by Diane Kelly
As Jared stepped to the door, pretending to unlock it, Nick slid the door of Claudia’s minivan open. With a primal war cry, he rushed at Mendoza.
Mendoza spun on his heels and pulled a gun from his pocket. He got off one shot that shattered the windshield of Claudia’s minivan before Nick tackled him to the ground.
Christina and I darted from our hiding places. She remained inside to make sure the muscle men couldn’t take advantage of the situation. I unlocked the door and tried to step outside to help Nick.
The two men squirmed and fought on the sidewalk right in front of the door. I couldn’t get it open more than a few inches.
Nick landed a solid punch to Mendoza’s face. The man’s head snapped back and hit the door, the glass giving off a sickening crack. Mendoza’s gun lay on the sidewalk, but so did Nick’s. The two were going at it hand to hand now.
Nick grabbed Mendoza’s jacket and hauled the man away from the door, tossing him over the curb. But Mendoza had a firm grip on Nick’s shirt and pulled Nick to the ground with him. The two rolled around together like tomcats in a tussle, then came apart.
As I stepped outside, Mendoza put a hand on Claudia’s van. He managed to get to his feet and pulled a second gun from his waistband. Seeing me in the doorway, he let loose a round that whizzed past my shoulder and shattered the glass behind me.
Screams came from inside Claudia’s office. I glanced back to see Claudia’s mouth open, her hands clawing at her face. No one had been hit, though Mendoza’s shot had taken out the wall clock. It had ticked its last tock.
I pulled my gun and aimed it at Mendoza. “Drop it!”
But he didn’t drop it.
Nick was on his feet now and lunged at Mendoza before he could fire again. The two went at each other again, wildly throwing punches and kicks. Mendoza lost this gun, too, the weapon clattering as it was knocked from his hand and slid across the parking lot.
Josh ran up then, stopping beside me, panting with exertion. “What do we do?”
By that point, Nick had Mendoza backed up against Claudia’s van, his body covering Mendoza’s, his hands at Mendoza’s throat. Josh and I ran over to the van.
“We’ve got your back, Nick,” I said. “You can let go of him now.”
But Nick didn’t let go. Mendoza’s face turned dark purple, the light in his eyes dimming.
“Stop, Nick!” I tried to pry his fingers from Mendoza’s neck.
He’d kill the man if he didn’t stop. Sure, Mendoza deserved to die. But what would killing Mendoza mean for Nick? Even if Nick convinced Internal Affairs he hadn’t willingly turned his back on the agency three years ago, there was no way he’d ever get his job back if he killed a man who clearly could have been taken into custody alive.
I pulled on Nick’s arm but couldn’t budge it. “Let go!”
Nick still didn’t release Mendoza.
I looked at Nick’s face, into his eyes. I saw pure hate, uncontrolled rage, a raw and crazed aggression. His teeth were gritted, his lips curled back in a vicious snarl, an inhuman growl coming from his throat.
Something had come over Nick. He’d snapped. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to.
I’d have to do it for him.
Josh stood to the side, hopping around and flapping his arms, totally ineffective. He was a great cybersleuth, but clearly he wasn’t cut out for hand-to-hand combat.
I stepped back and pulled my gun. It was the only thing I could think of. I tried to find a nonvital part of Mendoza to put a bullet in, but the only part of him that was exposed was his crotch. I had only one choice.
I aimed.
I squeezed my trigger.
And I took out Mendoza’s nads.
At the sound of the shot, Nick dropped his hands from Mendoza’s neck, letting the man slide to the ground. Mendoza had no breath yet to scream, but jerked in pain on the asphalt, his hands at his groin.
Nick whirled on me, the crazed look in his eyes flashing one last time before quickly retreating. He glanced down at Mendoza for a moment, then back at me. The look in Nick’s eyes spoke for him. Thank you for keeping me from killing the bastard.
Mendoza launched into a high-pitched shriek while I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and dialed 911, summoning both an ambulance and local police.
“Does that woman need help, too?” the dispatcher asked. She must’ve heard Mendoza’s cries.
“Nah,” I said. “She’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Patching Things Up
Christina, Nick, and I arrived at the medical clinic an hour later. Ajay was working the late shift tonight. His white lab coat hung open over a T-shirt that read DOCTORS DO IT WITH PATIENCE. He ushered us back to an examination room immediately.
Christina received the doctor’s attention first. “I’m fine,” she said, holding up a palm. “The only thing I’ve got is Bubba cooties.”
“Me, too,” I said, though I could feel a long bruise forming along my backbone from my fall in Claudia’s office.
Ajay turned to Nick, who took a seat on the examination table. Ajay shined his little light in Nick’s eyes. “Looks like someone used your face for a punching bag.”
Nick chuckled and cut his eyes my way. “You should see the other guy.”
I shot him a stern look. Already he’d replaced my former title as the Annie Oakley of the IRS with a new moniker—the Sperminator.
Nick had a black eye, several scrapes, and a cut on his jawline. Ajay sewed up Nick’s chin and gave him a cold pack for the eye, while a nurse applied antibiotic ointment to the scrapes.
The worst part was the glass in Nick’s arm. He and Mendoza had rolled around in the shards from Claudia’s shattered windshield and sharp bits had lodged in Nick’s skin. Using a pair of tweezers, Ajay pulled them out one by one, dropping them into a metal bowl. “You can take these to class for show-and-tell.”
When Ajay finished extracting the broken glass, he cleaned the area and applied a series of small bandages to Nick’s arm. The doc jotted a note in Nick’s new file and slid it into the plastic bin on the door. “You’ll live to fight another day.” He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a green lollipop. “Here’s a little something for being such a brave boy.”
* * *
It was well after two A.M. once things settled down, but Nick didn’t want to wait a second longer. He gave me directions to his mother’s house, calling her from his new cell phone as we pulled into the driveway.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. “Everything’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay.” He slid a smile my way. “Come to your front door. There’s a surprise waiting there.”
He ended the call and handed the phone to me. “It’s yours now.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
He let out a breath and looked at me. “Tara, I—”
I cut him off with a raised palm. “No need.”
He simply stared at me for a moment, then leaned over to give me a soft kiss on the cheek. He climbed out of the car just as the front door opened. His mother stood in the doorway, putting a hand to her eyes to shield them from the harsh porch light. A big and fluffy golden-haired dog stood next to her.
As Nick made his way up the sidewalk, the dog sniffed the air, perked up as he recognized his master’s scent, and bounded forward, leaping onto Nick, barking and wagging his tail. Nick’s mother rushed after the dog, grabbing her son in a huge bear hug, wailing joyfully. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed.
Nick’s did, too.
I put my hand to the spot on my cheek where Nick had kissed me.
Then I put my car in gear and drove straight to Brett’s house.
* * *
I let myself in with his hidden key. It probably wasn’t right to wake Brett so late, but I needed him. I needed to feel his strong arms around me, needed him to hold me, to comfort me. Sure, we’d kicked ass back at Claudia’s office, and some rather big asses at that, but now that the showdow
n was over and the adrenaline was wearing off, I was shaking like an addict who’d gone too long without a hit.
I needed a Brett fix.
I stood in the doorway to his dark bedroom. Reggie lay on his back on my side of the bed, shedding on my pillow and snoring. Napoleon lifted his head from his spot next to Brett and gave a half growl, half bark, chewing me out for interrupting his slumber.
Brett shifted in the bed and opened his eyes, looking toward the doorway. “Tara?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me.”
He sat up, running a hand over his tousled hair. His voice was raspy with sleep. “You okay?”
“It’s done,” I said. “We got him.”
“Thank God!” Fully awake now, Brett jumped out of bed and dashed over to me, grabbing me tight, his arms wrapped around my back. Given the bruises down my spine, his embrace hurt a little, but I wasn’t about to stop him. He breathed a warm sigh of relief into my hair. “You have no idea how glad I am this case is over.”
He wasn’t the only one. Now I could have my life back. So could Eddie. And Nick.
“Wait a minute.” Brett stepped back, removing his arms. “You’re wet.”
I gave him a soft smile. “It’s a long story.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The Prodigal Son Returns
Around ten the next morning, I arrived at the office to find Viola and Lu in the conference room. Colorful streamers hung from the ceiling, helium balloons floated in the air, and the table held an enormous frosted sheet cake that read WELCOME BACK, NICK! The corners of the cake boasted thick, gooey roses. Yum. Just the thing to go with the skinny no-whip latte in my hand. I’d ordered an extra-large one this morning, figured I’d need some caffeine-induced courage to face the Lobo.
I’d done a lot of wrong things. But I’d done them for the right reasons. I wasn’t sure where that left me as far as my boss was concerned.
I stepped into the room and looked at the two women. “Guess you heard, huh?”
Lu turned and marched straight at me. She stopped just inches from me, putting one hand on her hip and pointing a meaty finger in my face. “You directly defied my orders. You broke a multitude of federal laws. You dragged Josh into this. For Christ’s sake, you shot a man in the testicles! What do you have to say for yourself?”
There wasn’t much I could say in my defense other than, “Actually, it was only one testicle.” The marshal who’d landed guard duty at the hospital had filled me in earlier this morning. Mendoza’s left nut had gone adios.
Her scowl softened into a smile and she dropped her finger. “Good work, Holloway.”
I smiled back. “Thanks.”
The scowl and finger returned. “But if you ever do anything like this again, you’ll be tossed out of here faster than you can say ‘boo.’ Understand me?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to George Burton.”
“Got that covered,” came Nick’s voice from behind me.
“Nick!” Lu rushed past me to grab him in a bear hug. She held him, one hand on each arm as she stepped back to look up at him. “I can hardly believe my eyes.”
Viola walked over to Nick and accepted a hug from him, too. She looked up into his face, putting a maternal hand on his cheek. A knowing look passed between the two.
Aha! So Viola was the one who’d been in contact with Nick. No matter how much I had pleaded and prodded last night, Nick had refused to reveal his source. But I had my answer now, plain as day.
Viola frowned at Nick’s black eye. “That’s one hell of a shiner.”
Nick was tough. He’d survive. At the moment I was more concerned with placating George Burton and, hopefully, keeping my job. “What’s this about George Burton?”
Nick grinned. “I got in touch with a contact in the Mexican tax department after we looked over Mendoza’s key logger data. I gave him the access codes to the bank accounts in Latin America. They were able to link those accounts to shell businesses Vicente Torres had used to launder money.”
According to Nick, the Mexican agent determined the accounts had been shared by Torres and Mendoza, and that Torres had ripped off his partner in crime, moving the funds to an account only he could access after learning the IRS had renewed its pursuit of Mendoza.
“Our information gave them enough evidence to bust Torres,” Nick said. “They caught him boarding a flight to Ecuador. They’ve been after Torres for years. Burton’s counterpart in the Mexican tax bureau was thrilled, called me himself this morning. He said he’d put in a good word for us with Burton.”
No way would Burton fire the agents who’d performed an international coup and brought down a dangerous crime syndicate, even if the agents’ methods were less than exemplary.
Lu sent Viola to round up the staff. The other agents received Nick back into the fold with open arms, both literally and figuratively. When they learned everything Nick had gone through the last three years, that he’d been living in forced exile in Mexico, they were stunned.
As I licked the last bit of frosting from my plastic fork, Eddie entered the room. He seemed to have aged years since I’d last seen him, yet he looked relieved, too. While he and Nick greeted each other, I cut him a piece of cake and brought it to him along with a cup of fruit punch.
“How was your vacation?” I teased, knowing living under protective custody was anything but a holiday.
Eddie shook his head. “The twins were bouncing off the walls, Sandra was worried sick but trying her hardest not to show it, and I couldn’t do jack shit about any of it. It was hell.”
“So you’re glad to be back at work then?”
“Damn straight.”
* * *
Christina, Alicia, and I sat in plastic lawn chairs on my back patio, sipping frozen margaritas prepared and served by Nick, who wore nothing but a few small bandages, a chipped-tooth smile, and his tiger-striped Speedo. A deal’s a deal, even if I was the one who’d negotiated it for him without his express consent.
God, it felt good to relax.
The Mendoza case was out of my hands now. Dallas PD’s crime scene techs had matched Bubba’s fingerprint to one found on the till at the Pokornys’ bakery. His print had also been matched to a prior burglary. Having linked the thug to three crimes, the DA made sure Bubba wasn’t going anywhere. While his cohort’s bail had been set somewhat lower, nobody had shown up to post bond for either of them.
Jared had been released on his own recognizance. While he wouldn’t enjoy full immunity, it was likely he’d work out a plea deal and only serve probation, avoiding jail time. Hopefully he’d learned his lesson and would keep his nose clean from here on out.
Bubba’s fingerprints tied Mendoza to both the loan shark operation and the attack on the Pokornys. The key logger data Josh had obtained directly linked Mendoza to the e-mails sent to Claudia and to the foreign bank accounts. Given this new evidence, the FBI had reopened Andrew Sheffield’s murder investigation. They’d sought phone records for the two cell numbers Mendoza had used to communicate with Claudia. From those records, they were able to trace Mendoza’s calls and thus identify a number of his minions, including a new accounts officer at NDCU who’d stolen credit card information from the bank’s clients. When the FBI dug a little deeper, they discovered that, lo and behold, one of Mendoza’s henchmen had placed two calls to a suspected hit man, a former butcher at a slaughterhouse. Andrew Sheffield’s killer, no doubt.
Heads would roll. Dozens of them. On both sides of the border. The Mexican authorities had made widespread arrests, too.
The vast financial empire Mendoza and Torres had built now lay in ruins. Mendoza would spend the rest of his life in jail.
How did I feel about all of this? I had just one thing to say.
Neener-neener.
When I finished my first drink, I snapped my fingers and sent Nick back into my kitchen to make another round.<
br />
“My God,” Alicia said, gazing appreciatively at Nick through the window. “Even with a black eye that man is so sexy it’s ridiculous.”
I watched Nick, too, as he revved up the blender to prepare our second round. His skimpy bathing suit left nothing to the imagination, but it sure had us girls imagining some very naughty things.
“His office is directly across from mine,” I said. “I have no idea how I’ll get any work done.”
“You could always shut your door,” Christina suggested.
“And you could always shut your mouth,” I suggested right back.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Do or Die
My life was mine again.
With the Mendoza case now over, I had more time to spend with Brett. We spent hours in the bedroom making up for lost time, toured the new exhibit at the Dallas Arboretum, went out for sushi and a movie with Alicia and Daniel. I even helped Brett plant some seedlings at one of the Habitat houses. Trish had been on the job site and I’d finally met her face-to-face. Despite my urge to take a shovel to her butterscotch-colored head, I managed to restrain myself.
I’d taken a couple of days off from work and driven to Nacogdoches to visit my parents. I returned Dad’s unregistered hunting rifle, exchanging the weapon for a fresh tin of Mom’s pecan pralines. Both Mom and Dad had been happy to see me, relieved my dangerous case was over.
I’d devoted an entire afternoon to quality time with my cats, playing with them, hand-feeding them treats, petting and stroking them until they’d forgiven my neglect.
I’d gone by the bakery to visit the Pokornys. With Mendoza now in jail and the insurance payout in their pockets, they’d reconsidered their plans to move back to the Czech Republic and were in the process of rebuilding their bakery.
I’d even had lunch again with Lauren Sheffield, again enjoying the linguine formaggio. Mendoza’s arrest gave her the closure she needed to begin moving on, to make plans for her and her son’s future.
Life was good.