Victor scanned the room once more. The casino seemed a bit slower than usual without old Phil sitting at his regular table. The thought of the hundreds of thousands of dollars he had milked out of the poor sap almost made Victor regret having to kill him. But then, he hadn’t had much choice. It had only been a matter of time before Philip made a mistake and ruined everything. Now that Philip was gone, no one would ever think to connect Victor with any of the murders. Philip had been the only witness against him, with the possible exception of Riley Palmetta.
Theoretically, with Philip dead, the police should finger him as the second shooter. Unfortunately, Riley probably would have known better. She had been his patient, and she spent a lot of time at the shooting range. Victor had had to assume that Riley would know of Philip’s intense fear of guns.
Without Riley Palmetta casting doubt, the police would focus on Philip’s connection to Eric Rhodes and wouldn’t have cause to look any further. Technically, Eric Rhodes was the sole heir to his parents’ estate, even though it was unlikely he would ever be in a position to enjoy any of it. He would be put away one way or another. Even if the boy admitted that his doctor had encouraged his actions, he was bound to end up in a cell or a mental ward somewhere.
Victor had been looking for a way to free himself of his partner for nearly a year, ever since he’d realized the court had mandated Eric go to counseling. He’d known how his former partner, Rhodes, relieved his frustrations, but he hadn’t really cared until those actions had started spilling over into their business.
Eric’s increasingly erratic behavior had begun to attract attention from the school’s administration as well as a few members of the police force. Victor knew that his cover was much more likely to be blown if his partner were receiving the wrong kind of attention. Convincing Philip Walberg to take on the boy as a patient had been risky, but ultimately Victor had benefited from that choice.
Though Victor itched to find out how the investigation was going for the double murder at the shooting range, he knew he had to wait until he went back on duty the next day to dig up that information. He couldn’t look too interested, or someone might get suspicious.
He had listened to his police radio after leaving the scene of the crime. Someone must have come along shortly after he’d left. The 9-1-1 call had come less than two minutes after he’d departed, but if Philip’s prediction was correct, the Palmetta girl had probably died before the paramedics had had time to figure out what was going on, much less treat her. Finally, all of the threats against his business had been conquered, and he could once again reap the benefits without fear of discovery.
Victor noticed one of his dealers signaling him, presumably because someone wanted more credit. He let his smile settle into place as he moved across the room and got back to work.
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Chief Jobeson looked dubiously at the Taser gun in Kel’s hand as they sat in the back of the SEALs’ government van.
Kel nodded. “You have to assume they have some kind of warning signal set up. We have to take out the guard before he can alert anyone inside.” He had stopped by the club for an early dinner two hours before to do a little reconnaissance work with Brent and Seth.
Before going inside, Brent and Seth had climbed up the rear of the building to check out the second story, finding only a storage room and what appeared to be an unused living area. They had also verified that there were only two entrances into the building: the front door and the service entrance on the side.
Kel had gone back toward the restrooms to penetrate as far as he could without arousing suspicions. It was then that he noticed the rather large man leaning against a wall near an interior door. After looking at the blueprints for the building, they all agreed that the gambling must be taking place in the rear storage room.
“Park a block away,” Brent instructed Quinn, who was behind the wheel.
“Planned on it,” Quinn said shortly. Beside him, Tristan was understandably quiet, and all of them could feel the fury rolling off of him. Quinn pulled up in front of a nearby restaurant and turned to face Tristan. “Maybe you should sit this one out.”
“I’m going.”
Kel edged forward in his seat. “You’re going, but no one shoots except in self-defense. We’re just backup on this one.” His eyes met Tristan’s. “Clear?”
Tristan’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.
“Good.” Kel adjusted the communications device in his ear, cleverly disguised as a Bluetooth phone attachment. “Chief, call it in.”
Jobeson nodded. Though he would have liked to plan everything out with his own men, he couldn’t take the chance that someone might slip up and alert Victor Cross about their plans. Instead, he picked up his cell phone and started calling the personal cell phones of three of his officers who were about to come on duty. The instructions were simple. They were to proceed to the address given without alerting anyone, and they were to wear their armor.
Five minutes later, all three officers had arrived, all of them looking around the parking lot cautiously. Jobeson climbed out of the van first, followed by the SEALs. The explanation didn’t take long. Kel would neutralize the guard, and then Jobeson and his three men would take over, with the SEALs providing backup.
As Jobeson went over the assignments for his men one more time, the rest of the team strolled down the road. They were all dressed casually, their weapons concealed.
Kel glanced back to make sure the police were headed their way before dispersing his men. He sent Tristan around to the side entrance, the location that was the least likely to see any action tonight. Kel knew Tristan would have preferred to be near the main action, and he appreciated the fact that Tristan hadn’t complained. As soon as Tristan disappeared around the side of the building, Kel motioned to Seth and pulled the front door open for him.
Seth casually walked inside and nodded at the hostess. “Can you tell me where the restrooms are?”
“Sure.” She smiled up at him and pointed toward the back. “Right over there.”
“Thanks.” Seth flashed a grin and sauntered toward the back. He was barely inside the restroom when Kel entered with Brent and Quinn.
“Would you like a table?” the hostess asked.
“That’s okay. I think we’ll sit at the bar,” Kel told her and continued inside. He glanced around the room, somewhat relieved to see that only a few tables were occupied. He, Brent, and Quinn sidled up to the bar and each ordered a soda before Kel stood. “I need to hit the restroom,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He entered the hallway leading to the restrooms. He kept his pace slow as he approached the restroom door. But instead of reaching out his hand to push the door open, he reached up to press a button on his earpiece as though he were getting a phone call. The man at the end of the hall wasn’t paying attention to him even though Kel was only a few yards away. Using the prearranged signal, Kel simply said, “Hello.”
Seth pushed open the restroom door, his weapon ready so that he could cover Kel. The moment Seth stepped out into the hall, Kel drew the Taser gun out of his pocket. Awareness flashed in the guard’s eyes, but Kel fired before he could make a move. The buzzing sound from the Taser was barely audible, and then Seth moved forward to confiscate any weapons from the now-unconscious guard.
“What have you got?” Kel asked, holstering the Taser and replacing it with his preferred handgun.
Seth patted the guard down and then held up a single handgun. “Looks like he wasn’t expecting much resistance.”
“I hope the rest of the bust goes this smoothly,” Kel commented and moved to help Seth pull the unconscious man away from the door he had been so diligently guarding.
Out in the restaurant, Quinn and Brent had both settled on their bar stools, Quinn facing toward the bar while Brent angled his body so that he could see the storage room door. Both men appeared completely relaxed as their soft drinks were served, but each of them was al
ert and ready to strike if the need arose.
Through their earpieces they received Kel’s report that the guard had been neutralized. When the front door swung open once more, Brent muttered the signal to Kel that the next phase of the plan was about to begin. Quinn reached down as though to scratch his leg, but his eyes were glued to the bartender. He saw the recognition in the bartender’s eyes as Chief Jobeson entered the room followed by his men.
The bartender reached beneath the bar as Jobeson and his officers headed straight for the storage room door. Quinn straightened and aimed his weapon at the bartender’s forehead.
“Let me see those hands. Nice and easy.” Quinn’s voice was low and commanding. He saw the bartender’s arm flex, and Quinn sprang into motion. He leapt over the bar, knocking the bartender to the ground.
A woman screamed, and Quinn could hear chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor as patrons tried to figure out what was going on. Brent’s voice was both calming and brisk as he instructed the patrons. “Everyone stay calm. We’re with the police. Just stay where you are, and everything will be fine.”
With his weapon still trained on the bartender, Quinn ran his fingers along the underside of the bar. He clenched his teeth when he found what the bartender had been reaching for. “There’s an alarm button. Cross knows we’re here.”
Kel heard Quinn’s message just as Jobeson opened the storage room door, stepped into the casino, and yelled, “Police!”
Jobeson had his weapon drawn as he moved into the brightly lit room. Two of his men made it through the door before the first gunshot sounded.
“Seth, you’re with me. Everyone else stay put,” Kel instructed his team. He grabbed the last cop from behind, pulling him to the ground as a shot splintered the door just above them. “Stay low.”
Kel pressed up next to the side of the door, able to see that one cop had been injured and that Jobeson and the other had taken cover behind an upturned table. Kel couldn’t see where the threat was located, but he estimated the range and direction from how the chief had positioned himself. Chaos sounded inside the room as the trapped gamblers scurried for cover. He didn’t look back at Seth but simply nodded just before he dove through the door into the casino.
Kel quickly identified the threat near the blackjack tables: two gunmen with identical MP5K submachine guns. Kel took out the one on the left, trusting Seth to eliminate the second one. Eyes sweeping the room, Jobeson and his men emerged and started the tedious task of making sure everyone was now unarmed.
32
Tristan bit back his impatience. He could do this, he told himself as he fought against the itch to get inside. His teammates knew him well, and he had no doubt that they recognized the cold rage reflected in his eyes. Rarely did Tristan take a backup role, but he understood Kel’s need to keep him out of the action. His emotions were too close to the surface, his need for revenge too fresh.
He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see Victor Cross’s face when the cops busted in and took him down. But he was concerned by his dark desire that Cross would resist, that he would die trying to defend his empire. Tristan wished he was in the position to pull the trigger. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to fight the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him. If Riley didn’t make it . . . He didn’t let himself finish the thought.
It was fear, pure and simple fear, that had him so edgy. He had killed before—for his country, for freedom, for self-defense. Riley understood that side of him, but she wouldn’t have recognized him now. Her face flashed into his mind, not as he had seen her just a short while ago, but whole and healthy and strong. She had overcome so much, turning the negatives in her life into positives. She would expect him to do the same. One way or another, he had to remain the man she had fallen in love with.
Tristan straightened as Kel’s voice came over his headset. “Cross isn’t here.”
An instant later, the back door swung open. Tristan edged forward out of the shadows, his weapon drawn. His eyes narrowed as his fury returned. Stepping through the door was none other than Victor Cross. His right hand held a gun, but it was still down at his side. When Cross turned, Tristan had the image of a deer caught in the crosshairs of a rifle. The man simply froze.
Two heartbeats later, Cross recovered from the shock of seeing the gun aimed at him and looked up to study the man holding it. “Why are you aiming that gun at me? I’m on your side.” Victor’s voice was amazingly calm. “The chief told me to call in some more backup.”
“I don’t think so.” Tristan’s voice was deceptively calm.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Victor’s voice rose fractionally.
Tristan just stared at him and shook his head, trying to find some sense in this man’s actions. Cross showed no sign of guilt, no sign of remorse. “Why Riley?” Tristan asked quietly.
Something flashed in the pale blue eyes but was quickly gone. “What are you talking about?”
“Riley Palmetta.” Tristan repeated her name.
“Look, you’re obviously confusing me with someone else.” Victor took a tentative step forward. “Now, I suggest you point that gun somewhere else. You don’t have any jurisdiction here.”
“You’re right.” Tristan nodded his head slowly. “But neither do you, not after what you did to Riley and Dr. Walberg.”
Victor looked away for a moment. Then, in a sudden movement, he jumped to the side and raised his gun to fire. Tristan heard the footsteps coming around the corner of the building. He heard Quinn yell his name as he squeezed his trigger. Then he turned and walked away, already certain he had hit what he was aiming for.
* * *
“I think we can handle it from here.” Chief Jobeson extended his hand to Kel as they stood in front of Crossroads. “Thanks again for your help. If there’s ever anything I can do to return the favor, you just let me know.”
Kel shook his hand and nodded. “We’re going to head back to the hospital. Let us know when you want us to help with the reports.”
Jobeson nodded and then turned to Tristan. “You know, when I heard that gunshot, I thought for sure you had killed Cross.”
“I thought about it,” Tristan admitted.
“Well, he’s lucky you only shot his hand,” Jobeson told him. “Let me know how Riley’s doing. We’re all praying for her.”
As Jobeson turned back to deal with his men, Quinn put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Come on. You’ll feel better when we get to the hospital.”
Tristan just shrugged and numbly walked down the street to the van.
When they arrived, Dr. Zimmerman was in the ICU waiting room with Taylor and Amy. Tristan’s first impulse was annoyance that no one was at Riley’s side. Then he noticed that both women had tears in their eyes. Tristan felt his breath whoosh out of him as if someone had punched him in the stomach. No! was all his brain could think. If everyone was crying, then . . .
“How is she?” Kel asked when he realized Tristan couldn’t form the words.
Taylor turned toward them and offered a watery smile as the doctor spoke. “She’s going to make it.”
Tristan’s knees buckled, and he dropped into a chair as a collective sigh of relief sounded through the room. He pressed his fingers to his eyes to stem the tears of relief that threatened. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even breathe. He felt Quinn’s hand on his shoulder and listened as the doctor gave them more information.
“We almost lost her about an hour ago, but we gave her another dose of Narcan, and she has been improving steadily since then. I took her off of the respirator a few minutes ago, but we’ll keep her monitored for the next few hours.”
Tristan drew in a breath and blinked hard against the tears. He managed to stand up and offered a hand to Dr. Zimmerman. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, but he didn’t care. “Doctor, thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Dr. Zimmerman shook his hand and nodded to the others in the room. “The nurse is with her now, but you can go on back
if you want. I’ll be back within the hour to check on her.”
Tristan nodded as the doctor left the room.
“The rest of us can cover for you for a few days,” Kel told Tristan. “I want you to take the rest of the week off and make sure Riley gets back on her feet again.”
Never before had Tristan considered not completing an assignment, but he found himself nodding. “Thanks, Kel.”
Kel nodded and turned to the rest of the squad. “The rest of you, let’s get out of here and get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“I’m going to go call my parents,” Taylor told Tristan. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Still overwhelmed, Tristan watched the room empty before showing his ID to the security guard and heading down the hall to Riley’s room. He passed the nurse as he reached Riley’s room and stepped inside. The machines were still beeping and humming as they had been before, but the respirator was quiet now. Riley’s eyes were closed, but her color had improved a little, and her breathing had become more steady.
Tristan moved to her side, resting his hand on hers. With tears in his eyes, he knelt down beside her bed. Never had his gratitude been so great or his relief so complete. His prayers had been answered so completely, but he could do little more than say the words thank you. He felt the hand beneath his move, and he looked up to see Riley’s eyes flutter open.
She looked at him, confused, her eyes struggling to focus.
“You’re going to be okay.” Tristan shifted into the seat by her bed, reaching over to brush her hair back from her face.
“Cross,” she croaked.
“He can’t hurt you anymore.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just rest. I’m staying right here.”
She slowly blinked twice before her eyes closed once more.
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