Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (41 page)

She appreciated the company. The smell of the hospital, disinfectant and death, made her queasy, reminding her of all the days and weeks she’d spent here. Sitting at Kathleen’s bedside, comforting her through the chemo treatments, reading to her while she recovered from the mastectomies, the removal of her lymph nodes, the constant checkups.

This time was different, though. Not just because her mom was here for only one more night, but because this time Olivia wasn’t doing it alone. Luke had been by her side all of last night and most of today, and his presence had been comforting. She was so used to everyone else leaning on
her
that it had felt nice leaning on someone else for a change. Really, really nice.

“Ready to show me what you’ve got?” Adam’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, right. Two nines,” she said proudly, placing her two cards beneath the five already on the table.

He stared at her in disbelief. “You went all in with
two nines
?”

She furrowed her brows. “That’s bad?”

“It’s terrible!”

“Then why did you fold and let me win?”

“Because you looked so confident I figured my three fours were garbage.”

“I was confident because I thought two nines were good.” She shook her head in aggravation. “Can we play something else? Do you know gin rummy?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “Why don’t we just watch TV?”

He paused in thought. “That new chick network plays
Grey’s Anatomy
reruns on Tuesdays.”

“I won’t even ask how you know that.”

Olivia was then treated to the sight of a grown man with bulging biceps and army fatigues reaching for a remote control so he could watch
Grey’s Anatomy
. Who knew?

“What, you don’t like this show?” Adam asked when he caught her staring.

“I like it. I’m just surprised that
you
watch it.”

“I think Meredith is hot,” he replied with a shrug. He glanced up at the television mounted in the corner of the ceiling. “It’s about to start.”

Twenty minutes later, they were engrossed in a particularly gory episode, watching the doctors of Seattle Grace tend to patients and yet still find time to get jiggy in supply closets. During the commercial break, Olivia’s thoughts once again drifted to Luke, and a swarm of questions buzzed through her head. Had the team arrived at the warehouse on schedule? Were they in position, waiting for the truck to arrive? Was Luke okay?

She prayed that they didn’t encounter any nasty surprises, and as she fretfully wrung her hands, she suddenly realized that this was what her mom must have felt like every time Eddie Taylor went overseas.

I can be that man
.

Luke’s deep voice kept running through her mind, his declaration that he could be the kind of man she wanted. No, the kind of man she
needed
. But how was that possible? If she opened her heart to Luke, she’d be in a perpetual state of worry. Wringing her hands as she was now, wondering if he was okay.

She couldn’t live that way. She already worried enough—about her mother, about school, about paying the bills. How could she let Luke into her life, knowing that she would constantly be losing sleep each time he flew off on a mission?

“Do you think they’re okay?” she blurted out.

Adam’s blue eyes twinkled. “You mean, is Dubois okay? Yeah, I think he’s just fine. Those SEALs can take care of themselves, honey.”

“You’re right, he’s fine. My nerves are probably getting the best of me.” She bit her lip. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“Not at all. We always worry about the ones we love.”

Heat spilled over her cheeks. “Love? No, it’s not like that with Luke and me. We’re . . . ah . . .” She trailed off.

Adam grinned. “I stand corrected. You’re
so
not in love with the guy.”

She was ready to voice another denial when she heard footsteps approach the door.

Adam’s hand instantly lowered to the holster on his hip. A male orderly in green scrubs entered the room, holding a bedpan in his hands.

Adam relaxed.

And then the orderly slid his hand from beneath the bedpan and whipped a gun in their direction.

Olivia didn’t even have time to scream. A high-pitched
pop
filled the air, and the next thing she knew, a small hole appeared in the center of Adam’s forehead.

She watched in horror as his body toppled off the chair and crumpled to the linoleum floor.

Dead. He was
dead
.

With a choked sound, she shot to her feet and launched herself onto her mother’s sleeping body, but the tall man bounded forward to intercept her. She opened her mouth to scream but his hand clamped over it, cutting her shriek short. As she struggled to get out of his grip, a second set of footsteps thudded on the floor, and then a familiar voice tickled her ear.

“Hey, babe, fancy meeting you here.”

Chapter 25

Standing outside the warehouse, Luke tried for a third time to reach Adam, and for a third time his call was bumped to Adam’s voice mail. The area around him was crawling with federal agents shouting to one another and barking orders into radios. An entire hoard of Feds was in the process of seizing the crates from the coffee truck and loading the confiscated items into a black van. Across the lot, paramedics brought body bags out on stretchers, rolling them toward the waiting ambulance and coroner’s van.

Luke ignored the commotion and redialed Adam’s number with increasing uneasiness. The former marine’s voice mail greeted him once more. Damn it. Why the
fuck
wasn’t Adam picking up his fucking phone?

Something was wrong. Luke felt it deep in his bones, in his gut, his heart, his everything. Fingers trembling, he dialed Olivia’s cell number but got her voice mail too. In a last-ditch effort, he called the hospital, but after he’d been connected to Kathleen’s room, the line kept ringing and ringing until he finally hung up in frustration.

“Holden!” he shouted, sweeping his eyes over the crowd. Most of the guys were milling around a pair of SUVs, chatting, smoking, looking bored. The team had no real need to stick around, but the lead DEA agent had insisted that they wait to be debriefed.

Holden extricated himself from a conversation with Sully and Liam and wandered over. “What’s up?”

“Do you have your laptop with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Is it linked up to the GPS system?”

“Yep. Why?” Holden repeated.

He grabbed the other man’s arm and practically dragged him to the Range Rover. Trevor and Isabel, who’d been standing a few feet from the SUV, quickly walked over. Luke knew his body language was screaming
panic attack
but no amount of silent reassurances could curb his growing concern.

“I can’t get in touch with Olivia or Adam,” he explained. “I’ve got a bad feeling. A really bad fucking feeling.” He glanced at Holden, who was leaning into the backseat to find his laptop case. “There’s a tracker in Olivia’s cell phone, and one in the necklace she’s wearing. See where she is, man.”

Holden slid the computer out of its case and rested it on the hood of the car. “Give me a sec.”

While Holden pulled up the necessary program, Sullivan and Liam approached the group. The big Australian and Mr. Male Model had been chatting up a storm during the past hour, well on their way to becoming BFFs. Now they wore matching frowns. “What’s going on, mate?” Sullivan asked.

Luke ignored the question and followed the movement of Holden’s fingers on the keyboard. “Come on, man,” he said impatiently.

Holden studied the screen. “The phone’s at the hospital. It’s not moving.”

“And the necklace?”

“Hold on.” Holden typed a few more commands. “Shit. She’s on the move.”

“Where?” Luke demanded. “Heading back to the safe house?”

“No. Traveling east on the Long Island Expressway.”

“What?”

“She’s definitely in a car, just merged onto the Jericho Turnpike.”

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “Angelo has her.”

Isabel spoke up, trying to sound encouraging. “We don’t know that. Maybe Adam is taking her to—”

“Taking her where?” he growled. “He was ordered to guard Olivia and Kathleen at the hospital. If he was going to take either of them anywhere else, he would have checked in. Unless he
couldn’t
check in. Which means he’s fucking
dead
and now Angelo has her.” Rage bubbled in his gut, mixed with a dose of fear so strong he nearly keeled over. “I’m going after her.”

“I’m going with you,” Sullivan said immediately, diving into the driver’s seat.

In the end, Kane and Holden also came along, Holden so he could monitor the GPS, Kane because Trevor ordered him to—evidently Luke’s state of complete and total panic hadn’t gone unnoticed.

In the backseat of the SUV, he tried to control the overwhelming vise of helplessness threatening to choke him. Angelo had gotten his hands on Olivia. That’s why he hadn’t showed his face tonight.

“He’s going to kill her,” Luke mumbled.

A hand stretched out from the front seat. Kane. He leaned in to grip Luke’s shoulder, those green eyes filled with determination. “He won’t kill her. We’re going to find her.”

“He’s obsessed with her, and he thinks she cheated on him. With me. It’s my fucking fault he found out the truth. I slipped up, got caught by his goons, and now . . . now Olivia is going to pay the price for it.”

* * *

Olivia blinked in disorientation as the trunk of the Town Car was released and her eyes adjusted to the sudden onslaught of light. Moonlight. Shining down from a starless black sky and bringing a streak of pain to her temples. Vince had knocked her out back in the parking lot of St. Francis. Her head throbbed, her brain working overtime to remember what happened.

Adam. Vince’s goon had killed Adam.

Oh God.

The image of Vince’s wild eyes burned through her mind. He’d threatened to shoot her mother if Olivia didn’t leave with him. He’d forced her to walk out of the room, down the corridor, into the elevator, out to the parking lot. Threatened to go on a shooting spree in the hospital if she screamed. Or tried to run. She’d followed his orders only because she’d known without a shred of doubt that he wasn’t bluffing. The rage shining in his eyes told her he would’ve slaughtered anybody in his path if he’d had to.

So she’d shut her mouth and done what he said, all the while trying to formulate an escape plan. Since her phone had been left behind in her mom’s hospital room, calling for help was out, but she had planned on springing into action once they reached the parking lot and were away from anyone Vince might harm. Kneeing him in the groin, screaming bloody murder, even taking his damn driver hostage if the opportunity presented itself. But she hadn’t gotten the chance. The moment they’d approached the Lincoln, the butt of Vince’s gun had slammed into her right temple, and that was good night.

She’d come to about fifteen minutes later to find herself bound and gagged in the trunk of the Town Car, and now they were here. Wherever here was.

Olivia’s pulse sped up when a shadow loomed over her. She blinked again, making out Vince’s torso, his eerily calm face. When their gazes met, he smiled. “Good. You’re awake.”

As he leaned in to scoop her up in his arms, she began to struggle, batting at him with her fists, which were secured together.

Vince’s brown eyes flashed. “Keep struggling and I’ll cut your fucking hands off.”

She went still, searching her brain frantically for a way out of this. Maybe she could talk him down, use his love for her to defuse the ticking time bomb he’d become.

Speaking through the gag shoved in her mouth, she mumbled a protest, trying to get his attention. He ignored her, his strides long and powerful as he carried her toward a small A-frame cabin in the distance.

Olivia’s gaze darted around as she took in her surroundings. They were in a deserted area surrounded by yellowing grass, flat earth, and trees devoid of leaves. The cabin was the only structure in sight, its weathered log exterior and paint-chipped front door lending it an abandoned feel.

Vince stopped on the porch and unlocked the door. It creaked open and he lugged her inside, where the scent of mold and mildew drifted into her nose. She caught a glimpse of a small room with a tattered plaid sofa against one wall and a kitchenette in the corner.

She mumbled another objection. This time Vince growled in annoyance. “Shut up,” he snapped. “There’ll be plenty of time for talking later.”

Later? God, how long did he plan on keeping her here?

His loafers thudded against the splintered wood floor as he carried her to an open doorway across the room. Next thing she knew, she was thrown onto a bed, her body bouncing off a dirty mattress with a few of its springs exposed. A metal coil dug into her back, bringing a jolt of pain.

Vince flicked a light switch and closed the door. When he pivoted, he had a gun pointed at her, sleek and black with a silencer screwed on its barrel. In his left hand, he held a small switchblade and a roll of duct tape.

Fear crawled up her spine and lodged in her throat.

Without a word, Vince approached the bed and sliced through the rope binding her feet together. With a muffled cry, she kicked a foot up and connected with his jaw.

He grunted in anger.

And stuck the switchblade into her calf.

Olivia jerked from the searing pain, her leg involuntarily dropping to the mattress. Blood ran down her leg, soaking the cotton of her black leggings.

“What did I tell you about struggling?” Vince demanded.

She swallowed, battling the sting of tears, then gasped when he thrust her legs apart. His features reflected a combination of rage and concentration as he set his gun on the floor and proceeded to shove her right foot against the post of the rickety bed frame. He secured it with duct tape, then did the same with her left foot. He gave a satisfied grunt and went to work on her hands, and when he was done, Olivia was spread-eagled on the bed. The only upside—God, did that word even exist in a situation like this?—was that she remained fully dressed. If rape was on his agenda, it wouldn’t happen yet.