“Couple of the tattoos.” The detective pulled out his phone again. “We have a Sergeant in the department who was Army. He spent some time in South America. Says they were likely Venezuelan. Connected.” He glanced at Megan. “Tattoos are often a resume of accomplishments. No need for references when your ink speaks for itself.”
Megan nodded like this was news to her. “Thank you very much for your time. We really appreciate it.”
“Sure.” The detective wandered off, but kept an eye on them while they made their way out.
They headed for the car. Megan said, “So that confirms they were Venezuelan. Probably men brought into this by El Cuervo.” She paused by the driver’s door, even though he was the one with the keys. “I can’t see our homegrown blackmailer hiring outside help. I prefer the idea they were outside his plan, and he cleaned them up. Maybe gone rogue.”
“Like he cleaned up Zimmerman’s house?”
She nodded and leaned back against the door. “He has people on his payroll. But I don’t think it’s the Venezuelans.”
“Could be a loose arrangement, and they went off topic. Or they got the flash drive from us at the hospital. Now they were no longer needed.”
Megan mashed her lips together. She was frustrated, but it kind of made her look cute. She cocked her head to the side. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“If you don’t want me to check your temperature again, don’t ask that question.” He lifted the keys and beeped the lock.
“We hardly have time for that.”
“I didn’t say it was high on our priority list.”
She moved out of the way and rounded the car, sliding into the passenger seat. Adrian got in. He turned into a Chinese fast food drive-through, and they both got lunch. Then he pulled into a space in the parking lot with good visibility of the surrounding area. The last thing he needed was someone getting the jump on them. Or anyone in the restaurant overhearing their conversation.
There had been entirely too many surprises so far. And instances where Megan had been injured.
She stabbed at her honey shrimp, frowning while she ate. “Doesn’t really make any sense, does it?”
“If there was something in that car that could potentially expose our blackmailer, and he made sure it was retrieved or gotten rid of, that means his intention is to remain in the shadows.”
“So he doesn’t want to get caught and possibly has more plans he doesn’t want ruined.”
Adrian nodded. “Right.” He forked orange chicken into his mouth and thought for a minute or so. “If he’s in this for the long haul, then we really have to find him. He can’t go unchecked anymore. He’s ruining lives.”
And the last thing Adrian wanted was for Megan to have caught the blackmailer’s eye, the way Rachel, Alexis and Emma had. She’d been through so much. He would hate to see her get even more hurt over this as well.
His phone rang. The sound came through the car speakers since the engine was still running. He pressed the button on the dash screen. “Walker.”
“It’s Agent Cromwell. Megan there with you?”
“I’m here, Hank,” she said.
“Good. I just got word through a few back channels.” He paused. Megan glanced at Adrian, as though he’d be able to explain it. Hank did that when he had something he didn’t want to admit. Adrian shrugged. He didn’t know what it was related to. Hank said, “We think El Cuervo just landed in the US.”
“How?” Megan barked the word. “Who let him in the country?”
The authorities had his picture, so immigration would be alerted if he showed up. And the man would be immediately arrested.
Hank said, “He used diplomatic papers, and the word I got was that he was disguised. But my contact was sure it was him.”
“Who?”
“El Cuervo,” Hank said.
“No,” Megan said. “Who is your contact?”
“I can’t give you that information, Meg. You know that.”
Adrian hadn’t heard anyone call her “Meg,” except for Hank. And he’d used “Meggie” in the office. One was a chastisement, the other likely designed to get her to relax, maybe get her a little annoyed by the father figure in her life.
Megan sighed. “I need to know if it’s him. He can’t move around unchecked.”
“You can’t kill him.”
“Under the right circumstances,” she said, “I absolutely could.”
Hank said, “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about finding Zimmerman. I told you this because it can’t be a coincidence.”
Adrian figured he was right about that.
This was no coincidence.
Chapter 12
Megan climbed in the back of the SUV and slid across the seat, careful not to jostle her arm too much. Adrian entered behind her and settled on the opposite side. How many places would they fly to this week? She didn’t even like flying.
“How was your trip?”
Her eyebrows lifted. Their contact here in Austin, Texas—was Hank?
He grinned. “You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”
Megan shook her head. “No, sir. I did not.”
Adrian shifted and held out his hand. They shook. “Sir.”
“Walker.”
“So what’s the situation?” she asked.
Hank sat in the front passenger seat, the driver an agent she didn’t know. Hank said, “El Cuervo entered this restaurant two hours ago. One of the local agents did a walk-through and he’s reportedly still enjoying his carne asada.”
“How do we know it’s him?”
Megan was glad Adrian was the one who asked that question. She wanted to know the answer, but didn’t think she could speak now without throwing up. The reality that El Cuervo was so close had settled on her. Inside her. Like a toxic cloud, or some kind of insidious poison.
Adrian reached over and touched her hand. Megan shifted her fingers and grabbed onto his. Her lifeline in the middle of this. She wanted to pray, the way she’d prayed all the way here that Remy would find the connection between everyone involved—a connection that would lead back to the blackmailer. Otherwise, they had little method of discovering who he was.
Now that she’d started praying, it almost felt like she couldn’t stop.
The man behind all this was a master of technology. A master of disguising his own identity behind layer after layer of anonymity. Hiring people to operate on his behalf, folks happy to accept payment and never learn their employer’s identity.
Uncovering his—or her, she supposed—identity was the key to all of it.
And one of the factors that remained an indisputable part of that, was the part El Cuervo played in all this. There was a connection. But how important was it?
Hank looked down at his lap. “We got a picture of him. Do you want to see it?”
Megan really did not. Though she’d only seen him once, and just from the side, he’d seemed an imposing man. Whether that was due to his reputation, or the fact she and Will had been his prisoners, she couldn’t have said.
She swallowed, then reached with her free hand for the phone Hank held out. She looked at the screen. Dark gray suit. Dark hair. Thick, heavy brow. It was the same angle she’d seen him from before, and it wasn’t completely in focus. Taken on the sly, moving fast, by someone who knew they would likely be killed if spotted.
“Was this the man who ordered Will’s death?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Hank lifted a black radio. “All units be advised, suspect has been identified. Stand by.”
Adrian squeezed her hand.
She said, “Are you going in there to pick him up, or will you wait until he leaves?”
“As much as I’d like to know what exactly he’s waiting for,” Hank said, “I’m inclined to interrupt his meal, and snatch him up. We may not get another chance.”
She nodded, hoping he didn’t ask her to join the operation. They likely had enough
agents here. Maybe even local law enforcement backing them up. They didn’t need her, right?
And yeah, she was a total chicken. Or it was straight fear. Though understandable given her trauma, she didn’t like it. Megan had spent her life so far trying to live up to her dad’s legacy. To honor his memory. Here she was, practically shaking, because a man was in a restaurant eating dinner that was no doubt better at home.
Where was her drive to kill him? Apparently when it came down to it, she was all bark and no bite.
Why was he here?
What was Hank waiting for?
Why had El Cuervo left her alive?
The question had been haunting her for years, and she had no more answers now than she did the day she walked into the American embassy in Mexico City, in ragged clothes and covered with Will’s blood.
Megan felt the tears gather and squeezed her eyes shut.
“We move now.” Hank’s voice was solid. Sure. That father figure, determined to protect her. The way she remembered her dad doing when she’d fallen ice skating and broken her arm. He’d stayed up on the couch and watched movies all night with her because she’d been too uncomfortable to sleep with the cast.
“All units, green light. I repeat, green light.”
The car door opened. Then another. Adrian didn’t move, and neither did she.
Megan opened her eyes and saw the driver and Hank had both gotten out. Bullet proof vests. Weapons ready.
They made their way across the lot to the front door of the restaurant. Megan saw other agents head toward the side, to go around the back. They would get in position at all entrances and exits and make sure every way out was covered.
Then, when the signal was given, they would converge.
“You okay?”
She didn’t turn back to Adrian. “Yes.” Did he really want to stay here with her? “You can get a vest and go with them if you want. You don’t have to sit with me.” She didn’t call it babysitting. He knew how she felt about him being here purely to “take care of her.” That wasn’t what this was. She needed his hand holding hers right now. They both knew it.
“I’m fine.”
She knew that.
Megan smiled to the window at her own joke. She opened her mouth to offer him another chance to get in on the action, but a crack like a firework cut her off.
“What…” She tugged on the door handle on a reflex.
“I don’t think—”
Another shot sounded. It didn’t hit the car, though.
All the agents she could see ducked and ran for cover.
She tugged on the door handle. Nothing happened. She tugged again. It was locked. “Hank!” She called his name, and the sound echoed in the car.
Another shot came.
“They’re shooting at the agents.” That didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t think. All she could do was watch, and keep pulling on the handle. Hard enough it would break any moment.
The front.
Megan pulled herself up between the seats with her good hand and then got her legs over the center console.
Adrian pulled on her belt. “We’re protected in here. Hank doesn’t want you in the line of fire.”
“I’m not just going to watch him die.” The words left her mouth in a rush, her stomach sour. Her mouth filled with water, and a sick taste. “I won’t do that again.”
“Then draw your weapon,” Adrian said. “We get out the passenger side, and we hunt the shooter.”
Shots were still coming. Out there, in the glow of streetlights, they could see agents hunkered down all over. She climbed out the passenger door and kept her head low. Leaned against the SUV. When Adrian shut the door, she looked around him.
Found the muzzle flash.
“There.” She pointed high on the building, then counted floors. “Eight. South-west corner.”
“Stay low, and stay behind me.”
Neither of them had vests. Hank and his people were sitting ducks until they flushed out the shooter.
El Cuervo knew they were waiting outside. That was the best explanation her harried mind could come up with right now.
And he’d sent someone to kill law enforcement, before they could take him in.
**
Adrian went first. Using cars and shadows for cover, they made their way to the building where she’d seen the muzzle flash. He’d seen it too, but the absolute terror on her face—and in her voice—was the thing he couldn’t escape or ignore. Megan.
Would she have a day in her life anytime soon where she could live free of all this? Have peace. Not just the small amount she was willing to accept from God right now, but the peace that came from knowing the past was done. Knowing she wasn’t responsible for the evil committed by sinful men.
Did she even want it?
Adrian ducked in the front door. An office. No security guard. Probably no surveillance cameras either. Maybe a cleaning crew.
He found the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor. Longest elevator ride of his life. When the door opened, they heard yet another crack of a shot being fired.
The shooter was determined. Everyone outside was pinned down, taking cover. Still they would watch the exits. And maybe El Cuervo didn’t yet know what was happening outside. Perhaps there would still be the opportunity to catch him.
He prayed there would be.
Adrian wasn’t going to assume the shooter hadn’t heard the elevator ding on this floor. He hugged the wall, then motioned for Megan to stay behind him. She shook her head, that haunted look still in her eyes, then motioned for them both to go together.
Adrian moved. They didn’t have time to argue, whatever the outcome would be. He wasn’t going to win the battle to get her to take cover behind him. Realizing that might save them time, but it didn’t make him feel better. He pushed his feelings aside as they cleared room after room on this floor. Where was the shooter?
Finally he found a room with the window open—some kind of kitchen, or break room. A round table had been dragged to the window. Spent shell casings littered the floor.
But the shooter was gone.
“He stopped firing, at least.”
He nodded. She was right, and it was a good thing. “Let’s check the stairs.”
They cleared the rest of the rooms, in case the shooter was hiding there, and then found the stairs. In the dank stairwell, he stopped. Listened. Below them was the sound of someone taking the stairs at a rapid pace. That staccato patter of feet going faster than the brain said was wise.
Adrian set off down after the person. He stowed his weapon as he ran, figuring he had some time—but not much. He pulled out his phone, dialing with the hand he wasn’t using to keep steady on the downward descent around corners, between floors.
“Cromwell.”
“It’s Walker.” He huffed the words out, descending the stairs rapidly with Megan right behind him, keeping pace like they did this every day. She’d been hit by bullets twice. How was she not even out of breath? “Our shooter is about to exit the stairwell. Need agents there to cut him off.”
“Copy that.”
Adrian hung up, stowed his phone away and pulled his weapon again. They were on the third floor now. Were they too late? Had the shooter already gone outside?
He prayed they didn’t lose him. That he and Megan, or other agents, would see the shooter and catch him.
At the exit door, he pushed the bar still running full speed and launched out into the night. Gun up. He spun both ways and ran right into agents sprinting around the corner.
“Did you see him?” One of them asked.
Adrian shook his head, thankful he didn’t have to explain who he was. He glanced at Megan. “Let’s go see if we can still catch him.”
They took the opposite direction from the agents. The others would have seen the shooter, unless he’d gone this way.
Adrian rounded the corner, his breath coming in heaves. His side starting to hurt. “Think I nee
d an uptick in my cardio.”
Megan huffed out a laugh. They stopped and glanced both ways. Back street. No one around.
Didn’t hear anything. Couldn’t see anything.
“What..?”
He spun to Megan, and saw the look on her face, then immediately glanced the direction she was looking. A beat up old silver Ford pulled onto the street. Tires smoked as it screeched away. No license plate.
“Did you see him?” Adrian asked it even as he moved into the street to watch where it was going. “We can get an APB out. Have local law be on the lookout for the car.”
He walked back over to her, ready to head back and get a situation report. Then he realized she stared at the car still. “Megan.”
She jolted, then glanced at him. “Yes?”
“Explain.”
Her face blanked. Trying to hide something.
“What is this? Did you see the shooter?” She had known he was in the car before the car even pulled out.
She sucked in a breath and lifted her chin. “I didn’t see who it was.” Then she turned away too fast. She set off, making long strides so he had to trot to catch up.
He didn’t believe her.
What reason would she have for lying? He didn’t know. But he did know she had looked straight at his face just then, and she’d lied her pretty little butt off.
Adrian followed her like a whipped puppy dog. He worked his jaw back and forth. He’d thought it was worth it to stick around, make sure she was safe. If Megan was going to lie to him, then maybe not.
His team was hard at work trying to locate Zimmerman and figure out where he would hit next. What was he doing? Babysitting Megan. He could see why she didn’t like it. And he’d even thought he was doing them all a favor. Keeping her guarded, keeping up with what Double Down knew about the blackmailer and Zimmerman. Following up on leads.
Yes, his feelings had been involved. Part of him hoped that eventually she’d let her guard down. Talk to him about Will. Let him in. Maybe something would develop from that, maybe not.
He could hope.
Adrian was still frowning when they got back to the SUV. Hank glanced between them. “You guys okay?”
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