Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) (22 page)

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “He wrote the algorithm?”

I nodded.

He cursed, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, so we have to stop ISIS from getting the software, which will have the ancillary effect of saving your boss from dying.”

I nodded again.

He sighed. “Then I’m glad I got a nap in.”

15

I raided Clark’s fridge while he finished dressing and doing whatever else he was doing. I heard the sound of metal against metal and winced. Looked like he was going armed. I should be, too, but the gun Jackson had given me was still in the glove box of my car, which was sitting in his garage.

And at some point, I should probably give Lance back his car keys.

“So what’s our first move?” I asked around a mouthful of the ham sandwich I’d thrown together, extra Miracle Whip. At least he’d had that instead of real mayonnaise. It was so much better on a sandwich.

“I called a friend who works for the CIA,” he said, eyeing me as I took another huge bite. “There’s been a spike in cell traffic in the area that they’re pinpointing, since I told them what to listen for. They nail down the cell phones they’re using, track them, we’ll get a location. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a good plan,” I mumbled, shoving the rest in my mouth. That sandwich had tasted like Thanksgiving dinner, I’d been so hungry.

“Were you starving?” he asked with a frown. “Because I gotta tell ya, I’ve never seen a woman scarf down a sandwich that fast.”

“I haven’t eaten all day!” I protested, looking around for something to drink. A Pepsi sounded really good. Or better yet, a Red Bull. “Can we stop at the gas station for a Red Bull?”

“
We
aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “I am. You can stay here.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s dumb.”

“Excuse me?” He actually looked taken aback.

“Which part is surprising?” I asked. “That someone disagrees with you or that I think you’re dumb?” I wasn’t being a smart-ass, I honestly wanted to know. Clark worked solo and seemed to be fairly competent at a dangerous job, so really it could go either way.

He was silent for a moment. Then, “You’re serious.”

“Of course.”

Clark just shook his head, tucking the very large gun he was holding into a holster underneath his arm, shrugging into a black leather jacket.

“You realize you look like an utter cliché,” I said. “The gun, the jacket . . .”

“All your hot-guy fantasies come to life?”

I snorted. “I don’t have hot-guy fantasies.” Which was
so
not true, but what Clark didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “And I am coming with you, because if Jackson sees you without me, he may not cooperate.”

His cell phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “Got it. You wanna play hero and put yourself in harm’s way, that’s your choice. But don’t think I’m going to rescue you rather than going after the bad guys.”

What a charmer. “It wouldn’t be logical for you to behave otherwise,” I said with a shrug.

Clark’s blue eyes narrowed. “Do I sense sarcasm?”

“I don’t do sarcasm.”

“Riiiight . . .” he drawled, his expression skeptical. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

I didn’t know where the Honda had gone, but the car we took was a pearl-black Mercedes I instantly fell in love with. I would’ve inspected it more, but the worry for Jackson I’d shoved in the back of my mind would no longer be ignored, especially now that we were on our way to get him.

What if we were too late?

“You’ve gotta calm down,” Clark said, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced from the road to him, surprised.

“What?”

“You’re about to rub the skin off your hands, doing that,” he said, motioning to where I was twisting my hands in my lap. “And your breathing is fast enough to border on hyperventilating. I’m not opposed to leaving you passed out in the car, but I doubt you’d be pleased.”

He was right. I was working myself into a state, which was crazy. Worry and anxiety wouldn’t help Jackson. I’d done everything I could as fast as humanly possible—fate would determine what happened next. All of which sounded great, but didn’t make me feel even a tiny bit better.

“I . . . just don’t want him to be hurt,” I said, turning to look out my window. I was dangerously close to tears and really didn’t want Clark to see me cry.

“Job security? Or is it personal?”

The last thing I felt like doing was talking about my feelings with Clark. “What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. Just curious.”

I pushed my glasses back up my nose and cleared my throat. “So where are we going?”

“Looks like they headed for the hills.”

Which was actually the woods. We’d gone deep into Carolina backcountry when the car finally rolled to a stop nearly an hour later. But there was nothing around us but trees.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“About a quarter mile away,” Clark said. “It wasn’t like I could just pull up to the front door. There’s a reason they’re out here.”

I chewed a nail, staring into the impenetrable darkness outside my window. “And it’s just us against them?”

Clark snorted. “I’m good, but I don’t have a death wish. A contract security team should be meeting us.” He reached into the backseat and pulled a black backpack into his lap. Digging through it, he unearthed a small radio. Thumbing a button on the side, he said, “Team alpha, in position, over.”

After a moment, the radio crackled. “Copy that. Team bravo. ETA is ten mikes.”

I frowned. “I know what a klick is. What’s a mike?”

“Stands for minutes,” he said. “You sure you want to do this?”

My throat was suddenly dry and my palms were wet, but I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.”

We got out of the car and he locked it, plunging us into darkness. It was colder than I’d expected and I shivered. My skin crawled at the unrelenting night and my heart rate doubled.

“Take it easy,” Clark said. “Put these on.” He handed me something heavy and I fumbled with it before he took it from me and settled it on my head. A moment later, goggles slid over my eyes but I still couldn’t see.

“Was this supposed to help?” I asked. “It’s still dark.”

I felt his hand at my temple and a nearly silent click, then I could see.

“Infrared goggles,” he said. “Night vision with their own invisible light source.”

“That’s cool.” The panic in my stomach receded. The trees still looked intimidating, but at least now I could see them. “I can see where I’m going.”

“That is the point. Follow me, and try not to make noise.”

I was glad I had on jeans and tennis shoes because the pine trees grew thick and close together, which kept undergrowth to a minimum, but branches still scraped my arms and legs as I followed Clark. The forest floor was a bed of pine needles, which kept our steps silent.

Cicadas were loud as well as other nighttime creatures that I tried not to listen to. I preferred the darkness of an open field in Nebraska to this claustrophobic canopy of trees.

“Where are we—”

A hand clapped over my mouth, silencing me. Clark’s goggle-obscured eyes were inches from my own.

“Quiet.” His voice was barely above a whisper. I nodded so he knew I’d understood.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “The rest of the team will be waiting.”

I wondered how many people made up the “rest of the team,” but didn’t dare ask. He obviously didn’t want me to speak.

We kept going, stopping once we saw a clearing in the trees and a building. It wasn’t fancy—just a square with windows—but was pretty big. A drive was around the side and three SUVs were parked there. We’d come around from the opposite direction.

Lights gleamed from the windows, bathing the surrounding ground in a slight glow. Clark had crouched down behind a copse of trees and bushes several feet away and I headed toward him.

“Don’t move.”

A voice in my ear and something cold and sharp at my throat. I froze, fear flooding me.

Clark glanced around and I wanted to warn him, but in the next moment he’d made a hand gesture to the man behind me and I was suddenly released.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were a friendly,” he said.

I sucked in air, realizing I’d been holding my breath. He came around and I saw he was dressed all in black and outfitted in more heavy artillery than Clark. The same IR goggles we wore adorned his head as well.

Clark beckoned impatiently to me and I bit back the angry retort on my tongue. It would’ve been nice if they’d known I was coming, too.

“Give me your goggles,” he said, sliding his off.

I did as he asked. “Is there anyone else who’s going to try to kill me tonight?” I asked, not quite able to let it go.

“Just everyone inside that building.”

Well. Okay, then.

I glanced around, my eyes adjusting to the new lighting conditions, and saw that three more silent figures dressed like my attacker had arrived. They didn’t say anything as he and Clark conversed quietly. It was military speak about where they were going in, who’d go where and do what, etc.

“The drone overhead is reporting seven heat signatures,” one of them said, showing Clark something on a device, maybe a phone or tablet. “We think your guy is in this room, here.” He pointed.

“Two guards on the outside, another inside—probably your interrogator. The others are here, here, and here.” More pointing.

I tuned them out, the word “interrogator” making panic curl like a fist in my gut again. Jackson was in there. Worry ate at me and I was anxious to go get him.

“You sure you want to come?” Clark asked me.

Startled, I jumped. I hadn’t even noticed that he was done planning.

“Absolutely.”

“Then take this,” he said, handing me a pistol. “And try not to shoot any friendlies.”

I swallowed, nodding. “Got it.”

“Remember—my job is to stop ISIS. This isn’t a rescue mission . . . for anyone. If we can get him out, we will, but he’s not the primary here.”

I looked at him. His expression was serious, his eyes hard. He wasn’t the friendly Superman-neighbor and now I wondered how I’d ever been fooled. Just looking into his eyes sent a chill down my spine.

“You’ve already said that, and I have an excellent memory.” My voice was quiet, and if there was a hint of accusation as well, then I couldn’t help it. I’d gotten the message loud and clear. If I didn’t get Jackson out, he might not make it out at all.

“Jackson is in the far west corner room,” he said. I looked blankly at him. He rolled his eyes. “Over there.” He pointed to the other side of the building, toward the back.

“Got it.”

“Stay in the back. Stay out of the line of fire. Wait until you hear us call out
Clear
.”

“Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t. I just don’t want to have to file the paperwork.”

Any quick-witted retort (that I’d think of in about thirty minutes) was lost on him because he’d already turned away and was talking with the other men. They all took a good look at me, sizing me up, I thought. No one looked impressed.

I lifted my chin. I may have been a foot shorter and about a hundred pounds lighter, massively less armed, without any proper training or body armor, no experience in combat . . . where was I going with this? After that depressing litany, I’d forgotten.

The men split into two teams and I followed Clark and the two men with him. The other two headed around back while we went toward the front.

Adrenaline filled my veins in a cold rush and my hand holding the gun was shaking uncontrollably. I held it with both hands now, recognizing the same design as the one Jackson had given me, which was good. And I really hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

The men moved silently, one opening the door, which was unlocked, then filed in. I waited and nearly jumped out of my skin when the bullets started flying.

The noise was unimaginable, worse than in a movie, because this was real and it was right behind me. I prayed the wood at my back was thick enough to stop a bullet. I heard yelling and the crashing of glass, then more gunfire erupted in the back of the house.

My knees were jelly and wouldn’t hold me. I sank down, my arms instinctively covering my head with my arms. I would have gladly stayed there if I hadn’t heard a muffled “
Clear!
” Sporadic gunfire was still going on in the back, but hopefully would be over soon.

I crawled to the door, peeking inside to find total chaos and destruction. Two bodies were on the floor, not moving, and I was relieved to see that neither was Clark or his men.

Shakily getting to my feet, my gun hung loose in my grip as I headed through the foyer to a hallway leading left. I heard more shouts, then another “
Clear!
” which I took to be a good sign.

At the end of the corridor were doors on my left and right. The two guards who’d supposedly been there were nowhere to be found. I assumed they’d gone to join the fight once the attack had begun.

I wasn’t as lucky as Clark had been. This door was locked. I was stymied for a moment, then remembered the handy-dandy lock-picker I was carrying. Also known as a semiautomatic.

Yes, I totally closed my eyes like a girl when I pulled the trigger, but it worked. The doorjamb had disintegrated and I pushed the door open.

Jackson was lying face down on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

“Jackson!” I ran forward, dropping to my knees next to him. I carefully set down my gun so I could turn him over onto his back. I put my ear against his chest, a sigh of relief escaping when I heard his heart beating strong inside his chest. “Thank God,” I murmured. There was additional bruising on him and his shirt was torn and dirty, but I couldn’t tell if anything was broken.