Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  Why take Brad in the first place? Why plant the drugs on Nate? Nate should be able to get out of it … he had no history of drug use and his record was clear. Decorated veteran, established FBI agent, SWAT trained, well respected. Did someone just want to tarnish his reputation? Try to force him out? Keep him off the job for a few days?

  It’s a game, and you know how much Elise likes to play games.

  The security panel beeped. Lucy looked at the tablet, saw a familiar figure walking up to the door while a taxi disappeared from view. She blinked, unsure if her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

  She ran to the door, flung it open just as her brother knocked.

  “Patrick?”

  “Lucy.” He stepped in, closed the door, and hugged her. “I would have been here earlier, but I was flying standby and stuck in Dallas waiting for a transfer. I almost rented a car and drove.”

  She couldn’t believe he was here, standing here, in her foyer. She hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving—six months ago. They’d had a great weekend, but they didn’t get to see each other often enough.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Why? Jack didn’t tell you I was coming?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t talked to him since he landed in Monterrey to search for Kane.”

  “When he found out that Nate was in trouble, he asked me to help. I’d do anything for you and Sean, you know that.”

  Tears threatened, but she pushed them back. She led Patrick to the kitchen, where Nate and Aggie were cleaning up after their impromptu dinner. “You remember Nate.”

  “Of course.”

  “Aggie, this is my brother Patrick. Aggie Jensen is with the DEA. She’s been working the drug angle. Her primary suspect was gunned down tonight.”

  “I talked to Dillon before I left D.C. He’ll be here Monday night if Sean doesn’t make bail. He’s testifying in a trial and can’t get out of it since he’s the expert witness.”

  “Sean will make bail. He’s innocent.”

  “I know.”

  Lucy didn’t know why she was so relieved to hear that.

  “But even so, bail on a capital case isn’t guaranteed. Did you see him today?”

  “He was questioned all day—his lawyer told me tomorrow. Visiting hours start at ten. Rick Stockton worked with the Houston chief of police to make sure that Sean was in the federal administrative jail for the weekend. It’s safer for him—not only because it’s a federal facility. If someone set him up because they wanted to kill him, he’s not going to be at the jail they’d expect.”

  “Good. I’m here to do anything you need. Jack said Jesse needs protection. I assume that’s why Nate is here. I can drive you to Houston tomorrow.”

  “My lawyer was going to—he’s friends with Jack, a former cop. I’ll be there all weekend.”

  “Because you’re going to investigate Mona Hill’s murder.”

  “Of course I am. Houston isn’t going to do it.”

  “Then you need backup, and a lawyer isn’t going to cut it.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged him again, not realizing how much she needed her family right now. “I’ll call Garrett and tell him.”

  The security panel beeped again. Nate looked at the display. “SAPD,” he grumbled. “Two cops and a suit.”

  It was close to midnight. What were they doing here?

  Lucy feared the worst. That they were coming to tell her that something happened to Sean in jail. That he was hurt … that he was dead.

  She ran to the door and flung it open, Patrick right behind her.

  “Agent Lucy Kincaid Rogan?” one of the officers said.

  “Yes. What happened?”

  The “suit” as Nate said was a tall female impeccably dressed. She said, “I’m Delia Fortuna with the district attorney’s office. I’m here to inform you that there is an emergency restraining order against you for the next seventy-two hours. You cannot contact Elise Hunt, or go within one thousand feet of her person.”

  “What the hell?” Patrick said.

  The ADA asked, “Who are you, sir?”

  “Her brother.”

  “Agent Kincaid,” Fortuna said, ignoring Patrick, “Ms. Hunt claimed that you harassed her and threatened her at a gasoline station, and she produced a witness who corroborated her story.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Ms. Hunt’s lawyer and her psychologist also submitted sworn statements that you threatened her in court and during interrogation when she was being questioned two years ago, and that you have consistently threatened and intimidated her over the last two years. I have written up the accusations.”

  “I’m an FBI agent. I questioned Elise in the course of a murder investigation.”

  “Judge Axelrod signed the restraining order, you can go before the court on Monday to contest it, otherwise it will be extended for a year.”

  Axelrod. She was suspected of being on the take, had been for years. She’d given Elise her original sentence of a group home—she escaped en route—and then Axelrod bought her bullshit story that her brother Tobias had forced her to escape. She was then given not even two years in juvenile jail! Lucy saw red. She didn’t know how to convince these people that Elise was a pathological liar and a cold-blooded killer and that she was intimately involved in everything that had happened today.

  “She followed me!” Lucy could not believe this. Had this been Elise’s game? To tie her down here in San Antonio? “Do not be fooled by her age,” she continued. “Elise Hunt is a sociopath and a liar. Talk to my lawyer; he was there. He can corroborate everything I said.”

  Patrick had his hand on her arm. “Thank you, Counselor,” he said. “Do you have the documentation so we can read it?”

  “Of course.”

  Patrick took the papers. “Thank you,” he said again.

  “This is bullshit!” Lucy said.

  “Good night,” Patrick said and closed the door. “Lucy, you need to calm down.”

  “Calm down? Really? She followed me. She confronted me. I didn’t threaten her. This is her playbook. She’s going to do something and now I can’t go after her!”

  “You’re not the only cop in San Antonio,” Patrick said.

  “I’m the only cop who understands Elise Hunt!”

  She brushed past Patrick and went to the kitchen. This was … unbelievable. Just a mess.

  Patrick followed her. “Right now, our focus is Sean.”

  “But she’s planning something!” Why could no one see that girl for who she actually is?

  “We’ll be in Houston tomorrow,” Patrick said. “Nowhere near her.” He handed Lucy the papers. “This says you need to be in court at three on Monday.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll be in Houston bringing Sean home.” Still she looked at the papers, getting angrier by the minute. “She’s supposed to be in Los Angeles!” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Garrett Lee—she didn’t care that she woke him up.

  She told him what had happened, and said, “According to the papers, I’m supposed to be in court at three on Monday. You were there today. You know I didn’t threaten her.”

  “Yes, I was, and no, you didn’t, but I need to read the report. Fax it to me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She walked back to Sean’s office and faxed everything to Garrett. Then she sat down at Sean’s desk and stared at the papers.

  Lucy Kincaid Rogan is a sworn federal agent and used her badge and weapon to intimidate Ms. Hunt.

  Ms. Hunt fears for her life.

  What was her endgame? To keep Lucy in San Antonio because of something going on with Sean in Houston? Lucy had to be there, with Sean, when he was arraigned. He would be granted bail—he had to be granted bail. She couldn’t abandon him to defend herself against trumped up charges!

  Garrett would stay. He was her lawyer, he could speak for her, right? He’d been there at the gas station. He didn’t like everything she’d done today, but he knew that she
hadn’t followed Elise, and none of the other events were relevant to this. If he swore to the court that Elise followed them and that Lucy hadn’t threatened her, they would believe him, right?

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know which end was up.

  Patrick came into Sean’s office and closed the door. “You okay?”

  “No.” She slapped her hand on the papers. “She has Brad Donnelly. I know it. There’s a reason she did this—she set me up. She lied to get this ridiculous restraining order. But why?” She wanted to talk to Dillon, but it was far too late in Washington.

  “Let’s focus on what we can control. And right now, that’s helping Sean.”

  “But I can’t control what happens to Sean! He’s in jail for a murder he didn’t do. So many things are up in the air. They think they found the murder weapon in his plane. They really believe he killed her. It’s … it’s…” She was going to say too much. But she’d faced worse in her life. She’d faced a greater evil than a little sociopathic bitch.

  But the truth was, she would rather face evil head-on than the unpredictable Elise Hunt.

  “You need to sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “You can. You need to get a couple of hours or you’ll be worthless to Sean. We’ll leave at five, okay? Beat traffic and get to Houston long before visiting hours. You’re not in this alone, Lucy. And if we have to investigate Mona’s murder ourselves, that’s exactly what we will do.”

  She had someone on her side. Someone who loved Sean, had faith in him. Someone who believed in the system, but also knew that the system could be corrupted. Someone who had been by her side her entire life.

  Tears threatened. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—I don’t know if could do this on my own.”

  Patrick walked over to where she sat at Sean’s desk and hugged her. “We are going to get through this, Lucy. You, Sean, Nate, Kane, Jack, Megan, me—no one can defeat us, not when the Kincaids and the Rogans work together. Never forget that. You will never be alone, Lucy.”

  Then the tears came. For the first time, the tears came and wouldn’t stop.

  Her brother held her tight.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  SATURDAY

  OUTSIDE MONTERREY, MEXICO

  Jack was up before the sun, cleaned up the small camp they’d made, and had eaten his rations and cold coffee before Ranger came back from his recon.

  “I caught his trail.” He handed Jack a small black bag.

  “His phone?” Shit. Kane had lost his sat phone, which is why he couldn’t check in.

  Ranger nodded. “But it was hidden and marked.”

  “He planned to return. Idea of how long?”

  “Less than twenty-four hours.”

  They had an internal code system that worked in the field, especially on long, complex ops with multiple teams. Less than twenty-four hours meant that Kane had dropped the phone sometime after sunrise yesterday morning. “We’ll put it back on the way, leave a message. Ready?”

  “Yep.” Jack put on his pack and handed Ranger his. Checked his sidearms even though he’d checked and rechecked them both last night and this morning.

  Ranger’s contact yesterday was adamant that Kane hadn’t been recaptured, but that he was still pursuing Peter Blair deep into the steep mountains southeast of Monterrey. It was dangerous because Kane was persona non grata in this part of Mexico. And the whole thing stunk like a trap. Why had Kane pushed so far into hostile territory?

  When he was grabbed Thursday, Ranger called it in, but Ranger’s contact was certain that Kane had escaped and was still in pursuit. Why hadn’t he pulled back? This whole thing made no sense; that Kane hadn’t called in to say he was alive was problematic, and made Jack question Ranger’s source of information.

  Maybe this was a trap for Jack and Ranger as well. Take out Kane, leave a few crumbs to think he’s still alive, draw in the rest of the RCK team. Without Kane’s or Ranger’s leadership, RCK operations south of the border wouldn’t survive long.

  Jack had to think about all possible contingencies. He told Ranger to hold up. He pulled out his sat phone and called JT to give him a report and their exact location. JT didn’t say much—there wasn’t anything to say—but indicated that he had mobilized a second team that was waiting for instructions in Hidalgo. If Jack needed it, they could parachute to any location near them in two hours.

  Jack hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  He asked about Sean.

  “Let me deal with Sean. You find Kane. Out.”

  Shit, that wasn’t an answer, which meant the situation was bad.

  Jack secured his phone and motioned to Ranger that he was ready. They hiked nearly a mile southwest when Ranger stopped and hid Kane’s bag back in its spot, with a message in the bag that said when they found it and to make contact.

  Silently, they continued. Kane either marked his path because he’d need help finding his way out, or he’d expected Ranger to follow.

  Jack knew Ranger was upset because Kane had been grabbed in the first place when they had been paired off. He blamed himself, and that wasn’t going to help them in the long run. Guilt made good soldiers do stupid things. But he hoped that Ranger’s experience and training had him coping with the situation.

  He let Ranger lead not only because he knew this area better than Jack, but because he needed the focus. They stopped for water and a one-minute rest every hour, and to confirm their location, even though Ranger knew exactly where they were and hadn’t gotten off course.

  Nearly four hours later, Ranger put his arm up, fist closed; Jack froze.

  They were on the edge of a small village far from any other town. So small that Jack could only see three structures, all appearing unoccupied. He knew where he was on the map, but he’d never been on this side of the mountain. A dirt road could be seen through the shrubs, and in the distance Jack heard an approaching Jeep. He and Ranger maneuvered closer to the road, then crouched so they could observe unseen.

  Two Jeeps approached their spot. The first had three men, all in pseudo-military gear. The second had two men including Blair, the man Kane had been tracking.

  Kane was here somewhere.

  If he hadn’t been recaptured.

  He wasn’t in either Jeep. A good sign?

  If Ranger’s contact was right, Kane had escaped and was intent on pursuing Blair as long as it took to stop him. Jack couldn’t help but wonder if Kane was motivated by a darker purpose.

  While it was true that Peter Blair was bad news, a notorious human trafficker who had ruined the lives of countless people, Kane’s job had been to rescue the girls, that was it. Though Jack wouldn’t lose sleep if Blair ended up dead in a ditch, he also had powerful allies, and Jack didn’t think that Kane had quite thought this through. RCK did not assassinate the bad guys. Unless Kane knew something that he hadn’t shared, his actions didn’t make sense.

  Yet, Jack had the utmost respect for Kane Rogan and all that he’d given to protecting the innocent. He didn’t act on anger or for revenge. He risked himself solely to save lives.

  Yes, Kane knew something they didn’t.

  When the trucks passed by, Ranger whispered, “There’s only one place they can be going. That’s where Kane is. There’s a creek bed on the other side of the road we can follow—safer than using the road. If we hoof it, it’ll take an hour.” Ranger took out an energy bar and water bottle; Jack did the same. They waited another two minutes, made sure no other vehicles were coming, and crossed the road.

  Jack let Ranger lead and hoped his old friend was right.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  HOUSTON, TEXAS

  Sean kept his head down during breakfast. No one talked to him; he was fine with that. He didn’t feel much like eating; his stomach was twisted up in knots. But he forced down toast and scrambled eggs so dry he drained his orange juice (five percent real juice) in one long swig.

  At the end of breakfast, he lined up with the o
ther prisoners to head back to their cells for a head count. Then at nine they’d be taken to a common area.

  All Sean wanted was to see Lucy.

  Sean was still sitting in his cell—staring at the wall but not seeing anything—when his door buzzed open. A guard with the name PORTER on his chest said, “Rogan, follow me.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t ask the questions.”

  “But—”

  “Do you want to be written up? I can make your life easy, or I can make it hell. Your choice.”

  If he was in prison for any length of time, he’d be written up often. He didn’t fall in line with authority easily. Never had.

  It was only seven thirty. Lucy wasn’t here—unless she pulled strings and was able to get in earlier. That was possible. Or his lawyer was here with news. Good or bad. Hell, just getting out of the cell was a plus.

  Porter motioned for Sean to walk ahead of him. Sean complied, and they headed to the end of the hall. The guard manning the door unlocked it from the other side of the glass and buzzed them through.

  They went through this four times, including an elevator ride down. They ended up in the same holding area where Sean arrived yesterday.

  “What’s going on?” Sean asked.

  Porter didn’t answer. Instead, he handed the guard manning the main desk a file folder. “Rogan, Sean Tyler, Prisoner 4J55591, cleared for transport.”

  “Transport where?” Sean asked.

  He didn’t answer that question, either.

  The desk guard looked at the paperwork, signed the folder. “We have a bus going to Beaumont in twenty.”

  “No,” Sean said. “My lawyer is meeting me here this morning.”

  Porter finally looked at him. “I have paperwork to take you to Beaumont, that’s what I’m doing.”

  “I’m being arraigned on Monday; I’m supposed to be here until then. I need to talk to my lawyer. I’m not going anywhere until I talk to my lawyer!”

  “One more word and you’ll be in solitary when you get to Beaumont. Turn around.”

  This wasn’t right. Someone had screwed up somewhere, because he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. “You don’t understand,” he said.