Chapter 12
Horrified, Tucker tried to determine if Sean was serious or just…plain crazy.
Sean appeared to sense his skepticism because his self-satisfied grin widened. “You don’t believe me?”
“No,” Tucker answered carefully. “Not exactly.”
“Want proof? Fine. You left her at that motel in Longmont. Room 226.”
Tucker’s heart dropped. “How?”
“Very simple, my friend. I called her and arranged to pick her up. She came with me very willingly, once I explained to her that you’d asked me to take her to a safe house.”
Tucker nearly groaned out loud. If only he hadn’t worked so hard to convince Lucy that doing exactly that would be in her best interest. Sean knew him too well and apparently had been able to anticipate his every move.
Still, he wasn’t entirely sure that she would have gone with Sean so willingly. “If you really have her, call her. Let me talk to her. That’s the only proof I’ll accept.”
Silence while Sean pondered his request. Then, “Right. Like you let me talk to her when I wanted to. No go, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.”
Sean ignored the interruption. “Besides, not only does she not have a phone, but even if I were foolish enough to leave her a method to communicate with the outside world, I wouldn’t want to alert her that anything was wrong. No sense in getting her all worked up. She probably isn’t even aware she’s in danger.”
“Is she?” Latching on to Sean’s last word, Tucker clenched his jaw. “In danger, that is?”
Smiling broadly, Sean shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
Not yet. Which could mean a thousand things. Or nothing. He hated that he couldn’t tell if Sean was bluffing. Once, he would have known instantly. But Sean had changed and so had he. “Where is she now?” he gritted out.
“Try again. You know I’m not going to answer that.”
“Is she okay? At least tell me she’s all right.”
Sean snickered. “Ah, you don’t like it too well when the shoe’s on the other foot, now do you? How’s it feel, buddy? How’s it feel to be the loser this time?”
Ignoring the rhetorical question, Tucker asked his again. “Answer me, damn you. Where are Lucy and Eli? Are they okay?”
Chuckling, clearly enjoying himself, Sean made him wait. When he finally spoke, he drew the answer out. “Yes, of course they’re fine. I wouldn’t hurt them and you know it. While Lucy has no doubt noticed that the room I’ve put her in is locked and she can’t leave, she probably thinks it’s for her own protection.”
“Are you sure about that? Lucy is an intelligent woman.”
“True.” Sean sighed, then continued. “But she knows how I feel about her, so I’m sure she believes I’m only trying to keep her safe.”
“How do you feel about her?” Tucker watched him closely. “If you really love her, you’d give her the chance to make her own choice.”
“Are you serious? Like that pithy bumper sticker about if you love something, you set it free? You’re crazy. Lucy is mine and I’m not letting her go. She’s probably quite happily watching TV. Or taking a nap. You know how she is. Always looking for the positive side of things.”
“Is there, Sean?” Tucker asked tiredly. “A positive side to all this?”
“Of course.” Sean appeared surprised that he’d asked. “It’s actually amusing to me that Lucy honestly believes that I’ll bring you to her when this is all over. I don’t really get how she can think I wouldn’t mind her jilting me so that the two of you can get back together.”
“You can’t change that.”
“Uh, yes I can. Once you’re dead again, she’ll come back to me. Oh, how we’ll mourn your passing. She’ll think I miss you as much as she does. After all, you and I are best friends.”
“No. We’re not.”
Sean continued as though Tucker hadn’t even spoken. “Once you’re dead, it’ll be entertaining to see how long I can get her to continue to believe that delusion.”
“You’re a pretty good actor, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Clearly pleased with himself, Sean’s expression radiated glee. “And neither you or she is. She’ll believe just about anything I tell her.”
Clenching his fists, Tucker had to struggle to keep his voice level. “Like when you convinced her to believe I was dead for an entire year when you knew damn well I wasn’t?”
Sean raised one brow. “Such bitterness. I’d hate for you to have to live with that festering inside you. It’s a good thing you’re going to die soon. I’m actually doing you a favor, you know? Guess I’d better get those events in motion.”
Sauntering over to the table, he picked up a cell phone and dialed a number. “I have him,” he said into the receiver. “And even better, he has your money with him. It’s all good, no problems. Exactly as I promised. When do you want to meet?”
Since Sean hadn’t checked him for wires, Tucker knew the DEA was getting every word. He also knew they wanted the cartel as well or more than they wanted Sean, so they wouldn’t make a move until acutely necessary.
He hoped that would be before Sean killed him. Since Sean apparently planned to bring his dead body to the meeting with the cartel, he’d have to convince him otherwise.
Swallowing, he eyed the other man, his patrician features and buttoned-up look exactly the same as they’d been when they were kids. He couldn’t help wondering when Sean had gone off the deep end and how he had missed this. A change of this magnitude took years to develop.
“Where do you want to meet? Here?” Sean checked his watch, appearing a bit uncertain. “That will be fine. The sooner the better. I’m looking forward to doing business with you. Ciao.”
Looking smug, he finally ended his call. “All set,” he said cheerfully. “It looks like my ship is about to finally come in. And even though I hate to admit it, it’s all thanks to you.”
What the hell? This was the man he’d thought of as his right arm, his best friend. He’d have thrown himself in front of a bullet if it’d meant saving his life and he’d have sworn Sean would have done the same. Once. Apparently, not now.
Staring at the man who’d become his worst enemy, he tried to reconcile the two. He couldn’t reconcile the memories of their childhood, the high school and college years after, during which they’d remained close friends, and starting BBB together. They’d been as close as brothers.
Now this? Sean actually despised him and the hate had festered inside, making him deadly and insane. How had he missed the signs? Maybe he simply hadn’t wanted to see them.
“Are you ready?” Sean grinned at him. “This is going to be fun.”
“So you’re going to do what?” Tucker asked. “Turn me over to Miguel so they can torture me as retribution before they kill me?”
Sean cocked his head, the question appearing to amuse him. “Nope. I’m going to kill you myself, like I should have done the first time. That way I can make sure you’re really dead.”
The first time? Ignoring this, Tucker prayed his plan would work. “Thank you, buddy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” Tucker managed to sound grateful. “Despite how you pretend to despise me, I know you still care. I’d a thousand times rather die quickly than go through what they did to me last time. Thank you so much.”
While Sean stared at him he gave an exaggerated shudder, and then added for good measure. “And I know whatever they did to me would be a thousand times worse now, especially since they really think I actually stole their money. They’d want to draw out their revenge slowly. They’d want to make me suffer for retribution.”
He could see the wheels turning as Sean mulled this over. If he was as crazy and hated Tucker as much as he appeared to, then he’d relish the idea of Tucker suffering at the cartel’s hands.
“You know what,” Sean finally said, eyeing him coldly. “Now that you’ve pointed that out to me, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’
m going to keep you alive. I think I’ll let the cartel have the pleasure of killing you. I’d enjoy knowing you’d be suffering. Plus, you’d probably be much more valuable to them alive rather than dead.”
Tucker struggled to look dismayed and terrified. He couldn’t believe Sean had been so easy to sway. Crisis averted, at least for now.
Until the cartel members arrived. Then they’d be playing with an entirely new ball of wax.
When the exterior door to the warehouse clanged open, Sean jumped and then shrugged, grinning broadly. “Ah, that must be your pal, Miguel,” he said, sounding satisfied. If he hadn’t been holding a gun on him, Tucker thought Sean would have rubbed his hands together with glee. As it was, he could barely contain himself.
“Miguel, over here,” Sean called. He took a step forward, looking toward the door, the gun wavering slightly from Tucker’s chest.
With Sean distracted, Tucker saw his chance. He charged the smaller man, slamming into him full in the chest and taking him down. Sean managed to squeeze off a shot, but it went wild, ricocheting off a concrete pillar.
“You son of a—”
Tucker knocked the gun out of his grasp before he could squeeze off a second shot, sending it skittering across the cement floor. Sean cursed again, swinging wildly at him as they both dove for it. His fist only glanced off Tucker’s shoulder. Defending himself, Tucker landed a solid punch, connecting with Sean’s jaw, sending him reeling back into the wall.
Unfortunately, during the scuffle his foot hit the gun and knocked it away, out of reach.
“Hold it right there,” a heavily accented voice demanded. Tucker looked up to find the man he’d seen in Boulder—the man he knew as Miguel Gonzalez—holding a gun aimed at his head.
Damn. Glancing at Sean’s weapon, still only a good three feet away, Tucker tried to decide whether or not to go for it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Miguel said. “Unless you want to die instantly.”
Tucker froze, holding up his hands.
“That’s what I thought.” Miguel gestured at Sean, who’d started to get up. “That goes for you, too.”
As Sean froze, sputtering a protest, Miguel spoke in Spanish to one of the heavyset men accompanying him, who nodded and turned his weapon, a dangerous looking AK47, on Sean.
“Both of you, hands where I can see them, up against the wall,” Miguel directed.
“Come on, Miguel. It’s me,” Sean protested. “There’s no need to—”
“Shut up.”
Immediately, Sean did as he’d been directed. For someone who’d plainly been well aware of the ruthless unpredictability of the drug cartel, he seemed surprised by his sudden treatment as an enemy.
Once they both stood up against the concrete wall, facing them, Miguel’s goons lined up, weapons trained on Tucker and Sean as though they were a firing squad.
“Now. Where is our money?” Miguel asked. Tucker couldn’t help but notice that he frequently glanced at another, silver-haired man, one of the five or six who made up the group accompanying him and the only one who wasn’t holding a semi-automatic, machine-gun-type weapon. The look was one of deference, as if Miguel looked to him for direction.
A second later, Tucker realized why. Miguel was only posing as the leader. The older man to whom he deferred was clearly the one giving orders, albeit silently.
“The money,” Miguel repeated. “Where is it?”
“I have it,” Sean answered, licking his lips nervously. He pointed at Tucker. “And I brought you this man as you wanted. He’s the one who robbed you in the first place.”
“That’s a lie,” Tucker declared, seeing his chance to invalidate Sean. “Don’t believe a word he says. He stole your money and set it up to make it look like I did. Like I’ve been telling you all along, I’m innocent.”
Miguel, posing as the drug kingpin, barely spared him a glance. The older man, the true boss, said something in Spanish again to Miguel, who glanced from Sean to Tucker and then back again.
“I should shoot you both, just to be done with it,” he said, frowning. “You were very stupid to meet us here. You should know we don’t normally pay ransom money to regain what is already ours. We simply kill and take what we want.”
From the shocked look on Sean’s face, this possibility had never occurred to him. “But you put out the word on the street that you were paying a bounty,” he protested. “I did as you wanted, brought the thief and the missing money. I deserve to be rewarded.”
“Perhaps. But we’ve yet to see our money. Produce it.”
Sean pointed at Tucker’s briefcase. “I have over one million dollars in cash there, in that case.”
Miguel made no move to inspect it. “And the rest?”
Lifting his chin, Sean pretended bravado. “Some of it’s here. The rest is hidden. As you mentioned, I had to have some kind of insurance to prevent you from simply killing me and taking the money.”
Clearly not pleased, Miguel cocked his head. “So you think to double-cross us? I will have you shot. Where is the rest of our money?”
Before Sean could reply, the warehouse door clanged open.
“DEA,” a voice shouted. “Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.”
Instead, Miguel’s group formed a protective circle around the older man, their guns at the ready. This action served to confirm Tucker’s suspicions as to who was the real leader.
Moving as one, the group turned to face the threat. Sean saw his opportunity and grabbed the briefcase with the counterfeit in it. He darted away, into the unlit bowels of the warehouse. Several of the Mexicans shot at him, but apparently they all missed.
Not good. Hearing the shots, the DEA agents returned fire. One man went down. Another, clearly wounded, continued to shoot.
Damn it. Now or never. Muttering a quick prayer, Tucker dove for Sean’s gun. Once he had it, he rolled and leapt behind a stack of huge metal containers, using this for cover. Hoping the wire would catch him, he spoke quietly, informing the DEA of Sean’s escape toward the back. The gun battle raging around him drowned out some of his words.
Advancing, the DEA continued to shoot. The cartel members continued to return fire, still focusing on protecting their true leader with their bodies. They had to know they weren’t going to make it out of this alive. Still, they fought with the cold, ruthless efficiency of trained snipers, with no thought for personal safety, intent on saving their leader.
They were remarkably effective, keeping the DEA from getting too close.
Maybe he could help. Peering around the metal container, Tucker aimed and shot. He scored a direct hit, taking out one man. One of the fallen man’s companions returned fire, but Tucker ducked back behind his shield and wasn’t hurt.
As the DEA advanced in bits and pieces, step by step they forced the cartel back. Another man was hit in the belly. He cried out in Spanish and fell to his knees, but continued to return fire up until the moment he died.
Damn. Dedicated bunch, these cartel guys. He wondered if the DEA had sustained any casualties.
Ducking out to take another shot, Tucker wondered where the hell the other DEA team was, the ones that were supposed to come in from the back and squeeze the cartel in a vise.
A moment later he heard gunfire from the direction Sean had run and he knew. Any moment now, they should enter the gun battle and help turn the tide in their direction.
“DEA. Drop your weapons now! Hands up. Now!” As the second group of DEA agents rushed from the back of the warehouse, it was over. Guns clattered on concrete as the remaining Mexicans surrendered. Tucker dropped his pistol, too, and raised his hands, not wanting to be shot by mistake.
Stepping out from behind his metal container, he kept his hands in the air. Spying Agent Burton shepherding a handcuffed Sean before her, he ran over. Sean shot him a rage-filled look, which he ignored.
“We got them.” Agent Burton flashed him a satisfied smile. “One of these guys is really high up in t
he cartel hierarchy. You can relax now, Drover. It’s finally over and you’re safe.”
“It’s not over yet.” Grabbing Sean by the front of his shirt, Tucker yanked him up until they were nose to nose. “Where are Lucy and Eli?” he demanded.
Despite the nervous perspiration running down his face, Sean merely laughed. “You’ll never find them now.”
“What’s this?” Agent Burton asked, making no move to force him to release Sean.
Tucker filled her in, finally pushing Sean away. The other man, still handcuffed, stumbled. Agent Burton motioned to someone and two men with the letters DEA emblazoned in white on the back of their vests, came and led Sean away.
“You have no idea where your girlfriend and baby are?”
“No.” Tucker swallowed. “As you heard, Sean claims to have them stashed somewhere. They’re locked in a room. He wouldn’t say where.”
Barking orders into a walkie-talkie, she had her men search the warehouse. “If they’re here, we’ll find them.”
But a complete search turned up no sign of Lucy or little Eli. Sean still refused to cooperate. The DEA dispatched an agent to check the hotel in Longmont. He’d reported back that while the rented room was empty, there’d been no signs of a struggle.
No surprise there, since Lucy had gone with someone she considered a friend.
Praying she’d kept her cell phone with her, Tucker dialed Lucy’s number, hoping against hope that she’d answer.
Chapter 13
Even in custody, Sean refused to speak, beyond requesting an attorney. Watching from behind the two-way mirror as he was questioned, Tucker tried not to get too frustrated by his lack of response. The blank look in his eyes made Tucker think he’d checked out mentally. Sean had adopted a sullen, vacant silence that even the tough Agent Burton couldn’t crack. And not from lack of trying.
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