by Vella Day
With gun in hand, Jake slipped the key from his pocket with his other. As slowly as he could, he inserted the key into the lock. Muted voices sounded from inside. Good, they weren't expecting him.
The knob twisted, but when he pulled on the door, the wood didn't move. Shit. The deadbolt was on. Now what was he to do?
Jake stepped back, glanced up and studied the large, snow-covered tree next to the house that was taller than one of the bedroom windows. If he managed to climb up without falling, he'd have to break the window to get in, and the killer would hear him, which would defeat the purpose of the surprise attack.
Tick, tock. Time had run out. He prayed he could negotiate with the man to turn himself in. Maybe even have him rat out Joseph Francisco for some kind of deal—such as no death penalty. That wasn't likely though. If this man had killed several of the jurors, why would he be willing to surrender? For the notoriety? For the fame? If the caller had been Joseph, he'd never give himself up. James maybe, but never Joseph.
Time's up.
Jake raced to the front of the house, committing what his FBI manual would be called a very stupid act and rang the doorbell. Before the door opened, he tossed his gun in the bushes. The weapon might come in handy later.
As he waited for the killer to open the door, he held his hands up in surrender.
The door eased open. Jake kept his gaze straight ahead, and when James smiled and pointed a 9mm at his face, Jake's heart sank. That was not who he wanted to answer the door and not what he wanted to be staring down.
“Welcome.” James' motioned he step past. “Gun, please.”
So civilized. “Came without one and without backup, just as you requested. See? I can follow instructions.”
His gaze raced around the room. Jake debated twisting around and trying to take him down, but with his bad leg, he might lose. James was stocky and strong. Jake was in pain and off balance. Not to mention, James held the weapon.
Jake halted once in the living room. Peter was gagged and tied to the chair. Shit. He'd be no help. Even though his right eye was swollen shut, and he had several cuts on his face, his friend was at least alive—barely.
He wondered where Maria was. Jake turned around. The gun remained raised. “Where's Susan?”
“In due time. In due time. Now sit on the sofa. We have things to discuss.” So cool, detached, and sociopathic.
He never did like James. “What is there to discuss?”
“My immunity.”
Jake had learned to act as if what a criminal told him was a reasonable demand. “From what? What have you done?” The words stung his throat.
“So far, nothing.”
He didn't believe that lie. “Then why do you need immunity?” Jake wasn't sure why he was playing this game. Yes, he did—for Susan.
He should have called Stanton and told him to follow him. Christ. He didn't deserve to be an agent. Fear should be punching him in the face, but some kind of strange calm had taken over his body. He bet the composure would shatter if he learned Susan was dead.
“I need immunity because of what I'll need to do to get out of here. Okay, I might have assisted Dominick Francisco in finding some of the jurors, but that's all. I never killed anyone.”
Sure, and the earth is flat. He could hear Susan saying all criminals claim they were innocent. “Why call me? Why not just leave Peter and Susan to fend for themselves? You knew I was on my way. You could have been long gone before I arrived.”
James tilted his head to the side and shook it. “I have plans for you. Or rather Joseph Francisco has plans for you.”
Francisco. He knew it. This was about revenge. That meant James planned on killing him. No surprise there.
“Mind if I see Susan before you carry out those plans?”
“Of course. I like to cooperate with the FBI.”
“If you walk out right now, I'll make sure the FBI doesn't come after you, though you'll have to get your brother to buy into the deal. You've roughed him up pretty badly.”
James didn't have to know he wasn't a member of any FBI team any more.
James leaned against the wall, all relaxed and confident. “Oh, he'll agree to anything I want. I have Maria.”
Jake stole a glance at Peter fighting against his bonds, the fear pouring out of his eyes confirming what James had said was true. Jake fought to keep his hands unclenched and swallowed the urge to attack.
“Show me Susan. Alive. Then I'll do whatever you want.” Or not.
“She's in the there. Through the door. But don't expect her to greet you with open arms.”
Jake launched off the sofa. The urge to strangle James overtook him. Two strides took him halfway to James, but then the cocking of the gun stopped him cold.
“See your woman first and we'll talk.”
He took two deep breaths, thinking about his pistol in the ankle holster. Should he go for the weapon? Not yet. The best way to get the drop on James was from the other room.
“And keep the door open. Try anything, and I mean anything, and I'll kill her.”
Jake believed him, though he was surprised he didn't add that Jake would be next in line to receive a bullet.
His palms sweated as he twisted the knob on the door to the den. He steeled his body for what he would see. When he pushed open the door, he froze.
30
Jake wasn't sure if Susan was still alive. She was bundled in a blanket on the sofa, either asleep or dead. He raced over to her, listening for James' footsteps to approach from behind for a rear attack.
As he knelt in front of her, he choked back a sob. “Susan?”
When she didn't move, he fumbled for a pulse, but his heartbeat drowned out hers—if she even had one. James chuckled from the doorway. “Is she alive?”
Asshole. If it was the last thing he did, Jake would take the man down. “I can't tell.”
“A pity. I didn't do this to her, by the way.”
Jake looked back over his shoulder. “Who did? Jack the Ripper?”
“I don't kiss and tell.”
Smug bastard. Jake had to understand if she was alive in order to figure out his next move. He dipped a hand under the blanket and placed his palm over her heart. At the faint beating and warm skin, elation sped through him. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, and hold her, but giving away his feelings for Susan in front of James would add to the list of dumb moves. Indifference was the only emotion Peter's brother understood.
If he'd had his FBI issue phone, he could have pressed pound one on the keypad to call his boss without James even knowing. Too bad the throwaway didn't come with a GPS system. If the cell had one, someone could locate him, assuming they knew he was in trouble.
Jake stood and eased his way toward James. “You stuck to your word. She's here.” He shrugged, praying his act of indifference was believable, despite his outcry of Susan's name. “Now what?”
Jake jabbed his hand in his pocket and kept his gaze lasered on James in an attempt to act casual. His fingers itched to pull out the mace.
“Hmm. I'm tempted to just leave and let you care for your woman and my brother, but then I'd disappoint my father.”
Jake didn't react to the obvious attempt to get into a debate. “But the problem is that Mr. Francisco won't stop until his son's killer is destroyed, right?”
“You are perceptive. I really would like to leave, but your buddies will come after me for kidnapping, even though I didn't take Susan in the first place. You can ask her when she comes to. Did you know I found her naked?” His lips curled. “In the shed in my back yard. Tied up. Nearly frozen.” He tapped is chest. “I saved her.”
Likely story. “Why not call the police right away?” Through the doorway, Jake could see Peter wiggling, trying to get out of his bonds. Maybe he'd succeed if Jake could stall James long enough.
“And end my fun? Besides, I saw her as the perfect lure to get you here.”
What a sick bastard. “So now what?”
&nbs
p; James arm rose, the gun pointed right at Jake. The twitch in his cheek told it all. The fun stopped here. “Come with me.”
That wasn't going to happen. Without hesitation, Jake dove halfway between the two of them and did a tuck and roll. As he righted himself, he shielded his eyes and sprayed mace upward.
James let out a yelp and stumbled backwards.
Go. Now.
He charged at James who was wiping his eyes. Jake too reeled from the spray in the air. Ramming his shoulder into James' gut, the two tumbled to the ground. His leg rebelled, stealing his breath, but he tucked away the pain. James let out a grunt. Using both hands, Jake grabbed for James' gun. Before he was able to wrest the weapon from his opponent's grasp, James swung his leg upward and smashed Jake's side. The impact pushed him off, forcing Jake to let go of the weapon. Damn. He'd been so close.
James swung the gun toward Jake. With a swift sidekick, Jake's foot met metal and bone, and James let out a yelp but kept his aim steady. He pulled the trigger just as Jake rolled to his left, the bullet splintering the glass window behind him.
That was a close call.
Before James had a chance to fire again, Jake vaulted toward James and landed on him. The force caused the gun to fly out of his hands and skitter across the floor. James pushed up on Jake's chest with one hand and slammed a fist into his face with the other, temporarily stunning him.
With Jake disoriented, James scrambled to his feet and raced toward the weapon. If he lost this fight, more than his life was as stake. Using every Academy lesson he'd used to good use, Jake managed to a stand and then kicked James's butt, which sent him sprawling. The sound of James' knee cracking on the floor sped up Jake's resolve and boosted his energy.
As James reached under an end table for his gun, Jake snatched the spare pistol from his ankle holster and shot—once, twice.
A splotch of blood colored James' shoulder. Then a second patch appeared on his side. Two for two, but neither wound appeared lethal. Damn it.
James turned and fired, the bullet hitting the mark. In Jake's arm. Shit. That burned bad.
James pulled the trigger once more. Jake expected the second hit to hurt, but he felt nothing. Had James missed?
Jake raised his arm to finish off James, but the target ducked just in time and raced out the room. Another shot rang out. Jake looked before he dashed out of the room to make sure James' wasn't waiting for him around the corner.
Footsteps pounded through the kitchen, and Jake went after him. He got off another shot, but the doorframe splintered instead of the man's body. Crap.
James was getting away, and with one hand clasped over the hole in his arm to stem the blood, Jake charged after him. As he reached the open door, he stilled.
If he went after James, who would get help for Susan? If James did have backup outside, Jake would be running into an ambush. Then where would Susan be?
A loud crash came from the living room. Peter.
He needed to help his friend first. He slammed and locked the back door to prevent James from returning with his small army. When he reached the living room, Peter's chair had toppled over with his head now on the floor. A large, bloody stain spread out on his chest.
“Hold on.” James had shot his own brother. Christ.
He whipped out his cell and called 9-1-1, asking for two ambulances. Jake raced into the den to make sure Susan's condition hadn't deteriorated. She remained still as death on the sofa, but didn't seem any worse.
He needed to stop the bleeding in Peter's chest, and then attend to Susan. His own wound, he'd take care of later. Jake raced to the bathroom and grabbed two towels, and then charged into the kitchen for a knife to free his friend. In less than two minutes, he had Peter on the sofa, holding the towel firmly to the wound, his eyes glassy. He was going into shock.
“Hold on, buddy. Help is on the way.”
Jake wanted to hold Susan, but he needed to watch Peter to make sure he didn't bleed out.
Jake dashed between the two people. Fearing he'd drop Susan if he moved her to the living room, he stroked her red cheek and kissed her nose.
“You're going to make it, I promise.”
**
Stanton and Tom both charged into Susan's hospital room, and Jake jerked upright, his shoulder sending out a piercing stab.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Stanton shouted.
“I wasn't.”
Jake hadn't sleep in God knows how long and his mind wasn't thinking clearly. His wound had been superficial, or so the paramedics had claimed. The hole sure hurt like hell for something to be called superficial. The fact the doctor had order an arm sling confirmed the bullet hadn't just grazed him. The through and through had taken some muscle with it. The doctor had checked his leg, which was healing, put a few stitches in his arm, and insisted he stay the night.
“You walked into a hostage situation without backup.” Stanton got in his face. From the red blotches on his boss' cheeks, the man's blood pressure had hit two hundred. “Did you forget everything you learned at the Academy?”
Maybe. “I had exactly ten minutes to get to Susan and Peter before the bastard planned to kill them both. If I'd told you right after my phone call that I knew where she was, what would you have done in that time?”
“Told you to go, but we'd have had your back.”
He scratched his bristly scalp. “I'm sorry. I let my heart take over my brain.”
“No shit.”
Tom pulled up a chair across from him. “I checked on Peter. He's still in surgery.”
“Still?” How long did it take to remove a bullet?
Jake looked over at Susan. Her face was pale, but she was breathing on her own. The doctors were still unsure when she'd wake up—or if she'd wake up—but right now, Jake couldn't think about her dying. That option was unacceptable. He'd never forgive himself if she didn't make it.
“You do know this could cost you your job?” Stanton asked.
He wasn't up for doing battle with his boss. He'd gone against the rules. Fucked up. Almost cost the lives of two people he cared most about. “I know.”
Wait a minute. Could cost him his job? He assumed he'd been booted out of the Bureau already for lying and breaching protocol.
“You'll get an Internal Affairs investigation for your actions.”
“I expected as much.” Not really. He assumed he'd walk away without a chance to explain. His job wasn't the big concern. Susan was.
Crap. He gripped the chair arms and raised his gaze to Stanton. “Maria Francisco. Has anyone found her? Or James?”
Stanton's red face stilled. “We didn't know she was missing.”
“James said Peter would do whatever he asked of him because he had Maria.”
Stanton's lip curled. “Aren't they half brother and sister? Why would he take her?”
“They are related via Joseph Francisco, but Maria and Peter want to get married. I'm guessing James didn't think much of the idea—nor did Joseph.”
“Sure as shit the old man wouldn't be throwing the couple an engagement party anytime soon.”
“No kidding.”
Stanton's brows burrowed. “You said Joseph asked James to kill you for revenge of his son's death, and he wanted do away with Peter because of his daughter's physical attraction to the enemy family?”
“Yes to the first part, if we can believe James. I'm only filling in the blanks on the second part.”
The two said nothing more. Jake picked up Susan's hand and rubbed his thumb along her palm. In an even tone, he asked again about James.
“We have nothing.” Stanton's cold response told him all he needed to know. The man had gone undercover.
A nurse poked her head into the room. “Sir?”
All three of them looked up. Jake knew why she was there. “How is he?”
“Mr. Caravello is out of surgery and in the ICU. I'll let you know when you can see him.”
“Thank you.”
Stant
on placed a hand on Jake's shoulder. “I hope he makes it.” All rancor was gone from his tone.
Jake nodded.
“When he's strong enough, see what he knows about this mess.”
So much for the true sympathy. “Of course.”
Stanton's phone rang. “Excuse me.” He stepped into the hall.
Tom leaned over. “So what did the docs say about Susan? Was she injured in other way?”
“Besides the obvious few bruises, there was no assault. They're running a tox screen on her now. If I can believe James, she was exposed to the cold for some time. She might have some permanent damage as a result, but we can't tell until she comes to.”
He didn't want to talk about Susan being naked and tied up. His blood pressure jumped thinking about the person who'd harmed her.
Stanton strode in. “Some good news. We received a warrant for James' house. When the team arrived, the housekeeper was taking care of two children. They were Thomason's kids. No Maria though.”
Tom leaned back in the chair. “I'm happy they are safe. Now we need to find the bastard who took them.”
“We're looking.” Stanton motioned with his hand for Tom to come with him. “We've got some investigating to do, and I'll need your help, Tom, to check out a few things on the computer.”
Tom squeezed Jake's shoulder on the way out who then closed his eyes and gave into the exhaustion.
Jake awoke with a start when his stomach grumbled. His mouth dry, he pushed back his chair. He needed food and a drink.
Jake had shuffled halfway to the door when he thought heard a groan and spun around. Susan's fingers were moving like she was typing, and the rapid eye movement under her lids made him believe she was coming too. He'd seen the signs before. Adrenaline pumping, he jetted back to the chair.
Visions of how they met returned. “Squeeze my hand, Susan.”
He swore she did. Faint, quick, but there.
“That's good. Now open your eyes.”
He wanted to pry them open, wanted her to see him, talk to him. She emitted small guttural sounds but couldn't seem to rouse herself.