In the meantime, we’re going to get somewhere safe and try to figure out who the hell this is.”

Finally.

Something she could agree with.

Chapter Two

QM International Flash Alert: 02:17:03 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Confirmed facility breach. Possible targeted incident. All personnel advised caution. Ϙ

Alanna assaulted her thumbnail, a nail-biting habit she’d dropped in college, and stared aghast at the twinkling lights edging the long stately driveway to the Downtown LA Regency Patton Hotel. The twenty-story hotel looked as elegant as the name sounded. Pampered guest services, a gazillion chefs for the best food anywhere, a concierge staff at a moment’s beck and call, business accommodations, chauffeured rides to the airport, and decadent rooms that oozed comfort. So the commercials said. Alanna only stepped into these places with a badge, never having attempted to stay in one with a gunman on her tail.

Quaid came to a stop under the portico, put the SUV in park, and left the motor running. The hour and twenty minute drive from San Diego had jangled her nerves and sapped her energy. Sitting next to a silent Quaid, she’d watched every tiny move he made. His focus defied description. Tempted to ask, she’d fought a hard battle to remain silent. What did it matter anyway? Except she liked to know who had her back – lesson learned the hard way.

“Are you crazy?” Shifting in her seat, Alanna stared at Quaid. He had cleaned up well, but was still more casual than his usual office appearance. She had too tight jeans, messy hair, makeup toasted, and a nasty nick on her face with an annoying sting. She couldn’t pull off rich and famous on her best day, but with borrowed, ill-fitting clothes, it was a non-starter.

The valet hurried to the driver side door. In the dark evening with the harsh lights, his young face was lined with tiredness, and his blonde hair tossed in the dead-of-the-night breeze. At Quaid’s raised finger, the valet paused by the door.

“Problem?”

Alanna sucked in a steadying breath and forced herself to unclench her teeth. “I’m not clear on this plan. Why are we here?”

“We’re going to get a room.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I thought we were coming here to meet backup.”

Quaid shook his head. “We can stay under here and hunt for answers, work with QM to identify the trails we should follow.”

“We could do that at the office.”

“Until we understand the threat, no. It puts too many others at risk.”

“The way we look? We’re going to walk in like nothing has happened? We aren’t exactly non-descript.”

“No, but the staff has seen me dressed many ways and with many different women. They’ll take care of getting us quietly to a room.”

Quaid opened the door, and signaled to the valet. The concierge approached the car, too. “Hello, Robert. Nice to see you. Park it in back away from everything please, Toby.”

The young man settled into the seat. “Yes, sir, Mr. Daniels.”

The sureness in Quaid’s step as he moved around the car and opened her door snagged her attention while her mind tumbled. The confidence left her floundering. Many different women?

He put out a helping hand, and she gave hers without thinking. The instant they touched, a buzz blew up her arm, leaving behind a tingle in her nipples and the obvious results pressing on her t-shirt. She jerked her hand away, then grabbed her jacket. It was bad enough sitting next to him. She did not need and would not absorb the physical feel of him.

“So this is your idea of a place to hide?”

“No, this is my idea of a place where I can use its assets and blend in.” Quaid snagged the weapons bag and slammed the door, signaling for Toby to take the car. Gripping Alanna’s elbow, he motioned her to the entryway.

Robert was a gray-haired, older man. Dressed in a gorgeous burgundy uniform with gold braid, he followed with respect and discretion, easing ahead of them to open the door.

“Are you and the young lady all right, sir?” His quiet words flowed over her.

She knew they were too visible.

“Yes, Robert. Thank you. How are the grandchildren?”

Robert’s big smile encompassed Alanna. She found herself smiling back, all the while wondering how many other women Quaid brought to this hotel.

“All are well and happy, Mr. Daniels.” The servant reached into his pocket. “Here’s a handkerchief.”

“Thank you, Robert.” Quaid lifted her chin and dabbed at her cheek. “Blood.”

“Still?” Zapped again by the man’s attention, she had no way to move away from him without causing a worse spectacle.

“It would appear so.” He finished and stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket.

Alanna jerked away, wrapping herself in numb emotions that served her so well.

In the lobby, she stalled, stunned. A stained glass, domed ceiling drew her eyes to a waterfall rising to the second story. The rooms on the second floor opened to the splendor of clear water cascading from an artificial stone wall and dissipating into a pond at the center of the lobby. Planters of lush greenery and exotic pink and yellow flowers filled the air with their perfume. Sofas and clusters of easy chairs offered comfortable seating for guests to meet and chat. Quaid drew Alanna away from the waterfall and to the desk.

The young woman smiled prettily at Quaid. “Hello Mr. Daniels.”

Alanna pressed her lips together, forcing her irritation aside. All this deference was killing her.

“Is my grandfather’s suite open, Nicole?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Daniels.”

“Take it off the active books.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman’s appraising inspection made Alanna wince. What must she look like? After being showered with bullets, glass, and shards of concrete, and racing across San Diego, she felt like hell. She would not compare to the sleek, stately beauties a playboy would normally bring here.

Angry with herself for even going to those thought, Alanna followed Quaid to the elevator. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She had a Ph.D. that she’d worked to exhaustion for, a knack for psychoanalysis of serial killers, and was a skilled FBI agent. When he pushed the button, she found her footing and whispered to him.

“All right. Fess up. Now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quaid pushed the button again.

Alanna shifted into his line of sight. “I have been shot at, emptied two magazines of bullets from my weapon, left my stomach back somewhere on the freeway, and if I hear one more ‘Yes Mr. Daniels’ I’m going to walk. Give me an overview of the situation here, Daniels. Why do these people know you so well?”

Quaid raised his eyebrows, his body still and taunt. “I lived here before I bought my house.”

“Who picked up the tab?” Sarcasm had always been her default. It was a flaw. One she wasn’t particularly proud of. The nosiness was a new development.

“My grandfather, not that it’s your business. And you’re causing a scene.” Quaid pushed the button again.

Alanna looked around noting the concierge, hotel manager, desk clerk, and bellboy staring at her.  

“You have no idea the scene I can cause, Mr. Daniels. No idea at all.” Chilled, Alanna eyed a side entrance further along the hallway past the opening elevator. She had other things needing done, other searches. Beyond tempted to leave him on his own, she hissed when he grabbed her arm.

“Wait until the room. I still need a wingman.”

The elevator arrived.

Jerking away, Alanna stepped to the back of the richly carpeted, blue mosaic wallpapered box and plastered neutral on her face. “I’m sure the office could accommodate you. In fact, they’d send an army.”

“I’d rather it was you and you alone.”

Why?

She bit her lip. Did she even want that answer? “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Let’s remember the facts.”

“I do. And I didn’t thank you.” Quaid pushed a number on the panel. “After food and showers, we’ll have an honest talk.”

She didn’t answer, figuring a bright man like rich boy could figure out the ‘fine’ of her posture.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid keyed them into the room, glad he for once had declined bellhop assistance. He kept Alanna in sight through his peripheral vision, gathering from her body language that she’d come close to walking out on him. Stress and threats were a nasty combination. Anger and admiration mixed, and he did what he’d been known to do with warring parents – retreated.

He went to the bar and dropped the weapons bag on the polished mahogany top. He drew a bottle of gold labeled scotch, his grandfather’s favorite, and poured himself a straight shot. He gulped it and poured another. “Drink?”

She followed him, studying him from the other side bar. “No, thank you. Quit touching me. I don’t like it, nor do I want it.” She spit the words at him like a cat, shifting on the balls of her feet with her fists tight at her side.

Overreaction? He did tend to touch, and he knew exactly why the habit had developed. Red herring for the paparazzi.

“I apologize, but don’t make me.” Quaid took a sip and enjoyed the burn in the back of his throat, wondering why she prodded the edges of his control.

“Don’t . . .make . . .” Alanna’s hazel eyes shot sparks of animosity as she clamped her mouth shut.

He carefully placed the glass on the bar top. “Yes. You’re a smart woman otherwise the FBI would have tossed you, and QM wouldn’t have accepted your help on our investigation. Stop for a minute and think. We don’t know where the threat is coming from next, and you’re involved whether you want to be or not. You were ready to walk away. I saw it and stopped you.”

Alanna’s mouth worked, but she remained silent. She studied him and regained a self-controlled mask which he hated. She dropped her arms, backing away several steps before replying.

“Agreed. All I ask is for you to not touch me again.”

“I got that the first time.” Quaid crossed the thick, ivory carpet to the corner of the dining room. He went behind the table and opened the drapes which covered a wall of large glass windows and a sliding glass door. The small, rectangular swimming pool on the other side was calm and serene with pure, clear water that allowed the sea design on the bottom to shine.

Alanna stared at the pool, shaking her head. “Lord. Who lives like this?”

“Zephren Patton.” Quaid filled his drink again, then capped and put the bottle away.

She swiveled to him. “Who in the hell has a grudge against Zephren Patton’s grandson?” She finally moved to stand at the end of the dining room table. Her hands gripped one of the highbacked chairs, the glossy surface of the cherry table shining between them. The hundred of teardrops crystals on the chandelier above the table made the room glow.

“Not Zephren Patton’s grandson. Quaid Daniels, CIA.” He stepped to one of the gold brocade sofas and carefully eased onto the cushions. Nothing like dodging an assassin to make a man understand the aches and pains of his body. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Alanna shook her head and moved behind the bar. She pulled out a bottle of water from the mini fridge and toyed with the cap, staying steps away from him. “Why CIA? You could be enjoying the fortune your grandfather has made, even be CEO of his national hotel conglomerate. Why the hell CIA?”

Quaid watched Alanna’s sweet, red lips take a sip of water. Stifling a groan, he swallowed the rest of his drink. The scotch hit the other two rounds in his empty stomach like a cannonball to dry tinder, burning like the fires of hell. They hadn’t stopped to eat.

“None of your business,” Quaid answered her. He reached for the phone and dialed an extension from memory. “Barker, I’m in grandfather’s suite. Can you come up?”

Receiving the answer he expected, Quaid hung up.

“You might as well take a shower. Check for any other cuts. Your bedroom and bath are through there.” Quaid pointed to a set of doors to the left of the entry way.

Alanna glanced at the door in question. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“Take your time. I’ll order food. Any preference?”

“No.” She raised a brow, a quirk of her personality or a dare. He wasn’t sure which.

Quaid lifted the phone to make the call, then pointedly watched until she went in the bedroom and shut the door.

Quaid grinned. Hand that woman a gun or a knife and he’d be in a world of trouble. For some reason, the bits of temper leaking around her controlled mask didn’t bother him much.

She could reason.

She could fight.

She stood up for herself, and she’d stood up for him.

They could be partners to solve this mess. He’d never anticipated working with her. He didn’t handle investigations. But now it was a necessity.

“We shall see what we shall see,” he mumbled, then set his drink aside with a firm hand. Retrieving a knife from their bag to carve open a package, he set about activating a burner phone to call the one person he needed immediately.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Flash Alert: 02:27:05 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Confirmed facility attack. Personnel unaccounted for. Activate Security Level 3. International operations remain unaffected. Ϙ

Mackey hung up from his fifth call with the police department and undid the buttons on the sleeves of his white shirt, rolling as he went to get the fabric off his forearms. His gun was neatly tucked at his back into tuxedo slacks he’d rather were jeans, and his cell phone stayed in his hand. Quaid would call. The trust there was absolute.

But the police department did not like having no answers for a gun incident in their jurisdiction. But he could and would tell them nothing until he talked with Quaid.

He rose from his desk and glanced to the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office, assessing the threat. Pacing to the side wall, he studied the parking lot. Nothing like a motivated gunman to make a company rethink they’re security. Except they were supposed to be experts, and this hadn’t even been in the scenarios they considered. Fail.

A quick rap on the door announced Harrison. His knock and brisk entry, were familiar and depended on. “So what do we have?”

“I’ve worked my way through all my sources. Quiet. No one has heard anything about this.” Still in wedding attire, the man had shed his jacket, too.

“Same with mine.” But someone should know something. You didn’t put a hit out on a billionaire’s grandson without leaving a trace, and Quaid’s CIA days, while varied like his Delta missions, didn’t make sense. He’d been out for four years, same as Mackey, and it defied explanation. Why would someone wait so long to get even?

“Where do we go next?”

Harrison eased into a chair, his back obviously bothering him. SEAL days always left injuries behind. “I’ve probed IQS files, called a source I have in Central Command. No peep from those remnants that trace back to anything. It’s radio silent.”

“Did you run a check on Williams’s FBI background?”

“Working on it. Cooperation hard to come by. We don’t have the FBI resources we need, and they’re a bit testy about releasing agent info right now. I don’t want to spill what happened.” Harrison leaned forward to stretch. “I have confirmed everything we do have on her, and I made a call to Nick Ryker, her boss. I’m waiting for a call back. Frank Walker is on his way up, though.” Frank Walker was a sergeant in the San Diego Police Department and lived next door to Hunt and Cait. It’s how they’d all met.

Mackey ran a hand through his hair. Too long. It needed cut. “Fuck. Respect the man and all, but I need another cop in my hair like I need a double tap to the head.”

“He could be in our corner.” Harrison’s suggestions always came with a side of bland.

“Could be, but I still have nothing to tell him. I got the barebones from Quaid’s first call, but Frank’s going to have questions, and I don’t have answers. What does the video of the parking lot look like?”

“Kerry currently has all angles of our outdoor surveillance on the operations systems. She is tearing apart the seven minute section, frame by frame. We have a pretty good likeness, but the picture is not coming up on any of the databases. CIA isn’t claiming any knowledge. Given what he attempted, they should or else he’s been scrubbed by another agency and they aren’t telling us.”

Mackey silently snorted. Which left them with a case that pointed where exactly? “Did you send a team to Hunt and Cait’s to go over the car? The bullets could tell us something.”

Harrison hedged, his black suit pants and blue shirt as wrinkled as Mackey’s. “Not yet. Did you call them?”

“Hell, no. Cait would kill me. She deserves a quiet honeymoon.”

“Well, I’m not real fond of invading their space without their permission. That won’t go well with Hunt. They’re due back in a couple days. Let’s explore other things first. I’d rather let Quaid explain why his car is in the garage and from the sounds of it, they helped themselves to other supplies.”

Mackey groaned. “We need to talk through our weapons and supply contingencies. We need to adapt those. Let’s get a security care package arranged for backup. Let Frank in. I’ll tell him what I can.”

“Which won’t be much.” Harrison eased out of the chair. “Elizabeth’s arranging funds for him to draw from off the books. We’ll need to pass that along so he doesn’t touch personal assets until we determine where this is coming from. And Niles called. He’s prepared to be the go-between. Did you talk to Zephren?”

“No. We don’t have an explanation, and his grandfather adds complications we don’t need. There is no current intel supporting an assassin’s need to kill a billionaire’s grandson. Kidnap yes. Kill, no. That leaves us with shadows to trace, and it’ll be complicated and difficult. Tapping Niles will help. He knows things about Quaid’s life that even I don’t know.” Mackey shook his head. “Plus, he’s off the books so no one would have seen him except here at the wedding. I guarantee the sniper wasn’t checking the wedding guests. He had his eye on one target. And that’s it.”

“Agreed.”

Harrison went to the double doors, signaling Frank as he left.

Mackey fingered the bottle of water on his desk and found as much calm and nonchalance as he could manage. He eyed Frank Walker over the water bottle.

Frank paced to the desk. His face grim, the cleft in his chin offset a crooked nose – broken at one point or three – and blended with blue eyes that were cop blank. His jeans and blue shirt were covered by his protective vest with his badge and gun at his hip. They stared at each other like two gunfighters waiting for the dust to settle in the street so they could draw.

“Tell me what you have so far,” Frank growled, irritation ripe. “I’m getting too many phone calls about your stonewalling. Damn the day they figured out I’d met you two.”

Leaving out the part about Cait and Hunt’s house because neighbor Frank was an attack Doberman about the safety of his neighborhood, Mackey went through it. “We’ll get you the pictures we have from the parking lot surveillance. You can run your systems and see what you have. We’re waiting for Quaid to make contact.”

“You’re not worried?”

A part of Mackey wanted to explode, but he found a civil tone. “Of course, I am, Frank. We all are. But Quaid is a trained operative. He’s not dead. You don’t have a body anywhere. Your guys told me that. He went under.” He didn’t mention Williams. It might not be necessary to hold so much back, but he followed his gut. “What’s happening is anyone’s guess. I don’t know if Quaid recognized him. My gut says no. But we’re tracing with our sources to see what whispers we get. Nothing so far.”

“Somebody tried to kill Quaid, point blank, and the gunman didn’t care whether he was seen.” Frank sat in Mackey’s one visitor chair and leaned back, for all purposes looking like a friend at a barbecue. Illusion.

Mackey debated a split second. “True. Or was banking on us not having access to his identity.”

“Which gives us a direction.”

“Possibly.”

“CIA?”

“They say no. Don’t recognize him, but we all know they wouldn’t admit it even if they did.”

“He left the wedding after I did. Was he armed?”

“No, but he had his fob. Jumped to his sports car. Switched at the Coronado Patton. Undetermined what he’s currently driving. I’m guessing he switched again, but not sure to what. We’re checking.”

“Get the plate. We’ll find it.”

Mackey pursed his lips. “Or we could wait.”

“For what? Another attempt? A bystander getting hurt? A death? No.” Frank’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

“Quaid has sources all over the fucking globe. If he even got a glimpse of the guy, he’ll figure it out. Give him space.”

“I can’t give you any. My superiors are not happy about this shooting and want an identification made.”

“They aren’t alone, Frank. We only differ on the how.”

“Mine is centered on protecting the public and not having to explain why the SDPD couldn’t find a billionaire’s grandson.”

“We’re giving an experienced operative space to sort out who, what, and where. We’re working on what’s he’s driving. I’ll notify you as soon as we get more information. That’s the best I can do until he calls.”

Frank rose, rubbing his temple. “I guess that’ll have to do. Send me the picture of our assassin, and we’ll check official sources.”

Mackey text Harrison for the pictures. “Done. We’ll talk soon.”

Frank’s phone dinged and he glanced at the picture. “Enhanced?”

“A bit, but it’s close.”

“How about the video?”

“I’ll check with Harrison and get a copy for you.”

“I guessing you’re not telling me everything.” Frank grimaced. “Not that I expected you to.”

“We’re good at this, Frank. It’s not our first dance either. Let’s be friends and work this the best way for both of us.”

“Nice olive branch, Reynolds. Follow your own advice.” Swift strides to the door and he was gone.

Mackey gazed across the quiet office. There wasn’t a day when Quaid didn’t plant himself in the visitor’s chair and gripe about it’s lumpiness. Elizabeth would arrive and curl up on the sofa. Harrison frequently stood and paced, stretching his back, and anxious to get back to the Operations Center. Cait always kicked off her shoes and sat with Elizabeth. He missed them.

And the silence wasn’t helping. No one came after his best friend and lived to tell the story. That was the one thing he hadn’t admitted to Frank. The assassin, whoever he was and whatever his reason, was a dead man.

Chapter Three

QM International Flash Alert: 02:58:44 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Threat confirmed. Security assessment active. All domestic and international personnel maintain Security Level 3. Ϙ

With her back to the closed door, Alanna eyed the ivory embossed wallpaper, the gold silk comforter laid precisely over the king-size bed, and the rich gold and blue color scheme of the bedroom. Alanna flipped the switch on the crystal lamp next to the bed and studied the way the light fused the blues and golds together.

Beautiful, but not her.

And all of this was going to put her need to find out what happened to Whit on the back burner. He’d already been missing two weeks, and every intuition told her time was running out. The man was her family and had taken her in when nobody else did. He’d stuck. So had she.

Aching in every muscle, the bathroom beckoned. Dread and anxiety rolled with hunger, and she pressed a hand against her stomach to make it stop. She hated the mystery part of every case. She could track clues as well as anyone, but her favorite part was achieving justice and putting the culprit away. She could help Quaid find answers, but first clean and repair.

Alanna flicked on the bathroom light. Gaping, she surveyed the room. Her poor girl attitudes were showing, and she usually took great pains to keep those locked away. She was used to having unexpected things thrown at her and keeping her cool. What was wrong with her?

Out of her element…

The bathroom was bigger than her entire LA apartment. A custom-designed hot tub bubbled in gentle invitation. Maid service must be spectacular at this place. There had only been a few minutes between checking in and walking into the hotel room, yet it was stocked and inviting. Creamy walls, gold fixtures, green plants, tons of lights, and a large shower added to the intimacy of the room.

Miles of mirrors, stacks of thick white towels, and all sorts of little bottles of shampoos and lotions were by the sink. Dipping her finger into the water, she tested the heat of the tub and groaned loudly when her shoulder disputed the movement. She’d slammed her left side pretty hard on the ground tackling Quaid. Locking the door, she assessed security and wished her gun was handy. But, if she was partnering with Quaid, she had to trust him to cover her while she did this. She shed her clothes, checked for glass, then flicked the gold handles on the room size shower. Four shower heads came on simultaneously.

Swearing softly at the luxury, Alanna slowly entered. The mirrored tiles strategically placed distorted her image, but she checked her hair again for glass fragments. Carefully, she put her head under the spray and used the shampoos and body gels that were lined in the little nooks. The pinprick water streams pelting her was too much stimulation for skin already over sensitized by adrenaline. Scrubbing earnestly, she noted several little pricks from glass, but none were bleeding.

Turning off the shower, she dripped her way to the hot tub and eased into its heat.

Every muscle shivered in ecstasy. Fiddling with the switches, she figured out how to turn the jets on, leaned her head back against the side, and closed her eyes. She’d have to thank the stupid jerk for clearing time for this.

Later…

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid finished his phone call and went to his grandfather’s room. Alanna was in his. He quickly shed his clothes, checked for injuries, and used the shower with it’s vibrating shower heads. He was hungry, tired, and feeling especially mean. How far could he trust Alanna? Further, he wanted his hands on that motherfucker for threatening everything that mattered to him.

Niles Benton, his body man and former MI-6, had not been surprised by his call which told him Mackey had briefed him. He hadn’t even questioned the need for supplies and clothes for both of them and informed him of the equipment and money Mackey was handing off for contingencies. Judging from her reaction to having to wear Cait’s clothes, Niles estimating Alanna’s sizes would not make her happy, but Niles would get it right. He always did. A headache broke through behind his eyes, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the discomfort.

Finished, he entered the living room, hoping room service wasn’t far behind. The shower was running in the other room, then turned off. Okay, so he had to listen at the door, but she was still here.

Sitting again, he debated calling his grandfather. Nope. Dropping his head back, he closed his eyes and let the tension knotted at the base of his skull ease. His grandfather had an efficient network. Guaranteed, he’d already heard what happened. Quaid didn’t have any answers to what would be probing questions, which was also why he hadn’t waited for police. Mackey would be deep into it.

A discreet knock announced the arrival of room service. Checking the peephole to be sure, Quaid opened the door to sumptuous smells and Barker, wheeling the cart.

“Did you get demoted?” Quaid eyed the former secret service agent as he wheeled the cart loaded with food into the room. The man was the head of hotel security for Patton Regency Hotels across the western United States. His homebase was here.

His quick smirk was the only acknowledgement until the door shut. “Didn’t know how serious this situation was. Didn’t want to take chances.”

Lifting the lid from one plate, Quaid sniffed the chicken cordon bleu. His stomach growled.

“Join me.”

“No thanks.”

Replacing the lid, he pushed the cart to the dining room and set a plate on the table. Alanna’s door was still closed. So she’d listened and taken more than fifteen minutes to get her feet under her. He should tell her dinner was here.

As soon as he thought it, Quaid dismissed the idea. She’d come out when she was ready. His quota of uncomfortable confrontations had been used for the day. Pointing to a chair, he lifted the lid and dug into the chicken. Barker sat.

Carl Barker had played linebacker for the Oklahoma Sooners in college. A big, Black man with piercing brown eyes and a bald head, he’d chosen the Secret Service over the NFL. A kidnapping attempt on the vice president’s daughter had nearly taken his life and ended his federal career. Zephren Patton, known for being swift and decisive, had swooped in and made a job offer before the ink was dry on his resignation.

“What happened?” Barker’s southern drawl was barely discernable.

“Not exactly sure. One gunman. In the parking lot of the office. Got through our security by sitting in his car during the wedding. My guess. Not fact yet. He waited the party out before taking his shot. Mackey and Harrison will investigate. I was taking a cigarette break in the lot when he fired.” God, he could use a cigarette right now.

Carl maintained his silence.

“Our FBI liaison was outside and tackled me to the ground. The man missed. Dozens of shots. I’d like to think our skills beat his, but I’m not taking bets.”

“Identify him?”

“No. Not at all. Too busy dodging bullets and staying alive. He followed us in a black sedan.” Quaid took a bite of the succulent melon that came with the meal. “It’s not enough to find him. I get it.”

Barker kept his fingers laced together and placed precisely on the table in front of him, but his eyes sparked with hunter intensity.

Quaid glanced at Alanna’s room. A hard, brief rap at the main door made him jump. Rubbing his temple, he silently counted to ten.

“I’ll get it.” Barker moved, quieter than a morning breeze.

Wiping his mouth with the linen napkin, Quaid waited. Only the staff knew they were here. Unless Niles passed on his message. The visitor was either Niles or Mackey, or both.

Mackey strode in, a menace in black. “The parking lot looks like a bomb exploded, and you’re sitting here like the King of Persia. Christ, Quaid.” Mackey pulled a chair and sat. He reached for a roll and buttered it swiftly. “Way to leave a mess.”

Niles Benton, arms full, stopped at the bar.

“I’m in grandfather’s room, Niles. Alanna is in mine. She’s showering.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll get things organized.”

“You should join us for this conversation first.” Quaid poured himself a cup of coffee he didn’t need, but sleep wasn’t coming any time soon regardless of what his tired body wanted.

Niles placed the bags on the floor by the bar, straightened his black suit  jacket, and walked to the table. He didn’t sit. The man never sat when Quaid was in the room. Sometimes it annoyed him, like now. “Sit, Niles.”

Barker took a different chair since Mackey had stolen his seat and leaned back with studied indifference.

Quaid forked his last bite and faced Mackey. “Did you fill Niles in?”

“Yes.”

“He did, sir.”

“I’m up to speed, too.” Carl crossed his arms. “What’s next?”

Mackey put a hand on the cover of the other plate.

Quaid stopped him. “That’s for Alanna. She hasn’t eaten either.”

Carl straightened. “Alanna who?”

“Alanna Williams, the FBI liaison.”

“She the one who saved your butt?” The man knew exactly how many women he’d brought here to wine and dine. But Alanna was different.

“Yeah.”

“Where is she?” Carl looked around.

Quaid tipped his head to her bedroom. “Showering. She should be out soon.” He’d expected her before now. She didn’t seem the type to be left out of this conversation.

He rose and went to the door. Awkward coated the situation. He knocked before he could over analyze it. “Alanna. I have clothes.”

Niles hurried to the bags and pulled the bigger one to hand him.

She didn’t answer.

“Williams, you awake?” He knocked again.

The door silently opened. “Yes?” Alanna, wearing a white hotel robe, kept the heavy oak panels between them. Her face was flushed with color.

“Are you all right?” Inane question, but he had to say something before his brain absorbed all her soft, dewy skin.

“That hot tub is lethal. I fell asleep. Did you say you have clothes?”

“Yes.” He handed her the bag. “Join us, will you?”

“Us?”

“Mackey, Barker, and Niles.”

“Where did these come from?” Displeasure edged with temper coated her tone.

“Niles acquired them. You can ask him.”

She let her tense posture release. “Give me a minute.”

“Food’s here, too. Join us when you’re ready.”

“Understood.” She shut the door in his face.

Quaid’s temper flared, but he assessed his own irritability and forced himself to acknowledge hers. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was being professional.

He eased back into his chair. “Thanks, Niles.”

“She’s a bit irritated,” Carl drawled, one eyebrow raised.

His defense of her would be noted, but Quaid replied anyway. “She worked our case, paused for the wedding, then rescued my ass in the parking lot. She shot round after round to provide us cover and gave me excellent backup. Her tiredness and mine are a matched set. I’m plain mean right now. Who is this guy?”

“Good question.” Mackey shot a photo across the table to him. “Please tell me you recognize him. Because we have nothing. Not from any source we can find and neither can Frank.”

“Did you tell the police where I am?”

Mackey snarled at him. “Why do I put up with you? No, I did not tell the police. I should have.”

Quaid grinned. “Nah, I brought money to the table.”

“You brought something, but it wasn’t the money.” Mackey smirked.

Quaid checked the picture, studying it from every angle. “Nope. I’ve never seen him before. Could he be hired?”

“He’s the most unadvertised assassin in history then.”

“This is personal, then.” He handed the picture to Barker.

Carl straightened to study the information. “Are you sure he was after you?”

Mackey tapped a finger on the table. “We’ve researched as far as we can on Williams. We’ll have to ask her. You’re more obvious. Police have the man’s car and are processing it. No info yet. I’m not expecting they’ll find anything. The ID for the car rental was fake.”

“Obvious isn’t always right.” Niles dry tone made Quaid flashback to other times the man’s sage advice had hit home.

Quaid stayed quiet for a second, thinking it through. “I’ll talk to her.”

“I’ll go unpack the rest of the packages. Will the lady require help?”

Quaid froze, eyes widening “I can’t imagine that at all. Let’s give her some space.”

“Very well, sir.” Niles disappeared into Quaid’s room.

Barker rose. “What arrangement do you want?”

“A couple of men by the suite, increased alertness across all staff, Level 2. Question everything.” Quaid looked to Mackey for any other advice.

“Best way to go, for now.” Mackey’s quiet was scarier than his fist.

“Good enough.” Barker let himself out of the suite.

Mackey lowered his voice. “I don’t have access to your CIA files, but my contact there confirms they can’t identify the man.”

Quaid snorted in the back of his throat. “No surprise. In four years, there were more than a few missions.”

“Do we have to wait for him to make another attempt to get more intel?” Mackey’s bland question reset his mood.

“Assuming he does make another attempt?”

“Why would he quit?”

“Questions I don’t have answers for. I’ll run this past Williams and get her take, and do a deep dive into my own sources.”

Mackey rose, too. “I’m going to grab some food and get some sleep. I’ll message in a few hours.”

Quaid followed him to the door. “Thanks, Mac. Let me tell Hunt and Cait about their house.”

“Oh, I’d already made that decision. Day after tomorrow they’ll be home. They’re all yours.”

In a rare move, Mackey pulled him into a bro hug. “Glad you’re not dead.”

“Thanks for having my back.”

“Always.” Mackey left, leaving him alone with Alanna. Their only buffer would be Niles.

Given her prickly attitude about his money, he had no idea how the next few hours would go, but Niles would need to support her requests, too. They had to meet.

&&&&&&&&&&

“You have a butler?” How had she missed this in the two weeks she’d been at QM? Not that they’d taken her around and introduced her to everyone. They hadn’t.

Meeting Niles Benton had throw her for a loop – a truth she didn’t utter. But she never lied to herself no matter what the subject. Trying to be cool and cooperative before having any food and coffee left her shaky, and she sighed in relief when the man left.

Quaid’s lazy answer finally came. “He’s more of a body man. He handles so many things including houses, cars, QM stuff, friends, clothes, guns, money, and family events. Cooks to boot.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Because he’s going to be in and out, organizing what he brought to get us through, and you needed to meet him. He’s a good resource for every problem you want handled discreetly or fast.”

Alanna paused with her fork ready to take another bite of the chicken. She had coffee at her elbow, but would kill for some mac n’ cheese. “I can’t even imagine what that would be.”

“Watch and learn.” Quaid sat back, his empty coffee cup in hand, tiredness in deep lines across his face.

“Any news on our investigation?” She took a bite, determined to fuel her body even if she’d expected not to like the meal. She was pleasantly surprised by the taste and worked her way through the courses. If she wasn’t careful, she’d gobble.

“No identity on our shooter. His car is in police custody and being analyzed. I’m reviewing my CIA cases in my head. You should do the same with your FBI ones.”

“I told you. It’s not me. I wasn’t working on anything in any way that would cause this.”

“Do it anyway, if only to eliminate possibilities.”

She stayed silent through several more bites. For some reason, agreeing with him scratched at her sense of self. But there was no logic in disagreeing. Plate cleared, she sipped her coffee. “You need sleep. I could use some more.”

Quaid glanced at his watch. “Close to four a.m. I’ll sleep for four hours and get started.”

“On?”

“I have a few ideas, but they’re better left until I’ve rested for a bit. How are you at computer research?”

“I can hold my own.”

“Deal. Let’s rest.”

Alanna wiped her mouth, assessing security options and what would make the uneasiness in her gut go away. “I’d prefer to take a weapon to bed with me.”

Quaid rose and went to the bar. “Me, too. Keep your door unlocked, though. We can get to each other faster if there’s no barriers.”

He came back with her Glock. Careful not to touch him, she gripped the handle he offered her. She checked the weapon and verified the load but stopped mid-check to stare.

Quaid was stacking the dishes. He loaded them on the rolling cart and moved the food trolley into the hallway. She tried to hear the conversation with the guard, but gave up. Quaid returned to the table and grabbed the burner phone.

“Good night, Alanna. Leave the lights on.”

“Understood.” She watched the way he pivoted, the play of his pants and shirt on a moving body, and swallowed a ton of nagging questions. And he did dishes, too?

What you see is what you get.

And yet, she still couldn’t reconcile the differences between rich man and warrior. It wouldn’t play for her. None of it did.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief: 07:00:00 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Threat active. All personnel accounted for. Security Level 3 in effect. Ϙ

Alanna slept with her clothes on and one hand on her gun. The Levi jeans and simple gray stretch top that Niles had brought fit to perfection and left her comfortable enough to sleep deeply. She didn’t even want to guess how he figured out her bra and underwear size. They fit, too, and were in her preferred color. Black. She managed a five-hour rest before waking with her mind racing and stomach tight in agitation. She hadn’t woken like this for years.

Rising, she quickly did a stretch routine, then her daily ‘pretend she was pretty’ makeover in the bathroom. Niles again. And he had all those products right, too. Was it possible he cracked her travel bag at QM?

“Quit fussing, Al.” She finished and silently went to the living room. The suite was too quiet. Was Quaid still sleeping? Couldn’t be. There was a breakfast cart beside the dining room table.

Movement caught her eye, and she pulled the ivory pleated drapes covering the dining room windows.

Quaid.

In the pool.

She’d never admit she couldn’t turn away. His powerful strokes rapidly took him from one end of the twenty-foot pool to the other. His muscles flexed and relaxed, his body responding to his every direction. Her breathing hitched, and she put a hand to her throat. He was naked. Unable to turn away, Alanna eyed the tanned skin, the perfect physique, the precise movements… his beige print speedo molded to his frame. He wasn’t naked.

He irritated her to idiocy, but she appreciated the attractive picture he made. Right? It was the proximity and the danger. Forcing herself to turn her back on the view, Alanna stared at the living room suite.

The big screen television was on mute. An iPad and a burner phone lay on the dining room table. Quaid must have been up for awhile. The smell of fresh bread, coffee, and bacon assailed her nose. Lifting the lid, she took a croissant and walked back to the window to watch Quaid. He stood at the edge of the pool, toweling off.

Alanna cataloged the dark scruffy beard, the dark hair on his chest, and appraised the blond hair. The man dyed his hair. Why?

But the appraisal had consequences.

She closed her eyes. A hot flash raced over her skin. Their bodies rolling into the bushes replayed. Blushing, she turned her back to the glass and stuffed a piece of croissant in her mouth.

Click!

She started, turning to the cart.

The force of the explosion blew her backwards amidst the shattering glass.

Tumbling. Tumbling. Splash.

Screaming as she went under, the air escaped her lungs. Her back hit the bottom of the pool. Another wave of pain made her gulp in water.

Disoriented and choking, she panicked.

Chapter Four

Quaid jumped into the water and gripped Alanna around her waist. Keeping a strong arm around her, he forced her upright. Coughing and gagging, she struggled to get air.

“Put your feet down, Lani. It’s not deep.”

Quaid pulled her weapon from the leather holster and set it on the edge. Water poured from it.

“Breathe, Alanna.” Quaid slapped her firmly on the back to expel the rest of the water from her lungs.

The first inhale jerked through her – ragged and rough like the broken glass all around them. Her ears trickled with blood, and her face and arms were littered with scrapes.

Desperate, Quaid turned her face to his. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head, and coughed more, spitting out water.

Quaid checked the side of the pool for shards and found a clear spot. He

lifted her and deposited her on the side. Considering how testy she was about being touched, he was surprised she made no fuss. Shock. Crap. Levering himself out, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her shivering body.

“Talk to me, Williams.”

She tipped her head, staring at him with confusion clouding her eyes. “I’m okay.” She coughed again.

Holding up two fingers, he flashed them in front of her eyes.

“I can see your fingers fine.” Alanna slapped his hand out of her face. “I can’t hear you. Jesus Christ, what was that?”

“You can’t hear me?” She stared at his mouth. Quaid helped her stand. Her trembling body twisted fear and anger in his gut. His tough girl didn’t tremble.

“It’s muffled. Is a fire alarm going off? I can hear that, maybe.”

The sprinklers had come on in the suite, and the alarm blared.

Alanna glanced back and saw a big man leaning through the hole in the window. Her scream was more of a squawk. The shift of her weight upset her balance and tipped her towards the water.

Quaid grabbed her, easing her against his chest until she stabilized. “It’s Barker.” Even speaking against her ear, he wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

You two okay?” Barker took in the scene, eyes wide.

Quaid fought his fears and found control. “We need a paramedic. Alanna’s hurt.”

“Taken care of. Fire Department is here and on the way up. What exploded?”

“I don’t know. Where were your men?”

“Knocked out in the fire escape.” Barker ducked back inside.

Turning Alanna, he pointed to the other side of the pool away from the broken glass. Once there, he turned her around. Her shirt was soaked with blood.

“Yeah, I’m missing a few layers of skin.” Alanna coughed again and studied the blood on Quaid’s hands. “The breakfast cart.”

“I don’t understand.” He turned her toward him and shook his head.

“Breakfast cart, by the dining room table. It made this funny clicking sound before it exploded.”

Quaid hadn’t ordered breakfast, but sometimes the staff prepped his favorites and brought a cart to the room. What was with all the breaches this man was making in their security perimeter?

“The other guy shot at us.” She fingered her lip, another cut there. “Not the same MO.”

Quaid grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. Hearing the explosion had been nothing compared to watching her blow through the window like a broken doll and fall into the pool.

Alanna dabbed at her face with the towel. “It was him, though, wasn’t it? How did he find us?”

“Unknown.” He spoke directly to her, but shook his head again, too.

Barker broke out the remaining panels of glass in the sliding doors. “Paramedics.”

He bent to make eye contact. “Paramedics here. Hospital for you.”

She vehemently shook her head.

Quaid nodded as fiercely back. “You might have ear drum damage.”

He stepped aside to let the medic through. “She can’t hear. Force of the explosion, I’m guessing.”

The striking woman had dark hair and stood tall in her blue uniform. She checked him over with wide eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I was in the pool.” Leaning over the side, horror ripped through him at all the shards in the water.

“Shoes. You’re gonna want them.” Her dry tone forced him to get a handle on his emotions. “She’s gonna need transport. We can’t check her hearing here.”

“Understood.”

Before the medic finished speaking, Quaid saw Niles at the broken windows.

“Niles, I need shoes. And call QM and tell them we need assistance from Bets in the ER at UCSD.” She was the day-time charge nurse there and worked part-time for QM.

Niles didn’t hesitate. “Immediately, sir.”

A few moments later, his loafers and a robe were in his hands. Niles checked Alanna, cataloging her needs, too. It’s what he did.

Quaid struggled with his focus. A gurney came through the damaged area with another couple of firemen.

Alanna shook her head. “I can walk.”

The medic smiled at her, shaking her head. “We give everybody a ride. It’s the way it works.”

The fire alarm abruptly silenced. Thank God. Alanna cooperated, but barely. Stubborn woman. He followed the gurney up the stairs to the main living area of the suite. The fire department was spraying the smoldering remains of the cart and the living room furniture. Three fireman were standing in the entryway talking with Barker.

“Quaid?” Alanna grabbed his wrist.

Surprised, he took her hand. “I’m coming with you.” He did a sign to convey his words.

“You might cause a stir that way.” The medic grinned.

Old Quaid might have flirted back, but he didn’t do that anymore and wasn’t in the mood. “Can you hold three minutes? She can’t go alone.”

The medic smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“No, that’s security. This wasn’t an accident.”

Niles interrupted. “Sir, clothes. They’re on the bed.”

He made a sign to Alanna and went to his room. “Get Mackey. We have to go unarmed. He can meet us at the hospital.”

“Noted, sir.” Niles shut the door.

He talked as he dropped the towel and checked for glass again. In less than the three minutes, he dressed and grabbed his wallet. “Sweep the room, get all our gear, and I’ll let you know where to meet us. Make sure every hotel employee is all right and if not, organize assistance.”

“Understood. Be careful.”

“Tell Barker to do a thorough check of all cameras, doors, and personnel, then talk to Mackey. I’m sticking with Alanna.” Quaid stopped by the door and closed his eyes. Tiredness crashed through him. This wasn’t about him. It was about Alanna. The surety came from his gut, but obvious was staring him in the face.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital with more clothes and supplies for Ms. Williams.”

Quaid turned back to him. “I don’t say it much, but I am grateful I have you at my back.”

Niles cleared his throat. “Likewise, sir.”

Quaid joined the medic as she was about to leave him behind.

She smiled at him. “Good timing.”

“Not good enough.” Fuck.

&&&&&&&&&&

Emergency rooms were an exercise in patience, even when you had the charge nurse and one of the best physician’s pulling strings. Their stay at the LA General Hospital had been brief. QM’s helicopter pilot had swooped in and carried them both back to San Diego.

Quaid kept the pissed at bay by pacing. They were in an open area with no support or weapons. He could handle whatever came his way, but he’d prefer a full response team with weapons loaded.

Dr. Swami Paramar, orthopedic surgeon and colleague of Cait, hurried in. He had a surgery scheduled with Cait when she got back. “Bets called me. What happened?”

Quaid shook the man’s hand. “It’s not orthopedic, but we got caught in an explosion. Alanna’s hearing is compromised, and she dropped through a plate glass window into the pool. Fifteen feet, approximately.”

Paramar pointed at the doctor with Alanna. “He’s the on-call ER Doc. Dr. Ben Trolley. He’s the best. Smart, experienced, but I’ll check with him. Get an update.”

“Appreciated, Doc.” Quaid eyed Bets moving toward him.

“Cait won’t be happy,” the doctor added.

Quaid groaned. “You’re telling me.” The man slapped him on the back and went into the treatment room.

Quaid stayed in the hall on guard. Alanna’s eyes never left him until the ER Doc stepped into their line of sight.

Bets stopped beside him. Petite and perky, the woman had mocha skin, wide brown eyes, and an attitude that allowed her to use body language for command results. “ENT Doc will be here momentarily. I didn’t wait for doctor’s orders. What happened?”

“Someone has us in his crosshairs. Other than that, I have no idea.” Quaid shifted to put Lani back in his line of vision.

When had he started calling her Lani?

Mother freaking unprofessional.

Bets adjusted the drape over the cubicle. “These assessments take awhile, but it’s necessary.”

“I’m worried about security. Two attempts in less than twenty-four hours. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“I hesitated to alert security. It can sometimes trigger a police presence I wasn’t sure you wanted.”

“Thanks for that. You’re right. Mackey will be here soon.” Although, he had no burner phone to confirm. “Can you text QM?”

“No, but I can call the main office. Who do you want?”

“Harrison, if possible.”

“Let me get my personal phone. I’ll be back.” She darted away, directing other incoming patients to rooms with the ease of a slow day. Which it wasn’t.

Dr. Trolley and Dr. Paramar both exited the room and came to his side. “Numerous bruises, one cut needing stitches, and an ENT consult. Her eardrums are trashed. I’ve order meds to handle the pain. Once the adrenaline wears off, she’s going to be hurting. What about you?”

Quaid shook his head. “I was getting out of the pool. Not even close.”

“Any cuts.”

“None that need attention.” He wouldn’t have them messing with him if Alanna needed him. “QM has a medic, and my body man is a medic. They can handle it.”

“Dr. Meeks should be here shortly. Once we get his assessment, we can proceed with stitches and get you both released.” Dr. Trolley’s short, practical assessment settled him. “Especially since Dr. Paramar and Bets can provide backup. Dr. Hunter should be available to you in a day or so.”

“Yes, We’ve got this. But I very much appreciate the care you’ve given her, Doctor.” He couldn’t stop from gazing at her, some of the worry leaving him.

Bets came to his side and handed him her phone. “Harrison.”

“Thanks, Bets. Thanks to all of you.” He stepped away. “Harry. Talk to me,” Quaid growled. “I want this bastard found and taken care of.”

Bets pulled at his sleeve. “Mackey is at the entrance. He’ll be here in a  moment. I’ll send him your way.”

“Thank you.” Quaid stepped into the room with Alanna. With two of the three men he trusted most arriving, he could let his anger flow. And because he could, he didn’t.

The nurse adjusted Alanna’s IV, glanced at his face, and exited the room at a fast clip.

Alanna’s bland stare gave him hope. “Scaring the nurses now?”

“Hold, Harry.” Quaid grabbed a pad they’d given Alanna and wrote “Stitches, ENT Doc, then we’re out.”

“They told me,” she answered. “What’s next?”

“We get to QM where you can sleep.” He made the sign for sleep.

The twist of her mouth noted her displeasure. He turned away before she could say anything or he touched her, a ragged need to hold her close overtaking him. Which was stupid. He didn’t even like her.

“Update, Harry. Mac is here.”

“The only thing holding Frank Walker off is that this happened in LA County. The good news is we have more pictures from the kitchen and the hallway to compare with the parking lot. Height and weight comparisons say the same man. He left the hotel in a white suburban. No plates. Sloppy. He either didn’t plan enough C-4 or he didn’t plan to kill. He missed in the parking lot, now he’s missed at the hotel. How he found you? Undetermined. Unless one of you has a GPS tracker on you.”

“How’d he get to the cart?”

“Kitchen. Barker is chewing on anyone who gets in his way. It won’t happen again. The cart was delivered by Landers, your regular guy, the same routine as always. There was a new bus boy in the kitchen. The usual chaos. Our assassin/bomber slipped in. Planted the C-4 on the cart. Took out the men in the hallway so they couldn’t do their usual search which implies he’d studied the hotel routine. How in this timeframe, I don’t know. Both men are going to be fine. Landers hadn’t been briefed on the security arrangement.”

“I shouldn’t have been in the pool. I would have checked the cart.”

“Should haves are unproductive. Stuff happens. Leave it alone.”

Quaid snorted. “GPS is a hard no. Neither of us had phones until we grabbed the burners at Hunter’s. I’ve only activated one. So, somebody must have talked. I can’t imagine the man checking every Patton hotel, but it’s possible. I don’t have a phone, by the way. Niles has them.”

“He’ll be there shortly. He checked in with me when he left the hotel. Are we dodging the cops for a reason?”

“I don’t have answers. Christ, we can’t even figure out who he is, let alone why.”

“I’ve surveyed as many of your CIA files as I can. Some I don’t have clearance for. You’re the only one who can review those. I’d suggest you tag Frank and talk it through. Get him on our side. We could use legal access to traffic cams.”

Quaid initial instinct was no. He could handle this himself. He looked at Alanna. She’d dropped off to sleep, her face strained. The cut on her arm was covered with blood-stained gauze. She cradled her arm as if it hurt.

“I’ll talk it through with Mac and take care of it.”

“Where to next? Your grandfather has already called twice. He’s not happy about the damage to his favorite suite.”

Quaid sighed. “He prefers the one in Tokyo, not here. Don’t believe him. It’s his way of staying in emotional control.”

“That may be, but Elizabeth is distraught. I’m going to transfer your call. Reassure her, would you? Then come back to homebase so we can help. He got in the parking lot not the building. There’s protection here.”

“I’m worried about collateral damage.”

“Better professionals like us than hotel employees with families. We’re clear of all the wedding extras.”

“All right. We’ll see you soon. Thanks, Harry.”

The phone clicked, then rang. “About damn time, mister.”

Elizabeth didn’t sound distraught. She sounded…pissed. “We’re both okay, and Niles handed off the money. Thanks, Liz.”

“Come back here. It makes no sense to avoid the one place that has the expertise, fire power, and resources to help you. Come home.”

Quaid recognized the fear in her voice, the loss of her son coming back to bite her, and acknowledged that’s what he meant to her, too. “We’ll be there soon. Alanna needs a hearing assessment and stitches. It’ll take a couple more hours.”

“Do we notify her family?”

“No, I don’t think she has any.”

“Well, she does here.”

Out of the blue, Quaid called himself every name in the book. She’d only been with them two weeks, but they had a deal with their crew. They stayed tight, stayed present, stayed family. And they hadn’t pulled Alanna in because she belonged to the FBI. She deserved the same backup they provided for everyone else.

He spoke more reassuring words to his aunt, then slid the cellphone into his pocket to return to Bets.

One of these days, he was going to learn not to be such an ass.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief: 09:30:00 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Active threat targets Daniels. Security Level 3 remains in effect. All units maintain elevated vigilance. Ϙ

Mackey measured his steps from drop off at the UCSD Medical Center emergency room door through the crowded reception area to Alanna’s treatment room. Thanks to Bets, it was an uneventful walk.

One thing about being a lethal warrior, you couldn’t rush anywhere. His body was a weapon and his experience had a vibe – one he tried to keep contained, but his presence tended to scare people – a tactic better left to dangerous situations, not day-to-day movement. The persona was important.

He’d changed to dark jeans, a butter-yellow shirt, and a lightweight sport coat that concealed his weapon. Thankfully, the medical center’s security knew him because of the connection with Cait. But everyone else would see a well-dressed man carrying himself with confidence, calmness, and control. That inspired trust – from strangers, from hospital personnel, and any cops in the building.

Was this his favorite way to dress?

No. But Elizabeth always prevailed. She paid attention to every detail of how the two owners presented themselves in public, and he chose to honor her experience, not fight her. Because this business meant a great deal to him, and the people he had around him helped change who he’d been into who he wanted to be.

He caught sight of Quaid and stress bled out of his system. Quaid could take care of himself, but they still lived in a shit-happened world. He rounded the care station and took a moment to study his partner. Black slacks, white shirt, expensive loafers, and hair disarrayed. Not the Quaid he usually saw. And he was pacing from one side of the drawn curtain to the other.

He moved in quietly, and waited.

“ENT in with Alanna. We’ll have word about her hearing in a few, hopefully.”

Mackey stayed silent. Quaid needed to talk. It was in the set of his shoulders, the tight tone in his voice.

“Grandfather is pissed.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes, but I told him to stuff it. You’re alive.”

Quaid eyed him. “You didn’t really tell him that, did you?”

Mackey sighed. “I was a bit more diplomatic. Elizabeth talked to him after I did, though, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t.”

Quaid grinned, then shook his head. His eyes went back to the curtain, worry there and not disguised very well. “She’s his goddaughter, and she used to be his right-hand. She can say all kinds of things to him that we can’t and shouldn’t.”

Cutting through the tension, Mac steered off the personal and to the professional. “Are you coming back with us to QM or are we making other arrangements?”

“Coming back. This isn’t about me. I think it’s about Alanna.”

Mackey opened his mouth and had no reply. Finally, he found the right question. “Why?”

“My gut and my logic. I talked to Harrison. If you are hitting walls, and you are, and so am I, then the “obvious” answer isn’t the obvious. It’s someone after Alanna.”

“She disagrees.”

“Vehemently, but she hasn’t seen pictures of the man yet.”

“Harry has a call into her boss, but hasn’t connected.”

Quaid snorted. “I’m guessing she’ll want to tell him the situation herself.”

The curtain brushed open. Their conversation stopped.

Dr. Meeks was a short, robust man with a bushy black beard and intense brown eyes. “She’s going to be fine, and I’m only telling you this because she gave me permission. She has tympanic membrane damage in her middle ear and ear drum. Definitive signs of conductive hearing loss, possibly tinnitus, but it’s too close to the event to draw conclusions. The blood and debris along with the injury are compromising sound transmission. Now we wait and give it time to heal. We’ll know in a few weeks if her eardrum and hearing return to normal. If not, we’ll have a better framework for a course of treatment. You can talk to her for the rest.” He trotted past them both.

Quaid grabbed the curtain and entered the room. Mackey stayed clear. Quaid and Alanna had a habit of spitting at each other no matter what the contact. Had from the first meeting. He was going to let them sort this out on their own.

“I’ll make arrangements for us to get back to QM.”

Quaid waved him off. He never took his eyes off Alanna.

Mackey shut the curtain again and grabbed his phone. Oh boy.

&&&&&&&&&&

Tired, frustrated, and irritated, Alanna glared at Quaid and wanted to blame him for the whole mess she was currently surviving. But, in her experience when she let out her frustration, the situation never worked out in her favor. Aside from the personal consequences, none of this was his fault.

The curtain separated and Mackey poked his head in. “Niles is here. He has clothes for Williams, and he’s our ride back to QM.”

She only got about four words, but guessed at the rest. Niles, clothes, ride, QM. “Thanks. Can we leave?”

Quaid glanced at Mac.

Mackey shrugged and pointed at the central station. “I’ll arrange it.”

Or what she assumed was agreement.

She blurted out her nagging concern. “I’m not going to be much of a wingman for a few weeks.”

Quaid grabbed her board and scribbled in a messy scrawl. “We’re going to QM. We’ll talk there.”

“Talk about what?”

Writing again, she watched words emerge on the page. “We have pictures of the man from cameras. I want you to check them. You might recognize him.”

“This isn’t about me.” She rubbed at the bandage on her arm.

Quaid lifted her chin. “You may have seen him.”

“How?”

He grabbed the marker again and erased the board. “You were outside before the wedding?”

“Yes, a couple different times. Trying to stay out of the way.”

Quaid stared at her, his deep frown off-putting.

“You think I saw him in the parking lot?”

He nodded at her, his lips pressed tightly together.

She glared at him. There was something else there, something he wasn’t telling her.

Well, she’d always been rudely honest with him. Why stop now?

“What are you not telling me?”

Quaid shook his head. “Not the time.”

If she waited until she got to QM and to safety, she’d fall asleep. She needed rest so badly. The pain meds they’d given her kept her eyes at half-mast, and she needed a comfortable bed.

She played the only card she had. “How long do you want to wait for this information?”

He tipped his head, irritation in his gaze and stubbornness in the set of his shoulder.

“I’ll be asleep within five minutes in the car. These drugs they gave me are going to knock me out. So unless you want to wait for twelve hours while I sleep, you best tell me.”

Quaid huffed. The man had a serious attachment to control.

She raised her brows and gave him her most exasperated stare.

He took her board back and slowly wiped away the words.

He wrote – “I think you know him. I think he knows you. I think this whole mess is about you, not me.”

“I told you it wasn’t.”

“You’re wrong.”

She put energy she didn’t have into controlling her angry response. “Why? How did you decide this?”

He erased the board again. “Absence of information on my side, and investigations never work well if you ignore half the equation.”

“Show me the picture.” She could be stubborn, too.

He erased the statements and put the board aside. Going to the curtain, he talked to Mackey. Back with his partner’s phone, Quaid searched a minute, then turned the phone to her. “Parking lot,” he mouthed to her.

She studied the image. Shadowed with no clear view of the man’s face, she still took the time to memorize the image. “This could be anyone.”

“Yes.” He took the phone back and scrolled again. “Hotel kitchen.”

“Where he planted the bomb?”

“Yes.”

She took the phone and saw the picture. Her chest balled into a tight wad of anxiety. Panic bloomed in an uncontrolled spin leaving her breathless. The eyes of her nightmare stared back at her.

Shit.

Chapter Five

While Alanna had been at Quantico with only a hope of making the final FBI roster, she’d gone through mandatory therapy. She’d opened up to the savvy, grandmotherly therapist and accepted the miracle of finding someone who understood her journey to not let the bad guys win. The practical grounding in those therapy sessions was the only thing anchoring her through the initial flash of panic and terror.

Quaid took her hand. “I’m here. You can identify him?”

She wanted to pull her hand back, but his touch and the comfort from the simple handholding kept her on the safe side of a precipice.

“Lani, talk to me.”

She let go of the phone, and it dropped in her lap. Within seconds the screen shut off, thank the saints.

“Holy God,” she whispered, shutting her eyes. But that was worse. His face tumbled through the pathways of her memories, sparking moments she had trapped tight in a dark corner of her mind. She opened her eyes to stop the roll of unchecked violence that made her nauseous. Where was her disassociating persona when she needed it?

Quaid’s fierce, protective expression made tears pool in her eyes.

“Tell me.” She had no problem reading his lips and should have bristled at the command, but she tightened her hold on his hand.

It meant sharing a part of her life she never talked about. To anyone except Whit. Did this have to do with why Whit disappeared?

“Yes, I know him.” There wasn’t even a thought of lying. The bastard had shot at her and almost hit Quaid. Some assassin. She was going to kill the motherfucker. She knew how this time.

She threw back the covers, wishing for clothes instead of this beige flowered patient gown. “I’m not talking about this here.”

The words were shaky, not firm like she intended.

Mackey pulled back the curtain, and she took the moment of distraction to let go of Quaid’s hand and stand. God dammit, she’d do this on her own two feet. Mackey had clothes over his arm and shoes in his hand. She lifted her arm and made a gimme motion with her hand.

He eased into the room like a soldier on patrol waiting for an ambush. “Everything all right here?” She read the question in his eyes more than heard his words. He dropped the clothing and shoes on the end of the bed.

“It’s good. Go outside and wait for me.” Alanna lifted the phone from the covers and handed it to Mackey without looking at him.

“We’ll talk about this when we get to QM.” The intense expression in Quaid’s eyes deepened his eye color, but his face stayed as still as stone. He didn’t push even though he must have wanted to. The restraint touched her. Gratefulness. Partner. Family. She couldn’t label it exactly. But he wasn’t forcing the issue, and she needed the time.

He pulled open the drape again with a quick tug and waited for Mackey to go first.

He pointed at the floor outside the cubicle. “I’ll be right here.” He mouthed it as much as said it.

Alone, yet not, she laid out the clothes. Studying the jeans, red shirt, and denim jacket, she shook her head. Niles. The man was uncanny. These were her styles, her colors, and her comfort zone. And a new pair of her favorite black work shoes. “How does he do that?”

Sore muscles and cuts and bruises aside, she dressed with a care to her injuries and chewed her lip while trying to sort out what to tell the two men and what to protect. Not a good strategy. She’d reviewed the stellar work they’d done on one case, and from her own experience knew the more information they had, the faster they could accomplish solving the problem.

The brush and ponytails wrapped in the jacket stymied her, but she stayed in motion, brushed her dark hair, and pulled it from her face into a low ponytail. She couldn’t be at a disadvantage from now on. She wouldn’t have a repeat of years ago.

She shivered and finished tying her shoes. Leaving the ugly gown on the patient bed, she drew in several breaths, then pulled the curtain. True to his word, Quaid was right there, in the way, his back to her.

He turned and checked her over. “Bets has your paperwork. Quick signature and we’re out.”

She frowned and sorted through what he could have said. Bets appeared at her side. Question answered. Charge nurse. Instructions. Signature.

The woman handed her a pen, pointed out the signature spots, and gave instructions to Quaid. She wanted out and away from here enough that she didn’t even blink. Adding the hearing issues to the instruction process would have stretched her last nerve to snapping.

Mackey stood at the care station on the phone.

Bets made a ‘you call me’ sign and Alanna nodded to reassure her.

“Let’s go. Our medic can handle anything else.” Quaid took her elbow. Mackey came to her other side.

Step by step, she followed the lead of the two protective men. They had no idea what was coming at them and still they protected her. She had trained hard to be FBI and mastered every ability that gave her an advantage. She could take care of herself, but their support breached deep, touching a part of her she never let anyone near.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid startled when Alanna’s head dropped to his shoulder, the tips of black hair brushing his shoulder. He growled low in his throat. In the backseat of the SUV with Mackey driving and Marcus Delaney running shotgun, he’d stuck close, hoping to keep her awake. But she was asleep as predicted, and his baser instincts were at war. Shake her awake and demand answers or cuddle her close and take care of her. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

It was funny really. With his globe trotting parents and a grandfather whose attention was on the business at all hours, he’d learned growing up to keep his needs closed up tight and to pretend he didn’t care. Even when he’d lived with his grandfather as a ‘safe’ alternative, he’d been left to staff. Without a doubt his grandfather loved him in his own way, but expressing it was not in his playbook. The experience refined who he trusted and who he wouldn’t.

Then he became a Marine and joined the CIA, and he kept his activities and emotions closed off until Mackey, Hunt, and Cait plowed into his life with the force of a missile from a rocket launcher. Cait saving his life had turned her into a true friend – one who he confided in and trusted. Mackey was hardheaded and decisive and resolved from first meeting they would be friends, giving Quaid no quarter. And Hunt… the man was everything he wanted to be – from warrior, to friend, to husband. The three had turned into brothers in a blink of an eye.

He lifted a hand to shift Alanna’s hair, the texture a sublime balm to his senses. He eased her closer, trying not be obvious about making her more comfortable. Taking care of her apparently was winning.

Mackey glanced at him in the rearview mirror and frowned. “Guess we aren’t talking anytime soon.”

Tired in thought and muscle, he accepted this wasn’t a good combination for mystery exploration. He’d miss details which were going to be important. “She needs some rest. Frankly, so do I.”

“We need a direction from here or we’re stuck.” Mackey changed lanes to make their exit.

“I know.” He watched the heavy traffic flow around them, checking cars and sorting questions.

“Would the FBI have told us if she was involved with something that mattered, Mac?”

“Short answer. No. Having no direct experience with their agents, I’d still say no. They protect their own cases like we do.”

“What did you tell Frank?”

“Only what he had already figured out, and I added the Coronado Patton and where your vehicle had been. Since you’re not driving it anymore, the info doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know your sports car is in Cait and Hunt’s garage, though. They’ll be home tomorrow.”

Quaid put a hand over his mouth and rubbed his lips. “That’s going to be a hell of a conversation. The gear is all with Niles. We can return everything we took.”

“Good plan. I’ll be implementing some supply locations going forward.” Mackey turned into the entrance and waved at the double guards at the security booth. “We’re also reorganizing our security arrangements.”

Quaid stabilized Alanna so her head didn’t wobble. “Pull up under the portico.”

“Really? I was going to park at the back end of the parking lot.” Mackey’s sarcasm had a cutting edge.

“I’m tired, Mac. Give it a rest. I’m worried about this whole situation.”

“You, my friend, are not alone. It’s been a rough twelve hours.”

Mackey pulled to a stop under the awning of the building and put the car in park. Delaney exited, too, and went to the driver’s side to move the car when they were out. Clean clothes, a shave, and a job had improved the man’s looks and disposition. His arm in a sling from a long ago war injury, he was scheduled for surgery with Cait to fix the damage in two days. “I’ll take it around to the shop. Nobody will see the vehicle if they saw us leave the hospital.”

“Good plan.” Mackey opened Quaid’s door while he dithered about whether to carry her to bed or wake her. Considering who was in the building, she wouldn’t want to be carried like a damsel in distress. He could already predict that with one hundred percent confidence.

“Lani, wake up,” he muttered, then rolled his eyes. She couldn’t hear him. He used his free hand to shake her, gently. She jerked awake, eyes wide, hand slapping for her weapon.

He put a hand over hers and squeezed. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

She focused on his hand, then on his face. It took her a moment of closed eyes and measured breathing to calm herself. He left his hand over hers for a moment longer, but mindful of her edict not to be touched, he stepped out.

He waited for her, making sure she was steady, and stifling the urge to slip an arm around her shoulder. He needed a distance reset, and he wasn’t likely to get it. “Inside. Now.”

The double glass doors slid open and Ty Drucker, their medic, strode through. “What do we need?” The man defined steady. Compact and bald with an affection for humorous t-shirts, he was dressed all in black without a bit of humor anywhere. His clothes described the last twelve hours if anything did.

Alanna glared at him, apparently not happy with the fuss. Tough.

Mackey handed the man her emergency room release packet. “Let’s get her upstairs to the clinic.”

The man was nothing if not efficient. “Harrison briefed me.” He signed to Alanna to follow him, and for a moment she hesitated as if digging for defiance. In the elevator, she leaned against the wall.

With Drucker, Mackey, and him staring at her, he took pity on her situation. He leaned in to force her eyes to his.

“We need his name.”

Lani’s face turned to stone, and her eyes held an expression he couldn’t identify – anger, fear, reluctance.

“Mercer.”

Quaid stepped out of her space. “First or last.”

“I don’t know. Probably military, though.”

“When did you first meet him?” This slow talking for her to read lips was a bitch.

“I was fifteen. Years ago. And I wouldn’t describe it as meeting him.”

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, but Quaid didn’t move. “Where?”

“Here. San Diego.”

Quaid contained his surprise. He had no idea she was originally from San Diego. “You used to live here?”

She sighed. “Yes. Four long years. Arizona before that. I lived with my grandfather.”

“You left San Diego?”

“Yes, for college.”

“How many times did you see Mercer here?”

“Once.”

Mackey touched his arm. “Let’s get off the elevator and have the rest of this conversation in the office.

But Quaid stayed in place.

She was close to shutting down. Her eyes sagged with fatigue, deep lines creased her forehead, and her lips were red from chewing them. This wasn’t the strictly controlled FBI Agent. This was the real woman with all her vulnerabilities hanging out. He wanted to know this woman, but he would have to earn it. In the meantime, he’d protect her and her secrets as best he could.

“Tell me one other thing to help us find him.” He held up his forefinger. “One thing.”

She sighed deeply, grief streaking across her face. “Find Daniel Whitaker.”

“How?”

“Daniel Boone Whitaker. He goes by Whit. Streets.” She brushed past him to stand with Drucker. “I’m done.”

The medic led her down the hall to the clinic.

Mackey patted his shoulder and let the door slide shut. Pushing the button for floor three, Quaid didn’t speak until the doors opened again on the Operations/Admin level. “We have two names now, and we’re both safe. Let’s start hunting.”

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Flash Alert: 13:45:15 12/15 – San Diego HQ.

Investigation active. HQ facility secure. All personnel accounted for. Security Level 3 in force. Ϙ

The guts of QM always hummed with activity. Night and day someone was on shift. Ambient light, white walls, dark blue carpet, black desk cubicles, monitors and smart boards spread across every surface. All the wall space represented QM’s professional intent. Every case was managed through here.

Quaid had an office in the main hallway, as did Mackey, used for guests, clients, and personnel business, not cases. He checked the monitors and noted they were using his Operations workspace to manage the hunt for the assassin. That he and Alanna’s situation was an active investigation made him battle his temper.

Mackey walked to the cubicle and leaned to study what Kerry Jahle, their computer genius, was doing on her three computer screens. Quaid followed to listen in.

Info flashed in rapid fire across her screens, and Quaid rubbed his eyes to banish the fatigue. Harrison’s office light was on, but the space was empty. Casey Miner, a former cop and his deputy, was across the room working with Dave Johnson, their financial investigator. They did have cases pending. They couldn’t grind everything to a halt to solve this. Mackey would, but they couldn’t afford to drop the ball anywhere.

Quaid joined them, choosing silence.

Mackey took point to brief. “Name is Mercer. First or last, we don’t know. Might be military.”

Kerry frowned, then grabbed a tie and twisted her hair to the top of her head. “Oh, that’s so vague as to almost be useless, but let’s see what we get. I’ll try as a last name first, but this could be an alias, too.”

“Can you find any reference to an assassin using only that name?”

Kerry raised her brows. “Telling me how to do my job, boss?”

“Wouldn’t think of it, but the sooner we find him the better. I have another name.”

“Do tell.”

Quaid dropped his silent pose. “Daniel Boone Whitaker. Known as ‘Whit”, San Diego streets. Alanna lived in San Diego in high school. Knew these two when she was fifteen.”

“So we’re talking back a ways and if they were street, well, you do love giving me a challenge, don’t you?” Kerry slipped a pencil behind her ear, chose a database and typed in Whit’s name.

Mackey crossed his arms and blanked concern off his face, but Quaid saw it. “You should go get some sleep. I’ve got this.”

“Not tired,” he lied.

“I talked to you at three a.m. You did not sleep. I’ll wake you if we find anything.”

The Operations door opened and Delaney came in, opened the storage cupboard, and dropped the keys to the car they’d been using. “Need me for anything else?”

“Uh, guys?” Kerry rapidly scrolled through screens, clicking at a pace that defied description.

“What?” Quaid wished he hadn’t growled, but a headache was building behind his eyes.

“There’s an active police report on this man from two weeks ago. His blood was found in an alley near the mission downtown, and there is a second blood type they can’t identify. I mean a lot of blood. They think he’s dead. Case is still open, though. No body. For either one apparently.”

Mackey leaned in. “Can you get us a full background on this Whit person?”

Delaney came across the room to their cubicle. “Why are you searching for Whit?”

Mackey reared back. “You know him?”

“Yeah. Works the mission. He’s been gone for a couple weeks. Nobody seems to have a clue where he went.”

Quaid pointed at the police report. “Hurt. Possibly dead. They aren’t sure.”

Kerry scrolled back to let Delaney read the file. He straightened and shook his head. “Whit was Green Beret. No way he lost in a street fight. He’s always taking care of any street riff raff that bother the kids. Most people avoid him because they’re afraid to get into it with him.”

“Not you, though?”

“He knew I’d been Army, too. But with my arm, I couldn’t do much to help him. Once in awhile I’d shelter a kid for him. But the man could fight.”

“Where did he serve?”

“Iraq, mostly. Syria. The Middle East region. We never crossed paths. My tours were all in Afghanistan.”

“Have you heard the name Mercer?”

Delaney thought for a few seconds and finally shook his head. “Nope, not in this context. I had a private named Jason Mercer in my platoon in Afghanistan, but this couldn’t be him. He was barely out of high school, got injured in an IED explosion, and broke his back. Last I heard, he’d gone home to Indiana.”

Mackey shifted to study the screen closer. Kerry stopped him. “I have this, guys. I’ll start the search through internet muck to find him. It’s gonna take time.”

Quaid sighed. “In the meantime, Frank could give us a hand on Whit.”

Mackey straightened, moving out of Kerry’s space. “He’ll want something in exchange.”

“Yeah, give me a couple hours to sleep. I’ll talk to him.”

“PD is not happy about any of this.”

“Are we?” Quaid snapped, then regretted it.

The Operations door flew open and Elizabeth came through the door at a fast clip. Her blonde hair was neatly tucked in a roll behind her head and her makeup was flawless as usual. But instead of an elegant, colorful ensemble per habit, she wore worn blue jeans, a red family ranch t-shirt with Stephenson-Craig Ranch logo on the pocket, and the brown work boots she wore in the barn. “You get back, finally, and don’t come to see me first?” Color flushed her cheeks, but her eyes were hard.

Quaid dropped his head. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He stepped to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m okay.”

She held on for a long moment, and Quaid let her. He needed to engage his brain. She always reacted badly to threats.

She eased back to look him in the eye. “Where is Alanna Williams?”

“In the clinic. She’s fine, but has cuts, bruises, and her eardrums are damaged. She needs rest.”

She gripped his arms. “So, in other words, we need Cait.”

Quaid turned to Mackey, but he subtly made a down-low sign of ‘I’m out.’

Quaid kept an arm around his aunt and walked her to the door. “I have to call her and Hunt. It needs to be me.”

“I would think so. Are you hurt?”

In the hallway, he turned Elizabeth towards her office at the end of the hall. He and Mackey both had public offices across from Operations, but Elizabeth had the corner office. She was their financial guru and brain trust.

“No, Harry’s asleep on my sofa.” She turned the knob on his office door, stepped through, and flicked on the lights.

Quaid missed a step, but recovered quickly. “Harry has an office with a sofa.”

“With all the noise of the Operations Center attached. The man’s been here since the assassination attempt. What is going on?”

“As near as we can tell, the man’s after Alanna. We don’t know why yet. She needed rest before she could share the whole story. Drucker has her. Bets took care of her at the ER. There’s nothing for Cait to do, yet.”

“She won’t see it that way.”

Quaid frowned, agreeing. “I spent too long trying to protect everyone around me when I thought it was some mess from my past. Now the parameters are different.”

“We need to help her with whatever it is.”

“We will.”

“You don’t like her.”

Leave it to Elizabeth to be blunt. “We worked through a bit of that. I admit I don’t know her, and she’s defensive and private.” He went to the conversation area and collapsed on his nubby, gray sofa. Elizabeth followed him, choosing the chair across from him.

“We don’t leave our friends to fend for themselves.” That Elizabeth felt she had to spell it out pricked at his conscience.

“We don’t. And we won’t. She had my back the entire time. I’ll have hers, too.”

Niles interrupted a tick before rapping on the door. “Sir, I have the gear.”

“Bring it in here. We’ll separate out what I borrowed from Hunt and get organized.” The man disappeared as quietly as he arrived. God, how did he think he was better off without his family around him? That had been a stupid move. He couldn’t afford to make any more. For Alanna’s sake.

Elizabeth rose. “We have one guest room open on the fifth floor. You could sleep there.”

“Give the space to Alanna.”

“She has a crew quarters assignment already to mitigate the drive to LA FBI headquarters.”

“Yeah, with the bare minimum. Let’s put her in a more comfortable setting until she’s back to full strength.”

“She might not want to.”

“I’ll talk to her. In fact, make the suite her standing room assignment as long as she’s here.”

Elizabeth tipped her head and gave him “the look.” It always loosened his tongue.

“She has no family, Liz. None.”

“Better quarters will take care of that?”

“No, it won’t. But it will tell her we respect her and will take care of her. I may have screwed up with my attitude about her from the beginning, but I’m fixing that.”

Elizabeth raised her hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, but you get to tell her.”

“No problem.” His internal self was rolling on the floor laughing, but he coached himself to ignore. “Tell Donner to make the arrangements. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He couldn’t keep a woman in his life. They all seemed to fall away when they figured out he couldn’t be manipulated for his money. Might also have something to do with all the secrets and how they found out the truth about who he was.

Still, he had women around him who gave a damn.

Elizabeth. Cait.

And now Alanna.

He didn’t make many mistakes. Oh, he had growing up, but he’d considered that a flaw and had worked hard to stop and think, correct his actions, and do the right thing.

He’d messed up with Alanna, and his pride and values demanded he fix it. Maybe he would gain another woman in his circle he could fully trust.

Chapter Six

QM International Situation Brief: 01:30:45 PST 12/16 – San Diego HQ. Facility secure. Threat assessment revised. Agent Williams identified as primary target. Daniels remains at elevated risk. Security level 3 remains in effect. Ϙ

Alanna jerked awake, her heart pounding in a horrid, panicked rhythm. There was no ambient light in the room, but there was a night light over the door. She took a quick inventory of the large white room and noted four beds, white canvas pull drapes for each, and pale blue walls. There were no other people in the room, except her. Chairs were strategically placed near the beds.

Her ears throbbed in time with her heart. Shallow breathing wasn’t helping. Her gun gone along with her clothes, she was dressed in a beige paisley hospital gown. Again. With only an olive green blanket over her – where the hell was she? She hated falling asleep with no thought to safety. It set off her fight or flight. Even in FBI training, she struggled between sleeping with her gun and not sleeping at all.

“I have you.” The whispered words shocked a harsh, ragged breath from her. She turned too fast, and her muscles objected in a painful chorus.

“Fucking hell.”

Quaid rose from the dark blue recliner on the back side of her bed. The chair didn’t match the hospital decor of the room, so Mr. Daniels had one moved in. As the boss, he didn’t belonged here either.

He flipped on a low light mounted under the bed frame. For a man who usually wore suits, the dark jeans were a new look. So was the black QM T-shirt.

She ignored the part of her brain that lectured her for not having searched the entire room for threats. “What are you doing here? Where am I?”

“QM’s medical bay.”

“Dr. Hunter’s back?”

“No, Drucker will manage until tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your groan says otherwise.” His dry tone rubbed her snarky button.

“I’d rather sleep in my own quarters than in this open space.” She pulled the blanket closer. Body language was a bitch.

“I planned to move you to the fifth floor and a secure guest room, but you were already asleep.”

“I have quarters here. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Security has become a serious issue because…oh, wait for it. I got shot in the parking lot and you got blown through a glass window. Our guest suite has better placement in the building for protection. Currently, your name is on the room. Niles can help you shift when you’re ready.”

“Niles? Niles? You’re loaning me your butler?”

“He’s my body man. Different job descriptions. And he’s family. Be nice.”

Alanna huffed. She was a hard-assed FBI agent and had worked hard for that reputation. She had no nice to spare. “If I go, will you leave? Sleep horizontal in your own bed. You look like hell.”

Pain always loosened her control, but she never had a man in her room while in this state of undress. Had nothing to do with propriety and everything to do with trust and safety. “Why are you here anyway?”

“We’re a matched set until we catch this guy, Williams. Get used to it.” Quaid stepped back and sat. His phone out, his fingers danced across the screen. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

“You’re moving me now?”

“Yes.” The one thing she’d learned about Quaid is the more pissed he got, the shorter his answers were. Some men yelled, punched, hurt. He didn’t. He withdrew. So, yeah. She wasn’t in a great mood. The sound hit her…

“I heard you,” she whispered. “I heard you.”

His eyes rounded, then he grinned.

She increased her volume a bit, testing her ability.. “I heard you.” She laughed.

“Thank God.” He rubbed his eyes. “I was worried it wouldn’t happen.”

“Me, too. If truth be told.”

The bay door opened and Drucker strode in. The man wore black workout gear under a white medical coat. “Has anybody told you two it’s the middle of the night?”

“Actually, no. I have no idea what time it is.” Alanna couldn’t mask her relief and didn’t try.

Drucker came to her side. “I take it you can hear now.”

“It’s a bit muffled, but a whole lot better.”

He used a scope to check both ears, then spoke softly. “It’s the sleep in total quiet, the antibiotics, the pain killers, and the removal of all the debris. Going forward, keep to no loud noises. No bombs, no weapon firing, no loud televisions or music. Don’t push the boundaries.”

She sighed. “Kill joy.”

“Sorry. But it matters.”

Quaid rose and shoved the recliner away from the bed. “We’re moving her. Upstairs. Safer there. Okay?”

“If she promises more sleep and to call me when she wakes so I can check this again.”

Alanna nodded, not willing to antagonize anyone in her corner. Well, except maybe Quaid.

“Dr. Hunter should be here sometime late tomorrow.”

Quaid rubbed his face. “She’ll arrive sooner. It’s who she is. I need some sleep before I have to explain.”

Alanna planned to be far away when he confessed to the Hunters how he ransacked their house.

Niles arrived in a full black suit with a freshly pressed shirt. Drucker passed him with a flourish of ‘she’s all yours.’ The body man came to the end of the bed and waited for instructions.

Alanna found what little she had of manners. “Thank you for coming. What time is it?”

“It’s 0400, ma’am.”

“Let’s get her moved to 501.” Quaid’s gruffness was a counterpoint to Niles’s formality.

“Miss Elizabeth gave me instructions. It’s in progress.”

“Moving me is in progress?” The need for sleep overwhelmed her again. “Do you need my key card because I don’t have it.”

“No, Miss Elizabeth gave me a master. The goal is to get you moved and comfortable as soon as possible.”

“You’re going into my room, packing, and moving me?” Alanna had as much trouble with people touching her things as she did with wearing someone else’s clothes.

Quaid leaned in, his face in hard lines. “Yes. It’s necessary. He’ll take more care than your mother. So let’s find you a robe and a wheelchair and move.”

She wanted to argue. She had two feet and had walked in here, but the pain killers had carried the movement. Everything hurt. And energy was lacking, too. Still her gut twisted, and she wanted to fight to stand on her own.

“Sometimes, Williams, you have to trust the people around you. Let us take care of you. You’re one of us now. We usually do a better job of pulling new friends into our family. I’m sorry. We’ll get this right, I promise.”

His blue eyes fired with sincerity and drew her like a butterfly to a flower. She didn’t drop her defenses exactly, but the two men were trying. So could she. “You should take those contacts out. Your eyes need a rest,” she muttered.

Quaid pulled back in surprise.

“Yeah, I noticed. You should dye your hair back to classic Quaid, too. Blond doesn’t suit you.”

Quaid with his fierce frown wasn’t something she wanted to confront at the moment. She eased to the side of the bed and shut her mouth. Niles stepped to her and held up a white robe. It wasn’t hers, but QM had supplies popping out of nowhere all the time. “Miss Elizabeth anticipated your needs and asked me to take care of anything you wanted.”

Drucker came back with a wheelchair. “Get back to bed upstairs asap. No wheelies in the hall.”

Alanna shook her head, fully familiar with Remy St. Claire, QM’s fourth in command. “I have none of St. Claire’s habits. I did bet against him once, though.” Many of QM’s crew were outrageous in their off-time behavior. Remy’s wheelchair races were legendary.

Ty grinned. “Me, too. Lost. Don’t participate. I want my chair back in one piece.”

“I’ll take care of the return, Mr. Drucker.” Niles helped her with her robe and shifted her to the chair.

“You, I trust.” The man walked out.

“What about me? I’m the boss. I paid for the chair.” Quaid followed behind them, a position she was thankful for. She grinned at his whiny boy act without him seeing and silently sighed in relief.

He hadn’t asked about Whit.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief:  08:00:00 PST 12/16 – San Diego HQ. Threat active. Security level 3 remains in effect. All divisions maintain heightened security for personnel, operations, and facilities. Ϙ

Cait Hunter could have spent another week on her honeymoon. No phones, no middle of the night Navy calls, no emergency surgeries – just the two of them. Except Hunt was antsy to get back to work, and she was anticipating Marcus Delaney’s surgery to fix his arm and wanting to check in at QM. Some bridal couple they were.

Hunt swung his truck into their driveway behind her car, and stayed motionless to study the house. “Welcome home to Safe Harbor, Mrs. Hunter.”

Christmas decorations in many yards reminded her nothing was set for the holidays at their house, and the lack was not okay. She glanced over the front yard, planning and scheming, sweet contentment flowing through her. “We’re so lucky,” she whispered, his warm presence everything to her.

Hunt let out a deep sigh. “Yes, we are. I couldn’t imagine this. I’m glad I stuck with you.”

“I’m glad you stuck with me, too.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Let’s get inside and prolong the moment.”

Hunt grinned. “Wanna bet whose phone rings first?”

“No.” She covered her ears. “No hear, no answer.” She slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbed her purse and cosmetic bag, then slid out of the truck.

Two kids wearing Santa hats raced by on bikes, screaming out their joy for all the world to hear. Cait waved at the two as they went by.

Hunt came around and took the bag from her. “So much for quiet.”

Cait took his hand. “Let the kids be kids.”

“I never had a bike at that age.”

She took his hand. “Do you even know how to ride one?”

Hunt raised his elitest Navy SEAL brow. “I learned in high school when I needed to get to school and to work without adult help. Paid forty bucks for the old blue banger.”

Cait hugged the little nugget close. Hunt didn’t talk about his past easily, and she hoarded those details like the finest treasure. “You’ll have to describe it for me. I want to draw it.”

Hunt’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“I’m obsessed with drawing you as a kid.” She took the walk to the front porch.

“I was never a kid.” He tipped his head to the street where the screaming continued. “Not like that.”

“I know.” She closed the subject and punched in the code on the keypad. The door clicked open and she stepped into home, sweet home. The blue throw she’d used while reading the night before their wedding lay skewed over the edge of the sofa, but everything else was in place. She moved toward the kitchen, arranging a to-do list for cleaning, shopping, and decorating in her head.

“Stop!” Behind her Hunt dropped the bag, shut the door, and pulled his weapon in one split-second maneuver. “Come back to me.”

She didn’t huff, argue, or stand her ground. When Hunt used his urgent tone of voice, it meant danger. She hurried to him. Staying silent, she waited for him to explain.

He used his arm to shift her behind him. He motioned for her to stay and went forward, clearing the house like he would on the job. What had he sensed? She shifted quietly and opened the drawer in the credenza by the front door. Her eyes widened. It was empty. Where was the weapon?

She couldn’t utilize months of training with Mackey to back up Hunt without one. Her husband disappeared into the hall, doors opened and closed in barely discernable noise. Back at their bedroom, he opened the door and disappeared into the space. She watched, waited, strained to hear. He came back to the doorway, shook his head, and walked to her. “Stay with me.”

She followed him through the dining room into the kitchen – again nothing disturbed. He stopped and opened the drawer by the back door. His expression said it all. She went on tiptoes to peek around him. Gun was gone from there, too.

Hunt opened all the drawers, face getting darker and more set as he went. He signaled for her to stay in the kitchen and cleared the laundry room and family room, then backtracked to his workroom.

Key in hand, he unlocked and opened the door. His mean face was a scary sight to bad guys around the globe, but not to Cait. She accepted every part of who he was, but somebody must have breached his workroom. The room was a no-fly zone for many, many reasons, including the gun safe, the weapons, and other professional gear locked away for safety and security. But the most important one was Hunt valued his private space. His work room and their bedroom were not accessible to strangers.

He came back to the kitchen and stopped next to her. “Somebody’s been in the house and in my safe, took guns, ammunition, and clothes.”

“Who? Theft?”

Hunt shook his head. “This house is protected better than most mansions. I can’t imagine someone got in that QM didn’t identify.”

“So it was a QM person?”

Hunt went silent. Neither of them wanted to even voice the idea – those people were their friends, their colleagues, their family.

Cait turned. “You haven’t cleared the garage.”

“Let’s do it.” Once again, he put her behind him and opened the door. A smell of gas and sulfur had her pulling back. Hunt hit the switch to raise the garage door, flooding the space with light and much needed fresh air.

Cait gasped. “Quaid’s car? Oh my God.”

She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her. “Let me check first.”

“What? Is Quaid dead in the front seat?” The shrill in her voice gave away her fear. Not Quaid. Please. The man was her anchor when her husband was in deadly territory.

Hunt went down the two steps, weapon raised, and slowly maneuvered around the first aid supplies and exercise equipment.

She couldn’t stop herself. She moved to the first aid boxes, prepared to jump in when Hunt gave the word.

He eased his stance. “He’s not here, honey. No one is. Bullet holes. Some blood. But no body.”

Cait’s breath escaped in a long sigh, and she sagged against the first aid boxes. “Christ, what happened?”

Hunt put his gun in the holster at his waist and walked around the car as much as he was able. “Multiple shots. Handgun here.” He pointed to the headlight. “The other holes are a sniper rifle.”

“Two different shooters?”

“Or two guns. You better call QM and Frank.”

Cait huffed and swiped away tears, choosing anger over fear. “These men and their secrets are messing with my safe space. What’s my number one rule?”

Hunt’s eyes widened. “We go home.”

“Okay, number two rule.”

“No blood.”

Cait hissed, the air escaping clenched teeth. “Okay, rule three.”

Hunt fought a smirk. “Don’t bring war into your kitchen.”

“Exactly.” She kept the swear words to a minimum and fished her phone from her back pocket.

&&&&&&&&&&

Somebody kicked him.

Quaid cracked an eye, tried to focus, failed, and rolled over. He knew this narrow sofa had been a bad idea.

“You will wake up.”

A woman’s voice – “Alanna?”

“Nope, try again.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Nope.”

He rolled to sitting and reached for eyedrops. Alanna had been right about his contacts.

“What the hell were you doing at my house?”

“Cait.”

“And I’m asking nicely. Hunt is with Harrison and Mackey in Operations.”

The moisture from the drops let him keep his eyelids open. Cait sat across from him in one of the green-patterned swivel armchairs. Dressed in jeans and a blue-striped button down shirt, her white coat and stethoscope were reassuring.

“Have you checked Alanna?”

“Yes. I’m waiting for the records from the hospital to review her ear examination. Answer my question.”

“Cliff notes or full story?”

“Cliff notes for now.”

“Parking lot. After wedding. Shot at. Didn’t want to try to get back inside. Too many people still here cleaning from your wedding. Took my car to your house, got armed. Niles has all of it.”

“So you brought this assassin to my house.”

“No, we’d lost him before we came to your neighborhood.”

“We?”

“Williams was with me.”

“Alanna?”

He huffed at the interruption. “Yes. She was in the parking lot. She thought they were after me and took me out of the line of fire.”

“Brave woman.”

“Yes. Without a doubt.” Quaid stood to stretch out the soreness in his muscles. “I’m sorry. As Mackey and I discussed, it might be time to put other drop boxes in place for emergencies.”

“My house is your house. Except you left our home defenseless, and I couldn’t back up Hunt while he was clearing the house.”

“I forget you’ve trained for backup.” At her expression, he tacked on more. “Honest. Sorry.”

She dropped back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Somebody should kick you harder than I just did.”

His office door opened. A dangerous Navy SEAL filled his doorway with Harrison, Mackey, Niles, and Frank behind him. Hunt face showed neither friendship nor care. When he was pissed, he could wipe his face of all emotion. Quaid had learned that in the one mission they’d done together.

He stood and held out a hand to the one man he owed a longer explanation. “I’m sorry. I was grasping at straws and trying to get us armed and to safety.”

Hunt accepted the handshake, but Quaid knew from his expression the questions weren’t over.

“How long were you in the house?”

“Eight minutes and change. Car was in the garage within 60 seconds. We’d lost the guy before we arrived, but he knows which neighborhood.”

“How’d you leave?”

“Uber. Black Nissan.”

“And went where?”

“Coronado Patton. I have a black Suburban there. Well, currently it’s at the LA Downtown Regency Patton.”

“Yet, he found you again at the hotel. Planted an explosive on your food cart.”

“Yeah, I have no explanation. Barker is working the scene. And he’s not after me. He’s after Alanna. She knew his face and a name. We don’t have the full story yet. She’s been down.”

The other men stayed silent even though Frank shifted like he wanted to jump in. He owed the cop some time later, but for the moment, he’d throw him a bone. “Frank, my car is at Hunt and Cait’s, in the garage. You can tow it.” He winced. “See what you can find with forensics, but the guy never touched it.”

“Noted. His bullets did, though. Might find one embedded.”

Hunt rubbed his face. “Harrison said Williams was down, but we need to talk to her. Because the problem is…I recognize him, too.”

Quaid sucked in a breath. “How?”

Hunt’s expression stayed blank. “I can’t tell you.”

His gut clenched. “Please tell me she hasn’t stepped into some black ops thing.”

“I can’t. I need to review the exact context. You’ll have to let me check in at the office.”

That excluded all of them. Classified was classified. SEAL missions stayed secret. Coronado SEAL Operations was off-limits.

Mackey broke the silence. “We are searching downtown for Daniel Whittaker, our lead to the assassin. Delaney is helping. We’ll take a team out and do some searching this evening, same as we did when we hunted for Delaney.”

Cait stood, her tablet in hand. “I have Alanna’s results from the hospital. Let me go talk with her, but she’s down for at least another day. We have to do what we can to protect her hearing.”

“She can talk, though.” Harrison’s tired face was as blank as Hunt’s. SEALS.

Cait rolled her eyes. “Yes, she can talk. I’ll ask if she can manage some questions. Everybody needs to sleep. Doctor’s orders. And you should have called us when this happened.”

A lecture was coming, and Quaid took the friend route. “We wanted you and Hunt to have an undisturbed honeymoon. We covered you, but again I’m sorry.”

Hunt stepped to him and gripped his shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay. If it helped, it’s always there to use, just leave us a note next time. And leave one fucking weapon in one of the drawers.”

“Understood.”

Mackey added the last piece. “The FBI has nothing on this man. Alanna saw him once, in high school, with Whittaker. That’s the piece where we need every detail. Delaney is friends with Whit. I’m hoping he’ll be able to shorten the search.”

Hunt stayed silent, assessment in the set of his face.

Cait pointed at Mac, the doctor in full charge. “I’m operating on Delaney day after tomorrow. Don’t hurt him.”

Harrison cleared his throat. “I have a call pending to Barker, and your grandfather needs a phone call or he’s going to arrive on our doorstep.”

Quaid groaned. “Let me shower and talk to Alanna. I’ll get to the old man. Or have Elizabeth call him. She calms him faster.”

“She’s asleep on her sofa right now. And it’s your mess kid, not hers.”

Harrison defending Elizabeth was a new one, but he wasn’t wrong. How often had he left Elizabeth with the responsibility, and she let him? He needed to scrub these bastard tendencies from his habits.

Cait touched his arm. “Zephren always puts out a helping hand. It’ll be okay.”

“From your mouth to his ears.” Quaid nodded to Niles. “Give Frank the keys to the car. Do we have Alanna settled in 501?”

“Yes. And I placed the weapons from Lieutenant Commander Hunter’s in the armory along with three new burner phones. The clothes I’m afraid are not serviceable.” He took an envelope off the desk and handed it to Cait. “I believe this was from your household fund.”

Cait opened the envelope and gasped. “You borrowed money, too, Daniels?”

“You know I’m good for it, right?” He winked at her.

She eyed him. “How much did you take?”

“I didn’t count it.” That was the short truth. He didn’t pay attention to money. He didn’t have to.

Cait riffled through the bills. “You could have transferred to my bank account, you know? This is more than was in the whole fund, too. Did you take it all?”

“No, but let’s just call it even. I always pay my debts.”

Cait took his arm. “Sometimes friends just do for friends. You forget sometimes.”

Did he? Or was he just used to people wanting him for his money? His gut twisted. Fuck. None of the people in this room even cared about his wealth.

“I guess I do.”

“Well, stop it.” Cait kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, but leave a girl a gun, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The office cleared, everyone’s assignments clear.

Quaid opted to call his grandfather first.

What did he say? Sorry, I blew up your hotel, but hey I’m alive?

Things had been broken with his grandfather for months. Not sure exactly how that had happened, he stared at his phone, trying to be honest with himself.

Zephren stepped in when Wylie had died in Afghanistan, and when Quaid had gotten hurt there the following year, Zephren arrived in Germany within hours. When both he and Elizabeth needed advice and backing for QM, he’d grilled them like the financial expert he was, then backed the project one hundred percent.

What was the way forward?

Honesty. Communication. Taking care with the relationship. Life slipped by. He knew that from Baxter’s death. He never took time to check in. His grandfather did that, too. Forging family with these people who meant everything was meaningless if he didn’t hold the real thing close and show respect for how he got to where he was.

He made his way to the chair Cait had occupied and groaned when his knees and back cracked as he sat. On his first day in the Marines, his body could pull off anything. He should consider his current age, all the injuries, and act like his body mattered, too. He fingered his phone. Fuck it.” He dialed the number and waited.

His grandfather answered on the first ring. “About time you called.” His gruff, edgy voice stirred the familiar and the comforting.

Quaid rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Granddad. I’m all right. And yes, an assassin blew up your hotel. I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t care about the damage or the money, son. I care about losing you. Was the woman with you all right? Will she sue?”

“Yes, she’s going to be fine. Cait’s taking care of her. She’s one of ours, a partner of sorts. FBI. She was covering my ass. She won’t sue.”

“Well, you make sure she gets everything she needs.”

“I will. She’s tough, Granddad.”

“Finally, not a piece of fluff.”

“Definitely not that. I’ll make sure all goes well with her, and I’ll try to call with an update.”

“Who wants to hurt you?”

“It’s not me. It’s Alanna he wants. And I’m going to stop him cold.”

“Now you’re talking. Who is he?”

“No identification yet. But QM and the police are searching for him. We’ll find him and bury him.”

His grandfather cleared his throat. “You just take care, and have Elizabeth call me, too. She’s not answering.”

“She’s asleep. We’re running on a crazy schedule at the moment. I’ll tell her when she wakes.”

“I worry. She’s been unstable since Wylie died. So when she doesn’t answer, I go to bad thoughts.” He cleared his throat. “I love you both. Call soon.”

“I will. I love you, too, Granddad.”

He disconnected and sat for a moment. His grandfather hadn’t said ‘I love you’ for a long time. His sentiments were usually shown with action or money, a habit Quaid copied. But the silence strangled their closeness. He would fix that, too. For his sake and for Elizabeth’s.

Chapter Seven

In a perfect world, roses bloomed, kids thrived, moms and dads loved each other, and everybody followed the law and got along. Alanna stared at the white textured ceiling in the guest suite. Overwhelmed with the luxury and comfort around her, she contemplated a multitude of subjects from how much her body and ears still ached to why all this luxury bothered her. She moved on to her six years of advanced degree work in criminal psychology and her seven years in the FBI used to little success in the search for a man who’d been her anchor during the hard times. Thirteen years and she came up empty. Why?

Truthful with herself always, though, she admitted something else that nagged at her. She’d snapped up the consulting request from QM with less than pure motives, shocking her boss in the process. It hadn’t been the case that had been the draw. She’d needed back in San Diego to use QM’s assets to find Whit. Only now she didn’t. Her whole plan, no matter what her intentions, was up in smoke. She kept her past and personal needs private. She had a reputation for being unapproachable for that reason.

Whenever she let these memories out, they ripped like broken shards of glass slashing deep into her skin. To be stuck in moments from being fifteen, with no control against the violence and the threat, screwed her sense of safety, and she hadn’t recovered. Not with FBI weapons and tactical training or behavior therapy or more education. Couldn’t even try anymore because to examine those moments as an adult didn’t change the interpretation of a young girl.

Even with her successes, she hadn’t lost her brown thumb that killed plants, found any peace from parents that drowned in a flood, or forgiven a grandfather for dying and leaving her in the streets. Illogical, but feelings sometimes were. Mercer’s violent face was a constant in her dreams, and Whit continued to be her only mental and physical lifeline.

And in a bit, Quaid was going to knock and want her to talk. Who would he bring with him? Didn’t matter. She couldn’t find words to tell him. How would he even understand? She shoved back the covers and went to the bathroom, hand over her mouth like it would contain the nausea along with the memories.

Niles had done a fantastic job of unpacking her possessions and putting things back in a similar arrangement to her assigned quarters. She slapped a waterproof bandage over her stitches and turned on the huge shower. The towels were soft upon soft, the tiles squeaky clean, and the new clothes hanging from the hook behind the door were more trendy than anything she’d buy herself. There were lotions, makeup she wouldn’t wear, and dang the efficiency of the man, a new toothbrush.

She was Alice falling into the rabbit hole. She’d read Alice in Wonderland in college and searched her memory for the quote she’d loved, making a face in the mirror while repeating it out loud. “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't.” Truth that.

She stripped out of her leopard print pajamas. “I’m losing my mind. Next the Queen will be screaming off with her head. Get in the shower, Alanna, or you’ll be naked when Quaid gets here.” A sharp spark beaded her nipples and she gasped. No. No. No. She stepped into the hot spray.

Places on her skin stung from the cuts, others hurt from bruises, but mostly she sagged into the comfort of the hot water. “Snap out of it, sister. You always fight with everything you have. Today is no different. Make them understand.”

Finally finished, she turned off the shower, stood long enough to stop dripping, and stepped onto the inches thick bath rug. Lord have mercy, the towel floated over sore skin and comforted. She wrapped her hair and checked the new clothes only to find no underwear. Which was fine. She didn’t want Niles handling her undergarments. That would be a creepy bridge too far. She pulled another towel and wrapped her body. The extra large towel tightened easily over her breasts.

She opened the door, eyeing the escaping steam, and took a step into the room. A tingling sense stopped her. She gritted her teeth. “Quaid? Why are you sitting on my bed? And how did you get in?”

“Master key – owner, and I knocked. You didn’t answer. I was worried.”

“Out.”

His eyes traveled over her from head to toe.

Temper sizzling, she tamped down the response. Could she stab him? Yes. Should she? No, not in her current mood. “Dr. Cait was already here and gave me proof of life. I’m betting she passed the ‘she’s okay’ message on.”

“Hours ago, yes.”

“I slept. Did you?.”

He rose and smoothed the bed, finally moving his gaze from her towel-covered, naked body. He didn’t answer her, but poured her a cup of coffee. Christ! Men.

“Please let me get dressed. I’ll join you in the day room in a bit.”

Quaid pointed at the tray. “Drink. We need to talk.”

“Agreed, but I prefer to be dressed.”

To his credit, he kept his eyes on her face this time. Tired lines and blood shot eyes were not a good look on him. But at least he’d taken his contacts out and his eyes were brown and true. “Sorry. Come to my office when you’re ready. It’ll be quieter.”

“Only you and me. I don’t want to tell a whole slew of people my business.”

“Understood. We have to narrow the search, Lani.”

When had he started calling her that? And she didn’t hate it. Miracle.

“We’re not going to find Mercer this way.” The thought had been on her mind.

“Whittaker might have information and context we need, though.”

“He’s hiding or I would have found him.”

“Why hide? Why not go to the police? Or to you, the FBI, for God’s sake.”

“I don’t have an answer. But I’ll tell you as much as I can. Will you go, please?”

He walked to the door – again without answering her – but turned back. “I truly was worried when you didn’t answer, but I won’t enter like this again. I want you to feel safe here.”

Funny thing. She did. So she told him.

“I know I’m safe here. I’m just irritable. Love the brown eyes, Daniels. Much better.”

“You were right about the contacts.”

He left. The door snapped shut behind him.

His departure didn’t change the wrenched flip of her stomach, but at least she’d managed damage control.

She sagged onto the bed. “Lani, you’re a mess. Get dressed, braid your hair, find your gun, and put some lipstick on, girl. It ain’t easy until it’s easy.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid stared out his office window at the parking lot, tracing cars from row to row, searching for clues. Military trained and the man had missed too many times. Having already been shot once in his life, he wasn’t lamenting that the man hadn’t succeeded. Lani might have theories, but what if this was his favorite game? He may have a professional assassin’s process, but Quaid couldn’t help but question the methodology of this shoot. They had no identity and too few facts, but the whole thing raged at him.

A light tap on the door had him shifting. The door opened and Lani leaned in, dressed in black, composed, and beautiful. “Are you ready for me?”

“Are you ready for me?” He skipped to the serious to avoid getting mired in a charm comment that wouldn’t fly with her.

“No.”

Quaid sighed. “Come on in.” He pointed to the most comfortable spot in the room. The side chairs by the sofa were his best bet  – something he never considered before. Boy, he was overdue for a conversation with Elizabeth about an office upgrade. The playboy part of himself smirked – all for a woman. But the warrior part of him accepted the necessary change – she would never be just any woman. This one wasn’t letting him scratch the surface of who he was. Uncomfortable, he went to the small kitchen area and opened the fridge. “Soda?”

“Yeah, diet coke, please.”

He drank the same which shifted the habit into the ‘we can get along’ column.

Two cokes in hand, he waited until she chose her chair. Passing off the drink, he collapsed into the other seat. A level of tired he hadn’t endured since Afghanistan swept over him, but he ignored it. Alanna’s closed face gave no mood hints, but her fingers shook as she toyed with the tab.

“Let me.” He popped his can open and handed it to her.

She opened her mouth to argue, but tightened her lips and handed off the unopened can with one hand while taking his. Wanting in some way to make this easier for her was a faulty idea, but he’d try anyway. He was sure he wasn’t going to like any of what she had to tell.

“I was studying the parking lot. The whole route we ran isn’t visible, but he took too many shots for a professional. Killing us was a side-objective.” He checked to make sure she heard him.

She gazed at the window and frowned. “How so? He could have hit either of us.”

“It would have been dumb luck. Not his intention.”

“If he’s military trained like you believe, his performance suggests he sucks at it. I’m guessing this is not the case. So why?”

“He wanted us to run. He likes the chase. He gave himself extra points for nailing my car. All of the above. None of the above.”

She took a sip of coke. He was getting used to her musing moments. “And the explosives at the hotel?”

“Military personnel train in all sorts of wartime jobs, especially special operations. He might have enough training in weapons, tactics, explosives, depending on branch, to pull off some proficiency. Evidence suggests yes.”

“So what are you saying?”

“The assassin is a business. He has one or two methods he uses. Our attempted murder in the parking lot was not part of his professional work. It was compulsive.”

Alanna’s expression gave away her deep concentration on the subject.

God, he hated to do this. “Do your memories track with what I’m saying?”

“Whit knew him in Iraq. Where, how, when?” She shook her head in disgust. “It was not a subject that we discussed. If I had to compare…” She stopped and chewed her lip.

“Lay it out, Lani. Even the tiniest detail could help.”

“I was fifteen, Quaid. I have memories of a lot of it, but I made assumptions about some of what happened because Whit wouldn’t explain. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Crossing Whit was not something anybody did. He knew how to take care of himself and any others needing his protection, but he was not a big talker. That included to me. But this thing with Mercer was on a whole different level.”

“What was your perception?”

Alanna set her coke aside and rose. She paced to the window and stopped, staring out at the parking lot as he’d done. Giving her space was the wrong thing to do, for comfort and for truth, so he joined her.

“I witnessed something. I had a friend when I was living with Whit. We called her Frenchie cause she spoke fluid French. Her name was Esme. I never knew her last name. She was in the streets without her parents, too. I saw her earlier in the evening. She was going into hiding, afraid of a bad man who was tracking her. She was scared. I wanted her to go to Whit, but she wouldn’t.”

“Did you see her after that?”

Alanna bit her lip, the blankness gone from her face. “Yes. Fighting with Mercer.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna took a few moments, trying like hell to turn off her emotions. Quaid didn’t push, and for that she was grateful, because the clog of panic in her throat wouldn’t let her talk. He got extra credit for carefully walking her into her memories. But if something was coming back around from Esme, it was time to dig deep and lay out what she knew.

Her eyes followed each parking lot line, and she mourned the echoing violence there. The parking lot would forever remind her of the threat, the blast of gunfire, and her fear for Quaid’s safety.

“What was happening?” Quaid’s quiet voice worked like magic. The panic dissipated. Dr. Williams asserted herself.

“Esme was screaming, sobbing, hysterical. Her clothes were torn. With my education and experience now, I understand he’d raped her. She twisted and struggled so hard to get out of his grasp, she was bleeding and bruised. I was afraid she’d be hurt worse. I had to help, so I attacked Mercer from behind. Stupid, but no choice.”

“You had to help your friend.”

“Yes. Only he slammed her to the ground. Her head bounced on the pavement like a melon dropped from a ripped grocery bag, and she didn’t move. He tossed me off his back in one hard thrust. He was so strong, I tumbled onto the concrete, slamming my forehead. It dazed me. He kicked me in the side multiple times, hard blows that I’m sure broke ribs. I just remember not being able to draw in air. He rolled me then and kicked me in the head, over and over, screaming obscenities and threats. Don’t ask. I don’t remember what they were. Everything went black. When I came to, Esme was gone. I remember being relieved she’d escaped. More likely, I didn’t want to face what happened. I was bleeding and incoherent. Whit and Mercer were in the mother of all knife fights. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“Who won?”

“Neither. It was a fight to the death, now that I know what I was watching. But somebody called the police. Whit broke away at the sirens and carried me to a hiding place. When it was safe, he took me to a hospital.”

Quaid stayed silent for several seconds. “If Esme was already gone, it’s more likely Mercer took her first and came back for you. Whit stopped him.”

Alanna’s gut rolled, greasy fear and remembered pained balled tight. Over the years, she’d reasoned the sequence out, but never uttered it. “I never found out what happened to Esme, and believe me when I got in the FBI, I searched. Nothing.”

“And now, Whit is missing. The police report suggests there was a fight with a lot of blood.”

“I’ve read it.”

“Where have you checked?”

“All our old haunts, some of his hide spots. I can’t ask questions on those streets as easily as I used to. It’s the badge. I guess I do act like an FBI agent.”

Quaid huffed out a laugh. “Yes, you do tend to give off that vibe.”

She eased back from the memories, glad to be finished talking about it, and followed him to the door. “I’m sorry. You requested me for a cold case review, and this is interfering. I’ve read all the case files and made notes with some suggestions for how to proceed.”

Quaid waited for her to come alongside him, and they left his office and slowly made their way down the hall to Operations. “It’s a cold case for a reason. It’ll wait.”

Confession time. “I was trying to find Whit, too. I’d exhausted FBI assets and figured yours were worth a try. The FBI doesn’t have as many street sources as your people do.”

Quaid grinned. “You were using us?”

“Yeah, your case and Whit’s dovetailed nicely.” Relieved to get the truth off her chest, she laid aside the guilt for using him. She did what she had to.

Quaid paused with his hand on the Operations door handle. The office was quiet. It was unusual for middle of the day by her short experience, but Quaid didn’t notice. “How do you do this work?”

“It’s fascinated me since college when I realized I could study the subject and figure out why Mercer was like he was.”

“Trauma leads to destiny.”

“In some ways, yes. He identified how vulnerable I am from the parking lot attack, but he also saw how you operate, here and at the hotel. As you say, he may be an assassin with a couple tried and true methods, but logic isn’t part of his current operation.”

“Emotions fuck with thinking straight.”

“A compulsion pathology that he’s had longer than his assassination tendencies is more likely. There’s too many reasons it could be spilling out, though. We can’t guess. It won’t help us find him.” Alanna let the sigh trapped in her chest ease out. Talking more practically about those violent moments had helped keep the sensory grit at bay – the vivid colors, the smells, the terror.

“If he remembers you from that street incident, which I’m guessing he does, it stands to reason he’s done his own investigation into you. Something triggered this. When was last time you searched for Esme?”

She took a drink of her coke, wetting her throat with the last of the can. “Six months ago. I started with the Jane Doe database at the Medical Examiners Office, then branched to hospitals and funeral homes. You understand the process. I was using a fifteen-year-old’s memory. With no last name, it gave me a lot of records to sift through.”

“You think she’s dead?”

“I’m operating on that assumption. Given the incident, it was a plausible conclusion given she completely disappeared. She was a teenager without the resources. I know.” She held up a hand. “My search assumes he used established sources for her body or dumped a Jane Doe for the police to find. Flimsy, at best. We’ll never find a dumping ground if that’s what he did. But searching for a live Esme is a worse maze. Too many sources, too many directions. The morgues are finite.”

“How far did you get?”

“This is an urban area. You have no idea how many funeral homes there are. The only plus I have is her age. It eliminates dozens.”

“Not very far, then.”

She twisted her face in disbelief. “I did have a demanding day job at the time.”

Quaid grinned, then finished his own drink. “Still do.”

She conceded the point by tipping her head in agreement. “None of which helps us find Whit.”

“Mac won’t quit until he finds him. No worry there.”

“We need the piece from Iraq. Those two fought like they hated each other twice, and the police report doesn’t give me any clues for why now.”

“Let’s bring in the team and give them the places that were his haunts. We’re using what Delaney knew of him, too, but he’s having surgery in the morning and will be out for a bit.”

“Then what?”

Quaid opened the Operations door, tossed their soda cans in the recycling bin against the wall, and offered a hand for her to go first. “We need to talk tactically. If we stay here, we have backup, but he’s going to stay away. We can’t predict when another hit will come. As good as I am combined with as good as you are – that’s still not an acceptable risk. Let’s talk to Mackey.”

Mackey’s work with Delta always intrigued her, but she never went so far as to discuss anything with the man. He was smart, respected, and dangerous with high expectations for those around him and ethical standards she approved of.

Quaid went in front of her, and she tracked him with hungry eyes dying for details – how his muscles moved, how his brain worked, how the playboy and the warrior fit together. Because there was no doubt now. The man was more warrior than playboy.

Which begged the question – why hadn’t he put the playboy persona to bed?

Chapter Eight

QM International Communication Check: 07:00:00 PST 12/17 – San Diego HQ. No change to threat posture. Ϙ

Alanna loaded her weapon. She studied the firing setup and watched Quaid and Mackey do a similar routine. It had been Mac’s request that both she and Quaid get some tactical training first thing this morning, and she hadn’t argued. She hadn’t requested permission of Dr. Cait or Drucker, either. She’d donned double ear protection and hoped for the best.

Lately, her job at the FBI involved more desk than field. Some testing of her skills against the ear pain mattered. The foam plugs went in first, followed by the headset. It dulled the noise, warped the sound – flattening, stretching, like everything came through a layer of static she couldn’t clear.

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t here to listen.

She was here to execute.

She understood Mackey wasn’t satisfied with excuses. He had a bigger concern about safety in the field from this predator, and, if rumor was true, didn’t accept half effort.

“You’re thinking too much.” Mackey’s flat tone irritated. “Target doesn’t wait for you to get comfortable.”

Alanna kept her eyes on her target.

“I’m not thinking. I’m choosing.”

She fired and finished off four rounds of firing, unsatisfied with the respectable shots. Too much time off the range.

Quaid was firing, and she paused to watch him. Smooth. Fast. No hesitation. Lethal with solid control and accuracy. His military foundation was obvious, refined by experience.

“Try again,” Mackey coached, his eyes showing he’d recalibrated his comments. “Faster this time.” He left her to it and went to his own lane.

She reset her stance without argument, but watched him for a minute, too. Mackey didn’t just shoot. He executed. No wasted motion. No adjustment after the fact. Every round landed exactly where he intended, like the outcome had been decided before he ever pulled the trigger.

She forced herself past the ear pain, reset, and fired again. The world had been off-balance since the blast, but she had to shoot anyway. Focus narrowed to the target, she took the shots with no hesitation. She unloaded her weapon and set it on the shelf, then pulled her ear protection and foam plugs. She moved to where the two men were observing her.

“I need to stop, Mac. My ears are ringing. Give me a few minutes.”

Mackey eyed her. “All right.”

Whether early morning or personality, his short answers were right up her alley.

“Dr. Hunter will give me a ranting lecture if I cause further damage.” She put a hand over her left ear.

Quaid stopped at her side and pulled his ear protection, too. “She’ll take us out first.”

Mackey took a few minutes and studied both their targets. “Not bad.” Quaid’s was close to perfect.

On closer inspection, she noted her accuracy needed work.

Mackey grunted. “Decent. Both of you.”

“I haven’t had a great deal of range practice since I moved to LA from Virginia six months ago. Job isn’t giving me a lot of time for it.”

“FBI Qualification not the same as mine.” That was the most words from him all morning.

Alanna chose silence. She liked that Mackey demanded more. Especially now. Yesterday still weighed on her. The time spent telling Quaid about her past had helped get her thoughts in order, so when she talked to the rest of the search team, she’d been able to succinctly state the order of events without losing her shit. But the immersion in the mess meant her body was tight with fear and flush with anxiety. She’d hardly slept. She’d beg for coffee, but would Mackey understand how essential that was to her mental well-being? The excuse sounded lame.

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Mackey frowned. She ignored him and took out the device. Her boss. Great. She hadn’t reported in. He wouldn’t be happy with her either.

“It’s my boss. I have to take this.” She stepped away, answering as she went. “Good morning, sir.”

“Why am I only now finding out from both the San Diego Police Department and the LAPD that you were involved in a shooting two days ago and were possibly hurt in an explosion?”

Nick Ryker hated getting slammed sideways by things he wasn’t told. He was a great boss, much like Mackey, who had no tolerance for lack of communication.

“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on before calling you.”

“You’re first call, Williams, is always me. Hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” The ringing was tapering off, so it was only a little lie.

“Brief me.” She slipped outside the range to the parking lot and went to their car. The alarm beeped. Jerking, she turned back to the front of the building. Quaid stood there, key fob in hand, and let her in the vehicle. Stupid safety mistake, and she knew it.

“Williams.”

“Getting somewhere I can talk, sir.”

He stayed silent while she got in the car and slammed the door. The silence of the car eased the pressure on her ears.

“Minor injuries, sir. And QM has a great doctor. I’m getting good care. Not exactly sure of the parameters. Assassin attempted to shoot Quaid Daniels in the parking lot at QM two nights ago, only it turns out he might have been after me.”

“Say that again” His demand struck a nerve.

“I triggered something.”

“How? Not this cold case I sent you there for?”

“No, sir. That one is progressing.” How the hell did she tell him she’d been using off time and FBI assets to search for Esme? Straight out. She hadn’t been on his team long enough to get away with anything else. “Something on me, I think.”

“One of your cases?”

“No, my past.”

“I admit I’m not up to speed on your background, Williams, so you’d better go into detail.”

“I only have what I suspect, sir. Nothing concrete.”

“And yet, it triggered something. Sounds like it’s more concrete than you think.”

Thankful again that Quaid had walked her through the attack, she started at the beginning. “An incident from when I was fifteen and homeless. I interrupted a man assaulting a friend.”

Did she spit it all out? Would she lose all her credibility?

“Honestly, I’m looking for this old friend. I was hurt in the altercation, and she disappeared. It’s a sixteen-year old cold case. I’m searching Southern California morgues for Jane Does.”

“And you think this assassin is the man?”

“Likely. All the information is fluid. We sorted out enough details to eliminate Quaid Daniels as the target.” Jeezus, Alanna. Say it. “I recognize him. He’s the man who attacked my friend all those years ago.”

“You’re there to work on a cold case, Alanna.” That he switched to her first name didn’t comfort.

“Yes, sir. I am. But I used to live here when I was homeless. The man who was taking care of me on the streets disappeared two weeks ago. I’ve been searching for him. SDPD thinks he was badly hurt in a street fight, but no body. This man who attacked us in the parking lot, no name yet, knows Whit, my guardian from those years.”

“And your search triggered all this?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

The man sighed heavily enough for her to hear the exasperation. “Your. First. Call. Is. Me.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Quaid was at her window, arms crossed, face neutral. Covering her back.

“Write me a report on the progress on the Tenney case asap. We’ll keep this other under wraps for the moment, but I’m in the loop. You can’t wear the badge going rogue. I won’t have it.”

“I understand.” She bit her lip, trapping the relief needing to escape.

“You’re good, Williams. It’s why I put you on this cold case. The Tenney family has some powerful friends. They expect progress. But there’s procedures. Follow them and call me tomorrow with an update.”

“On which?”

“Both, and don’t get hurt again. Include those details in another report, please.” He disconnected.

She blew out a huge breath, blanked her phone, and opened the door.

“Not happy I take it?”

“He has a point. I can’t go rogue with this. I’m an FBI agent. I know the process, the law, and the protocols. I should have…”

“Stop. I get it. We’ll do that going forward. Still doesn’t change the steps we need to take. Are we leaving? Or are you firing some more?”

“I need to stop. I get what Mackey’s saying, but my ear hurts. I need a rest.”

“You need a cup of coffee and a Cait check up. Unfortunately, she’s doing Delaney’s surgery this morning, so we’ll have to swing by the medical bay and have Drucker take a look.”

Alanna groaned, then held up her hands in surrender. “He won’t be happy with me, I know. I have to write a report on the cold case and explain my injuries, both to be turned in by the end of the day.”

“Covering bases?” Quaid sent a text message. “Telling Mackey we have to leave.”

“No, it’s Ryker’s way of reminding me who is in charge. He’s not wrong. What’s the deal with Delaney?”

“Got hurt in Afghanistan and his arm didn’t get treated correctly. He’s struggled with it for years. Cait met him in the ED. She’s going to fix it. In the process, we hired him. He’s a good supervisor. He was living on the streets, too. It’s how he knows Whit.”

“Yeah, I got that part. So she’s doing it because…?”

“She can.”

Mackey strode out the front door, opened the back of the SUV, and deposited their weapons. Quaid shut her door and got in the back. Mackey got in front to drive.

“Sorry, Mac. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I need coffee.”

“You are not alone,” she muttered, closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Reports, threats, pain… hell of a way to start the day. At least all her shots were in bullseye territory on the target.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid left Alanna to her medic visit and report writing and went to his office. After keeping himself close to her since the shooting, he needed a minute to think. He was diving into the deep end with her, not his usual relationship behavior. Those were best described as one, gone, repeat with another woman. He guarded himself better these days.

But girlfriend and partner weren’t the same thing, and there was the difference. Trust was best built slowly. Especially in both of his worlds, work and private.

He went to his desk, noted the scattered messages on the mahogany surface, and opted to shut off the business for a few minutes. Life never slowed down, and he liked it that way, but personal and professional were blending like eggs under a whisk. Usual workload for QM, but what was unusual – taking on an active FBI agent and being able to make her a viable partner.

Once they resolved the friction, they were meshing well. Had the friction been him? Or was he starting to understand her? Because he still was only hitting a shallow level, even with her confiding her past.

There were volumes of things she’d left out of her story.

Did he blame her? No.

But it bothered him anyway. If he had to listen to more than the sanitized version she’d already shared, he would have morphed into an avenging warrior. He was currently struggling with a shitload of fury over what happened to her and was teetering on the verge of grabbing every weapon at his disposal to tear this city apart – searching for both men.

But he couldn’t explore deeper than she would allow. She had to decide and take the steps. All he could do was be there. Trust was a bitch. Hard to establish and too easy to lose.

Voices interrupted his thought process. He’d forgotten to close his office door. Cait tore through the doorway in magenta scrubs and her white jacket with her hair in a messy bun. She didn’t usually leave the hospital in her scrubs. Her face was sheet-white, and her wide blue eyes were stressed with grief.

He rounded his desk and grabbed for her, pulling her close. “What happened? Hunt? Delaney?”

She shook her head. “Hunt’s fine. Delaney, too. In recovery.” She pushed a hand against her forehead and shut her eyes.

Mackey came through the door, followed on his heels by Elizabeth.

“Celissa said…” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off. “What happened?”

Mackey came to his side, and the two men bracketed Cait. Once a few months ago, Cait had gotten a devastating call from Hunt. Not for the first time. They’d bracketed her then just like now, and the positioning was a horrible reminder.

Harrison hurried into the room. “What happened?”

Mackey bent to her. “Cait? Are you hurt?”

“No.” She straightened, but the tears in her eyes belied her composure. “Baxter’s girlfriend came to visit me at the hospital this morning.”

“I didn’t know he had one.” Quaid rubbed her back. “She wasn’t at the funeral, so where was she?”

Cait swallowed, trying to settle. “She hadn’t been told he died. They had broken up. I had to tell her. Elizabeth, Hunt’s on his way. Can you tell Celissa to bring him in.”

“Sure, honey.” Elizabeth stroked her hair, then quickly called the front desk.

Baxter’s death was a sensitive subject for all of them. Two months ago, they’d struggled through the loss on a classified mission and spent those difficult weeks trying to support his mother and Hunt’s team. Robert Baxter had been well-known, personable, smart, and a skilled SEAL. Honestly, Quaid had hoped to steal him off Hunt’s team for QM, but had never openly asked. Elizabeth and Bess Baxter were good friends.

Harrison moved forward. “What did she want, Cait?” The man’s face was hard and determined.

“She didn’t want anything, Harry, except to talk to Robert.” She drew a deep breath. “She’s pregnant. Four months.”

Quaid froze, thoughts tumbling.

Mackey swore.

Harry frowned, staying silent at the answer.

“Oh, God.” Elizabeth’s cry made Quaid pull her to his side. “Oh, poor Bess. We need to tell her.” Tears flashed in his aunt’s eyes, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. She’d be delirious over a baby from Wylie. Instead, she had nothing left.

“Is there any confirmation it’s really his?” Harrison’s pragmatic tone pierced the room.

Cait drew a shaky breath. “I didn’t even tackle that with her. I have to talk to Hunt about all this first. It’s his decision. Robert was his team member, and the Navy will have something to say about it.”

“Definitely,” Harry growled.

“How did she find you?” Mackey’s skepticism was as identifiable as Harrison’s.

Cait searched for a tissue in her pocket. “I met her. In the fall sometime, stumbled on the two of them at the Farmer’s Market. He came to me later and asked me not to say anything, yet. I didn’t. Then they’d split and he got killed. I didn’t think anything else about it.” Cait gave a little cry and pulled away from him.

Hunt stood in the doorway, camo uniform making it obvious he’d been in the field training. Cait launched herself at him. He caught her and wrapped her close like he always did. Quaid marveled at their relationship, difficult as it was with two opposite professions. He pulled Elizabeth closer, too. He sometimes forgot she needed his support. She was so strong and determined, but anything that touched on sons was a hard topic.

Cait whispered the situation to Hunt, and every emotion Quaid had seen on the man’s face for the last two months – the raw pain, the deep grief, the unfathomable fury – rolled over his features in a dark cloud and left him stone-faced.

Quaid looked to Mackey. He was out of his depth, but Mackey’s expression was pained, too. As a man with a mother, five sisters, and a father who had died suddenly several years ago, family shit hit him hard, too.

“We have to tell Bess,” Elizabeth repeated.

Harrison put his hands on his hips, lips tight, reluctant to say what was on his mind. As Hunt’s former commander, this situation may have been repeated in some form or another in his command experience.

But Quaid liked all the facts before reacting. “Harry, what’s your take?”

Elizabeth stiffened.

“For context,” he whispered to Elizabeth.

Harrison studied Elizabeth closely. “The Navy will want DNA to confirm. Dangerous to do that before its born. That’s all I was going to say.”

Hunt set Cait on her feet, and the two moved closer to the group. The six of them stood in a loose circle, reaching for each other. The thick silence held a hard hit of grief. Their shared history awakened old instincts developed from shared missions, dangerous situations, multiple deaths, and silent commitment. They pulled together. They always had since Afghanistan.

Mackey looked to Hunt. “What would Baxter want?”

Hunt cleared his throat, his eyes flat. “He loved kids. Would have been a great father. He’d want us to do what we could to help her.”

“Bess is that baby’s grandmother. We cannot exclude her.” Elizabeth’s soft voice rang with stubbornness.

“And you shouldn’t.” Alanna stood in the doorway, papers in one hand and the other on the doorknob, eyes focused on Elizabeth.

A silence fell, tight and unforgiving.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I could hear.” She moved a few steps into the room.

Quaid was torn in two. A deep desire to pull Alanna in sparked its way through him. But this was family, their family business, and Alanna, as much as he liked her, wasn’t in this core. They protected each other at all costs.

She licked her lips and continued softly, showing respect and deference to the topic. “Let Bess keep her agency. The power of her motherhood and making choices he would have wanted is all she has left. Keep that intact for her.”

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes steady on Alanna’s face. “She’s right.”

Alanna’s eyes shifted to Hunt and Cait. “And it costs you nothing to help this woman. Even if it turns out later everything isn’t as it seems because sometimes you have to take your miracles when you get them.”

Cait’s eyes glossed over with tears. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“I’m here if you need a shoulder.” She walked out, shutting the door behind her.

She never looked his way, clearly not expecting anything. That pounded a crater into his world.

People expected things from him.

She expected nothing.

That bit at him.

He inhaled quietly, searching for stable ground in his head.

Agency. A word she knew everything about.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna didn’t have an office as such at QM, so she retreated to her living quarters on the fifth floor. She wanted no company. She needed the quiet after Drucker lectured her about her hearing, and she needed to think, to keep her reactions private. She swallowed two Tylenol, kicked off her shoes, and fell face first on the bed. Boss reports be damned. The room with its quiet colors and soft textures on the bed soothed as she’d hoped because the rest of her was in turmoil.

To find them all like that – together – left her on the outside. Not with meanness or on purpose, but with shared history she didn’t have with them. There was grief there, yes, but deep loyalty, too, all wrapped in an authentic brotherhood and a meaningful common purpose.

Quaid belonged right in the middle. They were close those six people. Their shorthand with each other, the shared wound, their trust, and the instinctive protection said it all. Those men had been to war together, and it united them.

Seeing Quaid without his mask cracked her impressions of him, too. She didn’t know his full story and had used her assumptions instead. Foolish and short-sighted. He wasn’t shallow. He compartmentalized, only giving the personal parts of himself to those who cared enough to understand him. Granted, she had only interacted with him superficially for two weeks and intensely for three days, but facing death together changed both of them.

She’d been at the FBI for close to seven years, and she had people she knew, a boss she trusted, but none did she let in.

That chilled her.

She swept apart the bed to cover herself with the white fuzzy blanket, needing the warmth even though the room was a perfect temperature.

A reaction to teenage trauma or a choice?

Maybe both, but she wasn’t a team with those people like QM was to its crew or like those six friends were to each other. She never realized the depth of that deficit, what it meant, or that it would tear at tender places because it was a flaw inside her.

To have a partner, a colleague, a friend to turn to – she drew in a sharp breath and held it, trying to squash the spreading ache – that idea had always represented a risk, a danger in her world, and she’d never wanted to take it. Until now…

Chapter Nine

QM International Situation Brief: 20:30:15 PST 12/17 – San Diego HQ. Threat remains active. Suspect identified; location unknown. All personnel maintain heightened vigilance. Security level 3 remains in effect. Ϙ

Quaid walked through the six-story headquarters of QM International and acknowledged the pride he had in the company. Five years of patience and determination resulted in a cutting-edge, modern building that stood out in the industrial corridor. The sleek concrete-and-glass structure was crowned by a discreet mirrored-black logo on the top floor. Elizabeth got full credit for every design ideas that came to life in the structure. The woman knew how to create an image. The building itself was a simple construct with good bones. Remodeling to fit what they needed had been massive.

Security, Armory, Motor Pool, and Logistics were the first two floors. Admin and Operations took the entirety of the third floor. Fourth consisted of the Medical Bay and Clinic, the dayroom, kitchen, and a few conference areas. Fifth was all quarters for those who needed to live in and guest suites. Sixth was mostly unoccupied with a workout area on one side and supply storage consuming the rest, although they had managed a beautiful wedding in the space. Elizabeth had plans for the floor and to buy the building behind theirs and execute a massive expansion plan. She had the ideas, organizational experience with his grandfather’s hotels, and the savvy. Quaid and Mackey brought the business in.

He stepped off the elevator, debating a workout to relieve some stress. He passed through the day room, waved at the six men and one woman there, but didn’t stop.

He arrowed to the Medical Bay.

“How’s Delaney?” Bailey Tanner yelled after him.

“Fine. Surgery went well. He’ll be released tomorrow to our Medical Bay.” He turned into the clinic searching for Drucker. All the beds were empty, which was good news. The man rolled away from the corner cubicle to check who had entered.

“Where’s Williams?” He shouldn’t bark at the man, but he was worried about her.

Drucker ignored his demeanor as usual. “If she did what I ordered her to do, she’s in her room to rest. Haven’t seen her for a couple hours.”

Quaid did a quick pivot, debated getting the master access card, then rejected it. He’d promised her.

Hunt, Cait, and Elizabeth had taken Alanna’s advice and left to visit Bess and break the news. Harrison was back in Operations using what information he had from Cait to try to find Baxter’s girl. Mackey groaned but was in the midst of a full check in with all twenty-two protection teams across the globe. Kerry, their tech guru, was handling the morgue search for Esme having drawn a blank on Mercer until she had more information. Three other operations people worked on the seven other open cases they had. Remy St. Claire was deepening the search for Whit. Quaid didn’t care what that meant. He let Remy do his job. He and Mackey were thick like thieves with similar work habits.

He and Alanna still had work to do. Questions. So many fucking questions, and he had no clue how to ask. Because he wanted the whole story of the night Mercer hurt her, and not because it mattered to the case, but because it mattered to him. And fuck it, she needed to talk about it. All of it.

He wasn’t thinking straight at this moment. He was reacting. He wanted her close because he had a niggling sense that she would shut down and walk away unless he made it impossible for her to.

Did he sound crazy? Yes, he did. But if anybody needed a friend and a partner, it was her. He was that man. When she’d closed his office door to protect their conversation, the considerate act crushed him.

She had to feel left out.

Who wouldn’t?

But she recognized the moment, offered to help, and Elizabeth approved.

Shit. Elizabeth didn’t approve of any of the women he’d been involved with.

Bailey stopped him again on his return. She was an average height, curvy woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes, and was a terror with a sniper rifle – any weapon honestly. The former FBI agent used to hunt the most wanted fugitives. They should use her on this.

Bailey snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Boss, wake up. Celissa says Sergeant Walker SDPD is on Line 1. It’s urgent.”

Quaid swore under his breath and pushed around Brad Conners, who frequently monitored the security of his house. He grabbed the wall phone in the kitchen area.

“Daniels. What do you need, Frank?”

“Your guy has been spotted in the East Village. I have patrols looking for him. You want in?” Frank’s deep, gritty voice cracked with fatigue.

“Yes. We’ll meet you. 11th and G work for you?” It had become QM’s standard meeting place downtown since the search for Delaney.

“I’ll be there.”

“Give us twenty minutes.”

“He could be long gone by then.”

“He could be long gone now. Let’s search and question anyway.” Quaid slammed the receiver into its cradle. “What the fucking hell? Why?”

“Sir?” Conners and Tanner spoke together.

“Tell Mackey we’re going out.”

“Who is we?” Conners grabbed his cell phone.

“Alanna and I. Weapons for both of us. Now.”

One of the other men rose. Geraldo Patina was a new hire, but knew his weapons. “Handguns? Anything specific?”

“Yes, handguns only. Tell Tinkerton in the Armory. She’ll know which ones to pull.”

“I got it. I’ll meet you at the main entrance.”

Conners raised a brow. “Shall I inform Mackey and Harrison, too, and get a detail on you?”

“Yes. Find out if Remy has search teams in the area and move them to 11th and G. Fast, dammit. Our guy has been spotted.” He skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. Alanna’s room was on the left inside the fifth floor stair door.

This wasn’t what he planned. Careful, subtle, ease into it. No time.

He slammed a fist on the door. “Lani, wake up. PD may have found Mercer.”

No more than five seconds passed. She released the locks and opened the door, squinting against the light. “What did you say?”

“Frank. They clocked Mercer downtown. Hurry. Shoes. Let’s go.”

The room was dim in the late afternoon light and the bed wrecked, like she slept, but not easily. She slapped her hand on the light by the door. “Jesus, you know how to wake a girl, Daniels.”

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

She turned away, quickly unbuttoned her shirt, and pulled it off.

Quaid drew in a sharp breath – delicate pale blue lace and creamy skin ripped away thought. Which was just as well. Silence to the gorgeous sight of her was the better part of respect.

He stepped inside and let the door shut. By the time he’d verified the closed door, she had pulled a black FBI T-shirt over her head and was slipping on her black work shoes.

“I need a better pair of earphones. I don’t want Dr. Cait or Drucker yelling at me again.” She grabbed her current pair from the nightstand.

“I’ll get Niles on it.”

She put her hand on her hip and her disgusted expression spoke volumes.

He stared at her. “What? It’s literally his job.”

“For you, not for me.”

“Untrue. He’ll be put out if I ask anybody else to find a pair. It’s not worth pissing him off. He’s good at what he does, Lani. Leave it.”

She gave in and stood to stomp her boots into place while shoving her credentials into her pocket. A quick use of a brush and a ponytail, her hair was up. “Ready. Let’s go. What about weapons?”

“Patina went to the armory to get them. We’ll meet him at the entrance.”

“Your car or mine.”

Quaid snorted. “QMs. Don’t be surprised if Mackey is driving.”

They exited the room, and she ignored the door to the stairs and pushed the down button on the elevator. “Overkill. We’ll chase him off.”

“We are not meeting him one-on-one. Not happening. He needs to understand what he unleashed.” He stepped closer to her. “You are not alone this time and won’t ever be.” Let her make of that what she would.

He followed her into the elevator and kept silent while the doors closed.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You’d prefer I stay here.”

“Nope, you’re my partner. Where I go, you go. And where you go, I go. Period. Do we understand each other?”

She tilted her head and studied his face. “Okay.”

“What?”

“Not sure I’ve ever had that commitment from a partner before.”

“Then somebody is falling down on the job.” The elevator stopped at the third floor and he huffed in exasperation. But when the doors opened, Mackey stood there, locked and loaded, with his mission face on and no room for argument. Quaid moved closer to Alanna, and Mackey stepped on.

“Three teams are already in the area searching for Whit, so we’ll have backup.”

Alanna ran her eyes over both of them. “Where were you two sixteen years ago?” She mumbled the words, but he heard her.

He waited to answer until she met his eyes. “I wish we’d been there for you, but I was in the Marines by then, Mackey was trying to pass Ranger School. And you made it out by yourself.”

“Through sheer stupidity.”

“No,” Mackey stated. “Even mistakes teach. Sounds like you learned that lesson well.”

The elevator stopped on the ground floor. Conners and Patina waited at the front door. The two QM black SUV’s idled in the drive through portico.

Quaid opened the back door and helped her in. “Safer back here. So don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to comment at all. I agree.”

Patina came forward with their weapons and handed her one, then Quaid. “We’ll be behind you.”

“Good.” He slammed the door and went around to the passenger front. Something was seriously wrong with her reactions to all this. She should be snarking at him at the very least.

&&&&&&&&&&

11th and G had a large parking lot currently filled with people and cars. Seven slots at the end had been designated for QM. There was currently a black police SUV parked in one of the slots next to a QM black SUV. Remy St. Claire was talking with the cop.

Alanna slipped out of the back seat, not waiting for anyone to open her door. The less they argued, the faster they could get to searching.

Quaid came around the car and frowned at her. She braced for a lecture about getting out on her own, but he didn’t say anything. He caught the direction of her gaze. “Frank Walker, Sergeant SDPD.”

“So this is the man who lives next door to Hunt and Cait?”

“Yes.”

“And we didn’t trust him because…?”

“At that point, I wasn’t willing to trust anybody with our safety.”

Except his core group – Mackey, Hunt, Cait, Harrison, Elizabeth.

The thought soured her stomach. Was it a natural human reaction to need to be part of groups? Because she’d never considered it so. She had studied those concepts as part of her degrees, but never applied it to her behavior. Some psychologist she was.

Mackey joined them. “Walk and talk, Williams.” His eyes trailed to the earphones.

She raised a brow. “I got lectured.”

“My fault. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

She stepped to him. “Yes, you should have. It was smart and necessary. Don’t downsize your standards, Mac. This man is expert trained and ten steps ahead of us from years of murdering people. Let’s elevate the threat and not be stupid. As you said.”

“Agreed.”

She took a step back and settled. “Sorry. It’s the smells and the vibe here. God, it brings back unpleasant shit.” She started walking again.

“You aren’t alone this time, though.” Quaid stayed in step with her. “It’s not only Whit.”

She glanced around and noted the many QM teams arriving and the police cars that were already here. She wasn’t a girl anymore either. She didn’t expend all her energy to get her degrees and her job by being a timid Tilly. “Let’s find him.”

They approached Frank, and Alanna studied the man. Tall, graying with a wise and wrinkled face, this handsome man was a cop with years of experience. Trust oozed out of him. He didn’t smile. He put out a hand. “Agent Williams.” That he knew who she was said he’d done his homework.

“Sergeant Walker. I’d say pleasure to meet you, but none of this is pleasure.”

She took a few more steps and studied the area. She remembered this parking lot, but it wasn’t part of her usual circle of streets. “How was he sighted, Sergeant?”

“Frank, is fine. Patrol stopped to help a couple of young girls. They were hysterical. They’d been approached by a man who attacked them. They are both pretty banged up, but they escaped and ran.”

“Did they live on these streets?” She mentally pushed to keep her past behind the steel door in her head.

“No, by the beach. They were exploring.”

“Are they here alone?”

“No. They both had a parent at the campground near here. They were bored and wandered off.”

“Ages?”

“Thirteen, both of them.”

She nodded, assimilating the facts. “Where?”

Frank cleared his throat. “Are you familiar with this area?”

“Yes.”

“Alley. Market Street between 11th and 13th. There’s nothing there but vacant lots, fenced off property, older warehouses.”

Alanna froze. “Nothing but a bad fucking memory.”

Quaid leaned closer and put a hand on her elbow. “What?” That he was reading her disturbed. She pushed the unsettling feeling away. This was her partner.

“That is the alley where his first fight was with Whit.” She kept the rest of the info to herself.

Frank’s concern showed in his eyes. “You sure you want to go there?”

“Yes. Let’s move. We aren’t going to find him by searching alone. We have to figure out why he’s here. Is he still searching for Whit? Makes no sense. So what is he doing?”

“Hunting.” Mackey’s growl raised the hair on the back of her neck.

“Of course. They’re thirteen,” she whispered. “He may be focused on killing us, but the compulsion is still there and biting at him.”

Quaid signaled Remy and Frank. “Follow us.” He took Alanna’s arm and leaned closer to speak only to her. “Seems like you’ve drawn a few conclusions since we talked last.”

“Yeah. I’d forgotten. Mercer had a reputation on these streets. It wasn’t only Esme.”

Still, the question of why that alley stuck. It was such an obvious place because of their history. He had to know she would remember. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Add another victim in the same place and the same way – it was a poke at her, a trap for her. But which enemy was coming for her – the hands-on killer or the sniper?

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid stayed close, uncertain what to do for her. Alanna tried to keep her face a neutral mask, but blank and pale didn’t say neutral. The area was more than vacant lots. The drab colors, garbage, rusted dumpsters, and graffitied aluminum siding from the wasting-away warehouse left a sour taste in his mouth. She had lived here, walked these streets, and the whole idea left him gnashing his teeth.

While he was growing up, he’d lived in luxurious surroundings with staff that saw to his every need. Lani sometimes, by her own admission, hadn’t had a decent pair of shoes. A part of him wanted to lavish her with everything she hadn’t had, but she’d built herself past this image with a tough level of smart. She wouldn’t appreciate those gifts because she would see them as pity. And that would leave them sparring again.

To be avoided at all costs.

He came to her side. “Anything triggering?”

“Nope. Pretty much what I expected. See those little flowers painted on the siding over there?”

He searched where she pointed and found them. Simple yellow daisies erupting from the side of the building, faded, yet still visible. “Yeah, I see them.”

“Esme painted those.”

That there was a ghost of the dead girl still in the alley stung, yet her art stirred hope. But Alanna’s eyes chilled his soul. Her blue irises flashed with jagged intensity, like the memory bled out into the quiet night.

“We’ve checked the rooftops. They’re clear. Searching street by street,” Mackey called to him.

Quaid waved to tell him he heard, but stayed next to her. Patina and Conners remained at the mouth of the alley, guarding their backs.

“It’s so quiet here. Was then, too. You can’t hear the street and the people on the street can’t hear you. I screamed and screamed while Mercer was attacking me, and nobody came.”

“Whit found you and stop it?”

“Well, he stopped it. But what happened isn’t clear. At this point, Mercer had left DNA all over this alley…” She turned wide eyes to him. “They never tested anything that I could find. It was entered into the database as a street fight. Not worth the time.”

“I disagree. Worth the time, but no resources. That was sixteen years ago. Debatable whether they would have found him. Look at the trouble we’re having. He trained himself and layered military techniques to his skill set. He was already hiding who he was.”

“Three days of this.” She sighed. “Why don’t we lay out Whit’s military record and find what we can that way.”

“Kerry has begun that search. We are assuming they served together.” Quaid glanced at her, not liking the dark circles under her eyes. That he had matching ones was a given.

They had dozens of people here and SDPD had an equal amount. The search was rapidly progressing, and they weren’t needed for door to door. Mackey could handle it, but Quaid’s gut said Mercer was gone. He was testing them again.

She needed a longer rest. “Let’s go to my house. You still have reports to write, and I need a shower, clothes, and a quiet minute.”

Her gaze jerked to his and traced his face.

“You aren’t the only one who’s tired, Wildcat.”

“I didn’t know you had a house here. I thought it was in Los Angeles.” She waited for an answer, the confusion on her face when he didn’t reply pushing him to peel off a layer of identity.

“I sold my house in Los Angeles after the many wildfires. I use the LA Downtown Patton when I have to stay there. When we formed QM, we decided San Diego was better – closer proximity to military – and I bought a house here. By the beach, a few miles from the office. It’s a base of operations for me without using the office.” Why it scraped so hard as a confession, he couldn’t imagine except he didn’t tell girlfriends about his home space. He used hotel suites instead. Part of the dating adventure.

But she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his partner. A whole different context. Elizabeth was family and visited frequently. Niles lived with him. Mackey, Harrison, Hunt, and Cait were the only other four who had been to his house that weren’t there for security. And why? Did he need to guard his living space from people who owned his soul as family?

She watched his face and didn’t say anything. At least the fractured look in her eyes was gone. He checked in with Frank for an update, then turned her back to the SUV parked at the end of the alley.

At the vehicle, he opened the door and put Lani in the backseat. “We’re going to my house. Both of you join us. I’ll cleared it.” He didn’t want to be the only source of protection from this guy. Not right now.

“Conners, you drive.” The man knew the way to the house and was a former U.S. Marshall. He did the security checks on his as well as Cait and Hunt’s house, and his driving and weapons skills were to be envied.

Both men put agreement into action.

He dialed Mackey. “Leaving. Alanna’s had it. So have I. We’re going to my house. I’m taking Conners and Patina.”

“Copy. Bailey’s working with Remy, and we’ll finish and talk about this tomorrow. Get some sleep. Niles with you?”

“He will be.” He would text him next.

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

He clicked off, sent the text, and rounded the car, getting in the back next to Alanna. His phone dinged. Niles agreed to meet them there. “We’re ready, Conners. Let’s go.”

Her eyes were on the alley, even though the setting sun left little light in the shadows. She shivered, a chill or a memory brushing over her. Didn’t matter. Quaid took his life into his hands. Shifting closer, he put an arm around her and pulled her against him.

“What are you doing?”

“We need some food and some rest, and there’s no reason not to lean on me. Niles is meeting us there. Wait until you get a taste of his homemade chicken noodle soup.” And probably half a dozen other things he’d ply her with. Food and a deep soak in the guest room soaker tub, and she’d be eased into sleep by the combo.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t move either. His girl was messed up and he hated it.

She kept her eyes on the streets, clocking every corner until they turned their way to better neighborhoods and the freeway.

And still she sat stiff and silent.

Having a familiarity with how violence lingered in the system and how many sleepless nights he’d had after getting shot in Afghanistan, he let her have the moments and stayed close. It was all he could do.

Chapter Ten

Quaid ate everything Niles handed him for dinner. Fuel. Alanna picked at most things but finished the soup. She gazed around the kitchen staring at this and that, and he found himself doing the same, wondering what she thought but reluctant to break the peaceful silence.

The kitchen was the heart of the first floor, off the dining room and open to the living room. Wide counters of pale marble wrapped around a large central island, leathered stools lined one side, and the appliances were large commercial grade, not showy. It was the one room they actually lived in. He had Cait to thank for the aesthetic. He’d copied the vibe of her kitchen to get his right.

Alanna’s silence bothered him, but she’d earned it. He coaxed her up the stairs to the guest room and left her with the white marble tub filling with warm water, a counter filled with lotions and bath oils, plush towels, and all the privacy he could muster.

He listened. He waited. From across the hall in his bedroom.

Until she finally opened the bedroom door, a lavender T-shirt nightgown covering her and a towel around her neck for her long dark tresses. She hadn’t even groused about her new clothes. Progress. He handed off her service weapon. She checked the load and put it by the bed.

“Security is in the house. There shouldn’t be any problems.”

She stayed silent, and he took the hint. She sagged onto the edge of the bed as he left the room. Let her sleep, Quaid. Otherwise, he’d be providing questionable cover. Too close. Too fast. Too protective.

Conners and Patina were efficiently monitoring the property, checking every security detail. His office to the side of the living room was security central, close to Operations at QM, though not as big. Monitors, alarms, surveillance. 24/7. Niles was a ghost, everywhere and nowhere. He took the safety of this house personally. Of course, he lived here, too. This was their primary residence.

Quaid took to the shower and took longer than normal to wash off the day. He needed the jets, the hot water, the long minutes listening to the water pulse from the showerheads. The one thing he’d never adapted to in the military was communal barracks and tiny showers. This was why.

He dried off, and in deference to Alanna, found a gray pair of pajama bottoms. He was tired, but not enough to go to sleep yet. He glanced over the two books laying there, decided neither suited, then switched the lighting in his room to one bedside brass lamp. He opened the sliding door, stepped onto the small balcony, and blew out the bottled stress sitting in his chest. He slipped into the weathered teak chair and relaxed into the night silence and the ocean’s soft shush. A second chair sat on the other side empty, always empty. He sat for a long time. Random music lyrics teased his memory with a blood of the damned, redemption, and homecoming theme, stirring memories of lost friends.

Groaning, Quaid rose. He was in bad shape mentally, matching Alanna. The comfort of his king-size bed with its white linens and gray blankets beckoned. With the television silenced, he pulled his own weapon from the drawer and put it within reach, then he propped open his door and Alanna’s. No sense not being attuned to threats.

With the ease of the last few years of practice, he fell into sleep, one ear open to trouble.

Hours later, Quaid heard the indrawn, panicked hiss of breath and sat upright in his bed, listening again. But she didn’t cry out, didn’t make another sound. Dream?

But with awareness of her distress, he came fully awaked.

“Quaid?”

She stood in the doorway, her hand on the frame. Her lavender nightshirt shaped the sweet curves of her body and reflected the dim moonlight.

He cleared his throat, shutting down a visceral male reaction. “Come here. Dream?”

She walked slowly to him, as if unsure she was awake. “Strange place. Where are we?”

“My house.” He patted the bed, then grabbed a light gray blanket from the foot and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She was fragile, but not like glass. More like an IED waiting to explode.

“Thank you.”

He kept his arm around her, coaxing her to lean against him. “I’m right here.”

“Not sleeping?”

“Lightly, but aware of every noise.”

“Me, too.”

At a crossroads. That’s where he was. He could either be a partner or he could be the man who took care of her, supported her, trusted her. Time to choose.

He shoved the covers away, fluffed the pillows, and smoothed out the middle. “Move over, Lani. Lay down.”

She gazed at him a minute, then did as he ordered. Surprise.

“I didn’t mean to steal your bed.”

“You didn’t.” He climbed in next to her, ignored her sharp gasp, and rearranged the covers.

“Quaid?”

He pulled her to him, situating her head on his shoulder. “Sleep, Lani. We aren’t going to beat him tired.”

No answer. He didn’t attempt words. Action was better.

She stayed tense for a while, but didn’t shift away. When she finally sagged, sleep drawing her in again, Quaid exhaled and relaxed.

He didn’t move. He didn’t let her roll away, not that she tried. In fact, he pulled her closer, her warm breath on his neck, breast pressing to his side, and her lax body easing next to his. He allowed himself one silent groan.

He finally closed his eyes, too, drawn by her warmth and the promise of sleep. A quote popped into his head. “Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will shake the world.”

How that turned out would be anyone’s guess.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief:  08:15:30 PST 12/18 – San Diego HQ. Threat remains active. Suspect location unknown. Security Level 3 remains in effect. Report all suspicious activity to HQ. Ϙ

Alanna woke with a clarity at odds with her usual grogginess. Quaid’s bed. She’d come here in the middle of the night. What had she been thinking? She never let herself be this vulnerable.

Not thinking. Panicking.

She eased her eyes open, noted the gray patterned comforter tucked around her, and the empty space. Alone. The early morning light stayed behind the edges of the blinds making it impossible to gauge time, and she’d left her phone in her room. She sat up, noting with relief that her nightshirt remained on. Sometimes when she slept, she got too hot and shucked whatever she was wearing.

“You’re awake.” Dressed Quaid strode into the room, two coffee mugs in hand. “PD had no luck finding Mercer. But Hunt is on his way to QM. He’s got some new information. You ready to get the day started?” He handed her a white mug, filled to the rim with coffee and steam rising from the top. The first whiff made her grateful she hadn’t needed to ask.

But she had to know. “Why didn’t you send me back to my own bed?”

Quaid opened the closet doors and pulled out a white dress shirt while sipping his own coffee. His black slacks had perfect creases, his undershirt accented serious muscles, and his bare feet against the dark wood floors sent an intimate message she wasn’t ready for, but…she wasn’t looking.

“You were half-asleep and panicked. I figured sleep was a better option. You wouldn’t have in a strange bed, not without knowing someone had your back. And I do. I did pull you out of a pool.”

She couldn’t help the laugh and didn’t try. “Did we…?” She stopped herself. He wouldn’t have. No need to even ask.

He stepped to the bed, his coffee cup abandoned on the dresser and the white shirt hung on the knob. She got a glimpse of his intense brown eyes and was sorry she’d even uttered the sentence.

“Did we what, Lani?” His quiet tone tore through her.

“Sleep? I don’t remember talking.”

“We didn’t. But that wasn’t what you were going to ask.”

She had no idea what to say. Her original question was obvious, but she didn’t need an answer. “I figured it out on my own.”

“What? Did we have sex?” The intensity of the words dropped like an earthquake into the room.

“Yeah, but I know we didn’t.” She’d feel it. Quaid had no idea how inexperienced she was, and it wasn’t something she’d forget then fall asleep.

“Let’s be clear.” He leaned over the bed and took her chin, tipping her face  to his. “I require a yes for intimacy. I don’t do me too territory. Ever. Understand?”

She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t break from the anger in his eyes. “I’m sorry I even thought it, but thanks for having my back while I slept.” She absolutely wouldn’t acknowledge how his words swept through her, stirring unfamiliar, desperate wants, and enticing every step of the way.

He didn’t reply. He pulled away. “Let’s go, Williams. We’re needed at QM.” He grabbed his shirt and entered the bathroom, the door snapped closed behind him.

“Good one, Alanna. Insult the man.” There was a time when she wouldn’t have cared, but this time she did. He’d become her partner and her friend. He could be more if she could only put this damn trauma to bed.

She grabbed her coffee and went her bedroom. Dressing was an adventure because none of her clothes were here. Niles kept putting stuff in the closet, mostly things she wouldn’t have bought herself, but the man had a fine-tuned sense of what would suit. Today, was no exception. Black slacks hung in the closet with a simple white button-down shirt and a herringbone jacket. New black work boots were on the floor. It draped perfectly, would cover her weapon, and wasn’t all black, but kept her in FBI dress code.

Time was ticking. She put down her coffee and took the clothes to the bathroom. Emerging twenty minutes later, Quaid was leaning on the door frame to his room, phone in hand, texting fingers going a mile a minute.

“Problem?”

“No. Updates from Elizabeth. You ready?”

Brisk. Unemotional. Business.

She deserved the non-personal treatment.

Niles waited at the door with to-go coffee cups and a white bag he handed to Alanna. Fresh bread aroma slid over her senses, making her want to devour the breakfast. “Thank you, Niles. You bake, too?”

He gave his usual half smile. “Yes, Miss.”

“Let’s go.” Quaid opened the front door as a black QM SUV pulled into the circular drive.

Another QM car. Was this security or chauffeur service? “Who is driving?”

“Braun.” The hulk of a man stopped the car in front of the walkway. Quaid signaled for him to stay put and opened the back door for her. She expected, considering his irritation, he’d get her in the back and sit in the front, but he coaxed her over and got in beside her.

Her relief was ridiculous.

They drove the entire twenty minute ride and he didn’t say a word.

Which led her back to why had she questioned what happened? She had better sense. The truth was she’d stunted her own growth after Mercer attacked her. She’d stuck close to home, studied and studied, worked two jobs, and went to college. There she flirted with alcohol to manage the pain, but that left her even more vulnerable. So she’d abstained from alcohol, drugs, sex, and partying along with every social aspect and focused on school, work, and staying alive.

Her background did not leave her prepared to handle a man like Quaid. She knew her way around being law enforcement, but being a woman – she had no idea how to date or be at ease with anyone, from flirting male to bestie woman.

She needed some strategies for dealing with Quaid that handled her growing feelings for him, too. Oh God, and she had no tools, and no idea how to find any.

“Calm down.” He leaned close, but didn’t touch her this time. The words stayed between them, which she appreciated, but he could read her spiral and that left her raw and vulnerable. His arms around her in the night came into sharp focus.

She shifted in her seat so she could see his eyes – flat, with no emotion. Floundering, she opted for the truth. “I’m out of my depth with this. Can we talk later?”

One nod was all she got.

&&&&&&&&&&

Okay, he was back in ass mode. Quaid followed Alanna into Operations, trying and failing to check his mood. He thought they had more trust between them than that. His conscience bit back. She’s been in your life less than three weeks, close and personal only four days. What did you expect? That it would occur between gunshots?

The office was quiet. Early morning hours were for coffee and update meetings. Celissa and Elizabeth were behind closed doors with Elizabeth’s aide, and Operations had just changed shifts.

In casual clothes, Hunt stood in Harrison’s office doorway in the corner of the large room, eyeing all the monitors and people and assessing security risks. Occupational hazard. Quaid usually took to his workstation in the other corner, but today he’d prefer to get what Hunt had and retreat to his business office. Alanna stayed silent and followed him.

Hunt offered a hand. “Dr. Williams. We didn’t get introduced, but I figured it out.”

Alanna shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Commander.”

Quaid berated himself. Sorry day when Hunt had better manners than him. That wasn’t a slam on Hunt, it was one on him. When you had money, you learned manners fast.

The door opened and Mackey strode into the room. “I have downtown San Diego memorized better than the cops. You found something. How much of it can you tell us?”

Quaid moved the group to an empty workstation with a computer displaying the company logo. Harrison’s office wasn’t big enough and Quaid’s workspace was too open. Both those had to go on the list of things to correct. Harrison supervised the core of the company, and Quaid liked the hum of activity in Operations for real work. The space wasn’t accommodating that.

Hunt leaned an elbow on the light blue partition. “Not the mission itself, but some pictures.”

“Where?” Alanna had crossed her arms, declining to sit.

“Spain. Can’t explain why we were there, but terrorist activity.” He handed a thumb drive to Harrison. “You may remember this.”

Harrison loaded the drive, and Hunt pointed at the file. It opened into a frame on the desktop. Mercer in black with a beard.

Harrison groaned. “I remember now. Almost doesn’t look like our guy.”

“I had our intelligence people compare to your photo. It’s him. His real name is Anders Barton, U.S. Army, left the service in 2007.” Hunt tapped the screen. “That file has his military records.”

“How did you identify him?”

“Oh, our people have worked on this ID for several years. He killed the asset we were in Spain to protect, and dropped another military member at the same time. He isn’t someone we are going to quit trying to find. He’s got several other assassinations, for each one, intelligence added more info until they figured out his identity.”

“When was this?” Quaid had let Alanna take the lead, but something about the information niggled at his memory.

“Fall 2016.”

Quaid eyed the picture. In Fall of 2016, he’d been in Afghanistan mired in an undercover CIA mission.

Alanna rubbed her forehead. “When I first saw him, that was years prior to this.”

Hunt pointed at another file. “Also, his service record. Once you gave me Whit’s name, I crossed matched their service record, and confirmed names and units.”

Alanna moved closer to the screen. “They served together. Correct? Whit would never confirm, but I guessed.”

“Yes, at a few intersections, and not amicably.”

Alanna rolled her eyes. “I knew it started way back, but couldn’t make sense of it. Why?”

“Bad chemistry. Uncontrolled aggression. The reports never say who was at fault. The Army chalked it up to ‘boys being boys’ in basic. During that time, they had four reprimands for fighting. I personally wouldn’t have tolerated the behaviors. They’d have been out. When you’re in a violent profession, more discipline is necessary, not less. But Army, different regs, different missions. Mercer went to Airborne, then Rangers. Whit was accepted to Special Forces training, then went to Airborne school, too. But they both deployed to Iraq in the same timeframe twice, and they ended up together for some notable operations. Whit filed a complaint in 2007, excessive force, failure to follow commands. It went nowhere. His commander most likely handled everything internally. At any rate, Mercer got out.”

“When was this?”

“April 2007,” Harrison answered. His eyes stayed glued to the service record.

“That’s when we begin to connect him to several assassinations. Commander Gregg would like a call from your AIC, and he’ll release some of the classified documentation to the FBI.”

“I’ll bet that went over well.” Harrison closed the records and pulled the thumb drive.

“They want him.”

“We all do,” Quaid muttered. “Was he ever in Afghanistan?”

“Not officially. Why?”

Quaid shook his head, fighting his memory. “Something. Can’t say what. I joined the Marines in 2008 and did two tours of Afghanistan and finished my degree in those six years, then transferred over to CIA training in 2014. I was all over Asia after that. I’ll have to think about it.”

Mackey rubbed his chin. “Is this timeline critical to finding him?”

Alanna crossed her arms, holding herself tight. She turned to Hunt. “Possibly. I had an incident with him in early 2010. Here in San Diego. He attacked a friend. I tried to help and he took me out. The friend disappeared. Whit and Mercer had a fight then, too. Whit’s disappeared now. Two weeks ago, a police report describes another knife fight. Since Mercer is currently here, the blood in the alleyway is because they got into it again. Might be helpful to figure out what all the animosity between them was about. Can we check with other members of the unit?”

Hunt shifted away from the partition. “We can check, but might be easier to find Whit and ask him.”

Mackey groaned. “We’re having about as much luck with that as we are finding Mercer.”

Harrison disagreed. “Feelers are out. Delaney is back. He’s in the infirmary and going nuts at the inactivity. Let’s start over. We don’t assume he’s dead unless we find a body. The man is resourceful, Green Beret resourceful.”

Alanna didn’t say anything, but her stricken face made Quaid want to draw her close again.

Harrison held out a hand. “This helped, Hunt. Thanks. Let us go through it. If we have any more questions, I’ll call.”

Hunt drew him close enough to slap on the shoulder in a man hug. “Intelligence wants in. They want this guy put down.”

Mackey rose and grabbed his coffee cup. “Police Department wants him, too. They aren’t liking the violence he’s brought with him.”

Alanna offered her hand to Hunt. “I’ll call my boss. Thank you. The sooner we unravel this the better.” She followed Mackey out the door. Quaid wanted to stop her, but eased away from the need. A bit of time apart would help both of them settle. Alanna was logical and smart, but this case was pushing emotions that were more than a decade encrusted with fear.

Quaid stepped to Hunt. “Thanks, LTC. I’ll let you know if I figure out what’s nagging me.”

“If I can help, call me.”

Harrison shook his head. “I guess we’re all playing nice together. That’ll be a first.”

“It’ll also be a miracle if we pull it off.” Quaid couldn’t stop the sarcasm and negativity. The man had killed people like it was his calling in life. Stopping Mercer with three government agencies and QM involved spelled headaches, egos, and mistakes. He had to help Alanna stay above the fray so they could get this man out of their lives. Time to drop the silent act and make up.

Chapter Eleven

Alanna pilfered a diet coke from Quaid’s office fridge and listened to the conversation in the main entry area. Mackey was giving security instructions to Celissa. She stayed to the side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, sitting on a low credenza, more aware than ever of Mercer’s sniper expertise even though his compulsion required hands on. She’d have to think through those skills and his history with Whit. He’d crossed her once, twice if she counted Quaid and the parking lot. Why was she a target? Was it because she was searching for Esme? What difference did her digging make to a man who killed dozens – military and potentially civilian.

There was no answer to that, so she shoved the whole line of questions aside and confronted what she was really worried about.

Was now the time to talk to Quaid or should it wait?

She could go to her quarters upstairs. Pretend to work. Except she knew she’d dither over the next steps – avoidance procrastination. In truth, in only four days, she had come to depend on Quaid’s solid presence and needed to smooth over the unintentional hurt. Because that’s what she’d done. Hurt him. Not acceptable.

She sipped and waited. The caffeine did not help calm her, but she drank anyway, drawing Mercer’s psychological profile on a whiteboard in her head. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear him come in until the door clicked shut.

She glanced at him, assessing his mood. He shed his suit jacket, and left her stunned at his silhouette in the dark slacks and white shirt. He went to the fridge for his own diet coke.

She needed to break every boundary.

He came and sat next to her, invading her space, and something sighed inside.

“I’m sorry.” His low, even tone reassured her.

“This is on me.” The confession came hard. She didn’t like making mistakes.

“I promise I will never charm or force you, and especially not at a bad moment.”

“I know.” She touched his arm. “I know. This isn’t you. It’s me being all screwed up.”

He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Everybody I know is screwed up in some way.”

“Mine doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to get put away. I quit actively working on it.”

“Or maybe it’s sitting in front of you in living, breathing technicolor right now because of what happened. It’s valid the memories would be messing with you.”

She shifted, needing eye contact. “When I was first on the streets, I was on my own. I’d hang at the library mostly, but I went hungry when I took that safety approach. But the streets were dangerous for a girl alone. When Whit pulled me in, he got me back in school, and he gave me rules. Because he was such a force on the streets, I felt safer than most. Without him, I might have ran from Mercer, left Esme to fend for herself – results would have been the same. Her gone. Me hurt.

“You dead, more likely.”

“He didn’t kill me because of Whit?”

“I’m guessing, but yes.”

The conclusion tumble through her memories, but she let it go. “After my injuries, I stayed ridiculously close to Whit and only went to school. I was his shadow. I shoved what happened aside. I was a kid. I couldn’t do anything about it. What’s a healthy response to the violence anyway? I certainly didn’t have that playbook.”

“Understandable, Lani. I have stuff that happened overseas, and I still wake up in the night from those chaotic memories.”

“This is different. When I got into college, I went through a period where I drank and partied. It would dull the pain, everybody was doing it, so what could it hurt, right? It made me horribly vulnerable. And in the midst of one party, I realized the mess I was putting myself in, and left. I’ll pass over describing the freak out and hysteria. I quit drinking, and I avoided drugs, sex, making friends, and focused on school.”

He stayed silent, as if he knew there was more.

“I haven’t changed my habits. I have people I interact with at work, but I don’t do the friends thing, and men get an automatic no-go. I protect myself always.”

He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to change that? Because I’d like to point out, you and I are already friends.”

“Yeah, but could we be more?” She turned away to stare outside again.

Her heart died a little when he didn’t answer.

Instead, he rose, pulled her to her feet, and eased her close to kiss her forehead. “We’re already there, Lani. Do you want to go further?”

“You…”

“I what?”

“Our worlds are really different.”

“My money, your homelessness? My business, you in the FBI? Those aren’t differences. They’re details. Things in our lives. If you are comfortable with this, we’ll build together. We’ll find out what works, explore and fight out what we want together. This is us, not you and me. We’re already partners. I can and will work with you whenever I get a chance. We work well together. But the question is, do you want to have the personal and the intimate with me?”

“We’re talking sex and rock and roll here, aren’t we?”

Quaid laughed, quietly. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but we can do whatever you want.”

“That’s the point, right? It shouldn’t only be about me.”

“Lani, I’ve been all over the world as a billionaire’s grandson, as a Marine, as a CIA asset. I’ve been tabloid fodder, a smart-ass playboy, and a serious operator – a target for bad guys and a threat to bad guys. I’ve been shot, lost friends, made a few more. You know what I want now?”

She slid closer to him. “Tell me.”

“I want this team, this family at QM going forward. I want my comfortable house to be a refuge. And I really liked sleeping with you last night. Can we start there?”

She gave him the courtesy of thinking it through. His eyes stayed on her, the deep brown a window to the soul of the real Quaid Daniels.

His expression was closing, and she wouldn’t have that. “Yes. Let’s.”

She leaned close. Don’t think, Lani. Just do.

He read her. He got her. He met her halfway.

Her lips settled on his, and the warmth as he gathered her close and kissed her back came in a gentle caress that blew through her every vulnerability and left her standing in naked need.

He groaned, and she knew she’d done the same thing to him, wiped away any reticence.

He raised a hand and cupped her cheek, shifting to kiss her deeper, and she gave in to the need to touch, too. She slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the cotton of his shirt and the heat of him. He broke away, letting her breathe, but she didn’t want that. She eased her hands around his neck and coaxed him back to her mouth. He cooperated, but the thrill of victory when he responded by fusing his mouth to hers was incomparable to any experience she’d had. Too vulnerable for this? She must have been out of her mind to turn away from the experience. Maybe she’d only been waiting for Quaid.

He broke away to nip at her lips before setting her away from him.

The knock on the door brought her back to reality. She’d been so lost in the moment, nothing could break through her concentration on Quaid.

“Later, at home, with no interruptions.” He stepped behind his desk. “Come in.”

Breath erratic, she moved to the credenza and sat. Emotions tumbling, she focused on the large painting on the wall, the only art in the office. The dark, jagged rock cliffs were battered by a relentless, splashing surf while a sliver of sunlight pushed through tumbling, angry clouds in the stormy sky. The blues, grays, and greens of the work sparked against the turbulence, leaving it calm yet stormy.

Control started with shutting off her emotions – a practice she’d used frequently in school, in FBI training, in work. It didn’t succeed this time. Whether it was the nightmare come to life in Mercer or that Quaid had delivered safety and pleasure, she wasn’t going to dissect. Her body was telling her to find another way. To not check out. To not shut down.

Harrison stepped into the room. “Mackey took Delaney. They’re hitting the streets again.”

“Do they have a plan?”

“Not one they discussed with me, and you know Mackey. He flows with the moment and innovates, not plans. What’s yours?”

Quaid looked to Alanna.

“I need a whiteboard. A couple would be better. And some markers. I need to dump what’s in my head into tangible notes, something I can deal with.”

“Bring them in here. We’ll do it together.”

“Two sets of eyes better than one?”

He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m on par with you, but my tactical and your knowledge might let us figure out his operating field and his weaknesses.”

She stayed silent, but nodded agreement.

Harrison glanced from one to the other. “Anything else?”

Alanna grimaced. “Kerry is still checking morgues for Esme. What next?”

Quaid hesitated to answer, telling her the truth of where they were. “We could check hospital records during the time frame, but there’s so many medical sources, the answer might not be conclusive. Frankly, it’s a waste of time. Nowhere else to search.”

Harrison waited, but neither of them came up with anything else.

“Shall I shift Kerry off it, then?”

Quaid grimaced. “Give her the rest of the day.” He looked to Alanna for agreement.

Disappointment rifled through her. “Agreed.”

“Sorry, Williams. We tried. I know you talked hospitals with Kerry, too, but morgues are bad enough. So many places to cycle through for information that might not be there.” Harrison’s sympathy cut, too. “Seth Tenney wants a status update.

Quaid groaned, then laid out the facts. “Tell him we’re examining all the details for accuracy. It’s a cold case. The review won’t produce an answer just because he wants one.”

“Do you want to pass that diplomatic answer on to him?” Harrison’s sarcasm made them both grin.

“No. Tell him it’s in progress. Nothing to report.”

She couldn’t say she wanted anywhere near the case. She hadn’t volunteered for the consult because she was over interested in a billionaire’s niece. She’d used QM access to search for Whit. But the case was why she was here. In the process, she’d endangered Quaid, but the choice put these people behind her in the hunt for Mercer. What a tangled mess.

“Refer him to me if he has a problem with our approach.” Quaid steepled his fingers, his eyes focused on the same piece of art she’d tried to use.

“He’s not going to take that well.”

“He’s a rich man who thinks he has all the power. I can handle him.” Quaid’s neutral face was back.

Harrison rose. “I need more coffee, and I hear there is food in the dayroom. I’ll get the boards moved.”

He left, shutting the door behind him.

Quaid leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. “What’s your gut instinct about Esme?”

“If I go strictly by my experience and crime statistics, she’s dead. The emotional hopes of a fifteen year old wants it different.”

“So, it’s worth it to search. What would her body tell us?”

She stayed quiet for a minute, trying to be pragmatic and find the truth. “Cause of death. Timing, prints and hair, but that’s doubtful. I didn’t say it was a professional decision. I want her to be alive. She was my friend, and he was raping and hurting her.”

Quaid gazed at her, eyes tracing her face. “Sometimes we can’t have what we want. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. We don’t work with probable cause here. We decide based on what we can find.”

“It’s why people come to you. You’ll look when the police give up.”

“Yeah, it’s why Frank gets so testy with us, because the man tries, but he’s inside a system where he has to prove in a court of law what happened, and we aren’t.”

“Unfortunately, I work in that system, too.”

“You’ve read all the files we have on Tenney’s niece. What would you tell him when he calls?”

“You don’t need advice, but until he’s ready to quit protecting his family and provide all the necessary information, there’s nothing you can do for him. He has to want the truth more than he wants to cover his secrets. All the facts are part of the full picture, and justice isn’t always delivered by a court of law.”

Quaid rose and put out his hand. She took it. How could she not? She wasn’t having second dithering thoughts. She was going forward. And she should take her own advice. She was protecting herself, not scrubbing every fact. That had to stop, or Mercer would win. What he intended as his prize – her death? Quaid’s? No. Neither of those were okay.

“Let’s go get food. After, we’ll get started with your whiteboards, and I’ll watch you dump info from your pretty little brain. We’ll see where we land.”

The warmth of his hand pulled her back to the night hours when she’d gone to him in a fight or flight mode. He’d pulled her in and taken care with her. That left her confused, stunned, intrigued? He held her hand until the elevator opened on the fourth floor, and Remy came to them with a question for Quaid.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid watched ‘Dr. Williams’ sink into the thing she was good at. Black marker in hand, she’d been making lists and drawing graphs, and a picture of Mercer was emerging. His Lani was submerged in the information and a part of him wanted to drop this and go home. Pulling her onto his lap and necking was a stellar idea. Because all this murder, violence, and mayhem was pushing the warrior into needing to act.

Alanna turned to him. “You’re growling. Could you stop?”

Quaid tossed the picture Hunt had supplied and stood up. “Can’t remember why he’s familiar.” He waved at the boards. “This is not helping me.”

“Well, it’s his inner psychological workings, so it wouldn’t. You’re not going to identify every motive. It’s why you aren’t seeing it. Try focusing on where?” She bit the end of the marker and studied the board.

“I get where you’re going with this. Right side is the assassin. There’s seventeen cases where Hunt’s intelligence group identified his pattern. Not sure that tells us anything.” He studied Alanna’s face.

“He used the sniper profession to provide cover for his killing, yet we have so few cases to back up the premise. But the methods of the two are definite – sniper rifle and explosives, for one, then knives and physical violence for the other.” She drew another line on the chart, then stood motionless, frowning.

“What?”

“Two hours ago, I stayed away from the windows because of his sniper skills.”

“Prudent. Don’t second guess a gut instinct.”

“You’re right.” She popped the cap back on the marker.

“The left side is his serial killing, his compulsion.”

She pointed at the list. “To which we only have my verified incident with him and Esme. What we need is to backtrack his personal life – since we have his name, we can search locations, check police reports, and see if we can find other missing women. If we checked in Spain at the same time as Hunt’s mission and examined their missing, we might have somewhere to start, but we need to backtrack to his hometown and search there first. The compulsion started somewhere. Usually as a kid or in high school. Are you listening to me?”

Quaid swiveled in his chair and stood. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing at the tension there. “We’ve been at this too long, getting too close, and I’m not sure we have contacts in Spain. Grandfather has hotels there, but direct law enforcement connections? I don’t think so. It might be something Hunt’s intelligence unit can get at, though. I’ll ask.”

“Mercer was here in San Diego when I lived in the streets and as early as a month ago. Maybe we don’t have to extend our reach. We search San Diego. He has to have a house, an apartment, or a room he’s using for a hide when he’s here. There have to be other victims, too. Frank could explore cases specific to that information. It would give us a playing field. He attacked Esme here and yesterday attacked two thirteen year olds. Esme was sixteen, a year older than me. Where is Anders Barton from?”

Quaid dropped his hands and pulled his computer around to pinpoint  Barton’s hometown. “Listed as Baltimore, Maryland.”

“Well, Whit was from San Diego. It’s why he came back here when he got out, so the military was their first meet.” She scribbled the note on the board. “Basic?”

“Yes. They split to Rangers and Green Beret after graduating. Their Airborne dates don’t even overlap.”

Alanna scribbled a list. Baltimore, Maryland, Fort Jackson, SC, and Fort Benning now Moore, San Diego.

“So they both went through Fort Jackson.” The fort name went on another list along with the other places Mercer had been.

Quaid scanned the board. “Let’s set this aside, and we’ll review it with Mackey. This was his entry route, too, I believe. Fort Jackson to Fort Benning to Fort Bragg now Liberty. He went Delta not Green Beret, but the pipeline is similar for all three.”

She started another list. Mackey and Frank’s names appeared. “Should we have had Kerry stop looking for Esme?”

“What do you think?” He wasn’t signing off on anything she still felt strongly about.

“She should work on some of these searches. She’s thorough and has a good sense when something isn’t right. She could also refocus on Tenney.”

“Up to you. Honestly, the search that is the most important right now is San Diego. We have two different times when he’s been here and looking for victims here makes sense.

“Depends on when he last killed, honestly.”

“Could the assassinations tide him over?”

“Possibly.”

“How did you decide he had serial killing tendencies? We have scant evidence of that here.”

“I’ve had years to analyze what happened. I talked to Whit once about it, too. He didn’t tell me much, but he warned me to stay away because Mercer was dangerous.”

“Warning of a protective guardian or was he a witness?”

“Might explain Iraq if Mercer tried murdering there, too. There’s too much of the trail missing. But if I stick to facts, we know he killed Esme, he’s tried to kill Whit.”

“And he tried to kill you.”

“I can’t figure that out unless he’s cleaning house and doesn’t want any witnesses left behind. But why now?”

“Again, let’s investigate San Diego.”

“Next step, then, is to see Frank.”

The afternoon was fading to dark, but if he knew the cop, the man was still at work.

“Let’s get out of here and go find him.”

She turned wide-eyes to him. The last two hours of dumping what she knew had taken it’s toll. “I’m in.”

“When we’re finished at the PD, we’ll go home, eat whatever delicious thing Niles has cooked for dinner, then there’s a bathtub with your name on it.”

She groaned. “I like it.”

Again he took her hand. She didn’t fight it. Progress came in little celebrations.

Chapter Twelve

Frank Walker’s office at police headquarters was a functional and tech-forward space. Alanna could read a lot into his command style and his personality by the ergonomic comfort of his rolling chair, the clean minimalist aesthetic, and the commendations on his wall. His desk suggested his heavy caseload even though the surface was carefully organized.

They left their weapons in the car and jumped past a team of detectives to be shown to his office. Frank stood in his doorway with jeans and a blue shirt, badge and gun, and a frown. “About time we had a sit down.”

Alanna stepped in front of Quaid. She was law enforcement, after all, and this whole mess was about her. “We’re picking up the pieces, and it’s time to share. We need local crime records.”

Frank’s brows rose. “Understood. Did your boss agree to the sharing?”

Alanna struggled with the answer. “I haven’t told him, and won’t until later. We need some help.”

Quaid shook Frank’s hand. “Sorry about dodging you. I’m not an innocent bystander. It’s not what we do.”

“As long as you understand where the business ends and the law needs to take over.”

“I have an FBI agent right here. I’m pretty clear on the parameters.”

“We don’t share well with the FBI.” The dry comment made Alanna grin.

She chose one of the blue visitor’s chairs and sat. “You will this time. Because this guy is federal, military, and local all at the same time.” Quaid stood behind her. “It’s a long story, Frank. Where do you want to start?”

“Our man from last night. Same guy, I presume?”

Quaid placed both hands on the back of her chair and leaned toward Frank. “Yes. But he’s also responsible for the gun incident at QM.”

“Assassin, too. Boy, you two are buckets of fun.”

Alanna pushed aside the FBI agent for the moment and remembered hard days when she was younger. “Are those girls all right?”

“Yes, we got them both to their families and helped get them into the shelter for a few days. Keep them safe. Who is this guy?”

Alanna looked over her shoulder at him, resigned to having to tell the story. “His name is Andres Barton, aka Mercer. I ran into him on the streets when I was living here. I was fifteen.” Frank’s eyebrows rose, but Alanna rushed on. “The man who was my de facto guardian knew him, too. They were military together. Frank, he’s connected to a disappearance from that timeframe. I’d like to find out if the case is in your system.

“Back up. What does this have to do with the shooting in the QM parking lot?” Frank eased into his chair, his sharp eyes studying the two of them.

“He’s trying to draw out Alanna.”

“Why?”

Quaid sighed. “Might be because of that guardian she’s referring to. Our assassin has a complicated, violent military record. Feds want him, Navy Intelligence wants him, QM wants him.”

“And so it’s dumped in my city?”

“We’d better go back to the beginning.” Alanna’s quiet voice, while controlled and professional, had a slight tremor.

Quaid spoke to let her have a moment. “It took QM, a criminal psychologist, and two federal agencies to put this together. It’s not a clean picture. There’s too much we don’t know, and all of us still have people searching.”

Frank eased back in his chair and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Tell me anyway.”

Quaid told him some, then turned it over to her and she went into the parts she knew. Frank stayed quiet and listened, shook his head at some, frowned at others, but didn’t interrupt.

Alanna left out parts of what happened to her because she wasn’t ready to tell Frank there was a police report somewhere on her assault. All this was rubbing salt in an open wound that still stung.

Frank pursed his lips. “Can I assume where the Navy information came from? About this tall with a hefty Navy rank on his shoulder?”

Alanna looked to Quaid, saw the neutral expression, and answered. “Not saying his name. He didn’t tell us not to, but some of the details were culled from classified information. My boss knows part of this, but I haven’t talked to him since we went through Barton’s military records and the military dumped the classified documents on his desk.”

“What did he want with those teenagers last night?”

“Nothing good. After studying him, he’s a sexual predator who likes to kill and use his assassin skills to support and coverup his kills. It’s my best theory with what facts we have.”

“So which direction does this go now?”

“I need to give you dates and have you tell me if there are any other missing presumed dead girls or assaults from the same timeframe. It might help us find him.”

“It’s going to be a lot. This is an urban area.”

“I understand.” She handed Frank the folder she’d been holding. “Mercer’s picture from the military information, the details of the assassinations they’ve uncovered, and a picture of my board in Quaid’s office with how this connects. If we can identify a former field of play for him, we might be able to narrow the searches and set a trap. Can you help?”

Quaid put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s still after Alanna which leaves him in your city, and while he waits, he’s going to be a danger to any vulnerable teenagers.”

Frank stayed quiet, thinking as he studied their faces. “Who is going to be the lead agency?”

“FBI, Frank. But in conjunction with the police department. The Navy just wants him dead, but they can activate assets if we need assistance.”

While she had worked Mercer’s background, Quaid had quietly assessed the news in Spain from Hunt’s timeframe and discovered the death of a top level Central Command Officer during that time. He’d been a SEAL. Of course, they wouldn’t leave that one alone.

“Give me the dates. I’ll have my team start investigating. Who is your street guardian? Can I ask?”

Alanna bit her lip. She’d been pretty good at keeping it locked tight, but emotion clogged her throat. “Daniel Whitaker. You may be familiar with him from a police report. They found blood in an alley two weeks ago, but no body.”

“Yeah, I know the team handling that one.”

“He may be listed as Whit. He worked at the mission.”

“I’ll pull that, too. Alive somewhere or do you think he’s dead?”

“Undetermined.” Quaid answered for her. “We’re actively trying to find him, too.”

“So I can presume QM will be in my streets searching?” Frank studied the top sheet in the file. “A former Army Ranger and a former Green Beret? Did these two go at it in the alley?”

“Logically, if Whit was there and Mercer is in town, that would be our conclusion, yes.”

“I hate it when military stuff slops over in my town.”

Quaid grinned. “Frank, you used to be a Marine.”

“Yeah, and I served right up the road at Pendleton. But I never brought any military feuds to the community. Hell, my future wife lived here.”

“Can’t say as I brought any feuds this way either. But we were Marines. Our conduct rules were absolute, but these two were out of the service by the time it blew up here.”

Alanna’s energy sagged, and she knew it was time to close this. “Can you get us some more to work with?”

Frank stood, sighing in exasperation at the file now spread on his desk. “Yeah, we’ll check missing persons, old reports, and older crimes and see what we can find. I’ll call you. But keep me in the loop this time, and tell your boss. I don’t want to get accused of poaching on FBI territory.”

“Deal.” Alanna rose and put her hands in her suit pockets. “Thanks, Frank.”

He pointed at Quaid. “And for future reference, don’t bring this shit into my neighborhood.”

“Understood.” Quaid handled the admonishment with grace, but remained noncommittal.

They walked to the elevator. He pushed the down button. “Will this help?”

Alanna rubbed the bridge of her nose, a headache incoming. “Yes. We need more information to find what’s relevant, but I’m overwhelmed at the moment.”

“Then, let’s go home, put it down for the night.”

It was Quaid’s home, but she agreed.

She was leaning heavily on his support and his wealth, but she needed the comfort, she needed the backup, and she needed the safety net of his arms. And she wanted to hold and kiss him again.

There’d been times when pep talking herself into the professional persona was the only way she had to be confident in who she was. To have Quaid stand with her left her banishing all her doubts.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Standing with me.”

“You’d do the same. Have done the same when we believed it was about me.”

But it wasn’t the same thing.

She brought her brains and experience to the table, but this man brought more, and she didn’t understand how she could have mentally reduced him to a playboy.

She didn’t see him that way anymore.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid’s home sat beachside of the Pacific Ocean in one of the older moneyed neighborhoods north of downtown San Diego. The houses were large without being ostentatious, and the landscaping was discreet layers of blooms and greens while being private. The two-story coastal contemporary charmed with pale stone, weathered cedar, and smooth lines. Wide windows faced west to the ocean, catching the waves and the sunset, but not curious eyes. A low wall and steel gate enclosed the property with olive trees shading the drive, their twisted trunks older than the house.

His connection to the house with its beach front, big patios, lush gardens, and roomy interior had been instantaneous, and he’d leveraged all he had to secure the property. He’d never been sorry. Especially not tonight with Alanna by his side. Only the second time here, and her presence felt right and promising.

Quaid waved off Braun and slipped out of the SUV, then took Alanna’s hand and helped her out.

“Two nights in a row I’m stumbling into your home like I don’t have one of my own.”

“Yours is a ninety-minute drive away.”

Alanna groaned. “Don’t remind me.” She kept his hand in hers.

Too soon to ask any major relationship questions, he stifled a response. That she was here soothed his tired soul.

“Do you want a reminder to call your boss before dinner?”

“I’m going to do that next if Niles will hold dinner for a minute.”

“I’m sure he’d do anything for you. Me, on the other hand, I’d get scolded.” He reached for the knob, but the door opened and the man in question stood unflappable and silent in a dark gray suit.

“Niles.”

“Sir.”

Quaid leaned to her. “I hate it when he calls me sir.”

“Miss Alanna.” He took her briefcase.

“I need to make a phone call to my FBI boss, Niles. Can we hold dinner?”

“As you wish. It’s not a problem. I’ll set you up in the dining room, if that’s acceptable? Are we having a working dinner?”

Quaid answered without hesitating. “No. We’ll eat in the kitchen, please. We both need to set this aside. It needs some thinking time. Security? Who is on property?”

“Patina and Tane. Miss Bailey checked in today and did a complete sweep, too.”

“Excellent.” Quaid led her to the dining room. With lights on, his War Table gleamed. “You polished it today.” He could smell the hint of lemon.

“Yes, sir.” Niles laid her briefcase on the edge. “Drinks and a quick appetizer?”

“Sure. Lani?”

“I need water, Niles.”

The man nodded.

“I’ll take the same and whatever appetizer you can whip up fast is fine.” Quaid moved to Lani’s side. “You need me? If not, I’ll go shower and leave you to your call.”

Her fingers stroked the dark wood, then traced the time-aged crack. She walked along the side of the table and studied the top. Heavy oak with simple design, thick legs, and a scarred, but polished surface, he’d reclaimed this relic from an old military depot. With history all the way back to World War I, the piece spoke to him of tradition and service. Niles had scoured thrift and antique outlets for chairs that fit. The table would seat twelve.

It fit nothing else in his house, but he’d bought it anyway. He owned expensive things because of the monied world he was born in. But the pieces he cared about – the table, the chairs on the balcony, the painting on the wall in his office, his old Marine footlocker in his closet – had nothing to do with money.

Alanna pulled a chair mid-table and settled into it with gentle grace, snapping her fingers for him to hand her the briefcase.

Tickled, he quickly handled her request. “At your command, princess.”

“As is fitting, knight.” She grinned, shooing him away with her hands. “Go, let me make this call so we can quit working.”

“Do either of us know how to do that?”

“We need to learn. I’ll take lessons from you if you’ll take lessons from me.”

“We’re doomed.”

“I can think of other things to learn.” She bit her lip, her face lightly flushing, and gathered her phone. “Go, quit distracting me.”

He went.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief: 00:30:45 PST 12/19 – San Diego HQ. All locations secure. Security Level 3 remains active. All personnel limit information released to outside sources. Ϙ

What separates men who live with violence from men who become it?

Mackey mused over that thought while Delaney questioned the convenience store clerk and the smoke shop owner, both open at the midnight hour. Propped against the bumper of the QM SUV, Mac stayed motionless against the black, logoed, shadow of the vehicle and took a long survey of the area – the who, the where, and the dangerous hummed along with the buzz from the neon beer sign, a siren blocks away, and the weight of the ocean moisture in the air.

Alanna lived here at one point and that insulted the protector in him. The one thing he couldn’t do was automatically get these people to trust him, though. He had to earn it, like Delaney had living among them. So while Delaney searched the old stomping grounds, he chewed a toothpick and pondered the actions of two men who’d trained the same way he had. Mercer. Whit.

In his experience, the moral line between mission and killing was questionable in the heat of the moment and depended on survival. The line moved depending on the threat, the training, and the brotherhood commitment. For most, coming home with a sense of wrong sitting on your conscience was a byproduct of wars.

Whether it was service loyalty to the Army or a sense this FBI Agent deserved support, he remained focused and determined to find Whit no matter how long he had to search. Two years of constant Army training, four years as a Tier One counterterrorism warrior, then two more years working with Special Operations before getting out shaped many of his commitments. But collateral damage was a constant threat. Like the two teenage girls last night who had almost lost their lives.

One thing he had learned. Alanna had left her card with her phone number at certain businesses, searching for even one small crack in the silence wall that was street loyalty. She should have known better than to leave traceable exposure, but the agent was desperate. If his mother was missing, he’d do the same.

Mackey stared across the street at the blues, oranges, and yellows of a street mural, the intent of the piece either an important message or nonsensical fuckery. He didn’t care enough to analyze. The Mercer manhunt pushed people indoors to safety, yet the neighborhood was tense and watchful. Random police cars rolled by, reinforcing yesterday’s threat and leaving a false sense of safety behind.

He never defined himself as more than a crazy, lethal warrior until he planned QM with Quaid. To become a guardian took more persistence and grit than Delta School because warriors win fights. Period. Guardians make sure people survive them.

The world was dangerous, and when it failed to protect the vulnerable, well, that’s when his fighting sense came to fore. Living with violence, performing it even, as he had, meant you constantly fought becoming the thing you fought against. If Alanna was right, Mercer stood on that murderous line before he’d hit the military and had no problem with the blood on his hands. That insulted, too.

Delaney exited the smoke shop and moved silently his way. His black QM shirt, pants, and shoes blended with the surroundings. The tense posture matched, too. Mackey straightened. “What?”

The man leaned against the bumper and adjusted the sling holding his fixed arm in place. “I wish I still smoked.”

Mackey snorted. “Never started. Doesn’t fly on clandestine operations. What?”

“A hint, maybe.”

Mackey tossed his toothpick in the gutter. “Tell.”

“Rumors. Sanctuary. Church. Which one? Unknown. Six in this neighborhood alone.” The recitation stayed neutral, but the spark in his eyes signaled hope.

“So we visit Jesus, and we find him.” Mackey rounded the vehicle, took another long look at the street, and got in.

Delaney was already fastening his seatbelt. “After that big manhunt, he’ll make himself scarce.”

“Yep. But that gives us time to have Operations do a thorough search of likely sources and get us a list. Let’s be methodical. Yes?”

Delaney nodded. “I need sleep or Dr. Hunter is going to yell at me.”

“Waffles and shut eye, then.”

Delaney groaned. “I approve this message, sir.”

Chapter Thirteen

Quaid eased up the stairs with two coffees on a tray and went to Alanna’s door. He didn’t have the smooth moves Niles had, but she was still asleep, and he had an irrational need to be the only one in her bedroom. How he’d gotten so dissatisfied with his lonely bed after sleeping with her once was a thought he couldn’t tackle. She was still in his house, across the hall, obviously no dreams this time, and probably trying to sort out why he’d kissed her goodbye last night. First kiss to devouring kiss showed a lack of control on his part and a shift in intimacy for both of them. She’d kissed him back.

After midnight, he’d received a work alert from QM’s second in command in Operations, Casey Miner. He had to return to the office. A protection detail in Dubai had run into a serious security risk and needed to exit the client and the four man team from the country as rapidly as possible amidst bombing activity. Quaid had questioned serving this client from the beginning, but the rich and famous trusted him, and he knew Dubai from high school, college, and the CIA.

He wasn’t a big fan of the Patton hotel there, but it became a safe space for the team to wait until exfil could be arranged. With friends arguing with friends and enemies attacking enemies, it wasn’t a good time to hang with strangers for a money deal when you had no knowledge of what they fundamentally believed. If only this client practiced the same logic.

Instead, he’d put at risk four of their people. A two-hour flight from Dubai to Riyadh was the simplest with a Saudi Arabia non-stop connection to New York. The timing sucked. The architecture and culture of the Patton hotel might not be his favorite, but the staff was stellar. While they gave him every option possible, he drank diet coke and replayed kissing Alanna.

Now, he stood at her door, dithering. Playboy Quaid who had all the moves had none. The door opened before he could decide between walking away or knocking.

Alanna’s neutral expression he recognized from their day one meeting, and he made friends again by lifting her coffee.

“Good morning.”

She took the mug and walked back into her room. He followed. Her bed was rumpled, pillows laying in all directions, with clothes scattered on the bed. “Are you just getting home?”

“No. I got a few hours sleep.”

“Problem?”

“Yes, not with this case, with a protection detail in the Middle East.”

Her brow rose, but she didn’t ask. With Navy slacks, blue and white striped shirt, dark hair braided, she looked beautiful and rested. She set her coffee cup down without sipping, took the tray from him, and slid it next to her cup. She came to him then, cupped his face, and kissed him, catching him between apology and confusion.

God, her mouth was soft. And she smelled so good. He should slow this, but her sweet lips were in stark contrast to his experience, and he loved it. Given her background, he expected tentative and got the Wildcat instead. He backed her against the closet door and shifted his mouth, desperate to learn textures, tastes, and tingles. She moaned, slipped her hands into his hair, and held his head in place while she mimicked what he was doing. Every disciplined part of him failed.

“Lani,” he whispered against her mouth.

She lifted her lips, but then kept nibbling around his. “Don’t kiss me in front of your crew ever again.”

Confused, he traced a finger across her cheek. “Why?”

“Because this is what will happen.” She slid a leg around him, and he lifted her into his arms. The heat. God. Up higher, she maneuvered her legs around his waist, pressing close. Achingly hard, he tightened the reigns. Not yet. Not like this.

“What did I miss?” He was still stuck in protecting her, easing her into intimacy. She was claiming.

She left his mouth and kissed his neck, her breaths brushing his skin until he couldn’t draw any of his own.

“I have missed so much.” She pulled back and the emotion in her blue eyes undid him. “You don’t understand. I’ve thought about you all night.”

He held her close and stepped away from the closet door. He sat on the bed, letting her straddle him or move aside if she wished. She stayed wrapped around him.

“Is this what you want?”

“What? You?” She licked her lips and everything in him seized.

Words came hard. “Yes, me.”

She shook her head, then nodded, and he was lost in the a turbulent river. “Lani, there’s time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not true. I either act or I lose.” Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. “And I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Quaid huffed out a laugh. “You aren’t the only one. You’re the one who convinced me to give up my playboy persona. I don’t know how to live this Quaid either.”

“But does it feel right? Do you want to cover up again?”

“I’m not covering up. You were right. What about you?”

“I like kissing you. I want more. I’m living a half-alive existence buried in violence, and I don’t like it. I mean, not the work part, but I’m turning away from friends, from moments that could bring enjoyment, from closeness with a person I care about. I’ve turned those emotions off, shoved them somewhere, but my heart is fighting me.”

“I understand that. I have been hiding – from people’s expectations to family commitments. I need them to see me, but I won’t show them me. Well, except Mackey and Hunt and Cait. And Elizabeth. They earned it.”

Lani shifted, her hands stroking his shoulders. “What happened in Afghanistan? Can you tell me?”

Quaid tightened his grip, pulling her closer to the ache in his groin. Distraction was desperately needed to talk about this. “I had a friend. His name was Reid. I’d known him since junior high. His father was an ambassador, and their family crossed mine periodically. We went to the same boarding school. He followed me into the CIA – which went over with his family about as well as it did with mine.”

He shut his eyes, struggling against the grief, and stroked Lani’s back. The warmth bleeding through her shirt eased his turmoil. “He went undercover in Afghanistan and disappeared. The CIA set up a mission using SEAL assets and the Joint Command Hospital in Bagram. It was supposed to be a humanitarian mission to help a warlord whose son had been injured, but they added me to their roster and took me to his mountain retreat so I could search for Reid.”

“Hunt’s team?”

“Yes. It’s how we all met. Mackey I already knew from another mission, but I met Hunt and Cait there.”

“I sensed some wartime connection.”

“Well, it wasn’t a simple search. We got ambushed by terrorists, escaped into the mountains, did a hide and seek with weapons and RPGs. It got ugly. I got shot. I’m sitting here today because Cait and Hunt’s medic, Carter, kept me alive until we got to an extraction point. Thirty-six hours in that hellhole from start to finish. Never been more happy to see a medevac. I swear Cait kept her hands in my guts until they dumped me in a hospital surgery.”

“But you didn’t find your friend?”

“I didn’t, no. I ended up in a hospital in Germany. But Hunt kept searching. Finally found him.”

Her hands cupped his face. “He wasn’t alive?”

“No, dead. Hunt found his body.” He shifted his hands to lift Lani to her feet, but she wouldn’t let him. Her mouth settled on his with a gentle sweep over his eyes and his forehead.

“War is hell, whether its true war or the one I fight every day with killers and criminals. We live in a screwed up world, Quaid, and you and I both choose to operate there because we’re the tough ones. We protect.”

He stayed silent, listening with his heart not his head. Because those words were exactly why he’s joined the Marines, why he spent those years in the CIA, and why he chose QM with Mackey. But with this woman, it was more.

“I want time with you alone, Lani, not squeezing in moments on this madman’s agenda to kill you.

She moistened her lips. “I won’t let him succeed. I’ve been fighting him and his ghost for so many years. I need it to stop.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“Do you know what happened to your friend?”

“Yes, got a letter from him, mailed before his death. Explained everything and nothing. I’ll show it to you sometime.”

“You were his friend. Sounds like a good one. And you looked for him. There is only so much you can do, and you did it.” She kissed his eyelids again.

He plundered her mouth to chase away ghosts, savoring her response, and wished it were that easy.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid lay back on the bed, and Alanna went with him. She shifted her legs, ending up next to him full length with her head on his shoulder.

“Mackey came in while I was dealing with Dubai. They got a hint of Whit.”

Alanna raised up, temper barely in check. “Way to lead with that.”

“I got distracted.” His eyes traced over her mouth to breasts straining against the buttons.

“Describe said hint.”

“Church. Sanctuary.”

“That’s it?”

“Did Whit ever go to church?”

“No, but he had relationships with a lot of people in the streets – business owners, junkies, priests. It was all the same to him.”

“I left Mackey working with Kerry to explore the churches. They’re going to visit each one. They’ll call if they find anything, and we’ll join them.”

Alanna wanted to argue. She wanted to go out and search with them, but she’d already walked those streets and found nothing. Obviously, QM had the resources and people to use who had good information sources. Her sense was they would get the job done.

“Any word from Frank?”

“Not yet. And I don’t want to nag him. He’s not someone I want mad at us. What did your boss say?”

“Keep the reports coming. He’s sorting through the classified information and will inform me if any of it can be passed on.”

“I’m stuck on where you fit with all these puzzle pieces.” His deep voice sank into turbulent emotions and soothed.

“You mean why didn’t he kill me when I was fifteen?” Alanna wanted to press closer when Quaid’s hands tightened on her back, and she shivered deep at the care. Something unfurled inside – her grandfather used to pat her on the back. Go get ‘em girl, he’d always say. He had cared. Did this mean the same thing? Alanna sighed, then tipped her head away from Quaid’s neck and a spot she desperately wanted to kiss.

His stillness signaled his serious thought process. “I’m trying to be pragmatic. He raped and killed Esme. She was most likely dead after she hit the pavement. His compulsion slaked so to speak, he left you to hide her body. When he came back for you, Whit stopped him.”

“I’ve always wondered if I remembered everything that happened or if I blocked it out.”

“From their record, we can surmise Whit and Mercer used an adversarial relationship to test each other’s strengths.”

“Boys will be boys?”

“No, not boys. The behavior is stupid when you get to the levels they were at in the military. I admit I’m a biased Marine, but I’m not sure what kind of broken chain let the two of them keep at each other. Mackey agreed. His training was much more disciplined. He was the Army pinnacle at Delta, though, working with a bunch of crazy men who took on the hardest stuff is incredibly difficult.”

“We’ll put that at the top of the list to ask Whit.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She tilted her head and gazed at Quaid, studying his jaw line.

“What?”

“I like this Quaid.” She slipped her fingers through his dark hair, the blond gone.

“Why?”

“He’s honest, handsome, sexy, and lethal.” His eyes widened, then he blushed.

“What? Not used to the truth?” She glanced quickly over his features. Were they not ready for that level of comment?

He rolled and trapped her beneath him, and she was happy to take his weight – the experience new and thrilling.

He nipped at her neck. “Smart, intuitive, tough, devastatingly wild, intriguing, and beautiful. I am keeping you.”

The surge of panic at the keeper comment caught her off guard, then he kissed her again. His firm lips commanded, coaxed, and caressed all at once, and she was fascinated with the heat jetting from her breasts to her core. The newness made her hesitate, and she forced herself to end the kiss.

She had something more to talk with him about, and this conversation might not go well. But better to try it out with him than with the whole team or her boss because his tactical advice was the best she could get anywhere.

“Lani?”

She lifted off and sat beside him. She kept her hand on his chest. “We have to talk.”

“No woman ever says those words without it being a problem.” He shifted up to an elbow and tweaked her braid. “What did I do?”

She smirked, but let the topic settle in the seriousness of her face. “Mercer.”

Quaid groaned. “I am so sick of that man’s name. Spring it on me. What?”

“I’ve been studying his patterns.”

“I wasn’t aware we had enough information for a pattern.”

She used her hands to sketch out the office board visuals. “Sexual predator/killer – one method. Assassin – one method. Now, we have the last three, no four episodes. The fight with Whit, the attempt to kill you and me, the bomb at the hotel, and the attempted abduction of two girls, usual methods. But…he failed at all four.”

“What does that tell you?”

“He’s devolving, losing control of both methodologies. Killers devolve in two ways: they withdraw and regroup, or they escalate. He’s caught between the two.”

“Or he can’t get to either you or Whit and he’s getting frustrated, making mistakes.”

“At either angle, he’s losing control. Now is the time to push him, make him act before he stabilizes.”

“Push him, how?”

She used to have a poker face, but with Quaid she’d lost the ability.

He groaned. “You want to emerge from the protective shell we have around you. Taunt him.”

“It won’t take much.”

“How did you make that assumption? You’re at the highest risk now.”

“He’s following me.”

Quaid sat up and stared at her. “How?”

“He found me at QM for the assassination attempt, which was stupid. I searched the downtown area for Whit, many, many times. He could have found me there – in his hunting ground. Instead, he got complicated. He could know my FBI connection, could have staked out the San Diego office until he found me there or he followed me to QM after one of my street searches. He found me again at the LA Patton. He could have followed us.”

Quaid rose and went to the dresser, his back to her. He stood still. Their closeness evaporated, and she hated it. But she let him have a minute. She needed the warrior thinking strategically.

“We were watching, monitoring. We knew the car he was in.”

“We were being shot at and running. We could have missed something.”

He turned around, his eyes hot. “I can’t even imagine explaining that one to Cait, let alone Hunt. You’re saying we never lost him? He stayed on us to their house? He somehow tracked us, watched us put my car in their garage, and noted the Uber pick up, followed us to the Coranado Patton, saw us trade vehicles and trailed us all the way to LA.”

“Possible?”

“Possible, but not probable.”

“He found us there somehow. He tried to blow me up. You’d have been collateral damage. He didn’t care. But he missed – again. Or missed on purpose.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“We have to give him a target again – only this time we’ll be prepared.”

His eyes hardened and turned molten. She expected the ‘no’ and an explosive argument, but didn’t get it. He went silent.

She went quiet, too. “He’s not hunting efficiently anymore. He’s reacting. When men like Mercer start reacting, they make mistakes. If we apply pressure now, we control the timing instead of him.”

“You’re assuming he’ll make a mistake before he kills you.”

“I can’t make a connection to why he’d want to kill me.” She rose and went to him, hoping to have his support. In her experience, it was a stupid thing to expect, yet her silly heart wanted it.

“The one who got away,” he whispered, lifting a lose strand of hair and stroking the piece behind her ear.

She gathered her courage and her dreams and slid her hands around his waist. “I didn’t escape. He beat me so badly, I couldn’t walk away. He came back, but Whit saved me. Again.”

He stared at her, keeping eye contact. “He had to choose between you and Esme. Murder is worse than assault. Supposedly. He chose to hide her body.”

“Yes. Guessing. And leaving me hurt was a fuck you to Whit.”

“That I can believe.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

Their coffee had gone cold sitting on the dresser. She wanted to hold him close, but she made herself let go. He had to analyze the idea and decide on its own merits whether the plan was solid. She wouldn’t coerce him and didn’t want the decision made with anything less than a clear head.

Quaid bunched his hands into fists. “I hate this idea. He may be devolving, but even unorganized and failing, he’s fucking dangerous.”

She uttered the one truth that might sell him. “So are you. So is Mackey. So is Ryker. So is Frank. So am I.”

“Let me think.” He picked up the tray and took their cold coffee. At the door, he turned back. “I believe in you, but I just found you. That matters in this conversation, too.”

“Yes, it does,” she whispered under her breath. But he heard her.

“I want you. More than I want Mercer. But I’m stuck because I don’t want that son of a bitch on your tail for any longer than necessary.” He turned the knob. “Let me think, Lani.”

“All right.”

“Meet me at the War Table.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She took a minute. Went in the bathroom and retied her braid, washed her hands, and stared at her pale face in the mirror while she applied lotion that Niles had put in the bathroom. The rich smell soothed ragged nerves. She never imagined having a man who gave a damn about her, who made her feel woman things she’d turned off for years, especially not one like Quaid. Why was he different?

&&&&&&&&&&

Growing up, Quaid had bounced all over the globe, first with parents who lived the rich lifestyle of gambling, parties, sex, and adventure. At twelve, he went to live with his grandfather who was all about business. He’d already seen enough of his parents’ lifestyle to understand how they burned through money, went with what gave them a rush at the moment, and applied no strategy to improving themselves. It had been Elizabeth who had kept him disciplined and grounded, kept him learning, growing, and understanding what he could be. He spent summers on her ranch. Living with his grandfather had been her idea. She was the one who influenced him to try for something stronger and better by joining the Marines. He wanted something about himself he could be proud of that didn’t involve money.

He’d spent ten years building the military profession. Honestly, his commitment to honor, service, and strength was a godsend now. It fueled how he currently lived with purpose and integrity. He couldn’t see himself living like his parents did or running his grandfather’s hotel conglomerate.

He dumped their coffee and left Lani’s cup by the pot. Niles was nowhere around, but he didn’t answer to Quaid. He managed things, and Quaid’s life stayed in order and safe. He poured himself a full cup leaving some for Alanna, went to the terrace, and dialed Elizabeth’s number. Because the question that slammed him sideways was this: Where in the hell were he and Alanna going with this? And why was his inner voice shouting yes while his gut was tied in a knot?

She answered, not with a hello but a comment. “This place is humming. What happened?”

“Too many things to recount. Dubai, Whit, and Alanna with an idea which is making me question everything. Do you remember when I joined the Marines?” He didn’t usually bring this up because she had encouraged and helped him, then when her son had wanted the same thing, she’d signed his paperwork and supported him all the way, too. And now that much-loved son was dead.

“You were angry, struggling for purpose, and not wanting to go the direction of either your parents or your grandfather. I remember the talk.”

“I don’t regret the choice, Elizabeth. I was thankful I had you to talk straight to me.”

She stayed silent, then asked what he expected. “Do you need me to talk straight to you?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what I expect to hear.”

Elizabeth was raised on one of the oldest ranches in California where horse manure was horse manure, and she didn’t mince words. “I like her, Quaid. She’s smart and dedicated, and isn’t the type who quits easily. Those are the three things I’d ask for you to find in someone you care about.”

That Elizabeth figured out he cared deeply about Alanna didn’t surprise him in the least. “She wants me to make a choice to support her professionally, and I’m stuck in hell no. This is personal. I’m losing objectivity.”

“She wants you to use her to draw out this maniac, and you want to protect.”

“How did you guess?”

“I sat in on a briefing in Operations during the night. I don’t usually stick my nose in there, but I had an extended conversation with Zephren about you and QM.”

“What about me and QM?”

“He expected you to tinker with this business and drop it like you did the Marines and the CIA.”

“I almost died in the CIA, Elizabeth. War is dirty, and so is spying, and so is killing people. Redemption isn’t simple. My service and those lasting nightmares changed my perspective of duty and country. I practice those ideals in a safer place now. Besides, that career introduced me to a circle of people I trust implicitly, which is more than I get from my family. What did you tell him?”

“I asked him how it felt out there in the cold. That if he wanted to come in, he should get his ass to San Diego and observe firsthand what you’ve built.”

“What we’ve built.”

“What we’ve built. This company has layers of integrity woven into its core strengths, and we’re strong financially because we’ve been smart and future-oriented in everything we’re doing. That’s you and Mackey, with Harrison and I, putting this company on the radar of every corporate and government entity who needs our assistance. He needs to analyze those connections, and until he does, ignore him and your parents. But back to Alanna. What’s your take?”

“This man is dangerous.”

“Agreed. But so is every employee of this company, minus me and Celissa. Even Cait has more grit than I do – the Navy SEAL influence.”

“And a humanitarian mission gone awry.”

“That, too. I wouldn’t want to be in a dark alley with you or Mackey or Bailey, or Remy, etc. etc. You are all a threat. Alanna is holding her own.”

“She is.”

“Trust that. Help her. Don’t hinder her. Enough said?”

“Yeah. I have to go talk to Cait and Hunt. Oh, and Elizabeth, lock down. Tell Mac to move us to the next security level until we find this motherfucker.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“QM, your house, Safe Harbor, my house. The whole thing. Alert everyone to go into ambush mode at home and at work. I am not trusting this guy to not try a missile through the front door.”

Elizabeth hissed. “You’re not kidding.”

“No, I’m not. I cannot tell you what it did to me at the LA Patton to have Alanna crash through that plateglass window and land in front of me with blood all over her. Let’s not do that again. To anybody.”

“Copy. I’ll pass that along.”

“Pass this along, too. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Go talk this out with your girl.”

Dealing with Alanna professionally as an FBI agent, his partner, an equal – piece of cake. Dealing with her personally and emotionally – minefield. He had to proceed very carefully with steps he wasn’t even sure about. Fragile wrapped in toughness was a challenge. Thank God he hadn’t overreacted to her suggestion. It would not be a way to open the door to making her his.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Flash Alert: 09:00:00 PST 12/20 – San Diego HQ. All divisions elevate to Security Level 4. Facility identification required for entry. Restrict access to authorized personnel. Ϙ

Quaid left home after a stern lecture from Niles and an exasperated exchange with Braun. He kept his gun handy, watched carefully for tails, and knew damn well he was alone without cover. He drove a QM SUV, and the tracking on the vehicle would mean Mackey would be calling shortly with a what-the-fuck comment. He went anyway.

Alanna was summoned to the San Diego FBI Field Office to meet with Ryker, and Quaid assigned both Conners and Tane to take her. She couldn’t contain her exasperation after their short, fierce argument about it, but he was playing the odds Mercer wouldn’t come at him on the freeway. Alanna was another story so needed more cover. Wait until she got to her headquarters and found another team there, too.

On his end, Hunt and Cait were home. If you wanted to attack him with a Navy SEAL in the house, you’d be dead in the time it took to have the thought. Hunt put up with no threats in his home space. He expected when he told his friend what Alanna guessed, he would want a one-on-one explanation of what they suspected about Mercer’s movements, and it wasn’t a conversation for text messages. Hunt would want all the threat details personally, and, as much as he loved Elizabeth, he needed advice from Cait. She, with her wartime injury, would be honest with him about panic triggers, hyper-vigilance, fear of stability – all things Alanna fought and didn’t talk about. If Alanna even suspected he’d figured those out, she’d withdraw.

They were waiting on the porch. Hunt held Cait’s hand, a common sight. Both had coffee mugs. Relationship goals right there. Hunt was in jeans and a gray t-shirt, the casual clothes again raised flags. Cait was still in blue scrubs, but her shoes were off with her legs stretched out on the steps.

He got out of the SUV and kept a slow pace to the steps. No hurry translated to not urgent. Right?

“We already got the security upgrade notice from Operations. Are you here to tell us why?” The friendly tilt of Cait’s head delivered what he knew to be  false assurance. Quaid eyed her face, saw a flash in her eyes, and silently swore. Threats were her nemesis. Afghanistan had not been friendly to any of them. Hunt killed terrorists on seven continents for a living. His face was impassive and harder to read.

He sat on a step beneath them. The smell of roses and lavender should have been comforting, along with the rolling green grass, shrubs, and quiet neighborhood with Christmas lights blinking, but he was past easy solutions to his stress. “In-depth conversation with Alanna this morning. Ever talk specifics with a profiler?”

Cait raised a brow. “Can’t say I have.”

Hunt stayed quiet.

“So here it is. Keep in mind we have no proof, but he may have followed us right to your doorstep, knew where we were the whole time, the Uber, the Coronado Patton, and continued tracking us all the way to the LA Patton. We never saw him. But the threat was active, and it may not be probable, but it’s possible.”

Hunt rose to his feet. “Lucky for you I already upgraded the security here. But why upgrade QM’s now?”

“It costs us nothing, gains some time for us to execute what Alanna wants to do next.”

“Which is? Bait?” Hunt thinking two steps ahead didn’t surprise him.

“Yes.” He answered simply because emotion clogged his throat. He despised this plan but didn’t want to not support her ideas. Not just because of their relationship, but the fact she only talked to her boss in a field office full of people told him a lot about her work environment, and he hated that for her. He couldn’t move without one of six or seven people checking on him. Case in point? His ringing phone. Mackey. He opted out of the call and sent a quick text message.

Hunt helped Cait to her feet. “Let’s go inside.”

He followed them, stopping at the door to study the street.

“Nothing there,” Hunt advised. “All the cameras are on the monitors in the kitchen, and we have close to 360-degree coverage. All the entrances are secured. Alarms are green and weapons are loaded and in drawers at each door. Cait’s car is in the garage, and my truck is at Doog’s.” Hunt’s XO lived a six minute drive away.

“Frank home, too?” Quaid intended that as sarcasm, but it came out terse and expectant.

“Not at the moment, but he’ll tell me when he arrives.”

Quaid followed Cait to the kitchen and didn’t say anything when she started making sandwiches. She fed people in her kitchen. No excuses.

“He’s devolving, which meant nothing to me until Alanna explained it. Your people followed his assassinations. He has one method there, but I checked the dates. He hasn’t been credited with a killing for close to eighteen months. We’re still searching for victims from the serial side, but we have two we’re sure of, and Frank is searching police reports for more. Alanna’s pretty sure these searches will hit a deep pocket of kills.”

Cait set a sandwich in front of him, then one in front of Hunt. Hunt dug in. He never said no to food. “How’s Alanna?”

He forced a bite, intrigued by the ham, cheese, and jalapeno combination. He waited to answer, chewing while he assessed how to say what he wanted. “Ear still bothering her, but she’s not complaining. She’s mind deep into the information and writing things on her whiteboard that mean nothing to me. It’s leading her, though. Where? Don’t know. But her nights are chaotic with dreams.” Or the one she’d slept with him had been.

Cait gazed at Hunt. “I’ve experienced those dreams. Sleeping with Hunt helped mine, but alone was another story.”

“This is what we’re planning. I don’t want Safe Harbor or either of you to be collateral damage. I’m sorry I ever came here in the first place.”

“It got you armed, though, right? You were defenseless.” Hunt was always practical. “How’s your car?”

“Dead on arrival. It still runs, but I don’t care to mess with it. Somebody might want to fix it, but it won’t be me.”

“Part of shedding the old Quaid?” Cait ruffled his dark hair, and he took the sisterly act the way it was intended.

“Possibly.”

“It’s time.” She confirmed their months ago talk.

“Yes, it is.”

Hunt’s phone rang. Cait sighed. “Day off?”

“No such thing. Sorry, honey.” He tapped the green answer button and left the table.

Now was his chance, but Quaid hesitated, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Getting in over your head?”

“No. Getting right with my head.”

Cait patted his hand and went back for her sandwich and the cookie jar. Once she sat again, he blurted out what was bothering him.

“How do you know when pushing someone toward a home is the right thing to do?”

“I assume we’re talking about Alanna and your home?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t push her toward it. You make it safe so she’ll choose it.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Yes. Hunt needed time to turn off his internal warning blare every time he moved my direction and in every step we took to build this.”

He stayed quiet a minute, pushing his empty plate aside and going for the peanut butter blossoms in the cookie jar. “She has so much bad sitting behind her, yet she’s pushed through and built something solid. Only… she hesitates like someone constantly ready to leave and expecting no one to fight for her.”

Cait didn’t smile, didn’t placate, didn’t tease. “Hunt did that, too. Still does at times. Maybe she doesn’t want to leave, but doesn’t know how to stay.”

“And where does that leave me?”

“Stay. Every time.”

The similarities to what Elizabeth advised hit home.

How do you love someone who doesn’t believe home lasts? She had no reason to believe a safe place existed after the death of her parents, the death of her grandfather, and Mercer’s attack? Home held no surety for her because nobody gave it to her or helped her build one. Whit tried, but he couldn’t do it for himself.

He faced Cait, reality ripping off his blinders. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

She turned serious eyes to Hunt on the front porch. “The good stuff usually is.” She patted his shoulder and cleared his dirty dishes, then took a plastic bag from the cupboard and handed it to him. “Take some cookies home to Alanna.”

“Do cookies work?”

“It’s the little stuff. Gold.” Her private grin told him there was a story there, but he didn’t ask.

But he could do this. He could stay. Wanted to stay. And…he would trust that he could hold her to him and teach her how, too.

Chapter Fourteen

QM International Situation Brief:  13:10:15 PST 12/20 – San Diego HQ. Security Level 4 remains in effect. International operations secure. HQ access restricted to previously cleared personnel. Ϙ

“Bingo!” Kerry Jahle shouted loud enough to startle the room. “I think I’ve found him.”

The muted light of the night hours had shifted to the brightened daytime office ones and every cubicle was active. Mackey shifted his sunglasses to stare at her. He’d slouched in Quaid’s work cubicle and shut his eyes while the teams worked through the morning hours for possibilities. This searching the streets at night and working during business hours would be the death of him. Of course, if he would find an apartment and quit sleeping in his office or at his mother’s house, things might go smoother. Life was much easier when the Army took care of him. Of course, they’d expect him to kill in the worst clusterfucked scenarios as payment.

“Where?” His standard growl had little effect anymore. He cleared his throat. “Details, Kerry.” Of all the Operations people, he liked Kerry best. She stood at five-foot-three, had pale green eyes and a button nose with a bump that spoke of broken, the athletic build of a marathon runner, and a genius brain at technology and trivia. More importantly, she was like a German Shepherd sniffing out explosives with a side of Bulldog when she got told no.

“Our Lady of the Open Gate. It’s close to the East Village area. One of the old style mission churches built in 1910. I checked the website. Beautiful stained glass and mission architecture. The kind with real character not fake piety. They have meal service three times a day and cots available for safe sleeping areas.”

“Sounds like all of them we’ve checked.”

“Yeah, but this one has medical triage with no questions asked intake. I called them.”

Mackey dropped his feet and slipped his sunglasses over the edge of his collar. “Some of the others had medical, too.”

“This one is run by a former Army medic with permission from the priest. I figured Army to Army might play.”

“Jesus. If true, he’s been close all along. He had to know we were searching.”

She frowned in sympathy. “Man with his background probably doesn’t trust real well.”

Harrison came to his side. “Find him?”

“Strong possibility. I’ll go check it out.”

“You should sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll get on that after I find him.”

Harrison snorted. “I have one kid, Mac. It ain’t you. She’s sweet, seventeen, and ready for UCLA.”

“Congrats on that bill. Tell Drucker he’s going with me.”

“Good idea. If Whit’s still hurt, though, we may have a bigger problem, and we will need Cait.” Harrison snagged his phone from his pocket and typed a message.

“I’ll let Drucker decide. Let’s see if he’s there first.” He needed coffee or to mainline an energy drink. Fast.

Kerry stopped a moment to shove her blonde hair into a better ponytail. From the circles under her eyes, night hours were killing her, too. “I’m sending the church address to you. Father Eli Navarro. He’s been at the church twelve years. No stranger to street issues according to the church bio.”

“We’ve checked so many others. I’m not going to get my hopes up. Why did we miss this one? It’s right in the area.”

“I passed over it. Nobody answered the phone to confirm it was still operating the shelter. Their website is a wreck, so I bumped it to the bottom of the list. I should volunteer to fix it for them in my spare time.”

Mackey stared at her. “You have spare time?”

She laughed, then abruptly stopped. “Nope.”

Mackey gave her a thumbs up. “I’m out. I’ll keep you posted.” He walked to the door and paused when Harrison called to him.

“Shall I notify Quaid?”

“Let me check first and have a talk with the padre.”

The door opened, the knob pulling out of his hands. Drucker stopped, his eyes widened. “What’s up?”

Mackey skirted around him. “Best possibility so far in finding Whitaker. I want you with me in case he’s still injured. Grab Delaney, too. Make it fast.”

“Done. I’ll get my bag. We armed?”

“Yes. Quaid put us on lockdown and raised the security level.”

“Any reason?”

“Haven’t talked to him yet. Got the alert via Elizabeth.”

Drucker loped off, and Celissa came to his side. “Somebody has to take the meeting this morning with Logdon Industries.”

“Financial, right?”

“Yeah, usually Quaid intakes.”

“Make sure security has cleared them or reschedule it. Otherwise, see if Elizabeth and Harrison can handle the initial conversation. Call Quaid if you have to. I need an energy drink.”

“Day room refrigerator. There’s several. I stocked this morning.” The thirty-something woman was divorced, had three high school kids, a jerk-wad ex, and was back in college herself. She knew how to organize, how to say no, kicked ass as a mom, and kept the office running on high-octane.

Mackey went to the elevator, then stopped and came back. “Celissa, thanks. You’re keeping on top of a lot. It’s appreciated.” The woman literally held the swipe card to the inner sanctum of all of QM.

She grinned. “Is this the HR side of Mackey Reynolds?”

Mackey snorted. “Oh hell no. Just letting you know, I see you.”

“Thanks, boss. Go find this guy.” She strutted off, strong and steady like their entry sentry should be.

Impatience wasn’t usually in his skill set, or it hadn’t been for a long time. But this case was rubbing at the strict belief about ethical behavior he’d adapted ages ago. Mercer and Whit should have learned those same lessons. Honor. Integrity. Justice. Service. Brotherhood. Pounded in and reinforced. Killing people needed guardrails. After living and breathing that life for years, coming home and conforming to civilian standards was a bitch. Good thing he had QM.

Outside, Drucker and Delaney joined him. Within minutes, Mackey had them on the way to a destination he hoped would break the logjam of this case so they could finally go on the offensive.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid watched Alanna work while his mind raced. Sitting at the War Table, he watched her create another whiteboard on Mercer in his dining room with her phone to her ear. Her boss was reading information to her.

He studied each item she put on the board like there would be a test tomorrow. In actuality, if they were going to put Lani out there as bait, he wanted to assimilate every bit of what they had. Finished with the call, she disconnected.

“You’re growling again.” Lani chewed the end of the dry erase marker and glared at him. “Stop it.”

“This guy annoys the hell out of me. What is all this?”

She turned back to her board and stayed motionless. “He’s not my favorite person either. Service dates, dates of suspected assassinations, and where. Next step is to backtrack to civilian police sources and try to find other disappearances and deaths.”

The house was quiet. Niles had left to run errands. Conners and Rodriquez were doing a property sweep. Tane was on the cameras in the office. Quaid rose to go to her, but his phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, he noted Frank Walker’s name. Finally. “We might have help.”

He answered. “Frank.” Alanna came to him, watching his face closely. He put the phone on speaker. “On speaker with Alanna, too.”

“I have some answers and a bunch of suspicions. Where are you?”

“At my house.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“Good.” He rattled off the address. “I’ll tell security to let you in.”

“That tight, huh?”

“Not taking any chances.”

“Understood. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He disconnected.

“Short and brief.” Alanna was quiet and tense, and he didn’t like it. He pulled her back to him. “It’s either too sensitive or there’s too much for him to convey over the phone.”

She collapsed against him, her back to his chest. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and kiss her neck.

“Distraction?” Her quiet words made him smile.

“If we must.”

She turned in his arms and dropped her head to his chest. They stood wrapped close to each other for several minutes. “Why can’t I stop wanting to touch to you?”

A flash of satisfaction mixed with sharp lust streaked through him. “Chemistry, emotion, or fate. Take your pick.”

“Where are we going with this?”

“Are we talking killer or couple?”

She raised her head, tired eyes meeting his. “Couple. If you want.”

“Oh, I want.”

“Then what?”

“Honey, we don’t script it. We live it.”

“How?”

He sighed. Too bad it wasn’t as simple as locking themselves in his bedroom and tearing up the bed. “Day by day, love.”

She went on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, then dropped back to flat feet, confusion and something else in her eyes.

“That’s a nice start.” He cupped her face and pulled her close again, whispering against her lips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“Hard not to when I can’t figure out what I want.” She squeezed closer. She’d been let down by so many people. He did not plan to be one of them.

“Believe it or not, I understand. I’m struggling, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re learning to be friends, partners, intimate with one another. It’s not a one and done track. It’s a process, a journey. We’ll work it together.” Hell, he was most of the way in love with her, didn’t want to let her go, and didn’t have the courage to tell her. What’s your problem, Daniels? He hid his emotions from everybody for so long and for good reason. But he wasn’t hiding from Lani. Didn’t want to.

“After this is over…”

He interrupted her, not wanting to hear her say she was going back to her job and hasta la vista. “I have a habit of hiding I haven’t broken yet. Taking time and care is our best strategy.”

She tilted her head and kissed his chin. “Finishing my thoughts now? We met less than a month ago.”

“Some months are more intense than others.” He took her hand. “Let’s ditch the serial killer first. I’m not going anywhere, and our relationship needs undivided attention.”

She smiled, but a tentative one that told him he still had work to do. She wasn’t sure of him or his idea of home. Trust still needed some attention.

The doorbell rang, and he was cheated out of a heart soothing reassurance. He separated from her, closing off the emotions as simply as he always did. Fucking old habits. He stopped and held out a hand. “Let’s go meet Frank. War Table? Or is that still classified?”

She took his hand. “War Table. It’s been cleared for us.”

With Niles not there, Rodriguez opened the front door. Frank stepped in, all brusque purpose and cop attitude. “Spectacular house, Daniels. Agent Williams.”

Pleased, Quaid shook his hand. “I like it. Let’s go in the dining room. Coke, coffee?”

At the heavy oak table, Frank dropped a folder on the edge and ran his fingers over the scarred surface. “This is an amazing piece.”

Quaid grinned, caught off guard by Frank’s interest. “Military surplus auction.”

Frank whistled through his teeth and nodded. “Good find. I wouldn’t say no to a cold coke.”

“Alanna?”

She shook her head. “No more caffeine.”

He went to the kitchen, grabbed two cokes and a bottle of water and went back in record time. Why that was necessary he didn’t analyze.

Frank pulled one of the heavy chairs and sat. “Complicated search you gave me.”

“I hope you found something. I need more data.” Alanna had grabbed her own seat, and leaned on folded elbows to stare at Frank. “Do tell.”

Frank took the coke from Quaid and popped the top. “Yes, I found a file on a girl on the date you gave me. Case is cold. Not solved. No name. No suspects. I found your assault report, too. You should have told me.”

Alanna kept her face neutral and took her water from Quaid. “A test of sorts. You heard part of it in the alley, and I figured you would find it. It’s not something I easily talk about.”

Quaid settled next to her. He didn’t want Alanna taking any heat for protecting herself. It was the only strategy she had left in this messy situation. “And in the dates around the incident, any other missing or Jane Does?”

“Yes, a couple that fit. One from two weeks prior. One a month after.”

Alanna straightened in her chair. “Where?”

“Same downtown area, same age as our girls the other night.”

“They weren’t solved?”

“No, disappeared, but the locations and trace evidence match the incident report from yours. That’s what took me so long. I made the lab do a comparison. So we put in the system like evidence and did a run. Unfortunately, we discovered thirty-seven girls in the last fifteen years. They can’t be all his. Can they?” He handed over the two-page list of names with dates.

Alanna scanned through the information. “Doubtful. We can eliminate the dates we know are his assassination windows. He wouldn’t have been here.”

“Do you have those dates?” Frank looked from her to Quaid.

Alanna pointed at the whiteboard. “These details came from my boss. He’s been reviewing the cases with the classified materials and getting permission to release.”

Frank rose and studied the board. “This Mercer is a piece of work.”

“You won’t get an argument from us.” Quaid set his drink aside. He didn’t want caffeine either.

“Hand me a pencil.” She pointed, and he did what she asked. “Let’s eliminate a few of these names. Read me those dates, will you?”

Frank raised a brow, but did what she asked. When they were finished twenty-two names were eliminated. Twelve case files left. She handed the sheet back.

“Tell you anything?” Quaid stopped himself from touching Alanna. She wouldn’t appreciate the gesture in front of Frank, but reading her expression and body language, she needed the contact. He slipped his hand under the table to touch her thigh. Her leg twitched, but her posture relaxed.

“Well, twelve cases are better than thirty-seven. Eight of these are downtown, but the other four are the beach area. And, unfortunately, we still have no proof it was this Mercer.”

“Any trace evidence on file from those twelve.”

“No. No bodies. Disappearances only.”

Alanna sighed. “Besides the two you found who matched the trace evidence, we have nothing to compare.”

“We can make assumptions, but proof is not going to happen. What were you expecting?”

“Confirmation of his hunting ground and some answers to his methods.” She rubbed her eyes.

“It’s safe to say he likes to return to the scene of the crime. Four people assaulted in the same area, and three have disappeared. Why didn’t he disappear you?”

Alanna gazed at Quaid. “Whit stopped him.”

Quaid didn’t like the slump of her shoulders, and she was rubbing her left ear. “This guy has gone a long time without getting caught. If it was easy to trace this stuff back, someone else would have done it long ago. Let’s focus on what we have.”

Frank scratched his ear. “Like what?”

“Whit. We have to find Whit. An answer to what happened between the two of them might define the last four things he tried and why he failed.” Alanna turned back to the boards.

Quaid went to her side. “Whether it’s because he’s devolving or he has a definite agenda doesn’t matter. He’s after you. It’s his main objective. Two out of the three tries in the last few days have been about getting to you.”

Alanna put her back to the board and stared at him. “Agreed, but this way is taking too long. He’s in a window where the failures are pricking at his ego, and it’s the time to push him.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Push him, how?”

Quaid let out an exasperated breath. “By putting Alanna back out there for him to find.”

“Bait.”

He didn’t like the way Frank said the word.

“How? When? Where?” Frank rapid fire spit out the questions.

“To be determined.” Quaid’s phone beeped.

“I want in. So keep me in the loop.” Frank finished off his drink in a couple gulps while Quaid checked his phone.

“Mackey.” He hit the redial.

When he answered, Quaid kept it short. “What do you have?”

Mackey got right to the situation. “I have Whit. We found him. Our Lady of the Open Gate. We need Alanna. He’s being uncooperative.”

“Well, hell.” Quaid changed to speakerphone and turned to Alanna. “Mackey found Whit.”

She jerked and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Is he all right?”

Mac’s dry answer told Quaid nothing. “I wouldn’t describe him that way, but we need you.”

She handed the phone back. “Let’s go.”

He stopped her. “Get armed. We’re not taking a full team with us. We agreed we’d be prepared for this guy no matter what.”

Frank set the empty can aside. “I’ll tag along. Where?”

“Our Lady of the Open Gate.”

“I know where it is. I’ll meet you there.” Frank jogged to the entry and exited the front door. With his siren, he’d beat them to the scene.

He put the phone back to his ear. “Frank was here. He’s on his way. We’ll be right behind him.”

“Copy. Out.” Mackey signed off.

“Let’s go.”

He followed Alanna to the security room and issued instructions.

Locked and loaded, they went out the door in a rush.

What was it one of his Marine buddies used to say?

Lord willing and come what may.

&&&&&&&&&&

In the back seat of the SUV, Alanna rubbed her stomach. Her gut was on fire, churning with acid and nausea from anxiety, anger, and frantic worries. He’d been so close this whole time.

Our Lady of the Open Gate. She knew the exact address of the location. Had sought shelter there many times in her youth. Whit was so tuned in to the streets. The padre there had been, too. There was no way the old man didn’t know she was searching for him. There was at least a dozen people who would have passed information along. Enough people went through Our Lady, the whispers would have reached him. So he was either hurt bad, told himself some fantasy about this didn’t involve her, or had a bug up his ass about her safety.

Quaid sat next to her in the SUV. There was a perfectly good seat in the front, but he wouldn’t use it. “Keep an eye out for a tail, Tane. Last thing we need is a compromised scene with civilians in the midst of a confrontation.”

“Copy, boss.”

Alanna couldn’t help it. She turned and checked behind them. She was FBI and preferred facts to intuition. Mercer would have to go out of his way to be obvious, and he wasn’t that far gone. Unless he was in sniper mode, and he wouldn’t gain the personal satisfaction he craved from his rifle.

She caught Quaid’s eye on swinging forward again, but his flat, neutral expression told her nothing.

She squashed the unpredictable emotional wave, straightened the tuck of her striped shirt, and checked her gun was hidden by her jacket. “Is he hiding out there because he thinks he’s safe? Or has he heard I was combing the neighborhood, and he’s trying to protect me?”

“Questions to ask him.”

“Would Mackey have questioned him?”

“Doubt it. He has Drucker with him.” Quaid lifted his phone and pointed at the screen. “Text message. He’s making a medical assessment. They’re calling Cait.”

“That means he’s bad.”

“That means Dr. Cait has very specific guidelines.”

She knew those guidelines from her own injury. She had more of her hearing back because Cait stayed on top of it. She turned toward him and lowered her voice. “I’m a wreck. I didn’t anticipate getting this far even though it was what I wanted.”

“Has he ever gone off the grid before?”

“Yes, but I could always find him. He hated the intrusion, and every time I got a lecture. After college, I moved to the East Coast to go to Quantico, and I wasn’t here much. My first assignment put me in Florida. But when I moved back to LA six months ago, I noted he wasn’t as open with me as he used to be. I thought it was the timespan without seeing each other or the FBI badge.” She stopped right there because anything more was speculation. She had to deal in facts. It was a line she’d repeated to herself many times in the last six months.

“My take?”

She bit her lip.

He took her hand. “You grew up, became a professional, took care of yourself. You didn’t need him anymore. He’s reacting to the passage of time. Sounds like my mother.” Quaid checked his phone again.

“Your mother was worried about you?” She lowered her voice. Tane exited from the freeway. The mid-morning traffic on the side street calmed the road noise.

“My mother didn’t understand the Marines or the CIA or any of what I did in Afghanistan and didn’t want to. They loved jetting around the world and wanted me with them. She had no frame of reference for my desire to have a greater purpose or the…” Quaid cleared his throat. “…trauma that came with being in those dark, violent places. Probably similarities with Whit. He kept you in school, right?”

“Yes, and did what he could to keep me in college for the first couple years.”

“The thing rubbing my parents wrong was I grew up, too, and didn’t need them anymore.” Quaid closed his eyes for a second.

“When did you last see them?”

“Wylie’s funeral. I was still with the CIA, and we were burying Elizabeth’s Marine son. The whole time was a mess of arguments and hysteria.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Went silent. Much like Baxter’s mom has. My mother loudly expressed her grief and her cynicism of everything. Elizabeth hasn’t talked to them since.”

She knew what he was doing. Trying to keep her mind occupied so she didn’t spin out of control. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For cutting through the crap. Not the FBI agent right now.”

“Understandable. We’re almost there. Hold it together.”

Tane turned into the parking lot. Frank had indeed beat them, and one other QM car was parked beside him. The parking lot was empty, common for this time of day. Lunch was an hour off, and night hours started their busy time.

Quaid put a hand on her leg when she grabbed for the door handle. “Watch the surroundings. Let’s take extra care.”

She hated the reminder. “Not the time to make rookie mistakes.”

“No, it’s not. He could be out there, especially if your theory is true.” Quaid exited and took a long survey of the area, noting cars, trees, building heights, and noises. Tane was out and right behind him. “In the side door. One-two-three.”

Impatient, Alanna griped at him. “I’m not a protectee.”

“I beg to differ.” Quaid took her hand and helped her step to the pavement.

They hurried across the blacktop and skirted around the potholes, making for the side entrance with the Open Door Assistance Program sign. The church’s white stucco walls, red tile roof, and small bell tower were surrounded by a sparse courtyard with cracked bricks and stubborn bougainvillea that had been there from when she’d used the place as a teenager. She’d been obsessed with those pink flowers. The parishioners maintained the building to minimal standards, but put everything else into the homeless services for the surrounding neighborhood.

The man who was their padre stood under an awning by the door. Eli Navarro wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to forearm exposing tattoos and khaki pants with black boots. He had the dark Latin features common to the ancestors of this area and must have been a young man when he’d taken over here. Mackey stood beside him.

“Father, this is Alanna Williams and Quaid Daniels. As I’ve explained, Alanna has known Whit for a long time.”

She decided Quaid had pampered her long enough. “Give me a brief. How bad is he?”

Mackey moved closer, covering her. “Mercer hurt him pretty bad.”

“We offered to take him to a hospital, but he wouldn’t go,” Father Eli inserted.

Mackey glanced around, then returned her gaze. “Brucker says the wounds have developed a staph infection. Cait’s on her way. He’s going to have to be hospitalized. Probably need surgery.”

Quaid stopped him there. “Can we use UCSD or can the med bay handle it?”

“Doc already nixed the med bay. She wants him in a hospital. Rapid response to the infection will be critical.”

“We should get prepped with 24-hour security until we can move him to our med bay. I don’t want Mercer getting to him or him walking out on us again. I’ll text Harrison.” Quaid shifted to take care of the task.

“Has he said anything?” She looked from Mackey to Father Eli.

Father Eli went first. “He didn’t tell us what happened. Most of the people who come in injured are reluctant to say why and how. I assumed a common street fight. They happen all the time. He’s stayed to himself. Helped where he could. We usually let those with injuries stay.” He shrugged. “I heard rumors someone was searching for him. Didn’t realize it was you. As an organization we tend to mind our own business unless we suspect a serious crime. Whit wasn’t helping with facts, so we let it go.”

Mackey checked traffic. “He wouldn’t say anything to me. But he’s feverish and not lucid. Delaney and Brucker are with him. So is Frank.” He tipped his head to the SUV pulling in the lot. “There’s Cait.”

Father Eli’s brows raised. “You have a lot of people here. It’s going to scare off our residents. Is there a threat to Whit?”

Alanna went blunt. “Yes. We’ll get him out of here as soon as Dr. Hunter says the word. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sorry to say this, ma’am. But the decision is up to Whit and the SDPD.”

“I’ll work with the police. He’ll get the care he needs. I promise.”

“How do you know him?” Mackey had stepped away to meet Cait. Quaid was on the phone. But mindful of Frank’s presence with Whit, she exposed a bit of what he was to her.

“He raised me on these streets. A long time ago.” She brushed past him and went into the building. She needed to see Whit before Cait banned visitors.

A young woman pointed her to another hallway when she flashed her badge. She followed the voices. Drucker’s medical bag was on the floor beside the last door on the left. She stepped around it into the doorway.

Whit had a weapon pointed at Frank.

What?

Frank’s hands were raised. “Drop the weapon, Whitaker. It’s not necessary.”

Whit snarled.

Alanna’s temper erupted. “Are you out of your mind?”

Her angry shriek startled Whit.

Brucker dived and disarmed him.

The tussle exhausted the man, and he dropped back, wheezing.

She stepped to the cot. “Are you not in enough trouble already?”

“You can’t be here.” The old man’s hoarse voice ripped a ragged hole in her heart.

“Tough. I am here. Search him, Frank.” It hurt to make the request. This man had protected her in the past, but covering everyone in the room was critical. They were her team. “Jesus, Whit, you have enough problems without shooting a cop. What are you doing?”

“You can’t be here,” he interrupted. “He’ll find you.”

She stepped to the bed and leaned closer. “I’ve got news for you, old man. He’s already found me and tried to kill me and a friend of mine. I will hunt him down, and I am going to end this. You either help me or get out of the way.”

Whit’s eyes widened, and he licked dry lips. The bloodshot orbs, pale face with graying whiskers, and shaking hands were more symptoms of a serious medical problem. “No, no.”

“Yes, yes.”

Drucker finished his search and came up empty handed. “Is that your only weapon?”

Whit’s eyes darted to the bedside table. Frank saw it and pulled the drawer. Hunting knife.

“What do you bet this knife is from the fight?” Frank slapped on an evidence glove.

Alanna shook her head. The knife was Whit’s standby. Always had been. “No bet. It’s Whit’s.”

“I’ve got to test it. We’ll get it back to you.”

“You’re leaving me undefended.” Whit coughed and groaned. “He came at me.”

Alanna paused to calm herself. “You won’t be defenseless. While you handle your medical, there are people – friends of mine – who will keep you safe.”

“And it starts with me.”

Alanna turned to find Cait Hunter standing in the doorway, her medical bag in hand. “Dr. Hunter.”

“Are you done interrogating?” Her disgust was written all over her face. She was always about the patient.

“Not interrogating. Talking this man out of doing something stupid.” She stepped away, avoiding Whit’s gaze. This was not the man she knew. Older, sicker, and more defensive. Those things didn’t add up in her mind to what she knew of him.

Frank bagged the two weapons. “Howdy, neighbor. Good to see you.”

“Frank, I saw you this morning in the driveway.”

He chuckled. “So you did. I don’t like meeting you like this. Hunt know?”

“No, and he doesn’t need to until I tell him.”

Frank grinned. “Deal. I’ll take this and go, Williams. I’ll catch up to you.”

“Thanks, Sergeant. Charges?”

“Delirium. Let’s drop it. The man has enough troubles.”

“I owe you.”

“Not a chance. Law to law. That’s how this works.” He shifted around the full room and left.

She stepped to Cait. “Please take good care of him.”

“I always do.”

“I’ll wait in the hall. Drucker stay with Dr. Hunter, would you?” She was more than aware she didn’t work for QM and couldn’t order their people around. She crooked a finger at Delaney and pointed outside.

“Stay here and wait for Mackey, can you?”

“Yeah, but I’m at a disadvantage.” He lifted his wrapped arm and pointed at Cait. “She’ll kill me if I screw this surgery up.”

“I’ll tell Mackey. I’m guessing we’re moving him anyway.”

“If he cooperates.”

“He moves no matter what.”

“I heard that,” Whit yelled at her, his face hard and angry.

She stepped into his field of vision. “There are a lot of innocent people going in and out of this building. Are you willing to make them collateral damage in this war with Mercer? Are you?”

His eyes shifted, but the anger stayed. “No.”

“Stop fighting best practices, then.”

Cait stood, her stethoscope around her neck, and glanced between Alanna and Whit. “What she said, Mr. Whitaker. You’re a danger to everyone in the building.”

“Well, you led him here.”

Alanna sighed. If he thought she’d be derailed by the accusation, he didn’t understand the woman she was now. “You knew I was looking. You could have protected them all by coming to me. But you didn’t.” She stopped herself from spouting more. She knew better than this – professionally and personally. “I’ll get Mackey.”

She walked away. Had to. Anxiety fled, replaced by frustration.

She walked into the heated morning air and went right to Mackey. He remained impassive, but listened carefully. “Delaney and Cait need you. We can move him when you’re ready. I gave your people assignments. Sorry, it’s not my place.”

“No worries, Agent Williams. They know this case is yours.” He shifted around her, stopped briefly to squeeze her shoulder, and went inside.

Quaid stood with his arms crossed leaning against the church wall next to Father Eli.

The padre straightened. “I’ll go sooth the masses. Please tell me if I can help.”

“Thanks, Father. We’ll be leaving shortly.” Quaid stayed unmoving by the building, his eyes on her. “Didn’t go well?”

She gripped her head with both hands. “I would like to go into the parking lot and scream at the top of my lungs. Come get me, get it over with! How do you feel about that?”

Quaid screwed up his mouth in an illusion of thinking. “As your partner, I’ll have your back anywhere, any time, and the idea has a flicker of merit. As the other guy who likes kissing you and holding you when you sleep…hell no. Stupid idea. You choose.”

That he wasn’t telling her what to do sank in. She settled and made the right choice. Stepping close, she met him with the same thought. “Stupid idea. We’re going to have to be smarter, more subtle.”

He pulled her into a small alcove, loosely holding her close. “And more cunning.”

“Manipulative, shrewd, and skill-driven.”

“Whit give you anything?”

“No, only said he was protecting me. Told me multiple times I shouldn’t be here. He had a gun on Frank.”

Quaid blew out an exasperated breath. “I bet Frank didn’t take that well.”

“He didn’t arrest him, but I’m not placing bets that detente was achieved.”

“Whit’s mad at you.”

“Yes, but I don’t care. Mercer tried to kill you!”

“He tried to kill you, too.”

“We have more at stake than Whit. Whit’s beef is old. Ours is too fresh to ignore. I didn’t get to ask him about Iraq. He looks awful, and Cait wasn’t happy I talked to him before she could examine him.”

“Did you ever wonder why we hired her?”

“No. One meeting with her and I realized what an asset she is. But I also knew she’d stop the questioning.”

“Why didn’t he come to you?”

“Yeah, or at least send a message.”

“Answered to your satisfaction?”

“No, not even close. But he’s going to be out of commission for a few hours.”

“Better with him alive than dying in this place from infection. Keep the priority in order.”

“Understood.”

Quaid’s phone buzzed. She eased away so he could answer.

“Remy, what’s up? What?” Quaid hit the speaker button and Alanna caught the last bit.

“Elizabeth and Harrison are stuck in the elevator. Front entrance is destroyed. Parnell is badly injured – tried to stop the car. Craig is buried in rubble. He was in the office behind the explosion. Celissa has every floor locked tight. Fire department and police are on the way.”

“I’m coming. Fifteen out.” He clicked off and hit speed dial to Mackey.

Alanna grabbed his jacket. “What happened?”

“Car crashed through the entry way of QM and exploded in the lobby.”

“Mercer. Shit.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter Fifteen

QM International Flash Alert: 16:35:05 PST 12/20 – San Diego HQ. IMMINENT DANGER. HQ Facility attacked. Security Level 5 in effect. HQ Operations suspended. Personnel roll call initiated. Ϙ

During Quaid’s first Afghanistan tour with the Marines, his unit had an explosives expert named Haslow. Some of the men affectionately called him Boomer. But privately, Quaid always thought of him as Crazy Dave. The man had no fear, loved mixing and matching, and could identify what the explosive was by the smell and the results.

“I wish the Navy had nailed this guy before he ever came back here,” he muttered.

Tane was driving like a bat with its wings on fire. Alanna insisted on staying with her partner. The commitment stuck in the tender spot reserved for friends and more so to her.

Alanna laid a hand over his. “The military and intelligence agencies are only searching for an assassin. They don’t have the right mix for his motivation.”

“I knew a guy in my unit better with explosives than this.”

“It’s not his primary assassination protocol. This is a distraction. He has us running around. It’s time we adjusted.”

“You’re formulating a plan.”

“Yes, I need your tactical brain, too. I have no military experience.”

They hit the parking lot of QM on two wheels. Cop cars, fire department littered the way. There was no way to get close.

“Go around to the dock for the motor bay. We’ll go in the back.”

Tane followed instructions, swerving around cops trying to stop them. Wasn’t happening. Tane pulled within three parking spaces of the door, slammed the car into park and exited with Quaid. They reached the door before the cop cars did.

Dialing his phone, he connected with Celissa. “Spring the lock on the Motor Bay. I’m here.”

“Freeze.”

Alanna flashed her credentials. “FBI.” The lock clicked and the door opened.

“Send Remy through to the motor bay.” Quaid pointed at the cop. “Tell the Fire Department to move a crew back here. They can get to the elevator controls from stairs to the sixth floor. Tane, wait for them and take them up.”

Alanna stepped to the cop. “Is the fire in front contained?”

“No, not yet.”

“Driver in the car?”

“No, remote,” the woman officer answered.

“Fucking figures,” Quaid swore. “Get Frank Walker here now.”

The woman’s face soured, but he had no time.

Alanna stepped in. “We’re working with Sergeant Walker on this case.” By her body posture and expression, the cop wasn’t sure about leaving them alone.

Quaid didn’t care. “I’m going up. Let’s do a welfare check on everyone.”

Remy appeared at the door. “Missing all the fun, boss.”

“Craig? Parnell?”

“Paramedics have Parnell. Craig is still talking to us on his cellphone waiting to be extracted. Elizabeth and Harrison, too. The elevator was on four. The tremor from the explosion stopped it between three and four. It hasn’t fallen. They aren’t in danger from the fire unless the flames hit the shaft. Fire department is working on that. The system crashed, so figuring out who was in the building will rely on Celissa’s memory. Mac coming?”

“Not yet. We found Whit. He’s sticking with him to UCSD with Dr. Cait. Pull two people and get them there to relieve him. We’re gonna need Mac.”

“We need Brucker, too,” Remy announced. “Minor injuries. Most are turning away paramedics.”

A fire truck and another police car streaked around the building with a roar.

Alanna turned to the cop. “Is anybody searching the neighborhood? What’s your name?”

“Bridget Nelsen.”

“Nelsen, are you only focused on the building?”

“No, there’s two teams doing a canvas. So far, nothing.”

“He’s not going to have left anything behind.” Quaid’s irritation was palpable.

“I’d agree, but he’s devolving, remember? He doesn’t give a shit. He expects us to immediately figure out he’s the culprit.”

The cop eyed the building. “Not disagreeing, ma’am. But are you sure this is the person?”

“Oh yeah. Same type of explosive blew me into a pool at the LA Patton Downtown, seven days ago. It’s not his only skill either. He’s a sniper and well-known assassin. Warn your people to be careful.” Alanna shifted to cover Quaid’s back.

A black Suburban with lights flashing screeched to a stop at the back door. Frank.

He hurried from the car to the door, stopping at Nelsen’s side. “I’m taking the scene. Can you monitor in front?”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded at the rest of the group and left.

Frank turned to Quaid. “How sure are you there are no other explosives?”

“You think he breached the building and planted more? I’d say no. Am I willing to take the risk? No.”

“We’ll deploy a perimeter and watch the street for other car threats. Let’s get the bomb unit here and search the building.”

Quaid shook his head. “Not waiting for them. I’m going to third floor to Celissa. Alanna is with me. Remy go with Frank. Give him access where he needs it. We’ll use the bomb squad when they get here. Find Patina and Welker and have them search every vehicle in the motor pool and clear for bombs and weapons.”

“Copy, boss.”

Quaid took the stairs two at a time, Alanna on his heels. A faint hint of smoke and burning electronics greeted them, but dispersed as they went upward.

Guns draw for unfriendlies, the precaution grated. This was as much safe harbor as Cait’s house, and the attack pissed him off.

“You behind me, Williams?”

“On your six.” Her dry response hinted at irritation at his question. He’d explain later. He was comfortable with her behind him like she was Mackey or Hunt. He’d come a long way since the first attempt on their lives.

They met no one until they entered the third floor. With the electronics out, the third floor door was locked tight. Quaid shuffled his phone to call Operations.

Casey Miner manually opened the door. “Good. A boss is here. Don’t get me wrong. Celissa is doing great, but she’s not operational.”

“Understood. We’ll deal with that later. Anything I need to know?”

“All I have are fire department and police updates.”

“I got those outside. Classified documents locked down?”

“Yes. Skiff is secured. Computer systems are offline, but Kerry is working on rerouting.”

“Let me finish the sweep, and I’ll be in.”

Quaid put his gun away. Obviously the threat was from the car. Celissa had been moved away from the main entrance, the security door having been dropped, and she was using Mackey’s office.

“I’m working on it.” Celissa shoved her strawberry blonde hair out of her face and scribbled notes on her iPad at a frantic pace. “I remember everyone who is in the building and had all personnel report to the day room so I can get a visual on every person.”

He leaned over her shoulder and studied the list. These people could be deployed to help when she finished the check. “Let’s keep an eye on the fire department updates in case everyone needs to evacuate.”

“Right.”

Alanna came to her other side. “Are you okay?”

“Scared the bejesus out of me, the explosion. But I’m in one piece. My kids…”

“Where are they and what do you need?”

“I was supposed to leave early and pick them up, but I called the school and had my mother get them. Are they safe going home?”

“We won’t take chances. We’ll send somebody.”

“They can go to my mother’s.”

Alanna patted her on the back. “We’ll get them covered any way necessary, until we have the scope of this.” She turned to him. “I can help Celissa confirm personnel, if you want.”

He wanted her close, but it made no sense. “That would help. We need Niles, too. Put him with Tinkerton to lock down the armory until we confirm HQ is secure and have him work his magic with some meals.”

“I’ll call him.” She left with her phone at her right ear, and he had a moment to be thankful she hadn’t been here for this explosion. Her left ear couldn’t take it.

In Operations, he reassessed jobs. Confirmation of all personnel across all locales and their safety was already in the works. Plus, they needed to form security details to check Celissa’s family and QM family homes. A review of security footage and adding personnel to canvas the neighborhood was also on his mental to-do list. Medical research and manufacturing in their area didn’t  leave anyone to see anything, but they’d check anyway.

Miner came to his side. “Fire department has the fourth floor elevator open, and they are extracting Harrison and Elizabeth. They’ll be up in a minute.”

“Are either of them injured?”

“No, Elizabeth is pissed, though.”

“To be expected.” She’d been known to go for her shotgun when in a temper.

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Elizabeth walked into Operations. Quaid let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t show to either of them.

Elizabeth kissed Quaid’s cheek, and he held her for a long minute.

She patted his arm. “I’m all right. Harry took good care of me. What can I do?”

“Alanna is upstairs in the dayroom helping Celissa. I want a full status on everything before dark.”

“I’m on that.” She left the room, heels in hand.

Harry propped hands on his hips and assessed the room. “Where we at?”

“I need someone supervising fire department and police activity. Can you manage? I want to know the second they find anything. Frank has the bomb squad searching the building.”

“Yes, I’ll check in.”

Mackey stepped into the room, taking over the management of the two-man details. Soon, they were running like the well-maintained engine they were. Even Frank allowed them to work with his cops to check everything.

After several hours, Quaid stopped to reflect and chug an energy drink. Though the man had tried days ago to kill him, too, he’d shifted all the reasoning over to Alanna being in danger and detached from his own safety.

This was different.

Mercer attacked his business, something he and Mac had worked to build and grow for five years, and his aunt had been in the building. He thought of most of these people as family – and if you came at him and threatened all that, you were tar-ge-ted.

He was done playing it safe to protect Alanna.

She was chomping to go after Mercer, too, making the decision that much easier. The trick was to keep it professional and be smart and tactical.

Mercer might want the anger and the chaos. He wasn’t going to get it.

Because the FBI agent/profiler had the killer figured out and would work hand-and-gun with him to trap the son of a bitch.

He was a destroyer who deserved what was coming at him. And God dammit, he was about to meet the warriors who would achieve his destruction.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief: 00:25:05 PST 12/21- San Diego HQ. All personnel accounted for and safe. Threat remains active. Security level 5 remains in effect. All personnel and families exercise extreme caution regardless of location. Ϙ

The sparse report flashed on Alanna’s text messages. She’d been added to QM’s notification system, and she gobbled up the information like a dry plant sucked water.

She made a list of everything she knew from memory.

Security stayed tight like an oh-dark-thirty op.

Efficient. Skilled. Focused.

Four fire department crews had put out the fire and stayed on scene until fire cleanup was finished. Paramedics transported two people.

The police department searched the area and reported no witness information. Security camera checks were still in progress.

Niles arrived as requested, armed and with food for everyone. The spread was basic, portable, and filling, and included a lot of peanut butter and jelly with chocolate chip cookies.

Braun made a call to his father and netted agreement for his family construction company to begin repairs in the morning to seal the front entrance.

In the meantime, the police had yanked the smoldering car from the lobby and taken it to the lab.

The parking lot entrances had been blocked with concrete barriers, and the downed fence where the car had plowed through was covered with one of their supply trucks. Roving teams patrolled the exterior. All the building’s functioning doors were double secured.

Celissa went home with two team members to protect her. Christmas waited for no crazy killer, and she had family needing attention.

Elizabeth had insisted on going home, too, disgusted with her time in the elevator and the smoke smell in her clothes. Harrison and two more team members tagged along at her heels.

Brucker had three team members in the med-bay with minor injuries. Parnell, the team member who had tried to stop the car in the parking lot, had a concussion and a broken leg. He along with Craig were in UCSD Hospital to spend the night. Craig’s explosion injuries weren’t severe, but the wall had collapsed on him. Condition of both men: Stable. Everyone else had been released to quarters so the extra beds in the medical area could be used for those in need of sleep.

Kerry was rolled in a sleeping bag and passed out on Elizabeth’s office sofa after hours working to re-establish computer and security tracking. Part of the building had significant damage and no electricity which complicated rewiring and restoration.

The day room resembled a slumber party; no one wanted to leave.

Niles had staked out one of the recliners. It kept him close for anyone who needed his assistance, but let him snooze in the meantime.

Twice the usual number of people were on duty.

Cait’s house had been checked and a SEAL team member planted in their house on the red sofa.

Elizabeth’s house had been cleared. Quaid’s house was secured with Tane and Conners monitoring.

Mac slept smack in the middle of the chaos on the floor in Operations. His mother’s safety was confirmed. She’d been moved to the Coronado Patton, unhappy but mothering two team members. Barker had arrived to personally supervise her safety.

In his office, Quaid was silent and pacing.

Alanna pushed aside every bit of guilt. This wasn’t on her. It was Mercer, going rogue. But, if she hadn’t used this consult to try to find Whit, none of this would have happened.

She was currently hotwired to Cait who was monitoring Whit with four team members there and her SEAL husband at her side. Whit had come from surgery in good shape, but would stay under until morning when Cait promised she’d wake him for Alanna.

She called her boss. She squirmed as he went quiet and weathered deadly angry questions at the news, then she filed a report and scheduled more help for the morning.

She talked to Frank and acknowledged the work he was already doing to find the murderous bastard.

The bomb squad went through the building, motor pool, and outside areas. All clear.

Armory was on partial lockdown but was available for team members.

At this point, her worry centered on Quaid.

His silence. Not his normal response, but to be expected. There was a lot to consider. But the pacing…Quaid was more contained than that. He didn’t lose control of himself in act or speech, and he never gave anything away.

She scooted forward on his office sofa and stood. “Let’s go upstairs to my quarters.” Getting him to leave the building would be a no-go.

“You go on up.”

“Nope. We’re both going.” She grabbed his hand and pulled.

He came to her and stared, eyes blank.

“Come on. This place is as covered as it can be, and we need to recharge.” She didn’t like the neutral expression on his face. It was her first time seeing him unraveled.

“You’ll still be right here. Seconds down the stairs, not miles away, and my bed is more comfortable than this sofa.”

He gazed around the office. She didn’t want him dwelling here anymore. She laced her fingers with his and leaned in to kiss his neck, his jaw, his mouth. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

He followed her. Still silent, but cooperating. At the door, she met Remy. “We’re going to 501. Get Mackey off the floor in Operations and on his office sofa for some solid sleep.”

“Can do. I was checking on what’s available. Quarters are all full, some with extras, too.” Remy eyed Quaid. “Get some rest.”

Alanna answered for him. “You, too. You can use Quaid’s office.”

“I’m on until sunrise. I’ll get some, too. Promise.”

Quaid finally snapped out of it. “Good plan. Call me if anything needs attention.”

“We’re good, boss.” He continued on a walk through of the admin floor and Alanna coaxed Quaid up the side stairwell to the fifth floor. They didn’t hurry, and they didn’t talk.

It left Alanna time to think.

The future all boiled down to one thing:  right time, right person.

Mercer’s attack had led her to study criminal psychology. Her teenage self had viewed a murder, suffered a horrific beating, and she still had nightmares and fears. She should have walked away from those studies and taken on something easier like art history, financial accounting, or biochemistry. Instead, she’d soldiered on. But she protected herself always and veered away from people and permanence, friends, and home even in her adulthood. One would have thought it would ease up, but it didn’t.

The difficulties had led her to the FBI in the hope she would get stronger, think smarter, and protect herself better. Personally, she’d stayed stuck with all her emotions locked tight. Now, she stood at QM next to this man, and a huge chasm opened – like past and future blending with those difficulties and winding to a new place where it might be possible to let all those emotions free.

A place where the girl, the professional, and the woman could all be safe and at peace. Confronting herself with a bit of honesty, she trembled. She yearned for that. Always had.

All the stairwell doors were propped to stay open, but she was able to code into her suite. She strategically flicked on a side light, keeping the muted mood. The bed had been made, the white comforter straight and proper across the frame, and the room smelled of lemon cleaner. Nothing had changed. Her bag was still dumped in the corner, her clothes were all hung in the open closet, and her laptop was on the work counter. Quaid followed her in, but walked on to the bed and went silent again, his hands in the pockets of his chino pants. The door snapped shut, locked against the world.

She went to him and eased her arms around his middle, laying her head on his back. “I thought I’d never have this. It hurt.”

He turned his head and gazed at her, calm and curious. “Have what?”

“Somebody I can trust completely in a place where I’m safe.” He twisted around and wrapped her in his arms. He didn’t talk or rock her, stroke her or justify an acceptance or a refusal. He stood quiet, absorbing, leaning, considering, deciding.

She tipped her head to look in his eyes, and Quaid sealed his lips to hers, letting the kiss go on and on. “I’m yours,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her with lips and tongue and no regard for time.

She was the only thing stopping this. She either let go and reached for what she wanted, or she had regrets. She wanted yes for her answer to this man. Yes. Yes. Yes.

She fingered his shirt, and without looking, she started on the first button, then the second. She expected he might stop her, but she wasn’t after the notch for the playboy.

She wanted him.

The silent. The deadly. The charming. The partner. Him.

But he didn’t stop her. He groaned when her fingers brushed his warm skin, and he wrestled out of the shirt when the buttons were loose. He tipped her head and studied her eyes, the deep brown reflecting an emotion she hoped was mirrored in her own.

Silent decision made, he helped her shed her striped blouse and unfastened her blue lace bra in one motion. His palms were right there when the fabric fell away to cup and stroke breasts she’d always thought were too big. Her heart shot to a staccato rhythm while the play of his hands had her gasping for breath.

“Lani?”

She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to answer questions, or stop the crescendo building inside her. She wanted him, wanted it all. She took his mouth with an urgency caused by his closeness. Arms around his shoulders, she lifted herself, tiptoes giving her leverage to touch his skin.

He solved the problem. He took them to the bed – with a surety of movement that showed he had a plan. Fire streaked through her, sucking away every reticence, every bit of nerves. When his weight landed, everywhere he touched tingled. His mouth feasted on her neck – control gone.

She tugged on his silver belt buckle, not fighting the impulse. She wanted wrapped around him. She wanted to move together in the unfamiliar dance of lovemaking. The nebulous need had taunted her all her adult life.

The fear wasn’t there.

She was safe.

He’d handle it.

But she shouldn’t sell him short. He might want her to touch him, too. He dropped a hand to hers and helped with the belt, letting her handle the zipper.

He stood to toss his boots, then placed his cellphone on the nightstand and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. She didn’t shy away from her curiosity. He had warm-toned skin, scars that needed loving attention, and maleness begging for touch.

He let her look with a quirk to his mouth, then pulled her feet closer. Black work shoes tossed off, he teased her out of her black slacks and blue panties. Expecting a playboy grin at her nakedness, his serious, loving expression buoyed her confidence. She dropped her hands, overriding the need to shield, and let him look.

“Oh, Jesus, Lani. You’re beautiful.” On top of her again, he eased her legs around his body. “You know that, right?”

“Only your saying so matters to me.” Her fingers itched to trace his shoulders, the muscle lines, the curves. So she did. He drew a sharp breath, swearing quietly. His hardness pressed at her soft opening, and she took a moment to savor. She’d read lines mirroring this reality in romance novels, but the experience was so much more seductive.

He lifted her hands away and trapped them on the bed. “Not so fast, honey.”

She sighed. “Yes, show me…”

“I know what you need. Let me take care of you.” He cupped her left breast and kissed the nipple, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth. She’d always been convinced men were the only ones obsessed with breasts. But by the time he gave her right breast the same attention, she’d lost herself in a haze of restless need and knew the truth. Girls could want, too.

Somewhere in there, he’d released her hands, and she caressed his flanks and ass, while tasting the skin across his muscled chest. Having intimate hands on him was better than anything she’d ever experienced and helped crumble her walls.

His hands caressed her hips, and his mouth followed across her stomach, dipping into hollows and leaving sweet sensations on soft flesh. She bit her lip and sighed with the shiver exploding from nipples to toes. When his fingers stroked the most intimate part of her, she came off the bed with a small scream.

“Easy, Lani.” He shifted to kiss her again, his tongue tracing her lips, tasting her mouth, turning her inside out. His fingers slipped inside her, first one then another – stroking, teasing the heat higher, higher. The ache was unbearable.

She dropped her legs from around his hips and let go. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Hold tight, Wildcat.” He kissed her again, and she answered with abandon, nipping at his lips and tasting him over and over. He pulled his fingers from inside her, then the length of him was there. He pushed in slowly and gave her time to adjust, but she was crazy with an aching heat, burning hotter ever second. She wanted harder, faster, but the tightness surprised her. She gave way to his experience.

Each little bit stretched and burned, yet raised the Oh-My-God-finish-this factor. When the pain came, she jerked upward into his arms and hissed. He eased back, but she wouldn’t let him. “In, God, please, Quaid.”

He took her at her instruction and slid deep before pausing to let her breathe. She didn’t need it. “More.”

“You are so demanding,” he teased. “Let’s do this.”

He carefully pulled out, and she moaned her dissatisfaction until he drove back in. The rhythm came faster and faster, and she had no idea what her body was doing. Floating on sensation, she gazed at Quaid’s face and found concentration and devotion there.

She went with his simple guidance because his every move wound her tighter and tighter. More than aware of his strength, she put her hands of his hips and let the give and take roll through every fiber of her being. She exploded in a burning tumble of sensation, surprised and breathless. Gasping, she moaned. The need to keep him fully in her persisted. She lifted a leg around him, letting him move as he needed, but keeping him close. God! Hers. He slid deep one last time and climaxed; she could feel the moment and hear it in his voice, then he collapsed on her with a moan that mirrored her own. “Jesus, Lani.”

“Oh, yes.”

Long minutes passed. She wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. Life was complicated and when the hell would there be more time for this. But once definitely wasn’t enough.

His rough voice planted her firmly back in reality. “Are you okay?”

She swiped at the tears, surprised by their presence. “No. I’m stunned. I’m bedazzled. I’m hooked.”

Quaid laughed. “Unusual, but I like it.” He sobered, wiping her tears. “This wasn’t the way I thought our first time would go.”

“So you thought about it?” She kissed his jaw, reluctant to drop her leg and release him.

He shrugged, his hand stroking over her nude body. “Obviously, you did, too.”

“Not consciously. It was more of a decision. Right person.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Right person.”

She licked her lips. “What now? Again?”

“No. You’re going to be sore. We need to wait.”

“How do you know?”

“Honey, trust me. We do not need to explain that complication to Cait.” Quaid separated from her, and she missed him immediately. He went to the bathroom, came back with items to clean them both, then shoved at the covers and adjusted the pillows.

She watched, bemused.

He coaxed her to move into a sleeping position. Pulling her against him, he tucked the covers around them. “And there is no one and done here, Lani,”

“Thank God.”

“This from the woman who told me a week ago not to touch her.” He smirked, and settled in comfort.

She let the warmth of him lull her to sleep. “Right person. Right time,” she whispered.

Quaid may have agreed.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief: 05:45:15 PST 12/22 – San Diego HQ. Headquarters remains in lockdown. Security Level 5 remains in effect. International operations continue. All personnel utilize chain of command for information. Ϙ

Getting woken by his phone chirping was not how Quaid wanted to start his day. Alanna’s legs were tangled with his. Her soft skin held just so against his was the best thing to ease him into what was destined to be a complicated day. But her head was under her pillow, he had half a blanket, and he was reluctant to wake her. The woman slept like crap. So did he. Not last night, though. She was a bed hog, and he let her take it because they were here together and the rest was unimportant.

His phone quietly buzzed again. Remy’s name popped with the 5:22 on the screen. He eased away. She made noises at the movement, but he tucked the blanket around her and she settled. The text message requested assistance. The construction crew had arrived early. He needed a boss and was reluctant to wake Mackey who’d managed several problems in the night. Remy must not have slept at all.

Guilt flashed. He shoved the thought away. He would not let the idea grab ahold and kill how content he was this morning. He and Lani deserved the time together. Needed it, if truth be told. This thing between them was fragile. Building stronger was going to time and lots of one-on-one. Secrets. Memories. Goals. Sex. They needed time for it all.

He answered Remy. Let them assess. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

He used the flashlight on his phone to find his clothes – the dirty ones on the floor – and made a face. He’d years ago dropped the habit of field clothes being worn five times because there was no laundry service in a warzone and no butler.

He had backups here. They were in his locker on the fourth floor. A pit stop and a quick shower were necessary. He dressed quickly, but kept glancing at Lani, not wanting to wake her, but also not wanting to leave without kissing her goodbye.

He sat on the bed to put on his shoes. The bedding rustled, and she slipped a hand over his back. “What happened?”

“Remy needs me. No emergency. Go back to sleep.” He stared into sleepy blue eyes, a face wrinkled with heavy sleep, tousled whiskey hair – his hand had been tangled in it most of the night, and a warm, naked body leaning against him.

He choked. He didn’t want to move.

“What time is it?” She whispered against his ear, and the air tickled.

“Five thirty.”

She glanced at the windows. “Sun rising?”

“Not yet.” He was as hard as a bloody steel rod and talking his body into not doing what was such an obvious move tore him to pieces. Business or woman?

That stopped him flat. He’d never faced such a choice before. He walked away from women without a thought. He wouldn’t be walking away from Lani.

He settled on a compromise. Hand in her hair again, he kissed her, taking long moments to enjoy how she snuggled close, ran fingers through his hair, and sighed against his lips.

“I promise, we’ll get back to this. But Remy needs help.”

“Go. I’ll join you in a bit.”

He dropped his forehead to hers and held for one more moment. She tipped her face and kissed him again. “Thank you for last night.”

“Thank you, Wildcat.” He rose. Her hands slid off his body. The regret bit hard.

He went out the door fast because damn he was not that strong. He went straight to the locker room on the fourth floor. Thank God, there was water. He opted for lukewarm. That didn’t settle him, but he did his usual shower routine, toweled off, and dressed. Jeans, clean briefs, and a QM T-shirt were the uniform of the day. He refused to shave as a protest against a day not spent in bed with Lani.

He snagged a good morning from a grumpy Niles, a muffin, and a cup of coffee.

By the time he hit the ground floor to meet Remy, he was ready to rebuild – only this time the construction would be done with a deeper understanding of their threat matrix. With five years behind them and more complicated cases in progress, every corner would be assessed to give the people who believed in QM the upgraded safety they deserved.

Chapter Sixteen

Alanna’s phone was in the back pocket of her slacks. On the floor. She smiled against the pillow at the why, and was currently as comfortable as she’d ever been in her life. Good timing didn’t happen for her. Usually. Last night had been a miracle. One she didn’t know she badly needed. She lifted her slacks and pulled the phone from the pocket, planning to get an update on Whit. There was a message already there from Cait.

He’s awake. You can see him any time. ICU fourth floor.

Thank God. She had to talk to him. She also had to find a way to ditch this anger before she asked questions. He’d avoided her for weeks, wouldn’t let her help him, and the slight burned like a thousand bee stings. His time in the military and on the streets had made him introverted and defensive, but he was protective as hell. As the years rolled by, he worsened in protecting himself, too. She was lucky he’d taken her under his wing. Anger wouldn’t coax his story out of him.

She threw off the covers, cracked a blind to enjoy the early morning sunrise, and tested for hot water in the shower. She stood under the spray longer than she should have, lost in memories of long periods without water, food, clothes – all the basic necessities. It had been a long, hard slog to earn those things for herself. She bounced from those memories to yesterday’s bombing to next steps for hunting Mercer to an obscure fact about Seth Tenney and his missing niece. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Learn about good sex, sleep five straight hours with no wakeups, and stay against Quaid the whole time gave her an excuse to be scattered.

She pawed through her bag and settled on black jeans and her FBI t-shirt. God, she needed to go to her apartment in LA and get clothes. She could say something to Niles, but damn she’d been taking care of herself for a long time. It went against everything she’d built to let Niles buy and hand her things using Quaid’s money. She would smile and thank him, but if she was staying around, she couldn’t live like that.

Was she staying around? Rich boy. Poor Girl.

No. Wrong framing.

Retired warrior. FBI Agent. They were real with each other, and the past didn’t make the future. Something she was slow to understand.

Coffee in hand and a breakfast bar in the other, she entered the third floor admin area from the stairwell. Things were popping in Operations, but Harry had it in hand, so she went around to Quaid’s office. The owner group of Quaid, Mackey, and Elizabeth stood together in the middle of the office. She didn’t want to interrupt, but getting to the hospital was growing more urgent. She stopped and admitted it. She was afraid Whit would escape, walk off, disappear again. The man was deathly sick and in no shape to be running in the streets or fighting Mercer.

Quaid raised a hand and signaled her to his side.

“Good morning, Alanna.” Elizabeth clinked her coffee mug to hers. “We survived another day of this mayhem.”

Alanna smiled. “Yes, we did.” She turned her gaze to Quaid. “I need to get to the hospital. Whit is awake.”

“I’ll take you.”

She glanced from Mackey to Elizabeth. “I don’t want to pull you away from what you’re needed for here.”

Mackey tapped off a chime on his phone. “We’re getting everything back in place. We need a plan for what’s next.”

“I have to talk to my boss.”

“Why?” Elizabeth straightened the cuffs on a gorgeous black pinstriped suit.

“The next phase needs his permission to implement.” She sighed at their expressions. “I want a statewide manhunt. California Highway Patrol, FBI, SDPD, SD Sheriff, QM, Marshall Service, Warrant squad. The works. I want to make the atmosphere in San Diego so toxic it flushes him out. He’ll do one of two things. Run. And we’ll have the airports, trains, buses, freeways covered. Or he’ll confront. Us. If we set it up right.”

Quaid’s mouth opened and closed, his face clouding. “Who are you planning on bait?”

“You and me. We’ve pissed him off. Let’s push.”

“Shoot to kill?” Mackey’s frown said how much he liked this plan.

“At the team’s discretion. We’re not going into this alone. Hence, why I need my boss’s cooperation. Frank could be useful, too.”

“Good plan.” Harrison stood in the doorway listening. “Navy might want in. They’ve hunted him a long time.”

Having not considered the scope, she took a moment to think. The Navy had gathered all the assassin information, identified his signature. She wanted every direction he could go covered.

“Done. Make a call.” Quaid answered when she didn’t.

Alanna’s commitment to the plan settled. “Agreed. Let me give Ryker a warning.”

Quaid grabbed her hand when she would have left.

He looked to the other three. “Give us a minute, can you?”

“Not a problem.” Mackey followed Harrison out.

Elizabeth paused, then kissed her cheek. “Be safe. I hope you get the answers you want.”

She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Oh, no worries about me.” She kissed Quaid’s cheek and shut the office door behind her.

Quaid put hands on her hips and pulled her against him. “Let’s talk this through.”

Well, at least he wasn’t going overprotective on her.

“My reasoning is simple. We should pull all the agencies into this because the man is not only a one-method serial killer. He’s an assassin, and we need expertise on our side that tells him he’s targeted and hunted.”

“Agreed. But will he try for us again?”

“I’m not sure, but he believes he’s smarter, more skilled. And in some ways he is, but he’s on a plan I don’t understand.”

“Maybe Whit can help?”

“We won’t know until I talk to him.”

“Let’s go.” He went to his desk and handed her a weapon.

“One more thing.” She stayed in place but tracked him. Crazy to want to know exactly where he was.

“What?”

“You can’t keep handing me guns. I have several of my own. Somewhere in this schedule, I need to go to my apartment in LA and get them and some more clothes.” She hadn’t meant to be so adamant.

“Understood. We’ll figure it out. Your current service weapon is with Tinkerton. She was cleaning and reloading it. This is my backup. We can square this later.” He handed off her credentials and badge.

She grabbed his hand. “I’m grateful you’ve covered me, but I’ve fired my weapons repeatedly. I know their feel and what they’ll do. With all the threat, I’m better equipped with my own on my belt.”

“I get it. Might have to send Niles to your apartment.”

“He does so much.” She expelled a breath, not happy with the plan. She’d put things in order when she left, but she’d expected to be back, not to be stuck in San Diego for a week.

“He’s glad to do it, and it’s what I pay him for.”

“He’s family and you’d let him. It has nothing to do with pay.”

“True. But I’ve insisted on the salary because it’s right and fair.”

“Is he paid by you or QM?”

“Both.”

She leaned in. “There’s a story there. I’ll need to hear details. But not today. Come on. We need to go. My ear is bothering me, too. And Cait’s going to meet me and check it. I popped some Tylenol after my shower, but it’s not enough.”

Quaid gave her a stern look. “You should have told me that first. Everything else all right?”

“Yes.” She emphasized the word so he wouldn’t worry there either. “I think you exaggerated how sore I’d be. I’m fine.”

His smile was full of masculine ego. “Good to know.”

&&&&&&&&&&

It was a process to get past all the concrete barricades in the parking lot, but Alanna let Quaid deal with it.

QM security – Bailey Tanner and Grady Welker – were in front of the SUV. She and Quaid were in the back.

She was having trouble keeping her emotions in check. Wheels were in motion to implement her plan, so in the privacy of the backseat, she put a call in to Ryker. It took several minutes to get through.

“Explain this to me, Williams.”

“Navy called already? Harrison didn’t waste any time.” She opened her eyes wide at Quaid.

“You’re putting a trap into play. For an international assassin.”

“He attacked QM yesterday.”

“Yes, you told me. Sounds like a PD matter.”

Exasperated, she swallowed a pithy comment. Quaid slid a hand to her knee.

She put a hand over his. “I would like to request we implement a manhunt. I want to flush this rat out of his maze.”

“And if I don’t agree, you’ll go around me?”

“I didn’t go around you. I want everybody searching for him. San Diego Police are already involved. FBI is already involved. We need San Diego County Sheriff, US Marshall Service, and the California Highway Patrol.”

“And all cities around San Diego. These manhunts don’t operate in a vacuum.”

“It’s what we need to flush him out.” The conversation was  long and involved a good deal of justifying what she wanted to do. After walking through all the investigative steps, her patience was gone. The SUV pulled into the parking garage at UCSD by the Emergency Division. Tanner parked the vehicle in the first slot she could find and gave Alanna a thumbs up. The support of the former agent settled her down. She could convince Ryker. He made things difficult so the agents would keep on the legal side of their actions.

Her boss sighed. “Step Two? You’re drawing him out. To what end?”

“He’ll either try to run and get snared or turn back and try for me again.”

“You’re gambling he’s losing his focus, counting on him to abandon years of discipline to get to you.”

“He’s managed his compulsions by assassinating people, and its not working for him anymore. He hasn’t been credited with a kill for close to eighteen months. He’s reverting back to a pre-military killing pattern.”

“Your not confronting him alone.” Ryker’s protective snarl surprised her. “I’ll assign a team from here.”

“I’m going to have a full law enforcement contingency and QM International behind me. We will catch him.”

“How was your conversation with Whitaker?”

“At the hospital to see him now.”

“I need your contact at the police department.”

“Sergeant Frank Walker.”

“I’ll handle the rest. QM in?”

“Yes. Do you need to hear directly from the boss?”

“Please.”

She handed the phone to Quaid. “He wants confirmation.”

Quaid took the phone, letting her stick close so she could hear with her good ear. “Ryker. Daniels here. We’re in.”

“We have strict rules of engagement on these manhunts.”

“We have rules of conduct, too.”

“Let Williams guide you.”

“Acceptable.”

“Fine. Let me talk to her again.”

Quaid handed off the phone. “He’s all yours,” he whispered sotto voce.

“Sir.” With approval imminent, her stomach turned over like a plane rolling in turbulent air. At fifteen, she’d never imagined this as the end of the nightmare.

“Keep me posted. No gaps, no winging it.”

“Copy. Fully my intention, sir. I want this by the book.”

“Get him then.” He disconnected.

She gripped her phone. “Not sure how it’s blending together, but it’s in motion. We’ll need somebody to coordinate all this.”

With no hesitation, Quaid gave her a name. “Mackey.”

Alanna studied him. “Any reason? I mean, I agree. But why?”

“There isn’t anybody who doesn’t respect Mac within minutes of meeting him, and he has the background to manage multiple moving pieces. That’s all I can say.”

“Classified, huh?”

“So high up there ain’t oxygen.”

“Works for me.” She grinned. “You tell him.”

Quaid snorted. “Let’s go talk to Whit.” Trailed by Tanner and Welker, they made their way to another challenge.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna was getting her eardrum checked with Cait and the emergency room attending. Whit was having an MRI and would be in his room in thirty minutes. Quaid loitered in the hall, eyes on the cubicle she was in. He fingered his phone, planning how to tell Mac he’d volunteered him to be in the midst of a manhunt. His friend might rub his hands together in glee or…color the air blue with swear-words in multiple languages. The man was unpredictable.

He hit speed dial.

Mackey answered. “What else blew up?”

Quaid laughed. “Nothing. I volunteered you for something you’re either going to love or kill me for.”

“And that would be?”

“Alanna got approval from Ryker for an area-wide manhunt. We’re going to need somebody to coordinate all the agencies. That’s you, my friend.”

“Motherfucker,” he drawled slowly.

“We need somebody who’ll keep these people on point and keep the information flowing.”

“Who is the contact?”

“Ryker. Can our Operations handle this?”

“Yes.”

That was Mac. To the point. He knew all their people – who they were at work and home, pushed to get the best out of them, and stood behind them during the shit stuff.

“I’ll pull Kerry to help. We need to hire another computer person.”

“Agreed. Navy apparently talked to Ryker after Harry called. You should include him if you need someone.”

“Already on the list. Anything else?”

“Frank. Pull him in, too. He’s been involved from the parking lot attempt. I don’t want any other agencies shoving us out. It’s our case.”

“Understood. Out.”

Quaid disconnected and dialed Niles. “Sir, what do you need?”

“We’re about to start something.”

“Manhunt. I heard.”

“Alanna wants clothes and her weapons from her apartment in LA. Are you comfortable with handling the pickup?”

“Of course. I assume I’ll need keys and instructions.”

“Are you still at QM?”

“Yes, arranged lunch. Dinner is being catered. I’ve arranged deliveries for all meals tomorrow to get the crew through one more day. I’ll be returning home tonight.”

“Us, too. Alanna can talk with you at home.”

“May I ask pointblank what your intentions are with Miss Alanna?”

“That sounded protective.” Niles had never questioned him about his ‘dates’ in their entire association.

“You don’t bring women home. That you brought her to the house speaks.”

He didn’t disagree. “Niles, we’re working this through in slow stages. For the moment, we’re together. Do what you can to help her.”

“Understood. You should keep her.”

“Trying.”

“Don’t try. That should be a given.” He disconnected without his usual signoff.

Niles words lingered. Was it a given? He’d been acting like it – live it and worry about the rest later. Oh boy, he wasn’t going to assume any such thing.

The curtain pulled back and Cait came out with the ER doctor. She waved the other man off and came to Quaid’s side.

“She okay?” She was so tough, and she never complained. He wouldn’t know she was hurting unless she told him.

“Well, it could be better, but we’re making progress.”

Alanna walked through the curtain and came to his side.

Cait patted her arm. “Let me go put in the order. We’ll get those meds and have them ready when you come back from talking to Whit. Don’t tire him.”

“I need a few answers. We won’t be long.” She sought him with her eyes.

He gave a short, encouraging nod. “Let’s go.”

Cait gave them a thumbs up. “Find me when you’re done.”

“If we can.” He walked Alanna to the elevator.

“I like her.”

Quaid gazed back at Cait. “I like her, too. And not because she personally held my guts together in Afghanistan. She’s good people.”

They had the elevator to themselves. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to him.”

“Now or never. Question him like the profiler you are. This isn’t about when you were fifteen. It’s about him. His past could help us.”

“He doesn’t sound good. She’s worried about this staph infection.”

“We’ll have to hope the medication gives him a fighting chance.”

Off the elevator, they noted Whit’s room immediately. Patina and a man she didn’t know were minding the door.

“Boss. Ms. Williams. He’s back from tests.” Patina pushed open the door.

“Thanks, guys.” She took several steps and stopped.

Quaid stepped in behind her and didn’t resist putting a hand on her shoulder.

Whit looked awful. His color was gray, nasal cannulas delivered oxygen through his nose, an IV dripped fluids, and a monitor beeped in a slow rhythm. His eyes were closed. Assessing, Quaid noted the number of bandages. Multiple stab wounds had gone untreated. No wonder he had an infection. He wasn’t blaming Open Door. They’d done what Whit would let them. He couldn’t even be irritated with the man. He didn’t live his life, have his trauma, or understand the choices he’d had to make.

Alanna stepped forward, and he let his hand drop.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna stood lost in the first moment she’d met Whit. He’d been dressed in old, but clean clothes – jeans and a gray plaid shirt with a weapon bulge, a full backpack, a long beard mixed with gray, and piercing blue eyes. He’d advised her to stick with him and moved her away from a bad situation with no fuss. From then on, he’d frequently sought her out until she gave in and stayed with him. Without him, she wouldn’t have finished school. But Quaid was right. Her questions couldn’t be mired in those dark, desperate days after Mercer assaulted her. They should be based on the scope of all she knew. She was different. Whit was different. And Mercer was off his rocker.

Quaid stood at her back, and the temptation was strong to lean on him. Dig deep, girl.

She stepped to his bed and studied the lines of his face, bruises that were taking too long to fade, and hair grayed with age. His eyes popped open. The blue-piercing, intelligent gaze was there, honed by maturity and still fierce.

She rejected her first question – why?

“You shouldn’t be here.” His raspy whisper rattled in his chest. “Too dangerous.”

“FBI agent. Danger is my profession. As I told you yesterday, he’s hunting me, too, and I’m going to use every asset I have to take him out.”

“He likes control. But he doesn’t operate in the states.”

She pulled a chair closer. “Not true. He’s tried for you, tried for me, tried for Quaid.” She pointed at the door. “And he’s killed here before.”

“That was a long time ago.” He coughed, groaned in pain, and turned away.

She didn’t want to discuss her methodology or go deeper into facts they already had. She needed Iraq. “I’ve studied his service record. Yours, too. Plus, I have access to a Skiff full of information on his assassinations over the last fifteen years. Military personnel. World leaders. But you know something else, don’t you? Tell me. It might help me find him.”

“Not talking about that.”

“But it’s living in your memories. Popping out at you when you least want it to. What happened in Iraq 2005?”

Whit’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed, and his lips firmed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” How to convince him? Maybe she had to talk about methodology.

“I don’t think Esme was his first kill. His serial-killing habits started before his military service. I think you guessed or can prove it.” Whit turned away.

“Yes, I’m calling it what it was. Serial-killing. We’re searching those records, but you had a conflict with him from the very beginning of your service, and again in Iraq in 2005, you made a report that has been partially redacted. What was it?”

He closed his eyes. “He yammered all the time. How the man maintained operational security, I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t. He talked all the time, about guns, about missions, about food, and about local gossip. He had what he called his sweet honey. I figured she was a local prostitute, and I warned him about messing with the locals. We were the same rank, so I had no leverage against his behavior. And Iraq then…” His voice trailed off.

A tingle spiraled to her gut. “Was bad. Go on.”

“One of our soldiers died, not in battle. It was ruled an accidental death. I’m not sure of all the details anymore, but I thought Merc had killed him from what he told me, bragging like. No accident about it. Command disagreed with my suspicions about the death. Mercer took it personal. Might have been his first assassination work, but I can’t confirm or deny. I got out after the second confrontation with him, similar situation, and figured that ended it. He found me here on the streets, and told me I was right about everything. Went for Esme. Attacked you. But nobody cared.”

Alanna met Quaid’s eyes where he stood next to the closed door. He asked the next question like he’d read her mind. “Why did he come back for you?”

Whit eyed the stranger in the room like a viper.

Quaid moved to the end of the bed. “Daniels. Our team found you.”

“Our team?”

“QM.”

“Delaney told me.”

Alanna didn’t like the way Whit stared at Quaid, but let it go. Quaid could take care of himself. “So why come back for you?”

Whit fussed with his gown. “The man holds a grudge like no other, needs an audience to his killing brilliance if you ask me. But revenge isn’t out of his skillset.”

She pointed at his wounds. “And what was this about?”

Whit’s eyes hardened. “Unfinished business.”

“Why hide from me? You knew I was looking.” She finally couldn’t stop the question and didn’t try.

“You don’t need the likes of this messing with your new life.”

Alanna’s mouth fell open. “The likes of this is what I do for a living, Whit. And I’m trained to do it, authorized to do it by the FBI.”

He vehemently shook his head. “You should drop this. Just being stubborn like you were when you were fifteen.” His heart monitor beeped faster.

“Not fifteen anymore, and not a chance.” She rose from her chair and carefully put it in place. There was no more to gain here, and she would be mindful of Cait’s warning.

Quaid’s phone dinged. He read the text message aloud. “Mackey. Manhunt preparations are in the works. Frank wants to see us.”

“You should protect her better than this.” Whit’s mouth was a hard line again, his face a mask of anger, and his words whipped across the empty space like a bullet traveling to a target.

Quaid was unfazed and leaned closer to Whit’s face. “She can protect herself. And I’m not going to stop her from completing a case she has neatly walked to the closing act. Smart plays are better than old memories.”

“So you’ll do nothing.”

“I’ve partnered with her for the last seven days, and I would again if need be. Anytime. Anywhere. She’s handled herself like the skilled, smart professional she is, and if you discount that, I don’t know what to say to you. Mercer is doing the same, and he’s about to find out the error of his ways.”

“Big talk.”

Alanna stepped in. He’d offered to be her partner again. God. This man had a way of making her feel secure. “It’s not big talk. It’s methodical investigative work that builds a solid case, then finds the bad guy. The police do it, the FBI does it, and QM does it. And this time he won’t walk away.”

She took Quaid’s arm. “Let’s go visit Frank.” She turned back to Whit. “You get some sleep and do what Dr. Hunter tells you to. And if you disappear on me again, I won’t be gentle about how I hunt you down. That’s a part of who I am, too. Rest.” She squeezed his leg under the covers and walked to the door.

Quaid anticipated her move and had it opened. He followed her out. The door swished shut, and she stopped in the circle with Quaid in front of her and Bailey and Welker on either side. His other security had stepped away. The nurses and patients flowed through the morning routine, quiet and unaware.

Quaid shifted and put his hands on her shoulders. “Did any of this help?”

Alanna’s thoughts tumbled one right after the other. “Do you know how many troops were in Iraq in 2005, in that area alone? If he killed one, there will be others. And sweet honey? Identifying any women now is a non-starter.” She drew a deep breath, calm just a sliver away.

Quaid shifted his hands and rubbed her neck. “We’d have to find contacts in Iraq who can search for murders in the population. Hunt might have a few under the table.”

“It’s not going to change anything. I’m guessing we’ll find at least one. And once again we’ll be without the bodies for tangible proof. Who’s to say this was only U.S. troops he picked on. It could have been local militia, too. He called Esme sweet honey.”

Quaid squeezed her shoulders in surprise. “What?”

“Right before I attacked him, intoned like a goodbye.” That memory ripped into old hurt and left her trembling.

“From all the info we have, we can’t make any predictions about how deep this goes.”

“Exactly. But I’m right about this. He works for control over every situation, and he’s losing it. These last few have been messy, public, and emotional attempts, not the strategy of a professional. He’s not hunting anymore. He’s reacting. We can use that.”

“How?”

“Manhunt plus a target for him to pivot to. It’ll work. If he’s reacting, he can be provoked.”

She liked proof, logic, and facts that led to a solid conclusion. It was in her training.

This time her gut was saying the same thing.

Chapter Seventeen

QM International Situation Brief:  14:00:30 PST 12/23 – San Diego HQ. Manhunt active. HQ coordinating with law enforcement and military agencies. Security Level 5 remains in effect. All personnel maintain heightened vigilance. Ϙ

QM Operations folded aside a temporary wall and took over the adjoining conference room on the third floor. Mackey and Ryker stood in front of a map of Southern California and were speaking intensely in a shorthand only both of them understood. Her crime boards had been shifted from Quaid’s office into the room some time ago. Her notes were all under scrutiny. She wasn’t close enough to hear their conversations even with perfect hearing, which she didn’t have; frankly, her mind was elsewhere.

Sweet honey. Did Mercer call all his victims that before he killed them? Could they use the endearment to goad him? She mulled the question while twirling her coffee cup on the table.

Kerry Jahle came to the table and sat next to her. “I may have found something.”

“Mercer?”

She shook her head. “No, Esme.” I did a search of the two girls who disappeared around the time Esme did. The ones Sergeant Walker gave you.”

Alanna’s eyes widened, then she took a good look at Kerry. “Did you sleep?”

The woman grinned. “Yes, I did. Turbo charged me.”

“Noted. Tell me.”

“I did a search of the names. Not much in the police files on the two. Whether the lack was minimal effort, there wasn’t much back then, or the coordinated way we search now gave me an advantage, I don’t know. But I did some searching of the area’s high school year books, news reports, addresses, family, DMV, and what there was of social media in that time frame. I may have found one of them in our morgue search.”

Alanna leaned closer. “What?”

“Yeah, already passed it on to Sergeant Walker.”

“Tell me. Which girl? And which high school?”

Kerry slid a piece of paper across the table.

Alanna read the information, pulled a marker from her pocket, and went to the boards. Updating the information with another death agitated the anger she kept pushing aside.

Kerry followed her, eyes scanning the boards, too.

Alanna turned and faced her, taking a minute to settle. Several eyes in the room were on her. “Any other details?”

“Not about this. I may have found a name. Seth Tenney’s wife, Barb? It’s her boyfriend.”

Alanna blew out a breath, exasperation joining the anger. “Why am I not surprised?”

Kerry rolled her eyes. “It’s always family, right?”

Alanna propped a hand on her hip. “Not the perfect couple. Secrets. Dammit. Let’s put a pin in the info until we finish this manhunt, but we’ll need to dig out everything we can find about the boyfriend and begin a series of interviews with the family. I’ll get a warrant for his phone and his financials, and I’ll have to hear the whole sordid story before I can build justification.” Alanna sighed. “Sometimes when a case goes cold, you have to come at it sideways. This is good, Kerry. Very FBI of you, honestly.”

She grinned. “Thanks. I try. Also, all the morgue checks were negative. I’ve circled all the way into Northern California, Nevada, and Arizona. Nothing matches. For either girl – Esme or Serena. Lots of unclaimed Jane Does, but none fit. Sorry. We live in a very disturbed society.”

“Keeps us both in jobs.”

Kerry agreed. “Holler if you need me to work on anything else.” She left the room at a fast clip.

Quaid watched her with a question in his eyes, but she shook her head. She couldn’t talk about Esme or the Tenney case. She needed square, targeted focus on Mercer.

The room was full. How they got representatives from the agencies here this fast she’d have to talk with Mackey about. California Highway Patrol was in the room, same with the San Diego Sheriff’s Department. Frank arrived with a cup of coffee in hand.

Two other men arrived. One was a U.S. Marshall she knew by sight, but had never met. The other man she didn’t know. Frank took them to the circle of men at the front of the room. She watched their body language, but had no interest in joining the conversation. Preoccupied, strategizing, and planning kept her focus.

Quaid came to her side. His eyes swept over her. He didn’t touch her or in any way show they were involved. “You ready, partner?”

Her lip curled in a slight smile. Exactly the right tone. Alanna studied the room full of men. “I’m ready, but can we pull Bailey Tanner into this?”

Quaid frowned. “Sure. Why?”

“Former FBI. Fugitive task force. Might be helpful.”

“I’ll make it happen.” He kept his eyes on her face, but she kept her features as blank as possible. There was no time for any serious discussions.

“I’m good, Quaid. Let’s do this.”

He took her at her word and left to get Bailey. When he came back, Hunt was behind him. Civilian clothes made him appear taller, less threatening, which was a lie. The man was pretty damn intimidating in his Navy uniform, too. If it was true special operators could identify other special operators anywhere from the vibe, Mercer would sense it. But the civilian clothes might mask the truth for a minute.

“Bailey’s coming.” Quaid went to Mackey, but Hunt stopped beside her. With feet spread, he crossed his arms and searched from board to board assimilating the information.

Curious, Alanna wondered what he saw. “Any restrictions on your participation, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Technically, I can’t shoot anybody. Leaves the field wide open.” He didn’t shift pose, but his attention changed. Leave it to a SEAL to study the people, too. “Heavy hitters.”

“Yes. He’s not getting away again.” The vow was more for her than him.

“He killed a friend of mine.” His quiet voice was scarier than his military one. His face stayed neutral, eyes blank, but his voice carried the deep mourning and respect for whoever the friend had been.

She choked on tears, all the years of sorrow, frustration, and fear shoving at her control. “He killed a friend of mine, too.”

“He’s not getting away again.” Hunt repeated her words with the same solemn vow she’d given. For Steven.”

“We’re in agreement. For Esme. Let’s get this show started. Do you know everybody?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be introduced or would you rather be the silent warrior in the room?”

He smirked. “Just Hunt. No ranks, no designation, no explanations. Can we manage that?”

“Yes. I’m grateful for your support.”

“I’m stunned by what I see here. We didn’t have a full picture, did we?”

“No, but enough to let me figure the rest out. Whit filled in a couple blanks. He killed at least one soldier during Iraq in 2005. It was the start of his assassinations.”

“Higher command discounted the report because of their history of animosity.”

“Whit has a different story we should take into consideration. I believe we’re going to find civilian victims in Iraq, too.”

“Harrison told me. I dumped that info on a good person to find out.”

“Excellent. We’re not going to need anything in depth. Our search will happen anyway. But a fuller picture will make the after action better.”

“Agreed.”

Mackey signaled to them, and they advanced on the group. It felt right to have Hunt at her back and Quaid and Mackey at her sides. Bailey joined them, shutting the door behind her.

Mackey swept a hand to the front. “We all know why we’re here. Let’s hammer out the details. Williams, the floor is yours.”

She walked to the front, finding her cop posture in the few steps and ignoring the boards she knew by heart. “Let’s get this done.”

She could see the steps clearly, but the trap eluded her. All she knew was her attempt to be sweet honey had to be flawless, and her gun better be loaded. He wouldn’t give second chances.

&&&&&&&&&&

Mackey listened carefully to Alanna’s brief to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. With what he affectionately called his wolf brain, he watched the other people in the room. The only ones he was sure of were Harrison, Quaid, Hunt, and Frank. Bailey and Remy could qualify, too.

The room went quiet. Everyone stared at him.

Mackey let the silence ride a minute. Only one question was left unanswered. “Does he know you’re FBI? Best guess.” He studied Alanna’s face. Sometimes she said more with her expressions than she did with her words.

She didn’t answer right off, which told Mackey several things. She considered her answers carefully. It would be the truth whether she liked it or not. And the personal side – this woman was a fitting match for his friend and business partner.

“Yes, he has to.”

Calm. Decisive. But this was too close to home. A problem for a private moment, not a room full of law enforcement professionals she had to work with.

He stepped forward. He could give Quaid a hard time for volunteering him, but it wasn’t the first time he’d coordinated a mass of people in a search. Afghanistan came to mind – Marines, Green Beret, Special Operations in a hunt for weapons to support the SEAL mission of finding IQS came to mind. Hunt’s mission. They’d succeeded on all counts.

They would succeed here, too. “Do not underestimate this man. He uses explosives, knives, and his sniper rifle to adapt to the killing moment. He may have paid assassin work, but he also tracks, rapes, and kills girls and women. His suspected murder list of service members is extensive, too. This isn’t only a San Diego problem. He’s been all over the world, served in the military as a camouflage for what he was doing. His list of kills might be called impressive by others, but they are an abomination to those of us who follow rules of engagement and the law. What Agent Williams sidestepped is that she is a target. We’ll be actively working to draw him out, but remember this. He won’t care if its Christmas and doesn’t care about collateral damage. He doesn’t care what weapon he uses. He thinks he’s smarter than you, that no one can stop him. If you get in the way, he will kill you no matter what plans you had with your kid after work.”

He’d debated long and quietly about this next, but it had to be stated. “We are not releasing this for public help for all these reasons. Keep engaged and make sure everyone who is searching understands. When in doubt, take him out. Report to the operational HQ with any sightings or negative updates. We want it all. Any questions?”

“Why are you handling this? Why not regular law enforcement channels?” The U.S. Marshall looked to Ryker.

Mackey answered for the lead groups. “Because we have the resources, and we’ve been in this from the initial assassination attempt. With the help of Sergeant Walker, we’ve been tearing apart this city. We only catch him by working together.”

Frank shifted from where he was standing against the wall. “We’ve started a new grid search downtown where we believe he’s frequently been. Let’s not overlap. Let’s talk about search areas.”

Some of the men were eyeing Hunt next to Frank, but Mackey had no intention of explaining the depth of interest involved. Let them assume Hunt worked for Frank. He, Quaid, and Harrison alone knew how good Hunt was at analyzing, gathering, and well, hunting.

Frank led the next part of the discussion. Mackey shifted to Hunt’s side. “Explain something to me.”

Hunt raised a brow. “That’s not how this works.”

Mackey stifled a swear word. “Don’t tell me the Navy doesn’t want him.”

“They do. I do. Rules?”

“We’re going to make our own.”

“This trap? Not real keen on putting Alanna and Quaid in the midst of this mess.”

“They’re already there. The man is actively trying to kill Alanna.”

“He’s missing a lot for somebody trying to hit a target.”

Mackey conceded the point without answering. ‘I’m the first to admit, even listening to the depth of what we’ve uncovered, we still don’t have everything. But if we wait for more pieces, we screw the pooch.”

Hunt tipped his head, his eyes scoping the room. “What’s next?”

“I’m putting you with Quaid and Alanna.”

“Protection?”

“Backup. I’m tired of them being fucking alone every time he hits, and you are a face he won’t recognize. What’s your command directive?”

“No weapons.”

Mackey looked him up and down. “Friend, your whole body is a weapon.”

“Can’t use it either. NCIS Agent Borell is here with Ryker. But believe me when I say, I will step in and damn the consequences.”

“The Navy isn’t going to make any fuss if he ends up dead.”

Harrison joined them, having caught the end of the conversation. “Gregg will cover you however is needed, and so will we.”

“You don’t have to…”

Mackey slapped his arm. “Sorry, my friend. Not your decision.”

He moved off. Harrison and Hunt shifted to the corner of the room and went silent.

Quaid worked his way around the room. Alanna was talking to the Highway Patrol. Time to pull them and work out the bait – the when, the where, and the what would draw Mercer best. He went to Remy.

“Get with Tinkerton and do a review of our weapons. Make sure we have everything prepped we’re going to need.”

Remy widened his eyes. “And that would be the bazooka, the drone, and the deadly viruses.” The man grinned, his sense of humor complimenting his innocent expression.

Mackey smirked. “If we have any of those, you’re fired.”

Remy pushed out of his chair. “Bet you. The bazooka is a probable. The drone a maybe. You do not understand Tinkerton’s hobbies.” His deep laugh had others looking as he walked out of the room.

Quaid left his conversation with the U.S. Marshall and joined him. “A bazooka?”

“Never know what we’re going to need. Mercer did blow Alanna through a plate glass window.”

“True. My office. Planning?”

“You sure you want to let her be bait?”

“Let her? Oh, that won’t be something I’m saying to her. If her boss okays it, she’ll do it. I better be her ride or die.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He walked away.

Mackey made sure Quaid didn’t see him smile.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Communication Check:  00:00:12  PST 12/25 – San Diego HQ. Security Level reduced to 4. HQ Secure. Manhunt remains active. Per usual holiday instructions: Be merry. Be safe. Ϙ

Quaid made his way to the back stairs of his house with no hall lights and silently cursed the woman who woke in the middle of the night and wandered. Eleven days into this relationship and it felt like ten years – like he knew her every thought process and every conclusion. And when he woke and she wasn’t beside him, protector Quaid came out, swinging into the room bearing arms.

Planning hadn’t gone a direction he liked. Not sure what direction would have been satisfactory, he kept his mouth shut. He was trying to use tactical Quaid, not-the-man-you-sleep-with brain. They’d hashed the whole operation at QM, and everybody had an opinion until Alanna finally called it. She had a combative spark in her eyes. In the short time he’d worked with her, that look signaled no good results if they kept pushing.

In the kitchen, he paused by the empty chairs and clean counters. Not here. So far, she hadn’t been one who made herself comfortable anywhere in his house except his bedroom. He wasn’t complaining, but his room was the only place he could coax her to unwind. They had to work on the belonging concept.

He proceeded to the dining room on silent feet. Cool tile, chilled air from the air conditioning, and humming from the security office seemed normal enough. The lights on the Christmas tree in the living room twinkled softly, and they’d kept the holiday low-key. No gifts, good food, a quiet swim at dusk. No security alerts, so the crew wasn’t worried.

There she was, seated at the War Table, sticky notes spread out in front of her in a colorful planning pattern, and her head cradled on her arms.

Asleep?

He couldn’t tell. The chandelier was off, but the side lights accenting the art on the walls was on low. The dining room faced the back terrace which was hidden in dark shadows. No one had turned on the illuminating lights for the patio and pool. Or somebody had turned them off. A problem for later.

He walked with care to the table, not wanting to startle her, but she didn’t move. Asleep confirmed. He touched her hair, then wrapped the rich brunette strand around his finger.

Yes, he had a long repertoire with women. He could pull off touching and massages, kisses and necking, sex as hot as the night was, but he’d stopped those random encounters because he didn’t like who he was when he had a different woman on his arm every night. Playboy Quaid was a paper tiger.

In some circles, warrior Quaid wasn’t acceptable, but he’d proved to himself and others long ago that he was. With Alanna, he was going forward without any reticence, jumping all in. He might believe he understood her, but how to respond was always a dilemma. He loved the challenge, and every time he had to take a new path to meet her, he had to shed more of the artificial Quaid.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Her raspy whisper set relief in motion right to his gut where worry agitated. He released her hair and pulled out a chair, then sat as close to her as he could. “Honey, I need to teach you bed etiquette.”

She lifted her head and squinted at him. “What?”

“Wake me.”

“Why? You were sleeping soundly. I wasn’t.”

“And yet I woke and couldn’t find you.” He slid an arm around her back. To her credit she didn’t yelp when he yanked her to his lap. She wrapped her arm around his neck and molded her body to his.

“We can count this relationship in days, but I need you to listen to me. My home is yours, my bed is yours, everything I have is yours. Whatever you need.”

“How can you be ready for that?”

She didn’t trust him yet, and he wanted to force it. But that wasn’t the way it worked. She deserved his attention until he earned her belief in him, and they deserved time. Together. “When this case is over…” He kissed her pouty lips. He went for tender, but need roared, and he slanted his mouth to hers for a deep taste of her soft lushness.

She broke away and her hand stroked his cheek. “When this case is over?”

“Pick a hotel, a national park, a god damn cruise, anywhere, I don’t care. We’re going. Alone. No friends. No family. No security. Just us.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Okay,” she whispered. “Just us.”

Tension drained away replaced by relief. She closed her eyes, and he traced the path of sticky notes to follow her thought process. “What is this?”

She straightened and stared at her work. “A plan with only my gut for guidance. Trying to let my subconscious cull through all the research I have on this monster to find the right path to him.”

Quaid lifted the first sticky note from the table. “The hook. Explain it to me.”

“He’s watching. We know that. He wants me. We know that, too. He calls his victims sweet honey, but he let one get away. Me.”

“So, what? You’re going to taunt him with the words. How?”

“Note. In the alley. In the neighborhood with some of the businesses, at the church. He frequents this area. I’ll do that alone.”

“Challenge him?”

“Yes. He’ll come.”

“Where? We’d talked the Coronado Patton.” He paused for minute and glanced at the other notes. “He won’t go there.”

“No, he won’t. What about the empty building next to QM? He used our terrain for the first assault, and he forced us to retreat there. Elizabeth said the sale was final on the building.”

“It is, but it’s a mess. It’s going to need full…” His voice trailed off. “Obstacles, hiding places, like a controlled close quarters training site, only we’re funneling him through it.”

“I haven’t been over there, but yes. He’ll come alone, thinking he can control, be brutal, and very personal.”

Quaid blanched and tightened his hold. Internally, he was screaming no. Since the Marines, he’d pursued a path of redemption to fight the guilt and remorse for the killing of too many people – no matter how sanctioned. Now, he tried to always do the right thing regardless of the results. He’d lose her if he didn’t support her and that blew past redeeming himself and into a consequence he couldn’t face if something happened.

She stroked his face. “I know what you’re thinking. But he doesn’t understand I’m not a desk-bound FBI agent; and even further, I have a coordinated, professional team behind me, one more dangerous than he’d believe. If we pit you and me against him, and use Mackey, Hunt, Ryker, and Frank as backup, we won’t lose.”

“We need preparation, and a lot of it. Professional teams win because they practice. We’d have to memorize the building down to every screw. We just closed. No one’s been in it.”

“I guess we’d better get started.”

“What’s the note going to say?”

“You missed me before. Come and get this sweet honey. If you can.”

Quaid hissed. “Baby, I…” He held back. Support her. Don’t let your worry win. “I won’t lie. I’m struggling with this.” He gripped her chin and turned her eyes to his. “I believe in you, but I won’t lose you.”

“We aren’t going to lose. Us together are more dangerous, and he’s losing control. He’ll come because he can’t help himself. He’s not covering all the angles anymore. He’s seduced by the kill, by the rush from it. It’s messing with his planning, with his execution, with his head. It’s like jonesing for the next hit of meth.”

“This needs refined.” Quaid was not happy with the sparseness of the plan. Simple was better, but simple didn’t mean unprepared.

“We need Mackey and Hunt.”

Quaid sorted through the stages of the plan, and shook his head. “We are out of our minds. This man is a lethal international killer, and we’re going to need a miracle. First, he has to find the note. Second, we need the manhunt assets to funnel him our direction, if possible, and for him not to sense the ambush we have waiting.”

“Breadcrumbs and practice.” She settled her head against his shoulder. “It will work.”

Quaid stared at the notes, but there was no choice. “Okay. I’m in.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want to do this without you,” she whispered against his neck. “Because honestly I’m scared. I lost before.”

“You won’t this time. Because I’m going to be right there.”

He shifted her and stood, holding her close. He carried her up the front staircase and to their room. He pushed the door close with a silent click and walked them to the bed.

The wind whistled over the balcony. The ocean sounds had a crashing, edgy rhythm in keeping with his mood. He laid her on the bed and shifted her soft hair to spread it on the white sheets. The ambient light from the bathroom gave him enough of a visual for his heart to seize.

“Is this part of the wake me rule?” She lifted her arms above her head and stretched. Her breasts pushed against the fabric, teasing his senses.

“Yes, punishment for disappearing.” He coaxed her shirt off, enjoyed the sleepy smile while she helped him, and eased on top of her only to lose himself in her heat and the beckoning hope.

“I won’t do it again, I promise.” Her mouth cruised his neck, but even that couldn’t distract him from molding her bare breasts in his waiting hands.

He believed her. “My bed this time. Our bed.”

She kissed him, the agreement in the urgency of her mouth and hands.

He rose. “Pause.” Ripping at clothes, his and hers, he didn’t quit until they were both naked and wrapped in a comfortable cocoon in bed. She helped by touching him places that whisked his breath away, made him moan, and triggered an urgent need to be inside her.

She rolled on top of him and offered a breast. “Please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He locked his mouth around her nipple and sucked, causing sweet sounds to escape. She was relaxed against him, so he let himself play. The pop when he let go of the nipple made her laugh, but he quickly switched to the other breasts and she sighed.

“God, Quaid. I didn’t know.”

He eased off her nipple and swept his hand over her side to hold her hip against his palm. His plan – to taste every inch of her.

But Alanna’s plan was to kiss him over and over, and he let her win. Because skin to skin soared the heat and cradled his hardness between her legs – letting him feel how urgent her need was, too. Keeping her squirming and soft against him felt like an unfamiliar heaven, but pushing inside her was lava to his senses.

“Tight baby, so tight.”

She swept her hair off her face, then wrapped her legs around him. “Shut up, Daniels, love me.”

He grinned. “Your wish, Wildcat.” Again, he wanted to go easy, but she bucked against him, and the action pushed him deeper, made him give in to a base need to ride her.

She enthusiastically came along, leaving him stunned.

Determined to get her there first, he tweak her nipples and found her mouth. Breath mingling and hands touching, the rhythm hit them both.

Alanna ran her fingers down his back and gripped his ass.

He lifted her to him so he could go deeper.

She gasped as she climaxed.

The sound made him spill into her like an untutored schoolboy. Christ!

She stayed against him, and he dropped his head to lay on her sweet breasts. He wasn’t moving again. Ever.

Her fingers in his hair was the pièce de resistance.

He wouldn’t lose this. He wouldn’t lose her.

He held her close for a long time, let her sleep, and didn’t let go.

Chapter Eighteen

“You’re going to do what?” Whit’s white face flushed with the heat of temper. Her first thought was to calm him. Last thing he needed was a stroke or a heart attack, but she had questions and he had answers. The man had fought Mercer on a bunch of different occasions.

“How many times did you cross with him in Iraq?”

“All the time.”

“Did he try to kill you there?”

He clamped his mouth shut. He was much stronger, but not better yet.

“Studying how your service times overlapped and all the conduct unbecoming reports, I’m guessing three times you clashed and were both disciplined.”

“None of this matters now.”

“Oh, it matters. He’s tried for you twice here in San Diego, too. And his assassination business was at least forty percent service members.”

Whit’s mouth fell open.

The number was a guess, but she’d stunned him silent. Whit had been moved from the hospital and was a guest in 501. Niles had moved her things to Quaid’s this morning. She had no plan there, no sense of protecting herself. Wasn’t sure she needed one – at least her gut said no. Her brain was more difficult to convince. But Whit being here was simpler for hands-on monitoring and security was tighter within the building, car bombs aside.

She studied his face and wasn’t going to engage with the outrage or the shock. She needed an edge. He could give her one.

“What was the beef about?”

He shifted in bed and winced. “There wasn’t one specific thing. He picked on whatever was bugging him at the moment. The guy did not play well with others.”

This was the most she’d gotten out of him, but it wasn’t enough.

“I’m trying to bait him. I need a trigger. Come and get me is not enough.”

“And I told you, it’s dangerous. He can come at you. Those knives of his aren’t for play. How do you think I had so many cuts on this old body of mine?”

“Slowing down with age.” She smiled carefully, trying to get back to the united front they were back when.

He scoffed. “Truth there. But you’re out of your mind. He’s a killer. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a professional assassin even if he could act like he was. He likes to kill and he doesn’t care how.”

“Did he attack young girls in Iraq, too?” She kept her voice soft, trying to convey how much she knew. Information was power, and cooperation could be gained many times with confidence in the expertise.

His lips tightened. “I tried to tell command what I suspected. They didn’t believe me. We weren’t there to support the civilian population. We were there to kill terrorists.”

“That’s a yes.” She kept her jubilant reaction to herself because it was one more confirmation. They had dozens of places to search for victims. But what would it tell her? Nothing helpful here.

She knew what prompt she’d given Quaid in the night. You missed me before. Come and get this sweet honey. If you can. It didn’t provoke, challenge – not enough to guarantee he’d act.

Whit was protecting her. She was protecting him. That needed to stop. He needed to be part of the dangerous team who acted. “We have two places we’ve engaged him. Downtown area. And here at QM. The plan is for me to spread a message through the neighborhoods. We have a manhunt in progress with all the law agencies. We’re using them as a funnel to flush him out. Make him move or be caught. We want him to come here. Well, next door. It’s a new building to QM but hasn’t been renovated. A kill zone if you will. Close quarters combat.”

He listened quietly. Finally, the temper faded. “It reeks of trap, but he might be persuaded.”

“He’s devolving, Whit. He can’t maintain his discipline in his kills anymore. He’s acting more on impulse.”

Whit nodded. “He should never have tried for me again. There was no point to it.”

“Unfinished business. Both you and me.”

“I got away. Crawled into the bunk at the church. He tried for you because it would draw me out.”

“That isn’t all of it. I was there for one of his kills. I could never figure out why he left me behind. He chose the one who was dead to hide the body, and figured he had time to finish and get back to toy with me some more. He didn’t. You found me. You protected me.”

“A mistake. He made more than you think.”

“I have gaps in what I’ve found. What do I use?”

“Keep it simple: You keep missing us. Let’s end this. Face-to-face. We’re waiting for you.”

She assessed the change. They’d have to risk Whit being there.

“Are you strong enough? No lies.”

“I won’t be a liability.”

“You’re bait, too. The difference is me as bait comes with a whole lot of people who will be at my back. Using you leaves you vulnerable until we spring the full trap.”

“I don’t care. God, I’m tired of the threat, too. I goad him, then you sweep in with your team and take him.”

Oh, she hated this. Understanding dawned. Quaid tensed last night over this whole discussion. Could she kick herself? Their lovemaking this morning had a tinge of desperate to it. Crap.

Alanna eyed Whit, trying to outthink, outsmart whatever would come their way. “I have an ace in the hole, so to speak.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve spent six years studying criminal psychology, and while I don’t have all his details, I have enough to manipulate his state of mind.”

“Enough to make him doubt himself?”

“Enough to twist him sideways, make him believe he’s got the upper hand.”

“How good is this team?” The gruffness in his voice took her back to the street arguments with him over where she slept at night. He never had liked her in unsafe territory. The feeling was mutual.

“Quaid – Marines/CIA, Mackey – Tier 1 Counterterrorism Delta, Frank – Marines/Police, my boss, FBI, and one other unnamed man who is a SEAL.”

Whit whistled. “Puts me the low man on the totem pole.”

“And yet you’d be the linchpin to the whole operation. Can you pull it off?”

“It’ll be a test to figure out who he wants worse – you or me.”

Who would he go for?

A knock on the door startled her.

She turned to Whit. “You ready for company?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not that medic guy again poking me.”

She’d opted for jeans and a simple gray t-shirt tucked in with her black work boots this morning in anticipation of some maneuvers in the building next door. She rose and adjusted her weapon. She wasn’t going anywhere without it until this was over – except to bed with Quaid who had his bedroom locked and loaded with weapons anyway. And Niles. Whew. The man had a serious arsenal dispersed around the house even with the security present.

She opened the door and found Quaid on the other side. “I’ve got updates.”

“Found him?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“Come in.”

He eased past her and went to Whit. “Glad you are out of the hospital. Welcome to QM.”

“Thanks for the hospitality.”

“We take care of family around here.” He turned to Alanna. “You want the update?”

“Sightings?”

“No. But FBI brought in Border Patrol, DEA, and ATF. Frank notified the San Diego Port Authority.”

“A rat in a maze,” Whit muttered.

Quaid glanced from her to Whit. “Time to get the trigger in place.”

“Whit and I were talking the idea through. I’ve updated the plan.”

His eyes blanked. He wasn’t thrilled. “Do tell.”

Alanna wanted to reassure because she knew his concerns, but she couldn’t do this without him, and that demanded honesty. “We’re going to up the ante on the message.”

“To?”

“You keep missing. Let’s end this game. Face-to-face. We’re waiting for you.”

Quaid’s surprise was obvious in the set of his face. “Is that wise?”

She took his arm, needing to touch, needing to check if he’d pull away. He didn’t. “Necessary.”

“How?” The question irked a bit, but he slipped an arm around her, pulling her close. As an act, he put all of himself on the table.

She carefully chose her words, staying close even though Whit was eyeing their positions with a whole bunch of questions in his eyes. “He came here first for Whit. Came after me when he couldn’t find him. We’re both unfinished business. We leave Whit vulnerable to draw Mercer in, then snap the trap shut behind him.”

Quaid frowned at Whit. “This is a dangerous maneuver. I’ve worked closely with Alanna. She can take care of herself. You’re an unknown to all of us.”

“Understood. But it’s a guarantee he’ll come for me.”

“Why?”

“He hates me. I tried to destroy him, destroy his career, destroy his way to keep killing. It’s the last opportunity to get to me before she gets to him.”

Quaid turned her in his arms. “You haven’t talked to your boss about this. He might have a thing or two to say.”

“He might. It won’t change my mind. We’re only adjusting the bait. The rest of the plan stays in place.”

Quaid squinted at her. “You better gear up because we’re ready to run a few drills. Tinkerton has your equipment and weapons.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say. Reading his expression came down to what wasn’t there, not what was. But they had to leave it for now.

“I’ll go see her right now.”

“What do I do?” Whit’s eyes were closing. She exceeded his energy. Drucker and Cait weren’t going to be happy.

She leaned in to give a direct order. “You rest and get stronger. Sleep, meds, protein, water. You need an edge. You have forty-eight hours at most.”

He grimly smiled at the instructions. “Find me a knife. A good one.”

Quaid’s solemn face and the neutral cast of his brown eyes – ones that usually lit on sight of her – tightened her stomach. “I have one. I’ll bring it to you.”

Quaid took her elbow, and she followed the signal. “I’ll be back later.”

She went through the door and waited for it to click shut. Quaid was in front of her, then spun her around and pressed her to a wall in the quiet hallway. “I can’t…” His mouth slammed into hers, the kiss rough and possessive, and thrilling. He explored her mouth, touched her body like no man ever had. She softened against him, running her hands over his shoulders and through his hair. He groaned and set her away from him to pace the hall.

“It’ll be all right.”

He eyed her carefully before walking back to her side. “Whit could die out there. He isn’t in good enough shape to protect himself, let alone you.”

“We can protect him, and we will.”

“You have a lot of faith in us.”

“It’s not faith. It’s the way it has to be.” She ran her hands over his arms, grateful for the strength in those muscles, the skill that represented, and the commitment in his eyes.

He grunted but took her hand. “Woman, you are driving me crazy.”

“It’s what I do best.” He squeezed her hand, a new experience for her, and her heart somersaulted into a fluttering beat. Thank God. She couldn’t fight him. She might argue with Whit, but she wouldn’t hurt Quaid for anything.

He pulled her to the elevator, keeping her close. She wouldn’t have objected if he’d kissed her again. Hell, she’d have let him go further than that, but he was always mindful about watching eyes, and stabbed the down button instead. “Let’s go practice. The better we are, the better this will go.”

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Situation Brief:  16:30:20 PST 12/26 – San Diego HQ. All active missions verified and secure. Security Level 4 remains in effect. Utilize chain of command for information. No release to media authorized. Ϙ

“Let’s run it again.” Mackey was not holding back, but nobody said a word.

The cargo area was exactly what they wanted. A large, open cavern, previously used for the final stages of a manufacturing process for medical supplies, was currently empty except for debris. They’d grabbed crates, a dumpster, metal storage units, a couple of motor pool vehicles, and anything else they could find to build a maze with one shooter hidden. They utilized the only remaining lights to keep the empty echo of the place.

Given Quaid’s mood, Mackey’s methods worked for their situation. His friend had been none to happy to discover the change in the setup. Having to protect a vulnerable person was a whole different scenario than what they’d drawn out. Thank God, Mac was former Delta. Execute, recover, and exfil, and fight all the way in and out – his skill set.

Harrison monitored. Mackey coached. Frank bitched. Hunt stayed silent and lethal. Ryker kept studying the layout. And Quaid worried about Alanna.

He and Hunt had worked together on Navy missions. Harrison was Hunt’s former commander. They had shorthand none of them rest of them had. Quaid had served with Mackey for several CIA missions. It was how they met. Alanna, Ryker, and Frank’s tactics were similar. He and Alanna had done enough together, they could adapt. They all had commonalities and experience, but they needed more practice to merge what they had. Mac’s specialty.

How the hell they were working in Whit he couldn’t fathom. The man had been out of the military for fifteen years and wasn’t in a physical condition to make any progress in such a short amount of time. But if the man believed he should be here as secondary bait, Quaid wasn’t fighting Alanna on her agreement with his request.

“Weapons loaded, maze in place, targets active,” Mackey hollered at them. “Alanna point. Hunt and Quaid backup. Frank, Harrison, security. Ryker stays with Whit. Let’s go.”

Hunt raised a brow, staring at Mac. “We’re leaving your skills out of this equation?”

Mac smirked. “No, but I don’t need as much practice. I do close quarter drills all the time with somebody. Military and police.”

Alanna took point at the opening of the maze. Hunt stacked behind her, Quaid behind him. Mackey walked the line once, checking spacing. “Don’t crowd the fatal funnel,” he advised. Quaid adjusted his position by inches. None of them wanted dead in the first blast of a weapon. Reset, they stayed in place.

“This is not a military op.” Mackey moved to the front. “And it’s not a police call-out action either. We are doing both because we have no fucking idea what Mercer is going to do first. Move when I say move, slow when I say slow. Your job is to be thorough and keep Alanna alive.”

Alanna kept her eyes forward. Her shoulders tensed, but she stayed focused and stubborn as hell. He mirrored her attitude. They weren’t firing, only practicing to overwhelm. Besides the fact the building wasn’t built for live fire, their objective was to identify where angles, weak spots, and targets were.

“You ready, Remy?” Mackey called into the stage area.

“Target ready.” Remy was moving their objective every round. He was a canny son of bitch and was catching them off guard with unpredictable positions.

“Button hook left,” Mackey ordered. “Hunt, cross. Quaid, deep corner. Call it when you see it. Move.”

Alanna moved through and took a hard left. “Left clear.”

Hunt crossed past her to the opposite wall. “Right clear.”

Quaid moved past them both, weapon up, eyes scanning the far corner behind the stack of crates. “Deep corner clear.”

“Hall!” Mackey barked.

Hunt moved to cover. Seconds past. “Target acquired. By the fucking water fountain, Remy?”

“Time. Too slow.” Mackey checked their positions. “You hesitated Alanna. At the door. Hesitations get you killed. Don’t think. Move.”

“Noted.”

“That hallway is a death trap.” Hunt pronounced, shoving the target at Remy. “If he takes refuge in there, we are ducks in a shooting gallery. It doesn’t matter how we’re lined up.”

Harrison twisted to check the open ceiling of the building. “Would we benefit from a sniper in the rafters?”

Ryker stepped forward and studied the beams, too. “They stripped this place. There’s no where to camouflage up there.”

“We could build something like a hunting hide.” Remy could pull from his Cajun youth to do it, too.

Mackey examined the massive space again. “It’ll take too long, but a platform misidentified as an air conditioning unit might work. And let’s define our objective. Are we here to capture him or kill him?”

Quaid’s special operations and spy experience flooded his memory. “We all know where this is leading. We’re dealing with a man who is a trained sniper, and he developed all those skills along with a few unexpected tricks. Let’s borrow the idea and be unpredictable.”

Alanna moved to the hallway. “Smoke and mirrors.”

Frank followed her. “Like a haunted house.”

“More or less. We can’t go into the hallway without being picked off, but he can’t hide there either without being seen in the mirrors. Lose-lose. And narrows his options.”

“Oh boy, who is explaining that expense to Elizabeth?” Remy muttered.

“Harrison,” Quaid uttered in tandem with Mackey. Harrison made a face at both of them.

“We’re here to kill him,” Alanna stated, her quiet determination locking them all in place. “No matter how much I’d like to take him alive and make him talk about all his other victims, it’s not going to happen.” Her eyes went to Hunt. “You agree, right?”

Hunt was a study in stillness. “He won’t let us capture him. We’ve been close too many times. He’s already guessed what is about to happen. But he is sure he can beat us.”

Ryker moved to stand by Frank. “Agreed.”

Frank added a caution. “We have to make this happen with no collateral damage. I can’t explain civilians hurt or killed to the police chief.”

“The aim is only us in the line of fire.” Alanna’s grit struck him deep. He kept from pulling her to him and begging her to be careful by running Marine Corps cadence in his head.

Mackey broke the moment. “We have work to do. Quaid take point. Frank, cross, Ryker, deep cover. Alanna and Hunt, back door. Harrison gets Whit and stays back. Regardless, someone in this will have to check the halls, mirrors or not. But we’ll work that out. I need to watch what everybody is bringing to the table, so give it your all. The point is to move together as a smooth team, performing without hesitation, moving as one unit.”

Three more rounds and Mackey put himself in for left, Alanna for cross, Quaid for deep cover. Frank and Ryker were on backup. Hunt remained a wild card for any shit the killer brought to the fight. Harrison would take Whit again.

As each round got smoother, Mackey’s mood settled and Quaid gathered confidence grew that they’d get out of this alive. An old saying flashed: No plan survives first contact with the enemy. 

No matter what, forcing this to work their way was not an option. They had to be ready for anything.

&&&&&&&&&&

The person who said too many cooks spoiled the broth couldn’t have been more right. They quibbled about the wording on the message they were leaving in the homeless areas.

Whit had an opinion, then retired to nap. Alanna had firm ideas that defied argument. He didn’t want it too obvious. Mackey’s solution had no subtlety. It was finally Kerry who cut through all the bullshit and gave them a direction.

You keep screwing the pooch. You know how to find me. Let’s do this. “Give it to the priest to give him.”

Kerry’s suggestion, a manhunt pushing every dark corner, and a team practiced and ready should get results. The wording could be Alanna or it could be Whit. For this scenario, it didn’t matter. Whit was with Alanna. But Mercer could interpret it however his pathology required.

Kerry’s final statement on the way out the door for lunch – “He’s not playing with all his bullets loaded, so let’s quit acting like he is” – sealed it.

Quaid stood in the middle of Operations, Alanna directly across from him,  and spoke the most important truth. “Kerry’s right. He’s either going to read the message and come at you, read it and laugh figuring it’s a trap but come anyway, or walk away.”

“Further, we can’t keep the manhunt going at this intensity for very much longer. A day or two at the most.” Mackey checked the ding on his phone. “Frank. He’s waiting for our strategy to get the word out.”

“We tell Father Eli, then spread the word in the neighborhood where Whit has been hiding? Isn’t that dangerous for the Father? How does this draw him to us?” Harrison looked at each of them. “Not trying to mess with Open Doors and their homeless program.”

Alanna sighed. The lines under her eyes showed the strain. “Is he watching us already? He was before.”

“Shit, have we missed something?” Quaid swiveled to the security cams.

Mackey slapped his shoulder. “Chill, bro. Security was the first thing I tightened. He even breathes on this neighborhood, we’ll get an alert. We have cameras and patrols.”

Quaid settled himself by walking away to study the manhunt data coming across the computer screen. The threat to Alanna was real and he couldn’t stand it.

Harrison went back to the original discussion. “We could plant a man at Open Door for protection. Delaney comes to mind. As long as he doesn’t have to get physical.”

Mackey shook his head. “Talking and walking is one thing. Being armed and having to protect is another. His shoulder isn’t operational yet.”

“I made myself pretty obvious when I was hunting for Whit. Why can’t we use the same technique for Mercer? Pass out my card again. Include Father Eli with specific instructions. Only for anyone who asks.” Alanna pulled out Kerry’s chair and sat.

Harrison eased into the chair in the next cubicle with a groan and rubbed his back. “Tell me again why we’re including Whit? Seems like an unnecessary risk.”

To her credit, Alanna kept her temper. “He wants in. And I’m not sure of the sequence. Did he attack Whit originally to draw me out or is he after me to draw Whit back out? Or is it me not him? I have no answer. It’s logical to bait the trap with both of us.”

“God save us from the plotting of a serial killer,” Mackey muttered. “Let’s go with the business card again. Your FBI card or a QM one?”

Quaid turned back from the board. “QM could be valid. He missed us both here. And his bombing both times, while doing building damage, didn’t do much else. It will give the message a ‘missed me’ sarcastic tone.”

Harrison snorted. “Taunting an assassin. Stellar strategy.”

But Alanna was nodding her head. “Taunting, but subtle. I like it.”

Mackey opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of simple QM business cards. “Get busy writing, Doc. Time’s a wasting.”

“Who delivers?”

Mackey pointed at her. “You do. It’ll be part of the rumors that get back to him. And stick one in the alleyway where the other attack was.”

Quaid rubbed Alanna’s back, then wandered over to Hunt where he stayed arms crossed viewing all the activity.

“Are we getting there?”

It was a moment before he answered. “The tell is in whether it works. This kind of taunting doesn’t go into my missions. We arrive, survey, rescue, kill, blow up, and get out.”

“There are differences for sure.”

Hunt’s focus changed to the far wall and Alanna’s notes. “I haven’t been on a mission since Baxter died.”

Quaid sucked in a breath. “Problems with today’s practice?”

“Nope. My body and brain know exactly what to do. It’s a stab in the heart, though. I was right beside him when he got shot. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen to Alanna.”

Quaid clasped his shoulder. “I will throw myself in front of her before I let anything happen to her.”

The realization dawned on Hunt’s face. “Confession time?”

Quaid shook his head. “Better tell her first.”

“Ah, yes. Important first. I have to go. I do have a night job.”

Quaid snorted. “Don’t miss all the fun.”

“Oh, I’ll be back. I need to check in, though. Keeps my ass covered.” Hunt tossed off a goodbye to Harrison and Mackey and left.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Communication Check:  10:00:30 PST 12/27 – San Diego HQ. All facilities secure. Security Level 4 remains in effect. Maintain current threat posture. Refer to internal transmissions for status updates. Ϙ

Alanna wanted to take off her shoes and rub her feet. These streets were becoming familiar again, and it burned in a way she didn’t anticipate. The unexpected smells, the dull colors slashed with sudden brightness, the scurry of individuals who didn’t want in her sphere because yes, she had her badge on. Some things did not change.

She went through the motions of dropping off cards and skimmed through the memories in her head of the steps she’d taken to elevate herself from this desperate circumstance. She’d worked two jobs for so long, adjusting to one caused panic. Yes, she’d lived in her car for the first two years of college. Yes, she’d lived on a tight shoestring and took being frugal with every necessity to a whole new level. She had people she interacted with, but she kept them out of her corner of the world. She’d needed one place to call her own, one place to protect her flank.

And now she was living with Quaid. How did that figure in? Niles had visited her LA apartment yesterday and delivered her things to the bedroom across from Quaid’s. Two weeks and she moved in with the man. Was it his money, the food on the table, the clothes Niles kept buying, or was it Quaid? The man. Not the money. God, she was so confused.

She opened the door to a business she’d frequented many times. Mac was doing the same on the opposite side of the street. Quaid had office business that left him stuck. Sucked to be the corporate face of QM, but his attention to the job was part of their success.

Some sections in the area had been reclaimed and renovated by the city, but some parts were more rundown than ever. She was recognized many places and the familiarity rubbed wrong, too.

She met Mac at a cross street. “Let’s hit the alley.”

Chills raced along her spine, but she agreed.

Mac signaled Bailey who was driving the SUV, and they walked. Three blocks west and four blocks north.

“Are you having second thoughts about this?” Mac watched the surroundings while they made their way along.

“Who wouldn’t. My logical brain is telling me I’m smarter than him. Figure something else out. My pissed off brain says bring it.”

“Been there. Use the smarts from one to temper the stupid of the other.”

“Helpful, Mac,” she muttered, trying not to be sarcastic and not succeeding.

“I may have been a door kicker, Doc, but we trained. Our work wasn’t spontaneous. It wasn’t emotional. It wasn’t undisciplined. The only way you get to Tier 1 level is to operate right and full out every fucking time. That’s where we are. This gets executed to the scope of your skill or you’re dead. This guy doesn’t play.”

Alanna wanted to snap back, but she drew on years of training and stayed in step with the man. “I shadow box Mercer’s memory in my head every day. I’d like to say I put it away, but it’s a part of every crime I analyze, every skill I worked double-time to master, and the first thought when the unexpected occurs. Did that make me good at what I do? I’m questioning that, too.”

Mac slowed enough to match his pace to hers. “Stop trying to outthink him.”

Confused, she tried to read his face. “That’s your advice?”

“My advice is to know what this is.” His eyes tracked the street as they crossed another intersection. “You’re not setting a trap for him.”

Alanna frowned, then stopped by a street sign. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“No.” He coaxed her to move further along the block and around the corner. “We’re giving him what he already wants and controlling ground zero when he comes for it.”

The words landed hard, mixing with every bit of crap she was trying to keep under wraps.

“He’s not reacting.” Mac moved them around a group of men, giving them a hard eye. “He’s choosing, Alanna. The only variable in this equation is us.”

A wave of premonition swept over her. She crossed her arms tight. “So what is this? Bait and hope?”

“This is precision.” Mac slowed them as they closed in on the final blocks, pointing down the street. “You step into the alley, you’re the draw. Everything we’ve built comes to this moment.” His sharp, direct gaze on her reminded her of a training instructor she’d had at Quantico. He’d been a demanding son of a bitch.

She stayed silent, listening.

“But understand something, Doc. If you hesitate, if you second guess, if you let him get inside your head for even a second…”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t get to say that,” he interrupted, not harsh and angry, just direct. “You decide if you’re steady enough to do it. You.”

Silence stretched between them, feet eating up the distance to the alley. Mac constantly rotated his focus, studying the street, the people, the businesses, the threats.

She let his words settle. “This isn’t about being angry enough to face him, is it?” Truthfully, she’d been managing by assuming it was. But the truth rang in her voice, in her psyche, in her determination. “It’s about being disciplined enough to finish it.”

Mac tipped a head, not agreeing or disagreeing – just letting her absorb the message. “Stay focused on your discipline, the law, everything you’ve learned as an active FBI agent. We don’t go in half-committed. That’s how people die, and I won’t have my friend mourning your death. Not happening.”

She stopped short of the alley and gazed at him, debating how much to say. Her heart ached at his simple statement, and she stumbled over how to explain herself.

Mackey patted her shoulder. “Don’t bother. He’s crazy about you, and it also shows from your end. You two have no idea what your body language is saying.”

She found a small smile, but swore silently at the blush spreading over her cheeks. “He’s pretty special to me.”

“Let’s don’t blow it, then.”

“Promise. No quitting. No stopping. No failure.”

He nodded, satisfied with his pep talk. It had been a good one. “Let’s plant this message and blow this popsicle stand. Quaid’s waiting.”

“Have we put out enough?”

“We don’t need a billboard or a ticker tape parade. He is watching, and now we’ve got him curious. He’ll seek out what we’re doing. Let’s go back to homebase and get prepped. My gut says soon. And I always listen to my gut.”

“Me, too. I’m with you.”

They planted the message next to the little yellow painted flowers. Alanna mourned her friend for short seconds, then put it away. She couldn’t delve into that memory and keep her discipline. And the team was depending on her to finish this.

“Let’s go, Mac. We have other stuff to do.”

He followed her to the car, but unlike Quaid, he got in the front with Bailey and left her in the back – sorting through his advice and making silent promises to Quaid she hoped she could keep.

&&&&&&&&&&

Spending part of the morning signing contracts, arguing on the phone with their Dubai client who wanted to go back in country, and hanging up from a call with a government source with questionable information on another case pushed Quaid’s dicey mood to testy. He’d been all over the world in difficult, secret circumstances and held his own. Not today.

Elizabeth reminded him they had a business to run this morning and like a good schoolteacher made him take a seat and tend to it. Between rich businessmen who believed the rules didn’t apply to them to Seth Tenney blowing up his phone, he’d had enough. Could he admit he was worried about Alanna being on those streets alone? Yes. Not that he didn’t trust Mac. He did. But he wanted hands on.

Distracted and not giving a fuck, Quaid pasted on a smile and didn’t pretend it meant a damn thing. Seth Tenney stood over six feet, lean and polished, and was a man who expected attention and usually got it. It worked on most people, but put Tenney up against Zephren Patton and it was like comparing Mac to a green recruit. Rich people had their tier levels, too.

“I’m spending all this money, and all you’ve done is review what’s already been reported? I saw the news. Rumors are you’re in the center of some manhunt.” Seth shifted the seams of his expensive slacks. Quaid hadn’t changed from his camouflage pants. They were still dusty from training time. God, it was good to get back in a real uniform. Something honest with some integrity behind it.

He leaned back in his executive chair, staring at the man across the flat, clean surface of his formal desk. What wouldn’t he give for a War Table here. “We’re always working on something else, Seth, and we always verify what the police have found.” Quaid’s expression stayed bland, neither bothered nor interested in explaining their case matrix. Tenney didn’t like being called by his first name, but Quaid dismissed his displeasure. It was past time for the deference to end and reality to take precedent.

Seth’s mouth firmed and he puffed up, the coming threat as obvious as the red in his face.

Quaid held up a hand, stopping Tenney’s habit of throwing his weight around. “Calling Congressman March again or your FBI contact will waste your time and mine. Priorities, Seth. We all live by them.”

The man straightened in his chair, his shoulders squared. Quaid could read his thoughts without a crystal ball. He wanted to continue the threat, but reigned himself in. “Where do you propose we go from here?”

Quaid used blunt honesty to test the waters and get this over with. He had other things to do. “That’s up to you. At this point, it will involve deeper investigation into those around her when she disappeared – your sister, your wife, and your wife’s boyfriend. It takes honesty, cooperation, time, and dogged persistence. The decision is yours.”

The man’s eyes widened.

Yeah, you motherfucker. We figured it out.

“How many other cases are you managing?” His sly look gave away the attempt to recapture the moment.

Quaid blanked his expression. He didn’t play into “gotcha” moments ever, and he narrowed his eyes with displeasure. He borrowed his grandfather’s frostiest tone. “Client confidentiality is ironclad and not pertinent to this discussion. Whether we continue or not is up to you.”

He didn’t bother to tell Seth his case was most likely a body search now. The truth would come from the data and facts when they found them. Whether guesswork, intuition, or a paper trail led them to the answers, it would end when the truth lined up.

“I’ll have to give that some thought.” Seth didn’t like being dismissed, but ceded to reality. Quaid wouldn’t be moved, and the man surrendered with a grudging respect in his eyes. He rose to leave. No handshake, as if that transmitted to something Quaid would care about. He followed Tenney out of his office. Welker was waiting, the operative providing the extra security in the admin area they needed right now.

“See Mr. Tenney to the parking lot.”

“Yes, sir.” Welker caught up with the obviously miffed man.

Elizabeth came and stood next to him. “Not renewing?”

“Not liking our priorities. He’s going to rethink it.”

“You didn’t encourage him, did you?”

“Not this time.”

In a business sense, he should show more care to a valuable client. He utilized this cultured, savvy version of himself in the CIA, and he’d evolved the mask to open doors, close deals. It built QM into what it was. But it wasn’t who he was when things mattered. And things mattered right now.

He’d have to assess the shift in attitude later because it was part of retiring the playboy. And, truly, he was ready to be in the armory prepping his weapons and testing his equipment, not handling a man who was being less than honest about the details of the case.

“Harrison says to tell you Mac and Alanna are clear and on their way back.” Elizabeth turned and strode to her office.

Profound relief flooded through him.

Thank God, they weren’t going anywhere tonight. They were staying in the confines of QM, babysitting Whit, and appearing as necessary to keep the trap active. That was his priority now.

Quaid still had two phone calls to make, manhunt updates to audit, global protection details to check with Harrison, and a woman walking into a fight he wasn’t going to let her face alone.

Chapter Nineteen

QM International Communication Check:  17:00:30 PST 12/27 –  San Diego HQ. Personnel roll call complete. All personnel accounted for. Security Level 4 remains in effect. Maintain surveillance and report suspicious activity. Ϙ

Alanna’s mind was a mass of information flashing in rapid succession until her brain was tired and unfocused. Mac dropped her at the QM side entrance and went to park the vehicle by the motor pool. Alanna made her way inside, cleared the temporary security desk, and took the stairs to three. Celissa had gone home early, but Bailey buzzed her in. Electrical restored to all systems was the victory of the day.

“Quaid’s in Operations. Go on in. Did you get the trap set?” The woman’s keen gaze reminded her of early FBI days when everything was new.

“Yes, we’ll see if it works.” She peered through the window into Operations and found Quaid at his real desk – the working one – and he had a headset on, a flashing monitor in front of him, and a serious face. Sometimes when all the money, the cars, the house, the security, and Niles were around him, it was easy to dismiss the hardworking, skilled man who kept QM growing and respected. But not if one saw him like this. The man knew what he was doing. Honestly, it was intimidating and thrilling in equal measures, and she wanted more.

“Bailey,” she called. “I’m going to check in with Whit. Can you tell Quaid I’m here?”

“Sure. Whit was at lunch today. Interesting guy.”

“He came to the dayroom for lunch? How was he?” Yesterday he could hardly stand.

“He looked okay. Better than the hospital for sure. Iron will if I had to guess.”

She didn’t know the half of it. This made it all the more imperative she talk to him and give him the parameters of what they expected. Everybody had to do their job.

She deposited her bag in Quaid’s office, claimed the knife from the desk drawer, and silently thanked Mackey for understanding the need to arm Whit. She climbed the two flights of stairs, mumbling all the way. She couldn’t control Whit. She never could. Guilt. Begging. Logical arguments. Nothing worked on him. Whit had a strict code and expected people to live by it. Unfortunately, life rarely worked that way.

His desire for control came from years in combat and the loss of his mother to an abusive husband. Whether he could have changed her death if he hadn’t joined the Army was beside the point. His mother had pressured him to go, to start his life, and to move out of the cycle they were stuck in. He’d promised to help her, then hadn’t been able to. Alanna was convinced it was why he had stuck to her like sticker burrs while they were in the streets. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be standing here.

After two training sessions and all the afternoon walking, her knees objected to the two flights of stairs. She knocked on 501 and waited.

Whit opened the door and huffed. “Wondered where you went to.” Dressed in new jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he made his way to the chair where he’d been watching television. He’d had a shower and a shave, dressed, then eaten.

She shut the door and went to sit on the bed. “You are obviously feeling better.”

“Not a complainer.”

“No, you’re not. But save your strength. Mackey has a plan, and he’ll tell you what they need you to do.”

“I thought we were both doing this thing.”

“I have a role and so do you.”

“I’ll back you.”

“I have backup, Whit.”

“Pretty boy won’t do it.”

“Pretty boy is more qualified than you. He’s done this for a living for a long time.”

“Pffft. Sure.”

Whit was falling for the same misperception she had at the beginning and it doubled her remorse for the way she’d misjudged Quaid. “He’s a top-notch warrior, Whit. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. And Mackey was Delta.”

“Damn door kickers. All brawn and no brains.”

Alanna rose, leaning in to smell his breath. Honestly, he acted like he’d been drinking. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Frustrated from sitting around. And you can quit sniffing. I never touch the stuff. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know, but you need more rest.”

“I’m fine. Tell me more about what we’re doing.”

Oh, that was a very bad idea. The man seriously could act like Rambo sometimes. Frankly, his skilled operator stage had passed for him about ten years ago. She had more active skills than he did.

“It’s the antibiotics and pain killers speaking, not a true healing.”

“Doesn’t matter. If it keeps me on my feet until we catch him, then my job here is done.”

If there was a way to renege on her agreement with him, she’d take it. She’d given her approval while lost in how grateful she was that he was alive and fresh in the memory of how he’d protected her all those years ago. She studied the lines in his face. “Who have you saved lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who on the streets have you saved lately? You never were without a kid or two tagging along.”

“Don’t really do that anymore. Everybody makes bad judgments on who you are if you have young’uns hanging on.”

“So you quit helping the kids.”

“Well, I went to work at the mission. I talk to a lot of them there, help with homework, give advice, and read to them. But it’s not like it used to be anymore.”

She understood, but it made her sad. Whit had been her lifeline in those days. When had she let that slip away? “I’m glad you’re alive. I was worried.”

“I admit I ran on the edge this time. Didn’t mean to. I didn’t want him to find me until I was ready for another round.”

He wasn’t ready still, but she’d never convince him.

“I wish you’d let me do this alone. You don’t need to put yourself at risk like this,” he mumbled. He rubbed his chest in an unconscious gesture.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“Don’t. I want to do this. I wasn’t there before. I will be now come hell or high water.”

The advice from Mackey hit home. “This isn’t about before, Whit. It’s about now. He’s trying to kill me, to kill Quaid. We’re going to stop him.”

“He already tried for me. He missed again.”

“He missed in Iraq, too, didn’t he?”

Whit looked her over. The debate was obvious in his expression. “Yeah, a few times.”

Fury whipped through her. “And command didn’t do anything about it?”

“No. Didn’t believe me. My own fault. We had more than a few confrontations resulting in punishment.”

“You were lucky. He was actively killing people by then – I’m guessing since his youth.”

Whit frowned. “He didn’t have an off button that’s for sure.”

War zone equaled kill zone in Mercer’s mind. Not a hard connection to make.

“You should get some sleep. Someone will come for you when we’re ready.”

He grabbed her hand. “Don’t take any chances. Better he gets me again than you.”

“No. Stick to the plan. I trust Mackey. I trust Quaid. We’ll trap the man together. We’re giving him what he already wants and controlling ground zero when he comes for it.” That she repeated Mac’s exact phrasing told her the truth of what she was doing.

After several more minutes of back and forth, she wasn’t sure she convinced him, but she was hungry and needed Quaid. A man she hadn’t met a month ago was suddenly critical in her life. Was this how love worked?

She shied away from evaluating the idea and handed Whit the knife she’d promised.

“Thought you forgot.”

“No, I promised you. It’s out of QM’s armory. Mac said you could have it.” The woman inside would have hugged him, but the FBI agent opted for squeezing his arm and leaving. She had work to do on connecting with people. After, she promised herself. After.

&&&&&&&&&&

Instead of taking a room, Quaid and Alanna spent a couple hours in the armory deciding on weapons. They grabbed food in the day room, a catered meal of barbecued chicken and mac n’ cheese, then went to Quaid’s front office and the sofa there.

“You’re quiet.” Quaid shifted sideways on the soft surface and pulled her between his legs. She didn’t fight him. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and stared at the light patterns on the ceiling.

“Conversation with Whit.”

“About?”

“Iraq. Letting him be the only bait. He is focused on protecting me. He was too nonchalant about the new knife. I’m not sure including him was the right decision.”

Quaid squashed the criticism. It would play out as it did. “The objective of this is to be the point of the spear and take Mercer down. However that happens.”

“It’s what we will do. I think Whit’s forgotten all his military tactics. I even quoted Mackey.”

“With?”

“We’re giving Mercer what he already wants. Us. But were controlling ground zero when he comes.”

“That sums it up.” He rubbed his face in her hair before pulling back. While it gave him comfort to have her close, it didn’t help his focus. “There are cameras and team members monitoring every side of the building. We added a couple people to the rotation of the parking lot, but we have spotters in strategic spots and a sniper on the roof. Hunt’s in the building, too, with Cait so it wouldn’t trigger suspicion. Manhunt has found three credible sightings. Of course, he was gone when backup got there, but he may be letting himself be seen.”

Her disgusted face said it all. “Does Mercer have enough surveillance information from watching us to note an increase?”

“Likely, but we can’t not take precautions. It wouldn’t make sense and would raise a red flag. I agree with Mac. Frank’s people will keep a low profile. Maybe Mercer won’t care. He might want you that bad.”

“Great.”

Quaid touched her face, rubbing at the worry lines under her eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I’m not fragile, but I am concerned this isn’t going to go the way we want it to.”

“Let me tell you a story.” He stretched and wrapped a leg around one of hers. As a distraction, it would have to do.

She poked him. “Talk. I need it.” She gave him a wane smile.

“I told you I met Hunt and Cait in Afghanistan.”

“Yes.”

“Want to hear about how I met Mac?”

Her eyes sparked. “Yes.”

Quaid mused a moment. “I met Mackey in Iraq a couple years before Afghanistan. He’s mellow now compared to those days. Back-to-back missions as a Tier One asset isn’t exactly a calming profession.”

“Intense. Risky. Demanding. Deadly. Does that cover it?”

“Yes.” Quaid smiled at the memories. He hadn’t recounted how he and Mackey met for years. Nobody asked anymore. Many thought they’d met in high school. But their brotherhood was built on blood, danger, and common purpose.

“Were you CIA by then?”

“Yes. Out of the Marines and operating solo. Surreal. Mosul had fallen. Operation Inherent Resolve. Nine months of brutal urban combat.”

“I vaguely remember this history.”

“Mackey was there doing weapons interdiction, terrorist tracking, and dismantling networks that were running guns, drugs, intelligence, and people. We weren’t chasing ISIS anymore. We were chasing what was left behind: men, weapons, mayhem, and ghosts. Caches buried in the desert. Fighters slipping across borders. Networks don’t die just because someone declared victory.”

She slipped her hand into his. “And where was our spy?”

“Your spy was running intelligence channels tied to those same networks and monitoring cross-border information flow between Iraq and Syria.”

“Instant friendship between you two?”

“Nope. Not even close. We weren’t in a casual, glad-to-meet-you situation. He had a job. I had another one. We didn’t trust each other.”

She shifted in his arms, studying his eyes. “What happened?”

“I had a line on a weapons pipeline running north. It was also carrying sensitive intelligence. I thought I was the only one tracking it.”

He paused, remembering. “I wasn’t. Mac had a team on it. We hit the same target within seconds of each other – with different objectives. I wanted answers and to destroy the intelligence before it got into the wrong hands. He wanted…well, everything else.” He gave a small laugh.

“You work for the same government, though, right?”

Quaid smirked. “Do you talk frequently with the DEA?”

“No. Point taken.”

“He didn’t ask who I was. Didn’t care. He wanted to know if I was in his way.”

“Short and sweet.”

“Yep. I wasn’t. But before I could utter any explanation, secondary shooters hit us hard. We stopped pretending we weren’t on the same side. He had the team. I had the intel.”

She waited, silent.

“More important, he had my back and I had his. He didn’t pull out when he could have. He covered me. I understood everything I needed to know about him at that moment.”

“That was it?”

“Hell, no. We met many more times while we were both in country. It became a running joke, two jack of all trades making friends. Who knew, right? We met again a couple years later in Afghanistan with Hunt. The QM idea was already in my head. He was the first person I asked to join me. He’s one of those people who makes sure every step gets to the objective, then he gets everyone home. When it matters, really matters, I trust him to run the fight.”

She stroked a finger over the back of his hand. “He coached me today.”

“Not surprised. About what?”

“Mind set. Being sure. Not second-guessing myself and dealing with the reality not the fear.”

“He’s good at cutting through the bullshit.”

She snuggled closer and yawned. “What’s our objective tonight?”

“Rest for awhile. We’ve been going non-stop all day. We’re losing our edge. Mac’s monitoring Operations. He’ll get us if he needs us. Whatever he wants and whenever Mac says go, we do.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Mackey grabbed his phone. Operations was unnaturally quiet, everyone glued with deep intensity to their monitors. This was about Quaid, and it kept them focused. He didn’t correct it. He had extra personnel handling their normal security business. All was green there. Everyone else was on Operation Killer. No imagination on the mission title, but he’d live with it.

He punched in the number for Frank Walker and waited for the man to answer in a gruff tone Mac understood. “Frank. Any update?”

“We’ve had sightings. Four to be exact. Either he’s getting less careful or he has another agenda. We did what you requested and let him be. Tell me why I was doing that.”

“We planted the trap. He’ll come here. I’m guessing tonight by my gut, but how much reconnoitering he does before executing his plan is a question. Did anyone follow him?”

“No, tried to. But he’s good at evasion. I’ll send the spotting locations.”

Mac’s phone dinged. “At least we flushed him out. One of the secondary goals of the manhunt was to make the man keep moving.”

“Do you need backup?”

“Yes, on the flank we talked about. Can you live with that?”

“Yeah, if you have enough people with the FBI, and you keep his field of fire contained to your people.” The man groaned. “I can’t believe I said that. Command is going to have a fit no matter what, but sometimes risk is the only way.”

“We have this. And Frank, we appreciate all your help. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“No need to suck up, Mac. You’ll owe me.”

“That’s a debt I’ll pay personally.” Mac disconnected and texted Alanna’s boss.

Nick Ryker was in the day room eating and talking with Whit. The senior agent would join him momentarily. Hunt was already coming to Operations from Cait’s office. Quaid and Alanna were asleep on Quaid’s office sofa, armed to the teeth. This was a far cry from them being alone the first time Mercer went for them. They’d already been doing the heavy lifting. He left them to rest.

He checked the sightings from Frank’s addresses with Kerry. Still no definitive shift to QM. At this point, they were banking on Alanna’s profile and his gut. He was not a betting man, but those were pretty long odds. Even if everything in him said they were accurate. But he’d become numb to risk long ago. This was nothing new. Every variation of their scenario he’d reviewed and his gut approved.

Harrison came to his side. “Check ins from all stations will start in five. I have them running every fifteen minutes.”

“Elizabeth still in her office?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Double check. I wish she’d gone home.”

Harry frowned, exasperation in his expression. “You and me and what team of horses to drag her there? She’s cleaning her shotgun. Ranch girl knows how to kill varmints.”

Mac snorted, but got back to business. “I want positions on everybody.”

“Delaney will supervise building security through the night. No surprise bombs this time. Remy will handle oversight of all the teams.”

“Keeping attention high is going to be difficult if the timing drags waiting for Mercer.”

“No doubt.” Harrison wandered off to keep things rolling.

There was a balance between procedure and overkill, but in this case, careful was their call sign no matter how that appeared. The guy had an ego the size of the Grand Canyon. He was coming and everyone knew the stakes. Still…what was it Hunt always said? Prep for the moment of clusterfuck. It always comes.

The wait was on.

&&&&&&&&&&

QM International Flash Update:  00:45:20 PST 12/28 – San Diego HQ. Active operation in progress. All non-operational personnel remain at secure alternate locations. Maintain communications and await further instructions. Ϙ

Alanna heard the door and cracked an eye. The light left a blur in her vision.

“Get up, you two.” Mackey’s gruff voice brought her to attention. ‘Whit’s outside. We have movement down the block.”

She rolled out of Quaid’s arms to stand, letting him move. “He’s what? What the hell is he doing?” She claimed her two weapons from the coffee table. “Stubborn old man.”

“At this point, he’s springing the trap in the wrong place. We’re shifting the plan. Quaid, you, me, Hunt, and Ryker. Outside. Whit’s not going to get him contained in the building. It’s going to be the parking lot.”

Quaid swore. “We’ve already done the fucking parking lot. There’s no way to trap him there.”

“We better get ready for a fight, then.” Mackey left them.

“This is my fault. I shouldn’t…”

“Shh. We’ll after action it later. Let’s go nail this bastard. Not in my parking lot again. This time we take him.” Quaid handed her the tactical vest and helped her into it. She did the same for him.

“What time is it?”

He glanced at his watch and followed her out of the office. “One ten a.m.”

“His hunting time.”

He checked her gear and stopped to say something, but didn’t. She took his hand. “I know. Let’s go.”

Quaid opened the door for Operations and ushered them into quiet mayhem. He left her at the door and went to Mackey, listening to terse instructions she couldn’t hear.

She paused a minute, disoriented, then shook it off. She really had to address her eardrum and hearing issues when this was all over.

Everyone stuck to their jobs and were calling out updates as necessary. It was as well structured as any operation she’d seen.

Ryker came to her side. His own gear solid and in place. “Ready?”

“Yes. Let’s go. Before he kills Whit.”

“He wants you, not Whit.”

“He wants both.

“No, he wants you. I reviewed your work. Whit was the draw to get to you.”

Alanna stared at him. “How did you reach that conclusion? Why?”

“It’s the sequence, but let’s ask him.” Ryker moved off, going to Mackey.

Quaid came to her. “You, me, Mac. Ryker and Hunt as backup. Let’s go.”

“Out the front?” The main entrance now had a crude working door.

Quaid checked her vest again. “Yes. Remember how we got out of this before?”

She gripped his hands in hers. “We don’t have an expensive sports car to sacrifice this time.”

Quaid gave a short laugh at the reminder. “No, but we do have a hide in those juniper bushes. Remy built it. Protection.”

“You all have too much time on your hands.” She went to the door, then stopped herself. Mac was in charge. She wouldn’t forget the man’s talk or his skills. She made herself wait and did what she didn’t let Quaid finish – checked her vest fit and both her guns.

Mac came to the door. “Everybody clear on the instructions? Frank is on the way to cover both flanks, but will do so with no sirens. Their job is to push him back to us.”

“Is the target confirmed?” Hunt was still and calm.

Mac refastened his tactical vest. “Yes. Cameras confirm. Conners has eyes on him from the second floor side windows. He’s on foot, identified clearly, loaded for a fight, and not bothering with a disguise.”

“Almost like he knows it’s a trap.” She turned to Ryker.

“We can only play the cards we’re dealt, Williams. We roll this out and finish it by any means necessary.”

“What is Whit doing?”

“Taunting him.” Harrison answered from behind her. “At least that’s what it looks like without sound. Frank reports they’re in place.” He handed off the communication buds and ordered a check of reception and the operating channel.

Alanna completed the tasks and turned to Quaid. “Kill Whit for me when this is finished.”

“Let’s go save him first.” Quaid followed Mackey out the door. She paced herself to him.

They took the stairs.

For a group who had only practiced together one night, they moved with assurance and silence. Mackey, Quaid, then her, with Hunt and Ryker at the rear. Harrison’s job to babysit Whit was essentially eliminated, so he stayed in Operations coordinating every move per Mackey’s instructions.

Mac adapted their plan and didn’t hesitate. For the first time, she really understood his skill – and suddenly she could predict the result. They weren’t going to lose him this time. Mac would make sure. Of course, she was going to get to the bastard first and fulfill a life-long promise to herself.

Quaid and Mac moved in sync with each other, communicating with no hesitation. She drew on her training and copied. Outside, the night air fell into San Diego’s usual warmth, but goosebumps flashed across her skin.

The parking lot was more banged up since the wedding two weeks ago. Those fresh painted white lines were scuffed from moving concrete barriers and explosions. Construction equipment was parked by the front for the renovation of the entrance. The native shrubs were the same, but in the dark she couldn’t find the hide. QM’s cultivated, immaculate landscaping would need a major facelift when this was over. And yet, the QM International sign on the top of the building offered muted light in the dark night.

She could hear Whit shouting. “Come on you, bastard. Come and get me.”

Quaid swore under his breath.

“I’ll take him,” Hunt said. “Give me twenty seconds. I’ll take him out of the equation.”

Harrison’s voice came over her ear bud. “He’s on the property, moving fast. Armed with sniper rifle, knife, and two handguns in his belt. He’s heading straight to Whit.”

Hunt moved, but Mac stopped him. “Hold. We won’t make it.”

Alanna pulled her weapon and shifted to the front before Mac could stop her. “Let’s go. Confront. Disarm or kill. And be done.”

Fortunately, Mac agreed. Whit’s voice cut off.

“He has him,” Harrison confirmed.

Alanna’s heart seized and she couldn’t speak.

You decide if you’re steady enough to do it. You.

Mac’s words resonated.

She moved like she was the breacher, yet going straight to where Mercer couldn’t miss her. Quaid and Mackey stayed with her every step of the way.

The objectives formed a list in her head, solution simple. Make the man talk. Get Whit free. Kill Mercer.

She took Ryker’s opinion on Mercer’s motives to heart. When the two were in sight, struggling for footing with each other and knives drawn, she shouted. “You want to keep playing with him or have what you came for?”

“No, girl,” Whit yelled. But she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a professional, the hunter, the one who solved these things.

Quaid hissed, but stayed solid behind her and went silent.

Mercer trapped Whit in a chokehold with the knife at his throat. “Well, well. There she is. Finally. Why don’t you ditch your friends, and we’ll play?”

“FBI, pal. I don’t play, but I will admit you have me confused.”

He snorted out a laugh and twisted Whit’s neck until he groaned. “You know how I found out you were a cop studying the likes of me?”

She moved forward, gun pointed, with a head shot sighted.

“You tracked me.”

“Used this fool to do it.”

She took her eyes off Mercer for a split second and checked Whit. Angry frustration was in the set of his mouth. He didn’t care if Mercer killed him, and that was something she was going to take up with the old man later.

“I would have thought you had better things to obsess about.”

“Obsession? No, darling. It’s a calling. I’ve made some mistakes, I admit. Poor little thing, your friend. I should never have chosen her. You. You were the pinnacle.”

Her stomach rolled. “Why?”

“You fought back.” The knife pricked Whit’s throat and he hissed.

“What happened to my friend?”

Mercer sighed, an almost sexual completion in the tone. “Oh, she’s gone to the angels. It was marvelous.”

He couldn’t shake her with the confession. Deep in her heart she’d known.

“Send these people away. Let’s finish this, sweet honey.”

Hunt’s had shifted right in her peripheral vision and a shot rang out.

Whit sagged. His leg collapsed. The weight shift forced Mercer to let go. Whit hit the ground and rolled out of her shot.

Sound painfully echoed in her ear, but she didn’t flinch.

Time slowed, rolling like sluggish heatwaves coming off hot pavement.

Her target clear, she knew where the round would land. She pulled the trigger.

Her shot hit the assassin center forehead.

His face sagged. He fell backward to the pavement, eyes open and a smile on his lips.

Bastard.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna dropped her arm and tensed against the throbbing vibration in her head. Holding her left ear, she stared at the body. “It’s finished.”

Armed personnel pushed in around her, keeping eyes on the dead man.

Quaid, still behind her, put a hand on her shoulder. “He wanted you to kill him. That’s what this was all about.”

She studied the monster from her memories, dead on the pavement, dark hair shot with gray, pale skin, and his knife still in his fingers. She didn’t move closer to confirm death. She let Frank and Ryker do that. Mac had Whit and was yelling for Cait.

“It was a game to get me to kill him? Why?”

Quaid stayed close and talked in her good ear. “You called it. He was coming apart, not able to control himself.”

“Needing more and more to satisfy the compulsion. It wasn’t satisfying him anymore,” she whispered.

“He didn’t want caught, didn’t want prison. And he knew you would do it. He had you pegged from his first attack.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

His arm slipped around her and pulled her against him. “Mac would have. Hunt would have. I would have. He had to know someone would because he came here. Not to the alley where he first met you.”

“But that gave him what he wanted, dammit. I had questions.” She firmed her lips, trapping a surge of anger.

“Doesn’t matter, Lani. He’s dead.”

Her mind refused to believe this was over.

Ryker came to her. “Good shot, Williams. Now give me your gun. We’ll do this by the book.” He held a plastic evidence bag.

She studied the bag for a few seconds, then released her grip on the weapon, ejected the clip, and slid both into the bag.

“Sign the tag here.” Ryker handed her a pen. “You’re on administrative leave until we finish the shoot investigation. No problems will come from this. I was here. The whole thing has a dozen witnesses, and they recorded it to boot. Go home and get some sleep.”

Quaid took her arm. “Let’s go upstairs. Let the teams do the cleanup. Mac has it.”

She looked to where activity continued. Cait was with Whit. He was in good hands. Again. Mac was directing the flow and wouldn’t quit until the job was complete.

Thank God for Mac.

Because she needed Quaid.

Chapter Twenty

QM International Situation Brief:  10:45:30 PST 01/07 – San Diego HQ.  Main HQ power and communication systems temporarily offline for construction. Use alternate contact methods. Updates will follow as repairs are completed. Ϙ

Alanna scanned the mess of paperwork on her desk and let her mind wander. FBI Headquarters in LA was a hybrid. Cases running everywhere, priorities differed, but her corner was quiet this morning. Go to the division’s operational area and not so much.

The paperwork from Mercer’s death never ended. As authorities were notified, the requests for information increased. She shared the office space with Drew Jade. His desk sat opposite to hers and had an autographed baseball and a picture of his wife and child. Hers had empty coffee cups from the coffee shop across the street. She tested each one and threw them into the trash. She needed a desk mat, new pens, and to clean out her briefcase, but she gazed at the child’s photo. Something about his face steadied her.

She’d always been convinced she wasn’t the kind to put non-work stuff on her desk, but Quaid had handed her a pink rose bud from his garden this morning. There was a small vase tucked in her briefcase when she got to work. Niles had been in on the gift. There it was. By her desk phone.

She stroked the petals, then shoved away from her desk and took the last round of paperwork down the hall to Ryker’s office. His door was open, his own desk double as bad as hers. She stood in the doorway and waited for him to acknowledge her.

“You all right?” Nick Ryker’s concern was killing her. She had a list of things to be grateful to him for, but the worry had to stop.

Ten days and he’d watched her like a hawk. She was ready to get back into the field because this sitting in the office was on her last nerve. She admitted she’d been shaky after she’d shot Mercer. Confronting the complex mix of emotions over killing a human being was a day-to-day process. It came with using a gun. Her only stability – Quaid and his experiences.

The drive to San Diego every night to spend time with him, though, was not working so well. A decision time was coming. She’d told him six months together before they could talk about permanent, but she was changing her mind. She was in a hard dilemma between the FBI and QM. She loved both. And Whit’s complete recovery was leaving another decision point.

“I’m fine. Like I’ve told you five times a day since the shooting. Is there some reason you think I’m not?”

“Doing the boss thing.” He leaned back in his chair, white shirt stretched across his broad chest.

He’d fit at QM. She dismissed the idea. The man was die-hard FBI.

She stepped into the office and sat in the simple framed red visitor chair. The man didn’t have anything personal on his desk either, but behind it on the wall -- awards, diplomas, and accolades. “Well, you can stop. I have a proposal.”

“What kind?”

“How would you feel about making me a permanent liaison to QM? They have an unspecified number of missing persons cases, and they have a network for information that’s more nuanced than ours.”

He frowned. “This about Daniels?”

She couldn’t fudge the answer. “Yes. And no.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s no secret we’re involved.” Quaid hung around waiting for seven hours on the day of her shooting interviews. Wouldn’t budge until she could leave with him. He’d wrapped her in his jacket, kept his hands on her, and kissed her in the elevator. That wasn’t partner behavior, and everybody in the building knew it.

“I’m still working on Serena Tenney. It might be a good test case without the assassination distraction and the political pressure. Plus, I need to get Whit sorted out. But I like this job and don’t want to leave. Help me out here.”

“I knew this Tenney thing would be a headache. There’s nothing there.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

His eyes hardened. “You holding out?”

“Not as such, but we’re tracking some rumors, trying to confirm Serena’s movements. Honestly, I’m searching for a dump site to put this to rest.”

He gave her an irritated frown. “Tread carefully. It’s been investigated by a full task force of investigators and finally turned over to cold case by the local police, then we reviewed it here. Not me personally, but I read the conclusions. Nothing there to find. Professional opinion, she’ll never be found.”

“I don’t disagree. But a collaboration could benefit both QM and the FBI. Also, I have a doctor appointment for a hearing assessment and need to leave.”

“Go. And I’ll think about the collaboration thing. We don’t usually do that. Be careful. Lots of protected information here.”

“They have more to worry about than we do. Theirs is client confidentiality and private personal information, too, much of it governed by state laws. Ours is protected information governed by federal law. I’m always careful.”

“Thank you for schooling me on the differences in privacy laws. I had no idea.” His dry statement left her smiling.

“Watch your conduct, though.” His eyes showed confidence in her, but his voice was a caution she’d heed.

“If it ever becomes an issue with anyone about me and my association with QM, I’ll put my resignation on your desk. You only have to ask.”

“You won’t resign, and I won’t ask. Let’s make sure those conflict scenarios  don’t happen. Personally, and I’ll deny I said this, QM does good work, and I have a lot of respect for the Q and the M of that business.”

“Me, too. And the dozens behind them.”

“Get out of here. Text me the outcome of your doctor visit.”

She paused when his phone rang.

He stared at the screen, made a face, and answered. “Walker. What’s up?”

Alanna’s eyes widened.

“You what?” He rose and grabbed his jacket, listening carefully. “We’ll be there. Might take an hour.” He tapped the off and slammed the phone on the desk.

“What?”

“San Diego PD found Mercer’s hide. A house.” His phone dinged.

“Address. You in?”

“Let me get my weapon and credentials. I’m in. Have they touched anything?”

“Yeah, a bit. At the moment, the bomb squad is there.”

Alanna couldn’t stop the exasperated swear word. “Of course. Why would it be easy? Where is it?”

“Suburbia San Diego. Where else?”

“Bastard.” She went for her gun and her phone.

She’d been hoping Mercer would slowly recede in the dark side of her memory. Apparently, that wasn’t today.

&&&&&&&&&&

Quaid listened to Elizabeth with half his attention musing on Alanna. They were at the conference table in the room adjacent to Operations. They’d never put the removable wall back as it gave them more space flexibility, and since they had the other building, they could afford to expand Operations.

“Quaid, I know you’re in love, but could you pay attention.” When she used her saccharine sweet tone, one needed to duck.

Love. What?

He sat straighter and stayed silent on the L subject. “I’m listening. Would you like me to recite what you said?” They were talking about the particulars for renovating the building next door.

Mac occupied the other seat and was leaned back with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands and his eyes half shut. The man had the capacity to nap while talking.

“I may have all the business end handled, but you are on the paperwork and legally responsible for everything I do.”

“Did my grandfather ever question what you wanted?”

“No. But he paid attention when I talked so he knew what I was doing.”

Mac drank the last of his coffee and set the mug on the table. “My only request on Building B is to keep the cargo loading space open for Close Quarter drills. It’s perfect and one of the best things we improvised.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “Building B? No. You are not allowed to name things, Mackey, but I’ll note your request. Let me repeat. Do we want to leave space for more living area so we can keep more staff on site? We’ve needed it with the serial killer case. It offers them convenience and us more protection assets on site.”

She actually sounded like an experienced operative. Quaid shook off his distraction. Alanna usually text him or called him several times a day. She hadn’t today. He wasn’t worried. She’d been cleared from the shooting, and with Tenney renewing, he knew she’d have time here to help them with the case. But he was coming to hate this setup they had. Every day the late afternoon call – driving home or staying in LA? Am I coming to you or you to me? He stayed flexible, or at least he thought he did, but he wanted her home with him. Not at the LA Patton overnight or on the road. But the solution was not simple.

He answered Elizabeth before she could shake a finger at him. “I’d say yes. How much space will the living quarters take?”

“We could take one floor and do fourteen units similar to 501 in this building.”

The Operations door opened. Cait came in with Hunt behind her. They skirted the Operations computer area and walked to the business table. At this point, Hunt had a permanent visitor’s pass. Nobody was telling the Navy.

Quaid signaled them to seats, but answered Elizabeth before she lost her cool. “I say do it. It’s a good perk, works for security, and we weren’t going to fill all the space in the building anyway.”

“Is that an authorization?”

“Yes. Where do I sign?”

“Nowhere. This is for the architect.”

“I’ll leave all that to you.”

“Then, we’re done here.” She rose from the table, gave Cait a brief hug, and went out the door with purpose in her steps.”

“Did you approve the new apartments?” Cait’s smug expression gave her away.

“You knew?”

She rubbed her hands together. “Oh yeah, she’s been antsy to get started.”

“I wish she’d tell me these things instead of making it so formal.”

“You should tell her.” She pulled out a chair and made herself comfortable.

“What are you two doing here?” Mac eyed Hunt like a gunfighter considering the competition.

Hunt eased into a chair next to Cait. “Alanna called me and wanted me to meet her here.”

Okay.

He barely suppressed his irritation.

She hadn’t called him at all. But she’d called Hunt?

His mouth wouldn’t stay shut. “You have your own girl, Hunter.”

Cait snorted.

Hunt shrugged. “Sounded serious. That’s all I know.”

“How’s Whit?” He knew Alanna would ask as soon as she found out Cait had dropped in.

“He’d be recovering faster if he accepted his limitations. He’s still not happy about being shot.” She glared at her husband.

“He should have stayed out of the line of fire.” The whole op was constantly debated. At this rate, they’d be using the scenario to train their operatives.

The Operations door jerked open, and Alanna came in with an urgent stride – FBI Badge ID around her neck, gun at her hip, no jacket, hair escaping from her braid, and strain on her face.

He rose to greet her. “Are you all right?”

She grabbed his hand to keep him at the table, took a deep breath, and cupped his face, kissing him before answering. “Yes, I am. Mostly.”

She turned to Hunt, then paused to measure her words.

“Problem?” Hunt straightened in his chair.

“Out straight. We found Mercer’s hide. PD did anyway. We have his kill book. Take a walk with me, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Lani?” Quaid did not like the way this sounded.

She raised a finger. “Hunt only. Please.”

Hunt eyed her with practical concern. “Is this something you’re going to get in trouble for?”

Her eyes held a fury he hadn’t seen since the night she’d shot Mercer. “Fuck it. Don’t care. Come with me.”

Hunt followed her. Quaid stayed in place, trying like hell to respect the need for the secrets. The door closed behind them.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She kicked Mac’s chair and woke him. “Any coffee left around here?”

He pointed across the room at the pot. She rose, patting Quaid on the arm as she went by. “It’s okay. You can trust him with her.”

Trust wasn’t the issue. Deep secrets and complications were.

Celissa poked her head in the room. “Quaid, State Attorney General is on line one.”

Quaid wanted to call back, but they had a contract and he was the front man. Government navigation was complicated enough without blowing them off. “Tell Lani I had to take a call.”

Mac nodded and held the fort.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna stepped onto the roof terrace off the sixth floor and made sure they were alone. The bare space needed the party atmosphere from Hunt and Cait’s wedding to revive its energy. She went to the roof edge and gazed across the cityscape.

“Spill it, Williams. Brief me.”

“I had about two hours with his kill list before NCIS took the book. I imagine Army Intelligence is teed up for a turn, too.”

Hunt usually managed his facial expressions, but today he wasn’t covering the leery reaction. “Why?”

“Military people, dozens of them. Navy SEAL Lieutenant Commander Stephen Riley, your friend. Yes?”

Hunt’s brow creased. “Yes. He was collateral damage in an assassination a few years ago.”

“He’s number 92 in Mercer’s assassination book. Not collateral damage. He was the target.”

Surprise streaked over his face. He didn’t try to lock it down.

“Someone paid $30,000 to have him killed.”

“What? Why? Who?” Hunt spit out the questions rapid-fire.

“Entry is coded, and we haven’t uncovered any of his financials yet. His computer is locked tight with destruct instructions. I can’t answer those questions. And now NCIS has the book. There’s so many more that are coded military, it’s disgusting.”

Hunt stared off in the distance, making a valiant effort to contain his anger. His wasn’t working any better than hers were.

She tapped the edge of the balcony trying to expel her pent up emotions. “Let’s say someone has been analyzing, searching, even asking questions about Riley’s assassination. I wouldn’t say stop, but be mindful of what’s at stake. Whether you or someone else is searching, be careful. Somebody out there isn’t going to want this information out.”

“Did you make a copy?”

“I have a picture of the page. I’ll send it to you. A copy of the whole book. No. We were given the civilian killer book. NCIS took the assassination one.”

“He had two?”

She nodded. “We haven’t gone through everything yet. One would hope there were only two, but I’m not laying bets on it. He was seriously prolific.”

“Was your friend in the civilian book?”

“Yes. Right after her? My name, coded as unfinished business.”

Hunt shut his eyes. Honestly, his reaction was more subdued than hers, but that wasn’t saying much.

She struggled to keep her tone even. “He booby trapped his house, Hunt. Bomb squad found seven bombs that would have leveled the whole neighborhood. Family next door has six kids with a fourteen year old daughter. If you think I’m not pissed…”

“I know you are. Dump site?”

“No. Nothing there.”

“Maybe he has someplace else he keeps the bodies and more information.”

“We won’t know until a directed search begins. It’s going to a task force now, and I’ve opted out.”

“Why?”

“I’m not impartial anymore, and it’ll take me away from Quaid. I need to put this away. But I’m here to help if you need it.”

“Thanks. I have to talk to my commander. Can we keep this between us?”

“On this end, yes. But do what you need to.” She texted him the picture as they left the balcony.

“Got it. Dump the picture off your phone, Alanna.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Ryker know?”

“No.”

Hunt nodded, then went silent.

Back in the conference room, Quaid was gone.

Alanna sat next to Cait. “Where’s Quaid?”

“He had a business call. He’ll be back.” Her eyes were on Hunt. He’d stopped to talk to Harrison. They went into his office.

“What happened? He’s pissed.”

Alanna studied Harrison’s closed door. “I can’t say. But stick close. He might need someone to lean on later.”

“Copy that.”

Quaid came to the Operations glass door, his phone still at his ear. He signaled her. She left Mac and Cait and went to him. She needed to hand off her phone to Kerry to be wiped, and then…go to a safe, quiet space for a long while. That was Quaid. That was home.

&&&&&&&&&&

Alanna woke and couldn’t hear the ocean.

She turned her head on her pillow so her right ear was toward the window. There it was, and Quaid was lightly snoring, a sound she expected to hate, but was a reassurance of sorts. She’d have to reschedule her ENT appointment in the morning.

She rose, tugged a white San Diego Zoo sweatshirt over her head, and slipped into a pair of cream-colored yoga pants. On the quietest steps, she left the room and went down the back stairs to the kitchen. She was breaking the bed etiquette rules, and she knew it. The light on over the stove was more than sufficient to find her way to a glass and the chocolate milk in the fridge. She stood staring at the contents of the shelf before sweet won out over nutrition.

To her credit, she heard the house monitor’s footsteps – miracle – and didn’t gasp. “Conners. Do you lurk around in the dark all the time?”

“No, I was in the office and heard you. Everything all right?”

“Yes. Restless, work on my mind, and wanted chocolate milk.”

He smiled slightly like he knew, but she never met a man who understood a woman’s cravings. Oh, they could observe and respond, if they paid attention, but truthfully appreciating the first swallow – a woman’s thing.

“If you need anything, I’m in the office.”

“Only you, tonight?”

“No, Tane is outside doing a sweep.” He left her alone.

Why didn’t this house have a guard dog, a moat, a bridge troll? All random, irrelevant questions at two a.m.

She levered herself onto a stool at the counter with a soft, gray blanket from the kitchen table chair, her drink refilled, and a package of graham crackers pilfered from the pantry.

You’re struggling, Alanna.

She hated when her subconscious talked to her.

She should be struggling. She’d killed a man. But after today, after that house, after another round of anger… she wasn’t concerned about the kill so much as that she had no remorse, no feeling about his death other than satisfaction that the bastard was cremated and gone. She could finally put ‘the end’ on that chapter. Needed to.

Of greater concern was her eardrum damage, the damn kill book, and loving Quaid – there she admitted the L word in her head. It was going to take the lawyers five years to write the pre-nup agreement because…

God.

Her stomach seized.

She did not want to be the beneficiary of billions of dollars or any of the businesses. She’d lived on the street as a child, studied deviant behavior, followed the law, and killed a man. She had no business with any responsibility for the money, the businesses, or the people.

Quaid might gripe, but he respected the hotels and QM, their employees, their purpose – that’s how he rolled. The money didn’t hurt, and he used it with wide discretion – like paying off her student loans. Christ! That had started the mother of all arguments. Some of her habits from college were going to need to be put away.

“If you fold any further into yourself, you’ll fall off the stool.”

His quiet voice always struck her heart with such intensity. Her breath evaporated between inhale-exhale.

He came further into the room, pulled over his own stool, and grabbed a cracker. “What are you doing up?”

“Contemplating why this house doesn’t have a bridge troll.”

He stared at her. “Must be the hour. I couldn’t have heard you right.”

“How about a moat or a guard dog? One puny human out doing rounds in a rough and tumble world that’s dangerous as fuck…what were you thinking?”

He smirked, tipping the glass toward him to check its contents. “What are you drinking?”

“Chocolate milk. Straight. I love you.”

He jerked in his chair. “Well, that’s good to know.” He palmed her neck and pulled her close for a soft kiss. He kept his hand on her neck, the belonging shaking her foundation. He lifted her chocolate milk and stole a sip.

She whispered against his neck. “Don’t you dare leave me any of your money.”

He spit a portion of the milk on the counter. That she was willing to let him get away with pilfering any of her chocolate milk spoke to the depth of her attachment to him.

“That statement sounds familiar. I do believe I’ve said the same thing to my grandfather and Elizabeth.”

“Did it work?”

“No.”

“Dammit.”

“Face it, Lani. I love you, too, and will never leave you to be vulnerable again.”

“I need a picture of us for my desk. My rose looks lonely.”

He grinned like a fool. “I can make that happen. Does the frame need a pocket for your gun, too?”

She shoved a shoulder against him. “Laugh it up, fuzzball. Conceal one of your handy dandy spy tools in it.”

“Very James Bond of me. I’ll get on it.”

“I killed him.”

He accepted the switch from play to serious without a twitch. “Yes, you did.”

“He wanted me to, and it’s still in my head. He knew that would happen, didn’t he?”

“Yes, given who he was, I’d say he calculated it as a final revenge. I remember the ones I’ve killed. It’s part of how we keep our humanity and stay on the right side of the line between fighting violence and being the violence.”

“I need a new primary weapon. I’m going to retire my current one.”

He studied her face, eyes neutral. “The memory is in your head, not in your gun.”

“Still. I don’t want to use it anymore.”

“Tinkerton has a source. We can talk to her tomorrow.”

“Your armory expert has a source for everything. Is she hoarding nuclear weapons in that cavern she calls the vault?”

“Probably. I haven’t asked. What I don’t know can’t kill me.”

It was her turn to study him, although she was pretty sure her face wasn’t blank. “I’m so glad you retired PQ.”

“PQ?”

“Playboy Quaid. I like this guy so much better.” She slipped a hand on his leg and leaned to kiss his mouth in a slow, intentions-obvious way. “Take me to bed, Q. I’m done here.”

He grinned and helped her off the stool. “Much better activity than graham crackers and milk.”

“Marginally.” She wrapped her hand around his and followed him up the stairs.

“You wound me, Wildcat.”

“I’ll kiss it and make it better. Do you remember that six months I said?”

“Yeah.”

“I might not need that long.”

He squeezed her hand. In their room, she fell on the bed with him on top of her. “I forgot to mention I had to cancel my ENT appointment today, but I’ll make a new one, in case Cait complains to you.” She leaned and kissed her way along his jaw, then down his neck.

“Okay…” He shifted, tipping her head to look her in the eyes. “Is this a problem? Anything to worry about?”

She slid her hands under his T-shirt seeking skin and heart. “No, assessing the healing and my hearing. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry.”

He shucked off his shirt and helped her out of her middle-of-the-night outfit. “Later, Lani. We’ll talk about this later.”

She kissed his lips, and let love fill every part of her heart and soul.

This man. The sighs, the kisses, his hands and mouth against sensitive skin roared heat through her.

Right person. Right time. He would always be the one who made everything better.

QM International Communication Check:  02:00:00 PST 1/8 San Diego HQ. Personnel status: Normal. No active threats. Ϙ

THE END

Books have always been my favorite escape and my comfort place. I love stories that make me laugh, stay up too late, fall in love, and believe good people can still find their way home.

That’s what I hope readers discover in my books, too. Around here, I believe in creating worlds you want to come back to again and again. The kind where you remember the community, miss the characters when the story ends, and immediately start looking for the next book.   

Thank you for spending time with Quaid and Alanna in Long Past Deadly. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you are able, please leave a review or a star rating on Amazon. Thank you.

P.

What’s Next?

Coming in 2027

What we leave behind defines the past.
What we reclaim can change the future.

Excerpt – No One Left Behind

Chapter One

Summer, 2016

Petty Officer, Third Class Robert James Baxter silently reconsidered the decision to take leave at his mother’s house.

Not that he didn’t love her to pieces.

He did.

He’d needed a few days to clear his head and here was perfect. Tracy, girlfriend number whatever, had announced he wasn’t worth the wait and broke up with him. In the two weeks since, he’d been plagued by her lack of commitment and the assault on his dedication to the SEALs. He’d been neglecting his mom over the last few weeks – since he’d started dating Tracy.

His mother was his one anchor. He owed her. She deserved better. But she hovered – a fact he was familiar with but not used to anymore.

“The Navy does feed me, Mom.” He snitched a piece of the roast, popped it into his mouth, and barely stopped a shout of ecstasy. Mom cooking versus Navy cooking – no contest.

Standing in the kitchen he’d grown up in was a coat that didn’t fit anymore. But the leaf green color palate, the light oak furniture and floors, and the crystal vases along the kitchen window reminded him of their years of refuge in this house and the support and comfort here. The hum of the new refrigerator was different. The Branson’s house next door was empty and for sale. The quiet had shifted, but all still felt the same.

She slapped at his fingers and missed. “Wait for a proper plate, son.”

“You do know I can get called at any time.” He turned on the kitchen faucet to wash his hands.

She tsked at him. “Yes, I do. But we will eat at a table like civilized people.” Yeah, the hand washing got silent approval.

He’d arrived in Pasadena early afternoon yesterday, the home of his junior high and high school years. Yeah, he’d struck out on the girlfriend front in high school, too, but somehow admitting that didn’t seem so bad now.

Last night, he’d taken his mother to dinner so she wouldn’t fuss, but all through the meal, he dodged questions about Tracy. Today, his mom made him a full breakfast and now an elaborate dinner – his favorite. She’d beaten him twice at Scrabble in their usual “Use Your Brain” challenge. He’d hedged on Tracy questions as long as he could.

His mother’s black pants and fuchsia sleeveless blouse accentuated her slender, diminutive frame while the splashes on the white apron confirmed she cooked regularly. Her graying blonde hair was pulled into a loose, stylish ponytail. Her fingers were busy prepping their meal, but the mother in her didn’t miss a thing. The gold wedding ring on her left hand flashed in the light, and her pink manicured nails and makeup assured him things were normal. But her blue laser gaze confirmed his suspicions. Incoming.

“So, what happened with Tracy?” She didn’t sneak it in as a whisper or a concerned question. She flat out asked in the tone that expected an answer.

Honestly, he knew what happened. He’d understood it wouldn’t work from one hour into date one when he confessed he was a SEAL.

“She hated the job and hated how much I was gone. After more than a few ruined dates, she said this wasn’t for her. I think it was SEAL lore captivating her, but the reality was less appealing. I let her go.”

His mother frowned. He waited for advice. None came. She, of all people, understood.

They were close. She’d been his steady and unshakeable anchor since his father died. Even now, if he let himself linger in those moments, the loss hit hard.

But this life he’d chosen? It was going to test all of it – every memory, every promise, every relationship he had.

Near the end of the hellscape that was BUD/S, he’d come close to breaking. Not from the cold or the grind, but from the thought of her. Of what this would cost her. He’d stood there, staring at the bell, everything in him twisted with grief.

He hadn’t rung it. Had spent too many years prepping to succeed. He refused to fail, and he never told anyone how close he’d come.

Because the truth was, he couldn’t walk away from what he wanted, and she would never ask him to.

She hadn’t. Not once. She’d taken the hit, swallowed the fear, and backed him every step of the way.

God help him, he needed a girlfriend who understood what this life would take and stayed anyway.

“Good you let her go. Are you going to like your new team?” Matter of fact, change of subject. That he could deal with.

He’d recently finished a round of heavy training with still more to come. “I think so. I like my senior chief and the new lieutenant seems okay. I’ll do my best like I always do.”

Bess Baxter gave him the eye. “What’s his name?”

“Why? So you can find him and give him pointers on how to take care of me?” He laughed and went to set the table with the good dishes.

She spooned the mash potatoes into a serving bowl. “I never suspected you’d thrive in the Navy. I was wrong. I’m proud of you.”

“Ah, Mom. You’re gonna make me cry.” He grinned. “His name is Lieutenant Travis Hunter. His XO is Warrant Officer Warren Dugan, and our Senior Chief is Van Nguyen. Don’t tell anybody.” Finished placing the silverware, he went to the pantry for napkins.

His mom huffed out a laugh, then laid out the food. “I wouldn’t do that. I understand the security issues.” She opened her mouth to say more, but his phone vibrated.

He pulled the device from his pocket, hoping for the girlfriend. Christ! Why? Head slap. Senior Chief’s name popped. He swallowed a sigh. “I gotta take this, Mom.”

He went out on the wide back porch and answered. “Senior Chief? I’m here.

“Where the hell are you, Baxter?”

The man knew. He’d approved his leave. Bax stated the facts. “On a two-day pass, Chief. I’m in Pasadena visiting my mother.”

“Get yourself back.”

“Are we going out?”

“Don’t have info yet, but you’re too far away. If we go, we leave you behind. Is that what you want?”

“No, Chief. I’ll be there.” He clicked off and calculated how fast he could eat so it wouldn’t insult his mother. Better to insult his mother, though, than to let down the team. That wouldn’t fly.

He stepped back into the kitchen, the enticing aroma winding from memory to memory through his growing up years to now.

“You have to go.” His mother’s quiet voice always stopped him cold no matter what.

“I have time to eat, Mom. Let’s do it. Then, yes. I have to go.” He’d planned to leave in the morning anyway, but the juicy goodness of the roast called to him. He wasn’t leaving without eating. He was a SEAL. He could do both things. Traffic was going to be a bitch. He’d have to speed a bit, but he’d make it work.

He helped his mom into her chair and handed her a napkin. He drew in the scent of home cooking from his place across from her. “Smells good. Thanks, Mom.”

She grinned. “You better hurry. Can’t keep the Navy waiting or your team.”

He didn’t gobble, but he didn’t linger either. He did clear a full plate with a tad bit of seconds – the good china plates were smaller – and managed cake, too.

Bag packed and on the porch, he set aside his motorcycle helmet and hugged her where she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. “I love you, Ma.”

“I love you, Robert. Go do good.” She never said goodbye anymore. Not since his dad died.

“You’re the best.” He kissed her cheek, settled his helmet on his head, and fastened his bag on the back of his bike.

She waved at him from the front porch amid red and yellow flowerpots and a U.S. flag. He was sure she watched until he turned the corner.

Pasadena to San Diego in heavy traffic wasn’t his favorite – but two and a half hours later, he walked into the team’s workroom with all its sterile, functional beige and metal ways. The room smelled of gun oil and lemon floor cleaner.

“You’re back.” John “Carter” Evans greeted him from the cage next to his. He swayed in a gray hammock stretched from corner to corner. The man had All-American nailed with the blond hair, the blue eyes, the muscles, and the confident personality. His well-known attention to detail and deft competence were currently hidden by his lazy sprawl.

“You waiting, too?”

“Yep.”

“What’s happening?’

“No word yet. Pull up a hammock.”

He nodded in agreement. But first, he zipped open his bag and pulled out a roast beef sandwich and his favorite chips. They’d been cushioned on the top of his gear, and he was more than ready for the snack. His mom was the best.

He opened the plastic, carefully separated the stuffed sandwich from the wrapper, and took a big bite. God, it went down good. All he needed now was a beer.

Carter eased upright in his hammock. “Dog, are you eating? And you didn’t bring me any?”

“Next time go home with me and meet my mom. You too can have leftovers.” He wasn’t sharing. He didn’t care if Carter outranked him. Mom love was mom love, and he’d play that card if he had to.

Carter eyed the sandwich, but dropped back into his cocoon. “Deal. Tell me next time you go.”

He didn’t know anything about Carter. Family, friends, hobbies, habits. But maybe by his next visit, he would know enough to be willing to share his mom’s cooking. Team, after all, was team.

No One Left Behind

Free – Available Now

Red Sofa Club Magazine

Welcome to the Red Sofa Club where stories brew, crumbs are welcomed and behind-the-scenes news gets shared. You won't want to miss the behind-the-scenes gossip, plans for future stories, and the many free extras available month to month from the Red Sofa Club Library They are just for you!

Currently, there are two series running free in the Library – The Defenders: The Baxter Trilogy and Echo Falls, Texas: Between The Chapters. Thrown in as an extra, the WADF Cookbooks are a fun addition. There are two ways to get these great reads:

Subscribe to the monthly magazine that comes out the 2nd Tuesday of the month or download the magazine on the following weekend from my website.

I know some of you love to be first to see what's next, and some of you have email fatigue and want to get the information in your own time and space. I'm happy to make a place for every reader. Join me on the sofa, friends! Let's read. P.

Red Sofa Club Library 2026

Red Sofa Club Library – Coming in 2027

About the Author

Patti Ann Colt books are military and contemporary romances where love holds steady through the toughest battles. I believe in ordinary moments that become extraordinary, and in heroes who fight just as fiercely for their families as they do for their country.

When I’m not writing, you’ll find me with coffee in hand, dreaming up the next story, or enjoying time with my ever-growing circle of family and friends. I’m a Pacific Northwest girl transplanted to Texas, and I currently live in Arlington, Texas.

~Stay Connected and Keep Reading Along~

Newsletter: Red Sofa Club Magazine (exclusive stories, first looks, and updates)

Website:  PattiAnnColt.com (book extras, series details, and behind-the-scenes

Instagram: PattiAnnColtAuthor (snippets of writing life and everyday fun)

Email: Patti@PattiAnnColt.com