Called to Protect

by Lynette Eason

  She nodded. “You really wanted me.”

  “I really did.”

  Chloe had waited with the rest of the team, silent and still. After a good sixty seconds with no more shots, she rolled and looked back at Linc. “Where’d that come from? Is everyone okay?”

  Linc gave her a thumbs-up. “No one was hit. Sounded kind of muffled.”

  “I think it came from the room. Ready?” She stood.

  “When you are.”

  She twisted the knob and shoved the door open, staying well covered by the wall. When no shots followed, she signaled to Linc she was going in. He placed a hand on her shoulder and rounded the doorjamb with her.

  Louise sat in the chair holding a gun. The man whose name Chloe never learned lay on the floor bleeding from the chest. Weapon aimed at Louise, Chloe crouch-stepped to the side. “Police! Put it down.”

  The woman stared at the floor.

  “Put it down! Now! I’m not kidding! Now!”

  The weapon finally landed with a soft thud. Chloe moved in and scooped the gun away. Another officer took the woman to the floor and cuffed her. When he lifted her to her feet, Chloe stepped in front of her. “Cass or Maria?”

  “Maria.”

  “What happened, Maria?”

  “He killed Cass. She came out of the bathroom and he just shot her. I knew I was next, so I moved fast and killed him first.”

  Chloe flicked a glance at Linc. “Check the bathroom.” The chair had been moved from the door.

  Linc opened the door. “She’s here.” He knelt and reached in. Chloe figured he was checking a pulse. “Dead,” he said.

  Chloe’s hand started to shake. She stumbled to the nearest chair and slumped onto it. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”

  “I’m a Deputy US Marshal. Let me through.”

  Blake’s authoritative order snapped her head up. She stood and walked over to him. He wrapped an arm around her and she leaned against him, almost unable to process that she and the others were safe. “Neal, from the museum, was the ringleader,” she mumbled against his chest. “He was in charge. I think. At least on the boat. But I think he was reporting to someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Rachel!” Chloe gasped and jerked back.

  His grip tightened. “She’s fine. Cold and would probably like some dry clothes, but she’s safe. Finally.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Chloe swiped a hand over her eyes, trying to ignore the adrenaline crash. Law enforcement had taken over the craft and she noticed they were headed back toward shore. “So, the judge is safe now?”

  “Maybe. We’ll keep the marshals on him until we get everything sorted out.”

  She frowned.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Something Neal said. It doesn’t add up. He said, ‘He’s not going to be happy.’”

  “Referring to who?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I think he was working with someone else.”

  He sighed. “All right. We’ve definitely got to fit all the pieces together. It’s going to be busy over the next few hours getting statements, but when we’re done, let’s go back to my house so I can start getting Rachel settled back at home.”

  “You don’t need me there. Why don’t you take her home and we’ll talk later? The chopper will fly you back?”

  Blake nodded. “Thank you for understanding that she has to be my priority for now.”

  “Of course.”

  “But—” He shifted, his eyes sliding away, then back to hers.

  “But?”

  “When I know Rachel’s okay, could we . . . you know . . . get coffee or a steak or pizza. Or something?”

  “Or something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

  27

  He threw the glass of bourbon against the wall. Heard the shatter. Watched the glass and ice bounce on the hardwoods. Grief welled, erupting into a howl of rage and pain that vibrated the four walls around him. He fell to his knees, clutching his hair.

  He’d failed.

  The judge was alive. He’d faked his death and even his children hadn’t known.

  It was a punch in the gut. A slap in the face.

  Completely unacceptable.

  His plan to avenge his brother’s death had been so well thought out. Nothing could go wrong. He’d planned for months, concocting scenario after scenario until one had finally seemed perfect. Planned to the last detail, with very few unknowns to deal with. He’d started with the threatening letters sent to the judge, detailing the man’s death and the suffering he would experience. Those had given him such satisfaction to write.

  Knowing the marshals would be brought in and studying each one, discerning who would be the weakest link.

  Blake MacCallum had been the chosen one. The fact that the man wouldn’t kill, even to save his daughter, had been a definite kink in the plan. And the wreck with the girls, allowing Rachel to escape . . . “Argh!”

  He closed his eyes. Idiots. That was the problem. He’d had idiots working for him. Even the backup plan at the courthouse with his hired killer had gone awry.

  Unbelievable.

  There was something to the saying, “If you want something done right, you must do it yourself.”

  He stood and walked to the gun cabinet. A quick twist of the key opened the wooden door. He chose his weapon and checked it.

  “So, Judge Worthington, I guess I’ll just have to take care of you myself.”

  Sitting around the conference table at headquarters, Chloe and the rest of the task force finished their closing briefs with satisfaction—and questions.

  Linc stood front and center. “We recovered a laptop that Annie was able to access.”

  Hack into was more like it. Chloe shifted and Hank nudged her arm, asking for an ear scratch. She obliged while listening. And she listened while her mind spun.

  “On that laptop,” Linc was saying, “were messages between Neal Young and Carson Langston, also known as Ethan Wright. The two grew up together and were high school buddies. They were both in the foster system. Neal had a record, but Ethan didn’t. Neal was obviously the instigator in convincing Ethan to do his part as Carson Langston.”

  “His job was to lure the girls in, right?” Chloe asked.

  “Right. He was also charged with guarding them—along with another young man named Manuel Garcia who was also friends with Ethan and Neal.”

  “And who is also dead,” Derek said. “What’s the connection between Neal and Alessandro Russo?” He sat next to Jo, who was video conferencing the meeting over a secure line so Blake could be a part of it.

  “There isn’t one. At least not one that we can find. Once we presented to Stillman everything that happened yesterday, including the fact that his boss, Clyde Harrison, was dead, he started talking. Stillman’s connection with Russo was just a fluke. Doesn’t look like Russo has anything to do with this particular group of human traffickers. Like we knew before, Stillman was just a low man on the totem pole for Russo, and when he went to prison, he was off Russo’s radar. However, Stillman met Garcia in prison, and once they were both out, they kept in touch. When Neal needed muscle with the girls, Stillman didn’t hesitate to take Manny up on his offer of easy money. Same with the other guys we rounded up. Just a bunch of ex-cons who don’t care what they have to do to make a lot of cash fast.”

  Chloe leaned in. “I want to know about Penny. Maria mentioned keeping up with the ‘transactions.’ Is there a way to know where each girl went?”

  “Yes. Annie’s working on that now,” Linc said. “I’m hoping to hear something before the end of the day. Once we find as many girls as we can, we’ll form teams and start going after them.”

  Excitement and hope swirled inside her for the first time in a long time, and Chloe sent up a silent prayer for her cousin.

  But something niggled at her. “Neal and Ethan were working together,
which means Neal had something to do with Penny’s disappearance. I want to see the evidence you gathered from his office and home.”

  Linc shrugged. “Help yourself.”

  “So let me get this straight. Neal and Carson and the rest had this human trafficking ring going for at least a year. When the judge came out with this new legislation and his strong stance on the death penalty for traffickers, they decided to get rid of him.”

  “Sounds like,” Blake said. “And they figured out they could use Rachel to persuade me to do the dirty work.”

  “But what about Alan Garrett?” Chloe said. “Why would Ethan Wright visit him in prison? Why say he was his brother?”

  “They were in that foster home a long time. What was the family name? Hopkins? Maybe they called themselves brothers because they had no other family.”

  Chloe jerked and snapped her head up. “Hopkins?”

  Linc frowned. “Yes. Why?”

  She snagged her phone and tapped the screen. “Because. I found this when I was searching for the keys in Neal’s desk.”

  Linc took the phone. “What? Neal’s desk? As in the guy I shot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me take a look,” Blake said.

  Linc passed him the phone. “Does one of those boys look familiar to you?”

  “Alan Garrett?”

  “Exactly. But what about the tall kid?”

  Blake slowly lifted his eyes. “I think we now have our true motive for wanting the judge dead.”

  28

  He parked his sedan in the driveway and made his way to the front door. His knock was answered by Parker Hunt, one of the marshals he’d done extensive background checking on—as he had done on all the others as well. “Oh, hi, Miles. Come on in. Paula didn’t say you were stopping by.”

  “Thanks, Parker. Paula didn’t know.” And he hadn’t realized Paula would be there. That meant she would have to die too.

  Oh well.

  Miles pulled his hand from behind his back and shot the man in the chest. Shocked surprise flickered briefly in his eyes before he went down and didn’t move.

  His partner, Justin, rounded the corner, weapon in front of him. He spotted the gun in Miles’s hand, his partner on the floor.

  He fired and missed.

  Miles didn’t.

  He swept the weapon aside and stepped over the man clutching his bleeding abdomen and shot him once more in the head.

  A scream brought his gaze up to meet Paula’s. She broke off and stared. “Miles? What are you doing? What—”

  “Where is he?”

  She blinked. “Who?”

  “Your father. The murderer.”

  “He’s not here.” Tears slid down her pale face. “What is this all about?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Alan and Neal are dead because of him.”

  “Who are Alan and Neal?”

  “My brothers.”

  She raked a hand through the hair she’d left down. Just as he liked it. They were supposed to meet later, so he knew she’d done it to please him. That very fact made him hesitate a fraction of a second.

  “Police! Freeze!”

  Miles dove for Paula, grabbed her and wrapped an arm around her neck. She let out another scream and twisted away from him, but he grabbed a hunk of that hair he’d been admiring and yanked. A squeal of pain erupted from her, and he jerked her back against him with his left hand and raised his weapon with his right to hold it against her right ear.

  He recognized the FBI agent holding his weapon on him. “Linc St. John. You killed my brother.” His gaze swept to the man beside him. “And you. Blake MacCallum. If you had just done as you were told to do, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “Kill the judge for you? Not a chance.”

  “Just goes to show you, research can be faulty.”

  “So, you set all this up, just to kill Judge Worthington.”

  “I did. I knew Neal was involved in the human trafficking business. It was easy to convince him I wanted in. And besides, he wanted revenge for our brother’s death as well.”

  “Which one of you killed the woman who testified against Alan?”

  “That was me. The witch. Alan begged Judge Worthington to allow his attorney more time to gather evidence, but he was denied it. As a result, Alan died. And he was innocent!”

  “So, you kidnapped Rachel,” Linc said. “Stuck her in with the other girls and waited for Blake to do your dirty work.”

  “But he wouldn’t do it!”

  “No,” Blake said. “It wasn’t that I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.”

  Chloe had snuck in behind the guys and, with a heavy heart, checked the two marshals on the floor. Justin was dead. Parker was hanging on. Barely. She did her best to stem the bleeding, but didn’t hold out much hope for him. She’d also put a call in for backup and now she and Hank headed down the hall looking for a way to come up behind Miles and his hostage.

  At the end of the runner, she stopped and knelt. A pat to her shoulder brought Hank up on her back. She didn’t want his nails clicking on the hardwoods she had to cross in order to get to the sunroom. Once in the sunroom, she lowered Hank to the floor and whispered for him to stay. He sat and watched her, eyes tracking her every move.

  She slipped to the second door and glanced around the edge. Linc and Blake were holding Miles at gunpoint. Miles had his automatic pistol to his fiancée’s temple.

  “. . . let us walk out of here and you’ll never hear from me again. I don’t want to die, but I will before I set foot in prison.”

  “Suicide by cop?” Blake asked. He moved a little closer, and while Miles eyed him, he didn’t change position or loosen his grip on the weapon.

  From her vantage point, Chloe could see Paula shaking in the arms of the man who’d betrayed her. Chloe lifted her weapon and aimed it at the back of his head. Unfortunately, if she was even a fraction off, she might hit Paula.

  “Let her go, Miles!”

  He jerked, spun, bringing Paula with him. Paula jerked and tripped. Her movement took her captor by surprise and he must have loosened his grip. She landed on the floor.

  Two weapons fired three shots each.

  Chloe dove for Paula and yanked her out of reach. She tossed the woman to the side like a rag doll and rolled. “Hank, apport!”

  In a blur, Hank passed Chloe and latched on to the man now writhing on the floor, still gripping his weapon.

  Miles screamed when Hank’s teeth sank into his arm. Chloe scrambled to her feet, took three steps, and soccer-kicked the weapon from his hand. “He’s down!”

  Backup rushed in as Linc and Blake raced to her side. Linc flipped the bleeding man and Chloe dug a knee into his back as she cuffed him. He choked and she rolled him to his side while he blinked, clinging to a life that was quickly fading. “He was my brother.” Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “They were my brothers.”

  “Neal and Alan,” Chloe said.

  “Yes,” he wheezed. “Half brothers. I was supposed to watch out for them.”

  “Why kill Ethan?”

  A gasping cough rattled from him. “A . . . weak . . . link. Couldn’t let him get . . . caught.”

  “You set this all up!” Paula threw herself at her former fiancé and landed a good punch to his shoulder before Linc hauled her off. “You did this! You used me!”

  The wounded man coughed up blood. “And now my brothers . . . and I . . . will finally be together ag—”

  Chloe knew the moment life left him. His eyes took on that look that only dead people had.

  Ben Worthington stepped into the den, gun in hand.

  “Drop the weapon! Drop the gun! Now!” Officers’ voices blended as one.

  “It’s okay!” Blake crossed to the man’s side and took it from him.

  “I couldn’t get a shot,” the judge said. “I heard the shots and went to get my weapon. When I came back, Miles had the gun on her. And then you were here
and I . . . didn’t know what to do. So . . . I waited.”

  “Good decision,” Linc said.

  Paula rushed to his side and he held her to him. She sobbed into his shoulder and tears dripped down the judge’s chin. “I heard you tell Miles I wasn’t here.”

  “I couldn’t let him hurt you.” She hiccupped and swiped a hand across her face. “I knew you’d come running. And I just couldn’t let him kill you.”

  Chloe placed a hand on the woman’s back. “It’s over.”

  29

  A WEEK LATER

  Chloe leaned back and crossed her arms while she surveyed the dining table. Her family. Albeit, they were all a bit crazy—that came with the occupation. Even Ruthie could have a weird sense of humor.

  Her father, who sat next to her, tapped her shoulder. “Earth to Chloe.”

  She blinked. “Oh. Sorry.”

  He held up the flat, square box. “Pizza?”

  Even though she was full, she took another slice and bit into it. Pizza night at home. One of her favorite times to get together. “You guys did a good job, Dad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Balancing family and high-profile, stressful careers. You and Mom managed to stay together and build a family. Granted, we’re a bunch of weirdos and have our issues, but at least we’re all on the right side of the law.”

  A light smack on the side of her head made her jump. “Who are you calling a weirdo, weirdo?” Brady asked.

  “Derek.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He hung his head for a moment, then rubbed the spot he’d smacked even though he hadn’t hurt her one bit. “Okay. You called that one right. You owe me a head smack.”

  She grinned. They both knew she’d collect. Her father snorted and shook cheese onto the two pieces of pizza he looked eager to devour.

  Her mother’s phone rang and she stood to answer. Izzy fed her pizza to Ryan Marshall, her husband, and Ruthie rolled her eyes at Chloe as though disgusted by the sappy display. Derek stole the half slice left on their mother’s plate and ate it in two bites. Blake sat to her right, with Rachel next to him. The noise level in the room rivaled that of a sonic boom. She loved it. Most of the time.