Chapter 11

Xavier

Encouraged by Omar’s willingness to take me seriously, I’m standing watching the footage proving his men have gotten far too lax with security.

He already knows his men have been taking too long breaks and pilfering from the bar when they think no one is looking.

Now, I’m lucky enough to have a live example of two of his worst offenders.

I point to the screen. “You’ve got a gap right here. I’m assuming from when the night shift changes with breakfast? Like I said, sloppy.”

He looks suitably perturbed, so I know I have him right where I need him to be.

I can’t lay it on too thick, but I don’t have the time it’ll take to slowly earn his trust the way I’d intended, so I stay quiet as he watches more footage.

The minutes tick by, making my impatience grow ten-fold. When he does finally speak, I know he’s testing me out. “You seem to notice a lot about my staff, what else have you noticed?”

I take a breath and make sure I have an exit strategy if I’m reading him wrong.

“You have anomalies with staff and with the amount of food being delivered, and you have at least six members of staff, carrying weapons, all harboring a deep dissatisfaction with the government, but who are loyal to you.”

He turns and looks at me, his eyes narrowed into slits. “And who are you loyal to?”

I lock eyes with him. “Whoever pays the best. And that’s not the United States Government.”

He surprises me by laughing. “And you’d put your life on the line for money?”

I shake my head. “I put my life on the line for a cause that matters.”

He nods slowly. “What matters depends on many things. You say my staff are loyal to me, you’re wrong. They’re loyal to a cause. A very great and noble cause and they work not for money, but for a reward money cannot grant them.”

This is what I’ve been waiting for. “But who says money can’t be earned while we wait for the eternal reward?”

His lips tug into the slightest of smiles. “Perhaps there is a place for you on my team after all Mr. Reid.”

My heart starts to pump a whole lot harder, and I have to work to slow it down.

Before I can reply, he turns back around, his eyes on the screen covering the service elevator. “I have more than enough evidence to dismiss them. But I will need to hire more men to cover them.”

I keep myself composed even though this now means I can bring in two of my own men as backup.

I’m mentally thinking of who I can get in, when movement onscreen makes me pause.

All the breath leaves my body as I spot a shapely blonde absentmindedly walk toward the service elevator and press the down button.

I try to direct Omar’s attention away but it’s too late, he’s seen her, and from the look on his face as she steps inside, and the doors close, she’s in danger of reaching the very place, I’m actively trying to get access to.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He turns, and he’s so calm when he speaks, I’m sure I’ve misheard him.

“You speak of my staff’s malcontent Mr. Reid. This is why. The guests feel they have the right to go where they want and take what they want. For the wealthy who stay here, the rules simply do not apply.”

The doors close on the elevator and my heart just about bursts out of my chest.

“This is a problem and it must be taken care of swiftly,” he says.

No longer convinced we’re just talking about the useless security guards, it takes all my control not to give away my panic.

“Anything down there you don’t want guests seeing?” I ask.

He turns in his chair and stares at me so long, sweat starts to trickle down my spine.

“Come with me and you can see for yourself,” he finally says.

***

Carrie

I try to shake Hadi’s hand off, but his fingers pinch into my skin. “You can’t be here,” he says.

I try to reply, but nothing but a sob comes out.

As the elevator doors close behind him, his expression hardens further and in one horrific moment, I know I didn’t imagine any of this.

There is some sort of terrorist cell hidden in the bowels of the resort. And from the looks of it, they’ve been here some time.

And if Hadi is involved, I can’t even begin to imagine who else is.

I try to struggle out of his grip, but he starts to drag me away from the elevator.

“Where are you taking me?” I manage to spit out.

It’s probably the stupidest question I’ve asked in my entire life. And when he says nothing, I wish I hadn’t.

He drags me to a door, and punches in a security code. His silence is more terrifying than trying to figure out what will happen to me next.

The door clicks open and he shoves me inside. Without a word he steps back out, leaving me locked inside a tiny room.

I shrink back against the wall and dig my nails into my palms to stop from crying.

I stare at the table and two chairs. There’s a bare lightbulb, but this far underground the air is stale and lifeless.

I’ve never been given to claustrophobia, but here, inside this concrete box, I can feel my sense of helplessness increase as I try not to let my imagination get the better of me.

It’s too late for should-haves and what-ifs.

No one knows I’m down here. I didn’t bring my cell. It’s still charging where I left it in my room.

I’m caught in the middle of some sort of underground movement, that is quite literally underneath one of the most luxurious ski lodges in the country.

Less than thirty minutes ago I was celebrating finally getting the better of my mother and trying to decide if I could see myself working up here.

Now I’m trapped, and the chef I admired for years wanted me here for something I can’t even think about.

Rather than think about what will happen when Hadi comes back, and who he might bring, I slump into the nearest seat, and stare at the rough concrete wall opposite me.

Trying not to think about what hideous fate awaits me, I choose denial.

“This can’t be happening,” I mutter aloud.

A second after I speak I notice a red light blinking just above the door.

Whoever is here, they are watching and probably listening to me.

I clear my throat and sit up a little straighter. I refuse to let them see I’m scared. I refuse to let them see me cry.

I may not have much control over anything right now, but I do have control over myself.

I sit back and think about every time my mother marched me into the kitchen with the entire staff watching on to humiliate me even further.

I stare up at the camera and imagine it’s my mom watching me squirm as I wait for her dress down.

Despite my growing anxiety, I manage the slightest of smiles.

They may think I’m a pampered princess born into a life of luxury and wealth, but they have no idea of the shit I put up with.

No one outside the family knows she wasn’t the perfect mother she portrayed in public.

And for the first time in my life, I’m actually glad my mother was such a bitch to me.

I’m glad she used to belittle me, control every last aspect of my life from who I dated, to my friends, to what clothes I wore and what I ate.

Xavier was right. It does teach you to be resilient. It does teach you to be tough.

And I might be scared out of my mind, but knowing I survived my mother, might be the only thing I have working in my favor right now.

***

Xavier

He takes me to the service elevator and I have to physically restrain myself from pushing the button to the hidden floor.

Since I can’t give myself away, or blow the intel we already have on this, I shift back and lock my hands behind my back so I’m not tempted.

He waits until the doors have closed before pushing the button. As we descend, he starts to speak in a low and calm voice that belies what he’s saying.

“Do you believe in God Mr. Reid?”

I prepared for this, so the answer is at the ready. “I believe in justice.”

His eyes slide to mine, and I see the depth of passion he’s been concealing. “And what of mercy? Do you believe in mercy?”

I shake my head. “Justice and mercy can’t coexist. One is stronger than the other.”

He slowly nods and seems to visibly relax as the doors open and he’s met by Hadi and a woman I recognize is one of the maids.

He steps out, and Hadi eyes me, then leans in to whisper something in Omar’s ear.

I stand back, trying not to look interested, and when he motions for me too, I follow, my anticipation increasing with every step.

The chef and the maid veer off, taking another passageway leaving me alone with Omar again.

He gestures down the hallway. “Do you believe in synchronicity?”

I give him a clipped nod. “Events which appear significantly related but have no connection?”

He seems pleased as he steers me towards a double-doored room. “When a man truly understands the funding principle of our faith, synchronicity allows great men to achieve a singular goal.”

He pushes open the doors and I take a step back. There must be hundreds of beds all waiting for bodies to fill them.

He smiles at me. “This is our goal. To bring order out of chaos. To put right the wrongs done by men, by men willing to do God’s work.”

I manage to keep myself steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my body.

This is what I came here for. I don’t even need to stay. I don’t even need to see the rest of the facility.

They’ve found the perfect location. They can hide hundreds of people, feed them and the location means half a year, no one but the staff are here.

If Gerald hadn’t noticed a few things, and called the FBI, no one would have been the wiser.

I have proof it’s here. But I have another more pressing issue to deal with.

I could convince Omar to show me the sublevel entrance, then let me back upstairs, and I can call Julie and she can get a team inside without tipping Omar off.

But that would leave Carrie down here, and I still don’t know what happened to her.

I store away every man I see, adding them to the possible problems, and note the fire alarms and sprinklers placed at even intervals along the corridor wall.”

“We are mere instruments,” I mumble.

He nods agreement and seems pleased. “Hadi and Steven were correct about you. Your Uncle does not share your beliefs.”

I nod and hide my growing concern about Carrie’s whereabouts. It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to ask after her.

“My uncle and I disagree about a lot of things.”

When we reach a locked door with a keypad, he turns and looks me dead in the eye. “It appears you know the chef who came down here. How?”

Since he can easily confirm it with anyone in Carrie’s family, I go with the truth. “She had an accident and I fixed her car.”

He doesn’t seem surprised which makes me a little antsy. I’ve been seen talking to her, and so far I still don’t how many staff members are part of this.

I can’t afford to leave him any doubt about me if I’m going to infiltrate his team. “Full disclosure. I fucked her.”

The slightest of smirks grows on his face confirming he already figured that out.

He angles his body, shielding the keypad as he punches in a code. The door clicks but he doesn’t move. “It’s a pity. Omar did hold out hope she’d be a good candidate to join our team. But it seems that was not to be. She will make an excellent test.”

I can’t breathe. Fear is crushing all the oxygen from my lungs. “Test?”

He pushes the door open, and Carrie springs to her feet. Her eyes meet mine and I have to look away as Omar keeps speaking as if she’s not even there.

“A beautiful blonde from a wealthy family. Her parents booking the Presidential Suite for the same weekend you arrived, and your connection is further confirmation of the synchronicity in play.”

Out of the corner of my eye I catch movement as two armed men, military from the looks of them, move closer.

Omar smiles coolly as he gestures to one of the men. “Give Mr. Reid a weapon.”

My heart rate increases along with my need to end this before Carrie gets hurt.

Worse than knowing her life is in danger, is knowing the only way to save her is to make it look convincing.

I take the gun from the soldier’s outstretched hand. “Synchronicity,” Omar says.

I nod slowly, pulse speeding and my brain going a million miles an hour. “Synchronicity,” I repeat.

I don’t waver as I step inside the room. I can’t think about what I’m doing to her or how I must look right now.

All I can do is keep this going as long as I can and hope like hell, Carrie forgives me.

***

Carrie

Through my panic and fear an astronomical amount of fury is piercing into me.

He’s a part of this. Xavier.

No wonder he was so paranoid. He’s a damn terrorist!

When his lip curls and he barks at me, I back away and press my back up against the wall as the manager, and two other men I’m sure I’ve seen around the resort step inside the room.

“Get on your fucking knees,” he spits.

Xavier’s posture is so stiff, his face so hard, there’s no trace of the man I thought I knew.

I blink back angry tears, feeling foolish, angry and disgusted with him and myself.

“I’m not doing anything you say you piece of shit,” I yell at him.

He takes a step closer, and I flinch as he grabs my arm and yanks me closer to him.

With his back blocking my view of the men in the room, he narrows his eyes, and mouths a word at me.

Sorry.

I blink, sure I was mistaken when he twists my arm, and forces me to my knees.

Pain screams through my arm as he holds me in place, a scowl twisting his face.

Terror shudders through me as Xavier presses cold steel against my temple. Sweat starts to trickle down my forehead, pain resounding through me as my knees press into the concrete.

My heart is pounding in my chest, bile rising to my throat as I start to shake. I’m losing the battle to stay strong, I’m losing the battle not to cry as Xavier relinquishes his hold on my arm and instead, grabs my hair.

I yelp and try to move but Xavier’s hand holds me firmly in place. I close my eyes, unwilling for these heinous men in this dungeon to be the last thing I see.

***

Xavier

Sweat has started to drip down my spine, my heart is hammering in my chest, and as Carrie starts to tremble, and jams her eyes shut, I look at Omar and the men watching on.

The taller, and leaner of the two looks at me with so much disdain a shiver of fear runs through me.

Julie isn’t going to be able to justify the existence of a long-term op just on the confirmation Gerald’s suspicions were founded in reality after all.

What she needs is for me to stay deep undercover, find out who else is a member and to know what they plan to do.

The seconds are ticking by, and every scenario, every outcome is flashing in front of me. I can’t even begin to contemplate shooting her to prevent more deaths down the line.

I fulfil my mission directive, Carrie dies.

This isn’t what I signed up for. This isn’t who I am.

Omar near grunts at me. “Mr. Reid. You seem to be having second thoughts, perhaps we have misjudged you?”

Fucking A, you misjudged me. I think I misjudged myself.

With a final look at Carrie, I swing the gun up, shooting Omar and his men before any of them can go for their weapons.

Carrie screams, and I grab her arm, making her flinch. “My arm, what did you do? Oh, God, who are you?” she sobs.

I can’t answer that, and I may never be able to. I just blew my cover, but if I can make it out of here alive, I can still salvage this op and maybe prevent another Alabama from happening before it’s too late.

Carrie’s shaking so hard, I know she’s going into shock, her knees buckle, and she hits the floor.

When I hear movement from outside the room and know I have to act fast.

I grab Carrie’s arms, and flip her over my shoulder, carrying her in a fireman’s lift, as I step out the door.

I scan the hallway, and ease along the wall, gun in my arm as I edge towards the exit.

Midway, I hear footsteps and know I’m out of time. I continue to step backward, all my muscles primed as I wait for the shooting to start.

There must be a dozen men down here, and an equal-number upstairs. I’m outnumbered, at a disadvantage and I now have a civilian to protect.

So, I do the only thing a cornered man can do. I smash the Glock into the glass of the fire alarm and pray Julie figures out I’m in trouble.

***

Carrie

At the sound of a siren ringing in my ears, and water falling on my face, I open my eyes to a red flashing light and someone’s labored breathing.

My stomach digging into a shoulder, I blink rapidly and try to flip what I’m seeing up the right way.

Pain. So much pain is tearing through my arm, hot, throbbing and so intense I’m sure it’s broken.

I’m in the corridor again, only a siren is blaring, the sprinklers are on. My relief I’m alive, and that it’s Xavier’s shoulder I’m resting uncomfortably on, is short-lived as I hear a shout over the siren.

Xavier curses, and seems barely aware of me as he picks up his pace. I wriggle in his grasp and he flips me over so fast, my head spins.

I barely have time to ask him what happened when he’s grabbing my hand and yanking my arm. “Run.”

I do what he says and try to keep pace as we sprint down the hall to the elevator.

I come to a sliding stop at the keypad, panic blazing around me as I see the red light.

A sob escapes, but Xavier just smashes the pad with the gun in his hand and releases my hand.

He shouts as he shoves the gun towards me. “You see anyone come down the hall, shoot to kill.”

My eyes pop, but I do what he says and grip the gun and hold it at arm’s length.

Shoot to kill? I’ve barely held a gun before, and my arm is so painful, I can barely move it. How am I supposed to kill a person with it?

While he works at the wires on the door, I watch the end of the corridor, and yell at him. “Who the hell are you? And why did you do that to me?”

He curses as the wires spark. “If we get out of here, I’ll tell you.”

When a figure appears at the end, I forget to shoot, and scream instead. Xavier spins around, grabs the gun and fires before I can close my mouth.

His voice is harsh as he hands me the gun again. “For fuck’s sake woman, shoot the next one!”

I nod and release a breath as the light switches to green, and the doors open.

I hear a shout a split second before Xavier yanks the gun from my hand and starts firing.

He shoves me back into the corner and shields me as gunshots are returned.

I shrink back against the steel wall of the elevator, trying not to scream as we wait for the doors to close.

Panic threatening to overwhelm me, I stay hugged to the wall as Xavier stands at the ready, with his gun trained on the doors.

Finally, when I think my heart is about to burst out of my chest, the doors start to close at precisely the second another gunshot sounds and Xavier staggers backward.

Crimson is spilling from his shoulder as he sags against the wall. But he’s not concerned about himself, he’s watching the elevator ascend, his face creased either in pain or worry.

I step closer, tears burning at my eyes as he glances at the blood soaking through his shirt.

His eyes slide to me, and a faint smile appears. “We’re not out of this yet.”

I choke out a laugh. “What is this?”

When he doesn’t answer, my hand goes to my mouth. “Is this the ‘thing’ you were talking about? Are you a terrorist?”

He shakes his head, but keeps his eyes on the doors, and shifts so he’s in front of me. “You see a security guard, you tell me.”

Since he’s ignoring me, and obviously not in league with terrorists, I give him a weak nod, and stand back as the elevator doors open.

At the flash of movement, he fires, and pulls me out. I stifle a scream as we step over the body of a man dressed in a hotel uniform.

With the fire alarm blaring, and the guests exiting, Xavier smashes the elevator keypad, and pulls me in the opposite direction and into the manager’s office.

He picks up the phone and looks at me. “Were your family in the resort or skiing?”

“I have no idea.”

I was so busy celebrating my win over my mother, I can’t remember what Tina and Danny’s plans were.

He nods, but whoever he’s calling has obviously answered. “I have visual confirmation, but my cover is no longer intact and we have multiple fatalities,” is all he says.

Now the immediate danger seems to have passed, my nervous energy seems to be spilling out of me just as Xavier’s blood is pouring out of him.

He needs medical assistance, but he seems more interested in the computer in front of him. “Roger that. I’m copying and sending them to the cloud now.”

I stay where I am, right beside the door while he cradles the phone on his shoulder and taps away at the computer.

His pallor is growing worse as blood trickles down his arm. I’m wondering if I should go in search of a medical kit when the door handle rattles beside me.

I jump back and Xavier drops the receiver and fires just as the door splinters.

I scream as two more men appear at the door. Xavier yells at me to get down as he fires back.

In the midst of the guns blasting around me, Xavier’s movements are fluid and methodical as he aims and shoots never missing once.

He’s so cool and disaffected, I have to look away as he dispatches who I hope to God aren’t just the clueless resort security guards I’ve seen floating around.

When everything stills around me, and Xavier slumps against the wall, looking about ready to collapse, I rise on shaky legs, ears ringing so loud I’m not sure if I’m hearing things or not when I think I hear a helicopter.

“What is going on?”

His eyes find mine, and I’m sure he’s about to tell me when I hear a woman’s angry voice coming from outside the demolished door.

A short redhead, with piecing grey-blue eyes steps through, flanked by dozens of men dressed in black.

Her eyes land on me then on Xavier as he staggers towards her and tosses his gun on the floor. “Before you lose your shit—”

Whoever the woman is, she’s isn’t happy with Xavier, she just points to the multiple bodies now littering the manager’s office then jerks her thumb at me. “I swear to God Reid, this woman has become the bane of my existence.”

My mouth opens to protest I don’t even know her, when Xavier shakes his head. “Not her fault.”

The woman snorts her derision and sends me a frosty look. “Go back to your room and wait for further instructions.”

I start to protest but Xavier shakes his head at me. “It’s easier this way. Trust me.”

Trust him? I barely know him. And after today I’m not sure he’s even trustworthy.

Despite myself I manage to find the last ounce of bravado as I pull my shoulders back and leave even more confused about Xavier than before.