Chapter 39

The CrossBow jetsat in the hangar of the John Wayne Airport, and Dix kept checking his phone for news from Chalmers, who'd taken a small team of federal agents to scout ahead. It was still dark outside. They'd flown out of Roswell Air Center some eight or nine hours ago, and dawn wouldn't show up for another hour and a half. It was more comfortable to stay on the plane instead of the drafty hangar.

Dix cleared his throat, and heads turned in his direction.

"Seeing as we have time to kill, I'm gonna run through the specs again, so we're all on the same page." He knew he didn't necessarily have to. Every CrossBow agent was highly trained, and having heard it once, they'd already committed it to memory, but it gave him something to do so he wasn't worrying about Doc.

He glanced around the plane's interior at the group he'd handpicked, the eight agents he was entrusting with one of the most important missions they'd ever undertaken.

He was trusting them with the most important person in his life.

"Where's the coffee and pastries?" Jazz whined. "It's only four in the morning, and if I don't have fuel, I'm gonna crash." She pouted. "And I got no sleep on the flight here. I can never sleep on a plane."

"Focus, Jazz," Dix snapped. "This is literally a matter of life and death, and that's not even hyperbole. If these people get hold of Josh, he's a dead man."

She straightened in her seat, her eyes focused. "Sorry, sir."

Grayson appeared from the galley at the rear of the plane, pushing a cart, and Dix had to smile. "Talk about great timing. Grayson, you're a lifesaver." On the cart were carafes of fresh coffee, plus leftover croissants and Danish he'd pulled from the coolers before they left. He'd also snagged a few fruit cups.

Good man. Sugar plus caffeine would keep this group's brains sharp.

"I don't know how long you'll be here, but if you need breakfast or lunch later, let me know and I'll put it together for you." Grayson returned Dix's smile. "Once the stores open, of course."

"We might take you up on it."

Grayson glanced at the team. "If that's all, I'll go back to my homework. I've got plenty to keep me busy. Just give me a shout if you need anything."

"Is there anything we can do for you? I know this isn't the ideal setting for studying."

He chuckled. "I've got a table, so I'm good." Grayson turned and headed back toward the galley.

Dix would have to talk to Michael and Gary about finding a better job for Grayson at some point. He'd never met anyone as willing to help out as Grayson had been.

Then he realized no one had made a move toward the cart. He'd expected a feeding frenzy. Dix pointed to it. "Don't wait for me, help yourselves." God knew he needed coffee, preferably delivered intravenously.

Jazz shook her head. "No, I'm good. I should have taken this more seriously. I'm sorry."

Dix's chest swelled. My team. Sure, they could play, but when the chips were down, they never failed him. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Get something to eat and caffeinate yourselves. This is going to take a while, and I don't want anyone nodding off during the discussion, or the extraction if it gets to that point." As if they'd do that.

Everyone stood and made a quick grab of items from the cart, then retook their seats. They didn't wolf them down but simply nibbled and slurped, all their attention on Dix.

He leaned against the seat. "Okay, let me start by saying this will be a joint operation. Since the person we're after isn't a client, our role is limited, so we can't kill to protect him."

"Sure, take away the fun," Carl Winters groused.

Dix bit back a laugh. "I know the feeling, believe me. Right, I'm assuming you all went through the dossier I forwarded you last night." There were nods from everyone. "You've met Special Agent Chalmers. Our target is David Carson, his boss, who's been helping to protect Josh too, at the risk to his own life. For those of you who don't know, his family is currently at CrossBow so no one can retaliate against them. I trust him with Josh's safety, just like I trust each of you."

He expected a bit of teasing about his attachment, but they said nothing.

"Anyway, our intelligence is sketchy and the source isn't necessarily reliable. She was Spencer's assistant and brought in files to help us out."

"That was good of her," Jazz said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"Yeah, that's what I said. If it wasn't this important, I'd toss her out and watch her burn."

"Any of us would, Dix," Parnell said. "Josh is one of us, and you don't fuck with our people."

Warmth flooded Dix. He mentally filed the comment away to relay it to Doc later. He has no idea how important he is to everyone.

"Spencer has a facility in Santa Ana, and Chalmers has gone there, along with five federal agents sent along to protect him. He has Josh's drones and is taking aerial surveillance to give us a better lay of the land."

"What kind of facility?" Parnell folded his arms. "Do we know anything about it?"

"It's a storage place for all the supplies Spencer's teams use for their cleanups," Dix told him. "Not open to the public, but they've made an effort to make it look good. There's even a garden." He scowled. "Yeah, more about that in a minute. Because, you know, enough pretty can hide the ugly that's actually going on inside."

"So we believe Carson is in that building?" Darr asked.

Dix nodded. "According to our source, he'll be held on the east side, which is the most defensible position." He narrowed his gaze. "Now, I'm going to tell you something, and you'd better fucking listen. Protect each other. If you have to kill someone to do it, you fucking kill them."

"I thought you said we couldn't kill to protect this guy," Jazz remonstrated.

"I did. But if it's self-defense, that's another matter. I spoke with Michael, and he said that we'll take the heat for it."

Well, Dix would take the heat. He'd do whatever he had to in order to ensure Doc was safe.

"What information do we have about the facility? Is Spencer likely to be there too?" Jazz grinned. "Please, say he is."

"I doubt he'll be there." Dix turned his laptop toward the agents. "These are the building specs, so study the layout. And for a storage facility, the place is well fortified, which is to be expected, since our intelligence says Spencer has held people there before—at least until he was done with them."

"So what does he do with the bodies? Without drawing attention to them?" Darr frowned. "Still finding this hard to believe."

"You and me both," Parnell said with a snarl. "I used to think he was a decent guy. He threw wads of money at problems and made them go away. Now? Fucking scumbag."

"I won't disagree with that sentiment," echoed Winters.

"Josh took a look at the surveillance photos, and his best guess is that any… evidence is buried in the gardens."

"Seriously?" Jazz blinked.

"He spotted a low area that had sunk due to soil compression. Then there was the difference in ground cover, dead plants, signs of recent digging…. They've got some work going on in there, probably to cover up what they're actually doing. We've already got Chalmers and Grady assembling a recovery team to see if we can locate any bodies, once they've shut it down. We're talking dogs and ground-penetrating radar." Dix set his jaw. "I don't have to tell you that would go a long way to nailing Spencer."

Darr raised his hand. "Are we certain this guy is still alive?"

That was the million-dollar question.

"No, we don't know that for sure," Dix ground out. "We're hoping that with Spencer dealing with so many fires, he'll keep him alive for now. That won't be a guarantee, though. For all we know, he could be dead and buried. Still, we have to take the chance."

"Fucking right," Jazz said. "Like Parnell said, Josh is one of ours, and anyone gets in our way, they're gonna come down with a serious case of dead."

Man, his team was more bloodthirsty than Dix thought. They need to be if we're going to survive this.

His phone chimed, and he glanced at the screen.

"It's Chalmers," he announced. He clicked Answer and put the call on speaker. "What's going on?"

There was a long pause. "Something is wrong," Chalmers finally said. "We've swept the entire area, and we don't see anyone. No guards, nothing. I can't say for certain, but it seems like the place is abandoned."

Dix's stomach clenched. As much as he hated her, Dix was sure Kathy was telling the truth. There had to be something there.

"Anyway, we're moving in," Chalmers announced.

"I know you won't listen to me, so you be goddamn careful," Dix told him.

"Hey, I'm a fed, remember? We're not necessarily known for our smarts." He chuckled, then came a dry, hacking cough. "Take care of Grady for me, okay?"

Dix couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something in his voice that sounded off. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"It's nothing. Just keep an eye on him. I have to go."

Before Dix could get another word out, Chalmers was gone.

Cold fear unfurled in Dix's gut. Something is wrong.

He called one of the team that had gone with Chalmers. "Wainwright, where is Chalmers? Is he with you?"

"No, sir. We don't know where he is. He said he heard something and was checking it out, and that we should continue our sweep. That was about an hour ago. He won't answer the radio or phone."

Chalmers, God damn you for a lying son of a bitch. Don't do this to us.

"How many people have you seen so far? Has it been quiet?"

"I wouldn't say quiet. Not the force we were expecting, certainly. We're talking a few dozen people, trained too. We got stuck in a bottleneck and there was quite the firefight. Martinez got hit in the shoulder, and Dempsey got the wind knocked out of him, but no fatalities in our group."

Dixon was going to fucking kill Chalmers. "Find Chalmers, now. Something is wrong."

"We'd like to, sir, but right now we've got our hands full."

Which meant it was time to deploy the CrossBow people. "That's fine. You do what you have to. We'll handle Chalmers. And be careful."

"Will do. Good luck finding Agent Chalmers." Then he shouted something, and the call disconnected.

Dix faced his team.

"Chalmers appears to have split off from his people, and it's likely he's in over his head. He's off on his own and hasn't told his people where he was." Dix squared his shoulders. "So we're going after him. We'll split into teams. Jazz, you're with me. And remember what I said. Watch each other's backs. This isn't our usual caper, so expect the unexpected." He paused. "One more reminder. This isn't an assignment. None of you are required to?—"

"Can you shut the fuck up so we can get moving?" Jazz griped. "We all know what we're here for, so let's get to it."

Dix blew out a breath. "Thanks, Jazz."

"No problem, Dix." She smiled. "We love you, and I gotta say, we really love the effect Josh has on you." Her eyes sparkled. "You're less… ick."

Dix arched an eyebrow. "Ick?"

She chuckled. "Well, that's the technical term." Her gaze grew flinty. "Now let's move."

So much for rescuing Carson. It seemed they might have to rescue Chalmers too.

When I find you, Chalmers, I'm gonna kick your motherfucking ass right up around your neck.

No issues, he'd said. Lying fuck. Dix had lost count of the number of bodies he'd seen, not to mention the blood splatters throughout the area.

He wondered how much of it was Chalmers's.

The building was a maze of hallways littered with the dead, and Dix's team moved quietly, picking their way through, weapons at the ready. Each team went down different hallways before disappearing from sight. That left him and Jazz. When they reached yet another corridor in the maze, Dix inclined his head toward a hallway, and Jazz nodded before taking off in that direction. Dix went straight ahead. They hadn't encountered any resistance thus far, but he wasn't taking any chances. Every few minutes, the radio clicked with his team calling in to report what was happening. Everyone was in the clear. Dix hated to admit it, but the government guys knew their jobs and they did it with precision and brutality. They never fired first, and they were always the last ones standing. Open doors revealed empty rooms.

Noise filtered down one corridor, and Dix clicked his mic to let Jasmine know he'd heard something.

"Wait for me."

"You're too slow," Dix teased. "I'm in the hallway that was straight from where we started."

"Be there in a few minutes," she said, her voice tense.

Dix had to keep in mind a few of these people hadn't been military before they started at CrossBow. Not that it mattered. He had been, and he was still keyed up. When the sound became clearer, Dix recognized a moan.

Waiting for Jazz was no longer an option. She'd have to catch up.

He rushed down the hall and burst into one of the rooms. Chalmers was bent over, trying to extricate a man who was handcuffed to a chair. Both men were bleeding, but the bound man was in a far worse state, crimson liquid streaming from his mouth and eyes. Dix recognized Carson from his photo in the dossier.

"Remind me to beat your ass later," Dix grunted as he pushed Chalmers aside. "How bad is it? And don't fucking lie to me or try to be a hero." Chalmers had been hit in the shoulder and leg. Clearly someone was a rotten shot.

"Nice to see you too," Chalmers said, his voice weak. "I got here just as that guy was about to shoot him in the head." He pointed across the room to where a body lay, half of his face missing. "Not sure how much good it did, though."

"Kept him alive, though, didn't it?" Dix ground out.

"Dixon!" Jazz shouted from the doorway.

"Call the feds," Dix told her. "Tell them we need conveyance for two injured and?—"

"And nothing," Chalmers snapped. "I'm not going?—"

Dix didn't have time for this. He turned and smacked a hand over Chalmers's wound, eliciting a shriek of pain. Jazz snickered as she rushed from the room.

"You motherfucker!" Chalmers snarled.

Dix locked gazes with him. "You're useless to us like this. Go get fixed up so you can get home and figure out how to patch things up with Grady."

Chalmers stared at him in obvious bewilderment. "What?"

Dix snorted. "I'm no idiot. I see the way you look at him. You're so fucking in love with him, it's killing you. That's why you did this."

"Not the only reason," he groaned. "Carson has covered for me plenty of times. The one where I grabbed the waiter's ass? That wasn't the worst. I owe him, you know?"

"Then you can owe him by surviving so he can slap you himself. Don't make this into a fight you can't win."

"Fine," he huffed. God, he was pale. "I'm gonna pass out."

Of course he was. Adrenalin was great at keeping you moving, but once it stopped? You were down for the count.

Dix took the key from Chalmers's hand and unlocked the cuffs. Carson was a mess, but he managed to murmur his thanks before he sank into unconsciousness.

He'll live.

He had to. They needed him.