Only there was nothing.
That dread ratcheted up a notch. She took the stairs one at a time, continuing to move like a silent shadow. She hesitated mere steps from the kitchen, surveying the area, holding her breath as she listened for sound from the other side of that closed door.
A loud shrill made her jump. She whipped around, gun held in both hands.
With her heart in her throat, Kat realized it was a cell phone chiming.
She blew out a long breath. Rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead and let out a pathetic laugh.
She was really losing it. That was probably what had woken her. Just a damn cell phone going off somewhere in the house. For all she knew, Pete had probably been in the bathroom when she’d awoken and was now back in bed wondering where she’d gone.
A laugh bubbled through her as she turned for the stairs. The cell phone chimed again, but this time she expected it. She glanced around, curious as to where the thing had been left so she could turn it off.
She walked around the far side of the dining room table. And froze.
A silent scream tore from her throat when she saw Pete lying on his stomach, out cold. His cell phone was on the floor near his head.
“Pete.” She set the gun on the ground and dropped to her knees by his side. Blood ran down his temple and dripped onto his bare shoulder.
She reached quickly for the phone, flipped it open to call 911, and went cold all over when she saw the picture message coming through. It had been sent hours ago by the time stamp, but Pete obviously hadn’t looked at it yet. It read simply:
Pete,
This is the most recent picture INTERPOL has on file for Minyawi.
H
“Oh, God.” Sickness welled in Kat’s stomach as she stared at the image of Sawil Ramirez.
She grabbed the gun and scrambled to her feet to get help. And made it two steps before she was grasped by the hair by a large hand that jerked backward until the air shot out of her lungs.
“It’s about time you showed up, Kat. I’ve been waiting for you for six fucking years.”
Spots shot into Kat’s line of vision. Pain erupted in her skull. She yelped and tried to swat at the hand that held her, but it pulled so hard the room spun. Sawil’s shoulder plowed into the swinging kitchen door, and before she knew what was happening, she was thrown over the granite island and went skidding off the other side.
Pots and pans and utensils went sailing. The gun flew out of her hand and across the room. Kat hit the tile floor on the other side of the island with a thwack that cracked her skull and sent stars firing off behind her eyes. In a daze, she looked up to see Sawil standing over her, but this wasn’t the quiet and friendly man she’d met in Cairo. This one was full of malevolence and a blinding hatred she could never understand.
“This is all your fault, you know. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. And now look where we are.” His accent didn’t sound Brazilian anymore. It was very thickly Middle Eastern, and with his long hair and beard, he fit the terrorist profile better than she could have ever predicted.
She scrambled to her feet.
He threw a chair out of his way as he advanced toward her, eyes dark and evil. “Prove a point. Make my mark. I was doing that until you fucked it all up for me. No one was getting hurt.” She darted behind the table. “Then they came at me. Said it was my problem. That you were my fuckup. That I needed to fix it. Fix you. You should have died that night in the tomb. Then Shannon would still be alive.”
Her eyes flicked to the scar running down his cheek. The scar, she realized, she’d put there. He’d been the one to grab her from behind. He’d lured her, disappeared, then tried to kill her. He just hadn’t expected her to fight back.
“It should have been you who was gutted, not Shannon,” he growled as he threw another chair to the side. “Not her.”
And, oh…shit. She realized then she was in serious trouble here. What had Bertrand told her in the park? Minyawi’s been on a killing spree for five years. Rose in the ranks of his group like wildfire spreads across a dry valley. The man Kat had known six years ago was definitely not the same one she was staring at now. If he hadn’t killed Shannon, then it meant his organization had. To get to Kat. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. Which meant he had double the reason to want to see Kat suffer.
Her adrenaline surged. She stumbled backward when he moved forward.
“No one’s coming for you, woman. Before this is over you will beg me to kill you.”
The hell she would.
When he came at her, she threw a chair from the kitchen table into him. He grunted as it hit him in the knee, then tossed it aside as if it were kindling. And still he kept coming.
“Run from me,” he growled. “That’s it. Run. It’ll be that much better when I catch you and make you pay. I’ve been practicing. All these years, just waiting to make you pay like Shannon did.”
The kitchen was big, but Kat was quickly running out of space. She couldn’t beat him in a hand-to-hand fight. Her only option was to escape and regroup. She spotted the side door that led to the back stairs and turned to run. He dove for her, grasped her ankle, and pulled her down with him before she even got three steps away.
Her body hit the floor hard. She grunted in pain, kicking and struggling, but he flipped her to her back like she was a rag doll.
“Get off me!”
He wrestled her hands, grasped them at the wrists and pinned them beside her head. She continued to fight with everything she had, remembering what Pete had told her he’d done to Bertrand’s wife. Knowing if she lost here, she was dead.
Don’t let Pete be dead.
He growled close to her ear. “I like it when they fight back. Now beg. Beg me not to hurt you. Just like Shannon did before they cut her.”
“No!” Sickness rose in Kat’s stomach. She lifted her knee, nearly landed a jab in his groin, but he moved just before she made contact. The back of his hand sliced through the air and connected with her cheek with a loud crack.
“Do it!” he screamed. He shifted his legs so he had both of hers pinned beneath the weight of his body.
She lashed out. Her hand broke free. She dug her fingernails into his left eye. Blood spurted over her face and chest, making her gag. He screeched and jerked back, one hand flying to his face, the other still holding her tight. She turned her head slightly and saw her gun lying mere feet from her, just out of her grasp.
She was so close.
She kicked, tried to free herself, but he was too strong. Sweat and blood ran down her cheek.
He roared, and a menacing rage coated his features until she barely recognized him anymore. He wrapped his free hand around her throat and squeezed until she was sure her veins would burst.
Her vision dimmed. She gasped for breath, struggled harder. Met…nothing.
Oh, God. This was it. After all this time, after finally being so close to what she’d always wanted…
“Get your fucking hands off her.” Pete’s arm arced out, and the cast-iron frying pan in his hand cracked against the side of Sawil’s head.
Sawil was thrown to the side and bounced off the kitchen wall.
Pete was on his knees in a flash, not a dream but reality, pulling her to him. “Talk to me, baby.”
Her throat burned, but she held on tight, remembering the way he’d looked in the dining room. Blood continued to run down the side of his face. “Pete—”
Sawil shot off the floor with a growl and plowed into Pete. Kat screamed as he was torn from her arms. The two sailed across the kitchen. Pete’s head and back hit the cabinets with a deafening whack.
They wrestled across the floor, grunting and struggling. Kat scrambled for her gun and grasped it with two hands, but there was no shot. Their bodies slammed into another cabinet, and a pile of dishes above rocked and tipped and came crashing down around them.
Kat pushed to her feet. Sawil got the upper hand, rolled on top of Pete. He closed his h
ands around Pete’s neck. “Should have. Killed you. Long ago.”
“Why didn’t you?” Pete spat as he fought back, nailing Sawil with a right hook that made the man reel, stop and shake his head, but still he didn’t let go. Pete managed to push into a sitting position, his back Kat’s way, blocking her shot.
“Because I knew you’d lead me right to her.” Sawil tightened his grip. “You have her to thank for everything I am today. When you’re gone, she’s mine. And I will enjoy every moment of it.”
Something snapped in Pete then. He cracked his skull against Sawil’s. Hard. Dazed, Sawil loosened his grasp on Pete’s neck as his head snapped back. Pete laid two right hooks into Sawil’s face that echoed through the room, then scrambled out from underneath him.
Sawil stumbled, righted himself, shook his head and stood. Kat trained the gun on Sawil as Pete pushed himself up, swayed and caught himself. Both men were breathing heavily and looked like they could go down in a light breeze. Confusion colored Sawil’s eyes. He stumbled back two steps and fell against the counter behind him.
Kat’s pulse pounded. Sweat slicked her skin. The silence that fell over the room was more deafening than Sawil’s enraged shouts had been. Could she kill him? Would she? She had the shot. She could end this right now.
She hesitated. Torn.
Sawil’s eyes glazed over, and he swayed. And hope leapt in Kat’s throat. He was going down on his own.
Then at the last second his hand snaked out. He grasped a knife from the knife block on the counter behind him and lunged.
Years of practice condensed into one split second. Kat pulled the trigger once, twice with hands steadier than she’d ever imagined.
The gunshots echoed through the massive kitchen and hit Sawil square in the chest. He fell inches from Pete’s bare feet.
Dimly she heard a frantic voice at the kitchen doorway. In a blur, a rush of people swarmed the room, from where, Kat didn’t know. All she saw was Sawil’s lifeless body on the tile floor, facedown in a growing pool of blood.
She’d done that. She’d been able to take a life, after all. The life of someone who had once been her friend. And she knew the moment would haunt her for the rest of her days.
She dropped the gun and took a shaky step back.
Pete caught her with both arms before she fell. “I’ve got you,” he said into her hair. “Hold on to me. Just hold me, Kit-Kat.”
Her whole body started to shake, but she grabbed on with what little strength she had left. “Don’t let go,” she whispered.
“I won’t, baby. God, I won’t.”
Pete looked up from where he was seated at Maria’s dining room table. His head was still a little fuzzy from the drug Ramirez—or Minyawi, or whatever the fuck the guy’s real name was—had stuck him with. But at least it cut the sting of the alcohol the med tech was rubbing on his temple.
Thankfully, the wound wasn’t deep enough for stitches. He flinched when the tech slapped on a butterfly bandage, then pissed him off royally as she flashed a light in his eye to check for a concussion.
“Cut that out.” He pushed the light away and went back to watching Kat.
She was sitting on the sofa across the room getting the same mend-and-bend from another paramedic. Police and what he suspected were FBI swarmed the room, conversing with one another, checking the scene. Maria was near the window, talking with a plainclothes officer as she gave her statement. Pete had a vague recollection of seeing Slade somewhere in the group and absently wondered who the hell had called him, then dismissed the thought. The only person he cared about right now was on that couch.
His heart pinched in his chest. Bruises were forming near her eyes and across her cheek. He knew if she hadn’t killed Sawil, he would have. For what he’d done to her in that tomb. For the years of hiding he’d forced her into. For the few minutes she’d been alone with him in the kitchen when Pete had been out cold.
“There. You’re done,” the woman finally said.
Pete smothered a groan as he rose and began buttoning the shirt someone had brought down for him.
The sound of shoes skidding to a halt in the open penthouse doorway brought his head around. Shock, then disbelief, then confusion whipped through him as he saw Hailey standing there, looking not much different than Kat.
“Pete!”
Hailey threw herself into his arms. He winced and pushed her back as he studied her bruised face, which was laced with a lot of relief and a bunch of pissed off. “What the hell happened to—”
She smacked him in the shoulder. “You owe me, you son of a bitch. And I’ve got a laundry list of ways you’re going to pay me back for this.” She glanced around the room. “Man, I’m glad the police got here in time.”
He was having trouble following Hailey’s words, but two things got through. One, she’d known what was going down here, and two, somebody’d roughed her up good.
Oh, shit. Hailey.
He gripped her arms. “What happened?”
“Two creeps showed up at Lauren’s place when I went to make sure she wasn’t home.” Her eyes darted to the side and the gurney being rolled out of the kitchen. “Which one is that? The dark-haired one or the bald guy?”
His stomach churned with the knowledge she’d been alone with either.
“Minyawi,” Kat said at his side in a quiet voice. “The dark-haired one.”
Pete looked Kat’s direction. She was standing just out of his reach, her skin pale, eyes unsure. She gripped a blanket around her shoulders like it was her last lifeline.
“Good,” Hailey muttered with ice in her words. “The prick deserved to die.”
Pete’s gaze snapped back to Rafe’s ex-wife, and a terrible feeling rolled through him. “Hailey, did he—”
“No,” she said quickly, reading his reaction. “He didn’t do anything other than knock me around a little. I know how to take care of myself. I’m fine.”
She was. Pete could see it in her eyes. Hailey Roarke was one of the toughest women he’d ever met.
She turned her attention to Kat. “I’m Hailey, by the way. An ex-friend.”
“Good friend,” Pete corrected.
A half smile curled Hailey lips. Kat glanced between the two with a whole lot of uncertainty.
“I had the bad sense to marry his partner at Odyssey,” Hailey explained. “But I wised up.” She grinned at Pete. Bruises and all. “Saved your ass, didn’t I? See, Kauffman? There’s hope for me yet.”
Pete couldn’t help it. He chuckled. He’d always liked Hailey, so it was no skin off his nose letting her think she’d saved the day. “You did. I stand corrected. You’re the best damn cop I ever met.”
Hailey rolled her eyes. Kat smiled slowly as she listened to the banter.
“So, Kat,” Hailey said. “Is it wishful thinking to assume you’re going to do something about Pete’s mood swings? Because I have to tell you. I love him like a brother, but the man’s got a serious attitude problem.”
He was just about to defend those so-called mood swings when he noticed a shy expression skirting Kat’s features. Then she shocked them both by stepping forward and walking right into his arms.
And oh, yeah, he was the biggest sap on the planet, and he didn’t even care. His arms closed around her tight as he kissed her temple. Over Kat’s shoulder he saw Hailey smile and wink his way.
“About damn time,” she said.
Pete’s smile faded. And glancing around, he was rudely reminded any happily ever after had probably come and gone. That feeling was confirmed when he saw Slade striding in their direction.
He tensed. Kat pulled back and turned to look.
“Kauffman,” Slade said as he stopped next to Hailey. “Kat,” Slade said softer, his dark eyes somber. “How are you doing?”
There was a second where Pete thought Kat would go to Slade, and he steeled himself for the moment. They were friends. He knew Slade had tried to help her once. Mentally, he’d already accepted that. Emotionally,
though, right here and now, was a different story.
But when she didn’t make a move out from under the arm Pete had looped over her shoulder, he had to admit a spurt of relief raced through him. Either she loved him enough to know her going to Slade wouldn’t sit well with him, or she wasn’t quite sure about Slade anymore.
Both, probably, he realized.
“A couple of my officers are going to need to get a complete statement from you, Kat,” he said, “but after that, you’re free to go.”
Kat’s brow drew together. “But what about—”
“There’s been no sign of Busir,” Slade said quickly, turning his attention to Pete. “We’ve got people monitoring the borders, but it’s possible he’s already left the country.”
“He was at the motel with me for sure,” Hailey interjected. “I’m not entirely sure what happened because I was blindfolded, but the two of them argued. Whatever they fought about, it was over fast. Minyawi was the only one with me in the van on the way here.”
And that was how the police had shown up, Pete realized. Hailey had called in the cavalry.
Slade turned his attention Hailey’s way. “I don’t suppose you remember where that motel was, do you?”
“No, but if you get me a map, I can probably figure it out. Even though I was blindfolded, I paid attention to the route we took, and I’m familiar with New York. I can probably tell which bridges we crossed.”
Slade shot a questioning look at Pete.
Hailey saw the expression and turned toward Slade. “Officer Hailey Roarke. Key West PD. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”
Slade reluctantly returned her handshake. “Marty Slade.”
Hailey’s eyes narrowed. “CIA.”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis.” When Hailey tipped her blonde head, he added, “Trust me, Officer Roarke. You don’t need to know.” Slade motioned to a man in a suit near the door. “Officer Crowly will take the rest of your statement and get you anything you need.”
Hailey obviously knew a dead end when she saw one. She pursed her lips and turned toward the dark-haired officer walking her way.
Slade’s gaze followed her as she moved away. “Key West PD?”
Stolen Heat Page 29