by C. A. Szarek
She was weighing things aloud, but had she even realised what she’d said? She looked lost, distant.
Un-Lee-like.
“Fuck.”
Nate cupped her face. “I understand. He’s your partner.”
“You’re my—” Her mouth snapped shut, as if the words hadn’t the permission to exit. She’d caught herself.
From saying what?
His heart stopped. “Your what?”
“Lover.” Her voice trembled, and she shivered in his arms.
Lover.
He could deal with that. Wished she’d ditch the r, but considering Lee’s nature, her chosen word was an accomplishment.
Was he disappointed?
She could’ve said witness. It’d been what he’d expected.
“This is a life or death situation. I really do understand.”
“I know you do.” Lee nodded. She didn’t pull away from his hands surrounding her cheeks. “But yours is life or death, too. You and Clint could both be in danger.”
“I’m going with you.” Nate’s repeated statement made the love of his life look even more torn.
“If I leave you here, you’re in danger unprotected. If I bring you with me, I’m bringing you to the danger.”
Nate chuckled. “Fucked, huh?”
One corner of her mouth inched up and he wanted to lick her there. “Not the way I’d like to be.”
He laughed. Kissed her hard and fast. “Say the word and I think I can arrange something.”
Lee let a genuine smile curve her lips, but the turmoil hadn’t left her gorgeous face.
“Listen to me, Selena Dawson. Your partner is the one in more immediate danger. I have you to cover my ass. He needs you to cover his now. I’m okay with that. Let’s go. Better yet, gimme a damn gun.”
“Nate—”
“I promise I understand. It’s fine. We need to go.”
She closed her eyes. Her breasts heaved and Nate made himself look at her face instead of staring there. Banished the memories of how her nipples tasted.
“I can’t give you a gun.”
“Okay…” He studied her. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.
“Downs is going to chew my ass out for bringing you into the city if I’m overreacting. If this is nothing. If his cell is in the car, or on silent. Or, hell, even off. But my gut says—”
“Hey.” Nate slipped his hands to her shoulders. Squeezed and shook her so she’d look at him again. “There’s nothing more I’d like to see than Clint Downs try to kick your ass.”
Both her dark eyebrows shot up and her mouth twitched as she fought a smile.
“But we have to find him first.” They said it at the same time.
Chapter Nineteen
She was jittery. Body jerky, and mind racing in an endless loop of havoc.
Worse than the day she’d had to whisk Nate away from the FBI-owned apartment.
This was different.
They’d been fleeing danger that day.
Now they were running towards it. She could handle it. But she wasn’t alone. Dragging a witness into danger was a first. And Nate wasn’t just any witness.
Lee gripped the wheel of his rented Honda Accord even tighter. Her fingers couldn’t tingle. They were squeezed free of blood. White didn’t look like it belonged on her normally dark skin.
“Relax, angel. Just drive.”
In lieu of blowing out a breath, she forced a nod and sank her teeth into her bottom lip until the pain bit back.
She flexed her fingers. Blood rushed to the digits, making them throb and burn. But it helped—more pain she could use to focus.
“Lee, you’re going to make your mouth bleed.”
She jumped in the driver’s seat and ordered herself to sit still. Cleared her throat. “I’m fine.”
Nate smirked. “Right.” But he relaxed into the passenger seat, no longer causing his seatbelt to strain. He wasn’t looking her way, his hazel eyes staring ahead, out of the windshield.
Silence fell, disturbed only by the whoosh of the wiper blades. Thick, wet snow fell, making the bright day even more so. Radiant and white. A false sense of peace, if Lee had ever seen one.
“You know I trust you, right?” His voice was even and calm.
Lee’s heart skipped. Nate Crane was a control freak like her. Drove her crazy sometimes, but lately, seeing him—hearing him—be the one in charge stoked her libido from cold to smouldering in about two seconds flat.
Yeah, like now is the time.
The look on his face at the moment, fitting right along with his smooth tone, made her throb between the legs. She couldn’t help it.
“Lee?”
Her name on his lips, in that same placid hum made her stomach flip.
“Yeah… I mean yes, I know you trust me. I trust you, too.”
“Then we’re gonna be fine.” He spared her a glance, one corner of his mouth up. “Even if you won’t give me a gun.”
She snorted, fighting a smile. “I like my job, babe.”
Nate paused. “’Cause you’ve never broken any rules before.”
“Rules are quite a bit different than laws.”
“Touché.” He smiled.
Lee sighed, ordering her shoulders to loosen. Bantering with him helped, but it didn’t get her mind off her partner. Even though Nate’s smile made her insides mush. “Clint is…reliable.”
“I don’t know the guy like you do, but I’d agree.”
“So that’s why I’m freaked the fuck out. Not being able to get a hold of him is foreign. Doesn’t sit right in my gut.”
Nate nodded. He reached to squeeze her forearm.
Lee would have preferred he held her hand. Too bad she needed both on the wheel to navigate the winter weather safely. She couldn’t feel the heat of his palm through the leather of her jacket, either. His touch always calmed her. She wouldn’t ask for more. Not now.
“We’ll get to him, angel. And it’ll be okay. If he’s not at the office, where could he be? You think he’s home?”
“No. Besides, I’m not going to call Robin to ask. She’s a stay-at-home wife and mom. Actually, she home-schools their youngest daughter. Kid’s ADHD or something. I don’t want to scare her. He’s not only reliable to me, he’s reliable to her. If I let on I can’t find him, she’ll worry. I’m not doing that to her.”
“All right. I get it. What next?”
“Shit,” Lee growled. “I’m gonna have to call in.”
“Your boss?”
“Not that bad. I’ll just have to swear Dex to secrecy.”
“Ah. The computer analyst guy?”
“Yeah. If Downs’ phone is on, he can track it through GPS.”
“Right. Good thinking.”
Nate dug her cell out of her bomber jacket’s pocket and dialled the number for her. It only rang once.
“Wayne.”
“Hey, Dex. It’s Dawson. I need a favour.”
“Sure. ‘Sup?”
“You in your office?” She pictured the easy-going analyst at his desk, kicked back in his chair with his feet propped up. Fair-haired and good-looking, Dex wasn’t exactly a normal computer nerd. He liked the ladies and wasn’t shy. He’d hit on her when she’d joined the unit, but Lee hadn’t taken him up on his overt offer. They worked together. Besides, they were too much alike.
“You bet.”
She heard a door close. “You alone?” Lee cleared her throat.
“Yes.” Dex paused. “Everything all right?”
“Can you do your thing and get me an address from a cell phone’s GPS?”
“Of course.” The tap tap of the keyboard told Lee he was about ready. “Go for it.”
“I need to know where Downs is.”
“Okay.” He didn’t ask why, and for that she was grateful.
Lee probably didn’t need to ask him to keep her call on the down-low, but she did anyway. “Don’t mention I asked, please.”
“You go
t it,” Dex said without missing a beat.
She swallowed the sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I got your location.”
Lee repeated the address aloud, and Nate jotted it down. She thanked Dex, her thumb hovering over the end icon.
“Hey, Dawson, wait a sec.”
“Yeah?”
“I wanna check something. That address looks really familiar, but I’m drawing a blank. Let me look it up in the database.”
“All right.”
“Son of a bitch.” His voice was a hard bark.
Alarm bells roared in her head, Lee’s heart stuttered.
Fuck.
She knew what Dex was going to say before he answered.
“That’s the address to Caselli’s mansion.”
* * * *
“You better step off. I got no issue poppin’ you.”
Jeremy wanted to roll his eyes, but it wouldn’t do him any good. He needed to get past this asshole, into Caselli’s place. “I think your boss would be kinda pissed if you popped me.”
“Doubtful, since you killed Mikey. I know who you are, FBI man. Boss thinks you changed teams.”
He made a fist, then shook his hand out. His palm itched to grab his Glock. “I’m gonna add you to my body count if you don’t move the fuck out of my way. I need to talk to Caselli. Now.”
“Watch your mouth.” An oversized thug came out the gatehouse door, raising an assault rifle to aim at the middle of Jeremy’s chest.
Nice. Make that two assholes.
His gut clenched and he let out a breath slowly, silently. He needed to stay cool, stay in control of himself so he could one-up Caselli’s guys. Basically, lie his ass off about being calm, because truth was, he was a total head fuck. It was either fake it or kill them—which actually had more appeal.
Revenge on the fucker that held his family’s safety over his head. The higher the body count on Caselli’s thugs—his family—the better.
The one in front of him was short and stocky, but the other was bigger, probably about six-two and packed with muscle. Both had the requisite dark hair and Italian looks, but Jeremy didn’t know either of them.
Could he take them both and not get his ass shot?
“I’m not gonna play this game with you,” he barked.
“Not like you got a choice, FBI-guy.” Guido Number One crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t have a gun visible, but no doubt he had one—or two—on him.
Guido Number Two narrowed his eyes and flexed his hand on the stock of the AK-47.
Jeremy’s pulse roared in his ears as his blood boiled.
Calm down. Calm down.
He rolled his shoulders and made a tighter fist.
Guido One took a step back.
Fuck it.
Rushing forward, he clocked the shorter man with one fist, shoved his chest with the other. The guy stumbled, hitting his head on the doorframe of the gatehouse.
Jeremy didn’t pause. He slammed into the bigger thug then grabbed the assault rifle and rammed the stock into the guy’s face. His nose broke with a sickening crack, blood spurted and he hollered as he made a grab for his face.
The man whined and threw one hand up, but it was too late for begging.
Jeremy flipped the AK-47 around and pulled the trigger. Held it down. The spray of bullets tore through Guido Two’s massive chest. His arms flew straight and his body jerked in a morbid dance. Muscles jolted and lurched until he finally crumpled, landing in a pile of blood and holes.
A groan took his attention and Jeremy turned to see Guido One rubbing his head.
Blood trickled down his forehead. He took one look at his buddy’s body and his palms hovered high and flat. “Don’t kill me.”
“Why?” Jeremy growled. “I told you I wasn’t fucking around.”
“I’ll take you to the boss.”
He snorted. “Don’t need a tagalong.”
“Fine. Forty-five, then eighty-seven. Then hit the pound key and hold it down until you hear the beep.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It’s the code to get into the kitchen back door. Only way in without a key—the front door is barred at night. Caselli had a huge party last night to celebrate his favourite girl’s birthday, so they’re probably all passed out.”
“Who’s inside?” Jeremy narrowed his eyes.
Guido One hesitated. “Just the inner-circle. Guests are gone. The boss doesn’t like sleepovers. He’s a private guy and all.”
“How many?” He made sure the thug saw his finger hovering over the trigger of the AK.
“Uh…”
“How. Many.”
“Five. Five. They all have their own suites. Different wing than Caselli’s private one.”
The bastard didn’t have to name Caselli’s inner circle. Jeremy knew the whole cast of characters. But party or not, the crime boss always had bodyguards. “So he’s alone.”
“He’s never alone.”
“Who’s his private guard these days?”
“I don’t know.”
Jeremy stepped forward and kicked Guido One in the gut.
“Last night he told everyone to take a hike. When I got out here, he was on his own. Only—”
“You’re talking too slow.” He kicked him again.
“Females! He probably has a few in his bed! That’s all I was trying to say, man.” The guy coughed and grabbed his middle, doubling over on his knees.
“Don’t bother getting up.” Jeremy raised the rifle.
The guy’s eyes went wide and he shook his head, waving his hands. “No. Don’t. Ple—”
Jeremy shot him in the head.
One and done.
He jumped over the body, ignoring the brain matter and blood splatter and dashed into the gatehouse. He grabbed two full magazines for the AK. They were laid out on the counter, already loaded. A box of ammo stood open beside them. “Thanks for having these ready for me.”
After slipping the mags in his pocket, Jeremy surveyed the small station. The gates to the vast property were still open, but he didn’t bother closing them.
He watched the scrolling images on the huge flat-screen monitor on the desk.
“Gee, Tony. Black and white?” The cameras were high quality, though.
He made a mental note of the property layout. Seeing photos from case files was different from being here.
Jeremy studied the multiple camera views until he was satisfied he could remember everything he needed to. There were no others in sight outside.
When he breached the inside of the mansion, he’d have to find out where Caselli had his indoor camera monitoring system set up. The mobster’s paranoia was equalled by his professionalism, so he probably had an actual security office.
Then what? The words bounced around in his head.
Go to Caselli’s suite. Kill him in his bed? Or tell him about the warrant, get some money as a reward and help him get out of town?
Jeremy could go with him. Get away from all this. He was fucked anyway. He’d just killed two more people.
Or…
Could he arrest Caselli himself? Be a hero?
He could worry about the logistics of why he hadn’t waited for his team, why he didn’t have the paperwork in hand, later.
It won’t make Evan wake up.
And it wouldn’t save his family. Caselli could have them killed from prison just as easily as he could order Jeremy dead.
“There’s no real way out of this.” It’d gone too far. He ignored the tremors in his voice. The tingles in his spine as reality smacked him in the forehead.
Taking Caselli down wouldn’t fix where he was going—hell or prison—but it might make him feel better.
Jeremy made a fist and cursed long and hard. He swiped the sweat from his brow. With the frigid temp outside, it didn’t belong on his forehead anyway.
Holding the AK-47 against his side, he slipped from the gatehouse and jogged towards
the mansion. The place was huge.
He needed to get in, stay silent and unseen until he was ready to reveal himself.
Preferably at the end of Caselli’s bed, the assault rifle pointed at his head.
The hairs on the back of Jeremy’s neck stood on end and his heart kicked up faster than required for the energy he was exerting. He glanced over his shoulder, pausing his step.
Nothing.
Bright winter sun shone over the blanket of white covering Caselli’s grounds. Wind blew, frosting cold kisses onto his cheeks, but Jeremy saw nothing.
His eyes grazed the giant fountain in front of the house. It was made up of naked goddesses or some shit, and of course was off, being the dead of a northern winter.
Large enough to be cover for someone trying to shoot him, but there was no one there.
Stop being paranoid.
He resumed his run, boots crunching through fresh snow. Jeremy tightened his grip on the gun
Big. Strong. Real.
The rifle would help him accomplish his task.
He rounded the side of the house, making it to the back door of the kitchen in minutes.
A garage that was more warehouse-sized loomed from across the back driveway. A black Mercedes sat closest to the residence, covered with snow and ice. The line of Escalades behind it varied in colour, but four were dark to the last silver one. They too, were covered with fresh snow.
So Guido One was right. The house was still asleep.
Jeremy studied the door in front of him. Far from a standard house door, it was stainless steel, no doubt reinforced. Bulletproof.
The keypad above the handle looked like it belonged on a bank vault more than an entrance to someone’s home.
He pressed the four and jolted. The beep it screamed was loud enough to wake the dead. Jeremy shook himself and pressed the five.
“Stewart, stop!”
Jeremy whirled around, swinging the assault rifle high. He met the wide, pale blue eyes of Special Agent Clint Downs.
Chapter Twenty
“What the fuck are you doing here, Downs?”
The other man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but the Glock didn’t move from where it was aimed at Jeremy’s chest. “I could ask you the same damn thing.”