Dark Enemy (DARC Ops Book 9) Page 16

  “Where?”

  “Third floor, east wing. Room 308.”

  The guard let out a long sigh and then began typing on his laptop. “I’m pulling up the cam right now, for my reference. Not yours. We’ve got a live feed for every floor. Every room.”

  Finally. They were making progress. Logan’s shoulders dropped an inch.

  Until he saw the guard’s horrified face.

  “What? Let’s hear it,” Jackson said, his voice sharp.

  “I’m looking at Gary Johnson’s office,” the guard said calmly. “And I see a man who isn’t Gary Johnson. And he’s holding a gun to someone’s head.” He took a step back from his post and got on his radio, talking quickly, frantically, his hand shaking with it.

  Jackson rushed around to look at the camera feed while Logan wanted nothing to do with it. He wanted to get there and see it for himself. See that bastard Andrei on the ground, blood leaking from his skull.

  There was no time to wait for it to be official. No time for permission from a guard or a general. He turned to Jackson. “Let’s roll.”

  “And do what?” Jackson said.

  “Do first,” Logan said, “then apologize later.”

  They rushed past the guard, skipping the elevators and sprinting up the stairs, pounding up three floors and blasting open the stairwell door. In contrast to the noisy stairway, the hall was dead quiet. Logan had expected an alarm, or at least some mild shouting coming from Gary’s office.

  Jackson seemed to notice his surprise. “It’s not the whole floor that’s shut down. Just the East wing.”

  “Shut down how?”

  “With an automatic security door.”

  They jogged toward the scene, checking through each doorway on the way. Logan checked left, Jackson checked right. Every room and hallway empty. Every door open until they reached the divider between the two wings. A heavy-duty security door sealed tight.

  Jackson tried something with the lock, inserting his pick, but it made no difference. He gave up and took a few steps backward, standing next to Logan as both men weighed their options.

  Logan would love to just shoot past it, but they didn’t have heavy enough weapons.

  “We’ll have to go old school,” Jackson said. But Logan couldn’t imagine any more old school than shooting past. And then Jackson unholstered his gun and aimed it at the wall next to the doorway. He took three shots, in a straight line moving up from the floor. Then he turned to Logan and said, “See that line? Shoot the shit out of it between the two points.” Jackson turned back and returned firing at his target.

  Logan followed his instructions without asking any further questions, instead enjoying the feeling of release, blasting away the drywall. It was good for temporary stress relief. Logan hoped it could soon do more than that, or at least lead to the ultimate relief—getting to and blasting away Andrei.

  After the small portion of the wall had been blown away in chunks, Jackson called a ceasefire and then hunched down beside it, peering into the hole they’d made. He reached in with a multi-tool, doing something, groaning, and then his arm flexed hard as he groaned again about “this fucking wire” until Logan heard a snap sound. And then the sound of the door sliding open.

  Logan was about to congratulate him when he felt the air next to him vibrate and whiz with the hot trajectory of incoming rounds.

  Jackson was already firing back. He must have had a visual from his lowered vantage point near the wall. Logan, on the other hand, quickly side-stepped to his wall and clung to it. He crept up to the doorway, holding his gun out front, slicing the pie around the corner and preparing himself to shoot at the first sign of Andrei or whoever else was unlucky enough to be hunted down by him and Jackson. Being so close to vengeance sent a thrill through his body. So close to everything being over. So close to Holly.

  But the hallway was empty.

  “I think he ran,” Jackson said.

  “Move and take turns?”

  “Cover me first,” Jackson said, running through the doorway and heading into the east wing. He ducked into the first doorway on his side, and then he waited for his partner to do the same.

  Logan took a breath and hustled out into the hallway, moving up along the wall, his gun and his eyes trained head for any sight of Andrei. He dipped inside the cover of the first doorway, his gun still pointed down for covering fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson move forward to his next cover. They took turns all the way down the hall until Logan was first to reach the bend. Another ninety-degree angle which required him to slice the pie, the only safe and tactical method for looking around an otherwise blind corner.

  There was no one there.

  Then he heard a woman’s scream and knew exactly where to run.

  He heard his name being called by Jackson, his name in a frantic cry. He ignored it and moved ahead, needing to get into contact with Andrei. Needing to rescue Holly. He stormed into the room, this time forgetting about slicing the pie, this time busting in crazily, half mad with vengeance, this time feeling the hot sliver of a bullet graze his arm.

  Holly was there. Holly’s desperate eyes, white and shiny, her face red and screaming.

  Running into the room was a huge risk, but the only way to get Andrei off guard. Logan had paid the price with the burning, searing pain in his arm. He ignored it and placed his shots. Three close-clustered holes into Andrei Godev’s chest. Logan could almost see the shockwave move through his body, his rib bones shattering, Andrei’s eyes bulging on his way to the floor. Before he hit the ground, his eyes changed to the cold, hard stare of a dead man. A dead Russian asshole.

  Logan could no longer feel his wound, everything in him going cool and numb. Just a flesh wound. He’d been lucky. The same couldn’t be said for Andrei. Logan stepped over him and wrapped his arms around a badly shaking Holly. She said nothing. She buried her little face in his chest and sobbed while Logan looked back over his shoulder, still in alert mode, still scanning the room, still bleeding from his arm. Her hand moved up and felt the blood, and she recoiled.

  “I’m fine,” he told her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But what about Beth?”

  “We’ll get her,” Jackson’s voice sounded from the doorway, his boots crunching over broken glass. “We’ll get her by day’s end.” He took in the room, the bullet holes drilled into the wall behind him, and the remnants of the battle from the day before. “Holy shit,” Jackson muttered from the doorway. “Are you guys alright? Logan, your arm.”

  He was still looking Holly in the eyes. “I promise we’ll get her,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

  29

  Holly

  She was safe and rescued, but it meant nothing. As long as Beth was still unaccounted for, Holly was imprisoned right along with her. She could feel the ropes tightening around her heart.

  They loosened, just a little, when Logan walked into the room, his head almost grazing the ceiling as he entered small kitchenette area of an old RV parked forty miles outside Washington.

  “It’s nice,” he said, looking around the dim insides of their new old RV. “Right? Kinda rustic?”

  “It’s rustic,” Holly said, forcing a smile. When Logan was with her, she tried not to imagine what Beth was still going through. She tried to save those moments for when she was alone. For when she could cry.

  Being at a DARC Ops safe house—or RV—was a nice change, however. Nice considering the alternative. Jackson had gotten her out of perhaps the longest debriefing—and likely interrogation—in the history of the agency by claiming she needed medical attention. In reality, all she needed was Logan’s attention. He’d taken her himself out of the city to a half-vacant RV park. The whole place, the RV included, looked run-down and dilapidated enough to look legit. She and Logan had even dressed the part. T-shirts and jeans for days, if necessary. She didn’t mind staying there for days if it meant she would be alone with her man. But that would also mean Beth was still in tro
uble. In reality, hours were as long as she could stand.

  Logan had promised that would be all his team needed.

  “They’re zeroing in on her right now,” he said.

  He’d said things like this occasionally that afternoon, especially when she’d forget and let her guard down around him. Let her head hang down. Eyes down, tears down. She sniffled back some more tears. “Please tell me you brought that fucking whiskey.”

  A minute later, they were pouring drinks and trying to forget.

  It was easy not knowing about the outside world.

  If the world could only be this RV kitchenette . . . if it could only be her and Logan . . .

  “I’ll get them on the radio,” Logan said, “when they get close enough. You’ll want to hear that, right?”

  He was talking about the rescue mission. She liked hearing about it, and talking about it. But at that point, even words were becoming a little maddening.

  “So, then they for sure know where she is?”

  “Not exactly yet. They know the warehouse. They’re surrounding it. Do you want to hear that, too?”

  “I want to hear everything.” She finished what was left in her glass and poured more. She wanted to sit there and listen and drink until it was all over. Then she’d straddle her man, and they’d fuck like animals for the rest of the night. Rest of the week. Rest of their lives, maybe.

  Logan was sitting across from her in a vinyl booth, similar to the one you’d find in an old diner. The place had charm. She couldn’t deny that.

  Logan had some charm, too. He winked at her and took a drink.

  She didn’t wink back.

  Logan took another sip. “Jackson tells me they’re making headway, cooperating with the CIA.”

  She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

  “Apparently, they’re using this to repair relations among the two groups. Also, I think, to cover each other’s asses in some way. But I think they’ve gotten used to Jackson butting into their business. Can’t beat him, join him kind of thing. Or at least, let him join whatever mission they’re on.”

  She took another drink.

  “We’ll get her,” Logan said. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re doing good, Holly.”

  “I wish I could do more.”

  “You’ve done enough.”

  Finally, she felt an authentic laugh come on. “Yeah, I did enough to start this whole thing. I don’t think I’ll ever do anything ever again.”

  “That’s fine with me,” he said, chuckling. He was still smiling at her. God, Logan with a genuine smile on his face was sex on legs. She almost wanted him right then and there, save for the circumstances. He chuckled again. “Well, there is maybe one thing I’d still like for you to do.”

  “There’s a whole lot of things I could still do, as long as it was with you.”

  “And in private.”

  “Maybe not in an RV.”

  “Maybe,” he said, looking back toward the bedroom at the back. “Maybe if we get the right news.”

  She downed the rest of her glass. “Fuck, I hate waiting.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought he was supposed to call you back with the updates,” Holly said. “What’s going on?”

  “I spoke to Tansy. He says to say thank you, by the way. He’s still working on it. He found info on Andrei’s phone that led the agents to a warehouse.”

  “And they know she’s there?”

  “They know she’s there.”

  She looked across the table, studying his face, looking for the lie. “Are you sure?”

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “I want to hear it all. If I can’t be there in person . . .”

  Logan took out his phone again and did something. The plan was for them to listen in live to the radio comms, but the longer the communication gap, the more worried Holly felt. The more likely it seemed that it was all just a big tease. False hope crashing and burning into the painful reality that they hadn’t found Beth. Or worse, that they had found her, and she was dead—as Andrei had promised.

  But Andrei always was a liar. Right?

  “I know you’re worried,” Logan said. “But we just have to be patient a little longer.”

  She looked at her empty glass, questioning if she should have a little more. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Doubts crowded her mind. Was the alcohol making her think things that weren’t true, or was she finally seeing things clearly? “I don’t know why I couldn’t help, with you and DARC. This whole thing with coming out here, it’s like they just want to get rid of us.”

  “Holly, I told you, if you showed your face anywhere around D.C., they’d have you in an interrogation cell for days. Me too, probably. Would you rather that?”

  She sighed.

  “Or would you rather this?” Logan said, holding out the bottle.

  For now, she’d rather just get drunk. She poured the next drink for both of them.

  Logan looked up from his phone. “I guess there’s a pissed-off assistant director who’s heading to the DARC headquarters.”

  “CIA assistant director?”

  Logan nodded. “Word got out that we were holding and interrogating Gary Johnson. I think everyone involved is pretty embarrassed about that. It’s probably yet another thing that won’t show up in the papers.”

  “I don’t want any of it in the papers.”

  “That’s also a possibility. Regardless,” Logan said, “you might want to hide out with me for a while.”

  “With you and Beth,” she said, biting her lip, trying to stay hopeful. And then something erupted inside her, some great need for him. For his touch. Holly stood and circled the table, sliding onto the bench next to Logan, snuggling up close to his warmth, her head already in his hands.

  Logan looked at her, his face moving close, his eyes closing.

  They kissed sweetly at first, an act of therapy, Logan doing his best to heal her with his love. She felt it so strongly, along with his beating heart when they collapsed into each other. Both of their hearts racing. Both of their mouths opening.

  He tasted so nice. Barrel-aged whiskey between them, warm and half drunk. Half wanting.

  She almost forgot . . .

  They ended their kiss. Logan wrapped his arms around her, and she wanted to stay there for the next year, but there was still that one last remaining obstacle. There was still her need to see Beth.

  Those exact words barely had time to leave her mouth before she heard the knock at the door.

  Logan’s embrace tightened for a split second, and then eased off when neither a person or rounds from a gun came through the door. He stood and mouthed the words, stay there.

  She stayed there, at their table. At her vinyl booth. She watched Logan open the door, his expression lighting up. And then his voice, even brighter, saying, “Holly? There’s someone here for you.”

  She almost jumped over the table to get there, pushing Logan out of the way and staring out the doorway at the tired and sickly—but still the—smile of her cousin. “Beth!”

  Standing behind her were agents from her office and DARC. No one said a word.

  Beth took two steps forward and bear hugged Holly, her shoulders heaving hard with the crying that took over them both. Sad, glad crying. No words were needed.

  30

  Logan

  It was clear that Holly and her cousin—and a few other arriving relatives—needed their privacy. He’d been intimately involved in the process, and in Holly. Maybe he needed the break. A little perspective. And maybe a little rest.

  Being with Holly, when they were working side by side tracking down Andrei Godev, and afterward, had been the among the best moments of his life. He’d been able to help the woman of his dreams get her life back, and had some of the most incredible sex of his life while they were at it. He had the bruises and bite marks to show for it, about the same amount o
f damage he’d gotten in battling Godev and his goons.

  He looked at the marks, standing shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror in a hotel a few miles from the RV safe house. He’d said a quick goodbye to Holly and faded into the background of a chain hotel’s presidential suit—and its mini bar. Its large bed and cable TV. Maybe the Jacuzzi, too. No, it would bring back too many memories of Holly. They’d be fun memories, but it would leave him wanting her too badly.

  Wanting her and having her would have to come later, after her family had some time to heal together. After a few debriefings with Jackson. After the bite and claw marks on Logan’s back had disappeared to make room for the new additions.

  Time. He had all the time in the world.

  He took another sip from his ice-cold beer and turned away from the mirror, walking out of the bathroom and then staring out of his tenth-floor window to the rear parking lot below. No suspicious cars had pulled up.

  But what would such a car look like, anyway?

  Fuck it. He walked away and plopped down on his bed, answering the phone when it rang. Phone calls in the last few days had come with stress and anxiety. Now it just meant he might be that much closer to seeing Holly again.

  “Talk to me.”

  Jackson, on the other end, said, “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “Logan?”

  “Go ahead,” Logan said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Decompressing.”

  “By yourself?”

  Logan chuckled at the question. “I left Holly with her family back at the RV. Matthias is doing guard duty.”

  “I know what Matthias is doing,” Jackson said. “I’m wondering what you’re doing.”

  “I’m having a beer.”

  “Well, good for you. I’ve still got a few weeks’ worth of meetings before I can have any fun.”

  “Well,” Logan said, “you’re the man.”

  “You, too. I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

  “Tell me?”