Rowan couldn’t help himself. He moved to her, kissed the top of her head, hearing the silence get even thicker around him. Her spring-like scent infused the air when he inhaled, slightly torn with being so damn proud of her and also wanting no one to ever know what she could do, in fear she’d always be under the government’s hold.
When he broke away, their gazes held. “You did it,” he said to her.
She gave a soft, sweet smile he’d never seen before. “We did it.”
His chest tightened to the point he had to force air into his lungs as he moved in front of the monitors again. In two of the beds, he saw women sleeping. His sister had been in one of those beds. His fingers tightened into fists.
“What’s that?” Jeff asked, suddenly rising from his seat, hastily moving toward the monitor.
“Record this,” Ryder barked the order.
Alex’s fingers rushed across the keyboard, and then suddenly, Rowan understood why. Carl Lewis strode into the underground tunnels, his face clear as day while he walked in the hallway.
“Recording, but he’s going—” An alarm blasted through the speakers of Alex’s computer. Lewis looked up and right at the camera, now aware that his security had been breached. “And yup, now he knows we’ve got him.”
Alex quickly cut the alarm, and coldness bit into Rowan’s bones as he stared into the eyes of a captured, cold-hearted, ruthless killer. Lewis had two choices. Kill the women. Or run. Rowan exhaled a relieved breath when Lewis turned to go back the direction he came.
Until he stopped and looked back, and with an icy smile, he said, “You’ll never find them.”
“Another sick fucking game,” Rowan growled, images of what his sister went through in that place flashing through his mind.
A beat passed. Then Alex asked, “What do we do now?”
Rowan didn’t even have to think about it. “Stream it live.”
“You sure you want to do that?” Ryder asked behind him. “You realize what that might cost you?”
His job. “You’re right, we can’t play by the rules here. The Feds will bury this to protect their image.” The fury in his gut burned into him as he turned around, facing the group. “For Mia, this can’t be buried. This needs to be exposed. Any other corruption because of Lewis needs to be ousted. Stream it.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Alex grinned, flexed her fingers, and turned back to her monitor. “I do love watching the bad guys burn.”
CHAPTER 11
With one click of a button, the video was sent to Ryder’s contact at the news station. Within an hour, the video of the women and of Carl Lewis was splashed across every news station in the country, and Lewis’s arrest warrant was issued. Both the FBI and CIA were in chaos, and Alex still watched the women sleeping on the monitor from her desk. Lewis had left the women there unharmed, but finding them, along with finding out where Lewis went, was the CIA and FBI’s primary focus.
“I never dreamed I’d see the day they came here,” Jeff drawled, his attention sharp on Mike Taylor, the director of the CIA, who talked with Rowan near the monitors where the women slept soundly.
In his late fifties, Taylor was a whole head shorter than Lewis, and a little softer around the middle too. But where Lewis’s eyes were dark pits of misery, Taylor’s were wise and warm, and when he first looked upon Alex after he, along with his team, arrived at headquarters, he stared at her with honest curiosity and no animosity.
“No one could have expected this,” Alex commented, glancing around the room full of CIA agents. She turned to Jeff and shrugged. “I imagine even Taylor didn’t expect to ever step foot into the place they want to pretend doesn’t exist.” Blackwood Security broke laws. Most times, law enforcement agencies overlooked that if it suited their needs too, but they also preferred staring in the dark on most matters. But Taylor had been smart enough to know that Rowan was likely behind the leak, working in conjunction with Alex and Ryder. And Rowan had not seemed surprised when the CIA landed on Ryder’s doorstep.
“Team,” Ryder said, sidling up to Alex, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood a man in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair that didn’t age him but made him look more distinguished. He had warm blue eyes and a pleasant smile. “This is Gerald Hampton. He’s a profiler with the CIA.”
Hampton offered his hand to Alex. “You’ve done fine work here, Ms. McCoy.”
Alex nearly choked on her own spit. She couldn’t remember a time that anyone had ever told her she’d done a good job. They usually just told her that her job was done, and they sent her on her way. “Thank you, but it was a team effort.”
Hampton smiled warmly, his regard turning intrusive.
Alex nearly flicked him in the nose. She’d seen enough therapists throughout her years to know when one was trying to look too deep. “Is there anything more you need from me?” The CIA always needed more. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be here.
Hampton nodded and slid onto the desk across from her, crossing his arms. “I’d like to talk to you about anything else you might have found on Lewis’s hard drive.”
That was the story Ryder had told the CIA. He’d said they had broken into his aunt’s house after following Lewis there and found the computer. Alex simply placed the video feed onto the hard drive, so when the CIA looked, they’d find it all locked up tight. “What exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
Hampton gave a slight shrug. “Anything that stood out to you as odd?”
Alex pondered all the data she’d combed through, a slow pulse thumping in her temple. She rubbed at the ache. “Do you think that will help us find the victims?”