CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The sound of heavy boots bursting through the auditorium doors reverberated off the walls.
“Sentry guns, on the overlooks!” someone shouted, and in my delirium, I couldn’t tell if it was Papatonis’s men or the CIA backup until one of them called, “Did someone need a medic?”
“Sentry guns, disabled!”
“Show some hands!”
In the ensuing chaos, I observed my half-sister’s failed attempt to flee as she was forcibly taken away by three men from the side stage. She glared at me, but my face remained devoid of emotion.
“Up here,” Papatonis called.
My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but I still managed to urge, “You need to go. Scram. Vamoose.” When he didn’t move, I told him, “Skedaddle,” as if I used the right word, it would budge his adamant stance.
“Hush, clever fox.”
I blinked. “Pap—” The word died halfway out when I realized it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to be using his name in mixed company. Some clever fox. “Uh, you, if they are here, then you’re missing your window on Tarasovich.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
No, no, no, we had a plan, an agreement. Tarasovich was a slippery lizard. He’d escape!
“But—”
He leaned down, causing his hand to shift, and it registered that he was pressing on my wound to staunch the blood loss. “Your move was good. You destroyed his support system. He knows where the bodies are buried, so no one will grease any palms to spring him free. More likely than not, there will be contracts going out with a price on his head. Your CIA will realize that too. There’s only one place secure enough to hold someone of that high value if they have any hope of tapping into his knowledge.”
I blinked. “And that’s… good.”
A smile quirked his lips, but it vanished between one blink and the next, and I had to wonder if my delirium from the pain and adrenaline drop was causing hallucinations. “Yes, clever fox, because I know where that place is.”
“Really? After your grand speech about not handing him to the authorities, you’re suddenly okay because you know where they are taking him?”
Papatonis scowled, glancing around at the stage. “The boy likes to play games. I intend to give him a taste of his own medicine. Tarasovich isn’t getting off scot-free in some cushy prison life, but even if I slipped away now, a bullet to the brain is too—”
“Hands up!” someone shouted, their voice deep and pitched to punch.
I startled, banging my skull against the metal plating behind me, but Papatonis didn’t so much as flinch.
“One of those sentry guns caught her through the arm—a ricochet, otherwise that caliber of ammunition would have severed her limb. I’m putting pressure on it, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”
Two men in tactical gear kept their firearms steady on us, but his partner turned and yelled, “Elonzo, move it with that kit! Your wounded patient is up here.”
“On it.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d all been marched outside. They’d strapped me to a stretcher inside a black van while Elonzo with the mahogany skin and thick lashes hooked up an IV with the good stuff for pain.
Of our team of nine, six of us survived, the last one to fall being the beheading in the gym on our initial ingress.
Someone from the CIA had disabled the sentry gun that took Papadopoulos and Aetos, and their bodies lay beneath white sheeting.
People moved in a flurry of controlled chaos. Everyone had a job to do, except for us six.
Since they’d locked me down and had nowhere secure to hold us, they’d zip tied the remaining five of our group up in a line behind the van’s open double doors. Because of that, I noted the exact millisecond more company arrived when their postures stiffened and gazes shifted to the encroaching engines rumbling into the clearing.
Several doors opened.
“Where’s Callie? Is she okay?” Payton’s voice rang clear, like a sharp bell.
Someone in the Papatonis lineup nodded in my direction. I really ought to learn their names.
Before I could fix the oversight and ask, a veritable herd of worried boyfriends descended on the van, touching me, peppering me with questions, and telling me how happy they were I was okay while simultaneously demanding answers from poor, overwhelmed Elonzo.
Again, I picked up Elonzo’s name, but not Papatonis’s men’s names when they’d risked everything by going shoulder to shoulder with me against a monster.
Duane harassed Elonzo by elbowing him aside. “I’m a doctor. I’ll take it from here.”
I didn’t stop him, especially when I noticed his hands shake as he snapped on latex gloves, rifled through the medical kit like he owned it, and then peeked at the wound beneath the wrapping.
Yeah, he could have this.
Some of the tension fled from his shoulders when he eased the gauze off. “You scared us, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice lower and more gravelly than normal.
“Didn’t mean to,” I replied.
“We know. I’m glad you’re alright.”
Paride shoved to the front of the crowd. “Callie, I understand you’re a little woozy right now, but listen to me very carefully. They’ll allow leniency if you turn over Petrov—”
“No,” I ground out before my head tilted off balance. “Who’s they?”
Paride ran his hands through his inky hair, making it stand on end as he released a frustrated growl. “Okay, fine. Forget Petrov. I should have known better anyway. We can discuss it later, but for now… Just don’t let her bully you around.”
“Her?”
Paride plowed ahead a mile a minute, and he didn’t seem inclined to acknowledge my interspersed questions. “Tarasovich is a huge win. Not only was he a dangerous criminal in his own right, he has a lot of secrets buried in his head. Christmas came early for her, so make sure she doesn’t manipulate you into any corners—”
A whistle pierced the air. “Coppola!”
My eyes rounded. I recognized that voice.
Paride groaned, scrubbing a tired hand over his drawn features. “Over here, Madam Rollins.”
The CIA director’s form popped into view, striding through the overgrown grass in her smart suit and heels, assessing the lot of us before landing on me. Holding my stare, she said, “Sitrep, stat.”
Paride provided a detailed account from the moment we first went AWOL, fleeing on that private jet via a sketchy repossessed field in the dead of night.
It felt like so long ago.
She stared him down hard before shifting her gaze to me. “It’s funny. You don’t seem surprised to discover Coppola’s one of mine.”
“We’ve had a minute for that fact to sink in,” I replied, my voice as neutral as possible with my arm throbbing.
Her lips pursed. “We’ll talk about you breaking rank later,” she warned Paride, pointing a finger at his face. “As it is, I’m in a fairly forgiving mood. They only did a preliminary debrief with Tarasovich, but based on that list leaked to the media, I think I can afford to be a little lenient. If we close only a handful of those, all of our careers will be set for life. That monster has enough knowledge stored in that sick mind of his to keep us busy for years to come. On the drive over, we linked enough assassinations to bust at least half a dozen political coups wide open.”
I could only blink. “So we’re not wanted fugitives?”
“No, Callie.”
For some reason, I kept digging. “And you’re not going to ship me off to Gitmo for the rest of my life?”
“Heavens, no. This was all part of the plan.”
Dead silence descended over us. “The plan?” Payton echoed.
Rollins waved him off. “Yes, of course. As you’ve probably guessed, this was all a setup—including Paride deviating from the original plan and switching sides halfway through.”
I recalled the meeting. Paride had been the one to alert everyone about Rollins, including Delta’s leader. “You did all that to make sure we’d trust him.”
“And to put the pressure on you guys to operate outside of Delta’s restrictions. Sometimes our hands are tied, and we need plausible deniability. I knew you would feel more inclined to work with Petrov if you were cut off from Delta’s vast resources. You’d lead us right to him.” Rollins paused a beat and shrugged. “Oh well. It looks like you stole another excellent agent from me.”
“You don’t sound too broken up about that.”
Her small smile grew impish.
Paride’s arms crossed over his chest, his frown hiding the true levels of anger swimming in his gaze. “You expected me to go off book? I’ve been stressing over how to get us off the FBI’s wanted list for weeks, and you’re telling me it was all part of your elaborate ploy?”
Rollins flashed a devilish grin. “Am I?”
Paride was at a loss for how to respond. He’d thought he was a knight, only to discover he’d been another pawn in the queen’s gambit.
Bryce snorted. “Not fun being played, is it?”
Rollins glanced at me. “I’ve revoked your names from the wanted list and reinstated your IDs at Delta. You should be cleared to return to work on Monday.”
I bit my lip. “What about Petrov? And… And the computer people?”
“If I recall correctly, I believe I saw Petrov’s men slipping off into the distance and decided I had more pressing things to attend to here before giving chase.”
A head start—she was giving him a head start. Had he ever been her priority or had her close chase seen her bearing witness to how truly terrible Tarasovich was?
That took care of Petrov, at least.
I shifted on the stretcher. “And the man and… the young woman?”
At this, Rollins paused. “Man?”
Corbin frantically shook his head in the negative, making silent throat cutting gestures that he immediately stopped when Rollins followed my line of sight.
“Have I told you that you’re looking good today, Madam Director?” Corbin grinned, his sky-blue eyes twinkling.
Rollins swiveled, her eyes fiery. “Callie, what guy?” she gritted out, obviously not enjoying it when the shoe was on the other foot. “Callie?”
“Sorry, I think the blood loss is getting to me. I meant that guy.” I weakly gestured to the two covered bodies. “They died helping us, so I’m wondering if they will receive proper burials.”
Madam Rollins held my gaze long enough to imply she wasn’t buying what I was selling, but she moved beyond the slipup. “As for the lady, I assume you’re talking about the hacker working with Tarasovich who was being such a menace? She’s in custody. We’ll dig into her past and see what she was involved in before making any decisions.”
Paride placed his hand on my arm, cautioning me against saying anything. To be honest, I was torn about the whole matter. Georgia was supposed to be my sister, but she’d done all of this to kill me and the ones I loved.
“Keep us in the loop, would you?” Paride requested.
Rollins’ brow jumped, but she shrugged. “I suppose I can do that since you’ve padded my career so nicely.” She turned, facing the Papatonis lineup as I’d taken to referring to them. “Let’s see. You’re new.”
Papatonis arched a brow. “Am I?”
Her keen deductive skills were ringing an alarm that there was more to the men than what met the eye, but she couldn’t seem to pinpoint what.
Oh, if she only knew.
“We’re just the extra backup they phoned in. Strength in numbers, right?” Ares continued, a benign smile on his face.
Rollins’ instincts were sharp because the innocent expression furthered her unease. She frowned. “Now, why don’t I believe that?”
“Believe it, Madam Director,” Paride chimed in. “He was an old asset of mine that I cashed in on. Nothing more.”
Rollins and Paride had a stare off before she rolled her eyes but moved to unlock the Greek men. “Coppola, your actions are so transparent when your feathers are ruffled. I’ll pretend that I buy your lies. If this is how you want to display your anger for playing you, then so be it. I’m sure I can find them again later if necessary.”
Papatonis smirked, but he kept silent.
“Go, be gone before I change my mind.”
Papatonis’s men took off, though Leo and Papatonis hung around. Leo tousled my hair while Papatonis pressed one of the most tension wrought kisses in my life to my forehead and whispered his promise to take care of Tarasovich for us.
My breath caught in my throat, but I waited until he turned before releasing the shiver of fear his voice had induced.
Then, they melded into the surrounding forest.
“Now,” Rollins continued, “you all have endured a long couple of months. Elonzo, Darcy? Escort them to the airport and send them home. I’ll be by later this week for a debrief, since I’m sure your director will also be wanting one. Take the time to recuperate. You guys earned it.”
With Rollins’ agents in the front escorting us to the airstrip, I buried my burning questions. In fact, I didn’t even bring anything up on the jet, figuring it’d be bugged.
The second we stepped over the threshold of our home in Norfolk, my strings were cut loose. “My dad?”
“Petrov took him with him. He wasn’t injured, just some scrapes and bruises. Director Rollins never set eyes on him,” Payton answered. “Are you okay? Your sister—”
“I’d rather not think about that. We barely even spoke to one another.”
Paride patted me on the shoulder. “That’s fine. We’ve all been through a lot. Like Rollins suggested, we’ll recuperate. I’m sure there will be a firing squad once they finish processing the scene, so enjoy this slice of peace. You don’t have to make any decisions about your sister today.”
I scoffed. “What decisions? She was working with a serial killer. People died. She’s going to be in jail for a long time.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be able to visit her if you decide to seek closure,” Duane replied, pulling me into his side, cognizant of my bandaged arm.
Did I want answers?
Maybe it was jaded of me, but I really didn’t want to put myself through chasing the whys and hows that had turned my sister so completely against me when we’d never met.
I needed sleep.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I sighed. “Well, Paride asked Rollins to keep us in the loop. That’s enough for now. Answers can wait. I’m just glad to be home.”
Paride nodded. “You guys did good. I’ll leave so you can get settled in.”
“Hey, Coppola,” Brock called, causing the man to pause halfway through the door. “Do you want to stick around for a beer?”
Paride paused to consider his answer. “No, but I think I’d like to take a rain check on that.”
“We’ll hold you to it, Parade Day,” Corbin quipped with a grin.
Paride returned the smile and then shut the door behind him.
I glanced at my team, noting their cuts and bruises, reading the story of everything we’d been through.
We were home, and we’d survived.