Caught by You

by Kris Rafferty

  “Vincent, focus.”

  “I am. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m going to steal a car and run them over. I’ve been distracted lately, so it didn’t occur to me that I’d need keys until I stepped inside the garage. You stopped me as I was about to return to the house to steal them.”

  Vincent nodded, giving the impression that he was humoring her. “We’re waiting for you in the kitchen. Benton has questions that you’ve agreed to answer.”

  She pushed out of his arms, and then folded hers over her chest. “Vincent.” She made her tone biting, hoping to wake him up to reality. “It’s Ponte. Dante’s lawyer. I’m telling you the truth.”

  He sighed and then nodded. “You stay here. Don’t move.” He pointed at her face. “I mean it, Avery.”

  She nodded and watched him until he was out of sight, leaving her standing at the garage’s side doorway. Instinct told her to follow him, to make sure he was safe, but…Millie or Vincent? Fact was, it was a no-brainer. Vincent, who’d grown larger than life in her estimation, would be better off if she fell off the face of the planet. She’d been nothing but trouble to him since he’d met her in the diner. Dante’s lawyer had to be here to out her as The Stinger and pin the murders on her. It wasn’t a big stretch to assume the man knew her secrets, and Benton was rabid enough to take the bait. He’d jump at the chance to have The Stinger in custody.

  So, this might be Avery’s last chance to escape and save Millie. She had to take it.

  Wiping a tear from her cheek, she checked the two cars and searched for keys. She found nothing, until she slid behind the wheel of the beige sedan and flipped down the visor. Keys plopped onto her lap.

  The universe was telling her to run.

  Vincent was warned about Ponte. She’d done her part to keep him safe.

  Slipping the key into the sedan’s ignition, Avery forced herself not to second-guess this decision, and hit the garage door opener on the visor, putting the car into gear. Soon, she was pulling out onto the gravel driveway. Headlights off, she idled there as she scanned the grounds for Paley and Ponte, who had moved since she’d seen them last. They were chatting at the end of the driveway, secluded from the other agents, as if they had secrets to share.

  Avery knew what she had to do.

  Chapter 18

  Vincent saw Paley, the safehouse staffer, speaking with an unfamiliar man in front of the property, on the driveway. He’d only seen pictures of Bernard Ponte, and they’d been blurry, but yeah, it looked like Coppola’s number two guy. What the hell was Ponte doing here? Vincent caught sight of Gilroy in the backyard, so he hustled over to him for a consult, not wanting to bust in uninvited into what looked like a heated conversation between the two men.

  He nodded to Gilroy as he approached. “Avery’s in the garage. I looked out the kitchen window and saw her running across the backyard. She saw Ponte and had a meltdown. What’s he doing here?”

  Gilroy lifted his brows and grimaced. “Negotiations. Benton has been on the phone since we got here.”

  “Secure Avery, please.” Vincent glanced at the garage door. “She’s not thinking straight. Make sure she goes nowhere, okay?” He hustled into the house via the back porch, and found Benton in the front hall, pacing, on the phone. A glance at Deming told him she was worried.

  “Looks like this thing is going to end sooner rather than later,” she said. “Coppola got wind of the warrants and is working back channels.”

  “Yeah?” That sounded bad, so why did Benton look happy?

  A screech of tires sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, and then all of them ran to the front door to find Gilroy running full tilt after a sedan leaving the driveway…toward Ponte and Paley. Deming gave chase, but Vincent froze, looking on in horror as Paley jumped out of the way. Bernard Ponte didn’t, and Avery clipped him. Ponte flew in the air, fell hard, and lay unmoving when he hit the ground.

  Avery kept her foot on the gas, and was soon gone. Gilroy and Deming ran after the sedan, but stopped at the end of the driveway.

  “Gilroy!” Vincent roared, throwing his hands in the air as he hurried to the agent’s side. No less than five minutes ago, he’d told him to watch her, that Avery wasn’t thinking straight. “I gave you one job!” Out of breath, Gilroy met up with Vincent, his finger pressing his wireless earwig radio receiver deeper into his ear.

  “I’m getting reports,” Gilroy said, “that she sliced a tire on every vehicle on the property. We’re dead in the water.” Vincent shook his head, speechless. Gilroy avoided his gaze.

  “One job!” Vincent paced the driveway, gravel crunching underfoot. His mind couldn’t shake his rage, and it was making it hard to think through this fuck up. Paley was hovering over Ponte, but the lawyer still hadn’t moved. Vincent didn’t want to even think about the repercussions to Avery if the man died.

  “You’re one to talk.” Deming was pissed, too. She was huffing and puffing after running after the sedan. “What’s the use of romancing an asset if you can’t control her?”

  “Screw you, Deming.” It was nothing like that. He wouldn’t let it be like that. Paley was hovering over Ponte, fists on his hips, looking worried.

  Deming holstered her weapon, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  Benton ran out of the house toward Vincent, though his eyes were on Paley and Ponte. His iPhone, however, was still pressed to his ear. “What the fuck?”

  Gilroy sighed, catching Vincent’s gaze. “Do you think the NSA is hiring?” Then the agent sent Benton a worried glance, before jogging to Ponte’s side.

  Vincent’s kingdom for a car with working tires.

  He held up a hand, stopping Benton’s tirade before it started. “Avery hit him. I think it’s safe to assume she’s going to the Coppola mansion.”

  “Look, I’ll call you back,” Benton said into the phone, his voice tense, his eyes near panic. Deming shot Vincent a glance that seemed chockful of sympathy, but she didn’t say anything, just turned her back, and continued her conversation with the ambulance company.

  Benton slipped his phone into his suit jacket pocket and approached Vincent’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder, frowning at the crowd around the lawyer. “This isn’t happening. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Vincent said, and he was. He should have known better than to think he could control Avery.

  Benton folded his arms over his chest, looking a hairsbreadth away from losing his cool. “I just got off the phone with the bureau. They sealed a deal with Coppola, who is now on the FBI’s payroll as of five minutes ago. Full immunity. No one touches Coppola.” He pressed his lips together, glaring at Vincent, as if that would settle the matter, but they both knew better. Avery was out there, a wild card, and she was looking for blood. “You listen to me, Modena, I did not sacrifice a year of my life for your girlfriend to ruin my endgame! Do you hear me?”

  Girlfriend. Deal. Full immunity. Vincent heard probably more than Benton realized. More than he’d wanted to hear. Avery saw this coming days ago. Predicted it. She’d told him from the start the Feds would never take Dante Coppola down, and she was right. Coppola cutting a deal with the Feds left Avery in the wind.

  “Deming?” Vincent said. She hung up the phone and pocketed it.

  “Ambulance is on the way,” she said.

  “Please tell Gilroy to meet me in the garage,” Vincent said. “We have tires to change.”

  “What are you planning?” Benton walked with him, their feet kicking up gravel. “This is the endgame. You know what I’ve gone through to get here. Coppola is selling his syndicate out. We could take down the competing east coast syndicates, too. It’s huge. Don’t mess with this deal, Modena.”

  “I’m not planning anything,” Vincent said. He still couldn’t believe the Feds had sold Avery out, after promising her the moon. After he’
d promised her the moon. “Except changing a few tires.”

  “He’s alive.” Deming shouted from across the yard. She and Paley stared down at Ponte, who flopped a bit on the ground, but neither agent touched him.

  Gilroy jogged Vincent’s way, still looking chastised as an ambulance siren sounded off in the distance. He slowed his gait when he reached Vincent, and they walked into the garage together.

  Vincent wasn’t looking forward to repairing the damage Avery wrought, but he was happy to have something to distract him. She was out there, alone, looking to get herself killed.

  This delay gave him time to figure out what he wanted to do about it, or if he should even try.

  Chapter 19

  It was early morning before the task force was informed that their request for court orders to search the Coppola mansion for Millie Toner were denied. The bureau accepted Coppola’s deal when Benton was forced to admit there was no “incriminating files,” and his superiors didn’t want to hear anything about Millie being kidnapped, potentially in the mansion, because the team had no evidence. Though Millie had been declared missing three years ago, a rumor that she was at the mansion wasn’t enough to kill the bureau’s hard-won deal. Coppola promised names, dates, and evidence galore if they gave him immunity, so the court orders were denied and Federal Marshalls were flying out now to collect Coppola.

  And, not incidentally, the task force was to be reassigned.

  Oddly enough, it was the Feds’ deal with Coppola that made Vincent suspect Millie was, indeed, at the mansion. Why else would Coppola make a deal? Nothing had changed. They had no evidence to charge him. If he did have a snitch in the FBI, Coppola knew they had nothing to pin on him, so why make a deal? Coppola had to be afraid the Feds would find Millie at the mansion, and then he’d be charged with kidnapping. Forgoing another explanation, it was a motive Vincent was willing to run with.

  At the mansion or not, Avery thought Millie was there, so that’s where she’d go. Instead of booking a flight, Vincent decided to stay and save her ass. Once the task force discovered what he was doing, they canceled their flights and told him they were sticking around long enough to make sure he didn’t destroy his career…or maybe die. Vincent was grateful, but anxious, because their involvement now meant it wasn’t just his career he was risking. It was all their careers.

  By ten a.m., they were in the van, on the road leading to the Coppola mansion’s complex, parked beyond the stone walls, just outside of the mansion’s many security cameras’ range. The team was irritable and hungry as they waited for Avery to make her move. Vincent’s plan was simple. Stop Avery. His team’s plan was just as simple. They wanted to stop him from doing something stupid. He feared that was too late, that he’d fallen in love with Avery. If she died… He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

  “Are you getting this, Benton? Do you have the PDF?” Sitting inside the van on one of the two stools next to the computer shelving, Deming frowned at her phone, slowly scrolling.

  “Yeah.” Benton sat before her, on the van’s floor, his legs hanging out its open side door. He, too, was focused on his phone, frowning. He swiped left.

  Gilroy sat in the van’s driver’s seat, peering into the rearview mirror. “Head’s up, folks. I think I see her driving toward us.”

  Vincent looked out the van’s tinted back window and recognized the stolen sedan heading their way. His heart clutched as he hurried out of the van, pushing past Deming and Benton, who didn’t move an inch.

  “This is it,” Vincent said. “We can’t allow her to pass. Once she drives onto the property, we’ll be breaking the law to retrieve her.”

  “Shit,” Benton whispered, still reading. “You need to see this, Modena.”

  Vincent refused to be distracted by whatever was consuming them. He had this one shot to stop Avery, and he couldn’t screw it up. She was convinced Millie was at the mansion, but after a long night of thinking things over, he wasn’t. He didn’t know why Coppola decided to make a deal with the Feds, but it wasn’t because he feared being charged with kidnapping. It was a felony, and if caught, it would kill Coppola’s deal. The court order to search the mansion was denied by a random judge, and no one knew which way the ruling would land. To keep his immunity, Coppola had to have assumed the worst; that Feds were coming, and they’d find Millie at the mansion. He moved her.

  Millie wasn’t at the mansion.

  Vincent stared down the road, watching Avery’s car fast approach. Benton lifted a hand, eyes still on his screen. “Wait. Things are moving fast, Modena.” He held up his phone.

  Vincent stepped into the center of the road. “I have to stop her. Coppola wants her dead.” She was driving straight at him, and the car’s speed seemed to increase rather than slow.

  Deming remained in the van, her attention torn between what she was seeing on her phone and Avery’s speedy progress. “Once she’s past us, she’ll be within range of the mansion’s security cameras. Coppola’s been searching for her for years. Finding her outside his property’s walls will be an early Christmas.”

  “She isn’t driving past me,” Vincent said. “I won’t allow it. She’ll stop.”

  He lifted his hands over his head and waved his arms. Soon, he could make out her features. Their gazes locked, but he saw no recognition there…nothing. Stone cold. And her car wasn’t slowing. Only then did it occur to him that she was playing fucking chicken with him, assuming he’d step out of her way. It infuriated him.

  He inhaled the crisp, morning air, as blood pounded in his head, sharpening his senses, and wondered what the hell he was doing. She wasn’t stopping. He knew she wouldn’t stop. What he didn’t know was…would she hit him?

  “Ah, Vincent?” Gilroy said. “Last time she did this, she nearly killed Bernard Ponte. Why don’t you—”

  “Avery! She is not in there!” Fists clenched, he held his ground, unwilling to allow her to hurt herself this way. “Millie’s not in there!” The car was almost upon him, and he saw her eyes widen with panic. They’d both waited too long. There wasn’t enough time for her to avoid hitting Vincent, and just as he was about to jump out of the way, Gilroy plowed into him, lifting him off his feet, and hurtling them toward the embankment. Avery’s car zoomed past as they landed with a thud.

  Spitting dirt and brush, Vincent pushed away from Gilroy, furious and afraid. “She tried to kill you,” Gilroy said, climbing to his feet, dusting himself off.

  Vincent shook his head, standing. “She’s sacrificing herself to save her sister.”

  After seeing Bernard Ponte speaking with Paley last night, she’d deduced the Feds were in Coppola’s pocket, and, in a way, she wasn’t wrong. The Feds chose to value what Coppola could give them instead of seeking justice for Coppola’s victims.

  “She’s on her own now.” Gilroy turned, watching Avery pause the sedan at the security gate about a hundred yards away. His tackle had tweaked Vincent’s bum shoulder, forcing him to crack his neck and roll his shoulders a bit before he could walk to the van.

  “Gilroy?” Vincent groaned. “Last time I was hit that hard, it was by a rocket launcher’s concussion.”

  Gilroy surveilled the road as they walked back to the van, wiping dirt off his close cropped blond hair. “You’re welcome.”

  Angry and frustrated, Vincent turned his glare toward his other teammates, curious to see what Deming and Benton found so fucking interesting that they couldn’t help stop Avery.

  Deming waved him over, her eyes still reading. When he stepped to her side, she peeked to the left, watching Avery’s sedan at the security gate. “She doesn’t even know if her sister is in there, yet she’s going in anyway. That’s love.”

  Benton was still reading his download and didn’t even look up as he spoke. “We can’t go in after her. If Millie is in there, maybe Avery’s right.”

  “What are you reading?” Vincent pe
ered over Benton’s shoulder to see.

  Benton sighed. “Maybe Avery inside that mansion isn’t a bad thing.” He glanced up at Vincent, lifted his brows, and then returned to reading. “Especially if Millie is in there.”

  “Spill it,” Vincent snapped.

  Deming glanced at Benton, and then turned to Vincent. “I think Coppola is playing us all, pretending to deal with the Feds to get his hands around his ex-wife’s throat. He’s crazy.” She shook her head, making her disheveled blond hair fall over her cheeks.

  Gilroy lifted his brows, pressing his lips together. “He killed her family and then married her. We already knew he was crazy.”

  “No, Gilroy,” Vincent said. “I know that’s what the file says, but Avery explained. There was a coup by Toner’s contract killers.” Vincent saw their skepticism. “They put Coppola into power after killing the Toner family. Something about Avery’s father wanting to go legit and disbanding the contract killers. Coppola found out after the fact, but let it go, because they’d done him a favor by setting him up as boss.”

  Deming frowned. “Did Avery tell you this? It would explain why she still married him.”

  “And it’s not true,” Benton said, lifting his phone, indicating what he was reading. “Coppola ordered the hit on the Toner family. Avery was either lied to, or she lied to you.” When Vincent opened his mouth to argue, Benton shook his head, stopping him. “Coppola’s guy, Joseph Pinnella—”

  “Avery calls him “Fingers”,” Vincent said.

  “—he spilled his guts after a Coppola-affiliated lawyer tried to kill him,” Benton said. “It was a failed hit. I’m reading Pinnella’s transcripts now. He says Coppola was behind the syndicate coup that killed Avery’s family.”

  Deming shrugged. “Which makes the deal the Feds made even more strange. Why deal with Coppola, if we have Pinnella?”

  “Good question. Pinnella’s intel is the jackpot, folks.” Benton continued to read, bent over his phone.