Didn’t he trust her? Probably not. He didn’t seem to trust anyone but then he had good reason not to. And so did she, after her brother had been framed.
She should have known better than to trust Rowe Cusack, let alone fall asleep in his arms. Heat rushed back to her face, warming her despite the chill in the air. She headed toward the wall unit furnace and cranked up the blowers. What if she were to shove some paper in where the pilot light glowed? What would happen if the place caught fire?
She glanced up at the smoke detectors. They weren’t just plastic, a battery and wires. There was a digital panel on them, something programmed into them. So if she caught the place on fire, maybe the door would automatically open…
But what if it didn’t? Was burning to death a risk she was willing to take? The alternative was waiting and trusting that Rowe would come back for her. She wasn’t sure that was a risk she was willing to take either. Before she could make her decision, a phone jangled. It couldn’t have been hers. Rowe had had her leave that back in the van just in case someone traced the GPS on it. But the ringing emanated from her purse. She reached inside, shoving aside her wallet with the scalpel tucked inside it, for the phone that lit up beneath it.
Mr. Mortimer’s cell phone. Rowe had left it for her instead of taking it with him. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but she suspected she knew who it was. “You damn well better be coming back,” she warned her missing lover.
“No, Miss Kleyn,” a man said, his voice bone-chillingly cold, “you better be coming back.”
“Who is this?” she asked.
“I think you know,” the warden replied, too smart to identify himself.
How had he realized that she’d taken the phone from Mr. Mortimer’s personal effects?
Dr. Bernard must have discovered the cell missing. But instead of reporting her theft to the sheriff, he had reported it to the warden. Was her former employer part of the corruption and cover-up at Blackwoods Penitentiary?
Betrayal clutched her heart. She had felt horrible for the secrets she’d kept from her boss. But now she suspected she hadn’t been the only one keeping secrets.
Dr. Bernard must not have reported all the deaths at Blackwoods Penitentiary, or there would have been an investigator before Rowe sent to the prison. Had he kept quiet because he was afraid of the warden or because he was being reimbursed to keep his silence? How much money had he received to give up the information about her? Enough to make it worth her life?
“What do you want with me?” she asked. “I already told you everything I know.”
“It’s not so much what you know as who you know,” the warden replied.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about…”
“Your brother, for one, Miss Kleyn,” he replied. “We need to talk about your brother.”
“What about Jed?”
“Come to Blackwoods Penitentiary,” he ordered her, “and we’ll discuss your brother.”
“Is he all right?” Or was it already too late for him?
“He won’t be anything much longer, Miss Kleyn,” he warned her. “You need to hurry back. No matter how badly you’re hurt, your brother will be hurt worse if you don’t show up.”
How did he know that she had left Blackwoods County? Whoever had been shooting at her and Rowe in the alley must have called the warden. And like Rowe had for a brief time, they thought one of all those flying bullets had struck her.
Despite how close she stood to the furnace, she shivered. “I’m not hurt. Your lackey wasn’t a very good shot.”
“That’s good,” he said, a breath rattling the phone almost as if he’d breathed a sigh of relief that she was unharmed. Probably just because he wanted to be the one who hurt her. “Then you have no excuse not to hurry back here.”
“Before I go anywhere, I need proof that Jed is alive,” she said even though she knew her efforts to negotiate with the warden were futile.
“And I need proof that Rowe Cusack is dead.”
Just as her attacker had, the warden was no longer bothering to hide the fact that he knew who and what Rowe really was. He wasn’t afraid of the DEA. He had to be working with someone inside the administration.
She reminded him, “You saw the fax of that photo—”
“That photo is bullshit, Miss Kleyn,” he interrupted, his voice rising in anger, “that fooled nobody.”
“It would have worked,” she insisted, “if you hadn’t beaten Doc until he told you the truth.”
He snorted again. “Did you really think a little girl like you could outsmart me?”
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to come to the prison alone without proof that my brother is still alive?”
“I don’t expect you to come alone,” he replied. “In fact I’d be quite upset if you did.”
He wanted Rowe. Whoever had shot at them in the alley had definitely confirmed that the DEA agent had survived the warden’s hit.
Tears stung her eyes as dread and panic clutched her heart. And if the warden had proof that Jed had disobeyed him, he would have already dealt with her brother.
“And I’d be quite angry if something had already happened to Jed and you were trying to lure me back to Blackwoods under false pretenses.”
“Well, Miss Kleyn, I could take a picture for you…” he offered, “but we both know there’s nothing like seeing someone in person.”
The panic stealing her breath, she glanced toward the door, the locked door.
“I—I don’t even know where I am right now.” The abandoned airfield could have been anywhere. While she might not have lost consciousness from the glass, she had lost her focus for a while. She hadn’t paid attention to how Rowe had driven to the airfield. “I’m not sure how soon I’ll be able to make it to Blackwoods.”
“You better make it soon, Miss Kleyn,” he warned her. “Your brother doesn’t have much time left. I’m about to commute his…life…sentences.”
“Don’t hurt him,” she pleaded. “I’ll get there.” Somehow. Even if she had to burn down the hangar to get out.
But the sound of an engine drowned out the blower on the wall unit, as a car approached. There was nothing on the abandoned airstrip but the hangar. Someone was definitely coming here.
To her. Or for her?
“Hurry back to Blackwoods,” Warden James advised, “and bring that DEA agent with you or your brother will die.” The line went dead.
Just like her brother probably already was. She knew that she would be a fool to fall for the warden’s obvious trap.
But maybe the trap had already been sprung.
Maybe his plan had been to keep her on the phone until the cell was used to track down her whereabouts. She didn’t know where she was, but she suspected the warden knew.
And he had sent someone to get her.
The door rattled as someone messed with the lock. The window into the hangar was too far from the door; she couldn’t tell who was trying to get in, to get to her.
“Oh, God…”
She dropped the phone. It was too late to smash it beneath her foot or shove it into that burning pilot light to stop the call from being traced. She had already been tracked down.
But it wasn’t too late to defend herself. She reached into her purse and pulled the scalpel out of her wallet. Then she rushed to the door just as it opened.
If this was the man from the alley, he was armed with a gun. And she had only the scalpel for a weapon. No matter that she was outarmed, she swung the blade, determined to not go down without a fight. Nobody was taking her alive.
Chapter Twelve
The warden breathed a sigh of relief and announced to his empty office, “We’ve got her.”
And given the current situation, she was more important than Rowe Cusack. Macy Kleyn was the leverage he needed to regain control.
Shouts and shots continued to echo throughout the prison. And he suspected he smelled smoke. What the hell had t
hey set afire?
How much more abuse could Blackwoods endure before the prison imploded? He glanced to Emily’s picture. Instead of just straightening the frame, he needed to take down the entire picture and pack it away. He could keep Emily’s picture safe. Maybe.
But he was more concerned about keeping Emily safe. From the truth…
Macy Kleyn would help him do that. She couldn’t get to Blackwoods soon enough.
He pressed another button on the cell—for that one person’s damn phone. Angry and impatient, he said, “I cleaned up your mess.”
“It’s over?”
“No. But it will be soon.”
“I hope it’s soon enough to protect the operation,” his greedy partner declared.
Jefferson had once been that greedy. But right now the drug operation was the least of the warden’s concerns. All he cared about was saving his ass. And the only way he could do that was to make sure Rowe Cusack was dead, along with everyone who had had any contact with him.
“I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER than to ever think you were defenseless,” Rowe remarked as he ducked under the hand with which she swung the scalpel.
“Defenseless,” she sputtered. “You were thinking that I’m defenseless?”
He grabbed her wrist and knocked the knife onto the floor. The metal clattered against the cement. “I knew you’d be pissed that I locked you in but this is ridiculous.”
“I didn’t think it was you at the door,” she said. “I thought someone else was trying to get in.”
And with the way she was trembling, he believed her. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
She was alone in the hangar. None of the agents had found her. Relieved that she was all right, he blew out a breath, stirring her hair.
But she wasn’t all right. She shoved him back. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Surprised by the urgency in her voice, he narrowed his eyes and studied her face. “Did something happen? Was someone here?”
He hadn’t noticed any tire tracks on the dirt lane leading to the airfield, besides the ones from her car the night before and his truck when he had left before dawn.
She pointed a trembling finger toward the phone lying on the floor next to her purse. “He called me.”
“Who?” She had taken that phone from a dead man’s personal effects left in the morgue. How the hell had anyone realized she had it?
Maybe the dead man’s relatives or someone else had reported it missing to the coroner. And her boss had given her up, proving again that no one in Blackwoods County could be trusted.
“The warden.” She shook her head, her pretty mouth twisting with self-disgust. “I let him keep me on the phone, talking about Jed. He could have been tracing my location.”
He grabbed up her purse and handed it to her. “We need to get the hell out of here. Now.”
She picked up the scalpel from the floor and slid it back into her wallet. The leather had begun to fray from the sharp blade, and the vicious little weapon almost dropped out of it as she tucked the wallet into her purse.
“We need to go back to Blackwoods,” she said, her voice steady with grim determination.
“That’s the last place you’re going.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s too dangerous here, too,” she reminded him. “The warden knows you’re alive. He’s not just guessing anymore.”
He cursed. “So whoever shot at us in the alley is still in contact with the warden.” This hadn’t been a simple payoff for information. Whichever DEA agent had blown his cover hadn’t done so for some quick cash. He or she had some type of arrangement with the warden. Perhaps they were even partners.
Tears shimmering in her eyes, Macy nodded. “Warden James threatened Jed. He said that if I don’t go back and bring you with me he’ll kill my brother. We have to go. Now.”
Rowe sucked in a breath at how willing she was to sacrifice his life for Jed’s. She’d easily made her choice. And just like when his parents had chosen drugs over him, he had come out last again.
The saddest part was that Jedidiah Kleyn was probably already dead. But Macy would know no peace unless she had done everything she could to save her brother. Rowe understood that. Even though he’d been just a kid, he had tried to save his parents, but the drugs had taken their lives despite his efforts. Of course he had been just a kid then. Now he was a man, so he ignored his own pain and disappointment.
He ignored the bed, too, the sheets tangled from their lovemaking, as he turned off the furnace and led her out the door.
“We’ll take the truck,” he said, holding open the passenger door. The car had no windows and the tire had gone flat from the crumpled fender rubbing against it. “It has a big engine. It’ll get us there fast.”
“He said to hurry.” Fear darkened her brown eyes as she stared up at him, almost hopefully, as if she wanted him to assure her that her brother was all right.
He couldn’t lie to her. “If the warden knows I’m alive, he knows where we are. He knows how long it will take us to get back to Blackwoods.”
He shut the door on her, but it felt like more than glass and metal separated them now. It was as if last night had never happened, as if he had never been inside her—part of her. Had he dreamed it all?
He pulled out the disposable phone he’d purchased that morning. And, like the warden, he made some calls. He was going back to Blackwoods, but he wasn’t going to walk blindly into the warden’s trap.
Hell, no.
He was going to set a trap of his own….
WITH EACH MILE THAT THEY DREW CLOSER to Blackwoods, the muscles in Macy’s already sore stomach tightened more, knotting with fear and dread.
“I’m going to drop you at a state police post,” Rowe remarked, his voice nearly as cold and impersonal as the warden had sounded.
“What—why?”
“You’re damn well not going back to the prison.” Taking his gaze from the road, he spared her a glance. And his blue eyes were as icily cold as his deep voice.
What had happened to her lover? To the man who’d been so gentle and generous the night before?
She shivered. “I know. I know it’s a trap. But if the warden got to someone in the DEA, don’t you think he could have bought off the state police too?”
“Maybe the sheriff,” Rowe said. “But I doubt he could buy off every law enforcement officer in the county. At least that’s what I’m counting on.”
“Is that who you called earlier?” He had made several calls while her stomach had clenched with nerves that someone would catch them at the hangar before they escaped. And her stupidity could have put them in danger.
“I called the DEA,” he said.
She shivered at the coldness of his voice and his admission.
“But—but you know that someone at your agency betrayed you.”
“And I have it narrowed down to three agents,” he said, “so I called all three of them.”
“But what if it’s all three, working together?” she asked. Given the extent of the cover-up, she wouldn’t be surprised if more than one agent was working against Rowe in the DEA. “Then you’ll have no backup.”
“I called in our group supervisor, too,” Rowe said, “and the state police.”
He had a plan, one he hadn’t bothered to share with her. Instead they’d been driving in silence. She had been too scared to speak. But he just hadn’t considered that she would want to know what he had planned to protect them. “I don’t understand…”
“If I have any hope of saving your brother,” he said, his words giving her the brief flash of the hope she hadn’t dared to give herself regarding her brother’s fate, “I can’t storm Blackwoods alone.”
“Rowe…” She blinked back tears, overwhelmed with emotion. They both knew it was too late for Jed. But that Rowe would lie to her…that he would risk his life to keep her hope alive…
Ever
since he had returned to the safe house, there had been a distance between them that had felt far wider than the console between the truck’s bucket seats. She reached across now, clutching his arm, and tried to close that distance. “You can’t go back there…”
“But that’s what the warden demanded,” he reminded her, his voice cold again.
And she realized that the distance between them was all her fault.
“That’s what Warden James wants. It’s not what I want.” She had never intended to risk Rowe’s life to save Jed’s.
“But you wanted to go back to Blackwoods.” His brow furrowed in confusion.
“He knows you’re alive now. It’s over. We both know it’s over. Hell, even the warden knows it’s over.” But like her, the older man wasn’t willing to go down without one hell of a fight.
Rowe tugged his arm free of her grasp and tightened his hands around the steering wheel. “I want to bring him in. I need him to tell me who gave me up.”
“So you’re bringing them all there together.” She shook her head, which pounded with dread and fear. “It’s too dangerous.”
“There’ll be too many witnesses for one of them to try something,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Then let me come along,” she urged him.
“You can’t be there when this goes down,” Rowe said. “I need to leave you at this state police post.” He started turning the wheel toward the freeway exit that led to the post.
She clutched his arm again. “No. You said yourself you don’t know who you can trust. The warden wouldn’t have been able to buy off everyone. But we have no idea who’s working for him and who’s not.”
“I can’t take you to the prison,” he said, that muscle twitching beneath the heavy gold stubble on his jaw.
“So take me to the crematorium.”
He shuddered. And she remembered he hadn’t been any more comfortable there than he had been in the body bag, the morgue or the hearse.
“No one will look for me there,” she pointed out. “So I’ll be safer at the crematorium than my cabin or at the morgue.”
Lawman Lover - Lisa Childs Page 13
