“You knew she was going to Peoria?”
“I suspected,” John said. “But truly, I thought it would be the safest place for her in the short term, because we have intelligence that something is going down soon. I didn’t—couldn’t—have known that they could get to her on the road.”
John nodded to Krista. “Oliver Mitchell Miller is on the run. We have a warrant out for his arrest thanks to you, Krista.”
Her stomach flipped. “Thanks to Riley Campbell, you mean. She’s still in serious condition.”
“But she’s stable. She’s young and healthy and going to pull through,” R.J. reminded her. “And she’s helping with the sketches.”
She nodded and tried to forget all the blood.
“I have to find Scarlet,” John said.
“You and me both,” Alex said.
R.J. said, “Moreno, you go with Stone to his old house. Call in your people, keep this legit. Stone has evidence, and none of us want any of these bastards to slip through the system. Bishop comes with us. I’m not letting Krista out of my sight.” He glanced at Alex. “No offense, Bishop.”
#
Krista walked into Diego’s Bar flanked by Alex and R.J. They hadn’t spoken the entire drive over, and she didn’t know if they were angry with each other or simply thinking about their next move to find Scarlet.
“Krista—” Diego looked surprised to see R.J. and Alex with her. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Scarlet is missing,” Krista said quietly. “Did you call the police?”
He looked confused. “Missing?”
“Long story. I need to see her apartment.”
“Go ahead, they busted the lock.”
“How did they get in? You have an alarm, cameras?”
“The cameras have been on the fritz, they’re mostly for show. Someone knew the alarm code, that’s all I can figure. It didn’t go off. Isaac is more tech savvy than me, said someone came in at three-ten in the morning. They didn’t reset the alarm when they left.”
“And you’re sure you set it?” Krista asked.
Diego became angry. “Of course I’m sure. This is my business, Krista. I don’t forget things like setting the damn alarm.”
“We’ll need a list of everyone who has the code,” R.J. said.
“I’ll give everything to the police,” Diego said.
“Are you forgetting?” Alex said, his tone laced with irritation. “I am the police. Did you do an inventory? Anything missing from the store room? Register?”
“No. Like I said, only Scarlet’s place was touched.”
Alex said to Krista, “I’m going to call Hank and see who’s assigned to the break-in.” He stepped outside.
R.J. followed Krista upstairs. “Diego is acting off,” R.J. said.
“His business was robbed.”
“No, not his business—Scarlet’s apartment.”
“What are you saying?”
But R.J. didn’t answer that question. Instead, he looked around at Scarlet’s apartment and said, “Someone was very angry.”
They stood just inside the threshold and stared at the destruction. Everything had been broken that could be broken. Dishes and cups. Scarlet’s computer. All the food had been pulled out of the refrigerator. Her bed had been cut open, the furniture overturned, her clothing torn. Overkill. Someone was definitely on a rampage. It looked personal.
Scarlet had everything on the Vartarians and the investigation into the ambush posted on the wall of her over-sized closet. The closet had been stripped bare. Someone had taken down her boards, her notes, her files. They hadn’t been destroyed in the wreckage that had been her apartment; all her evidence and notes were gone.
“Don’t touch anything,” Krista said, though she didn’t have warn R.J. “We have to get N.B.P.D. crime scene up here. There could be prints, something—”
“These people are professionals, babe. They aren’t going to leave prints.”
“They didn’t act professional breaking her coffee mugs. Scarlet is going to be pissed off her collection of Starbucks coffee mugs was smashed.”
Krista frowned, looked around again, this time searching for the threat. “Diego said there was a threat. I don’t see anything.” She slipped on gloves and walked through the studio. “Maybe it was a letter—dammit, Diego should know better than to have touched anything.”
“What exactly did he say on the phone?”
“Painted on the wall,” she muttered. She looked at the walls. There was nothing.
“Shit,” R.J. said. He pulled his gun and ran downstairs. Krista was right behind him.
Diego wasn’t there. Isaac stared at them as if they were crazy. “Where’s Diego?” R.J. demanded.
“He went out to talk to Scarlet’s boyfriend.”
Krista ran outside, two steps ahead of R.J. He stepped in front of her as soon as they went through the door.
Alex wasn’t there. Neither was Diego. They ran around to the alley. Empty.
“Diego set you up,” R.J. said.
Krista didn’t want to believe it. “Maybe it wasn’t me—”
“He called you. He asked you to come here. He planned on grabbing you.”
“Then why take Alex?” Krista asked.
But R.J. didn’t need to answer. Krista knew why. Leverage. To get Scarlet to talk. If Diego couldn’t grab Krista, he would take someone else Scarlet cared about.
“Why not just kill her, R.J.? Keeping her around, knowing that her brother is a cop, knowing that she’s been investigating them for months—why not just kill her now?”
Krista shuddered and R.J. put his arm around her. “Damage control,” he said. “They’re trying to regroup, figure out who’s been compromised, and they’ll cut that person—those people—loose.”
Cut them loose? R.J. knew, like Krista, that anyone who was a threat to the Vartarian criminal organization would be killed.
R.J. took out his phone.
“Who are you calling? Newport P.D.?”
He shook his head. “John. Gabe Stone had better have something good, or we’re back to square one.”
Chapter Eight
Scarlet didn’t know how much time she had once she slipped the cuffs, or how many people were in the warehouse. The three civilians—for lack of a better word—had left; Matt, Jim and Ray were still around. There could be others patrolling, but Scarlet had no way of knowing while she was stuck in this windowless room.
As soon as they were satisfied that she told them everything she knew—or everything she was willing to share—Matt would put a bullet in her head.
Matt. The man she had once planned to marry. The man she’d thought she’d loved.
Scarlet considered her options. She could tell Matt about the photo—but that might put Gabe’s family at risk. She didn’t care about Gabe—he’d created this mess—but she didn’t want Sherry or the kids to get hurt.
Matt’s people had gone through her things; they knew everything she’s learned, all her evidence and theories. Almost everything. They didn’t know about the key or that it would lead to the evidence Gabe had on the organization. Would R.J. understand her message? Would he find the key? Would he realize it came from Gabe? Call him, find out where it went?
A lot of what ifs. A lot of what ifs that had to be answered in a very short time period.
Escape was her only option. Find help, call John, tell him that Matt Hamilton had kidnapped her and locked her up. She had no proof about the Vartarian involvement, except for what Matt had said. And Christina Vartarian showing up her and threatening her. But Matt would never last in prison—he’d cut a deal. If they could get to him, John could make him talk. Matt might ask for the sun, moon and stars in a plea deal, but he would talk eventually.
Of course, that was predicated on Scarlet escaping and then the police and feds finding Matt before he fled the country.
Scarlet crossed over to the door and listened. She didn’t hear anything. The doors were cheap
wood, so she should be able to hear something. She tried the knob. Locked. She tried again.
She heard a door slam from inside the warehouse. Footsteps coming toward her. She stepped away from the door the moment before someone flung it open.
It wasn’t Matt.
“You bitch!”
Mitch Miller. He’d been a cop years ago, left under a cloud of suspicion. Was he, too, working for Armor? Scarlet hadn’t seen his name anywhere until Krista left her that message last night asking what she knew about him. Krista must have uncovered something important other than finding the witness. Something about Mitch Miller.
“You just don’t die, do you, Moreno?” Miller continued. He stepped inside. She stepped back. Instincts had her looking around him for help. For an escape route. The rage in Miller’s eyes was violent; he would kill her then and there, she had no doubt.
“No one is here to save you. You have one last chance to tell us everything we want to know, or I will get it out of you the hard way. And have a hell of a lot of fun doing it.”
“You know everything. There’s my notebook.” She waved toward the table. “That’s all I know.”
“You know who the spy is. I know you do. You’ve been snooping and playing Nancy Drew with your pretty little partner. Tell me who it is now or so help me you’ll beg to die.”
“Oh, you mean you?” She sounded much stronger than she felt.
He hit her. It happened so fast that before she realized it, she was on the filthy concrete floor, blood dripping from her mouth, and two teeth that felt very loose.
Scarlet didn’t have time to be scared. She scrambled up, shook the pain out of her head. Didn’t do much good—she spit blood onto the floor. “You know this can’t work. I’m not the only one who’s onto you. Are you going to take out every cop and federal agent in L.A.? My brother’s a cop. My dad’s a cop. Do you think they’re going to rest when I turn up missing? They’re already looking for me.”
She’d saw a moment of doubt in Miller’s expression—he knew damn well that if she died there would be people who’d set out to uncover every crime Armor Plus was involved with. The organization wasn’t going to walk away unscathed. So what did they really want?
“You want to cut your losses,” she said suddenly as the pieces started to fall into place. “Find out what the cops know, if they have anyone in your organization, who they might have turned, who’s sleeping with whom.” She laughed. No, it wasn’t funny, but now that it was clear, she had to let out some tension. “Plug the holes, hide in the bunker, wait until this all blows over.”
“This is bigger than you can even imagine, Moreno. You cut off an arm, it’ll grow back.”
“Not if I cut off the head.”
Now Miller laughed. “You’re assuming that there’s only one head.”
“There’s always a fatal blow to be had, and I will find it.”
“You’ll be dead. And so will your cute little partner.”
Scarlet’s heart raced. Krista. She was protected. She had to be. R.J. wouldn’t let anything happen to her—he’d die first.
And Miller would have no qualms about killing him. But R.J. wouldn’t go down easy, and she was counting on that.
You’re going to owe him one. If Krista survives, it’s because of R.J. Flynn.
“Talk.”
“Fuck you.”
He made a move to hit her again, but she was ready for it. She spun around and pushed the table over. Her belongings scattered across the floor. Miller came forward, kicking the metal table out of the way. She slowly circled, egging him on, and he didn’t catch on to her plan. In seconds she was closer to the door than he was. She whipped the handcuffs out of her pocket and threw them at his face. They wouldn’t hurt or stop him, but a moment of rage was all she needed, and he gave her that. He lunged for her and she kneed him hard in the balls, then pounded his head against the fallen table while reaching into his pocket. The momentary pain paralyzed him.
She pulled open the door and ran toward the back, toward the exit the three civilians had used. Her whole body ached, but survival instincts kicked in and she ignored the pain and shouts behind her. She didn’t look, didn’t think, just ran.
Surprisingly, the door opened as soon as she pushed. The light momentarily stunned her, but the afternoon was overcast and she quickly adjusted.
Escape wasn’t her primary goal. Sure, it would be nice to escape, but she figured she couldn’t get out of the fence. She just needed thirty seconds.
She’d picked Miller’s pocket when she kneed him and immediately sent John a text message.
Trace call - S
Then she dialed John’s cell phone and ran along the back of the building looking for a place to hide the phone. There was nothing but weeds. She slipped the phone through the fence and prayed the call went through, that John understood her message, that he would be able to trace the call before Miller figured out she’d grabbed his phone.
She ran around the building and saw several men searching for her, but she froze and made no attempt to hide. In the middle of the broken concrete parking lot were two men, neither of them moving. One was Matt Hamilton, her former fiancé. He held a gun.
The other man was on his knees, the gun aimed at the back of his head.
Alex.
She couldn’t speak. She hadn’t been expecting this. Another victim.
Matt scowled at her. “The time for games are over, Scarlet.”
“Don’t,” she begged.
“Dammit, Scarlet!” Matt said. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”
Alex’s eyes widened and he looked over her shoulder. “Watch out!”
Scarlet pivoted barely in time to prevent the worst of the blow from Mitch Miller as he barreled toward her and took her down to the pavement.
She couldn’t defend herself, but managed to pull her arms up to protect her face as Miller’s fist came crashing down at her.
“Miller!” Matt screamed, but Scarlet felt another punch, this one to her gut. It took her breath away and she couldn’t move. Pain radiated throughout her entire body.
Then he was off her. The world spun. She saw two men pushing Miller away.
She didn’t even try to get up. She focused on breathing.
Matt came over, dragging Alex with him. “Curiosity killed the cat, Scarlet.”
“Let him go,” she whispered.
Alex reached for her, but Matt pulled him back.
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Scarlet said.
Buy time.
Matt motioned for the two men to get Scarlet. “Mitch, take care of Detective Bishop.”
“No!” Scarlet said.
“Painlessly,” Matt added.
God, this can’t be happening!
“If you hurt him, I won’t say a word.”
“Scarlet.” Matt smiled and squatted so he could look her in the eye. “I’m an ADA. You think I can let a cop—that I can let anyone—walk away after seeing my face? You’re not that stupid. I need information, but honestly, if you don’t give it to me, I’ll find it out anyway. And I’ll kill John. I don’t want to, but I will. Slowly. Painfully. Until he curses your name and wishes he’d never been born. This is your fault, darling. If you’d just let it go, did your little skip traces and shooting photos of cheating spouses doing the dirty down in Orange County, your boyfriend here wouldn’t be dead. You wouldn’t be dead. You have no leverage. None. I have the power, Scarlet.”
“Let me say good-bye.”
She didn’t expect Matt to agree, but she saw something in his eyes—regret? Guilt? Confusion? And when he didn’t stop her, she pulled herself up, pain and all, and hugged Alex. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear.
He kissed her. She winced and the pain and worry in Alex’s eyes made her regret everything—not trusting him, not telling him her plans, dragging him into this mess.
He said, “You’re hurt.”
“Just sore.”
Alex whispered, “I’ve been working for John and Kyle since before Thanksgiving. That’s why I was avoiding you, I couldn’t talk about it and I hated lying to you. I love you, Scarlet. I meant it when I told you before, and I mean it now.”
Her voice cracked. “How can you care about me at all when you’re in this mess because of me?” She couldn’t say dead. She couldn’t think of Alex dying because of her obsession with this investigation. Her obsession with the truth.
“I know you love me, Scarlet. You just can’t say it.”
“They’re done,” Matt said. “Take her.”
“No, no!” Alex said, holding Scarlet so tight she thought her arm was going to break.
“It’s okay.” She kissed Alex for what she feared would be the last time. Her eyes watered. She wasn’t going to let him see her cry. She whispered, “Buy time.”
Two men grabbed Scarlet and pulled her away from Alex.
“Hamilton, don’t do this,” Alex said. “Don’t hurt her!”
“She was dead the minute she answered the call from good old Jason Jones.”
This went back to Jason and Mercer’s failed attempt to frame him. Because she’d cleared a cop’s name? Or because she’d taken out part of their team?
Maybe both.
He nodded to his men who half-carried, half-dragged Scarlet to a limo. They put her in the trunk. Matt walked over and grabbed her wrist. He had a needle and before she could pull away, he punched it into her arm.
“I will haunt you for the rest of your miserable life,” Scarlet said. Her tongue was already beginning to feel thick and her body tingled.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Matt said.
The last thing she saw before Matt slammed the lid shut was Mitch Miller punching Alex in the jaw when he tried to run after her.
And Alex wasn’t moving.
Chapter Nine
Scarlet’s head ached, her body was numb, she felt nauseous, and she had no idea how much time had passed. She tried to open her eyes and realized they were open, but everything looked either light or dark. She blinked a few times and while her vision was blurry, it was getting better. Now she saw shapes and sizes and a brighter light. A window? She moaned, heard nothing around her. No voices. No traffic. Where was she?
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