Desperate Deeds

Book 3: An A-Tac Novel

by Dee Davis

Genres: Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

As the demolitions expert for A-Tac, a black-ops CIA unit masquerading as Ivy League faculty, Tyler Hanson has two great loves: literature and explosives. She lives by the motto "Duty First" and doesn't have time for personal attachments . . . until a steamy one-night stand turns into a professional partnership. BURNED BY BETRAYAL When Tyler meets Owen Wakefield, a handsome British operative, she seduces him with no intention of ever seeing him again. But then the sexy Brit is brought into A-Tac, and despite Tyler's efforts to keep her distance, she finds herself falling for him. Trusting him. Owen seems too good to be true - and he is. He's hiding his true motives and identity, and no matter how he feels about Tyler, he can't keep her secrets. One of A-Tac's members has turned traitor and helped terrorists to hijack a shipment of nuclear weapons. As witnesses start dying and evidence starts disappearing, Owen and Tyler must race to find the mole - and prevent a final, cataclysmic act of destruction.

Release date: August 2, 2010

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 400

Sample

Southeastern Colorado

So are we in any danger here?” Lieutenant Roger Mather asked.


“As long as we don’t hit any big bumps, we should be fine.” Tyler Hanson glanced over at the young soldier driving the van,
feeling a twinge of guilt as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “I’m kidding,” she assured
him, swallowing a smile. “The detonators are totally harmless without a payload attached.”


“So then what’s with all the precautions?” His fingers relaxed, but his frown lingered. “I mean, since when is an outsider
called in to handle a routine weapons transfer?”


“I’m not exactly an outsider. I come from an army family.”

“Ah,” Mather nodded, “an army brat.”

“Exactly. I bounced around from base to base following my father. And I enlisted as soon as I was old enough. Did my basic
training at Fort Hood.”


“The armpit of Texas,” Anthony Gerardi commiserated from his perch in the back of the van. “So why’d you opt out?”

“Let’s just say I found a higher calling—or maybe I should say it found me. Anyway, here I am.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that your being here marks something bigger than just a run-of-the-mill transport,” Anthony observed,
his eyes narrowed speculatively as he cut a glance at the crate holding the detonators.


“Look,” Tyler said, turning so that she could see them both, “the detonators are prototypes. Microelectromechanical systems.
Technically advanced devices that aren’t available on the open market.”


“Come again?” Roger asked, eyes on the road.

“They’re nanotechnology. Part of a drive to miniaturize nuclear weapons.”

“So why are we shipping them to the Brits?” Anthony asked.

“Because they helped develop them. And shared in the cost. It was a joint effort, and now that this phase of development is
completed, each country will continue working on its own. Anyway, our job is to make sure that the devices make it safely
to Colorado Springs.”


“To the Air Force base.” Roger nodded. “And from there?”

“They’ll be transferred to British control.”

“You still haven’t explained why you’re involved in all of this,” Anthony prompted.

“In my unit, I’m the expert in munitions.” She shrugged. “So when we drew the mission, I was the obvious choice to go.”

“And by unit—you mean A-Tac.” Roger and Anthony exchanged glances.

“I see you’ve done your homework.”

Anthony smiled. “A little. When we heard you were going to be involved, we did some digging. Still seems odd, though, that
you guys would be called in.”


“Yeah, well, I had the same thought. But the order came from the top. CIA brass. And when my bosses call, I listen.”

“Doesn’t sound that different from the Army,” Anthony said.

“You said you were military.” Roger turned slightly, his brow furrowed with confusion. Then recognition dawned. “You’re General
Hanson’s daughter.” His eyes widened, fear mixing with respect. It was always like that. Her father was an icon. A soldier’s
soldier. He’d fought in three wars and worked for five administrations. Most recently as an undersecretary at the Pentagon.
Even in his retirement, he’d kept his finger on the nation’s military pulse. Until a new enemy had surfaced, threatening to
rob him of the very essence that made him who he was.


“Guilty as charged,” she said, turning her head to look out the window. Forest lined the road on either side, the trees looming
black against the midnight sky. An occasional light blinked in the distance, but for the most part the area was uninhabited,
which was exactly why they’d chosen this particular route.


“Wow.” Anthony whistled. “Talk about connected.”

“From my point of view, it’s mainly a pain in the ass,” she said.

Roger sighed. “And I know just what you mean about relatives.”

“Sounds like there’s more to that story,” Tyler said, not really interested, but grateful to move away from discussing her
father.


“Yeah.” Anthony grinned. “He married the base commander’s daughter.”

“Hey, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Roger shrugged.

“Maybe,” Anthony said, “but if I thought getting married would mean sitting behind a desk for the rest of my career, I’d seriously
reconsider.”


“I take it your father-in-law isn’t keen for you to see any action?” Tyler asked.

“Exactly.” Roger nodded. “I was all set to ship out with my unit to Afghanistan. But when we found out Mary was pregnant,
she got totally freaked. Wanted me home. So her father pulled some strings. Said it was better for the family. And here I
am.”


“Totally screwed,” Anthony said, commiserating.

“How far along is your wife?”

“Six months. She’s stopped throwing up. But she’s started with the mood swings. You have any kids?”

“No way,” Tyler said. “I’m not interested in any kind of commitment. My job doesn’t allow for it. And even if it did, I’d
pass. No offense intended, but most relationships just aren’t worth the effort.”


“Now who’s got a story?” Roger smiled.

“Nothing worth telling,” Tyler said, folding her arms as she looked out the window again. “And for what it’s worth, I wish
my father had been home more. Might have made things a hell of a lot easier for all of us. So enjoy the time you’ve got. There’ll
be time for deployments later.”


“Not if General Fisher has anything to say about it,” Anthony teased.

“Shut it,” Roger warned, but he smiled. Clearly the lieutenant wasn’t as displeased with his situation as he pretended.

Tyler stared out the window, wondering how it would feel to be part of a family that really worked. Hers had been as dysfunctional
as it got, although in later years she’d come to understand her father better. Or at least why his marriages hadn’t worked.
And why he’d left her on her own so much of the time. Duty was a bitch. Along with loyalty to country. They always came first.
Always.

If she ever married, she’d wind up taking the backseat. Expected to fulfill the traditional role—the little woman, just like
her mother. Justin’s defection had only proved the point.


She swallowed as memory reared its ugly head. She’d loved Justin with every ounce of her being—and he’d betrayed her in the
worst kind of way, expecting her to give up everything for him. His career over hers. And when she’d refused, he’d walked
away—and some part of her had died. Which frankly, suited her just fine.


She had all the family she needed. Her brother Mark. And her unit at the CIA. She’d been with A-Tac for almost ten years now.
A lifetime, all things considered. And the friendships she’d forged meant everything. She shook her head, banishing her rambling
thoughts as she looked out at the starswept night. She’d always loved the mountains. There was something majestic about them,
even now, in the dark, when their profile was little more than a shadow beyond the line of the trees.


“What’s that?” Roger asked, slowing the van as a shape loomed out of the darkness.

Tyler leaned forward, squinting as the van’s headlights caught the gleam of metal. “Looks like a motorcycle,” she said.

“What the hell is it doing here?” Anthony asked, already reaching for his gun.

“I don’t know,” Tyler said, her eyes locked on the fallen bike. “Maybe there’s been an accident.”

“Or maybe someone’s trying to block the way.” Anthony frowned.

“Not likely.” She shook her head. “There’s no way anyone could know that we’re here. Besides, it’s really not much of a blockade.
I mean, we could get around it if we needed to.”


“So maybe that’s what we should do,” Roger said as he pulled the van to the side of the road.

“Someone could be hurt,” Tyler said, reaching into her coat pocket for a flashlight. “You guys stay in the van. I’ll check
it out.” She opened the door and hopped out, her senses on high alert. “Keep close watch,” she cautioned. “And if anything
happens, get the hell out of here. Don’t wait for me.” She didn’t honestly think there was any danger, but she’d learned a
long time ago not to take chances.


Except for the soft whine of the van and the wind in the spruce, the road was quiet. No signs of life—just the discarded chassis
of the motorcycle. From its angle, she guessed it had been abandoned in a hurry, probably to avoid oncoming traffic. She moved
the beam of her light, her eyes following the line of a skid, the mark seeming to confirm her hypothesis.


To the left of the road, the mountain rose straight upward, the rocky face impassable. To the right, behind a shattered guard
rail, the scree-covered shoulder sloped sharply as it dropped down to the forest floor.


Tyler leaned down to feel the engine of the motorcycle. Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t been recent. Still, she needed
to make certain that no one was stuck out here without help. The county road was an old one, the pass less traveled than the
newer highway to the east. They’d chosen it on purpose. But the very reasons they’d decided on the route made it a danger
for anyone in trouble.


Careful to keep an eye on the road and the woods beyond, she walked back over to the van. “The engine’s cold. Which means
that the bike’s been here a while. But I need to make sure no one is stranded or injured. So I’m going to check over there
where the guard rail’s broken.”


“I’ll move the bike,” Anthony said. “Might as well make it easy on us.”

“Just keep your eyes open,” Tyler said. “Roger, you stay with the detonators. And as before, if there’s any trouble—”

“I know. I know,” he said, lifting his hands. “Pedal to the metal.”

“Dude, you watch too many old movies,” Anthony said, as he jumped down to the pavement, a rifle slung across his back.

The two of them walked back to the motorcycle, and then as Anthony leaned down to pick up the bike, Tyler headed to the far
side of the road and the guard rail. One of the wooden support posts had been knocked down, the metal railing bent and twisted.
She knelt, the flashlight beam illuminating the rocky scree and the pine needle carpet stretching out into the forest.


At the foot of a gnarled old spruce, the light caught on something blue. Tyler frowned and stepped over the railing. Moving
the beam slowly across the ground, she tried to make out what it was she was seeing, but the distance was simply too great.
So after signaling her intent to Anthony, she began to make her way down the steep incline.


The darkness, combined with the loose rock, made it rough going, her tumbling thoughts making the descent even more difficult.
It had been her mother’s scarf, caught on the bridge’s railing, that had first alerted a passerby of something amiss. But
they’d assumed it was flotsam. Nothing worth worrying over.


Tyler shook her head. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

As she reached the bottom of the incline, the woods closed in around her, the damp smell of earth and vegetation filling her
nose. From this angle she couldn’t see the highway above her. And thanks to the overhanging trees, she couldn’t hear much
either. Sweeping the flashlight beam over the ground, she located the flash of blue she’d seen from above.


After making her way over to the base of the tree, she bent to retrieve the swatch of material, her fingers tightening reflexively
around the oblong piece of silk. Her mother’s scarf had been blue, too. The coincidence was enough to send chills racing through
her, followed by a wash of suspicion.


Tyler didn’t believe in coincidence.

She pulled her gun and turned slowly in a circle, the flashlight’s beam fading as it shot out into the forest. The pines shimmied
and aspen leaves rattled, the hollow sound swelling as the wind swept through the trees.


“Is anyone out there?” Tyler called, her voice swallowed by the wind. “Hello?” She frowned and turned slowly again, still
clutching the scarf. “Anyone?” Leaves swirled at her feet and behind her rocks skittered down the slope. She swung around,
her instincts moving into overdrive. Something was wrong.


She started back up the slope just as a shot rang out from the road above. A burst of adrenaline sent her scrambling upward,
but in her haste she stumbled, falling to her knees, the scarf whipping out of her hands, the wind carrying it back into the
forest. Another shot broke through the night, this one followed by several more.


She pushed herself to her feet and clawed her way back up the steep embankment. At the top, she dropped down behind the guard
rail, gun at the ready, while she tried to assess the situation. The van was still parked on the far side of the road, its
headlights cutting through the dark, illuminating the motorcycle, now safely on the far shoulder. And just beyond it—a body.


Anthony’s.

Anger mixed with bile as she fought to maintain control. Another round of gunfire erupted from somewhere behind the van. Roger
rounded the front of the vehicle, firing behind him. Without stopping to think, she popped up, providing cover. Roger turned
in her direction, running full out as bullets exploded at his feet. Two gunmen came around the van from the back, both firing.


Tyler moved closer, using a fallen tree branch for cover. Roger was only a few hundred feet away now, crouched low and moving
on a zigzag. She fired in the direction of their assailants, knowing that she was too far away to kill them but praying that
she was close enough to keep them from finding their mark.


At first it seemed to be working, and then just as Roger reached the guard rail, he fell forward, clutching his side. Springing
to her feet, Tyler moved so that she was between him and the gunmen. Another man had emerged from behind the truck, which
meant that now there were three of them. All armed, and closing fast.


Not the best of odds, but she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight. Still shooting, she knelt beside Roger, feeling
for a pulse, her heart dropping when she realized there was none. Scrambling backward, she leaped over the guard rail, using
the rusty metal to provide a modicum of protection. She fired twice more at the approaching men, then pivoted when she heard
gravel crunch behind her.


A fourth gunman appeared through the gloom, his gun leveled at her gut. She fired, but he was faster, the force of the bullet
knocking her backward to the edge of the embankment. For a moment she teetered there, trying to hold her balance, and then
another bullet slammed into her and she fell, tumbling down the steep slope, her gun going flying as rocks clawed at her skin,
the world seeming to move in slow motion as she slammed to the bottom, hitting her head first against a tree and then against
the sharp edge of a rock.


She struggled to hold on to her thoughts. Thinking of Roger. His wife. Their baby. And Anthony laughing about old movies.
She’d faced death more times than she cared to admit. But this time it seemed as if maybe her luck had run out.


From above her, she felt more than saw the bright beam of a flashlight. And she tried to sit up, to find some kind of weapon,
but her limbs weren’t working, her mind going fuzzy. She stared up at the gnarled limbs of the old tree, surprised to see
the oblong piece of blue silk.


The color seemed brighter than before. Like a doorway, beckoning.

And as she gave in to the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness, she realized that, like her mother, she was probably destined
to die alone.


Someone was trying to strangle her. She could feel fingers around her neck, and pressure against her chest. Summoning every
ounce of strength she had remaining, Tyler struck out, satisfied to hear a grunt of pain. These bastards were going to pay
for what they had done to Roger and Anthony.


Shrieking like a banshee, her hand closed around a rock as she rose to her knees and raised her arm, trying desperately to
focus on the dark shapes of the men surrounding her. Fighting against nausea, she squinted her eyes as she swung her fist.


A steely hand intercepted hers, fingers locking on her wrist like a vise, a pair of eyes so blue they were almost black boring
down into hers. “Never a good idea to kill the medic.” The voice was British, refined. “He was just trying to make certain
that you were all right.”


“He was trying to choke me.” Tyler frowned, her head spinning as she fought against his hold. “I could feel his fingers.”

“He was taking your pulse.” The man lifted an eyebrow, waiting. And Tyler shook her head, her vision finally clearing. A man
with a medical bag and a medic’s insignia stood off to one side, eyeing her warily. Beyond him, she could see the others,
military men, working the scene.


With a sigh, she relaxed her arm, allowing the man with midnight eyes to take the rock.

“I didn’t know.” Her gaze locked with his, and she blew out a shaky breath. He nodded, releasing her wrist, the sudden lack
of contact oddly disarming. “I thought they were still trying to kill me.”


“Who was trying to kill you?” A beefy-looking man with a general’s star stepped into the light, his voice tight with anger.

“I’ve no idea,” Tyler said, instinctively flinching away, searching for her blue-eyed stranger, disappointed when she realized
he was gone. “I only saw them from a distance.”


“And why exactly was that?”

“I was down here. Looking for a body.” The minute it came out, she knew how stupid it sounded. Especially in light of all
that had happened. She’d been duped. But she wasn’t about to let this man know the full extent of it. “There was a motorcycle
in the road. We thought that someone had been hurt. So I checked it out.”


“Where were Mather and Gerardi?” the man asked, making notes on a small pad of paper.

“With the transport.” She blew out a breath, trying to clear her head, but everything was going hazy again, her beleaguered
brain pulling out the images of Roger and Anthony’s bodies. “Are they…”


“Dead?” The man glared down at her, and she felt a wash of nausea, the taste of bile bitter in her throat. “Yes, they are,”
he said, his voice laced with contempt. “But then you already knew that.”


“I tried to help,” she gasped, struggling for breath, her lungs feeling as if they were collapsing. “I was too late. What
about the detonators?”


“They’re gone.” His mouth tightened as he said the words. “Stolen.”

“Pardon me, sir,” the medic frowned, interrupting as he moved closer. “She’s injured and I need to make certain that she’s
been stabilized.”


“Yes, well, my men are dead. So I think she can handle a few more questions,” the man said, waving the medic back.

“You’re Roger’s father-in-law,” she whispered, everything suddenly making sense. This man thought that all of this was her
fault.


“I am—or should I say was.” The word hung between them in the air.


“Sir, I—,” the medic tried again, as Tyler fought against another wave of nausea.

“Gerardi was found by the motorcycle,” the general continued, ignoring the medic, his eyes boring into hers, even as his voice
became less emotional.


“Right,” she nodded, trying to keep her mind clear. To remember everything that had happened. “I forgot. He was moving it
out of the road. So that we could pass.”


“While you were down here in the ravine,” the man repeated, still eyeing her dubiously. “Looking for a body.”

“I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking for,” she said, anger flashing. “I just knew that something wasn’t right. And when
I saw that the guard rail had been compromised I thought that someone might be down here. Hurt. Only it turns out it was a
set-up.”


The general shot her another disgruntled look.

She struggled to sit up, but her head had other ideas, the world going wonky again.

“General Fisher,” the voice of her Englishman carried across the clearing, even though she couldn’t see him. “She needs medical
attention. There’ll be time for questions later.”


The general sucked in a breath, as if to argue, but turned away as the medic dropped down next to her.

“Who was it that was talking just now?” she asked, eyes searching the slope for some sign of the stranger. “The Englishman?”

“Don’t know his name,” the medic said. “But he’s with British Intelligence. Must be a pretty big deal, because the general
doesn’t give in to anyone. Anyway, I heard that the stuff you were transporting belonged to him—or more accurately, his government.”


“MI-5,” she nodded, wincing as he tightened a pressure bandage. “He must be the guy I was supposed to be meeting. What time
is it?”


“Almost three.” He opened a packet of astringent, cleaning an abrasion on her face.

She’s wasn’t sure exactly what time they’d stopped, but it had been close to midnight, which meant she’d been out a couple
of hours at least. No wonder her head was hurting. “How’d you know to come look for us?”


“Standard ops.” He shrugged. “When you didn’t turn up, they tried to raise you on the radio. And when that didn’t work, they
figured something had to be up.”


“Or down, as the case may be.” She tried for a smile, but coughed instead, wheezing with the effort, pain radiating down her
side. “I feel like my chest is on fire.”


“You’ve bruised your ribs,” the man said, his fingers gentle as they explored. “The body armor saved your life. But between
the bullets and the fall, you’re pretty banged up.”


“I’ve been shot before.” She sighed, her strength waning. “It was a close call, and I kind of developed a thing about protecting
myself.”


“Understandable,” he said, bandaging the abrasion on her forehead, then lifting his hand to call for a stretcher.

“Too bad you didn’t think to share your caution with Mather and Gerardi.” The general was back, his gaze pinning hers.

“You think I had something to do with this?” she asked, fighting against both anger and pain now.

“Lady, I don’t know what to think,” he said, as the medic and another man loaded her onto the gurney. “All I know for certain
is that my men are dead, and you’re still alive. And, considering the circumstances, that seems a bit too convenient.”


Ambassador Hotel, Colorado Springs—twelve hours later

I’m okay, Avery. I’ve got bruises on my bruises but nothing seriously wrong. I swear.” Tyler sank down on the bed in her hotel
room, cradling her cell phone while she tried to make herself more comfortable. Avery Solomon was A-Tac’s commander and one
of Tyler’s oldest friends. The two had met when she was in the Army. It was Avery who’d recruited her to the CIA.


“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” Even with the distance she could hear Avery’s regret. “You shouldn’t have had to go through
that alone.”


“It’s part of the job.” She shrugged, the gesture hurting more than she was willing to admit. “Missions go bad.”

“I’m not buying any of this, Tyler. I saw you, remember?” Avery had insisted on being present for her debriefing, and since
there was no way for him to be there physically, he’d settled for videoconferencing. “I know how much this cost you.”


“I shouldn’t have lost them. I should have seen the signs and gotten us the hell out of there.”

“But you didn’t,” Avery said, his tone probing. “Which tells me that something else happened. Something you omitted from the
debrief.”


Tyler sighed. Avery knew her too damn well. “There was something. But I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Not even a secure one.”


“That sounds ominous.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting. But it seemed like someone was playing us—or more specifically, playing me. Anyway, I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Thanks for clearing me to come home.”


“There wasn’t anything more you could tell them. I can understand Fisher’s need to probe. I’d feel the same if it was my people
that had been lost. But he was pushing too hard. Barking up the wrong damn tree.”


Tyler smiled. “Thanks for that. It’s nice to know someone has my back. Have you got any leads on who might have stolen the
detonators?”


“Nothing concrete. It’s too early. Hannah is working on it as we speak.” Hannah Marshall handled intel for A-Tac. If there
was anything to provide insight into who’d stolen the detonators, she’d find it.


“So does everyone know what happened?” It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it a secret, but there was part of her that hated
having her failure paraded about—even among her friends.


“As you know, word travels fast in our circles,” Avery said. “So the whole team knows that the detonators were stolen. And
that you almost died in the process. But beyond that I figured it was best to keep the details need-to-know. So Hannah’s up
to speed. And Nash, of course. He threatened to fly to Colorado if I didn’t tell him everything.” Nash Brennon was the unit’s
second in command.


“And if he knows, then Annie knows,” Tyler said. Annie was Nash’s wife, and there were no secrets between them.

Avery laughed. “Sometimes I wonder how they made it all those years apart. It’s like they’re two halves of a whole. Anyway,
I knew you wouldn’t mind if I filled them in.”


“Of course not.” Nash and Tyler were close. And she and Annie had hit it off almost from the beginning—except for the part
where Tyler had thought Annie was a traitor. But that was water long under the bridge.


“So you’re sure you don’t want one of us to fly up there?” Avery asked.

“No. Honestly. I’ve got a flight out first thing in the morning. So I’ll be home for dinner. And we’ll talk then. Right now
I just want a stiff drink,” she sighed, realizing that it was going to take more than one.


“It wasn’t your fault, Tyler.”

“Intellectually, I know you’re right,” she closed her eyes, seeing Gerardi’s body on the roadside, “but emotionally I just
keep replaying it, trying to figure out what I could have done differently.”


“Hindsight and all that,” Avery said, his pragmatism calming her in way nothing else could have. “And you can rest assured
that we’re going to hunt down the bastards that did this.”


“I’m counting on it. And when we find them, I want first crack. But right now, I just need to decompress. You know?”

“I do. So I’ll let you go. But I’ll be here if you need me. Nash and Annie, too. In fact, I’m sure they’ll be calling.”

“Thanks. But I’ll be fine.” She sucked in a calming breath, ignoring the resulting pain that laced through her chest. “I’ll
call you when I get to New York.” She terminated the call, and then turned off the phone. Avery was right. Nash would call.
And tomorrow she’d be glad to hear his voice. But for now, she was tired of talking. She needed quiet. And she needed that
drink.


Pushing off the bed, she walked over to the minibar, and pulled open the little refrigerator door. Inside, lined up as neatly
as soldiers, were a platoon of tiny liquor bottles.


She pulled out two bottles of Wild Turkey and poured them into a glass. When she’d turned eighteen her father had taken her
to her first grown-up dinner party. The host, a longtime family friend, had asked her what she wanted to drink. She’d hadn’t
actually had much experience with cocktails, so she’d asked for a strawberry daiquiri. And she’d thought herself very sophisticated
drinking the icy pink beverage.


It was only after she got home that she learned that the host had actually left the party to go to a nearby market to get
the supplies needed to make the drink. Her father had been furious, and he’