ХеленКей Даймон – Traceless (страница 2)

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw them behind her, walking slow and steady now but gaining ground with each long step. Their calm refused to register in her head. Their actions made no sense. Neither did the papers flying around the room and the sudden brush of air over her skin.

As she blew past each table, she grabbed for the boxes and phones and threw anything she could touch on the floor behind her to block the attackers’ path. The thump of packages hitting the floor echoed around her as she folded an arm over her head and plowed forward. The thud of boots on the hardwood grew closer as her breath caught in her throat.

Almost there. She skidded around the long desk near the back of the room and slammed into a file cabinet. Her body was a mass of bumps and bruises but she pushed through, barely feeling anything except the driving need to get to the back door.

She slipped into the small hallway at the far end of the main room and plunged into darkness. The light should be on but the usual hum was gone as she felt her way along the wall. Finally, her hands hit the bar running across the middle of the back door and she shoved with all her might.

The whir of the alarm spun around her as the warm air hit her face. Without houses and street lights, the night was lit only by a blanket of stars. In two steps, she walked into the path of the motion sensor and the floodlights clicked on.

Her sneakers slid on the dirt and pebbles beneath her feet. Her chest rose and fell in hard breaths as she looked at the semicircle of men standing outside the back door. Four of them, all dressed like their friends who were now moving up behind her and pushing her forward without touching her.

Now locked outside and surrounded, she stared at the line of quiet men, including the two pointing guns right at her. One broke away from the group and closed the distance. As he did, the men following her drew even with her and took off their masks. She knew what letting her see their faces meant—she didn’t stand a chance. They couldn’t leave behind a witness.

Terror surged around her and thickened the air. Choking and gasping, she backed up but a hand landed between her shoulder blades and shoved her forward again.

The man glanced to his right. “Kill the alarm.”

“What do you want?” When he faced her again her voice shook as she fought to keep the fear trembling through her from knocking her to the hard ground.

“You.” A single word said in a slight accent.

Even in her haze it sounded wrong, almost forced. Before she could say anything else, the man reached out and grabbed the side of her neck. His fingers tightened in a squeeze that dug into her flesh and brought tears to her eyes. She bent over and tried to push him away. But he didn’t stop until she was on her knees in front of him.

Panting and rubbing the throbbing pain running into her shoulder, she looked up, trying to make out the man under the mask. “There isn’t any money here.”

He crouched down until his face hovered in front of her and his dark eyes bored into her. “I don’t want money.”

She balled her hands into fists and tried to call up every self-defense strategy Connor ever taught her. Running meant potentially running into a man with a gun, or at best, heading into unknown darkness.

But she could stall. “We don’t have medicine or vaccines.”

“I don’t care.”

The horrors of what that could mean played in her mind. She pushed out the violent images in the hope of staying sane.

The alarm cut off. Only the sound of her labored breathing filled her ears. She filled the silence with babble, hoping a plan would pop into her mind. “You’re in the wrong place.”

“No, Jana Bowen, I’m not.”

Like that, her muscles went slack and her mind went blank again. “You know me?”

She’d been in near hiding since she got there, not venturing out and only calling Connor at prearranged check-in times. The idea of someone tracking her down sent a new shock of fear spiraling through her.

“I want your husband.”

“This is about Connor?” It was his greatest worry come to life. The reason he gave for keeping her in a near lockdown for the five months before she left home. He stressed her safety until it smothered everything else and strained their marriage.

“Your husband and I have some unfinished business.”

“But we’re separated.” Through it all, it hurt to say the words. She never spoke them out loud, but if these men wanted Connor, she wanted Connor to stay away. And she would do anything, say anything, to make that happen.

The man grabbed her chin and forced her head up higher. “Connor will come for you.”

She tried to shake loose of her attacker’s hold but he only tightened his grip. “You don’t understand. We’re not together.”

“As soon as he gets my message, he’ll call.” The man shoved her away, sending her falling on her backside in the dirt. “Then the fun can begin.”

* * *

Connor froze when he heard the doorbell. Sometimes he forgot he even had one of those.

He glanced around the open room with its conference room table and rows of computer monitors, and desks, and walls lined with secure filing cabinets. Keeping in his seat at the main terminal, he reached over and tapped the code into the small gun safe under the desk. There were others in the house, but this one was closest.

Except for the kitchen and a small living room, most of the bottom floor of the three-story brick house served as Maryland headquarters for the Corcoran Team, the private security company he owned. They specialized in risk assessments and high-priority but under-the-radar kidnap and rescue missions. Working off the grid meant deep cover, which also meant he didn’t exactly hand out his address.

He certainly never got unexpected guests around midnight.

He got up as the doorbell rang a second time. One tap of the keyboard and the large screen mounted on the wall flickered on. The alarm system feed showed images from every camera outside the house. Someone with a baseball cap pulled low stood on the front porch holding what looked like an envelope and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The unwanted visitor was enough to get Connor moving. He slipped around the conference table and headed for the foyer. Cameron Roth, a member of Corcoran’s traveling team, met him at the bottom of the stairs. He was spending a few nights in the crash pad on the third floor, but right now he waited, fully dressed, with a gun in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Cam asked.

“No idea.”

“I’ll handle backup.” Cam took the last few steps and set up position flat against the wall on one side of the door. “You get to be the target.”

Connor tucked his gun at the back of his waistband. He had another by his ankle and Cam as insurance, so Connor felt safe unlocking and opening the door.

He caught the guy halfway down the front steps on the way back to the beat-up sedan idling by the sidewalk. “What do you want?”

The guy jumped then spun around. Make that a kid. The tall, all limbs and no coordination type. He was fidgety and had the eye-darting thing down.

“I have a package,” the kid sputtered.

“At midnight?”

“I got extra to bring it now. Are you Connor Bowen?” When Connor stayed silent, the kid practically threw the padded envelope at him. “I had to wait three extra hours to deliver it as ordered. The guy said it was pretty important and said you’d be the one to answer.”

The timing and delivery didn’t make much sense, but Connor—and Corcoran—had a lot of enemies. It was entirely possible that one of them planned on crawling right up his lawn, or at least wanted to send a message that he could.

Connor was not in the mood to play. “Who? I want a name.”

The kid visibly swallowed and started backing down the stairs. “I don’t have one.”

“Then who do you work for?” Cam stepped into the doorway, not bothering to hide the gun in the hand hanging by his side.

The kid’s eyes almost popped out of his head. He took another step and almost went down when his heel overturned. “Whoa, what are you—”

“Stop.” Connor didn’t yell but the kid stilled anyway. “Now answer the question.”

“I had instructions.” Words rushed out of the kid as he held up his hands. “All the information about my boss is on the packing slip. You can ask him. I just needed the money for, you know, stuff this summer.”

Connor swore. “Unbelievable.”

“You should leave.” Cam waved the kid away. “And stop going to strangers’ houses at midnight.”

Connor heard the slap of sneakers against the pavement followed a minute later by the rev of a car engine. None of which grabbed his attention. Curiosity nailed him. He didn’t even wait for the door to close to check the package. Taking it back into the office, he had a pair of gloves on and went to work.

A few seconds later Cam appeared on the other side of the conference table. He watched the preliminaries with a frown. “Paranoid much?”

“It’s protocol.” The package could contain a host of dangers and Connor was already breaking rules to rip it open fast. “And do you blame me in light of some of the people we handle?”

“Good point.”

Wearing the blue gloves, Connor ran his hand over it, carefully squeezing. “Feels empty.”