Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Gabe

Time at the safe house never seemed to move properly. Everything seemed to be too fast and too slow all at once. My meeting with the director arrived as scheduled, and while I was eager to get it over with, I also wanted to delay it as long as possible.

I'd dealt with one mole in the FBI, but there were certainly others. So, I didn't trust letting anyone, not even the director, know which house we were staying at. That meant that in order to meet with the director, I would have to leave the safe house again.

Just the thought of leaving the others alone, of what could happen to them when they were unguarded, gave me anxiety. It was a new experience. I rarely felt anxious. Even back in my army days, I'd been known for my unshakable nerves. Yet now, I was fighting off the urge to pace just from the thought of leaving the people in the safe house unguarded.

Teaching Frankie some self-defense moves had helped calm my anxiety a little. At least he had a chance of getting away if someone tried to attack him. I'd wanted to keep up the lessons as much as possible while I had the chance, but after the first one, he didn't seem keen on continuing. Every time I brought it up, he found an excuse to do something else.

Some of the excuses had been pretty flimsy since there wasn't much to do in the house. He was obviously avoiding me, but I hadn't yet figured out why.

Was he still mad about our fight?

I'd apologized and he'd seemed to forgive me. Even Newt had assured me that Frankie wasn't still mad, and the little nurse didn't seem like the type to lie.

Something else must be going on. I'd never been very good at navigating social situations. It was why I always kept everything formal. Formal interactions had a set of rules I could follow. Casual interactions were messy.

Yet, living in such close proximity with three other people for so long, it was impossible to not make a mess eventually.

These thoughts plagued me all the way to my meeting with the director. Even as I pulled my car into a parking spot near the lake where we'd agreed to meet, my mind was still hyper-analyzing every interaction I'd had with Frankie over the last few days.

The director's greeting brought me out of my thoughts.

"Gabe. Glad you could make it. Sit down."

Director Thornton sat on a park bench overlooking a small lake. A wisteria tree draped its branches over the water on his right, and on his left a spot on the bench remained open and waiting for me.

"Are you actually glad, or are you just saying that?" I asked as I took the seat.

"I am glad," he said, though his eyes remained pointed forward toward the lake. "Though I wish the situation was different. This should be a formal meeting. Not something Lily has to arrange off the books."

"I would have preferred that too."

We sat in silence for a moment. The wind waved the wisteria branches like a curtain and several ducks floated by on the lake's surface.

"Why did you do it?"

The director's voice was flat. He could have been asking about anything.

Just for reassurance, I slipped a finger inside my own sleeve to feel the handle of the knife hidden there.

"Do what?"

The director huffed out a little laugh and shook his head. "The fact that I have to specify is a sign of how bad the situation has gotten. Let's start with your first offense. You kidnapped several people we were trying to place under witness protection."

I scanned the lake. There were a few people walking the path around the water and I automatically categorized them based on their potential danger level.

Not far away, a jogger dressed in colorful running gear was coming closer.

Danger level low. Even if they were an enemy trying to hide in plain sight, they would pick an outfit that allowed them to conceal more weapons.

"I didn't kidnap anyone. The Roth brothers, along with the two civilians, came with me willingly. Besides, you know why witness protection was a bad idea for them. It already failed the Roth brothers once."

A little farther down the path, a mother pushed a large baby stroller.

Danger level high. That stroller could be used to hide a variety of things, from a camera to an assault rifle.

Finally, Director Thornton turned to look at me. The situation was obviously causing him stress. He looked like he'd aged several years since I'd seen him last.

"At first, I was suspicious of the Roth brothers. They were only a little more than teenagers when they ran from witness protection the first time. Barely adults. Yet, they supposedly managed to stay off our radar and avoid the Mariano family. It doesn't seem possible for two people so young."

I looked away from my surveillance of the lake. "Supposedly?"

"I've had my suspicions..." he trailed off but didn't look away from me.

I gave him a moment to collect his words and returned to my surveillance.

On the opposite side of the lake, a man fed the ducks along with a young girl.

Danger level high. I wished I could say that a father feeding the ducks with his daughter wasn't suspicious, but with our current enemies being who they are, the presence of a child did not allay suspicion. There was no guarantee the girl was even related to the man, and they were positioned perfectly to have a clear view of both me and the director.

Eventually, Director Thornton found his voice again. "How could the Roth brothers have stayed alive for so long without help?"

My vision tunneled, and for a moment I saw nothing but the director's face. "You think the Roth brothers sold out to the Mariano family and are now working for the man who killed their parents?"

"It would make sense," the director shrugged. "Grudges fade over time, and constantly living on the run gets tiring. If David Russo extended them amnesty in exchange for their services, the offer might look tempting."

I'd never heard anything so idiotic. Both Damien and Sebastian Roth hated David Russo with a passion and would never work for him. However, before I could argue that, Director Thornton interrupted me.

"But as I said, that was my suspicion. I have a new one now." He looked at me again, and the stress melted off him. For a moment he looked like the commanding leader I'd always known. "Gabe. Why did you kill Agent Adder?"

Everything went silent. I couldn't even hear my own heartbeat. My blood felt like ice in my veins and my mouth opened and closed several times before it would work properly.

"I didn't kill him."

"Gabe," the director sighed. "He's dead. I saw the body myself. I know your handiwork. No one else patches up their victims while questioning them. What happened? Did you accidentally go too far? Or did you get everything you needed out of him, so you disposed of him?"

Every word out of the director's mouth made me angrier until I had no choice but to move, or else I would explode. I jumped off the bench and spun around to face the director. That put my back toward the open lake, leaving me vulnerable, but I didn't care.

"Blake was alive when I left him. Yes, I roughed him up. He was working for the Mariano family, and I needed answers. What was his cause of death? None of the injuries I caused would have killed him."

When I jumped up from the seat, the director pulled out his gun, which now pointed directly at my chest.

"That's what you're going with, Gabe? Blake Adder was the mole?"

I watched the gun. His finger was off the trigger, so he wasn't ready to shoot me yet. "Well, one of the moles. I'm sure there are others."

Instinct raised the hair on the back of my neck. The director's gun wasn't the only weapon pointed my way.

So many pieces fell into place all at once, it was like a picture suddenly bloomed in my mind.

"You think I'm the mole."

"Can you blame us?" the director said. His weapon never wavered. "Think about how it looks. You were living with the Roth brothers and had plenty of opportunity to plant that bomb in their apartment. Then you steal the witnesses away from witness protection and won't tell anyone where they are. After that, you immediately turn around and kill the agent who was investigating the attempts on the Roth brothers' lives. One of those things would be incriminating enough, but all together... I'm sorry, Gabe, but there's no getting out of this one."

My jaw ached from how hard my teeth ground together. "You really think I would work for David Russo? After the Mariano family killed my own sister?"

I nearly reached for my own weapon but managed to control my anger enough to keep my hands in plain sight. One wrong move from me would spell my end. There was no telling how many people had weapons pointed at me in that moment, or how twitchy their trigger fingers were.

The director's gun lowered a fraction, so it was no longer pointed directly at my heart. "There's no evidence that the Mariano family killed your sister. You're the only one who has ever made such a claim. For all we know, that could be a clever story for you to hide behind. Please, Gabe, just come quietly. There's no reason to make this worse than it already is."

What could I say to such an accusation?

There were no words to express the sense of loathing and betrayal that coursed through me.

"I'm not?—"

That was as far as I got. Before I could utter more than two words, something wet and warm splattered my face. My vision was tinted red, but I could still see Director Thornton sitting on the bench just as he had been for our whole conversation.

Except now there was a hole blown right through his head.

The gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over on the ground.

I moved before I realized what I was doing and jumped behind the bench. Luckily, it was made of metal, or else I would have died as several more bullets lodged in the bench. Based on their size, they came from large caliber guns that would have pierced right through a wooden bench and taken my head with them.

There was no way to even know who was shooting. Bullets seemed to come from everywhere. No direction was safe.

The car. If I could just get to my car, then I could drive to safety.

I'd barely taken a step away from the bench and toward the parking lot when a bullet struck the ground right in front of my foot.

Not that way. I'd never reach the car before I was shot to pieces.

The wisteria tree might provide some cover. At least better than the meager bench.

Another bullet struck the ground only a few inches away. Too close for comfort. Taking a diving roll, I threw myself behind the nearby tree.

Every exit was cut off. I didn't even have to look to know. It was the first thing I would secure if I was running such a mission. To make sure my target had nowhere they could retreat. There would certainly be people guarding every path out of the park and even if I could get to my car, there would probably be people blocking the nearby streets.

In situations like this, my mind always wandered back to my days in the Army Rangers. We traveled through some tough terrain back then, and often had to get creative with the resources available to us.

I scanned my surroundings.

The lake took up most of the space. It provided open sightlines for those guarding the area, but also created a barrier that was impossible to traverse without a boat.

Almost impossible.

My gaze landed on a patch of hollow reeds growing out of the water near the edge of the lake and a plan began to form in my mind. It would be difficult, but it might be my only chance.

A bullet struck the tree near my face. I still couldn't see who was shooting at me, but they must be getting closer since the angle of their bullets was changing.

I had looked at a map of the area before coming here. The lake was relatively small but connected to a river. Maybe I could swim my way to safety. Water would stop the bullets from reaching me. I could use one of the reeds like a snorkel to stay safe below the surface.

It was a terrible plan.

A messy plan.

I hated mess, but I hated the thought of dying even more.

What would happen to Frankie and the others if I never returned?

No, that wasn't an option. I had to survive. There was no time left to come up with a better plan. I would have to make this one work.

After counting to three, I bolted for the lake.

My sudden movement must have startled my attackers. The bullets stopped for a moment, but then started up again even more frantically than before.

Fire ripped through my shoulder. One of the bullets had found its mark, but I didn't stop running. Stopping would mean death.

I couldn't die here. Not when there were people waiting for me.

At the edge of the lake, I grabbed the sturdiest reed I could see and snapped it off at the root.

Then I dove into the water.