Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Former government black site
Rural Charlotte . . .
“He’s late.” Lena checked her watch as Rafe stood texting someone from a few feet away.
After their close call with Speedy McGee—aka, the jerk behind the wheel of the other car—they’d brought him here, to a modest-sized building in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees.
“West will call as soon as he can.” Rafe’s deep rumble was as calming as it was sexy. “Try to be patient.”
Pointing at a closed door across the room, she countered with, “I’d be a lot more patient if we knew more about him.”
Their hitman-turned-captive was currently being held in a room down the hall from the closed door. Game of highway chicken aside, the suppressed pistol, sheathed KA-BAR, and switchblade they’d found in his pockets after the crash was proof enough.
He’s our guy.
And once they were ready to roll, Lena was going to try her best to get him to talk.
“He’ll call,” Rafe repeated his assurance that they’d hear back from Derek West soon.
Rafe had already spoken to his team on the drive here, having filled them in on the latest development.
When they’d arrived at yet another one of Rafe’s off-books sites several minutes later, they’d carried their unconscious prisoner inside.
Now all they had to do was wait for West to return Rafe’s call so they could gain access to the guy’s phone.
“Sorry,” Lena begrudgingly muttered, admitting, “I’ve never been very good at this part.”
Rafe’s small grin sent her heart racing.
“I remember.” His gaze slid to hers. “Asking you to relax was like asking a fireman to stand by while his house burned to the ground.”
A huff of laughter broke from her lips. “Patience is definitely not my strong suit. I’d like to think I’ve gotten better over the years, but—”
The ringing of Rafe’s phone drowned out the rest of her words.
“See?” The mouthwatering Brit’s expression turned deliciously smug. “I told you he’d call.”
With a roll of her eyes, she went to where he stood, glad to see it was a video call.
Even better.
She liked looking people in the eyes when they spoke, even if it was over the phone. Derek West’s face filled the small screen as Rafe answered the call.
Lena, however, purposely kept herself just out of view.
“Mr. Owens, I presume.” The other man’s greeting introduction held obvious hints of a southern drawl. “Derek West. Colt’s told me a lot about you.”
Rafe greeted the technical analyst with a dip of his rugged chin. “Likewise. And it’s Rafe.”
As she watched the interaction, it was impossible for Lena not to notice the obvious differences between the two men.
At fifty-two, Rafe was about a decade older. West had a layer of light scruff to Rafe’s well-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard. Rafe’s hair was kept short and neatly styled, while the former SEAL’s thick, wavy locks fell past his ears.
West’s blue eyes were openly friendly with hints of the man’s impressive intelligence. But as pretty as they were, the other man’s eyes didn’t hold a candle to Rafe’s darker, more stoic stare.
“Colt filled me in on everything up to this point,” West shared. “Sorry to hear about all your troubles. But any friends of Colt’s are friends of mine, so just tell me what y’all need from me, and I’ll help any way I can.”
“We appreciate that, Derek,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “Obviously, we need to ID our guy, but I also need access to his phone’s operating system.”
Earlier, during the search of his person, Lena had found a phone in their would-be killer’s pocket. It was a high-end burner complete with all the anti-spy trimmings, which meant it most likely held a trove of useful intel.
“Send me the guy’s pic, and I’ll run facial rec.” West paused. “Once I have an ID, I’ll put together a file with everything I can find. As for the phone’s OS, I can do that part now, assuming you have the needed equipment.”
“Such as?”
“Is there a PC at your location?”
Lena’s focus immediately slid to the desk positioned a few feet away.
“There is,” Rafe confirmed.
“Good deal.” The other man nodded. “What about a landline?”
“Affirmative.”
“Perfect. Last question. Do you have any way to connect the target’s phone to the PC?”
“I’ll check,” Lena volunteered from Rafe’s side before hurriedly walking over to the basic, metal desk.
After scanning the various cords and pieces of technical equipment already visible, she began rummaging through the desk drawers. When she got to the third one down on the right, Lena yanked out a short, black cord.
Bingo.
“This should work.” She spun around, holding the small cord up for Rafe to see.
“We’re good on that front, as well,” Rafe relayed to Derek while heading her way.
Lena went to him, taking the burner phone from his hand. Her breath hitched, and her lower belly tingled the moment their fingers touched.
Not now.
She turned away, rushing back over to the desk and inserting one end of the cord into the PC’s corresponding port. After that, she connected the other end to the encrypted phone before looking back at Rafe with a nod.
“It’s done.”
Speaking to West, Rafe asked, “What’s next?”
“I need you to use the landline to call me back at a different number. I’m texting it to you now.”
Rafe’s phone dinged with the incoming text.
“Got it.”
“Call me back.” West’s face vanished as the connection was lost.
Standing next to Lena, Rafe used the corded phone on the desk to dial the new number. He put it on speaker as soon as it started to ring.
“Hey,” West answered more casually than before.
“Give me a sec.” The sound of keys being pressed at a rapid rate easily reached their ears.
Talking while he worked, the other man commented, “By the way, that black site you’re using is prime interrogation real estate. Any chance you’d be willing to share?”
Rafe glanced her way before redirecting his attention back to the man on the phone. “Why? Is Alpha Team in the market for a place out this way?”
“Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta . . .” West chuckled low. “We even have an Echo Team, now. Those guys are based out of D.C. So to answer your question, one of our teams is always in the market for a sweet spot to lay low.”
Rafe chuckled low, but Lena frowned.
“You can see our location?”
There was a slight pause and then, “Ah, Director Price, I presume.” West’s tone became more personal as he added, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Call me Lena,” she greeted the other man. “And don’t believe anything Coulter Morgan says.”
The R.I.S.C. operative’s deep laugh came through the desk phone’s speaker.
“Don’t worry.” West’s tone was cajoling. “It was all good, I promise. As for the other, yes. Not only could I give you the exact coordinates to where you are, I can also track your movements within the building.”
“How?” She looked to Rafe. “It can’t be thermal imaging.”
Hollywood always gets that wrong. Solid materials like shingles, concrete, and metal prevented the detection of heat signals. But hey, it made for great T.V.
“Who said anything about thermal?” West quipped back. “My patented tactical radar system uses ultra-wideband tech with a radio-frequency backup that automatically kicks in when needed.”
Lena blinked. “That’s . . . impressive.”
“Thanks.” The other man continued typing.
“So I’m using the landline’s signal to access the PC’s system, and through that I’ll gain entry into the phone’s OS.
” A few additional clicks later, West announced, “Okay, I’m in.
It’ll take me a sec to run the program and scrape the phone’s data, but once that’s done, you’ll be able to see everything.
Phone calls, texts, photos, search history, emails . . . you’ll have it all.”
Anxious anticipation left Lena feeling as if she were going to crawl right out of her skin. Time dragged on as they waited for Coulter’s trusted friend to work his magic. By the time West came back to them, it was mission accomplished . . . and not a moment too soon.
“Voila!” The man’s Texas drawl returned with a touch of dramatics. “The firewall is down, so the phone should restart in a few seconds. Once it does, you’ll have all the direct access you need. I set it up to go to your PC as well, so you should see some windows popping up soon.”
West had no more said the words when the phone went momentarily dark. A second later, it flared back to life. At the same time, the computer screen appeared to briefly glitch before becoming filled with a slew of information.
“It appears to be in order.” Rafe studied the screen.
Lena homed in on the treasure trove of data. “This is awesome, Derek. Thank you.” To Rafe, she added, “It’s going to take us forever to go through all of this.”
“There’s definitely a lot there,” West agreed. “If you’ll give me more specifics on what you’re looking for, I can have my program run a narrower search.”
Rafe took the lead and shared what they needed most. Namely, proof he was hired to kill them and by whom.
“We need names,” her formidable partner explained. “Things like bank statements or large deposits. Any financial anomalies that stand out, that sort of thing.”
“No problem.” The former SEAL made it sound so easy. “I’ll look into those and let you know what I find.”
Leaning closer to the phone’s speaker, Lena offered a sincere, “Thank you.”
“Yes, thanks, Derek,” Rafe added next. “We appreciate the assist.”
“Don’t mention it. And hey, anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to call. Y’all stay safe. We’ll talk soon.”
The line went dead a beat later.
For the next several minutes, she and Rafe spent time skimming their way through the cache of information. The data was virtually endless, but fortunately, it didn’t take long to confirm at least the bare bones of their theory.
“There it is.” Lena stood tall, pointing to text messages mentioning both her and Rafe.
Not only that, but Caleb’s and Sabrina’s names were also found in a portion of conversation between their killer and the person giving the orders.
“This is it.” She sent Rafe her first full smile in hours. “That’s it. We got him.”