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Killer Season

Page 19

by Lara Lacombe


  Now if they could just figure out what was really going on.

  * * *

  Fiona splashed water on her face, the cool shock of it helping to refocus her mind. It was hard to think—her brain was going a mile a minute, churning out thoughts and worries so quickly she barely had time to examine one before another one jerked into view, vying for her attention. It was fear, she knew, that made her thoughts so chaotic and disjointed. If she could just conquer her fear, she could take a dispassionate, logical look at the situation and come up with the best solution.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to block out the hum of the heater and the low buzz of sound from the people working down the hall. It took a moment, but finally she felt her heartbeat start to slow, to drop from a panicked gallop into a normal, relaxed rhythm.

  It’s too late for that. You’re involved now.

  You really don’t get it, do you?

  Sal’s parting words now made sense, but she wished she could go back to a time when they’d still been a riddle. He had known about the danger—he must have, or else why had he killed himself? Had he been trying to warn her?

  Not for the first time, she wondered what he would have done if she hadn’t broken free. Traded her for the photographs? Or given her to the cartel in exchange for his own life? The possibility made her shudder. He’d probably thought to blame her for the pictures, and turn her over to the cartel for punishment. After all, Joey was dead and couldn’t contradict that story.

  “Thank God, I got away,” she murmured. Although right now, she had to admit, she still didn’t feel very safe.

  If what the agent said was true, she still had a big, fat target painted on her back. And she’d read enough news articles to know that Mexican cartels weren’t known for their restraint.

  But what were the chances they would find her? Houston was a big city, and she was merely one out of two million people. Would they really comb every neighborhood in search of her, to snuff out the nonexistent threat she represented to their interests?

  The federal agent certainly seemed to think so. He’d been quite insistent that she go into some kind of witness protection program, but Fiona wasn’t sure she wanted to uproot her life like that. From what she understood, if she accepted his offer she’d have to move to a brand-new place, leaving behind her life here in Houston.

  A few weeks ago, that wouldn’t have bothered her so much. The only tie she really had to this area was her graduate program, and it was quite possible she could transfer to another university to finish her degree.

  But now that Nate was in her life, Fiona didn’t want to just walk away. The connection she felt with him was unlike anything she’d known before. And after spending the past several years putting herself last in her own life, she wanted to start living again, to see what the future held for her and Nate.

  She reached for the paper towels and patted her face dry. Maybe she was being irrational, but she’d rather take her chances with the cartel than miss out on having a life with Nate.

  Her mind made up, she turned to head back to the interview room. It might take some time to convince Nate, but once she explained her position, hopefully he would agree that she’d made the right choice.

  She reached for the door handle just as it pushed inward. She took a step back to make room for the new arrival, but froze when the agent from the interview room walked in.

  “What are you doing in here?” Had he really followed her into the ladies’ room to continue arguing that she needed to go into the witness protection program? Talk about pushy.

  “You need to come with me.”

  “No.” She shook her head firmly. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m going to stay here. I’m not willing to uproot my life on the off chance I might be in danger.” She moved to walk past him, but he held out his arm, blocking her access to the door.

  “It’s not a slight chance,” he said, sliding his hand into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a gun. He pointed it at her, the fanatical gleam in his eyes telling her he was prepared to use it. “Now move.”

  For a half second, she was tempted to fight back. She’d had enough of men sticking a gun in her face and telling her to do something! But she could tell by the set of his jaw this man was crazy, and if he had to shoot her in the bathroom of the police station, he would.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked, taking a step forward. Maybe if people overheard him, they’d realize something was wrong...

  “You and I are going to take a ride. And if you give me any trouble—” he jammed the gun into her side, making her wince “—I’m going to take a detour and kill your boyfriend first.”

  He would do it, too. She had a brief fantasy of being herded back into the interview room, where Nate and his partner could disarm the man and save her. But dread filled her stomach as she realized that if they went back, the gunman would start shooting with no warning. Nate wouldn’t have a chance to react or defend himself—he’d be dead within minutes. And even though she was terrified and wanted nothing more than to see Nate’s face one last time, she wouldn’t be the cause of his death.

  “I won’t do anything,” she said, swallowing hard to force down the lump in her throat. Not here, anyway.

  This was it, then. She couldn’t risk Nate’s safety, or anyone else’s for that matter. Better for her to go with him now and hope they could get out of the building without anyone getting hurt. She’d just have to figure out a way to escape later.

  If it was even possible.

  Chapter 15

  “How long does it take to make a phone call?” Nate grumbled.

  Owen glanced over. “It’s only been a couple of minutes. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  He knew his partner was right, but that didn’t ease his frustration. He wanted answers now, especially when Fiona’s safety was on the line.

  There was a short knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a tall, middle-aged man in a dark suit. Nate and Owen exchanged a look. Who is this?

  The new arrival glanced around the room, his face relaxing as he took in everyone. “Oh, good, you’re all here. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “Who are you?” Nate asked. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his muscles grew tense, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

  The man frowned slightly. “I’m Bill Golightly, from Homeland Security. I’m sorry, I thought my superior officer told you I was coming.”

  “You’re Agent Golightly?” Owen said, his eyes going wide.

  “Yes.” The man reached into his pocket and withdrew his identification.

  “Then who the hell is that other guy?” Captain Rogers barked.

  Nate realized in a sickening instant what was going on. The other man was a plant, someone from the cartel sent to take out any witnesses.

  And he’d probably seen Fiona head to the bathroom while he was in the hallway making his phone call.

  Nate bolted from the room, leaving the other men to argue about who was real and who was not. He didn’t have time to waste establishing identities. They could sort all that out later, as far as he was concerned.

  He didn’t see the man in the hall, but he hadn’t really expected to. The phone call was a ploy, a way to regroup and replan when it had become clear that Nate wasn’t going to let Fiona just walk away with a stranger. Had he cornered her in the bathroom? Were they still there now?

  He forced himself to slow down as he approached the bathroom door. If he busted in, guns blazing, he could very well spook the man into hurting Fiona. It wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath and pushed gently on the door, easing it open until he could see the room clearly.

  Empty.

  He stepped inside and checked all the stalls, just to make sure. No one was here. No window, either, which meant they’d had to leave using the door. But where would he take her?

  The garage. That had to be their destination. The
man wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself by killing Fiona in a public place. Better for him to take her someplace remote. And the only way to do that in a city like Houston was to drive.

  Nate raced out of the bathroom and nearly ran into Owen. “Garage,” he said shortly. Owen nodded and fell into step beside him.

  They hit the doors together, shoving them open with such force that the sound ricocheted through the parking garage like a gunshot. At this point, Nate no longer cared about the element of surprise—he just wanted to find Fiona and get her back safely.

  He glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement or some other clue that would tell him where they’d gone. The parking garage at the precinct wasn’t terribly large, but there wasn’t enough time to search car by car.

  “You don’t have to do this.” The words were faint but clear. Nate nearly cried out in relief. She was still here!

  He glanced questioningly at Owen, who nodded. He’d heard it, too.

  Keep talking, he silently urged. He took a careful step in the direction of the sound, hoping he’d picked the right trajectory. It was hard to be sure, the way noise echoed in this place. But if Fiona would continue to talk, he could find her.

  “I’ll just pretend I never saw the pictures,” she said, her voice getting louder as he moved. His heart pounded a steady rhythm in his ears as adrenaline and anticipation surged together in his blood. He was getting closer!

  Owen touched his arm, forcing him to stop. His partner made a few gestures, indicating he was going around so they could close in on the man from both directions. Nate nodded, then resumed moving forward. Now that he’d heard Fiona’s voice and knew where she was, he wasn’t going to stop until she was back in his arms.

  Where she belonged.

  “Shut up,” the man grumbled. Fiona made a soft, pained sound that had Nate seeing red. Had the man just hurt her?

  “Stop pulling my arm,” she said, sounding a little testy. Nate couldn’t help but smile at her feisty attitude in the face of certain danger. That was the woman he knew and cared about. Maybe even loved.

  The thought brought him up short, but he dismissed the shock of it almost instantly. Yes, he was well on his way to loving her. Now he just had to get her back so he could tell her and show her how he felt.

  “Move faster!”

  “No!” He heard sounds of a struggle, as if Fiona was pulling away and the man was scrabbling to get ahold of her again. “I’m not getting into a car with you.”

  “You don’t have a choice!”

  “Yes, I do.” Fiona’s voice was stubborn. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it now. Why draw it out?”

  “This isn’t the place,” he said, sounding a little desperate.

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to make it easy for you!” she snapped.

  Nate crept closer, holding his breath. He was happy she was stalling her abductor, but if she pushed him too far...

  There was a faint beep, as if the man had remotely unlocked a car. They must be getting close.

  “Get in the car,” he ordered.

  “No,” she replied.

  A muffled thump sounded, followed by Fiona’s faint cry. Unless he missed his guess, the fake agent had just hit Fiona and was trying to manhandle her into his vehicle. It was too much.

  He couldn’t wait to see if Owen was in position. He had to move, now, before Fiona was hurt any more by this psycho.

  Keeping his head down, Nate rushed around the corner in time to see his worst nightmare brought to life. The man, whoever he was, had his hands on Fiona and was trying to force her into the backseat of a dark sedan. She was putting up a good fight, but his greater strength and anger was slowly overcoming her resistance. Nate watched in horror as the man drew back his fist and landed a blow to Fiona’s ribs, right in the spot where Big Sal had kicked her earlier.

  The breath gusted out of her on a choked moan, and her body went limp. Taking advantage of this new opportunity, the man hefted her into the back of the car, bending to sweep her feet inside.

  Nate waited until she was safely behind the closed door of the car before making his move. It was risky, but if bullets started flying, he wanted her behind some kind of cover.

  “Freeze!” he shouted, advancing quickly with his gun held out.

  The man jumped, clearly surprised to find he wasn’t alone. He tried to make a dash around the trunk of the car to reach the driver’s side door, but Owen approached from the opposite direction, his gun also up. “Don’t move!”

  Fiona’s abductor stayed in place while his head swiveled back and forth between Nate and Owen, as if he was trying to decide who was the greater threat. Apparently feeling Nate was the bigger problem, he turned to face him and stepped forward.

  “This ends here,” Nate said, struggling to keep his voice calm. The logical, cool side of him recognized he needed to talk this guy down, to arrest him and question him and have him sent to trial to answer for his crimes. He clearly worked for the cartel; there had to be blood on his hands, and he should be made to pay.

  But Nate’s emotional, angry side kept replaying the sight of this man punching Fiona in the ribs and stuffing her limp body into the backseat of a car. His finger itched to pull the trigger, to end this now and make sure this man could never hurt Fiona again.

  In the end, his training won out. As satisfying as it would be to avenge her, he knew that it would only serve to make things worse. He couldn’t very well have a relationship with Fiona if he was behind bars. She deserved so much more than that.

  “It’s over when I say it’s over!” The fake agent was growing increasingly agitated, a fact that made him unpredictable. While Nate wasn’t worried about getting hurt—he knew Owen would cover him—this guy was still too close to Fiona. If he snapped and started shooting into the backseat, there was little Nate could do to stop him before he hurt her again.

  “This doesn’t have to end badly,” Nate said, inching forward as he spoke. He kept his gun up but made eye contact with the other man, trying to show his sincerity. “You can put your gun down, and we can go back inside and talk some more.”

  The man shot him a disbelieving look. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  Nate shook his head. “No, I don’t. What’s your name?”

  While he spoke, Owen crept ever closer to the backseat. If Nate could keep the perp distracted, Owen could grab Fiona and get her out of there. It took everything in Nate’s power not to focus on his partner’s progress. He kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him, knowing that if he looked distracted, it would tip the assailant off that something was going on behind him.

  “No.” The man shook his head firmly.

  “No?” What was that supposed to mean? “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t care if you understand, Officer. I’m not going to play your game.”

  Nate’s brows rose. “What game? There is no game here. I’m trying to help you.”

  The man let out a humorless laugh. “Sure you are. You want to know my name so you can start to personalize the conversation. To get me thinking of my family, my friends, my life. Then you’ll try to make me see that if I don’t cooperate with you, I’ll never see them again. You want me to surrender peacefully so you can go back to your desk and pat yourself on the back for a job well done.”

  Nate blinked. Well, yeah, that was pretty much the gist of it.

  “And above all,” the man continued, “you want to keep me talking, to distract me from the fact that your partner is inching closer to the door of my car in a futile attempt to rescue my hostage.” At this, he withdrew a second gun from the waistband of his pants and took a step back, so that he now had both Nate and Owen in his sights.

  Damn, damn, damn! They’d been played, and they hadn’t even seen it coming.

  Owen froze, his jaw clenched so tightly Nate could practically hear his partner’s teeth grinding together.

  The man smiled arrogantly, enjoying the
turn of events. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

  Nate glanced at his partner, who nodded subtly. They might both have guns pointed at them, but even the best shooter had to focus on one target at a time.

  “I don’t see it that way,” Nate replied smoothly. “There’s still two of us, and only one of you. By my count, we still have the advantage.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” His smile didn’t waver, but he did take another half step back, betraying his insecurity. “You want to live through this. And you want to save the hostage. Me? I know the cartel will punish me if I don’t complete my mission. And I would rather die in a hail of bullets here than live to experience their justice.” He laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily in the cavernous garage. Goose bumps broke out along Nate’s arms as he stared at the man, recognizing him for the fanatic that he was.

  “My only goal is to kill my target. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  * * *

  Fiona clamped her jaw shut, determined to stay as quiet as possible. Every breath triggered an avalanche of pain, but she refused to release the whimpers building up in the back of her throat. If she made noise, she couldn’t hear what was going on outside the car, and she had to make sure her timing was just right...

  Nate was here! She’d heard his voice just after her captor had landed that incapacitating punch to her side. She’d recognized his voice and had wanted nothing more than to break free and run to his side, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate. The ribs that hadn’t been broken by Sal’s earlier kick were most certainly fractured now, and she was reduced to lying in the backseat of the car, taking shallow breaths and trying to move as little as possible.

  From what she could gather, Nate wasn’t alone, a fact that filled her with relief. She didn’t doubt Nate’s abilities or competence, but she was happy there was someone with him to watch his back and keep him safe. Besides, two against one made for much better odds.

  The man who’d taken her was speaking again, and she could tell by the tone of his voice that he thought he’d gained an advantage. Moving carefully, trying not to draw attention to herself, Fiona pushed herself up and risked a quick peek outside. Her abductor was standing near the door, his back to her. Nate was facing him, several feet away. She hadn’t seen anyone else, but based on the way the bad guy was pointing his guns, someone else was approaching from the other side of the car. A classic standoff pose.

 

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