“I’m Joe.”
He kept pace, despite her shorter stride, walking close beside her, continually, almost apprehensively, glancing around him. Cigarette smoke wafted across the large room to meet them as they neared the casino floor. There was no way she was ready to go back in there, under the shroud of secondhand smoke that hung over rows and rows of discordant machines. Besides, she needed to put some space between this… Joe and her, so they didn’t end up sitting side by side again. Impulsively, she veered toward the front door, hoping he’d take the hint and go back where he came from.
“I need some fresh air. It’s been… interesting, Joe.”
“Fresh air sounds good.” He caught up with her as she reached the door.
Angry now, and frightened, she turned in front of him and stopped, hands on her hips.
His lips curved in an impish grin when he nearly ran into her.
“You should go now, before I call security.” She glanced around nervously. What if he became angry and wouldn’t leave? How long would it take to get help?
Joe raised his hands and took a half step back. A flash of something, maybe anger, darkened his eyes for a second, but before he could say anything, two men dressed in suits appeared on either side of him. The one closest to Cara opened his jacket far enough to show a partially concealed handgun.
“Let’s all go outside, shall we?” the man said.
A calculating expression hardened Joe’s features. Cara took a step back, confusion gripping her. This had nothing to do with her. They wanted Joe, not her. Yet the man with the gun grabbed her arm and jerked her in between Joe and him. Joe put his arm around her waist and forced her to walk alongside him. Numb with fear, she dragged her feet, looking to the right and left to catch the eye of anyone who might help.
Outside, the briny sea air filled her lungs, and the wind chilled her through the light cotton shirt she wore. The men pushed them along the sidewalk and across a motel parking lot to a beach access with a steep set of rickety stairs.
Terrified, her breaths came in short gasps as her heart drummed wildly in her chest. The stairs led down to sand and a dark, empty beach with the ocean beyond. No way was she going down there. She braced herself on the top step, but Joe’s arm encircled her waist and pushed her forward.
Damn him! Why wouldn’t he let her go? What were these men going to do to them? Unquestionably, there was nothing good about being forced along at gunpoint, yet Joe showed no fear, as though even now he had everything under control.
“Stay calm, Cara.” His whisper barely rose above the crashing of the waves. “Be ready. When I tell you to run, you run and don’t stop, no matter what.”
She glared at him. Who the hell did he think he was? Why should she listen to him? These men were after him with guns, and she was in danger because of him. Certainly, she had no reason to trust him… but what if he was the only one who could help her?
When they stepped onto the sand at the bottom of the stairs, Joe whirled to face the men who were still a half-dozen steps above him. He jumped between the gunmen and her, and a split second later he had a knife in his hand. With a flip of his wrist, the knife flew through the air, landing with a thunk in the center of the first man’s chest. Cara gasped and fell back a step, staring at the knife protruding grotesquely.
“Run!” Joe launched himself at the second man before the first one hit the ground.
She couldn’t move until the man still standing raised a gun, with a silencer on the end, which jolted her into action.
“Cara, run!” Joe yelled again as he dove and rolled away from the barrage of bullets striking the sand.
She ran, her feet slogging through the loose sand and over rocks and driftwood. Staying close to the tall grass at the edge of the beach, she searched desperately for another access trail back out to the street and people. Her ragged breathing seared her throat, her heart raced, and her calves burned. It was crazy to stop, but her legs were shaking and she needed to rest a few seconds. Just long enough to catch her breath.
Heavy footsteps approached quickly from behind.
Was it Joe? God, she hoped so, but she couldn’t take the chance. Her breathing was so loud anyone within fifty feet could hear her. Hiding was out of the question. Her only hope was to run and try to lose him.
Bending low, she raced along the beach. Her legs ached with the effort. Twice she fell. Each time she picked herself up, the relentless footsteps drew closer.
Ahead, a break in the grass. A trail led up an incline toward a motel. She swerved onto the path and kept running. The sand ended at a short flight of stairs that led to the back of the motel. She took them two at a time. As she reached the top and dashed the ten feet to the motel’s covered walkway, the pap, pap of bullets through a silencer barely preceded the spray of lead on the wall beside her head. She careened around the corner, right into the waiting arms of someone. Her momentum carried them both down the alleyway a few feet.
No! She was so close. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Instinctively, she clawed and twisted, but the man easily overpowered her and pinned her arms to her sides. When she opened her mouth to scream, he pushed her back against the wall and pressed his hand over her mouth. Glaring into his face, she went still, relief turning her tired legs to rubber.
Joe.
As soon as she stopped struggling, he removed his hand. He placed a finger in front of his lips. A raised palm told her to stay put, and then he crept to the corner of the building and waited.
The follower’s footsteps pounded up the stairs with no attempt at stealth. As the man rounded the corner, Joe crouched and sprang. With a left to the jaw, he knocked the man to his knees and kicked the gun from his hand. It clattered across the concrete toward her. She bent to pick it up.
The man caught Joe’s leg and jerked him off his feet. Something long and metallic appeared in his hand. Joe jumped up to fight, unarmed, as the stranger lunged with the knife. Joe blocked the thrust, but the knife slashed across his arm and he fell back. The man grinned and advanced to attack again.
Cara raised the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Pap. She’d done it thousands of times before, but this time the spent lead didn’t travel thirty-five feet and tear through a paper target. As though in slow motion, the bullet hit the gunman’s chest. A dark stain spread down the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise as they met hers for an instant. Then he fell.
She’d fired lots of weapons—all kinds—but it hadn’t prepared her for this. She was only vaguely aware of Joe standing in front of her. He tried to take the gun, but she couldn’t make her fingers let go. Finally, he pried it from her hands, put the safety on, and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans.
He bent over the man and checked for a pulse, but Cara knew he was dead. She was an excellent shot and had hit him just where she’d aimed. Still standing where Joe left her, she couldn’t take her eyes off the body of the man who only seconds ago had been alive. Her mind replayed the sequence again… aiming, firing, the man hitting the ground. A scream built up inside her. She tried to stop it, but an anguished groan broke free. She was losing it. She had to get away from there.
Joe caught her, as she rushed blindly by him, and pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be okay, Cara. Everything’s all right now.” The warmth and strength of his body anchored her again. She buried her face against his chest until the worst of her groans subsided.
When she had herself under control again, she pushed away from him. He took her hand and led her through the motel walkway to the parking lot and out onto the street. The lights of the casino beckoned in the distance and she started for them.
Joe swung her around. “You can’t go back, Cara.”
“What? What do you mean? That’s where I’m staying. My brother is there, my luggage. Of course I’m going back.” She tried to twist away from him, but he tightened his grip and pulled her across the street. A wave of panic washed over her. Was it a mistake to trust him?
<
br /> “You have to stay away from your family. You’re not going back.” His expression was hard, his tone unyielding.
She bristled. “You can’t stop me.”
“Yes, I can. Don’t start a fight you can’t win. You’re not thinking straight right now, but I’ll explain everything later. Trust me.”
She was probably in shock, but what did that have to do with going back to her motel? Just what gave him the right to decide for her? He’d saved her life and he probably thought she owed him, but she hadn’t forgotten it was he who put her in danger to begin with. The argument wasn’t over, but she’d postpone it for a few minutes until her mind was a little clearer.
“Who were those men? Why were they after you?”
He hesitated, looking away from her. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you, but not right now.”
Her gaze dropped to the dark stain on the sleeve of his left arm. “You’re bleeding. You need a doctor.”
“I can’t go to a doctor with a knife wound. They’ll call the police. I try to avoid those entanglements whenever possible.”
Oh God! What had she done? Was he wanted by the police? Maybe those two men were cops and she just killed one of them. Cara started to shake.
“Are you okay?”
“No.” How would she ever be okay again?
“My car is just down the block. Come with me. Let me get you off the street in case there are any more of those creeps.”
“More of them?” Her gaze darted into the shadows of nearby buildings then came to rest on Joe again. “No way am I getting in a car with you.” She took a step back.
Joe raised his hands in front of him. “We’re sitting ducks out here. I can’t leave you alone. Just come to the car. I’ll explain everything and then give you a ride wherever you want to go… as long as it’s not the casino.” He held out his hand, and his eyes begged her to trust him.
Not one good option in the bunch. Cara groaned as those eyes drew her in again. She had absolutely no reason to trust this man, yet she wanted to. “Okay, but just long enough for you to tell me what’s going on. Then I’m walking back to the casino.” She ignored his hand as she brushed by him.
He fell in beside her, and they walked in silence. When he stepped to the curb and opened the door of a black sedan for her, she only hesitated a moment before she slid onto the seat.
Chapter Two
* * *
Friday, 9:47 pm
“SON OF A bitch! Murphy, what the hell?” Joe growled.
Special Agent Michael Murphy had just slipped into the backseat of the car and plunged a hypodermic needle into Cara’s neck. Joe barely caught her as she slumped sideways in the front seat.
“Damage control.” Murphy slid the rest of the way into the car and slammed the door. “You weren’t having any luck convincing her to stay away from Sinclair. I heard you arguing from outside.” He shrugged as he put the empty syringe back in its case. “Don’t sweat it. She’ll only be out an hour or so. I understand your need to keep your promise to your friend, Joe, but at this point, the woman is a liability.”
“I had everything under control. You didn’t need to drug her.” Joe shot the older man a glare. Why the hell had he agreed to work for him again? Murphy was driven to reach new heights within ATF, making him highly effective at his job, but also reckless and unpredictable at times. Unfortunately, Murphy was currently his boss, and the closest thing Joe would see to a doctor tonight.
He leaned Cara gently against the passenger door, buckled her in, and started the car. Ten minutes and several back streets later, he pulled into the lot of a quiet mom-and-pop motel.
“Room two twenty.” He tossed his key to Murphy then went around to the other side and scooped Cara up in his arms. She couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds. Too damn thin. The soft scent of jasmine floated on the air between them. Her head fell against his chest and, for the first time, shadows beneath her eyes and scars marring her jaw and throat became visible, half-hidden beneath thick strands of hair and the collar of her shirt.
Anger stirred within him. The marks on her jawline were rough and uneven, the kind made when someone’s knuckles connected with savage force. Her throat bore scars he’d seen too many times to mistake for anything else—the tip of a razor-sharp knife, applied with just the right amount of pressure, wielded to punish and intimidate rather than kill.
Imagining how she’d come by them sickened him, and the unexpected need to protect her surprised him with its intensity. Just as quickly he dismissed the urge. She hadn’t protected Charlie. Hell, she hadn’t even reported him missing.
Joe came tonight convinced she was guilty, but now he wasn’t so sure. Staring at her face, remembering the sadness ever-present in her eyes, his suspicions began to fall apart. He wanted to believe Charlie was right about her. Why hadn’t Charlie ever mentioned the scars or hinted of anyone else who was trying to hurt her?
Was Sinclair behind it all? He was vile enough, but surely Cara wouldn’t take that kind of treatment from her half brother. In fact, it was hard to believe she’d take it from anyone. So, how did she come by them? What demons haunted this woman, and would she have strength enough to cope after he told her the truth?
Murphy had the door to the room open, and Joe swept Cara into the separate bedroom, placing her carefully on the bed. She moaned and tried to speak, but nothing intelligible came out, and she grew quiet again. A slight smile twitched Joe’s lips as he turned to walk away. She appeared vulnerable, but he’d already learned that wasn’t the case. She’d taken that second shooter out like a pro.
When she wakes and realizes she’s been drugged, she’ll be furious. With any luck, he’d be able to direct her wrath at its rightful target, Special Agent Murphy. Anger Joe could deal with, but he needed her to believe him. The trust factor had, no doubt, been seriously damaged by Murphy’s interference.
When they were alone in the outer room, Murphy motioned him into a chair. “Let’s have a look at that.”
Joe removed his shirt and stuck out his forearm. The slash wasn’t as deep as he’d thought. Murphy cleaned the wound, bandaged it, and gave him a shot of antibiotics. “You’ll have a nice scar.”
Joe scowled as he pulled a clean shirt from his bag. At times like this, he appreciated Murphy’s paramedic training, but did the man have to be such a jerk? “Do you give a damn about anything?”
“Sure. This op, or what’s left of it.”
“Unless we get another man inside, we’re at a standstill.” Joe shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it. Six months of hard work went down the drain with the death of the last man Joe sent undercover on this investigation. Anger surged through him with the memory. Charlie Dugan had been an experienced operative and a damned good friend.
“I wasn’t sure you thought that was a viable solution.”
“This time, the inside man will be me.”
“As soon as you get done playing nursemaid?” Murphy jerked his head toward the bedroom door.
“She may have information we can use. There’s even a chance she’ll cooperate… if I can convince her you’re an idiot. That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“She’s Sinclair’s stepsister. You don’t really expect her to help you take him down?”
“If she believes those men were after her tonight, I might have a chance. The first thing I need to do is convince her that her brother is trying to kill her. I can guess how that’ll go.” Joe frowned at the impatience on Murphy’s face. “I told you before, she meant something to Charlie. She’s alive because he asked me to keep her that way. Whether she cooperates or not doesn’t change the fact she’ll be in danger until Sinclair is behind bars… or dead. I’ll have to stash her someplace safe.”
“Do you have a place in mind?”
“I’m taking her back to Montana with me.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go?”
“I’m not giving her a choice.”
“Look, Joe. I know yo
u think she somehow screwed with Charlie’s head and got him killed. Are you sure you’re not trying to exact some revenge from this woman?”
“Maybe.” Joe shrugged and sank into a chair. “Charlie was like a brother to me. You’re damn right I want revenge, but I may have been wrong about Cara. She may be exactly who Charlie thought she was and if he was right, she’s in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
“Damn it! We’ve already lost one man because of her. I can’t afford to lose you too.”
“If you and I both do our jobs right, that won’t happen.” Joe held Murphy’s gaze until the other man looked away.
Murphy straightened, a worried frown creasing his brow. “Well, whatever we do, we’re running out of time. The least you can do is let me know when you’re ready to go back to work. I assume it won’t be tonight.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to talk to her. If Sinclair is true to form, he’ll be at the tables most of the night. You should be able to send someone to grab Cara’s luggage.”
“If I have time after I clean up the dead bodies you’ve left everywhere.”
The sound of footsteps came from the other room, and Joe held up a hand in warning. They both turned toward the noise.
“Good.” Murphy stood and took a step toward the bedroom door. “She’s awake. I want to meet this woman who’s caused us so much trouble.”
“You stay here.” Joe shot him a warning glance, succeeding in removing the grin from Murphy’s face. Joe got slowly to his feet and approached the door, tensing as Murphy followed on his heels. Striving for control of his temper, Joe took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles lightly on the door.
“Cara? Are you awake?” Silence. He opened the door and flipped the light switch. The bed was empty. Joe’s gaze swept the room, coming to rest on the closed door on the adjacent wall.
“Where is she?” Murphy craned to see around him.
Joe crossed to the door and knocked sharply. No answer. No sounds of movement. He tried the door and found it locked. “Cara? Are you all right? It’s Joe.” She might not even remember him after the shock she’d had, combined with whatever drug Murphy gave her.
All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel Page 2