by Laura Kaye
After a few minutes of small talk Kaine said, “How are you, Becca? How are things?”
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Things have been okay. For a while after Dad died, I let work keep me busy. And that helped.”
“Your father was a good man. I miss him over there,” Kaine said, giving her a sympathetic smile. The guy had that tough, rough-hewn look that a lot of older military guys get, as if he’d been hardened by age and combat and hardship.
“Yeah. It would probably all be easier if I knew exactly what happened to him, because of course it’s hard not to wonder and imagine. But I guess that’s just how it is.” She gave a small shrug and sipped her coffee again. Nick had coached her on what to say and how to answer possible questions. The team wanted to see how Kaine reacted to certain things and whether his questions or the topics of conversation he introduced might reveal anything about his true intent.
Kaine frowned. “He died a hero, Becca. That’s the key thing to know. Best not to dwell on the how. Your old man wouldn’t want you to do that.”
Kat’s phone buzzed. You lied to me, Katherine. You said you’d meet me, which you never intended. Just another of your lies, wasn’t it? Cole. Sighing, Kat thumbed back over to Nick’s texts so she’d be ready to contact him if she needed. She had no time to think about Cole’s bullshit right now, and she never responded anyway. Sure as hell kept every message, though.
Nibbling on a pastry, Becca nodded after a moment. “I know,” she said. Kat wanted to high-five Becca for how cool she was playing this, especially since her father clearly did want her and Charlie to know what had happened. Or else he wouldn’t have sent them a hidden microchip full of evidence and the means to decode it. Kat could only imagine what was going through the other woman’s head.
“How is work, anyway?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
“I’ve taken some time off, actually,” she said.
Kaine ate a bite of pastry. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” she said smiling. “The E.R. just got to be . . . a little crazy.” She shook her head. “Thankfully, the money Dad left gives me a little flexibility. Of course . . .” She fingered the handle of her mug. “I’d give it all back in a heartbeat if it meant he could be here again.”
Kat’s phone buzzed in her hand again, but she was too busy watching Kaine’s face for a reaction. And he definitely had one. His eyes widened and one brow went up, just the littlest bit. It happened so quickly that if she hadn’t specifically been watching for it, she might’ve missed it. Of course, who the heck knew what it meant?
“Amen to that,” Kaine said, lifting his mug in a salute.
Bracing for more vitriol from Cole, Kat peered down at her phone.
She seem okay? Anything else happening in there? Nick. Thank God.
She’s doing great. Totally calm. All else is quiet. Kat put down her phone and pulled off a big piece of muffin. As she chewed, she pretended to be interested in her phone again.
“So, you said you and Charlie don’t keep in touch much anymore?” Kaine said. “I would’ve liked to see him, too, but I’ve never had his contact information.”
“Yeah. Charlie’s always been erratic at keeping in touch. We e-mailed maybe a month ago and then that was it. When his landlord informed me that Charlie hadn’t been around, I actually filed a missing persons report, but the police just think he took off.”
“Damn, Becca. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you agree with the police?” Kaine gripped both hands around his mug.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, he’s done it before and showed back up again later. I guess I’m not sure what to think.”
Aw, geez. Kat was so proud of how Becca was doing she wanted to throw confetti.
“I’ve got some contacts in the police department here,” Kaine said. “Prior military who went law enforcement after retirement. I could see if they’d look into it further if you like.”
Well, the guys were gonna find that one interesting. It wasn’t unusual for prior military to go into the police or other first-responder-type jobs, but it was interesting to know that, along with the Church Gang, Kaine had contacts in the BPD.
Becca smiled and sat forward. “Really? I’d love that. It would just be nice to know for sure. Do you need anything?”
“Maybe just his contact information and any known contacts? Just places to start.” Kaine sipped his coffee, his gaze looking over the top of the mug.
Grabbing a pen from her purse, Becca nodded. “I’ll give you what I can,” she said, writing on a napkin. “We didn’t talk by phone much but this is his cell.” She wrote for a few more seconds, then slid the napkin across the table.
After that, they made more small talk. About their pastries. About his stay in the area. About how nice the weather was here compared to Afghanistan.
Kat’s phone buzzed.
Two BPD squad cars pulling up out front.
Kat’s heart thumped against her breastbone. Probably nothing. Right? It was a coffee shop, after all. And still plenty crowded. Except, Nick’s team had ample evidence that some of Baltimore’s cops had been firmly in the Church Gang’s pockets, and now, from what he’d just said, they knew Kaine had contacts there, too. It was a damn shame, but in this situation the police had to be assumed guilty until proven innocent.
“Well, it was really good to see you, Becca. I wish I had more time to visit,” Kaine said, balling his napkin up and dropping it in his empty cup.
Three officers incoming, came the next message.
Kat pushed her fork off her table. It clanged to the floor—a signal to Becca that meant Wrap it up.
“It was good to see you, too,” Becca said, pushing her chair back. Still chatting, they both stood and carried their dirty dishes to a bin over the trash can.
Three uniformed Baltimore city police officers walked in the front door. Kat’s gaze ping-ponged between the policemen and Becca. The men didn’t seem to take any special notice of Becca or Kaine. They got in line, eyes toward the wall-mounted menu, seemingly focused on what to order.
“Did you say you walked here?” Kaine asked, gesturing with his hand for her to go first as Becca nodded. “Can I drop you somewhere?”
Kat wasn’t loving this at all. The space was narrow and crowded enough that Becca was going to have to cut through the line—between the police officers—to reach the front door. Maybe Kat was overreacting, but something just felt off. Stuffing her remaining half muffin into her coffee cup, she grabbed her jacket, rose as nonchalantly as she could and made her way toward the door.
The middle cop turned around and walked full-force into Becca, hard enough that she reared back a step or two. Kat bit back a gasp, forcing herself to finish walking to the dish bin instead of standing and gawking at them.
Kaine caught Becca with a hand on her back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the policeman said.
Becca waved a hand. “It was just an accident. I’m fine.”
The officer put a hand on Becca’s shoulder, and ice skittered down Kat’s spine. Between the three cops and Kaine, Becca was completely surrounded. And the other woman’s protestations of being fine were sounding more and more strained to Kat’s ears.
She needed a distraction. So she hooked her elbow inside the dish bin and turned as if to walk away. The bin followed her and fell to the floor in an impressive crash of silverware and broken ceramic.
The whole restaurant—including the cops and Kaine—turned to look at her, but Kat glued her gaze to one of the workers behind the counter. “I’m so sorry. My jacket got caught and I didn’t notice.”
A young man came around the counter and had to cut through the line to try to reach where Kat stood. “Excuse me,” he said, needing two of the cops to step aside to make it over. The moment they did, Becca pushed through the line and reached the door, Kaine following belatedly behind her.
“I’m really sorry,” Kat said, glancing between the mess she’d ma
de and Becca’s back, disappearing outside.
“Don’t worry about it,” the coffee shop guy said.
“Can I help?”
He waved her away. “I got it.”
Kat gave him a quick nod and took off for the door. “Excuse me,” she said, squeezing between the same two cops that Becca had. They let her through without any issues, but prickles ran over her scalp anyway.
Maybe she was just predisposed to look for trouble where it didn’t exist, but her gut was ringing out a five-alarmer. Something just didn’t feel right.
Outside in the morning sunlight, Kat caught a glimpse of Becca and Kaine turning the corner onto the side street. Kat moved in that direction, walking slowly and acting like she was texting a message.
“I’m parked down this way,” Kaine said. “Sure I can’t give you a ride?”
“No, thank you,” Becca said with a smile. “I have to make a stop on the way back to my place anyway. And I really enjoy walking.”
Kaine nodded, his smile seemingly genuine.
Behind Kat, two of the cops emerged from the shop, coffee cups in hand, and crossed the sidewalk to one of the two squad cars parked there. They got in, and Kat kept waiting for them to go. Had they received a call? But they just sat there.
A car engine revved on the side street, and Kat looked just as Nick pulled away from the curb. That was the plan—their leaving the shop was his signal to drive the two blocks down to their designated pickup spot.
Becca parted from Kaine, walked to the intersection and crossed to the other side.
The police car pulled a U-ey so that it was headed in the same direction on Eastern as Becca. It passed by where she walked, but to Kat’s eyes seemed to be moving slow.
She texted Nick: Bad feeling about the cops. Maybe we should go back in shop?
Her phone buzzed, and Kat tried to read her message and keep her eyes on Becca.
Overreacting. Stick to the plan. That was maybe the tenth time he’d told her that today.
Kat headed for the intersection, her belly a mess of intuition. Maybe she was wrong, but shouldn’t she play it safe? This woman was the love of her oldest brother’s life. Anything happened to Becca, and Nick would never forgive her. Nor would she be able to forgive herself.
Kaine’s rental—hopefully planted with a tracking device by now—pulled up to the stop sign, waited, and then turned right. Away from Becca. Okay, that helped. A little. Maybe she was overreacting.
Kat jogged across the street, not wanting to allow too much distance between her and Becca. At least they didn’t have far to go. The plan was for her to follow Becca two blocks to a corner pharmacy, where they’d both enter so Kat could scan Becca for any tracking or listening devices that might’ve been planted on her. When they came out, Nick would be waiting to pick them up.
But Kat noticed two things in quick succession that convinced her to ditch that plan. First, up ahead, at the end of the long block on which they walked, the police car that had left the coffee shop turned onto the first cross street and parked along the curb—directly in Becca’s path if she was actually walking home from here. And definitely in the way of them reaching the pharmacy.
Second, looking over her shoulder, she saw the final cop emerge from the shop and stand on the corner, as if waiting for something. His presence now blocked them from returning to the café or reaching Shane, parked farther down that block. And, anyway, Kat was leery of doing anything that might expose her brother and his team to their enemies. Which meant she had to figure this out on her own. And fast.
And that was when the loud, squeaking brakes of a transit bus sounded from a short distance up the road. Well, if this wasn’t the definition of going off on her own. Couldn’t worry about that now, though. “Becca,” Kat called. “Come here, quick.”
Becca turned, frowning. Kat waved her closer. “What are you doing?” Becca asked. They weren’t supposed to publicly acknowledge one another at all. But Plan A was out the window.
“Something’s not right. Change of plans.” Kat grabbed Becca’s hand and half dragged her to the bus stop twenty feet behind where they were. They couldn’t walk forward or back. The stretch of residential row houses along this part of Eastern offered them nowhere to hide. And none of the guys were close enough to help. Kat was making an executive decision.
“Are you sure?” Becca asked.
“No.” The bus came to a squeaking stop in front of them. “Get in and sit down. I’ll pay. But bend down like you’re tying your shoe so you can’t be seen from outside.”
They climbed onto the bus. Becca did just as Kat told her, sitting in the seat immediately in front of the mid-bus door. Kat fed fare money into the machine and noted the bus route and number. As the bus jerked and got under way again, she rushed to the seat beside a bent-over Becca, her phone already in her hand. She had to let Nick know where they’d gone.
Cops were following Becca. They’d set up to intercept her. With shaking fingers, Kat hit Send.
We are on the #10 bus 1854 headed east on Eastern Avenue. Get the cops off of us and I’ll get us back to Hard Ink. She hit Send again and spied a black pickup out the side window. We just passed Shane’s truck, FYI.
She could almost hear Nick’s stream of curses at her for deviating from the plan. But what was she supposed to do?
He sent back one word: Roger. And she knew deep down in her gut that he was gonna have a helluva lot more to say than that.
But she couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to figure out how they’d get off this bus and safely back to Hard Ink. A lightbulb went off in her head, and she searched for a number and pressed Call. While she waited, she said, “Don’t worry, Becca. I let Nick know what’s going on.”
“He’s gonna flip out,” Becca said.
“I know.”
The other woman peeked up at her. “Do you think we’re being followed?”
A ringing sounded in her ear, and Kat held up a hand, asking Becca to wait.
“Kenyon,” came a deep male voice from down the line.
“Dare? It’s Kat Rixey. I need help.”
“Name it,” he said, ice slipping into his tone.
Kat explained what was going on, where they were, and where they needed a pickup on Eastern. Thank God she’d taken this bus before. Last July fourth she’d come up to Baltimore to watch the fireworks over the Inner Harbor with her brothers, and they’d taken the number 10 into the city to avoid the nightmare of parking on a holiday.
“We got you, Kat. Sit tight,” Dare said. The line went dead. So far, so good.
“Let Nick know we’re okay,” Becca whispered.
Nodding, Kat typed out, We’re both okay. She didn’t receive a reply.
Kat sighed. “Those cops weren’t a coincidence, Becca. I can’t prove it, but—” She patted her purse. “Oh, wait. Maybe I can. I almost forgot.” She reached in and found the black rectangular device—a portable bug detector—that Beckett had given her and shown her how to use. That had been their single conversation since the weirdness of last night. Shoving that thought aside, Kat turned the unit on, positioning it in her hand so she could see the ten-light indicator that would reveal the presence and strength of any kind of transmitter signal Becca might be carrying. “Sit up a little.”
Becca did, keeping her face turned away from the window. The key was doing a methodical section-by-section sweep. Head, neck, shoulders, chest. The red lights lit up. Kat pressed against Becca’s dark blue sweater and found the wire transmitter that Marz had placed on her to pick up the conversation with Kaine. That one was fine, so she kept going. Left arm, right arm, stomach, hips, legs, feet.
All clear.
Kat’s belly dropped to the floor. Nick was going to kill her no matter what, but he would do it twice if she had detoured from the plan for no good reason. “Let me see your purse,” Kat whispered.
Kat pulled the medium-sized brown leather bag into her lap, and half the row of indicator lights glowed.
Bingo.
“Sorry,” she said as she unpacked the bag, handing one item after another to Becca, who piled it all in her lap. The more Kat emptied the bag, the more additional lights glowed on the indicator bar. At the very bottom Kat found a small green chip, maybe less than a half inch square. All ten lights lit up. Kat held it between her fingers so Becca could see.
The other woman’s eyes went wide.
Kat snapped it in half.
“Think that’ll take care of it?” Becca asked.
Kat had just inhaled to answer when several motorcycle engines roared by the bus. She caught a glimpse of them but couldn’t tell if they were Ravens without their cuts. The rumble faded away, then seemed to get closer again, as if they were coming up behind them. Her phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Nick this time. Nor Cole.
It was Dare. Cop car following the bus. Diversion in place. Meet you as planned.
What in the world?
Just then more bikes roared out of a cross street, so close that Kat thought they might strike the back of the bus. Horns blared. Sirens whoop-whooped. But all of that noise became more distant as the bus continued to trundle down Eastern Avenue, making good time, as no one requested a stop and the bus stops they passed stood empty.
“It’s almost time to get off,” Kat said, jamming Becca’s belongings back into her bag. Kat wasn’t entirely sure what was happening once they disembarked. The closest stop to Hard Ink was in front of a largely abandoned business strip situated in between an ancient gas station and a car dealer. Not exactly a lot of shelter in any of that. Worst case scenario, it was maybe a six-block walk back to Hard Ink, but she really didn’t want to take the chance of making it on foot.
Two blocks later, Kat pressed the yellow strip that requested a stop. “Here we go,” she said when the bus lurched to the curb. Looking out the window, she grinned.
