by Layla Reyne
“Hey, you can’t do this!” Percy struggled against the agent’s hold. “What about my rights?”
Cam took the other agent’s place, wrapping a hand over Percy’s cuffed wrists and pressing him harder against the wall. “He’s not going to object,” Cam said with a nod at Nic.
“You’re an attorney,” Percy spat his direction. “Do something.”
“Sure,” Nic said, then proceeded to read him his Miranda rights.
Cam smiled wider with each word. “Nice not to have to do that for a change.” He flipped Percy around and pushed him back against the wall. “Becca told you who we are?”
Percy tried to play dumb. “Becca who?”
Failed.
“He recognized me, back in the restaurant,” Nic said. “Maybe not you.”
Cam had been masked at Stefan and Anica Kristić’s condo, and this was technically Nic and Aidan’s case, even though Cam had been regularly briefed. Becca wouldn’t know Cam was the one chasing her now. Unless Abby... He banished the thought, wisely put there by Cam, but not wanting to think about Abby turning on them, or cracking under pressure. Or worse, torture.
“I got no idea who you are,” Percy tried again.
Failed again.
“You know,” Nic said, “you’re also in the running for stupidest crook of the year. Eating a block away from the scene of the crime, and you didn’t even change out of the fucking suit that’s too big for you. Just ditched the wig.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then how’d you know I was an attorney? How’d you recognize me?”
“I work around here. I’ve seen you before.”
“Give it up, Percy,” Cam said. “We’ve got your prints at the scene, and Becca’s deposit in your account.”
“So let’s see, then,” Nic said, holding up a hand and ticking off charges on his fingers. “Evading arrest, breaking and entering, assault and battery, kidnapping, attempted murder.”
Percy changed his tune real fast, going on the defensive. “I didn’t break and enter. The big dude let me in. And I wasn’t trying to murder him.”
“Near thing that,” Cam said. “Giving him a triple dose.”
“He was a big motherfucker,” Percy argued. He probably thought he was helping his case, not digging his own grave. Confessing.
“Add accessory after the fact,” Nic said. “To attempted robbery and felony murder.”
Percy went white as a ghost. “What murder?” The kid’s voice shook, finally properly scared. Properly informed of the pile of shit he’d stepped into. “I ain’t trying to kill no one.”
“Then you better help us, Percy,” Cam said.
Percy’s eyes slid from Cam back to him. “Help you with what?”
Now that they had a pawn, they could set a trap for the queen.
“Stop the next robbery.”
* * *
“Thank you for delivering my package.” Becca’s satisfied smile was evident in her voice, filling the war room from where it echoed out of the speakerphone. “I’ve just sent the second wire.”
“And the third?” Percy replied.
“The third?”
“You want me on your next job.”
“I like the confidence, Mr. Hunter.”
From where Nic sat, Percy looked anything but confident. Blond hair matted with sweat stuck to his pale forehead. Cuffed hands clasped in his lap, shaking. Eyes full of fear, locked on the script in front of him.
But the kid could front like a pro. “Getting Abby out was a test, wasn’t it?” he read off the cheat sheet. Nic and Cam had drawn up the list of assembled prompts and questions, designed to draw out a confession. Something Nic could use against Becca in court, once Cam captured her.
“You passed.” Not exactly a confession, and Bowers knew it too. From across the table, Nic’s boss mouthed, Ask again.
Percy ran his wide eyes down the page once more. “I broke your girl out of the courthouse, just like you wanted,” he said. “Proved myself. I want in on the next job.”
Becca dodged again but opened another door. One infinitely more useful. “We should meet. Make sure our interests align.”
“And the third deposit?”
“You seem awfully focused on the money, Mr. Hunter.”
“It’s Percy,” he said. “And do you know what the average monthly rent is in San Francisco these days?” He didn’t read that off the sheet.
Beside Nic, Cam nodded. Nic didn’t think the sympathy a show.
For her part, Becca chuckled, seemingly convinced and amused. “After we meet, Percy.”
Cam shifted forward, reaching over his laptop and pointing at the first potential meet location he’d scribbled on the script. All the places he’d listed had limited ingress and egress points, giving them the best chance for rescuing Abby and taking Becca into custody.
For springing their trap.
Percy proposed the first location. Becca shot him down, offering someplace else. Not unexpected—she held all the cards—and by the way Cam’s brows raced north, she’d played a surprising one. Good or bad, Nic couldn’t tell, and Bowers didn’t give them time to assess or counter, giving Percy a thumbs-up and gesturing for him to continue.
“I know where that is,” Percy said. “When do you want to meet?”
“You be there at midnight.”
“Does that mean you’ll—”
Becca hung up, cutting off the rest of Percy’s question. Nic reached out and slapped off the speakerphone, cutting the call on their end as well.
Hunched forward, Percy was still waiting for an answer. “What the fuck did that mean?”
“It means she’ll show up when she’s ready,” Cam answered. “Sometime before sunrise.” He shifted in his chair toward Lauren. “Take him upstairs to Comm and get him fitted for eyes and ears. Then call in the tactical teams. Debrief in an hour.”
“On it.” She snapped shut her laptop and stood. “Let’s go, blondie.”
Percy looked her up and down, and not in the appreciative sort of way. Not that that would have been any more acceptable. Either way would get him neutered, by the lady herself.
“Don’t even think it,” Cam said, reading his thoughts. “Her favorite weapon is a Colt 1911 and she’s trained in hand-to-hand combat.”
“She’ll drop you faster than either of us could,” Nic added.
Cam jutted a thumb at him. “And he’s a former Navy SEAL.”
“Don’t make me ask a second time,” Lauren threatened, indulging in the talking up. Nic didn’t begrudge her the attitude.
Percy snapped to it, following like a well-trained puppy.
Cam tossed her the keys to the cuffs. “I’ll be up shortly.”
The door closed behind them, and when Bowers didn’t speak, Nic turned the floor over to Cam. “All right, Boston, lay the tactical out.”
“We proposed Transamerica Park,” Cam started as he opened his laptop. “Exits with gates on three sides, only three buildings hemming it in, and lots of vantage points, especially from the lower scaffolding of the Pyramid.”
“Becca shot it down,” Nic said.
“As we expected she would.”
“But you were surprised by her alternative.”
“At first.” He turned the computer around, a layout of the South Park neighborhood on-screen. “You wouldn’t think South Park much better, for her. An oval green, buildings on all sides, two exits at either end.”
“You know the area?” Bowers asked.
Fair question. Cam hadn’t been in San Francisco long and he lived down on the Peninsula, not in the City.
“Chased a suspect through there this past winter,” Cam answered. “It’s a real bitch to cover.”
“Why’s that?” Bowers asked.
> “Because there’re more than just two exits,” Nic said, his military training kicking in, the urban landscape coming to life in front of him.
Cam nodded. “There are narrow alleyways between, in front of and behind buildings, and it’s a straight shot through on the ground floor of most. That’s what the perp did in January. Smashed through a plate glass window, ran the length of the place, and out the back door. This time, we’ll put teams on the rooftops with wider vantage points to cover.”
“And teams on the surrounding intersections.” Nic pointed at the corners where Second and Third met either end of Bryant and Brannan. “Catch her there, if we can’t capture her inside the target area.”
“That’s how we captured the last perp,” Cam said. “The street parking will also help.” He hovered his cursor over the cars bordering the center green. “At rush hour, most of these cars clear out, and the residents flood in. My agents will flood in with them, go undetected during the switch.”
Not a foolproof plan—urban combat never was—but Cam had covered as many bases as he could. It would give them a better than decent shot at capturing Becca and rescuing Abby. They devolved into tactical planning, pointing out the best rooftops for optimal vantage points, until Bowers shifted in his squeaky chair, reminding them of his presence.
Would be pretty damn hard to ignore him after his next words. “That’s not how it’s going to go down. I want the person Becca’s working for.”
“If she’s working for someone,” Nic said. “Maybe she’s the one calling the shots.”
Bowers gestured at the whiteboard. “Your case board says otherwise.”
Nic cursed himself for the fucking question mark he’d scribbled above Becca’s picture. It was a fifty-fifty shot Bowers was right.
“What about Abby?” Cam said. “Percy? They third on your list now?”
“Both criminals,” Bowers replied, and Nic bristled. “You two keep forgetting that.” His black eyes bounced from Cam to Nic, then back to Cam. “Why not let Becca take them, and see where they lead us?”
“No way,” Cam said. “This is my op. And it’s a trap, not an insertion.”
“This is our operation,” Bowers said. “And with Aidan gone, I outrank you, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Byrne.”
“Abby’s our informant,” Nic argued, interrupting the pissing match. “Percy is our bait.” He hated the word, but he’d use it, if it brought Bowers around to his and Cam’s plan. “They could both end up dead, if Becca figures us out. We can’t lose any more lives to this; that would get us more of the wrong kind of attention from DOJ. Once we capture Becca, we’ll question her about her boss.”
“If there is one,” Cam clipped, voice harsh, his patience with Bowers wearing thin.
As was Bowers’s with them. “You’re confident you can flip her? You haven’t flipped Scott or Mike yet.”
“Because they don’t know jack shit,” Cam replied. “Becca’s had her own plans for a while now.”
“We can flip her,” Nic said. “Without risking anymore lives.”
Bowers stared them down several long seconds before pushing to his feet. Nic was sure he was going to overrule them. What he gave them might be worse.
“Fine, I’ll give you this one shot.” He stopped over the threshold, his dark eyes cold and hard. “It’s a short rope, gentlemen.”
Yet just long enough to hang themselves.
Chapter Eight
When Cam helped move Mel and Danny into their South Park condo, he never imagined using his friends’ loft as a command center, but it was perfect for this op. Situated on the two floors above a street-level design firm, the condo with its floor-to-ceiling windows and private rooftop provided clean sightlines of the lamp-lit green. Good thing too, as their surveillance van would have stuck out on the single-lane loop around the park.
Granted, Cam would have rather been on the ground himself, directly able to counteract any variables that arose, but from this vantage point, he could view the entire field of play. He’d be better able to direct the agents hiding in cars along the loop and those in the cruisers covering each outside corner of the block. Short of stationing an agent in front of every building, which would be too obvious, he had his bases covered.
Mel and Danny’s place was also big enough, with its open floor plan and giant windows, shades pulled back to let in the moonlight, to accommodate their command team traipsing around in the shadows, Lauren’s wide array of surveillance equipment, and one very agitated Assistant US Attorney.
A casual observer wouldn’t know it. Nic appeared his usual calm and collected self, a tall dark-suited form by the window, speaking quietly with Mel. But Cam recognized the tension in his frame. The rigid, slightly lifted set of his shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back, his moonlit eyes glowing eerily as they tracked Bowers around the room.
Mel was even unhappier about their uninvited guest. Bowers had shown up an hour ago, silently looming over the op as if he were waiting for them to screw up again. Danny, for his part, was making conversation with Percy, one lock-pick to another. Cam appreciated the younger Talley’s attempts to ease the jittery kid’s nerves. But as the midnight hour approached, not even ringmaster Danny could hold Percy’s attention, his gaze jumping everywhere, always landing back on the clock by the door.
Keeping an eye on all the moving pieces, Cam shuffled into the kitchen Lauren had claimed as Comm. She moved back and forth between the long granite countertops, assembling Percy’s accessories in the dim glow cast by the under-cabinet lights. Standing behind her row of open laptops, Cam zeroed in on the screen with the interactive satellite map. He touched his ear, activating his comm. “Teams, report.”
Alpha team, in the cars closest to the center of the park, radioed in first, their position lighting up on the map. The rest of the teams—around the oval, on the roof, outside the perimeter—cycled through their checks, ending with Cam in Command. “Snipers in place. Next report before go in fifteen.” Cam toggled the comm off, staring at the screen as boots shuffled overhead, their lookouts shifting as the snipers moved into position.
“Everyone’s set, boss.” Lauren stood beside him, tightening a screw on a pair of glasses exactly like the ones Percy was wearing. “Being real, I’m more worried about a fight breaking out in here.”
He ignored her very real, very accurate assessment of the tension in the condo. “This needs to go off without a hitch.”
“Couple of hours, we’ll have Becca in custody, Abby safe, and you and Nic can ride off into the sunrise together.”
“I hope to God we’re not here until sunrise.”
“True dat.”
Cam was still chuckling as a narrow-eyed Nic rounded the dining bar into the kitchen. “Finish wiring Percy,” he said to Lauren. “It’s almost time.”
She grabbed her gadgets and ducked out of the kitchen.
“I don’t like him here,” Nic said.
Cam didn’t have to ask who him was. Nic’s gaze drilling holes into Bowers’s back was indication aplenty. “I don’t trust him either.” Cam clicked through surveillance feeds on the computer, checking positions again.
“Why aren’t you more worried?” Nic asked.
He was worried, but one of them had to keep their shit together. And this was far from the most high-risk op he’d coordinated. “You’re worried enough for the both of us.”
Letting out a low huff, Nic turned and rested his ass against the counter. “Didn’t think I was showing it.”
Cam glanced up. “Most people don’t see through the mask.” Their gazes locked, held, tension of a different sort filtering in, only broken when a chair scraped back across the floor.
Nic twisted, looking over his shoulder at Bowers, who stalked toward the windows. Nic righted himself on a curse. “There’s no reason for him to be here. We can run this operation. H
e’s gonna fuck it up.”
“So we run it.” Cam paired one of the spare comms by the computers and handed it to Nic. More information, more control over the situation, might help him settle. “And we roll with whatever curveball Bowers throws at us. Better to anticipate it and plan for the worst.”
Nic tucked the device in his ear, one corner of his mouth hitching up. “You’re good at this.”
Cam met the half smirk with a grin of his own. “This is my domain.”
“Well, technically,” Mel interrupted, her high heels clicking on the hardwood as she approached, “it’s mine.”
Danny twisted in his chair, playfully glaring at his wife. “Hey now!”
Their banter acted like a valve, releasing some of the pressure in the room, but not for long. Charlie team radioed in from the roof. “We’ve got movement at the west end of the park.”
It ran against Cam’s every instinct not to rush to the window, not to look out and assess the situation with his own eyes, but the shadows could only conceal so much. A herd of people standing next to the condo’s glass would stand out, even in the moonlight.
Cam activated his comm again. “Local?” He wouldn’t put it past one of the neighborhood millionaires to take a late-night stroll with their pocket-sized pooch. No doubt why Becca picked this location. The cover of normalcy, together with plenty of exits, witnesses, and objects she could use as roadblocks if a chase ensued.
“Negative,” Charlie replied. “Muscle, two of ’em. Bulges under both arms.”
“She’s early,” Nic said. “I thought she’d make us wait.”
Mel shook her head, short curls bouncing. “She’s scoping out the area. Putting her people in first.”
“Or so she thinks,” Cam said, then to Lauren, “Go time.”
“All right, Weasley.” Lauren hauled Percy up and held out the enhanced glasses to him. “Swap your current ones for these.”
Percy pocketed his old glasses and adjusted the new ones on his nose. “They’re heavier, but I’m not seeing the bells and whistles.”
“Because they’re on our end.” She pointed at the computer on the left. “Hit F3 on that one.”