Bethany Kress dropped to her knees, terror nearly choking her throat. Aaron lay so still on the cold cement. Blood covered his face, oozing from two large gashes on his forehead and cheek. It soaked his shirt, his arms…dear God it was everywhere.

“Aaron,” she gasped, lightly running her fingers through his short brown hair. “Oh God, Aaron, can you hear me? What did that bastard do to you?”

He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. “Bethany?”

“It’s me, Aaron. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

He tried to rise and groaned again, collapsing back to the cement floor. “Can’t…ribs…busted…”

“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.”

“Bethany, run. You’ve…got to get out. He knows.”

Terror blazed a mindless path through her. “What? How?”

“I don’t know…but he knows I’m DEA.” He shuddered. “You’ve got to run.”

Tears filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“I’m already dead, Bethany. Promise me….promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll turn state’s evidence. Without me, you’re all they’ve got. Put him away forever, Bethany.”

“My testimony won’t be enough…”

“There’s more working
, but they can’t do it without you. Promise me! Promise me so I know the past year hasn’t been wasted, that my life hasn’t been wasted.”

“I…I promise. But I’m getting you out of here.”

“No! Run, now! My team knows about you. They’re coming, Bethany. Get out and they’ll keep you safe.”

She tried to haul his arm over her shoulders. “Aaron you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had. I’m not leaving you!”

A deep laugh resounded through the empty warehouse and a bright light snapped on overhead. Bethany recoiled, trying to blink her eyes clear. A shadow walked forward. His hands clapped slowly together as if in a mocking applause.

“How beautiful,” the shadow said. “How touching.” He stepped into the light, his smile derisive.

Bethany’s terror tangled with the fury boiling within her. “Cordova! What have you done?”

“My beautiful, Bethany. I have done nothing.” His artificial smile vanished replaced with a cruel, deadly glare. “You, my dear, did all my work for me.” He held up a digital voice recorder and pressed play.

Bethany heard her voice echo. “Daddy, I know the nurses said you can’t hear me, but I think a part of you does.”

Bethany’s eyes widened in horror. Her father had been in a medical rehab facility. One which
Cordova bankrolled. That was the only way Cordova could get her to work for him. But Daddy’s liver was failing and he had slipped into a coma. Cordova only permitted her to see him once a week. Desperately needing someone to talk to she had told her unconscious father everything.

Yesterday, she had buried him.

“I met this guy awhile back,” the recording droned in her ears. “His name is Aaron. He works for Cordova…actually…I thought he worked for Cordova, but I found out…he’s really an undercover DEA agent. He said he could get me out. We can bring Cordova down. Just think about it, Daddy, Cordova will pay for all the hell he put you and Mom through, for all the hell he’s putting me through…”

Cordova hit the stop button.

“No!” Bethany said. She had no idea her father’s hospital room had been bugged. She looked at Aaron.

His skin turned a pallid gray, contrasting sharply against his bright red blood. She saw the horror in his eyes. He looked at her, the sadness of betrayal striking him to the core. Then his eyes ignited in fury.

“Bitch!” He jerked away from her and again tried to rise. “Get away from me!”

She staggered backward. “No, Aaron! I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

“Get the hell out of here!”

He managed to pull himself up to his knees.

Bethany continued to back away. “Aaron, please! I didn’t mean to!”

“Get away from me! I don’t want you near me.” He rose to his feet.

A gunshot resounded, making her ears ring. Aaron jerked unnaturally but did not fall. Her gaze flew to Cordova who stood with his gun drawn, pointed at Aaron. He squeezed the trigger again. Aaron fell to the floor, his dead eyes still locked on her in hatred.

Bethany took another step back as Cordova trained his gun on her.

“Don’t move, Cordova!” Shadows in the catwalks above caught her eye. One man, wearing a dark blue windbreaker with yellow DEA letters, leveled his gun at Cordova. Cordova cursed and fired at the man then sprinted away. The DEA agent returned fire but missed.

A hand grabbed Bethany and she screamed, turning to fight but suddenly realized the man holding her also wore a DEA jacket. He hauled her out.

“No! Aaron! Aaron! Please God no! He can’t be dead!” She battled to break free of the man’s grip. Movement to her left caught her eye. She turned her head and saw Aaron standing in the corridor. She blinked, her mind refusing to work. How...? But the image of Aaron wasn’t solid – she could see through him.

Horror tore at her sanity. She saw nothing but hatred in his dead eyes. He pointed at her and shrieked a demonic cry.

Warehouse District,

New York

October, 2011

Ethan Lancaster slowly returned to consciousness. Pain throbbed in his head and blood streamed into his eyes, blurring his vision. To his shock and horror, he discovered himself sitting in a chair, his hands and legs securely bound.

He struggled to pull his spinning thoughts together, remembering only being struck from behind as he entered the warehouse office. “What the hell?” he muttered and lifted his head.

Cordova leaned back against the table, his arms folded over his chest, his smile mocking. Ethan had seen that expression many times before, when Cordova had some poor sap in the same position who was about to suffer a lingering death.

Next to him stood Javier; the bodyguard who was as loyal as a Pitt Bull and as vicious as Cordova. The door opened and Ricardo entered, shoving Rochelle violently inside the office. She hit the wall and whimpered, sliding down to the floor. Her large dark eyes snapped from Ricardo to Cordova in fear, then settled on Ethan, widening in terror.

Christ, no, this couldn’t be possible. Panic clawed at Ethan’s heart
, but he forced it down, trying to think. Somehow his cover had been blown. Ethan worked as an undercover agent within Cordova’s illegal arms ring, gathering evidence for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.

Rochelle, Cordova’s mistress, proved his best source of information even though she had no idea who he really was. This morning, Ethan had received word from his team leader to pull her out. Two more days was all he had needed. Two more fucking days and Rochelle would have become a protected federal witness.

For five years, Ethan had worked for the ATF. He had gone undercover several times, but this had been his largest and longest case. The DEA was working on drug charges against Cordova in Los Angeles and Ethan’s job was to nail him on federal weapons charges in New York.

“I
have discovered,” Cordova said, “we have an undercover cop in our midst.”

Ethan’s heart jumped to his throat. How did Cordova know? Ethan and his team had been so careful.

“What the hell, Cordova,” Ethan growled, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Why are you spouting this crap? I’m not a cop. I’ve worked for you for two years faithfully.”

“Faithfully betraying me. You are good, Ethan Lancaster. Your file with ATF is impressive. Borderline behavior
, but impressive. You’ve fried larger fish than me, but none quite as mean as me.”

Ethan’s throat went dry as he gazed into Cordova’s obsidian eyes, cold with hatred. Whoever his inf
ormant had been, he was good. He had to be a leak in the department, that was the only way Cordova could learn what was in his personnel file.

Cordova moved away from the table, grabbed Rochelle’s arm and hauled her close. He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Ethan’s heart twisted in his chest.

Rochelle’s dark eyes filled with tears. She was a Latino beauty, with long black hair. She wore a white dress that clung to every curve of her body. Between hers and Ethan’s testimonies, they had enough evidence to put Cordova away forever.

Cordova slapped her, sending her to the floor. Ethan snarled, fighting against
the ropes securing him to the chair.

Cordova laughed. “I still find it hard to believe you succeeded for so long. A pity, Lancaster, you are one of the best.”

Ethan glared at Cordova, twisting his hands and feet against his bonds. Was it his imagination, or had the rope on his right arm loosened? Damn, if Ethan ever found out who blew his cover, he would kill him. But what was the point? He wasn’t going to live through this.

Shit! Had Tony or Rick received his message? Ethan had called his team leader to inform him of the meet and left a message on Tony’s voice mail. But even if Tony, or his partner, Rick, got the message, there was no reason for them to think Ethan was in any danger. These unscheduled, hastily called meetings were a common ploy Cordova used to avoid giving law enforcement time to set up surveillance.

Tony didn’t have a reason to suspect something was wrong. Damn! Even if by some miracle Tony did get a team out here, it would probably be just in time to record Ethan’s and Rochelle’s gruesome demise.

His gaze swept the room, conveniently bereft of weapons except for the firearms, Cordova, Javier, and Ricardo always carried. On the table sat Ethan’s shoulder harness and his Colt Defender, well out of reach. In the corner sat a small toolbox - a screwdriver wouldn’t stop a bullet but it would make an effective stabbing tool. But the large car battery with cables sitting against the wall sent chills down Ethan’s spine.

“No one betrays me and walks away, Lancaster,” Cordova growled. “No one. Javier!”

Javier moved next to Ethan and untied his left hand from the chair. Ethan’s fist shot out, catching Javier in the nose. Blood flew and Javier staggered back. Ethan lunged forward, throwing himself on the table trying to reach his Colt, hampered by the chair.

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