Delta Force Die Hard

by Carol Ericson

  Hailey’s gaze darted from the agent in front of her to Joe. He shook his head once.

  “Yeah, the car jumped the curb, and I know why.”

  The agent’s eyes bugged out from their sockets. “You think it was deliberate?”

  In a harsh whisper just loud enough for Joe to hear several feet away, she said, “Someone was trying to stop our meeting, trying to stop me.”

  The agent lifted his shoulders. “Ms. Duvall, nobody knows about this meeting.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.” She flicked the napkin in his face. “I got the car’s license number, and I’m giving it to the police.”

  The agents hadn’t noticed him, so Joe busied himself with brushing off his jeans and then helping the store’s employees right the tables and chairs.

  A cop car pulled up to the curb, and an officer stepped out. Before the cop could get one word out of his mouth, Hailey rushed up to him with her napkin.

  “I got the license plate.”

  “Slow down.” He plucked the napkin from her fingers. “What happened here?”

  Hailey launched into her description of the events and jabbed her finger at the napkin in the officer’s hand when she reached the end of her narrative. “That’s the license number of the car, a blue four-door sedan.”

  “Nobody was hurt?”

  “I was the only one sitting outside, and the car didn’t reach the building.”

  “Did the driver lose control of the car? Did he ever get out of the vehicle?”

  “It was a hit-and-run. He rammed the tables, backed up and took off.” Hailey licked her lips and flicked a gaze at Joe. “It might have been deliberate. I was here to meet with a couple of FBI agents about...another matter.”

  The officer raised his brows as the agents crowded Joe and Hailey.

  “Ms. Duvall, we’d like to talk to the officer privately for a few moments. We’d still like to hear what you have to say. Can you meet us inside? All this—” the agent swept his arm across the scene “—hasn’t scared you off, has it?”

  “Absolutely not.” She charged past the agents and into the coffeehouse.

  Joe followed, hot on her heels, and leaned over her shoulder at the counter as she ordered another cappuccino. “Add a black coffee to go to that order and I’ll pay for both.”

  Hailey cranked her head around. “Are you okay after that stunt you pulled?”

  “Stunt? I was trying to stop the car. I figured I could drag the guy out and get some answers from him.”

  “Looked like he was ready to drag you down the street under his wheels. We’ll leave it up to the police to get answers.”

  “Do you really think that car is going to come back to the person who tried to interrupt your meeting with the FBI?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she flicked her bangs from her eyes. “So you believe me?”

  “Oh, yeah. That was a warning. Would he have done that with the FBI agents sitting next to you? I’m not sure about that, but he saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “Someone must be following me.” Her gaze tracked over his shoulder and scanned the street behind him. “Do they really think that’s going to scare me off?”

  “I’m sure it would do the trick for anyone else.” Hearing the agents’ voices, Joe put his finger to his lips as he reached past her and grabbed his coffee. “Remember, keep my name out of this.”

  She shot a glance at the two Fibbies coming through the door. “Got it.”

  Raising the cup to his lips, he whispered through the steam, “Meet me at the tailor’s shop when you’re done.”

  She nodded and then lifted her chin toward the two agents. “Table by the window?”

  Joe slipped out of the coffeehouse and sipped from his cup as he leaned against the pole listing the schedule at the bus stop.

  Hailey would have quite a story to tell those agents, but would they believe her with no proof? And could they protect her, or would that be up to him?

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER Hailey yanked open the door of the tailor her father had used for almost thirty years and tripped to a stop. A dapper man in a black tux tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and did a half turn in front of the mirror.

  “Are you sure this slim fit is the thing?”

  “It’s made for a build like yours, sir.”

  Hailey dabbed the corner of her mouth to make sure no drool had escaped and then strode across the floor of the small shop.

  “Working your magic, Tony?”

  “He’s got the physique this particular designer had in mind when he created this tux.”

  Joe shrugged out of the jacket. “Tony doesn’t have anything cheap in here, but you probably know that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I told you this is your payment. After you sit through that boring evening, you’re going to understand that I’m coming out ahead in this deal.”

  “How’d the meeting go?”

  “I’ll tell you over lunch.” She ran a hand across a rack of jackets, the silky material sliding through her fingers. “Are you almost done with him, Tony?”

  “I will return him to you as soon as he picks out a vest, and then he’s all yours.”

  Hailey’s mouth watered at the prospect of Joe McVie being all hers.

  Joe unbuttoned his pants, and her mouth watered even more.

  “I’m done. Maybe Hailey will do the honors and pick out something for me while I get dressed. I trust her taste a lot more than mine.” He retreated behind the dressing room curtain.

  “He’s lying, you know.” Tony winked as he gathered his tape measure and pins.

  “About?” Wouldn’t be the first time or the last a man lied to her.

  “Joe has impeccable taste.”

  “Then I’d better do him justice.” Hailey selected a black vest for Joe. He didn’t need any colors or gimmicks to show off. The man could shine wearing nothing but his skivvies—and she might even pay to see that.

  She signed off on the purchase just as Joe made his way out of the dressing room, the slacks and shirt draped over one arm.

  He dropped them on the counter, and Hailey shoved them toward Tony. “Joe told you this was a rush job, didn’t he?”

  “He did. Good thing he mentioned your name before he said he wanted it in a hurry or I would’ve told him to hit the bricks.”

  She squeezed Tony’s arm. “Now you’re the liar. You’d never tell a customer to get lost, but I appreciate your service, Tony.”

  As she and Joe stepped through the door, Tony called after her, “Give my best to your father.”

  “Will do.” She waved behind her.

  Joe took her arm. “Back to business.”

  “And lunch. Chinese? We can walk to Chinatown from here.”

  “I could use some fresh air.”

  Hailey kept the conversation casual as they strolled to Chinatown, and Joe didn’t seem to mind the chitchat after all his talk about business. Why was he so afraid to mix a little pleasure with their work?

  They joined the hustle and bustle of Chinatown, the sights, smells and sounds putting an end to any communication between them except for the occasional jab in the ribs or a pointing finger.

  When Hailey spotted Superior Best, her favorite Chinese restaurant, she tugged on Joe’s sleeve and leaned in close. “We’re eating there.”

  They cut sideways through the crowd and ducked into the dark embrace of the restaurant.

  Lottie Chu, matriarch of the Chu family and its businesses, greeted Hailey with a spark in her dark eyes and a curt nod. “Table for two, Hailey?”

  “Yes, please, Lottie. This is my...friend Joe.”

  Lottie clasped the ornate menus to her chest, drumming her fingernails on the embossed covers and narrowing her eyes. “You a good friend to Hailey, Joe?”

&nbs
p; “I think I’ve been a good friend so far, but you’ll have to ask Hailey.”

  Hailey rolled her eyes. “Joe’s a good guy, Lottie. Can we please sit down now?”

  The old woman hunched her thin shoulders and led them to a table in the back of the room. She smacked the menus on the table. “Sit. Good table for good guy.”

  When Lottie turned and scurried to the front door to intercept a family of tourists, Joe pulled out Hailey’s chair and swiped the back of his hand across his brow. “Whew. I’m glad I sort of passed that test.”

  “I’ve known Lottie for years.” Hailey turned over her teacup and whipped the napkin into her lap. “My father used to take me here when I was a little girl, and Lottie has gotten somewhat protective over the years.”

  “Yeah, just a little. She seemed ready to bite my head off, though she doesn’t even look five feet tall.”

  “She’s not, but don’t let her size fool you.” Hailey thanked the waiter for the tea and held the pot over Joe’s cup. “Tea?”

  “Sure.”

  She shoved one of the heavy menus toward him. “Any preferences?”

  “I’ll let you do the honors—just no octopus or anything else I can’t identify on my plate.”

  “I’ll stick to chicken, beef and pork.”

  When the waiter returned, Hailey ordered some safe dishes and then picked up her teacup and inhaled the light scent of the green tea before taking a sip. “The car was stolen.”

  “Figures.” Joe slammed the cup back into the saucer, and his tea sloshed into the saucer.

  “That license plate I was so proud of identifying? It came back to a stolen car from San Jose. One of the officers told us that while we were still at the coffeehouse.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Joe dragged the napkin from his lap and wiped the tea from his hand. “Were there any cameras? Did the coffeehouse or any of the other businesses have cameras on the street?”

  “They did, and the police may or may not look at that footage.”

  “You’re telling me they’re not taking this very seriously.”

  “That’s right—a single-car accident, he didn’t injure anyone and the damage was minimal, even though it was a hit-and-run.” She clinked her cup back into the saucer. “I thought they might at least want to recover the stolen car, but I guess it’s not a high priority right now. I also suggested that the guy might be a terrorist just to light a fire under them, but since the sidewalk was mostly empty—except for me—the police didn’t buy that theory.”

  “And the FBI? Did the agents believe it might be someone trying to stop your meeting with them?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “They didn’t discount that idea, but I guess they would’ve been more convinced if I’d wound up dead.”

  “Too bad you had to disappoint them.” He drained the small teacup, which looked like a thimble in his hand. “You told them about Marten and Andrew?”

  “I did, but there’s still no proof Marten was ever on that ferry, and they’re not interested in his black hat. There’s not even any proof that someone went overboard.”

  “And you don’t have that video with Andrew to show them.”

  She smacked the edge of the table with her fingertips. “I should’ve sent it to them as soon as I received it. I should’ve sent it to you.”

  “You had no idea someone would wipe it clean from your computer, but I should’ve thought of that and had you send it to me.”

  “I had no idea that was even a thing.” She smiled at the waiter as he rolled a cart up to their table with a host of covered dishes.

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Is there an army you plan to feed when we’re done?”

  “I thought you might be hungry after all the excitement today.” She rubbed her hands together as the Szechuan spices tickled her nose. “I know I am.”

  “I took you for one of those women who eat a stalk of celery and one cracker and call it a day.”

  “Ah, the narcissistic socialite type you ran into on Beacon Hill.” She dug into the kung pao chicken and ladled it over her steamed rice. “Should I be offended?”

  “I know damn well you’re not a narcissistic socialite. No socialite I know would put herself in danger to help others halfway around the world.”

  “Know many socialites other than the ones your mom worked for?”

  “Um, not really.” He sucked some sauce off the edge of his thumb. “But now you’re the gold standard of all socialites.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks and she hadn’t even sampled the spicy entrées yet. “Anyway, I’m tall and naturally skinny, and I do like running up and down these hills in the city.”

  Joe cleared his throat and dipped his chin to his chest, as if he’d just become aware that their banter had veered toward the personal and she’d given him too much information.

  “So, the agents didn’t believe you.” Joe scrutinized his forkful of food before putting it in his mouth.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but without any proof that someone is offing the aid workers who were duped into bombing the refugee camp, there’s not much they can do. You know how it goes.”

  “Nobody brought up my name, did they?”

  “You don’t trust me?” She pinched a piece of chicken between her chopsticks.

  “I trust you. I’m just curious as to whether or not I’m on their radar. I told you that two of my Delta Force team members have already delved into the mystery behind Major Denver’s actions. I’m wondering if the FBI or CIA has started connecting the dots yet.”

  “There are dots to connect? Is this a planned and concerted investigation?”

  “Planned and concerted?” Joe shook his head. “Try haphazard and blundering, but we’re all committed to doing our part to look into what we know is a setup. Denver would do no less for one of us.”

  “Nobody mentioned your name or Denver’s. I told them I thought someone was trying to keep the four of us quiet, starting with Marten and continuing with Andrew and even taking a chance on me right before the meeting.”

  “Speaking of the four of you, have you heard back from the nurse yet?”

  “Not yet.” Hailey checked her phone just to make sure Ayala hadn’t sent her an email in the past hour.

  “Did you offer any suggestions for the motive behind these attacks?”

  “I did not, and the agents wondered the same. While they didn’t dismiss my fears out of hand, they did question why someone would want to muzzle us.”

  “After what my two teammates discovered about Denver so far, I would’ve thought they might put two and two together. But that would require them to think outside the box and to entertain the idea that someone on the inside—CIA, DoD, the army or maybe even their own agency—has some kind of vendetta against Denver.”

  “I can tell you right now, that’s not how they’re thinking.” She aimed a chopstick at his plate. “Do you like the food?”

  “It’s great—better with this.” He held up his fork. “Gets the food to my stomach faster than chopsticks.”

  “I knew you’d be hungry.” She placed her chopsticks across the edge of her plate. “So, the FBI is no use, although the agents did say they’d look into Andrew’s whereabouts.”

  “And Marten’s? They could start with his phone. Did you tell them someone texted you from Marten’s phone after the ferry incident?”

  “They’re going to put in an order to ping his phone.”

  “Have you tried texting the phone since the time right after the incident on the ferry?”

  “I’ve texted him a few times, but there’s been no response, and they don’t look like they’re being delivered.”

  “More tea, Hailey?” Lottie had returned to the table with the check on a tray with some fortune cookies. She placed the tray firmly in front of Joe.

  Hailey covere
d her smile with her hand. “None for me. Lunch was delicious as usual. You could send the waiter back here with some to-go boxes, though.”

  Lottie raised her hand over her head and snapped her fingers. “Danny. Boxes over here.”

  Joe made a show of grabbing the check and taking out his wallet.

  Lottie looked down her nose and pursed her lips into a smile. “Good guy. You keep, Hailey.”

  Laughing, Hailey shook her head at Joe, whose face almost matched the red wallpaper in the restaurant, which was a couple of shades brighter than his hair. “He’s not mine to keep, Lottie.”

  “Maybe you see it in fortune.” Lottie tapped the tray, and the fortune cookies jumped.

  When Lottie scurried away to another table, Joe held up a twenty-dollar bill. “Do you think this is a big enough tip? Lottie scares me.”

  “She’s just toying with us. She likes to play the role of tiger mom for the tourists, but she’s actually an extremely astute and modern businesswoman. Her son and daughter run the family’s financial empire now, but Lottie is the one who grew it.”

  “I can believe that.”

  Danny, clearly in awe of Lottie himself, not only brought over the to-go containers, but he filled them up with their leftovers. Once he’d bagged them, Joe handed him the check along with several bills.

  Hailey wiggled her fingers over the cookies. “I love fortune cookies. Superior Best gets theirs from the fortune cookie factory around the corner, so they’re super fresh.”

  Joe snatched one of the cookies from beneath her fingers and cracked it open. “Ah, but are they accurate?”

  “Well?” She tapped a chopstick against Joe’s teacup. “What does yours say?”

  His eyes widened, and he twisted his head around to track Lottie’s flitting progress across the restaurant. “She planted this.”

  “Not possible. C’mon, out with it.”

  Pinching the little slip of paper between his thumb and forefinger, he read aloud. “‘You will meet a dark-haired beauty. Take a chance.’”

  “No! You’re lying.” She snatched the fortune from his fingers and held it up to her face. The exact words he’d just read danced before her eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past Lottie, but I don’t see how she could’ve managed that. I could’ve picked that one.”