by Freya Barker
It’s gonna take both of us to help walk him back to the road.
“Be right there.”
A few minutes later I hear small rocks roll down the ledge as he climbs down. When his feet touch the ground, he holds up a sandwich baggie with some dirt and the glisten of a couple of shell casings.
“You carry plastic baggies?”
He grins.
“Hillary baked muffins this morning. I grabbed one for a snack.”
“Fuckin’ Boy Scouts,” Bill grumbles, his eyes now squinting against the bright sun.
“Let’s get him up and stabilize that arm,” I tell Radar before turning to Evans. “Can you walk?”
“Well, I didn’t fucking get here clicking my goddamn heels.”
I’m guessing he’s in pain since the F-bombs are flying, but he doesn’t say a word when Radar and I maneuver him into a sitting position, leaning his back against the rock. We quickly turn the sleeve of his light jacket into a makeshift sling and help him to his feet. He’s not looking too good.
“Let’s get you to a hospital.”
“This Podunk town have any?”
“Our best bet is Grand Junction,” Radar contributes. “Unless you want to stop at a clinic, but I have a feeling you’ll need more than a Band-Aid.”
It takes ten minutes—Evans isn’t moving too fast—to get back to the side of the road where the Yukon is still parked where Radar left it. We get him in the back seat but the moment I slide behind the wheel my phone rings.
“Mazur.”
“Yeah, James Aiken here. Where the hell are you?”
“Rifle, about an hour east of town. Bringing in Evans. He’s been shot,” I fill him in.
“Shit. We’ve got some injuries here at your office as well.” I’m already hitting my ignition button and put the call on speakerphone. “Front door was locked with an alarm going off, so we went around to the rear just as local PD showed up. Walked in the back door and found three down. Sarrazin and two of your crew.”
Jesus, Bree…
“What fucking injuries?”
I’m already peeling away from the road shoulder.
“Sarrazin was shot in the back. He’s alive but critical. EMTs are working on him.”
“Don’t give a fuck about him, what about my crew? Bree?”
“She’s just sore. Got hit with a Taser. Your man got hit too, but in addition he appears to have been drugged with something as well. The other woman who shot Sarrazin is just a little shook up, but otherwise fine.”
“Other woman?”
“Yeah, your admin assistant, Lena.”
“Lena?” Radar repeats incredulously.
I’m as surprised as he is, the woman is not a fan of guns, period. The idea of her holding one, let alone shooting it, is ridiculous.
“Look, I’ve gotta go,” Aiken announces. “See you when you get here.”
When he hangs up, I immediately dial Dimi, who’s closer, and tell him to grab Jake and haul ass to the office. With Sarrazin down I don’t think there’s a risk to the vineyard, but just in case I order Shep to stay put.
Funny, it took only a second for fear to grab hold with that phone call, but it takes until we reach the streets of Grand Junction for my stomach to settle back in place.
“Stay with Evans until you hear from me,” I tell Radar. “I’ll drive up to the ER and drop you off. And check to see if they brought Kai here.” I glance in the rearview mirror. Bill has been silent for most of the drive and looks like fucking death warmed over. “Hey, buddy, you hanging in there?”
His eyes open to slits.
“Yeah.”
“Did you hear me tell Radar—”
“Yeah.”
As if he just expended the last of his energy on talking, his eyes fall shut and his head slumps to one side.
I hear Radar already on the phone to the hospital to give them a heads-up for an incoming GSW.
“I’ll come check on you,” I tell Bill when medical staff load him on a stretcher seconds after we pull up to the emergency entrance.
“Go.”
He motions with his good hand as he’s being wheeled inside.
I’m torn about leaving him when he’s in such bad shape, but the need to see for myself Bree is okay propels me back behind the wheel.
Ten minutes later I pull into the parking lot, which is still teeming with police vehicles. A police officer is guarding the front door. It takes a minute or two and a lot of patience to talk my way past him.
“Bree!” I call out the moment I step through the door, but the first person I see is a very pale Lena.
She’s sitting in the bullpen with Bissette when she turns to look at me. Her face crumples instantly and she’s already out of her chair when I get to her and pull her into my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles in my shirt. Then she tilts her head back. “Were you at the hospital? Is Kai okay?”
“Radar will check on him,” I assure her, patting her on the back. “And you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Bree told me to stay in the conference room, but I couldn’t let her go in there alone. So I took the gun from your desk drawer and went in after her, but he already had her down, and Kai…” She takes in a shaky breath. “I watched him bend over Bree and I thought he was gonna hurt her. I just reacted.”
“You did good.”
She promptly bursts into tears.
“I don’t even know h-how to sh-shoot, I just pointed. What if I’d m-missed?”
She faceplants in my shirt again and I look over her shoulder at Bissette, who raises an eyebrow.
I take Lena by the shoulders and set her back a step before bending so we’re eye to eye.
“But you didn’t. If not for you, God knows what might’ve happened.”
Bree
I’m trying to ignore the blood on the front of my shirt as I stand off to the side while James Aiken directs the GJPD’s forensics unit around the garage.
Both bay doors are rolled up for easier access and I’m grateful for the fresh air. It helps me get rid of my shaky legs.
“Bree…”
I turn my head to see Yanis stalking in my direction, his eyes scanning me top to bottom before they lock on the stain on my shirt.
“It’s his,” I quickly explain, as I’m almost hauled off my feet and in his arms.
Ignoring the milling crowd of people, he takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, his hold on me painfully tight, but this pain I welcome.
“Fuck, Tygrys. Fuck,” he mumbles, his eyes closed and his forehead touching mine. “That was too close.”
“I know, but it’s all over now,” I soothe him.
He lifts his head and I don’t like the look in his eyes.
“I wish it were, but we still have two shooters on the loose. Evans was shot.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin.
“Is he…”
“He’ll be okay. I think,” he quickly adds.
“You don’t think it’s over with Sarrazin out of commission?”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t. I think something more is going on. These guys were committed enough to hole up and wait for Bill to show himself so they could end him. Shots were exchanged, Bree. A fuckload of them. And we were close enough to the road to hear traffic.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Aiken walk up and clap Yanis on the shoulder, but his eyes stay on mine as he finishes his thought.
“Not a single emergency vehicle showed.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Yanis
“For a year?”
The FBI agent glances at me and nods.
“Give or take,” he confirms.
As it turns out, the Denver office has an active investigation into Albero and some of his investments.
“The Attorney General…” Bree mumbles beside me.
We just finished getting the Denver SAC up to speed with an outline of events we believe to be connected. Including Rada
r’s somewhat illegal discoveries, which earned him a stern look from the agent but nothing more.
We’re congregated in the conference room, packed in like sardines. Aiken, his local counterpart, SAC Sanders, Bissette and her partner, Garcia, and us. Missing is Sergeant Fillmore and obviously Bill Evans, who by last report is undergoing surgery at St. Mary’s.
Also at the hospital is Sarrazin, who is currently under the knife, with two of Aiken’s agents guarding him.
I asked Jake to take a shaken Lena to the hospital to check on Kai, who is being monitored for the effects of the ketamine injection he was jabbed with.
“Very astute, Ms. Graves,” Aiken says appreciatively, and I tighten my arm around her as much as our side-by-side chairs will allow.
I haven’t let go of her since I got here and Bree hasn’t objected to my hovering, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.
“Yes,” he continues. “Among other things we’ve been looking into the substantial contributions made to Delmer Beauregard’s campaign. Interesting to note that their connection goes back quite a few years to when Beauregard was the ADA on a money-laundering case against Albero.”
“At opposite sides of the courtroom. Curious they seem to be on the same side now?” Bissette observes with an eyebrow raised.
“We suspect Albero has something he’s lording over the AG’s head,” Aiken explains. “Given some of the things we’ve uncovered, it’s likely damaging enough to get Beauregard to put pressure on law enforcement to lay off the mafia boss.”
There are nods around the table. Nobody’s going to argue that, we all know corruption runs up to the highest levels. Still, it’s unnerving to know everything truly has a price.
“So how does a mafia kingpin benefit from the abduction of one of my agents, the death of a country singer, or the sabotage of a vineyard?”
I pose the question to the entire room, but it’s Aiken who answers.
“He may not…” He pauses and I’m about to ask for clarification when he follows it up with, “At least not directly.” He gets up from his chair and starts pacing the room. “The old man had a reported falling out with his stepson last year. Sarrazin was kicked off the board of Patria Holdings, Albero’s shelter company, and limited to managing the day-to-day operations of only one of its subsidiaries in Colorado Springs.”
“Falcone Scrap and Metal,” Radar pipes up.
Aiken looks surprised.
“Yes. How did you know?”
Radar explains the connection between Falcone and McNeely, the guy responsible for damage to the vineyard, in greater detail.
James nods. “Makes sense. Now, I don’t have any pertinent information regarding the wedge between Albero and his stepson, but I suspect Sarrazin’s obsession with the singer played a part in it. The old man wouldn’t have wanted that kind of attention drawn to his family.”
“Do you think it’s possible she knew who her stalker was?” Bree asks him.
“Likely.”
They were at the same campaign party. She must’ve at least been introduced to the two men and realized the power they held.
“In that case, she may have been afraid to point her finger,” Bree proposes, nodding her head. “And when she disappeared it probably made them nervous. They would’ve looked for her.”
“And found her,” I confirm.
“So then Sarrazin’s obsession turned to you.”
Crystal Bissette looks at Bree.
“I think Ms. Graves hit his radar when he mistakenly abducted her,” Aiken thinks out loud. “But yeah, after Bobby Lee was found dead, he may have directed his obsession your way.”
“Which would explain the cameras in your apartment,” the detective concludes.
“But it doesn’t explain the fire poker left on my bed.”
Good point. The fire poker is still unexplained, as is the sabotage at the vineyard.
Radar checked into the story Joe and Sarrazin knew each other from college, which appears to be true enough—they were roommates in fact—but the motivation behind the vandalism is still a question mark.
The meeting is abruptly ended when Aiken receives a phone call from one of his guys at the hospital, telling him Sarrazin is out of surgery. The agent rushes over there in hopes of questioning him.
Shortly after that the GJPD contingent heads out, leaving only us sitting in the conference room.
“Thoughts?” I prompt.
“Bree might still be in danger,” Radar supplies. “She can identify Sarrazin was the one behind her abduction.”
“True,” Bree adds. “Calling me ‘Songbird’ like he did then confirmed it for me.”
I glance at her and note the deep frown between her eyebrows. She doesn’t seem that convinced. Before I can question her on it, Dimi comes forward with a good point.
“We need to put someone on Lena. She’s the one who shot Sarrazin. That may well have put a target on her back as well.”
Fuck me.
I mentally go over any current or pending contracts. Looks like we’re going to be busy protecting our own. At least until the FBI finalizes their investigation and exercises some arrest warrants.
In the meantime, Albero is circling the wagons.
Bree
I feel like I’ve run a marathon.
I only wish it was something that noble instead of getting zapped with fifty-thousand volts. Damn.
“How about we swing by Aztecas on the way home?” I suggest, glancing at Yanis.
It’s about eight in the evening, I haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast, and my stomach is growling.
“I can hear the beast needs feeding,” he teases with a wink. Then he turns his attention back to the road.
I’m surprised he’s so lighthearted, not his usual demeanor, especially after the day we’ve had. I like it, though. He was always so serious, so…I don’t know, responsible. I’d love to think I have something to do with this different side of him, although I’m sure the fact his buddy, Evans, should make a complete recovery, and both he and Kai should be released tomorrow, is part of it.
For now, Lena is going to stay with Jake and Rosie. Yanis had offered one of his spare bedrooms, but she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel in a budding romance. Her words, not mine. She felt her presence wouldn’t stand out as much at Jake and Rosie’s, given their one-year-old daughter, Tessa, holds all their attention.
She’s lying. She just wants the baby snuggles.
I don’t blame her. I remember the first time I shot someone and I was trained for it. It shakes you to the core. Not that Lena is oblivious to what we’re sometimes faced with in our line of work. Aside from Yanis, she’s probably the most informed PASS employee. But it’s one thing to hear it told, read reports, or see images—it’s a different ballgame when you’re living it.
“By the way, what was the story with Bill?”
Yanis had gone to talk to Evans while I stayed with Kai. Poor guy had been full of apologies. As if he could’ve anticipated getting hit with a Taser from behind. I wanted to hear what the detective had to say, but I didn’t want to walk out on Kai. Besides, it had been interesting to watch our determinedly single office manager trying hard not to ogle Kai’s substantial shape under that sheet. I can see the appeal, until Yanis enters the room, of course.
“He’s had an eye on Sarrazin for a few days. This morning he tailed him out of Denver, and just past Glenwood Springs, a dark SUV pulled alongside and bullets started flying from the rear driver’s side. He cut off on the byway, but they caught up with him at the gas station.”
“Did he get a good look at them?”
“Yeah. He passed all that on to Aiken.” He glances over and grabs for my hand. “Also…he thinks he found the house where they took you. A large mountain lodge four miles from where you were found.”
Four miles? It had felt like forty at the time.
“Really?”
I shiver at the memory of that night and unconsc
iously rub the back of my thumb on my leg. I don’t want to think about what might’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten myself out of that place when I did.
There’s still something nagging at me and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Yeah, Bill didn’t have a chance to dig into ownership but Aiken’s team is looking into it.”
“Good. Did he get a chance to talk to Sarrazin?”
“Aiken?” Yanis darts a look my way and I nod in confirmation. “No. They’re keeping him sedated and he already has a lawyer posted by his bedside.”
Figures. They don’t waste any time putting the muzzle on.
While Yanis pulls into the restaurant parking lot and runs in to grab us some food, I replay the day’s events in my head. This morning’s meeting almost feels like it was a week ago, so much happened in the interim. I shiver remembering the soft voice seconds before the blinding pain of the Taser hit me.
Suddenly uneasy, I scan the parking lot around me. A couple walks out of Aztecas and gets into a truck three spots down. I turn back to the restaurant and find Yanis watching me through the window. I keep my eyes on him, forcing a smile he returns, but with my right hand hit the central lock.
When a few minutes later he walks out, a paper bag in hand, I quickly disengage the locks. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy.
“Everything all right?” Yanis asks when he gets behind the wheel, handing me the bag of food.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I keep my voice light and breezy, but it doesn’t seem to fool Yanis. The man is too perceptive when it comes to me.
“You locked the doors,” he says, hitting the ignition. “Bree?” he adds when I don’t immediately respond.
“I feel…unsettled,” I admit.
“That’s understandable.” He reaches over and gives my knee a light squeeze. “A lot has happened. We may occasionally deal with violence in our line of work, but that’s usually targeted on others. In this case you were the focus. I’d be worried if you weren’t affected.”
He makes a valid point, an insightful one. Maybe it’s as simple as that; some lingering trauma.