Duck and Run
Page 9
“No, those belong to the banks and dealerships, and they’d stand out too much, though they’re hella fun to drive. Rob owns a used car lot up the interstate a bit. He can put us in a set of wheels they’ll never be able to trace back to us. It’ll give Linc and Jacobsen more time to breathe.”
“I’ll help you pack.” There was no way Nick was letting her out of his sight when she was armed with no more than the filet knife sticking hilt-first out of her back pocket.
“I’d rather you keep watch out here. You can see all the doors,” she pointed out.
“You’ve got a window in there, right?”
“Yeah,” her reply was slow, as if trying to figure where he was going.
“Then that’s an entry point as well. So, as long as I’m the only one with the gun, I go where you go.”
“Fine,” she replied haughtily. “But don’t think you’re getting a look into my lingerie drawer, bub.”
Nick snickered. It was actually the last thing on his mind, but he’d needed her flippant, off-the-cuff comment. It lightened the air between them, made his mission twofold. To get the job done--and to cover her very fine butt.
Cris felt the heat of Nick’s stare on her back as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. If her boots had allowed her toes to curl, they would be right now. The man knew how to kiss, how to make her go from zero to sixty. She could easily envision sex between them, but this wasn’t the time or place. Even when the concept of them together made her hotter than she’d ever been.
After Trent had crushed her heart beneath his size eight loafers, she wasn’t too keen on relationships. Not when he left her three short months after Austin, claiming she’d become more cop than woman, and obviously a bad one at that. That had stung, but then he’d muttered something vaguely sympathetic to Lori Wright’s cause, and she’d lost it, and kicked him to the curb once and for all. His comments had shown, crystal-clear, how much of himself he’d invested in a marriage she’d tried to fix with every ounce of her psychological training. In the end it had mattered for naught, and she had the divorce papers to prove it.
She was enough of a realist to know she wanted Nick McLain, no matter that it would be a monumentally bad idea, at least in the here and now. Their attraction was base, fueled by adrenalin and shared training. They were two similar souls, two people who had been through horrors unimaginable to most and lived to talk about it. Now they were stuck in a situation where bullets had already flown, where they were facing the familiar visage of life and death. That they would give in to the sparks between them was natural, a survival instinct. But as much as she could imagine it, it was a bad idea.
She’d survived Austin. She’d survived Trent. But she wasn’t sure she could survive Nick McLain. It wasn’t the lust that seared through her whenever they as much as glanced at each other. It was the fact they’d connected, throughout this chaotic day, on a level she’d never felt before. And frankly, it scared the crap out of her.
She’d tried relationships with guys outside her social circle as a younger woman and discovered her ability to attract two stereotypical types--slackers and opportunists. Her lousy track record had led her into a comfortable life with Trent—they’d attended the same prep school as kids, had a shared history and social circle. She knew she’d fought harder to maintain that comfort than she had to keep the man, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. Relationships just weren’t for her. But neither was casual sex. And didn’t that put her in an untenable position?
Everything about Nick McClain screamed keeper, but she wasn’t looking for that now. Wasn’t looking for anything, even uncomplicated sex. And yet here they were, thrust together in a situation that made rational reasoning fly out the window and her blood sing in anticipation.
As she pushed open the door to her room, she fortified her survival mechanisms, both against England and his goons, and Nick. She’d need every bit of strength she possessed to get out of this whole mess unscathed.
How had they missed the chick and the number cruncher? He’d had a feeling something was off, which was why he’d stuck around long after he’d sent the others home. They’d searched the house top to bottom, and yet a guy he was pretty sure was a fed had pulled into the driveway just five minutes ago and honked the horn. Jesus.
The boss was going to have his ass if the pair of them escaped. Because the repo agent had just made herself part of the equation, and there was no way he was going down because she’d decided to be the accountant’s savior.
He slid back into his car as an unmarked rounded the corner and rolled past the house before parking three doors down. Shit. He pulled away from the curb and drove back toward the city.
They needed a new game plan. Now. And the cell phone sitting in the passenger seat just might be the ticket.
Nick cleared the driveway leading to the garage after hearing Linc’s toot on the horn, then around the back corner of the house, where danger most likely lurked. Linc, being the old, battle-scarred soul he was, had pulled a massive tan SUV under the carport, barely leaving enough clearance to open either car door. The truck filled the small driveway with pure bulk, its tinted windows ensuring no one would know who was behind the wheel.
Cris dove into the back seat first, followed closely by Nick, and both breathed a sigh of relief when the door was closed and Linc was backing out.
They needn’t have worried. Linc had called in the cavalry, albeit a covert one. Undercover cars were parked unobtrusively in her neighbor’s driveways, idling near the stop sign at the end of block. The area had been effectively and efficiently cleared by the OSBI.
“Are they all in on it?” Cris asked, hoping their SOS hadn’t blown Nick’s whole case.
“No. They’re here as muscle.”
A white van turned the corner and pulled into her driveway, the lone occupant sauntering out. He was tall, gangly, holding what looked like a suitcase.
“Who is that?” Cris craned her neck, watching as he disappeared through the side door.
“Surveillance. Jacobsen brought me in, and I grabbed some guys I trusted. Your house will be bugged, cameras placed. We don’t think they’ll be back, not after seeing this show of force, but we didn’t want to take the chance. Settle in and I’ll bring you up to speed.” Linc sped away from the house, falling into evasive driving tactics as soon as they cleared the block.
Cris threw the gym bag containing the few clothes she’d grabbed over the back of the seat into the cargo area, then leaned back. Nick was a warm, armed, comforting presence at her side.
“Just so you know, no one here is aware of Nick’s involvement. My guys know you were threatened, and to keep it mum. Burt England is fine and fishing his ever-loving heart out at his lake cabin. He’s pissed that this guy is using his name, but is going to lay low and stay covered, in case they come after him.”
“Okay, but I have a question that’s been bugging me,” Cris said, twisting to face Nick. “Why wasn’t the Oklahoma City branch of the OSBI brought in before this? They’re the logical choice, since they sit right on the I-35 corridor. Why Tulsa?”
“Jacobsen was the first one to connect the dots,” Nick replied. “The real Nick Coleman knows Jacobsen from college and called him when the numbers came up weird. They contacted KBI and the Rangers when it appeared to be bigger than they’d thought, and played it close to the vest until they could send me in.”
“Because an Oklahoma City OSBI agent going undercover doesn’t make sense, in case they recognized him,” Cris finished, the last bit of information clicking inside her head. “So, what do we do now?”
“You and Nick go deep,” Linc said succinctly. “Get the heck out of Dodge and let us run it from here. Nick’s not a field officer, and you’re a civilian, Cristine. These guys don’t have anything to lose anymore, and you’re more of a hindrance than a help. You’ve both got targets painted on your backs.”
“I don’t like it,” she replied, even though she knew he was right.
“They don’t know what happened, do they?” She felt a brief moment of panic, thinking of her parents worrying over her.
“No. We told them there was an increased threat, that’s all. It’s not as if they aren’t used to it.”
“And I’ve got no say in this,” Nick stated baldly.
Even though he wasn’t a field officer, Cris knew being pulled out of the game had to bother him. He was too much the alpha for it not to.
“Not according to Jacobsen, you don’t. You can complain to him when you get to Tulsa. Your house is under surveillance as we speak, though I doubt it’s necessary. Do we need to take precautions for your family as well? I forgot to ask Jacobsen.”
“No,” Nick’s voice was frostier than Cris had ever heard it. “They’re not connected to me in any way now. Not enough for these guys to uncover.”
Silence stretched long and loud in the cabin of the truck before Cris broke it. “How are we getting there?” she asked, wondering if Rob had delivered as she’d asked, wondering at the tone of Nick’s voice as well. She couldn’t imagine being estranged from her family. It was too much a part of her, even if they were separated by several hundred miles.
“Rob has a set of wheels for you parked at Lake Hefner. He says you owe him.”
She snorted, feeling inordinately better at his words. She was still pissed she’d had to leave the safe haven of her home, but she had faith Linc and the joint task force would take care of business and she’d be back in no time.
The drive to Lake Hefner took longer than it would have under normal circumstances, but by the time they reached the enormous lake and its surrounding parkways, she was sure they were in the clear.
Rob had left them a late model Expedition. Four-wheel drive, just in case, Cris noted. It would do. The SUV was parked at the far end of a parking lot, with no other cars around that might constitute an ambush.
Linc pulled his truck alongside and handed the keys over to Nick, who unlocked the driver’s door with the remote. Cris exited after taking a quick look around. She opened the door and scuttled across the bench seat with her bag pushed in front of her. Nick crowded behind her, slamming and locking the doors.
“Roll down the window,” Cris said, and when it was halfway down, she met Linc’s gaze from what seemed like miles away.
“Be careful, you old coot.”
Linc smiled, but there was a far away, lethally cold expression on his face she’d never seen before. “I could say the same to you, Cristine.” He turned his attention to Nick. “You take care of my girl.”
“With my life,” Nick answered.
Cris felt the truth of his reply deep down in her bones. He meant it. Granted, he was a cop, but he really meant it, and from Linc’s answering nod, her friend knew it as well. “Disposable cell phone is in the center console. Rob preprogrammed it with both of our numbers.” His face softened. “I love you, girl.”
“Love you too, Linc. Stay safe.” Linc’s words pierced her straight to her heart. She would not cry. She wouldn’t. She took one last look at him as Nick raised the window and hoped against hope that it wouldn’t be the last time.
Chapter 8
The drive to Tulsa was uneventful. Once they hit the city, Nick drove for an additional half hour, looping through the darkening streets until he was positive no one had followed them, then pulled into his driveway.
Cristine sat next to him silently.
He’d felt her withdraw, mile by mile. He thought he knew the why of it, but he didn’t have to like it. She didn’t like being vulnerable, and by leaving her comfort zone, that’s exactly what she’d become, both through their current circumstances and the revelations about her past.
Never mind that their attraction seemed to have a life of its own. She’d be uncomfortable with that as well, even if she’d been honest with him earlier today. So he’d take it slow, because damned if he didn’t want to get to know Cristine O’Connor a whole hell of a lot better.
He stayed silent for a long time, then, as they neared Tulsa, blew out a breath.
“You’re suspecting Rob, and the other folks at Red River for giving you up, aren’t you?”
She turned her surprised gaze his way. He could tell he’d guessed correctly, and she was feeling equal parts angry and guilty.
“Linc set me up with Rob, knows him somehow, but if Linc trusts him, then I should too, right? I mean, I’ve worked for the guy for a year and a half. He’s cranky as hell, but he’s legit. Runs a clean gig, never any gray areas, keeps to himself and doesn’t barge into his employee’s business. Started out small, from what Linc told me, then upgraded to higher-end recoveries. He’s really good at it, seems to have a sixth sense about where skips are located.
“Karla,” she stopped, smiled. “Karla is something else. I don’t know much about her, only that she’s in her forties, and that she used to be a showgirl in Vegas, which I can totally see. She doesn’t take any shit and runs the dispatch office like a general. I only know about Vegas because she slipped up once.”
Her lips had curved up in a smile, something Nick was happy to see. “And your partner, Ethan?”
Her smile slipped, became contemplative. “He’s like the rest of us, keeps things close to the vest. I know he was in the military once. I think it was the Air Force, and that he was honorably discharged. Rob wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole if he’d been in trouble. He’s been there about a year longer than me. We socialize now and then because that’s what partners do, but we mostly talk about local things, the job. He doesn’t ask me about my past, and I’ve left his alone as well.”
Nick took it all in. Waited for her next words.
“It feels like a betrayal to suspect them, but how can I not? They’re the only ones in Oklahoma who know where I live. The only ones who could send England and his buddies after me, after us.”
“I think,” he said, as they began to cruise through his neighborhood, “that keeping them on your list is smart. I can guarantee Linc has already gone there. But my take?” He looked her way, saw her watching him, waiting for his opinion. “That’d be too easy. Everything about this has been cocked up.” That got the smile he was hoping to see again. “I can almost guarantee it’ll be something, someone else.”
He turned onto his street. “We’re here,” he announced. “Keep your eyes peeled, just in case.”
Next door to his unremarkable single-story ranch an unfamiliar, unmistakably cop-like domestic car was parked at the curb. Since he knew for a fact the Morris family only bought Japanese cars, he was confident it was his surveillance. And since he couldn’t see an occupant, he knew it was entirely possible the Morris’ were ensconced in a hotel downtown.
He stepped out, keeping the Beretta in his shooting hand, and keyed in the code to the garage door. His own vehicle was still sitting in long-term parking at Will Rogers Airport in Oklahoma City, so there was plenty of room for the big SUV. Reentering the truck, he backed in, then turned to his silent companion.
“Stay in here until I clear the house.” He saw her bristle under the order and softened it. “Please.”
“Fine,” she replied. He climbed out of the truck and watched with approval as she slid behind the wheel, stepped on the brake, and put the SUV in drive. She’d be ready if, against all odds, they’d discovered his address.
With that thought in mind, he entered his home, listening for anything out of the ordinary. And as he cleared ea
ch room, one-by-one, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His home was safe, for what it was worth.
He ushered Cristine inside with a wave of his arm and closed the garage door. She carried her gym bag against her chest like a lost child. He struggled for something to say. Anything to take the look of almost-despair on her face.
“Take a load off for a few minutes,” he gestured toward the sofa.
“You really think we should?” She remained standing, watching him, ready to run again if he gave her the sign.
“There’s an OSBI car parked next door. I’m going to call Jacobsen right now and find out if they planted bugs and cameras, like at your place.” He picked up the cell she’d brought from the truck and dialed his boss’ number by memory.
“McLain here, sir. We’re in Tulsa, at my place.”
“Good,” Jacobsen grunted. “Stay put. We’re closing in on them.”
“What kind of backup do I have here?”
“Carothers is next door, and we’ve got cameras on the doors and windows, but nothing inside. Didn’t seem like we needed to go that far, since you were in a clean car.”
“Fair enough. Call me at this number if anything changes.”
“Will do,” Jacobsen replied, then hung up.
Nick toed off his shoes and settled into the armchair opposite her. “Like I said, agent next door, and Jacobsen says there are cameras on all entry points. We’re as safe as we can be without going even deeper.”
Cristine sank into the deep cushions of his couch and dropped her bag at her feet.
“The boss said they’re gaining on them.”
“Good, because I only have three days of clothes.” Now there was a hint of humor in her voice, so he teased her in response.