“We’re good,” Mercer replied gruffly. Pointing to the SUV, he told her, “Time to go.”
Ashlen was very glad for that suggestion and headed straight to the SUV. Without waiting for a comment from the bewildered-looking attendant, they left the station and the little town. All the while, Ashlen’s head was spinning.
She had been having too many close calls lately, and Mercer had been the one to save her ass every time. She wished she could honestly tell him how grateful she was of his help, but his personality was so harsh that she felt like she couldn’t say anything to him.
Mercer waited until they got back on the highway before saying anything, Ashlen flinching just a bit in anticipation of him excoriating her some more.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” he said softly. “I just want you to be more careful from now on.”
“Okay,” she said, letting out a long, slow sigh that had been pent up in her body.
She rubbed her wrist where the drunk had grabbed her. Damn, that was going to leave a bruise, she realized.
“Here,” he said, picking up a brown bag from the floor and handing it to her.
She peered in it and found two plastic-wrapped sandwiches and two water bottles.
Breakfast.
Funny, she hadn’t even noticed the bag with him. But it was a nice thing to do for her—or least an indifferent thing to do. He was hired to protect her; making sure she was fed probably fell into that somewhere. Realizing how hungry she was, she grabbed the bag and brought out both sandwiches. She offered one to Mercer, and he surprised her by taking it.
“Thanks,” was his only reply.
They munched on their sandwiches in silence.
Chapter 5
Special FBI Agent Paul Anderson had sped the whole way to a small brick ranch in Hamilton, which was now under FBI investigation. He had been woken up early that Saturday morning. When he had gotten the report of a shoot-out in the suburbs of the greater northern Cincinnati area with a dead body sitting in the middle of a driveway, his interest had peaked, but it was too early on the weekend to get him moving quickly. It was only after he got the address and the name of the homeowner, who was now apparently missing, that he high-tailed it out of his house and to the scene.
Damn it, Ashlen! What have you gotten yourself into? He thought as he floored his Ford Taurus.
Paul’s relationship with this homeowner, Ashlen Cole, was a little rough. Well, he didn’t have a relationship with her anymore, since she had refused to talk to him for the last four years. God knew, he had tried to contact her again and again with no luck. He knew he had deserved every single bit of that silent treatment. He still thought about the time that they had been engaged.
And, of course, he had completely fucked it up.
Now, the only real glimpse of her life was that blog of hers, which she had also started up after she had ended their relationship. She had written some pretty harsh blogs about him, but those had died down the last year or so. And hey, at least if her blog was up and running, then he knew that she was still single and looking. There was always hope, right?
It was not time to dwell on that, though. There was a dead body in her driveway, and she was missing.
When he finally got to the house, the scene was complete chaos. There were police cars everywhere flashing away in the bleary morning daylight. A string of media vehicles lined the sides of the road and reporters were anxiously waiting behind yellow tape to get any kind of news. Paul could see a chalk outline of where a body had been marked on the driveway. Paul supposed it had already been carted off. There was also a mark of where the body’s gun had dropped.
From what Paul had been told, the local police were still not one hundred percent clear on what exactly had happened here, though they had an idea. There had been a shoot-out at the house and car collision. There were vehicle bits and pieces everywhere.
This kind of thing should have been delegated exclusively with local law enforcement, but when the police IDed the man who had been hit, they found out that he was a known associate of Bruce Marino, the FBI’s new number one non-terrorist under investigation.
Bruce Marino in all outward appearances looked like an outstanding citizen. He was incredibly rich and owned many successful businesses around the country, including several exclusive nightclubs. To ensure that he stayed a darling in the public eye, he donated millions to charities that benefited public education, the treatment of cancer, and the saving of little furry animals. However, Marino’s under the table dealings were a little shadier. He had been suspected of drug-dealing, prostitution rings, money laundering, and the illegal weapons trade.
The problem with Marino had been that it was incredibly hard to directly connect him with all those things. He was very good at covering his tracks, and his lawyers were the best of the best. And frankly, with his charm and generous donations, it would be almost impossible to convict him of anything under a jury trial unless he was caught with a smoking gun.
Literally.
Of course, the guy who had been run-over in Ashlen’s driveway was supposedly a lower-level thug, but any leads in sticking some sort of charges to Marino needed to be pursued.
What Paul wanted to know, of course, was why one of Marino’s thugs was shooting at Ashlen’s house of all places. She was certainly not the type of girl to associate herself with people like that. So, whatever had happened, Paul knew she was completely innocent.
Parking his car alongside the road with dozens of other vehicles, he jogged over to the crime scene, flashing his badge to a couple of police officers who were keeping out reporters and snoopy neighbors. Paul’s partner, Jon Rodriguez, was standing in the middle of the scene, waiting for him.
They had been partners for the last year and a half now, and Paul had a lot of respect for the guy. Rodriguez took his job seriously and had a lot of energy. Too much energy in some cases, Paul thought. Rodriguez waved him over, his dark hair and tan skin making him look even more vibrant and cheerful. As riled up as Paul was for Ashlen, he still had a late night, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for his partner’s vibrancy and cheerfulness.
“So, what else have we got?” Paul asked, continuing his phone conversation with Rodriguez that they had had a few minutes ago.
“We’ve got people going through the house right now,” Rodriguez told him. “It looks like we have a kidnapping as well.”
Paul’s heart sank.
It was the worst possible news that he could have received. Even after four years without seeing or talking to her, he still had feelings for her. Yeah, he had screwed up big time, but he had been holding out that he could convince her that he was a changed man.
“Are we one hundred percent sure that it was a kidnapping?” Paul asked, his voice sounding odd to him.
The situation was starting to become worse and worse.
Rodriguez ran his hand through his hair and said, “Maybe you should come in and see for yourself?”
They walked quickly up the path to the front door and flashed their badges to another posted police officer. When they moved into the entryway, Paul saw a slew of people walking about, all a part of the investigation.
The living area looked to be renovated into a very contemporary space. The area was very much like Ashlen—beautiful and stylish.
Rodriguez gestured to the entryway table and said, “Cole’s purse is still here, along with her bank cards, cellphone, and laptop. Her wallet is missing. There’s no sign of forced entry, but her car is still here.”
Paul scanned the contents of the table then gazed into the mirror that was above it.
Wow, did he look tired.
He had not had enough time to properly comb his light brown hair this morning. He hadn’t had time to shave either. His brown eyes looked a little dull and dark circles were forming underneath.
I need a vacation, he thought. This sixty-hour workweek has got to stop.
Moving into the hallway, Rodriguez led the
way to Ashlen’s bedroom. Paul could have been the one to lead her down that hallway to her room, ready to make love to her. One drunken night had changed all of that.
It was supposed to be a boy’s night out, but he had run into an ex-girlfriend. She had come onto him strongly. And he had crawled right into bed with her. Yeah, he had known exactly what he had been doing. He wasn’t that drunk. Perhaps he thought that he could get away with it?
But the next morning, he knew he’d never be able to hide something like that from Ashlen. The guilt was too much. So, he drove straight over to her apartment to tell her.
And she had dumped him right then and there.
She had given back the ring and everything, although it had been more like thrown the ring back. He had tried so many times after that to make amends, but she had made up her mind and had eventually stopped talking to him altogether. It had been the worst mistake of his life.
“We’ve got a broken wine glass in here that was still half full,” Rodriguez said as they entered the bedroom. “Like maybe she was taken by surprise. There’s a damp towel on the floor as well. Perhaps she was coming out of the shower when she was attacked. No evidence of rape, but…”
Paul had had enough.
“Okay,” he said, stopping Rodriguez from going any further with comments. “I have something to disclose to you.”
He took a deep breath.
“Ashlen Cole used to be my fiancée.”
Rodriguez stared at him for a moment as if trying to process this information.
After a few seconds of silence, his eyes brightened and he exclaimed, “No way! When were you ever engaged? Makes me wonder what else you’ve been hiding from me…”
“Look, it was years ago when I was still a cop. We ended up calling things off and went our separate ways right before I joined the FBI.”
Rodriguez scratched his head.
“Damn, man. I am sorry about what happened to her. Listen, we’ll find her. That’s what we do.”
Paul didn’t feel comforted by his partner’s words. Frankly, he felt unnerved by the thought of Ashlen getting snatched up by some thug. But at that point, time was being wasted. He could do a lot more by getting this case solved.
“I appreciate your sympathy, but she’s not going to be found with us standing here,” Paul said dryly.
“That’s the spirit,” Rodriguez said, slapping him on the back.
Paul was about to say something sarcastic, but his cellphone started to ring.
“Anderson,” Paul answered.
“It’s West.” Allen West, Special Agent in Charge, was their boss.
He was a very disciplined individual—someone you did not want to piss off.
“I’ve got some information for you that you might find helpful in your new case. I’ve got an agent running over the file to you right now. Should be there at any moment.”
“Thanks,” Paul murmured. West was all business all the time.
“And, Anderson,” West continued.
“Yes, sir?”
“Let’s get this cleaned up as quickly as possible. The press is going to have a field day with this one.”
Before Paul could reply, West hung up. That was how West operated.
It only took a few minutes for a file to be delivered. During that time, Paul and Rodriguez moved back out into the living area and were watching the men and women gathering forensic evidence.
Snatching the file from the agent before Paul could, Rodriguez scanned the information, his eyes widening.
“Did you know that Ashlen Cole’s uncle is the infamous Peter Cole?
Paul’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Peter Cole had popped up on the radar a year or two ago as a suspected illegal arms dealer. However, by jurisdiction, ATF would have their eyes on him the most. Of course, just like Marino, the guy was good at covering his tracks. No one had anything that would stick in a court of law. It was all speculation. The thing that irritated Paul the most was that he hadn’t made this connection between Ashlen and Peter Cole.
Damn.
“No, I didn’t,” Paul growled. “I thought she was pretty much without family when I’d been dating her. Her parents died in a horrific car accident.”
Rodriguez shook his head. “Well, apparently, her arms-dealer uncle stepped in to help her out.”
“I didn’t know,” Paul stammered.
“Yeah, obviously, or you wouldn’t be where you are right now,” Rodriguez said casually.
Rodriguez was right; the FBI wouldn’t have ever hired him if they had been able to connect him with his ex-fiancée with a suspected arms dealer.
“Fuck,” Paul exclaimed, giving a forensic expert that had been dabbing for fingerprints a start.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Rodriguez told him. “You’ve been the most productive agent the Cincy area has seen in quite a while.”
Yeah, Paul’s partner was right; Paul had been very busy. Most recently, he had solved a string of high-profile murders in the area. Paul was currently on West’s good side because of it.
“Do we know if Peter Cole has any connections to Marino?” Paul asked.
He was starting to get a hunch at where this was leading.
“We’re not one hundred percent sure,” Rodriguez said, scanning through the files. “But it’s suspected.”
Paul was starting to get an idea of what might have happened.
“Okay, I’m going to do a little speculation. You can tell me if this makes sense to you. Let’s say Cole was selling to Marino. What would make Marino go after Ashlen? She’s about as sweet and innocent as apple pie. I’m thinking something happened with her uncle and Marino. Maybe a deal went bad, or Peter Cole pissed Marino off big time? Whatever it is, Marino sends his goons to snatch her up. Since we’re assuming that this is a kidnapping, perhaps Marino is using her as leverage with Cole?”
Rodriguez, still flipping through Cole’s file, nodded and said, “That makes sense, but what about the shoot out and the busted-up pieces of car? Too bad we don’t know Peter Cole’s whereabouts, so we could just ask him. You don’t typically kidnap someone and make a big scene like that, especially not with a bunch of professionals like Marino’s guys.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too,” Paul replied. “Since her car is still here and not damaged, she was not the only one to try and escape. It appears that she was taken by surprise. I think we have another player here, someone who wasn’t supposed to be here when Marino’s guys arrived.”
“Maybe someone hired by Cole?” Rodriguez interjected.
“Maybe,” Paul agreed. “That would have been enough reason for Marino’s guys to open fire on the house. Maybe the guy that was run over got in the way of an escape? However, it does seem like she didn’t go willingly, does it?”
“Yeah, so we’re still dealing with a possible kidnapping. We’re dusting for fingerprints right now in the off chance we can get a lead on who broke in,” Rodriguez said.
“Good,” Paul nodded.
If they could get any kind of fingerprints of the people involved, they could start their search. Right now, all they could do was show Ashlen’s picture to the media and hope they get a hit. Paul was still upset that this had happened to Ashlen of all people.
Rodriguez slapped Paul on the back, trying to show some comfort.
“Hey man, we’ll find her. It’ll be alright.”
“I know,” Paul said with a sigh.
“Oh, but you might want to tell West about your previous relationship with Miss Cole,” Rodriguez said with a grin.
Yeah, Paul was not looking forward to that conversation.
Chapter 6
Mercer was glad to pull into the driveway of a small out of the way motel in northern North Carolina. He was incredibly tired and was starting to feel the drain of not sleeping for the last twenty-four hours. Of course, he had done a lot worse when he was in the Marines, but he also had his passenger to consider. He looked over at Ashlen, who was b
usy trying to ignore him as best she could. She was turned, facing the window like she had been ever since the gas station back in West Virginia.
Yeah, he had been a little pissed that she had gotten herself into trouble at what was supposed to be just a five-minute rest stop. However, he was thankful that he was able to get there in time for her. He was starting to get this odd protective feeling toward her as much as he didn’t want to admit it. The image of that drunk guy grabbing at Ashlen was still burned into his memory.
He was also starting to regret yelling at her earlier that morning. Ashlen was now acting skittish around him because of it. She refused to look at him. She seemed afraid of him now. That had not been his intention.
Mercer, on the other hand, had been stealing glances at her the whole morning. He couldn’t help himself; the more he looked at her, the more beautiful he realized she was. He was trying very hard to stop thinking of her in terms of being a gorgeous woman.
She was supposed to be just a job—one that paid him very well. Bryant was going to give him a decent portion of the commission. It was going to be a pretty sweet payday overall, though he was always so busy with Gray Tower that he never got a chance to spend any of it.
But still, he just couldn’t help himself. His mind kept wandering back to when he had first seen her when she had been in her underwear. Damn, she was very much beddable. He was starting to get hard just thinking about what was under her panties.
She’s just a job, he reminded himself. And you can’t mix business with pleasure, especially with Bryant breathing down my neck about staying professional.
“We’ll stop here and rest for today,” he told her, trying to keep his tone neutral as he pulled the Tahoe up to the motel’s office.
It was only late morning, but Mercer didn’t want to push traveling any farther that day. He planned on staying a night at the motel and then driving to their destination: a cabin in a remote part of North Carolina’s mountains where they could lay low for a while.
Perilous Games (Gray Tower Book 3) Page 5
