Chase

by Sidney Bristol

  While Gabriel checked the hall bathroom, Nikki stepped into the master bedroom and took a slow stroll around, examining the walls for places where they’d been patched and the fixtures for bugs and hidden cameras. She touched a cream-colored phone cord running out of a phone jack, stapled to the wall, and going into the master closet. She opened the door and stared. “Gabriel. Call Emery.”

  “What is it?” He stepped up behind her, crowding her into the walk-in closet.

  A nest of wires and boxes with flashing lights was mounted to the wall.

  “That. That’s our landline.” He pointed at a phone wire. He aimed his light at it.

  He squeezed past her and followed the cords with his fingers, tugging on one, caressing another. She followed the path of his hands, familiar enough with the tech to know what they were looking at.

  “They’re bouncing the line somewhere else. This is pretty sloppy.” He grimaced and she resisted the urge to smile. Gabriel might not be a field tech per se, but the man could make some seriously handy devices in a pinch.

  “I’ll send some pictures to Emery. Hopefully he can figure out where it’s going.” She snapped a dozen from different angles, catching make, model, and serial number where she could, and sent them off.

  “Well, this makes me feel better,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “If it was this easy, I’d be worried we were missing something big, but this tells me we’re on the right path. Also, the Cubans might not be involved, which is a relief.”

  Nikki’s phone vibrated with an incoming call. She answered it and switched it to speaker.

  “That was fast,” she said.

  “It’s old school.” Emery tapped away in the background.

  “Well, what can you tell us?” Gabriel asked.

  “I called the number,” Emery said.

  “You what?” Nikki’s heart jumped to her throat.

  “It went to a standard voice mail recording. With a phone number registered to Isabella. It’s her cell phone. She’s routed the landline directly to her mobile,” Emery explained.

  “See? Sloppy work.” Gabriel shook his head.

  “Okay, where is she?” Nikki asked.

  “No clue. At least not until the phone is turned on. Isabella’s online presence is . . . it makes my head hurt. When Tori gets up I’ll have her look at it. She might understand it better than me.”

  “No location data?” Gabriel asked.

  “None.” Emery grumbled something under his breath. “I have to give her credit for that. Most people these days make it easy to tell where they’ve been or where they are. She at least has that under control.”

  “Okay. Let’s get out of here. You have an eye on this phone?” Gabriel ushered her out of the closet.

  “I do. I’m making it official and putting in a request for the phone records of both lines, but I should have everything in a few hours. Just need to crack the database.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Nikki shook her head. These guys would be the death of her if she stuck around too long, but she was willing to bet it would be a hell of a time.

  “Call us if you get anything,” Gabriel said.

  She hung up and they finished an unexciting check of the house. Everything else was dusty and unconnected to the case.

  “What now?” she asked Gabriel.

  “Lock up and leave. I say we grab some food and get ready. Emery’s going to find her, and I want to be prepped to move on it as soon as we can.” He patted her ass then stepped through to the patio.

  Heat crawled up her neck that had nothing to do with the Miami climate.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gabriel handed the hot breakfast burrito through the passenger window. Nikki reached for it without looking, her eyes locked on the bright tablet screen.

  “What could you possibly be doing now?” He draped an arm on the top of the Skyline and bent to look over her shoulder.

  “My e-mail. I haven’t read much of anything since I got here.” She unwrapped the food and took a bite before he could warn her it was fresh off the grill.

  “Hot?” he asked. It wasn’t as drool worthy as yesterday’s fare, but it was fresh. With a little hot sauce it would be perfect for his taste.

  She glared.

  “Anything good?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was dreading the talk of work. He’d leave Miami and the crew for her if they could work things out. She’d said she loved him. There was hope. But he was also skeptical. Her life would have to change, too. He couldn’t be the only one giving something up.

  “Maybe.” She blew out a breath.

  “Do I need to know something?”

  “No. It’s a distraction.” She powered off the screen and turned her attention on the food. Without the tablet, her face was layer upon layer of shadows.

  “Why not tell me now?” He should drop it, but damn it, there weren’t any certainties between them.

  “Because I’m trying to not get my hopes up.”

  Was she trying to get him reinstated? The food suddenly tasted rotten in his mouth.

  “I’m not going back to the FBI.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” Her reply was quick, honest. But she wasn’t going to share this secret with him.

  Did he trust her? Yes. But he didn’t like secrets.

  She opened the door and he swung it open, offering her his hand as she rose to her feet. Together they strolled to the concrete wall that separated the sand from the parking lot. It was one of many beach areas in Miami. In a few hours, joggers, shoppers, and tourists would overtake the sidewalk. For now, it was the two of them and the sound of the waves.

  “How do we make this work?” He studied her profile, needing some answer. A solution.

  “I’m assuming you aren’t talking about Isabella, Nico, or Wilson?” She unwrapped the rest of her food and leaned on the hip-high retaining wall.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know anything for certain, but I want to try.” There was a wistful note of hope in her voice he wanted to nurture. She’d given them some thought, and she saw a way.

  “You’ve got a plan.”

  “Maybe.” Now she looked away at the ocean. “It’s all up in the air. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

  But she was working on a permanent solution for them. The tension knotting his shoulders released, turning into warmth and curiosity.

  “Did you mean for this to happen when you came here?”

  “No.” She answered far too fast. He watched her for a moment longer. “Rationally, no. There was nothing to make me think you would forgive me, or that anything would be different. My best hope was for an amicable understanding. Maybe we could be friends.” She turned her head and studied him. “But like I said, I never stopped loving you. My heart, it hoped for this.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  “You think?”

  “Do you want to stop now?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll have to work out a solution. I don’t want to give you up again. I’ve learned from my mistakes. We’ll be better this time.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I get that we will never have a normal life, but we could have something.”

  “You wouldn’t like normal. You left the FBI for normal, and look where it got you.” She gestured at the beach, but he knew what she meant.

  He laid his hand on his chest and winced in jest. It was a truth. Civilian life was something he wasn’t cut out for, try as he might. He had the job, the hobbies, and even a few people he might call friends outside of the crew, but it was still part of his identity. Something he would shed in a heartbeat if it meant a life with her.

  “What would normal look like for us?” She sat on the wall and took a bite of her burrito.

  “I imagine a lot like this. Messy fieldwork, coming home at all hours. I’m going to insist on traveling with you.”
/>   “You aren’t—”

  “Talk to your dad about it. I’m sure he won’t be that opposed to his only daughter having a personal bodyguard his people trained.”

  Nikki glared daggers at him.

  “I’m just saying, I want to be near you. Even if that means my new job is you.” He was serious at least. She might not like it, but it was a viable option.

  “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “No, but imagine how useful I could be. Outside the system. I don’t have to play by your rules. Think about that.” He even liked this solution.

  Nikki shook her head. “That would never fly.”

  “Then what do you have in mind? I know you have a plan.”

  She chewed her lip. A bit of streetlight glinted off her eyes, making them shine.

  “I do, but like I said, nothing is certain right now. I don’t want to get your—our—hopes up. But if there is a way, yes, I want to see if this will work. But we are different. We aren’t picking up from where we were at back then. Things have changed. I’ve changed. You’ve changed.”

  “You’re right.”

  She was more assertive. Before, she’d have caved to his insistence rather than butt heads with him. He liked it.

  “When this is done, we’ll figure it out.” She took a bite and turned to watch the ocean.

  He was satisfied with her answers. At least for now. They couldn’t plan things until this op was done and Wilson was behind bars. After that, well, he was keeping her.

  “Would it be a bad thing if you were pregnant?” His voice lilted up at the end, try as he may to keep his tone even. God, what would it be like with her as the mother of his kids? They’d have a better life than he had, for sure. He tore bits of the burrito wrapper, taking his nerves out on the paper while he waited for her reply.

  “No,” she said at last. “Timing isn’t ideal, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. That doesn’t mean no condoms.”

  “Hey, I never suggested that.” He held his hands up, placated for the moment.

  Nikki Gage, mother of his babies. He’d spend the whole pregnancy telling her to take it easy. Then . . . maybe this was the answer. If she was pregnant, they couldn’t leave their child with just anyone. He’d be a full-time dad while she stayed on with the FBI. It was a gender swap for sure, but in the long run, if only one of them could be there for 24/7 protection, he was better suited for the job.

  “Stop smiling.” She pushed his shoulder. “We don’t know if I’m pregnant. It’s unlikely, you know?”

  “Says who?”

  “The Internet.” She glanced away from him.

  “The Internet also says a cat pooped the earth.”

  “What?” That got her attention. She stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “I’m just saying, not everything out there is fact.”

  “All right, what I mean is medical journals, people who study women’s cycles, say it’s the wrong time for me to get pregnant.”

  “When is the optimal time?” He took a small step toward her and laid his hand on her stomach.

  “We are not ready for a child.” Her tone was so no-nonsense. He dug it.

  “I’m just saying, it might be a good idea to know these things.”

  “I have to track my cycle for more than a minute to figure that out.” She pushed his hand away.

  “Are you open to it?”

  “What?”

  “Having kids?”

  “Yes.”

  It was his turn to stare at her. He’d always wanted children, but Nikki had never struck him as the nurturing kind. Honestly, he’d never asked, assuming the answer was no.

  “What?” she asked again.

  “Nothing, just surprised. I thought, with the way you were raised in an FBI family, it . . .”

  “It might not be something I wanted?” she finished his thought.

  “Something like that.” He leaned on the wall instead of touching her as he wanted.

  “I want children. More than one. I want their lives to be different than mine, which is why I think now is a bad time. I’m going to be stuck on the road, doing a lot of time away from DC. It would be better if I waited, but if it happens now, I—we—make it work.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  His phone rang, interrupting an otherwise tender moment. He pulled it out of his pocket and his pulse jumped.

  Emery.

  “Yeah?” he said into the phone.

  “I got something. Sending you an address. Isabella has ordered pizza to this house a dozen or more times.”

  “We’ll check it out.”

  He nodded toward the Skyline. Nikki dropped to her feet and strode for the car. He held back a few paces, appreciating the view. Man, he’d missed that. He opened her door before circling the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

  “Well?” Nikki asked.

  “We have a location. Checking it out now.” He pulled up the address on his phone to show it to her and placed it in the cradle.

  “Is backup coming?” She reached under her seat and pulled out her pistols, checking that each was loaded.

  “Not yet. If we find anything, Emery will send them our way.”

  “Okay. Is he getting a warrant?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Gabe . . .”

  “What? It’s not like we work within the law most of the time.”

  “Yes, but we need one for anything to stick in this case.”

  “If there’s something there, we can get one.” He’d grown used to doing things as they pleased that going by the letter of the law chafed.

  “I’m calling Matt. Maybe he can get us something?”

  “No. Think about how that’ll look. Us. The cops. We’re already raising too many questions as it is. We can’t go that route. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you, but I want to put Wilson behind bars. There are kids involved, Gabe.”

  “Fine. Call Matt. Have him meet us there.”

  They drove the entire way in silence. Nearly half an hour later Gabriel pulled onto the street, melding with early-morning commuters, and passed by the quiet bungalow. It was neat, well maintained, even had a statue of Mary out front surrounded by rosebushes.

  “That’s where she is?” Nikki leaned forward, peering at the house.

  “Possibly.” Gabriel pulled around the row of houses until he found the back alley that led to the unending privacy fences and garage entrances.

  He parked the Skyline in the empty drive of the house with a For Sale sign out front and checked his firearms.

  “What’s the plan?” Nikki asked.

  “Just looking around. I’ll get close, you keep a lookout, okay?” He got out of the car, tucked his gun back in his waistband, and strode for the alley.

  “Gabe, what about Matt?” Nikki pitched her voice low, but he still heard her.

  “He’ll get here when he gets here.”

  They couldn’t afford to drag their heels anymore. He tracked the small sounds of Nikki getting out of the car and following him to the edge of the property without looking over his shoulder.

  The alley was quiet in dawn’s early light. Most people were still asleep or just waking for the day, so he still had the cover of shadows for this stroll.

  The back of Isabella’s bungalow was updated with a brand-new fence. He couldn’t peek through the boards at all. Which left going over it or through the gate.

  “Gabe, no,” Nikki whispered right behind him.

  “I thought you were staying in the car.” He frowned at her.

  “I thought you were waiting for backup.”

  “That was never the plan.”

  He picked up a wire hanger from the street, bent it, and inserted it through the wooden boards of the gate. Closing his eyes, he moved the hanger by feel until the weight of the lever settled into the crook of the wire. He pulled, adjusting his grip until the one-way door released and swung open.

  Gabriel dre
w his gun and peered around the yard. It was dark, and the shadows could conceal any number of things, but nothing advanced on them. The house was dark, completely still.

  “Christ, Gabe, this is a bad idea.” Nikki peered around the gate, back the way they’d come.

  “Stay here. I’m going to look around.” He’d prefer that anyway.

  “You are not going in there alone.”

  Too bad he didn’t expect to get his way.

  “Fine. Stay close.” He stepped into the yard, keeping his eyes on the house.

  Three wide steps led up to a deck that let into the house through a set of sliding glass doors that were a primary feature in most Miami homes. He spied a bar on the interior door, wedging it closed. The windows were all dark, the blinds drawn. He kept to the shadows and made his way around to the side of the house.

  All of the windows had blinds on them, save one. It was boarded up from the outside. A new tree was planted right in front of it, blocking it from view. Anyone who looked over the fence wouldn’t be able to spy the boarded-up window through the leaves.

  “Gabe,” Nikki whispered.

  He held up his hand, gesturing for silence, and crept toward the window. He pressed his ear up against the wood.

  Silence.

  There was no indication that Isabella was there, and yet his gut said that behind this window were the missing children and their mothers.

  He tapped on the wood with his knuckles, keeping it quiet.

  The seconds ticked by. He thought he heard a bump from inside the house, but it could easily have been his imagination.

  Nikki stood at the corner of the house, glancing at him every few moments. Her nerves ate at him.

  A soft, almost inaudible knock echoed his.

  Someone was inside.

  Someone was answering him.

  He placed his palm against the plywood. They were going to get these kids out of there. He walked the rest of the yard, all the way to the fence in front, but the windows were shuttered. There was no outward sign this was where Isabella was, except a feeling. The rest of the houses were all typical suburban homes, except this one. It was the Virgin Mary statue that gave it away.

  “Come on, we need to go,” Nikki said.

  “No, we’re going in.”