by Shayla Black
The cell in her pocket chirped and she was happy for the distraction. Her uncle. Yeah, her happiness faded somewhat. She answered anyway. “Hello, Uncle Beau.”
“Holland, I’m glad you decided to pick up the phone. I think we should talk.”
“I don’t have a ton of time, but you should know that I’m safe. I’m with a couple of very well-trained men.”
“If you’re with who I think you’re with, you could be in serious trouble.” Her uncle’s deep voice rumbled over the line. “I looked into this situation and it’s bad. Come in and let me put you in protective custody.”
Like she was going to let that happen. “I’m fine. The last thing I need to do is sit in a cheap motel eating takeout. I’m good.”
“Have you wondered why the only times your life gets really dangerous is when that man is in it? I’m not saying he means to put you at risk, but he’s involved in something none of you can handle.”
“What have you found out?”
“The bullets match a very specific gun. We found three casings on the assassin’s perch across from your building. And yes, I said assassin because those casings were specially made and matched casings found at three other crime scenes. Apparently they’re this bastard’s calling card. He’s some kind of European hit man. Holland, someone is trying very hard to kill Dax Spencer and this killer won’t care that you’re in the way.”
That was interesting news. “Is he Russian?”
Beau paused. She could hear her uncle shuffling paperwork. “Um, they think he’s Russian because he does a lot of work for one particular syndicate. Have you ever heard of someone named Ivan Krylov? I fucking hate these foreigners.”
She’d read all of Connor’s documentation about the events in New York a few months ago. A lieutenant with the Krylov syndicate had shot Dax. The same group had also been involved in Maddox Crawford’s murder. She held her tongue, though, because that information was classified—not in any formal way, but Connor and Dax didn’t want it leaking. “I’ll check into it.”
“Damn it, Holland. We’re all worried about you. I know you put in a request to visit the prison so you can interrogate Sue Carlyle again.”
She’d had to. Unfortunately, one didn’t simply walk into a prison and visit without paperwork. “It’s not really an interrogation. I just have some follow-up questions.”
“She’s dead,” he said, his tone flat. “She was found in her cell hanging from her bed sheets a few weeks ago. She didn’t leave a note.”
It wasn’t a stretch to imagine a mad woman becoming suicidal but . . . damn it. “Can I read the reports of her death? I presume there was an autopsy?”
“Sure. Come into the office and I’ll let you read everything I’ve got.”
So he could put her in protective custody? No thanks. “Just e-mail me the report, please.”
He sighed. “Haven’t you noticed that people around Captain Spencer and his friends die? His buddy Connor was visiting a woman at a nursing home a few weeks ago when this same assassin apparently murdered the woman he was talking to.”
Natalia Kuilikov. “I wasn’t aware it was the same assassin who’s after Dax. Of course, I didn’t know any assassin was after Dax. I can tell you’re worried, but I can’t let this go. Maybe the heat would be off Dax if the NOLA PD would officially open an investigation into the admiral’s death. If we start shining a light on this, the vermin will run back to the shadows.”
“Or you’ll get my men killed.”
She was so frustrated with him. “I let you talk me out of this once, but I have to ask . . . Why the hell did you become a cop? To walk away the minute an investigation gets dangerous? That’s the nature of our job. We take those chances so everyday citizens don’t have to. Protect and serve, Uncle Beau. It’s what we’re trained to do and you’re telling me to do neither.”
“I’m telling you to grow up and stop being so fucking naive,” he growled. “Do you know why I became a cop? Because it was that or getting my ass shot off in the goddamn military. I’m not about to get me or my men killed because your boyfriend stuck his nose in where it doesn’t belong. Tell him to get out of my town and go back to D.C. where he belongs. You know what? I’ll tell him myself. And, Holland, you better rethink your position, because he’s going to get you killed.”
The line cut off abruptly and she stared at her phone. Her uncle had never spoken to her like that. Never.
“You all right?” Dax stood not ten feet away from her, his big body illuminated by the afternoon sun.
She slipped her cell in her pocket. “I’m all right. We can cancel our trip to the prison.”
His eyes closed briefly. “Sue Carlyle’s dead, then. Suicide?”
“By all appearances.” The time had come to choose a side and make it known. “Likely the Krylov syndicate arranged the scene, just as they did with your father. They killed your father and now they’re trying to kill you.”
He stepped closer, and when he put his arms around her, she didn’t push him away. “I’m sorry this is causing trouble between you and your family.”
“It’s all right. All that matters is figuring out what happened and what these criminals want.” She let herself soak in the warmth of his body.
He stepped back, taking her hand. “I’m glad you said that, because I think Freddy found a clue.”
“Good.” She turned to follow him, when something caught her eye. She stopped, staring for a moment at the dirt nearby. It had rained earlier, making a single footprint on the far side of the dirt road they’d driven up visible. “Has anyone been out here?”
She crept closer to inspect. Connor had parked close to the tree line in order to give Dax room on the narrow road in case he needed to leave in the Jeep.
Maybe it wasn’t a print. Damn rain. It could be anything. She was being paranoid.
“I think we’ve all been outside.” Dax looked down to the spot she examined. “Sweetheart, that’s so muddy I’m not sure what it is. Do you want to have Freddy look at it?”
“No. We just need to be careful. And maybe we should get inside.” She took his hand, leading him toward the cabin. Suddenly, being out in the open made her feel exposed. “Did everyone turn the locator off their phones?”
“Yes. Freddy made sure. The truth is someone who really wants to trace a call can get it to the nearest cell tower, but then they’d still have a search on their hands. Camps like this are all along the bayou.”
“Yeah, we tracked your father’s aide to one earlier, though it’s not nearly as nice as this one.” She glanced around as they entered. “Have I thanked you for not insisting we hide out in a hovel?”
“Yeah, we may be the target of the Russian mob, but never say we don’t lay low in style,” Dax said with a wink as he escorted her in. “I was talking to Connor about everything. After we have a discussion with Peter, it might be time to head to London. We need to go to that hospital and figure out if Constance Hayes really was there and why.”
“How is Zack handling it?”
“In his usual Zack way. He does that thing where he’s silent for a moment. Then he thanks me for the info. Roman isn’t much better. I tried to leave Gus out of it, but apparently she listens in a lot. One of these days Roman is going to fire her.”
Holland had to laugh at that. “No, he’s not. He will never, never fire Gus. Not when he’s done so much to keep her close.”
Dax stopped and stared. “What do you mean?”
Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. After all, she merely had a theory. The truth was she hadn’t seen Gus or Roman in three years. “Nothing.”
“Are you talking about the way Roman acts kind of like a big brother around Gus and pokes at her, all while watching her like a hungry lion who wants to pounce on an antelope?” Lara asked, looking up from her laptop.
Connor frowned, looking down at his wife. “That’s ridiculous. Roman and Gus had a thing like a million year
s ago. She’s so not his type. And who’s the antelope in that pairing? It’s sure as fuck not Gus. She’s a predator.”
Dax sent his friend a stare that could have stripped paint off a wall. “Hey, that’s my sister!”
At least someone was willing to stand up for Gus.
“You see Roman with her long-term?” Connor shot back. “Roman, who likes his women demure and genteel?”
“No, but she’s not a predator. I’ll admit she’s got claws, but she’s not looking to take Roman down.” He went pale as he looked back at Holland. “Is she? Please tell me she’s not, because she’ll be doomed to disappointment. Roman really is looking for his Jackie Kennedy.”
She shrugged a little. “I haven’t seen them together for years. I could totally be wrong, but the air used to crackle around them whenever they stood in the same room.”
“He might think he wants a Jackie, but damn, he sure looks at the Marilyn a lot,” Lara said. “I just think you two are too close to him to see it. I know he thought he was in love with Joy, but I don’t see it from what I know about her.”
“Roman was in love with Joy?” That floored Holland. “Did they have an affair? No. No. Joy would never have cheated on Zack.”
Dax looked straight at her. “And neither would Roman. He put her on a pedestal as an example of his perfect woman. She was kind to him. Gus isn’t always kind.”
“No, but Roman would have walked all over Joy. She couldn’t have handled his ruthless side. Gus would find it hot.” The more Holland thought about it, the more she felt sure she was right. “Joy would have bored Roman to death. Two years, maybe less, then he would have moved on. But it sounds like he’s still circling—and still interested in Gus.” Holland smiled at the thought. “Zack was definitely more Joy’s speed.”
“Did she love Zack?” Dax asked.
“Yes, but then Joy tended to love everyone. I know they didn’t have the most passionate marriage. I adored Joy, but she was very quiet. She preferred to stay in the background. Her father approved of the marriage and that was that. But I’ll be honest, I worried Zack would break her heart because of his press secretary. I always feared he would have an affair with her because he obviously wanted her.”
“Liz.” Connor sighed. “Yeah, we don’t have to worry about that now. Zack hasn’t touched Liz, by the way. He’s still faithful to Joy, so don’t think too poorly of him.”
“I wasn’t. I simply worried about Joy, but she’s gone. Why wouldn’t Zack pursue the woman he so obviously wanted?” The answer hit her. “He thinks the Russians will use her against him.”
Dax nodded. “Yes. Which is why we need to deal with the situation here ASAP so we can end the rest of this mess. If Peter can’t tell us the whos and whys, we’ll need to go to England and start working it from that angle. It’s the only other lead we’ve got.”
“We might think about going to the source,” Holland urged. “The Krylov syndicate. Yesterday my uncle found evidence that our would-be assassin was a known Krylov associate. He said the bullet casings matched the murder of a woman Connor was visiting at a nursing home.”
“Shit. So we’ve got a pro after us,” Dax said under his breath. “After me.”
She knew that expression. It was his “protective man” look, and she wasn’t letting it go any further. “Don’t you dare even think about leaving me behind. My uncle already tried to talk me into protective custody. I’m not doing it. I might have a uterus but it doesn’t mean I’m not damn good at my job. If you don’t want me with you, I’ll investigate on my own, but I have a stake in this and I’m the only one here with anything close to real jurisdiction.”
“I have presidential authority,” Dax pointed out.
“You captain a boat for your commander in chief. You don’t investigate murder and mafia. I’m the law enforcement officer. Let me do my job, Dax.”
He held up a hand, obviously giving in. “I will, since you have a stake in this.”
He was deliberately misunderstanding her. “Like I said, I’m NCIS and this crime involved a Naval officer.”
Dax sighed. “Of course. I didn’t expect you to give a shit about anything else.”
She was being stubborn. “These bastards fucked me over and fucked over my friends, and I’m not going to stand by and allow it to happen.”
“Then come with me and we’ll show you what we have,” Dax promised.
Connor stepped aside. “I’m actually going to go look into something else. You didn’t happen to get the police report on the shooting yesterday, did you?”
She nearly growled her frustration. “No, my uncle told me the only way he would give it to me is if I came in. We all know where that would lead.”
“I have some friends. I’ll see what I can do.” Connor left the room, striding down the hall.
“By friends he means hackers,” Lara offered with a smile. “Come on. Freddy is using the same techniques he used to bust that new Sasquatch video that came out. He’s up on all the latest ways to forge a video.”
Freddy looked up from his laptop. “There are lots of software programs that can change the appearance of frames or sequences. Hollywood has some great special effects, and now any kid with a tablet can use most of them, but I don’t think they used software to fix the problems with this. They went low tech, which is actually surprisingly effective.”
“What do you mean?”
“Watch the video of the admiral supposedly entering the hotel room with Amber Taylor. He never turns his head,” Freddy pointed out.
“Yes, so there’s no positive identification except the desk clerk who checked him in.” It had always nagged at her. This video had been shown all over the news. It was much less damning than the photographs, yet this was the evidence they’d released. Had they known the still photos of the two of them supposedly in bed wouldn’t stand up to real scrutiny? If they’d sent those pictures to the press, they would have been analyzed to death and someone probably would have found out the issue with time and place.
“Eyewitness testimony can be faulty,” Freddy said as he typed, and a new screen came up. “Sometimes the mind simply can’t remember all the details. And . . . then other times people are just assholes who can be bought. I would bet that’s the case with this guy, Anson King.”
“Where is he now?” Dax asked.
“Conveniently died of cancer about six months after your father.” Freddy sent him an acidic scowl. “I’m sure his family got a windfall for his assistance. He was a perfect choice. Because of the media circus and high-profile attention, the statutory rape trial against your father would likely have taken longer than King’s six months. The guy could have signed an affidavit, or been questioned by the police or attorneys, but he didn’t. Either would have been admissible in court. But even if the judge had elected to throw out King’s eyewitness account because he couldn’t be cross-examined, everyone on the jury would still have heard his version of events. Unless the judge was dirty. Who knows? I’ll give it to these Russians. They are very thorough.”
“They are,” Dax agreed with a sigh.
“But I’m smarter.” Freddy never took his eyes off the keyboard. “And I understand little concepts like math.”
“He also wrapped his sleeping bag in tinfoil,” Lara said, patting his head like she would a Labrador retriever.
“It keeps the aliens from getting into my dreams. They do that, you know. Especially to creative people.”
If Holland didn’t get them back on task, Freddy might give them a lecture on ancient aliens and the dream world. “How does math help us here?”
“Look, I want this tape to be wrong, too. But my mother told me she was certain this was my father. She said she recognized the uniform jacket.” Dax pointed to the screen. “See. It’s hard to tell, but if you look closely there’s a patch on the left shoulder. Dad tore it walking through a construction zone while getting a tour of a new facility. Is there any way
he’s drugged in this video? They did it once. They could do it again.”
“Absolutely not.” Freddy touched the keyboard and suddenly a bunch of lines and numbers appeared. “How tall was your father?”
“Six foot two. A couple of inches shorter than me.”
“Yes, that’s what I put him at, too,” Freddy replied. “I pulled up photographs of him from the Internet. This particular software can mathematically examine a photograph.”
“It looks at spatial relations and assigns height and sometimes weight to an object,” Lara explained. “Even humans. See the lines? It takes measurements of objects, compares them to relative objects, and uses that to determine the size of the people and items around it.”
“I’ve seen this before.” Holland leaned over, examining the screen. It was really simple geometry, but it could explain so much that the human eye couldn’t understand. “Don’t you need a fixed, known point?”
“Yes.” Freddy’s finger touched the soda machine to the right