GRAY WOLF SECURITY, Texas: The Complete 6-Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  Hell!

  I got into my SUV and blew across the parking lot, but the limo was already gone. I pushed the accelerator, speeding through red lights, hoping there weren’t any cops out looking to make their quota of speeding tickets this month. My cell rang as I tore through another light. I was going to ignore it, but the Bluetooth link with the radio showed me it was Knox calling. Maybe she had info on Alvarez I could use.

  “Make it quick.”

  “David wants you out.”

  “What?”

  “We found information on your client. He is in deep with the Mexican mafia, Elliott. I mean seriously deep. He’s like one of the men who ordered that body dump they found last year.”

  “She was telling the truth, then.”

  “This is serious, Elliott. Kipling found out and went to David. David wants you out of that house right now. He said make whatever excuse you need to, but get out.”

  “I’m not leaving without her.”

  “Who?”

  “Alvarez’s wife. She’s an innocent caught up in all this. I won’t leave the house without her.”

  “Then bring her along. I’m sure David will figure out something.”

  “Alvarez has her. He came back early.”

  “Shit, Elliott! What have you gotten yourself into?”

  I took a hard turn, the tires squealing and a couple of horns blaring in my direction.

  “Elliott?”

  “I’m still here, Knox.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  I disconnected as I approached the community gate outside Alvarez’s neighborhood. The guard came to the window and smiled when she recognized me.

  “They just came through a moment ago,” she told me.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  I drove slowly through the gate, my heart racing. I was a little concerned they would try to keep me out, but clearly that wasn’t Alvarez’s plan. It made me wonder what his plan was.

  He must have had someone at the hospital watching. One of the nurses, maybe. Or Dr. Forman herself. Or maybe Donny. I had no idea whom we could trust and whom we couldn’t. For all I knew, I was walking into an ambush. But, somehow, I didn’t think Alvarez would be that stupid. People knew I was here. He’d try to be diplomatic, convince me the job was over and I was free to go. Or maybe he’d make threats. Or pay me off. I was sure he had some sort of plan to get rid of me. But my biggest concern was Brooks.

  All I could think about on the entire drive over were the bruises on her ribs.

  I pulled up to the gate outside Alvarez’s property and plugged in the code he’d given me. It didn’t do anything at first. Again I was afraid they’d revoked my right to be here. But then the gate slowly began to retract.

  Alvarez’s car was parked by the front door, his men’s sedan right behind it. I parked off to the side, clear of the traffic jam in the circular drive, and forced myself to walk calmly to the front door. The house was as quiet as a tomb when I walked in, no one in sight. I checked the sitting room before heading down the long corridor that led to Alvarez’s office. The same two men from the institute were standing—side-by-side—in front of the door.

  “He wants you to wait,” the one man said.

  “Where’s Brooks?”

  The man didn’t answer, but I could see by the look on his face that she was in there with Alvarez.

  My heart sank.

  It was a huge house and the walls were thick. I could only imagine what was happening in there. And my imagination was pretty intense. I’d seen things…I couldn’t just stand there and wait.

  “Do you know what he does to her? Have you seen the bruises he leaves?”

  Both men remained silent and expressionless.

  “He beats her. She’s half his size, and he feels the need to hit her. What kind of a man does that?”

  “She’s his esposa,” the silent man, the one who rarely spoke, said. “He do what he want.”

  “This isn’t Mexico, friend,” I said, getting into his face. “This is America. We don’t beat our wives in America.”

  The man just silently glared at me.

  I moved away, pacing in the narrow space in front of the office door. I could feel them watching me, but I didn’t really care. My cell rang. I considered ignoring it, but I knew it was Knox. Maybe she had an idea or two.

  “What?”

  “David said for you to stand down. Don’t do anything right now.”

  “Knox—?”

  “He’s calling the police. They should be there soon to back you up.”

  “On what charge?”

  I wasn’t convinced the police could do anything even if they got here in time to catch Alvarez in the act of something. I couldn’t get in there. How were the police going to get in? But the idea that David had my back was more reassuring than I’d imagined it would be.

  “I don’t know. But Elliott, please, don’t do anything stupid, okay? He’s got Kipling setting up a safe house for you and the wife. Just…wait for the cops.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  I could hear her calling my name as I disconnected, but I did it anyway. And paced. Only a second or two passed before I heard this great crash come from inside the office.

  I couldn’t wait any more.

  “I’m going in there!”

  I charged toward the door, aware that I was outmanned and outgunned. That talker pulled his weapon and leveled it at me as I rushed him, but I was too close for it to do him any good. I grabbed his arm and whipped him around, forcing him down to his knees as I slipped the gun out of his hand. He moaned as I pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

  “Back away, buddy, or your friend will be little more than a shell in less than a second.”

  The other man stared at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. We just stood there for a moment, staring each other down, measuring each other. He reached into his jacket and I fired, impressed with the accuracy and the efficiency of the silencer on the talker’s gun. His friend went down almost before I realized I’d completed the shot, blood blossoming on his white dress shirt.

  I put the gun back against the talker’s head, taking some satisfaction from his hiss of pain from the heat of the barrel.

  “You’re going to stand, and you’re going to open that fucking door, do you understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  I let go of his arm, wrapping my fist in the loose material at the back of his jacket. He stood, rubbing his wrist where I’d had it bent hard enough to loosen a few ligaments. I urged him forward, and he went, reluctantly, turning the knob on the door and pushing it open hard enough to knock it up against an inside wall.

  Alvarez was in the middle of the room, breathless, his jacket gone and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was staring down at Brooks when we walked in, watching her cry from a fetal position on the floor. Anger burst bright red in my vision as I took in the sight, only the knowledge that Brooks could get hurt in the crossfire kept me from shooting him in the head.

  “What the hell?” Alvarez demanded, turning to face us.

  “Let her go!”

  Alvarez took in the scene, then smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” he said, amusement written all over his face, but his eyes calculating his odds of getting out of this. “I saw the security footage. I know what you did out there in the garden.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I saw you kiss my wife. Do you make a habit of kissing all the wives of your clients? Is that part of the deal?”

  “Only when their husbands are abusive asses like you.” I gestured with the gun. “Let her go, Alvarez.”

  “I brought you in here to protect her from threats. Instead, you parade her all over town and make out with her in the garden. Some bodyguard you turned out to be.”

  “The only threat she needs protection from is you.”

&n
bsp; “Me?” Alvarez smiled again, his smile making my skin crawl. “Brooks knew what she was getting into when she married me. She married me anyway.”

  “And now she wants out.”

  “Is that right?” He moved around Brooks, who was still lying on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest and her hands clasped behind her head. He moved to stand just inches from the small of her back where he poked at her with the toe of his shoe. “Is that true, mi amor? Are you really ready to leave this marriage?”

  Brooks didn’t answer, but he didn’t really give her time to. He pulled back and kicked her, slamming the toe of that expensive shoe into her back until she moaned in pain.

  “Stop!” I cried. “Leave her alone!”

  “She is my wife. This is my home. At the moment, you are a trespasser here. There is nothing you can do to stop this.”

  I jammed the gun harder against the talker’s head, making him moan, too. “You want to make a fucking bet? I just shot your other man. You want this guy’s brains splattered all over the room, too?”

  “You wouldn’t do that. This country’s legal system may be flawed, but there’s no way they’d let you get away with it.”

  “What makes you think I give a shit right now?”

  There was a slight hesitation in Alvarez’s movements. But then he looked down at Brooks again.

  “Did you sleep with her? In my house?” He nudged her, pushing his foot under her body to jam his toes against her ribs. “Did you fuck him here in my house?”

  He pulled back to kick her again when she started to laugh. At first I wasn’t sure what it was; I thought it might be a sob. But then she looked up, hysterical glee written all over her face.

  “You’re seriously accusing me of cheating on you when you’ve been fucking your little boyfriend in this very room for God only knows how long?” Her laughter grew stronger, louder. “Why don’t you be honest with yourself here, Juan. Admit that neither of us really took our vow of fidelity all that seriously.”

  “Let her go, Alvarez,” I said, nudging the talker with the barrel of his own gun.

  Alvarez stared at Brooks for a long time, moments that ticked by like hours. I could see a myriad of emotions rushing over his face, anger and hatred at the very top of the list. He slowly backed away, his hands raised to show he held no weapon.

  “Go. But you have no idea whom you’re messing with. I will find you and you will wish that you never stepped foot in this house. Either of you.”

  Brooks climbed to her feet. I grabbed her under the arm, pulling her behind me as we slowly backed out of the room, the gun leveled right at the middle of Alvarez’s chest. I kept it there until we were out of the room and then we ran faster than we’d ever run before. Brooks tripped as we hit the marble stairs at the front of the house. I practically pulled her off her feet, trying to right her, juggling the gun and searching for my keys all at the same time. Alvarez was standing on the front porch when we rounded the bottom half of the circular drive, watching as we pointed the SUV toward the front gate.

  Like before, I was afraid they wouldn’t open the gate, that he would have his men ambush us there, but I hadn’t seen any more than the two men since we arrived and there was no one else in sight as the gate automatically began to swing open as we approached.

  I said a silent prayer under my breath that we’d squeak through before he came up with some other scheme to stop us.

  We were nearly to the front gate when we saw the police lights.

  “What’s that?” Brooks demanded.

  “Police. For us.”

  “Us?”

  “David, my boss, called them. Told them you were in danger.”

  “Should we stop?”

  “Not until we get as far from here as possible.”

  She turned in her seat to watch them rush past us, wincing with the movement. I reached over and touched her hand.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  I studied her face as best as I could as I navigated the residential streets at twice the legal limit. There was blood on her lip and redness on one cheek. But her eyes were clear. She took my hand and laced her fingers through mine, pulling them into her lap. I found the interstate and drove north, needing to put as much space between Alvarez and us as I possibly could. We found ourselves in Belton, a smallish town about an hour from Austin. I pulled into the parking lot of a diner some distance from the interstate, my hands shaking as I finally turned off the SUV and sat back in the driver’s seat.

  Silence fell heavy between us. Brooks adjusted her position a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable in just about any position. I reached over and brushed my fingers over her cheek.

  “You go in, get cleaned up. I need to make a few phone calls.”

  She put her hand on the door handle, but then turned and crawled into my lap, tears suddenly streaming down her cheeks. I pulled her close, running my hands over her head, her back. I cradled her to me as sobs vibrated through her body, a delayed reaction to all that had happened today.

  “It’s okay, darling,” I said over and over again in the most soothing voice I could manage—even though I wasn’t sure if it really was okay. We’d just pissed off a member of the Mexican mafia. It was very possible that the both of us would be dead before this time tomorrow evening. But what was done was done, and I had to have faith that David and the others at Gray Wolf would help us find a way out of this mess.

  It was going to be okay.

  When the tears passed, she silently pulled away and went inside, her head bowed to hide her red, swollen eyes from the few other patrons of the diner. I got out, too, walking some distance in the opposite direction before I pulled out my phone and dialed.

  “Where the fuck are you?” Knox demanded in lieu of a greeting.

  “Out of Austin.”

  “David’s livid. Why didn’t you wait for the police?”

  “Because the situation escalated. He was beating the shit out of her, Knox.”

  There was a brief moment of silence. I could almost picture her, sitting at her desk, her hand over the phone so that no one could accidentally overhear what she was saying.

  “You know Alvarez is claiming you kidnapped her. That you shot his man and forced her from the house at gunpoint. He says that you became unnaturally obsessed with her during your time as her bodyguard and that you meant her harm.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “I know. David knows, too. Remember the detective who worked Tierney’s case? They’re locked up in David’s office trying to figure out how to best get you out of this.”

  “Good. I’m glad someone’s trying to come up with some ideas.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Hey, Elliott,” a male voice suddenly said into the phone. “This is Kipling McKay. Where the hell are you?”

  I hesitated, glancing back at the diner. I could see a single curious customer watching me from a front booth, but no one else. Watching him watch me suddenly made me very tired. I dragged my hand over my face and sighed.

  “We’re just outside of Belton.”

  “Smart. You got out of the city.” There was a second of silence during which I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Did you get rid of the SUV, or are you still driving it?”

  “Still have it.”

  “You need to get rid of it. And your cell phones, too. Anything Alvarez or the police can use to trace you.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then you need to find a cheap motel somewhere in another town where you can pay cash for a room. Hold out there for tonight then call me in the morning from an untraceable phone and I’ll come get you, take you to a safe house.”

  “She has a prepaid cell.”

  “That’ll work.” Kipling read out his phone number to me three times, making me repeat it back to him. I almost felt like a kindergartner learning his number in case he got lost at the fair. “Just make sure you get rid of anything that can be traced
back to you.”

  “Of course.”

  “And there’s something else you should think about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That cop we are working with says that Austin police department has been trying to make a case against Alvarez for a couple of years now, but that he’s been way too careful for them to make anything stick here in the states. So, even though everyone knows who he is and what he’s doing, they can’t arrest him. But he was thinking that his wife might know a few things.”

  I groaned. “He wants Brooks to turn against him.”

  “He does. And if she does, not only can they arrest Alvarez and get him off your ass, but the charges against you would be dropped. Otherwise, helping you means were technically aiding and abetting a felon.”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “What if she doesn’t know anything?”

  “Then she doesn’t. But she can tell the cops that you didn’t take her against her will.”

  I glanced back at the diner again. I could see Brooks sitting at a table in the back, her eyes the only ones on me now. She lifted a hand by way of greeting, but there was no joy in it. Only concern.

  “I’ll have to talk to her about it.”

  “No problem. You can let me know in the morning.”

  I ended the call a moment later and walked back to the SUV. I tossed my phone inside, patting my pockets, trying to think of anything else I might have that could allow us to be traced. There was my wallet…I slipped out all the cash I had and my driver’s license. There were credit cards, some business, some personal, all traceable. A couple of personal photos left over from my time overseas. I took out one or two that meant something and left the rest.

  I walked into the diner and ducked into the men’s room. I washed my face, staring at myself in the mirror for a long moment. I looked like a man in need of a long night’s sleep. I ran my fingers through my hair, then dropped my keys beside the sink before slipping back out into the diner. I sat beside Brooks on the same side of the booth, sliding my hand into hers.

  “You should eat.”

  “I ordered some coffee.”

  “You need something more substantial.”

  She rested her head on my shoulder. “I think I’d rather go somewhere quiet and order a pizza.”