Whispered Lies

Julio raced past Carlos to the door at his back, yelling orders at his men, who followed.

Carlos braced for the red-hot iron heading for his chest.

Durand stepped forward with the casual arrogance of a man who had always been in control.

When Durand got close, Carlos shoved up on the pads of his feet, grasping the chain in his sweaty hands. He kicked a boot up to knock the branding iron free. The end hit his thigh, frying a strip of skin before the rod hit the ground. He growled at the pain and swung his second boot right behind the first to co

An explosion outside rocked the building. Carlos lost his grip and dropped hard to the floor, wrenching his wrists. He tried to twist around to see if anyone was coming, but couldn’t.

If Vestavia had sent men for him, Carlos had a chance to fight another day.

Durand stumbled backward, caught his balance, then reached over to his left for the chain hoist control. He hit a button, yanking Carlos off the ground where he couldn’t get traction to jump a second time. He lifted the branding iron off the floor and started walking.

“I was only going to mark you as a traitor, but now I’ll let this burn all the way through to your black heart.”

Durand moved forward, the branding iron chest high and coming at Carlos.

The door behind Carlos blasted open. Durand looked past him, eyes shocked. A gunshot boomed through the room.

The bullet struck Durand between the eyes, knocking him backward an inch before the iron reached Carlos.

Carlos sucked a couple fast breaths, then waited as heavy footsteps pounded up to him.

Dominic Salvatore held a.357 Magnum with the barrel pointed at Carlos’s head. “Who are you?” Then his fierce gaze went to the tattoo and scar on Carlos’s chest. He frowned, thinking. “Durand’s brother died…there are no more family…” Recognition dawned.

“Alejandro?”

A LOW BUZZ of conversation filled the hearing room that held an easy hundred people. Awed voices from teenagers on their first visit and adults shielding whispered words percolated the air.

Joe walked away from Dolinski, the Secret Service agent in charge of operations today, wishing he could tell the president’s protective service the truth about his team. Since no one knew BAD existed, the president had personally cleared Joe’s team as a private security group hired to watch for a kidnapping attempt on three physically challenged teenagers during their international travels. And Joe would have shared more if they had firm evidence of a threat, more than just a warning sent in a postcard from an unknown woman about teenagers with no history of violence.

The SS wouldn’t believe him if he swore on Bibles.

The way Joe saw it, the children, the president’s cabinet, and esteemed members of Congress were as safe as they could be with the SS and twelve BAD agents in the room including him and Tee. Speaking of his codirector, Tee finished texting a message on her cell phone as he walked up to her. The navy jacket and pants look they’d chosen for this mission had been custom-tailored for her petite size and fit her lethal business image. Straight hair fell to her shoulders in fine strands of sin black.

He envied how comfortable she looked in the straitlaced attire that matched his. Give him jeans and a T-shirt any day.

“I don’t like this.” Tee met his gaze with a severe one that missed little. “Feels too easy.”

“What do you mean?” Joe surveyed the room, catching sight of his people as he took in each section. Two BAD agents stood within fifteen feet of the three teens. Joe had pointed out four of his people to the SS agent so if something happened and those two moved in to protect the teens, they wouldn’t be shot by Dolinski’s men.

“Everyone is here. What better way to lure so many powerful people into one spot than by using political hot buttons?” Tee grumbled, thinking out loud more than pointing out the obvious. “Just because the room is full of children doesn’t mean it’s safe enough to have the president, most of his cabinet, and an alarming number of congressional members present.” Tee’s cell phone buzzed. She thumbed a key and read a text message, then scowled. “Correction. Both presidential candidates and their ru

Joe pointed out, “But nobody in an intelligence group has noticed any terrorist movement in the past two weeks, no one has entered the U.S., nothing has popped up on anyone’s radar but what we’ve learned at BAD. And the SS swept for bombs.” He frowned, thinking. Could they have missed something? “We can’t put a hundred percent faith in a damn postcard from some woman no one can vouch for except Gabrielle.”

“I know.” Two small vertical lines broke the plane of Tee’s exotic face, which was part Vietnamese, the tiny change a serious sign of her frustration. “Gotthard is ru

“Slipping in undetected would be hard to engineer.”

“Not if that person was SS or another national security agency.”

“What are you thinking?” Joe shoved his full attention to Tee now. She had the amazing ability to think not just outside the box, but to reach the outer limits of possibilities.

“We didn’t find out until after the viral attacks last year that a DEA agent had been working as a mole.”

“Brady. You think he’s involved?” Joe asked, trying to follow Tee’s thinking, which would be like keeping up with a beam of light at night.

“Not necessarily, but we are the only ones who know about the Fratelli and that he might be involved with them. We should consider everyone a suspect, even the Secret Service.”

“Good point.”

Hunter walked up to them, his eyes skimming the crowd, then settling on Joe and Tee. “Just got in. Gotthard is here, too. Korbin and Rae are inside the clinic in Switzerland, waiting for word to move. They’ve located three teens that match the ones we’re watching.”

Tee angled a perfectly shaped eyebrow the color of coal. “How could there be two sets of the same teens? We checked all the records. There isn’t a possibility of a twin or even a sibling of the same sex.”

“The tougher question is, which set of teens are the real ones and which set are fake?” Joe glanced at his watch. “We’ve only got thirty minutes before they address the energy committee. Who do Rae and Korbin have to back them up?” Joe had the best BAD agents available stateside covering this meeting inside and out.

“They have four contractors Retter set up before he disappeared.” Hunter thumbed a message on his cell phone as he spoke. “They’ll move to apprehend the teens in the clinic on your word.” He looked at Joe.

“Not yet. Those teens are safe for the moment. We have to determine what’s happening to this trio before we do anything there that might tip off whoever is behind this, whatever the hell this is.” Joe would kill for a drop of solid intel right now. Carlos had sent word the teens were definitely in danger and that this meeting was the true target, not the one in South America. He just didn’t know what the danger was, only that he believed the meeting in South America was a decoy.

And Carlos might be dead by now. Retter as well, so what the hell was going on in South America, too?

“We can’t help Retter and Carlos yet,” Tee said softly, reading Joe so easily it always surprised him. “As soon as this meeting is over or we’ve determined what is going on here, you and I will go after them. For now-” Her gaze shifted to the side, then she frowned. “What is she doing here?”

“Who?” Joe and Hunter asked together, turning their heads in the same direction.

“Silversteen, the DEA agent leading the search for Brady. Why would she be here or even in D.C. right now?”