Page 57 of Escape into the Night

The convoy of SUVs screeched to a stop at the main entrance to the CIA headquarters. Agents poured out in waves as their perfectly coordinated operation was set into motion. The front doors weren't locked but they might as well have been. The moment the first agent stepped through the glass barrier, everything shifted.

Tommy and Luke moved in tandem, jinking left as the team of Bureau agents flooded and secured the lobby. The security officers behind the front desk were stunned into stupor, their hands hovering over their holsters in confusion. No one moved to stop them.

“Federal warrants,” the lead agent barked while wielding a thick stack of papers. “You will stand down and let us do our job.”

It was pure bedlam the second they crossed into the main offices. The employees were not happy. Some froze at their desks, some tried to make phone calls, while others outright ran. Luke wasn't about to let that happen.

“No one leaves this building!” His voice bellowed through the chaos like a gunshot. “If you have nothing to hide, you will cooperate. If you run, we assume guilt!”

A few people hesitated, but thankfully, no one else tried to bolt. Luke and Tommy shared a nod before heading deeper into the building. The first name on their list was Langley’s second-in-command: Director Frank Harold. They cut through the sea of desks and scattered papers to follow the sound of raised voices farther down the hall and found their target mid-shout, his face tomato red as he tried to berate two FBI agents that had cornered him in his office.

“This is an abuse of power!” Spittle flew from Harold’s lips as he snarled. “You have no right—”

“Correction: we have every right, you son of a bitch.” Luke’s stride never faltered as he approached, slapping a warrant against the man’s chest. “Frank Harold, you're under arrest for conspiracy, treason, obstruction of justice, and about half a dozen additional charges I don't have the patience to list. You have the right to remain silent—”

“You're making a mistake!”

“Save it for your lawyer,” Luke countered as he grabbed the man by the arm and hauled him toward the hallway while continuing to read him his Miranda Rights. He caught glimpses of other arrests already in progress as CIA officers were being led away in cuffs, the room a cacophony of criminals beingMirandized while others searched desks and confiscated hard drives. It was working, but not everyone was going away quietly.

A commotion erupted down the hall and Luke was quick to pass Harold into the custody of a Junior agent before he and Tommy took off. There was a shout, a struggle, a single gunshot. His blood ran cold as his instincts took over, the sound of their boots ricocheting off the walls as they sprinted toward the source of the blast. He rounded the corner just in time to see a fellow agent wrestling the weapon from the rogue CIA officer’s hand. Anger washed over him—the fucker had been ready to kill in order to escape. Without any hesitation, Luke surged forward and slammed the man against the wall, his forearm pressed hard against his throat.

“You sick fuck! You were ready to shoot a fellow American to cover your own ass?” Luke’s voice was a rough growl as he seethed with rage.

The man wheezed and struggled, but Luke didn't ease up until the weapon was neutralized and the man was in cuffs. He stepped back and watched Tommy drag the imbecile away, anger still burning white hot in his chest. They had made progress, but there would be more. It was going to be a long, long day.

By the time the raid was finished, Luke felt like he had aged a decade. Thirty-six arrests and counting. Hundreds of classified documents had been seized. Dozens of computers, too. Despite the success, the tension hadn't left Luke’s shoulders. It wouldn't. Not until he saw Taz. It was a need so potent, he could barely think straight. He barely registered the drive back to the FBI headquarters, which was a little frightening since he’d been the one in the driver’s seat. The moment they arrived, he dove out of the SUV without shutting it off and headed straight for the techfloor, ignoring everything in his path. Once he caught sight of Taz, his legs turned to jelly.

The younger man was buried deep in his work, his hair in chaotic disarray beneath the crooked headset as his hands flew over the keyboard in a blur. Knowing his Taz, he was single-minded in his pursuit of those who had gotten away, tracking pings and running numbers. He looked like hell. The most handsome hell Luke had ever seen. There were dark circles under his eyes and he hadn't shaved in days. He looked exactly how Luke felt. He didn't think. He just moved.

Taz barely had time to react before Luke was pulling him into a hug. It wasn't graceful nor was it timed right, but that didn't matter. Luke just needed to feel him, alive and breathing and here, in his arms, where he belonged.

Taz stiffened and squeaked, confused for half a second before he melted into Luke’s chest with a wavering exhale. “Jesus. You reek.”

“Shut up,” Luke huffed with a weary laugh, tightening his arms and basking in the feel of Taz nuzzling into his neck.

They didn't move for a long time, simply existing in the bubble of their embrace. Eventually, Taz pulled back, but his hands remained in constant contact as he searched Luke’s body until satisfied he was unharmed. Eventually, his whisper broke the silence.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. No. I'll get back to you on that.” Luke lifted his hand to cradle Taz’ jaw before pulling him into a kiss. Around them, the world kept moving, the cogs of the machine still turning, the first battle of a massive war winding down as they took a moment to breathe at its center. They were still standing. Luke called that a win. And damn, they had really needed a win.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Abriella

Abriellastoodattheeye of the storm, the FBI command center a veritable maelstrom of chaos. Phones rang off the hook, agents shuffled in and out with stacks of reports, and the hum of printers spitting out arrest records filled the air with a constant whirr. Every available screen in the room displayed live updates, footage of CIA officials being led out in cuffs, real-time intelligence feeds tracking assets, and a scrolling list of seized evidence. She barely had time to breath, much less process the magnitude of everything they'd accomplished. Thirty-six arrests of multiple high-ranking officials had the nation reeling. It was the biggest anti-corruption bust in modern intelligence history, and their work was far from over.

Her team—Luke, Taz, Tommy, and a half a dozen more agents on the case—had done their jobs brilliantly. The raid was a near-flawless operation, the arrests and evidence seizures ensuring that almost every single guilty party would soon be held accountable for their crimes. Now, she was dealing with the fallout. She flipped through the mountainous stack of reports, scanning each and every one before signing off on them. Everysingle paper had to be airtight, because the Bureau couldn't afford any loose ends while the world was watching. She scanned through authorizations, evidence logs, and court filings, signing her name until it felt like her fingers were about to fall off.

Across the room, FBI Director Marissa Robbins stood vigil, her sharp gaze flicking from screen to screen with her arms crossed over her chest. Today, she was sporting a blonde bob. It was a good look on her, especially when paired with the glare that could melt the largest of icebergs. The woman had been a steadfast ally throughout the entire investigation. Without her, none of this would have happened. None of it would have been possible. Bella was in awe. She squared her shoulders and crossed the room.

“Dios mio, we did it.”

“Mn. We did.” Marissa didn't look away from the monitors. Her tone was cautious, calculating.

“You do not sound convinced,” Bella murmured with a tilt of her head.

“We won a battle.” She finally looked up, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes as she turned. “This is just the beginning.”

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