.38 Caliber Cover-Up

by Angi Morgan

  “That’s what I get for sending idiots.” Knighton looked at Cop Number Two. Erren shrugged.

  “Why are you here? What did you hope to gain besides getting killed?” Knighton finally asked.

  Erren yanked his arm free from Cop Number Two. “Now that you mention it, I’m here to deal. I want a cut of the action.”

  “There’s nothing you have that I want.”

  “Just a bigger distribution area. I’ve got San Antonio and south Texas connections that will increase your profits.” Erren crossed his arms, trying to remain confident in spite of the growing suspicion he was in over his head.

  “Not if you’re taking a piece of the pie.” Knighton stepped closer and threw a right punch into Erren’s gut.

  It took several seconds to catch his breath. “You’re really not playing nice.”

  “We’re not playin’ at all. I want to know where the pictures are stored and where you stashed O’Malley’s files.”

  Son of a bitch… One person knew he had the files. That little weasel Thrumburt. He’d sent Darby straight to the U.S. Marshals. Darby was safe and away from this scum.

  “The files are safe,” he forced out. He’d hated to use his favor at the FBI, but he’d called as soon as he’d pulled away from the VA hospital. The files were extremely safe.

  Knighton took the opportunity to punch him in the gut again, dropping him to his knees.

  “Put him in the van,” Knighton ordered the cops. “This place is too public for what we need to do.”

  Each cop took him under an arm and dragged him across the broken asphalt to the end of the alley. They tossed him in the back of an empty panel van. Cop Number Two zip-tied his wrists, riding in the back with him. Knighton drove and hit every pothole possible.

  This was definitely not the plan.

  The ride was too noisy to hear anything said up front but the glow of a cell phone reflected on the windshield. At least the ride was short and he didn’t have to roll around too long. When the van slowed to a stop, he pushed himself to a sitting position and waited for the door to open.

  Staying was risky, but it was too early to escape. He would always find a way out. This time he wouldn’t leave until he discovered who pulled the trigger of that .38 caliber.

  The two cops started to drag him again and he shrugged them off. “I got this, guys.”

  They moved inside an abandoned warehouse. Dust floated in the low-lit corner where they were headed. The smell of dirt and gas was strong, making it harder to breathe. He tried to focus on the far dark region and thought he saw a car. Lots of doors and hiding places. Looking up, he caught the bottom view of multiple catwalks running the length of the building.

  Eyes front. Just thinking about being that high off the ground made his knees turn to Jell-O and knots form in his stomach.

  “Want to explain again why you’re so valuable to us?” Knighton asked.

  “You want the files. Right now, I’m thinking they’re the only things keeping me standing upright instead of in a shallow grave somewhere.”

  “You think we need you, Rhodes? We’ve been dishing this up in major cities for three years. We don’t need nothin’ from you.”

  “Except the files.” He lifted his head, catching Knighton’s look of frustration. Erren stood as straight as he could manage with his abdomen cramping. “If I join you, O’Malley’s copies of the evidence sheets never surface.”

  “Come on in,” Knighton called into the dark, then faced Erren. “So you think you have us in a hard spot?”

  What the hell was going on?

  “What are you talking about? All I want is a slice of the action.”

  “That’s not what you’re gonna get,” Limpy Cop said.

  Thrumburt stepped into the circle of light, a little worse for wear. His forehead was bleeding and there was a layer of dust on his suit. Erren could imagine getting the turncoat in a headlock and snapping his skinny neck. But he wouldn’t.

  Who pulled the trigger? Just tell me who pulled the trigger?

  One answer and this whole thing would be over.

  “So the little man turns out to be the big boss man,” Erren said.

  Thrumburt kept the smug look and didn’t react to being called the boss man. Knighton didn’t react either. Each had a triumphant stare, declaring himself the winner. How? Erren had the evidence that would put them all away for years.

  What did they have?

  “Bring her in,” Knighton said. “Now we’ll see if you’re still so cocky.”

  Darby? She was the only person in his life they could use as leverage.

  The Medic should have called the U.S. Marshals’ office to protect the O’Malleys. How had she gotten away from the hospital?

  She came into the circle of light, her face and neck smeared with blood, her hands bound in front of her. Erren’s moment of panic must have shown in his eyes. She immediately shook her head. “I’m okay. It’s not mine.”

  God, then who? Had Thrumburt killed her family?

  “They’re going to kill us no matter what you do, Erren.” She looked at her feet, reminding him about the gun in her boot.

  Nice job!

  “That’s enough!” Thrumburt yelled. Then he turned to Cop Number Two. “Shut her up.”

  “He shot and killed a U.S. Marsh—”

  The cop slapped her then cupped his hand over her mouth. At least he hadn’t knocked her unconscious. Darby’s presence changed everything.

  Time to take control.

  “Anyone know what time it is?” he asked. Four pairs of eyes indicated he’d totally lost his mind. “I’m just asking, ’cause the Feds are expecting a phone call and I wouldn’t want them to worry.”

  “What? You said you had to contact the drop box to keep the Feds from getting the evidence,” Knighton yelled.

  Erren shrugged and took great pleasure in saying, “I lied.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Was Erren lying about having called the Feds? Did he really expect someone to burst through the doors?

  Standing in a condemned warehouse, hands bound, covered in blood spatter, she wasn’t going to stop and think about it too much. She watched for any sign—an indication that Erren was going to break away or if he really expected some branch of the federal government to save their hides.

  More than once she looked at her right boot, hoping that he remembered she’d dropped her Glock inside.

  “Do it, Knighton. Have some fun,” Thrumburt told the tall man. “See how much he’ll spout off watching us slice up his girlfriend.”

  Fear took hold of her legs. She wanted to run. Thrumburt was a cold-blooded killer. He’d easily pulled the trigger on Campbell just before the crash. She had no doubts he’d do anything to her to obtain the information he wanted.

  “What time is it?” Erren asked. Dropping his gaze to her feet. He was stalling. He knew about her weapon. “I just need to know one thing. Which of you dirtbags shot Walter Pike?”

  After his smile and laughter, maybe it was the shock of hearing the vehement, hate-filled syllables of the last question that silenced the men. But it didn’t stop them all from looking to the tall man Thrumburt had called Knighton, who stood with a smug look of satisfaction, a grin growing on his face.

  Erren had his answer.

  While the men had all eyes glued to Knighton waiting for his reaction, Erren dove across the pool of light. His body rolled several times before reaching her feet. She dropped to the ground sending her legs in his direction. He tugged and her right boot slipped off, dumping the 9mm onto the dusty floor.

  The men scrambled for cover, shooting blindly. Darby rolled to her knees ready to head toward the exit. She ducked at the gunfire. At least three locations.

  “Don’t kill him yet,” Thrumburt shouted. “Idiots, we need the evidence.”

  “If you’re okay,” Erren yelled, “can you get that cute little behind of yours in gear?”

  She leaped up and darted toward the car, sto
pping for cover behind a pillar. Erren stopped with her and pinned her back to the concrete, covering her, his hands—and gun—above his head. He couldn’t get a shot off that way, but their bodies were completely connected.

  “God, what were you thinking?” His eyes searched her face, landing on her lips. “Did you come to rescue me?”

  “I followed my partner, who took off totally on his own.”

  He was happy. She recognized the lightheartedness in his undisguised voice. The real Erren had his body pressed into hers. He was the only man she could think of who might be ignoring the rain of deadly gunfire to hold her.

  His lips captured hers in a short but hungry kiss.

  “Is the cavalry really coming or—”

  “They’re coming. But not for at least—” he leaned back and brought her wrists closer to read the time on her watch “—ten minutes.”

  “So you aren’t stupid after all?”

  Gunfire sounded around them, getting a bit too close for comfort.

  “You know we have to make a run for it.” He smiled at her as if they did this every day. Maybe he did. “I’ll lay down cover. Go.”

  She heard the bullets zing past her ears as she ran to the car for the extra ammunition in her purse. She made it to the far side of the wrecked sedan and yanked open the passenger door. Ignoring the dead marshal in the front seat, she grabbed the clips and tried to hand them to her partner.

  But Erren wasn’t behind her.

  AS DARBY RAN TO SAFETY, Erren caught movement to his left and watched Thrumburt racing up the stairs by the far wall.

  The second-story offices would give the son of a bitch the perfect shot to take her out at the car. He saw the old metal catwalks for the warehouse and his gut clenched.

  “Dammit. You just had to go up,” he muttered.

  Brian had ordered Pike’s death, even if Knighton had pulled the trigger. Neither one was going to escape and neither would harm another person he loved.

  Loved? It was a hell of a time to come to the realization that he loved Darby. A fast-and-furious relationship so far, but one he could envision lasting a lifetime. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  Zigzagging to the enclosed staircase, he wished he had a knife to cut through the plastic around his wrists. His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he climbed, each step harder than the last. The dizziness made his head swim. He didn’t know where the others had hidden or if they were waiting to ambush them. At the top of the stairs he could see Thrumburt ten feet away with a .45 pointed toward Darby.

  The solidness under his feet was gone and the only thing left was the warehouse floor far beneath him. He knew there was a metal walkway beneath his feet, but the look down sent his equilibrium seesawing. He had to do this. The bastard was about to shoot the woman he loved. He couldn’t fail Darby. He ignored the openness of the warehouse and concentrated on the solid wall to his right so he could run.

  Erren aimed. Fired. Missed.

  His hands shook from the vertigo. He’d never hit his target. The shot alerted Thrumburt, who jerked to attention and pulled the trigger.

  “No!” Erren screamed, and ran and threw himself at Thrumburt.

  They crashed to the metal grate. Erren backhanded the smaller man, but with his hands bound, he was at a disadvantage. He grabbed Thrumburt’s gun hand and knocked it against the grate until the gun fell to the floor below.

  Thrumburt punched and kicked, fighting like a boy who was scrambling for his life. With limited hand movement, Erren used his knee and pressed it into the turncoat’s abdomen.

  He controlled one of Pike’s killers but he needed to find Darby. Had she been shot or made it out of the building? He looked down, trying to find her.

  The view through the metal grate narrowed into a diamond pattern closing in on itself. The room spun. He closed his eyes to block the vertigo and nausea.

  “Erren!” He heard Darby’s voice just below him. “I’m coming up.”

  Thank God, she was alive.

  Thrumburt thrust his body upward and Erren flew forward, his stomach hitting the rail. His knees locked and he couldn’t move. He slammed his eyes shut again and froze.

  “OPEN YOUR EYES, COWBOY. I sort of need your help down here.” Darby clung to the edge of the grate, but didn’t have the strength in her arms to pull herself back to the walkway.

  Erren was frozen on the handrail several feet from her. He pulled himself backward until he was off the rail and flush against the wall.

  “Come on, look at me. I’m hanging by a thread, cowboy.” Dangling in the air, she was a sitting duck for a spare bullet.

  Erren’s eyes opened, searching for her voice until his gaze locked with hers. Her Knight Errant fell to his stomach and scooted forward—bound hands in front of him—to hang slightly over the edge until he caught her closest forearm.

  “If I had more than one hand…” He stared into her eyes, never looking away. “This would be a lot easier.”

  Sweat beaded on his brow and dropped to her shoulder. His strength amazed her as he lifted her up. She locked her fingers around his wrist and swung her free hand on top of the grate walkway. She could hear Thrumburt below them, sifting through debris for his .45.

  “Darby, we’re almost there. Pull, darlin’.” Erren’s voice was steady, unlike his arms, which shook with the strain. He lifted, she pulled with her free hand and within seconds she was on the catwalk beside him.

  “No time to wait around. Thrumburt’s looking for his weapon and I don’t know where the others have gone,” she informed him, cupping his chin with her hands. “Focus straight ahead and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, pulling at the plastic around his wrists. “Just how did you cut the zip-ties?”

  “Oh.” She pulled an all-utility knife from her pocket and cut him free. “I always carry one in my purse. Left it in the car.” She pulled a full clip from her back pocket. “Along with a change of ammo.”

  “We have some bad guys to catch.”

  She stood first and retrieved the Glock from the grate, and he followed, a hair of a second behind her.

  “Why haven’t they left?” she asked.

  “They can’t. Not as long as we’re alive.” He brought her close to him and she drew on his strength.

  “That was a bit too close for comfort,” he said softly into her neck. “Try not to fall off any balconies again.”

  “Or be pushed by running attorneys.”

  “I was wondering how you got down there.” Still holding her back to his chest, he touched his forehead to her shoulder. “We’re going to make a break for it.”

  “Liar. You want me to leave so you can shoot it out with Pike’s murderers.”

  He smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying to save his gal.”

  His gal? She could live with that.

  She gave him a quick kiss. “Once a day is more than enough. Thank you very much.”

  “Keep the gun and hand over the knife.”

  She did as instructed. “What’s the plan?”

  “Not certain what they’re going to do, but it’ll happen fast. They’ve had a lot of time to regroup. Stay close.” He cupped her shoulders. “We go together, partner.”

  “Looks like your Fed buddies forgot about you, Rhodes,” Thrumburt yelled from below the catwalk.

  “I want to be clear,” he said.

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “Might as well give up, Rhodes. You won’t get out of here alive,” Knighton shouted from their left.

  “We’re getting out. We’re only three blocks from major traffic,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Wishful thinking, Darby.”

  “Or we can wait it out upstairs in one of the offices.” His formidable look confirmed their situation was more dire than she wanted to admit. “Then what do we do?”

  “The truth?” He still held her by her shoulders. “Shoot to kill, Darby. Don’t be soft with these guys. The
ir only intention is to kill you.”

  The last moments in the car replayed in her mind—Thrumburt raising the gun and shooting Campbell in the head. Erren was right. Until all the witnesses were dead, these men would be a danger to her, her family and Erren.

  “They’re trying to kill us. It’s not the time to debate obtaining witnesses,” she said. “I’ve got your back.”

  “I know.” Erren squeezed her shoulders and stepped around the surprise of his life. Should he tell her? Did she already know? He loved looking into her emerald eyes. Even in the low light of the warehouse he could see the green sparks, the life, the fun.

  They’d need lots of luck to walk away from this mess he’d gotten them into. Then they’d talk—possibly including a future.

  Time to go.

  “Thrumburt’s on our right,” he explained. “Knighton’s to the left, the other two cops are probably placed to catch us in a cross fire. Can you take out the light?” She nodded. “This is going to happen fast so stay low and run like the place is on fire until you’re out of the building. And Darby?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay alive for me, will ya?”

  “Right back atcha, cowboy.”

  No weapon—except for the knife—meant there was no way to cover Darby as he waited for her to swing around the door, shoot out the light and run. Which she did to perfection. Two shots hit their mark and shoved the warehouse into complete darkness. Cracks of light broke through every twenty or so feet. He couldn’t see much, but that meant Thrumburt and his men couldn’t see anything either.

  Erren tapped Darby’s shoulder, causing her to halt. He’d said to run, but they couldn’t. They needed to determine where Limpy and Second Cop were. They could be waiting for them just outside. The results wouldn’t be nice.

  He took the lead along the wall, waiting to hear any movement. Nothing. Just the rusty swinging of that hanging light Darby had hit.

  His partner backed into him. They’d learned to work well together. He could trust her—something he hadn’t done in a long time.

  It was an old trick, but he picked up a small cylinder from the floor, motioned to Darby what he was going to do, and threw it to the opposite side of the room. They ducked to their knees, hearing and seeing where two of the men were located as they fired at the sound.