CHAPTER 6.

RACHEL.

I stood in the middle of my small living area with my hands up as the agents rushed toward me.

"Oh, my G.o.d! Can a person not go to the bathroom without having her door busted in? Ever heard of patience?"

The men stood still and silent as the sound of my toilet running filled the s.p.a.ce.

"You can't just bust in here!" I added for good measure.

It took them a moment to shake their stupor, and then the shorter man moved around me while the taller one spoke. "Where's Derrick Forrester?"

I shook my head, my hands still up. "I don't know."

"We know he was with you."

"If you were watching him, then you know he's not here."

"Where'd he go?" the taller guy asked.

"Why didn't you ask him when he left?"

The taller man tilted his head toward my room. "Search the place."

His partner headed to the back and my anger soared. "Hey! Where's your search warrant!"

He grinned. "We don't need one."

What that h.e.l.l was Derrick onto? Oily anxiety coated my nerves.

When I heard a banging in my sleeping area, followed by a crash, I took a step in that direction. "Hey!"

The agent watching me waved his gun. "I don't think so."

"You think I'm going to stand here while he tears up my apartment when you don't even have a warrant? I don't think so."

His finger tightened on the trigger.

There was another crash in my room and I clenched my hands into fists. "Dammit!"

The one-man wrecking ball emerged five minutes later. To my relief, he didn't have the bag.

"Are you boys done yet?" I asked. "If you looked under the bed, then I think you've checked all the places he could be hiding."

The agent with the gun walked over to my end table and batted my lamp onto the floor. The light bulb shattered on the wood floor, so the only light came from the light over my kitchen sink, but I could still see the evil grin spread across his face. "Oops."

I gave him a smarta.s.s smirk. "Oh. Big man. You can break a lamp. I'm impressed."

His eyes darkened, but his buddy help up his hand.

"Enough. There's nothing here."

"I could have told you that," I said. "If you'd asked."

The taller agent pulled a card out of his pocket and tossed it onto my kitchen counter. "You seem like a smart girl. You managed yourself pretty well in that skirmish in that little Iraqi town a few years back. So you should be smart enough to know to call that number when he shows up again." He paused. "Or this will look like nothing compared to what happens next."

What the...

I knew what he meant, of course. Sean had been in full-scale seduction mode at the time, and he'd secured me a place on that raid. Most women wouldn't have found that sort of thing s.e.xy-and I didn't-but the fact that he'd made it happen had impressed me. Now it was just another reminder that he'd always known how to manipulate me.

His a.s.shole friend had just made a fatal error.

The taller agent and his buddy turned and walked toward the still-open door. I was half tempted to pick up a drinking gla.s.s at the table and hurl it at the back of the a.s.shole's head, but ten-to-one he'd turn and shoot me. If they could do this without a warrant, killing a nosy journalist who had a well-known tendency to meet with unscrupulous sources would be easy.

But one thing was certain. Those guys might be government, but they sure as s.h.i.+t weren't FBI.

After they walked through the threshold, I shut my door and locked it. That didn't seem like enough, so I wedged a chair under the door handle to barricade the entrance. I had to laugh. My jerry-rigged extra security wouldn't keep a five-year-old out, but it was better than nothing. It was at times like these I wished I had a German shepherd.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed the card off the counter and looked at the hand-scratched number on an otherwise blank s.p.a.ce. While tons of people loved to believe the world was full of conspiracies, I'd always found that most turned out to be nothing even close. But I couldn't ignore that weird pile of ashes or the swiftness with which Sean and his goons had appeared in that alley.

And I couldn't ignore that word Derrick had tossed out-bioterrorism, for G.o.d's sake-or the fact that one of his maps featured a military facility in Iraq rumored to be used for medical experiments. Even so, there had to be some logical explanation for all of it, but d.a.m.ned if I could come up with one.

I stuffed the card into my jeans pocket and found my canvas jacket buried in the pile of clothes scattered across my floor. Slipping it on, I made my way through the rubble to my secret hole. For all I knew, the agent had bugged or put a video device in my room, so I blocked the entrance to the closet, pretending to dig through the scattered clothing as I lifted the lid to the hole and dug out my Glock from underneath Derrick's bag. While I knew how to use it, I didn't carry it often. It wasn't worth the risk, particularly when I knew other moves that could get me out of most sticky situations-the one good thing about growing up with four brothers and a father who was a cop-but I had a feeling it might come in handy tonight. I stuffed it into an inner pocket of my jacket, along with additional ammo. Then I grabbed my bag and looped it over my shoulder and opened my bedroom window.

I had no doubt I was being watched. I just had to make sure they didn't see me leave. I slipped onto the fire escape and climbed to the top of the building. Anyone watching my apartment would be looking at street level.

After living in a hot zone for several years, it was safe to say I was on the paranoid side in wanting an escape plan. Even from my own home. So the beautiful part of my apartment was the proximity of its roof to the top of the building next door. Someone afraid of heights would be terrified of the three-foot gap, and I had to admit I was skittish, but this was all about survival. I'd do d.a.m.n near anything to survive.

It was easy after the leap. I found the stairwell and descended eight flights, then pulled a stocking cap out of my bag and put it on, cramming my hair underneath. Sure enough, there was a black car parked down the street from the entrance to my apartment, but no one bothered me as I walked in the opposite direction and hailed a cab. When I gave him the address in Derrick's text, he punched it into his GPS system and turned around, giving me a questioning look. "Fifth Avenue and 66th Street. That's the lower end of Central Park."

s.h.i.+t. Of course, the park. "Yeah. I need to get there in ten minutes."

He shook his head. "We'll never make it in ten. There's roadwork."

"I'll pay you double, if you do."

That was all the incentive he needed to jerk around, throw the car into drive, and take off like a bat out of h.e.l.l.

I turned to make sure we weren't followed, then pulled out my phone to see if I'd missed a call or text from Derrick. Nothing.

I sent him one instead. My place is compromised. I'm coming to you. Stay on the island.

By the time the cab driver pulled up to the park with nine minutes on the meter, I handed him double the fare. When he looked surprised, I said, "A deal's a deal."

He pulled away from the curb and I tugged down the cap I was still wearing in an attempt to keep dry in the cold drizzle. I tried to get my bearings. A city park at night was a safe place to meet-there was darkness for anonymity, but this side of midnight was busy enough for plenty of witnesses.

I stayed close to the hedges and eased my way to the entrance. Of course, it would have been too easy if they were having a powwow on the park bench to my right. My best option would be to make my way through the park like I was on a stroll. I really could have used that German shepherd about now. Central Park was huge, but at least I knew the general area they'd agreed upon.

After walking for a few more minutes, I found a path leading to a more private area, in the direction of the park's famous Shakespeare statue. Shaking my head, I walked down it, wondering if I was heading into a trap. But a few moments later I heard voices-one of them was Derrick's. I crouched behind several bushes to try and overhear their conversation, but I couldn't make anything out.

Suddenly the man grabbed Derrick-so inhumanly fast it was a blur-and held him to his chest, one arm around his neck, as he stared into the darkness.

A shrouded figure emerged, moving with a slow stealth I had only seen big cats use to catch their prey. And currently Derrick was the literal middleman between the hunted and the prey. I pulled out my gun and turned off the safety.

The shrouded person continued to advance, and Derrick seemed to stop fighting as much. The hunter and the hunted man spoke low, too low to hear. I debated trying to get closer or waiting for a good shot at the man currently holding Derrick hostage.

But then the man decided for me by slas.h.i.+ng Derrick's thigh and hurling him toward the hunter. The hunter leapt for the man and pinned him to the ground. Then, to my surprise, the man leaned forward and bit the hunter's arm. I had no clue who was friend or foe, but I knew I had to get them to scatter so I could get to Derrick out of there.

Derrick had other plans. He was already on his feet, his own gun in hand, and he didn't hesitate to fire at his attackers. The pair stopped their struggling and s.h.i.+fted their stances as Derrick fired again. Was he out of his mind?

He took off then, rounding a corner, and I had every intention of going after him. But then the hunter wrapped something around the guy who'd held Derrick captive-metal filament? What the h.e.l.l? Whatever Derrick had been after was still going down. I'd catch up to him later. His wounds didn't look fatal, and if this was what had brought those agents to my door, I wanted to know as much about it as possible.

The hunter stood and kicked the man, who let out a low sound, and then the hunter dragged the guy along the ground.

I followed, keeping a good distance. If I was right about the hooded figure being a hunter, he'd notice me following. At one point the figure stopped and slowly moved his head around as if sniffing me out. Which was impossible. My finger tightened on the trigger of my gun, but he must have decided it was nothing. Then the hood slipped a little, revealing part of the hunter's face.

The hunter was a woman.

I stifled a gasp as she took off again, and I was nearly paralyzed with questions. Who was she? How was she so strong? Why was I the only person in this park who had noticed her dragging him?

I considered calling 911. I was obviously witnessing a kidnapping. But then I'd never get answers, and I desperately wanted answers. I pulled out my phone and texted Derrick.

I'm in here in the park. I saw everything. I'm following them now.

He shot back instantly with three words. Are you crazy?

I swallowed my laugh. He knew I was crazy.

They're heading toward the entrance, I sent back. Meet you there.

The hunter stopped at the entrance. I hid about thirty feet back, wanting to see where she was going, but afraid to get too close.

I'm across the street from the entrance.

Derrick texted back, I see them.

Seconds later she rounded the corner, dragging the man with her. As soon as she was out of sight, I raced to the entrance and hid around the corner. A car pulled up and the trunk popped open. She shoved the man into the back, slammed the trunk shut, and climbed into the backseat. The car took off, the taillights lighting up the drizzle that had turned to rain.

Movement across the street caught my eye and I saw Derrick limping toward a sedan. Dodging an oncoming car whose driver lauded me with horn blasts and shouted expletives, I intercepted him. He stood on the sidewalk next to the dark gray sedan and I stood in the street.

"What are you doing here, Rachel?" He sounded angry, but his face was pale even in this bad light.

"Yell at me later. Is this your car?" I pointed to the sedan as I jerked the damp cap off my head.

"Yeah."

I jerked on the driver's side door. "Unlock it. Let's go."

He shook his head. "I can't get you-"

"Involved? I'm already involved!" I jerked the handle again. "Dammit, Derrick! They're getting away!"

I heard the lock unclick and hopped into the car; he climbed into the pa.s.senger seat and tossed me the keys.

I tore away from the curb, ready to do what it took to catch up with them, and shot Derrick my best b.i.t.c.h glare. "I think it's time you told me everything."

He swallowed and his face became even paler as he shrugged off his coat. "You're never going to believe me."

"Try me."

I turned the corner, trying to catch sight of the hunter's car when I saw a familiar face in my rearview mirror. Sitting in the dark sedan directly behind me was the agent who'd trashed my apartment.

s.h.i.+t.

"And in case you're not convinced I'm involved, those agents behind us just cemented that I am. Start talking."

But before he could say anything, a gunshot rang out. I punched the gas and took off, wondering how in the h.e.l.l I was going to outrun imposter Feds in New York City.

"You can't let them catch me."

The uncharacteristic fear in Derrick's voice scared me. But I'd never admit that to him.

"Hang on. This is about to get b.u.mpy."

CHAPTER 7.

LEA.

I threw Caine into the trunk of the car. The silver filament would hold him. Every twitch he made would drive the net deeper into his muscles and flesh. I rubbed my hand over my right bicep. Through the material of the s.h.i.+rt, I could feel the ridged scars from my own encounter with the mesh.

"Calvin, drive."

"Where to?"

"East side. Now."