we should look at it from his point of view instead of dismissing how he feels,” Levi said.
“Are you saying I have a stick up my ass?” Declan gave a brief smile.
Before Levi could answer, the perimeter alert sounded off. That meant the car approaching couldn’t be IDed by their app from the list of permitted vehicles on premises.
Declan quickly left Levi and went for his M9 pistol under the sink of the hallway guest bathroom. It was closer than the weapons he had in his bedroom.
Flattening his body against the wall by the entrance door, he took a peek behind the shades. The newcomers weren’t even pretending to hide themselves.
He recognized the driver Migs—the man Garrison had undercover with Ortega and the man who Gabby had confronted in the alley outside the clinic. Exiting behind the driver’s side was Garrison helping a disgruntled woman from the vehicle.
Ariana.
Rounding from the passenger side was Bristow…the nurse who Declan now suspected was more than a nurse.
Declan opened the door. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t touch me!” the woman hissed.
“Just helping you down, princess,” Garrison drawled.
“Come on, Ari,” Migs grasped the woman’s arm, but she yanked it away from him too, and hugged herself protectively.
“Stay away from me too, pendejo!”
Bristow came up to Declan. “We need to leave.”
“What the hell?” Levi said, striding up beside Declan. “Is there some kind of party and we don’t know about it?”
“No time to explain,” Garrison said. “Something is about to go down in Inglewood.”
“The club attack was in West Hollywood,” Declan said.
“There are enough first responders at the scene, but that’s just a diversion,” Garrison said. “One of Claudette’s bodyguards is dead.”
“What?”
“Yeah, we nearly missed it on the police scanner,” Migs said. “Ortega wants us focused on that.”
“So Ortega really escaped?” Declan demanded.
Garrison nodded. “And his enterprise is operational. We’re thinking Ortega and the cartel have struck a deal, but this wouldn’t be possible without interference from Andrade.”
“Claudette’s boyfriend?”
“Yes. We suspect they wanted some research we had at the CDC. We’ve narrowed down the inside man there,” Garrison cut off, waving his hand in irritation. “I’ll catch you guys up later.” He turned to Declan. “You need to leave immediately with Bristow.”
The red-haired man had already gotten into the driver’s seat of the Escalade. Declan looked at Levi, but it was Garrison who answered the directive in his eyes. “We’ll take care of Theo. Don’t worry.”
Declan didn’t say any more and jumped into the SUV beside Bristow.
Executing an awkward three-point turn, the hefty vehicle screeched out of the driveway.
“We should be at the scene in fourteen minutes,” Bristow looked at the dashboard GPS.
“Do you have an idea what Garrison is talking about?”
“About how Ortega escaped?”
“Yeah.”
“One of the virologists at the CDC is working for Antonio Andrade. Guess the promise of money that’s ten times more than government salary is worth betraying a vow to save lives.” Bristow cast him a derisive look. “That’s not including sign-on bonus.”
“Jesus.”
“Feds are still investigating the break-out. Ortega was always meant to survive the virus from initial reports. He’d been given the antiviral before he’d infected himself. Not even sure the chemo shit is real.”
“Somebody really screwed up the intel there.”
“That can only be done by someone with money. To be able to feed false intel into an agency like the CIA?”
“This Andrade guy?”
“Suspect number one.”
“Counterintelligence is not new.”
“Tell that to Garrison. He’s pissed.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Declan deadpanned.
His phone buzzed with an unknown number. Thinking it was Garrison again with a new burner, he answered. “Roarke.”
It was a voice he didn’t recognize. “I’m sending you a link. Click on it. Don’t click on it, it’s up to you. It’s too late anyway.”
The line went dead.
A notification popped up on his screen. Declan’s phone had several levels of security against malware, so he clicked on the URL without hesitation.
At first, he couldn’t tell anything from the grainy video—just a group of shadows moving along a courtyard until he heard Gabby’s voice and her face became clearer from the camera that appeared to be positioned at the entrance.
A text banner lowered on his screen and he quickly checked it.
“Such a waste. She’s a pretty detective, isn’t she?”
Dread clogged the words in his throat.
“What is it?” Bristow asked.
“Gabby,” Declan choked through the paralyzing fear that froze his entire body. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, as if he was helplessly watching an accident about to happen, a sense of imminent loss constricting his airway. Then rage exploded. “Step on the gas, Bristow. Don’t fucking