He shut their car door and continued to peruse lanes of traffic congested by departing passengers.
Seattle. Karpenito and Maneski’s home turf.
Grant adjusted his Glock, scanning the airport as familiar as the back of his hand. He slid into the front seat. “Sam signaled to get moving.”
Their vehicle sped onto I-5 HOV lanes. They exited, turned twice, and stopped at a three-story brick building fronted by a green, scalloped awning.
Topiary pots dotted by white lights stood on either side of an elegant brass and glass entry. Grant surveyed the corners of the building.
No security cameras. His pulse quickened.
The driver stopped in the loading zone.
A familiar FBI agent trailed behind a uniformed bellhop approaching Grant’s side. The kid brightened in recognition while he got out and opened Pat’s door. “Coach! I mean, Mr. Morley.”
Grant studied the boy’s dark skin and eager eyes, then stuck out his hand. “Teddy! Congratulations! You landed the job. And you’ve shot up in height.”
“Three inches. I can grab rebounds now. I appreciated your letter of reference. Thank you, Coach.”
“Glad we’re staying at your hotel.”
“Me, too.” Teddy grinned and turned to Pat. “By your eyes, you must be related to Mr. Morley. He’s the best hoop coach the Y ever had.” He pretended to dribble between his legs.
“And the best son. Grant’s always enjoyed helping kids,” Pat said, before stepping to the sidewalk.
“I stayed off the streets for the honor of playing for him.” Teddy escorted Pat to the entry doors. “So far, none of our team’s done time. It’s been over three years.”
Miranda slid onto the curbside seat and got out. She tilted her head, eying Grant and Teddy.
Grant caught her curious appraisal. “Glad I steered a couple of you kids onto the right path.” He threw back his shoulders. “Mom and Miranda, please wait in the lobby.”
Another agent met the women at the glass doors and led them inside.
The second SUV pulled curbside.
Grant turned to Teddy. “Thanks for the update. I’m proud of you all.”
Teddy beamed. “I’ll let them know. We meet once a month for a pickup game.”
“Leave the place and time at the desk for me.”
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Teddy called, pulling luggage from the back end.
“Will do.” Grant followed his dad into the lobby.
Miranda stood quietly off to one side, then stepped out as Teddy rolled the luggage cart by her. She smiled at him. “You’re proof that Grant makes things happen.”
“Yes, miss,” Teddy agreed. “Enjoy your stay.”
Grant approached Miranda. “At around fourteen, the little buggers become tolerable,” he whispered under his breath.
She turned away as an agent from his office stepped up.
“Sam cleared the third floor of all occupants except your group.” He handed Grant a key card. “We swept the building and ran checks on the guests occupying the other floors.”
Miranda hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her chest.
“I’ll confer with you in a minute.” Grant ran his fingers across his throat to end the details. “I assumed I’d have support from our office.”
“I rescheduled dental surgery,” the agent joked. “See you upstairs.”
“Okay, ladies,” Grant ushered Miranda and Pat into the elevator. “This will be our digs for the week.”
“I spotted a pizza place next door,” Tom said. “I’ll buy.”
Grant nodded to Sam. “Hand your money to an agent, Dad. We’re in for the night. Miranda likes mushrooms.”
Exiting the elevator, he quickly unlocked their suite and walked past a spacious bathroom. “This should work well.”
A mirrored closet door reflected Miranda while she trudged past.
Striped furniture sat on one side of an open area and two queen-sized beds on the other. “I put Mom and Dad in the back bedroom, and we’ll be out here in front.” He closed the light blockers and flimsy curtains. “Okay by you, Miranda?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“You two get the bigger TV and wet bar.” His mom grasped Miranda’s hand. “You’ve withered worse than cornstalks in January. I bet that call to your friend would perk you up.”
Miranda dropped into an overstuffed chair. “Corrin will be anxious for news.” She took the phone Grant handed her and punched in the number. “Hi, Corrin. We made it to town. Maybe we can get together tomorrow.” Her eyes grew wide. “You’re where? With who?”
Grant’s body shot to alert.
“Oh, yes, Dr. Kyle rates my approval.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Enjoy your day off. I can hardly hear your voice over the music. Okay. I’ll call.”
“A drill sergeant joined mild-mannered Kyle.” Grant nudged his mom. He walked over and took the phone from Miranda. “Unplanned vacation?”
“Something delayed my messages to Corrin,” Miranda said. “She got concerned and caught a flight to Three Falls.” A hint of mischief crossed her face. “She and the good doctor are at a cowboy dance bar. Maybe she’s found a pardner in Kyle.”
“I never thought I’d celebrate malfunctioning technology, but I do love your smile.” He pocketed his phone. “Kyle thrives on a challenge. He owes me for delivering a single woman to Emma Springs.”
Three loud knocks boomed through the room.
He grabbed his Glock, and planted his body in front of Miranda.
“It’s Sam and the pizzas,” his boss yelled.
Aromas of garlic, pepperoni, and fresh bread drifted in with his boss. Grant stuck his head into the hallway. “Do your men want to join us?”
“Not tonight. We have a couple things to go over before tomorrow morning. You folks will need to be ready to depart at ten hundred sharp to meet with the DA.” He waved and left.
Tom folded a pizza slice in half and took a huge bite. Miranda hadn’t moved.
“I can order you a salad.” Grant poured sparkling water into a glass and handed it to her.
“I’m not hungry.” She tipped the water to her lips, her hand wobbling.
“You might want to pick out a few veggies.” Pat handed Miranda a slice. “You haven’t eaten much today,” she coaxed.
“If you don’t eat anything, Pat will put you on vitamins like she did Grant.” His dad patted her knee. “He must’ve grown a foot one year. Come on, one piece.”
Miranda picked off a mushroom.
Grant forced down a bite of greasy pepperoni. He thrummed his fingers on his knee. “Doc Kyle will thrash me if you don’t absorb some sustenance. Remember?”
She nodded and took a bite. “I can handle a slice for friendship’s sake.”
“Honey, my ribs are hurting.” Tom said. “Let’s see if we can figure out the flat screen in our bedroom.” He threw Grant a wobbly salute. “See you in the morning. You two are in charge of coffee.”
“Got it.” Grant closed the pizza boxes and set them in the hallway.
“I think I’ll get a sweatshirt on. I can’t get warm.” Miranda rummaged through her duffel bag before she headed into the bathroom.
Grant checked the deadbolt and slid the flimsy chain in place. He loosened his Kevlar vest.
Grabbing extra pillows, he put his knee on the mattress closest to the door and formed two body-shaped lumps in the middle, then tucked the bedspread around them.
Miranda stepped out. “You snuck in lumpy friends.” Color drained from her face. “Oh, those are supposed to be us.”
“Another precaution.” He moved toward her, then checked himself. “We can watch TV or relax, your choice.”
Anything she wanted to hear. Anything but tonight’s danger, or tomorrow. Someday he’d be pulling her close, smoothing away cares of their world. Not tonight.
He flipped off the light switch and slipped between the sheets. “Okay. One of my favorites is Dad first letting me sit on a horse.”
“We share a special memory.”
He continued until peaceful breathing came in wisps across his shoulder. She’d curled on her side, tight against him.
With a flick of his wrist, he threw the spread to one side and fanned the sheet. It’d be another long night.
He savored her warmth, her mere presence. How many people withstood the pressure of losing their family, started over on their own at twenty, and then handled a mobster’s pursuit? Her core appeared tough-cop strong at times, but would she make it through the trial without more emotional damage, even with his support?
Sirens and traffic noise had faded to nothing by three am.
He rolled his shoulders and imagined her at different ages wearing long braids. She’d have been a tomboy, climbing trees and catching frogs. No frilly dresses for his warrior princess.
A magnetic card slid into their lock.
He sat up and swept the Glock from under his pillow.
Two muffled beeps.
Someone had unlocked their door. Unannounced.
His other hand jostled Miranda. “Shh, stay down.” He pushed her onto the floor between the bed and the window.
A sliver of light came in through the cracked door.
The chain snapped.
In one movement, Grant dropped next to Miranda and aimed his gun at the door.
The intruder stepped in, closed the door behind him and fired four shots into the pillows on the other bed. Puffs of filling drifted out.
Grant fired three times into the tall figure. The gunman groaned and bent in half.
Metal clanked onto glass, followed by a thump.
“Stay put.” Grant pushed Miranda into the walled corner.
The window facing the street shattered, and a bullet struck the mirrored closet door. Light from a streetlight outlined a running figure on the roof across the street.
The bedroom door cracked open.
“Don’t move Dad! Sharpshooter across the street. Keep the lights off.” Grant kept his gun on the man crumpled on the floor. Under his chest, a dark splotch began spreading across the carpet.
An acrid scent hung in the room.
Grant stayed below the windowsill and crawled across the floor. He grabbed the killer’s Colt.
“You both all right?” His dad poked out his gun.
“Yes. Cover him,” Grant said. “Stinks like knockout gas, and he’s wearing a mask.”
“I have the police on the phone,” his mom called from the bedroom.
“Everybody stay low. No lights. Get several ambulances. There’s a chance we’ve got agents affected by sedation gas.”
His dad crept on all fours to the gunman. “He’s got a wound in the neck and abdomen.”
A fist pounded on their door. “Grant, it’s me, Sam! Are you okay?” He pounded again.
Grant yanked it open. Another gust of foul air entered the room. “No one hit,” he reported.
Sam pulled off the cloth he’d held over his nose and mouth. “Five agents incapacitated in the hallway. Alerted about a person on the building across the street. I called it in and went to check. He got off the shot before he ran.” Sam scanned the room using his flashlight.
Miranda remained scrunched into a corner, huddled under the shelf holding the lamp. She’d drawn her knees to her forehead. Broken glass surrounded her.
The shadowed outline of a 9mm pointing at them would forever be seared into Grant’s brain. He knelt by her. “We’re safe now.” His hands shook while he stroked her arms.
She tucked in further, her white knuckled fingers clamped onto her legs. “Were Pat or Tom hurt?”
Only Miranda would think of others after her life nearly ended. “They’re fine. I’m going to slide you out.” He unzipped his Kevlar and wrapped his arms around her to pull her out.
Cold air blew in from the broken window.
She stayed balled while he carried her to his parent’s bedroom.
“Police are getting the block sealed off.” Sam flicked on the lights.
“I’ve got you now.” Grant lowered them into an overstuffed chair. “It’s over. Pass your fears into me. Let them out.”
Her head remained wedged under his chin, her eyes scrunched shut.
“The bureau better have good answers,” his mom said. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do to help poor Miranda.”
Grant shook his head. “Leave the door open, Mom. I need to hear the explanation.”
Miranda shuddered with the intensity of a battering ram slamming into his bruised ribs. “Let it go, Miranda. I’ve got you.” He tipped back his head, and took in a labored breath.
In the living room, his mom raised her voice, and Sam quietly responded.
Two medics rolled a wheeled stretcher into the room.
An icy band squeezed his heart. He shifted in the chair so Miranda couldn’t view the grisly scene as they stabilized the assassin.
Miranda covered her ears while the attendants relayed vitals and wheeled out the gurney.
He stroked her back. “It’s over now.”
“Sam Coswell,” Pat shook her finger. “I don’t care if fifty agents stand shoulder to shoulder in this hallway and you park tanks outside for backup. You must protect us,” she demanded.
“I understand your anger.” Sam clenched and unclenched his fist. “Your security’s been compromised. I’ve got all available agents headed here.” His gaze flicked to Miranda, then met Grant’s eyes.
“Who knew?” Grant mouthed the words to his boss.
“Fortuna,” Sam mouthed.
Grant nodded. Their damn SAC, the leader who did everything politically and departmentally correct—for his own advancement. Grant had never fully trusted the jerk from the start. By Sam’s grimace, he agreed.
If it became the last thing he did, he’d collar the filthy, murderous traitor. Where to start?
Surviving tonight.
Chapter 17
Miranda fought against the onset of the slide into immobilizing despair. “Don’t leave me.” Grant’s firm hold while he cradled her in the chair had no effect. “Please. Don’t leave me alone again. I can’t go back in the dark hole.” Her fingers pressed into his muscled arm.
“I’ll never leave you. Talk to me. It’ll help us both.” He pulled her so tight, she felt his heartbeats, the same as when she’d been splayed across his bare chest.
She brushed her finger over the bruised skin under his eye. “Gunmen wait around every corner. I can’t watch you die.”
“Shh. Sam and I know who’s to blame. He won’t risk exposing himself again.” He pushed a curl behind her ear.
Tom stepped in. “Maybe you two need a good stiff drink, or several.”
“Can I get you something, Miranda?” Grant asked tenderly.
“Self-medicating doesn’t sound bad, but I don’t drink. Another anomaly, I guess.”
“We’ll be fine, Dad. Thanks.” Grant moved her palm to his heart. “I love your anomalies. Explain the darkness. Maybe together we can brighten it.”
“When I lost my family, the world turned gray. It’s hard to describe living in a self-imposed tunnel. You lit a torch, then Maneski threw us into a nest of vipers, and their fangs keep striking.” She stretched her fingers like a claw and tapped it against his chest.
Grant let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. The snakes will all be arrested and jailed soon. Sam told me they collared Maneski leaving his house. They confiscated a flash drive containing contacts.”
“Will they stop hunting us?”
“Thugs need money for operations. We’ve pulled their plug. Sam and I will figure out how to eliminate the traitor in our department.”
She pressed her palm against his cheek. “You’ll be in danger again.”
“Nope, I’ll help set the stage, and Sam will carry out the plan while I remain by you.”
This time. Otherwise, he’d be in the thick of it, a human shield guarding the next witness in another hotel room. Her body went very, very cold.
~ ~ ~
Grant leaned his head back. Miranda had gone quiet. Too quiet.
“You okay?”
“Do they always strike at night?” she asked.
“They think our guard’s down then.” Sam stood in the doorway. “But they don’t know Grant Morley. Pat tells me your group can visit a family friend in a remote setting.”
Grant smoothed Miranda’s hair. “Precisely where we should be right now. I clarified that his house is suitable.”
“I had orders,” Sam disclosed. “From here on out, tell no one the details. This hotel’s getting a new room ready for you tonight. Both regional SWAT teams are enroute. Once they’re in place, I can go check for damage to my trousers after the butt chewing from your mother.” Sam shook his head. “And it’s deserved. Your bellhop friend said the person on the roof had binoculars and a cell phone. The kid spotted him from the front door. He ran in and found me a few minutes too late for the agents they gassed, but who knows how many shots the sniper would’ve fired otherwise.”
“Teddy’s a sharp kid. Always liked him.”
Sam crossed his arms. “Miranda, if you need to speak to a counselor, we have one on call.”
“I’ve got this,” Grant said.
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