WARNINGS/Comments: Warning: Graphic description of male-male sex.
ATF Denver – Karaoke AU
Author's Introduction to this AU
10 May 2000, a Wednesday
1500 Hours
If she had to think back and come up with a specific date, she knew she'd find it difficult to remember exactly when she realized Vin had fallen in love with Chris, but she knew it couldn't have been too long after she'd met the members of Team Seven in early 1998. It seemed to her that they had just come that way: a pair, Chris and Vin, two souls who had been made for each other.
What had surprised her more had been learning they were ATF agents. They just didn't fit the stereotype of Feds she'd always had. But then J. Watson's Saloon was close to the downtown federal building and she had been warned that there would be a lot of agents – of various stripes – stopping by after work for a drink.
But Team Seven was special. They were more… fun, even if Buck did drive her crazy sometimes; she knew he was harmless. They had quickly become her first real friends in Denver, and she treasured each and every one of them as the wonderful people they were.
She knew if Vin had been available, she might have tried to catch his eye, but he wasn't. His heart belonged to Chris Larabee, even if the blond was as clueless as could be about that fact. It was a shame, really. If someone loved you like that, you ought to know about it so you could embrace it, enjoy it… revel in it.
Still, Vin was most definitely taken, and by now she was glad about that, because it had meant she'd looked more closely at another man who had captured her attention for the past year. Looked closely enough to see through the layers of masks he wore to finally recognize the real man who lay beneath. But that left her with a dilemma. How could she be happy when one of her friends was so unhappy?
But how could she get the others to see how Vin felt about Chris?
She honestly didn't think they would care. In fact, she suspected they would be happy for them – if Chris finally saw the truth for himself and embraced it.
But maybe if the others knew about how Vin felt, they could help Chris to see the light.
Oh, she was sure Chris cared about Vin, but he wasn't in love with the man. Not yet, anyway. She just needed to find a way to help him see what he was missing.
And just how she might do that came to her one evening early last month, when Team Seven had dropped by after closing another case. She'd just had the old jukebox she'd inherited, along with the bar, replaced with a new one – a state of the art monster that might look like an old fashioned jukebox, but was, in reality, a powerful computer with a huge multi-disk CD player. It was a sweet system, and the guys who had installed it had also upgraded her speakers and sound system at the same time. "The Saloon" as Team Seven called the place, had most definitely gone high-tech.
One of the technicians doing the software installation had asked her if she wanted him to include the professional karaoke package. She'd had no idea what he was talking about at the time, but he explained it to her. Her new system was also one of the best karaoke systems currently available on the market. With something that looked to her like a laptop computer that was built into the device, she or someone else could access full stereo music tracks, as well as background accompaniments and choruses for any song on any pre-loaded CD. With that, her new speaker system, a TV, and a wireless microphone, she had a state of the art, professional karaoke machine. It could even be adjusted to play the music in a variety of different keys so songs usually sung by female sopranos could be easily tackled by baritone men.
She had been enchanted, but uncertain about how to actually put the device to use. Unsure, that was, until Team Seven had descended upon the machine, eager to see what treasures were on the new "jukebox." Before long the men were picking out their favorites, old and new, and singing along with them.
They all had fine voices, too, something else that had surprised her. Oh, some were a little better than the others, but all of them were good enough that she thought they could have considered a musical career rather than one in federal law enforcement. But it had been Vin who had caught her eye that night. He'd picked a quiet love song, and had hung back in the shadows, singing along to the lyrics while he watched Chris enjoying himself at the table with the others. The longing she had seen in his beautiful blue eyes had brought tears to her own. If the others ever saw that, there would be no way for them not to know how Vin felt about Chris.
And that's when it had hit her. Why not inaugurate a karaoke night competition for the various law enforcement agencies housed in the federal building? If she could get Vin up there on stage to sing, the others would figure it out, and then, maybe, they could help Chris come around. And she was sure she would be able to get Vin to participate. He had never refused her any sweetly delivered request.
Besides, she pulled in enough patrons from the Denver PD to include them as well, so there ought to be plenty of competitors. She could charge each participant a small entrance fee and use that to purchase trophies for the winner and runners up. The rest could to be donated to a worthwhile local charity.
The more she had thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She just couldn't help but think Vin would out himself. After all, she had already noticed he tended to pick love songs on the jukebox. If he picked the same kinds of songs to sing, well, one of the others was sure to figure it out, and that, she hoped, would set the dominos falling.
She spent some time on Google, and made some phone calls to other bars in the area that also hosted karaoke nights, asking questions and gathering information until she felt confident she could do it herself. And this coming Friday would be the night.
She had announced the competition two days ago, on Monday evening, with a huge banner and a stack of flyers that stated J. Watson's Saloon was kicking off its first karaoke night competition at the end of the month. The bars closest to her that were also running karaoke competitions held them during the week, so she had decided to give Saturday nights a try. The last Saturday of the month would kick off the first "I fought the law and the law won" karaoke competition for law enforcement officers and staff – federal, state and local.
She had been excited, and more than a little anxious as the after-work crowd had begun trickling in Monday night. What if no one wanted to participate?
But she need not have worried. As soon as the usual crowd began to gather, the rivalries had started up and, before the end of the night, she had seven agencies and over fifty competitors already registered, including six of her very own Team Seven!
She had been ecstatic.
Next, she'd had figure out a way to winnow down the competition to find a winner. She had also decided an impartial panel was the best solution as far as judging, so Tuesday morning she had made some phone calls.
The panel would be made up of seven judges, all regular patrons and friends of hers. They would include Mary Travis, who had reviewed J. Watson's for the Denver Clarion, a local newspaper, right after Inez had taken it over. And Tiny, a huge bear of a man who owned an equally large used bookstore a couple of blocks away. Also Chanu Longknife, a professor of Native American Studies at the University of Denver who she had dated for a while. The other four members of the panel would include two female employees of J. Watson's, and two off-duty firefighters from Station 12, which was right around the corner – one male, and one female.
With the panel in place, she had dumped the names of the competitors into a bowl on Tuesday afternoon and drew pairs to see who would compete against whom. It would be single elimination. When she was done, she realized that they would need two nights to get through the first round, so, after talking to as many of the competitors as she could last night, it was decided that the competition would fall over Friday and Saturday nights, back to back. The following Saturday, the winners of the first round would compete to see who moved on to additional elimination rounds, which would continue until they reached a final round where the last two individuals would fight it out.
And, after her chat with Mary yesterday, she had decided that the extra money raised from the entrance fees would go to Quest Academy, an alternative school in Purgatorio that helped troubled and at risk students complete their high school educations.
Now all she had to do was wait for the big Friday night to arrive in a couple of weeks, and enjoy the fun. That and find a way to make sure Chris Larabee's eyes were opened along the way…
24 May 2000, two weeks later
1445 Hours
"Buck, you decided what song you're gonna do first?" JD asked as he returned to his desk with a fresh cup of coffee from the cantina.
"Yep," the ladies' man replied, looking smug.
"Well, what is it?"
"Now that, kid, is a secret."
"A secret?" JD replied, looking miffed. "Why?"
"Because what if I end up competing against you?"
"Then you'll lose," was the younger man's immediate reply, prompting chuckles from the rest of the ATF team, all seated at their desks.
"We'll just see about that!" was Wilmington's slightly huffy reply.
"Fine, then I won't tell you what I decided to do either."
"Good. I don't want to know."
"They already sound like they're back on the playground, don't they?" Nathan commented, shaking his head sadly.
"Ah, then I guess you're going to tell us what you plan to do?" Josiah asked him.
"Nope," was Jackson's reply before he grinned at his friend.
"Not that it truly matters," Ezra interjected from his desk. "After all, the odds of one of us having to compete against another team member is–"
"About thirteen percent," JD supplied.
Buck rolled his eyes. Sometimes the kid was too smart for his own good.
"And what are the odds of any of us actually winning?" Josiah asked their primary undercover agent.
Standish smiled. "And what makes you think that any of us are expected to win?"
"Because, if you're taking bets, then you know the odds," Buck supplied matter-of-factly.
"I'll only say this much, gentlemen… We are all considered long-shots as far as potential victors in this contest."
"Long-shots?" JD repeated indignantly.
"Very long," Standish clarified.
Buck hrumphed and shook his head. "Well, they just won't know what hit 'em then, will they?"
"Wish we could've gotten Chris to do it, too," JD said, risking a quick glance in the direction of their boss' office. "Better odds."
Buck shook his head. "Naw, Chris hasn't done anything like that since Sarah and Adam died. Shame, too. Man's got a nice voice, but his heart just isn't in it any more. Was a time when he and I used to karaoke all the time, me for my date – you wouldn't believe it, it's like some kind of aphrodisiac – Chris just to embarrass Sarah with some sappy love song in public; sweetest thing you ever did see."
Vin listened to the comment and sighed softly to himself, but he didn't look up, or join in the conversation.
"You ladies plan on sitting there, gossiping like a bunch of old women for the rest of the day, or did you plan to actually get some work done before you left?" Larabee asked from the doorway to his office, but before he could say anything more, the phone on his desk rang.
The others mumbled a variety of responses that ranged from apologies to profanities, but they all turned back to their work, each one wondering what the others might be planning to sing the next night.
1600 Hours
"Alejandro Salazar," Chris said a little more than an hour later. He and the other members of Team Seven were seated around the oval table in their private conference room.
Josiah nodded. "Up and coming player on the Colombian political scene, and a member of the drug cartel if rumor has it right; the DEA's been after him for a couple of years now, but he's apparently a very careful man."
Larabee nodded in reply. "He's also a dead man."
"Dead? How?" Ezra asked, taken aback by the news. "A rival?"
"In a manner of speaking," Larabee agreed. "He was at a fancy party in Miami when the caterers surprised everyone and opened fire with automatic weapons."
"Ouch," Buck said. "Maybe he didn't appreciate the pate?"
Standish flashed the ladies' man a grin.
"Gets worse," Chris cut in. "The shooters took one of the guests with them when they left – a woman, Alysia Mylonas. Rumor has it she was Salazar's most recent… love interest."
"But she's something more?" Vin asked, picking up on the slight change in the man's voice.
"Much more," Larabee confirmed, gratified as always by how quickly Vin picked up on things. "Alysia Mylonas, also known as Lina Macario… Agent Lina Macario, DEA. And they'd like her back."
"Well, if the DEA put her in Salazar's organization, why don't they go get her back out?" JD asked, looking slightly confused.
"Because it wasn't the DEA who put her in," Chris explained. "It seems Agent Macario was on loan from the DEA… to the CIA."
"And if either the CIA or the DEA goes in after her, there's no possibility of deniability if the mission is… less than successful," Ezra concluded flatly. God, he hated bureaucratic ass covering.
"But if one of Salazar's rivals grabbed her, why does anyone think she's even alive now?" Buck questioned.
"Not just any rival," Larabee said, scrubbing his fingers through his short blond hair. "Marco Anzar."
"The Mexican weapons czar?" Nathan asked, surprised. "Why would he care about Salazar, or his latest mistress?"
"Seems the CIA has been watching Salazar for a while now; he's been in contact with some Afghani warlords, ones that oversee the opium trade in the northern part of that country. Apparently he offered to accept shipments from them to pass on to the US market."
"And what does Salazar have to provide in the exchange?" Ezra asked, already disliking the sound of it.
"Weapons."
"Which he'd be gettin' from Anzar," Buck said, connecting the dots.
Larabee nodded.
"But something obviously went wrong," Ezra concluded. "Perhaps Mr. Anzar saw a way to… eliminate the middle-man?"
"In which case Anzar might have had Agent Marcario taken because he thought he knew who she was. Salazar's mistress, I mean." Josiah speculated. "To see what she knew about the deal Salazar had set up, who his contacts in Afghanistan were."
Chris nodded. "Apparently that's what the CIA thinks, too. She also knows the names of DEA agents in Colombia and some well-placed CIA operatives in Afghanistan."
"So now they need someone t' go get her back before she gives up those men?" Vin asked, a soft buzz in his gut telling him there was something more to all this, something he wasn't going to like.
Chris nodded again. "CIA says Anzar and Marcario are here in Colorado. They want us to get her back and if we can't to, uh, terminate with extreme prejudice."
"What–?" Ezra began, but Larabee held up his hand to stop the man's objections.
Chris met Vin's eyes. "You okay with that?"
"Hell no, 'm not okay with that," Vin replied bluntly. "Damn it, Chris, she's one 'a our own."
"Vin's right," Buck said, jumping into the budding argument. "She isn't a gun runner, or a drug dealer, or a terrorist. She's just somebody doin' their job."
"She knew the risks before she went undercover," Ezra added, his voice soft and understanding. In another life it could have easily been him in Lina Marcario's place.
Tanner shot the undercover man a frustrated look. "Not you bein' asked t' kill a fellow agent, Ezra."
"Those are the orders," Chris said, interrupting any reply Standish might have made. He huffed out a sigh. "Look, I don't like this any more than any of you, but that's what we're being asked to do." He added quickly, "But only if we can't get her out. And if I was in her place, I'd want us coming for me." He turned slightly so he could look Vin straight in the eye again. "You want to sit this one out, fine, I'll borrow Nick Sykes from Team Two, but I think she stands a better chance of getting out of this alive if you're there with us."
"I'll think about it," Tanner said, standing and walking out of the room without a backward glance.
Chris sighed, watching him go. He'd known this would be hard for the man. Vin Tanner had a code, and killing one of his own wasn't a part of it. But he also knew the man understood orders, and he wouldn't want to let the rest of them go after Marcario alone. There had to be more going on than he had been told, but he didn't have a clue what it might be.
Ezra cleared his throat and asked, "So, where are they?"
Chris blinked and forced his attention back to the rest of his men. "They're not sure yet. Seems Anzar uses a page from Saddam's book – never stays in the same place two days in a row. There's another agent buried deep in Anzar's organization. We're waiting to hear from him, or her, hopefully some time over the weekend, so be sure you're ready to go on a moment's notice."
The agents all nodded, their minds already turning to what they needed to do in order to be ready.
"And why were we picked for this… plum assignment?" Standish wanted to know.
Larabee had been wondering the same thing, but he hadn't asked when Travis had called. "Only thing that matters is that we were," he replied, then turned and headed out after Vin.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin left the federal building, walking briskly toward the park. When he reached it, he made his way to a small bench that had been placed under a cluster of three large oaks that were almost completely leafed out, and sat down.
Several minutes later he heard the man approaching and, a few moments later, Chris sat down next to him on the bench. Neither man said anything for a while.
"So, you make up your mind?" Larabee finally asked him.
"Nope."
Chris stared out at the people on the open lawn – women and small children mostly, or college students and their dogs – all blissfully unaware of the ugliness taking place around them. Sometimes he envied them, and today was one of those times. Ignorance was bliss. "Look, I know this feels wrong to you. Hell, it feels wrong to me, too, but you know as well as I do they're not giving us the whole story. We have our orders – like 'em or not. I just need to know you'll be there for us when we need you."
Vin turned his head to look at the blond, his expression half-angry, half-hurt. "I'll be there for y', and the others," he snapped. "But I can't tell y' I'll pull the trigger on her, Chris. Just don't think I can do it."
Chris nodded. "Fair enough," he said, standing, his expression carefully neutral.
"Y' gonna bring Sykes along?"
Larabee thought for a moment, then shook his head, saying, "No. If it comes down to that… we'll handle it ourselves."
Vin's jaw muscles worked furiously, but he couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking – that Larabee didn't need any more innocent blood on his hands. Like it or not, it was his job to pull the trigger. God or nature had given him a skill, a gift some might say, and the Army had turned it into a well-honed weapon. Now the ATF, or the DEA, or the goddamn CIA, was pointing that weapon at a fellow agent and it was his job to pull the trigger.
And he knew he'd do it, too… in order to spare Chris.
"Some days the job sucks," Larabee said tiredly, then added in a lighter tone, "So, you still up for a little competition before we go do this?"
Vin looked up at the man and allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his mouth. "Hell, Larabee, 'm always up for that."
"What are you going to sing?"
"Need t' know, boss," Tanner told him, his smile widening a fraction. "And you don't need t' know."
Larabee shook his head and checked his watch. "You ready to head back? It's quittin' time."
Vin thought for a moment, then nodded and stood. "Reckon so," he said on a sigh.
As they walked back to the building, Chris silently prayed they could get the woman out, that he could spare Vin the need to carry out the task they were asking him to do. He just wished he thought he knew what the hell was really going on. He decided he'd go over and talk to Travis on Saturday, privately, at the man's home. He had to see if the AD could shed some more light on the situation.
26 May 2000, Friday night
1710 Hours
When Team Seven arrived at the Saloon, the first thing they did was check the large poster board that had been hung up on the wall near the entrance. On it was the list of the competitors, who they would be competing against, and what order they would be appearing in.
Buck would be the first member of Team Seven to take the stage, in the third spot. Ezra was in the ninth spot, Josiah the fourteenth, Nathan the sixteenth, JD the twenty-first, and Vin wouldn't have to perform until the second to the last spot, the twenty-sixth. That put one man from Team Seven in each segment of round one of the competition, so three of them would be singing tonight, and three more tomorrow night.
Chris smiled as he watched his friends sizing up their competition, but his hand was in the pocket of his jacket, his fingers curled around his cell phone in case a location for Lina Marcario became available. He hated to have to walk away from the competition – his fellow supervisory agents in other branches of the federal government would never let him hear the end of it – but they had a mission to complete.
In groups of ten, the competitors went up to the expert Inez had found to come in and run the karaoke program for her. She stayed close by, however, learning all she could so she could do it herself the next time, and she already knew there would be a next time. Everyone was happy and excited, and they had brought family and friends with them to watch. She was going to do triple her usual Friday night business. And, since they would only get through fifteen pairs tonight, she was ensured that Saturday night would be just was lively.
Who knew karaoke would be so popular?
She grinned as she heard some of the selections being made by the officers and agents. They definitely were in for an entertaining evening.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Team Seven cheered loudly, JD and Vin banging their open palms on the tabletop as Buck took the stage. The ladies' man's competition was a young Denver PD officer who had more confidence than singing ability. His rendition of "Rocky Mountain High" was met by a lukewarm reaction from those listening, but a few of his fellow officers cheered loudly, making the man grin self-consciously.
Buck took the stage after the officer, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, a deep red T-shirt and well worn cowboy boots. He grinned at his audience, then shielded his eyes and sought out one woman in particular: Inez.
As soon he began to sing, Inez heard a wave of laughter roll though the bar and had to hide a grin herself. The song was so perfectly Buck Wilmington…… She don't look back, she's not doin' nothin' wrong.
Lord have mercy, baby's got her blue jeans on… 1When the notorious ladies' man finished his song the crowd erupted into applause, and even Inez had to admit that the man's voice was better than she'd expected. The judges quickly rendered their verdict, and Buck Wilmington was passed on to the second round, which would be held a week from tomorrow night. He practically strutted back to his seat that the table.
As they continued to listen to the competition, Ezra leaned over closer to Chris and said, "I've been thinking… I know someone who used to work for Anzar. He left the business a few years ago, but I'm sure he still has family who are in Anzar's employ. Perhaps he might be able to help us locate the man quicker than this other agent…"
Larabee considered the possibilities for a moment. "You think he'd be willing to help us?"
Standish's gold tooth flashed. "I believe he would do so in order to balance his ledger, yes."
"How easy would it be to contact this guy?" Buck asked, having overheard the conversation.
Ezra shrugged slightly and grinned. "As easy as… helping a man escape from prison?"
Both Buck and Chris snorted in reply to the comment. "If you think you can make contact and it'll be safe for us, and for the informant, go for it," Larabee told him.
Ezra nodded, already making plans on how to proceed.
"Hey, Ez, better get ready," JD said, interrupting the undercover man's train of thought, "you're up next."
As the ninth pair of contenders took to the "stage" – actually the raised platform where an occasional live band performed for the dancers on the small dance floor – the rest of the crowd quieted. It appeared the competition might be fierce.
Ezra appeared calm and self-assured. His competitor, a petite African-American from the Marshal's service, was equally confident.
She went first, doing justice to Whitney Huston's version of "I Will Always Love You." The crowd cheered loudly, and the other members of the Marshal's team stamped their feet in approval. Then it was Ezra's turn to take the stage.
The music began and he turned on the charm, singing directly to the ladies in the audience, all of whom melted under the power of his gaze and the smoothly crooned lyrics.Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft,
There is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight… 2There was a collective sigh from the ladies at the end of the song, then a burst of enthusiastic applause. The gazes of many of the ladies in the room followed Ezra back to the table he was sharing with the rest of Team Seven. His friends all clapped him on the back or shoulder as they waited for the judges' decision, which took a little longer than usual.
"Damn, stud, I see I finally have some competition around here," Buck said, half-annoyed, half-teasing.
"Oh, no," Ezra corrected him, "I do not have the same apparent need as you to, uh, sample the wares of every young lady I meet."
"Your loss," Buck replied, wagging his eyebrows at the man.
"Do we have a winner?" Inez asked the judges, her fingers crossed behind her back.
"We do," Mary said. "Ezra Standish, ATF!"
Team Seven erupted into cheers while the Marshal's service team groaned loudly.
As the next pair of singers walked up to the stage, the undercover man stood, saying, "I'll set things in motion and hopefully return to see Mr. Sanchez compete."
"Watch your back," Vin told him.
Ezra nodded and headed for the door.
"What was that about?" Nathan asked.
"He thinks he might have another way to run our Mexican friend to ground," Larabee explained.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Close to the end of Friday night's competition, Josiah and his opponent took to the stage. This time it was Josiah who went first, his choice not startling Team Seven, but it did take some of the others there by surprise. But the quality of the big man's voice amazed everyone, especially the fact that he wasn't a bass, but a rich baritone with a surprising range. And, before he was done, several of the men watching were reaching for their hankies.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling…Even Denver PD officer, Patrick O'Hurley, who was up next, had to blow his nose twice before he took to the stage and launched into his rendition of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline." The leftover congestion cost him the round.
As Josiah sat back down, the victor, Chris shook his head and commented, "That was just downright mean, Josiah."
The older man flashed Larabee a toothy grin. "I had no idea my song would affect Sergeant O'Hurley so… profoundly."
Nathan grinned. "And here we all thought it was a stroke of amazing strategy."
The big man chuckled. "Just a lucky break for me, that's all."
"Yeah, right," Buck muttered under his breath and they all laughed.
After the next and final set for the night, Inez took the stage, saying, "All right, gentlemen, and ladies, that concludes the competition for this evening. We'll see the rest of you back here tomorrow evening at seven, to pick up where we left off. Goodnight, and thank you, everyone!"
The competitors and their supporters all clapped. The jukebox came on, the bar returning to "normal."
27 May 2000, Saturday night
1720 Hours
On the second night of the competition Nathan was up first, along with an FBI field agent. Raine bounced excitedly in her seat, clapping her hands together as she watched the two preparing.
"What's Nate gonna sing?" JD asked her.
She grinned at him. "Something no one's going to expect."
JD rolled his eyes, but he knew he was just going to have to wait like the rest of the gathered crowd, which, he suspected, had grown significantly from the night before. There wasn't an empty seat in the whole place and there were even folks lined up against the walls. Both of the firefighters on the panel of judges had made headcounts to ensure they weren't over capacity.
The FBI agent was up first and she picked a song from the Disney movie, "Beauty and the Beast." Her voice was strong, but not as fluid as the score called for and she knew she didn't stand much of a chance of moving on to the second round when she handed Nathan the mike. She gave his arm a friendly pat and wished him luck.
"Thanks," Jackson replied, then he took the stage, shot a grin at Raine, and waited for the music to start. When it did, there were surprised looks from the men at the table he'd left.
"Wow," JD said a few moments later, "I never would've guessed!"
Nathan belted out the upbeat Doobie Brother's hit, and several of the people lining the walls took to the dance floor to enjoy it.No matter what condition your condition is in,
The music goes on and on…
Music is the doctor, makes you feel like you want to,
Listen to the doctor, just like you want to...3The cheers at the end of the song were loud and long and Nathan was grinning from ear to ear when he slid back into his seat and reached over, giving Raine a hug.
She kissed him on the cheek, saying, "You were great!"
"Damn straight you were," Buck agreed, leaning over to grab the back of Jackson's neck and give him a shake.
"Thanks," Nathan said, dipping his head slightly in embarrassment.
"Mr. Jackson, you have been keeping your not-so-insubstantial talent under a basket," Ezra chided him.
Nathan shrugged. "I just like to sing. Do it in the shower all the time."
"And he's always singing along to the radio in the car," Raine added.
"Hey, that's good practice!" JD commented, nodding.
"Now I know how to spend some of that time on stakeouts," Josiah teased his friend.
"I'd say you're the man to beat so far, Nathan," Chris offered, a small smile on his lips. He was enjoying this as much as the others, but sometimes the memories would rise up and extinguish his pleasure, filling his heart with pain and longing. God, he still missed her, even after nearly three years. But he knew he couldn't let that stop him from supporting his team. They were doing great, and he hoped one of them would win the competition, giving him bragging rights among his peers in the other branches of federal law enforcement.
Four more rounds passed before the next member of Team Seven hit the stage. JD looked excited and more than ready when he took the mike first for the twenty-first round. He glanced over the faceless crowd, a few nervous butterflies attacking his stomach, but he ignored them. He'd done enough plays in high school to have gotten used to performing in front of a crowd. So, taking a deep breath, he nodded that he was ready to begin.
The music started and JD launched into the song, much to the delight of the crowd.Highway to the danger zone… 4"Way to go, kid!" Buck howled when JD rejoined them at the table. He held up his hand and got a high-five from the younger man, who dropped into his chair, breathless. Casey gave him a hug and a kiss, grinning as he blushed in response.
They listened as JD's competition took the stage, belting out a rather flat version of "Oklahoma." Ezra winced several times, and Vin looked like he wanted to cover his ears.
At the end of the song, the DEA agent apologized, saying that he'd been fighting a cold all week, and it had finally settled in his chest the day before yesterday.
The judges returned their decision in record time. JD Dunne was headed for the second round.
While the competition continued, Larabee leaned in slightly closer to Standish and asked, "Any word?"
"Not yet," Ezra replied. "However, he should be seeing his cousin at church tomorrow… I doubt we'll hear anything before then."
Four more rounds passed, and it was time for the last of Team Seven to show his stuff. But first Vin's competitor took the stage. The large black man from the Denver PD purred out a version of "What a Wonderful World" that had more than a few of the ladies melting in their seats, including Mary Travis.
"Oh dear," Ezra commented, seeing the effect of the man's Lou Rawls-like voice on the newspaper woman, "it appears Vin might be the only one of us not to make it into the second round. I fear Miss Travis has been besotted."
"We'll see," Chris commented, noting that Vin was talking to the man operating the laptop that controlled the karaoke machine.
After the thunderous applause died down, Vin stepped up onto the stage. And while no one else present at the bar might have noticed it, the members of Team Seven witnessed a startling transformation take place in their agent.
Vin Tanner was usually a quiet, soft-spoken man, someone who preferred to remain in the shadows, drawing as little attention to himself as possible. Even among his friends he was quiet and still somewhat reserved. In fact, none of them really knew very much about his past, or all the things he was involved with in his community. Vin was their silent, steady sniper, the one who was always there to watch their backs, and to pull their balls out of the fire when things went to hell in a heartbeat – and the one to watch out for on the first of April.
The strong, silent type, one might say, with an underlying wicked sense of humor that manifested itself in a well-timed, well-executed occasional practical joke, or a dry comeback line that had the rest of them holding their sides.
But they all knew Vin felt things deeply, even if he almost always kept the depths of his emotions carefully hidden behind those clear, pale blue eyes of his, eyes that were far older than his years. That was, until he was worried about one of them, or angered over some injustice he stumbled across. In those moments, emotions flooded his eyes, stripping off the layers of carefully constructed defenses he'd built up over an unusually difficult lifetime, leaving him open and easy to read.
Vin was, they all knew, an intensely private person, and they had all come to accept and to respect that. But now, seeing him up there on stage, there was a sudden vulnerability to the man that was both disconcerting and compelling at the same time. It was as if while singing he could no longer hold up those walls he regularly hid behind, glimpses of the man's true soul suddenly laid bare for all to see. And that gave his performance an authenticity and an emotional power no one else in the competition had demonstrated.
Josiah felt a chill chase down his spine as Vin looked up and gazed out at the crowd. He knew from his own experience behind the mike that the younger man couldn't actually see anyone's face, the lights above him making that impossible. But those same lights revealed a depth of honesty in the man's eyes that startled him. If he'd been asked to guess at that moment what Vin was going to sing, he would have said some sad ballad, but that was about as far from what Tanner had picked as one could possibly get.
The music started and while the unsettling candor never left Vin's eyes, he launched into a song that took them all by surprise. Inez had told them the night they had registered for the competition that any song on the system was available for anyone to pick, that the high tech computer would allow a man to sing a song usually performed by a woman, or vice versa, but so far no one had dared to cross the gender line. The men had all chosen songs sung by men, and the women had picked those sung by other women. Vin, however, changed that, and Josiah knew with absolute certainty that he had done so because he wanted a song that allowed him to tell a story, his story, or some part of it. The usual key had been shifted into a more comfortable one for Tanner, but the song was still as energetic as when it had been sung by the woman who popularized it.
And, as Josiah sat there, listening to Vin raise the energy in the room to its highest point in the competition since Nathan's performance, he wondered exactly what it was that the younger man was trying to tell them.I've got nothin' to be ashamed of,
Love's been a little hard on me
If I shy away it's only because
Love's been a little bit hard on me…Vin's voice was also a surprise. Deeper and more powerful than anyone would have expected; it was hard to imagine that it was actually coming from the sniper, who seemed too small, too slender to account for it. But the members of Team Seven knew those impressions were incorrect. Vin might be just under six feet tall, and trim, but he was strong and muscular, with a swimmer's proportional, well-defined physique hidden under the layers of loose clothing he favored. But the shoulder-length chestnut hair added to his already youthful appearance, making the man's powerful voice even more unexpected.
I can remember when it's been so much
Love's been a little bit had on me
I shy away from the slightest touch
Love's been a little bit hard on me…
Come out, come out
To the hopeless romantic inside
Shout it's all right, all right…Josiah's throat tightened as he watched Vin's eyes close on the next line of the song – belted out with amazing clarity and strength – and trembled, the raw truth behind the words telling him it was exactly how Vin lived.
To stay so dark
So close to the light…
I'll be back when I calm my fears
Love's been a little bit hard on me
See you around in a thousand years
Love's been a little bit hard on me… 5When the music came to an end there was a brief moment of dead silence, then the bar exploded into deafening applause. The men of Team Seven were speechless when Tanner slipped silently back into his seat to await the judges' decision.
Josiah caught the covert glance the sniper shot in Larabee's direction as he sat down, and the resulting expression of relief that followed. His breath caught, and his heart began to beat a little faster. Could it be? Could Vin actually be in love with Chris? His thoughts were scattered when Buck broke the silence.
"Wow," the ladies' man breathed, the sound all but lost in the still thundering applause, but the others could read the word on his lips just fine.
"Indeed," Ezra replied, loud enough for the others to hear him.
And, at the announcement of Vin's victory, the bar erupted again and Tanner dipped his head, trying to disappear into his seat.
"You never told us you could sing like that!" JD said. "That was amazing!"
Vin looked up, his cheeks and ears bright red from embarrassment. "Ain't no big deal…"
"'No big deal'?" Ezra echoed, his tone and expression incredulous. "My good man, you could have a lucrative career as a professional singer if you so chose."
That just made Vin's face go redder still. "Y'all got great voices," he argued. "Guess they just liked the song."
Josiah was slightly amused by Vin's modesty, but he suspected the man knew exactly what kind of voice he had, he just didn't like being the center of attention.
Nathan reached over and clapped the sniper on the back, saying, "I think you're the man to beat."
Vin shook his head. "Naw, you're gonna take that trophy home, Nate. No doubt about it."
"Hell, Vin, I thought I was!" Buck lamented, shifting the unwanted attention off the younger man at last.
The others all laughed and Tanner shot the ladies' man a grateful look.
"Only in your dreams," Chris teased his long-time friend.
Buck pulled himself up, his chest puffing out with feigned indignation. "You just wait until you hear my next song."
"Probably some dreadful ditty from the late Mr. Presley."
Buck's eyes rounded. "Dreadful?" he demanded. "Ezra, there ain't nothing dreadful about Elvis!"
Standish rolled his eyes and the two men were off, arguing about the merits of Elvis versus Sinatra. JD, unable to keep from chiming in with his own opinions, added a comparison to classic metalica, causing both men to squawk.
The last two competitors were like an afterthought, and the night ended with everyone still congratulating Vin on his stunning performance. The following Saturday they would meet again to see which of the remaining twenty-seven competitors would advance to the third round, but, until then, Team Seven still had an assignment to deal with.
28 May 2000, Sunday
0950 Hours
The men of Team Seven met early to share a breakfast of bagels and cream cheese. Larabee even broke out some local, homemade sausages he had picked up from the farmer's market and fried some of that up for the group.
They ate, talking about the competition and waiting to see if Ezra's contact would come through for them. But it wasn't until just after one o'clock that the undercover man's cell phone rang.
"Hello." Standish listened for a moment and then said, "I do appreciate it… Yes, we are squared, my friend. Thank you." He ended the call and dropped his cell phone back into his pocket. "We'll need to go now. Anzar will be moving later this evening."
1640 Hours
Team Seven set up a perimeter, Chris and Vin working their way closer so the sniper could use an infra red scope to check out the target building.
"Looks like… six… seven… eight tangos… and our hostage, on the second floor," Tanner said after he carefully scanned the old Victorian house. They were on the edge of a quiet, residential area, one of the oldest in the city. The trees here were large, towering over the rows of Victorians, many of which were showing their age. But along this street the old homes had been converted into a variety of businesses – boutiques, cafés or, in the case of the target, a small Irish pub.
Ezra was already inside, sitting and sipping on a glass of dark ale as he watched the other patrons, and in particular a Hispanic man who was seated at the end of the bar, keeping an eye on the staircase that lead to the second floor where Agent Marcario was being held.
"Ezra, give me a sitrep on the entry," Chris said quietly into his radio.
Inside the bar, the undercover man leaned over rested his chin in the curve of his thumb and index fingers, saying softly, "One set of stairs leading up, one obvious gatekeeper."
The others all heard his reply as well over the communications units they wore.
"So, how do we do this?" Nathan asked over the link.
"Could use a grenade launcher through a second story window," Buck said, more in jest than anything.
"Well, that's termination with extreme prejudice," Vin growled softly.
"I think we'll just walk in the front door," Chris stated before Wilmington could reply.
"Uh, isn't that kinda suicidal?" JD asked a little nervously. There were at least nine of Anzar's men in that house if Vin was right, and he had no doubt the sniper was.
Before Larabee could key his radio to tell Standish their plans, Ezra's voice announced, "Four coming out."
"I like your plan a little better now," Buck said with a grin at JD.
"Ezra," Chris said into his radio, "can you take out the gatekeeper?"
"Consider it done," was the undercover man's reply.
Ezra reached into the pocket of his Italian suit coat and took out what looked like a one-inch square band-aid. He removed the covering from one side of the square and stuck it to the inside of his hand, half on his fingers and half on his palm. With that done, he carefully removed the protective strip from the top of the square and casually stood, heading for the bar.
As Standish drew closer, the big man at the end of the bar stood, determined to ensure no one tried to head up the stairs.
Ezra's eyes met the guard's and he smiled widely, picking up his pace and extending his hand in the universal gesture of greeting.
The guard accepted the handshake without thinking as Standish said, "Pepe, so good to see you!"
The man frowned. "You have mistaken me for someone else," he said in heavily accented English.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," Ezra said, pulling his hand back. "Please, accept my apology." His gaze slid to the bartender and he asked, "Could I get a refill?"
"Sure, be just a second," the man replied.
Standish offered the guard one last apologetic smile, then turned to make his way back to his seat, saying softly, "I just gave our man a handshake that would knock out an elephant; you may come in." He paused and turned, watching as the guard swayed and then stumbled into the bar. A moment later the big Mexican had collapsed to the floor.
"Something's wrong with that man!" Ezra said loudly, pointing to the fallen guard. Everyone in the pub moved forward to get a look. "Somebody do something," he added with a touch of panic in his voice.
"He's havin' some kind of a fit," one of the other patrons said as Chris, Vin, and Buck entered the pub, heading straight for the stairs. The rest of the patrons crowded in closer to see.
Once hidden on the stairs, the three agents drew their silenced weapons and continued on without pause. Below them, Ezra was keeping the crowd occupied with the suggestion of plague.
Reaching the landing on the second floor, Buck stayed at the top of the stairs to guard their escape while Chris and Vin each turned in different directions, checking rooms as they made their way down the hallway. All but one door was open, and all the open rooms were empty. Marcario and her guards must be in the last room, behind the only door that was closed.
Chris waited outside the closed door, signaling for Vin to join him once the sniper made it to the end of the hallway. Tanner silently hurried back to him.
"Let's rock and roll," Larabee said softly, testing the knob, which he found unlocked.
From behind the door they could hear a television playing, a local newscaster describing a high speed chase that had ended in tragedy earlier in the day.
The two men exchanged a single look, then Chris lifted his foot and kicked open the door, he and Vin slipping swiftly into the room. "Nobody move!" Larabee snapped, and Vin repeated the words in rapid-fire Spanish.
The four men in the room all looked up, surprised. Lina was sitting in a chair, streaks of mascara staining her cheeks, but apparently unharmed.
"Time to go," Chris said, looking directly at the woman.
She nodded and stood, moving directly to Larabee's side, but careful not to step in front of him and spoil his shot. "Thank God," she said softly. "I didn't think anyone would come."
"Keep your hands up," Vin growled at the men, repeating the command in Spanish, but it was already too late. He saw one man go for a weapon resting on the chair next to him.
The sniper grabbed the man he was standing next to, jerking the guard in front of his chest just as the seated man opened fire. The man's body jerked and he fell, Vin squeezing off a burst that sent the man in the chair tumbling over backward, dead.
Tanner lunged out of the room just as the last two men opened up on them. He managed to take one of them down, but the other continued to fire through the open door and into the hallway.
As he had seen the seated man going for the gun, Chris had shoved Lina forward, toward the door. He crowded behind her to protect her retreat and to hurry her along. In the hallway, he shoved her toward Buck, snapping, "Get her out of here!"
Vin reached Larabee's shoulder a moment later, the shooter coming out of the room, firing at them. Tanner lunged, placing himself between Chris and the shooter, knocking the man's arm up so he was firing into the hallway ceiling. His own weapon was too large to bring up for a shot, and his body was blocking Larabee's shot. But they were lucky and the shooter panicked, dropping his weapon, turning, and throwing himself through the window at the end of the hallway before Tanner could fire.
Chris grabbed Vin by the shoulder and jerked him around, the two men heading down the stairs. At the bottom they were met by the yells of patrons, the wails of sirens and general chaos that covered the events upstairs. Weapons disappeared under their coats and they headed straight out, no one the wiser about what had happened.
1755 Hours
"That the safe house?" Josiah asked over the comm unit as they neared the address they had been given by their CIA contact.
"It is," JD confirmed from a second vehicle.
"Something's wrong," Buck added. He was driving, sitting next to JD.
"And I don't think it's affirmative action," Vin added, noting that all of the guards stationed around the supposed safe house were Hispanics. He met Chris' gaze in the rearview mirror.
"Keep moving," Chris instructed the other drivers of the SUVs. "There's been a leak," he snarled. "Split up, meet at the fallback rally point in two hours," he instructed the men. Josiah and Nathan took a right, Buck and JD a left, their vehicles quickly disappearing.
"Let me out," Vin said from the back seat. "I'll see what they do, then hook up with Ezra an' meet ya."
Larabee nodded, pulling over to the curb in the next block. Tanner slipped from the back and started away. Chris glanced over at the woman. "Looks like you're with me."
She nodded.
"How many men does Anzar have here in Denver?" he asked her.
She shook her head, saying, "Too many; and too many eyes and ears in the federal building."
That prompted a scowl from Larabee, but he didn't say anything. They drove in silence for a while, and then Chris pulled into the parking lot of a large mall and parked. They left the vehicle and headed out on foot, away from the mall.
Almost an hour later they reached a rundown building, Larabee leading the way into the basement. When they were in a dark corner, hidden in the shadows, he told her, "We'll wait here until it's dark, then join the others."
A few minutes later Larabee's radio clicked. He gave an answering click in reply.
"Y' someplace safe?" Vin's voice asked him.
"We are."
"Sit tight then," Tanner told him. "Allen just showed up at the safe house. Didn't look none too happy either."
"Shit," Larabee replied. So their DEA contact was the one on Anzar's payroll – just great. "We're going to need transpo, but not until it's dark."
"Sounds good," Vin replied. "Meet us where the pink ponies play."
"Roger that," Chris said, then returned his radio to his pocket. He and Agent Marcario had some time to kill.
"Are they going to come get us?" she asked him nervously.
"No. We'll find our own transpo once it's dark and meet them."
"What if we're late? Will they leave us out here?" she asked, the edge of panic clear in her trembling voice.
"They won't," Larabee assured her. "It doesn't work that way with us."
"One of them might work for Anzar."
"No way," he assured her with a shake of his head. "Look, just relax. It'll be dark in a couple of hours and we'll head out."
"They're going to kill me," she said, beginning to shake. "I saw too much… heard too much…"
"Take it easy. It'll be fine. We'll get you to someone who can protect you."
"Who?" she demanded, looking up at him, eyes flashing. "There are DEA and CIA agents working for Anzar and Salazar. They can't let me talk–"
"Everybody comes home," Chris told her. "That's how we work."
She snorted derisively.
"You think that's funny?"
"Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time a government agent's lied to me, or an operation went south. It's hard to find good help these days."
"Yeah? Seems like you're pretty good at what you do," he told her. "You had Salazar wrapped up nice and tight in your bed."
She blinked, slightly taken aback. Then she smiled. "Yes, well, we all have our talents, don't we?" she challenged him. "And Uncle Sam pays us for them. But I haven't killed anyone."
Chris snorted at that, but he really looked at the women for the first time. She was pretty, with an alluring figure and long, thick black hair. Her almond-shaped brown eyes were large and flattering, and her skin was pale, but touched with a honey glow. "How'd you end up in this business?" he asked her.
She smiled sadly. "My mother. She was a domestic for a rich man in Los Angeles. Then, one day, she didn't come home. I found out later she'd been working for Carlos Rivera, Anzar's uncle. A friend of his had seen her and decided to… enjoy her. When she fought back, he killed her. The police found her body several weeks later…"
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.
She nodded. "I decided I wanted to rid the world of men like Rivera…" Glancing over at him again, she asked, "And you?"
Chris shrugged. "Just happened… Navy, PD, then–" He stopped, not sure he wanted to tell her which agency he was with.
She smiled sadly. "We all have our secrets," she told him. "If I had to guess, I'd say… CIA?"
He smiled, letting her think whatever she wanted. It didn't matter. All that did was getting her to Travis. Let him deal with the higher ups. He'd know who he could trust.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
"Tell me something," Lina said a short while later. "Why would you risk your people's lives when it would've been easier to just kill me?"
Larabee hesitated for a moment and then replied, "Let's just say it's a weakness of mine. I have an aversion to killing fellow agents who are just doing their job."
Before she could reply, the sound of a motor stopped the conversation. Chris moved to a small window that opened at street level. From there he was able to see a car creeping slowly down the alleyway. He frowned when he was able to see that the vehicle was a black sedan – the universal fed-mobile. He cursed silently and reached for the 45 he carried.
"What is it?" she asked him.
Larabee lifted his hand to silence her, watching as someone climbed out of the car. Voices drifted down to him, enough of the Spanish understandable. They were asking a couple of local street people about a pair of gringo strangers. But the homeless teens they had asked hadn't seen anything, the car moved on. When it was gone, he turned and leaned back against the wall.
"We have to get you someplace safe. Whoever Anzar's got inside is pulling out all the stops."
She hesitated for a moment, like she was trying to decide how far she could trust him.
"What?" he demanded. "If you're holding something back–"
"I know someone," she said. "Someone I trust. I'm sure he could keep me safe until you find someone to debrief me. But it has to be someone you trust – completely."
He nodded. "Who is this guy?" She shook her head and he flashed a wry grin. "We all have our secrets, right?"
"It's the nature of the business."
Your business, he thought, but he said out loud, "Where?"
"He'll know I'm out in the cold. We… had a plan… There's an abandoned building, in Purgatorio. If we can get there…"
Larabee thought for a moment and then nodded. It was getting dark outside anyway. He reached for his radio, but she held up her hand to stop him.
"It's not that I don't trust you, I do, but I don't trust the rest of your team. I've already been hung out to dry once. You can make the call once we're there."
He didn't like it, but he could understand her desire for caution. He'd feel much the same if he was in her position. He nodded and they headed back to the exit. But, as they walked, he reached into his pocket and turned on the radio, giving it three clicks before leaving it on in his pocket.
2020 Hours
Chris studied the old warehouse. It was one of many on the southeastern edge of Purgatorio, an area still untouched by the urban renewal that had transformed a large portion of the lower downtown area. "You sure your contact will be here?"
"Yeah," she said.
They approached the building from the southern side, where all of the nearby lights had either burned out or been shot out. They slipped inside the 19th century brick building and picked their way through the debris scattered over the cement floors.
They had just reached a dimply lit area when several men with guns stepped out from behind pillars and old crates. "Your contact needs guards?" Chris asked her, his gut telling him something was wrong, very wrong.
"Something like that," she replied, her voice colder than he'd heard it.
A moment later, he was firing, the men returning fire. Larabee was struck in the thigh and went down. A few moments later he was surrounded and disarmed.
Alejandro Salazar stepped out from behind cover to join them. "Thank you, Agent Larabee, for returning what doesn't belong to you." Lina emerged from cover and walked over to join him. He smiled down at her, saying, "Welcome home, darling."
Chris was quickly checked for additional weapons and his radio confiscated as Lina and Salazar exchanged a deep, passionate kiss. The agent sighed softly, wishing Travis had been wrong, and hoping the others had been able to triangulate his location by now. If they hadn't, he was a dead man.
That private talk at Travis' home had revealed more than he'd expected the older man to share with him. There were some in the government who hadn't believed Salazar was truly dead, and they had obviously been right. There were also those who were afraid that Agent Marcario had fallen for the charismatic Colombian, and it appeared they had been right about that was well. Which explained the terminate order. They hadn't been willing to take any chances. They had left that to Larabee and his team.
2035 Hours
Larabee was seated on an old wooden chair, his hands tied securely behind his back. Nearby, Lina Marcario stood, watching him. She had tied down a field dressing on his bleeding leg a moment ago, but he could feel it still seeping.
"Why would you betray your country, your fellow agents, for a man like Salazar?"
"Alejandro is one step away from taking control in Colombia. Those in power there listen to him, and he listens to me."
Larabee snorted derisively. "You've seen Evita one too many times, lady."
"We all have our destinies, Agent Larabee, mine is to lead a country."
"And mine?"
"To be bait… so we can lure in the rest of your team… and erase them." She sighed heavily and began to hum a tune Larabee thought he recognized. He was sure of it as she began to sing, her voice a clear if cold soprano.Some girls go to church on Sunday
Live life by the golden rule
You got girls gonna graduate one day
Some come laude from party school
Some they walk the straight and narrow
Some girls they just don't care
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls, go everywhere
Some girls are into heavy metal
Dance with the devil everywhere they go
Others of 'em cut a rug to the fiddle
Dance to the rhythm of the cotton eyed joe
Some they walk the straight and narrow
Some girls they just don't care
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls, go everywhere
Miss high fullutin' likes to sip fine champagne
Prim and proper drippin' in diamond rings
Little sister wears high heals and blue jeans
A long neck drinkin' certified wild thang
Some they walk the straight and narrow
Some girls they just don't care
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls, go everywhere
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls go everywhere 6Chris snorted when she was done. "Any sometimes they end up dead," he told her.
Salazar interrupted them, walking in to join them. "Has he told you anything?"
She shook her head.
"Who sent you?" Salazar demanded. "CIA? DEA? Who?"
She frowned. "Our people inside couldn't tell you?
"All that they could tell me is that Agent Larabee and his men are ATF, but not who asked them to come for you, my dear."
"ATF?" she echoed, her tone incredulous. She shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Perhaps that is only a cover…" He stepped up to Chris and slapped him hard across the face. "No matter. Marco discovered that his radio had been left on. No doubt his men will be arriving shortly. And then they will be dead, just like Anzar is dead. We will leave behind enough evidence so they will know you and your men killed him, Agent Larabee." He smiled and delivered another blow to Chris' face. "Lina and I will be on our way back to Colombia…"
Close by
Ezra shook his head. "They really do get full of themselves, don't they?"
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Josiah quoted.
"So, what do we do?" JD asked, looking around at the others.
"Just like any other hostile strike, JD," Vin said softly, his gaze locked on the radio as they heard Salazar striking Larabee for a second time. "We go in 'n' blow their fuckin' egos away."
"Now we know why there was a terminate order attached to Ms. Marcario," Ezra said on a sigh. "Someone must have suspected she'd been turned."
Vin's chin jerked up and his eyes flashed. "They should've told us."
Josiah reached out, resting his hand on Tanner's shoulder. "Too many layers of bullshit, you know how that works, brother."
"They were probably hoping we could get her out alive," Nathan offered. "So they could get a shot at debriefing her, find out who's on Salazar's payroll."
"Anzar's too, probably. But none of it matters now," Buck cut in. "All that does is gettin' Chris out of there alive."
"We'll get him out," Tanner growled, blue eyes narrowed with determination.
Wilmington nodded, but he didn't say anything more. He had seen that look before, and he knew what it meant. Tanner was on a hunt, and nothing or nobody was going to stop him from reaching Chris. And, if they tried, they were going to end up dead.
2050 Hours
Alone on his chair, Chris struggled to free himself. He knew his men would be nearby, knew they would come for him, but he didn't want to take the chance one of them might get wounded or killed, not if he could escape and slip away on his own. But his struggles were ended when Lina returned with two guards.
Damn. There was nothing for him to do now but wait, and pray that none of his people got hurt trying to save him.