J Saint - Collateral Damage

"Yes." Jack shifted quickly her way. "Do you have any Curious George books in your house?"

"Yeah. One or two I think. The boys are into Thomas the Tank Engine, so we rarely read Curious George." Eyes wide, her voice rose as her vision literally turned red. "You think Bill put evidence in his sons' books that people would kill for?" Rage curled deep into her gut.

Jack and Roger shared a look.

"You need to tell her," Jack said.

"What?"

Weston continued, "Considering the scope and ramifications of the terrorists acts detailed by your husband-"

"No," Lauren interjected. "Just call him Bill. Makes my stomach turn just a little less acid."

"The President is ordering a joint agency task force to investigate this."

Jack spoke up. "Which means they could be raiding your house now, looking for evidence, looking for clues. Looking for the identity of his employer."

Before they reached Bragg, Roger Weston received a call asking for him to bring her and Jack to a different place.

"I don't like this," Jack said as they drove up to the private residence just outside Fayetteville. Two men dressed in black and carrying guns guarded the gated entrance.

"Where are we?" The queasiness in Lauren's stomach intensified.

"A National Clandestine Service hideaway."

"Like that helps." Lauren looked at Jack, incredulous. "I'm going into the lion's den. One out for blood."

"I'm right here with you." Jack looked back and met her gaze as they drove through the tall gate and up the wooded drive. Emotionally he was as distant as when he marched out of the kitchen, but he was holding to his promise to protect her. "Just tell them the truth about everything and you'll be okay."

"You obviously don't read the news," she said.

"I do. Maybe I should have said I'll make it okay."

"Don't promise." Weston's voice was thick with something dark and painful. "Sometimes making things okay isn't possible. All you can do is the best you can."

The trees broke to reveal a plantation-style Southern mansion with armed guards out front. Queasy turned into a sour knot of nausea as Lauren exited the car and a hard-nosed, bald man with the personality of a hundred-pound bowling ball barreled out of the house and began shouting orders.

Her goal was to get to the truth as quickly as possible so she declined their offer of an attorney, but soon regretted that she didn't take them up on the delay. She had no idea how hard it would be. Her rage at Bill grew and became a solid ball of something close to hate as she underwent grueling hour after hour of questioning. The NCS bowling ball with the official title of SOO and insisted on being called "director" was relentless, repeating questions, discounting her answers, and prying into every second of every minute of her life from the moment she met Bill until today. Her and Jack's investigation into Bill's activities had been taken over by heavy-handed men with little care for or interest in her as a person. She was a means to an end to them.

She had to give Jack credit. He didn't leave her side and he put his face into the NCS man's face every time the man stepped out of line. Jack had almost come to blows with the man several times. Once had been at the onset, when they'd been determined to interrogate her alone, and Jack informed that wasn't going to happen. She'd either be with him or she'd postpone until she found an attorney.

Six hours? Seven? Eight? She'd lost count. They supplied caffeine and food and water, but her throat was still raw from the strain and her mind punch drunk.

Finally they slid a piece of paper in front of her and Jack and asked her if she knew what it meant. Her eyes were blurry by this point and she had to blink it into focus. Then she read the words on the page and dread gripped her by the throat.

…the real prize will be won when green world burns and Earnhardt, Jrs win the race with the super formula in their tanks.

"OH MY GOD." Lauren grabbed Jack's arm, reeling, her heart slamming wildly in her chest. Even her vision blurred. "The boys' birthday presents! Bill sent them Dale Earnhardt, Jr. race cars. Surely he didn't put something inside them. Please. God. No."

Jack pulled her into his arms, but she could barely feel him against her.

"We're done here," Jack told the man. "The boys are in Disney World with a Delta teammate and their godmother. The cars are with them."

Lauren practically bit through her lip; her fear for her sons was all consuming. Jack pulled out his phone.

"Shit, I have a missed call from Rico. Do you all have a cell jammer set up?" He hit voice mail. The men only shrugged.

"I have Collins's sons. I'll call back. Maybe."

The bottom fell out of Lauren's entire world, pain and terror ripped her apart.

1600 hours

Jack grasped Lauren's shoulders as she reeled. His gut clenched, sickened with dread. If someone had Lauren's sons, odds were Rico was dead.

"Matt. Mitch." Every breaking crack in her heart wrenched painfully in her whispered cry. She grabbed the front of his shirt, looking into his eyes. God she'd been through so much, how could she take more?

The depth of terror in her gaze matched that in his heart.

"Who, Jack? Who has my sons?"

"I don't know." Having to say those words killed him. He'd failed to keep them safe.

Lauren pushed back from him and faced the hard-nosed NCS SOO who asked everyone to call him Director as if he were the only official in existence. The ass probably didn't want people knowing his name.

Lauren's devastation erupted into rage. "While I've been telling you every damn detail of crap that doesn't matter, my children were kidnapped!"

She balled her fist and slammed it down on the paper. "Where did this come from? Why didn't you show it to me earlier?"

"It was the fax sent from Bob Cantrell. My men have been looking for a code."

A man stepped into the room. He left the door open and Jack tensed as he assessed the stranger's aura of lethal power and rage hidden beneath a thin veneer of civility.

"The fax sent THIS MORNING?" Lauren sucked in air, drawing Jack's attention back to her. She was livid and he couldn't blame her in the least. He knew how things worked when it came to investigating and interrogating acts of terrorism, and even he was enraged at the delay in seeing the fax. A delay that may have cost Rico his life.

Before Jack could speak up, Lauren's anger exploded and Jack thought she'd plow her fist into the SOO's face. "Code!" she yelled. "My sons are now kidnapped because you delayed hours and hours before showing me this! I'll tell you code. The cars are the birthday presents Bill sent the boys and the 'real prize' must mean what someone is murdering people to get and 'green world' doesn't have 'the' in front of it, so we aren't talking the earth but a particular place or-Jack!"

Lauren turned to him, her eyes wide, incredulous. "GreenWorld! Could Bill be referring to the corporation the man on TV owns? The one with the new fuel and the primate preserve? The man with the chimp?" Her eyes widened. Do you think he is the man with-?"

Jack's pulse raced. "The yellow hat?"

"Good. Damn good," the stranger said in a Scottish accent. Jack in no way liked the man's assessment of Lauren.

The director turned to the stranger. "Rash, about time you arrived."

"Just in time."

"You already knew who the man in the yellow hat was?" Lauren's outrage was gale force.

"No." Rash's expression was coldly harsh. "I've discovered Andreas Miles is Juan Pablo Menendez, but hadn't made the connection to the mastermind behind Bill Collins's account of the worldwide meltdown."

"Menendez?" Jack searched his memory. "The infamous drug lord who disappeared Jimmy-Hoffa like ten years ago?"