Valeria put her lips to the hose and sucked. She coughed as the mild tasting gasoline filled her mouth, but then spat at the aftertaste coating her mouth. She shoved the hose into an old gas can she found at the marina as she tried to act as casually as she could next to the large speedboat. She’d love to steal this one, but Val knew it would be missed all too quickly. However, the smaller, older speedboat next to it wouldn’t be. The amount of debris on the cover led her to believe no one had touched the boat in a month.

Valeria put a kink in the hose and set a large stone on it, holding it in place as she carried the now full gas can to the older boat and filled up the tank to the top. Then she went back and filled the can the rest of the way up before pulling the hose and tossing it in the back of her boat in case she needed to steal more gas.

Val pulled the ball cap she’d stolen from a beach chair low over her eyes, hopped onto the boat, stored the gas can, and hotwired the boat. Without looking back, she pulled out of the local marina down a way from the resort and headed out to sea.

---

Grant Macay landed the Pave Hawk HH-60G at the Coronado naval base. Whoever this Valeria was, she must be important. And whoever was sending the orders had major talent for getting things done. The second Grant landed, fuel was being pumped full into his helo. A Navy man hit the side of the helicopter and Grant was off again, this time to a naval ship in the Pacific Ocean halfway down the Baja Peninsula.

Dalton Cage had been Grant’s pararescue leader before. They’d been stationed all over the world together. But things got interesting when they were at an undisclosed location in the Middle East and a helicopter with some SEALs, CIA Special Operations Group members, and one state department greenhorn went down. Their four-man team was prepped and ready to go into the line of fire to rescue the helo when orders came down grounding them. When Dalton came out ready to steal the helicopter and go himself, it was a no-brainer the team would go with him.

They rescued the helicopter and most of the people in it and had then been thrown behind bars at the Lakenheath Air Base in England immediately upon landing. Three weeks they had been left sitting there, until one day a little man with a bald head and glasses claiming to be the new chief of staff to the new president showed up. The team was divided up and each sent their separate ways while Dalton, as team leader, took the fall and was discharged for disregarding a direct order. Then out of nowhere Dalton and some women showed up on the air base Grant had been stationed at in the Philippines. They were using fake names but had the power to commandeer a helo and Grant, blow up a boat, and kill the man on it.

Shortly after his mission with Dalton, Grant had been restationed at Edwards. He hadn’t even gotten in trouble for sinking a Seahawk helicopter. Instead, it was as if it never happened. Grant had been left in the dark, but he was smart enough to put two and two together. Dalton was in some secret shit, and evidently the orders were coming from very high up the chain of command. Whoever Dalton was with was powerful enough to send Grant alone with a $50,000,000 plus helicopter and support from the Air Force and Navy. All to get one woman—a woman possibly under fire. But Grant found interrupting a shitstorm fun. It was his Scots ancestry. His parents were academics, but growing up, Grant had been more interested in the Highland games. So instead of becoming a professor or author, Grant had joined the Air Force. He wanted to fly high and fast. His ability to fly with nerves of steel was why he was recruited for the PJs. No one had more dangerous operations than the PJs, which is what made this lassie very interesting. Who was she, and what had she done to need his rescue? One thing was for sure, though Grant would get to this woman. He just hoped she was alive by the time he reached her.

---

Valeria pushed the boat across the choppy waters. A storm had rolled in and slowed her down while using up more of her gas than she’d liked. But it also made her harder to find. Valeria pushed the boat faster as the rain fell. Her skin was waterlogged. Her eyes stung from the rain hitting them as if each drop were a tiny needle. She was really starting to hate water, but she was six hours into a nine- to ten-hour trip. A trip that couldn’t end soon enough.

---

Humphrey Orville rubbed his hand over his face and bald head before putting his round wire-rimmed glasses back on. He sat in the empty parking lot of the closed restaurant, waiting. It had shut down last week, and all the security cameras had been disabled, which was why he’d chosen the place to have his meeting.

He took a sip of his coffee to help him stay awake. Tate had come out of her surgery with a steel plate and pins in her leg, but she was awake and resting with Birch. Birch had not trusted the vice president any more than he trusted anyone outside of their small group, so he’d insisted Humphrey stick to the VP’s side until the doctors cleared Birch to resume the presidency. That occurred the night before, close to two in the morning. The VP had handed power back and happily went home to sleep while Humphrey got everything Birch would need to run the country from his hospital room before heading to this meeting. And now he sat waiting for Thurmond Culpepper.

The power-hungry lackey of the traitorous Secretary of State Sandra Cummings pulled into the parking lot and drew up next to Humphrey. Humphrey opened the car door at the same time Thurmond did.

“Looks like it closed,” Thurmond called out instead of a greeting.

Humphrey shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t know. Oh well. This won’t take long and then we can grab breakfast on the way into the office.”

Thurmond walked around the car and followed Humphrey to a rotting picnic table on the side of the building. Humphrey took a seat with his back to the restaurant and waited as Thurmond looked with disgust at the wooden seat. He was probably afraid he’d get his expensive slacks or bright pink shirt dirty. Humphrey waited as Thurmond reluctantly took a seat. His hair was perfectly fluffed and sprayed, so it didn’t move in the gentle summer breeze.

“I’m guessing this is about Sandra’s family emergency? Well, let me assure you, she called me as soon as she heard what happened to President Stratton and is on her way back.” Thurmond pursed his lips in what Humphrey guessed was a thoughtfully worried look. “How is President Stratton? When Sandra called she wanted to know if he was still in power or if she should report to the vice president.”

“The president is in control of the country. He’s doing well and just needs some rest.” Humphrey leaned forward. “It’s all such a shock. I hope Sandra is safe. I worry if it’s an attack on the government that she may be in danger.”

Thurmond looked surprised, but he took a second too long to look it. The prick knew. “I’m sure she’s safe. But maybe I should talk to the Secret Service?”

Humphrey nodded. “That’s a good idea. After all, I’d hate to have Mollia Domini come after her too.”

Thurmond froze and then cleared his throat. “Who?”

“Silly me. I get things messed up easily with so much going on,” Humphrey laughed at himself. “Mollia Domini wouldn’t go after Sandra. Not when she’s one of them.”

“I . . . I . . . I’m sorry,” Thurmond stuttered shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Who is Mollia Domini and why would they be or not be after Sandra?”

“You’re not sorry, Thurmond. You know all about them. The question is, did you pass intel along to them so they could attack the president? Did you know they were trying to kill him? Were you helping them do it?”

Thurmond’s fake tanned skin paled. “No! I don’t even know—”

“Cut the bullshit you’re famous for spewing. We both know who and what Mollia Domini is, and we both know Sandra is up to her eyeballs in it. You always wanted to make a name for yourself, Thurmond. Now you’ll be remembered as the first person executed for treason since the Civil War. The history of treason is actually very interesting, but that’s for another time. The question is: do you want to die now or serve life in prison?”

“There’s no evidence such a group even exists and certainly none that shows I helped,” Thurmond sputtered.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Does the name Branson Ames ring a bell?”

Thurmond looked ready to faint. “But Branson is gone . . . um, car crash I think.”

“You mean helicopter crash in Syria and he’s gone because Sandra put a hit on him? Luckily we got to him first, and he had a lot of things to say about you and Sandra.” Humphrey paused. “Oh! I forgot the second witness who saw you and Sandra putting cash in the locked briefcase for Branson to take. Cash that would be used to fund terror on behalf of Mollia Domini. Cash I am betting we can prove came from a small bank in Mexico owned by Manuel Hernandez.”

Thurmond froze for one second before leaping up. His eyes were wild. He turned to run but smacked into a solid growling wall that was Jason Wolski. Thurmond screamed as Jason wrapped his fingers around Thurmond’s thin arms and squeezed. Jason shook him like a ragdoll as Humphrey waited for Thurmond to stop screaming.

“Do shut up, Thurmond,” Humphrey snapped. Thurmond immediately shut his mouth. “Thurmond, look at the man holding you. Mollia Domini killed his wife. Do you believe he’ll kill you?”

Jason sneered and Thurmond pissed his pants.

“Good. Now, I advise you to start talking and I won’t let Jason kill you and leave your dead body in the alley here.” Humphrey waited as Thurmond began to cry. It was always the bullies who broke the fastest. Hidden within every bully was nothing but a coward. “Are you going to talk?”

Thurmond nodded and Jason turned him around and shoved him onto the bench. “Talk,” Jason growled.

Thurmond wiped his hand across his nose, smearing snot across his cheek. “Sandra recruited me. She knew I wanted to climb the ladder and dangled that in front of me. One day she caught me doing something slightly unethical to get some information so I could impress her and called me into the office. She talked to me for hours about my beliefs and thoughts on politics, political leaders, and the state of the world. Over the course of months, she asked me to do little things here and there that were off the books and I knew were wrong. I was rewarded after doing each one. I was promoted. I began to have a staff of my own.”

“You were given what you craved—power,” Humphrey said with understanding.

Thurmond nodded.

“Tell me about George Stanworth.”

Thurmond’s brow creased. “The media mogul? I don’t know much about him besides he has a young wife, his daughter runs a lot of the empire, and his granddaughter, Blythe, is popular in the gossip columns. What does he . . .? Oh.”

“You didn’t know he was part of it?”

“No. I didn’t know anyone but Sandra. She told me it was better that way. Sometimes she’d give me orders and I would leave them in a fake rock and someone would pick them up. I guessed that Phylicia Claymore was one of those people after her death.”

“How did you make that connection?” Humphrey asked.

“Sandra was supportive of the rebel leader Phylicia was found dead with.”

“Where has Sandra been?”

Thurmond shook his head. “I don’t know. She said she had a meeting and would be off the grid for a couple days. She told me if anyone needed her to say it was a family emergency. I got her fake identification—”

“Sally, yes, we know.”

“How?” Thurmond asked, wide-eyed.

Humphrey just smiled. “Was it Sandra who ordered the bombing of the president?”

“I don’t know. I just know I knew nothing about it. I didn’t pass any notes, any intelligence, nothing dealing with the bombing.”

“What has Sandra had you looking into recently?”

“Nothing about the president,” Thurmond defended. “Mostly she had me researching catastrophic regulations for various departments.”

Humphrey felt a chill go down his back. “Which departments?”

“The securities and exchange, the energy commission, the environmental protection agency, and the transportation department. Sandra had me compile their regulations and protocols in case of a major disaster. I assumed she had evidence of a terror attack and wanted to be prepared just in case.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jason said, smacking Thurmond’s head hard with his hand.

“Where’s the research you did for her?” Humphrey asked, hardly able to sit still. He had to act quickly.

“On my computer.” Thurmond glanced at his car.

“Give me the keys.” Humphrey snatched them and headed straight for the car. Oh God, this was bad, very bad. Humphrey opened the car and reached for the messenger bag on the passenger seat. Rushing back to Thurmond, he opened the laptop. “What’s the password?”

“I’ll—”

Humphrey slapped Thurmond’s hand away. “No, I’ll do it. What’s the password?”

Thurmond pouted before mumbling, “President Thurmond, all one word.”

Humphrey typed it in and the computer lit up. “Is that your SOS password, too?”

“Yes,” Thurmond sighed. “Look, I told you everything. I swear, I didn’t know—”

“But you knew what Mollia Domini is. It’s a group set on overthrowing the government. That’s treason. Jason, take him away, but don’t kill him. I’m sure the president will want to deal with him publicly.”

Thurmond began to struggle, but Jason used one hand to hold him and another to stab a needle into Thurmond’s neck. Thurmond collapsed in the blink of an eye.

“He won’t remember a thing. Where do you want me to take him?”

“We need a secret jail. I have a feeling we are going to be filling it.”

“Here in DC?” Jason asked.

“Yes. We need these people quickly accessible. Do you have any ideas?”

“I do. I have a buddy who’s a CIA SOG. He’d know where the US black sites are, or were. Usually they’re visible and easy to get to—a home, an office park, something like that. Something you drive by every day and never think anything of it. If we can find an old one, maybe it’s still set up to hold prisoners.”

Humphrey nodded. “Good idea. But you can’t tell them why.”

“Nah, I’ll buy him a beer and shoot the shit with him. I’ll call you when I have more information. In the meantime, I’ll keep this asshole unconscious.”

“And I have to warn the president we are looking at potential attacks to the very foundation of America.”

Humphrey took off with the laptop as Jason stuffed Thurmond in the trunk of Thurmond’s car. Sleep was going to have to wait. With Jason’s delivery of Fitz and Hugo’s bodies via coolers to Stanworth’s front door, Mollia Domini was ready to make a statement. Humphrey just hoped Lizzy and Dalton could stop them before it was too late.