Next Exit, No Outlet

by CW Browning

  “You realize we’re probably the only two people on this side of the Atlantic that aren’t afraid of the Casa Reinos Cartel, right?”

  “We know better,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips. “We’ve both faced worse. Hell, you’re the one who killed the previous head of the cartel.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Alina grinned. “Uh-huh. Just like I know nothing about Al-Jibad’s death.”

  “And if they do get in our way?” Hawk asked, sobering.

  “Then Salcedo will lose another second-in-command.”

  Harry stepped out of the store and onto the crowded city sidewalk. Holding a shopping bag in one hand, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket with the other.

  “I hope you have good news for me,” he answered, turning to stride up the street.

  “Unfortunately no,” a voice said. “Agent Walker has disappeared.”

  “I find that highly unlikely,” Harry said. “She’s not a ghost. What about the other one? Agent Hanover? Where is he?”

  “We’re also unable to locate him.”

  He scowled. “And the safe house?”

  “It was empty when we got there.”

  Harry swore softly. “What about the security video? I’m sure the building has one.”

  “They do, and I went through it. Nothing.”

  “What you mean, nothing? There had to be something. We know they were there. The cameras in the street showed them going into the parking lot.”

  “And that’s where it ends,” the voice told him. “The Mustang went into the parking lot, but never shows up in any of the security footage from the building. It’s like it disappeared.”

  Harry’s back teeth clamped together and the scowl on his face grew. “Or was erased.”

  “The surveillance wasn’t tampered with so I can’t explain it.”

  “Oh, it was tampered with all right. You just couldn’t tell.” Harry came to a corner and paused, waiting for a break in traffic so that he could cross the road.

  “With all due respect, sir, I find that unlikely. If the video feed had been altered, there would’ve been some indication.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re dealing with a professional?” Harry snapped. “Hell, I trained her! Trust me, if she didn’t want you to see something on that video feed, you won’t see it.”

  “Well, I’m doing everything I can to—”

  “Not anymore you’re not. I’ll take care of it from here. I’ve had enough of your incompetence.”

  Harry disconnected the call and crossed the street. He was about halfway up the next block when he dialed another number in his phone. It rang twice, and then a male voice picked up.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you still have eyes on Angela Bolan?”

  “I do.”

  “The operation is a go,” Harry said grimly. “I’ll transfer the money to your account. Once you have her, I’ll send coordinates.”

  “Understood.”

  Harry disconnected and slid his phone back into his pocket. This wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

  It was time to take care of Viper once and for all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  While Angela waited for Michael to finish signing in as a guest, she surveyed the main floor of her gym. It was fairly busy for a Sunday morning, but she’d seen it far worse. Today there were available treadmills and elliptical machines, and that was really all she cared about. Normally she would also do one of the yoga or aerobic classes, but she wasn’t about to do that with Michael in tow. No way, no how.

  Michael finished signing in and got his guest badge, turning away from the desk.

  “I’m going to run to the locker room and store my bag,” she told him as he joined her. “Where are you heading?”

  “Wherever you’re going.”

  Angela frowned. “Well, you’re not coming into the women’s locker room with me.”

  He stared back at her, his face impassive. “Then you’re not going into the women’s locker room.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Michael!” Angela sputtered. “You’re a man! You can’t come with me.”

  “I can, and I will. Who knows? Maybe I identify as a woman these days.”

  Angela glared at him.

  “Don’t be snarky,” she snapped. “I don’t want you to come into the locker room with me.”

  “I’m not really concerned with what you want,” he retorted evenly. “Are you going into the locker room?”

  Angela stared at him. The set of his jaw told her that he had every intention of following her, regardless of her wishes. Her lips tightened as frustration rolled through her.

  “I guess not,” she said irritably. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with my bag. What if I was going to take a class?”

  “Then I would keep your bag with me.”

  She huffed and turned toward the elliptical machines. Neither of them noticed the tall figure standing near the front desk, listening to every word.

  “This is stupid,” she muttered, stalking toward the row of machines. “Are you going to watch me workout?”

  “No, but I’m not leaving your side,” he said, keeping pace with her easily. “So pick two empty machines together.”

  Angela sighed and headed for two vacant elliptical machines at the far end of the row.

  “Have you even ever been on an elliptical machine?” she asked.

  Michael shot her an amused look. “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s something, at least. I thought you’d be more into the weight room. Isn’t that what all you Marines do?”

  “No. We prefer to lift cars instead.”

  Angela was surprised into a chuckle. She dropped her gym bag onto the floor next to a machine and bent down to pull out a towel. After glancing at Michael, she pulled out a second one and handed it to him.

  “Since you didn’t grab one in the front,” she offered.

  Michael took it with a nod of thanks and got onto the machine next to hers.

  “I usually do thirty minutes here and then thirty minutes on the treadmill,” she said, getting onto her machine. “Sound good?”

  “Fine.”

  Angela suppressed a sigh and started the machine. She looked up at the TV’s mounted from the ceiling and wrinkled her nose. The ones closest to them were broadcasting a news channel. She lowered her gaze and scanned the gym restlessly. This was supposed to be her ‘me’ time, reserved for her to relax and decompress after a long week. The tall Marine next to her was making that impossible.

  “When we’re done here, I have to go back to my house and get some things,” she said, glancing at him. “I need to grab some clothes and get Annabelle into her cat carrier.”

  Michael lowered his eyes from the news and turned them to her.

  “Oh? Did you change your mind?”

  Angela nodded.

  “Stephanie talked me into it last night,” she admitted. “I still think everyone is being paranoid, but I can see why now. If it will make Stephanie and Alina happy, I’ll stay there until you all determine that it’s safe to leave again. Besides, Steph can use some moral support. She’s a wreck.”

  “She is?” Michael asked, surprised. “I thought she was handling it all pretty well.”

  “Of course you do. That’s what she wants you to think. She’s shaken up, though. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Someone’s trying to kill her, and they’ve almost succeeded twice!”

  “Three times,” he said automatically.

  Angela glared at him. “Whatever. It doesn’t make it any better.”

  “No, it makes it worse. So I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I’m happier having you both in one place where Blake and I can work together.”

  “What are you going to do?” Angela asked after a minute. “I mean, the way Alina made it sound, all of you already know who the culprit is. Why not just got after him?”

  Michael glanced at her.
“It’s not that easy.”

  “I don’t see what’s so complicated about it. You work for the Secret Service, and Blake and Stephanie are with the FBI. Between the two agencies, you should be able to catch one psycho.”

  Michael didn’t answer, turning his attention back to the news pointedly. Angela’s eyes narrowed and another wave of frustration rolled through her. Good intentions or not, everyone was purposely keeping her out of the loop, and she really didn’t appreciate it.

  “Have you been shot yet?”

  That got his attention back to her and Angela raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “What?”

  “Well, everyone else seems to have taken a bullet recently,” she pointed out. “Stephanie took one in her leg, Damon took one in his gut, and apparently Lina got one in her arm. So what about you?”

  “No, but don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time.”

  She shot him a reproachful look.

  “Don’t even joke about it. Three people getting shot is already three too many. I don’t understand why all this is happening. Why is someone trying to kill Alina and Stephanie? And why am I getting dragged into everything? None of this makes sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t,” Michael said after a long silence, “but you have to trust us and let us take care of it.”

  “And Alina and Damon? Are they going to take care of it too? What do they do, exactly? I mean, Damon says they were trained together.”

  Michael’s jaw tightened and he was silent. Angela watched him for a minute, then tossed her head.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll find out eventually. I always do.”

  Michael glanced at her.

  “This might be one time that you should consider leaving it alone,” he said. “You might not like what you find.”

  Angela shrugged.

  “It’s Lina. She’s one of my best friends and I’ve known her forever. I’ve seen her at her worst. I’ve held her hair while she puked in an alley behind a dive bar. Seriously, how bad can it be?”

  Stefan Delgado, Frankie’s main enforcer, watched from behind dark glasses as a member of the Casa Reinos Cartel pushed open the door of the convenience store and stepped onto the sidewalk, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. He’d been following him since he left his house. He was the third name on the list.

  The young gang member stopped and lit a cigarette, then sauntered down the street toward Stefan. He paid no attention to the stranger built like a boxer leaning against the building with a phone to his ear. Stefan spoke into the phone as his mark passed him, talking to dead air. The young man exhaled, blowing smoke into Stefan’s face as he passed, completely unaware of his rudeness. If he had bothered to spare a glance for the man on the phone, he would have realized the man was staring at him. However, just like the first two names on the list, his arrogance was too great for him.

  Stefan waited until he had passed, then lowered his phone and slid it into his pocket, turning to follow him. For such a large man, Stefan moved with a speed and silence that was disconcerting as the young man crossed the entrance of a narrow alley. In an instant, Stefan had him in the alley, pushed up against the side of a building with a meaty hand around his throat.

  The cartel thug gawked at him for a split second, but before he could let out even one obscenity, a knife had penetrated his solar plexus. His eyes widened and he flailed in pain before Stefan pulled the knife out. Blood seeped over his teeshirt and he gasped. Before he could do anything else, Stefan’s blade sliced across the front of his throat, cutting it wide open. Stepping back quickly to avoid the blood, Stefan watched emotionlessly as the Casa Reinos Cartel soldier slid down the cement side of the building until he was sprawled on the ground, bleeding out.

  Stefan pulled out his phone and sent the text, turning to leave the alley. He stepped back onto the street and turned right. Three blocks away was the house that the victim had been walking to, and the fourth name on the list.

  Michael glanced at his watch and looked up from his seat on the couch as Angela came down the stairs. They had arrived back at her townhouse over an hour before, and she left him in the living room while she went upstairs to gather her things.

  “I think that’s just about everything,” she announced, setting two large travel bags down on the floor at the base of the stairs. “I just have to get my laptop and then put Annabelle in her carrier.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Michael asked, picking up the remote to the TV and switching it off. While he was waiting for her, he had been watching the news, and he was more than happy to switch it off. There was nothing remotely hopeful on the news anymore these days. “I’m tired of just sitting here.”

  Angela glanced at him. “You can get the carrier while I try to find Annabelle,” she said. “It’s in the closet near the back door.”

  Michael nodded and got up, going down the short hallway that ran past her kitchen to the back door. Angela’s townhouse had a basic two entrance set up, with the front door leading to the street and the back door leading to a tiny backyard adjacent to her single car driveway. By her own admission, Angela rarely used the driveway. The street that it ran into was narrow and usually clogged with her neighbor’s cars. When he’d asked her earlier, she shrugged and said it was faster to get in and out of her neighborhood from the front.

  “Bella-boo!” Angela called in the front of the house. “Where are you?”

  Michael opened the only closet near the back door and found himself gazing into the smallest coat closet he had ever seen. On the floor, tucked into the corner, was a hard-topped cat carrier. He bent down and picked it up, glancing at the row of designer coats hanging above it. Shaking his head, he straightened up. Angela certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.

  He was just closing the closet door when he thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Michael turned toward the back door sharply. It was a solid wood door with narrow windows on either side running from the top of the door to the bottom. Long, pale colored sheer curtains hung over both windows, but they were thin and light enough to see through.

  He moved to the window closest to him and move the curtain aside, peering out. The narrow window afforded him a very limited view to the road and part of the driveway. True to Angela’s statements, cars and trucks were lined up along the curb out back. He switched to the other window and peered out to get another angle of the small backyard. It was empty and there was no movement on the sidewalk near the road.

  Michael frowned and let the curtain fall back into place. There was nothing there. Turning, he went back to the living room with the cat carrier in hand.

  “You weren’t kidding about the parking outback,” he said, setting the carrier down on the floor.

  Angela glanced at him as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Annabelle to make her way down the steps. The orange tabby cat paused halfway when she heard Michael’s voice.

  “I told you,” she said. “Half the time some kid has blocked the driveway. It’s just easier to park out front.”

  “I can see that.” He watched as Angela went up a few steps and reached for her cat. “You should probably have thicker curtains on the windows back there, especially after what happened with Trent. You can see right through them, which means anyone outside can see in.”

  She turned to come down the steps with her fluffy tabby in her arms.

  “If I put darker curtains on those windows that hallway will be like a cave,” she said. “There already isn’t enough light in this house to begin with.”

  Michael shrugged and bent to open the door to the carrier. As he did so, the cat in Angela’s arms let out a hiss. He looked up in surprise to find two green eyes staring at him.

  “Oh Bella, stop,” Angela admonished. “I know you hate it, but it’ll be fine.”

  Angela bent down to put the cat inside the carrier, but Annabelle had other ideas. As the front half of her went into the carrier, her back legs stretched ou
t and she planted her feet on either side of the door. Michael let out a laugh as her toes spread and curled around the edges of the opening.

  “She is not going to go in, is she?”

  “Oh, she’s going in,” Angela muttered. Keeping one hand on her cat’s rear end, she unhooked one foot from the edge of the opening before shoving Annabelle into the carrier. An angry hiss and snarl emanated from the box and she swiftly closed the grated door, snapping the hinge into place.

  She straightened up and looked at Michael.

  “I stand corrected,” he said with a grin. Then he glanced at the rest of the bags piled a few feet away. “Is that it?”

  Angela nodded. “Yes. The laptop is with the other bags.”

  “I’ll take the cat out to the car,” he said, bending down to grab the carrier. “Then we can carry the bags out.”

  Angela turned towards the short hallway to the back door.

  “I’ll just make sure the back door is locked,” she said over her shoulder, “and grab Annabelle’s food.”

  Michael grabbed one of the overnight bags as he passed, heading toward the front door.

  “Okay.”

  He hooked the overnight bag over his shoulder and reached out to open the front door, stepping into the afternoon sun. The street in front of Angela’s house was in direct contrast to the crowded lane behind. Aside from Damon’s Audi sitting at the curb in front of him, there were only three other vehicles parked along the entire road.

  He glanced up and down the street as he strode towards the Audi. The neighborhood was quiet on this Sunday afternoon, and Michael saw nothing out of the ordinary. The other three vehicles had been there when they pulled up over an hour ago and Angela had assured him that they were known to her. Apparently, a few of her other neighbors felt the same way she did about the parking situation.

  Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, pressing the button to release the back hatch of the Audi. He dropped the overnight bag into the trunk and circled around to the back door behind the driver’s seat. Opening it, he set the carrier on the backseat, angling it so that Annabelle would be able to see Angela from her spot in the back. As he set the carrier down, the box shifted as the cat turned inside. A low growl voiced her displeasure and he chuckled.