Page 90 of Rescuing Erin

“Who?” Hollywood, one of the Deltas, asked.

“A secret fraternity made up of the most powerful men on the planet. The Omni doesn’t discriminate. They have no country. Race, religion, region, or creed does not matter to them. Money and power are their currency. Today they sent a message, they’re more powerful than the president. If they can get to me, they can get to anyone. Their plan was brilliant and beautifully executed.”

“How’d they do it?” Coach, another Delta, asked the question we were all wondering.

“Remote control,” Tom answered. “Tex pulled the maintenance report for Marine One, every two-hundred cycles she gets a full service and recertification. According to the last report, there was a faulty flight control module. It was replaced. This has Omni written all over it.”

“You’re saying Omni has someone inside the HMX-1 and they replaced the control module with one they had remote access to?” Zane asked.

HMX-1 was the Marine Helicopter Squadron responsible for the transportation of the president. There was going to be one pissed off Marine Colonel back at the Marine Corps Air Facility.

“Not only Marine One, but the two follow helicopters, too. Or maybe the whole fleet for that matter.”

There was no missing the venom in Tom’s tone. This was worse than any of us could’ve ever imagined. And that was saying something, when it was just the NSA involved, and they were playing their spy games, it was a shitstorm. Now? We had entered into FUBAR territory—fucked up beyond all repair. If the Omni had infiltrated the United States government, we’d never get them out.

“How’d you get out of the box?” I asked, remembering the two dead secret service agents.

“I didn’t get out. I was let out. And the two men on my detail who opened the door soon found they were expendable. You know what they say about honor among thieves.”

Just as we’d assumed, the agents who’d gone with Tom were dirty. How fucking deep did this go?

“I need something from you, Zane. It’s more than I should be requesting.”

“Yet, you still are.” Zane chuckled. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“I need Declan and the Gold Team to track Omni.”

Declan lifted his chin in acceptance and I wondered how his twin sister was going to feel about her brother being back in the field full-time.

“Done,” Zane announced.

“What are we doing about Angel?” Linc asked.

“That’s what Tex is working on now. I want all the intel wiped clean before I go public. There’s one thing the US population loves and that’s a good conspiracy, and I’m gonna give it to them. Omni has always had a veil of mystery surrounding them. They think they’re safe because they work in the darkest recesses of the world. Not anymore. I want the world to know we’re hunting. And I won’t stop until Declan and his team have tracked each and every one of them down. Militrix and Perkins will be the first two Omni to fall.”

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt,” Erin stammered from the doorway.

“You’re never interrupting, dear,” Tom returned.

All the fine hairs on my neck stood up, and suddenly the mood electrified. A current pulsed through the room, and nineteen of the world’s deadliest men stood stock-still. They all felt it, too. Erin hadn’t moved or said anything other than to apologize, but it was the fear in her voice that had put us all on alert. Her arms were crossed awkwardly in front of her body, and I didn’t know if she was holding something or trying to stop her hands from shaking.

Her head snapped in my direction, and she asked, “What’s the color of the day?”

My hand automatically went for my weapon, so did the other eighteen men in the room, and I answered, “White.”

Her arms uncrossed in lightning speed, and before I could blink or register what was going on, she’d popped off two rounds. The secret service agent in front of her fell against the wall, dropping his gun before he hit the floor. Everything happened so quickly I hadn’t even noticed the man had drawn on her.

“Fuck!” someone shouted.

“Lower your gun, sunshine,” I said as I jogged to her. “Where’d you get that?”

“Gerard needs a doctor. He’s in the back hall by the pantry.” She was still holding the gun out in front of her. “His lapel.” She motioned the Smith & Wesson in the direction on the downed man. “His color is wrong. He’s wearing blue.”

As I studied the man on the floor’s presidential detail pin, Ghost, Fletch, and Truck rushed past us. He was indeed wearing the wrong color. Every day the outside ring of the pin changed colors. Sometimes more than once depending on the threat level. Why hadn’t any of us noticed? It was unacceptable. A huge fuck-up. An oversight that not only had deadly consequences but it would leave a lasting mark on Erin.

“Less than twenty-five feet. There’s no time to aim. Grip and trigger control,” she rambled. “I knew something was wrong when Gerard didn’t come back right away. He never makes my mom wait. She asked for tea. He . . .” She waved the gun at the man on the floor. “Went into the kitchen after Gerard. He came back empty handed. The color is wrong.”

For all the shakiness in Erin’s voice, she was holding it together pretty well considering there was a man bleeding out in front of her and the complete chaos in the room around us. I tuned out everything going on around us, my only concern was Erin and getting the weapon out of her hand.