Читать книгу Rules In Rescue - Nichole Severn - Страница 11

Memories could only get a man so far.

Having Glennon here, his hands on her skin, resurrected those irrational feelings he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wiped the excess blood from her wound, doing everything in his power not to crowd her as he worked. That was the thing about Glennon. She urged him to get closer, pulling him in with her scent, the brightness in her gaze and her smile. But she’d made herself perfectly clear when she’d tugged her arm out of his hold in the conference room. Calling him tonight had been strictly business.

“How bad is it?” A hiss escaped from between her teeth as he inspected the wound for shrapnel, but she turned her head away to hide her reaction. Exhaustion wreaked havoc under her eyes, but she wouldn’t admit she needed sleep. Wouldn’t admit she needed anything. Always insisted on taking care of herself. Which made her asking for his help in the middle of the night...suspicious.

“Could’ve been worse. Looks like a through-and-through. Just the one piece of shrapnel.” He’d seen plenty of bullet wounds on tour. Not for the faint of heart, but she held her own.

Anthony discarded the sliver of metal and bloody gauze into the biohazard bin then reached for the needle and thread he’d already prepped. Crude, but she’d asked for a fast patch job. No anesthetic. No doctor consult.

“Good.” Glennon tugged at her T-shirt and sports bra to give him better access. All that perfect, creamy skin exposed only for him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Pinching the wound with sanitized hands, he sutured the sides closed. The rise and fall of her lean shoulders set his heart rate at an easy rhythm. As much as he’d wanted to hunt down that shooter on his own to make the bastard pay for putting a bullet in her, relief spread through him. She was alive. That was all that mattered. She’d asked him to protect her, and he’d done his job. But pulling bullet fragments from her shoulder wouldn’t be the end of it. Not in the least.

Silence descended in a physical pressure against his chest. He’d imagined this day, the one where he’d be face-to-face with her again. He’d demand a reason for her leaving, try to explain why he’d gone on yet another tour. The conversations had played through his head on a near constant loop since the day he’d come home to the empty house they’d shared. But none of his fantasies had included a bullet in her shoulder or Glennon centered in a sniper’s crosshairs. He swallowed back violent ideas of revenge sprinting through his head. He had to focus on something else. Anything else but her. “How old is your son?”

The idea she’d been with other men since leaving—had had a child with one of them—tightened the muscles down his spine. It shouldn’t have. They hadn’t been together in five years. So why did the thought of her moving on make him tighten his grip around the needle?

Her rough exhale cooled the overheated skin down his forearm. “I think it’d be better for both of us if we stick to talking about Bennett’s disappearance, don’t you?”

“All right.” Anthony tied off the suture and used the scissors from the first-aid kit to clip it short. He taped a piece of gauze over her wound to keep the stitches dry then disinfected and packed up the medical supplies. The patch job disappeared as she maneuvered her clothing back into place.

Focus on her missing partner? No problem. Compartmentalization had become one of his best skills. He exhaled to rid his system of her intoxicating scent, the one that kept pulling him in closer. “Our forensics guy, Vincent, pulled the bullet from the windshield of the SUV, but we won’t know where it came from for a few more hours. You can grab a change of clothes from Elizabeth and crash in one of the empty offices until then.”

“No.” Glennon shook her head as she hiked her jacket over her shoulder, wincing. “I’ll take the change of clothes, but I’m going back to that house as soon as possible.”

He faced her. Go back? Was she insane? Before he knew it, he was in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. An icy feeling crashed through him. He’d almost lost her back at that house. Now she wanted to put her life in danger a second time in less than two hours? His six-foot-four-inch frame towered over her but Glennon held her ground. “Because one bullet wound wasn’t enough? Are you going for a shot in the head this time?”

“I came here to find my partner and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she said. “Sergeant Spencer’s GPS put him in that house for over twenty-four hours. And since I didn’t have a chance to search the place properly before someone tried to shoot me, I’m going back. You can either come with me to make sure it doesn’t happen again or give me a set of car keys. Your choice.”

“You could’ve died back there, Glennon.” Right in front of him, no less. And that wasn’t an option. He’d seen enough death in combat to last him two lifetimes. He wasn’t going for three. Her natural warmth worked through his T-shirt, raising his awareness of how close he’d gotten to her. Or maybe it was the flat-out fear of her taking another bullet that put him on edge. “You’re not stepping out of this building without protection.”

“Good. Then we have a deal. Now let’s get to work.” She stepped away from him, slowly this time, but the pressure in his lungs refused to let up. That seemed to happen a lot since she’d come back into his life a few hours ago.

Despite the size of the medical suite, Glennon took her original seat beside him. She extracted her phone from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “Bennett sent me a message right before he disappeared.”

“‘I found proof.’” Anthony noted the edge of the photo behind the message, a boy with buzzed blond hair and the hint of a wide smile, but nothing more. Had to be her son. Maybe four years old. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know. He won’t answer my calls and hasn’t been seen since for me to ask him.” She took the phone and shut off the screen. “I called in a favor from a friend stationed on base and downloaded the GPS data from Bennett’s phone. His last reported location was that house.”

“Family? Friends? Girlfriend? Kids?” Despite his gut instincts, her partner’s disappearance might not have anything to with the assignment that’d brought them to Anchorage at all. Could’ve been a breakdown, a piece of Sergeant Spencer’s past his partner or the army knew nothing about. Elliot Dunham’s earlier observation soured on his tongue. This whole disappearing act might’ve been set up by Bennett himself, a way to get him out of trouble. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen enlisted soldiers leave their post.

“No. He didn’t have anyone as far as I know, but he hasn’t been acting like himself since we got here. Closed off. Showing up late to work if he shows up at all.” Glennon shook her head as she leaned back in the chair. “Unfortunately, our assignments don’t really let us keep in contact with many people outside of work.”

That meant Sergeant Spencer had no one to come looking for him. Except Glennon.

“I’m out of leads.” Disappointment clouded her normally bright gaze. “I’m worried he’s gotten in over his head with something.”

“You want to go back to that house to find the shooter who put a bullet in you.” Not a question. He could read her intentions in the way she rubbed at the hole in her shoulder. The plan made sense. Despite the fact that the idea of her stepping foot in that house hiked his pulse higher, it was their best lead to finding her partner.

Then again, Anthony wanted—no, needed—to hunt down the bastard who’d ambushed them, too. One way or another, he’d even the score.

“I don’t think someone taking shots at me tonight was a coincidence, and I don’t think you do, either.” She had that right, but chances of the shooter staying behind after they’d high-tailed it out of there were slim.

“I know things—” she laced her fingers together and set her elbows against her knees “—didn’t end well... But I’m hoping we can move past this awkwardness—or whatever it is—between us. I can only imagine how much you hate me for leaving, but I appreciate your help.” A half-smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Truce?”

“I don’t hate you, Glennon. Trust me, I’ve tried.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about their meaning. But it was the truth. Anthony leaned back in the office chair, his shoulder holster and Beretta within reach on the countertop. “Tell me about the work you two have been doing. Is there a chance someone—a suspect—might be looking for payback from one of your investigations?”

“Bennett and I have been partners for over three years. We’ve worked a lot of investigations together. If one of those is the starting-off point, I couldn’t tell you which one.” Glennon wiped her palms down the legs of her blood-spotted jeans. “And I’ve been through them all. Several times. Nothing has stuck out.”

“Then tell me about your current investigation,” he said.

“For the past year we’ve been looking into dozens of individual thefts of military weapons off army bases around the country. Most recently, a shipment of hardware has disappeared right here out of Anchorage. Usually, within a couple weeks, the weapons turn up on the black market or in the hands of our enemies, but not this time. Not a single weapon registered as stolen has turned up, which made us think whoever took them might be sticking around.”

Glennon swiped the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, running one hand through her hair before sitting forward again. “So, about two months ago, Bennett had the idea of mapping the locations of each theft, and checking those locations against enlisted soldiers stationed there at the same time. Only one name kept coming up. Staff Sergeant Nicholas Mascaro. It was a huge win for the army. After Bennett and I turned in our report and handed over all the evidence we’d collected, Nicholas Mascaro was court-martialed and convicted.”

“I heard about the investigation against Mascaro.” Even after leaving the military, he still had contacts. Although, he hadn’t known she’d been involved so closely in the staff sergeant’s arrest. A swell of pride rushed through him and he straightened a bit more. She was a damn fine investigator, no doubt about it. But something didn’t sit right. Anthony thought back to his source. “But there’s no way one man could run that kind of operation on his own.”

“You’re right.” Glennon sat back in her chair. “Despite what Bennett and I wrote in our report, the army couldn’t definitively tie anyone else to the staff sergeant, let alone place him at the head of the entire operation. And he’s not giving up any names. So Mascaro made a deal and the investigation was officially closed.”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “Then why are you and your partner here?”

“A second shipment of weapons was stolen from JBER three days ago. After Nicholas Mascaro was arrested. Bennett believed someone took control of the operation while their patsy took the fall.” Glennon stood. Collecting his weapon and holster from the countertop to her right, she offered it to him, grip first. “And I think he was trying to tell me he found the proof.”

* * *

THE HOUSE HADN’T changed in the last two hours, aside from the extra bullet holes peppering the walls. Fresh blood spatters added to the stains on the west side of the living room. Her blood. The hole in her shoulder ached as if to remind her of the last time she’d stood in this spot. Her attention slid to Anthony as he riffled through a stack of old newspapers, the muscles along his back hardening with every move. If he hadn’t been there...

Memories of her four-year-old flashed across her mind like lightning. His blond hair, his perfect smile, the way he’d held on to her so tight before she’d left.

Hunter was fine. He was safe. She’d made sure of it. And if anything did happen to her, he’d be cared for. Arranging his future in case something happened to her had been the only way she could track down Bennett without the army at her disposal.

Glennon ignored the tightness in her throat as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. He was fine.

Focus. There had to be some kind of evidence pointing to the reason Bennett had come here. She kicked at a loose floorboard, but the space underneath had either never been used or been emptied out. They’d been here an hour and come up with nothing. No bullet casings. No new skid marks on the road aside from theirs. Nothing from the neighbors. Whoever had taken those shots had been either a professional or a soldier.

Glennon laughed to herself. She was getting ahead of herself. They had nothing tying Bennett’s disappearance to her current investigation or the military. For all she knew, he’d needed a couple days away from the pressure of the marshal breathing down their necks for results. Her gut instincts said they were connected, but the courts didn’t prosecute based off something that couldn’t be proved.

“Anything on your side?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Straightening, Anthony stretched to his full, muscular height. The beginnings of sunrise glinted off a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead as he ran a hand down his face. He’d come prepared. Well, more prepared than usual. The Beretta in his shoulder holster had a couple new friends hidden in his cargo pants, his Kevlar vest, even the holster strapped around his thigh. He wasn’t about to be taken by surprise again. “You?”

She studied him from the safe distance she’d decided to put between them back in the medical suite. At least three feet of space separating them at all times. That’d be the only way she could think straight during their time together. Although, now that she watched him, her body urged her to close that space. Five tours in extreme conditions ranging from jungle to desert hadn’t taken away from his overall attractiveness. Hardened him, yes, but not in a bad way. And damn if that didn’t resurrect some of those feelings she’d buried. But she hadn’t come back here to make the same mistakes. She hadn’t even planned on seeing him at all during her assignment on JBER.

“Glennon?” The weight of those dark blue eyes pinned her to the spot.

“No. Nothing.” Glennon sank against one wall, exhaustion pulling at her. She wiped a bead of sweat off her neck. What were they supposed to do now? She had zero jurisdiction off base as long as Bennett’s disappearance was considered a simple missing persons case. And she couldn’t bring in the local police. Not yet. Not until she could guarantee her name would be left out of the reports. “Has your computer expert come back with a history on this place yet? Who owns it?”

“Last time I checked in, Elizabeth was working her way through an entire network of shell corporations without any end in sight,” he said.

Defeat spread fast. Her partner had been here. How could he disappear without anything to show for it? This couldn’t be it. She’d been trained for this. She couldn’t have failed him already. Stalking across the empty living room, she picked up an old two-by-four covered in spider webs. “There has to be something here.”

She shoved every ounce of energy into her swing. The board vibrated in her hands with each strike, pain exploding through her shoulder. She didn’t care. Pins and needles crawled up her arms as mildewed drywall peeled away from the wall, but she wouldn’t stop. Not until she found a clue.

“Glennon.” The concern in Anthony’s tone tunneled deep into her bones, but she only pushed herself harder.

She wasn’t leaving this house until she had proof Bennett had been here. It was the only lead she had. He was the only person who could help her bring down the rest of Staff Sergeant Mascaro’s team. Another streak of sweat slipped from her hairline and down her neck. Why was it so damn hot in here? Shouldn’t the gas company have turned off the furnace when the house was abandoned?

A calloused grip encased her hands from behind, his arms caging her against a wall of muscle. Anthony turned her into him and Glennon froze. The lines at the edges of his eyes creased as he stared down at her. His grip still wrapped around hers, he studied her with determination etched into his features. “We’re going to find your partner. I promise.”

Promises. What good were they when nobody lived up to them? Glennon nodded, her attention wandering to the condensation building on the large front window. “It’s twenty degrees outside. Nobody has lived in this house for years.” The two-by-four grew heavy in her hold. She dropped it to her side but didn’t let go. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“Because someone turned on the furnace.” The revelation hardened Anthony’s expression. He stepped away, surveying the rest of the room before unholstering the Beretta at his side. Checking the magazine, he chambered a round into the barrel. The action, so simple, forced her to swallow the tightness in her throat. This was what he did best, what she’d tracked him down for, but the sudden change consuming him from head to toe urged her to take a step back. She’d read his classified files. She understood what the “Grim Reaper” was capable of and a shiver ran through her. “Stay behind me.”

“What makes you think you get to have all the fun?” Setting the two-by-four on the moldy carpeting as quietly as she could, Glennon took his left side as she withdrew her service weapon. One bullet. That was all it’d take to seal her and her partner’s fates. The army would court-martial Bennett for going MIA, no matter what his reason, and drag her through the mud alongside him. She shifted her finger off the safety. Couldn’t happen.

They moved as one, just as they had when he’d gotten her out of the house the first time, her steps in sync with his. Nervous energy skittered up her spine. She’d gone into plenty of dangerous situations like this before. Soldiers-turned-criminals, bullets, blood. Every investigation she’d worked had left its own mark. It was part of the job. But moving along this hallway, with him by her side, sent a tingling sensation down her spine that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Moonlight filtered through broken windows and bullet holes the shooter had added to the walls, playing across Anthony’s face as he stalked through the house. For such a large man, he barely made a sound. He motioned with two fingers to their right. The signal was clear. They’d reached the stairs leading to the basement. And whoever had turned on the furnace after the shootout could still be down there.

Anticipation hummed through her veins. Glock raised to eye level, she fought off the shot of pain spreading through her shoulder. She was ready. This was it. With a single nod, Glennon took the first step. The unfinished wood groaned under her weight, and she paused to listen. No movement below. Nothing to suggest they were in for another ambush, but she wouldn’t relax just yet. She’d had too many close calls already. Her mouth dried up; her breathing became shallow.

She paused on the last step, nothing but darkness ahead. Something brushed across her right side. Anthony. His clean, masculine scent filled her lungs, and she surveyed the full unfinished basement before they made their next move. But something charred and rotten replaced his scent within a few seconds of her hitting the bottom stair. She covered her mouth and nose in the crook of her elbow. “I recognize that smell.”

She’d come across it only once since she’d been with the Military Police. An arson investigation at Pope Army Airfield in North Carolina, one of her first for the army. The fire had consumed an entire C-130J Hercules plane right before takeoff. The pilot had been sealed in the cockpit after an altercation with another airman. The smell. That was what she remembered most. “Charred remains.”

Reaching for the flashlight strapped into her Kevlar vest, she brought it to life and swept the beam across the floor. Large boot prints had been preserved in a thin layer of dust. Fresh, from the look of it. But the uneven lines beside them? Those were drag marks.

A groan interrupted the heavy silence and they swung their weapons to the left in tandem. Anthony’s boots hit solid cement. Weapon aimed high, he moved farther into the darkness.

Dread sank like a stone to the bottom of Glennon’s stomach as she followed suit.

A click of his flashlight expanded their visibility, but only slightly. There were still three other corners of the room they couldn’t see, but her gut told her whoever had turned on the furnace had disappeared long before they’d showed up. Still, she couldn’t shake the vein of ice working its way up her throat. Whatever was down here—whatever they found—would make or break her investigation into Bennett’s disappearance.

They reached the furnace as it kicked on for another round, the struggling mechanical groan raising the hairs on the back of Glennon’s neck.

Holstering his weapon, Anthony ran his fingers over the side of the unit then lowered his flashlight beam to the floor. Four screws had fallen into the dust building up around the furnace. Glennon holstered her own gun as he handed her the flashlight. The reverberation of metal on cement as he set the panel down vibrated through her. A rush of foul air hit her hard and she buried her mouth and nose into her elbow. Anthony did the same, reaching into the unit with his free hand.

His mountainous physique blocked her view into the blackened depths. “Can you see anything?”

“Yep.” A hiss escaped from between his teeth. He turned toward her, the burned remnants of a rifle highlighted by the flashlight beam. “What’s left of a Heckler & Koch G28 sniper rifle. Still hot, too. Safe to assume it’s the same model used to put a bullet in your shoulder three hours ago.”

“The shooter tried to clean up his mess by destroying the gun in the furnace.” Not a bad idea. But that left them no closer to recovering her partner. Unless... Hope spread through her chest as she stepped closer to him. “You’re the weapons expert. Do you think any fingerprints survived to track down the owner?”

Leaving the rifle inside, Anthony shifted out of her way so she could see the rest of the furnace, both flashlights highlighting what else had been stuffed inside. “Looks like we already found him.”