Rogue Agent Read online

It’s Dawson. I’m hoping the window hasn’t closed and you’ll find my note in time. While you’ve been traveling back in time, Spencer abducted Terra. He found her at the cabin and used your absence to his full advantage. It was a ploy to separate you from her all along. He’s wanted Terra from the very beginning. I can’t say if she’s been hurt, but you know Spencer. He’s a sadist. I don’t know how much longer she has.

  I’m going to give you an address to find a portal home. I’m assuming you’re still in Enfield. I hacked Spencer’s computer. You’ll find a rogue portal at 533 Park Lane. You may recognize the address as Sonny Day’s. Seth, he still murdered your mother. It doesn’t matter what you may say to him now, Sonny is a killer. He can’t ignore those needs. Do what you must. I’ll be waiting for you.

  Dawson.

  Seth held the note in his hand and wept. Dawson was right. Today was May the seventeenth, Caroline Langdon’s date of death. While one chapter of his life had closed, one still remained open. He didn’t care about consequences. Sonny must be stopped by any means.

  He carried Trix’s remains into the forest overlooking the library and dug a grave with a shovel he found in an abandoned groundskeeper shed. He lowered her body into its final resting place and stared at her for ten minutes, wishing he was a religious man. He needed a strong foundation to rely on right now.

  Seth picked up a kerosene can by his feet he’d taken from the shed and doused the grave. With a flick of his wrist, he lit a match and threw it onto the damp sheet. Flames engulfed Trix instantly, hungrily consuming every inch of her body. While he watched the flames dance in their earthy tomb, he felt a profound sadness for his girlfriend’s tragic demise. He never envisioned their lives to end the way they did, blaming himself for Trix’s bad habits and fucked up life. He wanted marriage, a house in the suburbs, and babies, not to mourn the sudden death of his girlfriend.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he told the flames. “I was selfish for so long that I was blind to what was truly hurting you. If I had known earlier, or if I was around, we could’ve beaten this. I hope you find peace and happiness wherever you go next. I will avenge you, Trix. Mark my words.”

  He waited until the fire died, then covered the remains with soil and loose forest debris. He couldn’t risk an animal or a local bum stumbling across the grave. The sky was beginning to brighten so he hurried off in the direction of Park Lane, using street signs and the marketplace map to locate it.

  Luckily for him, Sonny’s road was devoid of all streetlights so he was able to walk the pavement without detection. After ten minutes of searching, he found it. Cushioned between two new apartment blocks was 533 Park Lane, a desecrated hole in the wall with a rotting front door and cracked walkway. Seth didn’t expect anything less from Sonny.

  There was no accessible or easy way to get around the back so he wiggled the doorknob. It was locked. Cursing under his breath, he withdrew a lock pick from his pocket and quickly made it inside.

  He was welcomed by sheer darkness. A sliver of new dawn light broke through a crack in the blinds and shone a beam onto the only two pieces of furniture in the room—an old TV set and a well-worn leather chair.

  He scanned the room from his position, not wanting to step on the decaying floorboards. There were no family photos or even common knickknacks. It was as though Sonny lived here purely for survival.

  The rift he was searching for would be large, most likely found behind a painting or a bookshelf, and there was nothing in the room so he moved to the kitchen. He found bare cupboards, a depleted fridge, and a brand new knife block on the counter. He chose a blade and wandered into the bathroom.

  After searching all other rooms, he realized he was wasting time. The rift would be in Sonny’s bedroom, probably behind a painting or underneath the bed. Spencer’s portals were unpredictable. Seth followed the hallway and opened the last door.

  There were two things he noticed right away: the horrifying death-like stench, and Sonny contently asleep on a single mattress. He wanted to dig his knife deep into the man’s chest, but restrained himself. That would come later. He needed to find the rift first.

  There was very little light in the room so Seth had to rely on the glow from Sonny’s computer monitor to see. Unlike the other rooms in the apartment, Sonny’s bedroom held his most prized and personal belongings.

  Dozens of framed photographs lined the back wall, images of frightened young women; their mouths wide open in muted screams. Some were already dead, their eyes black and empty voids.

  A shiver went down Seth’s spine and he sucked in a breath, angered by the loss of these innocent women. Sonny Day had to be stopped before he killed again.

  The first light of dawn appeared on the windowsill as Seth approached the bed, his knife aimed at his target’s chest. The kill would be messy but worth it, a necessary murder to appease the demons inside him.

  Sonny’s eyes opened and expanded in shock at the touch of the cool blade under his chin. He flailed under the sheets, almost rocking Seth’s hand away.

  “Ahh! Who the fuck are you?”

  Seth stepped into the light. ‘I told you I would return in six months, but quite frankly I can’t wait that long, Sonny. You’re a murderer.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Seth Langdon. I thought it was you. No one else in town has the balls to break into my home and expect to walk away to tell the tale.”

  “In my line of work, when I take a target’s life,” Seth said, “I get rewarded with what you were worth in life. Judging by the lack of assets and this ramshackle place you call a home, you can imagine I didn’t get a lot from killing you. However, I got one thing that was worth more than anything.”

  Sonny cleared his throat, the whites of his eyes reflecting the rising sun. “What might that be?”

  “Satisfaction. My mother is worth more to me than you think.”

  The blade sliced across Sonny’s throat like a hot knife through butter. Hs eyes bugged and he struggled under Seth’s weight, clawing at his arms and chest, gasping for breath. Warm blood trailed down his neck and pooled on the mattress, staining the white sheets a deep crimson.

  Seth kept one hand pinned on Sonny’s chest. “This is for every woman you murdered, every family you destroyed.” He was answered with a wet gurgling noise spewing from Sonny’s mouth. He waited until the light vanished from the man’s eyes, and then continued his search for the rift. Seth felt nothing—neither blame nor regret—for doing what he did. Sonny might have died before his time, yes, but he was a monster, and monsters don’t get a second chance.

  It didn’t take long for Seth to find the rift, hidden behind moth-eaten clothes in a wardrobe. He tossed its contents onto the floor and stepped through, eager to leave Enfield and Sonny’s dead body behind as a memory.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Spencer had always been a man who enjoyed the female form. The dancers at East of Eden knew him by name and order, pressing their luscious breasts into his face until he stuffed more credits down their panties. He got divorced young because he refused to be tied down by one woman. A man was designed to spread his love and appreciation around. Women were spectacular creatures.

  However, he didn’t think Terra Bloom’s body would rouse him as much as it did. He thoroughly appreciated the way her chest rose and fell with every panicked breath. She glared at him with those big, round, sapphire blue eyes and felt an odd sensation below his belt. The woman was attractive, he couldn’t deny that, and she was finally in his possession.

  “You can stare at me all you want. I’m not going to release you from your ties,” he said, spending a moment to enjoy her petite frame bound to the timber chair.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” Terra spat. “Seth’s going to stomp stuff out of you they won’t be able to put back in.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Ah, now you see, he knows better than to burst through those doors and whisk you away on his horse. You’re just leverage, my dear, nothin
g more, and nothing less. It’s always been that way from the very beginning. Every man has a weakness and his downfall was Trix, not you.” He noticed tears pooling in her eyes. “Terra, do you really think he has feelings for you?” Spencer pulled up a chair and sat opposite her, shivering slightly at the chill in the ammunition factory. Oklahoma was cool for this time of year.

  “The man has a love for strippers and dancers in tiny shorts. He dragged you around this grand country of ours because he had to. If he stopped, I would’ve killed him. Trix was his ideal woman, not some fur saving, tree hugging whore like you.”

  “You killed Trix in cold blood. You put a bullet in her damn skull!”

  “How often do you think of that night when he screwed you?” Spencer asked, knowing it was a soft spot for her. “Seth Langdon isn’t unlike any other man. You were just available to him. You’ll never see him again after today.”

  “That’s not true. He will come, I know it.”

  “Whatever you want to believe, honey.” Spencer walked over to a silver tray laden with tools he specifically asked Joca to retrieve—knives, pliers, hammers, handguns, and needles laced with pure Clandestine. He’d originally intended to torture Terra until Seth barged through the warehouse doors, but chose to bide his time. He wanted him to suffer just a little more.

  Terra’s eyes widened at the sight of his Desert Eagle catching the light on his hip. It was the first time she’d shown fear since Joca bought her to the warehouse.

  “I understand why you pursued me, Spencer,” she said. “I posed a security risk to your company. I found out what Haroun Agency really did—killing criminals and corrupt politicians outside a court of law. Was I the first one to ever question your company’s motives?”

  Spencer expelled a breath in annoyance. “If it wasn’t for Jack Winchester, we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we? I should’ve eliminated him when I had a chance.” He then softened his scowl and glanced at her. “I admire your tenacity, Terra. You followed your gut and traced Jack all the way to New York. If I wasn’t planning on peeling the skin from your sweet body I would train you as an agent. I see great potential in you.”

  “Fuck off, Spencer. I’ve never killed anyone and I don’t plan to. I’m not an animal.”

  In one explosive move, he slapped her across the face so hard it snapped her head to the side. “You little bitch,” he sneered. “There are other ways I can enjoy my time with you.”

  He reached for his belt buckle and unclipped it, watching the fear transform on Terra’s face. The one thing he loved about whores was how easy it was to manipulate them. As he circled her chair to untie the bonds, the warehouse doors opened and Joca entered, half-carrying, half-pulling a bloodied and bruised Dawson.

  “I found him, boss,” he called out. “What do you want to do with him?”

  Spencer buckled up his trousers and motioned to a chair opposite Terra. “Sit him here. He and I are going to have a chat.”

  Wordlessly, Joca tossed Dawson into his seat and bound him with handcuffs. One eye was swollen shut. The other anxiously scanned the tray of goodies glistening in the light. “I told Seth nothing!” he wailed. “I didn’t even know he was sent back to Enfield.”

  “You’ve disliked Seth for years. Why help him now?”

  “I’m not helping him! What would I get out of it if I was? Spencer, you have to believe me.”

  “What were you doing hovering around the coroner’s office? No other admin has a skeleton key except for you. That gives you access to every room, including mine. Do I need to look at security cameras, Dawson?”

  The man’s bottom lip quivered. He was guilty of something.

  “I haven’t abetted Seth in anything! Why did you bring me here with Terra Bloom?”

  Spencer reached for the pliers. “You’re a loose end that needs tying up.”

  ***

  The smell of death always left a bitter taste in Dawson’s mouth. He was lucky not to be an agent, tasked to murder and then dispose of a target’s body before it turned rank. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it. It was different this time because he knew the victim.

  A deceased Trix laid on a porcelain autopsy table, cold and eerily white, a deep and gaping gunshot wound on the left side of her skull. A sheet covered her body from the neck down. All the vibrancy and beauty Seth once described to him was long gone.

  He’d heard of her death from other administration workers and felt immediate guilt. Though he and Seth never got along, Dawson knew what losing a loved one was like, and what was even worse was Seth had witnessed her murder by the hands of his boss.

  Once the crime was committed, Carmichael was called in to clean the body and prepare her for the next stage of her journey. That was when Dawson stepped in. He wasn’t entirely sure where Spencer planned to send Trix’s remains but wanted to make things right. Terra was the next link in the chain in bringing Seth down and Dawson could provide some respite in the situation.

  He stood motionless, glancing down at Trix’s colorless cheeks, an ache in his chest. He didn’t have much time. He’d sent the guard out for coffee, and he’d be back soon.

  Dawson withdrew a notepad from his pocket and scribbled down the words that circled in his head like a hurricane.

  “Spencer abducted Terra. He found her at the cabin and used your absence to his full advantage. It was a ploy to separate you from her all along. He’s wanted Terra from the very beginning.”

  When he was finished, he folded the note and slipped it into the sheet, ensuring it was out of sight. At that moment, the door swung open behind him and footsteps entered the room.

  “Clarke, you’re back early,” he said. “Did you get a latte for me?”

  “No, I didn’t. They were all out.”

  He spun around at the familiar voice and saw Joca standing in the doorway with his pistol drawn. Dawson jerked away from Trix’s body and stumbled for something to use as a weapon, and found nothing worthy nearby.

  Joca put his free hand up and approached slowly. “No use, man. By the time you find something, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

  “What do you want?” Dawson probed. “I’m supposed to be down here so I think the gun’s a little unnecessary.”

  The weapon didn’t budge.

  “How did you get in?”

  Dawson pulled a key from his pocket and dangled it in front of Joca’s face. “I have a skeleton key. Spencer knows I’m down here. He asked me to check on Trix’s body before she’s sent away.”

  Joca stared him with one hooked eyebrow. “That’s not an administrator’s job. We hire men like Carmichael to take care of things like that.”

  “Why is Spencer sending her body to Enfield?” Dawson asked. “What’s the point of sending her there?”

  “If you were sent down here, you should already know,” Joca interjected.

  “Like you said, I’m only an admin. I don’t get told everything.”

  Joca sighed impatiently and holstered his handgun. “Spencer is punishing Seth for his betrayal, that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Wasn’t Enfield the place his mother was found murdered ten years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  When Joca saw the realization dawn on Dawson’s face, his shoulders tensed and the gun got whipped out again. “You little shit. No one was supposed to know that.”

  Dawson smirked. “Even the best of us slip up sometimes.”

  The butt of the gun came down hard alongside Dawson’s temple and he collapsed to one knee, cradling his head. Pain shot through his skull like a live wire. “I’m not sure I deserved that.”

  Joca stepped up beside him and kicked him in the gut, knocking him over onto the cold concrete floor. “It’s time to go, Dawson.” He motioned for the door with the muzzle of the weapon.

  Gritting his teeth against an onslaught of discomfort, he gazed up at the agent with one eye closed. “Where are we going?”

  “To see Spencer. I think he would like to know
why you and Seth Langdon are working together.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seth fell out of the event horizon onto his hands and knees. Taking a moment to gather his bearings, he studied his surroundings. Upturned furniture, broken paintings, and rotten food still embedded in the carpet confirmed he’d arrived home in the present. As much as he was relieved to be back in New York, he still felt destitute for leaving Enfield without Trix.

  He wandered through the apartment wordlessly, sidestepping broken pieces of furniture and torn clothing. He never had time to clean it after he and Terra dropped in to grab his arsenal. The concrete crater by his bed still remained, housing a selection of small handguns, ammo, and half a dozen flash bangs. He pocketed what he could and entered the kitchen for a well earned drink.

  He poured a glass of scotch and downed it. As he reached for another one, the house phone on the wall rang loudly. The foreign sound startled him as he’d never used the phone since moving in years ago.

  Hesitantly, he picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Seth, it’s your father. How have you been, son?”

  “Dad?” The buoyancy in Donald’s voice gave him instant concern. He sounded happy and his father was never happy. “How did you get this number?”

  “You gave it to us.”

  “Us? Who else is with you?”

  “Your mother, you daft twit.”

  Seth’s shot glass slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor. A blinding white light shone behind his eyes, momentarily shocking him. His mother was alive? He gripped the kitchen bench, a knowing dread breaking through the haze. As he’d feared, killing Sonny before his time had altered the future. What else had changed?

  “Is…is Mom with you now?” he stammered.

  “Nah, she’s at the parlor getting her hair done. Are you feeling all right?”

  Seth rubbed his hands over his face, trying to assess the situation. He felt a little sickened to hear his mother was alive. Was Donald playing a cruel prank on him? Was he dreaming? He even pinched himself to make sure.