Special Ops Exclusive (11 page)

Decision made, Nick palmed his weapon and stepped out of the brush.

Chapter 10

R
ebecca’s arms were getting a real workout swatting at the relentless mosquitoes that were determined to possess her blood. Fortunately, the netting kept the annoying insects out of her face, and the bug repellent she’d sprayed all over herself seemed to be working. The bugs swarmed, but so far none had been brave enough to take a bite.

Nick had been gone for nearly thirty minutes. She kept checking the time on the screen of the secure cell phone he’d given her. The numbers for his friends were already programmed in, but she didn’t plan on making any calls. No way was she abandoning Nick here. If he wasn’t back in an hour, she had every intention of tracking him down and saving his butt.

She kept a comfortable grip on the Beretta in her hand, grateful for all those shooting lessons her father had forced on her when she was growing up. Theo Parker, God bless his soul, had desperately wanted a son, a boy he could take hunting and fishing, a male he could groom to take over the law firm one day.

Instead, he’d gotten a daughter, and yet to his wife’s dismay, it was the kind of daughter neither of them had expected. Rebecca was the furthest thing from a sweet Georgian peach. From a young age, she’d been fearless, feisty, daring. An absolute terror, in fact. She’d driven her parents crazy by running around with the boys and causing heaps of trouble around the neighborhood.

Bzzzzzzz.

Another mosquito flew by her ear. Ugh. She wholeheartedly believed that mosquitoes were the most useless insects on the planet. Who cared if they helped the food chain go round—the creatures that fed on mosquitoes could easily find something else to eat, in her humble opinion.

Bzzzzzzz.

She slapped away the next intruder. “For the love of—”

A gunshot sliced through the air.

Rebecca froze. As her pulse sped up, she peered in the direction Nick had gone in, but her sexy soldier didn’t come bursting out of the trees.

That had been a gunshot, though.

Right?

Panic soared inside her, along with a rush of fear that seized her chest and made it difficult to breathe. She sucked a deep gust of oxygen into her lungs, forcing herself to relax. To think.

Okay, so she’d heard a shot. That didn’t mean Nick was in trouble. Maybe he—

Maybe he what?
an incredulous voice demanded.
He was only supposed to case the house! There’s no reason for anyone to be shooting anything!

Her heart started beating even faster, pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest. Taking another deep breath, she jumped out of the Jeep, tore off the mosquito net and adjusted her grip on the Beretta. She aimed at the trees, but there was no movement, no sign that she was sharing this jungle with anything other than the pesky mosquitoes and the mysterious creatures that scuttled across the tangled undergrowth on the ground.

She took a step forward, then halted as Nick’s order echoed in her head.

Don’t get out of the car, no matter what.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She stood there, torn. Did hearing a gunshot count as
no matter what?

Probably, but darn it, she couldn’t just do
nothing.
What if Nick was in trouble?

A quick peek wouldn’t hurt, right? She’d check out the house, just to make sure that he was all right, and if everything looked kosher, she’d simply sneak back to the Jeep and Nick would never be the wiser.

With a decisive nod, she started to walk, making her way toward Waverly’s property. She cringed each time a twig snapped beneath the hiking boots Nick had bought her. It was difficult to move quietly when the jungle floor was covered with vines and branches and dried leaves, all of which made so much noise it was like she was walking to the tune of her own personal sound track.

Several minutes later, she caught a glimpse of the house’s clay roof, a flash of reddish-brown amid the greenery. She approached with caution, then ducked behind a tree and carefully peeked out. Her gaze swept over the back of the dilapidated shack, the open screen door, the curtainless window. No movement in front of the window or the door. Not a single sound wafted out of the house.

No sign of Nick.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If he was still casing the place, then he’d probably be hidden away somewhere, so of course there’d be no sign of him.

But then what had that gunshot been about? Was Waverly doing target practice around the side of the house or something?

She bit her lip again, unsure of her next move. Did she keep looking for Nick, or did she head back to the car?

She was debating what to do when a second gunshot cracked in the air.

Nick.

As a rush of adrenaline sizzled in her bloodstream, Rebecca sprinted out of the trees and raced toward the back door without a single concern for her safety. She practically dived through the broken screen door, stumbling into a narrow corridor, then blinking wildly as she tried to orient herself.

God, where was Nick?

Had he been shot?

Panic, terror and worry jammed in her throat, but she managed to keep moving. When muffled thuds and male grunts greeted her ears, relief crashed into her with the force of an 18-wheeler. There was more than one person in this house. That meant Nick was still alive. She followed the sounds of a scuffle to the other side of the house and quickly emerged into a small living room.

Rebecca’s heartbeat accelerated as she absorbed the scene in front of her. Nick was on the floor, wrestling with a bulky blond man she knew had to be Paul Waverly. Angry curses and ragged breathing filled the air, then a loud snap as a fist connected with a jaw.

Heart pounding, Rebecca raised her gun and took aim, but she didn’t dare fire a shot, not when there was the risk of hitting Nick.

Whether or not to pull the trigger became a moot point, because Nick gained control of the situation in the blink of an eye, flipping Waverly onto his back and straddling the man with a growl.

“Don’t move,” he snapped.

“Screw you!” Waverly spat out.

Nick jammed the muzzle of his gun into Waverly’s throat. As the man made a loud gagging noise, Nick’s shoulders suddenly stiffened and his gaze sharply moved to the doorway.

He swore loudly. “I told you to stay put!”

Rebecca offered a feeble shrug. “I heard a shot and...” She trailed off, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to hear her excuses.

But she refused to apologize for disregarding his orders. What if he hadn’t managed to subdue Waverly just now? What if he’d truly needed her help?

On the floor, Nick let out another curse. His brown eyes glared daggers at her before taking on a resigned light. “Well, fine. As long as you’re here, see if you can find something to tie this son of a bitch up with.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Paul Waverly was secured snugly to a chair that Nick liberated from the man’s dinette set. Using the roll of duct tape Rebecca had found in the kitchen, Nick had restrained Waverly’s hands, feet and torso. The entire time, he’d been infuriatingly conscious of Rebecca’s presence, but he’d forced himself to bite back his anger.

The woman seemed incapable of following orders, and at the moment, her presence bothered him on a whole other level. Who knew what he’d have to do to get Waverly to talk, and he didn’t feel comfortable resorting to forceful methods of persuasion in front of Rebecca. Call him old-fashioned, but he’d been raised with the belief that women needed to be protected and kept out of harm’s way.

Allowing Rebecca to witness a potential torture session didn’t really adhere to either of those rules.

However, when he turned to ask her to leave the room, the stubborn woman just crossed her arms and said, “Don’t even think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

The man in the chair suddenly sucked in a breath as his gaze shifted to the doorway where Rebecca stood. Waverly had been staring at her for the past ten minutes, and recognition had finally dawned on his face.

“Are you...you’re Rebecca Parker!” he sputtered, his ice-blue eyes widening. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shut up,” Nick snapped. “I’m the one asking the questions here.”

“Screw you!”

Nick glared at the man who’d nearly blown his head off. He was pissed off beyond belief, but at the same time, he grudgingly had to give Waverly kudos for catching him off guard.

Standing on the back deck, the DoD aide hadn’t revealed any indication that he’d realized he was being watched, and yet the second Nick attempted a stealth entrance, Waverly had popped out of a doorway with a gun in hand. Only the aide’s piss-poor aim had saved Nick from a bullet to the head. As the bullet lodged into the wall five inches from his left ear, he’d quickly disarmed Waverly, but the other man had managed to make a run for the front door, unfazed by the warning shot Nick had fired at his feet. Despite Waverly’s football-player build, Nick had finally brought the man down, and now he loomed over his captive, though he could have done without Rebecca lurking in the doorway like that.

“Who are you?” Waverly demanded with a scowl.

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Take a wild guess.”

The man’s cheeks turned red. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked! They sent you to kill me, didn’t they?”

He arched a brow. “Who’s they?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.” Waverly’s gaze drifted to Rebecca and his resolve seemed to falter. “But why is
she
here? You can’t kill me in front of a journalist.”

“Nobody is killing anybody.” Nick paused. “At least not yet. First, you’re going to tell me everything I need to know. Then I’ll decide if I’m going to let you live.”

“Who
are
you?” A miserable note entered Waverly’s voice.

“I’m a colleague of Sebastian Stone.”

Waverly went even paler, a feat Nick would have deemed impossible.

“Stone,” the man mumbled.

“Yes, Sebastian Stone. You know, the guy you tried to infect with a deadly virus?” Nick said sarcastically.

There was a long silence, and then Waverly’s breath hitched and understanding dawned in his eyes. “You’re one of them. One of the three soldiers who skipped town.”

“Give the man a cigar.” Nick moved toward the flower-patterned sofa and leaned against the arm, absently resting his gun on his thigh. “It bodes well that you know who I am. So now tell me, who authorized the killing of my unit?”

Waverly didn’t answer.

“Come on, Paul. Or William. Or whatever you want to call yourself these days. Let’s not play games. Who wants me and my men dead?”

More stony silence.

“Who decided it was a good idea to engineer the Meridian virus and test it in San Marquez?”

“I’m not saying a goddamn word,” Waverly mumbled. “Go ahead and kill me. Either way, I’m dead.”

“Yeah, how do you figure that?”

“If I talk, they’ll know, and then they’ll hunt me down and kill me—but it won’t be fast. They’ll drag it out, make me suffer....” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “So go ahead. Do it. Pull the trigger. At least with you, it’ll be fast.”

“Says who?” Nick asked softly.

In the doorway, Rebecca gasped.

Ignoring that squeaky sound of distress, Nick dragged the barrel of his gun over his thigh and fixed his gaze on the man bound to the chair.

“You underestimate me, Paul. See, I’m not the same man I was a year ago. I was chased out of town when a gunman decided to break into my apartment under the pretense of a home robbery, and I’ve been running ever since. Being on the run takes a toll on a man.”

Nick slowly rose from his perch and approached the chair. “Make no mistake, I will do whatever it takes to get answers from you.”

“Bull! You’re a soldier! A man of honor,” Waverly said feebly. “You wouldn’t resort to torture.”

“You sound confident of that.”

“I—I am,” Waverly stammered. His blue eyes darted in Rebecca’s direction. “You won’t torture me with her watching. You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right about that,” Nick agreed. With a pleasant smile, he glanced over at Rebecca. “Darling, would you please give us a moment alone? Go take a walk on the beach or something.”

She looked stricken, but to her credit, she didn’t object or recoil in horror. “I can stay if you want,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Nah, Red, trust me, you don’t want to be around for what happens next.” Nick’s smile turned feral.

When Rebecca took a step away, Waverly made a panicked sound and shouted, “Wait!”

She froze.

Nick hid a grin.

“Tell her to stay,” Waverly pleaded, his desperate eyes focusing on Nick. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just ask Ms. Parker to stay.”

Huh. Although Nick would never admit it to Rebecca, it looked like her presence did bring some advantages to the table. Waverly probably believed he could stay alive in exchange for giving Rebecca an exclusive or something.

“Hear that, Red? The man likes having you around,” Nick told her.

A weak smile lifted her mouth. “I guess so.”

She crossed the room and joined Nick near the couch. He could sense she was ill at ease, but her expression was shuttered, her shoulders set in a rigid line.

They both turned to Waverly, whose face didn’t look quite so ashen anymore. “What do you want to know?” the man asked in a defeated tone.

“I already told you what I want,” Nick replied coldly. “I want a name.”

Indecision flashed in those ice-blue eyes.

“Give me a name, Paul. Tell me who ordered the deaths of my teammates. Tell me who had that virus engineered. Tell me who—”

“Secretary Barrett!” Waverly burst out. “There! Are you happy now? The name you want is Kirk Barrett. The secretary of defense.”

Chapter 11

A
n icy rush of dread skittered up Nick’s spine. He stared into Waverly’s blue eyes, unable to comprehend what the son of a bitch had just told him.

“No,” he finally said, “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth,” Waverly insisted. “Secretary Barrett was behind everything! I swear on my mother’s life!”

He was lying. He had to be.

Nick refused to believe that his father had anything to do with this. Christ. But what if it was true? His palms went damp at the thought, his SIG nearly slipping from his grasp.

“Tell me everything,” he ordered. “From the beginning.”

Waverly visibly swallowed. “Project Aries was set up about two years ago. I was running double duty at the time, acting as the aide for Brent Davidson and Fred McAvoy, the—”

“The deputy secretary,” Rebecca supplied with a frown.

“McAvoy’s involved in this, too?” Nick barked.

“He’s the one who approached me,” Waverly replied. “McAvoy said that he and the sec def were growing concerned with President Howard’s lenient attitude toward terrorism, that Howard wasn’t taking enough precautions to protect our country from another attack. McAvoy confided in me that certain measures were being taken to prevent another terrorist attack on American soil, and that the department was dedicated to ensuring we had all the necessary weapons to fight the war on terrorism.”

“Biological weapons, you mean,” Rebecca said.

Waverly nodded. “He didn’t give me many details about the project, but he put me in charge of communicating with Richard Harrison, the scientist at D&M Initiative. The lab was contracted to experiment with different biological agents and develop a weapon that was fast-acting and easy to release into a general population.”

Nick scowled. “The Meridian virus.”

Another fervent nod. “Harrison worked on it for more than a year, and when it came time to test it, Barrett and McAvoy knew the field testing couldn’t be done on U.S. soil—”

Each time his father’s name left the aide’s lips, Nick flinched like he’d been shot by a rifle. He tried valiantly to hide the reaction, but from the sympathetic look Rebecca gave him, he knew she’d noticed.

“—so they struck a deal with the San Marquez government,” Waverly finished. “Our troops would contain the ULF situation and help the country prosper, and they would sacrifice a few rural villages for the sake of national security. Your unit was sent to that village by accident—Harrison managed to get a call out before the rebels got a hold of him, and there was a communication mix-up in the military channels. You weren’t ever supposed to be there.”

“But we were, and we needed to be shut up, right?” Each word dripped with bitterness.

Waverly let out a weary breath. “The secretary believed it was necessary.”

Bull!
Nick wanted to snap, but he clenched his teeth to control the outburst. His father would never order the murder of his own son, for Chrissake. Kirk Barrett loved his kids. He was fiercely protective of them and always had been. Nick would believe in unicorns and leprechauns before he believed that his father had ordered someone to kill him.

“And when Sebastian was at the Pentagon, you were instructed to give him the tainted water bottle?” he said instead.

“Yes.” Remorse flickered in the man’s eyes. “I didn’t want to. Hell, when they gave me the vial containing the Meridian virus, I agonized over it. I’m not a murderer, you have to believe that, but national security was at stake! They said that Stone and the rest of you were after revenge, that you planned on exposing the DoD’s part in the virus crisis, and we couldn’t let that happen. It would have been a scandal the administration could have never recovered from.”

“God forbid you cause a scandal,” Rebecca said, sarcasm oozing from her voice.

Nick shook his head in disgust. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying that Secretary Barrett personally delivered a sample of the virus into your hands and told you to infect Sergeant Stone.”

Waverly faltered. “Well, no, McAvoy was the one who gave me the vial, but he was acting under Barrett’s orders. He said so himself.”

Suspicion flooded Nick’s gut, kicking his instincts into gear and causing a few puzzle pieces to slide into place.

“So you dealt only with McAvoy these past two years?” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but that’s because Barrett couldn’t officially give the orders. His connection to the project needed to remain a secret. McAvoy ordered me never to speak to the secretary directly.”

How convenient. Some of the load bearing down on Nick’s shoulders eased, making it easier to breathe. This entire situation sounded fishy as hell. The deputy secretary calling the shots, giving Waverly the virus, ordering him not to speak to Nick’s father... Was Fred McAvoy the mastermind behind Project Aries, then?

Nick didn’t know McAvoy too well, but he remembered his father praising the man’s dedication to his country. Just like Nick’s dad, McAvoy also placed great importance on defense, so it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d created a biological weapon as a means to protect their nation.

“So that’s it, the whole story.” Waverly looked exhausted, and his head lolled to the side, as if his neck could no longer support the weight of it.

Nick glanced at Rebecca, who was watching him with wary green eyes. “What now?” she asked him. “What do we do with him?”

He thought it over for a second. “Call the DoD, I guess. Tell them we found their missing aide.”

“No!” Waverly blurted out. “If they know where I am, I’m dead!”

“If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have whisked you out of town,” Nick said coldly.

“Nobody whisked me anywhere, you morons! There was a thug with a gun waiting for me in my apartment after I left the Pentagon that day.” Waverly sounded utterly betrayed. “I was a loose end. Once Barrett told me to take care of Stone, I was no longer the lackey who simply made a few phone calls to Dr. Harrison—I was a murderer, and that bastard couldn’t be connected to me anymore.”

During his Special Forces stint, Nick had interrogated more than a few bad guys, and he’d developed a knack for knowing when he was being lied to. And the bitch of it was, Waverly genuinely believed every word he was saying. In Paul Waverly’s mind, Kirk Barrett
was
behind everything.

But was that because McAvoy had orchestrated it to appear that way?

Or was it because Nick’s father truly was the guilty party?

His heart squeezed painfully. No. There was no way his dad had allowed a virus to be tested on innocent people. No way his dad had tried to have him killed.

Now it was just a matter of proving it.

“Give me a sec,” he told Rebecca before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

He stepped into the hallway and dialed Tate’s number. When the captain picked up, Nick didn’t waste any time in bringing him up to speed.

“I’ve got Waverly tied to a chair in the other room.”

Tate’s gruff laughter filled his ear. “Nice job, Nicky.”

“I finished interrogating him, and now we need to figure out what to do with him. He swears he’s being hunted for his role in the cover-up and he’s terrified of getting offed by these people.” Nick let out a frustrated breath. “Maybe we can try to arrange protective custody for him? I’m sure he’ll cut a deal and testify if asked. This guy will do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

“Did he give up a name?”

“Yes.” Nick hesitated. “Secretary Barrett.”

Tate’s sharp breath echoed over the line. “Doesn’t surprise me. Barrett is borderline obsessive when it comes to defense, and he’s—”

“My father.”

Silence.

“What?” Tate finally spoke, that one syllable laced with both shock and bewilderment.

“Kirk Barrett is my father, Tate.”

There was another pause.

Followed by a muttered curse, a sigh and then, “Start talking, Nicky.”

* * *

Rebecca approached the screen door and gazed out at Nick, who was on the deck brooding by the railing. Same way he’d been brooding for the past three hours. He hadn’t said much since Waverly had dropped the Secretary Barrett bomb, and she knew the notion that his father might be the bad guy was tearing Nick apart.

“What’s up?”

His gruff voice startled her. He was still standing there with his back turned, yet he’d detected her presence before she could even announce herself.

She stepped onto the deck and joined him. “Any word from Davidson?”

“Not since he called with an ETA for those federal agents he’s sending.”

Apprehension rippled through her at the reminder. She and Nick couldn’t leave the beach house until the agents came to collect Waverly, and she continued to feel uneasy about that course of action. Nick had assured her that Brent Davidson, their contact at the DoD, could be trusted, but she didn’t share his conviction. Davidson worked under McAvoy and Nick’s father—how could they be sure he wasn’t up to his elbows in this biological weapons scandal?

“Is our hostage still griping and complaining?” Nick asked her.

“Yep. Now he’s demanding we feed him. I came out here to see what you wanted for lunch.”

“You cook?”

“If making sandwiches counts as cooking, then yes.”

He didn’t even crack a smile, which told her he was even more upset than he was letting on.

Sighing, she placed her hand over his, which he’d rested palm-down on the splintered wooden railing. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep agonizing over this. Reserve judgment until we speak to your dad, okay?” She tilted her head. “That
is
the plan, right? Head to D.C. to talk to him?”

Nick nodded, then spoke in a preoccupied tone. “I haven’t seen my father in more than a year. I don’t even know what he’s been told about me.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, then slammed it shut.

Her sudden about-face did not go unnoticed. “What is it?” Nick demanded. “What do you know?”

She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just...it doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me what you know, Rebecca.” There was steel in his voice.

“Um. Well. Remember how I asked Harry to look into your background? Well, he spoke to one of his military contacts and the guy got a look at your file. It said you were honorably discharged last year.”

A deep line appeared in his forehead. “I see.”

“And another source said you’ve supposedly been sailing around the Caribbean ever since.”

Nick let out a harsh laugh. “So that’s the official story, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“My dad would never believe that.” His breath hitched. “He must know something is wrong, then. He’s probably been trying to track me—”

Rebecca hated to interrupt, but she had no choice. “Your father was the one who told Harry’s source the Caribbean story.”

Nick’s jaw tensed. “What?”

“Harry’s source works at the Pentagon. He asked your father about you, and that was the answer he received.”

As Nick fell silent, Rebecca’s heart ached for him again. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Secretary Barrett was going out of his way to pretend he knew where his son was and that nothing was amiss. Why the lies?

“Maybe he really thinks you’re traveling,” she suggested in a feeble tone. “Maybe that’s what he was told.”

“My father knows I would never stay out of touch for an entire year. He
has
to suspect something is up.” Nick paused. “Maybe he’s playing along with the story they fed him about me, but secretly he
has
been searching for me.”

Rebecca stifled a sigh, but she didn’t contradict him. He needed this. Needed to believe that his father was the good guy, that Barrett was innocent. But Rebecca had been embroiled in politics for long enough to know that nobody in Washington was ever truly innocent.

“I guess we’ll find out when we talk to him,” she said softly. “And speaking of which, how are we going to manage that? People want us dead.”
Possibly your father,
she didn’t add. “We can’t just waltz back to D.C. without anybody knowing we’re there. Did you tell Davidson about our plans?”

“Yes, but Davidson can be trusted. He won’t reveal to anyone that you and I are coming to D.C.”

“Davidson answers to McAvoy and your fa—” she stopped guiltily, making a quick amendment “—he works for the Department of Defense. There’s the risk that he’s in cahoots with Mr. X. And even if he isn’t, how is he going to keep our presence under wraps?”

“Davidson is part of the task force that’s been set up to investigate the Meridian virus. Every government agency and employee is under the microscope right now,” Nick told her. “Finding Mr. X has become a matter of national security, and Davidson is taking his role in the inquiry very seriously. He wants the person responsible caught as much as we do, which means he won’t jeopardize our investigation by announcing to anyone that we’re in town.”

Rebecca remained unconvinced. “I’d still feel better if we continued investigating on our own. I don’t want to rely on your buddy Davidson or these agents who are supposed to show up. I think we should make our way to D.C. without federal assistance.”

He seemed to mull it over.

“Please, Nick. I’d feel a lot better if we did this alone.”

“Me, too. Which is why we’re not catching a ride back with Davidson’s men. Manuel will take us as far as Miami and we’ll make our way to D.C from there.”

She bristled. “You couldn’t have just told me that off the bat? Why did you let me
beg
for it?”

The corners of his mouth lifted in the first smile she’d glimpsed all day. “Sometimes I like hearing you argue. It’s fun.”

She couldn’t help a laugh, but the humor faded when she noticed that the cloud of sorrow had floated back into his honey-brown eyes.

“Nick, we’ll find the truth,” she said gently. “And if your father is involved—”

“He’s not.”

“If he is, then we’ll deal with it.”

She brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. It had been intended as a gesture of comfort, but almost immediately, the crackle of attraction heated the air and a wave of desire swelled in her belly.