Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) (37 page)

“Let’s ease him into it.” He held her gaze. “I’ll stay with you while I recover—or we could all go to the cabin.”

She swallowed hard. “I’d like that. Both of those options.” Her eyes searched his face, uncertainty making her hesitate. “I don’t want to rush into things and make a mistake but…”

“But it doesn’t feel like a mistake,” Jed finished her sentence for her. “I know.”

The door opened and in walked Michael and Jed’s parents. The relieved smiles on their faces revealed exactly how worried they’d been. His mother looked like she’d been crying.

For a man who was married to his work and rarely saw his family, he knew life was about to change drastically. He gave Michael’s hand a squeeze. “Look after them until I’m out of here, OK, Mikey? Should be tomorrow.”

They all snorted but he’d already taken another dose of morphine because the pain burned so bad he thought he was going to start making loud whining noises. Vivi bent to kiss him softly on the lips. She was the most beautiful, most resilient woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t wait to get out of this place and start the rest of their lives together. His vision started to fade and Vivi gripped his hand.

“Don’t let go,” he murmured through the increasing fog.

“I won’t let go.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He heard the smile in her voice though his lids were too heavy to lift. At least this time he knew what he’d be waking up to.

EPILOGUE

December 23rd. Eleven days later.

A
ssistant Special Agent in Charge Lincoln Frazer had just watched a man he knew to be a traitor and a murderer buried with full military honors in Arlington Cemetery. Vice President Ted Burger had not only plotted a terrorist attack against his own people on home soil, including an attempt on the president’s life, he’d also been a leading figure in The Gateway Project—a high level vigilante organization. The fact that just a few short weeks ago Frazer had agreed to a cover-up based on the Vice President’s orders, rather than risk the destruction of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, made acid churn in his stomach. He had to live with his choices, but it didn’t mean he had to like them.

Officially, the VP had died of a coronary. In reality, he’d ingested a tiny amount of batrachotoxin, which had been smeared on the lip of his coffee cup. It had killed him in a matter of minutes. No one had seen a thing.

Frazer got some small consolation from the fact the man’s religious beliefs had had to take second place to considerations of State. As the guy’s soul was already doomed, Frazer doubted it mattered much anyway.

He stood in the Oval Office at the White House, full of solemnity and not a small amount of unease, surrounded by Christmas cards and decorations that proclaimed Joy and Happiness to the world. Those wishes had never felt more precarious.

“What do we know about the woman who delivered the poison?” President Hague sat behind his polished desk and eyed him over half-rim glasses. Joshua Hague was a man of economics, not tactical aggression, and had been vital in the recovery of the US economy. He was just now realizing being the president of the United States involved a lot more than balancing the check book.

“She’s a professional assassin. We don’t know her name or have any good photographs of her face, but I’ve seen her work before. She’s fond of poison dart frogs.”

“Any idea who hired her?”

Frazer stood taller. “No, Mr. President. It is possible she was acting alone.” He was being granted a rare private interview with the president and what they were discussing was only known to a handful of people. Still, he couldn’t reveal the whole truth without putting lives at risk, lives of good people, people who were the best chance they had of catching this woman.

“Am I in danger?” the president asked.

Frazer hesitated. “She only appears to kill people who have also committed murder, sir.” He wondered if that put him on her list? She could hardly throw stones under the circumstances.

“As US President, there are many who say I commit murder every day.” Hague stared at the papers on his desk, clearly uneasy with some of the recent decisions he’d been forced to make.

“I think after everything that happened you need to be extra-aware of your security, Mr. President. Right now, I don’t know who hired her or if she has her own agenda. White House security is excellent, but until she’s captured, I think you’d be wise to use caution in all things, but I don’t think you’re a target.”

Hague nodded thoughtfully. “Are you confident the FBI tracked down everyone involved in the terror attacks in Minnesota?”

“All the terrorists directly involved with the mall shooting are dead. So are the men who attacked the safe house—one guy was pulled out of a dumpster with a bullet from his own gun in his brain. We have a local cop who was bribed, but according to our interrogators, doesn’t know anything about who was running the show. Abdullah Mulhadre isn’t talking and never will.” Which raised major issues with Syria as the guy had diplomatic immunity. “We never caught the man who attacked Jed Brennan and Vivi Vincent in the cabin.”

“We should release Mulhadre,” said Hague. “Something tells me his own people are going to treat him far worse than we ever would.”

Frazer agreed. He doubted Mulhadre knew that the plot had probably been instigated by Israel. They had no
conclusive
proof, just a Tanfoglio handgun, an array of cell phone data Alex Parker had illegally traced between Burger, Al Sahad and Pilah Rasheed, plus the untimely death of Vice President Burger by a known vigilante assassin. Thankfully Frazer had been able to persuade President Hague that, despite the money trail leading from the Syrian regime to the terrorists, he didn’t think they were responsible for what had happened.

War had been averted. For now. Everyone was still on high alert though.

Hague slumped back in his chair. “I’ve spoken to the Israeli Prime Minister. He assured me his country had nothing to do with the attack.”

Frazer cocked a brow. “Frankly, he’s not likely to say anything else, Mr. President. We believe a suspected member of the Kidon left within hours of the attempt on your life.” The Kidon was a highly secretive organization within the already furtive Mossad, who—allegedly—carried out political assassinations. “Someone else was communicating with Pilah Rasheed. Someone removed her children from Sargon Al Sahad’s compound just before you ordered the drone strike.”

The president rolled his shoulders and put his pen down and stood. “I spoke to my Chiefs of Staff.” The recent events had stirred up riots similar to the Arab Spring, but this time the anger was directed fiercely against the US. “We are increasing military preparedness at all bases and consulates in Arab countries. Also across Europe. With the Russians making moves we’re stretched thin at a time we need to be seen as stronger than ever.” He looked up. The lines on his face were more marked than they had been eleven days ago, before the attempted assassination. “I can’t even point a finger at Israel right now. If we abandon them, Iran will see it as a carte blanche to attack and Israel will retaliate with nuclear arms.” He turned to look out of the windows as the lights started to come on across the city. “What did they think this would achieve?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Well they have managed to stir up trouble with every Arab nation, which I think was their main objective.” Frazer cleared his throat. “And they never expected to get caught. The Kidon have a fearsome reputation. The fact Jed, Vivi, and Michael survived…”
Miracle
.

The president nodded. “I never did like Burger.”

“But you chose him as a running-mate?”

A quick grin showed Frazer the sharp mind beneath the laid back persona. “I wanted to win, ASAC Frazer. I needed Burger for that. Now I get to choose someone I admire and can work with.” He ran a hand over his thinning hair. “The man did me a favor. That should make him turn in his grave.”

“Any idea who you might pick?”

Hague pursed his lips. “I’m going to ask Madeleine Florentine.”

The Governor of California was a leading advocate of developing alternative energy sources to try and break their country’s reliance on fossil fuels. Big oil would be pissed, but from a security point of view, Frazer thought it was sensible long-term planning. “She’s an excellent choice.”

“I want you to check her out before I make a final decision.”

He blinked. “Me, sir?”

Hague held Frazer’s gaze and nodded. “Your people were the ones who figured out the connection between Burger and the assassination attempt.”

“It’s all circumstantial, sir,” Frazer reminded him. “It might not have stood up in a court of law. And someone else figured it out too—”

“That’s exactly my point.” President Hague’s eyes gleamed. “I would appreciate it if you’d run some background checks just to make sure that I’m not hiring someone who might stab me in the back—literally. I love my job, but I hope to make it to retirement.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir.”

The president nodded sharply and then smiled. “I have a surprise for you. I invited Special Agent Brennan, Vivi Vincent, and her son to dinner tonight. I’d like you to join us.”

Frazer checked his watch. He was supposed to go to the Russian Ambassador’s Christmas party, but one didn’t blow off the US President for the opposition. Plus, he wanted to see Jed.

“Thank you. I need to make a phone call if I may?” Special Agent Matt Lazlo would cover for him. He lived less than an hour away and Frazer would send a car. The guy even had a uniform to throw on for these occasions.

A Christmas party sounded like exactly the sort of thing they all needed. Then a few days of R&R before they got back to chasing the bad guys. Frazer hoped the bad guys got the memo and everyone took a break. He wondered where the female assassin would spend Christmas. He’d find her eventually. He’d stop her, one way or another.

Read the first book of Toni Anderson’s Cold Justice Romantic Suspense Series...

A COLD DARK PLACE

©Toni Anderson

PROLOGUE

L
indsey Keeble sang along to “Fun.” on the radio, trying to pretend she wasn’t freaked out by the dark. It was one in the morning and she hated driving this lonely stretch of highway between Greenville and Boden. Rain was threatening to turn to snow. The wind was gusting so forcefully that the tall trees looming high above her on the ridge made her swerve nervously toward the center line. The back tires slid on the asphalt and she slowed; no way did she want to wreck her precious little car.

She worked evenings at a gas station in Boden. It was quiet enough she usually got some studying done between customers. Tonight everyone and their dog were filling up ahead of a possible early winter storm. You’d think they’d never seen snow before.

A flash of red lights in her rearview had her heart squeezing.
Dammit!

She hadn’t been speeding—she couldn’t afford a ticket and never drank alcohol. She signaled to pull over and stopped on the verge. Lindsey lived responsibly because she wanted a life bigger than her parochial hometown. She wasn’t some hillbilly. She wanted to travel and see the world—Paris, Greece, maybe the pyramids if the unrest settled down. She peered through the sleet drenched glass as a black SUV pulled in tight behind her.

A tall dark figure approached her vehicle. A cop’s gold shield tapped against the glass. Frigid damp air flooded the interior as she rolled down the window and she huddled into her jacket as rain spat at her.

“License and registration.” A low voice rumbled in that authoritative way cops had. He wore a dark slicker over black clothes. The gun on his hip glinted in the headlights of his vehicle. She didn’t recognize his face, but then she couldn’t really see his features with ice stinging her eyes.

“What’s this about?” Her teeth chattered. She found the documents in her glove box and purse, and handed them over. Her hands returned to grip the hard plastic of the steering wheel as she waited. “I wasn’t speeding.”

“There’s an alert out on a stolen red Neon so thought I’d check it out.”

“Well, this is
my
car and I’ve done nothing wrong.” She knew her rights. “You’ve got no reason to stop me.”

“You were driving erratically.” The voice got deeper and angrier. She winced.
Never piss off a cop
. “Plus, you’ve got a broken taillight. That gives me a reason.”

Lindsey’s worry was replaced by annoyance. She snapped off her seatbelt and applied the parking brake. She’d been shafted last year when another driver had sideswiped her in a parking lot and then claimed she’d been at fault to the insurers. “It was fine when I left for work this afternoon. I haven’t hit anything in the meantime.”
Goddamn it
.

“Go take a look.” The cop stood back. He had a nice face despite the hard mouth and even harder eyes. Maybe she could sweet talk him out of a ticket, not that she was real good at sweet talk. Her dad could fix the light in the morning but if she had to pay a ticket as well, every hour of work today would have been for nothing.

She pulled the hood of her slicker over her head and climbed out. The headlights of his SUV blinded her as she took a few steps. She shielded her gaze and frowned. “I don’t see anything—”

A surge of fire shot through her back. Pain exploded in a shockwave of screeching agony that overwhelmed her from the tips of her ears to the gaps between her toes. She’d never experienced anything like it. Sweat bloomed on her skin, clashing with sleet as she hit the tarmac. Rough hands grabbed her around the middle and hoisted her into the air. She couldn’t control her arms or legs. She was shifted onto a hip where something unyielding bit into her stomach. She fought the urge to vomit even as her brain whirled.