by CW Browning
“What about Hawk?” she asked. “Is he safe where he is?”
“For now. I don’t anticipate him staying put for much longer.”
“He’ll be safer on his own,” Alina said, slowing for a red light. “No offense.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he agreed. “It’s not him I’m worried about.”
Alina watched in her rear view mirror as a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up behind her. She glanced at the light as it turned green and pressed the gas.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not happy with you being in New Jersey. You’re too much of a target there.”
“Only if they know where to look,” she pointed out, approaching the next block and another red light. “I have my reasons. You know that.”
Alina stopped at the light and glanced in her rear view mirror. The black sedan was still behind her. She frowned and shifted her eyes to her side mirror, watching as two youths in hoodies moved from the sidewalk into the street behind the Jeep. Her lips tightened as one crossed behind her while the other one started walking beside the Jeep. She glanced at the red light swiftly, then the black sedan behind her.
“I can’t change your mind?”
Before she could answer him, something hit the window next to her. Viper turned her head incredulously to stare down the barrel of a semi-automatic.
“Hold on, Charlie,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
“Get out or I’ll blow your head off!” yelled the youth.
“Is someone actually...” Charlie began, sounding dumbstruck.
“I think so,” she answered, amused. “Hold on.”
Viper undid her seatbelt and moved her hand to the door handle. She opened the door just enough for the unsuspecting, would-be car-jacker to shove the gun into the opening, pointing it directly at her. As soon as the hand holding the weapon passed the edge of the door, Viper pulled the door closed again, hard. She threw the Jeep in park, catching the semi-automatic as it fell. Moving swiftly, she released the door and spun sideways in the seat at the same time, kicking the attacker solidly in his chest. He stumbled backwards, lost his footing and fell onto the curb.
Viper followed him.
Before he could regain his feet, she was above him. The butt of his own weapon made solid contact with his temple and the car-jacker sank back on the cement silently. Spinning around, Viper started toward the back of the Jeep. The other half of the car-jacking duo was backtracking toward the black sedan. She raised the semi-automatic in her hand, watching as the back window of the sedan opened. The barrel of another gun appeared. Without breaking stride, Viper fired. Her shot was true and the barrel lowered abruptly as the weapon dropped from lifeless fingers. Reaching the back of the Jeep, she unloaded a stream of bullets into the front tires of the sedan as the driver threw it in reverse and hit the gas. The partner still in the road yelled, raising a pistol and pointing it at Viper.
“I’ma kill you, bitch!” he screamed.
He never got the chance to fire. One bullet entered his neck and the other went into his chest. The pistol dropped from his fingers as he fell into the road, dead. The sedan never hit the brakes as it sped backwards, the front tires flattening as they went.
Viper turned and went back to the driver’s door, flipping on the safety as she went. She climbed back into the Jeep, tossing the gun onto the floor of the passenger side, and closed the door. Putting the Jeep back into gear, she hit the gas, crossing through the intersection and leaving three bodies behind.
“You were saying?” she asked, reaching for her seatbelt as she drove. “Something about changing my mind?”
“Do you go out of your way to look for trouble?” Charlie demanded. Whether his voice was shaking from amusement or anger, Viper wasn’t entirely sure.
“Sad, isn’t it?” Alina asked, turning left down a side street. “It just seems to find me.”
“How many were there?”
“At least four, maybe five.”
“How many are still alive?”
“Two.”
A sigh filled the Jeep.
“That isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I told you to take care of yourself up there.”
Despite herself, Viper’s lips curved in a grin.
“Maybe not, but we can’t have it easy all the time, can we? That wouldn’t be any fun.”
Michael slid his phone into his jacket pocket and glanced at his watch as he strode up to the entrance of the ER. No sooner was he on his way to the hospital than Damon called. How he knew about the funeral was a mystery, but he did. He was short and to the point: how the hell did a shooter make it into the church? It had been a long time since Michael felt like a teenager taken to task by an irate adult, but Damon managed it within the space of half a minute.
Michael scowled as the automatic doors slid open and he went into the hospital. Alina’s safety was his primary responsibility, and he’d failed. Never mind how or why, it was only by the grace of God himself that Alina still had a head on her shoulders. He shook his head. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, the would-be assassin was foiled by a church kneeler. A kneeler! He couldn’t make that up if he tried.
A nurse behind the intake desk looked up as he approached.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for two patients brought in a little while ago,” he said, pulling out his badge. “Agent Stephanie Walker and Angela...oh god, I don’t know her last name.”
The nurse looked at his badge and turned to her computer.
“Walker?” she repeated, typing rapidly. “Did she come in...oh yes! Here it is. Gunshot wounds.”
“That’s the one.”
“Mike!”
Michael turned in surprise as Blake came through a door at the far end of the room.
“It’s about time you got here! Steph’s gone into surgery, and Angela is getting stitched up.” He glanced at the nurse behind the desk. “I’ll take him back.”
She nodded and turned to grab some papers off a printer behind her, dismissing them.
“How bad is Stephanie?” Michael asked.
“She lost a lot of blood, but she should be fine,” said Blake, hitting a large, stainless steel button on the wall. The doors began to swing ponderously open. “At least, that’s what the nurse said before they rushed her back.”
“Was it really close to the artery?”
“Don’t know yet.” Blake glanced at him as they walked into the bowels of the Emergency Room. “It’s a miracle your girlfriend wasn’t killed. If she hadn’t hit the deck...”
“Trust me, I know. What about Angie?”
“They picked pieces of the Virgin Mary out of her head, neck, shoulder and chest, and stitched her up. She’ll be fine.”
Blake led him to the end of a wide corridor and they turned the corner. The smell of antiseptic and the sounds of medical equipment assaulted them, and Michael sighed. He hated hospitals.
“Where’s the Black Widow?” Blake asked, leading him down the corridor. “Please tell me she had more luck than we did.”
“Not really. She got eyes on him, but he got away.”
“Damn! Who is this guy? What was he doing there?”
Michael glanced at him.
“You don’t know?” he asked, surprised. “I thought you would have figured it out by now.”
Blake stared at him blankly.
“Figured what out?”
Michael stopped walking and pulled Blake to the side of the hallway.
“I can’t tell you much,” he said, lowering his voice, “and I’m guessing Walker doesn’t know much either, so this is strictly between us.”
Blake nodded in acknowledgment.
“I came up here because I was asked to watch Lina’s back. Someone’s discovered her identity, and they’re gunning for her.”
Blake stared at him hard.
“How the hell did that happen?!”
Michael shrugged.
Blake ran a hand over his short hair.
“That’s why she didn’t want Angela staying with her,” he said slowly. “Stephanie said she was going to get the story out of her later today. She doesn’t know any of this!”
“No one does except me, and I don’t know the whole story. I was told to make sure this didn’t happen.”
Blake shook his head.
“How the hell were you supposed to secure a church that size with no resources and no back-up?” he asked. “It couldn’t be done. Even with a full team, there were too many people and too many exits.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head again. “What kind of demented bastard hits a funeral, for God’s sake!?”
“One who’s desperate. He knew she would surface for the funeral. It was the only time he was guaranteed a shot.”
“And he took it,” Blake muttered, turning to continue walking down the wide corridor. “This is turning into a circus. Does she have any leads?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Michael said with a shrug. “She wasn’t telling me much to begin with, and after this, it will be even less. In fact, I won’t be surprised if she just goes dark and disappears altogether.”
Blake looked at him.
“You think she’ll run?”
“No,” Michael sighed after a moment of thought. “I wish she would, but she won’t. She’ll stay and fight.”
“Angela is in here.” Blake motioned to the next room. “How much do we tell her?”
“Nothing,” said Michael flatly. “Viper doesn’t want her to know anything.”
Blake nodded.
“Got it.” He looked at him, and for the first time all day, a smile cracked his face. “Are you ready? She’s not in a good mood.”
Michael rolled his eyes.
“I took on the Taliban and insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan,” he muttered. “I think I can handle Angela.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robert Carmichael poured some soda from the half-empty two liter into a pink paper cup with Disney Princesses stamped on it. He set the bottle down on the paper tablecloth, also adorned with Disney Princesses, and turned to look over the back yard. Over twenty six-year-old girls swarmed around in the sunshine, dressed in their best princess dresses. Shoes had been discarded, tights were getting grass-stained, and shrieks of laughter filled the air as they ran in circles, engaged in some kind of game his sister had cooked up.
He sipped the soda and watched as his niece chased after a pink beach ball, her birthday tiara askew over her blonde curls. This was the last place he wanted to be spending his Saturday afternoon, but Rachel had made it very clear: show up or there would be hell to pay. So here he was, sipping warm soda out of a Disney Princess cup and listening to the screams of little girls as they played.
At least the FBI issue was on its way to being handled. It was a shame they didn’t bite on the drugs though. Robert sighed inwardly. Honestly, who would think Hanover would have hidden cameras all over the house? He supposed he should have known something would go wrong. After all, everything had gone wrong ever since that first street racer got killed up in New Jersey. It was like someone had broken a mirror, or spilled some salt. The bad luck was going to end though. At least, for him. Not so much for Special Agent Blake Hanover. By the end of the weekend, Robert wouldn’t have to worry about him digging around into anything except legal aid.
“Rob!”
Robert turned reluctantly to face a tall, red-faced man trudging across the grass towards him. He spread a wide smile over his face and moved forward, holding out his hand.
“Glenn!” he greeted his brother-in-laws’ cousin. “Good to see you! How was Miami?”
“Busy,” said Glenn, wringing his hand, “but productive. I’m glad to be home. Nothing like your own bed to sleep in.”
“I hear that! How’s Janet? And the kids?”
“Fine, fine. Everyone’s fine. She’s here somewhere. She got here early with Olivia. Knowing her, she’s probably in the kitchen organizing more sugar for these rugrats.” Glenn glanced at the paper cup in Robert’s hand. “Good Lord, is that what we have to drink?”
“Afraid so.”
“What’s your sister doing? Trying to cause a riot of adults?” Glenn turned to head toward the tall blonde woman directing traffic in the middle of the rugrats. “I’m going to go say hello before Janet appears and collars me into helping with something. You know how it is!”
Robert nodded and watched as Glenn made his way through the crowd of mini princesses. Glenn was nice enough. He was certainly a family man who managed to endear himself to his sister, but Robert found him barely tolerable. He laughed too much. Men who laughed that much were suspect. No one had that much to be happy about, especially in today’s political climate.
He glanced at his watch and wandered toward the patio where his brother-in-law was standing in front a grill, surrounded by half a dozen other bored husbands. It looked like the burgers were almost ready. With any luck, he could eat, they’d cut the cake, and he could high-tail it out of here. There were still a few things to wrap up at the office, and then there was the benefit dinner tonight. His assistant had reminded him again this morning of the importance of putting in an appearance. The public loved a philanthropist, and they needed the public on their side before the run to the mid-term elections. His assistant was worried about ratings and support numbers. Robert grimaced to himself. What his assistant didn’t realize was that none of it would matter if Blake Hanover managed to uncover his connection to Dominic DiBarcoli and Trasker Pharmaceuticals. In fact, if the FBI agent dug deep enough that would be the least of their worries.
If the public found out about the Casa Reinos Cartel, all would be lost.
Viper sipped black coffee and set the cup down next to a laptop on the bistro table. She was seated in front of the window overlooking a busy city street just outside Chinatown. She glanced at the traffic outside, then turned her attention back to the screen in front of her.
She had reached the parking garage without any more excitement and her luck held when she discovered all the cameras were working, and recording to a server. The garage was perfectly placed in the city. The Convention Center, train station, and Chinatown were all within walking distance, as well as numerous hotels. There was no way of narrowing down where Kyle went from there unless she managed to get something off the cameras. To that end, she had parked in the garage and crossed the road to the coffee shop on the corner, where she proceeded to hack the security footage, not only from the parking garage, but also from the traffic cameras in the street. One way or another, she’d find out when Kyle was there, and which direction he went.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Her phone vibrated in her jacket but she ignored it, her attention focused on the black and white footage on the screen. The time had been missing, but the date was still on the paper. The receipt was from two days ago. She found the day on the server and began the tedious act of plowing through camera footage, looking for the sedan. Ironically enough, it wasn’t the sedan that caught her attention first. It was Kyle himself.
Viper hit pause and stared at the grainy picture on the screen. It was definitely him, dressed in a black jacket and jeans, walking into the parking garage from the east side entrance. She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. He had a bag over his shoulder and a cup of coffee in his hand. Alina glanced at the cup of coffee next to her laptop and raised an eyebrow.
It was the same cup.
Her lips curved coldly. He was staying nearby. That narrowed the field down considerably. She pressed play and watched as he strode into the garage and disappeared into the elevator. Alina reached for her coffee again, watching the various floors until Kyle emerged from the elevator on the top floor and strode towards the sedan. A minute later, it pulled out of the spot and rolled toward the exit ramp. Sipping her drink, she watched as he cir
cled down to the ground floor and pulled to the entrance. There he stopped and spoke to the employee, who nodded and passed him the infamous receipt.
Viper sat back thoughtfully. Why get a receipt if he had paid in cash? Surely he wasn’t dumb enough to pay with a credit card? She picked up the torn paper and glanced at it. All that remained was the address, date and name of the business. No amount or form of payment remained. Her eyes went back to the screen and she pressed her lips together. If he had paid with a card, she could find out exactly where he was, and even what kind of toothpaste he used. They always paid cash. It was how they worked. So why the receipt?
The sedan turned right out of the lot and disappeared out of frame. Viper reached out and paused the footage, glancing at the time stamp on the camera. It was just after ten in the morning. She resumed and sped it up, sipping her coffee as the hours quickly rolled over, and countless cars came and went through the entrance. By the time she’d finished her coffee, the footage was onto the next day and the sedan had not returned. With a sigh, she closed out of the program and sat back in her chair, thoughtfully turning her attention out of the window.
He was staying nearby, that was apparent, and he had the option of parking in the street or utilizing the parking garage. She stared blindly at the traffic. He would want somewhere he could go unnoticed; somewhere that assured a high level of privacy. A hotel would be her first choice, followed very closely by a short-term, furnished rental. Unfortunately, both were abundant in the city, and narrowing it down would take time, time she didn’t have.
Alina turned her dark gaze from the window and glanced to the back of the store and the two barista’s working behind the counter. There was another way she could narrow it down.
All she needed was a name.
Michael looked up as Blake came back into the room. Angela was propped up in the bed, her phone in her hand, scouring the local news sites for updates. Her blood-stained clothes were in a clear plastic bag on a stool in the corner and the hospital scrubs she’d been given hung on her slender frame. A thick bandage covered the new stitches on her neck, and another was visible on her shoulder.