Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time the last of his patients filed out of the cabana, Lanie was huddled together with the guys, discussing their options, tactics. It struck Jesse how right she was with them. She thought she didn’t belong with the team, but she did. She’d changed out of her bikini and looked tough, strong, and capable in cargo pants and fitted T-shirt with her braids pulled back in a ponytail. And although he knew she was all of that and more, the thought of her taking part in this probable suicide mission twisted his guts. As the current team leader, he could order her to stay behind…
And she’d accuse him of being sexist.
But it wasn’t because she was a woman. He’d known plenty of women who could kick ass and take names, and she was top of the list. But she was also his woman and it might break him if she was harmed in any way.
“I called Tuc again,” she said as he approached. “Gave him the update.”
“What did he say?” he asked as he approached.
“Pissed off is an understatement,” she answered. Yes, she was back in warrior mode, but she was still careful not to meet his gaze. “His team is still at least two hours out.”
Bad news. They could sure use the extra manpower before that. Jesse shook his head. “And in the meantime, we’ll have lost hostages, includin’ Gabe, Quinn, and Harvard. We can’t wait for him.”
“He knows that, and he’s getting here as fast as humanly possible. He said to be careful.”
“Does he want us to stand down?” Seth asked. “Because that’s not happening.”
She winced slightly. “He didn’t say it in so many words…”
For once, Marcus wasn’t smiling. “Not a fucking chance.”
Seth held out a hand and they bumped fists in a show of solidarity.
“If he’s worried about his precious hotel’s reputation—” Ian started, but Lanie cut him off, slicing her hand in the air in a gesture that shouted “enough!” It was a very Gabe way to quiet the group, and the men all shut up.
Lanie set a hand on one cocked hip. “Tucker’s worried about y’all, not his property. He can always build another hotel, but for all his money and talents, he can’t raise the dead. He cares about his men—you knuckleheads included.” Her tone said they should all be ashamed of themselves. Surprisingly, even Ian appeared chastised when she poked a finger at his face. “I could tell he wants us to stand down, but he knows we won’t, so he didn’t even ask. Instead, he’s going to move Earth itself to find us reinforcements, and until then, he’s researching the photos I sent him so we know who the hell we’re up against.”
Her phone chimed and she reached into the pocket of her cargo pants for it. “And speak of the devil,” she muttered after checking the screen. “Tuc just emailed me.” She was silent a moment, reading whatever he’d sent, then passed the phone to Jesse.
“The man we’re dealing with, the one in charge, is Jerome Briggs,” Lanie summarized for the others as he scanned the rest of the email.
“If this is the guy I spoke to, he told me to call him Paul.” On screen was a slightly grainy, cropped and zoomed-in photo showing an average-Joe kind of man with a serious black eye. Next to it, another photo of the same man. Except in this one, he had no gray in his dark hair and no black eye. And he looked as mean as a rattler.
“Paul? Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe you didn’t speak to this guy?”
“I don’t know, Lanie. I got the feelin’ I spoke to the one callin’ the shots.”
“Then it was him. I snapped this photo before he realized I was there, and Briggs was definitely in charge. But why call himself Paul?”
“So we can’t identify him later?” Danny suggested.
“Except Gabe, Quinn, Harvard, and the rest of the hostages have all seen his face,” Seth pointed out. “That indicates to me he doesn’t plan to let anyone live.”
“He did say the hotel was rigged with explosives,” Jesse said. “Fuck.” The thought that his son and teammates were potentially sitting on a ticking time bomb made him ill and he had to swallow back a surge of bile. For the first time in…he couldn’t remember how long, he sent up a quick prayer. If the Big Guy Upstairs was listening, they needed all the help they could get.
“Let Tank and me worry about any explosives,” Ian said and gave the dog’s head a pat.
Lanie smiled at Ian—which, yeah, irked more than a bit—but then she turned that smile on the dog and her expression went all soft and sweet. Jesse’s annoyance faded and he silently castigated himself.
Jealous, now? Really? Dayam. He had to get control of himself.
Lanie gave Tank an ear scratch that made the dog’s leg thump the ground. “Will he be okay?”
Ian looked down at his dog and something that might have been a smile twitched at his lips. “It’s what we’ve been training for. He can handle it.”
Lanie turned to Jesse. The whole group did, and he realized belatedly they were looking to him for a game plan. He had nothing, but he was still holding Lanie’s phone with the picture of Paul-slash-Jerome Briggs. He passed it around so everyone saw Briggs’s picture. “According to Tuc’s dossier, Briggs was Army, served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and signed on with Defion Group after leaving the military.”
“Defion?” Danny said and scrubbed a hand through his hair, making the dark locks spike up. “Damn, that’s who we’re up against?”
“You’ve heard of them?” Marcus asked.
He nodded. “They’re a legitimate military contractor with very illegitimate dealings that have only come to light recently. The State Department has been eyeing Defion for an investigation, but there’s a lot of money involved. A lot of politics. They’ve been slow to respond to the accusations flooding in.”
“What kind of accusations?” Lanie asked.
“Everything from overcharging the government for paperclips to war crimes. It’s believed they’ve had their hand out to both sides of every war. They don’t care which side wins as long as they get paid.” Danny took the phone as Marcus held it out to him. He frowned at the picture of Jerome Briggs. “This isn’t Defion’s typical MO, though. They profit off war, not hostage situations.”
Ian barely glanced at the phone when it reached him. Typical Ian. The phone chimed and he passed it back to Lanie. She squinted at her screen, then grinned.
Jesse leaned over. “What is it?”
“Tuc sent blueprints of the hotel. Does anyone have a laptop? Tablet? Something with a bigger screen?” she asked the group.
“Phoebe and I were planning to disconnect for the weekend,” Seth said. “I only have my phone so I can keep in touch with her until she gets here.”
“I have a laptop, but it’s still in the hotel room,” Marcus said, and Danny nodded.
“Yeah, my tablet’s there too.”
“I don’t carry any of that shit,” Ian said when everyone turned toward him. “That’s Harvard’s job.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, we can make do.” She turned her phone horizontal, and used her fingers to enlarge the image. “You know, this used to be a plantation house. I bet there’s a… Yes. Right there.” She held her phone up for the others to see the stairs leading to the third floor at the back of the building. “The old servant’s entrance. That’s our in.”
Danny frowned. “They’ll have it guarded.”
“They don’t have enough men to guard the hostages and every exit,” she argued. “I saw ten men. Jean-Luc killed one. Tank and I took out two more. That leaves them with seven.” She pointed to the blueprint. “They’re holed up in the lobby which must be a logistical nightmare to secure with that big window out front. The walls are almost all glass. But unless they want to move all the hostages over to the convention center—”
“Another logistical nightmare,” Seth added.
“Exactly. They’re not moving. They’re dug in, and the only place in the main building big enough for everyone is that glass-plated lobby.”
“She’s right,” Marcus conceded. “If they don’t show enough force, the hostages might take their chances with a mutiny, and right now those hostages are their only leverage. They’ll focus most of their manpower in the lobby.”
“And use explosives to secure the building,” Ian finished. “Which won’t be a problem.”
Lanie nodded. “So here’s what I’m thinking, guys. These stairs don’t go all the way up, so we’ll take them to the third, then take the fire exit to collect Jean-Luc and the recruits from the fourth floor. From there, we fight our way down. They won’t expect us to come from above. Especially if…” She trailed off and Jesse’s inner alarm started clanging.
“If what?” he demanded. Until now, he’d liked her plan, but he was sure he wasn’t going to like the next thing out of her mouth.
She faced him. “If you stay behind and distract Briggs. Make like we’re searching for the doctors. Try to get more time out of him. Basically, be exactly what he accused you of being—exactly what you are. A medic with a big heart who wants everyone to survive.”
I can’t. The thought blasted through his mind with a sizzle of panic. To play that part convincingly, he’d have to open himself up to all the emotions he barely had a handle on. And if he let himself feel everything as deeply as he could, he’d lose his mind. His anger would take control, and he’d say something that would get them all killed.
Marcus clapped his shoulder. “Once again, our girl’s right, Jess. Like it or not, dude, you’re the point of contact. And you have a bum ankle. You can’t go with us. You’ll slow us down. If he calls again and you don’t answer, he’ll know something’s up.”
“No.” He shook his head. Slowly at first, then harder. “No, I’m not sittin’ back while—my son is in there!”
“And our teammates,” Lanie said softly. “Jesse, you need to trust me.”
His gaze caught hers, held. “You’re one of the few people I trust.”
“And the rest of those few are standing right here with us,” she pointed out.
He gazed over her shoulder at the group. Seth, Marcus, Danny. He trusted these men with his life every time he went out on a mission with them. Ian, too. While he’d probably never like the guy, he knew the volatile bastard would have his six whenever it counted. He returned his attention to Lanie and reached up to trace the line of her jaw with one finger. “It’s not you—or them—I don’t trust.”
It’s me.
He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to. Not with Lanie. She knew his demons, which was probably exactly why she wanted to distance herself from him.