Chapter Five
Fake snoring won the day.
Tony sent a quick message to Roy, then to the state police.
He’d smelled a set-up when she didn’t talk shop with Candace. Two salon operators would have found a common ground on something. Smells, product, techniques.
Saying nothing was a self-protective technique he recognized. Keeping his mouth shut had probably saved his life and reputation a few times, so he understood the ploy. The question was why would she do this?
What was her game?
What was the goal?
She had nothing against him, did she?
You did refuse to take her to her senior ball, remember?
Of course he did. Twenty-three-year-old men didn’t date high school seniors. It would have been weird no matter how absolutely beautiful she was and besides, she’d let him believe she liked his brother. Tony didn’t play second best to anyone. Not even Joe.
But this?
He slipped out from under the sleeping bag and crept to the window.
Were they being watched?
Darkness engulfed the lake. On clear nights the water reflected the stars. The moon. Campfire flames would flicker here and there as folks opened up for fishing in the spring and hunting in the fall.
Not tonight. Inky blackness surrounded him and the noisy frogs of spring had given way to an occasional croak this late in the season.
Was she packing a weapon?
He hadn’t noticed one, but then he hadn’t frisked her.
The phone.
He slipped the battery into place, powered it up, and tried to gain access.
Nothing. Not like that was unusual, most people locked their phone access these days. He’d like to get a look inside, but not enough to leave that battery in place. Silently he pulled the battery back out and re-set the phone onto the table as he sifted options mentally.
Survival first. Do what you have to do.
That was army training talking. Police training didn’t allow quite so much latitude, but he understood both. A dead cop helped no one.
Did he dare sleep?
Would they be ambushed?
And if they weren’t and he stayed awake all night, what good would he be tomorrow?
He set his phone for four hours.
He’d survived on four hours of sleep a lot of nights. Three hours left him groggy and confused. Four worked.
He sank back onto the cot, kept his weapon out and let himself doze off, hoping it wasn’t a stupid mistake.
It wasn’t the phone alarm that woke him two-and-a-half hours later.
It was Shea.
He purposely didn’t move. Kept his breathing soft. Even. Slow. Let her think she didn’t wake him.
She used the back door to slip outside, then crossed to the outhouse.
Great cover.
She could be calling someone and he’d never know it because it was an outhouse. Yes, they’d disabled her phone. It sat on the table near him, totally non-functional. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a second one.
Three minutes. Then four. Then five.
He was about to charge across the yard, throw open the door and demand to know what she was doing when the soft thud of the outhouse door announced her approach.
She crept back in.
He clicked the safety off the gun and the light on at the same moment. “Hold it.”
The light blinded her. It hit her full in the face and made her look like a person in one of those really bad horror films. The bruising compounded the caricature. “What? It’s me. Shea. Turn that light off.”
“Where were you?”
She stared at him with a wide-eyed frown. “The outhouse. That burger didn’t exactly sit right in my gut. Horrible stomach ache.”
“Right.” He stood. “Give me your phone.”
She pulled back, surprised. “You have my phone. It’s right there.” She slid a convincing look to her left.
“The other one, Shea.”
“Other one?” She stared at him.
He stared right back, wishing he was wrong and convinced he was right. “Just do it, Shea. Hand it over.”
“What’s the matter with you? You’ve never had a gut-ache that sent you to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Don’t be a jerk, Tony. I don’t eat a lot of beef and it shows. Let’s not make my bathroom session more embarrassing than it already is.”
“The phone, Shea.” He stuck out his hand and was a little surprised when she finally smacked a tiny iPhone into his palm. “Thank you. Are you packing, Shea?”
She frowned deliberately. “Packing?”
“A gun?”
“A gun.” She lifted her brows, then winced when the muscle action caused pain. Then she turned slowly, in front of him and the glaring light from his service weapon. “Do you see a weapon?”
“Hands up.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He waited.
She held his gaze and inhaled. Then she raised her hands. “Do what you’ve gotta do. Moron.”
The insult almost made him smile. He started a pat down.
Arms. Shoulders. Chest, waist, hips...
Inner thigh.
“Hand it over, Shea.”
She started to protest. He straightened and squared his shoulders. “Now.”
She muttered something under her breath with a fair amount of uncomplimentary words, and when she finally withdrew the small handgun, he motioned for her to set in on the table. “Anything else?”
She pulled out a knife from an ankle brace on her opposite leg.
“A walking artillery. Now let’s talk while we wait for the state police to arrive.”
Her face paled. “You called them?”
“And Roy.”
She swore softly. “Give me my phone.”
He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
She reached into her back pocket.
He raised the gun. “Shea, don’t make me—”
“Philadelphia P.D., narcotics undercover.” She withdrew an ID from her back right pocket. “And you just managed to mess up a case aimed at saving your sorry life. Now give me my phone, Tony, before the PPD shoots some unsuspecting state police officer.”
He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Saving my life?”
“Rudy Giudicci. His kid put a hit out on you three days ago. We got the kid, but not the hit guy. So yes, I’m here to save your stinkin’ life. Fat lot of good that’s going to do either of us now.”
He gave her the phone, but didn’t set the gun down until he examined her badge. “Giudicci’s in prison for life.”
“His kid got ticked when his dad missed his grandson’s wedding. He’s got a vengeance streak,” she went on as she waited for the call to go through. When someone picked up, she spoke in quick, terse terms. Total cop. “We’re outed. State police on its way. And expect the hit man if he followed the trail. Don’t confuse the two.” Scowling, she disconnected the call.
He was livid. Absolutely livid. She’d left a deliberate trail to them so they could ambush the goons. Without telling him.
Anger didn’t just rise up within him. It consumed him. “What kind of games are you guys playing?” he demanded. “Now I’m out here like a sitting duck waiting for a hit man to come calling?”
“We’ll get him before he ever gets to you.”
“Commendable except that when Rudy G. orders a hit, there’s always a back-up.” Her expression revealed too much because Giudicci’s methods were yesterday’s news. “This is what happens when novices set up stings.”
“I’m no novice, and there was nothing stated about a back-up hit. We didn’t exactly have time to review five-year-old case evidence. We had fourteen hours to put this together and I took some pretty nasty smacks to the face to help get you out of town. Gratitude might be in order.”
“Gratitude?” The word fairly exploded from him. “My kids are traipsing around
an open vacation destination with two of the sweetest and most gullible people on the planet right now, and Rudy’s buddies won’t think twice about using them for leverage. Shea, I—”
“Your kids and parents are safely tucked away until this is over.” She moved to the window’s edge and peered out from the side.
“You moved my kids? Without my knowledge or permission?” He didn’t think this could get worse.
It just did.
“Buddy Kovinski took care of it. Your best friend and former partner and a guy who got the whisper of this plot and set wheels in motion to save your life, Sanchez. Don’t make me regret signing on to seal the deal.”
Buddy was in charge.
He immediately breathed easier.
And then he didn’t. Neither did she, it seemed. “You’re such a jerk, Tonio. Always have been. Shrugging people off when they’re trying to help you, acting all big and arrogant like you know something the rest of us don’t. Antonio Arthur Sanchez, I could—”
He kissed her.
Right there, right then. Partially because it was the most effective way of shutting her up but mostly because he couldn’t imagine being in the same room with Shea Robinson and not wanting to kiss her. That had been weird when he was a grown-up and she was a teen-ager who wanted him to take her to the formal dance.
It wasn’t weird now.
It was absolutely amazing and could border sublime if there weren’t people out to kill him and possibly her by association.
He paused the kiss and dropped his forehead to hers. “Well.”
“Well, nothing.” She pulled back and glared at him from the one good eye. The other one was still nasty-colored but at least some of the swelling had gone down. “Don’t think that kissing me gets you out of trouble.”
“Of course it does. I’d have done it a long, long time ago if there weren’t all those inconvenient years between us. And I’m guessing the good Lord put you back in my life for a reason, Shea.”
“To keep you alive. Nothing more.”
“Mm hmm.” He crossed to the other small window. She couldn’t see his expression, but he was pretty sure she could imagine it. Smug...
Just a little.
And real, real careful. At least for now.
Chapter Six
Irritating.
Irascible.
And outrageously attractive, especially when he put on the “I know best” routine.
And that kiss...
She couldn’t think about that kiss. Or what it might mean, because it probably meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Something done in the moment.
Right now she was not only in the moment, she was in a situation that could get people killed.
Two assassins.
Was he right?
He was always right. And even when he wasn’t, he was real close to being right.
She texted again to have Buddy pass the word.
“How’d you tempt him in?”
“Privileged information,” she retorted.
“Don’t make me kiss you again, Shea. We can’t afford the distraction. Later, yes. Now... no.”
She muttered something unflattering under her breath so he’d drop the kissing talk. Who talked kissing in a life-and-death situation? Then she sighed and slipped down onto the floor with her back against the wall. “Get low and I’ll fill you in.”
He took a seat on the floor, facing the two small windows and the door. Gun out. Cocked. Ready.
“We’ve got six guys working perimeter.”
“I deserved eight, but I’ll let that go. Four would have been the ultimate insult to a former member of the force.”
“Now that you’ve mentioned a potential second attacker, I wish it was ten,” she told him. “This is a big, dark area to keep an eye on, but it’s not like anyone can access this without wheels.”
“Anyone with hunting or tracking experience can do exactly that. We could have, but there wasn’t time. A car parked on a shoulder of a gravel road wouldn’t be seen this time of year. There’s nothing worth fishing for mid-summer, but it’s a hunter’s paradise in the fall so this is the perfect window of time.”
She wanted to swear.
She resisted the temptation.
Tony knew this area. She didn’t. He’d brought her here specifically because he was protecting her. Not the other way around. Right now she saw the difference in planning. He’d wanted her to be a needle in a convoluted gravel road haystack.
Now the killer was the needle and that much harder to track.
“Why didn’t you guys simply tell me what was going on and bring me into the inner sanctum?”
“Not protocol.”
He rolled his eyes. “You follow protocol 24/7, Shea? Because I bet you don’t.”
“I like keeping my job so I only bend rules when it saves lives. Although I will admit that our sensibilities might have been skewed this time. Your fault.”
His brows shot up. “Mine? How?”
“Your stubborn nature is well-known. We acted accordingly.”
He almost smiled. “That would be Buddy’s take. You confirmed it?”
“Well, you wouldn’t take me to the dance and I had to go stag while all the popular girls had dates, and it wasn’t like you didn’t like me...”
“You were seventeen. I was twenty-three. That would have sent every tongue wagging for a fifty-mile radius.”
He was exaggerating the mileage, but correct in his assessment. Six years was a big difference then.
Not so much now.
She squashed that thought the minute it came to her.
She had a life. A job she loved. A city she’d sworn to protect and defend.
She wasn’t cut out for a rural existence. Small-town living. Sidewalks that rolled up at seven P.M. six months of the year. That had never been the goal or the dream. She’d wanted out from the time she was old enough to realize there was life after Hamilton.
Yeah. How’s that been working out for you, by the way? It wasn’t, but there was no time to delve into that now.
Her phone vibrated.
“Target sighted. Six-thirty five. Closing parameters.”
So the guy was south of them.
The first guy.
Would there be a second? Was Junior as efficient as his father had been?
She hated that he probably was, because while the undercover cops were busy netting perp #1, the back-up assassin could be pulling them up on his or her scope...
And that made her feel like an easy target.
She shared the text with Tony.
He scowled. Put a finger to his lips.
The smoke outed them.
They couldn’t put out the fire completely. The smoke had purposely pinpointed their location to draw the killer into the PPD web, but it would do the same for the back-up.
That meant he could creep in with fewer eyes and ears on him.
She felt stupid.
If they’d brought Tony on board, yeah, he’d have argued and probably been a jerk, and maybe would have had to be tranquilized to get the big oaf to listen to reason, but he’d have given them this crucial crumb of information.
Then a thought struck her.
A thought that made her skin go cold.
Buddy had worked Southwest for years before coming over to Narcotics. He would have known about Giudicci’s “Plan B”.
He knew the racketeering families. He knew the Russian connections that had infiltrated the Italian mob as it moved into the South American drug trade. The habits of all of them.
Buddy knew and not only didn’t tell her, he didn’t prep for a second assassin.
That meant one thing and one thing only.
Her head jerked up.
She saw Tony watching her.
He blinked once.
He knew.
He’d already put it together, which meant he realized his old partner... the man who pretended to care so much... was on the dole from organized crime and
willing to let Tony be killed.
Fury turned the cold to heat.
She hated bad cops. She’d worked her tail off to earn the badge and the gun and to climb the ladders of achievement by being honest. Hard-working. Aboveboard.
But there were always a few stinking bad apples spreading rot from within.
Her fingers itched.
She wanted the assassin.
Then the cop.
And she wasn’t going to be happy until both were either in prison or in a box. At this point she didn’t much care which it was and the fact that Buddy had gone overboard on her face to draw Tony away would only make justice that much sweeter.
Chapter Seven
Buddy had gone rogue.
A part of Tony couldn’t believe it.
Another part half-expected it because as good a cop as Buddy had been, he’d tried to step over the line in a few of their last investigations together. Tony had reeled him in, then shrugged it off, partner to partner, because Buddy hadn’t breached the line.
But then Rebecca died and Tony left.
Think like Buddy. He’s going to assume you figured this out. Action/reaction sequence...
Buddy would already have the second assassin in place. Which meant the perp could be in any direction.
“We’re going full dark, Shea.” He doused the small fire. If the perp was already on them, the smoke wouldn’t matter. Darkness would.
She growled.
He understood. He’d seen it in her eyes when she figured it out. Anger. Raw anger. Partially because the set-up was already in, but also because there was nothing to set off a good cop more than knowing a bad cop was calling the shots.
He sent Roy a text message, outing Buddy.
Then he sent an encrypted message that said the same thing, a message Roy and the state police might actually receive.
The first one was a decoy. It would look weird if he didn’t put out a call for help with the information. The second plea might just save their lives. Or not.
“Will he leverage you with your kids, Tony?”
Shea had crept alongside him. She whispered the words as she held her weapon ready. He couldn’t see her eyes. Her face. But the question was valid. “Depends how dark he’s gone.”
Deceiving Death Page 3