Watching From The Shadows: Trident Security Book 5 (13 page)

His stomach growled at the same time the doorbell rang. The pizza he’d ordered arrived just as his marijuana-induced munchies were kicking in.
Life is good.

* * *

A little after six p.m., two and a half hours after the meeting was over, a human assembly line was set up to get everything upstairs to Nick and Jake’s apartment. Brody had ended up driving his truck over to Harper’s as well, since everything hadn’t fit into Boomer’s vehicle. Marco never realized how much stuff a baby needed—crib, playpen, bouncy thingy, swing, car seat, diapers, toys, monitor, food, clothes, clothes, and more clothes. Then there was everything Harper needed, which had been mostly clothes and toiletries. She’d asked Lindsey to go through her things, which he was happy about since he didn’t want any of the guys pawing through her intimates. Karen had made a list of what she needed as well, which Abbott and Mancini were currently retrieving for her, after being relieved from their post by two contract agents.

Once everything was settled, the only people left in the apartment were Marco, Harper, Karen, and little Mara, who was drinking from the bottle her grandmother was giving her. Harper was organizing Nick’s office into a nursery, and Marco had just been in the way, so now he was sitting in a recliner, staring into space and trying to figure out why she was a target.

“Marco?”

Karen’s calm voice startled him from his thoughts.
“Huh?
Something wrong?”

Cradling the baby in her arms, she stood from the couch. “No, nothing’s wrong. Would you mind holding her for a few minutes? She’s not done with the bottle yet and I have to take my blood pressure medication. I’m getting a headache.”

His eyes grew wide and he tried to back away, which was impossible due to the recliner being remote controlled, as she leaned over and placed the precious bundle in his arms. For a man who had held dozens of different types of weapons and explosives, he had no idea how to hold a twelve-pound baby. Panic set in, almost as bad as it’d been when he’d been standing on the landmine. “W-wait a minute. I-I don’t know a thing about—”

“
Shhh
. You’ll do fine,” she assured him. “Just hold her head in the crook of your arm and lay her across your lap. Yes, just like that. Hold the bottle upright, so she doesn’t get any air. That’s it. See, you’re a natural. Just try to relax.”

Holy shit!
He was doing it. He hadn’t dropped Mara, and she wasn’t screaming her head off at him. Gazing in awe at his daughter, he tried to ease the tension in his shoulders, back, and arms. Everything would be fine as long as neither of them moved. If that happened, he was certain the initial terror he’d felt would return. His mouth ticked upward as he watched her. The little sucking noises she was making were adorable. Her eyes opened and she stared at him with eyes that matched his own. She was beautiful…just like her mother.

Karen stepped away, pulling him from his trance. “Why the turnaround? Two nights ago you wanted to castrate me.”

She smirked. “You’re still not out of the woods yet, but Harper convinced me you had no idea Mara existed. However, I’m still a tad pissed you got my daughter pregnant in the first place, but every time I look at my granddaughter, I forgive you a little more.”

Leaving him sitting there, feeding the baby, she retreated to the master bedroom. It was a few minutes before Harper emerged from the office and stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed him. “Wow. There’s a picture I’d never thought I’d see.”

“Yeah, well, join the club.” A sudden sensation made him pause. “
Um
…shit…I mean, I think she just…you know…down there.”

Harper threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t worry, that’s what diapers are for. And it’s probably just a few farts. She does that a lot when she eats.”

Snorting, he looked at Mara. “Like father, like daughter,
huh
?”

Grabbing a piece of cloth from a nearby diaper bag, she strode toward him and placed it on his shoulder. “Now that you fed her, you get to learn how to burp her.”

“
Um
…okay. What do I do?” It shouldn’t be too hard, right? After all, burping was as natural as farting. He did it all the time.

Harper took the now empty bottle from him. “Put one hand behind her head, the other on her butt, and gently put her on your shoulder with the burp cloth under her.” With awkward movements, he followed the instructions, then glanced up to see if he had done it right. “Yup, just like that. Now, rub her back in circles…
uh-huh
…you can rub a little harder than that until she lets out a loud one.”

“Loud one,
huh
?
Jeez
, she really is my daughter.”

After a few minutes of rubbing, sure enough, Mara let out a healthy belch…along with a splash of formula. But Harper was still standing nearby and helped clean him, the recliner, and the baby before taking her from his arms. “She’ll be asleep within a few minutes. I’ll just put her in the crib.”

“K….
um
…I’m not sure what Jake and Nick have in the house in terms of food. What do you want to do for dinner? I could run to the store or order take-out.”

With the baby on her shoulder, she headed for the hallway. “Actually, Kristen was nice enough to make extra of the chicken parmigiana and linguine she was making for Devon tonight. She said she’d call when it was ready and you can run over to get it.”

“That woman is a saint. I love her chicken parmigiana.”

“That’s what she said.”

As she disappeared from sight, he was about to stand and check the pantry and fridge for drinks when his phone rang.
Ian
. He connected the call. “What’s up?”

“Meet me out front. TPD has a suspect from the print.” As usual, his boss hung up without further fanfare.
Damn, that was fast
. He hadn’t been expecting any matches, if they found one, until the morning.

Marco jumped up, grabbed his keys, and checked his lower back and rear pocket for his weapon and wallet. Satisfied he had everything, he hurried to the darkened, temporary nursery. Remembering the baby was falling asleep, he lowered his voice as Harper covered Mara with a pink blanket. “The police have a suspect. I’m heading over there with Ian. Stay inside. Call Cain if you need anything. He’ll be posted outside.” He’d programmed her phone with the numbers of all the team members, just to be on the safe side.

“Okay.” She hesitated, then stepped toward him and put her arms around his waist, pulling him close. “Be careful, please.”

Unable to resist, he hugged her back before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I will. I’ll call as soon as I know anything. Save some dinner for me.”

Giving him a final squeeze, she let go and her gaze met his. “Okay.”

The urge to plunge his hands into her hair and kiss her senseless was strong, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, he didn’t have the right to do it—she wasn’t his. She’d only been his for a few hours over thirteen months ago and then had been gone when he’d awakened the next morning. He’d planned on calling that day to check on her, but then an urgent mission had come up, and by that afternoon, he’d been on a plane bound for Central America, where he’d remained for an entire month. He could’ve passed off the gig to one of the other guys, they all would’ve understood, but Marco had needed the distraction after Nina’s death.

After returning from the mission and finding she hadn’t left him any voice mail messages, he figured she’d either regretted the sex or wanted nothing to do with him. The morning after their night together, he’d sent her a quick text, telling her he’d be out of the country, but he’d been an ass and left it informal, not bringing up what had happened between them. While it had been one hell of a night, Harper was the type of woman who wouldn’t settle for casual and he didn’t want anything more than that. After a few more months passed, he’d just assumed they’d gone back to where they had been before—two acquaintances, joined together because of one common denominator who was now deceased.

Now, forcing himself to leave, he rushed down the stairs and out to the parking lot where Devon, Brody, Tiny, and Boomer were waiting for him. As he turned to scan the area, checking to be sure the guards were all where they were supposed to be, Brody laughed behind him. “Dude! Next time you burp the kid, make sure you have an old shirt on…or a fucking rain poncho.”

Grabbing his shirt and peering over his shoulder, he saw what everyone else had started chuckling about. Apparently Mara hadn’t gotten it all on the burping cloth and there was a disgusting formula stain on his back which smelled even worse than it looked. How the hell had he not noticed it before? “Shit.”

Pulling a clean T-shirt from the go-bag in his truck, Brody tossed it to Marco, who quickly changed, throwing the dirty shirt on the hood of his own vehicle. Ian exited the office building with his SUV keys in hand. “Murdock called. They’ve got the suspect holed up in an apartment over in Dunedin. Bomb squad is on their way and the PD is evacuating the rest of the building. They’re worried about booby-traps and aren’t taking any chances. Tiny, you hold down the fort. Lock it up tight. McCabe’s inside on the cameras. Polo and Dev, you ride with me.” He turned to the others and handed Brody a piece of paper and one of the company laptops. “You two follow. Let Boomer drive and you get me everything you can on the suspect before we get there.”

The geek took the stuff and nodded. “Got it.”

Loading up, they headed out with Ian’s SUV in the lead. As soon as they passed the guardhouse, the gates began to close again. Marco was confident the compound was secure. If anyone tried to gain entry, they’d be met with a hell of a lot of firepower and one very protective K9, who’d proven himself several times in the past.

With the evening traffic, it took close to thirty minutes to reach the address in Dunedin, northwest of Tampa. Ian and Boomer pulled into a supermarket parking lot just outside the blocked off street and everyone hoofed it to the closest uniformed officer, who contacted Murdock for them. The detective hurried over a few minutes later and lifted the ‘Do Not Cross – Crime Scene’ tape for them to duck under.

Ian shook his hand. “Anything yet?”

“Not much. Like I told you, name’s Grant Rodgers. The print tech is ninety-five percent certain he’s the match to the partial. White male, 28 years old. He’s lived here for the past two years. Been in and out of the system since he was fifteen—mostly misdemeanors and one felony for possession and use of a stolen credit card. Served thirteen months in prison for that four years ago. Nothing in his rap-sheet to indicate he’s into bombs, but maybe he just got lucky and this was the first we’re hearing about it.” That was pretty much what Brody had dug up on the suspect on the way to the scene, but the rest of them knew he’d be trying to find out a lot more when he returned to his war-room. Murdock turned and started walking back the way he’d come from, with the team on his heels. “It’s the Sheriff Department’s call with TPD’s bomb squad. They’ve cleared out the entire apartment complex—sixteen units total—as well as the buildings surrounding it. Rodger’s windows are covered, so we don’t have eyes on him yet. Phone calls are going unanswered. His car is in the parking lot and there’s music playing in his apartment. Neighbors say he always has the radio on when he’s home and turns it off when he goes out.”

The detective stopped next to the bomb squad’s van and Sgt. Templeton, who nodded at them. “You guys are keeping me busy this week.” He gestured toward the building. “Apartment’s on the third floor. Third and fourth windows from the left. Mendoza’s up there with the Sheriff’s entry team. With the radio blasting and covering any noise, they’re drilling a hole from the empty apartment next door through to his living room. Then they’ll snake in a camera to try to see if there are any booby-traps.”

“Heat signatures?” Ian asked, standing with his arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart.

“None detected. If it looks clear, we’ll go up the fire escape and in through the window.” Even if the door looked clear from the camera’s view, bombers were known to have sophisticated triggers which could be tripped, setting off an explosion designed to maim or kill anyone near the blast. It was less likely the windows on a third-floor unit would be rigged and, using a glass cutter, they could avoid disturbing the wood frame.

All around them, police radios squawked, before the voice of one of the officers inside came over. “Camera’s going in.”

Everyone held their breaths, waiting silently for the next update. Seconds ticked by.

“Unit 249 to Unit 205, we’ve got a male D.B. on the living room floor. No signs of triggers or traps. You can take the window.”

“Fuck!” Marco put his hands on his hips and fought the urge to hit something…or someone. ‘D.B.’ was police speak for a dead body. Chances were Rodgers had been offed by someone, committed suicide, or overdosed, if he was a user. It was highly improbable that a twenty-eight-year-old suspect had died of natural causes just before the police came to bring him in for questioning.

It was another twenty minutes before one of the other members of the bomb squad climbed through a large hole which had been made in the living room window. And another ten minutes passed before Mendoza let his sergeant know that they had opened the apartment’s door and all was clear.

“Can you send me a pic of the D.B.?” the supervisor asked over the secure radio channel. They all wanted to see if it matched the mug shot of Rodgers that Brody had on his laptop.

“Yeah. Give me a sec. He’s face up. Looks like he was stabbed several times and got his throat slit. My guess is three to four hours ago, but need the ME to confirm. By the way, there’s a Frankenstein mask in here, and plans and evidence of the bomb from Clearwater laying right out in the open.”

Ian glanced at Marco with a hint of worry. Yeah, they’d found their bomber, but someone had beaten them to him. So now they were back to square one. No suspects and a still unknown motive. “He was probably hired out and then killed, because either the bomb didn’t work or he could lead us to whoever wants Harper dead.”