Deadly Alliances

by Candle Sutton

  “It’s not an obsession.”

  “Come on, there’s no future here. Let it go. You can do better than some self-righteous Fed.”

  “She’s not like that. You don’t even know her!”

  “I know she hunts guys like us.”

  “Guys like you.”

  Dang. The words had popped out, almost on their own. Why had he said that?

  “Says the thief.” Matt stomped around the sofa and jabbed his finger at Nate. “Or did you forget about all those heists you pulled?”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Doubt you’ve passed the statute of limitations.” Matt rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about this.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Nate raked his fingers through his hair and released a shaky breath. “I’m going. And I’m going to stop Young. No matter what.”

  “He’ll rip you to shreds and still kill her. Maybe make you watch.”

  “I’m not gonna let him get close enough to touch her. I’ll kill him if I have to.”

  Matt’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Right. You’re the one who washed outta the military ‘cause you couldn’t shoot people remember?”

  “Yeah, well maybe I can shoot this guy. I’ll figure something out.”

  “This is suicide, man.”

  “Well, at least I’ll go out trying to help someone.” For once.

  “Fine.” Matt gestured wildly into the air. “Go! Maybe you can save the world while you’re at it.”

  Whirling, Matt stormed toward the door.

  “I’ll see you, Matt.”

  Matt jerked open the door and shot a glare his direction. “Not likely.”

  ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪

  A gust of wind lifted the fresh sea spray across Lana’s face.

  She wrapped her arms around her stomach, but didn’t turn her face from the wind. Cold as it was, she relished the fresh scent the wind wrapped around her.

  Four days in Oregon and each one had been filled with family. Not just one family, but two of them. Sharing a room with Des left her with very little time to herself. She’d come out here to jog, but for now was content to enjoy the ocean and the solitude.

  Although if she wanted to get any exercise in, she’d have to do it soon.

  Half of the sun had already disappeared into the ocean, the remaining half casting the long shadows of dusk across the sand.

  She’d kind of expected to find Nate out here. In all honesty, had hoped she would. Especially since he’d told her on the phone the other day that he was still in town.

  “I don’t want to get shot today, so I’m announcing my presence,” a man’s voice spoke up from behind her.

  Branden. Not exactly the guy she’d expected to run into, but that was okay.

  She turned.

  He stood a few feet behind her, hands in his pockets. “Reilly told me I could find you out here.”

  “Don’t worry. Friends are on my no-shoot list.”

  Several steps put him directly beside her. “I guess I didn’t need to worry anyway. Now that you’re off duty.”

  “You think that matters?” She quirked her eyebrow. “My favorite accessory is a Glock. Never leave home without it.”

  Surprised eyes traveled to her waist. “You mean…”

  “Better believe it.”

  “Noted. So what’re you doing out here?”

  “I was going to jog, but haven’t made it that far yet.”

  “Well, let’s go. If you think those short little legs of yours can keep up.”

  Oh, he thought he could take her on? She grinned. “I’ll make you eat that challenge.”

  She took off down the packed sand, keeping Branden in her peripheral. When she sensed him lagging behind, she slowed slightly. Not enough to lose her lead, but enough to not lose him.

  Ten minutes passed before she felt his hand land on her shoulder.

  “Think… we could… walk?” The words traveled on puffs of air.

  “What’s the matter? Having trouble keeping up with these short legs?”

  “I’ve got… a desk… job. What… do you… want… from me?”

  She slowed to a walk. Really, felt more like a crawl. But she allowed Branden to set the pace. “You need to get out more often.”

  “I’ve been skipping the gym lately.” Breathing seemed to be coming a little easier now. “Have to get back into it, I guess.”

  Silence descended as they walked for a few minutes.

  Branden broke it with the question she’d been expecting since he first joined her. “So, now that everything’s over, care to give me the inside scoop? Not for the paper or anything, just between us,” he added quickly.

  Where to begin? She summarized quickly, giving him enough details to bring him up to speed.

  “So what brought you back to Lincoln City?”

  “I thought I should get to know my family.”

  “Your family?”

  Hadn’t she told him about that? “Yeah. Didn’t I tell you that I ran into my biological family here?”

  “You failed to mention that one.” He studied her briefly before shaking his head. “I can’t believe I never saw it before. Cyrano and Dimitrios.”

  Wait. He knew them?

  Perfect. She could pump him for information. Satisfy her suspicions as to whether or not one of them could be a hit man.

  “So you guys are friends?”

  “Nah. More acquaintances, really.”

  A reporter, an EMT, and… what had Dimitrios said Cyrano did? Teacher, maybe? “How do you know them?”

  “Met them through work. I’ve run into Dimitrios at crime scenes and accidents quite a bit. Then a few years back, I covered a story on Cyrano when he was up for a state teaching award.”

  A teaching award, hmm? It was hard to believe Stevens could create a cover that believable.

  But maybe he was good. Really, really good.

  She forced a light tone. “So what’re they like?”

  “They seem like good enough guys. Like I said, don’t really know them well, but the family seems pretty tied into the community.”

  Not as helpful as she’d hoped.

  Ghostly fingers tickled across the back of her neck. A chill sunk into her bones.

  Something wasn’t right.

  It had nothing to do with Branden. Or the things he’d said about Dimitrios or Cyrano. The problem was here. On this beach.

  She turned a critical eye to every person within sight.

  An older couple walking hand in hand. Three women jogging. A couple with four young children playing in the sand.

  Nothing to inspire trepidation.

  But the feeling settled like ice in her limbs.

  She bent down, pretending to tie her shoelaces, while surreptitiously scrutinizing the area behind her.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Branden’s amusement-tinged words were little more than an echo in the background. A lone figure strode down the beach behind them.

  Too far away to make a positive ID. But there was something familiar about him.

  The jacket.

  Her eyes locked on the beige plaid jacket. There couldn’t be many coats that ugly. But she did know someone who owned one.

  Young.

  That didn’t make sense. Why would he be here?

  Rosetti had been arrested, Garrett had confessed. Reilly should be safe.

  Wait a second.

  Reilly wasn’t here. And Young wouldn’t be after Branden. She was the reason he was here. But why?

  The why didn’t matter.

  What mattered was that he was here. That Branden was in the line of fire.

  And that she had no backup.

  She skimmed the area.

  The closest refuge was a maintenance shed. Near a hotel about fifty yards up the beach.

  Drawing Young toward an area so populated was risky, but what choice did she have? If it was Young, and if he w
as out to get her, the beach offered zero options for cover.

  She straightened. “That shed. As fast as you can. Don’t run a straight line and don’t look back.”

  “What?”

  A glance back found the man reaching a hand into his coat.

  She grabbed Branden’s arm and started running, dragging him a few feet until he fell into step beside her.

  “What’s going on?” Alarm coated his words.

  She risked a look behind her. The man was running now, his attention locked on them.

  Something dark hung from his hand. Abnormally long for a handgun; likely equipped with a suppressor.

  If he started shooting, she didn’t want Branden caught in the middle. She veered to her left to put distance between them.

  Almost there.

  She looked back in time to see the man take aim.

  Throwing herself at Branden, she caught him around the middle and took him to the ground. Sand flew in her face.

  No gunshot.

  Didn’t matter. It was coming.

  “Hurry!” She dashed the few remaining feet around the corner of the shed.

  A pop, like the world’s loudest nail gun, echoed off the building. Wood splintered near her head.

  Definitely a suppressed gunshot.

  Breathing hard, Branden plopped down beside her. “Who is that?”

  “A killer.” She pulled out her gun. Racked the slide and fixed her gaze on Branden. “Go to the hotel. Call the police. Tell them there’s an officer under fire. Have the hotel locked down and stay inside.”

  Branden hesitated.

  “Go!”

  He pushed up and sprinted across the scrub grass.

  Okay. Now to keep Young busy.

  ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪

  Branden raced toward the hotel. Fought the urge to look back with every step.

  What kind of friend was he? Leaving her to face a killer alone?

  But she’d told him to go. Besides, bringing help was the best thing he could do for her. If he stayed, he’d just get in her way.

  Why had he left his cell phone in his car?

  He tore around the corner of the hotel, shoes skidding on the asphalt. A line of cars blurred to his left. The main entrance filled his vision.

  The lady working the front desk looked up as he burst through the doors.

  “I need to use your phone.”

  The polite smile she offered told him she couldn’t care less. “Of course, sir. What’s your room number?”

  “I’m not a guest.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Our phones are for hotel guests only.”

  “No, you don’t–”

  Glass shattered from somewhere in the parking lot.

  The woman’s eyebrows drew together. “Excuse me. I need to check–”

  “No!” His hand shot out to stop her. “He’s got a gun!”

  “Who has a gun?” Skepticism laced the words.

  For crying out loud. They didn’t have time for this. “I don’t know. But she’s out there and he’s going to kill her.”

  White washed across her face. Her eyes expanded. A shaky hand pushed the phone toward him without a word.

  More breaking glass.

  If anything happened to Lana while he hid inside like some kind of coward, he’d never forgive himself.

  No matter what she’d said, he was going back out there.

  He leaned toward the lady and held her gaze. “Call 911. Tell them there’s a guy with a gun and a cop under fire. Then lock the doors and stay away from the windows.”

  No color remained in her face. She nodded and picked up the phone with a trembling hand.

  Okay, backup was on the way. Now to see if he couldn’t do something to help.

  ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪

  A windshield shattered inches from Lana’s head. She ducked out of sight and wove around the vehicles.

  Dang it! He knew where she was, but she had yet to catch sight of him.

  The receding light didn’t help.

  Pausing by a white van, she knelt on the blacktop, searching for his feet amid the sea of tires.

  Nothing but darkness. And shadows.

  Somehow, she had to get away from the hotel before someone was hit by stray gunfire. She just hoped Branden had gotten the place locked down.

  Straightening slightly, she risked a glance through the van’s windows.

  The window exploded by her head as the sound of the shot reached her. She dropped back down, praying for divine intervention.

  Rolling under the van, she crawled to the other side.

  No sign of feet. She scurried to the next vehicle.

  What she wouldn’t give for a cough. Or sneeze. Cell phone ring. Something.

  That darn suppressor made tracking the source of each shot impossible.

  Footsteps. Several rows over.

  “Yo, Tanner. Come on out.”

  Right. Like she’d do what he said.

  She slid around a convertible, edging toward the voice. Come at him from the side so he couldn’t see her–

  Wait. Why would he advertise his position?

  A smart man wouldn’t. Unless he had a compelling reason.

  She peeked under the cars, spotted his feet in the blue glow of a streetlamp.

  Not just his feet. Two pairs.

  A hostage.

  “Better get over here or your boyfriend’s history.”

  Boyfriend?

  Oh, no. Not Branden.

  She’d told him to stay inside. How could Young have gotten him?

  Was it really so hard to believe? Branden would want to help her. Besides, wasn’t it just like guy to think she needed protecting?

  How many shots did Young have left? Enough to take them both out?

  “You got five seconds!”

  No time to think this through.

  She stood up. “Okay. Stay calm.”

  Young swiveled, pulling Branden in front of him as a human shield.

  One arm wrapped around Branden’s throat. The other pressed the suppressed gun to Branden’s temple.

  “Git over here. And keep that gun where I can see it.”

  She put her hands up, the Glock held loosely in her right. Once she eased around a white BMW, less than thirty feet separated them.

  All she needed was a small opening and she could take him down.

  A slamming door. An engine. Anything to draw his attention away from her.

  Where were the police? Even if Branden hadn’t called them like she’d told him, someone should’ve heard the shots. They should’ve been here by now.

  Eerie silence cloaked the night.

  “Drop your gun.”

  Could she get a shot off before he killed Branden?

  Unlikely.

  “I’ll shoot him, I swear–”

  “Okay, okay!”

  Without her gun, she didn’t have a chance. But what choice did she have?

  No doubt Young intended to kill them both, but she would be first. Maybe Branden could get away.

  Still no sign of help. She was out of time and out of options.

  Twenty-Five

  Easing to the ground, she set her Glock on the pavement. Slowly rose.

  “Kick it away.”

  The kick sent the gun grating across the asphalt, stopped by the tire of a shiny black truck.

  His gun angled away from Branden’s head. “This one’s for my shoulder.”

  Branden drove his elbow back. A grunt slid from Young and the arm at Branden’s throat slackened.

  Now or never. She rushed toward the men.

  Growling, Young whipped the gun up, slammed the butt against Branden’s head.

  Branden went limp. Young pushed the unconscious body to the side.

  The weapon shifted toward her. She dove to the left.

  Behind her, a muffled shot.

  Numbness tinged her shoulder as it hit the ground. She rolled into a crouch, launched herself at the assassin as he swung toward her
.

  Her hand wrapped around his wrist, her momentum driving the gun up as it went off.

  Hot breath tickled her forehead.

  Which arm had she shot? The right. She smashed her fist against his right bicep.

  A roar ricocheted between the buildings.

  With her other hand, she slapped at the gun. It tumbled from his fingers and hit the ground with a thunk.

  Red darkened his cheeks. He slammed his forehead against hers.

  Pain exploded in her head. Fuzziness edged her vision.

  She blinked it away.

  Hands crashed against her shoulders. She backpedaled, but couldn’t find her footing.

  As she fell, she saw him turn toward where he’d dropped his gun. The asphalt knocked the breath from her lungs.

  Her gun was her only chance. Rolling to her knees, she pushed up, scrambled toward the black truck.

  A bullet would tear into her any second. She wasn’t going to make it!

  Her fingers encircled her Glock.

  A grunt. A thump. No gunshot.

  She palmed her gun. Twisted. Sighted on Nate.

  Nate?

  It was Nate! Gripped in his shaking fingers was a rock the size of a baseball. Young lay motionless at his feet.

  She rose slowly, her gaze roving from Young to Nate to Branden and back to Nate. “What’re you doing here?”

  Careful.

  He’d likely just saved her life and deserved to be treated like a hero, not a suspect under interrogation.

  Nate pointed to a row of cabins at a motel across the street. “That’s where I’m staying. I heard the noise, looked outside, and, well, thought I could help.”

  How many nature photographers would have the guts to take on a guy with a gun? Then again, Nate wasn’t just any nature photographer. He was one who’d grown up with bullying and violence. Maybe a guy with a gun didn’t faze him as much as it would most people.

  Of course, an assassin of Stevens’ caliber wouldn’t think twice about such an altercation.

  But Stevens would’ve killed the man, not hit him with a rock.

  She crossed to check on Branden. Strong vitals. He’d wake up with a mammoth headache, but he’d live.

  “So, uh, you a cop or something?”

  She blinked at Nate’s question as she turned to face him. Did he already know the answer? “US Marshal. This man tried to kill my brother.”