by Misty Evans
The lieutenants often ran the day to day activities and were easier to track down in most cases. Victor’s phone vibrated with an incoming call and he rose from the table, stretching his own long legs and hoping it was Olivia. Taz crawled out from under the chair, stood, and shook himself out. “Good idea,” Victor said to the group. “Work out the details. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As he walked into an extra bedroom, his high spirits sank. He plopped on the bed and the dog jumped up to sit next to him. “Director Allen,” he said, answering. “I was about to call you to give you an update.”
“I see Dr. Walsh went around the FBI and gained permission to create a special taskforce for this investigation.”
Great. Just what he needed, his boss pissed at Homeland. Well, he could be pissed all he wanted. Roman and his boss had made the right call, and Allen would have to suck it up.
“After much discussion, we agreed there was crossover between investigations we’ve both been working on,” he lied. He also preferred to use Roman’s law enforcement title. “Agent Walsh has had positive input on the case so far, and one of his people discovered a possible witness, who upon follow-up, was discovered murdered earlier today by what appears to be a mob hit. It’s all tied together.”
That told him a whole lot of nothing, but sounded good, which usually resulted in getting the man off Victor’s back.
A long pause met his ears and he braced for the yelling he anticipated was coming. “I’m working with the Justice Department on that funding you need for increased security for your agents,” Allen said.
Whoa. Wait. Victor had not expected that. On the other hand, Allen never liked to be outshone by any organization and was known in certain circles to enjoy a good pissing match over territories and various cases. Usually those cases involved high-profile victims or clients, but whatever. Victor would take all the help he could get.
“A word of warning,” Allen added. “Showing up in the tabloids is probably not in your best interest if you feel like either the Fifty-seven Gang or the Kings are targeting your people. Whoever their high profile target is, it could be you, so maybe you should be laying low as well as your agents.”
Victor made a face and Taz whimpered. Shit on a stick. He’d already forgotten about the photo, but now he was going to have to hunt someone down and put the fear of God in them. Or in this case, Victor Dupé.
Maybe this was why the director was suddenly on board with the extra funding—a glamorous actress had entered the equation.
“I didn’t realize you were a fan of the gossip magazines, sir.”
It was overstepping, but it felt good to get a dig in.
Allen didn’t appreciate it. “I suggest you get a handle on your personal life and make sure it’s not interfering with this case, am I clear?”
In all his years as director, Victor had never been reprimanded by the top gun about his personal life. He didn’t much care for it, especially considering Allen was never on the ground, working with the men and women under him. “I’ll take that suggestion under advisement.” In other words, fuck off. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Watch your back. Remember what I said—you could just as easily be in the line of fire.”
If he was, whoever was after him was doing a piss poor job. “Roger that, sir.”
He’d just disconnected when another call came through. He groaned softly when he saw who it was. He almost didn’t answer, but he might need her help shutting down the media problem.
“Tracee,”—he didn’t bother with a greeting—“you need to get your publicity person after Red Star Report and get the gossip about the two of us shut down.”
She sounded like she was in tears. “Victor, you have to come over right now. I have a stalker, I’m sure of it. I need you! I’m so scared.”
He shot up off the bed. “Are you at home?”
“Yes. How soon can you be here?”
“Is someone trying to break in? You should call the police, Tracee.”
Her voice hiccupped. “No, no. He’s not trying to break in, but I know he’s around. Everywhere I’ve gone in the last few days, I’ve seen him. He’s following me. I… I think I picked him up the other day at the hospital. Could it be someone involved with the shooting?”
Victor’s stomach dropped to his knees. “Where are your bodyguards? Have you reported this to the police?”
“I’m reporting it to you! You know the cops won’t believe me, and they’ll barge in and ask all kinds of stupid questions. Plus, it will end up in the news, and that’s the last thing I need before I take off for my next film. Please, Victor, you have to help me.”
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. What the ever-living hell was going on? “I’m in San Diego. Let me call a friend and I’ll send him over to check things out.”
“No!” Her voice was sharp. “I don’t want anyone else. How soon can you get here?”
He really had no choice. He had to check this out. The last thing he wanted to do was spend time on this, but he owed it to her to make sure she was safe. If someone had followed her from the hospital, she could be in danger. “It’ll take me three to four hours depending on traffic. Is there anyone there with you?”
“Leon is watching the front door.”
Leon was one of her bodyguards and she lived in a fancy penthouse suite with good security. Several other actors lived in the same building. Still, he would have one of the local PD units drive over and keep an eye out until he got there. “Stay inside, keep the doors locked, and stay away from the windows. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
11
Olivia scanned the picture on her phone. It was the one from the gossip magazine. Taken from fifty yards away, the photographer had caught Tracee and Victor in front of the hospital entrance. Tracee was leaning into him slightly, looking up with adoration.
The angle was such that Olivia couldn’t make out Victor’s expression, but he seemed stiff. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
A call came in from Alfie. She swiped it away, sending it to voicemail. This wasn’t the place or time to talk to him. He’d probably caught wind of Valiant’s visit with the judge, although everyone was keeping it hush-hush, and there was no way she was discussing the situation in the courthouse in front of her partner.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Danny pushed off the wall opposite her, checking his watch. “I thought the lawyer already had the deal set up. How long does it take for Valiant to spill what he knows?”
Olivia wasn’t completely up to speed on Henry Valiant, but what she did know was he’d gotten some information out of his temporary cell partner regarding an ongoing murder investigation. It might help Valiant cut a deal to lighten his sentence.
Information that might also lead to the arrest of Frankie B Molina.
Alfie called again, and she rolled her eyes, hitting the ignore button once more. The mobster had his undies in a bunch, no doubt, wondering if his immediate boss was about to be arrested. If the judge felt Valiant’s intel was enough to go after Frankie B, Alfie’s confidential informant status was in jeopardy.
Valiant and his lawyer were inside the judge’s chambers and had been for the past two hours. The courthouse was already closing for the day, only a couple of security guards manning the exits. Olivia put her phone away, and leaned against the wall. “They can’t be much longer,” she said, reassuring herself as much as Danny.
Her phone continued to buzz as she stood there and she finally turned off the ringer. It was nearing six before the door opened and Valiant and his lawyer emerged.
“I want protection,” Valiant said. He was dressed in prison orange with handcuffs on his wrist and ankles, causing him to shuffle as he walked. “This gets out, I could end up with a shiv in my gut.”
His lawyer was short, bald, and heavyset. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a hanky. “The appropriate paperwork will be filed tomorrow morning first thing, an
d I’ll look into getting you into solitary until the detectives have confirmed the information.”
Danny met Olivia’s gaze and rolled his eyes as he prodded Valiant to move toward the back exit. The man balked, jerking his elbow out of Danny’s grasp.
“I’m not kidding,” he said to his lawyer. “You promised I’d have protection if I came forward.”
Olivia was tired, hungry, and wanted to get this guy back to jail so she could go home. Victor had texted earlier to tell her he was on his way to Los Angeles for a meeting and hoped to be done and to her place in Carlsbad by eight. She barely had time to drop off Valiant, get home and cleaned up before his arrival. Tonight was the night when she planned to come clean.
But that meant getting this bozo to cooperate. “Tell you what.” She made a show of pulling out her phone and hitting some buttons. “I’ll see about getting you into solitary. Seems to me you’re being uncooperative, so I’ll tell Gambitt you need to cool your heels in there tonight.”
Gambitt, the prison warden, was a hardass and would have no reservations about throwing Valiant into isolation.
A convicted criminal locked eyes with her, seeming to reevaluate who had the power in this group. “You would do that for me?”
She nudged his elbow and they started walking. “Anyone who helps take down Frankie B Molina and his group gets a star in my book.”
The lawyer waddled behind them, trying to keep up. “That’s really not necessary. I can handle this.”
“You’re an overworked DA who has better things to do tonight than worry about your client.” They were heading for the back door, the transport vehicle waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Once she had Valiant in the car, the rest would be easy. She held up the phone. “I’m making the call right now, so Henry will be taken directly to solitary upon arrival. I’ll handle any necessary paperwork, okay?”
They passed the guard, who nodded, more than ready to lock up and head home. The attorney shrugged but she could see the relief on his face. “I guess that works.”
Danny sent the guy a harsh glare. “My partner is doing you and your client a solid. Show some appreciation, huh?”
“It’s okay.” As the direct line to Gambitt’s office went to voicemail, Olivia caught sight of an incoming call from Victor. She accepted it as she maneuvered Valiant between them. “Hey, there, can I call you back? I’m not done with my prisoner transport.”
His voice was sharp, demanding. “Where are you?”
Danny pushed open the door and they walked out onto the top of the steps.
“Leaving the courthouse. I won’t be home until—”
Danny pulled up short, jerking Valiant to a stop and nearly causing Olivia to stumble into them. The lawyer brushed past her, gaze down as he jogged down the steps.
“Wait!” Danny called to him. At the same time, Victor said, “Stay inside! Thomas just got a tip that something is going down—”
She didn’t hear the rest as gunfire rang out.
Valiant’s attorney dropped first, tumbling down the last four steps, papers flying from his unzipped briefcase. Across the street, Olivia saw six men dressed in baggy jeans and matching black hoodies. All were armed.
Danny jumped on their prisoner, knocking him to the ground, and yelling, “Get down!”
Bang, bang, bang. As the crack of gunfire continued and bullets smacked into the concrete pillars, sending chunks flying, Olivia ducked behind one. She dropped her phone and reached for her side arm.
On autopilot, she returned fire, wondering in the back of her mind where the uniformed guard inside was. Why wasn’t he backing her up? Danny was lying on top of Valiant. They were going to be pincushions, chock-full of bullets if they didn’t move.
She nailed one of the men in the firing squad, a direct hit to the chest, knocking him off his feet. The two on either side stopped and reached down to grab him. The others closed rank, protecting their own, but also making it easier for Olivia to take out another.
In the distance, she heard sirens and squealing tires. A black and white must have been close to be there already. No looking a gift horse in the mouth—she would take all the help she could get.
With two men down and the other four helping their injured cohorts, the rain of bullets eased up. They were only a few yards from an alleyway and as Olivia peeked out from behind her cover, she realized they must have a getaway car there.
She wanted to follow them and keep shooting until she had every last one down on the ground, but as her gaze dropped to Danny and Valiant, she saw a dark pool of blood running down the steps.
Shit!
Keeping one eye on the retreating shooters, she stayed low and ran to the spot where Danny lay draped over their prisoner. “Danny!” Olivia shook him, but he was dead weight. She shifted his body and saw his shirt covered in blood.
Under him, Valiant curled into a ball, hands over his head. “Are they gone?”
Olivia checked Danny’s pulse, found it to be slow but strong. “Don’t you move or I’ll shoot you,” she said to Valiant. She threw a look over her shoulder at that disappearing firing squad, then placed her hands under Danny’s armpits and began to tug him behind the cover of the pillar. He outweighed her by a good thirty pounds or more and she huffed, digging in her heels to slide him across the concrete landing.
She heard Victor’s voice and thought it was coming from her phone, but then suddenly he was there, like an apparition bursting out the back door. “Get down!” he yelled, and the next thing Olivia knew, he tackled her, sending her backward as a fresh round of bullets peppered the steps, columns, and exit. Glass from the door shattered, raining down on them, but Victor was on top of her, protecting her.
Her ears rang, her head buzzed from the impact of hitting it on the concrete, and her mind spun. Who was shooting now? She’d seen the firing squad all run off.
Would Danny live?
What about Valiant, still exposed on the top step?
Without warning, Victor jumped up and fired back.
Olivia looked like hell on wheels. Victor knew that look—like someone with PTSD who was pissed at their own fear as well as the people who’d scared them.
It had been an hour since the shooting, and she was strung out but trying to be tough. Her partner was in intensive care, the prisoner she’d been transporting was dead, and the shooters were long gone. The lone gunmen who’d come back to finish Henry Valiant was already around the corner before Victor could fire.
Olivia swore she’d nailed two of them. All local hospitals had been put on alert for gunshot-wound victims showing up at the ER, but Victor doubted the two Olivia had nailed would be that easy to snatch.
“It was a fucking hit squad,” she said. “We were sitting ducks. Maybe if that damn guard hadn’t stayed inside hiding like a scared rabbit…”
She pushed out of the kitchen chair, ignoring Victor’s protests. He was trying to clean the scrapes on her face caused by flying debris. She’d refused to see a doctor, and by the way she kept holding her head, he was concerned she might have a concussion.
The deputy marshal was on a tear though. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—sit still.
He sank back into his own chair, tossing the washcloth on the table. They’d already been over this when they’d given their statements at the scene. “Danny will be okay. It’s not your fault he was shot.”
She rubbed the back of her head again, pacing his kitchen and making Taz nervous, the dog’s dark eyes watching her wear a path in the tile floor. “It had to be Frankie, but those guys…”
Her gut was telling her something. She kept circling back to the six gunmen. “What about them? You said they wore bandanas around their necks, gloves on their hands, and sunglasses to cover their eyes. No identifying features were exposed, and they were all dressed alike, except the bandanas were different colors.”
“That’s just it. They hid every single distinguishing mark. Like they knew I could identify them if I so much as
saw an inch of skin.” She whirled and looked at him. “Like gang members with tattoos.”
He stood and took her hand, guiding her back to the chair and forcing her to sit. “That’s a strong possibility.”
“But Henry Valiant was tattling on Frankie. Why would a gang try to take him out?”
He resumed washing dried blood from her face and putting witch hazel on the scratches. If he could keep her in the chair and talking, he’d have her doctored in five minutes, tops. “It would make sense for Frankie to send someone to take out Valiant in order to stop his testimony. The judge pulled his cellmate from general population, by the way, in order to protect him, so we still have the opportunity to get the goods on Frankie. But it’s possible Frankie used members of the Kings, rather than his own people, to take out Valiant. He certainly made a statement to anyone else who might be thinking of turning state’s evidence against him.”
Her eyes grew wary and curious at the same time. “Why would six members of the Kings do a hit for Frankie?”
“Roman and I have a theory.”
She flinched when he dabbed the cut next to her temple. “Lay it on me.”
“We believe the two organizations—the Fifty-seven Gang and Suarez cartel—are working together.”
Her spine straightened, drawing her away. “They’re sworn enemies. They hate each other. Gino is trying to run the Kings out of town.”
Even banged up and worried, she was beautiful. He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her, but the deputy marshal wasn’t in the mood for a consoling hug. “They could be working together to capitalize on each other’s specific skills and resources.”
Disbelief made her shake her head. “No way. They would never do that.”
He gave up doctoring her, going to a cupboard and pulling down a bottle of brandy. He fished out a couple of clean glasses and poured them each a shot. Returning to the table, he handed one to her.
His phone rang and Tracee’s name popped up on the ID. Damn, with the shooting and the aftermath, he hadn’t had a chance to call her. He definitely wasn’t driving up to her place at this hour and leaving Olivia alone.