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“And you have proof of all this?”
Brandon met Agent Forster’s gaze squarely. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“We’re gonna have to verify everything before we move on any of it,” Grant, the Special Agent in Charge said.
He nodded. At least the SAC seemed like a decent guy who was dedicated to his job. But something about the other agent didn’t sit right with Brandon. He wasn’t just going to turn over the files Jaia had risked her life to obtain and blindly trust that the FBI would do the right thing with them. “I can get them to you after you tell me what the plan is from here.”
The two men exchanged a look. “That’s not how this works,” Agent Forster said, his tone a blend of annoyance and amusement.
“That’s how it’s going to work this time.” Brandon had the upper hand here. He wasn’t giving in.
Forster’s expression tightened. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the SAC stopped him with an upraised hand. “You went through hell over there. I understand why you’re hesitant to turn over the files unless you have some guarantee from us.”
“Good. Then you’ll guarantee continued protection for Jaia until this case is resolved. Because if anything happens to us, those files will be released to the media.”
“Of course.” A ringtone went off. Grant pulled his phone from his pants pocket, glanced at it. “I’ll speak to the—” He stopped, his entire body going rigid. “God dammit,” he muttered under his breath, and dialed someone.
A warning buzz started at the base of Brandon’s spine. “What?”
The SAC started speaking to whoever he’d called. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. Upon receiving the answer, his expression turned grimmer still. “You’ve confirmed it?” He shook his head, lips thinned. “Shit. I’m on my way.”
“What’s happened?” Brandon said, dread building in his chest.
The man’s dark blue gaze was somber. “There was an attack at the rental in Astoria.”
His entire body went cold. No... “What?” he breathed, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“Both agents are dead.”
“And Jaia?”
“Missing. A neighbor said she was put into the back of a van that sped off.”
Panic ripped through him like a gunshot. He whirled, ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing the number of the burner he’d given her as he raced across the parking lot for his vehicle.
“Whitaker! Wait!”
He wasn’t fucking waiting for a second. Jaia had been taken while under FBI protection. Her life was in danger.
Fear congealed in his gut as the electronic ring droned in his ear. It rang a second time. A third. A fourth. With no answer.
“Fuck!” He hung up, gunned the engine and tore out of the lot, his only thoughts on finding Jaia. How the fuck had they found her? Where had they taken her?
He dialed Noah on the way back to the house, snapped out what had happened. The FBI would mount a search. Two of their own being gunned down in the line of duty would garner a big response, but it would take them time to get organized and moving. Time Jaia didn’t have.
“Any idea where they might have taken her?” Noah asked. “Anything at all?”
“No. I’m just hoping that taking her means she’s still got time.” They could have killed her outright once her guards were dead.
She was untrained, unarmed, an incredibly vulnerable target. “How the hell did they find her, Noah? There’s no way they could have, let alone at the exact time I was away, unless someone leaked her location.” It made him feel sick to think that one of the agents might have betrayed them, but that was the only logical explanation.
“I don’t know. Look, I’m making some calls right now. If you hear anything, let me know and I’ll do everything I can on my end to help find her.”
“Thanks.” He ended the call, took a sharp turn and sped down the mist-slick road, his mind racing as fast as the vehicle. They couldn’t have gotten too far. They would likely stay off the main highways, to avoid detection. Which direction were they headed? North? South?
His phone rang. He grabbed it from the cup holder, glanced at the screen. His heart stopped beating when he saw Jaia’s name.
The tires screeched as he hammered the brakes and yanked the car to the curb to accept the call. “Jaia?”
“B-Brandon...”
His heart clenched at the terror in her voice. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“She’s okay. For now,” a male voice said.
“Where is she?” he bit out, raw fury tightening his muscles.
“If you want to see her alive, you’ll be at the following coordinates in two hours. Alone. Any of your friends or police show up, she dies.”
“Brandon—” Jaia’s frantic cry was cut short by the line going dead.
“God dammit!” He slammed his fist on the dashboard, the pain in his hand doing nothing to ease the crushing pressure in his chest.
He needed help. He couldn’t go there alone. Then they would kill both him and Jaia. He needed trained help, and it couldn’t be the cops or Feds.
Without hesitation, he dialed Travis. The instant his best friend answered, Brandon rattled off everything that had happened.
“I have to be there,” he rasped out, aching at the thought of what Jaia was going through, and blaming himself for leaving her in the first place. If he hadn’t contacted the FBI, maybe she would still be safe. “But I can’t go without backup.”
“Fucking right, you can’t,” Travis retorted. “You know it’s a trap.”
“I know what you’ve just been through with my sister, and I know it’s—”
“Fuck, Whit, whatever you need from me, you’ve got it.”
This was the kind of bond they’d formed after shedding blood, sweat and tears together to uphold the motto That Others May Live. And right now, Jaia needed heroes to save her.
“I’m going, Trav. I have to get to her, no matter what it takes. But if they see anyone else, they’ll kill her.”
“Shit.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Where are you?”
“I’m heading south on the 101 right now. Just over an hour from the rendezvous point.”
“All right, I’m gonna call Groz and we’ll meet you wherever you want. I’ll let you know when we’re on our way.”
His brothers had his back on this, willing to risk their lives to help him and Jaia. It meant everything. “Thank you,” he said past the sudden restriction in his throat.
He kept speeding south, praying Jaia would be okay. He had to save her. Had to figure out a way to make this work and hope that no one else he cared about got hurt in the process.
A heavy layer of fog had rolled in off the water. It hugged the road, obscuring visibility, making it too dangerous to risk passing around corners.
The slow-moving traffic frustrated him. He passed slower vehicles when he could, acutely aware of the mental clock ticking in his head.
Forty minutes into the trip, the traffic began to snarl even more. Biting back a curse, he took the first turnoff he came to, heading inland.
The fog slowly began to dissipate as he climbed the hill. He turned south again on a two-lane highway, racing along the damp asphalt. Every moment counted.
His phone rang when he was less than ten miles from the meeting spot. Travis. “We’re on the road,” he said. “Where do you want us to go?”
He opened his mouth to suggest a place, then stopped, his attention on the headlights coming up fast behind him.
“Whit?”
“Hang on, I’m—” His pulse jumped when the vehicle suddenly swerved into the oncoming lane and picked up speed. “Shit, I think the hitters found me.” He pressed harder on the accelerator.
“Where are you?” Travis asked in an urgent voice.
Brandon gave his approximate location, focused on the road ahead and the SUV coming after him. But there was traffic up ahead. With the other vehicle blocking him in, there was no place to go.
He hammered the brakes, and the SUV flew past. The seatbelt snapped taut across his chest and shoulder as he wrenched the wheel and pulled a hard U-turn. The SUV did the same, roaring after him.
“I’m heading back north,” he said to Travis.
There was too much goddamn traffic here. He had to get off this highway.
He took a hard right at the next street and gunned it. The SUV careened around the corner moments later. It had a V8 engine. Bigger and far more powerful than his vehicle’s.
His only chance was to lose them somehow.
A hard left turn. A right. Another left.
He ended up in a residential neighborhood, and the SUV was still behind him. He sped up the road, looking for someplace to hide. More turns, his frustration rising to the point where he wanted to scream.
Jaia needed him. If he died, so would she.
He veered right onto a random street. Hit the brakes hard when he realized he was in a dead end. Shit!
Heart thudding, he slammed the transmission into reverse and hit the gas, but too late. The SUV whipped around the corner, blocking him in.
Swearing, he threw the transmission back into drive and raced for the end of the street where a thick band of forest rose behind the houses. When he’d gone as far as he could, he abandoned the vehicle, grabbed his pistol and ran like hell through someone’s yard.
A cool veil of mist covered him with damp droplets as he hopped the fence and plunged into the looming shadows cast by the trees. The air was sharp with the scent of evergreen as the shadows engulfed him.
His boots thudded over the carpet of fallen leaves and needles, the blood pulsing in his ears. He ran until he heard someone scrambling over a fence somewhere behind him and ducked behind the trunk of a tall fir.
Gasping for breath, he looked around him. With a sinking heart he realized that the “forest” wasn’t a forest at all, but a greenbelt running between two rows of houses on either side.
The only cover here was the tree trunks, rotten stumps or fallen logs. The shadows weren’t quite dark enough to conceal him. Any move he made would leave him exposed.
Beneath the lash of adrenaline, an icy calm stole over him, the operator in him taking over.
He couldn’t hear anything now, but whoever was after him had to be close. And with Jaia out there still in danger, he couldn’t afford to burn up more time hiding here.
He had no choice but to make a stand here and now.
