Lucy thought she saw the brown sedan again, but it was down a side street moving away from them, the license plate too far to read. She wasn’t positive it was the same vehicle, but she’d been on alert ever since she’d felt that creep looking at her.
Crime was a problem in the area. Mostly car thefts, muggings, property crimes. Violent crime was higher here than in other parts of Texas, but it was fairly stable, and daytime was generally safe. Still, predators often saw women as easy marks.
Lucy would not be an easy mark.
By the time they arrived at Moore Airfield—a private aviation field—Lucy had pushed the vehicle to the back of her mind. Not out of her mind, though—she had learned to be cautious. She and Siobhan had been shopping, had carried bags to the truck—it was Kane’s decked-out Ford. More than a decade old, but in excellent condition. If the thugs were watching them, they might think about jumping them for their stuff, or stealing the truck. If that was the case, she shouldn’t see them again.
Siobhan looked at her phone as soon as she stopped the car. “She’s here!”
Lucy smiled. Siobhan sounded like a little kid.
They walked over to the small building that separated the main airfield from the parking lot. Andie came in through the double doors. She was dressed in her everyday military uniform, her dark-blond hair pulled back into a tight, smooth bun.
“Andie!” Siobhan rushed over and hugged her before her sister could put down her garment bag.
“It’s good to see you, too, sis,” Andie said with a surprised grin.
“Lucy! This is my sister, Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Walsh.”
Lucy extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Lucy Kincaid, I’ve heard so many great things about you, and not just from Sean and Kane.”
“Well, thank you.” She didn’t know who else would talk about her—Jack had been Army, not the Marines, and she didn’t know anyone who worked on the military base.
Andie said, “You’re thinking. I know your sister-in-law Megan really well. Years ago—gosh, twenty years now. Megan was a new agent, and I was deployed to Kosovo as part of a protective detail when the FBI was working a crime scene after the civil war there.”
“She worked under Dr. Hans Vigo,” Lucy said. She had been expecting Andie to say she knew Kate, who worked at the FBI Academy at Quantico, so hearing about Megan surprised her.
“Yes, I remember Dr. Vigo. He was in charge of the unit.”
“Small world.”
“Indeed. Nice to finally put a face to the name. I wish Sean had introduced us when you were at training in Quantico.”
“Do you have everything?” Siobhan said. “Sean’s cooking and I’m starving.”
“Some things never change.”
Andie slid into the back of the extended cab and they left the airfield. It was nearly an hour’s drive back to the outskirts of Hidalgo. By the time they were on the road, the sun had set, casting an orange hue over everything.
“I’ll let Kane and Sean know we’re on our way,” Lucy said.
Kane answered Sean’s phone. “It’s Kane. Sean’s making a pie. If the security business goes south, he can open a restaurant.”
“Ha ha,” Lucy heard Sean in the background.
“Tell me it’s chocolate pecan,” Lucy said.
“Apple,” Kane said.
“Second best.”
“Chocolate pecan?” Kane groaned. “Sounds awful.”
“It’s amazing.”
Kane said, “Sean said he’ll make it when you go home.”
“I’m counting on it.” Lucy loved anything with chocolate. “We picked up Andie and are on our way back.”
“Padre’s coming by for dinner. He has some questions for Siobhan and me. I don’t see what he needs to know.”
“Humor him,” Lucy said. “We’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
She ended the call and looked over at Andie in the back seat. Lucy was about to say something when she saw the dark-brown sedan again, following them at a distance.
“Lucy?” Andie questioned.
“I saw that car twice before. Once for certain, they were outside the café where Siobhan and I had a drink, then I thought I saw it turn off the road a few minutes later.”
Andie looked. They were far enough back, and in the rapidly falling sun, neither of them could see the driver or if there was a passenger.
Lucy called Nate Dunning, her colleague and friend. He was staying at their house with Bandit, their dog, while they were here. “What’s up?” Nate said.
“Can you run a license plate for me?”
“I’m not at headquarters, but I can get it done. Give me a few minutes. What’s going on?”
“A car I’ve seen a couple of times. Might be following us.” She read off the number. “Texas plates. It’s an older car, a brown Ford sedan, but I’m the first to admit I don’t know car makes well.”
“I got it. I’ll call you back.”
Lucy held her phone and considered calling Sean, but they didn’t know anything yet. As soon as she had the information from Nate, she’d give Sean the heads-up.
“Are you sure it’s the same car?” Siobhan asked.
“Yes,” Lucy said. “The same as outside the café for certain. But they’re staying far back. I don’t know what they’re up to. I think we should lose them.”
“I don’t know that I can,” Siobhan said. “I was going to turn right at the next street. Ware’s a straight shot down to Hidalgo.”
“Don’t turn. Go to the next street, then turn right. If they follow, I’ll navigate.”
Siobhan was tense. Lucy didn’t want to scare her—and maybe she was being paranoid—but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She understood Kane’s lifestyle and that his life could bleed into Siobhan’s. Kane had made it clear to Siobhan that she could be at risk, and he didn’t have to tell the same to Lucy.
Not to mention that Siobhan had upset the apple cart when she exposed a black-market baby operation and helped reunite the stolen babies with their birth mothers. It was how Lucy and Siobhan first met, and Lucy had liked her immediately, even before she knew Siobhan was close to the Rogan family.
Siobhan turned at the street past Ware. Lucy looked behind them. The sedan didn’t follow.
“They went straight,” Lucy said.
Siobhan’s grip loosened on the steering wheel. “False alarm.”
Lucy wasn’t going to make that call, not yet. There could be a second tail, or whoever was following them suspected their destination was the ranch.
Two minutes later, Nate called Lucy back. “The car is registered to Juanita Zapalo of Edinburg. She’s seventy-two years of age.”
“A Hispanic male of about thirty was driving.”
“Want me to run Zapalo?”
Lucy almost said no, then changed her mind. “Might get us in trouble, I don’t really have cause, but my gut tells me something is odd.”
“I’m on it. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“Thanks.”
Lucy then called Sean’s number. It rang four times, then voice mail picked up. She left a brief message. “Sean, it’s Lucy, call me back. We’re about thirty minutes out, but I need to talk to you.”
She called Kane’s number.
He didn’t answer, either. She didn’t leave a message.
“Now I’m scared,” Siobhan said.
“They’re probably outside barbecuing,” Lucy said, not wanting Siobhan to panic. “Kane hates his phone.”
“Sean doesn’t,” Siobhan said, stating the obvious. “Sean dependably answers his phone, day or night.” She sped up. “Grab my phone and call Padre.”
Lucy caught Andie’s eye. Yeah, they were all worried. “Siobhan, don’t go the normal way home, okay? Go a completely different route.”
“But it’ll take longer.”
“Do it,” Lucy said. Her phone beeped. Nate had run a quick search on the vehicle owner. Sh
e’d died a year ago and had no known family. The car could have been sold by the court, given to a friend, stolen, and they wouldn’t know without more investigation. They didn’t have time for that now.
She called Padre—Father Francis Cardenas—and he answered on the second ring. “Siobhan? I’m on my way. Mass just ended.”
“Father, it’s Lucy Kincaid. Siobhan and Andie are here with me. We just tried calling the ranch and neither Kane nor Sean is answering. How far out are you?”
“I’m leaving the rectory now. Fifteen minutes. Do you have a reason to be concerned?”
“A car followed us earlier today, and then I saw it again. Kane said there were no known threats.”
“Nothing new, at any rate. Where are you?”
Lucy told him. “It’s about twenty minutes, but we’re going an alternate route.”
“I’ll meet you at the ranch.”
Lucy ended the call. Her stomach flipped.
Something was definitely wrong.
Chapter Three
Sean never cooked until he started dating Lucy—other than spaghetti—but he found that he was good at it. More, it relaxed him.
Baking was a new thing, however. He and Jesse started with cookies, and then Sean tried a few pies—including the chocolate-pecan recipe that was now Lucy’s favorite. Apple pie was easy, though he cheated with premade crusts. When he was done, he popped it into the preheated oven and turned his attention to the kabobs he and Lucy had prepared that morning. A full tray of steak, green peppers, and onions; and a tray of chicken, red peppers, and pineapple. Perfectly marinated. The barbecue was almost ready, but the kabobs didn’t take long to cook, so Sean would wait until the girls were back.
He picked up his phone to call Lucy and had no signal.
“Kane, is there something wrong with the cell repeaters I installed last time I was here?” Because they were far outside of town, reception was sketchy. Sean had set up a series of repeaters around the property to tap into three different cell towers in three different directions.
“The storm that blew through last month screwed with one of them. I’ve had a little trouble, but only when we’re in the hangar. I haven’t had problems in the house.”
“You should have told me.”
Kane shrugged.
Sean shook his head. “I’ll go take a look. I had one mounted on the west side of the hangar, which gets the best signal from the tower in town. If it’s just knocked out of alignment I can fix it in two minutes.”
Sean would be miserable with unreliable cell service or internet, but Kane didn’t care. Half the time he didn’t even answer his phone, and he never called just to talk to someone. When Kane called him about getting married, Sean almost thought he’d dreamed the conversation, it was so short.
“It’s Kane. Siobhan and I are getting married a week from Saturday. Padre’s church. We’d like you and Lucy to stand up for us.”
“Wow, Kane, that’s terrific! Thank you, we’d love to. But ten days? Isn’t that kind of short notice for everyone?”
“It’s just you and Andie. Thanks.”
And he’d hung up.
Sean had sent Kane a message that he might want to at least call their family and friends, let them know what was going on. He suspected Kane didn’t want a party—he didn’t relax easily, and he didn’t like crowds. He’d disappeared shortly after Sean’s wedding because there were too many people in Sean’s house, where they had the reception.
An hour later, Sean was copied into a message that went to the RCK board, a few other staff that Kane worked with, and his core field unit.
Siobhan and I are getting married. We’ll be in Ireland for three weeks and I’m not taking any jobs until after Feb 1.
Kane didn’t do “social” well.
Sean took the ranch truck over to the hangar. It was two hundred yards from the house, so he could have walked, but the wind was picking up, tossing tumbleweeds around.
It wasn’t a working ranch. They kept the land cleared and maintained the airstrip for small planes. The hangar could hold two small planes if necessary, though usually only Kane’s was stored there. There was an unused eight-stall barn that needed some work; Siobhan had mentioned to Sean that she’d love to have a couple of horses. Jack had put in a gun range that Kane had upgraded, but most of the space was open.
At one time, before Jack Kincaid bought the property, it had been part of a much larger farm that grew sorghum and raised cattle, but these 2,000 acres hadn’t been used in some time. Jack knew the owner, got a good deal, and used the place for more than ten years as his home base—convenient since much of his work, before and after he joined Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid, was south of the border. He’d recently signed the property over to RCK because Jack was settled in Sacramento with his wife, but Kane had been using it on and off for years—especially since last summer, when he’d lost his kidney and needed time and space to recuperate.
Sean stopped the truck at the southwest corner of the hangar. He kept the headlamps on because of the setting sun. As soon as he got out and looked up, he saw the problem: the repeater wasn’t there.
He looked down and found it on the ground, clearly damaged. He might be able to fix it with enough time and patience, but they weren’t that expensive to replace.
Still, this inoperable repeater shouldn’t have denied him cell service in the house. He looked at his phone. Still, no service.
He heard a buzzing noise and looked up and around; at first he didn’t see anything in the twilight.
He recognized the sound. It was a drone. As he looked, he could make out the moving machine, heading toward the house.
It appeared to be a simple unit with a camera, a high-end toy. But Sean couldn’t risk that it was innocuous or that it was just a kid messing around.
Sean jumped in the truck and sped toward the house. If it wasn’t a kid, it could easily be someone working surveillance on Kane. If Sean had a signal, he could hack into the drone and figure out where the person who controlled it was standing; the newer models could be worked well over a mile. One that Sean had tested had a five-mile radius. Military drones had far more abilities.
As he got closer to the drone, he realized that it wasn’t a camera mounted on the front. What the hell was it?
He parked next to the house, and when he got out of the truck he saw that there was more than one drone flying around the property. He detected movement more than distinct shapes. What the hell?
“Kane!” he shouted.
Kane stepped out onto the porch, holding his gun. Before he responded to Sean, he saw the drone. He immediately fired his weapon and the drone fell to the ground. By the sound, at least two other drones were circulating.
Sean ran over to the fallen device. He inspected what he had first thought was a camera. “This is why we have no service—these drones all have cell blockers. We’re dead in the water here.”
“Get inside,” Kane ordered.
“We need to leave. Get in the truck,” Sean said.
“We leave, we’re exposed. Get inside.”
Sean wanted to argue with his brother, a rarity. Kane was almost always right about tactical situations. But this time . . . something wasn’t adding up.
“We need to warn Lucy and Siobhan. They’ll be here soon, and we have no fucking way to warn them!”
A low-level alarm rang in the house.
“Someone rammed the gate,” Kane said. “Get in the truck.”
Now he changed his mind. Sean took the driver’s seat while Kane went back inside the house. What was he doing?
Sean looked down at his phone. He still had no reception, but he typed out a text message for Lucy and hit send. His phone would keep trying until the message got out.
In the distance, Sean saw dust kicked up by multiple vehicles before he saw the vehicles themselves. They all had lights off. Looked to be at least four trucks or SUVs, all heading toward the house.
“Dammit, Kane!” Sean mumbled
.
Kane finally emerged with weapons and his go-bag. He jumped into the passenger seat and Sean did a one-eighty, heading away from the oncoming trucks.
They headed toward the west side of the property to the service gate. He’d have to ram the truck through it, but the truck had a reinforced front end. He’d make it. Halfway there, Sean remembered the broken sensor. It had been intentionally destroyed, and now Sean knew why.
Three vehicles, all with multiple armed men, waited for them on the other side of the gate—which had been forced open. One man, in his fifties, with a round stomach and a rifle, stood on the flatbed of a truck.
Sean was about to turn left, to cut across the field and hope to get to the main gate, or at least buy them time to figure something out, when the men started shooting. They were aiming at the tires.
They hit the engine and the truck screamed in protest as Sean tried to turn. Then his front right tire blew. At the speed and angle he was going, Sean could barely keep control, but he managed to keep the truck upright as it stalled.
He turned the ignition. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Shit.
Kane had his gun out; Sean did the same.
Over a bullhorn, a booming voice said, “Kane Rogan. Get out of the vehicle. Drop your weapon. I don’t want you dead, not yet.”
Kane didn’t budge. Neither he nor Sean had a clear shot of the man speaking from the back of the pickup on the other side of the fence.
The four trucks that had pursued them now surrounded them.
That’s when Sean noticed Kane had a grenade in his hand.
“Felipe Juarez,” Kane muttered. “Fuck.”
Juarez was the man who had nearly got Kane killed the year before. His men had been pursuing Kane and shot him, and Sean had been part of the rescue team deep in the Tamaulipus region of Mexico.
But that wasn’t the first time Kane had had a run-in with Juarez.
“Plan?” Sean asked. He had to trust Kane, because right now they had twenty men with guns pointed at them, sitting in a dead car. The grenade could take out either the men on the other side of the gate, or the men to the east. And they would be sitting ducks.
Kane didn’t speak. Never had Sean known his brother not to have plans up the ass—contingencies for contingencies.
No Way Out (Lucy Kincaid Novels) Page 4