Читать книгу Sudden Recall - Lisa Phillips - Страница 13

FIVE

Parker swiped his card in the reader. The buzzer went off. He pushed open the heavy door and strode into the office. Despite it being way past midnight, at least half of those who worked there milled around. Their team and two others shared the floor, one of whom was in and prepping for an early-morning raid.

Wyatt sat behind his desk, peering intently at the screen on his computer.

Parker hung his coat on the back of his chair. “Did you lose your reading glasses again?”

Wyatt shot Parker a disgusted look that only made him laugh. They were all late thirties, and Wyatt bemoaned—constantly—the fact he’d been prescribed glasses for his headaches instead of less paperwork and more fieldwork.

Wyatt clicked his mouse. “Paperwork on the detainee is done. I put in a request for some background on him, but we likely won’t know who he is until we run his prints. Even then, given his accent, we may be looking at Homeland Security or Interpol. Who knows where this guy surfaced from?”

Parker slumped into his chair. “My guess, they’re going to show up as ex-military. Foreign, but the country won’t matter much. One was Italian. The others weren’t.”

“So why is a team of foreign mercenaries trying to kidnap your girl-with-amnesia?” Wyatt grinned. “Is she some kind of spy?”

Parker stayed quiet.

“She is?” Wyatt busted up laughing. “Seriously? Little Sienna Cartwright is CIA?”

Parker was too tired; otherwise, he’d have thrown a paperweight at his partner. “I fail to see why this is funny. My guess, whatever her last mission was, it went unresolved and that’s why she was almost abducted by foreign mercenaries.”

Wyatt’s smile dropped. “Whoa.”

It had happened a few times. Those moments where it became clear there was a world between Parker’s experience as a SEAL, traveling the world, meeting a CIA agent, and Wyatt’s experience being a city police detective. Sure, they were both small-town US marshals, but the roads they had traveled to get there were vastly different.

Wyatt swallowed. “Jonah’s on the phone with the judge. Mr. Italiano can sit in holding tonight. In the morning we’ll figure out who he is, and what’s next for him.”

Parker nodded. “Okay. Guess it’s time to go get some sleep.”

Wyatt waved off Parker’s comment. “Sleep is for sissies.”

Parker pulled his jacket back on and strode down the hall to find out from the duty marshal if their detainee had said anything. Any comment he made was a potential lead on whoever had targeted Sienna tonight. If they got something good, he’d be one step closer to walking away.

When he was sure she was protected, when she lost that shadow of fear in her eyes, then Parker’s heart would finally be able to let her go.

He’d seen it in his dad, the desperation that wouldn’t let him find peace after Parker’s mom had run off with another man. He’d been eight at the time, and for the next ten years he’d watched his father drink away the pain of her betrayal.

History had repeated itself with his own ex-wife. Parker had prided himself on being stronger than the lure of the oblivion drinking would have given him. Instead, he’d thrown himself more and more into work—until he’d earned the nickname “Charger” because he wouldn’t ever stop, no matter what was in front of him.

Most days he’d almost envied his dad the outlet of alcohol, the sting of betrayal had been that great. He’d thought he finally found what he’d wanted in Sienna. Then she’d betrayed him, as well.

Clearly, her work had been more important to her. Karen had told him as much, and he believed it. Despite the vulnerability in Sienna’s eyes, and the sorrow when she’d told him she couldn’t remember anything, it was clear she was just like every other woman—willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

And it hadn’t been him.

The duty marshal wasn’t at his desk, and the door to the hall was open. Parker stepped through it, one hand on his weapon, into the commotion.

“...don’t know! He asked for water...”

The open cell door was number four. A marshal stood over a man lying prone on the floor. The one from whose teeth Parker had pulled a capsule—a suicide pill. The duty marshal was on his knees by the man, arms stretched out, one palm over the other on the man’s chest as he performed CPR.

The other marshal spoke into his phone. “Yes, I need an ambulance.” He rattled off their information so the EMTs and dispatched police officers would know what the situation was.

Parker knelt by the man and pressed two fingers to his neck. The duty marshal blew air into him and then listened to his chest.

“He’s dead.”

* * *

In the dark, tucked under her blankets, Sienna listened to the clock in her bathroom tick the minutes away. There hadn’t been anyone outside. At least, not that she’d seen, and she’d waited a while to catch a glimpse of the person again.

Until she gave up believing she’d ever seen anyone.

But the nervous feeling remained, so much so that she just couldn’t relax. If this went on much longer, she’d have to shut the bathroom door, instead of allowing that beam of light from the night-light in there to extinguish at least some of the pitch-black in her room. Just once in her life, Sienna would like to fall asleep without it taking hours.

Sienna shifted positions. She should be exhausted. Instead, her body—and her brain—were abuzz with everything that had happened.

The CIA.

Maybe she should get Nina’s number from their caller ID and ask her what...

The window exploded. Glass shattered into the room as the rapid pop of gunfire sprayed across her bed and hit the wall to her right. Sienna rolled away from the window, taking the comforter with her, and slammed onto the floor. The noise was as loud as fireworks and shut out all other sound. Sienna clapped her hands on her ears and looked at her bedroom door. Bullets had splintered the wood, leaving dark holes all in a row across the door and the walls on either side. If there hadn’t been a brick facade below the window outside, she would probably be dead.

Was it safe to try and get into the hall? Should she crawl under the bed?

More gunfire sprayed dust down around her as she huddled on the floor. Who was firing at her? What were they aiming at? This seemed more like spraying bullets, hoping they hit something. They weren’t coming low enough to hit her, but her bed and the wall beyond had been obliterated.

Or maybe they didn’t want to hit her. Just force her into a corner.

The gunfire stopped.

Sienna lifted her head. She didn’t dare look over the bed. Completely still, she breathed in the dark and quiet, waiting to see if she would get shot the minute she tried to get out of her room.

Her cell phone was on the bedside table. Should she reach for it?

She shoved her limbs out of the tangle of her comforter, did a sit-up and reached for her phone.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

She fell back to the floor, phone in hand. Thank You, Lord. She really did not want to die. Where was Karen? Was she safe? Sienna breathed a prayer for her aunt. They may not be particularly close family, despite living together, but Sienna still cared if she was hurt. As she yelled, “Amen,” against the deafening noise, she dialed Parker’s number.

She hadn’t figured she’d be using his number so soon. She hadn’t even thought she would need it at all, if she was honest with herself. Why would she? He was useful in a pinch, but it wasn’t like he could actually help get her memories back.

“Parker.”

She barely heard him over the deafening noise. “It’s Sienna.” She had to yell. “Someone’s shooting at me.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Stay wherever you are and do not move.” His voice held a strand of authority that made her want to curl into herself and await his help. For now, she was willing to concede.

“I’ll get police there, as well. Just sit tight.”

“I am.”

“That’s good,” he said. Like he cared, like it was important to him that she was okay.

The gunfire stopped.

“It’s done. Again.” Her voice sounded loud to her own ears.

“I still don’t want you moving.”

Sienna told him where she was. She hadn’t had much in the way of support since she’d woken up from the coma. Aunt Karen wasn’t the warm and caring type, and Sienna hadn’t wanted to reach out not knowing how she truly felt about the woman.

Parker was like a beacon on a dark night.

Too bad she couldn’t navigate in that direction. No matter how his voice, and his presence, tugged on her heart. No matter how capable he was. Because Sienna didn’t know how she felt about him, either.

She started to army crawl toward the closet. What if she and Parker had argued? What if he’d wronged her and he didn’t want to tell her now because it would cloud her judgment of him? What if she had wronged him?

As much as she wanted to believe she’d always been a good person, what did she really know? She might be a bad guy, one the CIA was keeping tabs on because she was some kind of enemy. They liked to keep those close, right?

She reached the walk-in closet and kicked the door shut. The flashlight on her phone was blinding. Sienna got dressed, then packed a couple of extra things in her already-full duffel. There was no way she was going to stay here, not when whoever had tried to abduct her had come to her home to try and kill her.

She pulled on her shoes.

A bang brought her head up. Then she heard his voice. “Sienna!” The light in her room flipped on.

“In the closet.” She zipped up her jacket, still sitting on the floor. When Parker flung the door open, he had his gun in one hand. He held out the other and hauled her to her feet.

“You okay?”

She nodded and reached for her bag.

“You’re dressed.” His brow crinkled. “You weren’t in bed? Are you going somewhere?”

“I was in bed. Now I’m leaving.” She picked up her duffel and strode past him out of the closet. “They’re closing in, first trying to kidnap me and now trying to kill me. I’m not waiting around for them to get the jump on me again like they did in the woods. No way. Not happening.”

She really was not interested in dying before she got the answers to the puzzle in her head. Otherwise, she would never know what she’d forgotten—good or bad.

“You need to give the police your statement.”

Sienna stopped at her bedroom door. There were so many bullets in it, it was a wonder the thing was still standing. She turned back to Parker, trying not to betray the way her insides shook. If she’d been right here minutes ago, she would be dead now. “Fine.”