“I never saw his face.” The knowledge he was out there, that he might right now be hunting Vivi… He dialed her number, but no one picked up. “Any idea how to reach David Pentecost?” Jed asked Killion. Having Vivi and Michael out of his sight was making his skin itch even though it was his own doing.
Killion pulled a card from his pocket. “That’s his private cell. He had additional security out on the highway. Guy doesn’t believe in taking chances with his personal safety.”
Jed blew out a sigh of relief. He’d messed up, but it was still probably the best choice. Protective custody. Crap. It hadn’t worked so well last time, had it? He slipped the card in his pocket.
“We might all be better off if this weapon disappears, at least on paper,” said Killion.
“That weapon probably killed my deputy. No one is taking it anywhere except to the evidence lab,” said Liam firmly.
Tension buzzed between the four men.
“If the gun is processed something tells me that evidence will disappear before sun-up.” Killion spoke quietly, but urgently. “And that doesn’t bother me much because I doubt they’ll match it to anything in the system. What bothers me is the people who process the evidence might become collateral damage.”
“Are you threatening people?” Liam stepped forward, fury in his bloodshot eyes.
Jed stopped Liam with a hand to his chest.
“Not me.” Killion’s voice got harder.
“What about all the other evidence lying on the carpet over there?” Jed pointed out.
Killion straightened and shrugged. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that didn’t disappear too.”
“That’s a big-assed conspiracy theory you’ve got going.” Liam’s eyes focused on the spook.
No way was that evidence disappearing. “You got any sterile vials?” Jed asked his brother. Time was wasting. He had work to do.
“Why?”
“More DNA samples the better.”
“I want doubles, too,” Killion said. “I’ll send it to our lab.”
“You have a lab?” Jed asked.
“Maybe,” Killion’s answer was non-committal, but told him everything. “Vacation over?” the spook quizzed him.
“Vacation’s over,” Jed agreed.
Liam delved in his pockets and gave them each two bottles. “The weapon stays. You can photograph it, but that’s it. I’ll call in the State lab to deal with the crime scene. That gives us all time to try and figure out this mess and find this cop killer. You do realize that the person who shot the attacker has officially fled the scene?” Liam stared hard at Jed.
And it hit him all over again. She’d shot someone tonight, after he’d promised her she’d be safe. Jed closed his eyes, barely able to believe what he’d done. Earlier that day, she’d told him that she trusted him more than her ex. He’d repaid her by thrusting her out the door less than an hour after screwing her senseless.
She was never going to talk to him again. But what did he care? He’d already told himself they had no future together, that she deserved better. Well, she’d sure as hell deserved better than that asshole of an ex. He turned away from the other men. Stared at the bullet hole in the glass window like that was their biggest problem. “Sorry about the cabin, Pop. I’ll pay for any repairs.”
“Gonna be hell getting the stain out of the carpet,” Killion piped up, as helpful as ever.
His dad gave the spook a smile that would scare the shit out of most people, then turned back to Jed. “Don’t worry about the cabin, son. Just figure out how you’re gonna make it up to that young woman of yours and her son.”
“She’s not mine.” That fact made the pressure in his chest build. “Michael’s with his father.” His tone turned bitter. “I thought you’d approve.”
“Takes more than a sperm donor to be a father, and you know it.” He turned his back on Jed and touched Liam on the arm. “Your mother will come with you to tell that young man’s wife. I’ll come, too, and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Liam nodded. “I appreciate it.” He pointed a finger at Jed and Killion. “Either of you leaves or touches the crime scene before I’m done, I’ll hunt you down and stuff you both in jail regardless of your job title, understand?”
The silence was deafening. Neither of them promised anything.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vivi unclipped her seatbelt and fought to hold onto her nerve. She’d entered a realm where David thought he had more power than God. Considering she’d shot a man tonight who may or may not still be trying to kill her son, she wasn’t sure enough of herself or the situation to do anything but go along with his plans. For now.
The fact that Jed had abandoned her cut to the bone, and that was foolish. She’d thrown herself at him, telling herself and him she had no expectations. He had a job to do, a job that was important. Catching killers was vital for their society to operate properly, except nothing was operating normally right now and killers seemed to be everywhere.
She was rationalizing his behavior, which meant she was in even more trouble than she’d thought. She was in love with the man, and he’d cast them aside as easily as David ever had. But he’d never made any promises beyond trying to protect them.
She stared out of the window at the flat, desolate landscape as the loneliness expanded inside her chest. This was why she didn’t let people close. It hurt too badly when they didn’t love you back.
Michael had woken up in the helicopter and was now pressed close to her side. He hadn’t seemed particularly scared at first, but then his father turned to look at them and his entire body tensed in her arms. There’d been no gentle smile of recognition. No parental acknowledgment or bonding. Just a cool nod that seemed more assessing than friendly. Bastard.
She’d thought they’d be flying to DC, but the journey had barely lasted half an hour. He’d brought them back to Minneapolis. Right into the heart of danger.
God, she hated the man.
Perhaps Jed was right, and the danger was almost over. She just hoped the bad guys had all received the memo. The pilot set the chopper down with barely a bump. When David opened the door, it was still too noisy from the rotors to ask him any questions or demand answers. She gathered all their belongings in one hand and held Michael’s hand in the other.
David’s upper lip curled, but she didn’t give a damn what he thought of her mothering skills. If his own mother had been less of an ice queen they wouldn’t be in this situation now. A black Lincoln Town Car pulled onto the tarmac, and David caught her elbow and urged her toward it. She gritted her teeth at his touch. Her stomach recoiled at the idea they’d once been intimate.
They slid into the car and the driver immediately pulled away.
“Where are you taking us? Why are we here?” she asked urgently.
“Calm down, Veronica. You’ll frighten the boy.”
Volcanic rage flashed through her. They’d been attacked repeatedly over the last few days and yet her asking some basic questions would ‘frighten the boy’.
But this was classic David, always trying to have the upper hand.
“Pull over,” she told the driver.
He looked in the mirror at David.
“I said, pull over!” she yelled.
David grabbed her arm and squeezed so tight she was going to have bruises tomorrow. “Ignore her. Drive to the hotel.” He twisted her wrist to a painful angle, and she saw the flare of satisfaction when she winced. “Keep your mouth shut and do what I say for a few hours and you can go crawling back to your low level FBI agent—not that it looked like he wanted you. Not anymore anyway. I could have told him the prize wouldn’t be worth his job.” His gaze flicked to her neck.
Her fingers itched to slap him the way she’d slapped Jed earlier. Only the fear of becoming hysterical in front of Michael stopped her. How many times had she tried to teach Michael violence wasn’t the way to resolve differences? But Jed had handed her over to David as if she meant
nothing to him, so what did she care—except she did care, otherwise she wouldn’t have slapped him.
A man had died.
A cop watching the house had been murdered, probably while they’d been having sex. The fact Jed had been distracted was her fault. No wonder he was struggling with guilt and thank God it hadn’t been his brother else she didn’t think he’d ever recover. But a young man had died trying to protect them, and it made her feel humble and regretful and wrong.
Why were these people so desperate to kill them? What did they think Michael knew? Was the danger really over?
David leaned closer to her ear so only she could hear him. “When did you turn into such a slut, Veronica? Took a wedding ring for me to get in your panties, and it certainly wasn’t worth the price of admission.”
Twisting the knife was his specialty. So she whispered back, softly, “The moment you got out of my life, I climbed onboard any guy who was breathing. And you know what? I liked it.”
She sat back against the seat with a smile as David regarded her balefully. He was jealous. Always had been. She could see it in his eyes. Even though he was married to another woman, he was jealous of who she slept with because he’d always seen her as his property. Suddenly she was wonderfully glad she’d had sex with Jed. Hot, sweaty, fabulous sex. She let David see it all in her eyes. Her satisfaction. Her derision for him.
“I can make this very hard for you, Veronica. Don’t you forget that.”
“Threats, David? And yet earlier you claimed you’d come to protect your son,” she said archly, wishing Michael wasn’t close enough that he might overhear the whispered sniping.
“Maybe I’ll have him committed.” His smile was ice cold. “Should be safe enough in a mental institute, don’t you think?” David spoke as if he were talking about the traffic.
A tic started in her cheek. She wasn’t a violent person, but she really did want to hurt him. Michael had his eyes closed, his forehead touching the car door. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, and she could feel his withdrawal. She squeezed his knee, silently telling him everything was going to be OK.
She could do this for him. She would do anything for him. “You said you needed my cooperation for a few hours. I suggest you stop playing games and start telling me what you want. Then I’ll think about whether or not I’ll agree to help you.”
His eyes turned flat as a snake’s. “You misunderstood. If you want to accompany your son, then you may, but Michael’s coming with me regardless.”
Their son curled into a tight ball on the seat and started rocking. She smoothed a hand over his back, the jut of his spine hard against her hand.
“Stop sniveling, you little brat,” David spat. “You’re going to have the honor of meeting the president of the United States today and you’ll damn well address him, and me, as ‘sir’!” He went to grab Michael’s shoulder, but Vivi forced herself between them.
“Leave him alone!”
David shoved her so hard she slammed into the seat. Pain radiated through her cheek, but that wasn’t the biggest surprise.
Michael screamed. He leaped at his father, hitting him in the face with his small clenched fists. David pushed him away; Vivi sat there open-mouthed, stunned.
It may have been triggered by ugliness and violence, but her son had just made his first sound in four years. She opened her arms, and he flew against her, burying his face in her chest. She hugged him tight and watched her ex-husband try to stem the bleeding of his nose and scratches on his cheek.
“I love you, Michael.” She hugged him tighter and he clung to her.
Tears wanted to form, but she wouldn’t let them. After everything they’d been through, this was minor. She thrust aside all thoughts of Jed. That was already in the past. A few hours. Just a few hours. And then they’d be free of this man forever.
***
Elan went back to the fancy hotel that he’d barely seen since he arrived. He had a well-stocked first aid kit and a few hours to get ready. The rescue mission for the children was underway, and as soon as he’d secured her daughters, Pilah would do everything he needed her to do. Not that he doubted it, but he liked to hold all the aces. And he liked to keep his promises.
Ironic that their plot relied on the enemy. Or maybe not. What their plot really relied on was the strength of a mother’s love. And the love he felt for his country was akin to that emotion.
In the bathroom of his suite, he stripped to his skin and climbed under the powerful jets of the shower. Pain stabbed where the spray pummeled damaged flesh. The water ran bright red as he washed out his matted hair. His shoulder throbbed, and it was about to get worse.
Once clean, he turned off the faucets and pressed a towel against the head wound, which had started to bleed again. When the bleeding stopped, he applied butterfly stitches to help the wound knit.
Next he sat on a towel on the toilet. Elan used a cigarette lighter to sterilize a pair of blunt-ended, stainless steel forceps, then he poured whiskey into the hole in his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth at the fiery pain, and pushed the metal ends of the implement into his damaged flesh. Agony hit and sweat broke out through every pore and ran down his body in rivulets. He drew in a deep breath, wishing he could drink the alcohol, wishing he was home with his family, then he pushed deeper and touched something hard. There. It took a few attempts to grasp the object, but he drew out the metal and tossed it in the sink where it landed with a dull clatter. Thankfully it looked to be in one piece.
He pressed another towel to the wound and sat breathing heavily.
Very soon he needed to get ready for work.
Sargon Al Sahad had recruited rebel sympathizers who believed they were setting up the Syrian regime for terrorist attacks on US soil. They wanted the West to step in and had achieved their objective far better than they’d ever imagined possible. A few minutes ago, Sargon had received a substantial sum of money from a corporation owned by a high level official in the Syrian Government. The man had expected payment; he just hadn’t expected the payment to come from the people he was trying to destroy, or in such an easily traceable fashion. It wouldn’t take the Americans long to put one and one together. And the next part of the plan would ensure the president would respond with overwhelming deadly force—no matter if they were antiwar or pro-Arab.
It was guaranteed.
***
They checked into a lavish hotel suite, downtown Minneapolis. David posted a guard on the door, although she had to wonder if it was to keep them in or bad guys out. Vivi hoped they took the risk seriously, too many people had died for them not to take the threat seriously. But would Jed have really sent them away if he didn’t think the danger was almost over? Maybe. She wasn’t sure anymore.
David stood near the door. For the first time he looked awkward, probably because it was just the three of them now, no one who didn’t know the truth about what had happened in their tragic little family.
Michael pulled out the tablet Jed had given him and sat curled up on a chair hugging it to his chest.
David checked his watch. “You have a few hours to sleep and then get cleaned up.” He frowned at her jeans and boots. “I’ll go pick up something out for you both to wear. Are you still the same size?”
He’d always liked to dress her. The idea sent a wave of self-disgust through her that she’d acquiesced to so many of his domineering ways. But right now she’d wear a paper bag as long as they could just get this ‘meeting’ over with.
She nodded, knowing he was going to come back with heels and a pencil skirt even though there was snow on the ground. “Make sure you find something that’s warm enough.” She was thinking of Michael. “And don’t forget some make-up.” Because she looked like hell.
“Vivi, I…” His expression was regretful for a moment, but the day he apologized would be the day he choked on his own tongue. He trailed off and stood there with his head hanging with shame. But she felt it, too. They’d both behaved badly a
nd neither knew how to stop.
“Let’s just move on, OK?” she said. How sad that they’d come to this, two people who’d once purposefully made a baby together could now barely stand the sight of one another.
He left without another word.
She turned to her son who looked so miserable. She closed her eyes. Despite everything, she needed to see if there was a way to fix their relationship enough that she and David could communicate like adults and not further traumatize their child. That Michael might get to know his father—the man she’d fallen in love with, not the jerk she’d divorced. Maybe he was in there still, buried beneath disappointment and resentment and ambition.
Michael was still in his pajamas. His red hair was getting long enough to start to curl. His blue-eyed gaze held hers, looking for reassurance. She was so grateful he hadn’t disappeared inside his head from the stress he’d suffered. She was beginning to think Dr. Hinkle was right, Michael wasn’t autistic, and he was dealing with everything really well under the circumstances.
She remembered the joy that had shone on his face when they stared at that roller coaster just a few short days ago.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. A whole love affair ago.
If it took a roller coaster—if it took a thousand roller coasters—to make her son happy again, she’d do it. They’d go to Disney as soon as this mess was over, and they’d go on every ride twice.
It wouldn’t be so easy to ease the ache in her heart, but that was life. She should be used to it by now. She wouldn’t let it break her. She had a child to look after and a president to meet.
God—how unattractive was self-pity?
Where was her fighting spirit?
It struck her then, that being afraid to love was like being trapped inside your own mind, only it was a self-imposed exile.
She was a coward.
A pain clamped across her stomach. She was a damned coward. Knowing how short life could be, she was still too scared to tell a good man she was interested in a relationship with him. And he was a good man. He’d been trying to help her since this disaster started—from helping her up off the floor when she was knocked over in the mall, to taking her to his parents’ and trying to protect her there. He’d been trying to do his job, and she kept making it hard for him. No wonder he resented her.
Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) Page 25