Best Served Cold

by Rebecca Deel

  “Is that enough incentive for you to marry me soon?” he asked, his gaze intent.

  She tilted her head back to see his expression better. “You asked me to marry you two days ago. Why the rush?”

  “I’ve waited a lifetime for you, Stella, and I want as much time with you as I can get. My home is empty without you. I long to hold you in my arms every night. I’m ready to build a life with you.”

  Stella wrapped her arms around his neck. “Nate,” she whispered. “I love you. Once we nail Rick Ashworth and the leak, we’ll talk to Marcus Lang and choose a date.” Lang was the pastor of Cornerstone Church in Otter Creek, the church that members of Durango attended on the Sundays they were in town.

  “Soon?” His hold on her tightened.

  “I need a dress and we have to talk to Serena about the food. Other than that, as soon as Pastor Lang has an opening, I will be honored to become your wife.”

  Nate’s eyes blazed. He dived into a hot, no-holds-barred kiss which left Stella grateful she was sitting down. Her legs wouldn’t hold her up if she were standing.

  When he broke the kiss, her lips tingled. “What about your family? Will they be able to attend at such short notice?”

  “My parents will drop everything to come. The rest of my siblings will if they can get away. If not, we’ll have a family party to celebrate our marriage.”

  “They’ll be okay with that arrangement?”

  “Sweetheart, the rest of my siblings eloped. Trust me, Mom and Dad will be thrilled to attend a traditional wedding.” He paused. “What about your parents?”

  “I’ll call them as soon as we have the arrangements set.” Whether or not they would attend was anyone’s guess.

  Another kiss before Nate helped Stella to her feet. “Time to eat. By the time we finish the cleanup, it will be time to meet Yates.”

  After a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, and a salad, everyone pitched in to clear the dishes.

  “Anybody with new info to add to the collective intel before Nate, Stella, and Deke leave?” Josh asked.

  “You were right about Green,” Quinn said. “He was at the anniversary party. Video uploaded to social media as well as time stamps on photos prove he was where he said at the time of Riley’s shooting. Much as I hate to admit it, Green’s not your shooter. There’s also no financial trail indicating he hired someone to do his dirty work, either.”

  “Same for Mike Daniels,” Rio said. “There were three security cameras around the theater and none of them showed the marshal leaving the building and returning. The man’s in financial hock up to his ears with three ex-wives to support along with a new wife. He doesn’t have the money to hire a shooter.”

  “Same for Riley,” Josh said. “He obviously didn’t shoot himself, but there’s no indication he hired an incompetent shooter. Jon also said he was looking into background for Maya Manetti and her daughter, Kayla. He should be getting back to us soon.”

  Deke frowned. “What is he hoping to find?”

  “Information on Kayla’s father,” Nate said. “He plays into this somehow. Maya’s been protecting him for nine years. He means something to her.”

  “Maybe she knows how ruthless her father is,” Stella said. “If he ever learned that man’s identity, he’d kill him for running out and leaving Kayla without a father and abandoning Maya.”

  “What are the chances the father is your leak?” Rio asked.

  Stella’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, man. There was only one marshal left in their office who hadn’t been ruled out. Gage Yates. “We need proof before we accuse Gage of selling out.”

  “What motive would he have?” Deke asked.

  “When we confront him, I’ll find out,” Nate said. “You can bank on that.”

  Minutes later, they drove onto the interstate, headed toward Nashville. They talked through the case again and still concluded that Gage was the leak. What Stella couldn’t figure out was why. There was no money trail, so either Gage had an account no one knew about or this wasn’t about the money. If not money, what was important enough that he would risk prison?

  Ten miles from their destination, a call came through the speaker system of the SUV. “Armstrong.”

  “It’s Jon.”

  “You’re on speaker with Stella and Deke.”

  “Ah. Stella, you feeling better?”

  “I am. Thanks for asking. At least people aren’t giving Nate hateful looks anymore.”

  “What did you find out, Jon?” Nate asked.

  “I accessed Maya and Kayla’s medical files.”

  “I didn’t hear that,” Deke said.

  “If the information is relevant, we’ll find a way to access it legally. Kayla’s blood type is B while her mother’s is O.”

  Stella frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “I also cross-checked the blood types of the marshals in your office. The only one who could possibly be Kayla’s father is Gage Yates. He is also blood type B.”

  Her heart sank. Another arrow pointing to Gage as the leak. Was he more than that? Was he working with Ashworth? “No one else has connections to Manetti, Jon?”

  “I’m sorry, Stella.”

  “Me, too. I really liked him.”

  “Nate, let me know if I can do anything else besides help Blackhawk protect the home front.”

  “Thanks, Jon.”

  Three miles from Gage’s home, a truck raced into the intersection as Nate’s SUV reached the center.

  “Nate!” Stella screamed.

  He swerved to avoid the vehicle. Instead of slamming on the brakes, the truck accelerated, striking the driver’s side at full speed, sending the SUV off the roadway and over an embankment. Though Nate fought to keep all four wheels on the ground, the vehicle flipped and rolled down the steep incline until it came to rest on its roof at the bottom of a hill.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Sir, sir, can you hear me?”

  Nate groaned. Man, he had a massive headache and his body ached. Had he been sick?

  “Try not to move. We’ll have you out of there in a couple minutes.”

  Who was talking to him? That voice didn’t belong to one of his teammates. Get him out of where? Nate tried to shift, but he couldn’t move. Though he tried to look at his surroundings, nothing penetrated the dense darkness. That last thought sent his heart rate into orbit. Had he been injured in the line of duty? Was he blind? Wait, he wasn’t in the Army any longer. A Fortress mission gone wrong, then? If so, his teammates should be nearby and he didn’t hear their voices.

  Nate listened to screeching metal and radio transmissions. He frowned. Where was he? A siren sounded nearby. Men shouted overhead. Metal clanged. Something thumped. One man cursed.

  After a massive rending of metal, light flooded in, banishing the darkness. He blinked at the sudden brightness, recognizing the interior of his SUV, barely. He was pinned inside the twisted remnants of his cab. As memories stirred to the surface, his eyes widened. His SUV had been broadsided by a truck. Now he remembered Stella screaming his name and a vicious hit followed by his SUV rolling. “Stella!” He glanced to the passenger seat. Empty. He knew she’d been wearing her seatbelt as had Deke. They couldn’t have been thrown from the vehicle, could they? The EMTs must have rescued them already.

  Nate prayed he’d taken the worst of the hit. Stella was already battered by her encounter with the thug in her apartment. A man clad in a tan fireman’s uniform stuck his helmeted head inside the cage of the SUV.

  “You’re conscious. Good. Can you tell me where you’re injured?”

  “Other than a massive headache, no. I can’t move enough to assess the damage.”

  “Another minute and we’ll have you out of here.”

  “Is Stella okay?”

  “Who is Stella?”

  “My girlfriend. She and her partner, Deke, were in the SUV with me.”

  The fireman frowned. “When we arrived, no one was in the vehicle except you.”

&
nbsp; Cold chills surged down his body. “That’s impossible. I’m telling you I had two other people riding with me.”

  The man yanked up his radio. “Check around the vehicle and ravine for two more passengers. One male, one female.”

  Nate wanted to claw his way free to hunt for Stella and Deke himself, but he was trapped in a steel cage. More metallic grinding and bone-rattling thuds, and the metal holding him captive eased away from him. He freed himself from the seatbelt and started to shift out of the driver’s seat.

  “Hold still,” the fireman ordered as two of his teammates moved into position. “Let us do the work. We don’t know what kind of injuries you might have sustained.”

  Didn’t matter what his injuries were, he had to find Stella and Deke.

  The men maneuvered his body from the crumpled vehicle and into the cool night air. Men searched the area with powerful flashlights, but they didn’t find Stella or Deke. Maybe they went for help. No. Stella wouldn’t leave him. If she and Deke weren’t thrown from the vehicle, then whoever ran their SUV off the road had taken them. Only one person wanted Stella and Deke bad enough to intentionally crash into them.

  How long had he been unconscious? How long had Stella and Deke been missing? His jaw flexed. Why was he still alive? As the firemen carried him to the waiting gurney, Nate said, “No hospital.”

  “Sir, you have a cut on your head that needs stitches and we have no idea what internal injuries you might have. You could be bleeding internally.”

  “Have you found Stella and Deke?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I’m not going to a hospital. I have to find them.” No one would stop him from finding the woman he loved.

  “At least let the EMTs take a look at you.” They strapped him down and rolled him up the hill to the waiting ambulance.

  When the EMTs loosened the straps and proceeded to ask him a bunch of questions, he raised his hand and sat up. “Hold on a second.” They scowled, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but finding Stella and Deke. He grabbed his cell phone which was still in his pocket and called Josh.

  “What did you find out?” Josh asked in greeting.

  “Zip. We were broadsided by a truck. Stella and Deke are missing and I have EMTs wanting to work on me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “About three miles from Yates’ house.” He gave Josh the address and the name of the road where the accident happened.

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can. In the meantime, let the EMTs do their thing. It will save Rio time. He’ll double check their work.”

  “Hurry, Josh. I don’t know how much of a head start these people have or how long I was out. Bring my Go bag.”

  He faced the medical personnel. “Let’s do this.” For the next twenty minutes, he answered questions and allowed the EMTs to examine him, steadfastly refusing to be transported to the hospital.

  “You need stitches, Mr. Armstrong.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “No, sir. We’re not authorized to do that.”

  Right. Wouldn’t be the first time Rio sewed him up. He’d trust Durango’s medic before a doctor any day. Rio had saved all their lives more than once, his in particular about eight months earlier. He happily wore the scar as a testament to the medic’s efforts to save his life. “Clean the cut and slap butterfly bandages on it for now.”

  “That won’t hold for long.”

  “I’ll see a medical professional shortly. Right now, I want a word with the cops.” Time was slipping away from him and every minute that passed took Stella farther away from him. He refused to entertain the possibility she was already beyond saving. No, whoever took her wanted Stella for the knowledge in her head. As long as she held out, she’d stay alive. He reminded himself his future wife was a tough lady. She wouldn’t give in without a fight and that gave him and Durango time to find her and Deke, and mount a rescue.

  The second EMT went to work cleaning the side of Nate’s head, then applied the bandages as requested. He held back a flinch at the rough touch. Guess these boys weren’t worried about being gentle. Must have figured he could handle it since he refused medical treatment at the hospital.

  Just as he finished his work, an unmarked police car skidded to a stop behind the ambulance. Cal Taylor climbed from the car and trotted to the back of the ambulance where the first EMT was still arguing with Nate. “Save your breath, Stevens. Armstrong isn’t going to change his mind. I’ll see that he’s taken care of.”

  “Good luck with that, Detective,” the EMT muttered. He and his partner gathered their supplies and climbed into the front of the ambulance.

  Nate moved away from the vehicle.

  The homicide detective gave him an assessing glance. “Josh called. What happened, Nate?”

  He went through a condensed version of events, ending with, “Stella and Deke are missing, Taylor.”

  “Do you know who hit you and where they might have taken the marshals?”

  Nate motioned to the smashed truck at the edge of the roadway. “There must have been another vehicle following. I don’t know who was driving, but I know of only one person who knew where we would be.”

  “Who?”

  “Marshal Gage Yates. He lives about three miles from here. The guys in the truck were waiting on us.”

  “Did Yates kill the other marshals and shoot Riley?”

  “I don’t think so. He had solid alibis. I believe Yates is leaking information to Rich Morris.”

  Taylor’s head whipped his direction. “Manetti’s second in command?”

  “There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence pointing to Morris as the power behind all of the murders.”

  “Why kill three protected witnesses and two marshals?”

  “To avenge his sister’s death. It’s the only thing connecting the witnesses, marshals, and Stella and Deke. Take me to Yates’ place.” If he’d skipped, Nate would run him to ground. No one was taking Stella from him. He needed her. And Deke’s young family needed him.

  “You have to give your statement to the officer.”

  He glanced at his watch, figured his teammates would arrive in ten minutes. “I’ll talk to them until my team arrives. After that, everything stops until Stella and Deke are free.”

  Nate retrieved his insurance information and driver’s license for the report as he walked. His internal clock counted the minutes. He recounted his story three times and answered questions from Taylor. Nate glanced at the tow truck backing across the grass toward his SUV. Man, his insurance company would pitch a fit. He suspected the truck that hit him was stolen.

  Two black SUVs raced up the street and stopped behind Taylor’s car. The patrol officer’s hand dropped to her weapon. Taylor motioned for her to stand down. “I know them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Josh hurried to Nate’s side, already geared up. “You okay?”

  “Need stitches, but I’m mobile.”

  “St. Claire said Yates is still inside his home.”

  Nate frowned. Why hadn’t the marshal cleared out? Yates had to know they were coming for him. “Let’s go.” He glanced over his shoulder at Taylor. “I’ll contact you once I have Stella and Deke.”

  “I’m homicide.” He waved at the accident scene. “No bodies. I’m going with you. I might be able to help.” He turned to the other officer. “Reynolds, you have everything you need for now?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nate climbed into the backseat of the second SUV with Rio.

  “Let’s have a look,” the medic said as Quinn followed Alex who drove the first SUV. Taylor fell in behind Quinn. Rio flipped on the overhead light, pulled on gloves and parted the hair on the left side of Nate’s head. He gave a soft whistle. “Oh, yeah. You need seven or eight stitches. Looks clean, though, and the edges aren’t jagged. Should heal well.”

  “We’ll be at Yates’ place in less than a minute. Can you do it in that amount of time?”

  A snort fr
om the medic. “I wish.”

  “Then I’ll wait. I want my hands around the marshal’s throat.”

  “Understood. As soon as we have your girl, you need the stitches and a round of antibiotics. I know you have a headache. Do you have blurry vision or nausea? And would you tell me if you did?”

  He grinned. His teammate knew him well. “I’m fine.”

  Rio rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  Quinn parked in front of a brick house. Lights blazed in every window. Across the street, a man clad in black climbed from the cab of a pickup and strode toward them. Trent St. Claire passed through the dim glow of the streetlight.

  Nate grabbed his Go bag and geared up as the other operative approached. He slipped the comm gear into place, winced. He needed a pain killer, but couldn’t afford compromised reflexes. A split second meant the difference between life and death, his and Stella’s.

  “Yates arrived home at five o’clock and hasn’t left.”

  “He afraid of the dark?” Alex asked. “Place is lit like a beacon.”

  “Lights went on at six and stayed on.”

  Nate frowned. “No disturbances in the neighborhood?”

  “Dogs barking. No obvious causes.”

  Something was wrong. Nate’s gut was roiling. “The marshal will talk whether he wants to or not.”

  “Comm gear live. Rio, Quinn, take the back,” Josh said. “Alex, Nate, and I will go in the front. Taylor, Trent, stay here in case he slips past us.”

  “Copy that,” Trent said as Rio and Quinn headed for the backyard.

  Moving in silence, the rest of Durango approached the front. Josh and Alex checked the front windows. They shook their heads. Great. Going in blind. All three of them eased weapons from their holsters. At Josh’s signal, Nate tried the doorknob. To his surprise, the knob turned.

  “Front door is unlocked,” Josh whispered into his mic.

  “Back as well,” Quinn replied.

  “Trap,” Alex murmured.

  “On three,” Josh said.

  Durango swept in both doors. Yates sprawled on his back on the living room floor in front of the couch, blood from a gunshot wound to his chest staining his white shirt.