Grave Peril_Military Romantic Suspense

by Emily Jane Trent

  Lela finished the yogurt and started on the banana. She tapped her foot to the rock tune that was playing, and enjoyed looking at the artwork on her wall. Over the desk, there were photos of her family, and some of her goofing off with Ashlee. Her eyes went to a family portrait.

  When Lela had married, she’d kept her maiden name. That had been another bone of contention with Tomás. But she was proud of her family and her heritage. Her grandparents on her father’s side were from Barcelona, but had moved to Houston before starting a family.

  Her father had lived in Houston all his life, and so had she. It wasn’t just a city; it was home.

  After polishing off the fruit, Lela grabbed a bottle of mineral water and headed for class. It was Krav Maga training, and she paid for private lessons. Classes didn’t work for her, because her ability with the method was advanced—twenty years of perfecting a skill would do that.

  She’d started at the basic level right after her father’s death. Like most martial arts, the military combat method encouraged students to avoid physical confrontation. So it wasn’t like she went out looking for fights.

  But if avoiding an encounter was impossible or unsafe, then the next best alternative was finishing a fight as quickly and aggressively as possible. Her training taught her to aim attacks at the most vulnerable parts of the body that could result in severe injury, or permanently injure or kill the opponent.

  Lela was five feet, six inches tall, and not overly muscled. She didn’t need to be. The training had taught her how to defend herself, even against a ruthless aggressor. One of her father’s hopes for her had been made a reality. He’d preferred not to worry over his daughter’s safety, so had encouraged her to learn self-defense. She’d achieved that for her own peace of mind, as well as for her father.

  Besides, she didn’t have a man in her life to look after her. Tomás had been a good financial provider, but not a fighter. Her two older brothers were in the oil industry, and her youngest brother was in aerospace. As much as they loved her, her male siblings weren’t prone to physical violence, even to defend her—which was just as well.

  Lela’s thoughts drifted to the web of evidence she’d constructed against the senator so far. There was no reason to think that she’d need to physically defend herself. But having the confidence that she could made her feel much better about poking a stick anywhere near the cartel.

  *****

  Tonight was the night. All the waiting was about to pay off. Ortiz was on his way to catch a flight to Austin. The legislature was not in session this year, but he had an appointment with a litigator. Lela had checked it out, and it was a legitimate meeting, not some clandestine affair with a shady drug lord.

  The senator’s absence provided the opportunity that Lela sought. During the day, she saw to her normal tasks, careful not to reveal any change in her attitude. Ash was the most difficult to avoid, but she was in meetings with clients all day, so there was no chance for conversation.

  At the day’s end, Ash rushed off. “I have a date, a new guy. I’ll tell you all about it.” With a grin, she disappeared. Gradually, the other paralegals and staff filtered out. The associates had finally left, too.

  The receptionist stuck her head into Lela’s office. “I’m off for the day. The answering service will pick up.” She paused. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, you go ahead. I’m just finishing up a report. I shouldn’t be long.” Lela smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

  After a couple of minutes, Lela stepped into the hall. The place was empty, and only the sound of the ventilation fan pierced the silence. Once in a while, she’d stayed late to get some work done. Then the tomblike quiet had been welcomed, as a chance to think through some legal question without interruption.

  But this was different.

  Lela moved down the hallway and took the stairs up one level to the floor that housed the senator’s office. Ceiling lights illuminated the way, and she spotted his door. There were security cameras, but she’d inserted a view of the empty hallway, which would play on a continuous loop. That had been the most difficult to figure out, yet she’d seen it done in movies.

  She was no whiz with technology. But she had gotten some tips on how to achieve the block on the cameras, and prayed that it worked as she hoped.

  Quickly, Lela picked the lock to the senator’s office. That was the easier part. She’d been picking locks since she was a teen, just for fun. It had been a game. This wasn’t.

  The door eased open, and she stepped inside, closing it behind her. The late-day light cast the office in a soft glow. She’d been in there before, but only in the senator’s company. His massive mahogany desk gleamed from its daily polish.

  The carpet was thick, so her feet sank into it. Plenty of padded leather chairs, glass and chrome tables, plus an entire wall of built-in bookcases rounded out the décor. But Lela wasn’t here to admire the senator’s good taste.

  She was here on a mission, and the sooner she got what she needed then got out, the better. His computer was set up at a separate station, so she went over and pushed the power button. It booted fast, but then blinked, asking for a password.

  Having expected this, Lela had a list of ideas in mind. Now she’d have to test a few of them. She went through the most obvious ones first, but with no success. Her pulse quickened as the minutes ticked by.

  She couldn’t have come this far only to fail.

  A noise in the hall alarmed her, and she held her breath. If she was found in here, there would be no way to explain her way out of it. She’d accounted for every staff member and watched them leave. Could someone have returned, forgotten something?

  She listened closely, but didn’t hear anything else. Buildings made noises, just like houses did. The best thing was to keep going. Wasting precious seconds wasn’t helping.

  With her hands trembling, Lela tapped on the keyboard again. She wasn’t cut out for this. Then it came to her. The senator would use a password that meant something to him. After all, he was scooping funds from illegal activities, and likely prided himself on how smart he was.

  He wouldn’t use the name of his favorite pet, or his ex-wife’s name. That was too pedestrian for a man like Ortiz. But his ego was his downfall. So Lela typed in: au fait.

  And sure enough, entry was granted. She smiled. Arrogant bastard. The term au fait was one of the senator’s favorites. He liked to think he had the quality in abundance. Lela had looked it up, and it was a French term that meant having detailed knowledge of something.

  Clicking around on the computer, Lela muttered, “Well, asshole, I’m about to have detailed knowledge of something. Au fait indeed.”

  She couldn’t afford the luxury of reading any documents, but some memos flashed by. Snippets of sentences flitted over the screen: contributions to your campaign, what we expect in return. The name of the contributor wasn’t stated, but the message was clear. The senator had taken illegal campaign contributions funded by drug money, combined with everything else he’d done.

  “You are so busted.” Lela took the flash drive from her pocket and fumbled with it before plugging it in. Then she copied the hard drive. Whatever there was to find, she’d be able to read through at her leisure.

  She hadn’t been certain how much the senator kept on his computer. But going by what she’d seen already, there was plenty. It seemed to take forever to copy all the data. Hurry…hurry.

  Finally, the copying finished and she slipped the drive into her pocket. She turned off the computer and pulled a rag from her other pocket. Then she wiped her prints off the keyboard and, as she exited, cleaned the door.

  As an employee, she’d been in his office before. But not since it had been cleaned, which was often. It was smarter to get rid of any evidence that she’d recently visited. Any information she obtained from his hard drive would need to be documented from another source. Yet she had a lot more to follow up on now.

  The hallway was empty, so she
went back down the stairs to her office. She didn’t bother with the security loop. It was on a timer, and would roll past in another hour or so. It would blend in with the regular footage, and she doubted anyone would discover the tampering.

  She picked up her purse and headed toward the elevator. The flash drive was secure in her pocket. In the lobby, the security guard nodded at her. He looked bored, and didn’t make any attempt to engage her in chitchat.

  Lela had walked by that guard hundreds of times, on too many days to count. When she lifted her hand and said, “See you,” he didn’t bat an eyelash. The guy was already back to studying something on the computer screen, probably a sports show to pass the long hours of the night.

  The automatic doors opened and Lela strode out, then turned toward her apartment. Her heart beat in a rapid staccato and her legs were a little wobbly. She put her hand inside her pocket to feel the tiny flash drive. She was anxious to get home, bolt the door, and examine her treasure.

  Chapter 3

  A few months later ~

  The FBI possessed enough evidence to build a criminal case against Senator Raimundo M. Ortiz, but it wasn’t over yet. The agency could strike an effective blow using the documents and photographs that Lela Cabelo had managed to obtain, but it was crucial for her to testify at trial.

  The senator’s arrest had been a coup for law enforcement. Lela wouldn’t forget the stunned look on her boss’s face when the feds appeared with a warrant. The event had been dramatic, even satisfying. But when Ortiz posted bail and was released, the agency had taken steps to protect their star witness.

  Lela couldn’t believe that she’d actually argued against going into protective custody. Her contacts weren’t about to reveal their source, but it was foolhardy to think that the senator wouldn’t figure it out. Or maybe he’d been tipped off, because incriminating evidence had been deleted from his computer before the feds confiscated it.

  Clearly, the FBI had been aware that the situation was more dangerous than she’d cared to believe. And now, in the crowded Amtrak station, Lela’s life was in peril, along with the agents risking their lives to protect her. The train station hadn’t been that terrific of an idea after all.

  Three gang members were about to snuff out any possibility of getting a conviction on the slimy Texas senator. And that pissed Lela off in a major way.

  The thin guy who’d grabbed Lela had muscles of steel. His arm wrapped around her like a vise, muffling her screams. He tightened his hold until the air squeezed out of her lungs, and she could barely breathe. The death grip blocked out the stench of the gangster’s body odor, but also cut off her oxygen supply. If she didn’t act fast, she’d pass out.

  Bedlam broke out, and in her daze, Lela saw crowds swarming around like a colony of ants in a panic. Screams and shouts drowned out any talking. Fully engaged in the battle, the FBI was in no position to control the situation. She couldn’t count on them to rescue her, either.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lela spotted several men in uniforms with badges on their chests. It was station security running toward the melee. That was bad. Security guards weren’t prepared for this type of engagement, and would be no match for a gang attack.

  If Lela was kidnapped by the thugs, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She couldn’t allow them to capture her. Fast action was called for, with not a second to spare. She prayed the feds could effectively defend themselves…then made her move.

  The thin man had made a tactical error: he’d grabbed Lela around the middle but left her arms free. In a flash, she drew one arm forward then slammed her elbow back into the man’s gut. He might be a tough guy, but she’d guessed he didn’t have the washboard abs to go with it.

  When Lela’s elbow hit the man’s soft belly, he let out a grunt and loosened his grip. It was enough to allow her to move, so she spun around and poked her fingers in his eyes, hard. He wouldn’t be seeing much for a while.

  The roar of the fight with the agents held the enemy’s attention. No one interfered with Lela. Still close to the gangster with his hands over his eyes, she kneed him in the groin. Incapacitated, he dropped to the ground. He wouldn’t be breathing for a few seconds either.

  A throng of people pushed by, blocking Lela’s immediate escape. So she dove behind a crowd, landed on her stomach, and slid over the gleaming floor. A glance back told her that no one had followed yet. She scrambled to her feet and ran, dodging between people and around objects.

  One gang member was down, but she didn’t know about the rest. The gunshots hadn’t answered that question, since she hadn’t seen if the agents hit their targets, or if it had been the other way around. The fight provided a distraction, offering her a handful of seconds to escape.

  If her pursuers were alive, they would come after her with murder in their heart. It might have been their aim to capture her, but she’d defused their strength and maimed one of their own. Retribution would be swift and bloody.

  The thugs had miscalculated. They hadn’t expected Lela to fight, and hadn’t known that she could. It wasn’t a skill that she bragged about, since having surprise on her side was an advantage. Even the senator hadn’t known, so had likely portrayed her as an easy target, claiming all that would be needed was to bump off her federal escorts, and she’d be theirs.

  But her enemy had been wrong. They had encountered prey capable of fighting back. That victory was good for the morale. But Lela wasn’t in the clear yet. Her life still hung by a thread. This was no time to gloat.

  Lela ran, heading down a long passageway that seemed to go on forever. She skidded to a stop at the end of it, plowing into a wall. She’d hoped to cover enough distance, fast enough, to be out of reach. Glancing back, she saw the two gangsters enter the hall.

  It was the tall guy with bushy hair, and the squat guy with the wide face. She saw no sign of the thin man she’d tangled with, and was certain he’d be out of commission for a bit. Dammit. They saw her and sprinted down the hall.

  That meant Simmons and Robertson were seriously injured or dead. Either way, Lela was on her own. She turned the corner, ducking out of sight, and took off at a fast clip. There were no obvious escape routes, but there were doors to different departure gates.

  She could pick a gate and pray the tactic delayed the gangsters, while they went through various gates to search for her. But they might choose right the first time, and that would end it all. She had this one opportunity to escape, so she had to make it count.

  Up ahead, she spotted a woman coming out of a door. A sign above it said: employee restroom. Normally, private facilities were locked. But the woman stepped out just as Lela reached the door. She plowed into the woman, shoving her back inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

  The woman gasped, but Lela put her hand over her mouth to muffle any noise. “Don’t make a sound. Two gang members are chasing me, and they will kill you just for being with me.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. When Lela removed her hand, there was silence. “I need your clothes.” There was no time to argue. “You have to get me out of here…or your life is in just as much danger as mine.”

  While the woman removed her clothing, Lela peeled hers off, too. It was a stroke of luck that they wore about the same size. It appeared the woman worked in the cafeteria, because she had on baggy slacks and shirt underneath an oversized jacket. It was a sort of comfy kitchen uniform.

  The best part was that the outfit included a kitchen worker’s cap that would hide Lela’s long hair. Like a quick-change artist, Lela donned her new garb. A look in the mirror affirmed that she looked completely different. She retrieved her sunglasses from her bag and put them on.

  The woman was beginning to get dressed, but didn’t say much.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Lela said. She picked up her bag and dug inside for some cash. “Here, buy a new uniform.” Then she hid the bag inside the roomy jacket and cracked the door open.

  Passengers filtered by, but there was no sign o
f gang members. Lela slipped out of the restroom, then the door clicked shut behind her. Running would attract attention, so she walked in step with a small group headed toward the exit.

  Lela’s heart pounded and her legs were wobbly, but she maintained as calm an outward appearance as she could. Behind the dark glasses, she glanced around. But no threat emerged. When she reached the exit, she strolled to the parking lot like an employee leaving work for the day.

  If only this was the airport, with cabs and hotel shuttles lined up at the curb. But Lela’s options were few. The train station was close to the freeway, but she needed a vehicle. It would only be borrowing, long enough to get away. Walking would make her a target, since pedestrian access to the station was limited.

  At the far side of the lot, Lela slowed and turned. She held her breath, but didn’t see anyone looking her way. She chose an older-model sedan and reached in her bag for an implement. It was her habit to be prepared, and it was about to pay off.

  With the narrow metal strip, she swiftly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. She prayed her skills weren’t too rusty. She reached under the steering column and hotwired the car. Newer models were difficult, but this well-used vehicle provided no challenge.

  The engine firing was a welcome sound. Lela still wore the cap and her sunglasses, plus she’d be harder to recognize behind the wheel of the car. She pulled out of the parking spot and rolled down the aisle toward the exit.

  Several other cars were moving in that direction. As she pulled in front of one, some motion at the station caught her eye. It was the two gang members, and even from a distance she could see their murderous expressions. Since it was unwise to look at them, she faced straight ahead and followed the car in front of her out of the lot.

  When Lela pulled onto the street, she looked back. The gangsters were in the distance, milling about the lot as if looking for some sign of her. But she was gone. She headed toward the on-ramp, more than a little relieved. The bad guys had lost her scent—for now.