Page 150 of Wrecked
Hawk just stared at her. He knew she’d been with the CIA, but she never talked about it. Knowing she couldn’t discuss her cases, he never asked.
Addison stared into her lap. “A friend of mine from Langley joined me over there, in part, because I asked for her.” There was a vulnerability in her voice that he’d never heard before. “She got ambushed after following up on a tip from an informant. A bomb went off and she got killed. It was my fault she died.”
What the hell.
Silence.
“Addison, you know that’s not true,” Cooper said.
“I appreciate your saying that, but she trusted me. We were like sisters and, like Melinda, she’s dead… because of me.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” Hawk said.
“Anything to do with Haqazzii and his family, I take personally,” Addison said, her tone filled with determination. “I’mall inon this mission.”
Cooper flashed a picture of Aziz Haqazzii on the screen.Late-thirties, pleasant looking with a thick, dark brown beard and mustache. Deep brown eyes, short, dark hair. No smile. In his arms, he clutched a machine gun.
Hawk jumped back ten years when his heart had been shattered, his soul had died. A calloused man had emerged from the wreckage of his broken life. He shifted on the chair, forcing himself to stay present to the mission. He couldn’t eliminate the SOB if he didn’t know the specs.
As if Addison sensed something was wrong, she regarded him. He could feel her eyes burning into him. Rather than meet her gaze, he stared at the screen. Better to shut her out and manage through this alone.
Cooper showed them an aerial photo of an unremarkable one-story building. “This is Haqazzii’s compound outside Sharpsburg, Maryland. He and his team live and work here.” Cooper tapped his keyboard and a photo of a trailer flashed on the screen. “The trailer is parked on the property. We don’t know its purpose.”
Hawk’s phone buzzed with a text, but he didn’t check his phone.
“What’s their MO?” Addison asked.
“Explosives,” Cooper replied. “Over the past two years, there’ve been eleven bombs detonated worldwide killing thousands. Based on intel from our CIs, and the types of devices used, we’re confident Haqazzii and his team are behind the bombings.”
Hawk and Addison nodded their acknowledgment.
“The mission is Saturday, two a.m.,” Cooper explained.
“Why the short timeline?” Hawk asked.
“A month ago, they turned a White House staffer who travels with the President to Camp David. The employee was providing intel to Haqazzii about an upcoming international summit the President is hosting next week.”
“When do guests arrive?” Hawk asked.
“Sunday afternoon,” Cooper replied. “Haqazzii and his team are planning to smuggle bombs into Camp David, set to detonate during the summit.”
“Got it.” Hawk scraped his fingers down his whiskered cheeks.
“The CIA has strong reason to believe Haqazzii is responsible for Ronald’s and Melinda’s deaths in retaliation for killing his father,” Cooper continued.
“Understood,” Addison replied.
“If you accept this, you’ll miss Stryker and Emerson’s rehearsal dinner,” Cooper said.
“As long as I don’t miss their wedding, I’m good,” Addison added.
Hawk’s phone rang. “I gotta take this.” He answered, listened, hung up, then shifted his attention to Addison. “We’ll prep later.” He pushed out of the chair. “I gotta take off.”
When Addison didn’t get up, Hawk said, “You ready?”
“I need to talk to her about something else,” Cooper said. “I’ll make sure we get her to you.”
“Call me when you’re ready for a pick-up,” Hawk said to her.
