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Damon finished putting the last of the groceries into the refrigerator and closed the door. He turned and picked up the empty shopping bags, glancing around with a thoughtful frown. Did Alina recycle? If so, where? Damon walked over to the sink and opened the cabinet beneath it. Cleaning supplies only. He closed it, looked around again, then shrugged and put the plastic bags on the counter next to the sink. She could dispose of them as she saw fit. That's what she got for not being here when he arrived.
Damon stifled a yawn and got a mug out of the cabinet, turning toward the coffee maker. When he pulled up and found the house empty, Hawk found a way around her security system and let himself in. He wasn't about to sit out on the deck with two bags of groceries, waiting for her to show up. If the situation were reversed, Hawk had no doubt that Viper would simply let herself into his house.
He placed the mug under the spout and pressed the button. The silence in the house was broken when the machine began grinding beans and Damon turned to walk aimlessly around the kitchen while he waited for his coffee to brew. It seemed strange to be in Alina's house without her. He reached out and absently opened a cabinet under the island, looking inside curiously. Mixing bowls were stacked next to baking sheets and muffin pans. Damon raised an eyebrow and closed the cabinet. Somehow, he just couldn't imagine Viper baking. He hesitated, then opened the door again and looked more closely at the baking sheets. They were brand new. Hawk closed the door again, a grin pulling at his lips. That answered that question.
His coffee finished brewing and Damon pulled the mug out, taking a sip of the hot liquid with a sigh of contentment. Finally, a cup of good coffee. His eyes went to the 5 qt sauté pan hanging innocuously on the pot rack above the island. Stepping forward, he lifted it down and placed it in the exact center of the marble top to the island. There was a faint click and the island slid silently aside to reveal the stone steps leading down to Viper's command center. Damon started down the steps, carrying his coffee with him. While he was waiting for her, he might as well check in with Charlie and confirm that Georgia was a success.
Hawk ducked at the bottom of the steps to avoid hitting his head on the low entranceway, then stepped into the long, narrow room. Both servers hummed and the plasmas on the wall were all alive and streaming. Glancing at the first plasma, Hawk raised an eyebrow. It had paused on a match, flashing silently with two pictures displayed. One was a photo of three men, and the other was grainy surveillance footage from what appeared to be a toll booth of some sort. The face in the surveillance footage matched one of the three men in the photo.
Viper had found at least one of her targets.
Hawk moved further into the room and seated himself on a chair in front of one of the PCs. He turned to look up at the other two plasmas. One was still searching, streaming through an endless supply of photos and video footage. The other was not searching at all. Instead, it displayed a road map of the eastern corridor from Virginia up to Boston. Damon studied it thoughtfully. Had Viper found the routes the drivers were using to move the bombs?
After looking at it for a moment, Damon set his coffee on the counter. He turned to the PC before him and a few moments later, he had logged into his own personal server on the cloud, connecting to his own networks. While he waited for his email to load, Damon's eyes wandered along the counter to the other computers. The screens were dark, but he knew that they were busy working in the background. Viper had everything up and running in her search for Asad.
Something out of place caught his eye and Damon tilted his head, staring at the corner of what looked like a picture frame. Raising an eyebrow, he rolled the chair a few feet over and reached out to pluck the item from where it was pushed behind a tower. His eyebrows soared into his forehead. It was a picture frame!
Damon grinned at the much-younger Alina and John in the photo. Seeing her so much younger reminded him forcibly of boot camp, when they were both still green and innocent of the horrors they had seen since. Studying her face in the photo, Hawk searched for any sign of the Viper he now knew, and found none. She wasn't born yet. He moved on to John, standing at her side with his arm around her waist. He'd gained some extra pounds, added a few more lines to his face, and picked up a sardonic twist of the mouth since this was taken, but otherwise, he looked the same.
Damon turned his attention to the tall, dark-haired man standing on Alina's other side. He tilted his head and studied him thoughtfully. He stood almost half a foot taller than Alina, but it was his eyes that arrested Damon's attention. Alina's eyes laughed out of the man's face. So this was the mysterious Dave Maschik, the brother killed in action. He looked to be a couple years older than her, but even in the photo, Hawk could see the closeness between them. They had the same laugh on their face, the same slant to their eyes, and the same careless joy in their stance.
Hawk set the photo down slowly, his eyes fixed on the threesome. This was a time before he met her, before she became the complicated and invulnerable woman she was now. The woman in the photo was a stranger to him, as was the brother standing next to her. They were people he would never know, but they were where Viper began.
Something pulled deep inside him, something Damon hadn't felt in years. He felt almost as if he was on the outside, looking into a party he'd never be a part of. For the first time since before boot camp, Damon felt a sharp feeling of not belonging. He frowned in reaction and pulled his eyes away from the photo. He didn't belong to that time, that was true. He belonged to Viper's present, and that was right where he wanted to be.
Hawk went back to his email, trying to ignore the photo. However, his eyes kept straying back to the tall man standing at Alina's side. What had Dave been like? Did he like sports? He was good with a gun, and Michael had loved him like a brother. Last year, Damon was surprised at just how well he got along with Viper's gunny. If Dave was anything like Michael, Damon had no doubt he would have liked Viper's brother as well.
Damon shook his head and tried to concentrate on his emails. It didn't matter now. That was all part of Alina's life that didn't involve him, except as far as it affected her now. Perhaps one day she would tell him about her brother, but until then, at least he had a face to put with the name.
Hawk glanced at the photo again, his brows drawing together in a frown. In all the years he had known Viper, he never saw any photos of anyone, least of all her family. Viper didn't have photos. Throughout her house, there were prints and artwork on the walls, sculptures and conversation pieces strategically placed on tables and shelves, but not one photo.
So why was this one suddenly here? And why was it pushed behind a computer, hidden away?
Alina pulled around the corner of her house, the Shelby's engine growling, and raised an eyebrow at the black Audi Q5 parked outside her garage. Hawk seemed to have upgraded from his usual motorcycle. Pulling up next to it, she turned off the engine and glanced at the sleek vehicle. It was flashier than his usual rentals and Alina pursed her lips thoughtfully. Hawk never did anything without a reason. What was he up to?
She got out of the Shelby and closed the door, turning to walk across the grass to the deck. Raven appeared from the trees, gliding over the lawn and coming to rest on the railing, waiting for her. Alina smiled as she went up the steps, pausing to greet her hawk.
“Is he inside?” she murmured.
Shiny black eyes met hers and Raven shook his head, then his wings, before turning to hunker down on his claws, turning his attention out and over his domain.
Alina continued across the deck to the sliding door and opened it, stepping into the house silently. Her eyes went straight to the recliner in the living room, where Damon was settled with a laptop. He glanced over as she stepped inside and his eyebrow rose sharply as he took in her short skirt and thigh-high boots with one glance.
“Not a word,” she forestalled him as he was opening his mouth. She slid the door closed behind her and walked over to drop her keys on the bar. “I needed to get someone's attention.”
“Well, you certainly have mine,” Hawk murmured, his eyes dancing.
Alina looked across the living room and couldn't stop the grin that crossed her lips.
“That was easy,” she replied with a wink.
Damon chuckled and set his laptop aside, standing up. He crossed the distance between them, his blue eyes locked on hers.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Like a charm.”
“I almost feel sorry for the guy,” Damon told her. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eye before slipping his arms around her. “You look amazing.”
He lowered his lips to hers and Alina sighed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“So do you,” she murmured when he lifted his head. “I'm glad you're back.”
Damon looked down at her, his eyes probing hers, suddenly serious.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
Alina shrugged, her eyes never leaving his.
“It seems like everything,” she replied, “and it just keeps getting worse. That island in the tropics is looking better and better.”
Hawk frowned.
“You'd better fill me in,” he said, releasing her and stepping back a pace.
“I will,” she promised, turning toward the hallway. “Let me get changed first. These clothes make me feel ridiculous.”
Damon grinned, his eyes sliding down to the expanse of thigh exposed as she headed down the hallway and toward the stairs.
“Ridiculous is not the word I would have chosen,” he murmured.
The man striding purposefully down the wide hallway checked his step when his phone began to ring. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled it out, glancing at the blocked number.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” a voice said apologetically, “but I thought you should know I have movement on Delta.”
“Talk,” the man commanded, his stride regaining its original pace.
“He's just left the city,” the voice told him. “All indications are he's going to New York to check on his parents.”
“Why would he do that out of the blue?” the man demanded.
The voice cleared itself.
“I took the liberty of finding the answer before I called you, sir,” it said smoothly. “The father had hip replacement surgery.”
“That seems like a fair enough reason,” he admitted grudgingly. “You verified the surgery?”
“Yes, sir. It was yesterday.”
“He cleared it with Chris Harbour?”
“Appears so,” the voice replied. “He was trying to get some work done before he left, but headed out of the city twenty minutes ago.”
“Is he driving?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man reached out and opened the door to the corner office unceremoniously and went inside, closing it behind himself.
“Keep me posted if anything unusual happens,” he said. “It's the weekend, though, and if he's going to check on dad, I don't anticipate anything. Continue monitoring both his and Harbour's phones, but don't follow him to New York. I don't think we'll lose him in Brooklyn.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man hung up and went to the over-sized desk in the corner, sinking into the leather seat behind it with a sigh. He didn't like listening in on Michael O'Reilly's phone, but it couldn't be helped. O'Reilly was poking around in things above his pay grade, and it was imperative that he be kept on a short leash. He already knew too much about the antidote, and God alone knew what else the Secret Service Agent had uncovered. Michael O'Reilly had a knack for getting himself embroiled in things that didn't concern him.
The man frowned and leaned forward to open his laptop. He didn't want to do anything to the ex-Marine gunny, but if push came to shove and it was him or Michael O'Reilly...Michael O'Reilly would go down. It was that simple. The stakes were too high to allow for emotional things like morality and human decency.
He had come too far to have it all ruined by an over-achieving, bull-headed and patriotic son of a bitch.
“Are you sure about this?” Blake asked.
“Yep,” Stephanie answered.
“And if he catches you?” he persisted. “He put a bomb on your partner’s car and killed him. You can't possibly be objective about this.”
“Of course not,” she agreed, “but I don't have to be objective to put a GPS tracker on his car.”
Blake glanced at her as he continued down the long road that led to Atco Raceway. She was right. She didn't need to be objective to put a tracker on his car. He was more worried about what she would do if she came face to face with Tito Morales while she was doing it.
“I think you should let me do it,” he said.
Stephanie looked at him.
“You just don't trust me, do you?” she demanded. “You think I'll wig out on him.”
“Yep,” Blake agreed shamelessly. “And just so we're clear, I wouldn't blame you.”
“Thank you very much,” Stephanie muttered.
“We can't risk spooking him,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “If he doesn't show up tomorrow at the meet in AC, the others will scrap the whole thing and we'll lose the locations of those bombs.”
“I'm aware of that,” Stephanie retorted. “Fine! You do it. I don't care who does it, just as long as the damn tracker gets on his damn car!”
Blake looked at her, a grin pulling at his lips.
“Fine,” he said. “I'll do it.”
“Fine.”
Blake slowed as he approached the gates to the racetrack, then he frowned.
“What's this?” he asked, watching as a black Camaro with orange flames pulled out of the side road beyond the gate. “Isn't that him?”
Stephanie watched as the Camaro turned towards them, heading in the opposite direction. The engine roared as Tito pressed the gas and flew by them.
“Yes, that's him!” she exclaimed, twisting in her seat to watch the car accelerate down the road. “Turn around!”
Blake waited until the Camaro was some distance away before performing a quick U-turn in the middle of the road. He pressed the gas and accelerated, following the Camaro.
“For God's sake, don't lose him.”
“Are you always this bossy?” Blake demanded, glancing at her.
Stephanie shrugged and grinned unrepentantly.
“Just making sure we're on the same page. This is our only shot to get a tracker on him. Tomorrow's too late.”
The trees whizzed by on both sides as the Challenger flew down the road, keeping a respectable distance between Tito and themselves.
“Michael's on his way up,” Blake said after a few moments of silence.
Stephanie looked at him in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I called him.” He glanced at her. “I think we need to put our heads together and get everything out on the table to discuss it. I just wish we could get the Black Widow in on it.”
“Not gonna happen. She's not a meeting type.”
“What's she like?” Blake asked suddenly.
“Alina?” Stephanie was surprised by the question. “I don't know how to describe her. Distant? Unapproachable. She plays everything very close to her chest. Half the time, I have no idea what she's thinking.”
“I saw her once, last fall. She was across the street, watching me.” Blake shook his head. “I thought at the time she was making a statement. I've wondered about that a lot.”
“I know she has a lot of respect for you,” Stephanie offered, looking at him. “I don't know why, but she seems to like you. Believe me, that's rare.”
Blake was quiet for a few moments, digesting that.
“Mike trusts her,” he finally spoke again. “Implicitly. Hell, even my dog trusts her. It makes me wonder what kind of woman she is, this assassin of yours. Everyone trusts her when the stakes are too high to do anything else, and as far as I can tell, she's never let them down. But, she isn't friendly by any stretch of the imagination. I can count on one hand the number of people who even know what she looks like, and you and Mike are the only two that she lets anywhere near her.”
“You have to understand, with Lina it's very complicated,” Stephanie said slowly. “Her job, her survival, it all depends on her ability to be a phantom, to be invisible. She doesn't exist. That's how they operate. Except, here we know she does exist. We knew her before she became a weapon. So here, in Jersey, the rules that govern her are different. I'll never forget something Damon said last summer. He said that too many of us Feds knew what she looked like and her anonymity was shot. That was the first time it really hit me, and he was right. Just by knowing her, we put her at risk of exposure. So, I guess I can understand why she's so reclusive.”
“That's one hell of a lonely life,” Blake murmured. “Refresh my memory. Who's Damon again?”
Stephanie bit her lip.
“He's one of them,” she said evasively.
Blake looked at her, his eyebrows raised and a grin pulling at his lips.
“One of them?”
“He works for her agency.”
“So, he works with her?”
“I don't think they work together the way we do,” she murmured, her lips twisting humorlessly. “I get the impression they're lone wolves.”
“Then how does he know her so well?” Blake asked.
“I'm not sure they even know the answer to that one,” Stephanie said with a short laugh. “Why all these questions?”
He shrugged.
“I told you, I'm curious about what kind of person she is,” he answered readily. “She's such a mystery. For instance, if her survival depends on her being invisible, why buy a house in Jersey where people know her? It's a contradiction in an otherwise perfect portrait of a mechanical weapon.”
Stephanie was silent for a long time.
“Actually, I've wondered that myself,” she finally admitted. “At first, I thought perhaps she just wanted to have some kind of normal life to come back to, but now, I don't know. Lately, she's been impatient, and more distant than usual. I think she's starting to regret it.”
“I don't envy her that life. It can't be easy.”
Stephanie looked up as Blake began to slow down. They were on a busy highway now, with shopping centers lining either side, and the Camaro was stopped at a red light not far ahead. The light turned green and Tito went through it before turning into the parking lot of an Urgent Care facility.
“Well, what have we here?” Blake wondered, keeping his speed down and pulling up to the light as it turned red again.
They watched as the Camaro pulled into a parking spot near the building and Tito got out, heading toward the glass doors. A moment later, he disappeared inside. Blake and Stephanie looked at each other, speechless.
The light turned green again and Blake turned into the parking lot, pulling into an empty spot next to the Camaro. He killed the engine and they both looked at the glass fronted building in front of them. Tito was at the front counter. They watched as he spoke briefly to the woman behind the desk and then picked up a pen, writing something on a clipboard.
“He's checking in,” Stephanie said.
“Sure seems like it,” Blake agreed, shutting off the engine. “I'll go in and see what I can find out. You get the tracker on the car.”
“What are you going to do? It's not like they'll tell you what a patient is in there for,” she pointed out.
Blake winked at her.
“Leave that to me,” he said, opening the door. “You just take care of your part.”