Snowbound Threat (Do You Hear What I Hear #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Outskirts of Guatemala City

Six weeks ago

DEA Special Agent Caleb Rourke shoved his door open and climbed out, vest already on. Sidearm ready. This would be the night they finally brought that traitor in.

The rest of the team, a female and two other men, were agents he’d worked with for months. Didn’t mean he fully trusted them.

Caleb didn’t plan to be part of this team long enough to find out if he could—or not.

No, he’d rather secure a transfer back state side.

All this international work was taking its toll.

He missed the Montana mountains he grew up in.

The snow in winter. Warm summer days, and cool evenings.

Running across grass fields with his twin brother, Noah—currently AWOL somewhere across the other side of the world chasing bad guys in his own way. With boots and a helmet.

Caleb didn’t want to be that guy, but the humidity down here was getting to him. Scrambling his brains so he was looking everywhere for a threat that didn’t exist. A traitor in his team, or in the DEA office down here.

I want out.

Maybe it was the holidays coming up, making him jones for home, and Christmas like it should be. But Caleb was tired.

“Let’s do this.” He turned to the others and caught them checking their pistols. Walters shoved a ball cap on backward. Caleb had let his hair grow out and had it secured behind his head with a hair tie even though that barely kept it contained.

The female agent, Rawlins, strode between Caleb and Walters like Caleb hadn’t seen the look shared between her and Barts. “Last one in buys the first round tonight.”

Caleb followed her toward the rundown apartment building at the edge of the city in a rundown neighborhood.

The kind of place where dealers ran the area and the police were paid to look the other way. “Good people” or “innocents” was a misnomer where folks did what they had to just so they could survive.

Rawlins stood to the side of the door someone had propped open with a concrete block.

Caleb held his gun by his leg and grabbed the door with the other hand. Rawlins nodded and he swung the door open.

She ducked inside, gun first, sweeping the hallway. “Clear.”

They made their way along the dank hall to the stairs at the end.

Someone had left a bag of trash in the corner on the second floor.

Third floor, down at the end, apartment thirteen had been a CIA safehouse for decades after World War 2.

Right up until budget cuts meant it was sold off, only to be bought thirty years ago by an investor who seemed to have a habit of purchasing assets formerly the property of the US government.

“Kessler had better be here.”

Rawlins snorted, shifted back and kicked the door beside the handle.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d have gone in that hard, given this guy’s tendency to wire places and blow whoever came after him to kingdom come. But there wasn’t time to contemplate that when his job was to be right behind Rawlins as she entered, clearing the house as they went.

He scanned the entry, then to the right and the living room. No occupants. Kitchen vacant. No dishes. No mail. Hallway clear.

The guys behind him would check the closets and places someone might hide while they cleared the larger areas.

Rawlins kicked a door and he stayed in the hall, covering her. Bathroom. No shower curtain, rusty tub and sink. “Gross.”

He backed up a step and she came out, moving to the next door.

She shoved it open. “Empty.”

Caleb didn’t like this. “There has to be something here.”

But he stuck to his duty, and she headed for the last room. “Whoa.”

“What is it?” Caleb entered the empty bedroom, no furniture. The decor consisted of photos and papers taped across one wall. A closet in the corner was open, empty racks that would’ve held armaments years ago.

“Looks like he left us evidence.” Rawlins holstered her weapon.

Caleb did the same, even though the threat tickling the back of his neck didn’t let up. He walked to the wall and started to scan papers. “Bank records, phone records.”

Big Sky Trust and Bank.

Caleb flinched. Odd—that was his bank at home in Montana.

He kept reading and spotted the name on a couple of papers. His name.

“What on earth?” That wasn’t his bank account balance, or any of his recent transactions. He didn’t obsessively watch the activity on his account but was reasonably certain he didn’t have nearly two million to his name.

Caleb tried to breathe. “He’s setting me up.”

“Yeah?” Rawlins pointed to a photo and looked at him. “Looks pretty clear to me what’s going on.”

“I don’t have this money.” He glanced at the photo she indicated. “That isn’t me.”

“Unless you have an identical twin or something, it is you.”

Caleb shouldered her out of the way. Fact was, he did have an identical twin. “He’s not the guy who meets with Nathan Kessler.” Caleb prodded the photo with his finger. “This is fake. It’s all fake.”

There was no way Noah was in league with this guy. Noah didn’t work in this part of the world, they rarely saw each other, and their lives weren’t the kind that intertwined out of coincidence.

It was three years since they’d seen each other.

“You’re actually serious? You have a twin?” Rawlins looked at him.

Guess I never mentioned that. Caleb shrugged. “There’s no way that’s him. This all looks more like it’s supposed to mean I’m the one working with Kessler.”

As if he was the traitor.

They’d have to go through all this. Figure out where the flaws were so they could pick holes in Kessler’s plan to—

Rawlins pulled her gun and pointed it at him. “If it looks like a duck…and all that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Gun on the floor, hands on your head.” She turned her head a fraction, toward the door. “In here!”

The other two agents raced into the room.

Caleb didn’t move. “I’m not the traitor.”

Rawlins laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

He shifted to get the other guys in sight and keep her in front of him. But he was too late. The blow hit the back of his head and sent him stumbling forward. Caleb grabbed Rawlins’ arm and yanked her toward the other two. She yelped and he spun around in time to see them push each other away.

Caleb rushed for the door.

The gun went off behind him, but he didn’t slow down. Walters rushed after him and Caleb got slammed against the wall.

His head exploded with pain. Or that was the gun again. He felt the round whizz past his ear and embed itself in the wall.

Were they trying to stop him, or kill him?

He pulled his own gun, which immediately got knocked out of his hand.

It clattered to the floor and skittered away.

Caleb slammed a punch into the guy nearest him, Barts, ignoring the fact he would get shot any second now.

An answering punch slammed into his kidney over the side straps of the vest he wore, expelling the breath from his lungs.

Walters rushed them, slamming Caleb and Barts against the wall. Caleb kicked off the wall behind him and shoved them both back.

One pulled a knife.

“Barts, don’t do that.” Caleb shook his head.

“Looks like you don’t get a say.” Barts had a deadly look in his eye.

Rawlins backed up, still holding the gun aimed at him. Protecting herself. “Just knock him out and we can blow the place with him in it.”

Barts sneered, blood on his lips from some blow Caleb had dished out to him. The other agent, Walters, rolled his shoulders. Readying himself for what was next.

Bring it on. Caleb grinned. He wasn’t going to go so far as to wave on their advance, but they knew what he meant.

Barts rushed him, knife first. Caleb dipped to the side and blocked the blow, slamming Barts in the forearm with a swipe of his left arm. He punched Walters with his right, then kicked out at both men.

The next few seconds passed in a blur, interspersed with flashes of pain and the odd hitching breath. A fight for his life. These guys were the dirty agents—that was the best case scenario. He didn’t have a moment to figure out the worst between the gut punch and the stomp to his left calf.

They were going to leave him here to die and no one would ever know the truth. Noah would get dragged down in the mess and his career would be ruined. Not my brother.

Caleb gritted his teeth and grabbed Barts by the shoulders. He dragged the man down and slammed a knee into his chest.

“Finish it!” Rawlins screamed.

Walters slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Caleb’s head. He landed on all fours and Walters kicked him three times in the stomach. He grabbed Walters’ ankle and tipped him back.

Rawlins’ gun exploded in the tight hall, narrowly missing him. From this distance she should’ve killed him. It was a warning.

A boot slammed on the back of his head and everything narrowed into black.

He blinked, clawing at consciousness until he could focus enough to lift his head and push off the floor. Caleb rolled to his back and the sound of a heart beating in his ears receded enough for him to catch a steady click.

Countdown.

He scrambled up, listening to the tone grow faster and faster.

No way out of a window, or the door. Caleb rushed to the bathroom and dove into the tub, wrapping his arms around his head just as the world around him tore apart.