Chapter 13

Interpol?Had this asshole really just claimed he was with Interpol?

Walker didn't move, his gun still trained on the guy. "Talk's cheap, jackass. And there's the part where you tried to kill my girl."

Shit. He'd called Blair his girl. He hadn't meant to phrase it like that. After all, she'd just done some freaking ninja move to knock Leland on his ass. Had taken the guy out in five seconds flat. Which had more than proven she was ridiculously capable of handling herself. But, damn, the two words had just flowed off his tongue.

Walker glanced at Blair, ready to mouth his apology, when she smiled at him before nodding at Leland. Silently telling him to continue. That she was in agreement.

And that's when he knew, he wasn't going to let her go. If it meant moving across the Pond — hell, joining MI6 or some other organization — so be it. He'd do whatever was necessary to prove to her, he believed in her.

Leland arched a brow, obviously not missing Walker's slip, before he shrugged. "Convenient, I know. But it's also true. And for the record, I never actually fired at Blair, I only made it look as if I was. To maintain my cover. Which I wouldn't have had to do if she'd just stayed in the damn car."

Blair snorted. "Right. So that Section 7 upon arrival bullshit? That was just McClaren talking out of his arse? You really call the shots, here?"

"McClaren's bloody mental. But I would have convinced him we still needed you. That you knowing made our job easier because we could have simply locked you up, instead of maintaining his grand facade. And I would have ensured you stayed alive until I was able to get you out. But in true Hughes fashion, you had to pull a Gretta and go rogue. All that time with your sister hasn't done you any favors."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure it just saved my life. I assume you don't have any credentials lying around to prove you're really with Interpol… or, more likely, some ex-military mercenary."

"I'm undercover. Of course, I don't. I'm not mad. But if your boyfriend managed to track you all the way here, I'm sure he has a geek at his disposal who can run my name through a few databases."

Walker smirked. "Of course, I do. But confirming you're with Interpol doesn't preclude you from being a lying traitorous bastard."

"Guess you'll just have to trust me, yeah?"

"Trust is earned. Besides, if you really are trying to bust McClaren, you should have come clean to Blair as soon as McClaren sent you that text."

"I didn't know she'd read it." Leland huffed, pushing onto his hands only to fall back, again, when Walker gave him a hard shove.

"I never said you could move. Try that, again, and we'll worry about who to apologize to for killing you, later."

"You Yanks are so serious. And this is much bigger than one MI6 agent. I've been entrenched with McClaren for over seven months. Nearly had him red handed with a large supply of guns until you all outed Poppy, and McClaren panicked. Dumped everything, and I had to bloody well start all over, again. Thanks for that, by the way. Months of work in the crapper because you just couldn't let your sister's suspension go. You just had to keep digging."

Blair grinned. "I'm good at my job."

"You're about to get us all killed." He inhaled when McClaren's voice sounded from what Walker thought was the bottom of the stairs. "Bollocks. That's McClaren, and he's never going to believe I'm not in here when he's likely checked the rest of the house. So, either get ready to shoot you way out of here, past a couple dozen mercs, or get your arses out that window. You should be able to shimmy along the ledge. Go two windows over. I keep that one unlocked. McClaren's room is across the hall. He has a safe behind his desk in an adjoining antechamber. I heard him tell some bloke on his cell that he had enough evidence he could crucify the guy if he turned on him. No names, but it's got to be McClaren's connection back to SIS. I've tried to access the safe a few times, but there's not much else for McClaren to do here but pace his room."

Leland grunted when McClaren called his name, again. "I can only buy you five or ten minutes to crack it and grab whatever's inside. And no… I don't know the code."

Walker glanced at the door, those footsteps getting louder. "Call me crazy, but I think I'll take my chances killing McClaren, then facing the mercenaries."

"Don't be daft, Pierce. Even if you've got help, you'll never make it out alive." Leland motioned toward the window. "Go. I'll keep him talking as long as I can."

"Blair? Your op. Your call."

Blair narrowed her eyes, then gave Walker a shove toward the window as she faced Leland. "What about Carrington? Is she really dead?"

"There is no Carrington. Never was. McClaren and Poppy manufactured her from the start. From what McClaren has said, they'd planned on framing Gretta as the ghostly arms dealer, but couldn't quite pull it off. I guess it was your turn."

"Son of a bitch."

"Go. Before we're all dead."

Walker backed up, allowing her to push past him, before leaning in, again. "If you're lying, you'll be the first one I kill, so… choose wisely."

He followed Blair over to the window, quickly scanning the area before ushering her out. Not that the ledge was that large, but with their backs pressed against the wall, they were able to shuffle along without falling.

Voices rose from within Leland's room a few moments later. What sounded like McClaren wanting to know where Leland had been. Walker had his gun aimed toward Leland's window, just in case, while Blair fiddled with the other one.

It took about thirty seconds to finally wedge it open enough they could shimmy through. Get inside another bedroom, albeit, empty. Walker ran over to the door, listening for footsteps as Blair shadowed him.

He arched a brow. "You sure we should trust Leland?"

Blair huffed. "I don't trust him. But I trust you. And Gretta and Corbin. Worst case, they're waiting for us, and we kill them before making that gauntlet run for the boat. Hope my sister and your mate come through on the overwatch."

"It's one hell of a risk, but… Always knew you'd be the death of me. I'll go out first, then you move in front, so you're covered. And if bullets start flying, run for one of the bedrooms so you can shoot whoever's left standing. And no… that's not up for debate."

"Walker…"

"Just… Please. You can be the human shield, next time."

She punched him. Not hard. Just enough to let him know he was walking a fine line. That she was close to shooting him in the ass for good measure. Which he understood. And it wasn't that he didn't think she could defend herself, he just couldn't function the way he needed to, imagining her getting hit.

On his watch.

He'd work on it. Find a way to box it up and push it down. To be Pierce when she needed to be Hughes. But for this one confrontation, he needed to know he'd be her first and last line of defense.

McClaren and Leland's voices still echoed down the hall — nothing to indicate Leland had betrayed them, yet — as Walker eased out, quickly motioning Blair ahead of him. She darted past him and up to the next door. Not quite across the hallway, but close. A rattle of the handle, and she disappeared inside.

Walker inched backward, still watching for bandits before following after her — careful not to make a sound as he closed the door then hurried across the room. A small office joined the bedroom through a wide door, a large desk filling most of the space.

Blair was already behind it, shining a small mag light on the touchpad of McClaren's safe. "Looks like it's a four-digit code."

"We're already two minutes in, sweetheart. So, I hope you've got something to help crack it stuffed in your bra or panties because there're ten thousand possible combinations."

"Look at you doing all that math in your head. And I have a secret weapon, though, not in my knickers."

She removed the corn starch she'd stolen from the kitchen, then blew a fine layer across the pad. "Old spy trick."

The powder stuck to four of the numbers. Not much — more like a few flecks here and there — but enough it gave a suggestion of which ones he used.

Walker shook his head. "Better odds, assuming it gave us the right numbers. And now I know why you grabbed the starch. I honestly thought you were nuts. So, zero, one, seven, eight. Guess we just start punching combinations and hope there's not some kind of cap on how many times you can try before it locks you out, or sets off an alarm."

Blair paused, staring at the pad for several seconds before inhaling. "Or, McClaren's a cocky, predictable prat."

She typed in a code, grinning when the light flashed green before the door disengaged. "He's definitely an prat."

"Zero eight one seven? How the hell did you guess that right the first time?"

"Wanker used the day he died. Amateur."

Blair reached in, removing photos, cash, and a series of thumb drives. She placed them on the floor, continuously checking the adjoining room as she picked through them.

Walker clenched his fists, grabbing a couple of photos — placing them in the beam from her mag light. "Fucker's been following you and Gretta for some time. These look like there're from a satellite feed. Leland's right. He's got to have a connection inside SIS."

"Maybe that intel's on one of these drives. Do we just take them all?"

"Hell, yeah. Because it's been four minutes, and…" He stilled. Had a door just closed in the distance?

Walker held up one hand, quick-stepping over to the adjoining wall. He poked his head into the bedroom just as footsteps clicked in the hallway.

Walker gave Blair the signal to kill the light then darted over to her, grabbing her and taking them both beneath the desk as the door shook then opened, a wedge of light illuminating the bedroom.

Walker had his gun at his shoulder, ready to start firing if this had all been a setup and Leland was just as dirty as McClaren, when more footsteps paced across the floor, followed by the click of the door, plunging the room into darkness, again. A low huff drifted on the air, then the bed creaked.

McClaren.

Walker rolled his right shoulder, easing the tension slowly creeping into it, the weight of his Beretta reminding him he could end this, now. Stand up, walk to the doorway and cap McClaren in his bed. They'd have to battle their way out, but a part of him didn't care. All it recognized was the threat. The one that wouldn't end until the man was in the grave, not in a prison.

Either Blair sensed the sudden change in his demeanor, or she just knew him better than anyone else ever had because she placed her hand on his arm — leaned in closer. "He's not worth it."

She'd barely murmured the words, but they hit him hard. That she was willing to put her safety at risk to save his soul. Because that's the only part of him that would have any regrets. The honorable part.

Walker glanced at the doorway, determined to whisper that she was worth it, when a muffled ring sounded from the other room.

Two more, then McClaren was breathing heavily as the bed creaked, again. "Yeah, it's me… I know but, I'm starting to think Leland might be past his expiration date."

A pause, then a snort. "I know he's been an excellent source of intel, but something's changed. Ever since that whole thing went down with Hughes, he's been antsy."

Another pause. "Of course, it's possible he's just worried the bitch'll ruin our plans. But it seems to be more than that. Are you sure he's really MI5?"

McClaren must had leaned back because the bed knocked against the wall with a dull thud. "I'm dead, remember? You're the one with all the connections and intel. And I still find it odd that I never heard his name or worked with him all those years I was running ops… What? No, nothing obvious. Just a feeling, not that it matters. Once we hit this target, we won't need him, anymore. Might be better to cut our losses before we get back to London where it's a lot harder to dispose of a body."

The bed groaned, this time, drowning out his voice for a moment. "Don't worry. Even if she somehow makes it home, it'll be too late. Everything will already be in place, and she'll burn for this. Guaranteed. Which only leaves her sister. I assume you'll take care of that… Good."

A few more creaks followed by another thud. "And Montgomery… If you even think about throwing me under the bus the way you did to Poppy, I'll personally come for you."

Silence. Heavy. Absolute, as McClaren's last few words hung in the air. Making it hard to breathe in the small space.

Montgomery was involved. No doubt about it, now.

Walker just wasn't sure if the stiffness in Blair's muscles was a sense of regret or revenge. Because the woman was seething. Borderline vibrating as he held her close, waiting to see if McClaren would go back to bed or walk out the door.

More creaking then mumbling. As if McClaren was running through a series of steps. Maybe going over that attack he'd alluded to. Not that it mattered. The sun was already starting to brighten the horizon. Not all orange and red like it would have been if the storm had completely blown itself out. But there was definitely a lighter gray bleeding in through the curtains. A sense of daybreak lingering in the air.

Walker nudged Blair, crawling out from beneath the desk with her as McClaren continued to mutter in the other room. He motioned to his gun, silently asking her if she wanted him to end it. Nothing but a quick whoosh as proof he'd even fired it.

But Blair shook her head, mouthing, "We might need him," before pointing to the window.

Walker frowned. Escaping out this window wasn't nearly as convenient as the other one, the bottom a good four feet off the floor. And god knew where this ledge led to. Probably where all the mercenaries were sipping coffee.

But Blair was already moving — sliding up the sash then climbing over. Walker grabbed her arm when one foot slipped, stopping her from falling the two stories to the ground, before easing free. Taking his turn.

This was definitely not as nice, the ledge half the width as the other side. Blair started shuffling, keeping her body tight to the wall, barely making a sound. Walker followed behind her, silently wishing he'd taken up yoga or something equally as graceful, because every step threatened to send him tumbling to the ground, his sheer size making it next to impossible to shimmy along.

With a bit of patience and a whole lot of stupid luck, they made it to the corner — joined up with that other ledge they'd used to escape from Leland's room. Blair pointed at the man's window, ignoring how Walker shook his head, mouthing that Leland couldn't be trusted. But Blair was already off — quickly slinking along the edge, then lifting Leland's window and slipping inside.

Crazy. That's what she was because they still didn't know if they could trust the man. Just because McClaren was doubting Leland's loyalty didn't mean the guy was really Interpol. That he was on Blair's side.

Having Leland reach out and drag Walker through the window had Walker lifting his weapon. Ready to fire if the guy so much as twitched. But Leland was already running to the door, checking the hallway then racing back, all the while shaking his head.

"Are you two barmy? I told you to get the evidence and get the hell out. Before McClaren realizes some plonker robbed his safe."

Blair stepped in front of Leland when he looked as if he was going to push them right out the window, again. "McClaren's on to you. We just heard him talking to his connection inside MI6 saying you'd outrun your usefulness. Something about how you've been acting since I escaped. He's doubting you're really MI5."

Leland closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "That's… unfortunate. But I can't bow out until I know who the hell his boss is because that's the real threat."

The color drained from Blair's face as she glanced at Walker, then back to Leland. "It's Montgomery."

Leland blinked, opened his mouth a few times, then closed it. "Heathcliff Montgomery? The new acting director of MI6? The one who supposedly outed Poppy because Montgomery's all about honor. About serving his country. Upholding our values? That fucking Montgomery?"

"You forgot the part where he's a traitorous twat and only outed Poppy to save his own arse."

"Shit, buggering, fuck."

"Exactly. I've got everything from McClaren's safe. There's got to be something on those thumb drives that will prove it's been McClaren and Montgomery, all along. Maybe even give us their target." Blair arched a brow. "Unless you already know."

"If I knew their target, I wouldn't have gone along with the ruse of you posing as Carrington. But McClaren keeps insisting no one else needs to know until it's time to act."

"Regardless, you can't stay. He's planning on killing you before you get back to London."

Leland cursed, again, then darted over to the closet. He reappeared with a small camera, a recorder and a micro-drive, along with two weapons. He holstered one under his arm, strapping the other at his ankle, then shoved the rest of the items in his pockets. Two minutes flat, and he was ready to leave.

Walker was waiting at the door, hoping they'd make it down the stairs without having to open fire, when someone started shouting down the hallway, slamming something so hard against the floor the entire upper level vibrated.

Leland was at his side a heartbeat later, locking his door, then shoving them both toward the window. "That's fucking McClaren. He must have gone to look for something in his safe and realized it's empty. No way we'll make it down the stairs, now. Not that the window's much better. Even if we actually make it to the ground without eating bullets, we'll have to make a dash for one of the cars?—"

"We've got the transportation covered." Walker stopped, nodding at the ledge. "I'll go first. Drop you each down to the ground, then follow. Keep your heads low and don't fucking stop running. Guess it's time to see if Gretta and Corbin are as good we need them to be."