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He moved some of the photos, picking up a small recorder before activating it. Groaning when her voice sounded over the speakers. “Jesus, Callie. They’re splicing what I assume are wire taps together — making it sound as if you’re the mole. Hear those rough patches, where the words overlap? That’s where they haven’t quite made it flow together.”
She nodded, ice slicing through her veins at some of the phrases. “Christ, that’s from my secure connection to my handler. How did they get that?”
“Easy, your mole is someone high up. Probably the last person you’d expect. You sure this Higgins guy can be trusted?”
“I don’t know. I think so. He’s never given me any reason to question him.” She closed her eyes. “It really was my fault. I should have known I was being watched. Taped. I should have—”
“No way you could know they were watching you from a fucking drone. Or had people hacking into secure footage. Maybe some blue uniforms on the payroll. But, they obviously knew you were a plant from the start, and they were setting you up to take the fall, only, you didn’t die. We need to go. Now.”
Booker stuffed the camera, recorder and half the photos into his bag, then flicked off his flashlight, grabbed her hand, and headed for the door. He barely paused before clearing the platform then heading down the stairs.
Less than thirty seconds, and they were closing in on the exit — were moving fast — when the handle rattled. Booker changed direction mid-stride, dragging her behind a couple of crates on the opposite side of the room. What was barely enough cover to hide one of them, let alone two. But he managed to squeeze in behind her — what she prayed would appear as more shadows. Obviously refusing to separate when he could have darted behind more cover farther over. But the man she knew wouldn’t leave her. Period.
Hearing boots tap across the floor had her holding her breath. Silently willing the creep to keep moving. Head up to the office so they could sneak out the door. Then the guy chuckled, and she knew they were busted. That it had either been a trap like she’d been worried about, or someone had noticed the flashlight beam bouncing around the office through one of the grimy windows.
Another laugh, then the boots stopped halfway across the floor as a dim light brightened the far side of the room. “I know you’re in here, Calliope, so… just come on out. We need to talk.”
Callie wasn’t sure what had her inhaling. That the bastard knew she was there or that she recognized his voice. The same one she’d heard before passing out. That she’d spent over a decade listening to in her home office. The one man she’d looked up to since joining the DEA. Was that why he’d kept tabs on her all this time? Had he sent her undercover knowing he was going to have her and her entire team eventually killed? Had he lost any sleep over it?
Booker squeezed her hand, shaking his head as he held up his gun. But she wasn’t going to risk being the reason he died. Not when she suspected this wouldn’t be a quick takedown. That the traitorous bastard wanted to draw it out. Maybe try to turn her. That he’d have a dozen men waiting outside as backup.
She grabbed the burner cell out of her pocket, and gave to Booker — mouthed for him to hide it. Then she motioned for him to stay, hoping he got the message because they only had one chance at making it out of the room still breathing, and it all came down to him.
One deep breath then she stood, calmly walking out from the shadows. Smiling when the guy turned and stared at her. Gun still sitting in the holster at his chest. Eyes fixed on her.
She moved a few feet away, blocking any view of Booker hiding behind the crates, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Hello, Keith. And yeah, we should probably talk.”
CHAPTER7
Keith?
Well, shit.
While Booker didn’t know everyone in high-ranking positions within the various agencies, he knew the main players. The men and women in charge, and the only Keith he knew in a power position within the DEA was Callie’s previous boss, Keith Rogers. The one she’d told Booker had suggested her for the undercover position, claiming she had the most experience. Was the only choice.
Which was fucking code for her being too good to be left in the game. Expendable because if the guy was behind the operation down here, he’d definitely want to get rid of anyone who might figure it out. And even with Callie being a few thousand miles away, Booker knew she was smart enough — determined enough — to unravel any mystery given the chance. Especially if agents started dying.
He grabbed his phone and clicked on the voice memo app. He wasn’t sure how clear everything would be, but he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to get the bastard talking on tape. Then Booker shifted over until he was behind the far side of the boxes, leaning out just enough to get an idea of where they were standing. Judge if this Keith, asshole, had anyone else backing him up. Seeing a shadow by the door confirmed there was at least one other player standing in the wings. Probably waiting for Keith to give him a signal — maybe have the other guy do the actual shooting, because there was no doubt in Booker’s mindsomeonewould start shooting.
Which was why Calliope had confronted the bastard. The lady was honorable to a fault, and it only made him fall a bit harder. Realize that she was the reason he’d been holding out on fully moving on with his life. He’d been hoping she’d find him.
Booker wasn’t sure if the two jackasses knew he was there or if they assumed she’d come alone. That her pilot was waiting by the machine. He hoped it was the later. That, part of her reason for confronting them was to give him an edge. If they already knew he’d accompanied her…
Callie hitched out a hip, looking dangerously calm, considering she was facing down the man who’d already tried to kill her. Had eliminated her team. “It all makes sense, now. Why you were so eager to send me here. Why my brain didn’t want to remember your voice. Why you insisted I’d imagined an agent behind everything. Though, I have to say, I’m disappointed.”
She took a small step forward. It didn’t look like much, but it opened up Booker’s sight line. Gave him a better chance at capping both guys if needed. “If you wanted me dead, you should have had the balls to do it, yourself.”
Booker had to give Keith credit. The guy didn’t seem fazed. Just stood there, smirking. Like he knew some big secret.
Keith shrugged. “I prefer not to kill people I care about. And I do care about you, Callie.”
“Just not enough to keep me alive.”
The guy sighed, as if it had been hard to put her on some shit list. “You’re smart. And your record speaks for itself. I knew it was only a matter of time before Washington reassigned you. Had you look into the epic shitstorm my cohort created down here, especially if other agents started dropping. And there was no way you wouldn’t put all the pieces together — uncover my involvement. I just couldn’t let that happen.”
He took a couple of steps to the right, glancing where Booker had been hiding a few minutes earlier before focusing on Callie. And Booker knew that the asshole was looking for him. That he’d either spotted them coming in or had already checked out the chopper — found it empty. Which meant Booker needed to devise a plan.
He held firm, waiting until Keith had finished scanning the room, again, before taking a chance and sliding over to the next set of crates. It wasn’t far, just a few feet, but it meant he only had the shadows to cover him for the two seconds he was scooting. Using every trick he’d learned in the service to stay hidden. Not make a sound as his boots slid across the old floor.
