Grinch Reaper Page 5

  Her back stiffened.

  “What is it?” he asked, straightening from the wall.

  She jumped to her feet. “You can open the blinds,” she said, heading for the door, flicking the lights on as she passed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before he could question her further she was gone. He glanced at his dad, and could swear he saw a ghost of a smile tugging his lips. “Never could get a straight answer from her,” he muttered. “Why should today be any different?”

  “Any different for what?” she asked, breezing back in, clutching something in her hand as she re-approached the bed.

  Stepping close, he frowned. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “Don’t need to. Your dad will. Sort of.”

  She was way too cryptic and mysterious for his liking. “Bella, what the hell’s going on?”

  Ignoring him, she stared at his dad and sat on the edge of the bed again. “I noticed you can blink your eyes. So, I need you to blink once for yes, and twice for no. Okay?”

  His dad blinked once.

  A rock, the size of his fist, felt like it settled in the pit of his stomach. Fuck. He’d never thought to try that to communicate with his dad. All this time…

  “Good. Now, is this what you’re trying to say?” She uncurled her fist to reveal a syringe in the palm of her hand.

  “N-n-na…n-n-ne,” his dad uttered as he blinked. Once.

  What the hell?

  That rock in Matteo’s gut grew three sizes. He stepped right to the bed. “Someone stuck you with a needle?”

  Again, his father blinked once.

  “Did you see who it was?” Bella asked, because she at least had some brain function.

  Blame it on the shock muddling his brain, or the anger heating his blood—which sucked all the oxygen from said muddled brain—either way, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Two blinks.

  Damn. His dad hadn’t seen the culprit. “What the hell could they have stuck in him? And why didn’t the doctors catch it?”

  “Some kind of neurotoxin,” she replied. “And no one would catch it unless they were looking for it. I doubt poison is part of a stroke screening.”

  True. But…damn. This was just nuts.

  More questions filled his mind. Like, what kind of poison was it? How was the toxin still in his father’s system? Who administered it? And just how the hell did Bella know so much about neurotoxins?

  But before he could ask, a knock sounded as the door opened and Jameson Knight entered, with a woman similar in height, coloring, and attitude as Bella.

  “Commander Knight.” Matteo walked forward to shake his former commander’s hand. “It’s been a long time, sir. Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

  Now, more than ever, he was relieved to have protection for his father, especially someone as capable and trustworthy as Knight. After earning his Budweiser, by completing BUDs, Army Airborne School, SEAL AOT, and a probationary period, Matteo was assigned to Knight’s team—per Knight’s request.

  For two years, he served under the commander, until the CIA lured Knight into their elite Special Operations Group. He’d heard the guy did several years there, before leaving to start his own agency. The one Lambert had mentioned on the phone earlier.

  “Good to see you, too, Reaper,” Knight replied, cupping his shoulder as he shook his hand. “Sorry it’s for these reasons.”

  “And what reasons would that be?” Bella asked, stepping close enough that he was forced to release Knight’s hand and move out of the way, so she could…hug the commander?

  What the fuck?

  “Ah, Bella. Always a pleasure.” Knight grinned, as she kissed his cheek. “You ready to come work for me yet?”

  “Photojournalist my ass,” he muttered, and received three snickers.

  It all made sense. The backpack. Satellite phone. Her trips out of the country. The way she carried herself with a capable, lethal grace.

  Holy shit. Bella worked for Knight.

  She drew back and smiled at the commander. “Not sure your agency could handle both me and Brooke.”

  Or…maybe not.

  Knight introduced him to Brooke, the woman Bella was releasing from a hug, then nodded to his dad. “Gunny, I promise you we’ll get things cleared up.”

  It didn’t surprise Matteo that Knight knew his father was a Marine Gunnery Sergeant in the Gulf War. But it did surprise him that he’d arrived so fast. “Did you fly up, sir?”

  Knight nodded. “Yes. Brooke is always eager to fly instead of drive.”

  Bella muttered something and shared a grin with the woman. He didn’t even bother to try to dissect the meaning.

  “So, how about you fill us in?” Knight leaned against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “You looked alarmed and Bella looked disturbed when we walked in. Did you find evidence that your dad was attacked?”

  “Yes,” he replied, anger washing through him in another wave of heat. He swiped the needle from the table and waved it at them. “From this, not a blow to the head, as I originally suspected. Dad just confirmed someone used a needle on him.”

  Brooke frowned, stepping closer. “That one?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Bella brought it in to question my dad.”

  Who the hell knew where she got it.

  Bella’s shoulders dropped with her sigh. “Nothing goes that easy.” She went on to explain what she did with the lights, and her findings. “I don’t have a reverse agent. The toxins I’ve worked with don’t impair speech.”

  Knight pushed from the wall and moved close. “I’ll have our guy test Gunny’s blood to detect exactly what was used, and determine the correct reverse agent.”

  Matteo hoped to God it wasn’t too late.

  “Any chance your guy can trace it back the manufacturer so I can pay him, or her, a visit?” He was already visualizing his hands around the bastard’s neck…after he got the name and location of the person who ordered the toxin.

  “A damn good chance.” Knight grinned. “Our guy’s good. I’ll let you know what we find out. In the meantime, Brooke and I will move your dad somewhere safe, so you can concentrate on other things.” The commander gave him a pointed look.

  Yeah. Like Rasheed.

  Although he tried not to, Matteo couldn’t stop his damn gaze from shifting to Bella. She quirked a brow, but said nothing.

  For once.

  Her odd behavior niggled at him, but he didn’t have time to ponder it. “Thank you, sir,” he said instead. “Before you move my dad, there are a few things I need to ask him. He’s been communicating with blinks. One for yes, two for no.” Matteo moved to stand by his father’s shoulder and held his gaze. “Were there people in the shop when it happened?”

  One blink.

  Now the hard question. “Omar?”

  Two blinks.

  Relief disintegrated the tightness gripping his chest, but after naming several more names of workers and regulars, and continuing to get two blinks, the tightness returned. Dammit. Who the hell had been in there?

  Bella walked close. “Were there three people?”

  Two blinks.

  “Two people?” he asked.

  One blink.

  Finally. Now they were getting somewhere.

  Bella shifted her feet. “Do you know them?”

  One…no, two…wait, three blinks?

  “So, you know one but not the other?” he asked, and received an affirmative, with one blink. He glanced at Bella. “Who haven’t we asked about?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure. Maybe someone new showed up while I was gone.”

  One blink.

  “How about family?” Brooke asked from behind, and his dad blinked once.

  Matteo reeled back, his heart diving into his gut. “Our family?”

  No way. His sister and Joe would never do anything like this.

  His dad grunted. “N-n-n…” And blinked twice.

&nbs
p; “Someone else’s family member.” Knight’s suggestion garnered a solo blink.

  He stiffened as a sudden certainty washed over him. “Paresh?”

  One blink.

  “Damn.” Omar’s oldest son. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, already dreading what he knew it meant he had to do.

  “Did he hit you? Did anyone hit you?” Bella fired off two questions, and received two single blinks. “So the person with Paresh gave you the injection?”

  Another affirmative blink.

  “His brother, Jalil?” Matteo closed his eyes and sighed after he received two blinks for a no.

  Thank God, because he was still having a hard time accepting the fact either of Omar’s sons could be involved.

  Hell, his dad coached both of them for years. Held birthday parties in the shop for them. Invited them over for barbeques. It was insane.

  What the hell could cause someone you knew his whole life to turn on you?

  “Was it a young male around Paresh’s age?” Bella asked.

  He opened his eyes in time to see his dad blink once. No doubt, the kid was one of the sympathizers Commander Lambert mentioned. Exactly the person he needed to talk to.

  Time for a body snatch.

  But first, he needed to make sure his dad was safe. As Bella and Brooke continued to question his father, Matteo walked over to Knight, who was just shoving his phone back in his pocket. “You said you had someone who could help figure out what they injected into my dad?”

  “Yes,” Knight replied. “But we’re going to need to fly him down to D.C.”

  “When?”

  “Today. I’ve already got my people on it.” Knight patted his pocket. “They started the transfer paperwork. Should have it within the hour. It’ll require your signature.”

  “Then what?”

  “Brooke and I will fly your dad down to a secure complex where a team of specialists are standing by to get this sorted out,” Knight said. “Once he’s settled in, Brooke and I will fly back to assist with…your other problem.”

  Even though he and the commander were speaking in hushed tones, Matteo glanced over at the bed to see if the others caught that last part—mainly Bella—but he needn’t worry, because she was gone.

  “Where’s Bella?” He frowned at Brooke.

  The woman shrugged. “She left a minute ago. Said something about putting money in a meter so her car wasn’t towed.”

  Shit. Alarm ricocheted through his chest. “She came here with me. In my car.”

  Knight’s lips twitched. “You’re not parked by a meter, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Does she know this Paresh kid?” Brooke asked.

  Fuck. He headed for the door. “I’ll be back to sign those papers.”

  Matteo rushed through the building, with Brooke hot on his six, and together they burst out into the parking lot. He surveyed the area for signs of the impulsive woman, but saw none.

  Until he approached his car. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  The window of the driver side door was smashed in. Shards of glass littered the front seat, along with a hastily scribbled note.

  Needed to pop the trunk to get my bag. Sorry for the mess. I’ll pay for it. P.S. Careful you don’t cut yourself on the glass.

  “Dammit.” He was too late.

  A soft chuckle sounded behind him. He turned to find Brooke standing with a smile on her lips.

  “She likes you.”

  His brows crashed together. What the hell did that have to do with anything? Even though it was irrelevant to the mission, he couldn’t stop his mouth from voicing a non-mission related question. “How can you tell?”

  “By the very fact she left you a note.” Brooke’s grin grew lopsided. “Trust me. That’s not her style.”

  Matteo didn’t even want to know how this woman knew what Bella’s style was. “A note?” He wrenched open the door and pointed to the mess inside. “Did you see what she did to my car?”

  “Yeah. You’re lucky,” she said.

  This woman was as crazy as Bella. “Why am I lucky?”

  “Because she left you the car.”

  True.

  Hope flickered through his chest and turned into a rush of adrenaline. She couldn’t have gotten far. He popped the trunk to grab a mini dustpan and brush, and quickly cleared the glass from his seat. Why the hell didn’t she wait for him? Christ, he hoped the impetuous woman didn’t screw things up.

  Some things never changed. Grunting, he tossed the glass-filled pan and brush on the passenger floor, before getting in. Apparently, the Marine Corps didn’t squash her impulsiveness.

  He glanced at Brooke as he started the engine. “Tell Knight I’ll be back to sign those papers.”

  She stepped back and nodded. “Good luck.”

  What he needed was restraint, because Bella deserved a good spanking and he was just the person to give her one.

  Chapter Five

  She should’ve taken the damn car.

  It was official. She was going soft.

  Bella opened the throttle on the Vespa, she commandeered down the street from the rehab center, and barely hit 40 mph. Call it wishful thinking, she remained in the fast lane anyway. Christ, she could run faster.

  Dammit. Matteo always was her Achilles heel.

  Not only did she not take his car, she left a damn note—and said she was sorry.

  What the freakin’ hell?

  Cruising down Atlantic Avenue, she inhaled the cold air, then exhaled slowly, working to regain her calm when a car pulled up on her right and slowed down to keep pace with her piece of crap ride. She knew who it was before glancing over.

  Sexy, smartass Santarelli.

  Sure enough, he waved at her through his broken window. A sliver of guilt flickered in her belly, until his lips tugged into a lop-sided grin.

  “Careful,” he said. “You might blow a gasket.”

  She flipped him off, and could hear his chuckle echo in the wind as he left her in his wake—by doing the damn speed limit.

  But she refused to let it get to her. She had more important things to worry about. Like finding Paresh.

  Although she wanted to wring the fool’s neck, Bella planned to let the kid lead her to his friend, then let that bastard lead her to Rasheed. She knew in her gut that was where all this was leading.

  By the time she parked up the street from the community basketball courts, and gladly jumped off the Vespa, Bella found her calm again. Paresh and his brother always shot hoops after Jalil got out of school. With luck, they were still there.

  She approached the teenager and his two buddies, noting a black Charger up the street with a busted driver’s side window and a frogman behind the wheel. Grasping the chain-link fence, she leaned into the cold metal and smiled at the boys through the slats. “Hey, Jalil. Is your brother here?”

  Waving, the kid moved closer. “Nah. Paresh stopped coming here.” His gaze dropped to the court, before lifting to meet hers, sadness and anger mixing to cloud the dark depths. “He’s too busy with his new friends to hang out with us anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” More than Jalil knew.

  “Jalil? Toss the ball, man,” one of his friends called, while the other clapped and held out his hands.

  He turned and tossed the ball to his friends, before twisting back to face her. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Do you happen to know where he hangs out now? They’re supposed to start hiring at the Capris again, and he asked me to let him know,” she added to lessen suspicion. It was semi-true. Paresh had asked her…last year.

  “No. We don’t talk like we used to,” the teenager stated. “He’s kind of a dick. Like his friends Tariq and Kamal.”

  Bingo. The names she wanted.

  A smile tugged her lips. “You don’t like them much, huh?”

  “No. And I don’t like Paresh much lately, either. Not since he started hanging out with them. Those guys are as fake as thei
r names. They aren’t even Middle Eastern. They’re as white as…” His voice trailed off as color rose into his cheeks.

  “As me?” She smiled. “It’s okay. I get it. And I’m sorry. Maybe I can talk to him. You sure you don’t have any idea where he may be?”

  Shifting his feet, he pursed his lips and squinched his eyes as if deep in thought. “I did see him go into that abandoned building on 5th Street once.” He shrugged. “Maybe they hang out there.”

  “Maybe.” She kept her features neutral despite the adrenaline rushing through her body. An abandoned building. Joe had mentioned one in conjunction with a fire. Not the same one, but it could still be connected. Perhaps the sympathizers sought a new one after the fire. One way to find out. It was now her destination. “Thanks, Jalil. I won’t keep you any longer. Go sink some threes.”

  “You know it.” Smiling, he turned and rushed across the court toward his buddies.

  He was a good kid. So was Paresh—at that age.

  What could’ve happened to make him fall in with terrorist sympathizers?

  Bella contemplated that as she walked down the street, past the piece-of-crap Vespa and turned at the corner. Most converts had low self-esteem, wanted to belong, to matter. Paresh came from loving parents who always put their kids first. It made no sense.

  Although, neither did terrorism. Not to her.

  Pulling the collar up on her jacket, she ducked her head against the wind on her way down the block. If Paresh was indeed mixed up with the cell, and unreachable, she wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in.

  “Bella, get in,” Matteo said through the rolled down window on the passenger side of his car, as he coasted along with her. “Come on. It’s cold out.”

  “You don’t want to warm me up, Matteo. You just want to know where I’m headed,” she said, before stopping.

  So did he.

  Unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face, she stepped close to lean in the window. “How about I tell you where I’m going?”

  She loved a good challenge. It might be fun to race him.

  His brows slammed together. “How about you get in the damn car?”

  Unwanted arousal shot to her core. “So forceful.” Extremely aware of her increased heartbeats and the warmth flooding her body, she lifted a hand to stroke her neck, and grinned. “Are you going to make me?”