by Norris, Kris
“Time and resources are precious. Not practical to waste either. Not when you don’t know if you’re going to have to adapt before the op’s done.”
“Not sure I want to see what you do when you adapt. But, I’ll see your gun’s returned once we’re finished with the tests. Though, I’m sure you have a few spares. Anything else?”
He released a slow breath. “I guess not.”
“You do know that we hire a lot of ex-soldiers, don’t you? With your experience and impressive record, I’m betting you’d be offered a permanent placement, as long as you scored well on the entrance tests.”
Cannon chuckled. “The day I handed in my official retirement papers, two men were waiting in my CO’s office. Said something similar.”
“Feds?”
“CIA. Apparently, ex-Delta soldiers are their flavor of choice for their Specialized Activities Division. SAD for short. And, as much as I’d prefer the Marshal Service over the Agency, I think I’ll stay on this side for a while. See what’s out there.”
“Understood. Drop by next week, and I’ll get that badge and ID to you.”
“Will do.”
He left, pausing for a moment before heading to Jericho’s desk. She was engrossed in a set of papers spread out across the surface. Most likely a report. She looked up when he stopped in front of her, her lips instantly lifting into a beautiful smile.
Damn, she shouldn’t smile at him like that. Made his thoughts scatter. Made it impossible to focus on anything other than the tone of her skin. How smooth it looked, and how he couldn’t wait to touch every inch of it.
He nodded at her arm. “How’s the wound?”
“Stings, but…it’s okay. They finally letting you go?”
“Looks like it. Funny thing. Seems I’ve somehow become a Special Deputy Marshal. Hadn’t realized I’d filled out the paperwork.”
She closed her eyes then sighed, slowly rising before joining him on his side of the desk. She looked up at him—all deep green eyes and pale pink lips. “I was hoping to talk to you before, but—”
“But you were busy calling your uncle.”
“Meant to tell you about that, too. I just… I didn’t want this to bite you in the ass.”
“I do have a few connections. You didn’t have to ask Hastings for something if it made you uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? Are you kidding? The man was practically beaming over the phone. Pretty sure I heard him mutter to my aunt about how I’d finally called on him for help. He’s also a big fan of yours. Said you’ve done a few jobs for him. Off the record, of course. All top notch work.” She gave him a slight hip bump. “Besides, you’re worth it.”
“This is crazy. You know that, right?”
“Actually, I thought I was merely taking your advice. You did tell me to make sure I was safe. Now, if I need you, I can just call. Ask you, officially, for help.”
“Based on how trouble seems to follow you around, I should probably get a phone just for you.”
“See? I knew you’d come around.”
He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her neck. “Pretty sure it’s you, who’ll be coming. Repeatedly.” He eased back. “You done? Can I drive you home?”
Her breathing roughened as she glanced at her desk. “Report’s done. I can finish any other details later.” She grabbed her purse. “Maybe we can pick up my Jeep tomorrow?”
“I’ll have a buddy grab it, if you’re okay with that? We might be a bit…busy to make the trip, ourselves.”
“I like the sound of that—”
“Nash.”
She turned. “Art. Everything okay?”
He sighed, waving Dave over to join them. “I know you’re both tired, and Jericho should be heading home for mandated twenty-four hour decompression, but… Brenner just called. Turns out Patrick Wilson was connected to Ty Brown. Was allegedly carrying out a few jobs for him via some prison pipe line.” He glanced at Cannon. “Ty Brown is—”
“A hitman for the Macmillan family. Was arrested a couple of months ago, and has been biding his time in the State Pen ever since.” Cannon looked around at them. “What? I read.”
Art shook his head. “Anyway, after tonight’s showdown, they’ve decided to move Mr. Brown. And Brenner would like the two of you to do the honors. I guess there have been a few threats directed toward the guy.”
Jericho scoffed. “That happens when you have enough information stored inside your head to bring down the Macmillan’s empire. I thought Brown wasn’t talking?”
“He’s not. But the feds seem to think if they move him, now, make it look as if he’s receiving preferential treatment after the untimely death of Wilson…”
“The family will think he made a deal. Possibly ratted out Wilson.”
“And then, he will make a deal. Especially if the marshals moving him are the ones who brought him in then took Wilson out of the picture. I know it’s shitty timing, but… You help keep our best Assistant U.S. Attorney happy, and I’ll personally see to it your asses get the next seventy-two hours off.”
Jericho groaned but nodded. “When are we leaving?”
“Got a car waiting for you downstairs. You should be able to catch a couple of hours in Walla Walla before you have to pick him up. I’ll make reservations for you. Text you the info.”
“This night just keeps getting better. Fine, but I’m turning my phone off after, Art. For all seventy-two hours.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just call Cannon if I need to get through to you.”
Dave snorted. “Great. Four hours with the love birds texting back and forth.” He turned slightly. “We should head out. I have plans tomorrow night, and I’d rather not have to break them after fighting for six months to get a chance. I’ll meet you out in the car.”
Cannon watched Dave leave, nodding at Art before the man returned to his office. Just Cannon’s luck. He finally realizes how much Jericho means to him—has plans to spend the day in bed with her—and she gets called away.
Jericho touched his arm. “Timing sucks, doesn’t it? But, I’ll be back tonight. We can still have dinner. It’ll give you time to figure out how you’re going to seduce me afterwards.”
He laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. I already seduced you on the ride over.”
“Oh, so you think us sleeping together is a done deal?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask your Uncle Jack?”
She laughed—louder than he had. An adorable blush coloring her cheeks. “I’ll call as soon as we drop Brown off.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He snagged her arm. “You gonna be okay? Thanks to you, I could come if you thought you were in danger.”
“Being in danger kind of comes with the job.” She smiled. “I’ll be fine. Moved prisoners a thousand times. One-on-one is pretty routine. And no one ever knows the route until we file it with the service when we leave. It’s about as safe as this job gets. Now, Con Air. Multiple prisoner vans and buses… That’s another story.”
“You have my number—”
“If anything goes wrong. Yeah. But it won’t. I’ll call once it’s done. We restrict cell use during the actual transfer—just to be safe. In case someone tries to ping our location.”
She took a step then moved back, reaching up and tracing one hand across his jaw and along his shoulder before tapping his chin. “See you tonight. And, in case you were wondering, I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I. So, see that you get your ass back in one piece.”
Chapter Eight
Six o’clock. And they were just, now, getting into Seattle. God, it felt as if they’d been in the car for days, not hours, but…prolonged silence had a way of dragging the time out. Making each minute feel like ten.
Jericho leaned her head against the seat then glanced over at Dave. He’d insisted on driving the last half of their trip back from Walla Walla. Had said he wanted to make sure they made good time so he wasn’t late for his meeting. He’d actually sa
id that. Meeting. Which had struck her as odd. Hadn’t he said he had plans with Shauna?
She’d asked him about it, but he’d mumbled something that hadn’t made a lot of sense, then just shut her out. She’d been tempted to strike up a conversation with Ty Brown. She hadn’t. The guy was a major creep. Had spent the entire time they’d been readying him at the prison then driving back simply staring at her. Never talking, just those dead eyes following her every move. Even now, he was in the back, head turned toward her. Disturbing smile on his face.
Jericho rolled her shoulders. The bastard was just trying to get under her skin. Unnerve her. It happened all the time. Being female still had some drawbacks in this line of work, and one of them was having assholes like Brown focus on her. Maybe they thought she was weak—could be bribed or overpowered. Or maybe they just hadn’t learned any manners. Either way, she wasn’t easily intimidated.
Her phone buzzed against her side. She turned a bit, pulled her cell out of her pocket enough to read the text.
It’s after six, sweetheart. We might have to jump straight to where I seduce you. Order pizza, later.
She smiled then stuck the phone back in her pocket. They’d be at the office soon—where Brown would stay in their lockup for a day until the feds decided where they wanted him. More fuel for their ruse. Just another twenty minutes, and she’d have three days off. Could text Cannon back.
Dave cleared his throat. “You’re not going to answer him, are you?”
She glanced over at him, frowning. “Do I look like I just graduated from Glynco, yesterday? I know better than to text of call during a transfer. Jesus, Dave, give me a bit more credit.”
“I don’t know, Jer, This guy’s different. I mean…you called Jack. Jack!” He shifted his focus to her for a moment. One of the only times he’d actually looked her in the eyes since they’d left Walla Walla. “You swore you’d never call him for anything.”
Was there a tone in Dave’s voice? Because it sure sounded like it. Part jealousy, part anger. Not that it made any sense.
She shrugged. “I’ve never had to have a civilian rescue my ass, before. Extreme situations call for extreme measures.”
Dave grunted. “I already apologized for not showing up sooner. Not sure what else you want from me.”
“How about you level with me? Tell me what the hell is going on, because this isn’t the first time. In fact, I’ve been covering your ass for months. You blow off meetings. You come in late, leave early. I’ve lied so many times to Art, I don’t even know what the truth is, anymore.”
She scrubbed a hand down her face. “Are you in trouble?”
He clenched his jaw, jumping the muscle in his temple. “I’m fine. This thing with Shauna just really knocked me for a loop. But… I’m dealing. Taking steps to fix everything.”
“Is that what you were going to tell me last night? I mean, I didn’t question why you wanted to meet at Malone’s. You and I both suspect it’s backed by the Macmillans. But, whatever. They have great burgers and nachos, so I brushed it off. But, you said you wanted to make things right. I’m still waiting to hear what that entails.”
“I didn’t know the place was going to get hit.”
“I never said you did. It’s just…” She paused. Took a deep breath. Losing her cool wasn’t going to solve anything, and it sure wasn’t going to convince Dave to be honest with her.
She forced her muscles to relax, making a point of staring out the window—giving him a chance to collect himself. “I just want you to be honest with me. We’ve been working together for eight years. Had each other’s backs through some pretty nasty crap. You know I’m here for you, right?” She glanced at him then turned away, again. “If it’s something…bad. If you’re into something the service would disapprove of, we can deal with it discreetly. I have connections. I’ll call in favors. All you have to do is talk to me.”
“I… Wait. Is that black Suburban following us?”
She looked in the passenger mirror. “I’ve been checking. It joined on the last on-ramp. Haven’t noticed anything odd.”
“How would you when you’re staring at your phone half the time?”
Jericho whipped her head around. “What is your problem? No, seriously? This isn’t like you.”
He met her gaze. “Maybe you just don’t know me as well as I know you.” He motioned toward the rearview. “It’s definitely following us. I’m taking the next exit.”
“What? Wait…”
But he was already swerving into the lane—cutting in front traffic, peeling off the interstate. Damn near flipping them over in the process while he alternated his attention between the road and the mirrors.
Jericho searched behind them. “It didn’t follow us down. So, feel free to stop trying to kill us. We should head back out. Resume the route.”
“And have them pick us back up? I don’t think so. We can take ninety-nine or Colorado Ave.”
“Through the industrial district? Are you high? Do you know how many places there are between here and the office that we could get waylaid?”
“Yeah, I’m aware. But, if someone is looking for us on the interstate, it’s safer to stick to the small streets. We’re not far. We’ll be fine.”
“We don’t even know that the Suburban was following us.” She huffed when he ignored her—kept driving. “Fine. At least, update Art.”
“I know the protocol, Jer. I was a Marshall for two years before you joined.”
He shook his head but didn’t make a move to get his cell. Use the radio. An uneasy feeling built along her nape, raising the small hairs. She didn’t know what was off, just that something was.
It wasn’t as if Dave had done anything wrong, per se. If he thought they were being followed, he’d taken action. Was currently trying to avoid any kind of hijacking. But there was a slight waver in his voice, a tremble in his hands as they gripped the steering wheel. She studied his face. A few beads of sweat dotted his upper lip. The man was nervous.
Which made sense if he thought they were being followed. About to be jumped. Despite what she’d told Cannon, prisoner transfers were always risky. Always a crap shoot as to whether you made it back without having people shoot at you. Still… She slipped her hand into her pocket, unlocked her phone and swiped down from the top. Cannon’s text would be on the main screen, now. She hadn’t cleared it. So, touching it, jumping to their chat window was easy. She didn’t even need to see the cell to make it happen. Then, she tapped on his name, went into his information. A quick shift of her hand, and a glance, and she was able to share her location. Send him a ping without actually removing her phone. Showing Dave.
It wasn’t exactly illegal. After all, Cannon was, in theory, a marshal, even if it had limited powers. Was restricted to authorized cases. But… She didn’t have time to worry about protocol. About whether she was being overly paranoid. And, if she was wrong, all Cannon would see was their last twenty-minute drive along the wharf.
She removed her hand, hoping Dave hadn’t noticed. “Okay. We’ll take Colorado. Stay off the main thoroughfares. Just do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Look me in the eye and swear you’re not in trouble. After that, I’ll let it drop.”
He chuckled. “That’s all? My word?”
“It’s always been enough, before, so…”
He sighed, glancing in the rearview then over to her. “Fine. I’ll level with you. It’s not trouble so much as a revelation.”
“Don’t tell me. You found Jesus?”
He laughed. “Not quite. I… Shit. Is that the same Suburban?”
She glanced behind them. “I don’t see anything.”
“Not behind us. Up ahead on your right. We’re just about to pass it.”
She scoured the upcoming road—one hand resting on her gun. Just in case. But the damn street was empty. Not even an abandoned car sitting by the curb. “There’s nothing there. What…”
Pain. Deep.
Slicing through her side, stealing her breath. Her voice. Jericho looked down just as the knife pulled free—a small chip in the tip. Blood covering the silver blade. It blossomed on her shirt. A big red circle that started spreading—eating up more of the white. Like the spot on her arm, only brighter. She had a moment to look over at Dave—see him wipe the knife off on his pants—before his hand settled in her hair. Smashed her head down hard on the dash, then over into the window.
Black washed across her vision. Tiny dots that swam together until only pieces of the outside world showed through. A hint of the window to the left. Something shiny to her right. A voice sounded in the background. Muffled. The syllables all wrong. As if it wasn’t English.
The dots tilted. Rolled. Swallowed the light, only to spit her back out. Pain thrummed through her temples, her side. She tried to speak, but her jaw wasn’t working. Wouldn’t open. Her forehead felt wet—was she sweating? She attempted to lift her hand—touch her skin—but the signal wasn’t getting through. Nothing was getting through.
Breath against her cheek as hands patted across her body, tugging at her waist. “The truth is, Jericho, you were always a better marshal. A better friend. I knew you’d eventually find out. Trust me. This is kinder. What they’d do to you… It’ll all be over soon.”
That voice. She knew it. Her…partner? Was that right? It sounded so far away. Like those old phone lines. All hollow and dull. What was his name?
A beep, then the guy was talking, again. “It’s done. I’m just pulling into the warehouse. Did you leave that body like I asked? No, I don’t fucking trust you. But, if the damn Marshal Service doesn’t think I’m dead, we’re all fucked. You hear me? And, since I’m not your only source, you might want to consider that before you decide to make any changes in our agreement. I’m not stupid. I have an insurance policy on the off-chance you try to double cross me. Fine. I’ll set the timer for five minutes. Give us enough time to get some distance. What? No, there won’t be any issues. We’re off the route, and she’s out cold. No, I can’t kill her outright. The ME has to determine she died in the blast. I’m chancing it enough as it is with a knife wound. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t bleed out before it goes off. I know what I’m doing. I have a car waiting. We’ll meet in thirty minutes at our usual place. Don’t be late.”
