Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(97)

“Hey, you,” Bukowski called to Mark. “Would you do something for me before you go?”

“You bet.” Mark came back to the bedside. “What do you need?”

The big man had tears in his eyes. “I know I don’t deserve any kind of help from you guys. Not after I blew up that little gal’s car like I did, but if I give you my boy’s number, would you please tell him to get my grandkids outta D.C. for me?”

“I’ll do my best,” Mark answered, his cell in his hand. “What’s the number?”

Bukowski rattled his son’s number off, and Mark placed the call on his way out the door.

The time had come. Trust them or not, the FBI and every other federal agency in D.C. had to be involved. Mark and Chief McDonald both notified the proper authorities the minute they hit the hallway.

“Contact Ember,” Mark whispered out of the corner of his mouth when McDonald stepped out of earshot. “The FBI will be at our office in minutes, and they’ll want everything. Tell her to give them only what’s related to the car bombing. Nothing more.”

“Not what we have on Becker?” David asked as they strode swiftly from the hospital.

“Nothing that relates to Alex’s murder investigation.” Mark’s mind flew over the wealth of evidence they’d accumulated, all the enhanced satellite images, the illegally obtained references to Eagle Two, and Steven’s spot-on analysis of Becker’s peculiar sniper rounds.

“Anything else?”

“Tell her to secure Steven’s workstation and your conclusions on the ME’s report. Tell her to put everything in the vault on level three. No one is to talk with the FBI. Only me.”

Mark’s angst rapped into high overdrive. He couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough. The FBI would sweep through the office like a horde of locusts, devouring anything and everything in their path, possibly conducting intimidating interrogations as well. The competent men and women of The TEAM would be shoved aside and trampled underfoot as the very arrogant Feds took over and stole every last bit of intel, relevant or not.


They’d want Kelsey next. Not going to happen. Just the thought of her in their custody spilled more acid into his gut. Mark speed dialed Zack’s burn phone.

Zack answered promptly. “What’s up?”

“FBI is now actively involved. They’ll be looking for you.”

“What? Why?”

“Fallon’s built a dirty bomb. Maybe more than one. You need to move. Get Kelsey out of the city.”

“But, Mark—”

“No!” Mark roared. “Protect Kelsey. Get her out of here. Now!”





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Gabe looked up from Ember’s monitor into the cold eyes of a man in a cheap black business suit, a shiny Federal Bureau of Investigation badge in his slimy palm. Damn. What’d the FBI want? More blood on their hands? Another bogus execution?

The man extended a hand over the counter by way of introduction. “Where’s your boss?”

Gabe kept his hand on the desk and didn’t return the courtesy. The Feds. Big deal. They caused more trouble than not. After what Ember had revealed, these guys were as guilty as sin. “Who wants to know?”

“Agent Benson.”

“What do you want?”

“Every. Last. Thing,” he hissed as he scanned the vacant office.

“As in what everything?” Gabe pushed out of his chair, his arms crossed and hell no in his heart. These guys were the bastards behind Alex’s murder. Fake or not, it made no difference. He was willing to bet they owned Sam Becker, too. Probably paid him a bonus to bring Alex down. Gabe didn’t owe them squat.

Ember glanced at him, her eyes wide though she didn’t speak a word. Not even hello. Must be Mark in her ear again. She ended the clandestine conversation with a barely noticeable tap on the device in her ear to signify copy that, the way covert operators communicated when they couldn’t risk speaking out loud.

Lifting to her feet, her shoulders squared and her head held high, she met Benson head on. Her chin might have been lifted up, but her fingers were hard at work below the edge of the counter, tapping away at the keyboard beyond Benson’s view.

His dark gaze skimmed over her upper body from the top of her head and stopping at her cleavage the way most men’s did. The girl had it. She flaunted it, and she knew how to use it to distract stupid guys, too.

Gabe couldn’t help that his fingers curled into a fist. Ember was another sister. Like Kelsey. She deserved to be treated with respect, no matter her cup size. Benson was an ass.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Agent Benson. I’m not giving you anything without a warrant,” she declared.

His upper lip lifted in a weak smile. Oatmeal had more spine. “I don’t need a warrant when I’m dealing with terrorists. Give me everything you’ve got on the pipe bomb at Stewart’s home this morning for starters. In fact, everything on Stewart’s murder, while you’re at it. His wife’s attempted murder, too. We’ll go from there.”

“We haven’t been investigating Alex’s murder,” she asserted patiently as only Ember could do. “Your buddy, Agent Kenny, clarified what happened to Alex. The ME agreed with him. Why would we dispute those expert conclusions? And as far as Kelsey Stewart’s accident, the sheriff ruled it closed. It wasn’t attempted murder. She over-corrected and her car went into the river. That’s all. Sheesh. Don’t you FBI guys ever talk to each other? Go to lunch together? Anything?”