“And the tall, ugly guy is Anderson,” Brayden added.
She turned to look at the blond man—who was more underwear-model good-looking than ugly—and offered him an awkward wave. “Hey, Anderson.”
He nodded and gave her charming smile that lit up his eyes. “Good to meet you, Alessandra. Sorry you got caught up in our mocking. But I honestly don’t think Rush has ever had a girlfriend who wasn’t a part of an undercover sting.”
“Hey, now,” Rush protested.
“C’mon, buddy,” said Harley. “You know it’s true.”
“I’m starting to wonder why I wanted you here,” Rush said.
“Think it has something to do with saving your butt,” Brayden replied. “But we should probably talk and fly. Captain wasn’t all that thrilled about giving us the chopper, and if we’re gonna track down Alessandra’s dad without getting fired, we need to move.”
“How did you know about my dad?” Alessandra blurted.
Rush slid his fingers down to hers. “I suspect that’s what we need to talk about.”
Frowning so hard it made her head ache, Alessandra let him lead her over to the helicopter. She climbed into the seat he gestured to, then held still as he brought down a harness and strapped her in. He gave her a quick kiss, tightened the belts, then handed her a headset.
“Put this on,” he said. “Only one person can talk at a time, but the noise canceling is pretty good, and everyone will be able to hear.”
“So no secrets!” Harley joked as he climbed in across from her and donned his own headset, then dropped his voice and whispered into the mic, “I mean it.”
Rush gave his friend a playful shove and joined them inside, and Brayden quickly followed. Anderson, though, made his way into the cockpit.
“He’s flying this thing?” Alessandra, her own voice echoing through the earphones.
Brayden smiled and spoke into his own mic. “Better him than the rest of us. Anderson is a man of many talents.”
“Good to know,” she replied drily.
Then the engine rumbled to life, and for a moment, everyone went silent. Alessandra clung nervously to Rush’s hand, but the helicopter lifted smoothly into the air, and it was obvious that Anderson was a capable pilot. When they were up and moving, Brayden’s voice filled the headset.
“You remember Captain Rohan?” he asked. “Big guy. Birthmark in the shape of a star on his forehead?”
“Sure,” Rush replied. “Retired right before the you-know-what hit the fan.”
“That’s the guy,” said Brayden. “Right before he retired—I mean right before...like twelve hours before he handed over his service weapon—he happened to walk into a room at the station. The officers investigating the bombing were in there, viewing all these surveillance videos. Hundreds of ’em, I think. Anyway, they were playing this particular one from outside a bar, and Rohan spied some guy standing on the stoop. He recognized him. Wanna guess who?”
“Randall Rivers,” Rush filled in.
Brayden nodded. “Yep. Only problem is...the guy’s supposed to be dead.” He paused and offered Alessandra an apologetic look, then went on. “But Rohan’s certain it’s him, and he makes a big deal about it. For twelve hours, anyway. Tries like crazy to figure out if Rivers is somehow still alive. Dead ends everywhere. The new boss tells him it’s just a doppelgänger. So Rohan retires and has to let it go. But for the next fifteen years, it’s always on the back of his mind.”
“The case that got away,” Harley interjected.
“Exactly,” Brayden said. “But he carried on. Traveled with his wife for a while, then ran for city councilman. He’s held his seat for the last decade, but was just about to re-retire.”
“Let me guess...” Rush said. “In twelve hours?”
Brayden grinned. “Five, actually. But this morning, he got a call.”
“From my dad?” Alessandra asked.
“In a roundabout way,” Brayden told her. “He actually left a message for our captain. Identified himself as a CI and said he had information about Jesse Garibaldi. And—thank God—there was a coincidental overlap. Current boss happened to be in that room all those years ago when Rohan made a fuss about Randall Rivers.”
“Hell of a thing,” Rush stated, his awe audible even through the headset.
“No kidding,” his partner agreed. “Knowing we were still working on this, the captain reached out to me. Very kindly added some resources to our otherwise limited budget. Hence our ability to get here so quick. And the chopper, of course. Unfortunately, the number Rivers had left didn’t get an answer, but we were able to trace the call. Harley took that and used his networking skills to figure out where Randall was living, then used his magical powers to figure out he was here in Whispering Woods.”
“I used the magic of technology,” Harley corrected. “Which is the same way I found Rush and Alessandra.”
“You see it your way, bro, I see it mine.” Brayden grinned, then added, “Been trying since this morning to get a hold of you, Rush. Couple hours in, and we thought it was best to bring the party here.”
“Glad you were thinking of me, Mom,” Rush replied.
“You complaining?” Harley asked.
He shook his head and smiled. “No. Glad as anything to have you guys here. But I’m also pretty damned curious about how you found us way the hell out here.”
“Good old-fashioned triangulation with a dash of thermal imaging,” his stocky friend explained. “Traced your phone to the cabins. Found some interesting stuff. But not you. So we went back up, and Anderson had the brilliant idea of using the thermal cameras. Found you on our first sweep.”
Alessandra had to admit that the whole thing was impressive. The quickness of Rush’s partners’ reaction and arrival. The way they’d put the puzzle pieces together and tracked them down. And there was more than a small part of her that was pleased that her father was the catalyst behind it.
Smiling to herself, she settled back in her seat, eager to hear what the plan was for moving forward. But before anyone said another word, the headset crackled in an odd way, and an unfamiliar voice filled her ears.
* * *
It only took a second for Rush to realize that the choppy incoming message was a broadcast from the local police.
“Any and all available units,” said the unknown female voice, sounding more worried than a typical dispatcher. “Please respond to a report of a code twelve-thirty. Two vehicles involved, suspects unknown.”
Rush exchanged a look with Brayden and Harley, but it was Anderson who replied to the call.
“Dispatch, this is Detective Anderson Somers with the Freemont PD,” he said, then reeled off his credentials and asked, “Did you say a twelve-thirty? Dangerous driving?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the woman on the other end. “Two vehicles sped through town. One took out a stop sign. I wasn’t sure what else to call it, and there’s no one to respond.” She paused, then let out a sigh that made the headset pop in a wince-inducing way. “I’m sorry, Detective. It’s my first day on the job.”
“It’s all right,” said Anderson in his usual nice-guy way. “It can be overwhelming. Give me a recap. Why can’t anyone respond?”
“Everyone’s attending the warehouse fire in the industrial district.”
Rush tossed another look toward his friends, then squeezed Alessandra’s hand. She squeezed back.
“Tell me a little more about the two cars,” Anderson said into the radio. “And give me a location. We’ll attend.”
The dispatcher muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, thank God,” then said, “Both vehicles are making their way to the main road out of town. Vehicle one is an older sedan, light blue or gray in color. Vehicle two is described as a black town car. None of the complainants—there were four—got a look at the drivers except to say they thou
ght the person in vehicle one had a beard.”
Randall Rivers.
Alessandra’s hand tightened in Rush’s in silent agreement of his unspoken thought.
“Copy,” Anderson replied. “We’re on our way.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
The radio crackled again, then went silent.
“Anyone in here doubt that the two cars belong to Garibaldi and Rivers?” Anderson asked.
There were no murmurs of disagreement, so Rush said, “Only one way in and one way out of town. And a helicopter makes a pretty good blockade.”
“Agreed,” said Brayden. “Anderson, can you take us out past the edge of town and set us down across the road? We should be able to surprise our targets and eliminate any kind of collateral damage at the same time.”
“You got it, Maxwell,” Anderson replied.
Rush felt the helicopter shift, and a quiet couple of minutes later, they were completing their descent. The helicopter touched down on top of a winding piece of road—the topmost point before the road found its way back to the other side of the mountain that held Whispering Woods—and the four men quickly worked out the details.
Brayden and Harley would flank the chopper and prepare for the likelihood of an assault on foot.
Anderson would stay inside and use the helicopter as armor if he needed to.
Rush would take Alessandra up the road and find her a safe place to hide in the woods until it was over.
“Gonna fight me on that one, Red?” he asked as he helped her unbuckle the sticky clips of her harness.
Her blue eyes met his gaze. “No. So long as you’re not going to fight me on staying with me.”
He bent to kiss her lips. “Nothing I want more than to be your personal bodyguard.”
From outside the helicopter, Harley snorted. “Bodyguard, he says. I’m not sure that’s the word he’s looking for.”
Rush shot a dirty look toward his friend. “You’re a serious pain in the—”
A furious, extended car horn in the distance cut him off.
“Dammit,” Anderson swore. “I think they’re going to get here quicker than we thought they would. Let’s move.”
Not wanting to waste any time, Rush slid his hands to Alessandra’s hips and lifted her straight up. As he moved toward the open door, though, he realized he didn’t really have any time to waste. The two cars were already visible just down the hill, and it was easy to see why they’d arrived so much faster than expected—they were traveling at breakneck speed. They’d be there in mere minutes.
Rush watched for another few seconds.
The light blue sedan was visibly rattling with the effort of the speed, but it still managed to keep up with the slick town car. As the two vehicles rounded the bend, the sedan actually smacked into the town car’s bumper and sent it careering back and forth. For a second, it almost looked like Garibaldi was going to go off the road completely. After a moment, though, the town car regained control. And now Randall’s sedan had dropped behind.
Damn.
Without checking on his partners—he knew they’d be moving into position already—Rush belatedly grabbed Alessandra’s hand and tugged. She came easily, following him to the forest that lined the road. He kept going for a few more feet—until they were safely out of view of the road—then stopped, wrapped his arms around her, and strained to listen. For a second, there was nothing. Then came the competing car engines and the sound of tires spinning against dirt. Rush tensed, and he felt Alessandra’s hand land on the small of his back. The roars grew louder and louder.
They should be stopping, he thought. Or at least slowing down.
Both Garibaldi and Randall should’ve spotted the helicopter by now, and they should’ve been adjusting accordingly. But the revs were only getting higher.
“Are they still speeding up?” Alessandra whispered, her eyes widening as the engine noise seemed to rise all around. “Oh God. They are speeding up? Why?”
The question brought the answer straight into Rush’s head, and he voiced it aloud before he could think to stop himself. “They’re not trying to stop. They’re playing a glorified game of chicken.”
“But...” Alessandra trailed off in a quaver, then drew a breath. “My dad really won’t stop. Not if it means letting Jesse win. If he thinks he can bait Jesse into crashing...”
“I know.”
“We have to do something, Rush. He could die.”
His mind was already churning with the possible directions the situation could take, the most probable one taking root.
His partners would soon—if they hadn’t already—note the lack of a decrease in speed, and they’d come up with a defensive plan. Evasive action, likely, because Garibaldi would happily plow straight through them. Hell. Rush wouldn’t put it past him to drive into them on purpose, then try to steal the damned chopper.
And Alessandra was right about her father. Even the brief interaction they’d had was enough to make Rush sure that the other man was utterly determined to make amends for the years he’d lost. He would keep going, and whether he hit the helicopter or the tree line, disaster was the only outcome.
What will get him to stop?
Knowing the answer, but dreading it, too, Rush turned toward Alessandra.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice a little rougher than he intended it to be.
Alessandra blinked, visibly startled by his tone. Her mouth opened, but he didn’t wait for her to say anything. Instead, he pulled her in and slammed his mouth to hers in a fierce kiss. He counted to five—it was all the time he dared take—before he let her go.
“Rush,” she said worriedly as he pulled back. “What’s happening?”
He couldn’t meet her eyes as he reached down and unbuckled his belt. “Promise me you’ll stay here.”
“Stay here?”
“Please.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I need to know that you’re going to make it out of here alive.”
“And you expect me to do what? Just accept that you’re going to die?”
He slid the belt free, then reached for her hands. She tried to jerk back, but he was quicker. He slapped the strip of leather to her wrists and wound it around, steeling himself against her vehement protests and attempts to get free of his grasp. He was done in moments, and he pulled her to the nearest sapling, then haphazardly lashed her to it.
“I’m sorry, Red,” he said. “Really.”
“You’re sorry?” she replied incredulously. “You’re tying me up!”
“Tied you up,” he corrected as he stepped back.
It wasn’t tight, and he was sure she would be able to get out of the bonds in minutes. But he still felt like crap.
“For the love of God, why?” she asked.
“Because I know it’s the only way you’ll stay behind.”
“What if someone comes? What if one of Jesse’s men finds me?”
He heard the desperation in her tone, and he knew she didn’t believe it was a possibility any more than he did.
“They won’t get here any quicker than you can get yourself out,” he said gently. “Not unless they have their own helicopter.”
“Rush.”
“Red.”
“Please.”
He wanted to kiss her again. To apologize again, too. And to beg for her forgiveness. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He needed to act on the realization that had popped into his head—the fact that the only thing that would stop Randall Rivers from his current kamikaze mission would be knowing it would directly hurt his daughter. And Rush had to make sure Alessandra didn’t figure that out and do something rash on her own.
He gave her a final regretful look, then spun on his heel and took off at a run.
Chapter 20
For a few stunn
ed seconds, Alessandra stared after Rush. She didn’t know what he was planning, but she knew whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly end well. Undoubtedly, he was headed back to the helicopter and right into danger. And that hurt as much as being tied up.
This is going to be bad. She shoved off the overly obvious thought with a mental scoff. Oh, was that fact in doubt? Him leaving you tied up wasn’t enough of a clue? And speaking of which...maybe you should do something about that instead of standing here staring blankly.
She shook her head and turned her attention to the belt. It was loose enough that it didn’t chafe, but not so loose that she stood any chance of sliding her hands free. She gave it one yank, then another before realizing her actions were only tightening it more.
Gritting her teeth and trying to keep from crying, Alessandra looked around for another option. When none immediately presented itself, she decided her best bet was to go feral. She bared her teeth and tried to drop them to the belt. Her hands wouldn’t lift high enough. Still. She wasn’t going to give up. She started to crouch down, figuring if she couldn’t get the belt to her mouth, she could do the reverse. But as she made the move, her sandals—for the first time ever—failed her. The front edge of one caught on protruding root, and with a cry, she fell forward. Her knees smacked the ground, and her mouth met the mud.
Spitting out bits of dirt and twigs between her words, she muttered, “You...phh...can’t...phh...be...phh...serious.”
She tried to push to her feet, but pain shot through her legs. And her palms stung like nobody’s business, too. A glance down told her why. Her hands had landed straight in a prickle-covered bush.
A prickle-covered bush. Realization hit. My hands.
She lifted them up and stared down. She was free of the belt. Somewhere in the middle of the fall, it had come off completely.
Elated, she started again to stand. But halfway up, a series of horrible noises filled the air and froze her to the spot. First came a screeching, metal-on-metal noise that made every part of her cringe. Next came a boom-smash-boom that she swore bordered on supersonic. Then came the unmistakable crack of a discharging weapon.
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