Two days ago she realized she was being followed. The same night somebody broke into her apartment, and she thought she heard footsteps cross toward her bedroom and had just enough time to push aside the covers and disappear onto her balcony, right when the bullets fired into her bedding. And, with that, the footsteps had raced away. She hadn’t slept since. She also hadn’t changed the door lock. Which meant that they could come back at any time.
But all of her contact numbers in the government no longer reached anybody. No answer at the end of anything. She didn’t know what the hell had happened to her team either. She had known that they were due to be disbanded on that day and that was essentially the last day of work, but she had hoped to stay in touch with them, especially Damon. But given the circumstances, she knew it would take a few days; she’d been waiting eagerly, until bullets split her mattress.
Eagerness mixed with fear. Was he here to kill her? Or was he here to help her? She listened as the footstep strolled down the hallway—confident, sure, and powerful. When they stopped and knocked on the door across the hallway, she smiled.
When his low voice called out, “Tash, are you there?” her heart skipped a beat.
She looked down at her sweaty palms and wondered. Answering him could be the last thing she ever did. When she heard something at the other door, she peeked through the peephole to see him testing the knob, and, when it opened under his hand, he frowned, quickly glanced either way, and slipped into her apartment.
She swore. “I really should have fixed that damn door lock.”
When he bolted out a little bit later, he was on his phone, and his face was stark white.
She heard him call somebody.
“Her apartment has been ransacked,” he reported in a low voice. “Bullet holes are in her bed, but I found no sign of her and no blood. Kidnapped maybe?”
At that, she opened the door to the apartment across the hallway and poked her head out.
His gaze landed on hers, and he sucked in his breath. “No, I’ll call you back. She’s okay.” He quickly slipped into the opposite apartment, shut the door, and stared at her.
She watched the emotions he wore on his face, as he reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her into his arms. When he held her close, she finally relaxed and burrowed in deeper. Thank God he was here for her.
“Dear God, when I saw the bullet holes …”
She reached up, gently stroked his cheek, and, when she could, she stepped back and swallowed hard. “What the hell is going on? Nobody is answering any phones. Nothing works anymore.”
“I know. The entire team was attacked.”
She stared at him in shock and wavered on her feet. He instantly picked her up, carried her to the couch, and plunked her down on the first cushion. “Deep breaths.”
She tried hard; she really did, but it was almost impossible to breathe at all. “Are they … are they dead?” she finally got out.
He shook his head. “No, most are unconscious or struggling severely, two are in a deep coma,” he murmured, “and we have no way of knowing whether they’ll survive or not.”
“Jesus.” She closed her eyes and thought about the men she had worked with. “Do we know what happened?”
“No. … Terk is fine.”
She laughed at that. “Of course he is,” she said affectionately. “That man is invincible.”
“Not quite,” he argued. “I have to bring you up to speed on a lot.”
She slowly nodded. “I get it, but I also need to tell you what happened here.”
“Let’s start with you.”
She reiterated going to bed early but feeling off, and, when she heard somebody breaking into the apartment, she quickly pulled the pillows into the middle of the bed and, with the lights out, slipped onto the balcony. There, through the gaps in the curtains, she watched as the bedding bounced when the shots were fired into it. “I also heard some things getting tossed and turned, and then he was gone.”
“Probably just making it look like a burglary gone bad.” Damon reached out once again, grabbing her hands.
“Maybe, I don’t know what the hell is going on though. I mean, we were supposed to be disbanded.”
“What about you? Is that what you were supposed to do?”
“I thought I was moving back stateside,” she explained. “I took an extra week here to maybe have a holiday, and then I would go see what my options were. They mentioned something about Homeland Security, if I wanted it. But honestly I think it was just talk.” And how did she explain to him that she’d stayed around in case he contacted her? She just hadn’t expected it to be like this. He frowned, but she shrugged. “I don’t know why I would even go to a different department.”
“And I’m not sure that was ever part of the plan,” he stated. “Have you checked your emails?”
She nodded. “I can check my emails, but any email I send out to the government comes back as Undeliverable.”
“And your phone?”
“Calls aren’t going through at all.”
He pulled a burner phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Try with this phone. It’s mine.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“I don’t know if you have been alienated because you work with us or if it’s just your phone.”
She frowned and quickly dialed one of the numbers that she knew by heart. When it went through, and a voice answered, she quickly hung up. She stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I think you’ve been alienated—or worse,” he replied quietly, “just like the rest of us.”
She stared at him, her jaw slowly dropping. “What?”
“The question is, where are the other two admins?”
“Oh my God.” She shook her head. “I haven’t talked to Mera or Wilson. I tried to call both of them, but I couldn’t get through.” With her burner phone, she quickly phoned Mera. When the other woman answered, her voice cautious, Tasha said, “Mera, this is Tasha.”
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Mera cried out, “where are you?”
“I’m still”—and then she stopped because Damon was shaking his head at her—“I’m safe, put it that way. But my apartment was attacked a few days ago.”
“You too? Did they come in and shoot up your bed?” she asked bitterly. “I didn’t move fast enough.”
“Oh my God, are you hurt?”
“You could say that. Two bullets and I couldn’t get anybody to answer to get help.”
“Where are you?”
“At a friend’s. I just …” And she stopped and started to cry. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Why did we get targeted?”
“I mean, the worst-case scenario,” Tasha guessed, “is that somebody we were working against found us.”
“I know. I know. I was thinking of that. But why is none of the team answering? I feel like we’ve been completely cut out.”
“Have you talked to Terk at all?”
“No, but he was just at my door. But I’m not there. I went into hiding.”
“How do you know?”