by Norris, Kris
“Angry?”
“More like empty. Numb. He had my back for eight years. To have it end like this…” She stared at her desk for a few moments. “Maybe everyone is right. Maybe my memories are skewed from the injuries, and it was Brown who did everything. Maybe Dave was just another victim like me.”
“Always err on the side of caution, sweetheart.” He motioned to her computer. “Find what you were looking for?”
“Not, yet. I pulled up the coroner’s report. I can’t place it, but something’s wrong. Or missing. Every time I read it, I get the sensation that I’m being lied to. Not by the ME, but by something she said. I just can’t figure out which fact is bothering me.” She raked her fingers through her hair then slumped on her desk. “I’m really starting to question my sanity.”
“Just…don’t push it too hard, yet, okay? I know you don’t want to admit it, but Art’s right. You’re still recovering. And that includes your head. Ice warned you that too much pressure could aggravate that concussion you got.”
Jericho swiveled in her seat—made eye contact. “How can I be pushing too hard when all I can do is sit here? And that’s only until you come back.”
Cannon reached for her hand—took it in his. Christ, it was so small compared to his. Delicate bone structure. Smooth skin. Yet, he knew she could hold her own against any opponent.
He smiled, hoping it might ease some of the tension. And damn if the smile she returned didn’t calm him. The woman was dangerous, and she didn’t even seem to realize how much control she had over him. How far he’d go to see her happy. See that smile lift her pretty lips.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “If my involvement is going to affect us—affect our relationship—I’ll bow out.”
Her eyes widened, and an adorable flush colored her cheeks. “Just when I think you can’t make me love you any more than I already do, you pull a stunt like this.”
Jericho pushed to her feet then circled until she was standing beside him. Close. So close, no one would miss that they were a couple. Intimately involved.
Good. He wanted everyone to know. Wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Tattoo it across his arm. Jericho was his. And he’d do everything in his power to make that a permanent arrangement. Too damn bad there wasn’t anyone else in the office.
She brushed a finger along his jaw. “Go. Keep Art safe. See if Brown will talk to you. There must be a reason he asked for you specifically. Just, take Six or Colt with you. Have them follow.”
“Isn’t that against protocol?”
“Fuck protocol. Safety first, especially since Brown has already executed an escape. For all we know, this is just a ploy to repeat that. Has been their plan all along. Place doubt on the Marshal Service so Brown could ask for alternate arrangements. Ensure Art was involved to make it all look above board. Whatever the reason, you’re the best marshal for the job. Just come back in one piece, okay?”
“Always. And I’m leaving Six and Colt here.” He silenced her with a firm finger over her mouth. “Like you said. There’s no telling what Brown’s motivation is or if this is all part of a grander scheme. One that could have you in the crosshairs. I want you protected. Still healing, remember?”
“But—”
“I’ll have Rigs shadow me. Addison’s riding along since she knows these streets and the local gangs extremely well. I’ll be fine. Promise.”
“This isn’t an argument I’ll win, is it? And don’t answer. It was a rhetorical question.”
“Your safety will always come first. Sorry, sweetheart, but even if I manage to tame the junkyard dog side of me, that’s not going to waver. I love you. That changes things for me.”
“And you just did it, again.
Damn, he was such a goner.
He stood, watching her closely as he leaned in. “You sure?”
“Positive. I hate being sidelined, but that’s because I know I’m not fit to be out there, yet. I do need more time. I just…”
“You’re not a quitter. I get it. But being part of a team means knowing when you have to let your teammates finish a job for you.”
“Teammates, huh? I can live with that. But I want details. All of them. I’ll keep looking through the files. See if I can unearth what’s bothering me until you get back.”
“Then, we’ll go home and pick up where we left off last night.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, soldier. Just remember. I’m on top, this time.”
“Do you two need some alone time or are you ready to go, Cannon?”
Cannon glanced over Jericho’s shoulder, chuckling at Art’s expression. “Ready.”
He looked past Art to the man standing in the doorway, hands cuffed. A cruel smile twisting his lips. Cannon headed for the guy, stopping inside his personal space and making him take a couple of hurried steps backward.
Cannon moved in even closer, hoping that death vibe Addison had claimed surrounded him was in full force. “Understand this. I don’t care how important you are. What incriminating evidence you have stored inside your head. Who you can bring down. You so much as twitch, and I’ll kill you. No hesitation. No regrets. I might not know exactly what happened inside that car. But the end result was someone I deeply care about got hurt. Nearly died. That’s all the reason I need to make this personal.”
Brown swallowed then coughed, glancing over at Art. “I thought you said he was deputized?”
Art shrugged. “He is. But the man spent fifteen years eliminating threats. That’s a hard habit to break. And, frankly, I’m with Cannon. If this is a setup, you’ll be the first person I shoot. Now, I suggest you tread very carefully if you want to live to testify.”
Brown nodded, following Art out as Cannon walked behind them. Colt was standing just inside the doorway. Cannon made a few hand signals, grinning when Colt nodded then moved to the other side of the doorway. The man had his phone out and was talking before the elevator doors closed.
Good. He’d make sure Rigs knew the plan and was waiting to follow them. Not that Cannon wanted to intentionally break the rules on his first official assignment, but he couldn’t chance this was an ambush. An elaborate plot to take him out of the equation—leave Jericho unprotected.
She wasn’t. Colt and Six would have her back or die trying. No doubts. No reservations. Being teammates meant they protected what was important to each other. And the men knew exactly how precious Jericho was to him.
Art didn’t say anything as they made their way downstairs, through the parking garage and over to a waiting SUV. Cannon arched his brow when Art handed him the keys, but the other man was already busy settling Brown in the back then climbing into the passenger seat.
Cannon scanned the area. Being part of the federal building, the garage was fairly protected, but only from the outside. If there were more moles inside the service, they’d have easy access to this level—could spring an attack on them before they’d even left the premises.
He glanced at his watch. He’d set it up to relay messages, but Six hadn’t so much as texted him. Which meant his buddy hadn’t spotted anything concerning, yet.
The SUV dipped against Cannon’s weight as he eased behind the wheel, waiting for Art to give him the address. Art sat there for a few minutes then leaned forward and inputted the address into the GPS. It called out the first set of directions, the tinny voice echoing inside the cab.
Cannon huffed. “Your safe house is in the warehouse district? That’s…unexpected. And pretty damn close to where I found Jericho.”
“I wanted to keep him away from populated areas.”
“Agreed, but you’re practically asking someone to ambush us. All the high vantage points. The adjoining streets. We’ll be targets the entire ride.”
“It’s not far, and we’ll only be staying there for a few hours.”
“That’s assuming we make it. And that’s a pretty ballsy assumption.”
“Isn’t that why you’ll have one or two of your men following us?”
He chuckled at Cannon’s narrowed eyes. “Spent several years in the military, myself. I wasn’t Special Forces, and nowhere the extremist you are, but I’m familiar with how you boys think. And there’s no way you’re trusting me with your life when we hardly know each other. I’m actually surprised you called to let me know Jericho was alive. That seemed—uncharacteristic of you.”
“Jericho insisted you were clean. Trusting her means supporting her judgement calls.” And, fuck, he hoped that Jericho hadn’t read her boss wrong. That the location of the safe house was just a coincidence and not a clue to who else might be dirty. Who had helped arrange the first hijack.
“Glad to know someone still has faith in me. And, if things do go sideways, we don’t want to be anywhere close to downtown. To places where civilians can get caught in the crossfire. And, once we’re situated, we’ll have the same advantages and disadvantages as anyone gunning for us or Brown.”
“Like I said. Ballsy. But, you’re the boss.”
Cannon started the engine then headed for the exit. He held his breath while the large metal gate rolled open, mentally planning all the steps he’d take if some asshole was waiting on the other side of the door with assault rifles or RPGs. How he’d maneuver the vehicle, draw his weapon and shoot before they could fire. Or at the least, get Art safely out before anything exploded. Finding nothing but misty rain lit up by the streetlights was a pleasant surprise, especially when surprises generally involved bullets. Bloodshed. A full unit of tangoes trying to kill him.
He switched on the wipers as he pulled into the street, quickly joining the evening traffic. There weren’t many cars on the road, not that he was surprised. With it being Sunday night, there weren’t many reasons for people to visit the area. The courthouse was closed, as was the Marshal Office. Sure, the odd deputy might work on a weekend, but most of that involved fieldwork. Not sitting around at a desk.
An uneasy feeling settled in Cannon’s gut. The weekend also meant the building wasn’t protected like it usually was. True, the only way to get in and out was through code-protected doors. But that wouldn’t save Jericho if there was another leak. If someone she knew was dirty.
Despite his reassurances, he didn’t buy Dave as a victim. There had been too many signs that the man had ventured into something dark. That, coupled with Jericho’s memories, all made Cannon believe Dave was alive and actively involved in dealings much bigger than just Ty Brown. Cannon hadn’t said all of that to Jericho, yet. He hadn’t wanted to give her false hope that her partner wasn’t dead. Regardless of how their relationship had ended, the man had been important to her. Eight years of partnership wasn’t easy to erase. And Cannon wanted to spare her feelings as long as possible.
He glanced at his watch, again, pent-up energy making him tense. But there was no reason to feel so antsy. Six and Colt were watching over Jericho. Still…
Cannon looked in the rearview mirror, locking his gaze on Brown. “Why did you request me, personally?”
Brown’s eyes widened then narrowed before he plastered on a fake grin. “I’m about to stab a very powerful enterprise in the back. Thought it would be wise to have the best possible protection.”
“Bullshit. Unless you’re admitting there’s another leak in the Marshal Office or those agents from the Bureau, because no one else would know you’d swung a deal. Not this quickly. So, the chances your boss is onto you is pretty slim. Which means there’re two options. One—this is all a scam, and you’re setting us up. Probably a bit of payback involved, too. Or two—you’re afraid of someone on the inside and figured I was your best chance at making it into Wit Sec in one piece.”
Brown’s gaze didn’t falter. “You think you’re so smart. That you have all the answers. You don’t know shit.”
“I know that you won’t live to enjoy your victory if you don’t answer my question.”
“I know how it works. Make all the threats you want, but the information I have is bigger than you. Than any one marshal.”
“Already warned you that I don’t give a shit about that. I just want to know the truth.”
“I told Nash the truth. I didn’t stab her. It was all Faraday. I just took advantage of the situation—same way I’m doing here. Watching out for number one.”
“All right. Let’s say you’re telling the truth. Why did you help the man fake his own death? Because there’s no way he’s dead. It doesn’t add up.”
Brown’s grin slipped a bit, the muscle beside his left eye twitching, and fuck, Cannon knew. Right then. Jericho was right. Had been all along. Which meant…
“Shit.” He swerved over to the curb, ignoring the couple of horns that blared behind him.
Art grabbed onto the handle by his head, twisting to stare at Cannon. “What the hell, Sloan?”
“This isn’t just an ambush. It’s a distraction. They wanted us gone so they could go after their real target. Damn it…”
He was on his phone—hitting Six’s number.
“We’re in the middle of a transfer. Christ, get off—”
Cannon cut him off with a raise of his finger. “Shit. Six isn’t picking up. They must be jamming the cell service.” He hit another number. “Rigs. Change of plans. We’re heading to the office. Do me a favor and call Ice and Sam. Have them meet us there. They’ll have to stay with Art—keep Brown alive. I’m betting on snipers. Skilled, so everyone needs to stay sharp. But their resources will be divided—half on Brown, half focused on Jericho.”
“Damn it, Cannon. What the hell is going on? We can’t just change plans. This isn’t one of your missions. You’re acting on behalf of the Marshal Service.” When Cannon hung up then turned the wheel, preparing to spin the damn SUV around, Art pulled his gun—aimed it at Cannon’s head. “Keep to the schedule. Get this damn Chevy moving. We can discuss whatever’s got you upset once we get to the safe house. Secure our client.”
“We’re not going to make it to the safe house. Why do you think Brown asked for me? He knew I’d have a team along, Marshal protocol or not. Just like you did. And he was relying on that to counter whatever forces are waiting for us.” He glanced back at Brown. “Let me guess. Dave wasn’t the only one in the service on the take. And, now, those guys aren’t just gunning for Jericho, they’re gunning for you, too.”
Brown’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face as he looked between them.
Cannon pounded one fist on the steering wheel. “Damn it, Brown, we don’t have time for you to keep bullshitting us. Who are we up against? Or would you rather I resign, right here and now. Let Art take you on alone?”
“No! Shit, he can’t keep me safe. Not against…them.”
Art clenched his jaw then slowly lowered his weapon. “Who’s them?”
“It’s not safe here. We need to get moving. They’re probably following us. The longer we sit, the more time they’ll have to snipe us. It’s already dark outside. Shit, I thought you were some Black Ops soldier or something.”
“Or something. How many are involved? Who’s got you shitting your pants?”
Brown swallowed, looked as if he was about to puke, then swore—punching his fists into the back of the seat. “Two, that I’m aware of. They’re part of some special unit. That’s all I know. I swear. But they’re hardcore.”
SOG. Had to be. Which suggested Jericho’s brush with death at the restaurant hadn’t been a chance encounter. Cannon just didn’t know how many or if they would focus on Brown or her.
“Well, shit.” Art pulled out his phone, tapping on the screen. “Barry, it’s Art. Where are the SOG teams?” He nodded. “And the other unit? I see. No, not right now. Something might be on the horizon. Thought I’d check—see what my options were. I’ll call you back if I need you.” He hung up. “Alpha unit’s on a call up-state. Bravo’s on stand-by this weekend. Which means—”
“They’re already hunting us.”
Cannon peeled out, fishtailing across the street then up over the curb. The headlights cut thro
ugh the misty fog as the Chevy bounced across the median followed by another swerve when Cannon hit the road, heading south. “I’ll get you to my office. It has pretty extreme security measures. And I’ve called in more backup. No one will get in. You and Brown will be safe until the feds arrive to take over—get Brown out of state.”
Art gripped the handle as Cannon skidded around a corner then hit the gas, pushing them both back in their seats. “I can call in more marshals. Have them head for the office.”
“That will only confuse things. We don’t have names, which means no one will know who’s clean and who’s not since all of the SOG members are also regular deputies. That moment of hesitation is all it takes to get someone killed. I’ll go after Jericho. Once I have her, you can have the entire unit brought it. Launch an investigation.”
He glanced over at Art. “I know I’m asking a lot. That you’re in charge. That there are protocols in place for important reasons, and it’s not practical to toss them away on a whim, but… I’m asking you to trust me. Trust my team. It’s our best chance at keeping any bloodshed to a minimum.”
“Something tells me that’s not really a concern for you.”
“I won’t put any of your officers at risk. But, if anyone comes looking for my team? They’ll have to go through me.” He arched a brow. “Well?”
“If this goes sideways, not even Hastings will be able to offer you a Hail Mary.”
“Understood. Now, hold on, this is going to get rough.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nothing. Another scan of the files, and Jericho still had what she’d started with—absolutely no new information or proof that the body they’d found burned in the car hadn’t been Dave’s.
Which only made her question her sanity more. The scattered memories. The nightmares. The gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. They all pointed to Dave being behind the escape. His hand on the blade. His bomb. And she just couldn’t believe that he’d go through all that trouble—throw away his career—just to end up a victim of Brown.