“I can’t promise anything, but why don’t you give me your number? Just in case.”
He pulled out a business card and jotted a couple of numbers on it. “That’s work, home, and cell. Now you have no excuse.”
Sure. No excuse except the giant bulls-eye painted on Reilly’s back.
Without looking at the card, she tucked it into her pocket. “I need to get back inside.” She’d already spent way too much time talking to him.
“Okay. You’ll call, right?”
“Maybe.” She turned and headed for the door, pausing at the top of the porch to watch him drive away.
The door opened and Beckman stepped out. “There you are. Alex wants to brief us on our next move.”
“Got it.”
The team had gathered in the kitchen. Alex studied Lana’s face for a second, probably to make sure she was okay, then cleared her throat when Lana offered a small nod. “We have our orders. Get a motel for the night and track down a new location first thing.”
“Are you kidding?” Peters asked, his face telling everyone how stupid he found the idea.
“What would you prefer we do? Jump on a plane and leave a fresh trail for the shooter to follow?” Alex drew a deep breath. “The sniper will expect us to leave town and will be watching the airports. Staying here seems like our best bet.”
A snort. Again from Peters.
Alex speared Peters with a look. “This came straight from Maxwell, all right? It doesn’t matter what we think.”
The mention of Alex’s boss’ name silenced any further opposition.
Lana breathed a prayer and peace settled over her.
While unconventional, the plan might actually be the most strategic option. The further they traveled, the more of a trail they’d be likely to leave. Plus, staying in town when a hit man would expect them to leave could give them an edge.
“Rodriguez, call some motels. We want a suite, not ground floor, the more rooms the better. Chow, I want you in the security room, just in case our sniper comes back for round two. And adjust that camera to cover the whole yard. Everyone else, finish packing. We leave within the hour.”
Lana headed for the stairs. Her foot was on the bottom step when Alex’s voice spoke up from behind her. “You okay?”
Glancing over at her friend, she nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to get Reilly packing then I’ll be back down.”
If her energy level had been at zero before, it’d dropped into the negatives now. Putting one foot in front of the other, she trudged to the landing and knocked twice on Reilly’s door.
She jiggled the knob. Locked. Good for him. “Ri?”
The door flew open and she found herself crushed in a hug. At least his breathing sounded – and felt – normal.
“You need to stay in your room.” Her words were muffled into his shirt.
He pulled back and examined her, his gaze resting on the bandage on her arm. “How bad is it?”
She gently pushed him back into the room and locked the door behind her. “Like I told you – it’s a scratch. I’ll be good as new before you know it.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Really. You can even see it in the morning when we change the bandage if you want. I’m fine.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
“For now, get your stuff together. We leave as soon as possible.”
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
The pictures on the wall shook as Stevens slammed the door behind him.
He’d missed.
He never missed.
His eyes roved the room, desperately looking for something he could punch or rip up, something to release the tidal wave swelling inside.
The evening ran repeatedly through his head.
The waiting, the watching, and finally, taking aim.
It’d been an easy shot. Tanner should be dead.
If he hadn’t been spotted by that woman… how had she managed to see him in the dark anyway?
He hoped he’d hit her. Maybe that’d teach her not to get in the way next time.
Unlikely.
Law enforcement training seemed to breed foolish attitudes of self-sacrifice.
He almost wanted to take her down just because she’d made him miss, but that wasn’t his style. It had always been the target and the target alone; he wouldn’t change that now.
Besides, even if he wanted to deviate from the norm, he hadn’t actually seen her.
Pacing vented some of his anger, enough to return him to a normal level of sanity. He measured out a long breath.
Nobody was perfect. Not even him.
Tanner may have gotten lucky this time, but next time, the luck would be on his side. And if that woman interfered again, he’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t live long enough to regret.
Nine
Lana glanced at the clock. 5:31 a.m.
Had it really only been ten minutes since the last time she’d looked? She hated it when this happened. One would think being half a breath away from exhaustion would guarantee a deep sleep, but not so.
It might’ve been the hard mattress.
Or the sheets that felt like newspaper.
The mushy pillows surely didn’t help.
Whatever it was, she’d spent more than an hour trying to fall asleep. She’d tried her side, her stomach, and her back.
Nothing worked.
Scrunching the pillow beneath her head wouldn’t help, but she did it anyway. Was anyone else having this much trouble sleeping?
Alex’s steady breathing across the room offered proof that at least one of them was getting the sleep they all needed so desperately.
She rolled onto her injured arm, gasped, and quickly rolled to her back.
Maybe she should get up. Another half hour; if she hadn’t fallen asleep by six, she’d get up and do something useful. She stared into the darkness, felt herself being pulled in, her eyes growing heavy.
She jerked awake.
The safe house? She looked around the familiar living room. Yes, definitely the safe house. What was she doing here?
Maybe she’d never left.
She twisted toward the window the would-be assassin had shattered. No broken glass, no bullet hole.
She looked at her arm. No bandage. Had the whole thing been a dream?
Reilly walked into the living room.
Well, that answered one question. The shooting must not have happened. If an assassin had discovered their location, Reilly wouldn’t be anywhere near this place.
She met his eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
Dropping onto the sofa, he clicked on the TV. “Sleep’s overrated. How ‘bout you?”
“I’m on duty.” Why else would she be up at this time of night?
A blast of cold air mowed over her and a masked gunman stomped out of the kitchen, a black rifle in his hands.
Reilly!
She jumped up, tried to rush toward Reilly. Gravity fought against her, pushing her back four steps for every forward one she took.
The rifle erupted. Again. And again. And again.
Four rounds slammed into Reilly’s chest and he slumped to the side.
Silence.
The shots echoed in her head in sharp contrast to the stillness surrounding her.
Red blobs appeared on Reilly’s chest. They raced across the front of his yellow shirt, blending and merging into a mass that covered his torso.
“NO!”
The gunman forgotten, she tried to reach Reilly, had to save him, had to somehow bring life back to the vacant eyes. Grasping the end of the sofa, she clawed her way to where his prone body lay. Her fingers went to his neck.
No! He couldn’t be dead!
But he was. And the man who’d done this would pay.
She pulled her gun from the holster, whirled, found nothing but empty space. Where’d he go?
“Thanks a lot, Lana. Great job
.”
Impossible! The voice was Reilly’s, but he was….
Turning back to the sofa, she found the leather stained with blood, but no body.
“I never should’ve trusted my life to you. You’re worthless.”
Worthless.
The word ran over her with the force of a speeding train. Did he really think that? Where was he?
She whipped around, spotted him by the door. Blood saturated his shirt, but he moved as if unhurt. His hand on the knob, he shot her a frigid look.
“Don’t bother coming home. None of us want you there.”
As he walked out the door without a backward glance, she stood there, lips frozen and legs nailed to the floor.
She had to catch up to him, had to explain. Paralyzed muscles kept her rooted in place.
Reilly! She opened her mouth to call to him, to beg him to listen, but no sound came out. No, he couldn’t leave her here alone!
A dark shape stepped into the open doorway and entered the living room, a rifle gripped tightly in its hands. The assassin had no distinguishable features but loomed like a shadow. Large, dark, and ominous.
Slowly raising the rifle, the killer aimed at her stomach. The deafening sound reverberated off the walls. She told herself to move but she was already falling.
“Lana? You okay?”
Alex?
She wrenched her eyes open. Alex hovered over her. Gasping, she pushed herself off the floor and looked around for the gunman. A bedroom? How had she gotten here?
Her hand went to her abdomen, felt the cotton of her shirt, but no blood. Had he missed?
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Tension tightened Alex’s jaw and uncertainty flooded her blue eyes.
Lana tried to calm her nauseous stomach. A dream, just a dream.
They were in a hotel, not the safe house. Excruciating pain burned her arm and her whole right side throbbed from landing on the hard floor, but she wasn’t face to face with an assassin and Reilly…
Reilly!
Just a dream. Just a dream.
No matter how many times she told herself that, the fear that something had happened to Reilly haunted her.
She stumbled out of the bedroom, flipped on the hall light, and pushed open Reilly’s door.
Shadows stretched across the carpet. The only sign of movement came from the blob under the covers. The sound of his even breathing soothed her frayed nerves. Her legs almost gave out and she locked her knees as she slowly eased the door closed.
She turned and nearly smacked into Alex, who stood less than a foot behind her. The gun gripped firmly in Alex’s hands spoke to the impact Lana’s emotional state carried.
“Everything okay?” Alex asked.
Not trusting her voice, Lana nodded. Alex led the way back to their room before turning to look at her.
“That must’ve been some nightmare.”
The numbness lingered as she dropped to the edge of the bed. “It was so real. I mean, I know all nightmares feel real, but this was worse.”
“And it had something to do with Reilly?”
She lifted her gaze to meet Alex’s. No way did she want to talk about the nightmare, but she couldn’t stop the words that already flowed from her lips. “I was on watch and Reilly came downstairs and a shooter was there and just shot him. Four times. In the chest.”
She caught the inside of her cheek between her teeth to prevent anything else from escaping.
Worthless. Don’t come home. None of us want you.
The words replayed in her mind like the soundtrack of a tragedy.
But in her mind was where they would stay. She wouldn’t tell Alex, not now or ever. She wouldn’t tell anyone.
“Phew. Well, now that my heart rate has returned to normal, I think I’ll try to grab a few more winks. You should, too. You look awful.”
Sleep? After a nightmare like that? Yeah, right. “You go ahead. I’m done.”
Maybe a shower would help her feel human again. She grabbed some fresh clothes, headed for the shower, and tried to erase the images.
The water washed the sweat from her skin. But it wasn’t able to warm the chill that filled her bones, cleanse the words from her ears, or wipe the blood from her mind.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“My family’s vacationing with my best friend and her family and we were originally planning to travel down the coast further, but y’alls town is just so cute that we thought we’d stay here if we can get two suites. I’m hopin’ y’all have some vacancy for the next week.”
Lana paused, listening as the hotel employee at the other end of the line navigated the system. Hopefully the Texas drawl would not only sell the act, but also serve to misdirect, just in case the assassin had put out feelers at any of the hotels.
Seemed unlikely, but she’d take no chances.
The man on the other end cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re in luck. We have four two-bedroom suites available. Top floor and two of them are even beachfront, so you’ll have a great view.”
Top floor was good news.
The hotel was one of the larger ones in town and stood five stories tall. It’d be hard for a sniper to get a bead on Reilly with four floors separating them.
“Ain’t you the sweetest thing! I don’t s’pose they have that door inside that connects ‘em, do they?”
“Actually, some of them do. I’ll see that you and your friend are put in adjoining rooms. You said a week, right?”
“That’s right. You’re such a doll!” She gave him Alex’s name and credit card number to secure both rooms and made arrangements to check in that afternoon.
Hanging up the phone, she breathed a prayer of thanks for God’s provision. Things had fallen into place nicely, giving her a peace she hadn’t experienced in days.
“That’s a pleased look. I take it you got something worked out?” Alex dropped onto the mattress beside her.
“Adjoining suites, fifth floor, each with two bedrooms. I booked it for a week.”
“Sweet.” Alex fell silent and studied Lana for several moments. “I’ve gotta ask. What made you look out the window last night?”
“I saw movement.”
“No, I get that, but why then? I mean, think about it. Out of all the times you could’ve looked out there, it just happened to be at the right time to see a sniper before he fired. You’ve gotta have about the best luck of anyone I’ve met.”
“It wasn’t luck. It was God.”
A doubtful expression crossed Alex’s face. “So what, God said ‘hey Lana, check out that sniper in the bushes’? Come on. That’s stretching, don’t you think?”
She couldn’t help chuckling at the mental image. “That’s not quite how it happened, but orchestrating something like that would be simple for Him.”
“Sounds more like a coincidence than God.”
“Coincidences are acts of God. They may seem random to us, but they aren’t to Him. If I’m going to believe He’s all powerful – and I do – then I have to believe He’s in control of everything that happens.”
“Even the bad stuff? I thought God was supposed to be good. Loving.”
Lana shifted to give Alex her full attention. “He is, but you know better than most people that there’s a lot of evil in the world. He could’ve made us puppets, but He wanted us to be able to make our own choices. Choices have a way of affecting others.”
“Oh yeah? Then what about natural disasters? Nobody chooses for an earthquake or a hurricane to happen.”
“Yeah and He protects countless people during those events. Who knows how many casualties we’d be looking at if He didn’t intervene. I know it doesn’t really answer all the questions, but part of faith is believing that God knows what He’s doing and trusting Him even when we don’t understand.”
The room fell silent for a few moments. Alex didn’t ask any more questions, but neither did she seem to be dismissing it as easily as she had in the past.
Sensin
g she’d said enough for today, Lana changed the subject. “What I really want to know is how the shooter found us.”
“And how the camera’s position changed.”
“And who left the curtains open.”
Alex had asked everyone, even Reilly, and they all denied opening the curtains.
But someone had opened them and that someone made Lana nervous.
Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to Alex. “I’ve worked the options in my head a dozen times. Rosetti has to have someone working on the inside.
Alex’s look could’ve cut steel. “Not possible.”
It had to be hard, knowing her team couldn’t be trusted. “Look, I get it–”
“No. You don’t. I know these guys. They’ve all been part of my team for over a year now. None of them would do this.”
“Then how do you think this happened? How did the camera get repositioned? How did the curtain get left open on the exact night a sniper was waiting outside?”
“Mistakes happen. Coincidence.” Alex tossed her hands up in the air. “I don’t know!”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense and you know it. Somehow Rosetti got to one of them.”
“I can’t believe that one of them would do this. That they’d put a witness – all of us – in danger. And for what? Money?”
“People have sold out their own family for less. Besides, is it easier to believe that our shooter somehow snuck past all our security and repositioned the camera himself? And that he just happened to choose the one day someone forgot to close the curtains?”
“I hate to think that one of them sold us out. We all could’ve been killed.”
“Maybe I’m wrong.” Not likely, but for Alex’s sake, not to mention Reilly’s, she hoped she might be. She glanced at her watch. “I was thinking I’d go back to the house, maybe fingerprint the cameras to make sure they weren’t manually repositioned somehow.”
“Good plan. I’ll tag along.”
If Alex wanted to go, maybe she should stay behind. Peters was driving back from Portland with a new vehicle – just in case the shooter had seen theirs last night – but that still left Beckman, Chow, and Rodriguez, any one of whom could be dirty.
Deadly Alliances Page 11
