Jack of Hearts

by Diane Capri

  She shrugged, eyes closed, still watching the looping video in her head. The plane dips. The door opens. But did Reacher jump out? “That’s the problem, for sure. Got any better ideas?”

  “Actually, I do. But you’ve gotta give me a little time to work on this. It’s complicated.”

  “Are you getting anywhere?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How long will it take before you’ll know something definitive?”

  Gaspar said nothing.

  “Okay. You’re right. I’m tired. I need sleep. You keep looking and I’ll keep waiting,” she said with another deep sigh. “But not forever, Chico. If Reacher’s alive, every minute that I’m not out there chasing him is ten minutes he’s getting ahead of me.”

  “Yeah, I got it. His legs are ten times as long as yours. Take a nap. I’ll call you as soon as I can,” Gaspar said. “Meanwhile, try calling Cooper again. He’s the man with the answers. And it’s actually his job to give them to you.”

  “Right. And you know that if Cooper or Finlay were talking to me, I wouldn’t need to be asking you.” She disconnected the call.

  Gaspar was right, though. She needed sleep. And calling him every hour wasn’t helping either of them.

  CHAPTER 4

  Tuesday, May 17

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  3:00 a.m.

  Thaddeus Sydney was a careful man. His lean, fit, muscular body was one of his well-maintained tools. Meticulous planning had saved him many times. He defined his goals as narrowly as possible and executed them as specifically required.

  His work commanded a high price because he wasn’t sloppy.

  Rossi paid him well to do this job right the first time. Which suited him perfectly.

  After he had wrapped up in Los Angeles, Rossi called him back to Vegas. Now in Rossi’s office, Sydney heard the particulars on the new job.

  Rossi said, “Moretti screwed up. I need you to fix it.”

  Sydney nodded, encouraging Rossi to reveal details.

  “Moretti’s orders were simple. Find the boxer on the bridge and kill the woman,” Rossi said.

  Sydney already knew the boxer had been preoccupied with her since his last fight in Vegas, where they’d met for the first time in seven years. Rossi controlled the boxer. His body, his mind, his life.

  The woman was an unacceptable distraction. She had to go. Made perfect sense in Rossi’s world.

  Moretti had failed and paid for it with his life. Which was as it should be. This business was always about kill or be killed.

  Sydney had no illusions about the stakes. He’d been a warrior for two decades. The lifestyle suited him, kept the adrenaline running through his veins, made him feel alive every minute of every day.

  What red-blooded American wouldn’t love a job like that?

  Rossi said, “Moretti screwed up. He lost his focus or miscalculated or something. He hasn’t returned, which must mean he’s dead. The woman isn’t.”

  “Understood.” Sydney didn’t intend to make the same mistakes, even though his orders were more sophisticated.

  “Moretti was good. He’s quite a loss and she’s got to pay. For that, she’s more valuable alive than dead,” Rossi said, laying out the rules. “I want her, and her friends, and her business, too. Find them. Bring them to me.”

  Sydney nodded. He paused to let the words settle in before he asked questions.

  Kill or be killed was a simple plan. Rounding up a herd of women and transporting them across state lines was another thing entirely. Lots of moving parts. It required a team. Equipment. A solid schedule.

  Rossi’s motivation was important. Sydney needed to know exactly what he was up against. The strategy could change on the fly, but the ultimate goal must be met. Was it necessary to deliver all of the women unharmed, for example?

  Sydney said, “She runs a high-class escort service. You own half a dozen of those already, right here in Vegas. Not to mention the rest of the state and the country. Why is this one special?”

  Rossi narrowed his eyes and pushed his fleshy lips in and out, which was what he did when he was thinking. In this case, Sydney figured he was trying to decide how much to reveal and how much to hold back.

  Sydney would do the job regardless of the risks. He simply wanted to know what he was up against. He wouldn’t fail. He never had. His reputation for excellence was worth dying for.

  “Her business is extremely profitable and well-managed. It rightfully belongs to me,” Rossi finally said after he swigged from a beer glass. “She owes me. I’m the one who brought her to this country and gave her a chance. Everything she has, including her life and the lives of the others, she owes to me. I’m collecting that debt.”

  Sydney cocked his shaved head and leaned back, crossing his ankles. There was more to the story. “How does the boxer fit into this situation?”

  Rossi smirked. “Didn’t I mention that? The woman is his sister.”

  “And Moretti’s situation tells us how far the boxer will go to protect her,” Sydney said, the truth finally shining through the bullshit. “Which means she is an asset you can use to control the boxer. And she’s more valuable as an ally or a weapon than a corpse.”

  “Some fates are worse than death.” Rossi shrugged his fat shoulders. “One word, and she’s on a slow boat back to Thailand with nothing, disgraced and shamed. She and her sister and her niece, too. Or maybe I’ll deliver them to the men who would have paid for them seven years ago. Enhance my business relationships. Point is, I’ve got options. But I need her alive and unharmed, along with the others.”

  Sydney nodded, getting the whole ugly image now. The boxer and his family were illegal. They’d been trafficked from Thailand. But something went wrong and they’d avoided their fates back then. The reprieve was over. Time to complete the transaction.

  He had zero qualms about that. He’d been managing human cargo for Rossi for years.

  “The woman simply needs to be reminded of her reality,” Rossi replied as he poured yet another glass of beer. “Make it so.”

  Rossi was an old-fashioned gangster. He had learned cold-blooded murder and treachery at the knee of his father and grandfather before him. His reach extended to every illegal activity currently operating in Vegas and he was well connected to similar mobsters around the country.

  Which meant Rossi was a dangerous man to cross. He saw the world in black-and-white. You were either with him or against him. Sydney planned to stay on the right side of the ledger.

  The woman and the boxer were against Rossi at the moment, whether they understood that yet or not. The situation was about to change.

  Sydney’s only life insurance was a secret escape plan that he would eventually be required to deploy. Until then, what Rossi wanted, Sydney delivered.

  Sydney stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Anything else I need to know now?”

  “Sooner is better.” Rossi nodded and drained another glass of beer. “Use whatever resources you need.”

  “Understood,” Sydney said on his way out.

  He made a plan and put his backup team on notice.

  Military service had taught him to pack light, carry nothing traceable, and leave no evidence behind. Everything he needed was new and fit into a single small duffle. He gathered only the gear essential for the job. Even the weapons were stolen and disposable.

  He didn’t expect to be gone for more than a week. Less, if everything went well.

  Sydney gassed up the SUV he’d collected in California and installed a different stolen license plate. The vehicle was owned by a shell corporation nested inside three others and all held by a non-existent offshore strawman.

  Anybody trying to trace him or the SUV would be slowed to a standstill for a while. Which was long enough. The less time he spent in Denver, the better.

  The GPS route was an easy ten hours and thirty-two minutes’ drive time. Once the plan was launched, he rolled out of Vegas alone, planning to find the place and
then get some shuteye.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tuesday, May 17

  Nebraska

  10:00 a.m.

  Kim and her new partner, FBI Special Agent William Burke, rolled into Nebraska from South Dakota when the sun was well above the eastern horizon. Burke was at the wheel of the rented Lincoln Navigator. Kim was belted into the passenger seat.

  She’d persuaded Burke to come along, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  He had never worked off the books before, let alone as deeply under the radar as they were operating now. He was comfortable with easily identifiable targets and straightforward war games. And bosses he could rely on.

  The hunt for Jack Reacher was none of that. Not even close.

  Two days ago, they’d hit another wall. They’d finally had eyes on Reacher and they’d lost him. They’d been instructed to stand down and wait for new orders.

  Which meant giving up on the best lead Kim had developed since she began looking for the invisible man seven months ago.

  For two days, despite her misgivings, Kim had followed those orders. Burke chaffed against the handcuffs. He wanted to get on the road and follow Reacher before they lost him again. Kim agreed although she didn’t say so. Not to Burke, anyway.

  But the Boss disagreed, and he might have been right. He was usually several steps ahead of his team in the field. This could have been one of those times.

  Any reasonable person would have concluded that Reacher had died with the other passengers on that Gulfstream.

  Thing was, Kim didn’t believe it, and Burke was on the fence.

  Kim appreciated Burke’s bullheaded approach. In this instance.

  Still, sitting in a hotel room wasn’t proving The Boss’s theory or advancing the search or getting her any closer to Reacher, dead or alive.

  After too many idle hours with no further word from the Boss, Kim had finally received the intel she’d requested from Gaspar, her former partner.

  She’d devised an alternate plan and presented it to Burke this morning with his breakfast. Not that she needed his approval. But the work was easier when her partner was on board.

  “We’ll go to Duncan, Nebraska. It’s not far. If Reacher’s injured, he might go back to a place he knows. He may have friends there,” she’d said. “We’ll interview witnesses he knew back then. Maybe we’ll even find him lying low.”

  Burke shook his head and flipped his hand as if to flip off the plan, too. “I don’t like it. There’s no reason to believe that’s where Reacher is.”

  “You have a better plan?” she’d asked.

  He didn’t.

  Kim had been ordered to keep Gaspar out of the case since he’d retired. Because she disagreed with the order, she’d ignored it. Her ass was out here on the line. She felt The Boss’s rules were more likely to get her killed or maimed, which wasn’t at all acceptable to her.

  But she didn’t flaunt her defiance. She might not survive this mission, but she saw no reason to voluntarily stick her neck in the guillotine and let The Boss chop her head off. She was intrepid, not suicidal.

  Burke respected the chain of command. Which meant he disapproved of her continued reliance on Gaspar. She didn’t care whether Burke approved or not, but she wasn’t sure he’d keep her transgressions secret, either.

  “Let me try contacting Cooper again. It’s been almost forty-eight hours since we’ve talked to him. Maybe he’s got better intel by now,” Burke said.

  “You do that. I’m headed to Nebraska. Get in the vehicle or don’t. Your choice,” she replied.

  By the time she’d packed up, he’d tried calling and got nowhere again. He’d left a message with The Boss and stowed his gear in the Navigator’s cargo hold. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Mostly because he was tired of sitting on his ass waiting for orders.

  Burke fancied himself as a man of action.

  Sixty miles later, The Boss had finally returned Burke’s call.

  “We’ve left the hotel. Traveling south,” Burke said as if the Boss didn’t already know as much since he tracked them constantly. “Any further intel on Reacher?”

  Cooper replied testily. “When I have it, you’ll have it.”

  Burke offered a couple of alternatives to the sit-on-your-hands-and-wait approach. “Nothing on the satellite feeds around Mount Rushmore?”

  The Boss said nothing.

  “How about local doctors? He could have been injured. I can call in some favors…” Burke suggested.

  “Are you unclear on your orders, Burke? Let me repeat,” the Boss snapped like the drill sergeant he once was. “Keep your mouth shut and stay out of the spotlight and take orders from Otto. She’s number one on the team.”

  This wasn’t how Burke normally operated, and he clearly didn’t like either the orders or losing face in front of Kim. Not even a little bit.

  He frowned behind his sunglasses, and his lip curled in an ugly way. “We’re losing our advantage by twiddling our thumbs instead of going after Reacher now.”

  “Burke! Get your head out of your ass!” The Boss shouted through the speaker, putting a loud and final smackdown on all objections. “You’re no good to the mission unless you can keep your mouth shut and follow orders. If I want you using your contacts to get intel on Reacher or anything else, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, you’re as invisible as possible, and you’re following Otto’s lead. If there’s anything you need to know, I’ll tell you. Period. Got it?”

  Burke gripped the plastic burner phone so hard it cracked. He snapped, “Message received.”

  Maybe he’d damaged the phone and his final words were lost in the ether.

  Or maybe The Boss had disconnected Burke first.

  Either way, the conversation abruptly terminated.

  Burke threw the cracked plastic hard over his shoulder. It sailed to the rear of the SUV, where it hit the window like a small-caliber bullet and fell with a brittle thump into the cargo compartment.

  Kim turned her gaze toward the side window to offer him a small slice of privacy while he dealt with his frustration and to hide her amusement.

  She couldn’t help it. Cooper finally knocking him down a couple of notches was music to her ears.

  William Burke, former SEAL, former FBI Hostage Rescue Team hotshot, was easy on the eyes and he had a voice many women would like to hear on their pillow at night. He was also used to working as head of a bigger team with access to unlimited resources.

  Simply put, the guy thought he was special. Which he was.

  But he had a short fuse and a demanding style that had rubbed Kim the wrong way from the start. They’d been working together for only a few days, and the situation hadn’t improved with time.

  Burke wasn’t thrilled to be the second of two, working in the dark. He craved splashy assignments like taking out terrorists and rescuing kidnapped heads of state. Missions where he could display his considerable skills and be rewarded with medals and commendations for his successes.

  Turned out, Burke was not as special as he’d thought. Not to Cooper. And so far, not to her.

  His new reality seemed to sink in at the speed of a sauntering tortoise.

  Truth was, Burke was expendable, just like Kim and Gaspar.

  In half a hot New York second, The Boss would throw him under the bus or over the cliff or whatever metaphor Burke preferred.

  Kim found that truth oddly reassuring. It meant Burke was in the same untenable situation she and Gaspar had been placed in. Which meant she might be able to rely on Burke more than she’d expected now that he clearly understood they were their own army of two on the Reacher thing.

  “Welcome to my world.” She smirked a couple of minutes after he’d smashed the phone.

  Burke turned his handsome scowl toward her. “What the hell do you mean?”

  What a prima Donna this guy was.

  She missed Gaspar. He was competent and capable and reliable. A father of five, Gaspar also possessed a
n infinite supply of patience.

  He had retired, sure. But to Kim, Gaspar was irreplaceable.

  Kim had tried to cut Burke some slack. She hoped he might display some of Gaspar’s best traits, eventually. But he shouldered an oversized ego that barely wedged into the cabin of the Navigator they’d been driving for the past few days.

  She understood him.

  She’d felt some of the same things when she’d come on this mission.

  Only successful people became FBI special agents. That success was a foundation for everything an agent did on the job.

  It was difficult to accept that no agent was any more special than the rest.

  Maybe that reality was especially tough for Burke.

  SEALs were trained hard and some believed they were invincible. Burke embodied the training as if he’d been born to it.

  Which he probably was.

  His dad had been a SEAL. And so were Burke’s three brothers. The traits were embedded in his DNA as surely as those sparkly dark eyes and that dimple in his chin.

  She could wait a short while longer for him to get a handle on his new role.

  A bigger problem was the trustworthiness issue.

  Kim had trusted Gaspar with her life. Many times. Her trust had been well placed. But for some reason she couldn’t quite define, she wasn’t there yet with Burke. She was skeptical by nature. But something about the guy made her even more wary than usual.

  “You know what I think? Cooper knows Reacher’s still alive, that’s what,” Burke fumed. “Why don’t we get our teams out there looking for him? Enlist the public. Get this thing on the nightly news. Reacher shouldn’t be that hard to track. Especially if he’s injured. We always get our man. Always. Why are we wasting time?”

  All good questions, for which Kim had no answers.

  She shrugged. Gaspar’s all-purpose gesture. She deployed it when there was nothing brilliant to say.