Undercover Texas - By Robin Perini Page 0,3
favor you requested of me about a year ago?”
Oh, hell, no. Erin. Leona had heard something.
He’d prayed this day would never come. “Yeah, I remember.” Hunter’s stomach clenched. “Are we secure?”
“No one listens in on my encryption. Not even the good guys.” Leona tapped her keyboard, and half the screen filled with translated transmissions. “As you can see, there’s been chatter about Dr. Jamison for the past few weeks.”
“Weeks? Why are you just telling me now?”
“It took a while for me to identify who the references specifically meant. Besides—” Leona quirked an eyebrow “—when did you want me to tell you? When your cover was getting blown by a rogue informant or during your latest firefight?”
Hunter shoved his hand through his hair. “Point taken.”
“Besides, the intel wasn’t specific enough until now. Hunter, she’s in trouble.”
“The info is verified?”
“Affirmative, and action is imminent. According to the chatter, one of the Seattle cells is making a delivery of human cargo tonight. Your cargo. Both of them. Final destination—unknown.”
Hunter swore. “Get me off the Kazakhstan mission. Tell General Miller I’ve got the flu. I died. I’ve lost it. Whatever will work.”
“Convincing him of anything is not easy these days, Hunter. You’re his go-to guy for the tougher ops, and he knows you don’t break. He said—and I quote—‘I want him back in the saddle fast after the last trip’s...unfortunate outcome.’”
Hunter stilled. “Unfortunate outcome? Half the team got shot up. Drummond and O’Reilly are still in ICU at the hospital, hooked up to a million wires and life support. Yeah, that’s unfortunate.”
Anger laced every word, but guilt lay heavy on Hunter’s shoulders. There was plenty of blame to go around. In hindsight, he should have seen the ambush coming. Then again, the company should have, too, and well in advance. Either someone screwed up big-time or someone was out to get them.
“I can’t go to Kazakhstan. Not until I know Erin is safe.”
“I finagled what I could. You have five days before you have to report. I’ve already set the contingency plan you worked out for Dr. Jamison in motion.”
“You’re an angel.” Hunter snagged his ready bag from the closet.
“The plane is fueled and standing by. You’ll be at Eglin in one hour.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got your back...Clay Griffin. Don’t mess up.”
Clay Griffin.
An alias he hadn’t used in almost two years. One he hadn’t expected to hear or use ever again. Erin knew him by that name.
As Clay Griffin, he’d loved her, lied to her and left her, but it was Hunter Graham who dreamed of her every night, wishing he’d never been forced to abandon her and the child they’d conceived.
The moment he’d learned she was pregnant, he’d longed to go to her, but he had to stay away...to protect her and his son.
His efforts hadn’t mattered, though. Erin’s genius had put her in danger. Now he had to go to her, save her and his son, and leave them. Again.
Yeah, no doubt about it. His life pretty much sucked.
* * *
TERENCE TENSED AS JIMMY pulled the van into a run-down urban area and parked. They hadn’t needed to drive far to reach the perfect hunting ground for people who wouldn’t be missed. This was the land of the hopeless.
The surrounding streets were narrow and riddled with trash. Decrepit buildings loomed overhead, and seedy bars, with blaring music and falling-down-drunk patrons, fronted every other building. The homeless shelter huddled between an abandoned church and a boarded-up Laundromat. The haven of choice for the abandoned and invisible.
People shuffled in and out of the doorway of the shelter, heads bowed, defeated—and, to Terence’s mind, disposable.
He rolled down the window. The stench of hot urine on pavement filtered into the van. He coughed, hating the filthy place, but encouraged that, from this vantage point, he could survey potential targets.
A few women with babies walked by. One was the wrong race. Another too fat. Still others were too short or too tall.
Normally, he enjoyed the selection process, but with time short, their lack of success made him nuts.
“What about her?” Jimmy said. “She’s a match for Dr. Jamison.”
Terence looked, then growled at his nephew. “The kid in the stroller is wearing a pink hat. Are you blind?”
Jimmy cringed in his seat.
Terence glanced at his watch, his frown deepening. “We’re running out of time. This is taking longer than I thought.”
“There she is,” Jimmy whispered, pointing to a woman at the far end of the block.
Terence raised his binoculars to check her out, not feeling particularly hopeful.
Right height. Right weight.
He