Dangerously Deceived Page 24

  “Hit me with the plate.”

  Jamie read the string off to Ghost

  “The van was parked on the side street of the safe house. The condo building.” It was the first thing Brenden had said in a while.

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Vaughn tightened his grip on the wheel. “Lebanese government doesn’t like us. Makes sense they might chase us out of the country or try to take us out.”

  “That’s one theory,” Jamie said.

  “It’s a damn good one.” Ghost tapped away in the background. “Plate is registered to some suburban family, tied to a stolen car. Blue vans, however? Well, if you listen to urban myths, the government sends their boogiemen out in them. In theory they blend in better than black.”

  “Shit,” Vaughn muttered. “That detail would have been good to know a week ago.”

  “File it away for later,” Ghost said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of the country. Good luck.”

  The line went dead.

  Vaughn leaned forward and breathed deep. Going against his urge to rush up on the van and force it off the road took effort. This was why he left the driving up to Riley and Nolan on most gigs. He just didn’t have the patience. But for Carla, he would.

  The van turned right.

  Vaughn slowed down even more before turning, just in time to see the van make a left turn.

  The buildings here were more industrial. There was much less foot traffic almost immediately. Their SUV would stick out.

  He let the vehicle crawl to the intersection, and they watched the van turn into a parking lot.

  Again he went against his gut and navigated the next street over before turning.

  It was easy to see the declining economy here. Warehouses were boarded up and locked. Not a bit of business was being conducted here.

  Vaughn peered at the buildings on his left until they could see the front of the van parked in the shade of yet another run down business.

  Carla was in there. She had to be.

  “What now?” Jamie asked, keeping his voice down as though someone might overhear them.

  Vaughn drew his handguns and checked his ammunition. “Let’s see what we see.”

  A man in a suit got out of the van and slid the side door shut.

  Vaughn stared at him.

  The building security guard? Here?

  “Vaughn?” That one word carried with it a layered meaning from Brenden.

  “Yeah. I see him.”

  “What?’ Jamie asked.

  “That guy right there?” Vaughn nodded at the retreating figure. “We were led to believe he was part of our safe house’s security detail. Looks like they’ve had us all along.”

  This was calculated.

  Intentional.

  Maybe not the plan to grab Carla, but this guy and his mystery operative, they’d always planned on hitting Vaughn and the others. Now the tables were turned.

  “B, how many gas canisters do we have left?” Vaughn asked.

  “Six.”

  “Let’s smoke ‘em out.”

  18.

  Tuesday. Warehouse, Beirut, Lebanon.

  Carla was out of ideas and shoes. She’d managed to hit the glass pane overhead three times before her shoes bounced out of range. Now she was barefoot, her arm hurt, and she was generally uncomfortable.

  She turned toward the bed.

  Her captor was passed out, dead to the world. He’d stirred once and glared at her with one eye, but after that she hadn’t heard a peep from him.

  He wasn’t afraid she’d get lose.

  That didn’t make her feel better about her window plan. But she couldn’t just sit here. What options did she have?

  If she couldn’t escape, then she had to be ready to do something else. But what?

  A beeping sound broke the relative quiet of the warehouse. She turned, searching for the source.

  Something—or someone—rattled the rolling gate.

  Carla glanced over her shoulder at the passed out man, then the door. She wanted it to be Vaughn on the other side of the door, but the reality was she didn’t know who might be out there.

  She backed up against the wall and slid as far toward the workbench as she could as if that would shield her.

  A loud pop sounded from the door. She glanced at her captor, then the door again.

  The thinnest line of light broke the shadows at the bottom of the rolling door.

  Someone was coming inside.

  Her captor groaned in his sleep and rolled over.

  The door began to rise, the loud click, click, click setting her teeth on edge.

  Vaughn? Please let it be him...

  The man in the bed shot upright. He had a gun in hand. The brilliant blast of gunfire created a white starburst in her vision. Everything seemed to slow except for her captor. He moved, faster than she could track him.

  Overhead the glass window shattered. She cried out, startled by the shards raining down on her, and threw her arms up, covering her head.

  Another window blew out.

  She heard her captor yell something, but she’d contorted herself into a ball.

  Two heavy thuds hit the ground the same moment a hand wrapped around her arm. She screamed and jerked away from him, but there was nowhere for her to go. She’d already scooted to the end of her chain.

  What was that hissing sound?

  It barely registered. In the next moment twin blasts of light blinded her and smoke began pouring into the room.

  Carla coughed. She was alone in the fog. Her captor was gone, but she heard voices.

  Another window burst inward followed by a heavy thud.

  “Vaughn?” She covered her mouth with her shirt. “Vaughn, he’s here somewhere. Vaughn?”

  She peered into the fog.

  Another brilliant burst lit up the room while behind it light slanted in from the door. Someone was coming inside.

  A figure in the smoke moved and the next moment gunfire ripped through the warehouse. Bullets pinged off the van and beat-up car, tearing through the rolling door. It crashed back down, but the thin metal was perforated like the tin foil top to a lightning bug trap.

  “No!” she wailed.

  The door didn’t budge. No one returned fire. It was just her and her captor.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Was Vaughn out there? Had he been hurt? Why hadn’t they found a different entrance?

  A figure stepped out of the smoke, looming over her.

  Carla’s eyes watered and it was hard to breathe. Her lungs were on fire.

  Her captor had a rifle strapped over both shoulders. He’d found a belt somewhere and slung that around his hips. Other than that he was still in his blood soaked underwear.

  “No, please?” She held up her hands.

  If Vaughn and the others were dead, would he kill her, too?

  He grabbed her wrist and fit a key into the cuff, twisting it free. But he didn’t let her go. He kept a tight grip on her and hauled her to her feet.

  “You don’t have to do this.” She leaned away from him, everything in her wanting to run in the other direction.

  He spat a few words at her then dragged her forward, through the sea of glass. She howled I pain as sharp bits bit into her flesh. Her captor on the other hand barely seemed to register things like pain.

  What was he?

  And what would he do with her?

  Did he really just kill Vaughn and the others?

  This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was supposed to get her chance to fall in love and have that fairy tale ending, just like Ashton and Jared. It was too soon for Vaughn to die. She loved him. She’d only just realized that was what kept driving her crazy. Those long moments spent staring into his eyes when he’d caught her off-guard was the instant she’d fallen for him. It wasn’t until today that she’d realized just what it all meant, why he drove her crazy, why when they touched it seemed to go too far. He was the person she’d
dreamt about, wished for and waited for.

  And now he might be dead on the other side of a door.

  She whirled but her captor caught her around the waist, hoisting her up and carried her through the double doors. She flung her arms, hitting him with her elbows and kicked, but he kept going as though her fight hardly mattered.

  The darkness swallowed them up as he half-carried-half dragged her away from his base of operations into some new hell hole. Voices called out, but she couldn’t hear them past the rush of blood in her ears.

  If Vaughn were dead, did she want to survive this?

  Her breaking heart said no, but her mind screamed at her, memories flying by of all the things she’d done and the places she wanted to go.

  Vaughn would want her to live.

  Carla twisted, driving her elbow up against the man’s head. At least she hoped it was his head. She couldn’t see much of anything.

  He staggered sideways, taking her with him, through a door and out into blinding sunshine.

  TUESDAY. WAREHOUSE, Beirut, Lebanon.

  Vaughn stared at the downed bodies of the men in suits. There were four of them and they were most certainly dead. When Vaughn had made the call to gas the building, they hadn’t been certain this was their location, but when the gunshots began, there’d been no doubt.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Jamie called out from around the corner.

  “Fuck,” Vaughn muttered.

  There were three of them against how many? Was it just the one guy? Or was he with backup now?

  Three people couldn’t cover the whole building.

  Vaughn waved Jamie on. “Go around, Brenden and I will cover this side and the front.”

  They were spread too thin.

  How the hell were they going to pull this off?

  Vaughn and Brenden jogged toward the other end of the building. They’d only seen one side exit, and it was impossible for them to get inside because there were no door handles. At this point they had to hope they smoked the guy out. Going in after him would take too long and allow their three-man team to get picked off if they weren’t careful. Not to mention their target could slip out while they were scouring dead ends.

  “Stay here,” Vaughn said to Brenden as they reached the side door. He slowed and grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Jamie? You hear me.”

  “Yeah.” Jamie’s voice was distant. His phone was probably in his vest or something. “Nothing.”

  Fuck.

  Vaughn grit his teeth and took a step forward.

  The side door banged open, almost hitting him in the face.

  A bare arm came into view, holding a hand gun, then a shoulder.

  Vaughn reacted, he didn’t think. He stepped into the blind spot afforded to him by the door and ducked. The man whirled, his focus on Brenden yards away and not Vaughn. Only instead of the man Vaughn intended to take down, he locked eyes with Carla, held in front of their target like a shield.

  His gut instinct to save her briefly warred with his desire to never hurt her.

  Saving her won out.

  He shot up, knocking the man’s shot off the mark with his left hand while swinging his right hand. The butt of Vaughn’s gun connected with the man’s skull, but that blow didn’t stun him at all. The man’s hazel eyes locked with Vaughn’s.

  “Go!” He shoved Carla out of the way.

  Her captor made a grab for her, but Vaughn gripped the guy’s arm.

  The guy moved fast, striking out with his leg and foot.

  Brenden rushed forward, gun up, but their hostile kidnapper didn’t care. There wasn’t an opening to shoot, and they all knew it.

  Vaughn lunged, wrapping his arms around the operative and driving him against the wall. Brenden closed in and swung, connecting with the target’s head. The guy roared and rammed his elbows down, breaking Vaughn’s hold on him.

  A rock connected with the side of the hostile’s head and then Carla was there. For a moment the guy, Vaughn and Brenden were too stunned to react. From the wide-eyed stare she gave them, Carla was just as surprised by her actions as they were.

  Her kidnapper recovered first. He snarled and made a grab for Carla, but Vaughn was quicker. He got an arm around the guy’s neck then took them to the ground, their attacker on top of Vaughn and used his legs to immobilize the operative as best as he could. Brenden drove a knee into the guys chest and held his arms. Vaughn’s vision blurred, and it was impossible to breathe with all the weight on him, but he held on through the kicks and jabs until things grew fuzzy and the world began to fade.

  “Get him up,” someone snapped.

  The weight rolled off Vaughn and then soft hands cupped his face.

  He gasped for air and stared up at the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

  Carla.

  She was safe.

  “You’re okay,” she said, her voice thick with those tears he hated.

  He sat up blinking. The world not quite finished spinning in double time. “Course I am.”

  “Holy fucking shit. Holy shit!” Jamie chanted.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held tight. “I thought—oh, my God—I thought you were dead.”

  Vaughn glared up at Jamie still chanting the same words. Couldn’t Vaughn have a single damn moment to appreciate what they’d just accomplished. “What?”

  “Do you know who this is?” Jamie pointed at the now restrained and incapacitated target.

  They’d have to have a nice moment later.

  Vaughn pushed to his feet, Carla clinging to his hand. He took a step forward and frowned at the man wearing only his blood-soaked chonies. There was something familiar about the guy, but Vaughn couldn’t place him.

  “Who is he?” And why was he already dreading the answer.

  “I think—I might not be right—but,” Jamie locked eyes with Vaughn, “I think that’s Ethan Turner.”

  “What?” Vaughn stared back down at the man. He knew that name. They all knew that name.

  “Who?” Carla echoed.

  “How certain are you?” Vaughn pulled out his phone and ended their three way call.

  “I can’t be certain.”

  “Who is Ethan Turner?” Carla asked.

  Vaughn snapped a picture of their passed out guy. “Get more rope on him, gag him, I want him restrained ten different ways, then we have to get out of here.”

  “We’re taking him with us?” Jamie asked.

  “If he’s one of ours, then yeah.” Vaughn tapped the screen, firing off a text. That done he turned his attention on Carla. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

  Her eyes were wide, her pupils blown out due to adrenaline. But he didn’t see any new injuries on her.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “My feet and my head hurt—”

  “Shit.” He stared down at her bare feet and the blood on the concrete. Vaughn bent and scooped her up into his arms. “Get that guy loaded up and let’s get out of here.”

  “Who is that guy? And what do you mean he’s one of yours?” Carla asked.

  “It’s a long story. It’s why we don’t work out of Lebanon. Ethan died on a job here a few years back. They cremated him, didn’t return his body, it was a whole thing.” Vaughn wasn’t sure what to make of any of this.

  They reached the SUV, and he set her on the back seat then crouched to examine her feet.

  “We got to go,” Jamie said jogging up.

  Brenden followed, their captive slung over his shoulder.

  “Get in.” Vaughn shut the door on Carla when he really wanted to hold her, kiss her, reassure himself she was really there.

  He climbed in the front seat while Jamie and Brenden secured Ethan in the back.

  Was that really the Aegis guy who’d died on the job? Why had he never come home? Let anyone know he was still alive?

  His picture was on the memorial wall in the office. Vaughn had passed by it a hundred times. And all along Ethan was still alive. Why hadn’t he come home? What was
he doing here?

  Vaughn’s phone rang.

  Both Jamie and Brenden slid into their seats.

  Vaughn shifted into drive and got out on the road before answering the phone and putting it on speaker.

  “Is that him?” Ghost asked.

  “Yeah.” Vaughn wasn’t going to share the identity of the guy, not with anyone. “You got an exit strategy for us?”

  “There’s a marina. I’ve got a smuggler who will get you to Cypress. From there your people can charter a puddle jumper to get you to Cairo. You’ll be good from there.”

  “We need to tack one on to our fare.” Vaughn glanced at Jamie next to him.

  “You should just kill him,” Ghost said.

  “Thanks for the input but we already took a vote.”

  “You’re making a mistake.” For the first time since Vaughn had spoken to this Ghost character he heard something besides annoyance. Was that fear?

  “Address? Or are we supposed to just magically find this marina?”

  Ghost gave them the address and Vaughn hung up. Until they knew more about what happened to Ethan, they couldn’t talk to anyone about this.

  After the mad rushing around, fleeing and hiding the drive to the marina was oddly normal. Vaughn kept glancing in the rearview mirror at Carla, half convinced she’d vanish again. But every time he looked for her she was there.

  The marina was more like a rickety couple of piers and sketchy looking boats. They parked and studied the people moving to and fro for a moment.

  “I’ll go find our boat and Brenden can get us some supplies.” Jamie glanced at Vaughn. “You good to watch these two?”

  Vaughn stared at Jamie, unsure what to make about this suggestion.

  “Sure,” Vaughn said after a moment.

  They each got out, Jamie headed for the pier, Brenden for the shop and Vaughn opened Carla’s door. She turned toward him and pulled him to stand between her legs, arms wrapped around him.

  It was almost over. And then Carla would be out of his life for good. But at least he’d know she was safe.

  TUESDAY. SMUGGLER’S Ship, Mediterranean Sea.

  Carla leaned against Vaughn’s shoulder and watched the frothy water churned up by the boat’s motor. The wind whipped across the boat, taking her hair and anything not tied down with it. The Beirut coast was a shrinking lump on the horizon.