Jack jogged to the car and peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. He didn't want to think about how Tess was going to take this. He knew already that she'd blame herself for Gil's involvement. He prayed she didn't get her hands on a paper in the next twenty-four hours.
As he merged onto the Harbor Freeway, he gripped the wheel tighter, thinking of how they'd left things this morning. The sick feeling he'd had in his gut still lingered. She hadn't made it easy for him. He'd known she wouldn't. That's who she was – strong, smart and independent. Those same qualities that drew him to her made leaving a messy business, and it was easier, somehow, to let her think that he'd used her than to reveal the truth – that he'd never let a woman come as close to his heart as Tess had managed to get. The fact that he'd even thought twice about what he had to do now proved that he'd let her get too close. He couldn't afford to go soft in the real world – it would likely kill him.
But as he fought the rush-hour traffic, moving in and out of lanes for optimum position, he allowed himself to think of her and imagine what it would have been like if he were a different sort of man.
* * *
Chapter 16
«^»
The elevator doors swished closed behind Jack as he strode down the hospital corridor. A rush of activity, like a river current, moved past him as he searched the room numbers for the one he'd been told was occupied by Gil. His stride slowed as he spotted the cop posted at the doorway up ahead. Gil's room, no doubt. He should have guessed they'd post a guard. Anyone with brains could figure out that the accident had been no accident and that Gil's life was still at risk.
Jack stopped at a pay phone and turned away from the guard, whose glance had just traveled in his direction. What were the odds that this cop was familiar with the APB that they'd put out on him last week? Low, he decided. This guy was a beat cop, maybe pulled in off traffic to guard over Gil. Jack had always been a gambler and that's exactly what he was about to do here. If he lost, he lost the whole damn pot. If he won…
He caught his reflection in the silver plate on the front of the pay phone. Damn. He looked like he'd just been in a car wreck himself. He touched his busted lip gingerly and smoothed a finger over the cut near his eye. With a shake of his head, he gave a grim smile. Well, he thought, here goes nothing.
Jack turned and walked to the nurses' station, toward a pretty brown-haired woman who was doing paperwork. After folding a metal chart and sliding it into a holder, she looked up at him, taking in the bruises on his face. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here to see Gil Castillano."
"Oh, the detective. I'm sorry, but only family members are allowed to—"
"I'm his brother," he said without the flicker of an eyelash. He waited a beat, taking in the frown in her expression.
"His brother? He didn't say anything about–"
"If you could just tell him I'm here? Tell him Jack's here."
"Jack," she repeated. Her eyes took one more quick perusal of him before she smiled briefly and headed down to Gil's room. "All right."
Interminable minutes ticked by as Jack waited. The activity in the corridor stepped up as a new patient was rolled out of the elevator, surrounded by a half-dozen clinging family members.
"Mr. Castillano?"
Jack jumped slightly at the sound of the nurse's voice beside him.
"Your brother will see you now."
Jack nodded tightly. "Thanks." The nurse must have cleared Jack with the guard at Gil's door, because he gave him little more than a nod as Jack passed him.
Gil's eyes were closed when he pushed open the door, and Jack took a moment to study him. He didn't know what he'd expected Gil to look like, but he'd certainly hoped for less. The picture in the paper didn't capture the strength of his features or the handsome, boyish quality to his face. Jealousy shot through him as he thought of the affection in Tess's voice when she spoke about him. And he wondered suddenly why she'd overlooked Gil when it came to something more than friendship.
The detective had taken a pretty good hit from the looks of him, with his arm bound up in plaster, and bruises from head to toe. An abrasion down the side of his face contrasted with the pallor of his skin. Healthy, Gil Castillano would be a formidable opponent. In a hospital bed, he looked only slightly less dangerous.
Gil's eyes opened as Jack moved into the room, and he knew instantly the jealousy he felt was justified. From beneath the bandage on his forehead, Gil's dark eyes perused him with suspicion and something closer to murderous intent.
"Where's Tess, Brother Jack?" His voice was gravelly from disuse.
"She's safe. Far away from here."
"Where exactly?"
"A little place east of here called the Travelin' Style Motel. A friend of mine is with her. He won't let anything happen to her."
Gil glared at him. "I should kill you myself for getting her involved in this."
"Better get at the end of the line. But for what it's worth, I wish things could've gone down differently. Especially for Tess."
Gil leaned his head back against the pillows with a tethered expression. "Suppose you tell me why you're here."
"My reasons for being here are remarkably similar to yours. Because we both know something we're not supposed to. And because Tess told me I could trust you."
A small, sardonic laugh escaped him. "She did. Well." He sighed, staring at the ceiling. "That's just like her, knowing that I'd like to personally bury you."
"So, was she wrong?"
Pinning him with a look Jack suspected he'd honed interrogating murderers, he said, "I would never do anything that would put Tess in danger."
Jack smiled thinly. "That is a relief. Speaking strictly as the Antichrist, I'd say she's lucky to have at least one saint in her corner."
Gil's mouth twisted with a grudging smile. "Okay, so maybe I came on a little strong. But it doesn't change the fact that you've put Tess right in the middle of something very ugly."
With a sigh, he said, "If I'd had the choice, I definitely would've chosen another place to be that night than Angelo Canyon. As it happened, that decision was taken out of my hands. And Tess, being the woman she is, put herself on the line for me."
"She in love with you?"
Jack dropped his gaze to his hands and didn't reply.
"I guess I don't have to ask if the feeling is mutual. She's a remarkable girl. You'd have to be a goddamned idiot not to love her. But then, you may be a goddamned idiot."
"I didn't come here to talk about Tess," Jack said. "What did you come here to talk about, Jack – or whatever your name is?"
"It's Ian. Ian McClaine. Lieutenant Colonel, U.S. Navy SEALS." He glanced at the closed door. "I want an information exchange. I tell you mine, you tell me yours. And maybe together we have a whole friggin' pie."
Gil nodded tightly. "You first."
Jack pulled a chair up to the bed and proceeded to tell him the story of Joe's murder and what he'd learned since. As the details of what they'd done to him that night came out, the murderous look in Gil's eyes faded slightly.
"I'd already figured out that Rodriguez and MacAvoy were involved," Gil stated when Jack was done. "I did some checking after Tess told me about the two cops at the hospital that night. Turns out those two clowns have gotten a little careless. I lifted several prints off a bugging device I found in my home, and ran them through the computers. Naturally, everyone on the job has fingerprints on file, more for elimination at crime scenes than for criminal investigation purposes. But these were pretty and clear. And undeniably MacAvoy's. After I connected that, it was a matter of checking rosters and schedules to connect the two of them together on both the day of your shooting and that of several others, including Ramon Saldovar's."
Gil shifted uncomfortably on the bed and Jack handed him the glass of water from the nightstand. Sucking through the green straw, Gil leaned back in frustration against the pillows. "The bastards didn't do me themselves, though. I s
aw the guy for a second as I made acquaintance with the windshield, but I didn't recognize him. As far as the guy at the top, I've screened eighty percent of the brass at Westside and Santa Monica. But I'm not ready to go forward with it until I'm closer than that." His fist balled atop his thigh. "You say there's audio and video proof on that floppy?" Jack nodded. "Where is it?"
"Safe." Jack regarded him evenly. "If anything happens to me tonight, it'll find its way to a certain senator's desk. You're already in deep enough."
"My point exactly. I'm slogging in it. Which is why you need me."
Jack's deliberate and meaningful perusal of Gil said everything.
"Okay, so maybe I'm not running triathlons. But that doesn't mean—"
"Who do you trust?"
"Tonight?" he asked, glaring at the cast on his arm. "Nobody. I can't give you any absolutes. Only educated hunches. And I wouldn't bet my life on those. I'm your only man."
A nurse whose name tag read Summers waltzed into the room with a smile and headed for his IV. "And how are we feeling, Detective?"
"Oh," Gil said, "we're just peachy. Aren't we, Jack?" Jack smiled, watching the nurse adjust his drip. "Time to take your temperature," she said, poking a digital thermometer in his mouth before he could protest.
He yanked it back out. "Hey, could we have a moment here? We were right in the middle of a—"
She reinserted it. "I have schedules to keep, Mr. Castillano. It's very important that we get regular readings of your vitals. Keep that in." She turned to Jack, pulling a slip of paper from her pocket. "Oh, and I almost forgot. This was just called in for you at the desk."
The blood siphoned from his face. "For me?" No one knew he was here. No one.
"Your name is McClaine, isn't it? They described you right down to the shirt you're wearing—"
A sick feeling scratched the back of his throat as he grabbed the note from her. There was nothing but a phone number written on it. His eyes cut to Gil, who was dragging the thermometer out of his mouth again.
Jack shoved himself to his feet, grabbing the surprised nurse's arm. "Who called this in?"
"Well, that's what was so odd," she said. "The man must have been her husband, with same name and all. But he asked for you."
"Whose husband?" Jack and Gil said in unison.
"Well, that nice Dr. Gordon who came to see you earlier."
"What?" they both practically shouted.
"Y-you must have been asleep," Nurse Summers stammered, staring at them both as if they'd lost their minds. "She – she wasn't here long. She must have left with those two detectives I saw her with."
Jack blew out a quick succession of breaths and grabbed the phone beside Gil's bed. He punched in the number on the slip of paper.
"Is everything all right?" Nurse Summers asked.
"Would you excuse us for a minute, Nurse?" Gil asked sharply. "This is police business."
"Oh. Well. Certainly. But I'll be back," she admonished on her way out the door.
The voice that answered on the other end was a man's. "Nice of you to call, McClaine," he said without preamble.
"Who is this?" Jack demanded.
"That's not the important thing. I think you know what the important thing is. You've got the disk, we've got the woman."
His suddenly clammy fingers tightened around the receiver. "You're a goddamned liar."
"Am I? Maybe you should check where you left her. You have this habit of misplacing things."
The bones in his legs went soft. "You son of a—"
"Now, now, no need to get all excited. We can resolve this whole thing with a simple exchange. The disk for the woman. The warehouse at Pier 49 in San Pedro. Tonight. Nine o'clock. Come alone, McClaine, or all bets are off."
Jack shot a look at his watch: it was 7:45. "Nine! That barely gives me enough time to—"
The phone buzzed in his ear.
Dammit! In traffic, it would take him almost an hour just to get back there. And he needed to get to the floppy. He stabbed at the buttons again.
"What?" Gil demanded. "What is it?"
Seth answered his cell phone on the first ring. "Ian?"
"Is she there, Seth?"
"Hell no, she's not. She hasn't been there. The guy in the office said she left around noon after some rental outfit delivered a car to her. I waited for two hours for you to call, then I left. I'm on the I-10 just past downtown. Where the hell are you?"
Jack leaned against the wall with a curse.
"Ian?"
"They've got her, Seth." He slammed his fist against the wall.
"They've what?" Gil cried.
"Where are you now?" Seth's voice rang with panic. "I'm going in with you."
"I have to do this alone. They said they'd kill her if I didn't come alone."
"What?" Gil cried again, throwing off his covers.
"She's dead anyway," Seth told him. "You know that, Ian. They can't let either one of you go."
Cold fear puddled in Jack's gut. Of course, Seth was right. They had no intention of letting her go. And there wasn't a prayer in hell he would survive it, either. "Maybe so," he told Seth, "but I have to try."
"Who is that?" Gil demanded. "Who are you talking to? For crissakes, Jack, talk to me!"
Jack's gaze cut to Gil, who was struggling out of bed, clearly fighting dizziness. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What do you think?" he asked, ripping the IV out of his arm. "I'm coming with you."
He straight-armed him back down. "No, you're not. Nobody's coming with me!"
"Ian?" Seth shouted, from his end of the phone. "Who are you with?"
"Another casualty of this whole mess," Jack said, warning Gil with a look. "A cop friend of Tess's, here at University Hospital, thanks to his friends in blue. Look, I gotta go."
"Think, Ian. This isn't a one-man op. Hey, pal, we've done this many times together. You need me. We're a team, remember? Tell me where you're going."
Jack rubbed the ache stabbing him between his eyes. "We were a team. You got a kid on the way, remember? What's the point of both of us dying?"
"Ian, dammit to hell! They're not gonna need to kill you, 'cause I'm gonna do it if you don't tell me where you're going!"
Jack knew he would regret answering. "A warehouse in San Pedro. Pier 49. I can't wait for you, Seth. I'm going alone."
"Don't go in before I get there, dammit!"
"I gotta go, PB."
"Ian—!"
Jack lowered the phone onto its cradle.
Gil watched him from the edge of his bed. "He's right, you know. They're gonna kill her. And you, too."
Jack felt his throat closing up. "Not if I can help it."
Gil snatched up the phone and started dialing. Jack slammed his hand down on the button, cutting him off. "What are you doing?"
"I'm a cop, Jack. Let me call for backup."
"You show up with a squad of men and we're just as dead – only quicker."
"You got a better idea?"
Jack glared at the phone. "Maybe. Maybe I do." He turned back to Gil. "But I'll need a few things. Specialty items. Can you hook me up?"
A grim smile spread across Gil's mouth. "Do fire trucks have ladders?"
* * *
Tess tugged at the ropes chafing her wrists and tried to roll the stiffness out of her shoulders. The smell of ammonia and cleaning fluids was making her dizzy and nauseous. It felt like days since they'd left her lying in this dark closet of a room, hog-tied like a piece of meat. It couldn't have been more than hours, but how many was impossible to say. The cavernous warehouse MacAvoy and Rodriguez brought her to might as well have been a cave for all the daylight it let in. She guessed the sun was down by now.
A shiver of fear worked its way through her. There was no doubt in her mind that they intended to kill her. Nor was there any doubt why they'd brought her here. She was a pawn. They would use her to get Jack and the disk. It made perfect sense, and she'd walked right into it. Like a fool.
He'd told her to stay there. It was all her fault. If she'd only listened to him.
But it was useless to speculate. They'd forced her out of the hospital at gunpoint. If she'd put up a fight, innocent people would have been hurt. The two detectives had little to lose at this point. They were like wild foxes, scrambling madly to cover their trail with the hounds hard on their heels. Now she had to think of a way out before Jack walked into this to rescue her. And she knew he would, as surely as she knew that, outside, the moon had risen over the water. He would come and then they would kill them both.
She tugged at the ropes behind her back again. They'd tied them so tight her hands were getting numb. The crack of light coming under the door was enough to barely illuminate her surroundings. There were metal buckets and mops, brooms and cleaning supplies. Rags and towels stuffed into a box near her head still reeked of cleaning solutions. Oh, for a breath of fresh air, she thought, blinking her stinging eyes.
There was a shelf behind her, barely visible. She scooted toward it on her side to get a better look, finding it lined with more strong-smelling solvents and a jumble of brushes. Tess wedged her feet against a box and pushed herself up to a sitting position. From this vantage point, she could just make out the top of the shelf. Something metallic there caught the light. On her knees, she edged closer and shoved a box out of her way with her cheek. There was a matte knife, rusted with disuse and tossed forgotten into a corner. Her heart sped up. It looked too dull to be of much use, but it was something.
Tess turned around and tried to reach it with her bound hands, but the rope that linked her hands and ankles made it impossible. So she turned back around and, with a shudder of disgust, used her cheek to maneuver it until she could take it between her teeth. She dropped it on the floor, rolled down beside it. It took her a full minute to get her hands on it, but when she did, she worked it under the ropes around her wrists and began to saw.
* * *
Eddie Rodriguez pulled open the door to the janitor's closet and waved away the strong odor of disinfectant. It was dark in there and he couldn't see well. The girl was not where he'd left her, and he felt around the wall for a light switch. A moment later, light flooded the small space and Eddie found her curled on the floor toward the back of the small room.
I'LL REMEMBER YOU Page 20