Betrayals Stand (MidKnight Blue Book 5)

by Sherryl Hancock

  “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  Joe nodded.

  She walked over to him, reaching up to touch his cheek. He closed his eyes in response, but she could tell it wasn’t out of any weakness for her. Randy realized she wasn’t ready to have this confrontation with him. “Joe, I—”

  “No,” Joe said. He wasn’t ready for the discussion they needed to have either. He held his arms out to her, and she moved into them. He held her to him, feeling very confused and lost. The look in Randy’s eyes had told him that she was worried, dashing any hope he had had that what Dickerson had told him wasn’t true. He knew he’d have to face that later, but right now he had a lot to prepare for mentally.

  He pulled away. “Look, we’re goin’ out on the raid in a few minutes. I just wanted to… well, get a chance to see you, to talk to you…” He trailed off, because he didn’t know what he wanted to say to her.

  “Joe,” Randy said softly. “Please, just know that I love you, whatever else you might think.”

  “I know, Randy, I know,” Joe said, stroking her hair. He leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head.

  Midnight opened the door to the conference room, chagrined at having to interrupt. Joe glanced up at her, and she pointedly looked at her watch. He nodded, and she closed the door again. “I gotta go,” he said, looking down at Randy.

  “Can I ride along?”

  “On the raid?” Joe said, sounding as if he thought her daft.

  “Why not?” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  Joe looked at her for a long moment. He knew he should tell her no, but part of him wanted her there. As if joining the raid and arresting Dickerson would mean that she really had no feelings for the man. Finally, he shrugged. “Fine with me.”

  “Absolutely not!” Midnight said, looking from Randy to Joe.

  “Why not?” Joe felt strange that he was actually defending the idea of Randy going on the raid.

  Midnight made a face. “Are you sure they checked that noggin of yours out thoroughly?” She eyed him suspiciously. “She’s not even out of the academy yet. This isn’t exactly an exercise, you know.”

  Joe shrugged. “So she can wait and go in with the cleanup crew.”

  Midnight considered it for a minute, narrowing her eyes at him as if to say he was pushing his luck. “Fine!” she said eventually. She looked past Joe. “Shit.”

  “What?” Joe turned to follow her line of sight. Dearborn was getting off the elevator. He glanced around, taking in all of the members of FORS as well as the BNE team and the National Guard, all gearing up for the raid. He was shaking his head as he approached Midnight. Joe narrowed his eyes at him. He was the only one who knew what Dearborn had said to Midnight about why her team was the top one in the department.

  “Sergeant Sinclair,” Dearborn said, extending his hand. Joe looked down at it as if it were a gun, and then back into the man’s eyes. The look on his face told Dearborn that if he didn’t remove his hand from Joe’s reach, Joe would likely remove it for him.

  Not missing a beat, Dearborn dropped his hand and looked around Joe at Midnight. “Lieutenant, can I speak to you in your office?”

  Midnight eyed the man warily. She had no intention of having a private conversation with him ever again. “I’m busy, Dearborn, so whatever you have to tell me will either have to be here and now, or it’ll have to wait.”

  “Well, it’s this business you’re attending to that I want to speak with you about.” Dearborn sounded every bit the politician.

  “It’s a raid, Dearborn, not a meeting,” Midnight said with a wilting look.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Lieutenant, and I have to say there’s a serious problem here.”

  “And what’s that?” Midnight slipped a newly loaded clip into her Beretta and pulled back the slide, looking at Dearborn pointedly.

  “Since Sinclair’s back, I don’t see the point in conducting a raid at this time. We’re talking about over the border, not to mention all of the agencies involved. I just don’t feel it’s prudent at this point to carry out this tactical operation.”

  Midnight looked at him with an expression of boredom. “Are you finished?” she said, as if just waking up to find that he’d stopped talking.

  Dearborn nodded, his eyes narrowed as he considered taking corrective action against her for her public insubordination.

  “First of all, Dearborn, these people aren’t your garden-variety criminals. They’re a major drug cartel. Secondly, I find it necessary to take action on these people because they’ve tried to kill a number of my members not once but twice now. And frankly, they’re starting to really piss me off.” She smiled up at him sweetly. “Kinda like you.”

  “Lieutenant!” Dearborn yelled, all but losing control, more so when Midnight merely tilted her head to the side. “You are on report as of now for gross insubordination, and unless you’d like to be relieved of your command, I would suggest that you call off this raid—now.”

  “Nope.” Midnight shook her head calmly.

  “That’s a direct order, Lieutenant. If you disobey it, I’ll have your badge.”

  Midnight looked up at him complacently. Every eye in the place was on her. There wasn’t a sound in the room. “Fire me.” She moved around him, picking up her body armor and extra clips off the desk, and walked toward the elevator.

  Dearborn stared at the spot where she’d stood, his mouth hanging open. He looked over at Joe, who was grinning.

  “Fire me too,” Joe said, and followed Midnight. All the members of FORS clapped as Joe, followed by Randy, headed toward the elevator. Some of the other agency people applauded as well, and the cheering got louder as Dearborn turned, totally red-faced, and headed for the stairwell.

  The members of the raid, forty in all, were transported in National Guard UH-1 helicopters. Midnight, Rick, Spider, Tiny, Kana, Dibbins, and two BNE agents were designated as the entry team. Four in the front and four in back. The rest were split into follow-up and cleanup crews. They had plenty of air surveillance in case any of Riveras’ people tried to make a run for it. It had only been three and half hours since Joe had made his escape, and since the Riveras had no idea that he’d been rescued or that the National Guard had taken pictures of the house from three thousand feet up, they couldn’t have expected a raid to take place as early as this.

  Dickerson was helping the Riveras pack up the house, stowing drugs, money, guns, everything. They were just being cautious. Dickerson had assured Carlos that he’d shot Joe Sinclair a few times before he got away. He told him it was just a matter of time before Riveras’ men found him dead somewhere along the beach. Carlos didn’t have as much faith in the cop as the cop had in himself, and he was being careful. The way he saw it, if FORS wanted to raid this house, on international soil, he had at least eight hours from the time Sinclair managed to get to them. It would take a long time first of all to get permission from the Mexican government, as well as the time it would take to draw up paperwork, get a raid team together, and drive down. San Diego PD couldn’t afford aircraft or anything like that. Rivera knew that—considering how many of them were on his payroll, it was obvious San Diego PD couldn’t even afford to pay their officers very well, let alone own any type of aircraft.

  So Carlos Rivera was shocked when he heard the words “Police! Search warrant!” Then the doors at both the front and back of the house crashed open.

  “What the?” Dickerson yelled as he reached for his gun. Carlos had already pulled out one of the AK47s he liked to keep around. There was a lot of shooting, and Carlos left Dickerson in the living room to head for the basement. There was an outside door down there that the cops wouldn’t know about.

  Joe had been told by Midnight that she didn’t want him on the entry team because of his injuries. He’d nodded nonchalantly when she said it, and Randy knew better. As soon as Midnight went off with the rest of the team, Joe turned and kissed Randy quickly on the lips. He holstered his handgun a
nd picked up one of the MP5s the Guard’s people had left.

  “Where’re you going?” Randy asked.

  “Goin’ to pick a fight.” Joe grinned at her, and then he was gone. Randy followed a few minutes later, a rifle in her own hands.

  Joe got around the back of the house and headed up the stairs to the deck. As he got to the top, he heard breaking glass and ran in that direction. He reached the side of the house and saw Dickerson, but Dickerson wasn’t looking at him—he was staring off to Joe’s right. Joe glanced around the side of the house and saw Randy standing there with a rifle pointed at Dickerson.

  “It was easy, Randy,” Dickerson said. “You were easy. But now you’re in the way.”

  Joe saw Dickerson bring up his pistol, and without hesitating he vaulted the railing and charged at him. Dickerson turned, bringing his gun around, and just as Joe hit him, he fired.

  Randy screamed, but was surprised when she saw that Joe was still grappling with Dickerson. The rifle she was pointing at the two of them was useless. If she fired, Joe would be hit by the spray too. She dropped it, pulling out her duty weapon. She aimed at the two men and waited for a clear target. She was hoping that one of the other team members had heard the shot and would come around to help.

  Not a minute later, as Joe fought for control of the gun, a chair was hurled through a window not ten feet from where Randy stood, and Midnight jumped to the ground moments later. She gave Randy a cavalier wink and headed toward the two men. She stopped a couple of feet from them. Dickerson managed to get up and pointed the pistol at Joe’s head, intent on killing him once and for all. He was very surprised when he felt the cold metal of a Beretta muzzle pressed just behind his ear and a female voice say “I’ll take that.”

  When Dickerson hesitated, Midnight pushed the gun against his head harder. “Think I won’t shoot, Dickerson? Think I don’t have any reason to?”

  “You’re a cop, Chevalier,” Dickerson said, sounding sure of himself. “You won’t do it.”

  “I quit today, Dickerson.” Midnight almost felt his sharp intake of breath. “So, you wanna put that gun down now, or would you like me to ventilate your head for ya?”

  “And if she misses,” Randy said, having walked up with her gun pointed at Dickerson’s head, “I won’t.”

  Dickerson looked up at her, his eyes narrowed.

  “Not so easy now, is she?” Joe said from the ground. He glanced up at Randy, then back to Dickerson.

  Dickerson dropped his weapon, and Midnight shoved him to his knees and patted him down. She looked up at Randy. “Thought you were supposed to wait in the car,” she said, a wry grin on her face.

  “I had to go to the bathroom,” Randy just as sardonically. She looked down at Joe and realized that he had indeed been hit when the gun went off—he was bleeding profusely. “Shit!” She grabbed her radio off her belt. “Ten-ninety-nine, officer down—get a medic in here, now!” Joe exchanged a look with Midnight at the authority in Randy’s voice, then lay back and closed his eyes.

  “Have ’em,” Midnight said, standing as she saw four members of the raid team headed in their direction. “Take out the trash too, will ya?”

  She went back toward the house to check on progress. All over, Riveras’ men were being arrested. Midnight ended up on the deck, looking out at the ocean. She saw some movement just below her and decided to check it out. Putting her gun in her belt, she climbed onto the railing and jumped down. Immediately she saw that the movement had been a seagull, making a nest down below—the bird flew off, screeching.

  Midnight glanced up to where she’d jumped from and realized she’d have to walk all the way back around the house. “Shit,” she muttered, but then something caught her eye. Looking closer at the lower half of the deck, she saw seams that were vertical as well as horizontal. There was a door there. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the Spyderco knife she always carried on raids and opened it. She stuck the point into the area she figured would have the locking mechanism. It didn’t take much work, and she managed to open the door. She waited three beats before stepping inside, gun out.

  She was in a basement, and she could hear the sounds of the raid team upstairs. Then she heard talking in the back half of the room. She quietly moved toward the voice, careful to remain concealed. As she drew closer, she realized there two voices.

  “…that fucking bitch of a wife of yours is always in my way.” The voice was deep, with a Mexican accent.

  “She does have that tendency.” The second voice had an all-too-familiar English accent.

  Midnight leaned back against the wall. Rick was standing there, and when she looked again she saw that Carlos had a gun pointed at him. Rick’s gun lay on the floor between them. As Midnight started to move to get the drop on Carlos, she saw him raise the gun a little further and knew that if she watched a moment longer she would see him pull the trigger. She didn’t have time to say “Freeze!”—she didn’t have time to think. She just launched herself between them, bringing her gun up as Carlos’ went off. She felt the impact of the bullet even as she squeezed the trigger, three times. All three of her shots found their mark, but she was already on the floor, unconscious.

  When Midnight came to, she realized she was being held in someone’s lap. She groaned.

  “Night?” It was Rick.

  She opened one eye. “Did I get him?”

  Rick grinned down at her. “Yes, love. You got him.”

  “Goddamn it!” she said as she sat up. “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she muttered, over and over again.

  Rick just stared at her as if she were the living dead. To his surprise she stood up and went to one of the walls. She reached up and ripped open her shirt to expose the body armor she wore over a T-shirt. Rick thought he’d collapse with relief. The body armor had a nasty hole in it, but it had stopped the forty-caliber round, even at close range. Midnight was shaking her head.

  “What?” Rick stood and went over to her.

  She reached up, pulling on the Velcro strips to release the vest. “That fucking hurt!” she said, sounding like a petulant child who had been told a shot wouldn’t hurt.

  Rick couldn’t help but laugh. “Poor baby.” He picked her up and carried her up the stairs he had come down earlier. It hadn’t escaped him that she had just saved his life, but he could tell that with the mood she was in, sincere, deep gratitude would be wasted on her. As he got to the top of the stairs he looked at one of the officers on cleanup. “Got a body down there.”

  “Anyone we know?” the BNE agent asked wryly.

  Rick shrugged casually, still holding Midnight. “Just the main man himself. No rush though, he’s dead.” He grinned down at the woman who was still his wife, whether she liked it or not.

  Three hours later, Midnight had been checked out and was released from the hospital. She had two cracked ribs and was generally pissed off, but otherwise she was fine. She made Rick drive her to the office, where she verified that every vehicle owned by members of FORS had been checked thoroughly for car bombs. Some had indeed been planted, but all were deactivated safely. She stayed there for the next four hours, trying to assist with the massive amounts of paperwork that needed to be completed. Finally, at around one o’clock in the morning, she walked out to her Corvette. She was too tired to notice Rick leaving at the same time and following her out of the parking lot in his rental car.

  Once on the freeway, Midnight spotted the same headlights following her. She continued to watch until she got off the freeway. At the first light, she figured out it was Rick behind her. In a way it irritated her; she knew he’d want to have the big nasty fight they were bound for, and it made her mad that he expected her to have it on the very few hours of sleep she’d had over the last couple of days. By the time she got to her house, she was really mad. She’d jammed the pedal down and arrived three full minutes before him. By the time he pulled into the driveway, she was at the front door, punching in the security code. His long stride brough
t him to the door as she went to open it. She turned to him, her eyes narrowed.

  “What the hell do you want now?”

  Rick stared down at her. “You.”

  Midnight gazed at him for a full thirty seconds before she could even formulate a response. Looking away, she shrugged. “That’s too bad, because the feeling’s not mutual.”

  Rick’s lips twisted in a sardonic grin. Her voice was far too casual, belying her real feelings. He stepped closer to her, and she moved back, glaring up at him, but she had just backed up against the still-closed door. His close proximity affected her immediately.

  “Really?” he said. Then he brought his lips down to hers, kissing her with all his pent-up passion. He reached behind her, shoving the door open. His lips never left hers, not even when he lifted her easily by the waist and stepped inside, just far enough to kick the door shut again. He pulled her body flush with his as he leaned back against the wall. Midnight’s hands were clutching the front of his jacket, and when he pulled away, he felt her tighten her grip. They were both breathless, but Midnight’s inner voice kicked in, and she tried to turn away.

  “No, you don’t!” Rick said forcefully as he pulled her back to him. “You’re not putting me off again. I want you, and you know damned good and well that you want me, so let’s just go with that for now. We’ll work the rest out later.” His voice brooked no argument, and Midnight knew what he was saying. Right now he would allow it to be just physical. She gave in, realizing she had no other real alternative. Her body was already screaming in protest at her attempted denial. She nodded as she looked up at him. Without another word he brought his lips down to hers again.

  They continued to kiss passionately even as they backed toward her bedroom. But their progress was too slow, and Rick lifted her up in his arms, and with his lips still on hers, carried her the rest of the way down the hall and into the room. He broke the kiss to set her down. Then he lay back on the bed, pulling her with him so that she lay over him, taking into consideration her bruised and cracked ribs. Midnight wasn’t even thinking logically; she didn’t care about the pain in her chest. All she could think of was Rick’s lips, body, hands, and other important parts.