HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10 Page 20

  “No, definitely not. But I got married because it’s what someone else desired in order to…” She did air quotes. “…fix a situation. I don’t want to get married again just to fix something.”

  Molly grasped her hand and squeezed. “Oh, honey, I get it. But if he’s still the man you want, shouldn’t you at least entertain the idea? Nobody says it has to happen right away. Give it time, but let him know you want to move forward.”

  Annabelle groaned. “God, I’m so bad at this. All I could think was that I didn’t want to go into another marriage for reasons other than love. I can’t back down now that I’ve told him that.”

  “No, probably not. But Belle, you have to try to move forward. He’s her father, and he’s going to be involved.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I know you are. After we get home and I figure out what kind of a mess I have to clean up at Archer Industries, I’ll call him.”

  Molly smiled. “I think it’ll all work out. It’s just going to take time.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  *

  Dex knew that Annabelle had boarded a plane with Molly and the girls and that they were currently on their way to Kentucky. He’d wanted to go with her, but there were things to be done here. He’d head out to Kentucky in a few days. Give her time to deal with Archer Industries and figure out what they were going to do first.

  Give her time to think.

  He was still pissed that she’d refused his proposal. Except he hadn’t exactly proposed, had he? Shit no. He’d told her they should get married for the sake of the kid. That wasn’t precisely the way to handle it. He knew it but he’d done it anyway.

  So now he had to deal with the fallout and hope he could make her see reason in a few days. He’d go tell Katie and his dad about Charlotte too. It would be an adjustment for everyone, but they’d figure it out.

  He punched in his access code and headed into the secure area of HOT HQ. He loved this place. Just fucking loved it. But he’d give it up if he had to. For Charlotte. And hell, even for Annabelle. They could build something good with time.

  He busted into the war room and found some of his guys sitting around the conference table. Kid was projecting his laptop on the overhead, and everyone’s attention was on the screen.

  Dex stopped. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Welcome to the party, Sergeant Davidson.”

  Dex hadn’t noticed the colonel until he spoke. Because the fucking lights were dim and his attention was on Kid’s display. “Sir,” Dex replied crisply, snapping to attention. “I didn’t mean—”

  Mendez waved him off. “Save it, son. Sit.”

  Dex sat. Ice arched an eyebrow at him and grinned. Yeah, that was a close one all right. He had to get back on his game. Soon.

  “I’ve found the money. It’s in the Cayman Islands,” Kid said. “It bounced through three other accounts around the world before ending up in one account.”

  “So who owns the account?”

  “That’s what I’m working on.” Kid tapped a few more buttons and waited. Dex didn’t doubt he’d figure it out. Kid was one of the best hackers in the business. Add in the fact he was a black-ops badass, and you just didn’t get any more methodical and tough when it came to chasing down obscure facts.

  “Hey,” Victoria Brandon said, walking into the room with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “Got something here.”

  “Just a sec,” Kid said.

  A name popped up on the screen.

  “Holy shit.” It was Victoria. They all snapped their gazes to her.

  She held out the papers. “Found another credit card connected to Marshall Porter. It’s not in his name though.”

  “What’s the name?” Mendez asked.

  She nodded at the screen. “That one. Harold M. Proctor. And Harold traveled to Grand Cayman over the weekend.”

  29

  After the excitement of the past few days, it was strange landing in Lexington to a fairly normal level of activity. Annabelle kept looking around her, searching for the anomaly. The man with dead eyes who was about to pounce.

  Molly gave her a strange look as they piled into the private car waiting for them at the airport. Annabelle smiled even though her heart performed jumping jacks and adrenaline surfed through her veins. What the hell? Leonov was in custody. He wasn’t coming for her or her loved ones.

  Was this what PTSD was like?

  She swallowed and hoped the trembling in her fingers didn’t migrate up her arm and into her teeth. Charlotte and Becca were subdued, for which Annabelle was thankful. It was late afternoon, and they’d gotten up early and taken no naps.

  “It’s going to be all right, Belle,” Molly said, squeezing her arm. “You’ll have Archer Industries up and running again in no time.”

  “I think I should go by there,” she replied. “See the damage for myself.”

  “Why don’t you drop me and the girls at your house then? We’ll have dinner ready when you get home.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  Maybe she shouldn’t push it, but she felt like she needed to do something. She’d been gone for a few days, and her company had burned. Her employees were in limbo, and she couldn’t let that continue. Eric hadn’t been insured, the cheap bastard, but the company had a policy. She needed to call the insurance company and find out exactly what she had to do—but first she had to see the building with her own eyes.

  She dropped Molly and the girls at home, promising to return soon. When she settled in the car again, her phone beeped with a text.

  *

  Dex: When you get this, go to a hotel. Take Molly and the girls with you. Don’t communicate with anyone other than me.

  *

  Her heart dropped to her toes and her lungs pumped in air at an alarming rate. She gripped the armrest and took deep, slow breaths.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the driver.

  “Yes?” He’d been nothing but polite since he’d picked them up. He wasn’t too tall or big, which was reassuring right about now.

  “I need to change the plan. I have to go back home—and then I’m going to need you to take us to a hotel.”

  The man smiled at her in the rearview. “Sorry, Mrs. Archer, but that’s simply not possible.”

  *

  They went wheels up in fifteen minutes. That might have been a record, even for HOT. They didn’t typically operate within the United States, not a full team with weaponry and official transport, but there was no time to get anyone else up to speed. Besides, the mission involved Russian agents and could be classified as ongoing. It hadn’t ended when they’d set foot in DC because they hadn’t found the end of the money trail.

  Now they knew where the money was—and who the major players were.

  Dex read over the file Mendez had given Richie earlier.

  There was a reason Marshall Porter hadn’t disappeared with the money yet. It didn’t belong to the Russian government. Instead, it belonged to Zoprava, the Russian tech firm HOT dealt with a month ago when Grigori Androv had tried to kill Sophie Nash, Fiddler’s woman.

  Leonov worked for Zoprava. He’d done the buy for Androv, who was now dead. God only knew why Zoprava wanted it. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was for Open Sky, the shadow hacker group that Androv also financed. They had their fingers in a lot of illegal stuff. Revolutionary battery-recharging technology could have a lot of applications beyond the one it was being designed for. It could also be highly lucrative on the dark web.

  Neither HOT nor the CIA knew what had gone wrong with the original transaction. Whatever the case, Porter had the money in an account under Harold M. Proctor’s name and Leonov was the hired gun sent to get the money back for Zoprava.

  Androv’s successor, Sergei Turov, was every bit as ruthless as Androv had been. Since Turov didn’t have the money, Annabelle was still in danger. And Turov had entered the US two days ago, ostensibly to buy a racehorse in Kentucky. Since he didn’t currentl
y have racehorses, it was concerning.

  It was a little over an hour to Lexington, but they made it in record time. You could do that when you had a pilot willing to put the hammer down and a colonel who could get priority clearance for landing.

  Alpha Squad was on the ground and piling into two big black GMCs about an hour after Annabelle had landed. Dex checked his phone for messages, but there was nothing. She hadn’t replied to his text. Worry ate at his gut like battery acid.

  He called her home number. Molly Carter answered within two rings. “Hey, Molly. It’s Dex,” he said, trying to sound light and breezy when he was anything but. “Can I speak to Annabelle?”

  “I’m sorry, but she dropped us off and went over to look at the building. Did you try her cell?”

  He didn’t want to upset her. “Not yet. I thought she might not answer if she saw it was me.”

  Which was a distinct possibility considering how pissed she’d been at him. But she would have answered that text. Annabelle might be angry, but she wasn’t stupid or vindictive.

  Molly laughed. “I think you might be surprised. Go ahead and give it a try. If she doesn’t pick up, I’ll tell her you called.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  Richie shot him a look. “We’ll send over a squad car to watch the house. No sense uprooting her and the girls again when Annabelle’s the one the Russians want.”

  Dex nodded.

  Kid had his combat laptop open. “We should be able to track her using the program I installed on her phone to listen to her calls.”

  Dex could have kissed Kid for not removing the program once they’d returned Stateside. “Can you turn her microphone on too?”

  Kid lifted an eyebrow. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  30

  Annabelle’s ribs took a beating as her heart tried to claw its way free. The acid taste of fear clogged her throat. She’d tried to open the car door and break free when the driver came to a stoplight, but the door wouldn’t budge. She’d peppered him with questions about who he was and where he was taking her, but he’d answered none of them.

  And now she was here, in a hotel suite at the Lexington Hilton, pacing a room that had been carefully stripped of anything she might use to escape. She could look out the window and see all of downtown, but she couldn’t get there.

  Not unless she grew sticky cups on her hands and feet like a lizard.

  The door swung inward and she ceased pacing, suddenly rooted in place like a rat in a glue trap. Three men walked in. Or, rather, two men carrying a third between them. He slumped in their grip, his feet dragging the floor. The men dumped him at her feet, and she yelped when she recognized him.

  Marshall Porter peered up at her through eyes that had gone six rounds with a heavyweight boxer. They were puffy, red, and slitted. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth.

  “Hi, Annabelle,” he scratched out.

  “Marshall—oh my god, what have they done to you?”

  Another man entered the room. He had his phone to his ear. Russian poured from his lips as silky smooth as water from a spout. She was beginning to hate the sound of Russian.

  “Ah, Mrs. Archer,” he said, pocketing his phone. “How lovely to finally meet you.”

  “I…” What did one say to that? “Who are you?”

  “You may call me Sergei.” He was all affability and good humor, which was somehow worse than the dead eyes of Mr. Lyon. This man… this man was the real danger, the unseen puppet master pulling the strings.

  Marshall groaned and her attention dropped to him. Sympathy punched her. She wanted to wrap him in a hug and tell Sergei to leave him alone. A mom response that wouldn’t work with a bully this big.

  “My dear Mrs. Archer—you have my money. I want it back.”

  Annabelle gulped. The fear she’d experienced whenever Lyon called her and said those words was amplified a thousandfold now. They were more terrifying when delivered with a good-natured smile than when growled threateningly.

  “I… I don’t have it. I mean, I did have it…” Oh God, she was babbling. “B-but it disappeared. Someone hacked into the accounts and transferred it all. It’s gone.”

  Sergei’s expression didn’t change, but the feeling in the room did. The temperature dropped several degrees even as fire snapped in his gaze. Ice coated her body, freezing her limbs. Death perched nearby, waiting to pounce.

  She wasn’t getting out of here alive. Not unless she could produce half a billion dollars and hand it over to this Russian in the next five minutes.

  Stop that. Think. You aren’t dying. You have too much to live for.

  And yet she didn’t know how she was going to survive. Or how she was going to get Marshall out of here with her.

  “That is too bad, Mrs. Archer. Mr. Porter doesn’t have it either. Very disappointing.” He tugged a cuff into place as if it were displeasing him when in fact he looked impeccable. He twisted the cuff link, apparently preferring it to face a different direction. When he finished, he repeated the process with the other cuff.

  He turned and snapped his fingers at one of the men who’d carried Marshall into the room. The man produced a laptop and handed it to Sergei, who opened it and set it down on the nearest table.

  “One of you—and I do not care which one—is going to transfer that money into my account in the next half hour. If I return and it’s not done, you will both die.” He paused and goose bumps chased down her spine. “You may think death is a sweet release from the hell you currently find yourself in, but be aware that I plan to make it as slow and painful as possible. Then I shall kill your families, though you won’t be around to see it. I will still not have my money, this is quite true—but I will be satisfied that you won’t either.”

  He strode from the room, the two goons on his heels. The door clicked behind them, and Annabelle was still frozen in place. The spell snapped and she dropped to her knees, rolling Marshall toward her. His face was a mess. Fury swirled, devastating everything in its path.

  Concentrate.

  “Marshall, I can’t do this alone. You’re going to have to help me.”

  He groaned as he pushed upright while she hooked an arm under his and tugged. When he was standing, she herded him to the bed and put him down on it. Then she rushed over and picked up the computer.

  She set it on his lap carefully.

  “I’m not transferring the money,” he said. “It’s mine.”

  Shock scalded through her like icy fire. “It was you? You’re the one who took the money?”

  “I thought you’d figured that out. What did you expect me to do with this?” He stabbed a finger at the computer.

  She waved her hands, thinking of Billy Blake and his dummy bank page. “I thought you could fake it somehow! Make him think we’d done it. But instead you actually know where it is. You’re the one who took it when I was in Jorwani!”

  Anger glowed like hot coals in her belly. She wanted to kill him.

  “There was a breach in my security protocols. I had to move it.”

  He’d taken the money when she’d needed it most. He’d known the entire time that he was sitting on half a billion dollars that someone was willing to kill for. And he’d known that everything pointed to her being the one who had it. She could hardly wrap her mind around it.

  “You and Eric conspired to sell a top secret program for profit. That’s treason, Marshall!”

  “I would never betray my country!” he screamed. “And I would never give up what I’ve worked so hard to create. Helios is mine.”

  She reeled. There was something unhinged about him. Had it always been there and she was only noticing it now? “But you gave Eric something to sell. You must have. What was it?”

  Smugness tightened the corners of his mouth. “A fake. It looked right on paper. All the test results, the schematics, real video of the flights. It was enough.”

  Numbness wrapped around her and squeezed. She’d hated Eric but she hadn�
��t wished him dead so much as out of her life. “You had to know they’d figure it out and Eric would be the target of their anger.”

  His eyes gleamed with hatred. “I knew.”

  “You sent him to his death. And maybe you set me up too. Because when I couldn’t produce the money, Leonov would kill me and you’d be free to take it and disappear. Is that what you planned?”

  “You stole Helios from me. You made me give up my rights. You deserve whatever happens.”

  If the Russians hadn’t already beat him, she’d slap the shit out of him. “I don’t care about Helios! You can have the whole damned thing—but without Archer Industries paying for your time, giving you a laboratory and expensive equipment, not to mention numerous opportunities to beta test, you wouldn’t have a goddamn product in the first place. Do you think you could have done it on your own? With what resources?”

  “It was my idea. You had no right.”

  Fury cascaded from her scalp to her toes. Her body was on fire with it. “Transfer the goddamn money, Marshall. If you don’t, I’m telling him when he comes back that you know where it is.”

  He snorted. “He won’t believe you. They beat me and I didn’t confess, so what makes you think he’ll take your word for it?”

  Ice skidded down her spine. She’d liked this man at one time. Thought he was harmless and sweet. She’d been so wrong. “If you don’t transfer it, he’ll kill us both. It’s hard to enjoy that kind of money when you’re dead, don’t you think?”

  He snorted. “He won’t kill me. He needs me. You, on the other hand…”

  “Why does he need you? You’ve convinced him you don’t have the money.”

  “I can fix Helios for him.”

  Annabelle blinked. He either had the balls of an elephant, or he was seriously deluded. “You said you aren’t a traitor. How is fixing Helios for a Russian not betraying your country?”

  “I didn’t say I would fix it, only that I can. It’s called buying time.”

  The door swung open, and Annabelle squeaked in surprise.

  “My meeting is over faster than I expected,” Sergei said. He strolled casually into the room, his hulking men bringing up the rear. “And still no deposit in my account.”