Trust No One (Vista Security)

by Diana Layne

“No, I’m not ready to meet yet.”

  “Because . . . ? You’re setting up an ambush to capture us?”

  “Because.” She heard him draw a breath. “Because I want to make sure Angelina will be safe.”

  Deep down, she understood his reasoning if the story he told about the wife and baby were true. But this was her baby and she couldn’t afford to let emotion tug at her. She made her voice hard when she said, “Like I can trust what you say.”

  “Tell me when I’ve lied,” he countered.

  MJ blew out a breath, drew in another one. Not going there. “Where do we meet, and when?”

  He wouldn’t let her change the subject. “Can’t think of a time I lied, can you?”

  “You lied by omission.”

  “What?”

  “Not telling me right away you were getting Angel.”

  “And what would you have done if I told you? Called Tex, who might’ve called the police, and then what? You yourself said the locals are a bunch of yokels. Or, what if Tex had confronted the guy trying to kidnap her? That man was armed. Would you have wanted to risk Tex’s life?”

  “Tex is trained–”

  “MJ, he’s old. All the training in the world isn’t going to make him an even match with someone younger and armed, with no compunction about killing. You’re lucky I kept quiet about my plans, or things might have turned out differently. Obviously we’re playing a much more serious game than you thought.”

  “Are you sure we’re on the same team?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  After a few minutes of babbling baby talk to Angelina, MJ sniffed tears away when Angel said “uv you.”

  Ben came back on. “We’ll be heading out soon, sweetie.”

  A surprise chuckle escaped MJ. “Did you just call me sweetie?"

  “Er, getting used to talking to Angel, sorry. I’ll call you."

  “Please keep her safe, Ben.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  * * *

  “We better get going.” MJ gathered up the trash, headed for the garbage can.

  “I’ll drive. You sleep.”

  “I won’t sleep.”

  “You’re too on edge to be driving my car, so pretend to sleep.”

  MJ smiled.

  It was after lunch and after passing through a small town every other mile, they were finally approaching Tulsa when Ben called again.

  “Get a room at the Downtown Suites Inn,” he said.

  “Will you be there?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “My babysitter fell through. We’ll have to plan for later.”

  MJ could hear child and female adult laughter in the background. A woman was there? A jealous feeling trickled through MJ and she didn’t stop to examine whether it was because another woman was playing with Angel or was there with Ben. “Where are you?"

  Tasha drove into Tulsa. The streets ran North and South, East and West, creating a square block within the square. Sometimes the streets wiggled and curved. “Ask him how to get to the hotel.”

  MJ ignored her, but Ben heard and started giving directions. MJ was only half-listening. Instead she was focusing on Angel’s voice in the background.

  “I want to talk to Angel.”

  “I don’t know if I can get her to the phone. She’s having a good time.”

  Definitely jealousy over Angel. “With who?”

  “My mom.”

  The answer was unexpected. “Your . . . mother?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” he pointed out the obvious. “I’m not cloned. But you know, maybe that’s not a bad idea. So my mom could’ve had another boy.”

  She heard the smile in his voice, wondered at the cause.

  “I have five sisters.”

  “Five.” The word gushed out. Did that explain why he seemed to have such a sense of compassion, of honor? Because he was used to dealing with women all his life? Or had the sisters just taught him how to play women?

  “So, if your mom is taking care of my Angel why can’t we meet?”

  “My mother has a hair appointment. That woman will not miss her hair appointment. And my sisters have conveniently become unavailable, so we’ll have to wait.”

  “Just bring her.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “We can protect her better than your mom.”

  “Obviously you don’t know my mother.” At her silence he added, “I just want a chance to talk to you a minute. Angel will be in sight if all goes according to plans. It’s just going to be a while longer.”

  MJ felt her frustration level mounting. “When?”

  “Soon. Remember the directions I gave you to get to the hotel?”

  “No, here, talk to Tasha.” She thrust the phone Tasha's way. Damn him for not cooperating more.

  “Why can’t we come to your mother’s house?” Tasha asked. “It’s pretty tough on her being without the baby.”

  Bless Tasha’s heart. MJ waited, not really holding hope for Tasha’s argument. Ben seemed set on doing things his way.

  “Okay, we’ll see you soon then.” She disconnected and said to MJ. “His mom can’t miss the hair appointment.”

  “So he said.” MJ sighed.

  Tasha passed the phone back. “Seems like a nice enough guy."

  “If he was so nice, he’d let me have Angel. Or let me pick her up.”

  “He has suspicions about what’s going on. He doesn’t want us to lead the bad guys straight to his family and put them at risk.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have gone to his mother’s. Not like they can’t find his family anyway.”

  “You’re just being petulant. Right now the bad guys don’t know Ben’s involved. Apparently his mom lives isolated on a big ranch, and he needed a break. The baby needed a break. Close by, use his mom for help. He sounded sincere enough.”

  “You don’t think it’s a trap?”

  “I never discount that. But we have to play the cards the way he lays them. So for now, we’ll find that hotel, take a nap and wait on him to call. After our chat, we can get the baby and start working on her passport. If we can’t solve this, you’ll need to head out of the country.”

  * * *

  MJ tried to sleep, but after an hour of tossing and turning, she gave up and got out of bed. The dog, curled up snugly against a sleeping Tasha, showed no interest in going outside for a walk, so MJ grabbed her jacket and went by herself. She paced back and forth in front of the room for an hour, waiting for Ben to call, fighting an urge to call him herself and demand he bring Angelina immediately.

  Instead, she used the time to note her surroundings; a habit so long-ingrained, she would have done it subconsciously. Now, with nothing else to do but wait, she made more careful note.

  Not that there was anything to notice really. A long open walkway ran in front of the rooms. The motel was built in a square, with the pool in the middle of the square. In spite of the cool temperature, a fast food place with a play yard crowded with kids sat across the street.

  At last the phone rang.

  “We’re leaving now,” Ben said.

  “How long?”

  “About forty-five minutes. Maybe an hour, we’ll probably run into some traffic in town.”

  “Why so far away?”

  “Safer.”

  His answer provided a little comfort. He had enough forethought to put them in a hotel some distance away.

  “I’m going to drop my mom and Angelina off someplace safe while we talk,” he continued, “then I’ll take you to her.”

  “Your mom’s there?”

  “Yeah, that’s why Angelina isn’t crying. Mom figured out how to get that little dog to play music.”

  “Too much of a challenge for a grown man?”

  “Don’t worry about making me feel stupid, thanks.”

  In spite of the less than ideal circumstances, MJ chuckled. Especially when she hea
rd a woman in the background saying, “You do quite well with the stupid thing on your own, dear.”

  “Mom,” he protested.

  “I want to talk to your mother,” MJ cut in on the mother son chatter.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hello?”

  “Are you really his mother?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Why are you helping him kidnap my baby?”

  “The way he tells it, he’s keeping her safe. He got there before you could, and saved her.” She paused, obviously letting that sentence sink in. “Is he wrong?” she quietly asked.

  “So he says.”

  “You don’t trust my son?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but life has taught me not to trust anyone.”

  “Good for you.” His mother didn’t pursue the subject once her point was made. “Angelina’s a delightful baby. Loves attention.”

  “I dote on her.”

  “With that little dimple, she’s easy to dote on,” the mom said. “Ben said to tell you we’ll be there soon.”

  “Thank you.” MJ disconnected the call and started pacing again. Excitement warred with despair. Yes, she was about to get Angel back, but what then? And what was she going to tell poor Dottie who was probably frantic. She knew Tex could help smooth the story, but then there were the local cops.

  The way stories spread in a small town, truth or rumor made no difference, might make it impossible for MJ return to live a normal life. And if they didn’t find the mole, could she keep them all safe? Would people always be chasing after her?

  All because of Tasha. Then MJ realized she wasn’t being fair. If she’d been the one to learn about their parents, she couldn’t have just sat on the information. She might not have gone on a killing spree, true. Then again, she wouldn’t rule anything out as impossible.

  She headed inside to wake up Tasha. They’d both have time to shower before Ben arrived.

  Less than an hour later, Ben knocked. MJ jumped over the dog and crossed the room before the sound faded. But the dog, hackles raised, was right at her heels, a low growl in his throat. When she opened the door he went after Ben, snarling and snapping, grabbing hold of his jeans.

  “Ouch.” Ben jumped back. “You damn little...what is it? A rat?”

  MJ shook her head, scooped Cy up and thrust him at Tasha. “Where is Angelina?” she asked once the dog calmed.

  “At her favorite place, doing her favorite thing." He pointed across the street to the fast food place.

  “Her favorite thing?” MJ repeated slowly.

  “Eating junk food.” He grinned.

  With that cocky grin, he looked good, but that barely registered. She wanted this over and done with. “I don’t know why you didn’t just bring her to me, there’s nothing we need to talk about.”

  “I think there is.” His eyes slipped past her. “Hello, Tasha.” He walked toward the bed. “I feel I should know you, you’ve been so intent on hurting me.”

  The dog, curled up by Tasha, growled again.

  “I’ve been told I get off on pain.” Her gaze traveled the length of Ben’s body. Bringing her eyes up to his face, she smiled and ran her hand down Cy’s back. Only Tasha could make the act of petting her dog sexually suggestive. “The other person’s pain, of course.”

  “Of course.” The air hummed thick between them.

  MJ frowned, feeling unreasonably jealous. True, she and Ben had no commitment, but they did have that night together. A pretty memorable night in her view. True, Tasha was gorgeous, oozed sex appeal, but did they have to make goo-goo eyes at each other while MJ was still in the room?

  “You two can talk. Or try to shoot each other. I’m going to get Angel.” MJ took two steps toward the door, intent on getting past Ben, but he grabbed her arm. She ignored how his fingers plastered on her skin, as she attempted to stare him down.

  He held her gaze. “Stay.”

  She debated on taking him out, knew Tasha would back her up. She was so tired of this shit; she just wanted to get her baby, go home, turn back the clock. Useless wishes. As useless as wishing Keith’s bullet hadn’t damaged her trust as much as her body.

  Ben must’ve read the look in her eyes. “Please," he added.

  Against her will, a hardened layer of her heart ripped and peeled back leaving a soft vulnerable spot exposed. To cover any weakness, she jerked away, turned, stomped to the bed, and plopped her butt on top of the covers. “Fine. Talk.”

  “I think you two need to talk first.”

  “What do you want to know?” Tasha asked with the tone of an open book.

  “What’s going on?”

  “That’s obvious,” MJ snapped.

  “Ok, rephrase the question. Who are these senators?”

  MJ grumbled, “Hello, they’re senators. What else do you need to know?”

  “They were senators,” Ben pointed out calmly, in direct opposite to MJ’s petulant tone. He turned to Tasha. “Maybe you should answer the questions. What do the senators have in common?” Ben asked her.

  “Besides all being dead?” Tasha asked, her manner depicting nothing but innocence.

  Ben rubbed his hand over his face. “Women,” he muttered. “I should know better.” With a dogged determination that impressed MJ, he tried again. “What else do they have in common? Why’d you go after them?”

  “Who says I went after anyone?” A flash of anger replaced her bland facade. “Is it my fault those old men died?”

  Ben pinned her with a give-me-a-break look.

  Tasha met the look straight on. MJ hid a smile.

  “We figured out they were on the same committee, but that still doesn’t explain the motivation to kill them.”

  “And Jeff didn’t fill you in when you told him?” Tasha asked.

  “He might’ve, if I’d told him.”

  “You haven’t?” MJ said, cocking her head to stare at him, trying to figure him out. “Why not?”

  “Same reason I didn’t tell him I have Angel. If Jeff knows for certain that these men were murdered, it’s odd he’s keeping it under wraps.”

  “You think it’s odd, do you?” MJ asked.

  “And then there’s the matter of your baby. Who would’ve been interested in taking her, and why?”

  “You mean other than you?” MJ couldn’t resist the dig, and she hadn’t been inclined to believe any involvement on Jeff’s part until the guy showed up to take Angel. Who else would know about the baby, or care enough to use Angelina to bring MJ running? Aside from Ben, of course.

  His gaze shifted between MJ and Tasha. “You two aren’t helping.”

  “Told you,” MJ pointed out.

  “Oh, you could help if you wanted. You have the answers.”

  “That’s because we’re the ones who need the answers,” MJ said and crossed her arms.

  “We can’t trust you,” Tasha added. “You could be Jeff’s lackey, trying to incriminate us, you could be–”

  “I’m not–” Ben protested, interrupting Tasha when a knock on the door interrupted both of them.

  All three pairs of eyes turned to the door.

  “Tulsa police. Open up.”

  MJ’s eyes widened. Police?

  Ben.

  She sprang to her feet, ready to kill. “You.”

  Chapter 26

  Her heart ripped open further, this time from pain. Later, she’d have to sew up her defenses again. For now, she had to survive what seemed to be a quickly developing clusterfuck. “You used my baby to get us here. You had the police waiting.”

  He shook his head. “No. This isn’t right. My sister’s a cop, something’s wrong.”

  “A cop? How convenient. Told you it could be a trap,” Tasha said.

  “No, it’s not convenient,” Ben protested. “Something is wrong. She knows what I’m doing. They shouldn’t be here.”

  His sister was a cop? Wasn’t that lovely? Built-in he
lp for a trap. “Angelina.” So close but too far. The enormity of what was happening pressed on MJ. She sank back onto the bed, let her head drop into her hands. She’d shared thoughts with this man, nursed him, slept with him through his nightmares, shared her body. He knew how important Angel was. She thought he understood.

  Oh, he understood all right. He knew Angelina was the only thing that would bring her running.

  And it worked.

  Ben knelt in front of her, pressed his hand against her knees. “I swear, I didn’t–”

  Another pound on the door cut him off. Just as well, she didn’t want to hear his lies, she’d want to believe them too badly.

  “Open now, or we’re busting down the door.”

  “We fighting or we going?” Tasha asked, setting Cy aside to check her weapons.

  No doubt the three of them could take them. “They’ll likely have a sniper positioned.”

  “True.”

  “Then there’s Angel. I don’t want to screw up the adoption beyond repair.”

  “It’s looking pretty screwed already. We can work around it.”

  MJ knew that would mean leaving the country, not an option she wanted to be forced to choose. “Or I can hope for another time to fight.”

  “Then we’re going to have to open the door before the big boys out there bust it down.” She picked Cy up in one arm, slipped her two pistols and knife back into her bag and walked toward the door. “Keep your shirt on, fellas. We’re getting dressed in here.”

  Dressed?

  Tasha opened the door. When she did, three policeman rushed into the room revolvers drawn, a fourth was left standing in the doorway with his revolver out as well.

  Tasha, in typical Tasha fashion remained calm and unruffled. “You’re interrupting a little Ménage e trois you know.” With Cy tucked under one arm, Tasha ran her free hand down her neck, drawing attention to her breasts.

  “What?” the policeman in the doorway asked, his gaze darting inside. He realized he’d been duped. His voice hardened.

  “Step back, ma’am. Hands up.”

  “Ooh, I like your accent, honey,” Tasha drawled.

  He ignored her, seeming to pay little attention to her sultry posturing. Instead, he waved his revolver like a pointer, which was not only unprofessional but dangerous. He might be one of those backwoods cops who got off on guns more than women. “You two. Over there, too. Hands in the air.”