Rogue Alliance

by Michelle Bellon

  “Sure,” he said, “I should get going anyway. I’m glad that Carmen is recovering so quickly. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I get back.”

  “Sounds good,” she nodded, before turning away.

  “Shyla,” Brennan said. She turned.

  “Don’t shut me out just because you’re scared,” he said, “I’m gonna do this job, cut ties, and then I’m coming back. To you. And together we’re going to figure out all the rest of this crazy life, no matter how much time we have.”

  She softened and gave a slight smile.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Jesus, Shyla thought. She was up to her eyeballs in emotion. If this was how it felt to be sober and in love, then maybe she didn’t want any of it after all.

  Not only had Brennan’s declaration of love burned into her soul, and she felt guilty for not telling him she knew about her business trip was going to be down there right in the middle of it. This was not a good way to start a relationship, she thought. But she knew he was deliberately not telling her specifics either. They were protecting one another.

  She just hoped that when he saw her on the docks of LA, with a gun in her hand, on the other side of the law, that he could forgive her the betrayal of not letting him in on that piece of information.

  What he didn’t and wouldn’t understand was that it was in his best interest for her to be there. She could help ensure his safety. In fact, she already had. Eli hadn’t been thrilled with the idea; the promise to give Brennan immunity in exchange for the drug bust, but he’d agreed nonetheless. It was a deal he couldn’t pass up. Thankfully, he didn’t question her motivations.

  When she said goodbye to Carmen that night before heading home, Carmen whined in response to learning that she would be out of town for a few days.

  “Why do you have to leave? The doctor said all the swelling is almost gone and I might get to go home in few more days. He just has to run few more tests tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I know,” Shyla said, “isn’t that great?”

  “Well, yeah, but I want you to be here when he lets me out. Mom and Dad said they wanted to give me a little welcome home party. Nothing major. The doc says not too much excitement, but, you know…something cool. I want you to be there.”

  “I plan on it. This thing I gotta do shouldn’t take too long. I’m hoping to be home in two days, tops. By morning, even, so that if you do get out that day, I’ll be there. Don’t worry, they aren’t going to have a party without me – I’m the life of the party! Didn’t you know that?”

  “Yeah,” Carmen giggled, “I seen you party before, lady. You’re crazy when you’re drunk.”

  Shyla’s grin sobered.

  “I’m sorry you saw me like that, Carmen. I promise you won’t ever see me like that again.”

  The intensity in her tone commanded Carmen’s attention. Her attitude changed. “Okay,” she said, “well, I guess you can go on your trip. Be careful though. You gotta come back in time for cake and ice cream.”

  “Cake and ice cream? Well, hell, why didn’t you mention that before? I’ll be there.”

  *

  Tension hovered, vibrating its unwelcome inevitability of closure. Ever since Brennan had made it known that he was walking away from the business after this last transaction, Victor had grown more and more agitated.

  He’d said that he understood, but Brennan knew that he was taking it personally, as a slight against the loyalty they had built the entire friendship on. In Victor’s mind, Brennan would forever be indebted to him. It didn’t help that Victor had strong suspicions about his feelings toward Shyla. That would be construed as nothing other than direct betrayal.

  “There will be three people on the boat with the shipment,” Victor said above the hum of the airplane, “no one is to step aboard until I have given notice. You and the rest of the men will stay behind and keep an eye out.”

  Brennan was quiet as Victor went over the details of how the entire transaction would take place. When Victor changed the subject by tossing out a random question, it took him a moment to shift gears.

  “What if I exposed you?” Victor said, “What if I said that if you leave, I’ll turn you in and you’ll spend you last dying breath in another facility?”

  The threat was so casual that it was almost comical, but Brennan didn’t laugh. He knew exactly how serious Victor was. He didn’t want to let go of his prodigy. Clenching his jaw, he gave Victor a cool stare.

  “I’m just kidding,” Victor chuckled, “I wouldn’t do something like that. Listen, though, we can’t botch this transaction.”

  Just like that, he switched back to the earlier conversation as if nothing had happened; no subtle threat interjected for the sake of making a point. With the switch, something turned off in Brennan. All previous sense of obligation and allegiance was gone. He was free.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Shyla realized she had been holding her breath and released it in one slow whoosh of air, wishing the overwhelming sense of dread would float out of her body with it. No such luck.

  The docks were already cloaked in fog. She could taste it in the back of her throat; an odd mix of salty seawater and the fumes of the city squalor.

  In street clothes, she crouched down on an empty boat, keeping an eye and ear out for any signs from the rest of the team that was spread out around the grounds. Eli had sent her a sizeable group of men and women to back her up.

  This is it, she thought. They were finally going to nail Victor Champlain. She wasn’t nearly as thrilled with the concept as she’d always imagined she would be. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the closure, the justice. She did, but it didn’t feel nearly as rewarding as she had anticipated.

  Then again, the deal was yet to go down. A lot could happen over the course of the next half hour. With that thought in mind, she gripped her weapon with sweaty palms.

  *

  The docks were eerily silent as the cargo ship slipped through the waters of the port. Shyla could see there were three men perched at the bow, scanning the scene.

  As the ship docked, Victor, Brennan, and three of his men seemed to appear out of nowhere from the far east side of the shipyard. As if by magic, the fog presented the small group. Brennan was tense. She could see it in the way he walked and held his head. Her heart was with him.

  He paused and gave a quick look around. Could he feel her presence? His senses were, after all, more astute than everyone else’s. After a moment, he moved forward, joining Victor’s crew.

  She imagined her team in their stations, just waiting for her to give the signal. She wouldn’t until Victor had made the transaction.

  Victor and his men stopped halfway down the dock. He was giving orders. Then he left them there and walked the rest of the way by himself. Shyla was too far away to hear the interaction and the heavy fog made visibility tough. She had expected as much, which is why she had insisted on making the boat her station. Eli’s research had shown where the boat would dock and she’d chosen another close by.

  Information wasn’t completely accurate. The boat docked farther down than she had imagined. Now, she was between Brennan and Victors men, and Victor and the ship. Her entire team would have to take down Victor’s men at the end of the dock before they could get down to Victor and the ship. Immediately, she saw that as soon as she called the order, she’d have to bolt from her position and try to secure Victor for the arrest. There would be a period of time between when her team could secure the men at the end of the dock and help her at the other end. She’d be on her own against four or five men. Those weren’t good odds, but she wasn’t about to call off the raid. They had come this far. Victor was going down.

  Her gut clenched as Victor drew closer to her boat and walked past it, towards his destination. It was the first time she’d seen him since she arrested him. Her throat tightened. She could still feel the way her scarf had cut into her flesh and squeezed of her airway when he had s
trangled her, and it was hard to resist the temptation to take in a sudden gulp of air.

  Quietly, slowly, she repositioned herself to optimize her view. Victor reached the boat. A tall, gangly man stood at the edge looking down. They exchanged greetings. She could hear only a murmur.

  Victor climbed aboard. The three men at the bow stood on vigilant guard as he and the captain disappeared into the cargo space. Twenty long, arduous minutes passed. Shyla’s muscles were cramping as she remained in her station, hunched, wary, and watchful.

  She saw the three men leave their posts. Something was up. Unsure of how Victor planned to get his shipment out of port, she looked back down the docks. Brennan was making his way down. Victor must have contacted him. It was time. She couldn’t let Brennan make it down before she’d made her move.

  With a push of the button on her two-way-radio, she spoke quickly and quietly. “The exchange has been made. I’m going in. Go, go, go.”

  In one swift motion, she tucked her radio onto her belt clip and leaped over the bow of the boat she’d been hiding in. With a solid thud, she hit the dock running. She didn’t look back, but she suddenly heard shouting and she imagined her team rushing Victor’s men. A gun shot rang out, followed by another. She automatically hunched her shoulders defensively as she ran forward, praying for Brennan’s safety.

  There was a ruckus on the boat as the men on board began to realize that things were not progressing as planned.

  “It’s the police,” she heard the captain shout, “what the fuck, Victor?”

  She was almost to the ship when Victor and two other men jumped down from the boat. Victor almost lost his footing. He stood crouched and ready to run. The other men were already scrambling; one leaped to another boat on the other side, and the other was sprinting straight toward her.

  “Stop, Police!” she shouted, pointing her gun directly at Victor.

  The man running towards her stopped dead in his tracks, wild-eyed and panicked. The other man was long gone, hopping from boat to boat into the murk of the fog. Victor was still as a statue, his stare cold and icy and boring into her with hate that was tangible.

  It was all happening so fast. The commotion behind her was only background music filled with shouting and chaos.

  Boot steps running hard and fast down the long length of the dock were closing in quickly behind her and she knew that Brennan was closing in fast.

  The man that had been running toward her decided he had no other options. She saw the realization pass over his features a split second before he charged her. She took her sight off Victor and prepared to shoot her attacker and Victor made his decision. With almost a smirk on his face, he stood straight, reached behind his back and pulled out a revolver.

  The reverberating echo of two shots fired one after the other pierced her ears just as the man leaped for her. His body slumped to the ground. Her shot had hit him in the center of his chest. The blood was already spreading like an oil spill across the breadth of his chest as he lay, dying, a few feet away from her.

  Looking up, she knew she needed to know where the other shot had come from, and where it had ended. Victor was still standing in the same place, but the look on his face was one of shock. His gun dangled from his limp fingers. He dropped it and fell to his knees, staring just behind Shyla with a small entrance point at the center of his throat, blood seeping out of the wound in a gruesome river.

  She didn’t need to look to know that Brennan was behind her. He had shot Victor before he could shoot her.

  Victor blinked and a gurgling sound escaped when he opened his mouth. He fell face forward.

  She turned. Brennan was standing with his gun still aimed at Victor, as if he was frozen there for eternity. His face was ghost white, but his expression was hard.

  “Brennan,” she choked out on a sob.

  He turned to her and seemed to shake out of his trance.

  “Shyla,” he said in a gruff tone, reaching out and pulling her to his chest violently, “I thought he had shot you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  She was clung to him, her whole body shaking with adrenaline.

  “I’m okay,” she said, “it’s over. It’s over.”

  There was shouting and what sounded like a hundred footsteps as the team closed in around them. Shyla closed her eyes and shut them out.

  Brennan held her tight, rubbing her back in vigorous motions.

  “It’s not over, baby. It’s finally just begun.”

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  You can find out more about Michelle Bellon at www.michellebellon.com.