Honeymoon To Die For (15 page)

Ryder smirked.  

“Not funny, asshole.”

“Trish will protect you,” Ryder taunted, remembering what a bear Zane could be. Trish’s brother had a temper that exploded when it came to his sister or his wife, Angel.

Josh scoffed. “I can hold my own with Zane, but I’ll be sleeping on the couch indefinitely if I put a scratch on Trish’s sainted brother. Once Zane understood that I didn’t want Trish involved in our missions any more than he did, he settled down and told us that Mason Lorde had a deal with someone in Germany. The German buyer wanted the St. Gaulden’s gold coins Mason had stolen, so they could use them to trade for an Amber Room panel. A very specific Amber Room panel.”

Ryder frowned. “Who’s Mason Lorde?”

“It was before you came along. He ran an international theft ring that specialized in rare art and collectibles. Whoever he was dealing with killed him after he escaped a dragnet in Miami.”

 “So what does all this mean?” Ryder asked, directing his question at Sabrina.

 “Trish thinks this Czarion might be connected to the Orion Hunters, an ancient, secret group that has passed what they consider their divine roles from one generation to the next. They’re searching for five artifacts that when brought together will somehow reveal a message called Orion’s Legacy. There’s a specific panel from the original Amber Room that’s considered one of these artifacts.”

Ryder tried not to roll
his
eyes, even though Margaux’s practically disappeared into the back of her head when she did. He asked, “And that would matter why?”

Josh explained, “Trish says once Orion’s Legacy is unlocked, translated or whatever has to happen, it will predict the Final Conflict, an Armageddon that will end all other wars.”

Dingo raised his head and faced Ryder. “I had that same look on my face that you now have, mate. I thought it was a big joke, but Trish is quite clever and when she explains it I get chills. Even if this Orion’s Legacy is nothing more than some legend, these people believe. Few things are more dangerous than those who believe in some greater cause. Zealots.”

Sabrina raised her watch up to her eyes and asked Dingo, “How are we doing?”

“Getting close to the two minute warning. Might be a one minute warning.”

“Got it.”  Sabrina told Ryder, “All we care about right now is how this affects you gaining your freedom and whether it impacts national security in any way. With Czarion and the Orion Hunters as starting points, we’ve turned up some things about Van Dyke weapons that have been found in the hands of terrorists over the past twenty-six months.”

Ryder murmured, “That’s bizarre.”

Sabrina didn’t pause. “Two terrorists were wounded and captured. They admitted to being Orion Hunters before dying. One said he knew nothing about Van Dyke Enterprises. The other one was kept alive long enough to say that he’d heard their benefactor was connected to the Van Dyke weapons, but he didn’t know how other than a vague reference he’d overheard.”

In other words, the CIA person who waterboarded the second terrorist was skilled enough to interrogate without actually killing him.

Sabrina continued, “What Murdock didn’t tell you was that the Van Dyke XM-28 Woden rifles being sold illegally are pretty much sterile. They don’t have serial numbers or markings on the lower receivers.”

Most modern rifles built for military use were made in two main parts—upper and lower—so they could be taken down easily for cleaning. The lower receiver held the critical trigger and firing mechanisms—and was
normally
stamped with the manufacturer’s name and government-mandated serial number for tracking that weapon.

“With no serial numbers, how can they be sure these are Van Dyke weapons?” Ryder might accuse Hubrecht of being the hardest son of a bitch any person could grow up around, but he’d always been just as tough a patriot.

Aiding terrorism did not fit the Hubrecht that Ryder knew.

Sabrina pulled a manila folder from inside her jacket and handed it to Ryder. “There’s a close-up photo inside of a flaw on a lower receiver. That flaw is
always
present on the weapons found in the terrorists’ hands. The only legal weapons that have that flaw were made during the first batch of Wodens that Van Dyke created—the experimental models they were testing. They corrected the flaw before the Woden was put into production and out to the marketplace.

Sabrina paced as she talked. “All those legal experimental weapons have been confirmed as under lock and key at VDE.
But ...
sixty-seven
other
identically flawed lower receivers with no serial numbers have turned up so far. Murdock doesn’t want you to know any of that.”

So more Woden rifles had been made from that original Van Dyke mold than had been reported to the government, and those rifles were going to terrorists.

Ryder took in every face, watching for some indication that they were concerned about sharing information that could be given to Hubrecht Van Dyke. This team was giving Ryder far more trust than anyone in his position deserved.

Sabrina, Dingo, Margaux, Nick, Tanner and Josh were taking a risk that could land them all in prison if Murdock found out.

His team.

Ryder hadn’t realized until now just how much their support meant. He gave a short nod of understanding. “Murdock thinks I’ll tell Hubrecht. Won’t happen.”  

“We know,” Sabrina waved it off in a way that said she’d never thought otherwise. “That’s all we’ve got so far, but we’re still digging and we’ll get information to you when we have it.”

“That’s more than I could have expected.”  Ryder looked around and added, “Thanks. For everything. I mean it.”

Not one to go gooey, Sabrina snapped, “You’re not out of the woods yet. And right now you still have to get out of here with Bianca, make it look good and avoid getting picked up by the FBI. We’ll know when Nanci is passing information to Bianca, but not what it is unless the info comes from us. If we turn up intel you need, Margaux will feed it to Nanci if we can’t get it to you any other way. It’s going to be hard to back you up from a distance, but we’ll try. At least Dingo will be able to track you the same as the FBI can.”

Ryder considered something for a moment then asked Sabrina, “What’s the chance of Murdock letting me run this solo and pulling Bianca out?”

“Having buyer’s remorse?” Sabrina could do sarcastic with the best of them. “Murdock wants something, and he wants it bad. Something he’s not sharing, and it’s more than just evidence on Van Dyke selling rifles to illegal factions, which is bad enough. But he won’t consider letting you run solo if he has to pull Bianca.”

“I may have to take that risk.”

Fire stoked in Sabrina’s steel-blue eyes. “Before you go all protective, keep in mind that Bianca accepted this role voluntarily. Murdock gave her the option to pass after they left the prison and she chose to stay in.”

Ryder hadn’t known that. “Really?”

“She may be a rookie, but Murdock assures me that she’s trained and understands the risk she’s taking. Besides, you need her tech skill to get inside the VDE network unless you’ve gained all her computer talent by osmosis.”

No, Ryder hadn’t, but he was definitely having buyer’s remorse for putting Bianca in this situation.

Dingo announced, “
Shit!
FBI locked onto the bounced signal and is backtracking. Time to escape. Everyone out in ninety seconds.”

Ryder stood as Margaux snapped into ready-mode along with Josh and Sabrina. Josh rattled instructions off for Ryder. “Here’s your story. You were grabbed by Kearn’s people and worked over to tell them who ordered you to kill Kearn, but they were amateurs and you fought your way out, grabbed Bianca and escaped. That should play well with the Van Dykes and Murdock.”

 “Ah, hell.”  Ryder stood up, thinking about all the bones and bruises that had barely healed from his prison battles.

“That’s right, FNG.” Josh grinned. “And I called dibs.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER 12

Think about anything except being locked in this little room.

Bianca rubbed her arms, wishing she had on more than a knee-length dress with princess sleeves.

So
not
feeling like a princess at the moment, and she’d been locked away on ground level instead of a tower. Disney would have a tough time running with this one.

The walls are not closing in. Think about escaping.

Six-by-ten concrete floor. Ten-foot-high, concrete walls. One tiny horizontal window eight feet up. Streetlight struggled to cut through the dirty pane. Stained drop ceiling. Not a stick of furniture that she could use to climb or turn into a weapon. No rope. No levitating ability.

Escaped plan examined.

Analysis: Screwed.

Where had the kidnappers brought her and what were they doing to Ryder? She doubted he was sitting alone in a room by himself. Those people wanted something and given the reason she was even on this mission she didn’t think she was their target.

As an introduction to working undercover, this sucked hooey. And it didn’t rate any more points as a honeymoon.

The only memorable parts so far had been the ones when Ryder kissed her. If she was ever on a real honeymoon, she wanted a man who kissed like Ryder.

And she’d bet a woman would enjoy sex with
him
.

That’s the impression she got every time he touched her.

Or when he looked at her as if he actually found her desirable, which was more than she’d ever seen in Bernard’s eyes
.
All she’d seen in Bernard’s eyes was the desire to dominate and abuse.

He’d never had a gentle touch, not like Ryder who had only to touch her hair or put his arm around her and her hormones held an invitation-only party just for him.

A siren whined, but in the distance.

This was not the time to think about sex. She’d managed to ignore it for five lonely years. Why not now?

Because as much as she denied it, ignored it and fought it, she found Ryder attractive.

If they’d met in a normal situation, would he even be interested in a woman like her?

Is that ever going to be a real concern?

No
.
 

Then stop dwelling on anything except surviving this.

Her gaze wandered over the room cast in shadows with only that thin slit of light coming in. The well had been completely dark except for a single ray of sunlight that climbed the round wall above her as the sun crept lower in the sky.

Her teeth chattered. She fought the panic trying to seize control.   

What if they came for her? What would they do?

She wouldn’t kid herself into thinking she would be tough if they tortured her, but what if they tortured Ryder in front of her? Or threatened to shoot him?

Noises erupted outside the door to her room.

They were coming.

Her next breath came fast, then another one. Hyperventilating would end in her passing out. She forced herself to calm down and maintain control.

The sound of at least two people fighting, maybe more, pounded and grunted for a moment then something crashed.

She backed as far into the corner as she could and mentally ran through the simplest strikes she’d been taught in self-defense classes. The ones most likely to work on a bigger, stronger opponent.

Shaking her arms loose, she rolled her shoulders in a vain attempt to shed some of the tension that knotted them so she could move. Her heart was clearly trying to beat its way out of her chest. The kidnappers should have tied her up, because even though they would eventually get her, she was going to make sure someone bled first.

Two gunshots were fired right outside the door, shoving her heart up in her throat.

Oh, God.

The door crashed open and Ryder raced in. Holding a handgun.

She stared at him for one second of shock then dove into his arms.

He gripped her close with one arm, whispering, “Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

She was now. Her heart turned warm and squishy at the endearment and she didn’t have the energy to chastise herself. “I’m good.”

“I’m getting you out of here. Please, just do what I tell you.”

“I will.”  At this point, she might be doing the equivalent of jumping off a cliff to hand her trust over to a man with the charge of murder hanging over his head, but she believed one thing about this man above all.

Ryder Van Dyke had the skill to escape a group of operatives.

If he said he was going to get her out of there alive, he would.  

He kissed her hard and fast, then took her hand and hooked her fingers inside his belt at his back. “Don’t let go of me.”

With the weapon raised in both hands, he led them to the doorway, checked both directions then out into a pitch-black hallway. She stayed with him step for step, doing her part by watching their backs for any threat. He was weaving around a corner when he jumped back, pushing her behind him as bullets ripped through the drywall at the corner, inches from his face. He leaned around, returning fire until it was quiet.

Tossing the weapon aside, he said, “Empty.”

Bianca didn’t wait to be told to grab his belt again.

He squeezed her arm as a signal, then moved out.

When they reached the street, she had no idea where they were, but from the short distance they’d traveled by van they had to still be somewhere in downtown Atlanta. Once Ryder had them a couple blocks away from the building, she said, “We have to contact Murdock.”

Ryder pulled her into the dark doorway of an old building, turning her so that his body shielded hers. “How do you plan to call Murdock? Your purse and phone are still in the limo, if it hasn’t been torched. And the minute you call in Murdock, he’ll pull us both.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “But if you want to de-ass this op, that’s what we’ll do.”

Part of her screamed, “Yes!” but the part that was even more committed to seeing this through pushed her to say, “No, I don’t want to quit.”

Ryder brushed his lips over hers.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re amazing.”