Chapter 22 The Mayhem Continues
THE MAYHEM CONTINUES
SYDNEY
Despite the speed of the truck heading straight for them, everything went into slow-mo. Muscle memory took over. Sydney pulled her rifle around, positioned it against her shoulder, and stared through the scope.
“I need confirmation,” she said as she readied her stance and steadied her breath.
Nothing from Tank.
She glanced over. He was peering through the binos.
“Tank,” she said as the vehicle barreled toward them.
“Confirmed Haqazzii terrorist. Shoot at will.”
Sydney homed in on the driver, put his chest just below the exact center of her scope. Since she had to account for his erratic driving, she had to cheat up a little more. A breath in, then a release, and hold.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The truck erupted into a violent fireball that had her and Tank spinning away from the flying debris. The heat of the flames warmed their backs as two airport workers sprinted to close the hangar doors.
Through the comms, Greystone said, “Emergency crews are rushing to contain the explosion. Iron Whisper and Fox Key, confirm your situation.”
Sydney gave Tank a thumbs-up.
“Fox Key, Iron Whisper, and crew are safe,” Tank said.
“Nice work, you two,” Greystone said into her ears.
The women were screaming and pushing toward the rear emergency door of the hangar, and Sydney feared a stampede would result in crushed bodies.
“STOP!” she yelled into the mic. “Women of TSM, stand down!”
In unison, the women stopped pushing toward the exit. Moving as a pod, they pivoted toward her. Sydney regarded Tank.
He couldn’t contain his surprise. From what they could tell, the women appeared to be brainwashed.
“Ladies, you are safe,” Sydney said facing the crowd. “Stop fighting to escape. The explosion is being contained. The busses are ready to take you to a nearby hotel where the agents will gather info, then help get you home.”
“I was making a lot of money as a TSM consultant,” one of the women yelled. “Are those helpful agents going to subsidize my income, huh? What about that?”
“Yeah!” yelled another. “I got kids to feed and an ex who won’t pay child support.”
The scope of this situation was well outside anything they could resolve now, but she had to address their concerns. Despite her suspicions that some of these women might have had been brainwashed, they had been earning money through TSM. Money they didn’t want to give up.”
“I can’t speak to your employment with TSM,” Sydney said.
“Agent Green and I—and the Special Forces we work with—were brought in to make sure you weren’t kidnapped to Karakistan and farmed out as sex workers.
Please remember that if you’d left, you would never have been able to return to see your families or your friends.
This life—regardless of the challenges you’re facing—would be over. ”
The hangar doors opened. Led by Greystone and Caroline, the entire BLACK OPS and ALPHA teams stood at the ready. One hundred Special Forces—dressed in their SWAT gear—had come to escort these women out.
Tank took the mic from her.
“It’s time to board the busses,” he explained. “Our agents will stay with you while you’re processed at the hotel. It’s going to be a long day, so we’ll have a warm meal waiting for you. I know this is a lot. Agent Turner and I will be at the entrance if you have questions. Godspeed to you all.”
To Sydney’s surprise, a round of applause was started by a single person. She eyed Tara, still on the shoulders of another TSM consultant.
“Thank you for saving us from getting on that plane,” Tara yelled.
Slowly, most of the room broke into applause, with a few shouting their appreciation. After Sydney climbed down the platform, she waited for Tank. Together, they stood by the open hangar as the women were escorted toward the waiting busses.
Tara hurried over and threw her arms around Sydney. “Thank you. I was so angry at first, but I believe you.” Then, she hugged Tank. “I have a lot of questions, bossman, but I’m guessing you won’t be able to answer most of them.”
“Tara, I’m sorry,” Tank said. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Tears filled her eyes and she stood tall, kissed his cheek. “You saved my life—all our lives. You don’t owe me an apology.”
“Take off as much time as you need,” he said.
“I’m going to the restaurant the second I get out of that hotel,” Tara said. “I’ve never been so excited for normal in my entire life.”
She hurried over to a group as Greystone and Caroline joined them.
Greystone extended his hand to Sydney. “Excellent work, Fox Key. You are one hell of a shot.”
“Glad to be of service,” she replied.
“Great job, Iron Whisper.” Greystone pulled his brother in for a hug. “A BLACK OPS team arrested the pilots and crew without incident. They’re being handed over to the FBI.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve only managed to poke the bear harder,” Tank said. “We stopped their most-valuable shipment.”
“That leaves four terrorists,” Caroline said. “I’m confident Haqazzii will move on to his next target sooner than later.”
Greystone’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, tapped his comm. “Hey, Evelyn.” He listened. “Now?” More listening. “Got it. We’re on our way.”
As he shifted toward them, he tapped his comm and disconnected the call. “Evelyn Baker wants us at the White House. The President called a meeting.”
“I’ll take Sydney back to the site with me,” Caroline said.
“All four of us,” Greystone said.
“Yowza, baby,” Sydney murmured.
When the last woman had left the hangar, they thanked the airport crew for their help. Still dressed in their combat gear, the four made their way to their black SUVs as the early morning sun cast her first rays of light on the new day.
Sydney secured her rifle in its case, said goodbye to Caroline and Greystone, before she climbed into the front seat. Once Tank was behind the wheel, she said, “I’m done hiding in the back.”
She expected pushback, but Tank said nothing as he followed Greystone out of the airport.
Sydney had been so completely invested in the moment, she hadn’t had a second to process the past thirty-six hours. As Tank drove toward DC, she cracked open the window, let the cold air wash over her heated skin.
The Day of Destruction was still looming large, and something Sydney knew nothing about. Since she was on temporary detail with BLACK OPS, she couldn’t step into the Oval Office uninformed.
“You’ve got thirty minutes to bring me up to speed,” she said.
He glanced over. “On what?”
“The Day of Destruction. As a member of BLACK OPS, I can’t look like an idiot in front of the Prez.”
“I got you.”
As he explained how the terror cell had infiltrated America, then gone secretly about their business, she regarded him. Despite the mayhem of intercepting those women from boarding the jumbo jet, he looked as in-control and together as he always did.
In truth, he might say he loved running the family restaurant, but at the heart of it all, he was a Santini. A master assassin who’d learned at the knee of his father, then his brothers. Even his cousin Carrera and Sinclair Develin had a hand shaping him into a lethal weapon.
They’d had four hours of sleep, and he looked eager for the next chapter in this game of cat and mouse.
Now that they were gaining the upper hand, his confidence shone through.
Skilled, cunning, and brilliant, he could hack his way into anything, yet manage a difficult diner with ease and professionalism.
As he discussed the history of the Haqazzii terror cell and The Day of Destruction, he stayed high level, explaining that they believed Muhammed Haqazzii and his remaining three men were planning on assassinating the President—and possibly others—during the Presidential Inauguration in January.
“So, they’re moving the event inside, right?” Sydney asked.
“Everyone wants that… but the President. He’s very people-centric, and he wants it to be a day of celebration for all Americans, regardless of their politics. He’s calling it a Party for the People.” Tank released a low and too-sexy growl that thrummed through her.
She removed her glove, set her hand on his thickly-corded thigh. “Good to know.”
He clasped her hand. “If you keep your hand there, the guard dogs are gonna find more than a vehicle full of weapons. They gonna see my big bone, and that’s not something I want to share with the guards, their dogs, or the commander in chief.”
On a laugh, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.
He made a sad face. “I didn’t want you to pull away altogether.”
She threaded her fingers through his, rested their arms on the center console. “On a different subject, how are we gonna handle Tara’s questions?”
“I’ll explain that we can’t discuss our work, and we’d appreciate her discretion.” He pulled up to the guard gate at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue parking entrance.
“Theodore Santini and Sydney Austin for Chief of Staff Evelyn Baker.”
The guard checked. “IDs please.”
They handed them over.
“You’re SWAT, so I’m gonna guess you got weapons.”
“Several,” Tank said.
“Leave your weapons in the vehicle and step out.”
They did as instructed. While two different guards—a man and a woman—checked them for weapons on their person—the canines sniffed every inch of the vehicle.
Sydney noticed that Caroline and Greystone were going through the same thing, ten feet ahead of them.
“Tara thinks I’m Sierra Turner,” Sydney said while they waited for the dogs to finish their jobs.
“What do you feel comfortable with?”
“Telling her my real name.”
Tank acknowledged her with a nod.
“You’re clear to go in,” said the guard. “The weapons stay in the vehicle. You’ll be checked again before you enter the building. You can park over there.” The guard pointed.
They climbed back in and Tank parked behind his brother. They removed their helmets, locked the vehicles. At the entrance, they were re-checked and cleared to enter. The brothers walked ahead. As the sisters fell in line, they shared a smile.