Hard Justice: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Clare, Pamela

  “There is evidence that illegal drugs played a role in the murder of former SAS trooper Jack Murray, it has been revealed. Murray, who was found dead in a Glasgow alley early in the mornin’ of November third, worked as part of the private security team of MSP Alastair Whitehall.”

  Poor Ava. It must be hell on her to lose the man she loved and then watch another side of him emerge in the media. Not that Elizabeth was certain Jack had been involved with drugs. But if she’d been asked to assess the probability, she’d have put it at a solid ninety-five percent, and that was tempering it by Quinn’s faith in him.

  The footage cut away to an older dark-haired man in an expensive suit. So that was MSP Alastair Whitehall.

  “Jack Murray was a hard-working member of my team. If he were found to have been selling illegal drugs, I would be quite surprised, indeed. My thoughts are with his family during this trying time. Thank you. No further comment.”

  Two things hit Elizabeth. The first was that Alastair, too, found it hard to believe that Jack could have sold drugs. The second was that the MSP’s accent was completely different from Quinn’s, almost more English than Scottish.

  No wonder Leo hated him.

  Then the image of a pretty young blond-haired girl appeared on the screen.

  “Police are lookin’ for anyone with information about the overdose death of fourteen-year-old Katie Cameron. Cameron, of Muirhouse, was reported missin’ in October. Her body was found last week in a ditch at a construction site outside of Edinburgh.”

  Muirhouse.

  Why did Elizabeth know that name?

  Thurston Tower, where Clive MacDonald lived, was in Muirhouse.

  The printer beeped to let Elizabeth know it was out of paper. She refilled it, waiting while the last handful of pages finished printing. She charged the copies to her room and was on her way back toward the bank of elevators when her phone buzzed.

  She glanced at the screen. A notification from the security cam in Quinn’s room. He’d probably just gotten back with their food and—

  Her heart gave a hard knock, adrenaline hitting her blood stream.

  The image on her screen wasn’t Quinn.

  Shit!

  She stared as a man with a balaclava covering his face moved through the room, as if searching for something.

  The man who attacked Quinn.

  Chills shivered down her spine.

  Her phone rang, making her jump.

  Quinn. Thank God!

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the business center. There’s a man—”

  “I saw the bastard. That’s him—the man I saw that night. I’m on my way back. Dinnae go up to the rooms. Stay in a public place. Do you hear me? He’ll kill you.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to confront this guy.” She watched as the figure on the screen prowled through the room, looking in drawers, searching Quinn’s bags. Then he disappeared into the bedroom. “We should alert hotel security, call the police.”

  “Naw, he’ll gut those poor hotel security boys.”

  The assailant reappeared then opened Quinn’s duffel and put something inside it.

  “He just put something in your duffel bag.”

  “Stay where you are. I’m almost there.”

  Elizabeth watched as the intruder left the room, disappearing from view. “He left. I’m going to position myself in the lobby where I can see the elevators.”

  “He’ll have a wound on his left cheek where I stabbed him. Dinnae follow him. Dinnae go near him. Do you hear me? I’m on my way from the car park.”

  “You be careful, too. He’ll recognize you.”

  Printed pages in hand, she ended the call, hurried to the lobby near the fireplace, and sat where she had a clear view of the elevators, pretending to read the documents in her hands. One of the elevator cars was on its way down. Had it started at their floor? She hadn’t noticed.

  Elizabeth’s breath caught and held as the elevator doors opened.

  An older couple stepped out.

  The bastard must have taken the stairs.

  Damn it!

  14

  Quinn pushed his way through the hotel’s front entrance, found Elizabeth waiting for him, relief washing through him to see that she was safe. They walked together through the lobby toward the elevators, speaking in hushed tones.

  “He must have taken the stairs. No one has stepped out of the elevator who could have been him—male or female. They’re all too short, too old, or too overweight. I should have called the police.”

  “He’d have been gone afore they got here.” Quinn didn’t want her blaming herself. “I’m just glad you were down here and not in your room.”

  The idea of this murdering bastard getting anywhere close to Elizabeth turned Quinn’s stomach.

  “Shouldn’t we report the break-in to hotel security and the police anyway?”

  “I’m no’ callin’ them until I know what he put in my bag.”

  “Good point.”

  They rode the elevator to their floor, Quinn’s hand resting near his hip in case he needed to draw.

  Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me you’re carrying a…”

  Her words trailed off and she glanced up at the surveillance cameras.

  “I willnae tell you, and you know nothin’ about it.”

  It took what seemed like an eternity to reach the fifth floor, the elevator doors opening onto an empty, silent hallway.

  Keeping his hand near his weapon, he walked with Elizabeth to his room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, Elizabeth behind him. He didn’t have to clear the place because she’d watched the bastard leave.

  “He seemed to be searching for something.”

  “Aye, I saw that.” Quinn walked to his duffel, nudged it open. “Fuck!”

  Sitting inside was a plastic package holding something white.

  Elizabeth looked. “Drugs.”

  “He’s tryin’ to frame me, so he is.”

  “If he’s trying to frame you, it must mean the police are on their way.” Elizabeth walked to the coffee table, set down the papers and the bag of food.

  “What?”

  “He knows you’d find that quickly, so he’ll have tipped off the police right away. Thank God we have the video to prove your innocence.”

  “I’m no’ sure it’s legal to have surveillance cameras in our suites because this isnae our property.” He wasn’t sure about Scottish law but knew it was likely more restrictive than laws in the US. “We might face charges for vandalism or violation of privacy laws.”

  “Then let’s get rid of the stuff. Do you have a knife?”

  “Aye.” He reached down, drew the blade out of his ankle rig.

  “Cut it open and flush it down the toilet while I search your bedroom to make sure there’s not more. Don’t spill it on the floor or get it on your clothes.”

  Quinn hurried with the package and the knife to the bathroom, puncturing the plastic, carefully spilling whatever it was into the water, and flushing.

  Elizabeth rushed in, a small plastic bag in her hands. “This was in your nightstand.”

  “The fucker.” Quinn dumped out the smaller bag then ripped up all of the plastic and flushed it, too. “Let’s hope this doesn’t back up.”

  “Wash your hands.” She washed hers also and wiped the counter dry. “When they get here, they’ll search the place. You need to hide that firearm and the knife. If they have dogs…”

  Then it hit Quinn. “Did you turn your camera on when you went below?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God! I didn’t even think of it.”

  They hurried across the hall to her room, stepped inside.

  “My laptop is still here.” She glanced around. “If he was here, he saw the white board and knows what we know.”

  “Check for drugs.”

  They split up, searched the rooms.

  “There’s a bunch of it here!” she called from the bedroom. />
  Son of a bitch!

  He gave her his knife. “You start dumpin’. I’ll keep searchin’.”

  He did his best to be thorough and found a small bag holding wee white rocks beneath her pillow and another beneath the cushions on the sofa and carried both to the bathroom. “Jesus!”

  There had to be four kilos of—was it heroin or cocaine?—sitting on the floor.

  “Someone is spending a fortune to try to make us look guilty,” she said. “But why plant so much of it on me?”

  That was easy.

  “You’re the brains.” He dumped the other stuff into the toilet and began shredding the plastic. “If they take you out, doll, I’m fucked.”

  From outside came the sound of sirens.

  “Police.” Elizabeth’s gaze met his, panic on her face as she tore open the last package. “God, I hope we found it all. You’ll need to hide the firearm, too—and erase the whiteboard.”

  He hurried from the bathroom, used a fistful of tissues to erase the whiteboard, then sprinted out into the hallway and down to the ice machine several doors away. He hid both weapons deep in the ice then ran back to the bathroom to wash his hands—only to find Elizabeth naked and the shower running.

  She smiled, reached for him, a seductress, only her eyes showing fear. “We need to look busy. This will distract them.”

  It distracted Quinn, too.

  From out in the hallway came the sound of men’s voices.

  He got naked and stepped into the shower with Elizabeth.

  She pressed kisses to his chest, reached down to stroke his cock. “Your heart is pounding. They’ll sense our adrenaline. We have to look completely surprised when they burst in here. Back me up against the wall. Make it real.”

  He did as she asked, willing himself to focus on the sight of her body, the feel of her breast in his hand, the taste of her lips.

  “Police!”

  Elizabeth screamed.

  * * *

  Elizabeth hid her breasts and privates, doing her best to look shocked and terrified, which wasn’t too hard with five police officers staring at her.

  None of them had anything more lethal than a Taser.

  “What the fuck are you doin’ in here?” Quinn covered his half-hard cock with his hands, putting himself between Elizabeth and the other men and sounding truly furious.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” PC Patel walked in, looking smug and self-satisfied, her gaze meeting Elizabeth’s. “Nice black eye.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  Then Patel’s gaze dropped to Quinn’s groin.

  Poor Quinn.

  Quinn didn’t seem to care. He reached for a towel.

  “Not so fast. Step out of the shower, Mr. McManus.” Patel gestured to the men behind her. “Go with these officers. Get Nyla in here.”

  “You want me walkin’ about, naked and wet?”

  “Aye—until we’ve searched the towels and your clothes.”

  He did as she demanded. “Get these men the fuck out of here. I’ll no’ have them starin’ at her, the bastards.”

  Elizabeth waited until Quinn had gone and a second female officer had arrived then stepped out of the shower, lifted her hair, and made a slow circle. “I’m assuming you’ve got a reason for being here—other than staring at Quinn’s dick.”

  Patel’s expression hardened, and she held out two documents for Elizabeth to see. “We’ve got a warrant to search your suites for drugs.”

  “Drugs now, is it?” Elizabeth laughed then pointed to her clothes. “Can I dress?”

  Patel searched them, found nothing. “Yes.”

  Elizabeth stepped into her panties. “I’d like a copy of that warrant. I believe I have the right to make that request.”

  “If we find drugs, you might be facin’ a body cavity search.”

  “I’m sure that would make you happy, but you need a warrant for that here just like you would in the States.” Elizabeth put on her bra and then her jeans. “There are no drugs here. You’re wasting your time. I already told you that neither of us is involved in anything like that. You should be hunting for Jack’s killer. This is harassment.”

  “We’ll see.” Oh, Patel was smug.

  Elizabeth finished dressing, hoping to God that she and Quinn had found everything. The two of them were made to sit under guard in the hallway, their feet bare, their wrists cuffed behind their backs, while their rooms were ransacked by a team of officers wearing gloves. For some reason, the police hadn’t yet noticed the cameras. Then again, she and Quinn had tried to make them inconspicuous.

  “Well, I didn’t see this coming.” Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of their situation—letting themselves get caught naked in the shower together, Patel gaping at Quinn’s semi-erect penis, the two of them now cuffed.

  “What’s funny about this?” Quinn was clearly not amused.

  “All sorts of things.”

  “Do you think Grant is behind it?” Quinn whispered.

  “He could be.”

  “It’s quite the coincidence that we confronted him yesterday. You know I dinnae believe in coincidences.”

  Elizabeth had other thoughts. “What I want to know is how they got that warrant so quickly. It’s like they were just waiting for his call so they could pounce. He must have a connection in the police department.”

  Then Wilson stepped out of the elevator, looking more than a little harried.

  “What the fuck is going’ on?” He glanced down at the two of them as he passed, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth’s cheek before he entered Quinn’s suite.

  “Our food is probably cold.” Elizabeth was hungry.

  “Aye. Bastards.”

  After what seemed an eternity but was only an hour and a half, Elizabeth and Quinn were permitted to stand, and a young officer removed their handcuffs.

  Wilson stepped out into the hallway, Patel behind him, the printouts of Jack’s cell phone records in his hands. “What are these?”

  “You know what those are.” Elizabeth wouldn’t play games with him. “I acquired them with the help of their rightful owner. There’s nothing illegal going on here. Besides, I believe the warrant was for drugs.”

  “It looks like someone took a fist to you.” Wilson’s gaze shifted accusingly to Quinn. “Any idea who it was?”

  Quinn’s eyes went cold as slate. “A bastard tried to mug her yesterday when we were walking to the beach at Troon. She refused to let go of her handbag, so he swung and almost knocked her out. I’d have gone after him, but I was seein’ to her. We had a visit from a paramedic last night. The front desk can confirm that.”

  “Why didn’t you report it to the police?”

  Elizabeth let her irritation show. “Right now, I’m not your biggest fan. Besides, I was pretty sure you’d try to blame Quinn.”

  An officer stepped out of Elizabeth’s room with the blister pack of narcotic tablets the paramedic had given her. “This is the only thing we’ve found.”

  Thank God!

  “Those are from the paramedic who treated me last night.”

  Wilson took them, turned them over, handed them to Elizabeth. “We got a tip from a trusted informant that there were drugs here. Either you knew we were comin’ and got rid of the stuff, or our informant was wrong.”

  Quinn got in his face, crowding him. “Your informant was full of shite.”

  “As I’m sure you know, I’m a former counterterrorism analyst. Want my advice?” Elizabeth would give it to Wilson whether he wanted it or not. “Trace this tip carefully to its true source, and you’ll be looking Jack Murray’s killer in the face.”

  * * *

  Quinn watched Elizabeth’s words sink into Wilson’s thick skull. “I’ve worked with her for close to five years now. I’ve never known her to be wrong.”

  “If I brought drug dogs in, what would they find?” Wilson asked.

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth shrugged. “That depends on who stayed in this ro
om before us, doesn’t it? We’re not drug users or dealers. Want me to pee in a cup?”

  Quinn bit his cheeks to keep from laughing.

  Och, she had a mouth, his Lilibet.

  “Possibly.” Wilson handed her back the pages she’d printed and instructed his team to move out.

  Then PC Patel stepped out of Elizabeth’s room, looking particularly glum.

  Elizabeth gave her a frosty smile. “No body cavity search for me today, I guess.”

  Patel said nothing but threaded her way through the other officers and moved down the hallway.

  “In case you’re wondering, size really does matter,” Elizabeth whispered to her as she passed.

  Quinn couldn’t help but grin.

  When the police had gone, they returned to Quinn’s suite. “Och, what a mess.”

  It was going to be a long evening.

  They got to work in his room first, putting his clothes back on his closet shelves, calling housekeeping to change the sheets and replace the towels that had been thrown onto the floor, picking up his toiletries. Then they did the same in her room.

  “You hungry?” They crossed the hallway to his room, where Quinn picked up the bag of fish and chips. “It’s long since cold.”

  They tried reheating it in the microwave, but that left the fish tough and the breading mushy. So, they turned on their security cameras and took the bag with them down to the ground floor, where the concierge was happy to compost its contents with the kitchen scraps. They got a table in the restaurant, Quinn ordering another steak with whisky, while she had the roast chicken again with a glass of sauvignon blanc.

  “Cheers.”

  She raised her glass, but he could see that the initial rush of relief had worn off.

  “It’s going to be hard to sleep tonight. He was here, Quinn. He might have been waiting and watching for us to leave the rooms. He made his way past all of this security and hacked our locks with no trouble. If you hadn’t set your camera…”

  Quinn took her hand. “Do you want to move to another hotel?”

  She shook her head. “How would another hotel help? It took him only a handful of days to find us here. He’ll just do it again. This time, maybe he’ll succeed. Or maybe he’ll plant drugs in your rental vehicle.”