Exchange of Fire (26 page)

Grady carelessly tossed his dirty jeans onto the washing machine as he strode past from changing in the garage, though the denim was probably beyond saving. Sandra perched on the only other untouched stool, eyeing him. Her bottom lip curled in, and she chewed as if contemplating something. Sorrow filled her hazel eyes as she raked him from head to toe. If he wanted to be a complete sap, he’d swear he spied the love Talon had snarled about reflected in her eyes.

A pang gripped his heart. What had she said in his office?
Fate. That’s the only explanation I have. I was meant to read your article and run here. To you.
He so desperately wanted to believe that at the same time he mourned the thought. Despite his dawning understanding of the reasons why she faked her death and hid here—especially after this latest attempt—the danger surrounding her put his livelihood and customers at risk.

Like a lovesick fool, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her ponytail drooped to the side and wisps stood out all over her head, as if she had rubbed her hair with a towel. She obviously hadn’t changed yet since mud still stained her shorts and T-shirt and lined her face. Trickles of blood seeped from cuts on her legs, and she winced every time she moved. In a word, gorgeous.

Or maybe
warrior
would be more apt. Not once inside his house did she hesitate. The Sandra he knew from the center had morphed into the Wraith he’d been hearing so much about—a badass with the actions and mentality he’d expect a highly trained operative to have. His little Rambette. Pride and a little awe colored his grieving.

The nerdy guy named Ted hunched by the empty fireplace studying Grady like he was the next science project. Who was this guy and how did he fit into this goatfuck?

An opened amber bottle dangled in front of Grady, and he grabbed the beer. Cappy stepped back and pointed to the stool. “Plant it. It’s going to take a while to get all that out, and I’d rather us do it than the emergency room. They ask too many questions and will probably call the police.”

Grady grimaced. The last thing he needed was Brett showing up and launching a self-righteous investigation to help ease his bruised ego since the “FBI” took over the car chase case.

The stool Cappy had indicated had been moved from the other side of the counter into the kitchen and positioned next to Sandra. Her back was to him and she leaned forward, resting her forearms against the granite’s edge. She had taken off her comms like he had, but Magician and Cappy still had theirs on. He dropped onto the padded seat.

“Ted.”

The nerdy guy jolted at Cappy’s curt tone.

“Start talking. I’ve got my mic on so Talon and Romeo will hear what you say.”

Ted shifted his feet. “I don’t do well around blood. I can wait until you’ve patched . . . Grady, is it?”

Sandra lifted her head and Grady noted her mouth had drawn tight and her skin pale.
Christ. I’m such an ass for not asking if she’s okay
.

“Ted, meet Casper Grady,” Sandra said, her voice reedy. “Grady, meet Ted Byrnes.”

One of the French doors swung open and Talon, followed by Romeo, swooped in. Water drained off them, splashing onto the floor.

“No need for the mic,” Romeo said, swiping his hands through his hair and shaking the moisture out. “We’re back.”

“That was quick,” Cappy replied, pulling the medium-size box forward, taking first aid supplies out and putting them on the counter.

Talon dropped a backpack by the corner as well as a few other items they must have gotten from the assassin. “Car’s already in a prime spot to be picked up by the police.” He took his wet hat off and tossed it by the backpack. “We stripped it and wiped it down. Disposed of the trash in the woods too.”

“Dry clothes are still in the truck,” Magician said, thumbing toward the garage.

Grady swallowed the last of his beer and held it up. “Talon, make yourself useful and grab another one for me since you’re headed that way.”

“I look like a barmaid to you?”

Grady smirked. “You look like a lot of things to me, but, hey, if you want to call yourself a woman and chase after men, who am I to judge?” He plunked the bottle down and smiled at Talon’s clenched fists. “Fugly or not, I’m sure you can find a guy—”

Talon leapt but got jammed back by Romeo.

Cappy gripped Grady’s shoulder, and he sucked in a breath at the pain. Glass buried in farther. “Knock it off, both of you,” Cappy ordered, his tone drill-sergeant sharp.

Grady continued to hold Talon’s stare, refusing to be the first to back down.

The prick narrowed his eyes and opened his stance as if to invite Grady to launch himself this time.

“I said knock it off,” Cappy barked. “That’s an order.”

The bastard lifted his chin and mouthed,
Later.
Grady nodded and the prick looked away.

“Ted, we don’t have the luxury of time,” Cappy barked, cracking open a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He poured it over Grady’s neck, working his way from shoulder to shoulder, soaking both his chest and back. White, fizzing bubbles exploded over his wounds as sharp pains lanced through the areas. “I don’t know what Victor’s planning next.”

Talon stormed past with Romeo on his heels. The garage door opened, then shut. Two minutes later they both returned wearing the dry clothes Magician mentioned, but were smart enough to put their wet boots back on due to the debris littering his floors.

“Romeo, hand me a pair of scissors,” Magician instructed, holding the bottom of Sandra’s shirt.

To take his mind off the stinging, Grady watched Magician cut up the back and peel the fabric away.

“I’m told you called Victor and threatened to expose him.” Ted’s voice was thready, his pallor turning green as his eyes followed Magician’s hands, now cutting through each sleeve.

Shit. Where’s all that blood coming from?

“By now, my uncle’s discovered I’m missing,” Ted continued, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Betrayal of an employee is one thing; disloyalty from a family member? He’s going to go nuts.”

Cappy went to the sink and drenched a pair of tweezers in rubbing alcohol.

Magician stepped away with the shirt balled in her fist, and Sandra laid her forehead against her stacked hands.

“Son of a bitch,” Grady exhaled. A black sports bra kept her decent but didn’t hide the red angry gash about three inches long oozing from the top of her left shoulder and down into the blade. Glass and wood shards also dotted her arms and back.

“You’re not much better,” Cappy mumbled, digging the tweezers into the base of his neck and plucking out a large piece of glass.
Suck a duck.

Talon rounded the counter and stopped dead, his eyes flashing and jaw hardening. A pair of icy emeralds met Grady’s and promised an infinite amount of pain.

Bring it, asshole,
he silently replied.

Ted wobbled and clutched at the stone mantel, his eyes riveted on Sandra as Romeo and Magician positioned themselves on each side of her. “Is that from a bullet?”

“Grazed me, Ted,” Sandra answered softly, turning her head in Grady’s direction. “Don’t worry about it.”

His little Rambette indeed. That had to seriously hurt. “You got that pushing me to the fireplace, didn’t you?”

Sandra shrugged, then winced as a set of tears crowded the corners of her eyes. “Probably.”

Every curse word and phrase he could think of flashed through his mind.

“Need stitches?” Talon asked, clearing out of the space when Cappy pointed him toward the dining room.

“A few,” Romeo answered, rooting through the box and pulling out a syringe, a bottle of Betadine, and some thread. “Luckily, we restocked this kit before our last mission.”

Cappy fished another piece of glass out of Grady’s neck. “Talon, keep Ted from keeling over while we finish this. Ted, tell us what you’ve got.”

Romeo took a washcloth and dipped it into a plastic bowl of water. He wrung it out and handed it to Magician. “You want to do it or me?”

“I will.” Magician wiped all around the bullet wound. “My stitches are smaller. Less scarring.” She then administered the local anesthetic and covered the area in Betadine before completely blocking Grady’s view. He didn’t need to see in order to know she was sewing the gash shut.

Ted plopped onto the stone hearth and took a carry-on bag from Talon’s hands. He pulled a computer tablet out and asked, “Is Casper Grady cleared to hear this?”

Not this again.
He opened his mouth to let the newcomer have it, but Cappy pinched his leg.

The CO replied in a low voice, “He shot Mars in the head to save my life tonight. He’s cleared.” He moved his muscular frame to work on Grady’s back. “I’m not going to ask again.”

An impressive collection of salvaged debris filled a bowl resting in front of him, but it didn’t compare to the minor surgery going on beside him.
Christ.
She hadn’t uttered a word since it started. He longed to hold her hand, but knew that would send a mixed message. The same mixed signal warring inside him.

Ted cleared his throat. “Okay. Fine. Let me start by saying SweetBriar Group really did think Wraith was dead. They had stamped her pictures with the red KIA seal and filed her under deceased.”

SweetBriar Group?
“Wait.” Grady held up a hand. “Did he just say SweetBriar Group?”

Ted gulped and his green pallor turned white.

Grady cranked his head and winced at the way his skin pulled against the crap still lodged in it. “As in the big environmental company that takes a tough stance on saving the planet, advocating alternative energy sources, and saving ducks or some such animal?”

“Yes,” Cappy answered, “but that’s not SBG’s main purpose.”

“What are you talking about? They’ve been in the news all week with a court case against that factory for pollution.”

“That’s true,” Cappy replied, fishing a splinter out of Grady’s spine. “Not disputing it, but I’m telling you what you think you know about SweetBriar Group isn’t even in the ballpark. It’s actually a front for one of the biggest nongovernment mercenary-style agencies.”

Grady eyed every person in the room. Not a single one twitched or fidgeted or gave some indication Cappy hadn’t told the truth. So not a private military company
or
government agency. Meaning, no oversight and no one to answer to. How in the hell did anyone allow that to happen?

“To condense the history lesson,” Romeo said, working on Sandra’s arm while Magician stepped back; a large, white bandage now covered the wound, “the government was under pressure to find alternative avenues to keep their darker activities a secret when the public found out about the existence of black ops groups.”

Sandra’s skin was clammy and pale, and her fingers were tightly intertwined. Cappy inserted a pair of tweezers into Grady’s side and plucked out a large sliver of wood.
Fuck.
He inhaled.

Romeo continued, “An industrious former CIA spook by the name of Sam Clover came up with the brilliant idea of hiding in plain sight. He teamed with leading environmental activist Thane Milton, and together they formed SweetBriar Group. With Sam’s connections, it didn’t take long for the government to become SBG’s biggest client.”

Cappy dug deeper near his ribs, causing him to suck in a breath. Tinkling rang after the man dropped a larger piece of glass into the bowl.

“Thane died five years ago though, right?” Grady asked, recalling the furor in the news about the environmental guru. Head of a clandestine company?
Wild.
In a twisted way it made sense as the perfect cover.

Romeo snorted. “Yeah, he died of a ‘heart attack.’” His fingers formed air quotes. “Shortly after Sam died in the field.”

“The Board then approved Victor Dalmingo as Thane and Sam’s successor,” Cappy uttered while burrowing for gold again.
Christ.
Grady grabbed onto the cool granite and tried not to shout like a wuss.

“Thus beginning the company’s urban legend we told you about.” Romeo smirked.

“And my smoking gun,” Ted replied, his white face appearing queasy.

“Wait a minute.” Cappy paused, peering at Ted. “You have something that ties Victor to Sam’s and Thane’s deaths?”

The IT genius nodded. “Yes.”

“Hold that thought,” Cappy said, placing a bowl full of splinters and glass near the stove. “We need to disinfect these two with alcohol.”

Grady’s stomach tightened.
Shit.
This was going to hurt like a bitch. He took the towel Magician handed him and tucked one edge into his sweats and smoothed the rest out while Romeo helped Sandra do the same.

Talon leaned across the other side of the counter and grasped Sandra’s woven hands. “Squeeze as hard as you need,” he whispered.

It took everything Grady had not to jump the granite and yank the asshole away.

“On the count of three,” Cappy said, holding an open bottle above Grady’s shoulder while Romeo held his over Sandra’s non-stitched side. “Three.”

Scorching fire seared his skin and Sandra cried out. He clamped his jaw tight to keep from yelling as waves of blazing liquid flowed over his wounds, the pain so intense, he blinked spots. Cappy doused his back, chest, arms, and torso, causing his skin to flare red and angry.

After several days, hours—no way it could’ve only been minutes—the torment receded to a throbbing ache.

“Think Victor knows about Grady?” Romeo asked, binding a larger wound on Sandra’s arm with gauze.

Cappy wasn’t the gentlest, mashing tape against his raw ribs. “Just because Mars was in my woods tonight doesn’t mean he knows about me. He could’ve been following Sandra.”

“Grady,” Sandra said hoarsely, her breathing sawing in and out, “he was already in position when I got here.”

Cappy slapped an overlarge white, square bandage on Grady’s right bicep and taped it into place.

“Not necessarily,” Grady argued, because he had to. The alternative sucked too much to just accept. “I was in the garage and laundry room for a few minutes, then you rang my doorbell. He could’ve fired at me when I traveled through the house to open the front door, but he didn’t. He waited on
you
.”