Did Lana even know about Young? Would she take the necessary precautions? Or would she throw herself between her brother and the end of Young’s rifle?
He didn’t even have to think about that one too long. Lana would do whatever it took to protect her brother. Not just because it was her job, but because she fiercely protected those she loved.
He was going to lose her.
The vise closing around him squeezed the air from his lungs. Swallowing around the sand dune blocking his throat proved impossible.
It wasn’t fair.
The future had never held promise for him before. Dreams of a wife and a family were for other guys, but not for him. Or so he’d thought. And then he met her. Only to lose her again.
Maybe Matt would…
He discarded the idea. No way would Matt help protect her. Nate hadn’t even been able to convince Matt to dodge Rosetti’s call. Or keep his retirement a secret. Heck, it’d been hard enough to get Matt to back off in the first place.
As far as Nate knew, no one else was aware who had been hired. Which meant he was the only one who could help her.
The roast beef sandwich he’d had for lunch felt like a slab of meat hanging in his stomach. If Lana had to count on him to protect her, she might as well pick out her epitaph now. No one was less qualified.
Okay, so protecting her was out of the question. But maybe he could warn her.
The idea ricocheted inside his mind.
The warning would have to be done anonymously, of course. Meaning he’d have to use a pay phone or something so she couldn’t trace the number back to him.
Or he could use Stevens’ phone. Yeah, that would work. He could even claim to be Stevens.
It’d lend credibility to his warning. Hopefully enough to make her take him seriously.
Twenty-Two
“It’s hard to believe we’ll be home tomorrow.” Lana zipped her suitcase and set it on the floor.
Alex looked up from her own open suitcase. “I just hope we’ll be able to stay there.”
That didn’t sound good. “You have doubts?”
“The whole thing’s a little off. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more going on here.”
“Then why did you agree to it? You practically told Reilly to do it!”
A bit of an exaggeration, but she didn’t correct herself. How could Alex put on this confident front when Reilly was around if she didn’t really think going back was the best course of action?
The skin around Alex’s eyes creased. “It’s our best shot at closing this thing quickly and keeping Reilly safe in the long run. It’s a calculated risk.”
Calculated risk? That’s what she called putting Reilly’s life on the line?
Before Lana could voice her frustration, her phone rang. She crossed to the dresser and picked it up. The number looked vaguely familiar, but wasn’t one in her phone’s stored memory.
She accepted the call. “Hello?”
Silence. Yet she could hear something. Background noises; traffic, voices, and wind. Someone had to be there.
“Hello?” Two more seconds and she’d chalk it up to a wrong number and end the call. Or maybe have it traced.
“Don’t hang up.”
The words rushed into her ears, spoken by a hoarse male voice.
“This is gonna sound weird, but hang with me, okay?”
Whoever this was, whatever it was about, it wasn’t good. In fact, she’d bet money that it was very wrong.
She eased in a breath and worked up a light tone. “Sure. Who is this?”
The tone caught Alex’s attention. Abandoning her packing, she approached, eyebrows drawn together and an unspoken question on her face.
The pause on the other end of the line lengthened.
“It’s Stevens.”
No way. It couldn’t be him. Could it? “Stevens? Okay, I’m listening.”
She met Alex’s eyes, nodded when Alex mouthed “trace it?”
Maybe they’d get a lock on his location. All she had to do was stay calm and keep him talking long enough for them to get the trace.
Whirling, Alex snatched up her phone and scurried into the hallway.
Lana tuned back into the matter at hand as the raspy voice reached her ears again.
“I’m, uh, calling to um, warn you.”
What the…?
The nerve of this man! Who did he think he was? Was he seriously so arrogant as to think himself untouchable?
“Warn me? You’ve been hunting my brother, my team, me, for weeks and now you’re calling to warn me?”
“I know how it sounds–”
“Do you? Because I’m thinking you don’t have a clue.” Okay, so much for staying calm. She better watch it or she’d drive him away and they’d never get a trace.
“Look, I’m not a threat anymore. I’ve retired.”
“Like I’m really going to believe a word you say.”
“It’s true.”
“Really. And why would you do that?”
“My motives aren’t what’s important here.”
Was that impatience she heard in his tone?
Before she could needle him further, he continued, “You need to be careful.”
“Your concern is touching.”
“He’s hired Freddie Young.”
Young. Why was that name familiar? She pushed the question aside to deal with later. For now, maybe she could get him to give up Rosetti. “Who’s hired Young?”
“Not important. What matters is that Young targets his victims’ families. And law enforcement. You’re both, which will just sweeten the deal.”
“Gee, I appreciate the concern. But given that you already shot me once, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not ready to be friends.”
The words hung in the silence that followed.
Was he still there? Or had her snarky reply cost them the opportunity to catch him?
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“No. You wanted to hurt my brother!”
“Just watch your back.”
Before she could reply, the line went dead. She tossed the phone onto her bed and turned to Alex, who stood in the doorway. “Tell me we got something.”
“Tech is working on it. I guess we’ll know soon enough.”
Something told her they’d come up dry. Stevens hadn’t escaped capture this long by making stupid mistakes.
“What was that all about?” Alex rested her shoulder against the doorframe.
“He was calling to warn me. Can you believe it? He actually sounded concerned about my safety!” Exhaustion swept her and she dropped onto the edge of the mattress. Could this get any more confusing?
“Actually, I can believe it.” Alex cleared her throat and came to sit next to Lana. “Have you considered the possibility that Stevens is someone you know?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve hardly thought about anything else.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No. But he was trying to disguise it.” Proof that he’d been concerned about her identifying him.
Ugh. Was it possible? Could she really know Stevens by some other name?
“Any thoughts?” Alex’s voice shattered her musings.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine that I could be close enough to a killer for him to act this way.” Thoughts jumbled inside her mind and she struggled to sort through them all. “He’d have to be someone who doesn’t know what I do, yet obviously someone who cares about me enough to be concerned for my safety.”
“And someone who has your number.”
“Or has access to someone with it.” Who did that leave?
Possibly countless people from church, although she doubted Stevens frequented a place of worship. Unless he was the ultimate Sunday Christian.
It could also be Elliott. Awfully coincidental that he’d reestablished contact with her at the exact time a hit man was tracking her brother. Perhaps he’d noticed the
last name Tanner and it had brought back memories of her. It wasn’t a completely uncommon last name and since he’d never met Reilly he may not have even connected the two.
Or what about Nate? Growing up in a group home made him much more likely to get involved in criminal activities. But a hit man? Really? And why drag Matt along with him if he was planning to kill someone? It made no sense.
Maybe it was someone from her biological family. Or someone who was close to her family and recognized her. There was a strong family resemblance.
It could even be Branden, although she seriously doubted it. Stevens had seemed surprised to see her, but Branden knew who she was and what she did. Even if she hadn’t told him in so many words.
Alex’s phone rang. The conversation was short and terse and Alex ended the call with a quiet snort. “Big surprise. The trace came up blank. No GPS so either the phone’s really old or he removed the GPS chip. They triangulated the call to Lincoln City, but couldn’t pinpoint the location. But it’s the same number they pulled from Beckman’s phone, so at least we know it was really him.”
Not that she’d suspected anything else.
She sighed. “I better write down the conversation while it’s still fresh in my mind.”
This information would have to be passed along to Maxwell, since he was in charge of the case, and Barker, since he was her immediate supervisor. There would be questions, an investigation, people prying into every corner of her life to try to track down the one person who could be an international hit man.
She pulled out a notepad and pen and jotted down what she remembered. Some of the exact verbiage escaped her, but she was able to recall most of it.
When she finished, Alex took the notepad from her hand and skimmed it. “Wait a second. You didn’t tell me about Young.”
Lana hiked an eyebrow. “What of it?”
“Don’t you know who he is?”
“He sounds familiar, but–”
“Lana, his street name is The Butcher.”
The Butcher. Of course. That’s why he’d sounded familiar. He’d taken out entire families. With ruthless abandon.
Alex pulled out her phone. “We need to get someone on your parents. And what’s Reilly’s girlfriend’s name? We’ll have to make sure she’s covered, too.”
Stevens’ words came back to her. Family and law enforcement. Young would go after her with almost as must enthusiasm as he would Reilly.
Although Alex hadn’t said as much, her position with the team had just changed from protector to protected.
Faster than Young could fire a bullet.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
Nate’s hand shook as he pulled the battery off Stevens’ cell phone. Tossing the phone and battery onto the passenger seat, he cranked the engine and shifted into drive.
Had she taken him seriously? It was hard to say.
Her sharp sarcasm sliced through his mind. Trailed by her words about being shot. By Matt.
Had Matt known? And purposely chosen not to tell him about it?
The question still burned in his mind ten minutes later as he strode through the front door of their cabin.
Matt looked up as he walked in. “Where you been, man?”
“You shot her!” The words flew from him before he’d thought them through.
Surprise flickered across Matt’s face. “You talked to her? How’d you explain knowing about Young?”
“I pretended to be you.” He tossed Matt’s phone and the battery onto the coffee table in front of Matt. “Did you know?”
“I thought I hit someone, but I didn’t know who. She pushed the target out of the way.”
And obviously hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough herself. Nate slowly exhaled.
“Dude, you need to tread carefully. One wrong move and she’ll figure it all out.”
Nate looked at Matt, noting the concern in his face. “Don’t worry. The last thing I want is for her to connect the dots.”
“If she does, we’ve both gotta disappear. She could describe us well enough to give the Feds a sketch.” He paused. “Was it worth it? You think she believed you?”
Sinking into the closest chair, Nate rested his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
Thoughts of what could happen made him want to hurl. If Young caught up to Lana and her team, those thoughts would become reality.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about.” Frank Rosetti channeled every ounce of confidence he possessed, glad no one could see the tremor that shook the hand he clenched beneath the table. “He’ll never make it inside.”
On the other side of the Plexiglas barrier, Garrett leaned forward. “That’s good, man. ‘Cause if he does, I’ll be seein’ you in here.”
He had no doubt Garrett would tell the cops everything. But Freddie Young had guaranteed him that Tanner wouldn’t make it to the prison.
“Just stick with the plan. When he doesn’t show, you tell them that you had nothing to confess. You just wanted the chance to look your accuser in the eye. Remember, without his testimony, they’ve got nothing on you.”
“ ‘Cept the gun.” Garrett cursed.
“Evidence can disappear. Get compromised. Just keep your mouth shut and I’ll take care of everything.”
“You better, man. Or else.”
Frank clenched his teeth, ignoring the pain that spiked through his jaw. If he could, he’d have Young take out Garrett, too.
And Stevens.
Not a bad plan. Once Tanner was out of the way, maybe he’d hire Young to track Stevens down. Teach him a thing or two about keeping his commitments.
Then once Garrett was free, maybe Young could eliminate the loose end.
For now, though, he needed to keep Garrett on his side. And playing by the rules. “I got this. Hold up your end and you’ll be out in no time.”
Garrett stared at him, his icy eyes never blinking. Finally, a slow nod indicated acceptance.
Frank hung up the phone and walked away.
Coming to the prison had been a calculated risk. It would look suspicious to the Feds and would no doubt be questioned by the prosecutor’s office, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d simply argue that since the FBI was fingering him for involvement, he’d wanted to speak with Garrett himself to learn whatever he could about the circumstances involving his arrest and incarceration.
Sure, the Feds would have their suspicions, but would lack the evidence to do anything about it. This whole mess would disappear and Frank could get back to life as usual.
Just as soon as Young eliminated Reilly Tanner.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
Five miles to go. Then they’d be safely inside the walls of the prison.
Lana hoped Garrett really planned to confess. No one would be very happy if he backed out.
If this didn’t end today, little doubt existed in her mind that the team would begin to treat her less like a colleague and more like a witness.
To be honest, she was surprised they’d let her ride along today.
The fact that she sat in the back, behind tinted, bullet-proof glass, was not lost on her.
Traffic snarled ahead of them and Chow brought the vehicle to a halt. Nothing but bumpers, a whole herd of them. Great.
At least they’d left much earlier than necessary. The plan was to arrive at the prison two hours before the meeting in an effort to throw off Young. Or anyone else who might be looking to take a shot at Reilly.
Time dragged. The vehicle barely moved.
Lana twisted in her seat to find traffic packed into the lanes around and behind them, too. So much for trying to get out of this and looking for an alternate route.
They were trapped.
Could Young have orchestrated this? Caused an accident to slow their progress so he could take them out?
Ridiculous. Young wouldn’t have any way of knowing what route they’d take.
Then again, wa
s it any more unlikely than Stevens being connected to her in some still unknown way?
A quick scan of the faces inside the vehicle found the rest of the team alert, but not alarmed.
At least someone could be calm.
Because it certainly wasn’t her.
She slowly removed her gun from the holster, her gaze brushing across the surrounding landscape.
No one approached them on foot. None of the other drivers seemed interested in anything but getting moving again. There was no sign of a sniper – at least not that she could see – on any of the surrounding buildings, either.
Then again, a good sniper would be well camouflaged.
Her attention swished between the dashboard clock and the windows. The clock, then the windows.
The vehicle inched forward. Stopped. A little further. Then stopped.
What was taking so long?
Almost a half hour passed before they started moving more than a few feet at a time.
As they neared the head of the line, she saw a landscaping truck on its side, the long bed blocking several lanes. Bark, rocks, and gravel littered the edges of their lane, which was clear. The piles off to the side told her that hadn’t always been the case.
Well, they’d had the element of surprise on their side. But a forty-five minute delay in traffic had reduced that element significantly.
Okay, so they wouldn’t be quite as early. So what?
Maybe Young would get caught in the same traffic. Or something worse.
The silence in the car seemed to suit everyone’s mood as they closed the gap to the prison. The razor-wire fence rose from the marsh like a mirage. Followed by a cold, gray building.
Warehouses lined the opposite side of the street. Cars, ranging from battered to beautiful, parked around them.
They pulled up to the gate and glided to a stop beside the guard’s booth.
Chow offered his credentials as he lowered the window. “US Marshals. I believe we are expected.”
Taking the badge, the guard peered into the vehicle. “Lemme call this in.”
Crack!
The sharp sound resonated between the buildings. Steam rose from the hood. What was–
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