by Dale Mayer
She looked up at him and smiled, then said, “No, we’re having a conversation. Do you mind?”
He stared at her in shock for a moment, then burst out laughing.
But Hatch hopped in the back seat, and she climbed into the front, both of them wincing, grimacing from the pain.
“Good Lord,” Killian said. “The two of you are quite the pair.”
“We’re fine,” both Hatch and Stacey snapped in perfect unison, slamming their doors shut.
Killian looked from one to the other, grinned, and said, “Well, this ought to be fun. Two invalids and neither one of you will be good about it.”
“As if you’d be any different,” Hatch scoffed.
“Hell no, I wouldn’t,” he said, “but I’m not the one who ran into a bullet this time.”
“Lucky shot,” Hatch said.
Such good-natured teasing was in his voice that she had to wonder at these men who dealt with this kind of thing all the time. Because they were calm and relaxed about it, it was easier on her too. “Well, I didn’t get shot,” she said. “So you can’t blame it on me.”
“No, but you went and injured that leg again,” Hatch said, with a shake of his head. “What’s up with that?”
“Fine,” she said. “We’re all idiots then.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any argument about that,” Killian said.
As they drove downtown and away from the hospital, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“A safe house.”
“Well, you said that before, and, as descriptions go, that really isn’t helpful.”
“You’ll see when we get there,” he said.
“I’m not allowed to know the address?”
“Nope, you never know when or where bugs have been planted.”
At that, she stopped and stared at him. She sat back in her seat in complete silence. Finally, when they came to a stop, they were in the underground parking lot of a large apartment complex. They parked very close to an elevator. As they slowly made their way out, Killian came around to help her and Hatch. They managed to get inside the elevator and headed up without seeing anybody. As they got to the top, he held a finger to his lips, and she watched as he opened the double doors that led to a penthouse directly inside. She frowned at that. And he turned, locked the doors behind them, and then brought something from his pocket, completely searching the small space. Finally he came back and said, “It’s clear.”
“Good thing,” Hatch said, “because I’m really not in the mood to run.”
“Neither am I,” she said. “Are you guys always this thorough?”
“We have to be,” Killian said. “Being vigilant keeps us alive.”
She nodded. “Got it. I need to stay alive too, and that means getting my ass on that couch over there,” she said, as she hobbled forward. When she finally sank down in place, she sighed happily.
“And that’s why you should have stayed in the hospital and rested,” Killian murmured.
“Nope, not happening. But I do have pain pills, and I didn’t get those yet.”
He immediately went and got her a glass of water and handed over two of the pills.
“I have antibiotics too, I think,” she murmured.
“Yeah, you do, and I’ll get those in a minute,” he said. “They’re in the other bags.”
Then he turned, and, as she watched, Killian doled out medication for Hatch. “Look at that,” she said. “You fill the role of nursemaid very well.”
He glared at her. “I do it because I have to,” he said, “but don’t get any ideas.”
She chuckled. “Hey, I sure don’t plan on getting hurt anymore.”
“Ha,” he said, “if you don’t listen to instructions, you will.”
“Maybe,” she said, shifting on the couch pillows. “You don’t mind if I sleep right now, do you?”
“No,” he said. “Not at all.” As he walked to her, he smiled, then leaned over and gave her gentle kiss on the forehead and said, “Sweet dreams.”
Killian turned, finding Hatch grinning at him. Killian shrugged. “I don’t know how it happened,” he said, “but it did.”
“And it’s a good thing,” Hatch said. “I really like her.”
“Too bad. She’s taken.”
At that, Hatch burst out laughing. “She’s also had a pretty good idea with that nap thing.”
“You want to move into one of the bedrooms, or will you crash on the other couch?”
He looked at it and said, “I’ll sleep better in the bed.” Then he headed for the nearest bedroom.
At that, Killian found himself alone at the kitchen table. Within what seemed like a few minutes, though it was likely longer, his phone buzzed with an incoming message from Jerricho. Killian swore softly as he read it. He wouldn’t wake anybody with the news, but it was concerning. He quickly typed back a question. How badly hurt is the guard?
And got a response right away. He’ll live. So will the father; he was unconscious at the time. Since the attempt was unsuccessful, we’ll really have to keep an eye out, assuming he’ll try again.
Interesting that Dean went after the father again, Killian wrote.
He probably knows how much Stacey loves him. So it’s all about her, causing her pain, getting back at her for blowing up the life Dean was living.
Killian nodded, rubbing his face before replying. Any results from Max’s house?
Just a lot of questions, nothing really sure yet. Forensics is all over it.
Great, he replied, frowning. That could take quite a while.
It could, and, if Hatch was okay, I’d send you both to take a look into the house yourselves.
Give him a couple hours. He’s grabbing a nap right now.
How badly hurt is he?
More pissed that he was caught by a bullet.
Of course, Jerricho said. We’ll keep an eye on the progress at Max’s, and we’ll find you a pathway there.
And a guard here.
Or else you go alone and leave Hatch with her? Jerricho suggested.
That might be the best answer, but let’s give Hatch a few hours. Even then, Killian turned at a sound to see Hatch coming out of the bedroom.
“What’s new?” he asked.
Killian quickly filled him in.
“You might as well go now,” Hatch said. “I tried to sleep, but it didn’t work. I’ll put on some coffee. You better get back before she wakes up.”
Rolling his eyes at that, Killian sent a message off to Jerricho. Heading out now. Hatch’s up already.
Killian was already dressed in his fatigues and was down the elevator, into the garage, and out of the building in a matter of seconds. He took an alternate route out this time. As he headed to Max’s home, he recalled the layout he had studied, though he’d never been there before. He used GPS to navigate to the address, and, by the time he pulled up one block away, he left the vehicle, carrying just a small backpack of essentials. He walked down the alleyway, looking to see if anybody else was around.
According to the team updating him through a headset, the house was empty.
“What about the cops and forensics and all?”
“They were there but left already. They’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
“Right. It’s not like there’s any rush. The owner’s dead. Was anybody else in the house?”
“According to them, no.”
“Animals?”
“No way because, outside of some big-ass dogs or something, nothing else would go with Max’s image.”
As Killian walked through the backyard, he kept to the shadows, just in case anybody watched the property. Getting inside the house was incredibly easy, but then the cops had turned off the security system and hadn’t reset it. Killian walked through the ground floor, but he was looking for the office, looking for that secret space where Max would have kept anything of importance.
He didn’t find it on the first go-round, but the house was a spl
it-level design, with multiple levels staggered throughout, with small staircases in different places. As he quickly explored the extended spaces, he checked through the master bedroom suite but found no safe, nothing in the night table. As a matter of fact, it was oddly clean. The guy had been fastidious about neatness apparently.
Killian moved down a level, and there, in the office, he stopped because the cops had been through here but had left it relatively unscathed. If it had been him, he would have torn the plaster off the walls, looking for anything that this guy might have left hidden. He was a slimy bastard, but then the cops probably didn’t know that.
As Killian walked through the office, he tapped the walls and finally came to a spot which sounded ever-so-slightly on the hollow side. He checked the edge of the paneling and very quickly found a hidden mechanism that popped it open. Once it did, he whistled because, in front of him, was a safe and several cupboards. He opened up the cupboards first. One was full of ledgers and other bookkeeping materials. The second one held a series of small black books, all empty. And then he came to the safe, and it didn’t take him too long to crack it. He swung open the door to reveal it was full of cash but nothing else. He once more whistled at that. After taking photos of everything, he closed the safe and locked it up again. Then he checked out the ledgers. The first one was all about arms dealing.
He sent photographs to Jerricho. Lots of evidence here.
Anything that points to where Dean would be?
Not in this. I’m headed to the desk next.
With the cupboards closed, he shut the hidden door, and he quickly moved to the huge desk. Knowing that Dean was a friend to Max, somebody who he knew really well, what would he even have written down here on his friend? What Killian and his team really needed was an address, a location, but that’s not something most criminals would write down. An old Rolodex was here, which Killian thought was interesting, suggesting that perhaps Max didn’t quite trust computers.
Killian flipped through the Rolodex, looking for Dean’s name, or any other names close to it, but didn’t see anything. Pulling open the right-hand drawer to the desk, he found just office supplies, and the big long drawer at his waist held loose papers and pads. In the bottom drawer was a series of files. He flipped through the folders, stopping when a name caught his eye.
Dean.
Killian popped out the folder and looked through it, taking photos while speed-reading it. Had the cops even looked at this? Or were they planning on coming back with somebody else on another day? Killian didn’t understand. Maybe they hadn’t even seen the Dean label. It was partially buried under another sticker.
Killian went through the contents of this folder, which included information on business dealings between Max and his buddy Dean. And, boy, were they in deep into a lot of different companies. But right there was Dean’s social security number and banking information. Killian quickly took photos of all that, still looking for an address or a cell phone number.
But he found nothing.
Scrawled across the very back page, it said, new cell phone and listed a number.
Quickly he forwarded the number to Jerricho with a message. Trace this. See if you can get a tracker on it. He kept going through the files, taking photos, and, when his phone rang with a call from Jerricho, he answered it.
“Get out now.”
Killian didn’t even think twice about it or ask a single question. He simply bolted through the office window that led to the backyard. He had reached the side gate when a series of gunfire crashed through the air, shattering the office windows.
He ducked over the fence and headed down to his vehicle, the phone to his ear. “What the hell did you find?”
“We tracked that phone number you sent. It was outside the house, when I called you,” he said. “And now it’s inside the house.”
“Shit,” he said. “In that case, I want to go back in again.”
“Watch your back.”
He turned and headed back toward the house.
He checked the office first, to see if Dean was there, because obviously he wanted to pull information from his buddy’s house. As Killian swept through the bottom of the house, he didn’t see anything. But the file that he had left on the desk was gone. He raced around to the front of the house, just as a vehicle pulled away from the curb. He stopped long enough to check the make and model, and then holding the phone to his ear, he passed the details on the vehicle to Jerricho, as Killian ran back to his vehicle. “Trace it,” he said. “I’m just getting into mine now. He grabbed the file that I had open on the desk, when I bailed.”
“Did you get any photos?”
“All of it,” he said. “only on the last page did I find that phone number. I’ll send those photos as soon as I get a minute.”
“Good,” he said. “If he’s smart, Dean will be running for another country. But, if he’s greedy, he might not be ready to give up everything he’s got going here.”
“A ton of cash is in the safe. And I found a lot of bank accounts and lots of dealings involved. The real question is whether or not Max had a will.”
“Why?”
“Because Stacey and Max were not divorced,” he said. “The bastard wouldn’t sign any papers.”
“Good,” Jerricho said. “We’ll make sure that we get her as much as we can.”
“If there’s anything left after the authorities are done with it,” he murmured.
“Yeah, they’ve always got to get their cut of the pie first. But only if it’s criminal and only if they can prove it belongs to anybody else.”
“Stay with me while I put the phone in the holder.” Killian drove, following his instincts as to where Dean may have gone. When he came out onto the main road, he swore and said, “No sign of him.”
“We haven’t picked him up on satellite yet either.”
“Shit,” he said.
“Wait, hang on.” At that, Jerricho added, “Go forward two blocks and pull off to the right.”
Killian went forward two blocks to a large space up ahead. “What am I looking for?”
“The vehicle is parked about six cars ahead of you.”
“Shit,” he said. “In that case, he’s probably gone.” But he got out and slowly approached the vehicle, and, sure enough, it was empty. He kicked the tires in outrage.
“Now,” Jerricho said. “Get back and look after Hatch and Stacey. We’ll send a team into Max’s house, to ensure we get as much information as we can. The cops come second on this now,” he said. “We’ve got international arms deals, according to some of the information you sent.”
“Good,” Killian said. “Secure that house. It’s still Stacey’s primary residence at this point, now that Max’s gone.”
“We’re on it.”
And, with that, angry that he had missed Dean, Killian drove back to the safe house. He pulled into the underground lot, then used a different elevator system which would require two elevators to get up there. By the time he got back to the penthouse, he was frustrated and edgy. He walked in to see Hatch sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.
Hatch looked at him and said, “Uh-oh. How bad?”
“Bad enough,” Killian said. “But I got lots of information and sent off a ton of photographs to Jerricho, only to finally find a phone number. They traced it right to the same damn property, where Dean was probably watching me the whole time.”
Hatch whistled. “Jesus. I presume he didn’t have a clear shot at any time, since he didn’t take it.”
“No, but he shot into the house, seconds after Jerricho called me to get out.”
“Maybe temper.”
“More to chase me away, I think. But once I realized he’d gotten into the house, I knew he was probably looking for something, so I went right back in but missed him. I’m pissed at myself for that too. When they called and said to get the hell out, I just bolted, which gave James the opening. Anyway, we had his vehicle ID’d, but he got away.”
Pacing around, Killian filled in his partner on the rest of it, as Hatch sat there. “A ton of cash is in the safe, plus tons of paperwork on arms-dealing information and other businesses that he’s been running with his buddy.”
“That’s what James was after then,” Hatch said.
“Yep, but, at least,” Killian said, with a grin, “I’d already gotten copies of it on my phone, and I’ve sent it all off to Jerricho.”
“That’s huge,” he said. “So not a bad outing.”
“No, not necessarily. But, at the same time, I missed him. Again.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “He’s after stuff, and he’s making mistakes. We’ll get him.”
“I hope so.” Killian looked over at Stacey, still on the couch. “How’s she doing?”
“She hasn’t stirred at all.”
“She doesn’t look very comfortable there. I feel like I should get her into bed.”
“Go for it,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind a lie down myself, if you’re up for standing watch for a while.”
“Yep, just let me get her moved to the bed.” And, with that, he bent down and scooped her up. When she murmured, he whispered, “It’s okay. Just go to sleep.” And she nodded off again.
“For somebody who’s been through what she has,” Hatch said, “she’s pretty trusting.”
“That’s how she got into such trouble in the first place,” Killian said. “But at least now she’s trusting the right people.”
He carried her into the second bedroom and laid her on the bed. Taking a blanket folded at the foot of the bed, he covered her up, then gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
Chapter 13
Stacey woke up in pain, heat searing up and down her leg. She lay here, gasping for a few minutes, trying to figure out where she was. She threw off the blanket, since even the weight of it on her leg was killing her. She took several long slow breaths, trying to regain control, as she studied the room around her, confused and disoriented. She couldn’t even begin to figure out where she was. She slowly sat up, grateful that she wasn’t tied up, as the fear and the trauma of her kidnappings surfaced again.
She wanted desperately to cry out, but that could bring the attention of somebody she didn’t want.
