Unstoppable (12 page)

Her heart skipped. “I thought he was with you?”

“He peeled off to install a surveillance cam for us at some manhole he knows about on the U.S. side.”

“And where are you?”

“On the Mexico side, checking things out. I just watched a convoy go in—three white delivery trucks—and I think one of them is our bomb.”

“But why—”

“Call it a hunch. Our bomb squad should be there any minute, but this convoy could be gone by then.”

“Can’t your team just block them off at the exit?”

“Yeah, and if all they’re smuggling is dope or people, we spook our terrorists and miss the chance to intercept the explosive. Listen, Brewer’s not answering his radio, which means he’s probably underground, but I need him to set up a diversion somehow so we can get a tracking device on these trucks. If you hear from him, tell him to get in touch ASAP.”

“I’ll tell him,” Kelsey said, although she knew Gage wouldn’t call. But it didn’t matter, because she also knew exactly where to find him.

Gage watched from the shadows as the men positioned the magnetic sign on the side of the truck:
U.S. MAIL,
complete with the official-looking eagle logo. As far as maintaining a low profile on American highways and maybe even pulling up to a government building, it was damn good cover.

Gage made himself invisible as he eased along the wall and positioned himself near the back of those trucks. Two of the three were locked with a padlock. The middle one had had its cargo door open ever since the drivers had stopped to retrieve the signs and disguise the vehicles.

Gage crept around back and peered inside. It was too dark to see, but his nose was giving him plenty of other information. He took out his penlight and shined it in the cargo space.

Holy, holy shit. Whoever bankrolled this op wasn’t fooling around.

Adrenaline hummed through Gage’s veins as he made his way back to one of the manholes he’d discovered today. He climbed the ladder and the instant he was aboveground he was on the radio with the leader of the FBI’s bomb squad. The guy was a former SEAL, which just proved Gage’s theory that every frogman was really just a highly trained kid who liked to blow shit up.

“I got a visual ID on the cargo in one of those trucks,” Gage told the man now. “Twelve metal drums. And based on the smell, I’m betting they’re loaded with enough ammonium nitrate to wipe out a football stadium, over.”

The team leader on the other end cursed.

“They’re being disguised as mail trucks,” Gage added. “We clear to proceed with the plan?”

“Affirmative. You got what you need?”

“Affirmative.”

“Be careful.”

Careful?
This guy had been out of the teams too long.

Gage dropped back down the rabbit hole and crept deeper into the tunnel, moving purely by feel. The wall curved as he retraced the same route he and Kelsey had taken last night.

God, had it really been just a few hours since he’d flattened himself against her in a desperate attempt to hide her from that truck?

Gage shook off the memory. He couldn’t think about Kelsey now. He couldn’t think about her arms around him or her soft skin or the fact that he was leaving soon, and that he might never get another chance to touch her. None of that mattered right now. Because Gage wouldn’t even be able to
look
at her, much less touch her, if he allowed some fucking al-Qaeda sleeper cell to slip through his grasp and kill a bunch of innocent people.

Gage reached the designated setup point, unloaded his supplies, and quickly got to work molding C-4 and attaching fuses, doing everything by touch alone because he couldn’t risk a light. But he’d practiced this a zillion times. And less than a mile away, near the entrance to the tunnel, another guy who’d once worn the SEAL pin was busy doing the exact same thing. When Gage was satisfied he had enough explosive in place to completely seal off this tunnel and trap the trucks inside, he prepared to extract.

A commotion behind him made him go still. Two men yelling, followed by silence. He crept closer to the sound and saw a man standing at the front of the convoy, an AK-47 raised and pointed at something.

And then Gage heard a familiar voice that chilled him to the bone.

Kelsey stared at the machine gun, willing her feet to move. She was pretty sure that’s what they’d said to her.
Move, bitch!
Or something equivalent in a language she didn’t understand.

But their body language was loud and clear. And three nasty-looking guns underscored their point:
Move your ass or you’re dead right here.

Kelsey’s heart galloped as she turned and walked toward the blinding lights. When they’d blinked on suddenly, she’d been paralyzed, like an animal in the headlights. Yet an animal would have had a much better chance of sprinting to safety. Where had they come from? Kelsey hadn’t heard a motor, so they must have been parked there in the dark, not ten feet away from the ladder she’d climbed down looking for Gage.

The man behind her prodded her with his machine gun and she quickened her pace. Would they take her with them or would they execute her right here in this tunnel? She focused on her Ruger, now tucked into the tallest one’s waistband. He seemed like the leader and she wondered how quick his reflexes were. Kelsey’s fingers itched. If she snatched the gun back, what was the likelihood of getting three shots off before one of them managed to shoot her? About a hundred to one, she figured.

They passed the first truck. Kelsey glanced around for any sign of Gage or Blake or any of his agents. Were they down here or were they skulking around in Mexico?

They reached the back of the second truck and Kelsey saw that the cargo door was up. The leader let his machine gun dangle at his side as he grabbed Kelsey’s arm and shoved her roughly toward the opening.

“You! Go!”

She glanced at the metal drums, lined up like soldiers. Her throat went dry. “You . . . want me to climb in there?” she croaked.

She got her answer as three machine guns lifted and pointed at her face. She hefted herself up on the bumper and crawled into the truck. Three pairs of deadly cold eyes watched as she scrambled to her feet.

The leader reached up.

“Please. Let me just—”

A rusty squeak, then the metal door crashed down.

The first boom knocked Gage off his feet. He jumped up and made a lunge for the truck where they’d stashed Kelsey. Concrete rained down around him. Men shouted. Doors slammed shut and someone fired up an engine.

Gage reached the second truck as it roared to life. He grabbed the bumper and hauled himself up. Clinging to the side of the truck, he pulled out his SIG and fired two shots at the crappy padlock, then jerked loose the remaining scrap of metal. He hefted the door just as the truck sped forward. Kelsey careened into him and he caught her around the waist an instant before she tumbled off the back. She was lit up by the headlights of the truck behind him, and Gage knew they made a perfect target. Would the driver dare shoot into a van full of explosives?

A bullet pinged off the metal wall beside him. He grabbed Kelsey’s arm.

“Jump!”

He leaped from the truck, dragging her with him, then he hauled her out of the way and up against the tunnel wall. Dust and debris and truck exhaust swirled around them as he groped for the ladder they’d used last night. He spotted the telltale shaft of light coming down from the ceiling.

“Here!” she yelled, running for it.

“Go up!” Christ, he had to get her out of here. He boosted her up the ladder.

“But what about you?”

“Go!”
He gave her one last shove, then dropped to the ground and fumbled with his pack. Thank God he hadn’t lost the detonator. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Kelsey popped up like a groundhog and squinted at the blinding sunlight. She glanced back down the ladder. Where was Gage? She stumbled to her feet as a muffled
boom
rocked the earth beneath her. She landed on her hands and knees in the dirt, coughing and sputtering as a plume of dust billowed out from the hole.

“Gage!”

She reached for the hole. A tremendous weight landed on her back. Something cool and metal pressed into her neck.

“FBI! You’re under arrest!”

Dust filled Gage’s lungs, his eyes. Wheezing and coughing, he yanked out a pair of zip-cuffs and wrenched back the arms of the man he’d just tackled to the ground.

“Truck one, driver down! Brewer, where are you?”

Gage recognized the voice of the bomb squad leader who had been on the radio with him just minutes ago. He must have come down the manhole.

“Driver two, cuffed and disarmed!” Gage shouted. “Where’s driver three?”

Pain ricocheted up his leg as his captive landed a kick. Gage jabbed him in the kidney, then secured his ankles and rolled him against the wall. Then he ran to help the bomb tech grab the third terrorist.

“He’s gone!” The bomb tech’s flashlight beam swept over the truck half-buried in rubble.

Gage checked the cab. Even through the still-swirling cloud of dust and smoke, he could see it was empty. One by one, they scoured each truck from top to bottom. Shit, where would he go? Both ends of the tunnel had been sealed off by bomb blasts.

“The ladder!” Gage jerked his SIG from its holster and dashed back toward the exit where he’d taken Kelsey. God,
please don’t let this turn into a hostage crisis
. He raced toward the faint band of light that shone down from the manhole, then took the rungs three at a time and erupted into the sunlight.

It was mayhem.

Every emergency vehicle in west Texas seemed to have converged on the scene. Gage spotted the missing tango facedown in the dirt, where a team of FBI agents had him pinned to the ground as they shouted commands.

“Brewer!”

He spun around to see Reid jogging toward him. Gage jumped to his feet and wiped the dust from his brow with the back of his arm. “Two tangos in the tunnel,” he told the fed. “One cuffed, one dead. Your bomb tech’s down there, too.”

Several agents in SWAT gear pushed Gage aside and dropped down through the hole. Gage turned back to Reid. “Where’s Kelsey?” he demanded.

At his blank look, Gage shoved past him and plowed through the sea of people. He saw firemen, federal agents, hazmat workers, but no baseball cap with an auburn ponytail sticking out the back. Cursing, he scanned the scene again.

And then he saw her. She was yelling at some guy in an FBI windbreaker as another one tried to restrain her. Gage moved toward her, and her gaze landed on him just as she looked like she was about to deck the guy.

“Gage!” She shook off the agent and charged toward him. “Oh my God! Are you okay? I thought you were
dead
!”

“God
damn
you, Kelsey!” Gage caught her by the shoulders and shook her. “What the hell were you thinking jumping into an op like that?”

Kelsey’s hands were
still trembling as she scooped her last bit of clothing off the floor of the motel room and zipped it into her bag. That was it. She had everything. She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out the note she’d written before her shower. She’d leave it on the pillow, where Gage would be sure to see it when he returned from the debriefing.

But one look at the bed they’d shared last night had her pulse racing—not from fear but something else. On second thought, she’d leave the note on the dresser. As she put it there, the door opened, and Gage stepped into the room.

She took in everything at once—the grimy clothes, the muddy boots, the line of dried blood down the side of his face. It trailed down from a nasty-looking knot on his head, a knot she was fairly sure he’d sustained when the force of his own bomb blast had thrown him to the floor of that tunnel.

The same bomb blast that had caused Kelsey’s heart to stop. And even after the dust had settled, and he’d come up from that hole and let loose a flood of curses, it still hadn’t started beating again. It wasn’t until hours later that her pulse finally returned to normal because she knew he was okay. Angry as hell, sure, but not dead.

Glaring at her now, he crossed the dumpy motel room and began stripping off his clothes.

“Going someplace?” He flung his T-shirt on the bed and glanced at the duffel slung over her shoulder.

“Thought I’d go back to the dig site, see if Mia needs a hand with anything.”

His expression hardened as he leaned over to unlace his boot. He threw it into the corner of the room with a
thomp
that made Kelsey jump a little. The other boot followed. And an instant later she had a giant, sweaty SEAL glowering down at her.

“Why are you shaking?” he demanded.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s been an emotional day. And night,” she added, glancing at the window where the neon glow of the
VACANCY
sign now seeped through the flimsy blinds. The ordeal at the tunnel and the ensuing chaos and questions and formal debriefings had dragged on for hours. And still she hadn’t managed to regain her equilibrium. Every time she looked at Gage she got the shakes all over again.

He could have died in that tunnel. He could have died because of her. And even without her, he could
still
die, on any day, for a thousand different reasons, and each one of them had to do with the fact that he was a soldier.

“You were going to take off, weren’t you?” His voice was low and dangerous, and Kelsey stepped back.

He took her elbow and jerked her to him. “Weren’t you?”

“I wrote you a note.”

Anger and something else—hurt? disappointment?—flashed in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me today?” His grip tightened. “Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”

She gazed up at him, wide-eyed, and gave a tiny shake of her head.

He pulled her up to him and crushed his mouth down on hers. She opened hers up to him and finally,
finally
found a way to tell him everything she hadn’t been able to say in the note. She told him with her tongue, her teeth, her arms coiled around his neck as she clung to him. And he understood all of it, she knew, because he lifted her right off her feet and deposited her on the dresser, right on top of the note he didn’t want to read, all the while jerking her shirt up and over her head and pulling her bra off and attaching that hot, angry mouth of his to her breast.