Roni’s.
Nikki hoped the other woman would forgive her for what they were about to do.
* * *
“Anyone see Nikki?” Gabriel searched the crowd.
“No,” Aiden replied. He’d finally made it and joined their search.
“Damn it,” Gabriel muttered. Was he being paranoid, or was that not good?
“I don’t like it,” Roni said, voicing his sentiment.
“Neither do I.” Gabriel placed his hands on his hips and stared out over her head, willing Nikki to pop out from behind a car or come strolling toward them with the whole situation in hand. “I’m calling Emery.”
He hit the tech’s speed dial, hoping against hope he wasn’t so buried he couldn’t find Nikki for him.
“What?” Emery said.
“We can’t locate Nikki. You heard from her?”
“No, I’ve been on with the bomb unit.”
“Well, can you find her?”
“Maybe.”
The line cut off, probably intentionally. Gabriel wasn’t going to push his luck calling Emery back. The tech did his job amazingly well, even better when people like Gabriel weren’t underfoot.
“What if Nico set us up?” Aiden asked.
“It’s a possibility. Lure us here while he and everyone else hit another location.” Gabriel didn’t like admitting they’d screwed up, but it was possible. “What events are on the docket for today? Maybe they’re waiting for something?”
“Then what?” John asked.
“Hold on.” Roni whipped out her cell phone and tapped at the screen. “Drift racing. More racing. A demo. Nothing more than what’s going on now. I mean, there’ll be a concert in the parking lot, but that’s it. This is about as much action as this place is going to see.”
“Okay, then what races are later in the day? They’ll be the most popular, right?” John shrugged.
“Then, what? We hang around all day and wait to see if they set up?” Roni asked.
Gabriel’s phone began to vibrate in his hand. He glanced down, but didn’t recognize the number. Nikki could have borrowed someone’s phone to call him. He clicked the answer button and turned, putting his back to the bickering group.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Gabriel, I’ve got your girl.”
“Hillary.” Her pouting voice made him grind his teeth. “Where are you?” He turned, surveying the people, looking past them to the cars, but none of them were her signature pink and purple.
“Gabe—” Nikki’s voice cut off in a grunt.
“Shut up,” Hillary said, her voice slightly muffled.
“What is it?” Roni stood very still, her voice low, watching him, but Gabriel couldn’t reply. Not when psycho Hillary had Nikki.
The one time he backed off, and Nikki was kidnapped. What were the odds? Why had he listened to her? Sure, she was a capable agent, but even agents had partners. Backup. For exactly this reason.
“Hillary, where are you? It’s me you want, not Nikki.”
The crew stood close, no one speaking. They watched the crowds, searching even as he turned a slow circle. Hillary had to be in sight. The same sounds he heard echoed on her end of the line. Hillary was still here, but maybe not for long.
“She pulled the trigger that killed my brother. I’ve got everything I want right here.”
The line died.
A silver Mustang peeled out, making a hard right into the tunnel.
“Hillary’s got Nikki. Get Emery to track that car.” He thrust his finger, pointing at the Mustang.
He was willing to bet his Skyline was faster.
Gabriel pushed past Julian and reached for the driver’s side door.
A boom, louder than the backfiring cars or roar of an engine, cut through the noise. For a split second, there was almost silence.
A bomb.
One of Wilson’s explosives.
Gabriel pivoted, searching out the location of the blast. It wasn’t a big one, not nearly strong enough to be a barrel bomb, but even a small explosive could do a world of damage.
The screaming began.
People turned, running, others yelled from where they’d been tossed prone onto the ground.
“There!” Tori pointed at a truck listing dangerously to one side, sitting alongside the entrance to the infield. It was a food vendor in a midnight blue truck that hadn’t set up for the day, except now the back door hung partially ajar.
A big blue barrel sat inside the door.
People lay on the pavement around the truck and popups that served as a general dining area. The explosive couldn’t have been very big. The damage done to the displays and vendor areas was minimal. At a glance, there weren’t many injured either.
Tori and the others sprinted toward the truck and the source of the blast.
Nikki. He needed to save Nikki.
But these people were in need of help right now.
It was an impossible choice.
“Fuck.”
Gabriel jogged after them, keeping his gaze on the injured, the people still on their feet, searching for people watching the carnage. Chances were Wilson would have his men there to ensure there was damage done.
Tori and John climbed into the truck with Roni standing at the stairs, hand on her barely concealed gun. Gabriel circled the truck to where the worst of the damage was. Julian and Aiden were already tending to the worst of the wounded.
A badly mangled man lay next to the broken pieces of a cooler, propped up against the van’s now-flat tires.
“Nico.”
Gabriel drew his gun and crossed to the downed man.
Nico’s prosthetic leg lay a few feet away. Blood smeared his face, and most of his clothing was reduced to shreds. Had he gotten caught by his own bombs? He reached for Gabriel, blackened, bloodied fingers clawing at the air.
Gabriel aimed his gun at the other man and knelt.
“Coolers. They’re in coolers.” Nico’s voice was a rough whisper, barely audible over the noise of people. “Eight. We got six. Bryan was disarming the other. I didn’t get to this one in time. Find Bryan.”
“What do you mean? The bombs are in coolers?” Gabriel eyed the busted-up and melted bits of a blue cooler.
“Yes, damn it. Find Bryan. His wife—she was in there with Becky. Find him.”
“Is there a barrel bomb in this truck?” Gabriel tapped the truck.
“No.” Nico shook his head, his breathing labored, as if even that action were too much.
Another boom shook the stadium, but it was farther away. Gabriel leaned over Nico, shielding him with his body. Nico hadn’t betrayed them—he’d saved God only knew how many people. Eight bombs? In coolers? If their goal was more chaos than destruction, that would be one way to achieve it.
John strode around the truck, covered in . . . flour? Some sort of breading?
“That one was up in the stands.” John knelt next to Gabriel.
“John, we need to get Nico some help.” Gabriel stripped off his shirt. There were many deep lacerations to Nico’s chest, steadily oozing blood. “Roni!”
Roni jogged over, more of the white powder on her.
“Where is the rest of the militia?” John knelt and pushed Gabriel’s hands aside. “Find Nikki. I’ve got him.”
“They’re gone. Just . . . just Bryan and me. We deserted ’em. Four other locations.” Nico patted his pocket.
Gabriel dug in the man’s pocket, but the fabric and whatever was inside it was shredded.
“Nothing’s in there. Can you remember? Do you remember where Wilson’s going to attack?” Everything in Gabriel screamed to go after Nikki, but he couldn’t. Not with so many lives hanging in the balance.
Nico tried to speak, but all that came out was a pained groan.
“He can’t tell us,” Roni said.
“Roni, I need you to find out where that blast came from.” Gabriel ripped Nico’s shirt down the middle and helped John lay him flat. “There’
s a man named Bryan. I think he’s black, his wife’s name is Mari. We rescued his wife and kids. Find him.”
“Gabriel. Gabe.” John grasped his wrist. “I’ve got this. Go. Get Nikki. We’ll tell you where to go next.”
“But . . .” Gabriel looked around. There were maybe a dozen downed people. The EMTs on-site were arriving, a few security vehicles had shown up as well.
“Go,” John said again.
“Call me when Roni finds Bryan. I want an update on Nico.” Gabriel pushed to his feet and shoved his gun into his waistband. No shirt. No credentials. He could only hope the security guard from earlier would vouch for him if some poor soul tried to stop him.
He strode through the gathering crowd of onlookers straight to the Skyline. Blood stained his hands and arms, but he didn’t bother to wipe it off before dropping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. His phone rang almost as soon as he shifted into drive.
“Where is she?” Gabriel reversed onto the grass, cut through the infield straight to the track, and drifted to the outside line. No one stopped him.
Emery said, “Headed back to Miami. I’m trying to hack Hillary’s phone, but there’s no way to tell where they’re going. I’ll send you turn-by-turn directions. We’ll get her back.”
“Thanks, man.”
The words tasted bitter in his mouth.
Emery didn’t know if they’d get Nikki back. None of them did. The best they could do was hope he got there before Hillary did something he’d have to kill her for.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nikki gripped the door and gritted her teeth. Hillary had none of Gabriel’s finesse sliding through traffic.
Another car honked as Hillary cut them off.
“Fuck you.” She flipped the driver off, swerving between the lines.
Nikki didn’t know if she should hope a cop would pull them over or that they would make it to Roni’s condo. A cop might only get caught in the crossfire. At least at the condo there was a chance Nikki could contain the situation.
“Another explosion just rocked South Beach.”
“Turn that up.” Nikki reached for the volume, but Hillary swatted her bound hands away.
“My car. My controls.” She cranked the volume up.
“Authorities are split between three locations across Miami today as someone is setting off small explosives.”
“What the hell, Bradley?” Hillary smacked her palm against the steering wheel.
“Was this what he had planned all along?” Nikki feared this was just the beginning. Incite fear, stir up the city, then hit them with a message. Something big. The barrel bombs. She’d seen the cooler explode. Watching those people knocked down as if they were paper dolls was horrifying, but most had gotten up after the blast.
“I don’t know.” Hillary’s voice swung up in pitch.
“You realize your name is attached to this. Whether or not I live, you’re connected to him.”
“I didn’t know he was going to do this! I thought . . . I thought . . .” Hillary shoved her hand through her hair. Sweat beaded her brow. In the close confines of the car, the lingering odor of meth use was nauseating.
“What did you think he was going to do? Did you realize he was building bombs?”
“No. Not really. Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Yes or no, Hillary, there is no maybe.”
“I knew he was doing something, but not this.”
What the hell had Hillary thought Wilson was doing? Nikki schooled her expression into one of calm.
“Get out of my damn way.” Hillary jerked on the wheel, fitting the car in front of a box truck with inches to spare, and stomped on the accelerator.
“Hillary, you can walk away from this. Go in with me.”
“And what? Let you get off for killing my brother?” Hillary slapped at Nikki, batting at her arms and shoulders.
Nikki held her hands up, shielding her face. When all was said and done, Nikki would have to answer for that death, but not at Hillary’s hands.
“You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life. The FBI will want you in connection with Wilson and with my death. The cops will want you for the meth. It’s not a good situation for you. If you cooperate, tell me what you know, maybe we can work a deal.”
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”
Hillary reached for the gun in the driver’s side door, but yanked her hand back. Her gaze locked on the rearview mirror for a moment.
“Fuck.”
Nikki twisted to look out of the back window.
A familiar car zipped between the lanes behind them.
Gabe.
“He will not get you. He will not get you!” Hillary drifted onto the shoulder and ran up on the bumper of another car. Effectively blocked in by slower-moving traffic, there was nowhere else to go.
Nikki twisted her fingers around, clawing at the bandanna. She’d made a little headway on the knotted and ripped fabric, but not much. There were only so many ways this situation could play out. If they ever got off the highway, she could possibly throw herself out of the car and pray she didn’t get hit or run over. Nikki didn’t see a way for this to unfold without someone getting hurt, or worse.
“Move, damn it!” Hillary swung left into the shoulder and gassed it. The Mustang chugged, the whole frame vibrating with the power behind the engine, and rolled on, putting several cars behind them before Hillary cut back into the far left lane.
“Your exit is coming up.” If Nikki could get her off the highway, Gabriel would have a better chance of stopping them.
“Shut up,” Hillary snapped. She kept peering into the rearview mirror, watching Gabriel close the distance between them.
Hillary drew the six-shooter from the driver’s side door and gripped it with the steering wheel in her right hand.
Of course she wanted to kill them both, but Nikki couldn’t let that happen.
Suddenly, Hillary jerked the car right, slicing through three lanes of traffic, and took an early exit for Roni’s condo. There was hardly any traffic around them as Hillary turned right, striking off away from 95.
Did Nikki risk letting Hillary get to Roni’s house? Did she wait for a street confrontation? Or did she act now?
Hillary’s focus jumped from the road ahead of them to the street behind them.
The closest car to them was forty feet away, on a canal bridge. Heavy concrete and steel beams.
Nikki lunged, grasping the steering wheel and yanking it to the right, sending the car into a turn, except the tall concrete pillar at the end of the bridge impacted the front of the car. Hillary screamed. The seat belt snapped taut, jerking Nikki back. Hillary struck out, pistol-whipping Nikki in the shoulder.
Her stomach lurched.
The car tipped and the scream of more metal on metal rent the air. All Nikki could see was a flash of clear blue sky, then palm trees. Her stomach jumped into her throat as the car dipped, much like a roller coaster.
Water filled her vision.
Stunned, she watched it rush toward her while Hillary’s screams drowned everything else out. The nose of the Mustang hit the water and everything went black.
* * *
Gabriel threw the Skyline into park and jumped out of the car. His stomach was in his throat and his heart pounded in his belly.
The bumper of the black Mustang dropped from view. The impact was both a crunch and a splash.
He sprinted to the bridge, gripping the railing with one hand. Below, the Mustang bobbed in the water, the nose already sinking into the blue depths. The current there wasn’t all that strong, but the car would sink in minutes, aided by the seven-hundred-or-so-pound engine weighing it down. If Nikki hadn’t passed out on impact, she’d have scant moments to draw and hold her breath until the car sank enough for the pressure to equalize. But if she was passed out, she could die before that, if the impact alone hadn’t killed her. He was betting on the air bags being disabled, but if they weren’t, she could be pinned
in and unable to free herself.
He couldn’t think of that, or anything else.
Gabriel sprinted another ten feet. He paused to kick off his boots, jerking at the laces, then vaulted over the side of the bridge. He tucked his arms in close and held his breath. Hitting the warm water jolted him for a half second. Little bubbles rushed around him and the weight of his jeans pulled him farther under the surface.
He kicked, propelling himself toward the sinking vehicle. Here in the canal, the water wasn’t crystal clear. The slightly murky quality made it difficult to identify more than two darker shapes inside the vehicle. But at least that told him the air bags hadn’t deployed.
He swam over to the car and grasped the door handle to pull himself lower. The passenger side remained closed, but he could finally take stock of the passengers. Namely Nikki.
A few bubbles skittered across the glass, but otherwise the car was completely submerged. Nikki’s body bobbed in the dark water. Her hands tapped the glass.
Was she gone already? Was that blood?
He punched the window. The thud was dull and the impact useless.
Nikki’s body jolted. Her head tipped up and her eyes opened. She stared straight at him.
She was alive.
Gabriel pulled out his gun. There wasn’t time to wait on the car to depressurize so he could simply open the door. He had to get her out of there now.
She pushed against the glass, retreating across the cab.
He aimed the Desert Eagle still on him at the glass and pulled the trigger. The blast sent up air bubbles. Spiderweb cracks spread out over the window. He hauled back and punched the window. It gave way slightly, but most of it was still held inside the frame, not near broken enough to come away.
His lungs burned.
Time was not on their side.
He said a silent prayer his gun was good for another shot.
Gabriel aimed a second time, pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
He checked the chamber, ensuring a bullet was there, and fired a third time.
The blast was duller, but the bullet broke through the window and hit the windshield.
He pried the glass out and reached for Nikki. Behind her, Hillary didn’t move. Her limbs hung in the water like the broken pieces of a marionette.
Chase Page 29