“Into the woods to hide out.” He walked around to the back of the Jeep, then opened the trunk and grabbed hisarsenal case and box of ammunition. “I want the name of the person who sent them after us and I intend to get it.”
Closing the trunk, he took her hand and led her away, deeper into the woods to a place where they wouldn’t be detected, but would give Roland a good view of anyone arriving at the cabin.
This had to end. And Roland would do his best to make sure that happened tonight.
• • •
Special Agent Marvin Dubose could feel Special Agent Cobb Warner’s rage through the phone. His partner was livid. He and Warner had worked together for years, but were different in many ways, especially in the way they thought, and their method of handling things. That was probably why they were so good as partners.
But one thing they both strongly believed in was working on the right side of the law. Neither of them could tolerate a corrupt agent…and there seemed to be quite a few of them. Damn. It was as if they’d just cleaned house and it was already dirty again.
“Calm down, Cobb. Do you know which of the three safehouses on that list they went to?”
“No, but I’m sending agents to all three. Hopefully, they’ll get there in ti. I’ll never forgive myself if we messed this up and something happens to Dr. Roswell.”
Marvin wondered if Cobb realized he was letting his emotions show. Yes, he was angry because her whereabouts had been compromised. And he had every right to be--they both did. However, he had worked with Cobb longenough to know there was more to it than that. It had been obvious that his partner was quite taken with Dr. Roswell and had been from the first time they’d met.
She was definitely a beautiful woman. Marvin would give her that. But he wondered if Cobb had noticed that he wasn’t the only man interested in her. So was Roland Summers. And at the present moment, Dr. Roswell was with Summers and not Cobb. Even worse for Cobb, Summers was the one keeping her alive. And he was doing one hell of a better job of it than the FBI.
“She’s with Roland Summers, Cobb. You read the report on him and know his history, as well as his connections. The man will kick everyone’s ass if he has to to keep Dr. Roswell alive.”
“Well…”
It was the time for some hard and honest talk. “I think if you’re a little sweet on Dr. Roswell, you might want to let it go.”
There was hesitation and then Cobb asked, “Why?”
Marvin shook his head. This was one of the reasons he’d never put a woman before his career. They could make a man lose his common sense. “Because I have a feeling that she and Summers might be an item. There’s something between them. Iwaspicking up on it while your focus was mainly on her.”
He waited to make sure that sank in before he continued. “Unfortunately for you, Summers is spending more time with her, as her bodyguard, than you can. There are situations where absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.”
Hopefully he’d given Cobb something to think about. “Our main concern is getting them the help they need and to find out who in our organization betrayed us.”
“I agree,” Cobb said, angrily. “Round up everyone and have them report to my office within the hour.”
• • •
Holley was a man with a plan. He was sick and tired of betraying friends; guys in the Bureau who’d looked up to him. Men he had mentored for years and some he still did. They would never understand why he’d gone from being one of the good guys to living a life of crime.
If they continued to work for the FBI, they would soon discover that no matter how much work they put in, the good guys never came out on top. You risked your life for an idea that was not worth fighting for. It had taken him getting shot to realize that.
He’d still wanted to work, to be the good agent he’d always been. But the higher-ups had said no way.
You got shot in the leg and now you walk with a limp. You can’t climb walls, jump over hurdles, and run as fast as you used to. You’re all washed up and we don’t need you anymore. Your ship has sailed.
That had hurt. It had made him bitter, resentful and sick of the whole good guy bullshit. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d given years of his life to them. He had risked his life more times than he could count, had infiltrated more crime rings than most of the agents put together. Hell, he’d even taken on domestic terrorists. But inthe end, none of that had meant anything to the people in charge. They’d been happy to kick him to the curb.
It hadn’t been hard for him to move to the dark side after that. He’d known about Clearwater and his thuggish group for years. Why not go work for them, providing them inside information he still had access to through the agents who were still his friends? At first the thought of betraying those friends had bothered him. But not for long.
He wasn’t completely aligned with the criminal element though. He had never fully trusted Clearwater—he knew the guy would turn on him, if given the chance. That was why without the thuggish bastard knowing it, he had been taking notes. He’d collected names and knew where the bodies were buried and who was doing the burying.
It was time for him to get out and start over somewhere else with a new identity. It would just be a matter of time before the Bureau fingered him as the one who’d been selling them out. A part of him felt remorseful over what he’d done, but it was too late to play the regret game now.
He continued packing, taking just what was necessary. He’d told Clearwater he was headed to South America. That was a lie. He was going in a totally different direction. He knew never to be truthful with thugs and Clearwater was one of the lowest.
He suddenly heard a sound in his kitchen. His alarm hadn’t gone off and that meant whoever had gotten inside had been able to bypass his security system. He grabbed his Glock off the nightstand. Whoever had broken into his house would soon discover that the last thing you want to go up against is an ex-FBI agent who’d once been one of the best.
Easing from his bedroom, he glanced around. He saw movement behind a curtain and fired, then fell to the floor and fired again in the opposite direction. The bastards had tried to ambush him. Too bad they hadn’t known that a good agent never lost that sixth sense. He stayed down to make sure he hadn’t miscalculated and there was a third person. When he was certain there wasn’t, he came to his feet to check out his victims. Both men were dead so they couldn’t tell him a damn thing. But then, he really didn’t need them to. He knew who’d sent them.