Bravo stood on the balcony, clenching his jaw, and stared down at the pool.
That agent was tall and burly, built like a brick shithouse, and he wasn’t easy to pin down. He hopped from the water, fished out the target—she was gasping, struggling to recover—and slung her over his shoulder with ease. Then he hauled ass.
The fucker was also fast. And quickly becoming a thorn in Bravo’s side.
On the upside, Bravo no longer had to go to the trouble of killing that dipshit Delta.
Charlie came up beside Bravo and raised his sidearm, taking aim.
Bravo seized him by the throat. “You’ll do more harm than good from this distance.”
The greater the range, the lower the accuracy. This situation might’ve turned into a circus, but it still wasn’t the Wild West, where they had the luxury of shooting haphazardly.
“Remember the ROEs,” Bravo said, referring to their rules of engagement, and released Charlie’s neck. “The hard drives are out there somewhere, and she can’t talk with a bullet in her head.” He lifted his cuff and spoke into his wrist mic. “Echo, they’re headed in your direction. Follow and don’t lose them. Copy?”
“Affirmative. I have eyes on target.”
“That operative is good,” Charlie said. “Too good.”
Bravo gave a single curt nod of agreement. “Since he seems to be sticking around, we’ll code name him Caretaker.”
“He’s going to use aggressive surveillance detection tactics to make sure he doesn’t have a tail.”
Charlie was right. Any one of them would do the same. Tailing someone who was well-trained in countersurveillance was a slippery game, best played with multiple trackers doing a leapfrog method. Echo’s efforts were doomed, but it was worth a shot.
“There should be at least two of us on him,” Charlie continued, “tag-teaming, for it to work.”
“Yes.” Bravo cut his eyes to him, seething over the situation and Charlie’s lack of tact in stating the obvious. Squeeze lemon juice on the wound, why don’t you. “Jump and go assist,” Bravo said, deadpan, gesturing over the balcony.
Charlie cocked his head, drawing his brows together in puzzlement, probably trying to determine if Bravo was serious.
“Don’t ever presume to think you know more than I do.” Bravo kept his tone calm yet icy. Never let them see you sweat. “The next time the idea fairy sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, tell it to fuck off because I’ve already considered every course of action. Now go find the address of the FedEx where she mailed that package.”
* * *
Kit scrambled into the passenger’s seat of the SUV as Castle jumped behind the wheel. He fired up the engine, bringing the vehicle to life with a rumble that echoed in her chest.
Castle threw it into gear, and they lurched off down the street. Hitting a corner, he yanked the wheel and the tires screeched.
The hard turn jostled Kit against the door. She caught hold of the grab handle above the window and held on for dear life. Castle wove through traffic, one aggressive turn after another. Finally hitting a red light, he slammed on the brakes. With shaking hands, she fumbled to put on her seat belt and tried to steady her pulse.
Her soaking wet clothes were heavy and clung to her. She trembled from the chill, her bottom lip quivering from shock.
Unbelievable. She’d done it—jumped off the balcony of her building. A jump that could’ve killed her outright if not given her a heart attack, but she’d survived.
It wasn’t as if she’d had time to think about it, fortunately. Otherwise, she might’ve turned into a stone-cold chicken. Bravo had them cornered, and they’d both be dead.
The danger had been as real as those bullets, and self-preservation had overridden panic. She’d endangered Castle—and herself—by going to her apartment. The responsibility was hers to do whatever was necessary to get them out of the jam. Even if that meant pressing pause on her sanity and taking a gutsy leap four stories into the pool, like a wackadoodle action star in a blockbuster movie.
She clutched her chest, reeling from the adrenaline.
The drop into the water had snatched the breath from her lungs, yet she’d never felt more alive. Thanks to Castle whipping her out of the pool and sparing her the exertion of swimming and running to the car, the most taxing part on her heart had been mustering the courage to jump.
The traffic light blinked green. Castle sped off and backtracked for no apparent reason, taking the congested merry-go-round of Columbus Circle.
“What are we doing?”
He responded with a cutting glance, then shifted his focus to the rearview mirror.
Kit rubbed her frozen hands, teeth chattering. She flipped on the heater. Cold air blasted from the vents. Nothing was icier than the deep freeze Castle was giving her, though, and it bugged her for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with his refusal to share information. She didn’t like that uneasy sensation—the shameful desire to make things right with secret agent man. Not one little bit.
The air from the heater finally grew lukewarm.
Still no response from the big guy. She had no clue what the plan was beyond more dizzying turns along a convoluted path past the National Mall. Castle was driving a scenic route to nowhere instead of going to his place to dry off before they both caught pneumonia.
“Why are we driving in circles?”
Castle clenched the wheel like he wanted to tear somebody apart limb from limb as he beat the red light at a major intersection. She suspected that somebody he wanted to dismember was her.
His gaze flicked from the rearview mirror to her. “Shut. Up.”
He had a right to be pissed, no contest on that point, but he did not have a right to speak to her that way.
She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, but he shot a glare at her so blistering it torched the words on her tongue. She snapped her lips closed. He was an active volcano about to explode and she wasn’t quite ready to be reduced to ashes.
“I’m trying to see if we picked up a fucking tick or if we’re clean.”
His first response to her longer than two syllables was a bunch of mumbo jumbo? “A tick? What are you talking about?”
“A tail. I think someone is following us.”
She was quiet, letting that sink in, then turned, looking out the rear window. There were no vehicles riding their bumper in hot pursuit, but beyond what she’d seen in car chases on TV shows and in movies, she didn’t know what to look for.
“I don’t need distractions,” he snapped. “So be quiet for now. But when we get to the house, you better have a damn good reason for this stunt.”
She had a laundry list of good reasons. Her medication, money, passport…
Fine, it was only three reasons, but they were essentials her life and freedom depended on.
Only she didn’t think Castle would share her perspective.
* * *
Castle had conducted a hard surveillance detection route for the last thirty minutes to see if anyone was on them. Getting a potential tail to expose themselves was never easy, unless the person was an idiot. And those guys certainly hadn’t gotten their trained-to-track-and-kill certificates from a Cracker Jack box.
A motorcycle a hundred feet back was playing it so Charmin-soft that Castle couldn’t be certain. At the next intersection, he pulled an illegal U-turn. The motorcycle followed.
A definite tick, but alone. The guy put more distance and vehicles between them, loosening the leash. Perhaps assuming he could tighten it again with minimal effort.
That prospect needed to be tested.
Castle accelerated, barely making it through the next light before it changed, and hooked a right. He caught a glimpse of the motorcycle driver cutting up onto the sidewalk with zero qualms about taking out pedestrians.
The bike afforded flexibility and maneuverability a car didn’t, putting Castle at a major disadvantage. His heart pounded from the chase as well as from the possibility of not being able to shake this guy.
Castle hit I-395 South and crossed the Potomac out of DC. No backtracking. No evasive measures. He wasn’t going to lose this guy on the open road.
An exit was coming up for US-1: the Pentagon, Crystal City, and Reagan National.
For the plan forming in his head to work, he needed more distance between their vehicles. Castle gunned it, taking the ramp. He headed straight for the Crystal City Mall. The restaurants inside didn’t close for another couple of hours, and the parking garage stayed open 24/7.
Speeding down the two-lane road, he whipped over into the right one designated for the garage, cutting in front of other vehicles. He pressed the button for a ticket and zipped inside.
The motorcycle was trapped in line behind two cars. The parking garage was massive, with no fewer than four exits. Castle could take any level to an alternate exit and be back on the road long before their tail had a chance to play catch up.
This was the one scenario where giving a subject too much lead had backfired.