Silent Deceit (7 page)

  She couldn't stop. Just couldn't get
enough. Exploring, tasting and touching, loving the only man who completed her in every way. Somehow shifting to his knees,
he managed to wrap his hands around her waist and stand her on her feet. And
with a slow glide, he removed her jeans and panties, kissing her mound, taking
his time and looking his fill as his eyes travelled up her body. "My God,
Tas. You're so beautiful."

  He settled her in his lap and wrapped her
legs around his hips. Suited up with a condom, and slid a thick finger inside her,
trailing it across her nub. He brought it to his lips and tasted her cream on
his tongue. "You taste so goddamn sweet, baby. You're so wet."

  "You do that to me," she
moaned, wishing he'd touch her again. Needing him to finish what she had
started.

  He took her wrists and pinned them behind
her back with one hand. Guided his shaft into her with the other and thrust to
the hilt. He was so big, and so, so fine. He pulsed inside her and thrust
again, stroke after stroke, smooth and slow. The pace making her beg for more.
"Skip, please..."

  His hips began to move like pistons,
building the rhythm, opening her to a world of sensations she had never
experienced before. The few sexual encounters she'd had with other men had been
polite and pleasant, but nothing sweaty and out of control. Not like this. She
met him thrust for thrust, and breath for breath. His teeth grazed her jaw. He
moved to her mouth, his tongue plundering with the same tempo he pumped deep
inside her body. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her muscles clenched and
unclenched in a wild rush of blazing heat. She came with a drawn out scream,
and Skip? Well, his sound was more like a roar.

  She slid boneless against him, trembling
and gasping for air. Pushed him down on the ground and folded her arms along
his pecs, resting her cheek there. A breeze blew across her, chilling her skin.
Skip wrapped her in his arms and held her close. "I wish we could stay
like this, Tas, but we should get our clothes on."

  "Ah ha, so you're one of those
love'em and leave'em guys," she teased.

  "Never with you, bluebird." He
flipped her onto her back, trailing a hand between her thighs. He kissed her
cheek, and stared at her with an intensity that spoke volumes. "We belong
together, so get used to it. I'm not letting you go."

  "Skip, if you don't move your hand,
I won't be putting my pants on anytime soon." God knew, she didn't want
to.

  He bent low and brushed his mouth across
her curls, licking her folds. She rose to meet him,
wanting so much more. He got to his feet and pulled her with him, pressing her
against his bulging package. "When we finish tonight, I'll love every
adorable inch of you. Now quit being a cock tease and put on your
panties."

  She laughed then stumbled for her
clothes. "Oh yeah, about my injured foot."

"A bandage will have to do for now." He waggled his
eyebrows as he zipped up his cargo pants. "I'll
kiss it better later."

  "Darn
right you will." She reached up on her toes and laid her head on his
chest, her hands circling his waist. "I love you, you know."

  He
sighed, cupping her face in his hands. "I love you too, more than
life."

  The sat
phone beeped in the wrinkled bedroll. She swooped it up and answered.

  Blue's
voice was at the other end, sounding tense and
focused. "We're ready to start searching the grid. I want you to
sweep a five-mile radius. Here are the coordinates—"

  Skip
wrapped an arm around her neck as they hurried to the truck. He kissed the top
of her head, and the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Later, bluebird.
Let's go catch the bad guys."

  "W
e've found something."
Natasha held the phone to her ear, gazing into the dark. She gave Blue their
location and disconnected the call, nodding to Skip. "They're on their
way. Only a few minutes out."

  "Glad to hear it." Skip parked
the pickup behind an outcropping of rocks. Grabbing the handle, he popped the
door open and beat feet to the back of the truck.  The tailgate squeaked as he
laid it flat and started to gear up. He grabbed night vision goggles from his
go bag, primed an assault rifle, and stepped into the open. Thank Christ,
thermal imaging worked even on moonless, starless nights. If anyone was around,
he'd pick up their heat trace. He took his time, his gaze sweeping from jagged
outcroppings and overhangs to the scrub brush tumbling along the valley floor.
Nothing was out there other than foxes, jackrabbits, and a band of distant
coyotes. He and Natasha were alone. "Let's rock'n roll, babe."

  Natasha packed extra ammo into the
pockets of her cargo pants, adding a KA-BAR combat knife to the sheath in her
boot. She checked her Glock, slipping it into a webbed holster at her waist.
Secured flash bangs, a taser, and flashlight on her
belt before shouldering an assault rifle. "I'm ready when you are,
babe
."

  Skip laughed. A lethal adversary in the
body of a pint-sized woman, she filled him with pride. He prayed the night
brought her positive news about Zach, but knew the odds were against it. Either
way she would handle it, because no one lasted on Blue's squad unless they
played the cards God dealt them and came out a winner. Training was rigorous
and constant. Falcone insisting his agents re-qualify every year, on all
aspects of the job, including psychological testing. Blue believed Natasha
could cut it, and so did Skip.

  "Hey, are we waiting for a bus, or
what?" She tapped her foot, clearly anxious to move out.

  "We hold until the others get
here." A smart play, particularly since he needed to breathe in and out
for a while to steady his nerves. Working the mines as a teen, he’d lost his
father during a cave-in. The trauma of that had hit hard and was a mountain of
bad juju to overcome when entering a freaking mineshaft. For damn sure, he
never imagined becoming a mine rat would end up as part
of his RCMP job description. But, if Natasha could do
her job, knowing she might find her brother's dead body, the least he could do
was stand by her.

  "Blue's here." Natasha elbowed
him in the ribs. "There's the SUV."

  After it rolled to a stop, they helped
Max unload equipment while Blue handed the keys and Natasha's Colt .380 to
Gordo. "This is as far as you go. Take the SUV back to your place and wait
for my call. And Gordo, keep the gun by your bed tonight in case there's
trouble."

  "No worries." Gordo stepped
into the vehicle and keyed the engine, rolling down the window. "I've got
a couple of ex-army buddies bunking in with me tonight for insurance."

  Blue's voice rumbled through Skip's
headset as they watched the SUV disappear into the night. "You're taking
lead, Big Dog. Time to go."

  Skip led with his Glock with the
flashlight mount, easing into the jaws of his personal nightmare. His soles
crunched beneath him, bits of coal and rotting wood littering the ground. The
stench of rancid air and feces hit him like a freight train, bat guano heaped
in front of him on the path. He didn't raise his light to the black shapes
hanging above him. Better not disturb the animals. He
fought back his fear, focusing instead on dripping rock walls and black slimy
crevices. But, not a sign of human life. If he didn't know better he'd swear no
one had used the tunnel in a millennium.

  Following the rock face, he rounded
several bends in the passage before his light caught the outline of an
elevator. Crudely built, it looked like it hadn't worked in years until he approached
it. Replacement boards lined the floor. New cables were
bolted to the support beams, and the small electrical box looked shiny and new.
He moved into the enclosure and shut the gate, nodding to the others. "I'm
taking this baby for a safety check. See you at the bottom."

  Before anyone could stop him, he hit the
button on the panel and a generator kicked on. A motor whirred, and he
descended into hell, the mineshaft closing in around him. Dark. Suffocating.
Sweat broke out on his skin. Fear gripped his balls like talons. His airway
shut down, his heart slamming into overdrive.  Squeezing his eyes shut, he
conjured up Natasha's lush scent. How she had pleasured him a few hours ago.
How much he loved her. And the steel band circling his chest miraculously
loosened, allowing him to suck in air as the lift shuddered to a stop at the bottom of the shaft. He stepped out and sent it topside
again, sweeping the beam of his flashlight in a wide arc to
see his surroundings.

  One glance was all it took to get the lay
of the land. Deuce Kingman was one dangerous motherfucker. "Black Hawke,
this is Big Dog. You're not going to believe this."

––––––––

  N
atasha couldn't believe her eyes. Two
converted golf carts squatted on a railway track with keys in the ignitions.
Six souped up motorcycles stood in a row off to the side, covered in tarps. A
built in gun rack loaded with everything for the discriminate killer took up
the far wall; the glass cabinet hermetically sealed to
prevent dust and rust pollution. Metal crates stood next to the cabinet,
EXPLOSIVES stamped in big red letters across the fronts.

  Blue dialed the sat phone to contact the
Emergency Response team waiting to move in at
Trailblazer's.
"Damn,
there's no signal. I'll try again when we get to higher ground. Mount up."

  Natasha trailed a finger over one of the
golf carts. "Looks like we're riding in style, Skip."

  "You drive. I'll ride shotgun."
He piled into the passenger seat, taking her rifle with him. She started the
engine, hit the lights, and eased her foot on the gas
pedal.

  Falcone and Max took the other cart, her
CO's voice coming through the headset. "Bluebird, you can't turn the wheel
on that thing to steer. Just use the brake and gas pedals."

  "Roger, Black Hawke." Since the
cart was almost soundless, Natasha floored the gas pedal, bringing their
cruising speed to an easy 20 km/h, the soft clickety-clack
and side-to-side sway eating up the distance to
Trailblazer's
.
Adrenaline zinged through her bloodstream, forcing the dread lining her stomach
into her throat. The end of the line meant finding her brother, dead or alive.
If he survived, he'd do jail time. She wouldn't protect him anymore. But what
if he was dead? How in God's name would she handle that?

  "Slow down and cut the lights."
Skip touched her thigh, dragging her out of her head and back to the here and
now. "The tunnel should end soon."

  There was so much she wanted to say to
him and couldn't, not with Max and Blue sharing the airwaves. She placed her
hand over his, threading their fingers for an instant. He tipped his chin in
her direction and smiled, mouthing the words "love you" before
scanning the tunnel for Deuce's badasses again. She felt the warmth of his
smile...the promise of his words...the strength of their meaning. She grinned,
hip-bumping him, an inexplicable weight sliding from her shoulders.

“Hold
up.” Blue came over her headset. "We'll walk from here."

   “Roger that.” Natasha pulled to a stop,
opened the hood and tore through the wiring with her KA-BAR. “I've disabled the cart. Tracks are blocked.”

  "There's nothing like a woman who
slices and dices." Skip grinned, tossing her the
rifle as he moved ahead of her to take point. A half
kilometer further, he whispered into his mic. “Two golf carts on a siding up
ahead—and the elevator to access
Trailblazer's
.”

  Natasha broke into a run to catch up with
him. He stepped on the lift first
and tried to close the gate, thinking he'd ride solo again. Giving him a shove,
she crammed in beside him. "No way. You're stuck with me, pal."

  He rolled his eyes as he punched the
button.  The car jerked and headed for the top. Her ears strained for sounds of
a welcoming committee overhead; not easy to do with Skip puffing like a freight
train beside her. She touched his arm, realizing he didn't like the dark,
enclosed space. Her hand on his skin seemed to settle his breathing. Overhead,
cables and pulleys shrieked the last few feet. Clunking to a stop, Natasha hit
her haunches and prepared to open fire. Not a thug in sight, which was strange. Shouldn't someone be
watching the back door?

  She whispered into her headset.
"Black Hawke, there's no one guarding the tunnel entrance. I wonder where
everyone is."

  "Send us the limo and we'll find
out."

  She sent the elevator back down for Blue
and Max. The whir and screech as it descended scraped Natasha's nerves raw. All
she and Skip could do was crouch in the dark, rifles up and ready to fire. She
could smell him beside her, his clean sweaty scent. He leaned in and murmured
in her ear. "Except for Moshpit, I don't think Deuce's men know about this
underground railroad. But, don't kid yourself, there could be alarm bells going
off somewhere in the building."

  Blue tried the sat phone again as soon as
he reached them. Connecting
with Emergency Response, he gave them the green light
to hit
Trailblazer's
. He dialed Rena next to get an update on Deuce. No
answer. His jaw clenched in the light from the phone screen. "Where the
hell is she?"

  "The sooner we get to her, the
better" Skip touched Natasha's shoulder. "Let's go."

  He took the point position again, moving out at a fast clip, the flashlight on his Glock leading the way. With Max behind her, Blue brought up
the rear. No one made a sound, infiltrating the enemy like ghosts in the night. 
Muffled voices filtered down the hallway. A crack of light shone beneath a
door. Natasha moved left of the doorframe. Max moved right. Blue readied
himself behind Skip. One kick and the door flew off its hinges. Skip and Blue
entered the room while she and Max guarded the hallway.

––––––––

  S
kip didn't know what he expected to
find, but this wasn't it. Three men shouted in Spanish and scrambled for their
weapons, changing their minds damn quick with the M25 pointed at their
foreheads. Hitting the floor after Blue’s quick lesson in martial arts, Falcone tossed them for concealed artillery
and came up with a couple knives and handguns. He slapped on the flex cuffs,
binding their wrists and ankles. Hauled out the sat phone and snapped their
photos, sending them over the wire to RCMP headquarters. He added duct tape to
their mouths.

  "We're missing one." Skip did a
quick inventory of the room—no cupboard, no bathroom, no hidey-holes. Four bunk
beds slept in. Four sports bags on the floor, yet only three men. "He's
gotta be here."

  "We'll find him." Blue shut the
door, leaving the men inside.
"Keep going."

  Skip brushed by Natasha. He saw the
question in her eyes and answered on instinct. "Zach's not in there."

  She didn't say a word and fell in behind
him. God, how he wished he could waylay her fears. He had no time, and no happy
ending to tell her, so he kept moving. Another doorway appeared on their left.
He listened for voices...nothing. Again, Natasha and Max flanked him and Blue
stood over his shoulder. He tried the handle.  It gave in his palm. Flipping
the light switch, he found himself in a walk-in freezer. Wooden caskets lined
the walls. Jesus.

  Blue tapped his shoulder, and he backed
out of the room. The time to deal with the dead was later. Right now, they had
a job to do. Stop the prick who had put this in motion. Natasha met his gaze
when he closed the door. She'd obviously seen the caskets. "Are you
okay?"

  Her back ramrod straight and chin held
high, she snarled in a low tone. "Let's find the bastard."

 
Atta girl
.

  The entrance to
Trailblazer's
led
to the wine cellar, the same wall where Deuce and Moshpit had caught him and
Natasha after the tree crashed into the bar. Hitting the stairs running, they
skirted cases of liquor, chairs stacked in the hallway, and
came face-to-face with the team leader of Emergency Response in the bar.

  Ed Galloway and Blue shook hands.
"Kingman’s disappeared.
By the time we got here, he was long gone. We caught a few stragglers, but I
don't think they know anything."

  "Fuck!" Blue's sat phone
beeped, and he took the call. He strode back and forth while he listened,
raking a hand through his hair.

  Skip eyed the other members of Galloway's
team searching behind stacks of tables and flipping open cupboard doors, always
moving in tandem. Floodlights shone through the windows from the parking lot. He could hear shouted commands, the sounds of running feet
outside the doors. These guys were thorough.

  Blue ended his call. "That was HQ.
Facial recognition got hits from the pics of the three
men in the tunnel."

  Natasha stared at him. "And?"

  "Columbian muscle," he said.
"Working for Alexey Cortez, the most feared drug
and arms dealer in Columbia."

  Christ. Skip figured Deuce was smuggling
lowlifes into the country now. "You think Cortez is here?"

  "Damn straight." Blue nailed
all of them with a glare. "According to my source, things have heated up
in Columbia. A couple of hits were put out on Cortez, and he disappeared like
the wind. What better place to hide than in a foreign country until things cool
down?"

  "And Deuce, having dollar signs for
eyeballs, decided to give him a helping hand." Max shook his head.
"What do we do now?"