She had eyes on the front of the house and most of Vane’s neighbors’ homes, thanks to temporary, nearly invisible cameras a team had set up along the street before Tucker and Cole even arrived. As soon as this op was over, the cameras would come down.
“Affirmative,” he murmured. “At the back door.” There were multiple possible entry points, but they were going to use the back door. It was the best tactical point of entry for multiple reasons. The back door didn’t empty into the kitchen or the master bedroom, two places Vane would likely be in the morning while getting ready. They could have gone through a window, but this should work well. And he liked the privacy fence in the back. That, combined with the overcast, dreary sky, gave them decent cover.
“Security is going to fail in three, two, go,” Selene said.
Tucker nodded at Cole and began his magic on the lock. Opened it in less than ten seconds with a silent snick.
Weapon drawn, Tucker stepped into the small tiled utility room, Cole behind him. A washer and dryer were stacked on each other with a laundry basket full of towels and socks on one shelf. Detergent and other similar items were on another shelf. Not much else in the tight space.
The room should open up into a hallway. Pausing at the closed interior door, Tucker listened. When he heard nothing, he motioned to Cole that he was opening it and would be making his way to the stairs while Cole should move to the kitchen. They’d already gone over the plan, but he wanted to reiterate anyway. Tucker would take the upstairs and Cole the downstairs. Nice and easy sweep. Of course they knew that Vane would have at least one weapon. He wasn’t some clueless civilian. He might not have military training, but the DEA had trained him well and he’d been in the field for years and knew how to use a weapon.
Just because Tucker expected this to be simple didn’t mean he was letting his guard down.
On silent feet they spilled into the hallway. Tucker went right, his rubber-soled boots quiet against the long carpet runner covering the wooden floor. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear water running upstairs.
Could be the faucet, but he was betting on the shower, given the time of day. Moving quickly, he hurried up the stairs, stopping at the top to survey his surroundings. Doing a quick sweep of the two extra bedrooms, one of which was an office, he moved on to the master bedroom.
The door was half-open, so he slipped inside without touching it. Water was still running from the bathroom. That door was shut, but steam and light streamed out from the crack at the bottom.
“Target in the bathroom,” he murmured in a low voice, wanting Cole to know he had Vane.
“Affirmative,” came Cole’s reply. “Downstairs clear.”
After a quick sweep of the room, Tucker found two pistols. One in Vane’s nightstand drawer and the other in his closet. By the time he’d pulled them both out and handed them off to Cole, who remained in the hallway, the water shut off.
Perfect timing.
Pumped up on adrenaline, Tucker took a deep, steadying breath. He couldn’t lose it with Vane. Not until they had the information they needed. Tucker had to remember that, but it was hard when he knew Vane could have had a role in sending hitters after him, his men, and Karen.
He moved to the walk-in closet and slipped inside. The door had been partially open just like the bedroom door, so he left it exactly as it was. From his position he had a perfect visual of the bathroom door.
Moments later the door opened and Vane stepped out wearing only a towel around his waist. He had a smaller one in his hands, using it to dry his blond hair as he hummed a nonsensical tune. In his forties, the man was in good shape. When Vane was by the bed, putting enough distance between himself and the bathroom door, Tucker made his move.
Without touching the closet door, he stepped out from his hiding spot, weapon drawn and aimed right at Vane. “Move and you’re dead,” he said as Vane’s eyes went wide with fear.
No, not just fear.
Raw terror.
Vane swallowed hard, his gaze flicking over to his nightstand for just a moment.
“I took your weapons. Got that one and the one in your closet. Even if you have more, you’ll never make it to them before I pump your gut full of bullets. And I’ll make you suffer. There will be no easy death for you, you fucking traitor.” Rage vibrated through him. Tucker was in full battle mode, taking on the type of persona he used when doing undercover work. Hard, unrelenting. Vane needed to believe Tucker was capable of anything, would kill him without pause.
“What do you want?” Vane asked, a slight tremble in his voice.
Tucker motioned with his weapon to the bedroom door. “Move.”
“Can I put some clothes on?”
“No.” Tucker needed Vane terrified. Keeping him half-dressed took away any illusion of control Vane might feel he had over the situation at this point.
Jaw clenched tight, Vane turned, his body tense as he did what Tucker ordered. He opened the door only to fly back as Cole landed a vicious punch to his face.
Vane cried out, his hands going to his nose as blood spurted everywhere.
That hadn’t been in their original plan, but Tucker went with it. By nature, Cole was the least violent of all his guys, so it was a surprise he’d made a move like that. Not that Tucker blamed him for his reaction. Vane had betrayed all of them. Even if they hadn’t been friends, they’d still been on the same side. Obviously not.
“Quit whining,” Cole growled, grabbing Vane by the arm and hauling him up. “A broken nose never killed anyone.”
The man started to struggle but then seemed to get himself under control. Likely because he knew it was pointless to take on both of them. In his mind, Vane would just be biding his time, waiting for a chance to escape or overtake them. Too bad for him that time would never come.
Cole twisted him around and slammed him against the bedroom door before slapping flex cuffs on his wrists and pulling them tight. “We’re going to have a little talk and if we believe you, we let you live. If not, you know what will happen. No one will ever find your body.” His voice was a menacing rasp.
“Why the hell are you two here? You’re wanted for treason, you pieces of shit,” Vane snarled as Cole shoved him out the door. “Thought you’d be in Canada by now.”
“We’re wanted because of you.” Tucker remained behind them, keeping his own weapon out even as Cole put his in his holster.
“What?” The single word came out high-pitched, unsteady.
Cole shoved him as they entered the kitchen, definitely harder than necessary. The move surprised Tucker, but he didn’t say anything. They needed to be a unified front.
“Sit,” Tucker barked, motioning with his pistol to the kitchen table.
Cole turned one of the chairs around for Vane and stood next to it, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the man.
Trembling, Vane practically collapsed into the chair, as if his knees had gone out on him. Cole restrained his ankles to the legs of the chair with more flex cuffs. He released his wrists from behind his back and quickly restrained them to the arms. Tucker could see the rage in Vane’s eyes, but it was mixed with resignation. He could fight back, sure, but he’d lose and get seriously roughed up in the process. Because Tucker and Cole didn’t need weapons against this piece of garbage. Vane might be trained, but he wasn’t anywhere near as lethal as Cole and Tucker. There were some things only military training and being embedded in a war zone in a foreign country could teach you. Experiences Vane didn’t have. It was almost a disappointment he didn’t fight back.
“The International Spy Museum was just hit by that missing drone. Minimal casualties,” Karen said over their earpieces. “Push that angle too.”
Tucker was glad Karen could only hear what was going on. He didn’t want her to see what was about to happen. Plus, it wouldn’t do to have any of this on video. Not if it was used later in a trial. Not that there was much chance of that happening, since this was off the books.