“See? What did I tell you. He’s already past the point of no return with her.” Reese snorted. “You are so over your head, Mitch.”
Over his head? Of course, he was over his head. Liz was beautiful. Smart. Strong. Defiant, yet willing. She stood up for herself and didn’t let him get away with anything. Plus, there was a connection between the two of them that went above physical. He’d spilled his guts to her about his family…he’d never done that with any other woman. Not only did his gut jerk in agreement, a big hollow space seemed to settle in the middle of his chest every time he thought about leaving.
Stealth was right, she made him laugh. She brought him peace and completion at the same time. That’s all he’d ever wanted in life. That’s all he’d ever need.
Before he talked himself out of his decision, Mitch jumped on the PWC and headed back to his house, while the guys waited for the boat crew to arrive. Sliding the PWC into the sand, he pulled it farther up on the beach and ran toward the house. The deck blinds were still closed. Good.
He opened the door then smiled. There was Liz, standing behind the kitchen counter. Her eyes were red, probably from crying, and her expression said she was surprised to see him. He could almost swear she was trembling. Oddly, she kept darting her eyes from the media room to the deck.
“I’m sorry for being a fool. To be honest, you…us…it scares the hell out of me, but, I love you with all my heart. If you’ll give me a chance, I swear I’ll do my best.” He stepped toward the counter. “What do you say? Will you give me a chance?”
She continued to flash her eyes back and forth. Faster and faster. “Oh, Mitch. That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
He moved forward, reaching out to take her in his arms. “Don’t cry, honey. I’m here to stay this time.”
“Ain’t that sweet?” A bald-headed thug stepped up beside him. Punched him in the side.
Mitch jerked. Reached for his gun. From the right, a cold piece of metal jabbed upward into his neck and jawline. He recognized the long-necked guy from CT surveillance photos taken on another mission. If he’d been by himself, he’d have reacted with a roundabout kick and fought from there. But he wasn’t alone. There was Liz to consider.
He knew the routine. Braced for whatever came next, he raised both his arms straight out. The guy on the left relieved him of all his weapons, planting another blindside punch to his side for good measure.
Glancing around to get the bearing of the situation, he noticed the busted secondary security panel. They’d evidently broken in and been surprised by the backup. He looked at Liz. “Are you okay?”
“For the most part.” She jerkily swiped tears from her cheeks. “They said they’d shoot you dead if I tried to warn you.”
He figured he was DOA anyhow. Maybe even Liz.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mitch had no doubt who these people were. He’d walked into a trap. “Good to see you, Coercion Ten. Missed you out on the boat.”
“My…my dad is actually part of them.” She looked terrified, like a child lost in a store.
That knowledge hit like a hollow-point bullet. Expanding and filtering everything with a new perspective.
With a Glock aimed straight at Mitch, a man with a heavy touch of gray moved toward them from the media room hallway. Squared-off shoulders, bushy, straight-slashed eyebrows. What appeared to be permanent flared nostrils completed his sneer. He had a swagger of power, the kind used when the person had control of the situation. There was no reason to think the man wouldn’t pull the trigger if provoked.
“Well, well, well. Agent Mitch Granger. We finally meet. I’m Russ Walkert.”
Mitch didn’t react. He already knew what Liz’s dad looked like from the photos he’d studied at the beginning of this case. The swagger, however, was one you had to see in person to feel the effect.
“Slugger, get the package.” Russ motioned the bald-headed thug to the media room. “Now, where were we? Oh…yes…I wanted to let you know exactly who I am. You may have heard CT refer to me as the Trickster.”
Mitch had heard of the Trickster. So had everyone in OPAQUE. The Trickster was rumored to work both sides of everything. One more than the other. Somebody willing to sell any information if the price was right. Rumor had it, he’d quickly risen in CT stature in the past few years.
Slugger disappeared into the media room, where grunts of an altercation sounded. A moment later, the thug shoved Drake into the living room and thrust him into a corner. Physically, Drake looked like he’d already been beaten down, maybe drugged. But his eyes and the set of his bloodied jaw said, even with his hands cuffed in front of him, he was still defiant as hell. He’d need to be, to get out of this alive.
“Sorry,” Drake said. “When I let Russ talk to Liz on my phone, his CT thugs grabbed me. I’d already programmed the general location into my directions. They zeroed in on this stretch of beach, and the rest was just a game of wait and see.”
With Drake’s phone capability and code list, Russ had probably been the one sending messages out under Mitch’s name. That would explain Joey and the others getting instructions.
A weak moan caught everyone’s attention, and Slugger walked to the bookcase and dragged another cuffed man, who’d been concealed behind a chair, out in the open. Kicked his leg then pulled him into a sitting position and shoved him against the wall across from Drake. Mitch recognized the perimeter man Stealth had left to guard the house. He appeared to have been knocked upside the head, what with the dried blood caked in his hair.
“Now, I’d like everyone’s attention,” Russ said. “First, I’d like to thank Agent Granger for taking such good care of Elizabeth. Evidently, you two have become quite fond of each other.” He waved his pistol between the two of them. “CT couldn’t have asked for a better leverage situation.”
Mitch spit in her father’s direction, hoping for any movement that would give him an advantage. “Shut up, scumbag. CT’s got nothing but dried-up snitches on their payroll. Weasels who lock their daughter in a windowless room so they can play the big-time informant. Did that make you feel like a big man? You make me sick to my stomach.”
“Touchy bastard, aren’t you?” Russ brushed his thumb in circles on the grip of the gun. “That’s okay. Now I don’t feel so bad about what’s in store for you.”
