Targeted do-1, Page 2

  “I don’t want anyone else. In fact, no one else here knows you’re going in as Keane’s partner except me.”

  Jack frowned. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone undercover with only Wesley as his sole contact, but if his boss had people already working on the connection between Vargas and SBMS, it would be protocol for the direct team to know he was going in undercover. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to risk a leak. If I’m the only one who knows you’re not who you say you are, there’s no chance of that.”

  There was more to it than that, but Jack didn’t question him. He had that blank expression Jack recognized all too well that meant he wouldn’t be getting any more, not even under torture.

  Wesley continued. “You know more about Sophie than most people. I want you to use that knowledge to get close to her. I don’t think I need to remind you that this is a matter of national security.”

  “I haven’t seen her since I was eighteen.” And not a day went by that he didn’t think of the ways he’d failed her. What the hell was Wesley thinking?

  “It’s time for you to face your past, Jack.” His boss suddenly straightened and took on that professorial/fatherly look Jack was accustomed to.

  “Is that what this is about? Me, facing my past?” he ground out. Fuck that. If he wanted to keep his memories buried, he damn well would.

  Wesley shrugged noncommittally. “You will complete this mission.”

  As Jack stood, he clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret. Part of him wanted to tell Wesley to take his order and shove it, but another part—his most primal side—hummed with anticipation at the thought of seeing Sophie. She’d always brought out his protective side. Probably because she’d been his entire fucking world at one time and looking out for her had been his number-one priority.

  He’d noticed Sophie long before she’d been aware of his existence, but once he was placed in the same foster house as her, they’d quickly become best friends. Probably because he hadn’t given her a choice in being his friend. He’d just pushed right past her shy exterior until she came to him about anything and everything. Then one day she’d kissed him. He shoved that thought right out of his mind.

  “There’s a car waiting to take you to the flight strip. Once you land in Miami, there will be another car waiting for you. There’s a full wardrobe, and anything else you’ll need at the condo we’ve arranged.”

  “What about my laptop?”

  “It’s in the car.”

  When he was halfway to the door, his boss stopped him again. “You need to face your demons, Jack. Seeing Sophie is the only way you’ll ever exorcise them. Maybe you can settle down and start a family once you do. I want to see you happy, son.”

  Son. If only he’d had a father like Wesley growing up. But if he had, he wouldn’t have ended up where he was today. And he’d probably never have met Sophie. That alone made his shitty childhood worth every punch and bruise he’d endured. Jack swallowed hard, but didn’t turn around before exiting. His chest loosened a little when he was out from under Wesley’s scrutiny. The older man might be in his early fifties, but with his skill set, Jack had no doubt his boss could take out any one of the men within their covert organization. That’s why he was the deputy director of the NSA and the unidentified head of the covert group Jack worked for.

  Officially, Black Death 9 didn’t exist. Unofficially, the name was whispered in back rooms and among other similar black ops outfits within the government. Their faction was just another classified group of men and women working to keep their country safe. At times like this Jack wished the NSA didn’t have a thick file detailing every minute detail of his past. If they didn’t, another agent would be heading for Miami right now and he’d be on his way to a four-star hotel or on another mission.

  Jack mentally shook himself as he placed his hand on the elevator scanner. Why was Wesley trying to get under his skin? Now, of all times? The man was too damn intuitive for his own good. He’d been after him for years to see Sophie in person, “to find closure” as he put it, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had no problem facing down the barrel of a loaded gun, but seeing the woman with the big brown eyes and the soft curves he so often dreamed about—no, thank you.

  As the elevator opened into the aboveground parking garage, he shoved those thoughts away. He’d be seeing Sophie in two days. Didn’t matter what he wanted.

  • • •

  Sophie Moreno took a deep, steadying breath and eased open the side door to one of Keane Flight’s hangars. She had a key, so it wasn’t as though she was technically breaking in. She was just coming by on a Sunday night when no one was here. And the place was empty. And she just happened to be wearing a black cap to hide her hair.

  Oh yeah, she was completely acting like a normal, law-abiding citizen. Cringing at her stupid rationalization, she pushed any fears of getting caught she had to the side. What she was doing wasn’t about her.

  She loved her job at South Beach Medical Supply, but lately her boss had been acting weird and the flight logs from Keane Flight for SBMS’s recent deliveries didn’t make sense. They hadn’t for the past few months.

  And no one—meaning her boss, Ronald Weller—would answer her questions when she brought up anything about Keane Flight.

  Considering Ronald hadn’t asked her over to dinner in the past few months either as he normally did, she had a feeling he and his wife must be having problems. They’d treated her like a daughter for almost as long as she’d been with SBMS, so if he was too distracted to look into things because of personal issues, she was going to take care of this herself. SBMS provided much-needed medical supplies to third-world countries, and she wasn’t going to let anything jeopardize that. People needed them. And if she could help out Ronald, she wanted to.

  She didn’t even know what she was looking for, but she’d decided to trust her gut and come here. Wearing all black, she felt a little stupid, like a cat burglar or something, but she wanted to be careful. Hell, she’d even parked outside the hangar and sneaked in through an opening in the giant fence surrounding the private airport. The security here should have been tighter—something she would address later. After she’d done her little B&E. God, she was so going to get in trouble if she was caught. She could tell herself that she wasn’t “technically” doing anything wrong, but her palms were sweaty as she stole down the short hallway to where it opened up into a large hangar.

  Two twin-engine planes sat there, and the overhead lights from the warehouselike building were dim. But they were bright enough for her to make out a lot of cargo boxes and crates at the foot of one of the planes. The back hatch was open and it looked as if someone had started loading the stuff, then stopped.

  Sophie glanced around the hangar as she stepped fully into it just to make sure she was alone. Normally Paul Keane had standard security here. She’d actually been here a couple of weeks ago under the guise of needing paperwork and there had been two Hispanic guys hovering near the planes as if they belonged there. She’d never seen them before and they’d given her the creeps. They’d also killed her chance of trying to sneak in and see what kind of cargo was on the planes.

  When she’d asked Paul about them, he’d just waved off her question by telling her he’d hired new security.

  One thing she knew for sure. He’d lied straight to her face. Those guys were sure as hell not security. One of them had had a MAC-10 tucked into the front of his pants. She might not know everything about weapons, but she’d grown up in shitty neighborhoods all over Miami, so she knew enough. And no respectable security guy carried a MAC-10 with a freaking suppressor. That alone was incredibly shady. The only people she’d known to carry that type of gun were gangbangers and other thugs.

  So even if she felt a little crazy for sneaking down here, she couldn’t go to her boss about any illegal activities—if there even were any—without proof. SBMS was Ronald’s heart. He loved the company and she did too. No o
ne was going to mess with it if she had anything to say about it.

  Since the place was empty, she hurried across the wide expanse, her black ballet-slipper-type shoes virtually silent. When she neared the back of the plane, she braced herself for someone to be waiting inside.

  It was empty except for some crates. Bypassing the crates on the outside, she ran up inside the plane and took half a dozen pictures of the crates with the SBMS logo on the outside. Then she started opening them.

  By the time she opened the fifth crate, she was starting to feel completely insane, but as she popped the next lid, ice chilled her veins. She blinked once and struggled to draw in a breath, sure she was seeing things.

  A black grenade peeked through the yellow-colored stuffing at the top. Carefully she lifted a bundle of it. There were more grenades lining the smaller crate, packed tight with the fluffy material. Her heart hammered wildly as it registered that Keane was likely running arms and weapons using SBMS supplies as cover, but she forced herself to stay calm. Pulling out her cell phone, she started snapping pictures of the inside of the crate, then pictures that showed the logo on the outside. In the next crate she found actual guns. AK-47s, she was pretty sure. She’d never actually seen one in real life before, but it looked like what she’d seen in movies. After taking pictures of those, she hurried out of the back of the plane toward the crates sitting behind it.

  Before she could decide which one to open first, a loud rolling sound rent the air—the hangar door!

  Ducking down, she peered under the plane and saw the main door the planes entered and exited through starting to open. Panic detonated inside her. She had no time to do anything but run. Without pause, she raced back toward the darkened hallway. She’d go out the back, the same way she’d come in. All she had to do was get to that hallway before whoever—

  “Hey!” a male voice shouted.

  Crap, someone had seen her. She shoved her phone in her back pocket and sprinted even faster as she cleared the hallway. Fear ripped through her, threatening to pull her apart at the seams. She wouldn’t risk turning around and letting anyone see her face.

  The exit door clanged against the wall as she slammed it open. Male voices shouted behind her, ordering her to stop in Spanish.

  Her lungs burned and her legs strained with each pounding step against the pavement. She really wished she’d worn sneakers. As she reached the edge of the fence that thankfully had no lighting and was lined with bushes and foliage behind it, she dove for the opening. If she hadn’t known where it was, it would be almost impossible to find without the aid of light.

  Crawling on her hands and knees, she risked a quick glance behind her. Two men were running across the pavement toward the fence, weapons silhouetted in their hands. She couldn’t see their faces because the light from the back of the hangar was behind them, but they were far enough away that she should be able to escape. They slowed as they reached the fence, both looking around in confusion.

  “Adonde se fue?” one of them snarled.

  Sophie snorted inwardly as she shoved up from the ground and disappeared behind the bushes. They’d never catch her now. Not unless they could jump fences in single bounds. Twenty yards down, her car was still parked on the side of the back road where she’d left it.

  The dome light came on when she opened the door, so she shut it as quickly as possible. She started her car but immediately turned off the automatic lights and kicked the vehicle into drive. Her tires made a squealing sound and she cringed. She needed to get out of there before those men figured out how to get through the fence. She couldn’t risk them seeing her license plate. Only law enforcement should be able to track plates, but people who were clearly running weapons wouldn’t care about breaking laws to find out who she was.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror as her car disappeared down the dark road, and didn’t see anyone in the road or by the side of it. Didn’t mean they weren’t there, though. Pure adrenaline pumped through her as she sped away, tearing through her like jagged glass, but her hands remained steady on the wheel.

  What the hell was she supposed to do now? If she called the cops, this could incriminate SBMS and that could ruin all the good work their company had done over the past decade. And what if by the time the cops got there all the weapons were gone? Then she’d look crazy and would have admitted to breaking into a private airport hangar, which was against the law. Okay, the cops were out. For now. First she needed to talk to her boss. He’d know what to do and they could figure out this mess together.

  Chapter 2

  Legend: an agent’s alleged background and personal history, usually supported by documents and memorized details.

  Printing out flight logs from Keane Flight’s most recent deliveries, Sophie frowned at the computer screen in front of her when her intercom beeped. She’d been too terrified to get more than a couple of hours of sleep last night, and her calls to Ronald had gone unanswered. Since she hadn’t wanted to leave a message on his phone about what she’d found, she’d decided to talk to him this morning. Right now he was in a meeting, but as soon as he was free, she was telling him everything. She’d e-mailed herself the pictures, but she’d also printed some to give him. He needed to see everything in color. Then they could figure out how to move forward. If that meant involving the police, then so be it.

  “Sophie, I’ve got Hannah Young on line three. She says it’s urgent,” Mandy, her assistant, said.

  “Got it. Thanks.” She wanted to ignore the call, but Hannah was her best friend and she needed to act normal at work right now. “What are you doing up at seven thirty on a Monday?”

  Her best friend groaned. “I can’t sleep. I’m still reliving the horror of last night’s date.”

  Despite the rampant adrenaline still pumping through her, a small smile touched her lips. Talking about Hannah’s dating life would be a welcome momentary distraction. “I thought you were going out with the ‘hot Italian.’ What happened?”

  “After dinner we went back to his place. We’re on his couch, making out, when someone knocks on his door.”

  “How late was this?”

  “Ten. He looks through the peephole, freaks out like a little girl, and makes me hide in his closet.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Thank you! Ridiculous. He told me it was his ex-girlfriend and that she’s crazy, so I asked him why he didn’t just ignore her. He says that if he does, she’ll keep knocking all night.”

  “What did you do?”

  Hannah sighed. “What else? I hid in the closet until they started going at it. On. His. Bed.”

  Sophie choked out a sound.

  “They actually started having sex on his bed with me in the closet. Freak,” she muttered.

  “I can’t believe you stayed that long!”

  Hannah chuckled, the sound wicked. “Just as he was about to, you know, I walked out and told him never to call me again. His expression was priceless and I could still hear her shrieks by the time I was outside.”

  “If I didn’t know you, I’d swear you made this stuff up.” Sophie had been listening to these stories since college. If there was a crazy in a ten-mile radius, Hannah would find him. It was as if she had a homing beacon attached to her.

  “Now that you’ve heard my horror story, you have to take pity on me and meet me for happy hour after work. If that doesn’t convince you, two-fifty martinis better.”

  Under normal circumstances Sophie would have loved to have met her friend. But she couldn’t say yes to anything until she’d talked to her boss. “I can’t tonight. Work is insane right now.” Okay, not exactly a lie.

  “Come on, one night off won’t kill you.”

  Sophie shut her eyes and massaged her temple. She was desperate to tell someone what she’d seen. It was like a need growing inside her to just get the information off her chest, but she bit it back. There was no way she’d ever put anyone she loved in danger. “I can’t, but I swear I’ll make it up to you.�
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  “You suck, but okay.” There was laughter in Hannah’s voice, so Sophie knew her friend wasn’t actually mad. “By the way, my mom wants to know why you haven’t been over in the past couple of weeks. She thinks you’ve found someone else to cook for you.”

  She snorted. “Right. Will you tell her I’ve been busy?” Sophie had met Hannah’s mom during her first spring break in college, and the woman had taken her in as her own. After Sophie’s growing up in foster care, having a real mother figure was a new experience but one she’d embraced.

  “You tell her. I talked to her last night and she wanted to know why I haven’t married a rich doctor yet. I’m taking a couple days off from torture.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Fine. I’ve got to go but I’ll see you tonight.”

  As soon as they disconnected, she pulled the logs she’d been reviewing back onto her screen. Gas charges and mileage weren’t matching up, and after last night she knew why. They were carrying way too much cargo. She clicked her pen up and down as she stared at the screen. Damn it, why wouldn’t Ronald call her back? She wanted to scream. When an e-mail marked urgent from one of their biggest suppliers popped up on the bottom of her screen, she sighed and closed the other file. She could stare at her computer all day or keep herself distracted with work.