LITMIR.BIZ

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      The story had to be shared. He had to bask in the glory of victory with the folks who had become his family. The only family he’d ever had, really.

      Slade shook off the ugly thoughts and focused on maneuvering the Magnificent Mile. As a kid he’d never imagined that one day he would work in the area. He’d considered himself lucky to have a decent meal before bedtime each night.

      Life was good…now.

      He appreciated every single moment.

      His cell vibrated as he slowed for a traffic signal. He tucked his fingers into his pocket and fished out the phone.

      He glanced at the screen and immediately recognized Ian Michaels’s number. Ian was his boss. One of them anyway. Ian and Simon Ruhl were at the top of the Colby Agency food chain. Victoria ran the show, but never without the input of those two.

      Slade slid the phone open. “What’s up?” Strange, Slade thought, that Ian would call at this hour. Ian had bragged that today he intended to do something special with his kids.

      “We have a situation.”

      Ian Michaels wasn’t one to mince words and his tone was always calm and reserved. The man never lost his cool. Never raised his voice. And never, ever backed down or sugarcoated anything. He was about as soft as an eight-pound sledgehammer. But Slade could tell from Ian’s tone something was wrong.

      Slade shifted his foot to the accelerator as the light changed to green. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Very bad.

      “A situation?” Slade returned.

      “Meet me at Maggie’s across the street from the agency. I’ll be waiting on the second floor.”

      “I’m close. Be there in a sec,” Slade assured him. The connection ended so he slid the phone closed and tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans as he scouted for a parking slot on a side street. Maggie’s Coffee House had once been a ritzy restaurant that had slowly shifted focus over the years to become a street-level café. The second floor of the artsy coffeehouse that had once been a private dining room was now used mainly for storage.

      Why the hell would Ian be waiting there?

      After parking his four-wheel-drive truck, Slade double-timed it up the sidewalk toward the front entrance of Maggie’s. He hesitated when he saw a familiar face heading in the same direction from the street.

      “Lucas?”

      Lucas Camp stopped, one hand on the door leading into Maggie’s. “Convoy,” the older man acknowledged, obviously not surprised.

      This was getting more bizarre by the moment. Lucas was Victoria’s husband, but he wasn’t on the staff of the Colby Agency. Slade hustled over to the door. “What’s going on?”

      Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know the details yet. Ian asked that I meet him here ASAP.” A glimpse of worry flashed in the man’s eyes before he moved forward, leading the way through the door. At the hostess’s questioning look, Lucas gestured toward the stairs beyond the serving counter. She nodded as if she understood exactly what was going on.

      Slade sure as hell wished he knew what was going on as he climbed the stairs behind Lucas. Well into his sixties, Lucas was damned fit, but he’d lost a leg in a long-ago war and the prosthesis he wore slowed him down a bit. But Lucas Camp didn’t need any sympathy from Slade or anyone else. The man could be lethal when the need arose. He’d worked numerous deep-cover operations with the CIA for years. Even since retiring he still returned to D.C. monthly to advise the agency on the best way to conduct upcoming operations.

      On the second floor, the big single room was cluttered with boxes of paper goods. Across the room near the windows overlooking the Mag Mile, Ian Michaels waited. He turned to face the new arrivals and there was no mistaking the grim expression he wore.

      Whatever was going down, it was bad.

      “What’s going on, Ian?” Lucas demanded as he and Slade weaved their way through the stacks of boxes.

      “Jim is on his way,” Ian advised, avoiding a direct answer to the question.

      Slade stared at the building across the street as he neared Ian’s position. His gaze zeroed in on the windows of the floor where the Colby Agency suite of offices should have been buzzing with activity. It was Monday morning after all. From the outside the situation appeared to be like any other snowy January day. No smoke billowing, no shattered glass, no official emergency vehicles in the vicinity of the building. What could be wrong?

      “That’s good,” Lucas said in response to Ian’s statement regarding Jim, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”

      Ian shifted his attention to the windows of the Colby Agency offices Slade still surveyed. “At seven forty-five this morning, a group of armed men dressed as SWAT agents laid siege to the agency and everyone inside.”

      “That’s…crazy….” A chill penetrated deep into Slade’s bones. Mondays were early days. The weekly briefing. Not only was Victoria—Lucas’s wife and the head of the agency—in there, but so was every single member of the staff except for Slade and Ian…including Ian’s wife, Nicole.

      “How many men?” Lucas asked the question before Slade could gather his wits and utter the same.

      With an uncharacteristic shake of his head, Ian turned once more to face them. “I don’t know for certain. Nicole managed to get a call through to my cell but she was cut off before…” He swallowed with difficulty. “Before she could fully assess the situation. She mentioned five, then seven. But there could be more.”

      The same terror humming beneath Ian’s tone had claimed the usually unreadable expression on Lucas’s face. “Was Nicole aware of any injuries?”

      “She didn’t get a chance to relay anything more.”

      “The security guards on duty have most likely been neutralized,” Slade suggested, now visually measuring the front entrance. He hoped no one had been killed but there was always that possibility. Anyone else from the businesses housed on the other floors who might have opted to go into work early that morning had likely been taken prisoner or were dead. “We should call LSS and have them issue a warning to stay clear of the building.”

      LSS, Lockdown Security Systems, were the folks in charge of the building’s physical security.

      “That was going to be my next—”

      “That was the first call I received this morning,” Ian said, cutting off Lucas. “LSS called to inform me that the building was in lockdown mode due to a gas leak and no one was to enter until the all clear was given. Before I could question the directive or pass along that the agency already had people inside, Nicole’s call came in.”

      Lucas surveyed the building in question once more. “I don’t see any official vehicles. No city maintenance crews.”

      “I assume the so-called leak was a ploy to enact lockdown. I’ve had no further word from LSS so I have to assume someone is running interference there.”

      Ian was right. Whoever had set this game in motion had done their homework. “Have you called the Chicago P.D.?” Slade asked. Since there were no cruisers in the vicinity he imagined the answer was no, but Ian could certainly have informed one of the agency’s many contacts within Chicago P.D. to come in dark. The real SWAT folks could be on standby out of sight.

      “That’s not a move I want to make until I fully comprehend the terms of this situation.”

      Understandable. Until the terms were known, their hands were tied to a great degree.

      “What’s happening, Lucas?”

      All three turned as Jim Colby crossed the room. The man hadn’t made a sound on the stairs. Slade never ceased to be impressed by Victoria’s son. He’d been trained as a mercenary as a boy. Could kill a man in mere seconds with nothing but his bare hands. As tall

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