Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3)

by Barbara Freethy

  Karen was so lit, she had no idea what she was saying.

  "You gave Carter files from Larry's office?"

  "They weren't important. Just small cases. Nothing big. He keeps the big stuff in his safe, and I cannot get in there. Sometimes, I wonder what else he has in that safe. He won't even tell me the combi—nation," she said, stumbling over her word with another giggle. "Where's the cake?"

  "I think it's coming soon."

  Karen's wine sloshed over her glass as she took another drink.

  "Karen," Larry said sharply, as he returned to the table. "It's time for us to go."

  "We haven't had cake yet," Karen complained. "I'm hungry. Did we eat dinner?"

  "We did." He put a firm hand around his wife's arm and pulled her to her feet. "We have to leave now."

  "But, I don't want to go," Karen protested.

  "We're all leaving," Avery put in, wanting to make it a little easier for Larry, who was clearly embarrassed, now that some of the other guests had returned to the table and were watching the interaction.

  "Oh, we are?" Karen asked.

  Avery helped Larry get his wife out of the dining room and to the front door.

  He paused, as Karen went stumbling down the front steps but somehow managed to stay on her feet. "I'm sorry about this. She's been having some hard times."

  "Take care of her," she said, shutting the door behind him.

  As she made her way back to the dining room, she wondered where Wyatt was. Hamilton had come back to the table, but Wyatt was still absent.

  "Come sit next to me," her dad said, patting Whitney's empty chair. "Until Whitney comes back."

  She almost refused that invitation, thinking how sad it was that he only wanted her next to him until his girlfriend returned, but it was his birthday, so she did as he asked.

  "Larry's wife had a few too many," he commented. "That seems to be happening quite often."

  "She does seem to have a problem," she admitted. "Whitney is taking a long time with the cake."

  "She likes everything to be perfect. Do you want to leave?"

  "I'll wait until the cake is served." She didn't really have a choice. She needed Wyatt to go with her, and he was nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  "I'm glad we have a minute," Vincent Rowland said, offering Wyatt a brief smile, as they moved into the shadows at the far side of the terrace. "I bet you were surprised to see me."

  "I was. Thanks for the cover."

  "Reminded me of the old days," Vincent said. "You're looking into the security leak?"

  "Did Hamilton tell you about that? Or was it Joanna Davis?"

  "They both did, as a matter of fact. But I didn't share my conversation with Joanna with Hamilton, if that's what you're wondering. Are you getting close to a breakthrough?"

  "I have some new leads, but I'm not sure where they'll go yet."

  Vincent nodded. "You've always had good intuitive instincts and the ability to slip into any persona at any moment. I was never good at that. I could never be someone else quite so easily." He paused. "I think Jamie would have been good at it, though. He could charm anyone."

  His gut tightened at the mention of his friend. "I'm sure he would have been great. I heard Cassie is getting married."

  "Yes. She had a big engagement party last night. That's why I'm in town. I stopped in at the office earlier today, and I saw Bree. She looks good. I hear she has a new man in her life."

  There was a definite edge to Vincent's voice now. Maybe Bree was right. Maybe he never had liked her and always thought she was somehow responsible for Jamie's distraction, his death. But Vincent couldn't have been more wrong.

  However, as much as he wanted to defend Bree, this was not the time or the place. Anyone could walk out at any moment. He cleared his throat. "How long will you be in town?"

  "A few days." Vincent glanced around to make sure they were still alone. "What's your relationship with Avery Caldwell?"

  "I'm watching out for her."

  "Seems like there's some interest between you two."

  He shrugged. "She's a job."

  "Well, it's good that she's not more than that."

  "Why is it good?"

  "Because I'm concerned about her father. Ever since Hamilton told me about the problems he's having, I wondered if he wasn't looking past what was right in front of him: a man who has traveled the world, has many friends in China, Russia, and elsewhere, and made a surprising entrance into his family, into his company, into his daughter's life."

  "It would be difficult for Brett to get access to the kind of information that's already been shared."

  "Maybe—maybe not. I would just caution you not to be blinded by the brunette with the pretty brown eyes, who would probably not want you to go after her father."

  "We should get back to the party," he said, not really caring for the conversation. He didn't need Vincent to tell him how to do his job, that Brett was a good suspect, or that Avery would hate him if he revealed her father to be a part of whatever criminal conspiracy was going on.

  "I'll be in shortly. I have to make a call," Vincent said.

  He walked around the corner and ran into Avery.

  "There you are," she said. "Who were you talking to?"

  "Hamilton's friend. Did Whitney bring the cake out?"

  "Finally. She sent me to find you."

  "Here I am."

  "I have a lot to tell you when we're done with this party."

  "I have a lot to tell you, too," he said.

  "I wonder if it's going to be about the same person," she murmured.

  As he took her back into the dining room, he wondered that, too. But, somehow, he didn't think that Avery would have come to the conclusion that her father was a traitor and maybe a murderer.

  Eighteen

  Despite wanting to leave right after the cake had been served, it was another half hour before they were able to get out the door.

  As Avery slid into the passenger seat just after eleven, she let out a sigh of relief. "That took forever. Can you turn the heat on?"

  "Sure. You should have brought something warmer than that wrap, as pretty as it is."

  "I was going to, but I realized the only coat I packed was the one that has Noelle's blood on it." She glanced out at the starry night sky as they drove away from her father's house and said, "Maybe I should go up in a rocket. Another galaxy is looking pretty good right now. But I know I can't run away from reality, as much as I want to." She turned her head toward Wyatt. "Did you learn anything else at dinner or afterwards?"

  "Not really. What about you?"

  "Karen Bickmore told me in a drunken ramble that she was sleeping with Carter."

  "What?" he asked in surprise.

  "She said Carter is very ambitious and came out to the house a few times and even asked her to get something out of Larry's desk, but she didn't say what."

  "That's new."

  "I just don't know if she was telling the truth. She was wasted."

  "It doesn't seem like something she'd make up. This is good, Avery."

  "Really? I feel like it's all just random pieces of information. Nothing goes together."

  "Not yet, but we're getting closer."

  "Or farther away." She paused as Wyatt took a turn, heading into the canyon that would lead them back to the beach and to their hotel. "Did you ever ask Kyle about the email hack?"

  "I did. He said he hadn't attempted to access his email from Whitney's house. He was going to speak to Whitney and Brett about it."

  She glanced at Wyatt. "You don't think my father is involved in this, do you? He's a lot of things, but he's not a killer. He's not violent. Words are his weapon."

  "He has spent time in China and Russia."

  She frowned, wishing Wyatt had given her a different answer. "So have millions of people. And his contacts are spiritual advisers. They're not tech people."

  "Your dad is probably completely innocent. I'm just curious about h
is conversation with Kyle, what he wanted Kyle to do that didn't happen."

  "I should have asked my dad; I just didn't want him to know I was eavesdropping."

  "It's best that you didn't. You don't want to show your hand."

  "Not that I have any good cards," she countered. "I'm not a very good detective or spy."

  He flashed her a smile. "You're doing very well, Avery. Answers can take time."

  "I feel that might be time we don't have."

  "We're working as quickly as we can."

  As they drove through the dark canyon roads, the headlights from the car were the only light they had. It felt a little eerie, and she kind of wished they'd gone around to the freeway instead of cutting through the hills. But that was silly. No one else was even on the road.

  No sooner had that thought crossed her mind when she saw a light in the side-view mirror.

  She shifted in her seat and glanced over her shoulder.

  "It's fine," Wyatt said, but she could hear a tension in his voice.

  "Is it?"

  Wyatt didn't reply, his gaze darting from the road to the mirror as the lights behind them got brighter. He pressed his foot down hard on the gas, taking the next turn at a fast rate of speed.

  She looked over her shoulder, hoping to see that the other vehicle had fallen back, but it was drawing closer. It looked to be a large SUV of some sort.

  "Hang on," Wyatt said.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Outrun him."

  Despite his promise, their car was bumped from behind a moment later. They swerved toward the hillside, but Wyatt quickly brought the vehicle back under control. Swearing under his breath, he pushed the car to the limit, but the vehicle behind them had more power and was soon within inches of their bumper.

  The road grew narrow, twisting and turning through the hills—nowhere to turn, nowhere to escape.

  She grabbed onto the armrest, biting down on her lip, wanting to close her eyes, but afraid to stop looking ahead in case she could help Wyatt in some way. They were coming out of the canyon. Maybe once they reached the Pacific Coast Highway, the person would back off.

  If they didn't, she really didn't want to think about the fact that going south on the highway, they'd also be on the ocean side of the road, and at some points that road went along a very high bluff over the ocean.

  Her heart thundered against her chest as the car hit them hard from behind once again.

  Wyatt hung on to the wheel as the back end of the car fishtailed for a moment, sending up dirt and rocks in their wake. And then Wyatt sped ahead once more.

  They came out on the highway. She searched the road for somewhere to hide or run…

  "Around the next curve," she said, remembering a spa she'd once gone to that was hidden away down a narrow road behind a wall of trees. "There's a road to the left. It comes up fast."

  "Got it," he said in clipped tones.

  She held on tight as Wyatt pushed the car as fast as it could go. The other car fell back.

  They flew around the curve. Wyatt saw the road and took it on two wheels, turning off the lights as they disappeared into the trees. She knew he didn't want to hit the brakes, didn't want any light to show, but they were going too fast; another curve was coming up, and she held her breath, hoping this escape wasn't going to end in a fiery crash.

  Finally, he slammed on the brakes as they went around another corner, and the side of the car skimmed off two trees, sending branches across the windshield, but, thankfully, the glass didn't break. They came to a halt. Her heart was pounding so loud, she couldn't hear anything else.

  Wyatt turned in his seat. She did the same, as they both looked behind them. The road was empty, but she didn't know if they were safe or not.

  Once the other car realized that they'd turned off the highway, they'd be back.

  Wyatt must have had the same thought. "Where does this road go?" he asked.

  "To a spa. It's a dead end." She really wished she hadn't used the word dead.

  Wyatt threw the car into reverse.

  "What are you doing?" she asked in alarm.

  "Getting out of here."

  "What if they're waiting for us on the highway?"

  "That's why we have to move now."

  He turned around and then went back the way they'd come, keeping the lights off, which made the journey even more harrowing as there were so many trees, so many shadows. When they got back to the highway, he looked in both directions. There was a small coupe coming from the north, definitely not the car that had been behind them, and nothing from the south.

  Wyatt pulled out onto the road heading north. He drove two miles and then turned in to the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour supermarket. Parking between two trucks, he cut the motor and the lights. From their position, they could see the entrance to the lot, and they watched for several tense minutes as cars passed by on the highway, with a minivan turning in, followed by a sedan. A woman and an older teenager stepped out of the van, while a young couple exited the other car.

  "Do you think we lost them?" she asked.

  "I think so. But we can't stay here. And we can't go back to the hotel."

  "Why not? They followed us from my dad's house, not from the hotel. They might not know where we're staying."

  "I'm not taking that chance." He pulled out his phone.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Calling for a ride."

  "We're leaving the car here?"

  "Yeah. We'll get it later." He paused. "There's a driver two minutes away."

  "Where are we going to go, Wyatt?"

  "We'll find another hotel. But right now, I just want to get us out of this car and on our way to another location."

  She liked the idea of switching cars, although she wouldn't have thought of it. But Wyatt had. He'd driven through the canyon like a race car driver, never panicking, never losing control. He'd kept his head, and he'd probably saved her life—again.

  She pulled out her phone and searched for a hotel. "What city do you want to go to?"

  "Let's get into a more populated area."

  She looked through the hotel listings. "There are a bunch of hotels by the airport."

  "Perfect. Pick one, and I'll put in our destination."

  She picked the hotel that was located between two others, thinking maybe it would be safer, although she had no idea why that would be. She gave him the address.

  Wyatt tapped in the address and they waited in silence until their ride turned into the lot.

  They got out of the car and met their driver in front of the market. He was a college kid driving a small black Hyundai. She kind of wished they'd gotten a ride in a more substantial vehicle, although maybe this was less obvious.

  She wanted to talk to Wyatt but didn't want to say anything in front of the driver, although the young male was rocking out to a rap song blasting out of the radio and not paying them a bit of attention.

  It took twenty minutes to get to the airport hotel, and she felt like she was holding her breath the entire time. When they got to the hotel, they made their way quickly inside. Wyatt checked them in, using a credit card, which worried her, but she didn't say anything until they were on their way upstairs in the elevator.

  "Can't someone track us through your credit card?" she asked.

  "Don't worry about it," he said vaguely.

  She frowned at that answer, once again thinking that no matter how much she liked Wyatt and had come to depend on him, he still seemed to have his own secrets. But she still stayed close to him as they walked down the hall and entered their room—one room, she couldn't help noticing, although there were two beds.

  "It's all they had left," Wyatt said, reading her mind. "You can trust me, Avery."

  "I'm not worried about sharing a room with you. But tell me about the credit card. Can't someone trace it to us?"

  He stared back at her. "I told you I changed my name."

  "Yes."

 
"Well, I didn't change all my cards."

  "It still seems like it could be tracked to you."

  "It would take some work and some time. We'll be gone by then."

  "Will we?" she asked, wandering around the modest, impersonal hotel room. "What happens next? I have to go to work tomorrow. The reporters are coming in for the show. I'm sure you have things to do."

  "We'll figure it out, Avery."

  She stared back at him, feeling wired and terrified and restless. "Someone tried to kill us just now. They tried to run us off the road. We could be dead."

  "But we're not. We're very much alive."

  "Why aren't you having a reaction?" she demanded, annoyed with his calm demeanor.

  "I feel like there's no good answer to that question," he said carefully. "Do you want some water?"

  "No, I don't want some water," she said with irritation. "I want you to feel the way I do. I want you to be normal, to be afraid, to be human, instead of like some ice-cold, superhero."

  He walked across the room and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not a superhero."

  "The way you drove tonight, you could have fooled me."

  "It's over now, Avery. We're okay for tonight. We'll be safe here. You can breathe again."

  She stared back at him, really wanting to believe him. "Do you think they were waiting outside my dad's house?"

  "I'm guessing they picked us up after we drove through the guard gate. I didn't see anyone until we hit the canyon, but they were probably hanging back."

  "Do you think it was the man with the tattoo again?" Something shifted in Wyatt's gaze. "What? What aren't you telling me?"

  "That man is dead, Avery."

  "Seriously?" she asked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

  "I followed up with the FBI earlier."

  "When we were at Nova Star?"

  He hesitated. "Yes."

  "But why didn't you tell me, Wyatt? Didn't you think I'd be relieved to know he was dead?" She paused. "Wait a second. Who killed him?"

  "All I was told was that it looked like a hit."

  "Like a hit? What does that mean?"

  "Someone took him out, Avery. Maybe whoever he was working for knew we could identify him. He became a loose end."