Blue Blood's Trifecta Page 8

  She nodded.

  He released a sigh. "I can't tell you it won't, but I can tell you this. We're all experienced special ops, been through numerous missions, and returned home unscathed. I trust those men more than any I've ever worked with. They know what they're doing and are determined to do the job and come home."

  "What if…"

  "Honey, the world is full of what ifs. Focusing on those will only drive you insane. You have to believe, have faith."

  Tempest sniffed. "Okay. I get it." She shot him a smile. "You better get going." Impulsively, she leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his.

  He responded immediately, pulling her on his lap, adjusting his embrace a bit tighter, and flicking his tongue over her lip, asking for permission to enter. She opened her mouth, allowing him to delve inside, tasting her fully before playing a quick game of tag with her tongue. Normally comfortable jeans became too constricting with the surge of blood to his now hardened cock. Sparks flared and passion nearly consumed him, pressing him for greater access and less clothing.

  The warble of her phone broke them apart.

  Staring into her face, he found excitement, disappointment, and a molten desire that he longed to stoke. If only he had the time. With a muttered curse, he placed her back on her feet and stood beside her.

  Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered, "I'll be back. When I do, we're picking up where we left off."

  Her mouth opened and closed before opening once more with a sensual smile. "You better make that a promise."

  He held up one hand. "Promise. Nothing could keep me away knowing you want me." With one final look, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the building.

  Chapter 18

  Tempest watched him pull out of the parking lot, her heart sinking with worry.

  How did the two men grow on her so quickly? In three weeks' time, they became an integral part of her life, making the sun shine brighter, and the nights hotter, while showering her with attention. She couldn't ask for anything more. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would grow to care so much for two men at the same time, unable to take a final step that narrowed the choices down to one. How could she push one from her life when they both offered different but equal parts that fulfilled her needs and wishes?

  Now they were leaving, both of them, with a decent chance to not return alive. When she finally found two outstanding men, fate yanked them away.

  No. A surge of courage and determination washed over her, urging action. She wasn't a helpless bump on a toadstool, but a full grown woman with the ability to make a difference in the outcome.

  Sitting up straight in her chair, she pondered what she could do. Calling Rogue was out of the question. He would growl, scold, and order her to stay put. Considering his highly protective instincts, she couldn't blame him a bit. He underestimated her, though. She could and would stand up with the lot of them, sacrificing whatever she had in order to protect the men she'd come to care for. Ryan would be just as stubborn, refusing to tell her anything, figuring she would stick her nose into their dangerous business. He would guess right, but that wasn't about to stop her.

  Screw chivalry. Damn anyone that told her to sit at home and wait. Wait to hear if Ryan and Rogue made it out alive and unhurt. Wait to see what happened to the rest of the team. No way in hell. Not when she could sway the scales in their favor.

  Night. She would simply go straight to the top. After presenting her case and reminding him of the assets she brought, he had to agree to let her tag along. She saw how much he cared about his men and one woman. If a way existed to bolster their odds, he would jump on it. Besides, he owed her a favor.

  Marching into Rogue's office, she searched for Night's phone number, first in his rolodex, then on his computer. When nothing turned up, she played a hunch, pulling up the phone records for the company. Sure enough, an unfamiliar number popped up on the day she and Rogue flew the guys out to prevent an ambush. Jotting the number down, she pulled out her cell phone and entered the digits into her contact list. Once done, she hit the send button and waited.

  They aren't marching into battle and leaving me behind. She would fight for them just like they fought for everyone else. Maybe she didn't have military training, but she did have an ace up her sleeve. Her modified Huey chopper and the missiles it carried. If nothing else she could provide air support for their mission. Shoot a couple of missiles. Send another drug lord to Kingdom come.

  Night answered on the third ring.

  "Night? It's Tempest. I have an idea."

  Chapter 19

  Eleven forty. Night, Rogue, and Spoon gathered at Center City Park, calmly sitting at a picnic table as if wasting the day away in the morning sun with no cares in the world. Bryce and Lark ambled up to take the empty seat beside Rogue, who scooted over to allow enough room for Bryce to bracket Lark on the outside, hemming her in, and protecting her as much as possible. For lunch hour the scenic area remained all but deserted.

  "I feel like a sitting duck," Spoon complained.

  Night shrugged. "Been there before. If it makes you feel better, I have a new guy watching our backs."

  "New guy?" Lark asked.

  "I don't see anyone." Rogue scanned the surrounding area cautiously.

  "You won't. His name is Ghost. Former Navy SEAL. Black ops experience. Sniper extraordinaire."

  "Where do you get these guys?" Bryce shook his head.

  "Pulling them out of my hat."

  "Like a damn rabbit?" Spoon rolled his eyes.

  Night arched his eyebrow. "If it works…"

  "How did you find the leak?" Rogue asked Spoon, who sat opposite him, effectively changing the subject.

  He shrugged. "Night was adamant our primary and secondary contacts were clean. We're too small for the president to worry over. The vice-president probably hasn't been briefed on us. That left a couple of assistants and secretaries who would have access, but flew under normal radar. The Pentagon computers are a bitch to try to hack into, so I started with names and searching through bank accounts. See if anyone has assets or more money than reasonable for someone of their status. Everyone checked out until I stumbled across a foreign bank account with a recent hefty deposit belonging to the secondary contact's secretary. On a trail I was able to get into her home computer, set up a keystroke logger on her keyboard wire, and wait for it to pay off. It did late last night in the tune of an email from a Swiss national with ties to some nasty stuff."

  "Such as?"

  "Gun running, drugs. Supplying illegal arms to known terrorist groups. There's even rumors of white slavery attached to Mr Rossi. Not to mention he was the backer for Santora, who we took out not too long ago."

  Lark gasped. "I thought Santora was the top dog?"

  "Nope. Rossi has held the top rung on the ladder for years, nearly invisible, of course. He finances everything, throws money and orders around. Gets by because everyone believes it's his generals who are in charge."

  "That explains why he's after us. Somehow he must have figured we were responsible for tearing down Santora and his network, costing him millions."

  "Some of the guards got away that day." Bryce nodded.

  "Shit. It's not just business then, but personal. No wonder he's trying to dispose of us." Spoon scrubbed his face.

  "Then why can't we track him down and deliver him to hell?" Rogue steepled his fingers and tapped his lips. "Before he manages to take out one of us?"

  "Because he's slimy and nothing sticks. He covers his tracks well, destroys any evidence, and has a nasty habit of killing off anyone who is willing to point a finger in his direction or step up to a witness stand." Night puffed out a breath. "Which is why we're here to catch Ms Grady at her daily lunch in the park. Confront her. Get her to release some information in exchange for protection."

  "Or just give me some time to have a chat with her. Girl to girl. I'll kick her ass for turning against us. She'll talk.
Eventually." Lark's words clipped out, laced full of anger.

  Bryce chuckled. "You would do it, too."

  "Hell yes, I would. Just point her out."

  "What if she's a lure to draw you out?" Rogue tossed out.

  "Then I duck and run. Been there, done that." She shrugged as if the thought of getting shot at again didn't make a dent in her day. "Besides, if we all stalked her, she would bolt like a nervous mustang, taking off for parts unknown, and we'll never get what we need."

  Night nodded, his eyes raking over the area. "Green sedan pulling in to our west."

  No one turned around, relying on Night and Spoon, both facing the street, to keep them abreast of the situation.

  "I'm on it." Lark stood, climbed over the table seat, and began meandering down a nearby walking trail as if she were out for a daily walk.

  Ms Grady stepped from her vehicle, brown bag of presumably her lunch in hand. Heading directly for a handy park bench, she plopped down, sipping on a bottle of water.

  Within a couple of minutes, Lark drew near, began speaking to the other woman. What started out as polite civilities, soon turned to voices pitched in anger, with animated hand gestures. The argument carried over to the men still waiting at the table.

  "How dare you criticize me! I've worked at that dead end job for fifteen years, being looked down upon every day of my life by the snobbish military officers. They see women as beneath them, not even worthy of a measly raise now and again. Budget, they say. Bullshit. They make more money in a month than I do in a year, then they complain they don't have enough to give me an extra quarter an hour."

  Lark said something softer, obviously trying to calm the irate woman.

  "He promised me money. Lots of money. Respect. The ability to make all my dreams come true. He…"

  The bark of a gun split the air.

  The men shot to their feet at once, racing for Lark who hit the deck at the noise, trying to stick to what little shelter the open park provided.

  Another shot rang out, this one from a farther distance away.

  Rogue sprinted along with the rest of the guys, desperate to get to Lark, who already luckily survived one bullet wound and might not have such good fortune again. Out in the open, she had little protection and nowhere to go should a hail of bullets rain her direction.

  By the time they reached the women, Lark had scurried behind the bench, crouching with Ms Grady. Weapons drawn, the guys formed a quick perimeter, surrounding the women while searching frantically for the shooter.

  "Shit."

  "Lark? Are you okay?" Bryce pressed to her side, frantically searching for wounds.

  "I'm fine. She's not, though."

  Everyone turned around to glimpse at the now dead woman, blood pooling around her lax body from a bullet wound right between the eyes.

  "Fuck."

  "Damn it. That was our informant."

  Night shook his head. "I should've known. He never leaves any loose ends."

  Rustling noise caught Rogue's attention. Pointing his Glock in the direction, he waited to see who appeared from behind a stand of trees. A tall man with medium brown hair and cold, calculating light blue eyes emerged, dragging a man behind him with one hand, the other holding a high-end sniper rifle, the likes of which Rogue hadn't seen since his days as a Green Beret. Another rifle was slung over his shoulder, presumably belonging to the victim.

  "Sniper."

  "Damn, Ghost." Night stared at the other man, a frown crossing his dark complexioned face.

  Ghost shrugged, the prominent muscles of his arms and shoulders moving fluidly with the motion. His expression revealed nothing. No anger. No remorse. Just blankness.

  "Great. We now have two dead bodies to try to explain." Spoon tucked his weapon back in the harness under his shirt.

  "Any suggestions?" Rogue asked also putting his weapon away.

  "We can do the mob thing. Dump them in the lake." Bryce held up his hands when they all gave him a droll stare.

  "I'll call Ryan. He'll clean up this mess." Lark dug out her phone and punched buttons. "That's what the FBI does. You know, clean up messes."

  "Uh huh." Rogue smirked at the petite blonde. She might be able to get away with saying those words, but anyone else tried and Ryan would be on their ass like a wild hog after a gopher. He recalled the days when much less would set Ryan off into a fit of temper, sending them both to the ground in a flurry of fists and street wrestling.

  Those were the good days when life was easy. Unlike now when two of the Wind Warriors had attempts on their lives, their traitor lay dead without them getting diddly squat out of her, a sniper presumably on Rossi's payroll also lay dead and unable to cough up information. A mission waited that would endanger them all. Ryan, damn him, kissed him and stirred up old feelings that most likely wouldn't be returned and Tempest stood between them, dating both men, and not willing or able to choose just one.

  What the future would bring, he didn't have a clue, but it couldn't get much more twisted or complex, that was for sure.

  Chapter 20

  Ryan ran his hand through his short blond hair for the third time in the past hour. Leave it to his sister and her co-workers to land him knee deep in dead bodies before lunch. "We have to assume he's contracted hits out on each one of you." He addressed the small group of Wind Warriors still present at the park. Other FBI agents worked close by, gathering evidence from around the park bench and up in the shady section where Ghost's bullet found the sniper. Three vans and yellow tape sectioned off the area, giving the experts ease to perform their jobs without sight seekers wandering into their crime scene.

  Night nodded. "Bought and paid for. Which means they'll keep coming unless we take them out first."

  "He'll just hire more," Rogue pointed out.

  "So, we have to take them out and the boss man, too," Spoon replied drolly.

  "That's one hell of a task." Ryan looked at each man before locking gazes with Rogue. When Lark called him, his heart jumped to his throat with fear, not just for her or the guys, but for Rogue as well. For some damn stupid reason, the kiss implanted more than a taste of the man, but also a bone deep caring as well.

  "Do we have authorization?" Spoon asked.

  "If not, I'll get it. No way this viper's going to live to threaten us and our families. One way or another, he's going down." Night bit off his words, his low voice carrying fury mixed with steely determination.

  "Where are you going to find him? Shit, for all we know he's tucked away in a ritzy palace in the Swiss Alps." Bryce's shoulders slumped.

  "Tracking him won't be an issue," Ryan answered. "We know where he is." All eyes turned to him and stared like he grew three heads. "He's someone the department keeps an eye on," he offered up in explanation.

  "You've known all along and didn't bother to share with us?" Rogue accused, his tone scathing.

  "Listen, dumbass, I just found out this morning the name of the rich backer. Then I had to run some checks on him. It's not like I keep America's one hundred most wanted memorized in my head," Ryan growled back.

  Spoon's mouth opened but Ryan beat him to it, moving forward in the conversation rather than argue over piddly things with the always prickly Rogue. "The problem is where he is and who he surrounds himself with."

  "That bad?" Bryce asked.

  Ryan leveled him a somber look. "Worse."

  "What choice do we have?" Spoon asked.

  "None." Night glanced around before pinning Ryan with his gaze. "Get us details. Everything you have on Rossi, his travels, places he frequents, dens of depravity, anywhere he might go that we can have a chance to terminate him and his business in one fell swoop."

  "You got it. My supervisor has already given the green light. The FBI has wanted Rossi for a long time. He feels this is our best chance."

  "Our only chance," Night concluded.

  Chapter 21

  Ryan hauled ass under the moonless sky, aiming for a small patch of bushes growing
wild in a trench on the west side of the huge, sprawling mansion belonging to Rossi. Keeping low, he dove down, covering the remaining ground on his belly, wiggling like a snake until he tucked in under the lowest limbs, camouflaged for the time being. A quiet thump announced the arrival of Rogue as he claimed the space immediately to the right, putting him nearly shoulder to shoulder with Ryan.

  Irritation and annoyance shot through Ryan. What in the hell was Night thinking sticking the two of them together? The question rebounded through his mind over and over without any answers, only an awkward feeling being so close and alone with the one man that twisted his life like a soft pretzel.

  Checking his watch, he counted six minutes until rendezvous at the next target. If everything worked out according to plan, they would move in with stealth and speed as a unit.

  According to their limited information, Rossi surrounded himself with absolutely loyal military men, mercenaries who had little to live for except the exorbitant salaries their boss presented them for providing the highest level of protection money could buy. A state of the art security system on the entire brick mansion helped ensure no one snuck up without prior warning. Once one of them breached a door, chaos would ensue.

  All facts pointed to the worst possible situation any one of them ever faced in their careers. The chances of making it out alive fell way below anyone's level of comfort. Yet, no one bowed out. The stakes were too high. Either take their chances on the offensive or live in fear and paranoia that another attempt would be made on their everyday lives, or worse, Rossi would send his bullies after their loved ones. Either way, it ended that day.

  "Want to tell me what was up with that kiss you planted on me?" Rogue whispered, his tone conveying curiosity even as his attention remained on the building ahead of them.

  Ryan started. While the question didn't particularly surprise him, he'd feared Rogue would bring it up, another reason he'd avoided the dark haired man like the plague since then. "It didn't happen."