Undercover Warrior - Aimee Thurlo Mills & Boon Intrigue

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they’ve been gutted, but what did he do with the electronics that were inside them?” Kyle continued to sort through the box. “They’re not here. All I see are the outside shells and a few of the metal screws used to hold them together.”

      “I can’t answer that. I don’t know,” she said.

      “Did any of the men who came for him show any interest in these boxes?” Kyle asked.

      “No. Their attention was on Hank and me.”

      In addition to the dismantled volt meters Kyle saw other disassembled plastic and metal electronic devices, including stud finders and other sensors. “Lots of packing material in here just to protect what looks like junk.”

      “What about that padded envelope?” Preston said, coming in and pointing to the top of the file cabinet.

      “That arrived this morning.” Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Kyle remove a small, familiar-looking cylinder from the shipping box and slip it into his jacket pocket.

      Before she could comment, Detective Bowman tore open the envelope and dumped its contents on the desk. Stacks of one hundred dollars bills held together with rubber bands came tumbling out. “Apparently he also mailed this to himself from Spain.”

      “I have no idea why he’d be mailing cash back home,” Erin said. “Of course it’s possible he carried the cash over there originally to pay contractors or something... But why mail currency? It would have been easier to just transfer funds from the base to the bank here, or bring it back in his carry-on.”

      As Preston’s phone rang, he hurried back outside. Once alone, Kyle’s gaze stayed on her. “If that amount of cash had been withdrawn from his business account, you would have noticed it while balancing the books, correct?”

      “That didn’t come from any of the accounts I handled,” she said.

      “It looks to me that there was a part of your boss’s business you knew almost nothing about.”

      All she could do was shrug. “Had you said that to me a few hours ago, I would have told you that you were crazy. Now, I’m just not sure.” As another thought suddenly occurred to her, her eyes widened. “The men didn’t get whatever it was they were after, and now Hank’s dead. What’s to stop them from coming back and trying to get answers from me next?”

      “Me.”

      He’d said it without any particular inflection, and that’s what made it so scary. That edge of danger, that toughness nothing seemed to pierce, was as much a part of him as the gun he carried on his belt. Yet she’d seen another side of him when he’d realized she was crying. He’d been gentle and kind then, the opposite of the deadly warrior who’d initially come to her aid.

      Preston poked his head back into the room. “We’ve found Leland’s cell phone through its GPS chip. Let’s move.”

      “Do you want me to wait here?” she asked Kyle as he was striding to the door.

      “No. Stick with us, you’ll be safer. We’d also like your help looking through Leland’s home.”

      “But I’ve only been there a few times. I’m not really familiar with it.”

      “You still have the advantage over us,” Kyle said. “We’ve never been there. Let’s go.”

      Chapter Four

      “A word?”

      Kyle recognized Preston’s icy tone and knew what was bothering him. Preston seldom missed much. Despite that, he decided to play it out. “What’s up?” he asked, stepping away from the SUV.

      “Don’t give me that bull,” Preston growled. “What did you find in the box, and why the hell didn’t you turn it over? NCIS has given us the job of processing evidence, and it’s not up to you to pick and choose. Are we working together or not?”

      “Your department’s cooperation is crucial, but I have to treat what I found as classified for reasons of national security. You in?”

      Preston nodded.

      Putting his latex gloves back on, Kyle pulled the small device he’d found inside the box out of his pocket. “I really doubt there’ll be any usable prints on this, except maybe Leland’s partial, but based on the markings this is an electrical detonator manufactured in Spain. You can’t get hold of something this sensitive in the U.S. without shoveling through a truckload of grief, and maybe not even then.”

      “So that’s why you want to search Leland’s place ASAP. You think he shipped detonators hidden in those dismantled electronics and overlooked this one.”

      “So now we need to find the rest of them,” Kyle said.

      “How long have you had Hank Leland under surveillance?”

      “Since he was spotted in Rota, Spain, meeting with a man on the watch list, a freelance bomb maker with ties to Spanish ecoterrorist groups. That was two weeks ago. I watched him land at the airport last night, get his luggage and pick up his Silverado. After that I followed him to his office. He stayed here for a while, which I suppose is when he unpacked the box, took the tools apart, and found the detonators.”

      “Where’d he go next?”

      “He got into his pickup and headed home, which is ten miles south, off highway 281. He took the old road so I had to give him plenty of room. It was pretty much deserted that time of night, and his house is all by itself out there.”

      Preston nodded. “I know. I checked. You can spot vehicles for miles.”

      “Once he got home, he pulled into the garage and never left again. No other vehicles drove up, either. I maintained surveillance until 3:30 a.m., then drove back into town and checked into the Chamisa Lodge. After catching a few hours’ sleep, I returned to his place at 6:00 a.m. There were lights on inside—still no other vehicles—and there was only one set of tracks leading into the property. Leland left for work at seven, and was still there when I went to meet you for breakfast.”

      “So, let’s assume these terrorists are looking for their detonators. What’s their target?”

      “I don’t know and that’s a problem,” Kyle said.

      “Let’s go to Leland’s house and look around for his cell. We need to find out who he called after his return,” Preston said. “I’ll also get hold of Joe Pacheco. He’s a former police detective, and keeping his eyes and ears open is second nature to him.”

      “Don’t ask him about the detonators directly,” Kyle warned.

      Preston got the number from Erin and dialed as Kyle walked over to where she was waiting.

      “We’re still working out a few details,” Kyle told her. “We’ll leave in a minute.”

      After his call, Preston motioned Kyle over. “I asked Joe about the type of explosives used by Secure Construction. He said they use a proprietary mix of ammonium nitrate, but they pick it up from Zia Limited as needed. He also said that they use fuses and blasting caps instead of electrical detonators.”

      “All right, let’s get rolling,” Kyle said, started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “Anything on either of the dead kidnappers?”

      “Nothing yet. The Office of the Medical Investigator processed their fingerprints, but there’s nothing on record—they’re ghosts. We’re using facial recognition software and running that through the database, and checking with Interpol, but it’ll take time. I have a feeling they’re foreign nationals—Spanish, most likely, for obvious reasons. The truck they used for the hit on the ambulance was stolen and they avoided cameras at that intersection. One more thing. The one who shot himself...those bruises on his face predated his death by at least a week. That’s based on the medical investigator’s preliminary report.”

      “Get

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