Lost and Found

by Allison Brennan

  “Where did Stone stash the photos? A safe deposit box? A locker? If you have a key, what does it go to?”

  “A lock box.” She bit her tongue and whined. Why was she talking? Her head was Jell-O. Mush. A mess.

  “Where is the lock box?” Matt asked.

  Don’t tell him. What if R.J. didn’t find the key? What if they don’t know what it goes to? What if Gabe doesn’t tell them? What if he runs too? Don’t say anything. Don’t!

  “Tell me!”

  “Old. House.”

  Scarlet wanted to cry. Everything hurt—every joint, every bone, her throbbing head. She could hardly breathe.

  “What old house?”

  “Gabe’s,” she whispered.

  “Where is it in the house?”

  “Garage. Wall.”

  “Does the task force know about me?”

  “N-no.”

  “Diana?”

  “Bitch.”

  He slapped her.

  Hector cleared his throat. “Mr. Hamilton, please let me.”

  “That’s all we need to know.”

  “Sir—”

  “When she dies, no one knows about us, and we’ll keep it that way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He was going to turn on his girlfriend—if Diana was his girlfriend.

  Matt knelt in front of her. He touched her face. Scarlet realized then and there that she didn’t want to die. Well, she had never wanted to die, but she had so much more to do. People to see. People to tell I’m sorry. Krista. John. Alex.

  “I never said yes,” she said and didn’t know why.

  “I know,” Matt said, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “You’re messed up in the head, Scarlet. Blame your mother for every bad thing in your life. But if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re any more capable of loving a man than your mother. You’re a selfish, egotistical bitch. But,” he added, “the sex was absolutely amazing.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Good-bye.” He nodded to Hector. “Give her an overdose and wrap her up. A truck is on its way to haul her body to Vegas.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hector opened a doctor’s bag—he couldn’t possibly be a doctor, she thought—and removed a syringe and unmarked vial.

  There were shouts in the hall and then gunfire.

  Diana ran back in and slammed the doors shut. “Grab her!” she screamed.

  “What the hell?” Matt asked.

  “The police are everywhere. Matthew, what are we going to do?”

  “The basement. The wine cellar has hidden entrance.”

  For the first time, Scarlet heard panic in Matt’s voice. He had truly thought that he was invincible.

  “They must have had someone inside… someone close to you,” Diana accused Matt.

  “This isn’t on me,” Matt said through clenched teeth. “Hector, get her up. We’re taking her with us.”

  “We can’t fight this,” Hector said. “We need to make a deal!”

  Matt took a gun from a holster under his jacket—Scarlet didn’t even know that Matt carried a gun, let alone knew how to use one—and shot Hector in the chest. The man fell to the floor with a thud.

  Matt pulled the IV out of Scarlet’s arm and she screamed out of both pain and surprise. He tore off the rest of the equipment and pulled her from the chair. She staggered and he slapped her with the butt of the gun.

  “Go,” he said to Diana.

  They went out a door on the far side of the room Scarlet hadn’t noticed before. It blended in with floor to ceiling bookshelves.

  “L.A.P.D.!” a voice shouted from the main doors, but by the time Scarlet heard the front door slam open, they were already running down a long, narrow hallway.

  Scarlet tried to pull away from Matt, but he held her close, and she was weak from the drugs and being hit. She suspected she had a concussion, which made it two concussions this year. Why was she even thinking of that? She had to think how to get away from Matt. Just get away and hide…. The police were here; she didn’t need to hide long.

  “We have to get out of here,” Diana said in a panic.

  “Shut up,” Matt said. “Dammit, Diana, get a grip!”

  “You promised when we expanded it would be safe.”

  “You obviously trusted the wrong person,” Scarlet muttered. “Join the club.”

  Diana opened a door that led to a steep down staircase. Into a garage? Surely the police had the house surrounded. Scarlet trusted the police, but already the Vartarians—and Matt—had proven they had people inside L.A.P.D. They had people in the courthouse, and even someone in the FBI according to Matt.

  Scarlet saw movement at the bottom at the same time Matt saw it. Diana didn’t notice. She was focused on balancing on her impossibly tall heels.

  “Police! Stop!”

  Matt pushed Diana down the stairs and shut the door as the woman screamed all the way down.

  If she survived, it would be a miracle, Scarlet thought.

  But Scarlet didn’t think twice. She ran ten feet, then turned into a room and slammed the door.

  It wasn’t a room; there was no lock on the door. A staircase went up. She didn’t wait, but ran up it as fast as she could, nauseous and stumbling. She had to give the cops time to storm the house; she had to find a place to hide.

  Matt was on the stairs behind her; she continued up and opened the door at the top of the stairs.

  A wide hall led to several sets of double doors. Bedrooms? She turned into the closest set of doors, grateful they weren’t locked.

  She closed and locked the door.

  “What?”

  She jumped, not expecting someone to be here with all the shouts downstairs; she realized she could hear nothing. The house had great soundproofing.

  It was a woman in a white pantsuit—no, a nurse’s uniform. A man lay in a hospital bed with machines hooked up as if he were in a state-of-the-art hospital room. The woman was sitting at a desk at the end of the bed, typing on a small computer.

  “The police are everywhere,” Scarlet said. “Matt Hamilton is trying to kill me. I need to hide.”

  “Get out. This man is dying. Get out!”

  Scarlet wasn’t leaving, and Matt was only seconds behind her. She ran past the angry nurse to the far drapes and opened them. They concealed a set of French doors that led to a wide balcony. She fumbled with the lock, but managed to open the door. She couldn’t resist glancing back to the bed.

  Greg Vartarian.

  Vartarian, the patriarch, was dying; by the look of him and the status of the room, he’d been incapacitated for a long, long time.

  Matt was banging on the door and the nurse rushed over to unlock it. Scarlet didn’t look again, but ran out to the balcony and looked quickly around.

  What the hell was she thinking? She was on the second floor. How was she going to get down? The balcony overlooked the backyard… and a swimming pool. But she would have to jump out and down to get away. She could break bones or crack her skull open if she landed on the cement. And her head was still spinning. What if her perception was off?

  She saw SWAT along the periphery, several cops moving around in formation.

  “Help!” she screamed.

  Matt burst through the doors behind her.

  She couldn’t wait. She climbed over the railing and pushed off with all her remaining strength, heading straight for the pool.

  She almost made it. Her ankle hit the edge and she heard a sickening crack as her bone broke.

  But she hit the water. When she surfaced, she heard gun fire, and then nothing.

  Nothing except her racing heart.

  Other than her ankle, she didn’t feel intense pain anywhere, only the aches and pains from being beaten and bruised and slapped around. She was alive. She’d made it out.

  She had no more energy as she floated to the side of the pool using the little arm strength she could muster.

  “We need a medic!” She h
eard someone call out.

  Scarlet hated doctors and hospitals, but this was the one time she wasn’t going to complain.

  Two sets of hands pulled her out of the water and laid her down on the ground.

  “Don’t move,” one of the SWAT guys said. He knelt next to her in a protective stance. “How many inside?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Matt shot one guy, pushed Diana Vartarian down the stairs. I ran. There’s a nurse and invalid upstairs. There could be more. Matt Hamilton—he followed me upstairs.”

  He relayed the information into his com and then said, “We shot at a suspect who was firing on us. He went back inside. We believe he’s injured.”

  She didn’t want anyone else to die. Not even Matt.

  She hoped he survived and spent the rest of his life behind bars. Would serve him right.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Scarlet Moreno.”

  Into his mic, he said, “We have the hostage. I repeat. We have the hostage, Scarlet Moreno. We need a medic stat.”

  Several SWAT team leaders surrounded them. Standard, because they didn’t know who else was there. Who else was hiding.

  Through the mic, she heard a voice. “Get her to the perimeter, STAT.”

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “I think I broke my ankle.” Not to mention coming down from whatever drugs they’d fed her had given her a monster of a headache.

  “Jeffries,” the guy said. His partner came over and between the two of them they hauled her up. She wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders while they each picked up a leg and carried her out. It would have been a lot more fun to be carried away by SWAT if she wasn’t cold, wet, and in pain.

  They left the backyard and walked quickly around the house to the street, where dozens of cop cars and two SWAT vehicles were positioned. The two cops put her down on the ground and up against a vehicle, protected from any potential gunfire from the house.

  “Scarlet!”

  Her brother rushed over. John was decked out in SWAT gear, but flung off his helmet and stared at her. One of the other guys put a blanket over her.

  “We thought you were dead.” He held her for a minute.

  “I’m okay.” At least, she would be. “Alex—they had Alex.”

  “He’s here—somewhere. That phone you tossed over the fence? I knew it was you. We missed you by ten minutes, but we got to Alex in time. And protected our undercover agent.”

  “Who?”

  “I can’t tell you that, not yet, but it’ll all come out soon.”

  “He was at the warehouse.” She thought back. “Jim.”

  John smiled, confirming her suspicion, and then shook his head and pushed her damp hair from her face. “I thought you were dead, sis,” he whispered. “Forgive Alex.”

  “We’ll talk about the secrets later.” She reached for his hand. He squeezed and she tried not to show how much it hurt. “I love you, John. I’m sorry about Matt.”

  “I should be saying the same thing.”

  “He fooled both of us. Is Diana—?”

  “Critical. But they can’t move her until they clear the house and the paramedics can get in.”

  “She’s alive?”

  “The SWAT team medic thinks her back is broken, but she’s alive.”

  “Did they get Matt? Is he dead?” She didn’t want him dead. She wanted him to suffer in prison. She wanted to testify against him, stare him in the eye and tell him he was going to spend the rest of his life locked behind bars.

  “I haven’t heard. The team member that took the shot doesn’t think it was fatal. They’re upstairs now working on getting in, but they have to clear each room.”

  Scarlet said, “Matt was in charge. Greg Vartarian is upstairs, an invalid. I think… hell, I don’t know what to think. Matt and Diana were doing something.”

  “We know what was going on, at least why they didn’t go after Stone.”

  “You got the photos?”

  He nodded. “The photos are only half the story. It’s the names in the book that are important. Richardson is working on warrants right now.”

  “What? What did the names mean? Who was in the photos?”

  Before John could answer, Alex ran over and knelt next to Scarlet.

  “What did he do to you?” He put his hands on her face. “Scarlet? Are you really okay?”

  She nodded. “They drugged me. Questioned me. I broke my ankle escaping.” She glanced at John. “Find out what’s going on?”

  “Don’t move.”

  John got up and strode over to the tactical van.

  Scarlet turned to Alex. “I thought they killed you.”

  “You saved my life.”

  He must have been drugged to, Scarlet thought. “But I put your life at risk!”

  “Babe, I’m a cop. My life is at risk every day. You know that.” He kissed her and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back against his chest. He felt so much better than the hard truck. “You told me to buy time. I had no idea why—but I convinced Miller that I knew where Stone stashed the evidence.”

  She was completely confused. How did Alex even know about the evidence?

  As if sensing her puzzlement, Alex said, “Stone showed up late this morning at your office. He didn’t know you’d been grabbed. He sent his family away and said he wanted to fix things.”

  Scarlet didn’t know what to think about that. “I think Diego was working for them. Something Matt said.”

  “Diego planned to grab Krista, but with R.J. keeping tabs on her, they got the drop on me.” Alex rested his forehead against hers. “Stealing that phone, calling John. Brilliant.”

  “My ex-boyfriend set the whole thing up, Alex. The ambush. All because he thought I read one of his files and saw him with someone. And for the life of me, I have no idea what he thought I saw.”

  “Jury tampering. That’s what Gabe Stone had—the photos were of a law clerk bribing jurors. That’s why Stone didn’t know who was in the picture—they could have been anyone. The names in the notebook were of every juror they’d bribed or blackmailed up until Stone took it. Not just the cases that clerk worked on, but other cases.”

  “And the warehouse—what was that for? It was like they were doing research or something.”

  “Richardson thinks that’s where they investigated prospective jurors to determine who was approachable. They had a wealth of information about a lot of people—not just jurors, but judges, cops, public employees. Anyone who might benefit them in the future.”

  “And Matt—he was involved in all of it.”

  “I’m sorry, Scarlet.” He looked her close in the eyes. “You’re really hurt. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I want to sit here with you.”

  “Honey—”

  “You were working with John.”

  “We should have told you from the beginning.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “I need you to forgive me. I want you in my life, Scarlet.”

  “I want you in my life, too, Alex.”

  “Is that as close as I’m going to get right now to an I love you?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “When I thought you were dead…” What had she said? “I don’t know what love means. I really don’t. I know that sounds stupid, but do you know how many people say they love someone and then cheat on them? Leave them? Walk away from their families? Kill them? I…”

  “I’m not your mother and I sure as hell am not Matt Hamilton.”

  “I know. But what if I am?”

  “You’re plotting to kill me?”

  “No!” She couldn’t explain. No one would understand.

  “Scarlet, I’m not pressuring you. But I’m not letting you walk away or push me away. I’m not letting you convince yourself that this isn’t working. I’m so deeply sorry I kept secrets from you. I hated every minute of
it. But the feds insisted. And I thought if I was involved, I could protect you… but I couldn’t.”

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “I know.” He smiled, a cross between anguish and humor.

  “What I’m trying to say—I don’t have a great track record. I just don’t. But when I thought you were pulling away, when I thought you wanted out of the relationship, at first I said fine, I’ll be okay. But I wasn’t. I was a mess. Because of how I feel about you. When I thought you were dead, I ached in a way I’ve never felt before. When you touch me, when you make love to me, I lose all sense of the world and it’s just us. I’ve never felt like that before. The thought of you walking out physically hurts.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “I’m not perfect.”

  He laughed. “Perfection is overrated.”

  She kissed him. This, right now, was okay. It’s where they were meant to be. Alex understood her in a way no other man had. And maybe, one day, she’d understand what love was, what it meant.

  “Take me home,” she whispered.

  He touched her face and smiled, but there was worry in his eyes. “After a stop at the hospital. Don’t tell me you’re not in pain, and it’s not just because that ankle of yours is broken.”

  “Hospital it is.” She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “Will you come with me?”

  “I’m not leaving your side.”

  Chapter Ten

  Before Scarlet was released from the hospital thirty-six hours later on Thursday morning, she’d given a statement to both the feds and Richardson. Then she and Krista went to visit the witness, Riley Campbell, to thank her. She was still recovering from surgery, but was going to survive.

  Scarlet hated the crutches she had to use, but her ankle was in bad shape. They’d set it into a hard cast and she would be hobbling around for at least six weeks. But a broken ankle was better than being dead.

  “She almost didn’t make it,” Krista said. “There was so much blood, I thought for sure…” Her voice trailed off.

  “You saved her life. Just like you saved mine.”

  Scarlet worried about Krista. She internalized so much. Scarlet talked about the ambush often, and only now recognized how Krista’s face clouded, just a bit, as if remembering that night clearly.