by Debra Webb
God, she didn’t know.
Her heart surged into her throat. Wait till he’s close. The pawnshop owner’s advice rang in her ears.
She squeezed her eyes shut and did the only thing she could. She prayed for a miracle she feared would not come.
COLE WAITED UNTIL Clark entered the house before he moved. He moved in a dead run toward the vehicle Clark had driven. He hit the ground, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side. In less than ten seconds he had both tracking devices in place, along with a jam-buster. A man like Clark would definitely have one or more jammers on board to prevent anyone from tracking his location. But Cole owned the latest technology in rendering those annoying devices useless.
He rolled away from the vehicle, gritting his teeth against the pain. He moved into the shadow of the trees at the side of the house and pulled out his cell phone. If this didn’t work he’d have no choice but to go in. If he went in Clark wouldn’t go down without a bullet between his eyes so that had to be a last resort.
He had to make this work.
He depressed the necessary function key and waited for the ring. He slowed his respiration, calmed his racing pulse.
Clark answered on the second ring.
“What the hell is it?” he growled, evidently believing the call came from one of his cronies.
“I’m waiting for you, Clark. Why don’t you come and get me. Finishing this will be rather boring without your participation.”
He ended the call.
Then he held his breath and waited for his target to take the bait.
ANGEL INCLINED HER HEAD, strained to hear.
A cell phone had rung. She recognized the sound.
She’d heard Clark’s voice, recognized it, also, but couldn’t make out his words.
He swore now, hotly, repeatedly.
That she comprehended perfectly.
Then nothing.
She held her breath…waited…listened.
Nothing.
Where the hell was he? Her pulse skittered into overdrive. Did she dare move?
The metal on metal grind of the doorknob turning split the air…cut right through the hiss of spraying water.
She heard the EMT’s harsh intake of breath at the same instant that everything lapsed into slow motion.
Her grip tightened on the gun. She stared straight down the barrel and waited for the curtain to move.
The door creaked as it opened. Vaguely she noted that she hadn’t noticed that before.
The distinct footfall on the floor. The whirr of metal gliding over metal.
Her finger twitched.
Her gaze collided with…
“Oh my God!” Her weapon clattered to the floor. “I almost shot you.”
Danes lowered his weapon, glanced from her to the EMT and back. “We have to go. Now.”
He assisted her out of the tub. “Stay someplace else for a couple of nights,” he said to the EMT.
Angel glanced back at the poor guy. He’d huddled in the corner of the tub, his eyes wide. “Do you think he’s okay?” she murmured shakily.
“He’ll live.”
Danes dragged her out the back door of the house and to the rented car.
“Where did Clark go?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t encountered his body. After the initial shock of seeing Danes on the other side of that shower curtain, she’d assumed he’d had to kill Clark.
“He’s en route to your aunt’s location.”
Danes pushed her into the passenger seat. “What?” She couldn’t have heard right.
He rounded the hood and slid behind the steering wheel before he answered. “He thinks we’re there already.” He started the engine and roared away from the curb, then tapped a keypad on what looked like a small, handheld computer. “We’re tracking him.”
Angel stared at the red dot moving on the map displayed on the screen. “Where is he now?”
“North on Highway 1.”
She frowned, looked from him to the little computer and back. “How do you know that? You’re not even looking at the screen.”
He tapped his ear. “The route is being transmitted into my earpiece.”
Mystified, she reached out and touched his hair. She should have known better, but she’d only wanted to pull it back and see the earpiece of which he spoke. He flinched. She drew back her hand in response.
He didn’t want her to touch him.
Too bad.
Firming her resolve, she tucked his hair back so that she could see the tiny earpiece as they passed a street lamp. Wireless, she realized. She was aware that such technology existed.
“Neat.” The single word sound stilted, but it was the best she could manage since the rest of her senses had zeroed in on the silky feel of his hair, the warm, smooth texture of his skin where she’d accidentally touched his jaw when she drew away.
She folded her hands in her lap, only then remembering that she’d dropped her gun in the EMT’s bathroom. She stared down at herself and laughed tightly. She was soaked. The shower. God, she’d completely forgotten.
There was something else she’d forgotten. She turned toward Danes and said a silent thanks to God for sending her that miracle in spite of her lack of faith.
Chapter Eleven
The Port of Chicago, Midnight
10 hours, 15 minutes remaining…
Cole eased into an alley between two storage warehouses. The location made perfect sense. Clark and his men would have easy and immediate access to water or air transportation. A speedboat could be docked nearby for swift movement from the inland river system to the Great Lakes. A helicopter could be standing by on any number of helipads in the vicinity of the port. Every possible amenity had been added in recent years to lure in big business. Chicago liked being known as the “hub” of America’s crossroads.
Operating 24/7, midnight comings and goings would not be considered suspicious. The sheer size and number of warehouses and facilities made the location a formidable maze, inadvertently, or perhaps not, allowing for a certain level of cover and anonymity. Getting lost amid the endless possibilities would be effortless for a man like Clark.
Were it not for Cole’s state-of-the-art tracking devices and frequency bender that is. An antijam device, the bender, reconstructed twisted and broken frequencies, allowing the tracking devices to do their job.
He knew exactly where Clark was.
The warehouse looming to the left served as a temporary storage facility, square footage for lease to the highest bidder. Stephens had no doubt claimed a section or perhaps the entire building for his base of operations. Or maybe Leberman had held the lease for all these years, under an alias of course, to carry out his sinister plans.
“What now?”
The tremble in Angel’s voice tugged Cole from his study of the structure and those inside. She shivered uncontrollably. He frowned. The heat was off now that they were parked allowing the cold night air to invade the interior of the vehicle. But not so much as yet.
Her clothes were wet.
The shower.
He swore softly, cursing himself for forgetting all else but the chase. He shouldered out of his jacket, gritting his teeth against the nagging pain involved. “You have to get out of those wet clothes.” He couldn’t believe she’d sat there the entire trip across town and said nothing about being wet and cold.
“I don’t think so,” she fired back.
“You can put this on.” He offered his jacket. The thick lining of the leather jacket would provide adequate protection. The length would likely hit midthigh on her considering her much shorter stature.
Still she hesitated.
“You’re a nurse,” he reminded, “you know what it takes to bring the body temperature back up.”
She snatched the jacket from him. “Turn your head.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going in. You get those wet clothes off and stay put.”
“No way.” She seized his arm. “You’re no
t going in without me.”
He’d anticipated this reaction and still the ferocity of her determination surprised him. Considering her damp clothes and the idea that she was freezing, he would have thought getting out in the night air would be the last thing she wanted. Obviously, he had underestimated her true grit.
“Yes. I am going inside alone. No arguments.”
“Fine.” She folded her arms over her soggy chest. “I’ll just follow you.”
She would. Even if he locked her in the truck she’d likely kick and scream, leaving him no choice but to set her free.
“Clark will have others in there. The shoot-out you witnessed this morning was nothing compared to how this might end.” There was no point in lying to her. She needed to understand what they were likely walking into.
“My aunt is in there, right?”
He bit back his fury, not wanting to waste the energy. Exhaustion clawed at him. The pain, it was steady.
“Yes. I would assume she is here, but I can’t be certain.” If she was in there and she’d been killed already, he didn’t need a hysterical woman on his hands.
“Then I’m going in. Turn your head.” She peeled off her sweater to leave no question as to her intent. He looked away, but he couldn’t block the sounds. Wet denim dragging over slim feminine hips, down-soft skin. The drop of a damp bra against the carpeted floor. The whisper of his jacket’s lining as she pulled it on, the rasp of the zipper as she closed the leather around her.
He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to clear his mind of all the static associated with this thing between them. And there was a thing. An attraction of sorts. Something else he’d never permitted to happen while on assignment.
He was slipping.
“I’m ready.”
Indeed.
The real question remained. Was he?
Pushing all other thought aside, Cole emerged from the car, motioned for her to slide out on his side. He reached into the back and retrieved his bag of tricks, then closed the door as noiselessly as possible.
Clark had parked his vehicle in the next alley. The entrance he’d used for accessing the warehouse would be nearby. He wouldn’t leave much distance between himself and his escape route.
With his scanner in hand, Cole pressed against the brick wall as he moved in that direction. The scanner would alert him to any electronic surveillance in time to avoid its net. Angel shadowed his every step and move. She listened well when she wanted to.
For the moment he was glad she hadn’t thought to ask how he’d gotten Clark out of the house back there. She wouldn’t be pleased when she learned he’d had the capability of contacting Clark since he’d disassembled her cell phone and installed a descrambling device. The number Clark used on the next call had been obtainable.
She didn’t have the proper experience to draw upon to enable her to understand how a man like Clark worked. He had to believe he was in control until the end. It was the only way to keep him on track. If he’d gotten spooked he would have changed his method of operation, made some unexpected move. Cole needed him to react based on a well-planned strategy, not his equally well-honed instincts. Clark would merely have killed Mildred Parker and disappeared until he regained the edge he’d had coming into this situation.
Patience was the only way to corner this kind of prey.
But Angel would never understand that.
She hadn’t played this game. Cole had laid a trap and he’d waited.
In this game, the player with the most patience always, always won. No amount of strategizing or skill could outmaneuver a man with unending patience.
The element of surprise belonged to Cole.
The warehouse stood two stories and covered a sizable distance, perhaps a city block. The maze of alleyways and streets that surrounded the warehouses were lined with street lamps. The cover of darkness always worked as an ally. But not tonight. Tonight it was lacking.
He paused at the corner to the alley where Clark had left his four-door sedan.
Cautiously, he edged the scanner around the corner. It surprised him that no exterior electronic surveillance appeared to be in place. Whatever security Clark had in place, it would be inside.
Going in with Angel in tow would be risky at best. He turned to her and attempted once more to dissuade her from continuing.
“I need to go in alone,” he told her bluntly. “There is no exterior surveillance which means it will all be inside. Moving around will be difficult.”
“Forget it,” she said in no uncertain terms. “I’m going in with or without you.”
Cole braced against the rough brick wall, closed his eyes and fought a wave of vertigo. He couldn’t waste energy arguing with her.
“I can’t guarantee I can protect you in there,” he said at last, admitting to his physical weakness. Another first. Bully for him. He felt like an alcoholic on the bottom three treads of the twelve-step plan. Going up was sure to be agonizing but going back down was out of the question.
“How bad is it?”
Well, now he hadn’t expected that question. He opened his eyes and peered down at her. He’d anticipated her protests, even her denial that she needed his protection, but not this too knowing question.
“Not good.”
She moved closer, searched his face. “The pain?”
He smiled but there was no humor in the gesture. “Nothing so simple as that. The pain I can deal with.”
Her hand went to his forehead in the universal temperature-taking touch. “You don’t feel overly warm. Tell me how you feel.”
He drew her hand away, as comforting as her touch proved. “There’s no time for this. The answer is, I felt like hell, but that’s beside the point.”
She shook off his hand and unbuttoned his shirt. She leaned down close to inspect the bandage. “No seepage. That’s good.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He pushed her hands away and buttoned his shirt. “I simply wanted to give you fair warning. I’m not exactly on my best game.”
She harrumphed, an entirely rude sound. “Could have fooled me.”
Then she walked right past him and into the alley.
Cole quickly caught up to her and pulled her back behind him. He put his face in hers. “We do this my way,” he cautioned.
She backed away, offering her hands in a show of surrender.
He glared at her a second more, no longer trusting her seemingly shrinking ways. She’d grown herself a backbone a little too quickly.
The entrance was a steel door with a camera for identifying visitors. That avenue was out.
Cole walked the length of the building along the alleyway. Windows high above the ground, second-floor level he estimated, appeared to be the best possibility, but those would likely be wired to an internal alarm.
A roof access would be preferable.
At the end of the building the alley intersected with another. A ladder-type fire escape scaled the rear of the building’s facade.
Excellent.
Still no detectable surveillance.
The iron ladder leading to the second floor and roof took its toll, but he managed. Once on the roof he slowed a bit to catch his breath.
A series of exhaust fans rose from the tarmaclike flat roof. Two doors, one on each end, offered access to the upper level of the building. Another architectural feature captured his attention and he moved toward it.
In the center of the mammoth roof was an enormous skylight. He approached it warily, uncertain what view would be provided. He kept Angel behind him. Obviously she hadn’t realized his destination or what the pyramidlike structure offered.
A wide-angle, unobstructed view inside.
He crouched near the skylight to study the layout. Angel moved down next to him. The second level spanned the entire perimeter of the building like a narrow mezzanine. A number of doors on that level indicated offices and/or maintenance rooms. The lower level amounted to mostly w
ide-open space stacked three and four high with massive wooden crates. A shipping or main office claimed a portion of the warehouse floor on the far right.
Angel’s gasp let him know she’d spotted Clark.
Clark stood, his back turned to their position, apparently arguing with another man who stood only a few feet away. The man clearly cowing to his boss’s rampage was armed. Another man guarded the entrance Clark had used. No other comrades were readily visible.
Three, not such bad odds.
Clark suddenly stepped to the left and a woman, seated in a chair, her hands bound in front of her, came into view.
“Aunt Mildred.”
Cole reached for Angel, pulled her against his chest. “Be very quiet, very still.”
She nodded.
Clark ranted a while longer then gestured wildly toward the office.
The other man, the one who’d received the brunt of Clark’s rage, pulled Mildred Parker to her feet and ushered her into what looked to be an office.
Clark entered a series of numbers into his cell phone and started to pace.
“Oh my God,” Angel murmured. “He’s probably trying to call us. I don’t even know where the cell phone is.”
Cole knew where it was. In the car. Turned off. But he had no intention of telling her that.
Clark closed his phone and rammed it back into his pocket. He strode toward the office, his movements filled with rage.
“We’re going in now,” Cole told her.
She held on to his shirt, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears. “Do you think he’s going to hurt her now? He knows we’ve tricked him somehow.”
“He won’t hurt her until he knows he has us where he wants us.”
She shook her head. “You told me you couldn’t guarantee that.”
He took her by the shoulders and held her firmly with his hands as well as his eyes. “I know how this man operates. I understand his methods. Trust me.”
She nodded, swiped at her eyes. “Okay. What do we do first?”
He picked up the scanner and tucked it into his bag. “Let’s see what kind of obstacle the door is going to present.”
They moved quietly across the roof to the door at the front of the building. Cole hadn’t had a clean view of what the second level had to offer on the back side. Better the known than the unknown. He checked the door and its locking mechanism for security devices.