Chapter 16
Aaron prowled back-and-forth just outside the door standing between him and Celine. That fucker O'Keefe rubbed him the wrong way. But he'd been smart, probably why he was a CIA intel officer. He'd tapped right into the hard drive Aaron had been running on for over a year. Revenge.
Mr. J had been the reason for his teammate, Shane Carter's, death. He'd tried to have the Team ambushed and murdered, twice. He'd even gone after their families.
He needed to die.
Aaron balled his hand into a fist and stared at the wall, suppressing the urge to throw a punch right through it, anything to disseminate some of the rage rolling around inside him.
He'd never been so physically tied to his emotions, not even before the Teams and training had hammered it out of him.
But talking about J, knowing he'd been within miles of the bastard and had let him slip through his fingers, left him with acid in his gut.
Maybe O'Keefe was right. Maybe he should get a hop back overseas.
If Celine was taken care of...Aaron shook his head.
He couldn't abandon her now, especially to a sneaky fucker like O'Keefe.
The guy had snake eyes, slithering around the room, constricting their actions and reactions.
He'd controlled the conversation by using Aaron's emotions against him.
And just like a hungry fish, Aaron had taken the bait.
Something was wrong here. Aaron dropped his head in his hand and rubbed his temples, reaching back into the early days of his training. CIA protocol involved two officers for questioning a witness. One to observe, the other to ask questions and probe.
“Speirs? What the fuck are you doing in the catacombs?”
Aaron jerked up to see Agent K, TF-S's liaison stalking down the hall, the bags under his eyes evidence he’d just woken from sleep.
“K? What the hell is going on?”
“Just got some new intel on Mr. J. Possibly a break – I don’t know. One of my guys found a connection between Mr. J and Senator Cotter dating back over twenty years ago. Could help us find him.” K scrubbed a hand over his head and leaned against the wall.
“What kind of connection?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t know yet, but believe me, I’ll find out. If Cotter was secretly involved with J somehow this whole time…I’ll take him down myself.”
With J kidnapping Cotter’s daughter, it wasn’t likely the two had any kind of working relationship and with J’s history of treason, Caroline’s kidnapping seemed more like some kind of power play. “The two guys you sent to the airport for transport, Eli and Daniel, they new or something?”
“Don’t know any agents by those names.” Agent K pushed off from the wall.
“The CIA sent them,” Aaron ground out.
“What the hell are you talking about?” K countered.
“Celine Latimer. Me. Your agents were there waiting,” Aaron said.
Mr. K shook his head. “We didn't send any agents. This floor was ordered to be cleared out over two hours ago.”
Aaron's gaze narrowed on K as his body went rigid as fuck with dread. “You have an Agent O'Keefe here? Bright red hair?”
“No,” Mr. K said.
“Bastard. J's gonna finish what he started in Afghanistan.” Aaron ripped his pistol from his back and kicked the door. Pain shot straight up his leg. The door rocked on its frame but didn't budge.
“Reinforced steel. Here.” K swiped his badge, keyed the code and stepped back.
Aaron threw the unlocked door open, raising his weapon in one fluid movement, embracing the cold comfort of training that settled over his shoulders.
This is what he did best. Killing.
O'Keefe had his arm around Celine's neck, a needle held at the ready. “Don't move.”
Celine clawed at O'Keefe's arm, her face bright red. She coughed, a harsh sound cut short when O’Keefe tightened his grip.
The anger at Mr. J gave way to a cold murderous menace. “Let her go.”
O'Keefe smiled and his eyes narrowed. “No way. Clear out or I'll kill her, and I promise, the poison works fast.”
The man's eyes lit with pleasure. Fucking bastard.
“I'll put a bullet in you. Drop the needle.”
“I'd do it if I were you; Speirs can drop you like this.” Mr. K moved beside him and lifted his hands to snap his fingers.
O'Keefe glanced at K and Aaron pulled the trigger, the sharp ping from his Beretta pierced the room and ended in O’Keefe’s shoulder. The fake CIA agent flew back, dropping the needle, and Aaron dove forward, catching Celine before she collapsed.
“Sweetheart, dammit, I'm so sorry. I should never have left you with him.” Fuck, he'd almost lost her again. “Did he hurt you?”
Celine coughed and draped her chest over his arm, gasping for breath, leaving Aaron struggling to catch his own at the close call.
K strode past them and knelt over O'Keefe, pressing his gun to the man’s temple. “How did Mr. J get in here?”
O’Keefe held onto his bleeding arm and glared up at K. “Don’t know any Mr. J.”
Aaron broke into the conversation. “What about Jack Mankel?”
Celine gasped.
O’Keefe’s already pale skin dropped another shade and he clenched his jaw. Agent K tossed Aaron a questioning glance but picked up the hint seamlessly. He pressed his gun harder into O’Keefe’s temple. “Talk before I redecorate my room with your brains.”
“All I know is I was hired to finish the blonde off. Last minute job. Strictly cash. Nothing more.”
“He’s lying.” K moved the gun from O’Keefe’s head to his stomach. “You know how long it will take you to bleed out from a gunshot wound in the spleen? A long fucking time.”
“I don’t know anything else.”
K caressed the trigger and Aaron tucked Celine’s face to his chest, unsure if K would actually fire or not. His normally carefully calm demeanor seemed to have been eradicated and replaced with a man on the edge of control.
“Speirs, you should cover her ears,” K said.
“No! Wait! Jack Mankel, yeah, I remember now. He’s got a palace near the Afghanistan/Pakistan border. A daughter. Big blond guy who works for him with a nasty scar down his face.”
K eased off the trigger and Aaron blew out a low sigh. “Keep talking.”
“He’s been working for Zafar el Abdul. Runs all his covert missions with a couple of secret groups of ex-ops and off the radar assassins. No one really knows anything else about him or his teams except that you do not fuck with him unless you want to die a very painful death.”
Alarm filtered through Aaron at the thought of J having control of his own teams. He had a feeling he was missing some giant clue – What would J want with Caroline Cotter?
He had to have enough money now. He had power.
He apparently had control of terrorist movements around the globe. “So why did he kidnap the girls?”
“Who knows?”
K glanced over his shoulder at Aaron. “You know that connection I was telling you about in the hallway?”
Shit. There was something going on between the two men. Aaron caught a movement, O’Keefe sliding his good arm down his side to his hip. “K!”
Agent K spun and pulled his gun in one seamless motion. A shot blasted through the room and O’Keefe went limp, the gun in his hand clattering to the floor.
“Good shot,” Aaron said to K with a chin lift.
“Dammit, I wanted to interrogate him more. Gonna check him for I.D.”
Celine shook in his arms, her teeth chattering. Aaron carried her over to the chair to cuddle against his chest. “Take slow breaths. There you go. Count. One, two, three. You're doing great.”
He rubbed her back and held her loose but tight at the same time as he tried to take his own advice and calm the fuck down.
“No I.D. I knew it. I'll have my boys do a complete analysis.
Fingerprints, DNA. By tomorrow morning I'll have his full history.” Agent K dropped O'Keefe's coat and stood, holding the security card from the dead man in his hand.
“Don't know how he got this though. We only issue these once and only to people handpicked to be on this floor.
I'm gonna have to run through every single person that has access.”
“One of the men sent to pick us up, Eli, had an access card, too,” Aaron said.
Celine coughed again and wrapped her hand around her throat. Angry red streaks painted her skin from her collar bone to her chin. If it didn't mean wasting a bullet, he'd put another one in O'Keefe's skull. “You're doing great, sweetheart. Slow and easy.”
“He - he - he tried to kill me.”
“I killed him first,” Agent K said.
Aaron hugged her to him, needing to reassure himself she was really okay.
Celine tried to laugh and ended up coughing. When that finally passed she said, “Is Jack Mankel Mr. J?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t want you to suffer anymore. You were exhausted and injured. I was trying to protect you. A lot of good I’ve been at that lately. Ever…” Aaron dropped his forehead to hers, silently praying she’d understand his motives.
Mr. K cleared his throat. “Sorry, but you two need to disappear for a while. If J was able to do all this, get O’Keefe a secret card key and lock down the whole floor for him to carry out the murder, he’s got more power on the inside than I realized.”
He was right. If Celine went home, Mr. J would send someone else to finish her off. He had to hide her and he knew exactly where. “I've got a place already set up.”
K nodded, “Good. I'll need some time to sort this all out.” He extended a card to Aaron. “This is my personal line. Only contact me on a life or death basis. I don't want to risk your location any more than I have to.”
“Got it. I know how to disappear.” It was twisted considering the circumstances, but he was relieved to finally be disappearing with Celine in tow.