Page 154 of Storm Warning

The jet’s engines revved as Seth and Andre pulled up the stairs and secured the door. “Go, go, go,” Seth and the other operatives still standing dropped into the nearest seats and strapped in.

The jet rolled down the airstrip, gaining speed every second until it lifted from the ground and banked to the right to head toward home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

SEVEN HOURS LATER, Riley descended the jet stairs with Andre and stepped onto the tarmac at John C. Tune Airport. A short distance away, four men dressed in black suits, dark ties, white shirts, and shoes shiny enough to see her face in walked toward the operatives.

Feds. Her lip curled. She ought to know since she used to be one. Thank goodness she’d come to her senses and accepted Brent’s job offer.

Andre set his bags on the ground and shifted to step slightly in front of her.

Riley wanted to roll her eyes in exasperation, but the gesture was kind of sweet. Since curiosity was eating her alive, she stepped to the side to get a better view of the crew who would take charge of their prisoner. Although he was still asleep, the drug Violet used was only good for around twelve hours. After that, Garcia would wake disoriented, cranky, and hungry.

The feds arrived as Brent stepped onto the tarmac. Short One walked up to Brent with an outstretched hand.

“Rob Foster, FBI.”

“I want to see identification from all of you.”

The four men exchanged glances and reached into their pockets for their credential wallets. They handed them over as each man introduced himself to the Fortress CEO.

The boss took his sweet time examining their credentials and returning them. “What do you want?”

Foster spoke up first. “Javier Garcia.”

“What about him?”

“You have him. We want him. Simple as that.”

Riley flinched at the implied insult. Man, she hoped Brent was in a good mood after a successful mission. Otherwise, he would tear strips off their hides before he really got mean.

He folded his arms across his chest and eyed Foster. “As simple as that, huh?” Brent shook his head. “You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”

The agent’s face flushed. “I don’t appreciate….”

“I don’t care if I hurt your feelings. What I care about is getting back to my family in the next hour so I don’t miss my daughter’s dance competition. I care about holding my wife for a long time, and I care that we escaped Obsidian Storm and damaged the organization. But do you know what I really care about?”

Foster rolled his finger in the sign to keep going.

“Two things. One, I’m concerned your interrogators won’t learn anything from Garcia. Two, I’m also concerned about your ability to keep Garcia in custody.” His gaze raked across the four of them. “Frankly, I doubt it.”

Foster’s face darkened further. “Shut up. Just shut up. Have some respect for the office if not the person. And for your information, we have more experience interrogating high-value targets than you could ever dream about.”

Andre huffed. “What kind of convoluted line are you feeding yourself, Foster? Do you really expect us to believe your lies?”

“Are you serious right now? I’m a federal agent. We’re here to help. The only trouble I see around here is you and your girlfriend.”

“Find a mirror, dude.” He inclined his head toward the jet’s stairs. “There’s your package. Boss, I assume we’re debriefing tomorrow?”

Brent gave him a slight nod without taking his gaze from the feds. “Go.”

“Wait a minute.” Foster glowered at Brent. “I need to interview Marsh and Sloan.” His lip curled as though an unpleasant taste had assaulted his taste buds.

Andre scowled as he rounded on the agent. “Let’s cut to the chase. You want to interrogate us.”

The other man shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

Riley grabbed Andre’s arm when he took a step toward Foster with a clenched fist. “Not worth it.”