Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  “Out!” one of the gunmen said.

  Sean glanced at the other prisoner. He had a key in his hand and was unlocking his shackles.

  He’d planned this escape. Who the hell was this guy?

  Sheffield got out of the bus. The guards weren’t supposed to leave—especially in a situation like this! Sean couldn’t see what was going on because of the smoke. Someone must have seen the out-of-control bus. They’d have called 911. Help had to be coming.

  The bus driver was talking on the radio, but Sean couldn’t hear any response.

  The other prisoner was already out of his chains. He reached under the seat in front of him and pulled out a gun.

  Not only was this planned, it was an inside job.

  The prisoner smiled at Sean, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You’re coming with us.”

  “No fucking way am I going with you,” Sean said.

  The prisoner put the gun in Sean’s hands, which were still locked to the bar in front of him. He aimed the gun toward the driver

  Sean jerked his hand, and as the prisoner pulled the trigger, the bullet went wild. The prisoner elbowed Sean in the jaw, then forced the gun level and fired twice in the back of the guard’s head, still holding Sean’s hands tight around the grip. Sean stared, wide-eyed. What the hell? What was this guy doing?

  “You’re now a cop killer, Sean Rogan. You’re coming with me or you’re dead.”

  How did this old man know his name?

  Two masked gunmen boarded the bus and aimed their guns at Sean.

  The prisoner unlocked Sean’s shackles and pulled him up. He was strong for being in his sixties. Sean fought, knowing he couldn’t go with them. He just had to buy time. Wait for the police.

  You’re now a cop killer.

  No one would believe it. They would investigate. Realize this was an inside job and Sean had nothing to do with it. There had to be a witness. There was a camera in the bus—they would know Sean wasn’t a willing participant, right?

  The radio was out. Maybe the cameras are out as well.

  Even with all the smoke, Sean fought against leaving the bus. The prisoner hit him on the top of the head with the butt of the gun. Sean immediately saw black and fell to his knees.

  “Drag him out,” the man said. “Time.”

  “Eight twenty-five, sir.”

  “Right on schedule. Secure that bastard.”

  Sean’s vision was clouded, but as the two gunmen dragged him out of the bus, he watched the prisoner conversing with Sheffield as if they were friends. Then the prisoner shot the guard in the calf. Sheffield fired multiple times into the bushes beyond the bus. He heard the prisoner mention his name, and Sheffield said yes, but Sean didn’t know what was said or agreed to.

  Sean was dragged across the slab. The two men picked him up and pushed him into the back of a windowless cargo van. Another gunman in the back zip-tied Sean’s hands behind him, and pushed him against the metal floor, then climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Sean cut his cheek on a bolt, but his head already hurt like hell so the injury only added to the cacophony of pain. The two gunmen who’d boarded the bus jumped in behind him and closed the doors.

  The prisoner opened the passenger seat door, climbed in, and asked the driver, “Everything on schedule?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hunt.”

  “Then get us out of here.”

  Mr. Hunt.

  Jimmy Hunt.

  He was in prison in Los Angeles.

  Except he’s not.

  Sean had never met Jimmy Hunt; he’d never had need to. Hunt had been in Mexico when Sean had helped take down the rest of the family in Texas.

  Hunt turned and stared at Sean, a shit-eating grin on his face. Sean wanted to look defiant, but he was scared. Hunt had just kidnapped him, but the police would think it was a breakout. A cop had been killed. Would they believe Sean when he told them that Hunt had killed him? That Hunt forced Sean’s hands on the gun? Why would they believe anything Sean said when he had been arrested for murder himself?

  He felt like a pawn where he had no control over anything. A sinking feeling filled his chest, a huge weight dragging him down because he saw no way out.

  “Sean Rogan,” Hunt said with a half growl. “I have wanted to kill you for some time, ever since you stole my money. Now, I have use for you. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, or your kid’s dead. I will kill him just like your brother killed my son. Do not doubt me, Rogan. My reach is far greater than you can imagine.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  OUTSIDE CUIDAD VICTORIA, MEXICO

  It wasn’t the first time that Jack thought he was getting too old for this shit.

  Even so, a familiar thrill ran through his veins, focusing him on the task at hand. It was the same controlled adrenaline rush he felt when he served in the Army; the same focus he had when he ran his own mercenary squad, before he partnered with Rogan-Caruso. A heightened sense of awareness—of himself, of his squad, of his surroundings.

  He might not spend as much time in the field as he used to, but there were some things so ingrained in the psyche that you never forgot. The muscle memory that allowed him to assess a situation accurately and react quickly to any change or threat.

  There was something wrong with this entire operation. If the girls were bait for Kane—and that was something they all concurred with—were they just stupid in enabling his escape? They’d captured him, and this was Kane Rogan. His enemies knew that he was dangerous and resourceful, not easily contained. The whole thing just felt … off.

  They’d been watching Peter Blair and his men for the last two hours. They were meeting in an old farmhouse—the leaders of four separate factions. Each faction had two men inside, and two men patrolling, plus Blair had one extra man who was in charge of the security—seventeen hostiles. Three against seventeen. Even Kane recognized that they couldn’t handle that, not with their limited supplies.

  His plan seemed solid, however. When the meeting broke up, the four groups would be going in different directions. Blair would be with four men, and three against five were odds Jack would take any day of the week, especially when his partners were Kane and Ranger.

  “They’re moving,” Ranger said quietly from his spot ten feet to Jack’s left.

  First one Jeep of four left, quickly followed by a second group of four. Blair wasn’t among them. That left nine on site, but there was no other movement.

  They waited.

  Kane signaled over the radio. “Blair’s going out back with two. Distract the others, I’ll get him.”

  Jack wanted to argue—this wasn’t the fucking plan—but it was too late. Once Kane shifted focus, they all had to shift focus.

  Without discussion, Ranger and Jack moved from their position to the gulley across from the farmhouse. Ranger had his hand up, counting down with his fingers.

  Three. Two. One.

  A small explosion ignited from where they had been. The men out front took cover. No one went back inside, but instead hid behind the Jeeps.

  “Where are they?” someone shouted

  “Find them!” someone ordered.

  “No, no, no, we stay here.”

  “Who the fuck?”

  “Where’s Blair?”

  “Follow orders…”

  Ranger hit the second detonation, which they’d set on the south side of the property, then immediately after he set off one to the north. The six men who were still here didn’t know where the attack was coming from, so they stayed put and within sight.

  Still, Kane hadn’t checked in.

  Jack should never have let him watch the back alone.

  Blair’s men were randomly firing toward the explosions, a waste of ammo, but even wild shots could hit a live target, so Jack and Ranger stayed low and didn’t give their location away.

  The gunfire stopped. There were shouts, but no one advanced toward their position.

  Less than five minutes had passed since Ka
ne alerted them, but it felt like fucking forever, and Jack had hoped they could handle this quietly. He should have known better.

  Kane finally beeped over the radio.

  “Have target, acquired vehicle. Rendezvous mark B.”

  “Roger,” Ranger responded.

  “What the hell?” Jack said. How were they going to get to the pick-up spot undetected by the free-firing assholes across the road?

  “You’ve been out of the game a long time, buddy,” Ranger said with a grin.

  “You’ve been hanging with Kane too long, buddy,” Jack responded. He’d known Ranger since basic training and trusted him, so let him take the lead.

  “Head down, give it a minute.”

  As Jack and Ranger watched, the shooters backed into the house. They weren’t trying to get away. There was talking and shouting, but Jack couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Now,” Ranger said. “Stay low, head south.”

  Jack followed Ranger and within minutes they were standing on a narrow dirt road out of sight from the house.

  Two minutes later, Kane drove up in an old pickup truck. Other than a cut on his arm, he appeared uninjured.

  Peter Blair was hog-tied in the bed of the truck.

  Kane said, “Hop in, we have a lot of questions to ask our guest and need a secure location. I have one in mind.” As soon as Jack closed the door, Kane drove off.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  HOUSTON, TEXAS

  Patrick made good time and they arrived at the administrative jail at quarter to nine that morning. They were walking up to the lobby when Lucy’s phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

  “Kincaid,” she answered.

  “Agent Kincaid, this is Felicity Dyson, Sean’s lawyer. Don’t go to the jail.”

  “I’m already here.”

  She turned immediately and went back outside before she went through security. “What’s wrong?”

  Patrick followed her, concern etched in his expression.

  “I don’t know what happened, no details yet, but a friend of mine from the jail just called me. Sean was transferred to the Beaumont prison this morning. There was an accident on the highway. No one told me about the transfer, I’m on my way to the jail to get answers.”

  Ice ran down Lucy’s spine. “Beaumont?”

  “It’s federal, maybe this was arranged by your boss Stockton or something and they just didn’t get the message to me.”

  “No. No—this is all wrong. Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure about anything, to be honest. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, but I don’t want you to be cornered by the press or Houston PD.”

  “Jimmy Hunt is at Beaumont. Hunt hates my family. Someone set this up!”

  Felicity didn’t say anything and Lucy thought her panic had scared off the lawyer.

  “How do you know that name? Did Banner already talk to you?”

  “No, I just got here—what’s going on, Felicity?”

  “There was another prisoner on the transport bus with Sean. Jimmy Jay Hunt. How do you know him?”

  “Oh God. Oh God.” This was revenge, pure revenge. Fear ate at her stomach. How in the world could Jimmy have orchestrated something so elaborate? To have all the stars align so perfectly that he and Sean would be on the same transport bus? “Hunt framed Sean. Got him somehow on that bus with him. This is the end game.”

  “We don’t have anything confirmed yet.”

  “This is not a coincidence. Hunt set this up!”

  “That seems impossible.”

  “Do you know who Jimmy Hunt is?” Lucy asked.

  “Basics—”

  “Do you know that Sean’s brother Kane killed his son? That he is Elise Hunt’s father? That he ran his crime family from Mexico for the five years he was on the run?”

  Felicity frowned. “I didn’t know about Kane.”

  Lucy took a deep breath and told Felicity everything that she knew about the Hunt family. There was a lot. Violence. Drug running. Murder. “After Rollins’s escape, she and her people killed multiple DEA agents, including her former boss. They learned that Sean had been the civilian consultant for the FBI who helped seize their bank accounts. They kidnapped him, forced him to steal money electronically, but he tricked them and alerted the FBI to his location. That’s when we got them all—so Jimmy Hunt lost most of his family and millions of dollars because of Sean. Everything—it’s all revenge. Brad. Nate. Kane.”

  “I—”

  “These are extremely dangerous people. Sean wouldn’t escape custody, he wouldn’t be party to this or to helping Hunt. He was in this jail for what? Twelve hours? How could he have orchestrated any of this?”

  “I need to make some calls, get all this verified—”

  “You don’t believe me?” Lucy knew she was losing it, but she knew Sean was in immediate danger.

  “I believe you, Lucy, one hundred percent. But Banner isn’t going to believe you. I need someone above both of us to talk to him. Someone above reproach. I’ll be at the jail, outside the main doors, in fifteen minutes. Until then, lay low.”

  * * *

  It was fifteen minutes of hell.

  Lucy called JT Caruso and gave him all the information she had; she trusted him to get more. She called Nate next, filled him in. She tried Megan, but her phone was off. She sent her a text message and hoped she got it as soon as she landed.

  Then she called her sister-in-law Kate.

  “I just got off the phone with Rick,” Kate said. “I’m heading out now. To Houston.”

  “Do you know anything?”

  “Rick said Sean is missing, suspected to have escaped with Hunt. One officer is dead, one is wounded.”

  “Oh, God. Sean—”

  “Is missing. He’s not there. Neither is Hunt. We don’t know what happened, but first responders arrived on scene twenty minutes ago and no one wants to talk to the feds right now. But because it was a federal prison transport, we have jurisdiction. The Houston FBI has been alerted and they’re taking lead. Marshals have been called in. And they know that Sean is a potential victim in this.”

  “Hunt set this up, Kate.”

  Lucy was relieved that Kate didn’t tell her something asinine like we don’t know that. Because Kate understood people like Jimmy Hunt.

  “I’m going to find out exactly what happened. Sean wasn’t supposed to be transferred anywhere. He was supposed to be in lockdown at the administrative jail all weekend. Someone screwed up.”

  “This was done on purpose.”

  “Rick got me on a military transport, I really have to go.”

  “Thank you, Kate.”

  “Hang tight.”

  Kate hung up. Lucy told Patrick what she’d said, and then saw a petite Black woman, her curly hair pulled back into a shiny ponytail, slick on her head, thick in the back, wearing impossibly tall heels that Lucy was certain she’d break an ankle in if she took two steps.

  She looked like a lawyer on a mission. “Felicity?” Lucy said.

  Felicity extended her hand. “Felicity Duncan. Lucy?” She had a Texas twang and sharp eyes.

  She nodded, introduced Patrick.

  “I don’t have much more information for you.”

  “I do.” Lucy told her what Kate said. “Kate is the cybercrime expert at Quantico. She’s going to find out what happened, and having her here on site is a bonus.”

  “Banner is on his way here. He knows you planned to talk to Sean at ten. I don’t want anyone inside to alert him that you’re early. We need to figure this out.”

  “I don’t have to talk to him.”

  “It might be in your best interest to do so.”

  “It’s not in Sean’s best interest. Neither Sean nor I had anything to do with this—Jimmy now has Sean as his prisoner.” He wouldn’t kill him—not yet. Because if he wanted him dead, he would have killed him and left him on the bus.

  Why keep Brad and Sean alive if they planned on killin
g them? Money? Torture?

  “You said that Hunt is Elise Hunt’s father, correct?”

  “Yes. And she’s in Texas. She followed me yesterday.”

  “I heard. I talked to Garrett this morning.”

  “So you know that she lied in order to get a restraining order against me.”

  “I think that’s the least of our concerns right now. You need to stay away from this. I know that goes against every instinct you have, but you’re only going to hurt yourself.”

  Felicity looked at her phone. “I have to take this. Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.” She answered her call as she walked to the far side of the building.

  “I’m calling JT,” Patrick said. “This is bullshit. We can’t be kept out of the loop on this. We have to figure out a way to get our people on the inside.”

  “Kate’s coming.”

  “She not here now, and a manhunt is serious. Who’s in charge in Houston? What do we know about the detectives investigating Mona Hill’s murder? We’re flying blind, we need information or we’re going to remain in the dark.”

  Patrick walked away and Lucy was alone. She was actually relieved; she needed time to pull herself together. She had to put aside her fears and focus on finding answers so she could track Sean and bring him home safe.

  Felicity returned quickly. “That was Garrett, no news. He’s working on having the restraining order tossed so you don’t have to be in court on Monday. I have a room for us inside—a friend of mine is a guard here, he’s going to get us in quietly.”

  Lucy motioned to Patrick that she was going inside. He nodded and continued with his call.

  Lucy had to turn in her weapon at the security office, then she and Felicity walked down a corridor to a small room. “It’s not an interview room,” she said. “No cameras or recording devices. There’s going to be press all over this place in a few minutes, I don’t want you to have to deal with that. We can go out the back when we’re ready to leave.”

  “What happened? Everything, Felicity. Don’t coddle me.”