Caballo Security Box Set

by Camilla Blake

  “Ten years, and he decides to walk away. I couldn’t have that.”

  “And then Ox found you out.”

  “Yeah. I guess I didn’t handle that as well as I should have. Getting a little rusty in my old age.” He sighed. “I was kind of hoping, though, between the lawsuit and you hanging around, he’d get the message and change his mind. Never did, though. That’s why I set Lindsay on him.”

  “The whole embezzlement thing last year? That was just a ruse to get me on Ox’s radar?”

  “The case was real. Lindsay’s reaction to it was a little amplified.”

  “Well, that one I’ll thank you for, lieutenant. If you hadn’t done that, it might have taken me a lot longer to meet him.”

  Silence fell between us for a long moment. “Well,” he finally said, “what now?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Lucy. I’d really appreciate it if you’d agree to work with us, if you’d be a part of my crew. I really did want to teach you the ropes before I retire next year.”

  Again, the sight of that blue jacket flashed through my mind. The memory was so strong that I could even remember the smell of it. Tears began to spill again.

  “I loved you. I really did,” I whispered.

  He pushed away from the wall and came toward me, tugging his weapon from its holster. “I wish it could be different,” he said, real regret dripping from his words.

  “So do I.”

  I closed my eyes and thought of my mother. I hadn’t allowed myself to think of her in a very long time because I was always afraid the only way I would be able to see her was the way she’d been those last weeks before she died. But I was pleasantly surprised when her face, full and happy, laughter in her eyes, filled my mind’s eye. She reached out to me and I knew; I knew this was the moment I’d always known would come one day.

  I was going to see her again.

  Chapter 20

  Ox

  It was a little after four when I slipped through a door in the alley to a back room in Caballo’s building. This room was designed for operatives to come and go in a pinch, such as when the cops might be looking for them. I’d had the Uber drop me off a half mile away and hiked on foot, wearing an old-fashioned derby that the driver was willing to part with for fifty bucks. A hundred bucks for two Uber rides and that didn’t even include the fare!

  The locks were state-of-the-art, but worked on biometrics instead of keys or number codes. From this room, I could go down into the panic room below the parking garage, or I could let myself into the lobby and boldly take the elevator upstairs. I chose the panic room. I wasn’t quite ready to be discovered by the cops just yet.

  The control room was empty. I sank into a chair and waited for the system to boot, aware that the moment it began, Cheryl would receive a warning in her office, as would the head of security in his office. With the code I entered when I let myself in, they would know it was me.

  Not three minutes after I sat down, Cheryl came running through the secure door with Skylar close behind.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be hiding!” Skylar cried, practically launching herself into my arms. I laughed and hugged her back, reaching out an arm for Cheryl.

  “I’m glad to see you missed me.”

  “Missed you?” Skylar pulled back and smacked my arm. “You had us all scared to death! Did you know that crazy cop planned to kill you?”

  “I had an idea. But how did you know?”

  “Brock got it on a recording before he…” Cheryl stopped, shooting a look at Skylar. They both looked uncertain for a moment, the silence painfully heavy.

  “Before Brock what?” Neither wanted to be the one to tell me. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tell me!”

  Skylar blushed. “He was shot, Ox. I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to just dump it on you like that, but—”

  “He was shot? How bad?”

  “It’s pretty bad.” Skylar’s eyes grew big and watery. “He’s been in surgery most of the day.”

  I stepped back, reeling a little as I realized my worst nightmare had come true. “Akker? How’s he?”

  “He’s struggling, but he’s holding up.”

  I nodded. “I should get to the hospital.”

  “You can’t!” Cheryl said. “You’re wanted by the police. A uniform stopped by here an hour ago and left his card. He wanted you to turn yourself in the second you show up!”

  She was right, but I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing!

  “Where’s Kinsley? Is she at the hospital?”

  “Last I heard, Kinsley and Akker were at your mother’s.”

  “My mother’s?” I stared at the two of them like they’d gone batshit or something. “What are they doing there?”

  “Trying to get information to help you. They’ve been investigating all day.”

  “I know, but I thought once Brock was shot—”

  “No. They’re still on it. We all are.”

  Almost as if her words signaled it, a beep started sounding on the computer system. Cheryl went over and typed a few things into the central keyboard.

  “We have a recording coming in from Kinsley’s phone. I set it as a priority, which is why it’s sounded down here.” She typed some more, then Kinsley’s voice came over the powerful speakers attached to the computer.

  “Testing—one, two, three. Testing. Listen… Cheryl, I hope you’re getting this. I can’t really see the buttons on the app, but I think I set it to go to your computer simultaneously. I don’t know if you’ll listen now or later, but I hope…”

  Her speech stopped as a sound, something that sounded kind of like a key turning in a lock, interrupted. Then a familiar voice spoke.

  “I don’t what you’re doing working with them, Kins. Such a shame!”

  “Oh—oh, hell, no!” I jerked my finger at the computer. “That’s live? Right now?”

  Cheryl just nodded, fear written all over her face, too.

  I spun on my heel and rushed to the weapons closet on the far side of the room.

  “Ox.” Skylar came up behind me and touched my arm. “She knows what she’s doing.”

  I shook my head. “That’s Chad Lindsay. He was set on killing me. If he has any idea what she’s up to, he won’t let her live.” I jerked a flak jacket out of the closet. “Get every trained operative down here. We’re going to have to go in guns blazing.” I glanced at Cheryl. “Can you get me the location of her phone?”

  “Yeah. It’ll take a minute.”

  “Do it as fast as you can. We’re on the road in five.”

  I just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Chapter 21

  Kinsley

  I waited. And waited.

  “Just do it, lieutenant!”

  “Call me Major,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Or call me Dad.”

  I shook my head, looking up more out of incredulity than anything else. He was staring down at me, his gun drawn and aimed, tears streaming down his face like he really gave a shit about me.

  “Chicken!” I leaned forward, pressing the top of my head against the barrel of his gun. “Kill me. Get it over with!”

  “Did it never mean anything to you? Didn’t I mean anything?”

  “The man I thought you were. But not this.” I pulled back, gesturing at him with my elbows. “Not this sniveling fool who stands before me.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you. Originally, I never intended to tell you about it. But then I saw you look the other way when Lindsay beat up that child molester. The one who cut the kid so bad that he had over a thousand stitches on his face alone.”

  “Guy deserved it. Not that it was right.”

  “It wasn’t right, but you never batted an eye. So I thought… maybe. Just maybe.”

  “I’m not dirty! I will never be dirty!”

  “Don’t be so sure. This job has a way of wearing people down.”

  I jerked my head toward h
im, pushing the barrel of the gun with my temple. “Do it! I’m tired of waiting.”

  He stepped back slightly, raising the gun. I stared down that barrel, ready for the moment when my life would end. This recording, I knew Cheryl would find it and she would know how to use it, who to give it to. And I knew it would be over. They’d all go to jail.

  I’d done what I came here to do.

  “Do it!”

  Just as I saw his finger slide past the trigger guard, an explosion sent him barreling backward. Another came, and another. Major flew across the room, slamming into the wall, three perfectly round holes in his chest, blood slowly seeping out to stain his white shirt. He had this expression of absolute confusion as he met my eye. And then the light just went out.

  He fell to the ground, his gun clattering down beside him.

  “Kinsley!”

  I couldn’t turn my head. I couldn’t make myself stop staring at the man who’d saved me fifteen years ago. I couldn’t stop seeing the cop who’d made me trust, the cop who’d taught me that what my mother had told me was true, that cops were good. Cops were right. Cops were justice.

  But he wasn’t.

  “Kinsley?”

  Hands were touching my face, thumbs moving around the swelling on the side of my face, against my nose. Warm hands. Gentle hands.

  “Ox?”

  “I’m here, baby,” he groaned, pressing his fingers into my hair and pulling me close. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I threw my arms around him. He was wearing black, a hard flak jacket covering his chest. Not blue, but black.

  I could go with black.

  I burst into tears, holding him as tight as I could. He lifted me and carried me out of that room. We were in an industrial part of the city, the room a space in the back of an abandoned warehouse. The parking lot was choked with weeds that the emergency vehicles were destroying with their tires. An ambulance was set back behind the barrier the cop cars created. As Ox carried me out, the cops stood in a line and saluted.

  They were saluting me.

  I’d just taken down more than two dozen of their own and they were saluting me. It was overwhelming.

  For the first time since the night Major Patrick saved me from the darkness of my father’s mental illness, I truly felt like the cop my mother had painted in my mind, the cop she knew would be my savior one day. I was my own savior.

  With a little help from Ox…

  Chapter 22

  Akker

  The room was silent except for the little beeps of the machine that counted Brock’s heartbeats. Josie, her face stained with tears, held my hand despite the anger that had caused her to give me the silent treatment all the way from the school to the hospital. She couldn’t understand why I hadn’t picked her up sooner, why I hadn’t let her know the moment Brock was shot. He was her uncle. She had a right to know.

  She did. She was right about that. But was I so wrong to want her to be a kid and to live in a world where her uncle wasn’t fighting for his life for a few hours longer?

  Luna hadn’t made it back yet. We were hoping she’d arrive before he woke.

  “It could still be a while yet, darling. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  Josie just shook her head. Silence fell between us again. I found myself staring at Brock, thinking about those early days when I first arrived at the hospital after the fire. I remembered how hard it was to see the wounds on his face, the way the flesh was just pulling away, how it looked like melted wax in some places, raw meat in others. He looked almost like he was sleeping this time, the only indication of his struggle the wires and tubes that ran in and out of his body.

  “Is this what it was like?”

  I glanced at Josie. “What?”

  I shook my head. Like Brock, Josie’s mother had been shot. Her wound had been in the chest, however, and she had bled out in seconds. It was nothing like this.

  I squeezed my daughter’s hand. “She went quick, sweetheart. I told you, the bullet tore through her artery. She lost a lot of blood very quickly.”

  “Was she awake? Could she talk?”

  I nodded. “She spoke.”

  “What did she say?”

  Those moments, just after Marnie was shot trying to kidnap Eva Rae from her hotel room, flooded my thoughts. There’d been a struggle and she was shot, accidentally, I’d thought. I’d rushed to her:

  “What did you do? What the hell did you do?”

  I’d pressed my hands against the wound, staring into her familiar face. At first, she was just staring up at the ceiling, gurgling as blood backed up into her throat. But then she’d focused on me and a slow smile had spread across her glossy lips.

  “I… knew… you…”

  “Don’t talk, Marnie. Just wait for help.”

  “You… couldn’t… resist!”

  Her smile had widened, then faded slowly. The light had left her eyes as the smile disappeared, her eyes becoming glossy as she stared at me.

  “No, Marnie! Don’t you dare do this! What about Josie? Did you think about Josie before you did this? Did you?”

  I grunted. How did I tell my daughter that her mother had died because she was obsessed over all the men in her life? How did I tell her that her mother was in that hotel room that night because she hated that I was moving on with my life? How could I tell her that her mother’s last words were words of jealousy and insanity?

  I couldn’t.

  “She asked me to tell you she loved you.”

  A single tear rolled down Josie’s cheek. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Jos—”

  “Listen to your father,” a very dry voice croaked.

  I jerked, my head turning so quickly that I was pretty sure I tore something.

  “Brock?”

  He smiled, his eyes only partially opened. “Hey, bro,” he mumbled.

  “Uncle Brock! You’re okay!”

  “I’m good. I told you, I’m invincible.”

  I laughed. “You damn fool! How could you put us through that? Getting yourself shot on a day like this!”

  Brock rolled his head slightly. “Couldn’t help it. Felt like… needed more… drama.”

  I nodded, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re always right, man. Always!”

  The door opened and Eva, my beautiful, perfect, movie-star girlfriend came flying in. Her face was a mask of worry, but her eyes were only for me. I stood and wrapped my arms around her, not even aware of how desperately I’d needed to hold her all day until that moment. I leaned into her, let her hold me up for a long minute.

  “You called her?” Josie demanded, breaking the tranquility that had briefly settled over me.

  “I did,” I said, watching her unfold herself from her chair. She studied us a moment, her expression unreadable for the longest time. I knew that she wasn’t sure about Eva, that she was struggling with the idea of sharing me with someone else right now. But then a tear rolled down her cheek, and she forced a smile, the saddest I’d ever seen.

  “I’m glad.”

  Then she came to us and we hugged, the three of us, holding on to each other like the family I hoped we’d be one day soon.

  “Hey!” Brock called from the bed. “I’m the one who got shot, remember?”

  We laughed. It was the first moment all day I’d felt anything like myself.

  ***

  Two Weeks Later…

  The news was on. The arrests of more than twenty cops in the city of San Antonio had the entire country abuzz. It’d taken the focus off of Trump and his tweets—most of them, anyway—for nearly two weeks. They were talking about it now, discussing the merits of any trials that might take place. Most of the cops had been arraigned, but it was still possible that many of them would plead guilty.

  Chad Lindsay wasn’t going to be one of them. The night he was arrested, someone had allowed him to keep his belt. They were claiming it was an oversight. Others thought it was
probably intentional. Whatever it was, he’d hung himself with it.

  Both Lindsay and Lieutenant Major Patrick had been given quiet funerals. There wasn’t a man in blue within a five-mile radius.

  The press was hailing Kinsley Salazar as a hero for her part in the investigation. News bureaus were reporting that she’d been part of an internal affairs investigation that stretched back to the early days of her career. I supposed that was the deal the powers that be had made to keep her from making them look like fools. And to keep them from looking any closer at Caballo’s financial records than they did.

  Caballo was never mentioned in any of the news stories. For all anyone knew, we’d had nothing to do with it.

  I was okay with that. I was only doing my job and we couldn’t do our job if we were nationally recognized. It would have been nice, however, for someone to have recognized Brock for his part in the whole thing, but his shooting was kept separate from everything. No one even knew his name. There was traffic-cam footage. At some point, Cheryl found footage from a camera that was located half a block from where the shooting happened. She was able to enhance it with some sort of software—I wasn’t that up on the latest computer techniques—but she got a good picture of the face of the man who shot Brock. He was one of the cops arrested in the money-laundering/theft thing. The footage would be used in his trial. Hopefully, when his lawyer showed it to him, it would encourage him to plead guilty so that Brock wouldn’t have to testify.

  “How are you doing?” I asked as Brock opened his eyes, coming back to the world after an impromptu nap.

  “Not bad,” he muttered.

  He was tired a lot. The doctors said that was normal after the ordeal he’d been through. It might also have something to do with the infection that had set in twelve hours after they operated, tearing through his body like a tornado through a trailer park. It was touch and go for a few days, but he’d pulled out of it.

  Luna was beside him in the bed, her head resting on his shoulder. He touched her hip, lifting his own hips slightly as he scooted over.

  “Could you scratch my ankle?”