I crossed the street and entered the park. The carousel was straight ahead. It was a huge part of my childhood, one of the few “normal” things my parents did with me. The whole park was my playground back then. I knew as an adult that Mom and Dad might have been meeting with contacts while I played—I could remember looking back to see if they were watching only to find them talking with a stranger. But I was having fun, so it didn’t matter too much back then.
I told myself not to look around too much when I reached the meeting spot. I wouldn’t give away the guys who were watching. They were good, too—I couldn’t see or hear anything strange. I hoped the client would be fooled.
“I’m nearby,” Dylan whispered. “You have nothing to worry about. Just wait there. It’s two minutes to nine.” I nodded slightly to show him I understood but stayed silent in case somebody else was listening nearby. My palms were so sweaty. I wanted to rub them on my legs but one hand was still tight around the straps of the tote bag. I didn’t dare put it down.
“Figure approaching.” That was Pax. I went stiff, while my heart raced out of control. He continued, “Single person. Male. Carrying a backpack.”
“Shit,” I whispered.
“You’re fine,” Dylan murmured.
“Eyes on target.” That was one of the other guys, maybe somebody in the trees.
“Just take it easy,” Dylan again. I took a deep breath and forced myself to keep breathing deeply. The buzzing in my head seemed to quiet just a little.
“Twenty feet. Here he comes.” I turned my head in the direction of the approaching footsteps. The first thing I noticed was the way he walked. Then the clothes he wore. How much he reminded me of Erich.
“Not the client,” I whispered before he reached me. No way that could be the actual client who requested the burglary. I could tell a junkie a mile away. He was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie even though it had to be at least eighty degrees out, and dragged one sleeve under his nose before he spoke.
“You got what I want?” he murmured. His eyes darted left and right. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Don’t hand anything over,” Ricardo muttered. “Ask him what he’s looking for, first.”
“What are you here for?” I asked, always aware of the mic on my blouse.
“You know what.”
“That’s not enough. This isn’t a kiddie game.” I was ad-libbing, but nobody told me to stop. “I need to know you’re the real deal.”
“I got a hundred grand here for you.” He lifted the bag, just slightly.
“I thought I was meeting with my client, not a go-between. I don’t deal with proxies.” It wasn’t hard to be a little stronger, more confident, when I watched the sniveling little runt in front of me. He was nothing. Scared to death. Why the hell would anybody trust him or somebody like him to deliver the jewels safely to them? It made no sense. Was the client a total amateur?
“You don’t have a choice.” Then, everything happened at once. A flash of steel. He lunged for me, but I jumped away. Ricardo shouted “Freeze!”, while the shadows came alive with moving figures coming out of bushes and trees, all of them holding weapons, all of them pointed at the shaking, babbling junkie.
“I’m cool, man! I’m cool! Don’t shoot!” He was surrounded in the blink of an eye, while Dylan’s arms encircled me.
“It’s not the client. It can’t be.” I leaned my head against his chest and let myself sag in his arms. He held me up. “He must’ve been watching, though.”
I could hear his heart pounding under my ear. He was just as overwhelmed as I was. “What makes you say that?”
“Wouldn’t you? Would you trust him with millions of dollars? Or even a hundred thousand?” We watched as the cops cuffed him.
“Come on. They’ll take him to the station. We can listen in on questioning. Maybe he’ll know something.” He pulled back a little, and I looked up at him. “Thank God you have quick reflexes,” he murmured as he ran a gentle hand over my hair.
Chapter Eighteen – Dylan
“You need to get a little perspective on this.” Pax stood on my right, out in the hall, while Ricardo and his boys questioned the runny nosed, greasy asshole who sat cuffed to the table in the interrogation room.
“I’m fine,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“You’re taking it way too personal.”
“I’m fine.” I turned my head just enough to look him in the eye. “I mean it.”
“You look and sound like you’re ready to kill.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Not if a perp pulled a knife on my client, somebody I was protecting. If they pulled it on my woman, on the other hand…” He trailed off, and I didn’t bother arguing with him. It wasn’t the time or place. Besides, I wanted to hear what they were saying on the other side of the two-way glass.
“I told ya, I don’t know who the guy is.” The greaseball looked around with wide, terrified eyes. “He asked me to do a job for him, and told me I would get a lot of money for it. What was I supposed to do?”
Ricardo paced back and forth along one side of the room. “Sure. You didn’t have any choice but to stab that girl and take what she was carrying. Right?”
“He told me to do it. He told me to shut her up and take the bag and get back to him. He was watching me, man. He knows you picked me up.” The guy was shaking from head to foot.
“What’s he got on this guy?” Pax muttered.
I shook my head. “Whatever it is, it’s enough to scare the shit out of him and make him do just about anything.”
Ricardo turned to him. “But you don’t know who he is? How does he know you?”
“He said he was a friend of Erich’s.” I looked and Pax, and he at me.
“So you knew Erich.” It wasn’t a question. Ricardo sat across from him. “And that’s how he found you?”
“I guess. I don’t know, man. I really don’t. He found me at this sushi joint and said he knew Erich and saw me with him. He asked me if I do the same kinda work Erich did. I said yeah, but that wasn’t the truth. I just knew Erich made good money, you know? So I said yeah. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“And he told you what?”
“That I had to carry that bag to the park and make the girl there think I was gonna exchange it for what she had, only I had to cut her a little.” He stared down at the table while I clenched my fists so hard it hurt.
“Cut her a little?” Ricardo’s disgust was obvious.
“I wasn’t gonna slit her throat or anything like that. Just maybe slice her arm or her shoulder, something that would make her drop the bag. And I was gonna take it and run.”
“You had no intention of giving her the money, then.”
“No. He told me not to give her anything.”
“If you had, it would’ve been pretty funny,” Ricardo snorted. “The bag was full of paper. Not the kind you use to buy things. Just plain old paper. Didn’t you even think to look inside?”
“No, man. I knew he was watching. He was somewhere close by and he was watching, I’m telling you. He knows you’re onto him.” His voice went up in pitch the more he said until he was almost shrill.
“What’s he got on you, then? Why are you so freaked out over him?”
The guy didn’t look up. “He said he had somebody watching when I was doing somethin’. I’m not gonna tell you what it was, so don’t bother asking. You’ll waste your time.”
“And he was gonna turn you in for it,” Ricardo muttered. “But you didn’t do the kind of work Erich did.”
“It wasn’t that kind of work. Just forget about it, okay? You wanted to know. That’s what it was. But it wasn’t all that, either, I guess.” He finally looked at Ricardo when he spoke. “He was freaky. You know? Like way intense. Creepy. The kind of guy you think probably sleeps in a coffin or drives around in a van giving candy to little kids. He gave me the creeps, big time. I was afraid of him.” He looked down aga
in. “I still am.”
“He’s the least of your problems right now.” He stood. “I’m sending in a sketch artist to sketch out your description of this guy. Be as accurate as you can.” He left the room with a scowl on his face and motioned for us to join him in his office.
“What do you think?” Pax asked.
“I think this guy is scared out of his mind. I ran his record already—drugs, mostly. No violent crime. This is way outside his comfort zone.” He rolled up his sleeves. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
“I’ll go back to the house, then. She’s there with Christa right now. Gimme a call later.” I left the office. Pax caught up with me as I walked down the hall.
“Remember what I told you. You need to get your perspective in order.”
“I’m fine. Remember? I told you that.”
“You’re not fine.” He closed one hand over my forearm and stopped me. “I mean this. She’s a client. I know you care about her. It’s hard staying neutral when you meet somebody you like. But you’ve gotta be as neutral as you can, or else you’re putting her at risk. You have to focus.”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll do better.” He let go of me and I walked out of the station alone. My brain was going a mile a minute. Was he right? Yes, and that irked the hell out of me.
Traffic was a nightmare getting out of the city. It was like everybody decided to be on the road at the same time, just to get in my way. I wasn’t usually the sort of driver who leaned on the horn, since I thought they were generally assholes, but I did it then. Not being able to get back to her right away was torture.
Because I had gotten too close. Pax’s words echoed in my head, an accusation. I cared too much. She wasn’t just a client—she hadn’t been for a while. Ever since we started sleeping together, maybe even before then. I wasn’t satisfied just making sure she was safe. I wanted to hurt anybody who tried to hurt her. If I had been first to get my hands on that dick with the knife in his hand, it might have ended differently for him.
Which was exactly why Pax wanted me to cool off, and I knew it. Knowing that didn’t make things any easier. If anything, I was pissed at myself for falling into the trap I wanted most to avoid. I knew if I let her in—into bed with me, into my arms, whatever—she would stick. I did it anyway, eyes open. It was nobody’s fault but mine.
I was sitting in a bumper-to-bumper jam going toward the bridge and decided to turn on the radio to see if they had any information about what was holding me up. I tapped my fingers on the wheel and craned my neck to see if the cause of the jam was anywhere ahead. An accident, I assumed.
I dialed Christa using the Jeep’s Bluetooth. It rang once…twice…three times. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. That wasn’t like her, or any of us. We were trained to answer the phone right away, even if we were in the bathroom or showering. Anytime. Otherwise, people worried.
I called Pax next. “Did you ever get a confirm from Christa that they reached the house okay?”
His pause sent an icy finger down my spine. “No, now that you mention it.”
“Fuck.”
“She’s not answering for you?”
“No.” I leaned out the window and leaned on the horn, desperate to get moving all of a sudden. I wasn’t even on the bridge yet.
“Ricardo’s trying to the house’s direct line now,” Pax muttered. “Just take it easy.”
“Yeah, take it easy. I’ll do that. Fucking traffic! I’m stuck behind a hundred cars, trying to get over to Jersey. Now of all times.”
There was silence. Then, “No answer at the house.”
“Son of a bitch.” My hands tightened around the wheel until my knuckles were bright white.
“Ricardo’s sending a car out there right now. They’re nearby. I’m sure it’s some stupid explanation. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Pax, come on. This is me you’re talking to. You know this doesn’t look good.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m on my way to my car as I speak.”
“Don’t bother trying to get too far. Only somebody on that side of the river will be able to get to the house right now.” The traffic report started on the radio, and I turned up the volume.
“There’s been what looks like an accident on the George Washington,” the bodiless voice told me. “A two-car collision has brought traffic to a standstill in both directions. Police have not yet been able to get to the crash site, but eyewitness reports reference what sounds like extreme agitation in what might be a road rage incident.”
Pax broke in through my earpiece. “Dylan, the house is dark. No car. Nothing. They’re not there.”
It all hit me at once. I reached over and flipped open the glove box, where I stashed my Glock. “It’s them. It has to be.”
“What?”
“On the bridge. The accident. Road rage? What are the odds, Pax? I’m going in. If it’s not them, it’s not them, but I have to know.”
“Dylan, no. Wait for backup.”
“No time.” I pulled out my earpiece and tossed it aside, killed the engine and jumped out of the car with the Glock in my waistband. I had already lost too much time, just sitting there. Sure, it could’ve been anybody up there. Just a coincidence. But I knew it was her. I just knew it, somehow. I ran between the cars, hearing shouts and horns blown at me as I did, before reaching the bridge walkway and sprinting down its length. I hoped I wasn’t too late.
Chapter Nineteen – Vienna
I opened my eyes, blinking slowly. There was something in my face, blocking my view. What was it? Some fabric or something, all around me. I lifted my arms—they were sore—to push it out of my way.
Where was I? Once the white fabric was out of my face, I saw lights. A lot of lights. There was smoke coming from somewhere, too, and somebody was screaming. I didn’t know who. It wasn’t me. The voice was coming from far away. It sounded angry. Enraged. I wished I knew where I was.
“Vienna! Vienna, are you all right?” I turned my head to the left and saw a woman leaning over me. She opened the glove box. Oh. I was in a car. The front passenger seat of a car. Right.
And it all came back to me. Riding over the bridge with Christa, one of Pax’s other agents. She kept switching lanes, and I asked her what was wrong. She just finished telling me she thought we were being followed when WHAM! We spun and I screamed and we hit something. The airbag deployed. Everything went dark.
But it couldn’t have been for long. I nodded when Christa asked again if I was okay. “I’m all right, I think. It hurts everywhere.”
“I know, I know. You’ll be fine.”
There was that screaming again, coming from outside the car. “Who is that?” I murmured. I fumbled with the belt at my waist, but Christa stopped me.
“Hold on a sec.” She looked out the window, then out the back of the SUV. “Unbuckle yourself, but don’t leave the vehicle.”
“What’s happening?” I felt so confused, like my head was detached from my body. Nothing made any sense. One minute we were fine, the next we were spinning…
I saw the problem just a moment later. A man dressed in a suit was ranting and raving outside the car, screaming at everyone around us to stay back, screaming that he was armed. I didn’t see a weapon on him, but it was enough to keep the people in cars behind us and on the other side of the divider locked inside. I saw them watching, mouths hanging open, a few of them on their phones. Calling the police? I hoped so.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“He hit us.” She looked over at me. “You don’t know him?”
“I’ve never seen him before.” He kept looking at me through the windshield, and his eyes blazed. “He’s crazy, I think.”
“I agree.” She checked to be sure her gun was loaded. “I think we’re looking at your anonymous client.”
“My what?” Yes, of course. It all made sense. I watched him screaming at the bystanders to get back. He had followed us from the station and t
ried to trail us to the house, but Christa had noticed him. He’d gotten desperate enough to go public, finally.
“I’m going out there. You stay here, got it?”
“Wait! No, don’t! he’s nuts!” I might as well have been talking to myself. I watched, helpless, as she opened the door, then stepped out onto the bridge.
“Stay there!” he screamed. He was an older man, maybe mid-fifties. Handsome. Put together. What was wrong with him that he would do what he was doing? Why would he make such a public scene? He was just desperate enough. I had driven him to it. Thank God nobody else had been hurt, at least. All of this and so much more raced through my head as Christa closed her door.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she called out in a firm voice. “I just need you to stop threatening the people around us. Let them get on their way.”
“I told you to stay!” He pointed to her feet. “Freeze there!”
“Sir, I need to ask you to please stand down and allow traffic to cross the bridge. Pull your car over so others can get past.”
“Shut up!” He ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I don’t want you! I want her!”
“Her?”
“You know who I mean. That bitch in the car!” He pointed a shaking finger in my direction.
“Sir, if you want to speak with her, you’ll have to follow us down to the police station and we can all sit down together.” Her voice never changed from its calm, firm tone. She was so cool under pressure. Me, on the other hand? I thought I might pee myself right there.
“I want her out here with me, right now!” He slid one hand inside his suit jacket.
“Sir! I want to see both hands outside your jacket!” Christa pulled her gun and leveled it at him.
“You’re not a cop! Don’t act like one!” He pulled his hand out, and in it was a shiny black gun that looked a lot like Christa’s. It was like something out of a nightmare as they faced off.
“Wait! Wait! Don’t shoot, okay?” I grabbed the door handle.
“Vienna, stay in the car! Do not move!” Christa didn’t look at me when she called out. Her eyes were focused on the maniac with the gun pointed at her.
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