Undercover Texas (16 page)

She stilled. Had they heard? She craned her neck. The four figures in the front of the vehicle didn’t turn around, just kept arguing among themselves.

Carefully, she lifted the panel and explored the contents. After running her hand across the spare, she touched the tire iron.
Yes.
Gripping it tightly, she eased it out of the compartment and placed it beside her.

She had to be ready to defend herself and Brandon.

The moment the car stopped, these men would be in for a shock. She would not be passive and meek anymore. She’d make them pay for what they’d done.

To her son, to her and to Hunter.

She swallowed the emotions clogging her throat, and rocked Brandon back and forth. She didn’t even fight the tears flowing silently down her cheeks.

Oh, Hunter. What are we ever going to do without you?

Chapter Eleven

On the way to view the security camera tapes, Trace detoured into the facility’s badge manager’s office. “Do you have the information I called about?” he demanded of the woman behind the desk.

The manager looked up at Trace with concern. “You really want
Leona Yates’s
records included? Do you realize the ramifications of your request when she hears about it?”

“I have my reasons, and I also have the authority to demand any person’s records on this base. Isn’t that correct?”

The woman stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

“Then do your job and get the information for me.
Now.
”

Obviously troubled, she raced out of the office.

Tension clawed at Trace’s neck and back like a beast tearing at flesh. Every move he made now could very well destroy the company...or his own career, if his suspicions were wrong.

He didn’t think they were. He just hoped.

Within a minute, the woman thrust a stack of papers into his hand. “That’s everyone’s movements for the day. I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

Trace didn’t answer. He just walked into the hallway, already searching the data for Leona Yates’s identification and recorded movements. She’d come in, but she’d never left the facility. So where in the hell was she?

He checked her office again. Not there, and she didn’t answer her phone or her page.

As he disconnected, the lab called.

“Padgett here. What did you find?”

“Initial tests show there’s a ninety percent probability the blood from Mahew’s room belongs to Leona Yates. I’ll know more later.”

Damn
.

Trace put the phone in his pocket, his tension ratcheting up higher. The prisoner had been restrained so he couldn’t fight back. Mahew wouldn’t have drawn blood. So who did?

His stomach roiled.

He admired Leona. He had the entire time he’d worked for her. He didn’t want to think she was involved in these events, but he’d discovered too many inconsistencies in her behavior, and the Caribbean bank accounts he’d just discovered had sealed the deal that something wasn’t on the level.

Still, she was a brilliant operative. She wouldn’t voluntarily leave her blood at a crime scene. He needed proof of her guilt—or innocence—fast.

He strode into the internal surveillance room and shut the door to the monitor-lined room. The private manning the booth looked at the closed door warily.

“Pull up the last three hours on camera fifteen,” Trace snapped. “Play them on fast forward until I say stop.”

“Yes, sir.” The kid nearly passed out as he fumbled to follow orders.

Finally, the tech located the right view. The crisp images zipped by on the screen.

“Stop.” Trace reeled at the images. Leona had gone into Terence Matthew’s room, but she wasn’t the creep’s first visitor.

General Miller had entered first.

“Go back ten minutes and play it at normal speed,” Trace croaked, unwilling to accept the truth that was about to play out. Again, Miller entered; then, several minutes later, Leona followed. “Keep the tape rolling in real time.”

A short while later, Miller and Leona walked, huddled together, Miller chatting and laughing as if he were just visiting an old friend. Leona’s smiles were more forced and she seemed a lot stiffer.

“Zoom in,” Trace said. He squinted. He couldn’t prove it, but given Leona’s posture, he could swear that Miller had a gun to her side.

“Get out,” Trace ordered the private. “I’ll take over from here.”

The kid squeaked an acknowledgment then hightailed it through the door. Trace’s fingers flew across the controls, searching other hallways for another view of Miller and Leona. It was as if they’d vanished until...

Bingo.
Miller escorted her into his office.

Ten minutes later, General Miller stalked out in full dress uniform. Without Leona.

What the hell was going on? Trace fast-forwarded through until the present. No one had entered or exited the general’s room. Leona had to still be in there.

He raced to Miller’s office and tried the doorknob. Locked. He keyed in his code and pressed inside, breaking more regulations than he could count. If the general court-martialed Trace, so be it. Once inside, he pulled out his firearm and walked into the room with its walnut desk.

Photos with Miller shaking the hands of the previous five presidents lined the wall.

Feeling as if he were stepping on sacred ground, Trace rounded Miller’s desk and peered down at it. It was clean and pristine with the exception of a photo of his son in uniform that took up one corner.

The general had changed after his son’s death. His work was more driven, the man less forgiving. That made his happy countenance on the video footage even more suspicious.

Trace, his gun at the ready, walked the room, threw open a closet door and scanned the interior. Only the general’s private bathroom remained.

Where was Leona? Trace stared at the tiny bathroom, then stepped outside and looked again, mentally measuring the space. The dimensions were wrong.

Damn it, there was a hidden room. He tapped on the wall, knocking once, then again. “Leona?”

A barely discernible thud sounded from behind the barrier. Then three short taps. Three longer ones, three short again. Morse code for SOS.

Trace put his gun on the sink, ran his hands along the paneling and pressed against the wood. Finally, he felt a small indentation. He curled his fingers into the space and pulled.

A handle popped out, and he opened the door.

Crouched on the floor and covered with blood from a head wound, Leona blinked up at him, her face pale and sweating profusely.

“Trace,” she gasped. “Thank God. We have to stop Miller. He’s lost it. He killed Mahew.”

Trace cupped Leona’s elbow and helped her to her feet. She staggered and sat on the closed toilet lid. She pressed her hands to her head. “Oh, God. Miller tried to kill me, but he used too much drug on Mahew. For a moment, I thought I was dead. He never would have left me alive if he’d known my heart hadn’t stopped.”

“What happened?” Trace fingered her scalp, evaluating her injury.

She shook him off. “Let’s just say he didn’t much care what he tossed me against. Besides, my head doesn’t matter. Miller got a call from the airfield that his plane was ready. We have to find out where he’s going.”

Trace pulled out his phone. “I’ll call security.”

She stopped him. “No. We don’t know who’s loyal to him. He got another call and said something about his men meeting him at the drop-off.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d asked me two days ago, I would have killed for General Miller. No questions asked.”

“Me, too,” Trace said quietly. He helped Leona up. “Where do we start?”

“You search his computer. The monitor will have me seeing double and triple. I’ll go through his private files,” Leona said.

Trace hesitated. “You know we could be accused of treason.”

Leona touched the still-bleeding wound on her forehead. “You’re welcome to leave.”

“Not happening. Whatever Miller’s doing, he’s misusing his office.”

After helping Leona into the main room, Trace paused. “I thought he was a hero.”

“He was,” Leona said quietly. “It remains to be seen what he is now.”

She stiffened her shoulders, walked around the desk and tugged open a drawer. With barely a hesitation, she flipped a switch. The back of the file slid down and another group of documents appeared.

Trace gaped at her.

“You learn a few things when you know a man for a lifetime,” she commented. “Can you drag me over a chair before I fall down?”

Trace settled Leona, then turned his attention to the general’s computer while she searched through the files.

Trace pressed a few keys, but the system was locked.

He glanced at Leona. “Do you have the override code?”

Leona slowly nodded. They both knew that entering that code would set a chain of events into action that couldn’t be stopped.

“Look away. I’ll take the fall on this one.” Concentrating hard on the keyboard, she typed in a long password.

The general’s screen flickered on. Trace searched through a few documents on the desktop, then clicked a video file from the most recent files. It was the last thing viewed on General Miller’s computer.

Grainy images blinked on the screen. The focus tilted, then jumped around a dark, dirty room with a steel bed and a stained mattress in one corner. On the dirt floor lay a young soldier in a torn uniform, bloody and beaten.

Leona stilled and stared at the screen. “Oh, my God. It’s Matt.”

“Matt Miller?” Trace asked. “The general’s son?”

Trace turned up the volume and couldn’t look away.

Curses and blows rained down on the defenseless man. Questions and taunts came from offscreen, but Trace recognized the voice of one man. Akbar Ali. One of the most brutal, sophisticated and dangerous militant leaders to hit the terrorist scene in years.

On the screen, a man backhanded the young soldier, screaming at him to beg for his life for the camera.

Matt Miller didn’t beg. He kicked out his feet and took down two of the terrorists nearest to him.

Ali roared in anger, “Kill him.”

One of the terrorists grabbed Matt’s hair and pulled it back, while another took a sword and cut off the soldier’s head.

Ali laughed in the background. “Be warned, Americans. This is what we do to those who cross us. Don’t expect mercy from me. Expect death.”

The tape ended, but a moment later the grainy images started over.

Trace cursed. “The video is set to continuously loop. No wonder Miller has gone crazy.”

“It’s worse than that.” Leona pulled out a file. “Miller has been in direct contact with Akbar Ali, using an alias as a weapons dealer. Have you heard of the op?”

“Ali is not part of Miller’s current mission plans,” Trace said. “I’ve been in every situational meeting on those operations, and Ali wasn’t even mentioned.”

Leona scanned the document. Her face paled. “Oh, Kent, what have you done?” She lifted a devastated gaze to Trace. “Miller is using Hunter and his family as bait. The general promised Ali that he’d hand over Dr. Jamison and her prototype.”

Trace let out a long, slow breath. “Miller intends to be a hero one last time, and take down the terrorist who killed his son on American soil.”

* * *

A
LOUD
COYOTE
’
S
HOWL
PIERCED
the night. Hunter groaned, his head pounding and his movements sluggish. Dirt and gravel bit into his cheek. Confused and dazed, he pushed to his knees and stared around. Why was he outside? And what the hell was wrong with his brain and body? They weren’t functioning right.

Disjointed images flashed in his mind. Men running. A red dot. The projectile in his leg paralyzing him. Curare, maybe? Ketamine?

He glanced at the open door to the cabin.

Oh, God
. He remembered Erin’s screams. They’d taken her and the baby.

His heart raced. He tried to stand. His limbs were still unresponsive to a degree, but he finally regained his balance and stood, swaying slightly. Through sheer force of will, he made it inside the house.

He grabbed a large flashlight and the keys, then staggered out to the SUV.

Slowly, he followed the tire marks to the paved road.

He’d lost them
.

He grabbed his phone and punched in Blake’s number.

“Redmond.” The sheriff’s voice was groggy with sleep.

“Erin and Brandon were kidnapped. I need whatever help you can give me. Without any public information. They’re in a black SUV. Looks like they headed west on Old Market Road, but that’s all I can tell.”

“Do you have a license plate?”

“No. They hit me with some kind of drug. It incapacitated me. That’s all I remember.” He glanced at his watch. “They left here more than an hour ago.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Blake said. “But Hunter, if they didn’t run a boatload of red lights or speed down the highway, they wouldn’t have drawn attention. Call in whatever resources you’ve got at your end. You need more than a county sheriff’s three-man office to find a missing black SUV in rural Texas.”

Hunter paused. “Blake, these people are dangerous. They’ll kill if they have to. Warn your people.”

“Got it.”

Hunter ended the call, then was struck by the realization that he was actually alive. Those guys hadn’t killed him. So why just drug him? It didn’t make sense.

He dialed Logan.

“Carmichael.”

“It’s Hunter. I need Daniel and Noah now. Brandon and Erin were kidnapped an hour ago, and I have no way to find them. Annie’s got parts of Carder wired and can view them from her mobile unit. I need to know if she can tell me which direction a black SUV headed after leaving here. There were four guys.”

Logan let out a string of curses. “If Erin and Brandon were taken an hour ago, they could be anywhere within five hundred square miles. We need to narrow the search.”

Hunter scraped his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got to call Leona. Maybe she’s seen something on satellite.”

“That might not be such a good idea.”

A cold chill encased Hunter’s soul. “What are you saying?”

“We don’t know where the leak is coming from or how they’re tracking you, but Leona’s one of the few people I know with the skills to set up something like this and get away with it.”

With each word, Hunter’s stomach knotted. More because he’d reluctantly come to the same conclusion. He didn’t like hearing it aloud. He didn’t even like thinking it.

“I’ll get back to you with Annie’s info,” Logan said.

Daniel and Noah called and gave Hunter their updated ETA.

Desperate to uncover any clue to Erin and Brandon’s whereabouts, Hunter searched the cabin once more. The men had taken nothing with them. Except his family.

His phone rang. Logan.

“What have you got?”

“Nothing. The SUV didn’t go through Carder. They could be traveling off-road.”

Hunter pounded his fist into the side of the cabin. “What the hell do I do now, Logan? How do I find them?”