by Lori Ryan
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Pure Vengeance
Book One of the On the Line Romantic Thriller Series
Lori Ryan
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Also by Lori Ryan
Note
About the Author
Copyright 2017, Lori Ryan.
All rights reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Acknowledgments
It always seems to take a small village to get my books to you all. As always, I’m tremendously helpful to all the people who step up to help me!
To Melanie and Steve, thank you so much for all your help! You guys make my books so much better.
To my cover designer, Viola Estrella. You rocked the covers for this new series, but that’s no surprise to me! You always come through with exactly what I need.
To Cathy and Kay for your help in brainstorming whenever I call.
To everyone at SilverHart Writer’s SWAT Academy for writers. You really made a huge difference and your willingness to help always amazes me. A special shout out to Scott Silverii, Ph.D., and to Eli Jackson of Authors Combat Academy for your on-the-fly expertise! My writing would be so much slower if you all didn’t answer crazy random at all hours.
Thank you to Deb Posey Chudzinski and Shari Bartholomew for answering my random questions and helping me make the medical side of things work!
And, especially, thank you to my husband and kids who put up with so much to help me meet deadline after deadline! You guys really are too good to me.
I’m sure I forgot someone! Please forgive me for any oversights.
Chapter One
“He’s like a real-life Joe Pesci.” Cal Rylan looked at their witness. They’d finally stuck him across the room with a uniform to babysit. If Cal had to listen to one more of the man’s stories about the history of cheese, he’d lose his mind. “Only not as funny. I could have lived forever without knowing there was a debate over whether cheese was developed in Europe, Central Asia, the Sahara, or the Middle East, and been totally happy.”
“You mean Leo Getz.” Cal’s partner, Jarrod Harmon, didn’t look up from where he sat skimming through emails. They were scheduled to leave in ten minutes and Jarrod wasn’t one to waste time nowadays. The more he took care of things like emails and reports in the in-between times, the faster he’d get home to his new girl.
Cal was happy for Jarrod. Since the man had admitted he’d fallen for Carrie Hastings, he hadn’t stopped smiling. So what if Cal had to bite back a stab of envy now and then?
But he was beginning to see how alone he was. How much better his life could be…well, it wasn’t worth really thinking too long about it. It wasn’t like he could sign his ass up for online dating or anything. What would he write? Overworked cop who’s seen too damned much and has no life outside of catching killers. Yeah, that should draw in the women.
“Leo Getz?” Cal asked.
“Yeah.” Jarrod looked up this time. “Leo Getz. Joe Pesci is the actor. Leo Getz is the character.”
Cal shrugged. “Whatever. You get my point.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder at their witness. Eddy Preiss was no trophy in the looks department. He was short and balding, but still fighting acne in his forties. “You get the idea maybe we aren’t being told all we need to know about this assignment?”
Jarrod’s eyes had gone back to his email, but Cal’s question brought them right back to his partner. They’d learned a long time ago to listen to each other’s hunches. On more than one occasion, nothing more than gut feeling had saved their asses. It was something they paid attention to.
“No, but if you’ve got concerns…” The rest didn’t need to be said. Jarrod would back Cal if he wanted to dig deeper to set his mind at ease.
The men stood and walked toward their captain’s office. Cal knocked on the door frame, waiting for Captain Calhoun to nod before they entered.
“Captain, you got any more information on this guy we’re bringing to the Feds this morning?” Cal was the one to ask the question. The Captain was generally open with them, so neither man thought much of asking for more. They’d been told about the assignment the afternoon before, but there hadn’t been much detail to go with it.
Calhoun frowned and shook his head. “No. He was brought in on a petty theft charge. I got the sense the arresting officers don’t really expect him to have much information, but Preiss claims he’s got something worth talking about and he’ll only talk to the FBI. Someone in the prosecutor’s office is probably just trying to kiss ass with the Feds. Told them we’d do the courtesy of transporting him over to their office.”
Cal nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t move to leave.
“Something I should know about gentlemen?” Calhoun asked.
“Just a bad feeling.” Cal shrugged and rubbed his stom
ach absently.
Calhoun leaned back in his seat. “I don’t have any reason to think anything’s off about this. Simple interview. You sure you didn’t eat something bad last night?”
Jarrod shot a look toward Cal and Cal nodded. If the Captain said it was tight, he’d have to accept that.
Cal laughed. “Could be. Franklin and Motz insisted on eating at some dive I’d never heard of. Should’ve known not to listen to those two.” The men stood and the Captain went back to whatever he’d been working on. Cal didn’t envy the man the time he put into reports and administrative bull. He wouldn’t have the patience for it. He’d be bored sitting in that chair within days.
Jarrod spoke quietly as they left the office, looking at his watch. “It’s time. We good?”
Cal nodded. “Yeah, we’re good. Shit, I’m probably just dreading the ten-minute ride in a car with this asshole while he tells us more about cheese or maybe his signed baseballs.” Cal appreciated baseball as much as the next guy, but he couldn’t get on board with a forty-year-old man bragging about his collection of fifty-two signed baseballs for upwards of twenty minutes.
“I hear ya.”
Five minutes later, Cal pulled his car up to the back exit of the station. There was a ramp with a seven-foot concrete wall that ran along it at this exit. With Cal’s car ready at the end of the concrete wall, they’d have little exposure to prying eyes. Cal preferred it that way. He stood next to the door and knocked, then turned to face out, scanning what he could see of the parking lot. All clear.
Jarrod opened the door and they took their formation easily, falling in with Cal in front, their witness next, and Jarrod in the back. It was a short ride over to the federal building. They’d kill time over there while this guy talked to whoever he was meeting with, then either leave him and transfer custody, or bring him back to lockup.
Warm spray hit the back of Cal’s neck and he raised his hand to feel it, part of him knowing what it was before he saw it. The sound of the gunshot caught up to the bullet seconds later. Cal turned to cover the witness, but it was already too late.
“Fuck!” Cal didn’t wait for another shot. The back door opened as others inside the building responded to the shot. Cal grabbed for the witness and Jarrod, dragging both through the back door as two uniforms flanked him. One held the door. The other reached to help him with the dead weight he was dragging.
Dead weight. Cal’s gut churned and flipped, threatening to give up its contents.
Jarrod was hit.
A tornado whirled in Cal’s head as he took in the scene. Blood. Two blood trails covered the floor, but the larger of the two ran to the witness. Blood seeped over the man’s chest and a silver dollar sized hole stood above the man’s heart. There was no life in his eyes.
Cal turned to Jarrod as more officers spilled out to find the asshole who’d shot at them, but Cal didn’t hear any more shots, from either the attacker or the officers.
Christ, how would he tell Carrie? Cal couldn’t go through this again.
Jarrod lay unconscious on the floor. Cal took in his injuries, ignoring everything around him—ignoring the Captain’s shouts for answers and the rookie that stood frozen against one wall, staring at the blood. Jarrod’s arm was bleeding, but a quick examination showed it was nothing more than a flesh would.
Cal moved his hands to his partner’s head as a detective from major crimes began to assess the witness’s injuries and begin CPR. Cal wanted to scream at the man, to tell him the fucker was well past dead. But he didn’t. He found a wound at the back of Jarrod’s head and applied pressure as he tried to tell himself this couldn’t be a bullet wound. It had to be from the fall. Rationally, he knew it, but that didn’t stop the panic.
“Where is the bus?” He hollered. “Where the fuck is the bus?” They needed an ambulance now, not ten minutes from now.
Cal looked down as he waited, praying like hell he wouldn’t have to tell Carrie that Jarrod hadn’t made it.
He couldn’t fucking do that again. Could not.
Chapter Two
Eve Sands didn’t wait to be told not to go. She’d been assigned to this witness and she was damned well going to follow through. Especially now that he’d been shot.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew Special Agent in Charge Richard Dyson was pissed at her and this assignment was payback. Of course, when he’d assigned her to talk to this witness, he had no idea the guy would be shot dead. He considered this his way of sticking her out in the dog house and leaving her until she’d licked his boots enough to be allowed back into his good graces.
Sadly for him, Eve didn’t lick anyone’s boots. He was going to be waiting a good long while for that one. He couldn’t get her off the task force he was leading—at least not without somehow manufacturing a reason for their supervisors—but he could stick her with the crap no one else wanted to handle.
This witness had definitely been considered a crap assignment. She’d been on her way to the office for the interview when the call had come in about the shooting. And yes, she should call in to Dyson before going to New Haven PD, but if she did that, he’d tell her to come in and he’d send someone else out. Someone who was currently in his favor.
Instead, she turned and headed straight to the police department. She tended to be one of those ask-for-forgiveness-instead-of-permission kind of people. Besides, if Dyson had screwed up and didn’t consider this guy to be a major witness, he might be in for a nasty surprise. After all, the guy had been shot before he could talk to her. That had to mean something.
She flashed her badge for the uniform standing at the crime scene tape and cringed. She felt for these guys. To have your own precinct surrounded in crime scene tape had to hurt. She’d heard a detective had been shot as well. She sent up a silent prayer for him. Losing any of the guys on their side always hurt, whether they were local or federal.
“I want answers and I want them now.” A grim-faced man stood over the remnants of what had to have been the paramedics’ attempt to revive someone. He wasn’t yelling, but his tone told her he was two seconds away from releasing all that anger. She might end up catching a lot of that before this little scene was over. The volume kicked up a notch as he continued. “I want to know what the hell this man was planning to talk to the feds about and why the fuck we didn’t know about this level of risk.”
“I don’t know,” another officer mumbled.
“Then find out! If he was going to be a target, we damned well should have known about it.”
Eve squared her shoulders and stepped closer. “I can help with that.” She held up her credentials. “Special Agent Eve Sands.”
Sharp gray eyes turned toward her. He was a large man, but she would bet there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat on that frame. Dark hair and intelligent eyes were set off by a hard jaw and a scar above his left eye running above the brow and up into the hairline. Whatever caused it had to have hurt.
Cal turned and narrowed in on the voice the minute she spoke. She was blonde, the kind of blonde hair that was almost white, but not the kind that looked fake. Her skin was pale and creamy and bright blue eyes blazed. She looked like she should be on the shelf in a doll store where no one could break her. She sure as hell didn’t look like she should be in here, surrounded by blood and tough assholes, both the ones on the right side and those on the wrong side of the law. When he looked close, though, he could see her own toughness shining through. It wasn’t readily apparent, but it was there. He would bet she had to fight tooth and nail to get any respect on the job.
He didn’t introduce himself. He had more than one reason for going on the offensive with her. The fact his witness and partner had both been shot was only the start of it. The kick of attraction he felt for her was another. He didn’t know where the hell it came from, but he didn’t want it getting in the way. “Why the hell weren’t we told this guy was high value? What the hell kind of clusterfuck is the FBI running?”
He would have known
she was FBI without the badge. She had it written all over her buttoned up suit and the way she’d twisted her hair tight to the nape of her neck.
And where the hell had thoughts of the nape of her neck come from? Why did he even know those words? Cal shook his head to clear it and focused on the anger. He had every damned right to be angry here. The FBI’s screw-up had just put his partner in the hospital.
She did that hands-on-hips thing his mom used to do to him. “You should treat any witness like he’s high value. But if you must know, we didn’t have any reason to think this guy would put any of you at risk. If we had, I’d have made sure you had that information.”
She paused and he could see she wasn’t going to say more, no passing on of the blame. He had to respect that. She was telling him she wasn’t going to rat out whoever had been in charge. He could appreciate standing by your team like that. It didn’t change the fact that the other half of his team was now injured.