“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Tell that to the judge when you’re being sentenced.”
Sean waved the concern away. “I’m not a novice at this, Jack. Dean will find the same information, he just needs to wait for a fucking warrant. And I’m not going to say anything—what would that change? Carson Spade is behind all of this! It just tells me that Madison knows a hell of a lot more about his activities than she’s ever said. It’s one thing to justify hiding money from the government—I’ve justified much of my hacking over the years. But Carson was involved with the fucking drug cartels. Human trafficking. He was an accessory to murder. I’m having a real hard time now, knowing what I know, believing Madison didn’t know any of it like she said.”
“I never believed her. But she’s Jesse’s mother and it’s not my place to tell the AUSA and the US Marshals that they’re not doing their job right.”
“Carson backed her up. That tells me she is loyal to him for more than marriage—he protected her against prosecution. And together they hid all that money, Jack! Money that could have—and should have—been used to pay restitution to the women who suffered under the hands of the Flores cartel.”
“You’re not getting an argument from me. But what do you want to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” What could he tell his son? That his mother was privy to Carson’s money-laundering scheme? That she had as much at stake as Carson? That she lied to the government under oath about what she knew and how involved she was?
Jack said, “You said Dean can find this information.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s as good as you.”
Sean nodded. “Maybe a tiny bit better.”
Jack smiled. “Then let him do his job.”
Jack got up and walked to the door. He turned back to Sean and he wasn’t smiling anymore. “You have more than yourself to think about, Sean.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do. Every time you cross the line—and I mean jump ten feet over into the freaking dark side—you risk everything you love. Your wife. Your son. Your freedom.”
“Sometimes, it’s worth the risk.”
“Sometimes it is. I’ve been in your situation, needed to weigh risk versus my marriage to a federal agent. I did not hesitate to go to Mexico to help you and Kane rescue Jesse and stop the Flores cartel. Lives were on the line. But this information you found? This isn’t worth the risk. And you’re smart enough to know the difference.”
Sean nodded. Jack was right. “Point taken.”
“When’s the pizza arriving?”
“Between five thirty and five forty-five.”
“I’ll get it. You take five.”
“And do what?”
“Breathe.”
* * *
Bart Vasquez looked at the assembled group and showed on the projector the blueprints of Sean Rogan’s house and how they were going to take it.
“That’s easy,” one of the men said.
“Don’t be fooled by the fact that there are no gates,” Vasquez said. “The front door and garage door are both steel-reinforced—going either way would be cumbersome and take too long. The security system itself cannot be easily breached. If anyone walks across the property, Rogan gets an alert on his phone and on every security panel in his house. If a window breaks, full alarms and the FBI and SAPD will be alerted. Because a federal agent lives in the house, response time will be fast, but unless there’s a patrol car in the neighborhood—and there won’t be when we go in—it’s still a minimum five-minute response from SAPD and fifteen minutes from the FBI.
“We’re timing this so that the minimum number of hostiles will be in the house. However, there are two highly trained former special forces soldiers standing guard twenty-four seven. If they are not incapacitated when we breach, shoot. They are not to be underestimated. If they are out, leave them alone—we don’t have time to fuck with them. We go in from the rear, do not be put off by the alarms. I’ve talked to some of the best hackers out there and no one is willing to take a stab at Rogan’s system without more time, so we’re going in on a clock. I want the packages out in three minutes flat. That gets us out of the neighborhood before first responders. And I promise you—response will be swift. Fuck it up, I’ll shoot you myself. Does everyone know their job?”
Everyone did. If they didn’t, they would be off the team—and off the team meant dead.
Jeremy Robertson was standing at the edge of the room. Bart glanced over at him. He was on the phone. He didn’t say anything to the caller but nodded to Bart.
“News?” Bart asked.
“I just got confirmation that Rogan ordered pizza, and my men are on their way to intercept the driver.”
“Good.” Bart looked at his watch. “Let’s get into position. As soon as we have everything in place, we go on my order. There’s a nice payday in this for us if we do this right.”
* * *
Jesse was tired of walking on eggshells around his mom. She looked at him with sadness, and that made him feel bad. He didn’t know why she was so sad. Because he wanted to stay? Should he want to leave? Should he do what his mother wanted … or what Sean wanted?
His mom wanted him to talk to Carson, and he didn’t want to, but last night when she was on the phone with him, she put him on the spot and Jesse was forced to make small talk with the man he’d once liked and respected. He didn’t know if he could find that again.
His uncle Kane and uncle Jack weren’t as fun today. Something was happening, and they weren’t talking to him. That bugged him. Were they still mad at him for leaving yesterday? He didn’t think so—Kane talked to him last night, really talked to him like an adult, and Jesse thought everything was cool. As long as he obeyed the rules.
Jesse didn’t know what to do. He went down the hall and saw his dad working at his computer, a frown on his face. Sean had promised never to lie to him.
“Everything okay?” Jesse asked. He was a little nervous and he didn’t know why.
“Yes.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
Sean looked up at him. “Right now, everything is fine. I told you last night that there may be a plan to kidnap you for ransom, so it’s best that we stay inside the house for now. The FBI is working on it, and I’m working on it. Between me and the weight of federal law enforcement, we’ll put an end to these threats. I promise.”
“But for now—stay put.”
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
“Thanks for telling me the truth.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I ordered pizza.”
“Thanks. I’m going to the game room, okay?”
“Great. Nate and Lucy should be home in an hour or two.”
“You don’t have to have Nate babysit me.”
“Don’t think of it like that.”
Jesse shrugged. He didn’t know how to tell Sean how this all felt. The situation with Carson. How his mom was acting all sad and weird. How he was scared and he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be tough like Kane. He wanted to be strong for his mom, to prove to his dad that he wasn’t a little kid. But he couldn’t say anything.
“Trust me, Nate loves playing games as much as I do. You know, when Lucy and I first moved to San Antonio and I met Nate, we spent nearly fourteen hours straight battling each other on Call of Duty. We bonded, what can I say?” Sean smiled. “I wish I could break away now—but I need to go through these files. It’s important, and there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you. Okay?”
He nodded. “Okay. But Nate doesn’t have to entertain me. I can entertain myself.” He turned away.
“Jess?”
He looked back at his dad.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
He went down the hall. Sean was worried, and he was trying not to make a big deal about what was happening, but Jesse wasn’t a little kid anymor
e. He hadn’t been in the last year since Carson had taken him down to Mexico without telling his mom. If it weren’t for Sean and Kane, Jesse didn’t know what would have happened to him. Carson had told his mom over and over that everything had been under control, that they were never in danger until the Rogans got involved, but Jesse wasn’t sure about that. There seemed to be a lot of things going on that even Carson hadn’t known about.
Jesse played for a while, then his mom came in with two plates and canned soda. She put two slices of pepperoni pizza in front of him.
“Sean got pizza,” she said.
“I’m almost done.”
“You need to eat.”
“I will.”
“Don’t you think you play too many video games?”
He glanced at her. “You never cared before.”
She sat down and ate her own pizza. To humor her, he paused his game and took a big bite, washing it down with soda. Then he started playing again.
“You’re not being fair to me,” Madison said. “I only want the best for you.”
He didn’t want to have this conversation, because inevitably his mom would start to cry and then he would feel bad.
“I know, Mom,” he said.
“You really like him.”
“Sean? Yeah, I do. He’s my dad.”
“I wish you would forgive Carson. Give him another chance. He loves you. He raised you.”
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about Carson right now. I get it, okay? You love him, and he’s not all bad. And I’m trying to forgive him for everything, okay?” Jesse didn’t know if he could. His mom, yeah. What Lucy told him the other night, it made sense. Jesse had never thought about what his mother might have been thinking or feeling when she found out that she was pregnant in college. She’d done everything for him, he knew she loved him. So sure, he could forgive his mother. Sean said he was working hard to forgive her, and if he could, Jesse had to try, too.
“Okay,” his mom said.
“Thanks for not fighting anymore.”
“I hate that you heard all that.”
“I just want to spend time with my dad,” he said.
“Well, we agreed to a visitation schedule. I just never wanted you to be moved around from house to house. And now it’s state to state.”
“Maybe we can move here, to San Antonio,” Jesse said, hopeful.
His mother didn’t respond. He glanced over. She was curled up in the corner of the couch, her eyes closed.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
He didn’t think she’d want to move to San Antonio, and Carson would never agree to it. Plus, Jesse didn’t think he could leave Sacramento until his probation was up. “Never mind,” he said. He took another bite of pizza, then continued his game.
He yawned, felt oddly tired. He drank more soda, even though it wasn’t caffeinated.
He glanced over at his mom. “Mom? Mom, are you awake?”
She didn’t move or respond. He got up and his limbs felt heavy. He sagged on the couch. “Dad! Sean!” His voice was a whisper, no matter how loud he tried to shout.
He remembered what Sean had told him the other day, about security and always being alert. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know what. He took out the cell phone that Sean had given him to replace the one the marshals had. He called Lucy and as he pressed SEND he realized he should have called 911. It was hard to think.
“Kincaid.”
“Lucy.”
“Who is this?”
“Me.”
“Jesse?”
His head felt heavy.
“Something. Wrong.”
“Jesse, I’m coming. Jesse?”
He heard Lucy talking in his ear, but he couldn’t respond.
The sound of shattering glass made him jump. “Wha—?”
“Jesse! Hide, Jess. Under a bed. Anywhere. I’m on my way.”
He tried to get up but couldn’t move. He was only vaguely aware of the room around him. Shouts. There was a gunshot.
“Dad…” His voice was weak. His dad would die for him. Tears leaked from his eyes.
“Jess, are you there? Nate, go faster—faster! Jesse?”
Then Jesse heard nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The nine minutes it took Lucy and Nate to get to her house felt like eternity. While she was talking to Jesse, Nate had called 911 to immediately dispatch multiple cars. By the time she heard the gunshot, Nate was on the phone with Leo Proctor to mobilize SWAT.
And still they were five minutes out.
Jesse’s call disconnected and she tried him again; no answer. She called Sean; no answer. She tried Jack then Kane … no answer. Her chest tightened in an overwhelming agony of loss. To keep calling and not getting anyone to pick up a damn phone!
Two squad cars pulled up right before Lucy and Nate arrived. The officers were just getting out of their vehicles. The house alarm was shrill and constant, meaning that there were multiple breaches and no one was able to disable it. Nate and Lucy both put their badges around their necks and Nate flashed his ID. “FBI SWAT is en route, but we’re going in.”
“We need to wait for a commander, we could have a hostage situation,” the responding officer said.
“I’m taking command until someone higher-ranked gets here,” Nate said. “There are five people inside, three men, one woman, one teenager. We received an emergency call from the teen and there was at least one gunshot.” As he spoke, he pulled on his vest.
Lucy already had hers on. “The front hasn’t been compromised,” she said.
“I’ll go around back with two officers, you go through the front with two.” He tossed her a communications bug for her ear. “That’s just you and me for now,” he added.
She clipped the com around her ear and went up to the front. She typed her code into the front door panel. The alarm stopped, the silence echoing in her ears.
She braced herself for the worst, and prayed for the best.
Lucy motioned for the two officers to take the hall to the left—more doors and hiding spaces that needed a backup. She went right, through the wide hall toward the kitchen. She quickly cleared the living room and dining room. They were open and airy with no place to hide. She saw Nate and two cops in the backyard—and that’s when she saw all the broken glass in the living room. They came in through the windows—shattering the plate glass. By the size of the breach, it was a large team. Military? Tactically trained? Who were these people?
There was blood in the kitchen and her heart skipped a beat, but she entered, gun ready, visually scanning for any threat. Nate came in through the back.
A hostile was bleeding out in her kitchen.
“Cover!” she said and kicked away the .45 semi-auto that was inches from the man’s hand. She bent over and felt his pulse. He moaned. “He’s alive. Gut-shot. Hispanic male in his thirties.” She handcuffed him.
“Kane,” she heard Nate say over the com.
No. No, no, no. In the eating area off the kitchen, Kane was on the floor. For a moment she thought he was dead. He wasn’t moving. But she didn’t see any blood.
Nate squatted and felt his pulse. “It’s strong,” he said.
“Where was he shot?”
Nate rolled Kane over on his back. His gun was still in his hand, and Kane groaned and loosely aimed his gun toward Nate, but his eyes were closed and he was distinctly pale.
Nate immediately disarmed his friend—in Kane’s condition he might not know friend from foe. “Kane!” Nate said and slapped him. “It’s Nate and Lucy. Kane! Wake up!”
One officer came into the kitchen and said, “There’s one unconscious male, Hispanic, forties, in the downstairs bathroom. He was armed.” The officer showed the weapon, a Glock.
“That could be Jack’s,” she said. “My brother.”
“Go check,” Nate said. “I’ll stay with Kane. You, you”—he pointed to the officers who had followed him in—“clear the upstairs sta
t.”
Lucy went down the hall and faced Leo Proctor in the doorway. He was fully decked out in SWAT gear and had a full team behind him. “Status?” he asked.
“SAPD is clearing upstairs, I think Jack is injured. I don’t know what’s going on yet.” She went to the bathroom. Jack was on the floor. The cop had his gun out and aimed at Jack. “Put that down,” she ordered. “That’s my brother.”
The cop hesitated, then did as she said. Lucy knelt. There was vomit all around the toilet, but Jack was still unconscious.
She grabbed a towel, soaked it in cold water, and put it on Jack’s forehead. He was clammy. He jerked, groggy. Opened his eyes. They were unfocused and alarmed.
“Jack, it’s Lucy. Jack. I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds. He tried to stand and couldn’t.
“Luce.” His voice was thick and weak.
She had a million questions, but he couldn’t answer them now. She helped him up and slowly made her way to the living room, where she put Jack on the couch.
Leo said, “An ambulance is on its way.”
Jack shook his head.
“Kane got one of them, he’s still alive,” Lucy said. “And we don’t know what they drugged you with.” But it was clear they were incapacitated. A gas?
“Water.”
Lucy was going to get it, but Leo waved her to sit back down and went to the kitchen.
“Make sure it’s a sealed water bottle, we don’t know how they were poisoned.”
“Pizza,” Jack moaned. “I’m never eating pizza again.”
The officers came back downstairs and reported that the upstairs was clear. There was no one else in the house. When Leo returned with Jack’s water, Nate followed with Kane, who was groggy and could barely walk. Kane collapsed in a chair. He took one of the water bottles and drank.
They tried to talk, but Lucy had a faster way of finding out what happened. She grabbed the main security tablet out of Sean’s office and cued up the security feed ten minutes before the call from Jesse. She ordered four shots to show on the split screen—the kitchen, the living room, the outside front, and the game room, where she was pretty sure Jesse was when he had called because she’d heard video games in the background.
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