“We found you by old-fashioned investigative work. It helped that we knew what you looked like and where you worked.”
“You followed me home from work?”
“Yep,” he said, fighting a grin when she scowled.
Her frown deepened as she followed him into the hall. “You’re lucky I was even in the office this week.”
Yeah, he had been lucky, in more ways than one. He felt damn lucky he’d even met this incredible woman. He picked up the fallen picture frame from the floor, surprised it hadn’t broken until he realized it was a hard plastic type of material that only looked like glass. “Are you angry we followed you, or that you didn’t see us?”
“Both,” she said as he slid the retrieved pistol over to his bag with his foot.
The guy sent to kill them might have been wearing gloves, but Tucker still didn’t want to contaminate any possible evidence the NSA might find on the weapon. Because there might be evidence on the bullets, the magazine, any of the interior someone might have missed while cleaning it.
“I’m always careful when I leave work,” she continued.
“The four of us split up and followed you, so it’s not as if you’d have been able to spot a tail like that,” he said, stopping to pull her into his arms. He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, which immediately smoothed out the frown. He was impressed that she wasn’t freaking out from the attacker breaking into her friend’s house, but he couldn’t be surprised. She held up under pressure like a trained soldier. “I want to do a sweep around the house—”
A soft knock on the front door made them both still. Tucker moved into action, tucking Karen behind him.
“Raptor?” a male voice called out.
“It’s Ortiz. That’s a code word,” she whispered. “It’s me. I’m okay,” she called out, loud enough for the man outside to hear. She went to move around him, but Tucker held on to her hip and kept her in place.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, using his battle-mode voice.
Normally his men fell right into line when he used it. Instead Karen sighed, as if she thought his precaution wasn’t necessary. “Okay, but it’s my guy.”
The way she said “my guy” rankled Tucker, the force of his annoyance surprising the hell out of him. He knew she didn’t mean anything by it, but he wanted to be her only guy. Frowning at the continuing possessive thoughts, he unlocked the front door, then moved backward so that he and Karen were on the opposite sides of it when it opened inward. The door was a momentary shield. He kept one hand on her hip and the other on his weapon. He didn’t train it at the door, though it went against his instincts to keep it lowered.
These men were coming to help him and Karen; he couldn’t draw on them. He still wondered if they were going to restrain him and take him into custody, but even if they did he had to go with it. He couldn’t risk Karen getting caught in any scuffle.
“I’m armed and there’s a bound man in the kitchen,” Tucker said as the door slowly opened.
The two men moved into the entryway like trained operators, weapons up, definite vests on under their shirts, and wearing don’t-fuck-with-me expressions. Tucker kept his body in front of Karen, unable to completely ignore his instinct to protect this woman. He knew one of the men, had seen him on an op before, but they weren’t even acquaintances.
“Put your weapon on the floor and move away from her,” the man with dark hair and clear Hispanic features said. The same guy from the Tasev op.
The other man shut the front door with his booted foot, his hands never wavering.
“It’s fine, you two,” Karen said, elbowing Tucker as she stepped out from behind him.
Since he didn’t take orders from strangers well, Tucker holstered his weapon instead of putting it on the floor.
The two men relaxed a fraction. The untrained eye wouldn’t have picked up on it, but Tucker noted it in their stances, however slight.
“Step over here,” the first man said, his focus on Tucker but his order clearly directed at Karen.
Wearing the same clothes she’d been in the previous morning, she looked sexy in her fitted running pants and equally body-hugging long-sleeved top. Her jacket must still be upstairs. And he knew that she wasn’t wearing panties, something he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about with two trained men holding weapons on him.
“A guy broke in here,” Karen said, doing what the man ordered as she stepped away from Tucker. “One of you needs to check on him. He’s still alive, conscious by now, and I’m betting Wesley will be able to find out who sent him.”
“He’s probably got a vehicle close to here too,” Tucker said, not fighting it when the man who hadn’t spoken yet moved over to him and took Tucker’s weapon.
The guy moved like an operator, smooth and efficient.
“You’re sure you’re okay? You haven’t been coerced or hurt?” The man Tucker guessed was Ortiz spoke again.
“I’m fine. Will you two please take your guns off him?” she demanded. “He’s saved my life more than once.”
“After he kidnapped you,” the other man finally said, but holstered his weapon.
“I never said he kidnapped me.”
Both men snorted, but Ortiz holstered his weapon too and jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “You come with me,” he said to Tucker.
Though he hated to leave Karen, he did, not wanting to make the situation worse than it already was.
“I’m Ortiz,” the man said as they entered the kitchen. “Officially,” he added, since they’d run across each other at Tasev’s place months ago.
Tucker nodded. “Tucker Pankov.” Which he no doubt already knew.
“You know the guy?” Ortiz asked, motioning to the man on the floor who was groaning softly.
“Nope.”
Bending down, Ortiz glanced at the guy’s face and shook his head. “Don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything.” He pulled out a handheld device from one of the pockets in his cargo pants before tugging off the guy’s gloves. Though the man half protested, making grunting sounds and clearly out of it, Ortiz pressed the man’s forefinger to the screen and typed in some commands. “We’ll know who he is soon enough.”
Tucker didn’t comment on the hardware but was impressed. He knew some small teams in the FBI had the handheld biometric scanners, but they were expensive and very rare, only used by special divisions that dealt with serial killers and other high-profile cases. Too expensive for the DEA’s budget. Apparently not for the NSA.
“So, what now?” Tucker asked.
“You and Karen are coming with me. I’ve got a team to follow us and they can grab this guy.” He motioned to the man on the floor. “But Burkhart doesn’t want anyone else to have eyes on you just yet.”
Tucker nodded, understanding. If word got out that the NSA had a man wanted for his alleged role in the Botanic Garden bombing in its custody, Burkhart would have everyone breathing down his neck. “Someone needs to do a clean of the house.” He wouldn’t need to explain.
Ortiz nodded in the direction of the front of the house. “Freeman will do a complete wipe-down and a check for this guy’s vehicle.”
The man was awake now but hadn’t said anything. His face was turned away from them, but his breathing was slightly erratic. Oh yeah, the guy was nervous. He’d talk soon enough, though, Tucker had no doubt.
“Sounds good.” Tucker wanted to stay and help but knew that was impossible. He wasn’t running the show anymore and right now he wondered if he’d just thrown himself into that proverbial lion’s den.
All he cared about was clearing his guys and hopefully a future with Karen.
Chapter 14
HUMINT: human intelligence: the gathering of information from human sources. It is done both openly and covertly.