Trust No One (Vista Security)

by Diana Layne

  “There’s a BOLO out for you.”

  He acted innocent enough. Of course, what was that Shakespeare quote about all the world was but a stage and all the men and women merely players? “So I heard, how did that happen?”

  “The report says that you and Tasha are wanted for killing three men.”

  “Three?” She looked at Tasha and frowned, knowing no one would know about the guys in the basement yet, except for the person who got the text message. “Where exactly did this report originate?”

  “Don’t know for sure, I just know I sent you after Tasha and now there’s an alert out for any interested cop and no doubt will soon include whole government alphabet as well.”

  She might be hearing things, but that definitely sounded like a threat. Perhaps Tasha’s theories weren’t so far-fetched. Never more than now did MJ feel like a player on that world stage. Might as well stick with her role. “It’s not what you think.”

  “And what is it?”

  “Not over the phone.”

  “Then come in and bring Tasha. Tell me in person.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  “MJ, don’t fuck with me.”

  She couldn’t miss that warning, but she disconnected the call anyway.

  “That was useful,” MJ said.

  Tasha laughed. “Sometimes you are a master of understatement.”

  Chapter 23

  Ben stretched his back muscles and wiggled his fingers on the steering wheel. He clenched his butt muscles, trying to counter the numbing effect of the long drive, when his phone rang. He checked the ID, saw he’d missed an earlier call, must’ve been while the phone was on the car charger. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to take this one, but might as well get it over. He pushed the button to accept the call.

  “Where the hell are they?” Jeff snarled before Ben got the word “hello” out of his mouth.

  “I’m looking.” Ben found himself scanning the highway for them then stopped abruptly as he realized that was stupid. The two women were nowhere around and he was ahead of them in the game this time. Not that he had any intention of telling Jeff yet.

  “I’ll tell you where they’ve been. With Senator James. Who is now dead.”

  Ben jerked. “What?”

  “Along with his two bodyguards.”

  “Are you saying they killed Senator James and the bodyguards?”

  “I’m not saying the tooth fairy visited.”

  Ben couldn’t picture MJ helping Tasha with unsanctioned killings. “But . . .” He paused, trying to wrap his brain around the implications.

  “Of course no one knows for sure. The local police have out a BOLO.”

  “Still locals?”

  “No alphabets involved yet. And the BOLO is for two nurses.”

  “So how do you know it’s them?”

  “A hunch?”

  “Why? Was the old guy screwed to death? Have there been any other bodyguards who died? Isn’t this breaking the pattern?”

  “MJ being with her is breaking the pattern.”

  “True.”

  “You might as well head back,” Jeff said. “With them working together, there’s no hope of finding them. Unless they make a mistake, and the cops catch them.”

  Jeff’s faith in Ben was underwhelming. Ben couldn’t blame him. The drunken stupor Jeff had roused Ben from couldn’t have inspired confidence. Yet now that he was sober he didn’t like the thought of adding another failure to his recent and lengthening list.

  “I think I can get them.”

  “Not necessary. Senator James was the last one.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “According to my resources.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now we just wait. Hope they come to their senses and come in.”

  Ben didn’t say anything, but after he hung up, he wondered more about Jeff’s reasoning as well as his abrupt mood shift from your-head’s-on-the-chopping-block-pissed-off to wait-and-see. Ben didn’t like the idea of waiting. He wondered if his impatience came from the desire to help the two women or else just from a need to see MJ again. Ben decided he wouldn’t alter the plan he’d devised on the long barefoot walk back to civilization.

  Jeff might not think there was a way to bring in MJ, but Ben knew one sure thing that would bring her running faster than a heifer set loose after a branding.

  An hour later, he exited off the freeway and drove into Whiddon. He’d only been there for the first time a few days ago, but the days he spent there, he’d made sure to learn the layout. He knew how to get where he wanted to go with no detours.

  It was almost two a.m. and as usual, the town was rolled up tight and snug in bed. He cut the lights and turned into the long gravel driveway. He’d considered parking out front and not risk getting trapped in the driveway, but the likelihood of someone driving up at this time of night was remote. It would be harder to get a baby in the car and easier to get caught if he parked in front of the house.

  He killed the engine and let the car silently roll to a stop behind. . .a rental car? Were MJ and Tasha here already? They’d left in Tasha’s Porsche, but maybe ditched it when they learned of the BOLO?

  No, not possible. Even driving as fast as the Porsche could go, they wouldn’t have had time to make it back to Texas...and secure a rental car as well. Unless they hopped on a plane? But with Jeff’s resources, he would have known if they’d taken a flight to Texas.

  So, who was parked in Tex’s driveway? Someone visiting?

  That would be too bad, throw a kink in his plans. The more people in the house, the harder to get the baby out, but he’d have to work around the new complications.

  Because one way or another, Angel had to leave with him.

  With caution second nature, Ben opened his car door as quietly as the dark around him. He left his trusty Colt .45 under the seat, only carrying a knife to cut the screen and tools to break into the house. He didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt; he knew these people were important to MJ. He walked toward the back of the house, keeping to the shadows.

  Shock stopped him in his tracks. Someone was already breaking into the house. What the hell? For the same reason as him? Only logical. Or worse thought, perhaps to take out the whole family. Couldn’t happen.

  Ben watched the man, dressed in black with a black knit stocking cap covering his head climb into the window. At least it saved Ben the trouble of breaking in, but now he needed speed to thwart off an impending fuck up. Running lightly to not to make any noise, he followed close behind.

  He ducked just as the guy turned and looked back out the window. When stocking cap dude turned and started sneaking toward Angel’s bed, Ben made his move. He couldn’t let the man get hold of Angel. That would be a hostage situation and not one he’d want to deal with.

  With no more of a plan than to keep Angelina safe, Ben hopped through the open window and grabbed the guy from behind in a choke hold. Adrenaline pumped through Ben, giving him strength. But the other man’s adrenaline was rushing too. He wasn’t going down easy. He struggled and nearly broke free. Ben jerked off the stocking cap and grabbed a chunk of blond hair, adding a bit of pain to the choke hold. Thank goodness the man wasn’t bald. Ben kept his hold, dragging the man backward, keeping him off balance.

  Must get him out of the house before they woke up Tex. Through research, Ben knew Tex was hard of hearing, but that didn’t mean his wife was hard of hearing. If she woke up, she’d wake up Tex. Chances would be reduced slim-to-none on getting the kid out of the house then.

  Ben dragged the man across the floor, a painful struggling inch at a time. He had to get him out of the house. He backed up to the window, started climbing out backward, intending to drag the guy out the window with him. But the man was strong. He hooked his feet on either side of the window, refusing to be pulled through. Ben grunted at the sudden stop.

  He increased the pressure on blondie’s neck with one arm, let go of his hair and slug
ged him in the kidney with his freed fist. That shocked or hurt the man enough to let go and Ben dragged him through.

  The man went limp. Wrapping him in the crook of his elbow, Ben put the man in a headlock, not wanting him to pass out. He had to find out who sent the guy. But once his feet fully touched the ground, blondie came to life like a demon.

  He swung his leg back, trying to sweep Ben’s legs out from under him. Ben sidestepped, but the move loosened his grip enough for the man to break free. He turned, leading with his right fist. Ben ducked, caught the man in the stomach with a left.

  Blondie lost his air, doubled over.

  “What are you doing here?” Ben slammed his fist into the man’s chin.

  The man staggered back. When he regained his footing, he gasped, “Best thing for you, Walker, is to just turn around and walk off.”

  Surprised the man used his name Ben squinted, studying unfamiliar features, noting a big scar on the guy’s forehead that disappeared into his hair. No other features to prompt Ben’s memory they’d ever met. “I don’t know you.”

  Blondie aka Scarface rushed Ben. “No time for introductions, sorry.”

  Ben sidestepped and caught the man in another uppercut to his chin. The man might be big, but Ben had speed. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

  The man fell, crawled to his knees. “I’d like to stay and chat, but I need that little girl.” He dropped and rolled so fast, he managed to take Ben down. They grappled on the ground. Ben took a punch to his temple that made him see stars. Damn that hurt, but he didn’t let go.

  “’Fraid you can’t take her. Her mom’s a close friend of mine.”

  The man yelped as he rolled into a thorny bush. “That’s why you’re sneaking in the night to get her?”

  Ben struggled his way on top of the guy, held onto his neck, squeezing. “I’m keeping her safe from you obviously. Who sent you?”

  “Can’t tell you, but you’re going to have to move.” He grunted and then shoved Ben. Scarface scrambled away and to his feet. And pulled a knife.

  Oh, fuck, no, Ben thought. He’d been injured enough on this job. Already his hurt shoulder screamed in protest, no doubt bleeding again. The man rushed him, Ben stayed still, at the last moment, twisted, then kicked the knife out of the man’s hand.

  Ben pulled his own knife. Time to end this impromptu meeting. Scarface stopped stone still. Perhaps his forehead had already had a run in with a knife, and it brought back bad memories?

  Whatever reasoning went through Scarface’s mind in that split second, he obviously decided it was better to live and fight another day. He turned and ran.

  With Ben parked behind the rental car, Scarface ran off down the street. What were the chances he’d return to do harm to Tex and Dottie once Ben left? He debated. Instincts said Scarface had come for Angel.

  But Ben would make it harder for Scarface to get away if he came back to cause any more trouble, and then he’d call and alert the police when he was well on the way out of town. He popped the hood on Scarface’s car and ripped out the spark plug wires.

  With the car out of commission, Ben took a deep breath to dispel the shakes caused from the adrenaline rush. Feeling steadier, he crawled back into the window. A night light plugged into the wall by the crib sent out a soft yellow glow, allowing him to see in the room. A diaper bag hung on an elephant hook on the wall. No doubt a useful item he would need. He took it down, checked it for diapers. A package of those wet wipey things. And she’d probably need clothes? Ben looked around and found a pink duffle bag with freshly laundered toddler clothes packed in them. Bless Dottie’s heart. He hefted the bags onto his shoulder then saw a stuffed animal in the bed. Probably should take that. He shoved it into the diaper bag.

  “Please sleep, Angel,” he murmured. “Don’t wake up.”

  Ben gently lifted her out of the crib, placed her on his shoulder, wrapping blankets around her. Bracing her head, he crawled out the window and headed toward his car.

  He imagined what Tex and Dottie were going to be feeling when they realized Angel was missing. Well, they’d know soon enough she was okay.

  Oughta be interesting. Their day tomorrow, as well as his. He opened the car door and hoped he could buckle her into the car seat without her waking.

  “Stay asleep, baby.”

  * * *

  Nice car. MJ had slipped behind the Porsche’s steering wheel, taking over the driving before dawn. The Texas border was less than an hour away, meaning they were about four hours away from Whiddon and Angelina.

  “You’re awfully cheery,” Tasha commented.

  “I am. I’ve missed Angelina.”

  “So you’re really into this mommy thing.”

  “Yeah, it’s a lot of fun.”

  “What made you go this route, adopting and all?”

  MJ told her about how she found Angelina.

  “One of those crack babies? Adoption? That had to be tough.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. That crack baby thing is mostly myth. She was born premature, and was developmentally delayed, but that came from living so long in the hospital setting. She didn’t have any specific medical issues, none that aren’t easily dealt with. Dottie’s good with her, she’s been taking in babies with special needs forever. Given her situation.”

  “What situation? Did she have special training?”

  “Nothing more than life. She’s black and Tex is white. They got married back in the early 70s.”

  “Progressive.”

  “Gave them a lot of trouble. Dottie nearly died from a double ectopic pregnancy, I suspect the white doctors back then weren’t as careful with a poor black woman. Regardless, Dottie and Tex loved children, so she went into daycare.”

  “I suppose adoption was out?”

  “Yeah, mixed races and all that, though she did foster children for a while. Said ultimately it was too hard, she’d grow to love them and they’d have to move on. With daycare, she knows it’s temporary.”

  “So what about you? Why’d you decide to saddle yourself with another life?”

  “I was ready to settle down.”

  “And you didn’t go the traditional route of getting married, having kids because . . . ?”

  What an odd question. “Keith ruined all that.”

  “I can see that, most men are useless anyway. But what about invitro, then you’d get at least part of the experience of having a baby if not the wedding and husband thing.”

  MJ shot Tasha a look. “You don’t know?”

  “Obviously not? What don’t I know?”

  “Keith’s shot took out my uterus. I can’t have kids.” MJ pinched her lips together. Still bad memories. Still hurt to talk about it, think about it.

  “Damn. I knew you’d been gut shot, but it didn’t even occur– No wonder . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “The bastard. If he were still alive, I’d kill him for you.”

  That comment drew a smile from MJ, and she felt warmth in her heart she never before associated with Tasha. “Thanks.”

  Then MJ thought how weird was that. Feeling grateful, even loving, that her adopted sister wanted to kill the bad boyfriend for her. If she hadn’t already killed him herself. Definitely not your normal good old American family relationship here.

  The sun was just peeping above the horizon when Tasha settled down to sleep, the little rat dog curled in her lap. MJ drove on, thinking it was time for a coffee break when her phone rang.

  “Good morning,” said the man when she answered.

  The tone of his voice set her nerves jangling. “Ben?”

  “Getting close to home?”

  “Why would you ask that?” she responded tightly, clamping down on her emotions.

  “It’s pretty obvious you want to protect your little girl, and with those BOLO’s out, I figure you’re planning on hightailing it out of the country.”

  “Why are you calling? You have no reason to be on the job. You were supposed to ge
t me to go after Tasha, not bring her in yourself.”

  “Maybe it became personal.”

  Her heartstrings tugged, for some strange reason. Sex the other night was no reason, they made no connection. Her heart didn’t quite believe the lies.

  “It’s not personal. No need for you to be involved.”

  “For me, it’s personal. And I am involved.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  “Didn’t figure you would.”

  “So why waste your time bothering? You won’t ever see me again.”

  “Have to say you’re wrong there.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to see me, and soon.”

  “Why you arrogant son-of-a-bitch, the sex was great, but–”

  But the line went dead. Before she could decide what he meant, or if she wanted to call back and ask for a further explanation—of course she didn’t—the phone rang again.

  “Damn, it’s hard to sleep around here,” Tasha complained.

  “Sorry.” MJ figured it was Ben calling back and hadn’t decided whether she’d answer or not when she saw on the caller ID it was Tex’s number.

  Angelina was MJ’s first thought.

  When MJ answered, Dottie was almost incoherent with tears. “I wasn’t sure I’d dialed the right number,” she sobbed.

  “Dottie, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, MJ.” A crying jag stole away any more words.

  “Dottie, is Angel sick?” Injured? MJ couldn’t even fathom any other thoughts.

  Tasha sat up. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” Frustration circled rings around MJ’s throat. “Dottie’s called but she’s crying too much to say anything.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Just having Tasha say the words made MJ’s heart pound, made it harder to catch a breath.

  “Dottie, is Tex there, can he talk?”

  Dottie’s crying faded away. . .

  MJ’s head spun. “Hello? Are you there?”

  Tasha patted MJ’s shoulder, giving her a feeling of stability.

  “MJ.” A new voice. One thick with tears but not out of control.

  Just hearing Tex choked up made the tears MJ had been holding back leak out. “Tex, what’s wrong? Is Angel sick? Is she hurt?”