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The sun was just starting to rise, lighting the sky with a pale gray tinge, when birds started chirping outside. Alina let go of the wispy tendrils of sleep still clinging to her consciousness and rolled over.
“Ooof.”
Her eyes popped open as she rolled into a warm, solid wall of skin. Damon was laying with his back to her, fast asleep under the covers. She frowned at the strange feeling of contentment that washed over her as she inhaled the warm, comfortable smell of his skin. Had she gone to sleep with him there? And why did it feel so right to have him sleeping next to her?
Alina stared at the back of his shoulders, resisting the sudden urge to trace the long scar that ran down his back. It was an old scar, and even though she had seen it before, it still served to remind her of their inescapable mortality. They survived only through the will of fate and luck, she and Hawk, and one day they would face a wound that would leave no scar, only their memory. It was a statistical probability she had known before she walked through the doors of the training facility five years ago. She willingly accepted it, deciding then the risk was well worth the opportunity to fight for those who could not fight for themselves. She and Hawk were two of a few, a select, who would do the impossible to eliminate the untouchable, even if it meant giving their lives. They did what others could not do, knowing the price they would pay would be greater than what most were willing to contemplate. It was who they were. It was what they did. And it had never bothered her.
Until now.
Alina lifted her eyes from the faded scar on Hawk's back with a slight frown. Absurdly, she thought of two bull mastiffs on a ranch somewhere out in the middle of Boondocks, Nowhere, USA. Who would take care of them if Hawk didn't come home? A shaft of something painful sliced through the contentment and Alina scowled.
What was it about Jersey that made her forget who she was? There was no place in her life for thoughts like these. Viper had a job to do, and so did Hawk.
Alina poked him in the back sharply with her finger.
“What?” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.
“You're in my bed,” she told him crossly.
Damon rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at her. Too late, Alina realized she had been better off staring at his back. His dark hair fell over his forehead in disarray and his eyes were startlingly blue in a face still flushed from sleep. His jaw was lined with dark stubble and he scratched it absently, yawning widely.
“You say that like it's a bad thing,” he said, his full lips curving into a grin as she glowered at him.
Ignoring the sudden jump in her heart rate, Viper sat up, putting some distance between them.
“I don't remember inviting you,” she said. Any menacing effect that statement may have had was lost when she slipped into a jaw-cracking yawn.
Damon watched her lazily, his gaze unreadable.
“I don't remember asking,” he retorted. Viper glanced at him, her eyes flashing, and he grinned unabashedly. “In fact, I don't even remember falling asleep,” he added.
Viper's flash of annoyance evaporated and she chuckled reluctantly.
“Neither do I,” she admitted, tossing the down comforter aside and swinging her legs out of bed. “You'd better get moving before the natives start stirring. The last thing I need is Angela seeing you slink out of my bedroom.”
“Angela?” Damon propped himself up with pillows and watched as she headed toward the master bathroom. His eyes slipped to her long legs appreciatively. “I thought you'd be more worried about your Marine.”
Alina glanced over her shoulder, laughter lighting her dark eyes and making them glow.
“I can handle Michael,” she replied. “Angela, however, is a whole other matter.”
“Don't tell me Viper is afraid of a banker!” Hawk murmured, his eyes dancing.
Her response was to hold up the finger as she disappeared into the bathroom. Damon chuckled and glanced up to the perch in the corner of the bedroom.
“Is she always this moody in the morning?” he asked the hawk conversationally. Raven lifted his beak from where it was buried in his feathers and blinked at him. “That's what I thought.”
Damon glanced at his watch and yawned again, shaking the lingering remnants of sleep from his head. He swung his legs out of the bed and reached over to pick up his Beretta, tucking it into the back of his jeans. He smiled faintly as his glance fell on Viper's Ruger. It seemed completely natural to have the two guns sitting side by side on the bedside table. Too natural.
Damon shook his head slightly and stood up. Things were getting more and more complicated with Viper daily. While he was perfectly willing to explore this attraction between them and see where it led, he was also acutely aware of the dangers of engaging in a serious relationship with her. Not only would a relationship increase both their risks of exposure, but it would inevitably become a distraction neither of them could afford. Right now, when he left her, he was able to set Viper completely out of his mind and focus on his job. Damon knew that would become more and more difficult if they continued down this road. It was only a matter of time before one, or both, of them allowed themselves to become distracted.
“What a mess,” he muttered and pulled his shirt over his head.
Two months ago, he was on an old goat trail in the mountains above Lima, Peru when he was blind-sided with the sudden realization that he was in love with Viper. Damon knew it would be complicated when he boarded the private jet that carried him back to the United States and into her orbit. He had been as powerless to stop that driving force then as he was now.
The feeling of contentment that had engulfed him since he opened his eyes next to her evaporated as the sun rose on a new day. Of all the women in the world for him to fall for, it had to be her. The one woman in the world he couldn't intimidate, couldn't deceive and, worst of all, couldn't ignore. He had never been able to ignore her. She had always been there, poking and prodding deep in his subconscious, surfacing just long enough to remind him that he wasn't alone, that there was someone else who was fighting just as fiercely and losing just as much of herself. Viper had become his mirror over the years. Each time he saw her, she reflected his own shadows back to him. If there was one other person on this God-forsaken earth who knew what monsters really lurked in the darkness, that person was Viper. She fought them too.
She was Hawk's only hope that he could withstand the shadows and hold on to what was left of the Damon Miles he used to know.
“Lina, are you awake? I thought I heard voices.”
Angela poked her head into the bedroom and looked around. The bed was a mess, but empty, and Raven was sitting on the perch in the corner of the ceiling. At the sound of her voice, he turned his head and considered her with his shiny black eyes. Angela wrinkled her nose and stepped into the room.
“Lina?” she called.
A crisp breeze blew through the open window and rustled the red sheers. Angela shivered, glancing at the hawk.
“Doesn't she know it's fall?” she asked him, striding over to the window and closing it. “It's freezing out there!”
“Who are you talking to?” Alina asked, emerging from the walk-in closet. She cast a sharp look around the room and breathed a silent sigh of relief at only seeing Angela.
“Raven,” Angela replied. “I closed your window. It's freezing in here!”
Alina's eyes rested briefly on the window and a faint smile touched her lips before she turned her attention to the bed. Her eyes fell on her Ruger and she glanced at Angela, who had picked up a book from the dresser and was looking at it cursorily. Alina slid the gun off the bedside table and into her back holster silently.
“You're up early,” she said, dropping her shirt over the holster and pulling the comforter and sheet back to the foot of the bed.
“I didn't sleep well,” Angela answered with a shrug. “I kept thinking about how I sat in an empty building across from a criminal who wants to kill me. No one knew I was there. He could have killed me and hid my body and no one would have known!”
“Well, he didn't.” Alina shook out the fitted sheet and tucked it back under the corner of the mattress. “No point in thinking about it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Angela muttered. She put the book down and went to the other side of the bed, helping Alina pull the top sheet up and fold it back. “Why do you think he let me go?”
“He's making sure he doesn't need you again,” Alina answered bluntly.
“Oh, very nice.” Angela glanced at her. “Are you even human?”
Alina laughed and reached for the comforter.
“Well, you asked!” she exclaimed. Angela helped her pull up the comforter and Alina straightened it, glancing at her. There was a strange, hard glint in her eyes that made Angela shiver involuntarily. “Don't worry. He lost his one chance. He won't get another.”
“Are you ever afraid of anything?” Angela asked her, straightening up and looking across the bed at her old friend. “Nothing seems to faze you.”
“Fear is counter-productive,” Alina said shortly. “I don't have time for it.”
“Wow! Ok then. How's the weather on your planet?”
“Apparently not as freezing as it is on yours,” Alina retorted with a grin.
Angela shook her head and turned toward the door.
“I heard Michael moving around in the other spare room,” she said over her shoulder. “Looks like we're all early risers. I think I'll make pancakes. I need something to cheer me up.”
Alina glanced at the closed bedroom window before turning to follow her out.
“You'd better make extra,” she said. “There might be another one for breakfast.”
Stephanie stifled a yawn and opened the door to the small conference room. She was a few minutes early for her meeting with Blake Hanover, the agent from Washington, and Rob. She expected to find the room empty. Instead, there was a man sitting at the oval conference table with a large Wawa coffee next to his laptop. He looked up when the door opened and Stephanie was caught in a sharp gaze from warm brown eyes.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, closing the door behind herself. “I wasn't expecting anyone to be here yet.”
“You must be Agent Walker.” The man stood up and came around the table, holding out his hand. He was tall, topping six feet, with rich brown hair that fell over his forehead in thick curls. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We never got a chance to connect two months ago in Washington.”
Stephanie set her coffee down on the table and reached out to shake his hand. His fingers closed around hers firmly and she smiled.
“No, we didn't,” she agreed. “It was a little hectic down there. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hanover.”
“Call me Blake,” he said, releasing her hand with a grin. “When people say Mr. Hanover, I still look around for my father.”
“Fair enough,” Stephanie said with a laugh. She set her laptop down next to her coffee and watched as Blake went back to his seat. “I thought I would get here early and knock out some email.”
Blake glanced at her as he settled down in front of his laptop.
“Great minds think alike,” he murmured, picking up his coffee.
Stephanie smiled and sat down, opening her laptop. A comfortable silence fell between the two as they sipped their coffee and typed on their respective machines. Every once in a while, Stephanie found herself glancing across the table at him. He was a rugged man, who looked as if he would have no problem flattening anyone who got in his way. His ruthless charm was tempered, however, by the warm glint in those brown eyes of his. Something about him made Stephanie want to get to know him and have a conversation with him. Blake Hanover was nothing like what she expected.
The door behind her opened suddenly and Rob swept into the room, coffee in hand.
“Good morning!” he greeted them both cheerfully as he closed the door. “Glad to see you both here, bright and early.”
Rob was a funnel of energy in the mornings, fueled by caffeine and sugar, and Stephanie grinned as he dropped a battered notebook and pen on the table. Rob was also old-school, eschewing technology in favor of his own, unique shorthand.
“Good morning, Rob.” Blake stood again and held out his hand to Rob. His face was creased into an amused grin. “Still carrying around that same, ratty old notebook? We really need to work on that.”
“Ha!” Rob laughed, grasping his hand. “My ratty old notebook can't be hacked, deleted or infected with worms.”
“True enough,” Blake admitted and sat back down.
“You two didn't start without me, did you?” Rob asked, seating himself and glancing at them.
“Of course not,” Stephanie answered easily.
“Good.” Rob rubbed his hands together and sat back in his seat. “I wanted you to meet face to face. I know you never got the chance down in Washington.”
“Small world, really,” Blake said with a smile. “What are the odds of running into each other on different cases?”
“Slim,” Stephanie agreed with an answering smile.
“Well, I know you're both short on time, so let's get down to business,” Rob said. “Since your cases do seem to have coincided, it makes it easier to share information. What do you have for us, Blake?”
“Jenaro Gomez is the Lieutenant and second-in-command for the Casa Reino Cartel, answerable only to the head himself,” Blake said, closing his laptop and sitting back. He picked up his coffee and sipped it. “They call the new head La Cabeza.”
“Not very original,” Stephanie murmured.
Blake grinned.
“Not very, no,” he agreed. “His real name is Martese Salcedo. Jenaro helped place him in his position after the former leader was found dead a few months ago. He was killed in a fire, along with two other cartel heads. We don't know what they were doing together or why, but there was an explosion and all three were killed. Jenaro was the acting head for a time before he managed to install Salcedo as the successor. Now, the Casa Reino Cartel is regrouping and starting to regain some of its lost footing.”
“And Jenaro picked now to come to New Jersey,” Stephanie murmured. “Why?”
Blake set his coffee down and opened his laptop again. He pulled up a file and turned the laptop around so Stephanie and Rob could see the picture.
“I think it has something to do with this man,” he said.
Stephanie's eyes narrowed on the grainy photo. It was taken in a crowd and the man had his face half-turned toward the camera. Even though the image was clearly taken at a distance, there was no mistaking the identity of the man.
“Philip Chou?” Stephanie asked, looking at Blake sharply. He was watching her closely.
“You know him. Good. That means we're on the right track.” Blake turned the laptop around again and sat back in his seat.
“He's one of my suspects,” Stephanie said. “I've got an agent watching him and I'm going to see him today. What do you know of him?”
“He ran into Jenaro a few years back,” Blake replied. “From what I've been able to piece together, he was a student at Stanford at the time, doing an internship at an import company. He crossed paths with the Casa Reinos then, and the rumor is he ended up stealing a shipment from them.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow and Rob whistled.
“What kind of shipment?” Stephanie asked.
“We think it was probably heroine.” Blake shrugged. “Jenaro found out it was Chou that altered the electronic records, but by then, he had already disappeared. I'm working on the theory that Jenaro finally tracked him down here, in New Jersey, and came to settle the debt.”
“After, what, four years?” Stephanie asked doubtfully.
“Clearly, you haven't worked with the cartels much,” Blake murmured. “They have long memories, and even deeper roots in revenge. You don't just steal a shipment from them and expect them to forget about it.”
“And you think that's what brought Jenaro to Jersey.” Rob rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “What's your interest in him?”
“Jenaro Gomez has been directly involved in the murders of no less than six DEA and two FBI agents,” Blake said calmly. “He's been on our radar for years. Until now, he's avoided coming anywhere near us.”
“Wonderful,” Stephanie sighed. “And you think Philip Chou is what brought him out now?”
“Right now, it's my best lead,” Blake answered. “Something not only pulled him away from home during a crucial time in the rebuilding process, but it also pulled him out to where we can reach him. Either he's getting over-confident and sloppy, or he's after something much larger than revenge.”
“Money,” Stephanie said. She raised her eyes to Blake's. “He's after the money.”
“What money?”
“Last year, we got some intel indicating that a radical communist cell was hacking into mainframes and siphoning off billions of dollars from various companies,” Stephanie explained, glancing at Rob. At his nod, she continued, “We were able to track them down to NicTel, an electronics firm that DHS believes is directly funding North Korea. The trail ran cold there, until a few weeks ago. I was approached by Rodrigo Frietas, a man who claimed to be one of the hackers involved. He wanted to exchange information for protection. According to him, they had expanded from public companies to banks, and were working on two of the main banks on the East Coast.”
“Which banks?” Blake asked.
“He was killed before he could tell us, but we believe we've identified them. Philip Chou works at New Federal, and Rodrigo worked at One District.”
“What makes you link Chou to this Rodrigo?”
“They worked together at a software firm in Arizona run by a man named Lowell Kwan, who currently holds the title of Regional VP in the IT department of One District Bank,” Stephanie told him. “The software firm was doing well when Kwan suddenly up and closed the company. Six months later, all three men turned up in New Jersey, working in the banks IT departments.”
“That seems like a solid link to me,” Blake muttered. “What happened to Rodrigo?”
“He started showing up in pieces,” Stephanie answered grimly.
“I'm sorry?” Blake blinked.
“First his arm, then his head, then his tongue.” Stephanie picked up her coffee. “We finally found what was left of him yesterday.”
“That's a classic Cartel calling card,” Blake said, “especially for Jenaro. He likes to send messages with other people's body parts.”
“That's why I called you,” Rob said. “We ID'd the person we believe left the arm to start the ball rolling. His name is Lorenzo Porras.”
“Lorenzo?” Blake looked up sharply. “Lorenzo's here too?”
“What do you know about him?” Stephanie set aside her cold coffee with a grimace.
“He's Jenaro's cousin by marriage, and he's been rising fast in the Cartel,” Blake replied. “If he's here too, it means Jenaro only brought his most trusted soldiers with him.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning whatever these hackers of yours are doing, it's big enough for the Casa Reinos to want in on it,” Blake answered. “Jenaro coming here alone was suspicious enough, especially with the unrest among the cartels at home, but if he brought his entourage, it's even bigger than I thought.”
“Of course it is,” Stephanie muttered. “Why is nothing I get involved in easy anymore?”
Blake grinned and his brown eyes met hers, a glint of pure excitement making them glow.
“What on earth would you want with easy?” he demanded.
Stephanie met his gaze and a reluctant smile curved her lips.
“You're about to find out just how complicated my cases tend to be these days,” she told him bluntly. “Ask me that question again when we're all through here.”