Special Ops Exclusive

chapter 10



Rebecca’s arms were getting a real workout swatting at the relentless mosquitoes that were determined to possess her blood. Fortunately, the netting kept the annoying insects out of her face, and the bug repellent she’d sprayed all over herself seemed to be working. The bugs swarmed, but so far none had been brave enough to take a bite.

Nick had been gone for nearly thirty minutes. She kept checking the time on the screen of the secure cell phone he’d given her. The numbers for his friends were already programmed in, but she didn’t plan on making any calls. No way was she abandoning Nick here. If he wasn’t back in an hour, she had every intention of tracking him down and saving his butt.

She kept a comfortable grip on the Beretta in her hand, grateful for all those shooting lessons her father had forced on her when she was growing up. Theo Parker, God bless his soul, had desperately wanted a son, a boy he could take hunting and fishing, a male he could groom to take over the law firm one day.

Instead, he’d gotten a daughter, and yet to his wife’s dismay, it was the kind of daughter neither of them had expected. Rebecca was the furthest thing from a sweet Georgian peach. From a young age, she’d been fearless, feisty, daring. An absolute terror, in fact. She’d driven her parents crazy by running around with the boys and causing heaps of trouble around the neighborhood.

Bzzzzzzz.

Another mosquito flew by her ear. Ugh. She wholeheartedly believed that mosquitoes were the most useless insects on the planet. Who cared if they helped the food chain go round—the creatures that fed on mosquitoes could easily find something else to eat, in her humble opinion.

Bzzzzzzz.

She slapped away the next intruder. “For the love of—”

A gunshot sliced through the air.

Rebecca froze. As her pulse sped up, she peered in the direction Nick had gone in, but her sexy soldier didn’t come bursting out of the trees.

That had been a gunshot, though.

Right?

Panic soared inside her, along with a rush of fear that seized her chest and made it difficult to breathe. She sucked a deep gust of oxygen into her lungs, forcing herself to relax. To think.

Okay, so she’d heard a shot. That didn’t mean Nick was in trouble. Maybe he—

Maybe he what? an incredulous voice demanded. He was only supposed to case the house! There’s no reason for anyone to be shooting anything!

Her heart started beating even faster, pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest. Taking another deep breath, she jumped out of the Jeep, tore off the mosquito net and adjusted her grip on the Beretta. She aimed at the trees, but there was no movement, no sign that she was sharing this jungle with anything other than the pesky mosquitoes and the mysterious creatures that scuttled across the tangled undergrowth on the ground.

She took a step forward, then halted as Nick’s order echoed in her head.

Don’t get out of the car, no matter what.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She stood there, torn. Did hearing a gunshot count as no matter what?

Probably, but darn it, she couldn’t just do nothing. What if Nick was in trouble?

A quick peek wouldn’t hurt, right? She’d check out the house, just to make sure that he was all right, and if everything looked kosher, she’d simply sneak back to the Jeep and Nick would never be the wiser.

With a decisive nod, she started to walk, making her way toward Waverly’s property. She cringed each time a twig snapped beneath the hiking boots Nick had bought her. It was difficult to move quietly when the jungle floor was covered with vines and branches and dried leaves, all of which made so much noise it was like she was walking to the tune of her own personal sound track.

Several minutes later, she caught a glimpse of the house’s clay roof, a flash of reddish-brown amid the greenery. She approached with caution, then ducked behind a tree and carefully peeked out. Her gaze swept over the back of the dilapidated shack, the open screen door, the curtainless window. No movement in front of the window or the door. Not a single sound wafted out of the house.

No sign of Nick.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If he was still casing the place, then he’d probably be hidden away somewhere, so of course there’d be no sign of him.

But then what had that gunshot been about? Was Waverly doing target practice around the side of the house or something?

She bit her lip again, unsure of her next move. Did she keep looking for Nick, or did she head back to the car?

She was debating what to do when a second gunshot cracked in the air.

Nick.

As a rush of adrenaline sizzled in her bloodstream, Rebecca sprinted out of the trees and raced toward the back door without a single concern for her safety. She practically dived through the broken screen door, stumbling into a narrow corridor, then blinking wildly as she tried to orient herself.

God, where was Nick?

Had he been shot?

Panic, terror and worry jammed in her throat, but she managed to keep moving. When muffled thuds and male grunts greeted her ears, relief crashed into her with the force of an 18-wheeler. There was more than one person in this house. That meant Nick was still alive. She followed the sounds of a scuffle to the other side of the house and quickly emerged into a small living room.

Rebecca’s heartbeat accelerated as she absorbed the scene in front of her. Nick was on the floor, wrestling with a bulky blond man she knew had to be Paul Waverly. Angry curses and ragged breathing filled the air, then a loud snap as a fist connected with a jaw.

Heart pounding, Rebecca raised her gun and took aim, but she didn’t dare fire a shot, not when there was the risk of hitting Nick.

Whether or not to pull the trigger became a moot point, because Nick gained control of the situation in the blink of an eye, flipping Waverly onto his back and straddling the man with a growl.

“Don’t move,” he snapped.

“Screw you!” Waverly spat out.

Nick jammed the muzzle of his gun into Waverly’s throat. As the man made a loud gagging noise, Nick’s shoulders suddenly stiffened and his gaze sharply moved to the doorway.

He swore loudly. “I told you to stay put!”

Rebecca offered a feeble shrug. “I heard a shot and...” She trailed off, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to hear her excuses.

But she refused to apologize for disregarding his orders. What if he hadn’t managed to subdue Waverly just now? What if he’d truly needed her help?

On the floor, Nick let out another curse. His brown eyes glared daggers at her before taking on a resigned light. “Well, fine. As long as you’re here, see if you can find something to tie this son of a bitch up with.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Paul Waverly was secured snugly to a chair that Nick liberated from the man’s dinette set. Using the roll of duct tape Rebecca had found in the kitchen, Nick had restrained Waverly’s hands, feet and torso. The entire time, he’d been infuriatingly conscious of Rebecca’s presence, but he’d forced himself to bite back his anger.

The woman seemed incapable of following orders, and at the moment, her presence bothered him on a whole other level. Who knew what he’d have to do to get Waverly to talk, and he didn’t feel comfortable resorting to forceful methods of persuasion in front of Rebecca. Call him old-fashioned, but he’d been raised with the belief that women needed to be protected and kept out of harm’s way.

Allowing Rebecca to witness a potential torture session didn’t really adhere to either of those rules.

However, when he turned to ask her to leave the room, the stubborn woman just crossed her arms and said, “Don’t even think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

The man in the chair suddenly sucked in a breath as his gaze shifted to the doorway where Rebecca stood. Waverly had been staring at her for the past ten minutes, and recognition had finally dawned on his face.

“Are you...you’re Rebecca Parker!” he sputtered, his ice-blue eyes widening. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shut up,” Nick snapped. “I’m the one asking the questions here.”

“Screw you!”

Nick glared at the man who’d nearly blown his head off. He was pissed off beyond belief, but at the same time, he grudgingly had to give Waverly kudos for catching him off guard.

Standing on the back deck, the DoD aide hadn’t revealed any indication that he’d realized he was being watched, and yet the second Nick attempted a stealth entrance, Waverly had popped out of a doorway with a gun in hand. Only the aide’s piss-poor aim had saved Nick from a bullet to the head. As the bullet lodged into the wall five inches from his left ear, he’d quickly disarmed Waverly, but the other man had managed to make a run for the front door, unfazed by the warning shot Nick had fired at his feet. Despite Waverly’s football-player build, Nick had finally brought the man down, and now he loomed over his captive, though he could have done without Rebecca lurking in the doorway like that.

“Who are you?” Waverly demanded with a scowl.

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Take a wild guess.”

The man’s cheeks turned red. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked! They sent you to kill me, didn’t they?”

He arched a brow. “Who’s they?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.” Waverly’s gaze drifted to Rebecca and his resolve seemed to falter. “But why is she here? You can’t kill me in front of a journalist.”

“Nobody is killing anybody.” Nick paused. “At least not yet. First, you’re going to tell me everything I need to know. Then I’ll decide if I’m going to let you live.”

“Who are you?” A miserable note entered Waverly’s voice.

“I’m a colleague of Sebastian Stone.”

Waverly went even paler, a feat Nick would have deemed impossible.

“Stone,” the man mumbled.

“Yes, Sebastian Stone. You know, the guy you tried to infect with a deadly virus?” Nick said sarcastically.

There was a long silence, and then Waverly’s breath hitched and understanding dawned in his eyes. “You’re one of them. One of the three soldiers who skipped town.”

“Give the man a cigar.” Nick moved toward the flower-patterned sofa and leaned against the arm, absently resting his gun on his thigh. “It bodes well that you know who I am. So now tell me, who authorized the killing of my unit?”

Waverly didn’t answer.

“Come on, Paul. Or William. Or whatever you want to call yourself these days. Let’s not play games. Who wants me and my men dead?”

More stony silence.

“Who decided it was a good idea to engineer the Meridian virus and test it in San Marquez?”

“I’m not saying a goddamn word,” Waverly mumbled. “Go ahead and kill me. Either way, I’m dead.”

“Yeah, how do you figure that?”

“If I talk, they’ll know, and then they’ll hunt me down and kill me—but it won’t be fast. They’ll drag it out, make me suffer....” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “So go ahead. Do it. Pull the trigger. At least with you, it’ll be fast.”

“Says who?” Nick asked softly.

In the doorway, Rebecca gasped.

Ignoring that squeaky sound of distress, Nick dragged the barrel of his gun over his thigh and fixed his gaze on the man bound to the chair.

“You underestimate me, Paul. See, I’m not the same man I was a year ago. I was chased out of town when a gunman decided to break into my apartment under the pretense of a home robbery, and I’ve been running ever since. Being on the run takes a toll on a man.”

Nick slowly rose from his perch and approached the chair. “Make no mistake, I will do whatever it takes to get answers from you.”

“Bull! You’re a soldier! A man of honor,” Waverly said feebly. “You wouldn’t resort to torture.”

“You sound confident of that.”

“I—I am,” Waverly stammered. His blue eyes darted in Rebecca’s direction. “You won’t torture me with her watching. You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right about that,” Nick agreed. With a pleasant smile, he glanced over at Rebecca. “Darling, would you please give us a moment alone? Go take a walk on the beach or something.”

She looked stricken, but to her credit, she didn’t object or recoil in horror. “I can stay if you want,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Nah, Red, trust me, you don’t want to be around for what happens next.” Nick’s smile turned feral.

When Rebecca took a step away, Waverly made a panicked sound and shouted, “Wait!”

She froze.

Nick hid a grin.

“Tell her to stay,” Waverly pleaded, his desperate eyes focusing on Nick. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just ask Ms. Parker to stay.”

Huh. Although Nick would never admit it to Rebecca, it looked like her presence did bring some advantages to the table. Waverly probably believed he could stay alive in exchange for giving Rebecca an exclusive or something.

“Hear that, Red? The man likes having you around,” Nick told her.

A weak smile lifted her mouth. “I guess so.”

She crossed the room and joined Nick near the couch. He could sense she was ill at ease, but her expression was shuttered, her shoulders set in a rigid line.

They both turned to Waverly, whose face didn’t look quite so ashen anymore. “What do you want to know?” the man asked in a defeated tone.

“I already told you what I want,” Nick replied coldly. “I want a name.”

Indecision flashed in those ice-blue eyes.

“Give me a name, Paul. Tell me who ordered the deaths of my teammates. Tell me who had that virus engineered. Tell me who—”

“Secretary Barrett!” Waverly burst out. “There! Are you happy now? The name you want is Kirk Barrett. The secretary of defense.”