Edge of Danger Read online

  Redacted: text that has been removed or obscured from a file before public viewing. Often seen in classified texts.

  “Here,” Tucker said, handing Karen the switchblade he’d taken from her that morning. Surprised, she took it and slid it into her jacket pocket. They were in yet another vehicle, this time a ten-year-old truck with tinted windows. There had been multiple hidden vehicles at that property. “You trust me not to stab you?”

  He snorted and shot her a sideways glance. “You could try.” It wasn’t exactly arrogance in his tone, but a certainty of his abilities.

  A part of her she didn’t want to acknowledge thought that certainty was sexy. But being aware of Tucker like that seemed insane, even if she knew it was just biological. Still, it was hard to deny he was a very compelling man. “If I hadn’t seen you in action, I might think you were crazy to give me this.”

  He was silent a moment, glancing in the rearview mirror as they neared an exit. They’d been driving mostly in silence for the last hour and she could sense the tension rolling off him. “Who’s Clint?” he asked, surprising her.

  At the mention of her brother’s name, she stiffened. “How do you know that name?”

  “It’s on the blade.”

  Of course he would have noticed; she wasn’t thinking. She immediately settled back against the seat. Her brother had had the handle engraved. “Right. Ah, my brother. He died in Afghanistan.”

  At that, Tucker looked at her again, this time with compassion in those blue eyes. She was starting to be able to read his expressions, however subtle. While he’d first scared the hell out of her, now that she knew who he really was, it was easier to relax around him.

  He was still intense and his big size was a little intimidating, but she wasn’t scared of him anymore. Maybe that made her naive, but he’d gone out of his way to make her feel at ease. And there was that part of her she was trying so hard not to be aware of that was . . . very curious about Tucker in a purely feminine sense.

  “I lost a lot of friends over there. I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  She nodded, not sure what else to say. Clint had been the only family she had—the only family that mattered anyway—so when she talked about him it tugged open old wounds. Right now she was grateful she had “family” looking for her even if Tucker would be letting her go. With her degree she could have taken any number of jobs, but she’d chosen to work for Wesley because, like her brother, she believed in protecting her country. Today she knew without a doubt that she’d made the best decision because Wesley and her friends were truly more than just coworkers.

  “What branch were you in?” It hadn’t been in the file he’d given her. Or maybe it had, but some information had been redacted.

  He shot her another one of those sideways glances that told her the answer without him saying a word.

  “Marines?”

  He was half grinning, the action completely softening his face in a way she hadn’t expected. “You know it.”

  “Freaking Marines,” she murmured. She worked with a lot of former military types and she could usually tell which branch they’d been. “Cole was too?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We were in boot camp together.”

  “You guys seem close.” She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was information gathering. After this mess she’d be going through multiple debriefings, so learning as much as she could about these men would be important. But even as she had the thought, she knew she wasn’t just fishing for information. She wanted to know more about Tucker—and she refused to dig deeper on the why.

  “He’s like a brother to me.”

  “A little like a younger brother, I imagine,” she said.

  Tucker steered toward the next exit. She tried not to watch how the muscles in his forearms flexed, but he’d shoved his sleeves up and it was difficult not to notice how very male he was. “Why do you say that?”

  “The way they all listened to you.” The other three men in that cabin were clearly just as trained and intimidating, but when Tucker had given an order, they did what he said.

  “You shouldn’t jog by yourself so early in the morning,” he said suddenly, clearly deciding to ignore her last statement.

  The abrupt change in topic jolted her. “So says my kidnapper.”

  “Exactly. The bear spray and knife are good, but it was too damn early for you to be out by yourself.” His frown deepened and he sounded almost protective. “Maybe you should use the gym in your condo instead.”

  The protective tone made something feminine in her flare to life, but it also annoyed her. “I live in a safe neighborhood and I’ve never had a problem before. And if it hadn’t been a team of trained professionals, I wouldn’t have been taken. I could have taken on just you with the bear spray.” She didn’t need or want advice from anyone. Not when she’d been taking care of herself for a long damn time. No one without training could have gotten away from him and his team this morning.

  He made a derisive sound, as if annoyed with her. As if he had a right to be. “We need gas and after this I’m dropping you somewhere very public.”

  “What?” She knew what he’d told her, but it just seemed so soon. She turned in her seat as he pulled into a nearly deserted gas station. She noticed he’d picked one right before they got into the actual downtown area. Less crowded.

  Avoiding her gaze, he nodded. “After I drop you off I assume you’ll call Burkhart. I’m going to do the same and just let him pick me up instead of going through a whole clandestine meet at a warehouse.”

  She bit her bottom lip, feeling irrationally worried about the man who’d kidnapped her that morning. “You shouldn’t wait somewhere public, not with the recent broadcast.” As she said that, she looked around the gas station, suddenly worried about him being spotted. People were usually so involved in their own lives that they didn’t notice others, but Tucker had a distinguished face. Everything about him was hard and intense. The kind of man you wouldn’t want to go up against in a fight. The kind of man who was hard to ignore.

  “Now I feel even shittier for taking you,” he muttered.

  She turned back to look at him as he stopped in front of a pump and turned off the engine. “Why? I mean, yeah, you should feel bad for kidnapping me, but why do you feel worse?”

  Instead of answering, he just gave her a long, hard look that might have had a hint of desire in it before he grabbed a ball cap and got out of the truck. She wasn’t exactly sure what was behind that look, but it warmed her from the inside out. Frowning, she sat back against the seat and did what she always did: she started analyzing her strange reaction. She couldn’t be affected by her kidnapper . . . could she?

  Almost against her will, she watched him head inside the store. Probably to pay in cash. With a ball cap, sunglasses, and the thick scarf around his neck, he was hiding most of his face. He certainly was trusting her not to run off. If she was going to flee, now was the time. She was starting to trust him and that made her feel she was being incredibly stupid. The same kind of stupid woman her mother had been. So what if he’d been in the Marines like her brother? And so what if he’d been a nice kidnapper? He was still her freaking kidnapper.

  God, it was as if she already had Stockholm syndrome. She didn’t actually believe he’d kill her instead of dropping her somewhere, but she couldn’t risk staying. With shaking hands, she unstrapped her seat belt and slid across to the driver’s side. Her side faced the big window front of the store and she wanted all the cover she could get. He’d taken the keys, of course, and since she had no idea how to hot-wire a vehicle, she kept moving, just barely opening the door and easing out. She wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood, but it couldn’t be that hard to find a pay phone or borrow someone’s cell phone.

  With her heart racing, she watched Tucker inside the store. He wasn’t even looking outside. Which seemed weird. It was as if he was intentionally turning his back to her. That couldn’t be right, though, unless he wanted her
to run.

  Taking a deep breath, she popped up from her position hiding behind the truck and moved quickly to the side of the store. From there, she could see the rest of the street. A strip of stores lined either side of the street. There was even a Starbucks.

  Without looking back she started running. Her legs strained, her breath sawing in and out as she pushed forward full speed. Her ankle twinged each time her foot hit the pavement, but she ignored the pain. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that no one was following her. Still, she didn’t allow a fraction of relief to slide through her. Not yet. Not until she was completely free.

  The cold air burned her lungs, icy and cutting. As she neared the Starbucks and saw multiple people inside, some on their laptops, others on their tablets, and even some just drinking coffee and chatting with friends, her surroundings felt almost surreal. She slowed her pace so she didn’t look quite as manic.

  She’d been kidnapped this morning, yet here she was, running up to a coffee shop as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Shoving her trembling hands into her pockets, she crossed the parking lot. As she reached the entrance, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name.

  “Karen?” a man called out.

  Fearing that it was Tucker, she turned to find a policeman getting out of an unmarked Explorer. He was in full uniform, though, clearly a patrolman. How did this guy know her name? Before the thought had formed, she realized Wesley must have filed a missing person report. It would certainly make sense.

  He had a cell phone in his hand and looked at the screen, then her. Yep, he was looking at her picture. “Karen Stafford?”

  Throat tight, she nodded and stepped back from the glass door. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “I’m Karen.”

  “Have you been injured?”

  “I’m okay.” Nervously she glanced around, expecting Tucker to jump out of nowhere. But deep down she figured he’d let her go. There was no way he’d have just let her escape like that. He was too trained and too smart. And he’d let her have her knife back. It had almost felt like a peace offering. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

  Watching her carefully, the man nodded. “Do you know who Selene Marks is?”

  Marks was one of Selene’s aliases, so Karen nodded. “Yes, we work together.”

  “Good. Can you please come stand by my car? I have instructions to call her.” His tone was kind, but he wasn’t asking, he was definitely ordering.

  Nodding, Karen did as he said. He pulled out his radio and made a call to his station, calling for backup.

  She listened as he finished the call and quickly made another one. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the side of the Explorer and massaged her temple. Too many conflicting emotions hummed through her.

  Her eyes snapped open at a very familiar voice. “Drop the phone or I put a bullet in you.”

  She pushed up from the vehicle.

  Tucker stood behind the cop, a gun trained on the back of the man’s head. The cop’s jaw was clenched tight, but he let the phone fall from his fingers. It clattered against the sidewalk. Moving with a lethal efficiency, Tucker removed the guy’s radio, gun, pepper spray, and even his backup weapon in a matter of seconds.

  She barely had time to think, he moved so fast.

  “Karen, open the driver’s door,” he ordered without looking at her.

  His face was a mask of hard, intimidating lines. “Don’t hurt him,” she rasped out.

  “I’m not going to. Open the damn door.”

  With shaking hands, she did.

  “Get in,” he said softly to the patrolman.

  It was clear the other man had to fight his instincts. “Don’t be stupid. No one’s been hurt. Just let the woman go.”

  Tucker ignored him and gave the guy his own cuffs. “Secure yourself to the steering wheel. Now,” he ordered when the guy paused a fraction too long.

  As soon as he did it, Tucker slammed the door shut and reached for her. She flinched away from him, not wanting his hands on her. She was so stupid for thinking he’d let her go, that he’d just let her run away. No, he’d been planning to kill her or worse all along.

  Iciness slid down her spine, making it difficult to breathe, to think.

  “Damn it, Karen, the gun’s not fucking loaded,” he snapped, frustration more than anything in his voice as he holstered his weapon out of sight.

  His words shook her out of her near panic. “What?”

  He grabbed her arm and shot a look over at the Starbucks. “We need to get the hell out of here. We’re going to have more company than just cops soon. Shit,” he muttered, practically dragging her with him until they reached the truck on the opposite side of the parking lot. He opened the passenger door and, not waiting to see if she got in, raced around to the other side.

  She contemplated running again, but a glance over her shoulder showed a Starbucks full of people staring out the window at them in horror. Most of them were on their phones, probably calling the police. What if she ran and they got caught in the cross fire? Tucker might have said the gun wasn’t loaded, but he was a kidnapper. He could easily be lying.

  She jumped in as he started the engine.

  “I’m sorry, Karen. I was letting you go but saw that fucking cop. I doubt he’s dirty, but if someone with the DEA is monitoring their transmissions, they might overhear I took you.” He made another snarl of frustration as he peeled out of the parking lot. “You can’t trust anyone but your own people at this point, not even the local PD. If someone other than the NSA gets wind that I took you, you could be a target. That’s why I wanted to drop you off somewhere,” he said, turning into a nearby parking lot to a hardware store. It was a couple of blocks over and well out of sight of the Starbucks.

  He parked near the parking lot exit, but left the truck running. “I wasn’t lying—the gun’s not loaded.” He slid it across to her as he pulled a magazine out of his jacket pocket, which he also handed to her. Next came a cell phone—her cell phone. Then her battery. “I figured you’d find someone to help you and borrow a phone, but I had to be sure. I’m sorry about back there, but I need you safe. Take the pistol, your phone, and this truck and start driving. You’ll need to put the battery in and call, but your people will pick you up soon, no doubt.”

  Holy hell, she hadn’t been wrong about him. He was letting her go. She should be elated, but . . . “What are you going to do?”

  He shrugged and glanced out in the parking lot, his hand already on the door handle. “Find another vehicle and get in touch with Burkhart. With the locals now involved, I definitely don’t want you near me.”

  She’d started to respond when sirens blared in the distance. They were close already. That seemed so fast. Fear for his safety clawed at her. “Tucker, you just pulled a gun on a cop, you’re apparently wanted for kidnapping me, and all law enforcement agencies think you’re a terrorist. You can’t . . . you can’t head out on foot here.” Karen knew how things worked. The local PD wouldn’t be opposed to using lethal force against someone who’d just pulled a gun on one of their own and who had allegedly bombed the Botanic Garden, a place where kids frequented daily. Tucker might be skilled, but he wasn’t freaking bulletproof. “You have a better chance of staying alive if you have me with you. They’re not going to open fire on you when you have a hostage. Just drive and we’ll call Wesley from a secure place so he can pick us both up.” When he started to argue, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving you out here to get shot by the fucking cops! I . . . all the evidence suggests you’re being set up and I’m going to help.”

  His jaw was clenched tight, but he kicked the truck into reverse anyway.

  “And I’m keeping this gun.” She moved it into her lap, the heavy weight giving her comfort. She might be just an analyst, but everyone at the agency put in hours of weapons training. “You were really letting me go, huh?”

  He snorted and pulled out what was definitely a burner phone. “Cole might be distracted b
y a beautiful face, but I’m not,” he murmured, dialing a number. “I figured you’d run at the gas station, so I gave you a window.” Before she could respond, he said, “Hey, Mom. I . . . I know, I know.” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Listen, whatever you see on the news, it’s all lies. Yeah, I know you believe me. You and Dad need to go stay somewhere safe. . . . You know where. I’ll explain more. . . .”

  Hating that she was overhearing such a private conversation, Karen turned and looked out the window. As she heard Tucker reassure his mom that everything would be okay, she decided then and there that her gut instinct about this man had been spot-on. He might have kidnapped her, but his motives were justified and he’d oddly been looking out for her when he dragged her away from the police officer.

  She might be making a huge mistake by staying with him, but it didn’t feel that way.

  Sweat trickled down his spine as his fingers flew across the keyboard, the clacking overpronounced in the quiet office. He’d infiltrated an unused room at the DEA for his own purposes, using the credentials of an agent on maternity leave. Since he was familiar with the layout of the building it had been easy enough to avoid security cameras so that no one could trace this back to him. Well, maybe not easy, but doable. All systems had flaws and he had no problem capitalizing on a vulnerability. The DEA deserved this for being too cheap and lazy to run a diagnostic of their safety measures this year.

  He was taking a huge risk, but the payoff would be worth it. He’d spent years slaving away for an organization that didn’t appreciate him. Had never appreciated all his hard work. After that asshole Max Southers had passed him up for yet another promotion, he was done kissing ass and playing politics.

  It didn’t matter if he did. He never got ahead anyway. Just because he didn’t have military experience didn’t mean he wasn’t qualified, but for some reason it was like an invisible black mark on his record. Keeping him out of certain social circles. He’d graduated summa cum laude from a top university with a bachelor’s in criminal justice, had gone on to get his master’s, and had an incredible success rate with closing his cases.