Black Ops 03 - Deadly Games (12 page)

And if Tran knew that much about Rocco’s movements, it didn’t take much to believe he could also access the safe house location where Adele and Billy were currently being protected. The same place Rocco had intended to take Gena.

With Minh Tran’s actions becoming increasingly unpredictable, Rocco needed to come up with a new location. One not associated with the Agency.

“Tell me again about the man who abducted you,” Rocco said. “He was Hispanic?”

Minh Tran would have realized that sending his Thai associates into the tiny border town would have made them conspicuous. Still, for Tran to work outside his own close-knit clan was highly unusual.

“He was definitely Hispanic,” Gena said. “But he spoke with a different accent. South American perhaps.”

“What about scars or tattoos?”

“None that were visible.”

“Have you ever seen him before?” Rocco asked. “Around town perhaps?”

“At first I thought he looked familiar.”

“Familiar how? Height? Weight?”

“No. Like someone I met when I was married to Harry. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m positive I was mistaken.” Gena still scanned the roads behind them.

“Is it possible you saw him recently or that he followed you from the hospital?”

“No. Yes.” She rubbed her eyes. “Maybe. I was distracted. As I was leaving, a friend of Lupe’s stopped me. She—” Gena’s voice cracked. “She gave me a shoebox containing some of Lupe’s personal belongings. She wanted me to get them to Lupe’s grandmother. On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the old woman. About how long it would be before she found out her granddaughter is dead.”

“Don’t tell me. That’s where you were headed.”

“I had to go somewhere, didn’t I?” Gena shoved her still-damp hair back with one hand and grimaced with pain. “I figured no one would look for me in Mexico.”

Rocco caught a glimpse of her scraped palms, knew they stung. He needed to fully check out her injuries, but until they were farther away, they couldn’t afford the time.

His cell phone rang. He checked the display, saw it was Catalina. Rocco had called her previously with the tag number of the black truck.

“The license plates were stolen. The Sugar Springs police are still searching for the black truck,” Cat
said. “But they don’t seem to have any reports of your vehicle being involved, at least not yet.”

“The perp’s probably already ditched the truck,” Rocco said. “What else have the police got?”

“They are interviewing witnesses, trying to get a better description of the shooter. A dark-haired Hispanic male probably describes over half the population in that region.”

“We’ve got another problem,” Rocco said. “Apparently, whoever grabbed Gena knew to watch out for me. I’m concerned they may know where I was planning to take her.”

“Do you want me to arrange a relocation and get you a new locale?”

“Make arrangements for Adele and Billy. I’ll handle Gena’s security personally.” There was only way to ensure that no one knew how to find Gena and that was by telling no one.

“Understood,” Cat said. “How can we contact you?”

“I’ll stay in touch. Any news from Dante or Travis?”

“Nothing from Travis. Sorry. I know you’re concerned about Maddy. Dante said the missing store clerk has been located unharmed, and she identified Taz as her abductor. The Kentucky police are pressuring the FBI to publicize the manhunt.”

“Has Max had any more contact with Taz, via, you know, their head connection?” Rocco asked.

“Max apparently made contact with him last night, which Dante feels is what influenced Taz to release the woman without harm. But Max had another seizure afterward. Erin wants to join them.”

“And Max is saying no, right?” Dr. Erin Houston was the psychologist who had helped Max after his return. They were engaged now.

“Right,” Cat said. “AndI can imagine Erin’s concern.”

“Me, too, but Max knows what he’s doing. And Max is our best shot at finding Taz before he does more harm. Look, I’ll call back in a couple hours.” Rocco turned off the phone and loosened the battery to hamper GPS tracking. Future calls would need to be limited or made from a throwaway cell phone or even pay phones, though those were becoming harder and harder to come by.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Gena asked. “You said something about Dante and Max. I know this sounds crazy, but weren’t those the same names—”

“As the agents who disappeared with Harry? Yes. They are the same two men, Gena. Dante Johnson and Max Duncan. With everything that’s gone on since I arrived, I haven’t had a chance to explain.” Rocco slowed as they approached the outskirts of McAllen, Texas. “Dante and Max didn’t die on an overseas mission. Which means there’s a strong possibility that Harry is alive, too.”

Harry is alive.

Not for the first time, Gena felt as if her life had become entrapped in a snow globe that kept getting shaken up by others.

Memories swirled, some dark, some ugly. Many incomplete.
Don’t think of the past.

“Is all this stuff pertaining to Harry, Dante, and Max, connected to the man who is after you?” Gena asked. “And to the fire last night?”

Rocco had pulled into a drugstore parking lot and stopped the car. “It’s related, yes. Let’s go inside and grab a few supplies. Then I’ll explain everything.”

“No! I want answers, Rocco, and I want them now. Or so help me, I’ll start screaming my head off.” She pointed at the two people who were smoking cigarettes near the door. “You won’t get out of here without them getting a tag number.”

“Easy.” Rocco held up his hands in surrender. “We’ll do it your way.”

“I want all of it,” she said. “No edits. No claims that it’s classified or top secret. After all I’ve been through, I deserve more than the Agency’s standard BS lines.”

“Agreed. How much do you know about the circumstances of Harry’s disappearance two years ago? I know you were divorced by then.”

“Disappearance?” Gena shook her head. She should have known better than to believe the story the CIA floated back then. “Harry’s father was told Harry died on an overseas mission. Ephraim had suffered a stroke just a few weeks before receiving that news and he was devastated. He and Harry were estranged at the time. Ephraim contacted me through my aunt. He had no other family and needed help making funeral arrangements.”

“I heard you were at the memorial service,” Rocco said.

“And you weren’t.” She’d expected him to show up. Had prepared herself for seeing him again.

“I was in Afghanistan at the time.”

“As I said, the news devastated Ephraim. He had dreamed of reconciling with Harry.” She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories. “Ephraim’s health declined rapidly after that. He died a year ago. I was stunned to learn he’d left his estate to me. I, uh,
planned to donate it, but now …?” She looked at Rocco. “Are you saying Harry didn’t really die?”

“We don’t have proof, but there’s a good possibility Harry is alive. Dante and Max were recovered from separate prisons overseas. And recently there’s been an unconfirmed report that Harry is also being held in that same part of the world.”

“Dante and Max were in prison? What were they accused of?”

“These were secret prisons. Asylums. Dante and Max were badly mistreated and subjected to what amounts to illegal human experimentation,” Rocco said. “I would expect that Harry’s been abused as well. But given that Dante and Max survived, the odds are strong for Harry.”

“Oh, God.” Gena blinked back tears. Her memories of Harry, what she could recall at least, were bad. It had taken her years to make peace with them. “Harry and I … Our marriage was a disaster, but I’d never wish that kind of fate on anyone. But how does this tie in to what’s happening to you? To me?”

“After rescuing Max overseas, I apprehended one of the scientists who was conducting some of those human experiments. Unfortunately, other people want this scientist, too, for some very nasty, very illegal reasons. During the course of that mission, I killed the son of a powerful Southeast Asian drug lord by the name of Minh Tran. Tran is now demanding vengeance.”

“An eye for an eye? Is that why he’s killing people? To avenge his son?”

“It’s less about his son and more about that scientist I apprehended, Dr. Rufin. Tran wants him. And Tran figures that since I caught Dr. Rufin I can free
him as well. To force my hand, Tran kidnapped the woman I was briefly involved with, and then went after my sister. Now he’s after you as well.”

“People you care, or used to care, about.” Gena’s hands were shaking now. “And Tran doesn’t give a flip how many innocent people he hurts, does he?”

“I won’t let anyone near you, Gena. Please believe that,” Rocco went on. “I don’t want to stay in one place for long, so for now I suggest we go inside and get what we need to tend your injuries. We’ll talk more once we’re finished here.”

Gena nodded, needing to process what she’d just learned.

Was it the truth? Had the Agency known or suspected all along that their own operatives hadn’t actually died?

By the time they exited the drugstore, Gena felt shaky. Her head pounded, and despite her claims to the contrary, her wrist and hip were killing her.

The lack of sleep combined with the horror of the fire, Lupe’s death, and the foiled abduction was taking a toll. Then there was the news about Harry.

When they were back in the car, Rocco began ransacking his purchases. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen.

He shook out two tablets, then handed her a can of ginger ale. “You could probably use something stronger, but maybe these will help ease the pain. I’ve got an ice pack for your hand, but I want to clean those cuts first.”

Gena swallowed the painkillers. “I can do that.”

“Humor me. You might want to eat a cracker while I do this so you don’t start barfing when those pills hit an empty stomach.”

Gena pulled out a pack of peanut butter crackers he’d bought. Food was the last thing she wanted, but the thought of getting sick in front of Rocco was mortifying.

When he finished cleaning and treating her cuts, Rocco started the car and pulled away.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“For now, I think it’s best we stay on the move.”

“You mean hide out? For how long?”

“I don’t know. Tran seems to have ears in places he shouldn’t. I want to find a place to check the rest of your injuries. And you need some rest. We might even cross into Mexico. Minh Tran is not popular with the drug lords south of the border. And I have some reliable connections there, ones who can’t be traced to the Agency.”

“Then we have to go back to Sugar Springs first. I have no ID, no passport. No suitcase.”

“I have what we need to travel under assumed identities, but we’ll have to pose as husband and wife.”

Gena felt an urge to cry and laugh at the same time. “Always the Boy Scout; prepared for anything.”

“Gena, I—”

She cut him off. “I just hate that I have so little choice in any of this.”

Rocco didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He finally said, “We’ll stop a little later and pick up clothes and whatever toiletries you need. For now, why don’t you close your eyes and try to get a little sleep while I drive? Let those ibuprofen kick in.”

Gena nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Part of her wanted to get as far from Rocco as possible. But a bigger part wanted to lose herself in Rocco’s embrace. To find that part of the past that had been so
damn good between them. She didn’t want to sleep, but closing her eyes and pretending would buy her time to get her emotions under control.

Emotions she thought she’d buried years ago when she was young, naïve, and queen of all things stupid.

Seven Years Earlier
Washington, D.C.

Gena rocked her hips, seeking contact, friction. Needing relief. Release.

Can’t. Take. It.

“Easy, princess. I know what you need.”

“Kiss me, Rocco.”
She twined her arms around his neck.
“Kiss me again.”

Her alarm blared, shattering the fantasy. Gena groaned and reached to shut it off, tempted to hit SNOOZE to chase sleep. To fall back into the dream, back into Rocco’s arms.

Then she felt the wet spot on her pillow.

She pushed up, glaring at the dark circle of moisture. “
Eeeew
. Tell me I was drooling in my sleep, not French kissing my pillow.”

Moving made her aware of moisture elsewhere. Between her legs. Great, she’d probably been humping the sheets, too. Had she talked in her sleep as well?
Kiss me, Rocco.

She rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. If there was one consolation, it was the fact she lived alone.

“Your secret’s safe with me, princess.”

She shivered. Those had been Rocco Taylor’s last words to her. Spoken over three weeks ago. Three weeks.

Hello? Time to wake up and smell the double latte. Obviously he’d lost interest.

Or found a new one.

She gripped the counter as icy arrows of despair assaulted her. “Oh my God. I’ve been dumped!”

She blinked back tears, uncertain what to do next. This—a broken heart—was one disappointment her mother had never prepared her for. And she had a feeling Millicent Armstrong’s usual prescription— “here, take a sip”—wouldn’t touch this. So Gena reacted the way her father would have. She got pissed.

She squished toothpaste onto her brush and attacked her teeth. She’d been warned not to take anything Rocco said seriously. The man was considered a walking, talking flirt machine. A player, only out for the thrill of the chase.

And he had pursued her relentlessly at first, refusing to take no for an answer. Looking sinfully handsome while barraging her with e-mails, phone calls, and flowers. He’d been so … intent. How could she not have fallen for him?

Once she’d agreed to have lunch with him, she’d promptly lost her heart. But in the end, he’d lived up to his reputed maxim: Wine ’em, dine ’em, fuck ’em, drop ’em.

Except in her case it had only been wine ’em, dine ’em, drop ’em. And therein lay the problem.