by Pamela Clare
God, she was so full of herself. Celina waited for the men to answer their phones and confirm it was true. Each moved to different sides of the room, nodding and “damn”-ing about the news. Sara, who’d also been watching them, checked her phone. It rang in her hand, her dark-eyed gaze rising to meet Celina’s as if to say she was sorry. She excused herself from the room to take the call, and finally, it was Lana and Celina facing off across the table. Quarters hovered near the back door.
At the sink, Bobby cursed under his breath. “Eliza can pick up Owen on her way home from her friend’s, Coop…nah, it’s okay. She won’t mind.”
A nervous humming started low in Celina’s stomach. Cooper was leaving too? Well, of course. The Beast had to lead the team, and if the team and Sara were all in Mexico, she was a sitting duck.
In actuality, what Lana claimed might be true. Emilio and Valquis might be too busy running for their lives to come after her, but Emilio had friends and minions everywhere. One call and another assassin could be on Celina’s trail. Maybe one already was.
“We should get moving.” Lana said. “Wouldn’t want you to be late for your press conference.”
“You’re taking me?”
Sara filed by, raising a hand in a small wave. “I’m wanted in San Fernando. There’s been a spotting.” She shot a cold glance at Lana, a warmer one at Celina. “Call or text if you need anything.”
Celina tried to control her nerves, now buzzing like bees. “I will. Be careful.”
Thomas hung up and tucked his phone away, looking pained at leaving her. Bobby disconnected his call with Cooper and shook his head.
“I’ll be all right,” she said to all of them. None of them believed her. She straightened her back. “I’m not a rookie any more, and you can’t guard me for the rest of my life. I can handle this.”
A minute later, Thomas and Sara were gone. Bobby pulled her aside. “You don’t have to leave with that bitch. You can stay here with me.”
“And put you and Eliza in danger?” Celina patted his arm. “Thank you, but no. I have to do the press conference in L.A. and see what happens.”
“Cooper doesn’t like it.”
“Cooper doesn’t like anything.”
He started to say something, stopped and shook his head again. “I don’t like it either.”
Lana interrupted, tapping the expensive watch on her wrist. “Tic toc, Agent Davenport. Time to move.”
Leaving Bobby with a hug and a promise to be safe, Celina climbed into the back of the van. The second row seats were utilitarian bucket seats, the windows blacked out. She wondered why Cooper hadn’t called her to tell her about the change in plans. She got why he’d called Bobby, but it would have been nice to hear the news straight from Cooper’s mouth. To hear his voice, period. She could call him, of course. But it didn’t feel right. Not after the way he’d glared at her when she was leaving his place. Besides, he’d be busy preparing to leave for Mexico.
Fighting off the bitterness that threatened, Celina buckled her seat belt and ignored the covert glances Lana shot at her from the passenger seat as they backed out of the drive. Closing her eyes, she recalled Cooper’s face that morning in his bedroom. Felt his lips on hers. Remembered the paths his hands had taken. How gentle his touch had been.
A smile curved her lips and she held those memories close as the van picked up speed.
This is it. No more Miss Nice Guy.
Slipping her good hand under her jacket, she fingered her gun in its holster against her ribcage. It was in the wrong spot for her left hand, but at least she was armed.
Armed or not, she didn’t need Cooper or the SCVC team to protect her. She would go to L.A., do the press conference, and see what resulted with Londano. Lana may have been a bitch, but she was right. Emilio and Valquis were on the run in Mexico. And if they weren’t? She was ready for them.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cooper didn’t like distractions. Wild goose chases even less. SCVC’s latest orders seemed like both.
A targeted manhunt was only successful when the perp was known to be in a certain area. Londano was in Mexico, but where in Mexico? The agents already down there were working with the media and local law enforcement to find a trail – any trail – of Emilio and Valquis. So far, they’d had a dozen different reports sighting one or the other. None in the same location and all from the public. Respectable citizens doing their job to stop a couple of no-good lowlifes.
Except Cooper knew these “respectable citizens” from Tijuana to Mexico City were phoning in reports to throw the Feds off the real trail. Probably every one of them was on Londano’s payroll or had been terrorized by his henchmen.
Sending the entire team down there was pointless until someone had an actual lead, but that’s exactly what he’d been ordered to do. Take his team off protection duty and put them on a plane headed south.
Leaving Celina in Lana’s hands sat like day old chilies in his stomach. Dupé would listen to none of Cooper’s concerns, however. The old man insisted Celina was in capable hands, perfectly safe without the SCVC agents playing bodyguards, and they would proceed with the press conference. One way or the other, the FBI would nail Londano in the next twenty-four hours.
Cooper’s gut niggled with doubt. In his career, there had been plenty of wild goose chases, but this one felt more and more like a distraction. Who was pulling the strings on this? Lana? Dupé? Someone higher up?
Cooper had called five different contacts looking for more info and came up dry. The big wheels in the FBI and DEA were keeping details close to their vests. It smacked of Lana setting up a game behind the scenes, insinuating in the process that someone on his team was leaking information. Back at the hospital, Sara had insinuated the same, but then they’d found the tracking device. He knew his team and knew none of them would betray a fellow agent. But Lana would love nothing better than to prove Cooper was ineffective at his job, and she’d probably do anything to make herself the hero.
He glanced at the clock beside his bed as he shoved a pair of shorts in his open duffel bag. His plane left in forty minutes and a driver was waiting outside to speed him off to the airport. Even if they left this second, they wouldn’t make it in time. But Dupé, or whoever, would make the plane wait.
Instead of finishing his packing, he dialed Dyer again. The man answered on the first ring. “You were right,” Cooper said. “Don’t let her leave until I get there. I need to talk to her.”
“I’m always right, you moron.” Cooper heard the whine of the electric wheelchair in the background. “And you’re too late. Lana and her henchman swooped in and grabbed her before I could put my plan in play.”
“Shit.” Cooper looked up at the ceiling. This day, like the previous ones leading up to it, had gone to hell so fast his head swam. He’d screwed up with Celina and Owen both, shuffling the kid off on Eliza as soon as word came down about the Mexico manhunt. The boy’s eyes had filled with disappointment and hurt…the same look Celina had given him before Thomas had whisked her off. “Tell me you got a tracking device on Lana’s car.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I gotta a bad feeling about what Lana’s up to. I’m going to follow her.”
Computer keys clicked. “Already ahead of you. Lana’s too good for me to sneak a tracking device onto her vehicle, but I got the license plate, make, and model of the van she and Quarters were driving. I’m tracing it via traffic cams right now. I lost them outside of Carlsbad, but picked them up again in Oceanside. Once they hit the freeway alongside Pendleton, I’ll lose them until the webcam in San Clemente.”
“What about Pendleton’s security cameras?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll just break into Pendleton’s secure server and access their cameras along the freeway perimeter, and this time tomorrow, you’ll be visiting me in prison.”
“I’ll bail you out.”
“Comforting. You know they only have a few cameras, and those are at the
access points to the grounds. They won’t pick up much freeway traffic. You need satellite surveillance images.”
“Can you get those?”
“Not in the time frame we’re dealing with. It would take hours for me to hack a government satellite.”
Cooper glanced at the clock again. “I’ll catch up with Celina eventually, but do what you can to keep eyes on that vehicle.”
“I’ll send the picture I snapped of it in the driveway to your phone.”
“Roger that. I’ll check in with you in half an hour or so.”
“You got it.”
They disconnected. Cooper thought about telling the rookie Fed outside waiting for him to take off, but explaining why he wasn’t going to the airport would only start an avalanche of trouble. The rookie would call his boss, who would call Cooper’s boss, and the shit would hit the fan. Arguing would take too much time and he was flat out of that.
Quietly exiting the house from a side door, he stole around back, uncovered his Yamaha motorcycle, and eased her into the alley before he hopped on, gunned the motor, and took off for L.A.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Celina woke with a start, her head canted to the left, and a crick in her neck. Her temples pounded. How had she let herself fall asleep?
Too many days with not enough sleep had finally caught up with her. She rubbed her eyes as the van left the freeway and now bumped over sand dunes, coming to a stop behind a grove of scraggly trees where a red pickup truck waited.
“You sure the Marines won’t use us for target practice?” Quarters asked Lana, amusement in his voice.
Lana glanced at the red truck. “I cleared it with them.”
The overhead sun reflected off the truck’s back window, a sharp glare that hurt Celina’s eyes and blinded her from seeing the driver. “What’s going on?” she asked, sitting forward and squinting.
“Vehicle switch.” Lana unbuckled and reached for the gun holstered under her jacket. She looked over her shoulder at Celina. “Security measure. I asked Agent Someran to meet us here for a quick exchange.”
A man stepped out of the truck. Head down, he walked toward them, a cap on his head, boots on his feet. A sudden gust of wind made him grab his cap to keep it from blowing away.
“Gonna be a tight squeeze with three of us in a pickup.” Quarters shifted the van into park. “Wouldn’t the Bureau spring for something bigger?”
Lana laughed, incredulous. “I won’t be riding in that thing.”
Someran approached and Quarters hit the button to roll down his window. “You’re not going with us to L.A.?”
“Oh, I’m going to L.A., but you’re not.”
Quarters unbuckled and turned slightly toward her. “Why not?”
Someran was at the driver’s side window. Celina caught site of his jawline, nose, and thin lips as he raised his gaze to Quarters’.
Valquis. “Look out!” she yelled as Valquis pointed a large black gun at Quarters’ head.
Celina lunged, shoving Quarters forward just as the gun went off. The noise was deafening; the bullet ripped across the backside of Quarters’ skull, spraying Celina, Lana, and the car with blood. His forehead hit the steering wheel and he went limp. Lana’s gun came up and another earsplitting sound erupted, causing Celina to flinch back.
But Lana didn’t shoot Valquis. She shot the dashboard.
Valquis had disappeared. Celina dropped to the floor in the back of the van, scrambling for the door. There was nowhere to run, except open desert and the freeway. She’d be easy pickings. But, better out there where she had a chance, than trapped inside the van.
In the back of her mind, she knew Lana had misfired. She’d meant to hit Valquis, missed because of the tight quarters and shock.
Or had she?
Didn’t matter. Celina had to get out.
Grabbing the door handle, she jerked hard. Nothing happened. It was locked.
Reaching back, she tried the other handle. Valquis was on that side, but she yanked it anyway. It moved loosely in her hand but didn’t open the door.
Lana tsked from the front seat. Celina glanced up and saw the section chief looking down at her, wiping blood off her face with a tissue. “Child locks. Handy little things when keeping a troublemaker inside the car.”
Oh, god. What the hell was she doing? Celina darted a glance at the driver’s side window, out the front of the windshield, and at the passenger window. No Valquis. She fumbled to unbutton her holster. “Where did he go?”
Lana waved the tissue at the blacked out rear windows and raised her voice, seeming to want him to hear. “He’s outside waiting for you.” Then she smiled and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, “He thinks we’re working together.”
What? Celina’s ears rang from the gunshots. Surely, she hadn’t heard Lana correctly. She got the holster unbuttoned, but couldn’t get the gun out. She needed to remove her jacket.
Lana’s eyes had a scary brightness to them. Her smile was downright deranged. Celina scooted back between the second row’s bucket seats, putting distance between herself and Lana’s gun. “What have you done?” she whispered back.
Lana used the end of her gun to point at her chest. “I flushed him out. Me! Using you as bait. He thinks I’m going to hand you over to him.”
In a flash, everything became clear. “You’re the leak.”
Lana shook her head. “No, unfortunately, I’m not, but I thought the idea was a good one. Work with the enemy to draw him out.” She grinned like they were in agreement about her plan. “Perfect.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Lana shushed her. “Just climb out of the van and do what he says.”
“You think you can take on Valquis alone? You’re crazy.”
“Not crazy.” She tapped her temple with the gun. “Smart. I’m taking this monster down and you’re going to”—
The bullet came out of nowhere, shattering the passenger window, and hitting Lana in the back. She bent forward, a startled expression on her face, pausing for a split second before her eyes rolled up in her head, and she pitched forward. Her gun landed at Celina’s feet.
Valquis’ face appeared in the empty window, his thin lips parting in an evil grin. “Hola, chica. Miss me? Ah, I know you did. We’re going to get reacquainted soon. Take a little drive to see Emilio.”
“I don’t think so,” Celina said and dived for Lana’s gun.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lana’s gun was unfamiliar, but the adrenaline pumping in her veins didn’t care. Gun, hand, trigger.
Good thing she could shoot with either hand. Bad thing, the safety was on.
Flicking off the safety, she scrambled behind the second row seats, raised the gun, and fired at the window.
As always, Valquis was a step ahead of her. Her shot hit nothing, flying out the window and into the desert.
Celina resumed her cover behind the seat. Valquis wouldn’t shoot her. Hurt her, yes, but she was sure his orders were to take her to Emilio. Shooting her would be too messy. He’d smack her around, knock her out, tie her up. Easier to transport.
Trapped in a van. A killer outside. No one knew where she was.
Call Cooper.
Retrieving her phone, however, would mean putting down the gun. No way was she doing that.
“Come on, chica. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Valquis’ voice came from the area around the rear right panel of the van. He was taunting her. He couldn’t see in, but if she squinted, she could make out his form through the dark windows.
She raised the gun, aimed.
The shadow moved, disappeared.
Keeping the gun trained on the general vicinity of the rear windows, she used her bandaged hand to grope for her phone. Her wrist was immovable, but her fingers landed on the cool plastic of the cover and she breathed a sigh of relief. The damn wrist splint limited her hand’s ability to grip anything, though, and the phone slipped through her han
d and dropped to the floor of the van.
The air in the van was hot and sticky. Sweat trickled between her breasts. Distant car noises drifted in through the open window. Camp Pendleton seemed like the ideal place to find help, but the base covered over a hundred-thousand acres of Southern California terrain. Acres of nothing but desert, scrub trees, and hot sunshine beating down on her.
The freeway and its traffic was a better bet. If she could get to the freeway, she could get help.
Or I can end this. Right here, right now.
Making up her mind, she firmed her hold on the gun. “I’m coming out!” she yelled. “Don’t shoot.”
Cooper gunned the bike on the freeway, didn’t slow down through Oceanside, weaving in and out of cars, scaring pedestrians and picking up a patrol car in the process. He had to get to Celina. Never should have let her leave his house without him.
Another patrol car joined the chase, but after a minute, Cooper realized they weren’t trying to pull him over, just keep up with him. Dyer had come through, no doubt, calling the locals for backup in case Cooper needed them.
He hoped he didn’t. He hoped he’d have to apologize and get his ass kicked by Kipfer and Dupé for causing trouble. He hoped he was totally wrong about Lana.
When had he ever been wrong about her?
Swearing into the wind, he revved the motorcycle’s engine even harder.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The side van door would slide open; the back ones would swing outward. Choices, choices.
Celina slid over to the back double doors. If she could make a claw with her injured hand, she could ease it open without having to lower her gun…
“Throw out your gun first, chica,” Valquis commanded.
What would he do if she didn’t comply? If she just stepped out, gun in hand, and confronted him face-to-face?
She jerked on the handle, ready to do just that. The door wouldn’t budge.