In the confines of the back seat of the luxury sedan, Madeline was highly aware of how delicious Jackson smelled. She breathed him in, telling herself to relax and focus on the job.
The car passed a throng of protesters gathered outside of AlbrechTech and pulled into a line to drop them off at the entrance of the building.
Madeline scanned the crowd, looking for one of their prime suspects.
“She’s here,” Jackson said. “Samantha Dickson. Kane Tidwell, too.”
Someone set a wooden crate down and Dickson climbed up on top of it. She lifted a bullhorn to her mouth. “We will continue to target these CEOs and make them pay. We’re going to turn up the pressure. Make them suffer. Hit them where it hurts the most until they’ve learned their lesson. They want to pretend like we’re not here, as if they can’t see us. Well, let’s make sure they hear us.” Her light brown hair was loose and free, flying wild around her face as she raised her right palm, which was painted red, then clenched it into a fist and chanted, “Hell, no, we won’t go! Hell, no, we won’t go!”
The mob circling her repeated the furious words.
This was perfect. Nothing better than a glamorous event with the press to lure the Red Right Hand like moths to a flame. Simply couldn’t help themselves.
Madeline opened the clutch that matched her Tarik Ediz dress, shifted her FBI credentials to the side and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed Miguel. “Three guesses who is outside AlbrechTech right now protesting.”
“Samantha Dickson,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice. “I’ll pull the guys surveilling Charles Albrecht and have them follow Dickson. This way we’ll know where she’s staying.”
“Make sure they keep eyes on her in case she changes locations.”
“Of course,” Miguel said. “I was just about to call you.”
“Did Liam or Dash turn up anything new?”
“It’s not about the Rhodes case. I got a lead on the terrorist suspect responsible for those two bombings last year.”
Finally. Madeline knew precisely how much this meant to Miguel. The terrorist on their watch list had claimed over a hundred lives and evaded capture. Like every member of the BAU team, Miguel would risk his own life to find justice for the dead and try to prevent any more people from dying.
“I need to follow this lead before the trail grows cold,” Miguel said.
She’d expect nothing less from him. “I understand. Be sure to keep us in the loop.”
“Will do.”
She disconnected and stowed her phone back in her purse. The chanting cut through the silence in the car.
“What reason do they have to be angry with Albrecht?” Madeline asked.
“Take your pick. From new facial recognition software that he sold to law enforcement, which they claim is racially biased, to drone technology for US Immigration and Customs Enforcement that’s used to separate families.”
“Drones,” she said, and understanding of where she was going lit up in his eyes. “What brand does he produce?”
“Two. For the government it’s ABC Daedalus, and commercially it’s—”
“ABC Icarus.” The AB stood for Albrecht. The C for Charles. With them being stretched to the limit on this case, they had missed a small yet important detail.
His blue eyes narrowed, taking on an iciness. “Were Chuck’s drones at Duwamish?”
“The commercial brand, but that doesn’t prove anything. They’re very popular and widely available.”
The driver pulled up to the entrance, stopping the car. Jackson got out, came around to her side and opened the door.
He extended his hand. She put her palm on his and he helped her out. The simple contact, a slip of skin on skin, sparked a tingle she couldn’t ignore.
A flurry of cameras clicked, flashes bursting like fireworks in front of them.
Taken aback by the onslaught of paparazzi, she lowered her gaze.
“Sorry,” Jackson said. “I should’ve warned you what to expect.”
They hurried through the press gauntlet, neither of them smiling, both eager to avoid the cameras. There was a small white tent set up.
The moment they entered, an armed security guard greeted them. “Good evening.”
Jackson presented his special VIP invitation.
When the man swept over the custom holographic foil print with a handheld scanner, a bar code that hadn’t been visible before illuminated.
“What time is the big announcement?” Jackson asked.
“You’re just in time,” the guard said in an accent that sounded Russian. “Should be any minute since the entire board of directors have arrived.”
Jackson nodded his thanks.
Another security guard took her handbag and searched it. Spotting her credentials, he flipped open her badge. He met her gaze, stuffed her identification back inside and gave her the clutch. A third guard, holding a metal detector wand, motioned for her to step forward.
If he did a thorough search, her BUG—backup gun—that was strapped to her thigh would set off the alarm.
Madeline extended her arms while the guard waved the wand across her upper body, moving lower.
As he came to her midsection, she dropped her purse. The guard bent to pick it up, a natural reflex he probably wasn’t aware of. She lowered along with him, moving too fast and close on purpose, and their heads collided.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“No problem, ma’am.” He also spoke with an accent. The guard grabbed the clutch, handed it to her and gestured for Jackson to assume the position.
A quick swipe over his body, and they were cleared.
“Are the guards always armed here at AlbrechTech?” she asked.
“Since Chuck took over. He’s paranoid to the nth degree.” Putting his hand on her lower back, Jackson guided her into the building. The large, long lobby served as a reception hall. He pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’m fairly certain each invitation had a unique bar code. Chuck will soon know that I’m here. If he doesn’t already.”
That could present an unanticipated set of challenges or opportunities, depending on how the night went.
The decor inside was more lavish than she expected. The lighting was low and there were huge arrangements of flowers everywhere. Servers passed, carrying trays with flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Ambient music flowed and glitzy guests mingled.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We wait.” Jackson took her hand and led her to the designated dance floor in front of a makeshift stage that had been erected.
The first strands of a waltz began. He whisked her into his arms, bringing her close.
Ignoring the tightening in her stomach that had nothing to do with the stress of the case and everything to do with their proximity, she looked up at him. She was a tall woman, at five-eight, but even with three-inch heels, Jackson towered over her by several inches. Despite the wig and mustache, his tailored tux did nothing to hide the bulk of his muscles. With his formidable stature he looked both debonair and dangerous. A tantalizing mix.
They moved easily, fluidly together. He was a skilled dancer, confident in his lead. Was there anything this man didn’t do well?
Relaxing in his hold, she struggled not to think about the feel of his wide, muscular body against hers. But it was impossible. He had a bold, dominant style that was inherently sexual. Not something he tried at. Simply the way he was.
There were hidden depths beneath that handsome face and chiseled body. It was almost unfair to the women of the world that he had brains, brawn, masculine beauty and talent.
He rubbed a hand up and down her back, making patterns against her skin. She wondered if it was deliberate or if he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.
His gaze traveled around the room. Not as though he was worried about bumping into Albrecht, but like he was casing the place.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, banishing her unprofessional distraction.
He lowered his head and his blue eyes connected with hers. His face was impassive, the picture of calm, yet he vibrated with energy. It was his hesitation that made her certain he was holding something back.
Madeline’s stomach knotted and rolled. “Does our agreement about information sharing stand?”
His hand glided up her spine, his fingers playing over her vertebrae as he pressed his body to hers in all the right places. Lifting his hand to cup her cheek, he caressed her skin with his thumb, and her heart fluttered.
“It does,” he said.
She wanted to believe him, truly. But she didn’t.
The lights came up in the lobby, going from intimate to bright, and the music stopped.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a man said into a microphone, standing on the stage, “please gather around and join me as we welcome to the stage AlbrechTech CEO and firebrand, Chuck Albrecht.”
Applause resounded and everyone assembled around the platform.
Albrecht jogged out onto the stage, clapping for himself, wearing jeans, sneakers and a blazer over a T-shirt at his own event. He was about the same age as Jackson, but lanky, average height, forgettable face. Someone who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Unless he was wearing the exact opposite as everyone else. She could tell he was the kind of guy that people loved to hate.
He took the microphone. “Thank you, thank you. I know this is the moment you have all been waiting for with bated breath, for me to arrive.” The crowd clapped and laughed. “Seriously, we’re going to get to the reason you’re all here in a second. But first, can I point out that we are about to have another rocking quarter?” Cheers and applause erupted. “Our earnings are through the roof! We are trouncing the competition like Emerald Tech Corp into the dust.” The ovation grew louder. “No one can touch this.” He pointed to himself, and the crowd egged him on with more laughter. “I would like to take a serious moment to acknowledge the horrific events a colleague is currently suffering. Jackson Rhodes, over at ETC, I’m sure you’ve heard. His daughter was kidnapped and one of his R&D facilities was bombed.”
Murmurs rolled through the audience.
Jackson stiffened. His gaze was locked on Albrecht.
“I know, it’s terrible,” Albrecht said, shaking his head. “A tough set of circumstances. The guy was going to have a hard enough time already facing our next earnings report and his own limitations trying to cut the mustard as my competition. So, I’ve decided to offer a reward from my trust fund—not from the company—for any information that leads to the safe and speedy return of his daughter, in the amount of one million dollars.”
A flurry of gasps turned into applause.
“What is he doing?” Madeline said to Jackson. This would only invite thousands of false tips to flood the hotline, pushing their resources, already stretched too thin, to the breaking point.
“Chuck is being Chuck. Showboating,” Jackson said through gritted teeth. “I want to snap his scrawny neck.”
“What can I say—I’m just that magnanimous.” Albrecht put his hand over his heart and took a small bow. “And to Jackson, wherever you might be tonight,” he said, letting his gaze travel slowly over the audience, “you’re welcome, buddy!”
Madeline’s lip curled in disgust. How could anyone be so pompous and callous at the same time?
Chuck Albrecht was many of the things she’d assumed Jackson might be before they had met—entitled, arrogant, a jerk. She couldn’t have been more wrong about Jackson.
Compared to Chuck, they were night and day.
Once the crowd settled, Albrecht said, “Without further ado, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of why you’re here tonight. To celebrate. I have achieved something no one else has and every shareholder is going to make a lot of money because of it. Our fully self-driving cars have reached Level 5 autonomy with ten million miles and zero crashes.” Thunderous applause erupted.
Madeline leaned in toward Jackson. “Aren’t there already self-driving cars?”
“Not at Level 5 autonomy, where the car can drive day or night, no matter the type of road or weather conditions. Without any need for human intervention. This is major. An endgame for self-driving technology.”
“Next week,” Albrecht continued, “I’ll have another announcement related to the DOD, but mum’s the word until the ink is dry on the contract. In the meantime, raise your glasses to toast me and you.” Everyone holding a glass lifted it. “Let’s celebrate!”
Upbeat dance music pumped from the speakers and the crowd resumed enjoyment of the festivities.
“This is big,” Madeline said, “but it’s not in the same league as what you were working on.”
“We don’t know what else he has in development, but I need to find out. He has a military contract in the pipeline, and it isn’t for his self-driving cars. There’s more in R&D. Something that’s close to completion. Or since he’s talked about the contract as though it were a done deal, my guess is that it’s already been finished and tested.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait until he makes an announcement.” She put a supportive hand on Jackson’s forearm, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Like I told you at the house, I’m not waiting.”
Before she had a chance to reply, Jackson turned and stalked away. Madeline hurried after him. Where was he going?
She stayed alert to their surroundings: the location of the security guards, who Albrecht was socializing with and the positions of the security cameras.
A guard at the end of the lobby tapped his ear as though listening through his Bluetooth, and then circled around toward the crowd away from a door that led outside. Jackson homed in on the movement and headed for the exit that was far from the crowd.
A red roll ’n’ pole sign warned of restricted access.
Ignoring the posted sign, he pushed through the door and she followed close behind him.
Fresh air hit them. The serenity and distance from the crowd was welcomed.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
Jackson pointed to a patch of trees at the rear of AlbrechTech headquarters. A lit path ran through the center of the woods, leading somewhere.
He started moving down the walkway adjacent to the building, headed in the direction of the unknown.
“What’s out there?” she asked.
“On the other side of the thicket is the R&D facility.” He kept walking. “The equivalent of my Duwamish site.”
“How do you know?” she whispered. “Have you seen it?”
“Only aerial shots of the building, but inside information from a contact confirmed it. Whatever military-related project Chuck is working on is out there,” he said, his voice low.
As they approached the corner of the building, the sound of footfalls drew near.
There must have been guards on patrol. One was headed their way.
Madeline grabbed Jackson by the lapels, yanking him to her as she rose on the balls of her feet and kissed him, long and slow. Without hesitation, he took her lead, wrapping his arms around her like they were a couple.
A guard came around the corner and shuffled to a stop. He cleared his throat quite forcibly. “No one is allowed out here.”
Jackson pulled his lips from hers and lifted his head. “Give me a couple of minutes to take advantage of this opportunity, if you know what I’m saying.”
The armed guard flattened his mouth. The bulge of the gun in his shoulder holster was obvious under his jacket. “The party is inside.”
“And so is her husband,” Jackson said. “I’m an important shareholder. All I need is five minutes and I’ll be sure to let Chuck know how outstanding his security team is. Or I can make recommendations for changes. Your choice.”
The armed guard looked around, his mouth twitching. “Two minutes. Not five. When I pass by again, you better not be here.”
Jackson gave a suave smile. “I guarantee we won’t.” He brought his mouth down to her collarbone and nibbled up her neck to her ear, sending a frisson of desire skittering through her. “We better make it believable.” The gravelly whisper was like a hot finger drawn down her spine.
He pulled her in a tight embrace as the guard began to walk away.
With one hand at the small of her back, he lowered his lips to hers. She welcomed the hot slide of his tongue against hers, wanting to taste him again as she drove her fingers into his hair. His mouth was warm and firm, more possessive than persuasive, making her pulse quicken and pound through her body down to her core.
The clunk of the guard’s shoes disappeared around the corner.
But Jackson didn’t stop, and neither did she.
The kiss grew rough and urgent. His hands clenched, pulling her ever closer.
She pressed against him, not knowing if this one chance might be her only and last. He pushed her back against the wall. The glass behind her was smooth and cold, causing her to shiver, but Jackson’s clever hands molding to her ignited something inside her. She wanted more than a kiss. So much more.
Another minute of this and the guard would be the least of their problems.
“Jackson,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. With the breath shuddering in her lungs, she looked up at him. His gaze was scorching. “The guard is gone.”
Everything shifted in his eyes, turning sober and wary. Now full of something that sent a chill through her. Determination. “I have to go,” he said.
“We, you mean.”
“It’s too risky for you to go with me. Head back inside. I’ll check out what’s in the R&D facility and come straight back.”
Was this a joke? “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“It’s not safe for you. You shouldn’t be involved in what I’m about to do next. Trust me.” He cupped her chin and kissed her forehead. “We don’t have time to argue. Please do as I say. Go inside.”
Turning from her, Jackson ran to the corner of the building. He looked around and then he darted down a hill, avoiding the lit path, and disappeared into the darkness.
Unbelievable. Did he really think she’d be a good girl and do as she was told?
Madeline slipped off her shoes to keep her heels from making a racket against the paved path and chased after him. She passed a sign that read:
Stop. Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point. Trespassers Will Be Shot.
Once her bare feet hit the cool grass, she sprinted as fast as she could until she hit the tree line. Wood cracked and a warm line of blood scored her arm.
Stopping beside a tree, she put her shoes back on and searched the darkness.
Jackson was nowhere to be seen.
Damn it. Where was he? And how big was this property?
She guessed an acre, maybe two, at least.
A palm slid over her mouth, and she reflexively threw an elbow toward the person’s gut.
Jackson snared her arm, blocking the blow as he came up behind her. He’d managed to get the drop on her. The man was stealthy, too. She would have to add that to the growing list of his annoying traits.
“I knew you’d follow me,” he growled.
She swatted his hand from her face. “You’re upset with me?” she whispered.
“You didn’t listen.” He moved downhill at a quick pace through the thicket, trekking parallel to the illuminated path.
Madeline hurried to catch up with him, doing her best to balance on the killer heels. “You simply took off with no explanation.”
“I considered telling you my plan, per our information-sharing agreement. Then I realized it wasn’t fair to put you in that position.”
“You mean the position I’m in now? But instead of having all the facts, I’m going in blind.” She tripped over a tree root and stumbled.
Jackson caught her by the elbow, saving her from a nasty face-plant, and steadied her. “You weren’t supposed to be going in at all. I was keeping you in the dark for your own good. I decided the less you knew, the better in the long run,” he said. “That way you would have plausible deniability.”
What damnable action was he planning to commit? “Did you make that decision for my own good before or after you kissed me?”
A smile curved Jackson’s mouth, but Madeline caught the tightening of suppressed anger in it as he sliced a look at her. “Does it matter?”
To her, it did.
They cleared the woods and came out to a glade. There was a building, not unlike the one at Duwamish, sitting amid the tall trees.
“There’ll be a sophisticated security system,” she said. “We won’t be able to simply waltz in and look around.”
“I’m aware and have prepared accordingly.” He took her hand, and they ran to the double doors.
As he reached into his left breast pocket and drew something out, she looked around for security cameras. Two were trained on the entrance, where they stood. Red blinking lights on several trees around the perimeter indicated there were more.
They wouldn’t have long.
Jackson produced an entry card and swiped it through the reader.
“How did you come by that?” she asked.
The red light on the sensor flashed to green. The door unlocked with a click.
He opened the door and ushered her inside. “The less you know, the better.” He slipped the keycard back into his jacket.
“Right. Plausible deniability,” she said. “Which will mean nothing if we don’t hurry up and get out of here before security guards show up.”
A low whooshing noise captured her attention. A second later, the ten degree drop in temperature from outside registered. The sound was the cooling system recirculating the air.
They stepped forward, triggering motion sensors, and overhead lights popped on, bathing the space in bright white light.
“I’d say we have about two minutes before we have company,” she said.
He nodded. “Come on.”
They headed down the corridor. Labs lined either side of the hall that led to a large open bay. Beyond the glass walls of the workrooms, there were prototypes of new drones, biometric devices, semiconductors for a video gaming platform and equipment connected to a replica of a sink with water lines for what she guessed was the development of smart water tech.
“Do you see anything at all that could be stealth technology?” Madeline asked.
Getting closer to one of the rooms, he said, “No.”
At the end of the corridor, they entered the large bay and stared at the centerpiece.
A military tank.
“How did I not guess?” Jackson said. “Chuck’s contract with the DOD is for self-driving tanks.” Slamming his eyes shut, he hung his head.
“Are you sure? Maybe it’s stealth technology for tanks.”
A look of defeat shrouded his face as he shook his head. “Chuck achieved Level 5 autonomy for self-driving vehicles. This is the next logical step. The most efficient one for the greatest profit in the least amount of time. Of course the military would jump at the chance to get their hands on this.” Clenching his hands, he swore. “I had this all wrong.”
Chuck didn’t have a motive to torch Jackson’s facility, and after the speech he’d given, Madeline didn’t see the rival CEO as someone who would stoop to kidnapping to be top dog. The self-aggrandizing blowhard Chuck Albrecht didn’t think he had to resort to such drastic measures because he already viewed himself as the best.
“He didn’t kidnap Emma,” Jackson said in a harsh whisper, voicing her thoughts.
“No, I don’t think he did.” Another dead end. She could only imagine how crushed he must be. The investigation process wasn’t easy, but it worked. At least Albrecht had been eliminated as a suspect.
“Then who has my daughter?”
Madeline wished she had the answer. Looking around, she noted the cameras in the bay. “We have to leave. Now.”
Their time was up. She took his arm and tugged him back to the corridor.
They hustled down the hallway.
At the door, Jackson used the keycard to unlock it. The night was quiet. The air still. But Madeline knew it wouldn’t last.
They dashed to the woods, steering clear of the path. As they reached the tree line, shouts and noise-suppressed gunfire erupted.
Madeline shoved Jackson behind a tree, taking cover with him.
They were too late. Security was onto them.
From the sound of it, at least three guards, using weapons with silencers, were in pursuit. The suppressors flattened the noise of the gunshots but didn’t eliminate it entirely.
Madeline screamed, “Federal agent! Federal agent! Don’t shoot!” She removed her badge from her purse in preparation to show her credentials. “Stay here, out of the line of fire,” she said to Jackson. “I don’t want you getting shot by these trigger-happy Neanderthals.”
With hands raised, she stepped out from behind the tree.
Three men snaked through the woods, headed straight for them and opened fire.
Bullets split the air and peppered into a nearby tree.
Madeline dived back behind the tree with Jackson. Her skull prickled. Had they not heard her? “FBI! Don’t shoot!” she said at the top of her lungs.
More bullets smacked into a tree less than a foot above her.
Her knees weakened a little at the realization that the guards had heard her identify herself. But they didn’t care. Because they didn’t have to.
She was the one in the wrong. Trespassing on private property. Searching a building without a warrant. In the aftermath, they could spin the story however they wanted, and a good lawyer would get them off scot-free.
Bastards!
Madeline grabbed her BUG. The Beretta Nano was sleek, thin and compact, but only offered seven rounds. Each shot needed to count.
If that was the game they wanted to play...
She ducked low, peeking around the base of the tree. Took aim. Fired.
The single shot hit a guard through the right upper arm. His weapon dropped to the ground, and he grabbed hold of his perforated biceps as he shouted in agony.
...then she’d play.