Full Exposure

by Debra Webb

  Leberman had also been in the military at one time. Trained by a Special Forces type unit, Leberman had left the military on bad terms and then he’d proceeded to start his own little mercenary mini-army. He and Stephens had organized a team of six men, all tops in their field. Together this group, of what Cole considered terrorists, had made a fortune in blood. Kidnappings, assassinations, just to name a couple of their offered services.

  Now only two of that original six remained. A muscle in Cole’s jaw ticked despite his efforts to maintain an impassive exterior.

  “Go on,” Lucas prompted, his expression clearly suspect.

  “Those last two want revenge for the elimination of their leader.”

  “Howard Stephens,” Lucas filled in.

  Cole nodded. “He basically took over years ago, even before Leberman’s death. Leberman was too caught up in revenge against the Colbys to keep up the pace required of a true leader. Though the team still respected him and used him from time to time, he was more a planner than a practitioner.”

  Lucas shrugged. “No surprise there. I knew Leberman was the brains behind whatever exploits he and his minions executed.” He looked directly at Cole once more. “So those last two want you.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you,” Lucas added, “believe they’re holding Mildred and her niece, Angel, hostage to that end?”

  “I do.”

  That wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was close enough. Angel Parker, Mildred’s beloved niece, had been the one to actually leak the information. Cole didn’t know yet what they’d used against her to get the information. A thorough investigation of her finances had not indicated that she’d done it for money. As a single mother of a three-year-old and a full-time nurse at Winnetka General Hospital, the young woman scarcely eked out a living. Without her aunt’s generosity, unmarried and pregnant, Angel likely would have crashed and burned long ago.

  Since Mildred had never married or had children of her own and Angel’s mother had died years ago, Angel had been like a daughter to Mildred. Angel’s child, Mildred’s pseudograndchild, wanted for nothing.

  “For now,” Lucas allowed, “we’ll operate under that assumption. Since we haven’t been able to contact or locate either Mildred or Angel, my hands are tied to do otherwise. What plan of action do you plan to take?” Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “I, of course, am assuming that you consider this next step part of completing your task here.”

  Lucas read him rather well even if he slightly missed the mark. Cole couldn’t prevent another tiny smile. “Of course.”

  “Details, Danes,” Lucas pressed, his expression as ferocious as a lion protecting his den.

  “I will offer myself in trade since it was my investigation that landed Ms. Parker and her niece in harm’s way.” Cole flared his hands humbly. “I should have anticipated this move but I didn’t. As Mrs. Colby-Camp said, perhaps there is a first time for failure even for me.”

  Lucas didn’t look convinced. “I’ll call in two of my Specialists to provide backup.”

  “No,” Cole said sharply, allowing his composure to slip for one fraction of a second before locking down the momentary weakness. “This is something I must do alone. Any outside involvement could trigger an undesirable result.”

  The level of suspicion in Lucas’s gaze increased by several degrees. “Do you have substantiated intelligence to confirm that assessment?”

  “All I have is gut instinct.” Cole angled his head and surveyed the man analyzing him so closely. “Isn’t that the reason you hired me? For my instincts?”

  Lucas backed off marginally. “I will expect to be kept up to speed on every step you take. I understood and tolerated your need for secrecy as you conducted this investigation into the employees of this agency. But I will not permit you to proceed under those terms now.”

  Cole stood. “I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.”

  Lucas pushed to his feet with less effort than one would think considering he wore a prosthesis for a right leg. “See that you do.”

  Cole nodded once before moving toward the door. Lucas Camp would soon learn that Cole Danes shared only what he needed to share. Not even a man as powerful and experienced as Lucas could intimidate him. No one could.

  “Just one thing, Danes,” Lucas called to his back.

  Cole paused at the door and turned to face him. Again, he indulged himself and allowed a smile to steal past his careful control. “Don’t waste your time, Lucas. I know what I have to do. Nothing you say is going to change my methods.”

  Lucas smiled then, broadly, openly. “I’m well aware of that, Danes. Well aware.” His smile vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. “But know this, if anything you do or say causes harm to come to Mildred Parker or her niece, you will answer to me.”

  For three beats the two men stood there staring at each other, decades of untold secrets and power over life and death pulsing between them.

  “Make no mistake,” Lucas went on, “I am fully aware that you’re keeping something more from me. We all have our secrets.” The depth of knowing in that statement glinted in his eyes. “But if yours hurts someone I care about there won’t be anyplace on this planet you can hide.”

  Cole didn’t hesitate. “Understood.”

  With that said he walked out of the office.

  He ignored the angry glances from the agency staff members he encountered in the corridor. They had all seen more than enough of him, would likely never forget his name or face.

  Few ever did.

  But it was all part of the job he was paid to do.

  If it were an easy task anyone could do it. Clearly that was not the case.

  In the elegant lobby Victoria Colby-Camp stood near the receptionist’s desk. Despite the devastations of her past she had surrounded herself with the best, both in material possessions and in staff and associates. But she, as well as her loyal staff, were mere humans. The finery glittering about them man-made. Just like eighteen years ago, Victoria Colby-Camp could not stop this bad thing from coming home to her. Errol Leberman had started it, but Cole Danes would finish it. For that reason she would never forget or forgive him.

  Their gazes collided as if he’d somehow telegraphed that last thought.

  She said nothing.

  Cole depressed the call button and waited for the car to arrive on the fourth floor. Her silence made no difference to him one way or another.

  Words weren’t necessary in any event.

  He already understood how she felt. She despised him for shedding light on a dark corner of her existence she’d rather not have seen.

  She, too, would never forget his name or his face.

  Few ever did.

  Chapter Three

  Winnetka, Illinois, 1:00 p.m.

  Nearly three hours and nothing.

  Only forty-five hours left.

  Fear crammed into her throat, twisted in her stomach.

  Angel Parker hadn’t left her living room, afraid she might somehow miss her next instructions. What was she supposed to do now?

  She moistened her lips and wrung her shaky hands together. How could she save her aunt if no one told her what to do next?

  How long was she expected to wait?

  Where would she find Cole Danes?

  Think, she commanded. She had to think past the fear and confusion. What had the man said?

  Don’t worry…Cole Danes will find you.

  But he hadn’t found her.

  Angel pushed up from her sofa and started to pace. Her legs felt weak and rubbery after sitting so long. Or maybe it was the lingering effects of the fear. Fear did that—made you weak. She knew that better than most and still she couldn’t slow the terror throbbing through her veins. As a nurse she’d watched otherwise calm and knowledgeable patients suffer near panic attacks when faced with the unknown—some unexpected surgery or medical procedure.

  No one wanted to face their mortality. Not even the strongest and most
intelligent of the human race.

  But it wasn’t her own death Angel feared.

  Her knees buckled and she grabbed for the nearest wall to catch herself. A wave of emotion washed over her, ushering a sob from her dry throat.

  She’d done this.

  Her aunt could die and it would be her fault.

  Angel sagged against the wall and slid down to the floor, the hurt overwhelming her ability to stay vertical.

  She’d done everything they’d asked.

  For two years she’d lived in fear. She’d changed her work schedule as well as her route to and from work so often she felt certain her superiors considered her a mental case. She’d moved Mia to a different childcare provider every few months, as well.

  And still she’d failed.

  For a while she’d even foolishly thought herself free of the evil. She laughed bitterly. They hadn’t bothered her in four months.

  Not since Victoria Colby had gotten her son back.

  It was then that Angel had known the magnitude of her sins.

  The man who had come to her two years ago, the one who’d held her baby hostage for twenty-four hours just to prove he could, had worked for another even more sinister man named Leberman. Four months ago Mildred had cried and told Angel how thankful she was that Victoria finally had her son back. She’d told Angel about Leberman’s death and all he’d done to the Colbys as well as Lucas Camp. As Mildred related the events of the past two years, each one had tied in with the simple, seemingly innocuous, information Angel had secretly passed along.

  Each time that telephone had rung, the caller asking only one question, always something so trivial, the call had preceded some evil Leberman had orchestrated.

  She’d wanted so desperately to tell her aunt then and there that she’d done this horrible thing. That she had helped make these terrible, terrible things happen to the Colbys. But she couldn’t. They had taken her daughter once and had promised that next time Angel would never see her again. All she had to do was give them the information they asked for from time to time and her baby would remain safe. If she ever let them down or told that she’d been contacted, her child would die. She would never forget the look in the man’s eyes—a man whose name she didn’t even know.

  Tell anyone about this and the little girl dies. Nothing you or anyone could do will save her. Believe that if you believe nothing else.

  To demonstrate his point he’d taken her to Lincoln Park in broad daylight. Right before her eyes he’d killed a homeless man sitting on a park bench and then he’d simply walked away…with the parting advice that she should run like hell and that she was to remember his warning.

  She had remembered.

  And she’d believed. He’d killed a man for no reason without caring who saw him.

  He would have taken her baby and killed her just as easily had Angel not cooperated. This kind of man feared no one…not the authorities, certainly not the Colby Agency.

  Angel curled her arms around her knees and tried to stop the quaking that rocked her body.

  She would carry the guilt of what she’d done to Victoria Colby to her grave. For these past few months she had told herself that she had to put it behind her, that things had worked out despite her part in Leberman’s sinister plans. She’d made a mistake. She had to get past it. She’d thought it was all over. Nothing she could do would change what was done any more than she could resurrect that poor homeless man who’d died to prove some madman’s point.

  Then one week ago she’d gotten a visit rather than a call. He’d wanted one thing—another seemingly simple bit of inconsequential information. Just a name. The name of whoever was conducting an internal-affairs investigation at the Colby Agency.

  Angel had agreed to get the information and he’d left. She’d known what she had to do. In those few months of reprieve she’d learned a few things…had wondered at what perhaps she could have done to make all this turn out differently. Armed with that knowledge, she had made a decision. She would not let this bastard use her again. She would tell her aunt everything. But first she had to hide her child.

  It had taken her four days to make contact with the right people. An underground community of sorts for abused women and children. These people would protect her child until the danger had passed. They had begged her to go into hiding, as well, but she refused. She had to do the right thing this time, had to make this right as best she could.

  Once Mia was safely tucked away by people who had the resources to move her from household to household if need be, she had called her aunt. Night before last Angel had gone to her aunt and told her everything. They had cried together and then they’d decided upon the best way to handle the situation. Angel let her aunt make the final decision. They would see Lucas Camp together. He could take care of the man threatening Angel, her aunt insisted.

  But that man had shown up just then. He and one of his henchmen. They’d taken Mildred and her to an empty warehouse. They wanted only one thing, the name. Angel hadn’t known…but Mildred had. When the man threatened to kill Angel, Mildred had surrendered and given the name.

  Cole Danes.

  They’d let Angel go with the warning that if the information proved wrong or if she went to the authorities Mildred would die.

  Angel hadn’t seen her aunt since.

  This morning she had learned why. She had just over forty hours before the woman who’d been more like a second mother than an aunt would be killed if Angel didn’t come through.

  …you’re pathetic.

  The bastard who’d visited her today was right. She was pathetic. Her aunt’s life was on the line and she sat there sobbing like a child.

  Angel’s fingers balled into fists.

  She had to be stronger than this.

  Her aunt’s life depended upon her.

  She thought about her options and in a moment of utter clarity, Angel knew just what she had to do.

  Suburban Sportsman, Melrose Park, 2:30 p.m.

  ANGEL TIGHTENED HER FINGERS around her purse strap and mustered the courage to approach the clerk behind the counter. She’d surveyed the entire upscale sporting-goods store and selected the youngest male clerk on duty.

  “Good afternoon.” He smiled widely, his gaze instantly doing a head-to-toe sweep as she approached. “May I help you?”

  She prayed the nonbusiness interest she saw in his eyes would help her. Angel produced what she hoped would prove a flirtatious smile. “I hope so.” She glanced around quickly to make sure no other customers were nearby. “I need to purchase a handgun.”

  He looked surprised but swiftly recovered. “O…kay. Follow me.”

  Angel guessed this guy to be no more than twenty-one or two. Cute. Innocent—something she would never again be.

  The clerk paused at a display case. “What size weapon were you thinking about?” he asked, his smile not quite so wide now.

  Angel scanned the array of offerings behind the glass. Confusion frayed her already frazzled nerves. She didn’t know where to begin. Had never so much as touched a gun.

  “Something small?” he suggested in a helpful tone.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Very good.”

  He started behind the counter but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What do I have to do to purchase one?”

  She’d startled him again. Angel released his arm and tried to look calm and apologetic regarding her behavior. It wasn’t working. She could see the uneasiness in his eyes now. “I’m just a little nervous,” she offered.

  “Ma’am,” he said quietly, his gaze darting around to see if anyone had wandered near, “there’s a three-day waiting period. Even if you buy one, you can’t take it with you today.”

  The words sent terror slamming against her rib cage. “But I have to have one today.” She poured every ounce of desperation she felt into her expression. Prayed he would see…that he would somehow help her. “Please, if you can help me…”

  He l
ooked away a moment, spoke under his breath as if he feared being overheard. “Go to Lake Street on the West Side. Try Tito’s Pawnshop.”

  “I can get one today there?” Hope swelled, pushing away some of the paralyzing fear.

  He cast a look side to side again. “Maybe.” His gaze settled back on her desperate one. “Probably.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice wavered and tears brimmed. She battled the emotions back down. “Thank you.”

  He touched her arm when she would have walked away. “Listen, lady.” His hesitation sent a new trickle of dread snaking through her veins. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but don’t go to Lake Street after dark. Go right now. Get your business done and get out of there. Okay?”

  She nodded stiffly and turned away.

  “Good luck.”

  She didn’t look back. She had to do this. It was the only way.

  Lake Street, Chicago’s West Side, 2:30 p.m.

  FORTY-THREE HOURS.

  She had to hurry.

  Angel parked at the curb between two SUVs.

  No wonder the clerk had warned her about coming here. Though she’d lived in the Chicago area her whole life she couldn’t recall ever having been to this particular street.

  Young guys huddled in groups called out their wares to slowly passing motorists. Rocks, blows, weed!

  Drugs. They were selling drugs right on the street in the middle of the afternoon.

  Of course she had known things like this happened in all urban areas, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. Her protected, suburban life hadn’t adequately prepared her for this reality. She’d watched scenes on the news channel, but there’d always been police involved handling the situation. There was no sign of policemen here.

  Teens, high-school or college types, cruising slowly down the street in their expensive, late-model sedans and SUVs appeared to be the customers the hawkers called to. Other throngs of what looked like older men huddled on the sidewalk tossing dice. Angel saw a couple of women sitting on their stoops, their preschoolers at their feet, watching the rawest form of capitalism play out.

  Angel shook off the troubling thoughts and focused on her mission. She had to purchase a weapon. She refused to be vulnerable, refused to let these evil bastards rule her life a moment longer. She should have done this long ago. Giving herself grace, she hadn’t known then how to protect her daughter. Now she did.