by Webb, Debra
“Five thousand now,” the man said, “five more after the accident.”
Troy didn’t want to have second thoughts. He wanted to do what he had to do. To get this done. For years he’d thought it didn’t really matter if he lived or died, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for his scumbag uncle. Suddenly his future felt very important.
“The body,” Troy inquired, needing to be certain, “this is someone who’s already dead, right?”
The man nodded. “As I told you before, I have my sources. I don’t deal in murder, Mr. Benson. Only in escapes.”
Okay, he should stop beating around the bush. Troy withdrew the envelope containing the money. “Five thousand.” He passed it to the man.
“I’ll need your wallet.”
“Yeah, of course.” His personal effects would be discovered near the charred remains. He fished the wallet from his pocket and passed it to the man.
“The police report will indicate you were robbed. The perp hit you with his vehicle. Your skull, the entire facial area will have been crushed, making identification next to impossible. There won’t be any fingerprints since the perp opted to douse you in charcoal starter and light a match.”
“All that won’t garner suspicion?” Sounded like a hell of a lot of trouble to go through just to empty a man’s wallet.
He lifted a skeptical brow. “Strange things happen in this city all the time.”
“So, what do I do now?”
The man smirked. “If I were you, I’d stay out of sight until you get a call from me.”
Troy nodded, then reached for the door.
“What about her?”
He looked back at the man who’d spoken. “What about her?”
“A smart man doesn’t leave loose ends.” He tucked the envelope of money into his jacket pocket. “I’d hate to see you waste your money.”
Troy ignored his comment and got out of the car. He walked over to where Jane waited by the rental. The dark sedan rolled away. Troy didn’t like that guy.
What the hell was he doing dealing with people like that? He should’ve taken off already, gotten as far from here as possible.
And spent the rest of his life moving from place to place?
Professional help was necessary.
He had to do this right.
“So, it’s done?”
His attention shifted to Jane. “It’s done.”
“What now?”
“I wait for his call.”
“You’re making a mistake.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, she settled behind the wheel of her rented car and waited for him to climb in.
Troy didn’t move for a moment. He stood there, staring at nothing at all and wondering how the hell this had happened to him. Why hadn’t he done something sooner? Probably for the same reason he hadn’t noticed his wife cheating on him.
Too focused on his work.
Not paying attention.
What he should have done four years ago was stayed until his uncle was brought to his knees. Troy would likely have been dead before the goal was accomplished. But at least he would have tried.
Instead, he walked away. Away from his work, his entire life.
Now he was doing it all over again. Only this time he had nothing to lose.
He’d already lost all that mattered to him.
The Good Night Inn, 10:40 p.m.
JANE PACED the room. She’d spent the last twenty minutes attempting to persuade Benson to let the Colby Agency help. But he wasn’t listening.
Adding to her tension was the fact that she had allowed so much time to get away without touching base with her mother. She felt tempted to call her now. But if there was any chance that Beckman’s people were listening in on her mother’s phone line, that move could put her mother in danger and give them Benson’s location.
A chirp signaled Benson had a call on his cell.
She turned toward where he sat on the bed as he took the call.
“Benson.”
Had to be his contact. Jane understood that he thought he was doing the only thing he could, but that didn’t make her feel any better about the choice he was making.
“I understand.” He closed the phone and tossed it onto the bed. “Midnight.” His gaze connected with Jane’s as he pushed to his feet. “I should get ready.”
How could such an elaborate plan be ready at midnight? “Seems a little soon to pull together such an involved scheme.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe the guy’s just good.”
“And maybe he’s only after your money and you’ll end up dead for real.” The more she thought about this, the less she liked it.
“Maybe.” He tossed his few personal items, toothbrush, the other change of clothes he’d bought, into a bag.
“Look.” She stalked over to him. “I know you don’t trust anybody. I understand the FBI screwed you over. But there’s another option here if you’ll just listen to what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
He picked up the bag and took it over to the door and set it on the floor. “I heard every word you’ve said. And I appreciate your faith in your employer.” He turned to her. “But as long as they know I’m alive, people are going to get hurt. This is the best option.” He searched her eyes a moment. “If you knew my uncle, you’d know it’s the only option.”
Jane shook her head. Her instincts were humming. “Here’s the deal.” This could go either way. She’d been wrestling with this for hours. “I do know who your uncle is. Who you are.”
His posture went rigid.
“Trace Beckman. Dr. Trace Beckman.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since we checked in.” She braced for his reaction. “I had the clerk eating out of my hand. She let me use her cell phone. I called the agency.”
“How did they learn my identity?”
This was where things would get sticky. “From your prints.”
His nostrils flared. “My prints?”
“Yeah. From the coleslaw order.”
Realization dawned on his face. “Then you’re the one responsible for my uncle learning my whereabouts. Not Patsy.”
She shook her head. “No. Remember, I didn’t get your prints till four-thirty or so. Even if my agency ran them immediately, your uncle wouldn’t have had time to dispatch his people that quickly. Patsy’s journalist friend is how he found out.”
Benson gave her that silent treatment he was so good at for a minute or more. “Doesn’t matter now.” He walked over to the window and peeked out around the curtains.
“I think you’re making a mistake.” She moved up next to him. “This contact of yours got this thing pulled together way too fast. This isn’t going to work out the way you think.”
“I guess you’re an expert.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke.
“A better one than you.”
He did look at her then. “How so? I’m the one who set up a new identity and carried it off for four years—without any help.”
“And, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll have the chance again. The truth of the matter is, you’ll have to do it again and again. Every time he finds you, you’ll have to start over.”
“Until he’s dead.”
She turned to him. “You planning on killing him? Maybe that would be the easiest way out of this. Don’t kill yourself. Kill him.”
He shifted his attention back to the darkness beyond the window. The parking lot was mostly empty. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”
“Are you a killer, Trace?”
He blinked.
“Did you kill your ex-wife? Old man Beckman says you did, but the feds don’t think so.”
His gaze narrowed. “How do you know what the feds think?”
“I told you, the Colby Agency has contacts. Good contacts. They can fix this.”
“They can’t fix this. It won’t stop until he’s dead.”
“So your uncle was removed enough
from the dirty business that when your cousins took the fall, he was immune?”
“That’s right.”
“Who’s been doing his dirty work since your cousins were imprisoned?” There had to be someone else. “That person might be approachable.”
“There’s no way to know if he’s still involved with his old friends. He made several fortunes in a very short time. He got his share and his two sons’ as well. I’m the only one who can prove what he did. Getting rid of me is just housekeeping.”
“And maybe a little vengeance.”
“Maybe.”
“Wait. Did you say you’re the only one who can prove what he did?”
His gaze locked with hers. “That’s right.”
“Then why didn’t the bureau take him down when they took his two sons down?”
“There was a key element missing in the evidence I’d amassed.”
“Are you saying you have this key element now?” Jane didn’t see how that was possible.
“When he killed…Gwen, I didn’t care anymore. I was finished. Just before I disappeared I got something in the mail from her. Something she’d sent before…he killed her. But it was too late to make a difference at the time. Or maybe I just wanted to think that because I didn’t care anymore.”
“The missing evidence you needed,” Jane guessed.
He shook his head. “She didn’t have access to that, but she had set up monitoring devices all over the house. She had an audio recording of a telephone conversation. He was giving an order that explicitly incriminates him.”
What the hell? “Why haven’t you turned this over to the authorities?”
He laughed. “I don’t trust the bureau anymore, Jane.” He glared at her. “Don’t you get that? For all I know my uncle could have made some sort of deal with them. I’m not going down that path again.”
She nodded. “I see. You’re scared. Scared and desperate.”
He whirled on her. “Scared?” He leaned closer. “You think I’m scared?”
“Aren’t you?” Jane held her ground. She needed him to get mad. To regain his determination. He’d given up and that was forcing him down the wrong path.
“Fear is not what drives me, Ms. Sutton. But I know when I’m outdone. I can’t fight the bureau. If I attempt to prove what they’ve done, they’ll just turn this whole thing around on me and then I’ll end up in prison with my two favorite cousins.”
“My agency found no indication from the bureau that you’ve ever been a suspect in your cousins’ criminal activities.”
“But that might change if the man inside the bureau who cut him a deal feels threatened.”
The stare-off continued, but Jane couldn’t argue with his reasoning. But she could offer a plan B.
“Then we don’t go through the bureau. We trap your uncle into a confession. The Colby Agency can help make it happen. Ian Michaels and Simon Ruhl have contacts in the bureau who can be trusted.” She held her breath, hoped like hell he would trust her.
He turned back to the window. “I already have a plan. This will be over soon.”
Damn it! “But is that really the way you want it to end?” Come on, Jane! Say the right thing. “Obviously Gwen had second thoughts before she died.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“She tried to help you. Maybe that’s why she’s dead.”
Another of those furious glares pointed in her direction.
“If you just let him get away with it, she died for nothing.”
She saw the indecision…saw the flicker of vengeance her words elicited.
Then he turned away. “I have to go soon.”
Then she went for broke. “Funny.”
“What’s funny?” He reached for his bag.
“The idea that all this time I thought you were a hero. I guess I was wrong.”
Chapter Fifteen
11:25 p.m.
He had to go.
Troy closed his eyes and tried to block the hope that her words generated.
It was too late to salvage his life. Too late to fix what was over and done.
Memories of his ex-wife surfaced, muddying his already muddled thoughts. She’d cheated on him, gone for the money. He’d thought she was a heartless bitch. But she’d had a conscience after all.
His fingers tightened on his bag. He should go. Forget all of this.
He turned to Jane. “I never claimed to be a hero. Just a guy with unfortunate timing.”
Seriously unfortunate timing.
“Fine.” She grabbed her purse and her keys. “I’ll drop you off.” She reached for the door. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I still have time to call for a taxi. At this hour there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She walked out the door.
Troy hesitated. He could just make the call and ignore her waiting in the car.
What the hell?
He gave up and got in the passenger seat.
The rendezvous was near the pier. Troy would be taken to a safekeeping location until the job was done. While he was there his hair color would be changed and he would be fitted with colored contacts. He would be provided with video proof of the accident and at that time he would pay the remainder of his fee. The final service provided was being dropped at a point of public transportation. Bus, train, plane, whatever his choice.
“If you would trust me with this evidence you have,” Jane offered, “I could see what Ian and Simon can do without your participation.”
“Why are you doing this?” Troy stared at her profile. He couldn’t figure this woman out. “It’s not like you’re going to be able to give your client what he wants. Why not call it a day and go home?”
For once she was the silent one.
She kept quiet so long he had begun to think she wasn’t going to respond to him at all when she finally answered.
“You deserve your life back.”
The words hit him like a tidal wave, washed over and over his senses. “Why would you care?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. But I guess I believe in the good guy winning. You’re the good guy in this. You should win.”
Was this woman for real?
This was not the time for him to get all sentimental. It wasn’t the time to start believing in happily-ever-afters, either.
“This is one of those times,” he countered, “that you should just pretend the last couple of days didn’t happen. The life you’re trying to save isn’t worth the effort.”
“Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.” She slowed for a turn.
Feeling sorry for himself? Was she trying to pick a fight with him? “Guilty as charged. See, I told you I’m not worth the trouble.”
“What do you care if I pursue the truth about your uncle? You’ll be gone anyway. Maybe you’ll catch the headlines or see him on the news. Justice is served, better late than never.”
If it were only that easy. “I’ll pass. The fact that he can’t get his hands on me will be enough punishment to satisfy me.”
He’d just learned something new about Jane Sutton. She didn’t like to lose.
“I really hate this,” she snapped.
He wasn’t about to take that bait.
“You tough guys.” She shook her head. “You love to act so macho and like you’re not afraid of anything, but then when it comes to true commitment, you’re ready to cut and run.”
Oh yeah. She was seriously trying to get a reaction.
“I’m not changing my mind.”
“Fine.”
“You said that already.”
Then there was more of that silence. For blocks and blocks.
By the time they reached the parking area of the agreed-upon location near the pier, he was ready to kick something.
She turned off the ignition. “I guess this is it.”
Headlights flashed on, then off across the parking lot. His contact was here.
>
“You’ll go home from here?” Dumb question but it was the first one to come to mind.
“Yeah. My mom’s probably worried.”
Troy smiled.
“You think it’s funny because a woman my age is so close to her mom?”
“No.” He was tired. Too tired to figure out how to end this thing. “I think it’s sweet.”
“Get out of the car, Benson.”
“Yeah.” He opened the door and got out, reached into the backseat for his bag.
He glanced at her, she kept her attention forward. Just go, Troy.
He closed the door and took a couple of steps in the direction of the sedan waiting across the parking lot. But he stalled. Decided there was one thing he had to do. He rounded the hood and opened the driver’s-side door.
Jane glared up at him. “What?”
“Get out of the car.”
She didn’t argue, released her seat belt and got out. She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin defiantly.
If he took a second to think about it, he would probably realize what a stupid move this was.
But he didn’t think about it. He dropped his bag and kissed her.
Kissed her long and deep.
She leaned into him and his body reacted.
How long had it been since he’d kissed anyone like this?
He didn’t know…didn’t care.
She tasted warm and soft…sweet. Just like he’d known she would.
His arms went around her, pulling her closer, tucking her hips against his. She made the sweetest sound.
But he had to go….
He drew his lips from hers, but couldn’t bear to break the connection completely. His arms stayed snugly around her, his forehead pressed against hers.
“You make me wish things were different.” He had to be out of his mind to say those words.
“The choice is yours.” She raised her lips to his and started that spinning whirlwind of sensations all over again.
Her arms went around his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest. Need detonated in his body.
She pushed him back. “Look me up sometime if you change your mind.” She climbed back into the car. “You know where I’ll be.”