“I’ll have Hummingbird there this morning,” Nick said over a new burner phone he’d gotten from Bo.
“You better,” Yaz said. “Not only will Draper have your ass if you don’t, but he’d be justified.”
“I’m not asking you to buy stock in what I’ve said about Draper, but the fact is we have been compromised. All I’m asking is that you tell him I’m bringing her in at ten-thirty by car. But I want you and Charlie to meet us at the helipad on the roof at ten.” That way if Draper planned to sabotage her arrival, the misinformation would be enough to still protect Lori. “We’ll bring her inside and you and the rest of the SOG unit that’s coming in can make sure she gets to court safely.”
The tactical team would be locked and loaded with an arsenal of firepower and prepared to handle absolutely anything on the one-minute drive from the US Marshals’ office to the federal courthouse.
“The support unit is here. They got in last night.”
“Good. I’m not asking you to stick your neck out. I’m just asking for help with the added precaution. I’ve kept her alive thus far. Help me get her through the homestretch.”
“It’s a small ask. We can make it happen.”
“Thanks, Yaz.”
“You realize the moment Hummingbird is in the building and Draper sets eyes on you, you’re fired, right?”
“I figured as much. But I’m not going to stop digging until I find proof that the SOB is involved. And when I do, it’s his funeral.”
“I totally didn’t just hear you threaten a US marshal.”
Nick raked a hand back through his hair. “Thanks. See you in a few hours.” He hung up.
Aiden and Charlie could be trusted, and it’d be easy to explain the small deviation in plans as a last-minute change. Bringing Lori to the district office first was part of their protocol that Nick agreed was in her best interest.
A full SOG unit would have personnel posted outside the courthouse, in front of the US Marshals’ district office, and escort her across the street to the federal courthouse using ballistic protective shields to cover her as the vehicle entered the courthouse.
The procedure was solid. The only opportunity Draper would have to sabotage things was as Nick delivered her to the office. But he wasn’t going to give him the chance.
Nick finished his breakfast and his coffee, setting the dishes in the kitchen sink. Lori was still getting ready upstairs and said she couldn’t eat with her nerves kicking up.
“You don’t look well rested,” his mother said, making a fresh pot of coffee.
He wasn’t. Blissfully exhausted and thoroughly content was more like it. He and Lori had made love through the storm and the rest of the night. If he’d been a gentleman, he would’ve let her get more sleep. But he had to release a year of pent-up longing and lust. Taking her in the shower, licking his way down her delicious body and feasting between her legs back in the bed.
Her appetite had matched his rapacity, only heightening his arousal. They’d consumed each other and once their need had been temporarily slaked, they’d spooned.
They managed to doze for all of two hours.
Nick grabbed another piece of bacon from a platter. “It was hard to sleep with the storm.”
“The storm outside or inside?” his mother asked.
Nick averted his gaze and stuffed the bacon into his mouth.
“I trust there was no funny business.”
“No, ma’am,” he said in total honesty.
“Good.” She shot him a knowing glance. “If there had been, you would’ve been doing it wrong.”
Nick choked on the food sliding down his throat.
Bo walked into the kitchen from the dining room with his empty plate and patted him on the back. “Are you all right, Nicky?”
“Your brother has never been better.” His mother flashed a wry smile. “Isn’t that right?”
It was true. Better. Happier. Lighter. His heart was like a hot-air balloon taking flight in his chest. “I should go check on Lori.”
“She’ll be down when she’s ready. Jules wanted to make sure Lori had an outfit for today that she’d be comfortable in.”
As if they’d talked her up, Lori entered the room. Wearing one of his sister’s practical dresses—since Jules wasn’t a suit gal—a pair of his mom’s heels and a stunning smile, Lori looked beautiful.
Her dark hair was fashioned in a style he’d never seen on her, swept up in a twist off her shoulders. It flattered her, highlighting her features, warm eyes, high cheekbones, those kissable lips. But he’d prefer to see it loose and spread across his pillow again.
Their gazes collided and stuck. His pulse quickened and his heart grew even lighter. It was all he could do not to whisk her into his arms, hold her close, tight, and kiss her.
They’d been perfect together, fit like they belonged. Not just physically. It’d been the most satisfying carnal experience but also the most intimate.
God, why had he denied himself, them both, this pleasure for so long? Why didn’t he make love to her sooner?
“Excellent choice,” his mother said. “You look ready to take on a titan.”
Lori’s brow wrinkled, and Nick could practically hear her thoughts. Did his mother know Lori was about to go up against Goliath, a titan?
Nick had no clue whether his mother knew. He appreciated their unspoken don’t ask, don’t tell family policy.
“Are you sure I can’t fix you something to eat on the flight?” his mother asked.
“No, I’m fine. With the jitters, I won’t be able to eat until after I’ve testified.”
“Good luck, my dear.” Hugs and kisses were exchanged. “Nicholas,” his mother said, pressing a palm to his cheek, “it’s not over. Stay vigilant. I fear the worst is yet to come.”
If there was more his mother could’ve said to help him, she would’ve.
NO MATTER HOW frightening, no matter how risky, there was only one thing she could do.
Belladonna checked the time again. 9:50 a.m. She didn’t know when the target would arrive at the US Marshals’ office, or how. In a car driven down Broadway, entering through the garage, or by helicopter on the roof.
But the marshals would follow protocol down to the letter, and the target would be brought to their headquarters and then escorted to the federal courthouse. A full Special Operation Group contingency team was on the ground and waiting. They’d be geared up in body armor, locked and loaded to blow away any threat.
Belladonna was counting on the SOG not to disappoint. Her plan depended on it.
She’d positioned the replacement pawns, bishops and rooks in their respective places at the crack of dawn while the city was still sleeping. Each had their role to play. Everyone was under strict orders not to deviate from the plan.
A gambit if ever there was one to be played.
The carnage would be devastating, splashed across the news headlines for days. Many lives would be lost. But the only ones she cared about were hers, Alessandro’s and Lily’s.
It’d be nice if Smokey made it, too.
She clenched the burner phone in her hand, her knuckles whitening. The text message would have to be perfectly timed. She patted the messenger bag in the passenger seat. Her ace in the hole. It would work. It had to.
Glancing at the back of her hand, she was pleased the body makeup covering the rose tattoo hadn’t smudged. Her gaze flickered up to the rearview mirror of the parked sedan she sat in. Her short blond wig looked natural. She almost believed the disguise herself.
“Helicopter inbound,” Smokey said over her earpiece that was hidden by the wig. “Civilian. ETA two minutes.”
“It’s them. I need synchronized execution of the fireworks. Wait for my mark.”
“We’re ready. The next time you radio in, the entire team will be able to hear you.”
Excellent.
She took out her burner cell and sent the text.
Time to trim the bonsai.
Within thirty seconds she received Alessandro’s response to her code for him to neutralize any threats, take their daughter and run to their contingency location.
Clippers in hand. See you soon.
Belladonna removed the battery from the phone, snapped the SIM card and chucked everything out the window. If things went as she expected, then she would indeed see them soon.
She put the car in Drive and turned down Broadway.
Nick McKenna was playing hide-and-seek, oblivious to the real game. This was an Armageddon match and he was blind to her next move.
THE GREETING LORI received from Nick’s teammates was hurried. She got the feeling they didn’t want to have her exposed outside for too long. Besides catching their names, Aiden Yazzie and Charlie Killinger, the rest had been a blur as they hustled her inside and down to the third floor.
The reception from Will Draper had been even colder. He threw a scowl at Nick and cut his eyes to her. “Ms. Carpenter, it’s good to see you again,” Will Draper said to her, escorting her to his office without so much as a handshake. “I was under the impression you wouldn’t arrive for another hour. By car.” His sour expression deepened to a pointed glare he turned on Nick and his two teammates.
Nick closed the office door. “We had to change the plan at the last minute.”
“Not one word out of you. You’re an embarrassment to this office and you’re fired. I want your badge, your gun and you out of my sight,” Draper snapped in a rush as though he’d been holding the words in and couldn’t keep them bottled up a second longer.
“Excuse me, Marshal Draper,” Lori said, the anger firing in her veins spurring her to step forward. “But Nick McKenna deserves a decoration, not a reprimand. The only reason I’m alive is because of him. Considering how the breach in this office jeopardized my safety several times, and not your deputy’s actions, I’m shocked you’re not showing more gratitude to someone who has gone above and beyond the call of duty. If he’s not part of my protective detail to the courthouse, then I won’t be testifying today.”
Draper’s jaw dropped and his face turned beet red. “Ms. Carpenter, with all due respect, you aren’t privy to our standard operating procedures and the various rules Deputy Marshal McKenna has broken.”
“Marshal Draper, you weren’t almost killed multiple times and on the run for your life over the last twenty-four hours. You don’t know the first thing about what we endured or survived out there. If that man,” she said, pointing to Nick, “isn’t properly commended and promoted for his efforts, then you either have your head up your butt or he’s right and you’re a traitor to justice. And I want you to know that I intend to share my perspective not only with the US attorney’s office but also with the attorney general and my congressman.”
BELLADONNA PASSED THE front of the US Marshals’ office, where deputies in full tactical gear stood out front. She drove up to the parking garage of the building and spoke to the armed security guard, flashing the star pinned to the outside of the black badge holder that hung around her neck. “Hi, I’m Deputy Marshal Sharon White down from the LA office. I have an appointment with Marshal Draper.”
The security guard turned to his laptop, verified her appointment, and waved to two more SOG deputies kitted in armor from top to toe to let her through.
Belladonna’s hacker had planted the fake appointment while in their system.
She entered the garage and picked the first available spot. Getting out of the car, she touched her earpiece. “Stay on your objective, no matter what, until I say Echo Sierra.” The siege would end, and Smokey would do one last thing for her. “Begin in thirty.”
Counting down in her head, she tapped the device once more so nothing else could be heard on her side.
Twenty-eight. She walked through the lot and entered the building.
Twenty. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she crossed the lobby to the reception desk, but she had nerves of steel.
Sixteen. She repeated the same thing she’d told the guard outside, all the while keeping the count in her head.
Eleven. The man seated behind the desk eyed the badge prominently displayed and waved her through to security to have her bag checked.
Eight. Belladonna sat the messenger bag on the security table and flashed a smile. Nothing sexy, no teeth showing—a casual hey, how are you grin.
Five. Opening the main compartment, the armed guard returned the smile. Four. He took out the laptop, looked it over, noting the US Marshal Services label—three—and slid it back inside. Two. Then he turned the bag over and reached for the zipper of the back compartment.
One.
Thunderous gunfire erupted in front of the building.
At the same time, the rest of the coordinated attack began. A truck crashed into the security gatehouse by the entrance to the parking garage. The SOG deputies posted in front of the federal courthouse across the street were swarmed. A van exploded on the corner of the San Diego Police Department one mile away. Perched on the hotel rooftop diagonal to the US Marshals’ building, a sniper took aim with a high-powered semiautomatic Barrett M82 .50 caliber rifle that was going to pack one hell of a punch. He let loose on the tinted, bullet-resistant windows of the third floor using black tips—armor-piercing rounds.
None of this would kill the target. None of this was intended to kill her.
It was all a distraction.
As the guards in the lobby ran to assist the tactical deputies out front of the US Marshals’ building, Belladonna took her messenger bag that hadn’t been fully searched, leaving the main compartment open, and headed for the stairs.
The elevators were about to fill up and she wanted to avoid the crowd.
According to their protocol, every available SOG member and deputy trained for field duty was mobilizing to assist team members under direct fire outside: in front of the building, at the parking garage and by the courthouse. It would bleed them dry, leaving none inside.
The remaining personnel on the third floor, mostly analysts, IT and management, were moving to the conference room away from the windows. Huddled together where someone could eliminate several birdies with one stone.
For a witness, the procedure was different. They were to be isolated with a deputy in a holding room that had reinforced walls. The door could only be opened using a personal identification number.
Belladonna drew a deep breath, opened the stairwell door and walked onto the third floor. Her sniper was peppering the office space with high-caliber bullets meant to tear through armor. Making a beeline for the conference room, she unzipped a compartment on the side of the bag and removed a canister of halothane.
She hurried to the room and opened the glass door. Catching Will Draper’s surprised gaze, she pulled the pin, dropped the canister and shut them in. The effect of the colorless, sweet-smelling sleeping agent was almost immediate, neutralizing fifteen people in a snap.
Turning on her heel, she marched toward the holding room. As soon as her sniper was out of ammo and McKenna had been baited and hooked by the lull in gunfire, she’d make her move.