“How is that any of your business? I hired you to drive us to a destination, not act like Frank Serpico and grill us as if we’re suspects.”
“The kid’s eyes are wide as saucers and he’s practically seizing. Plus,” he indicated all of them with his gun. “You’re not the picture of a family.”
Kenzie huffed in outrage. “What is that supposed to mean? You think we can’t be a family? That’s racist.”
Pena looked horrified. “No, that wasn’t what I meant at all. I—”
Before Pena uttered another word, Declan disarmed him.
“Hey!” He made a feeble grab for his weapon, but Declan held him off easily. Ignoring the outburst, he emptied the clip.
“You can’t do that,” Pena protested. “That’s my property.”
“You can’t hold up citizens at gunpoint, either,” Kenzie pointed out. “That’s a felony.”
Pena held out his hands in supplication. “Look, this was an unfortunate misunderstanding.” He indicated Jamal. “I thought the kid was in danger and I reacted. That’s a good thing, right?” He glanced between Kenzie and Declan, looking for confirmation. “If you had been abducting him, I’d have saved his life.”
Truthfully, it probably was a good thing. He was looking out for Jamal. But Declan hadn’t slept much, and his patience had deserted him a long time ago. He handed Pena the gun, handle first, and pocketed the bullets. “Either you drive us to our motel right now or I call the police and tell them you threatened us at gunpoint.”
“I need the bullets,” Pena argued. “It’s useless without them. I have the right to protect myself.”
“And you’ll get them back once we’re at our destination,” Declan told him.
“And you won’t be charging us either,” Kenzie insisted.
Pena shook his head. “No, I won’t charge you. Get in.”
Of all the scenarios when he’d ordered an Uber, this was the worst. It wasn’t good that Pena had noticed Jamal’s unease. He’d easily be able to describe two white adults with one black child, and Declan had used his name to book the ride. The gang didn’t know him or that he was with Kenzie and Jamal, so they should be okay, but he remembered from the job in Chicago how deadly they could be. They might have resources that could figure out he was with them. They’d managed to track Kenzie and Jamal to the motel and rig her car to explode.
Declan’s neck started to tingle. The warning had served him well in the military. He jerked his head to see a car whip into the parking lot and head directly for them, lights off. The passenger window lowered, and a gun appeared.
“Get down,” he ordered as he pushed Jamal and Kenzie behind the van.
Pena turned to him. “What—”
Declan dove for him and tackled him to the ground just as the rapid staccato of bullets peppered the van.
“Someone’s shooting at us!” Pena screamed as he scurried closer to the van for cover.
Declan had already moved to cover Kenzie’s body as she huddled over Jamal. Declan returned fire, catching the shooter off guard. He recovered quickly, firing off another round. Declan ducked down and waited for a shot. He took out another tire, the car swerving as the driver struggled to regain control. He fired again, shattering the back window. This car didn’t have bulletproof glass. Probably stolen. The driver hit the gas and screeched away.
“What just happened?” Pena struggled to his feet. His mouth dropped open and his hands clasped the sides of his head at the damage to his van.
If the man had just driven them to their destination as instructed, maybe he’d have escaped unharmed. Before he could answer his question—not that he’d have told him the real story—Pena ripped open the driver’s side door and dove in before slamming it shut.
“Hey, what are you—”
He shoved the van in gear and floored the accelerator, leaving Declan, Kenzie and Jamal staring after him. They were completely exposed if the shooters returned.
“He better not charge me for this,” Declan muttered.
“Police. Drop the weapon.”
Declan closed his eyes and sighed before lifting his hands and slowly turning around to see two men in plain clothes approach, their badges on display in one hand, guns in the other.
He carefully placed the gun on the pavement. Jamal latched onto his leg for dear life when he stood.
One of the cops eased forward to kick the gun away. “First, is anyone hurt? We heard all the gunshots.”
“No, we’re unharmed, but it’s not safe for us to be out here in the open.”
The men holstered their weapons and ushered them to an unmarked car. After making sure Kenzie and Jamal were seated, he climbed in beside them.
“Are you sure you’re cops?” Jamal asked skeptically. “You’re not wearing uniforms.”
“We’re off-duty,” the one in the driver’s seat answered. “We were grabbing a bite to eat in the diner after our shift when we heard shots fired.”
“You want to tell us what’s going on?” the other cop asked.
“Yes, but could you take us to the station where Detective Fuller works, please?” Kenzie requested.
“Detective Fuller? Sure.” The driver started the engine while Kenzie gave them a brief rundown of the events.
“That’s quite a story,” the cop in the passenger seat said. “We saw the fire trucks.” He turned to address Declan. “You registered to carry a weapon?”
“Yes. I work for a private security firm, but full disclosure? That’s not my weapon.” Declan didn’t want to chance them running it and finding it’d been used in a crime—which he was almost certain it had been. Probably more than one.
“Whose is it?”
“It belongs to one of the gang members from Chicago. Kenzie…liberated it from him,” he said with pride. She smiled.
While one of the cops made a phone call, they rode in silence except for the chatter on the police radio. Then they were turning into a station.
“I called in and Detective Fuller is off duty, but they’ll take care of you. We’ll escort you inside.”
Chapter Eight
Once they were inside the police station, an officer led them to a waiting room with couches and chairs lining the walls. An assortment of magazines covered the top of a coffee table and a television in the corner played a muted infomercial for some kind of skin care products. Declan did a double take, his eyes narrowing on the screen. The woman looked familiar. He’d swear he met her before, and recently. The shot panned out and he definitely recognized the woman hosting the program.
“Are you in need of some Harmony in your life?” Kenzie teased.
“What? Oh, no. I know those two ladies.”
“Well of course.” With the tone of her voice, she might as well have added a big, fat duh. “Everyone knows Juliet LaRue. She’s an Oscar winner.”
“Jade Bradley.”
“The other woman is Jade Bradley?”
“No, Juliet LaRue is actually Jade Bradley. She’s married to one of my new bosses.”
Kenzie’s brows winged up. “Really? And you met her?”
“I did,” he confirmed.
“Wow. She’s my favorite actress.” Her attention focused on the television. “Don’t tell me you know the woman who created the line of skin care products I use, too.”
“Melody Colton.” When she turned to him in jaw-dropping awe, he shrugged. “She’s married to a coworker.”
“Are you sure it’s a security company and not some kind of front for the rich and famous?”
She was teasing, but she wasn’t wrong. There were several celebrities who called the COBRA Securities compound home.
The cop who led them to the waiting room returned. “Mr. Elliot, I’ve notified Detective Fuller and he’ll be here as soon as he can, but it might be a while. If you want to have a seat, I’ll come get you when he arrives.”
He thanked the detective and dropped to one of the couches. Jamal plopped down beside him. Kenzie took the
sofa next to them.
“How are they finding us so easily?” she asked.
“They’re tracking us somehow.” It bothered him at how the gang had found them first at the motel and then at the lot where they met the Uber driver.
“We destroyed my phone,” Kenzie pointed out.
“Then they’re doing it some other way.” He stood. “Empty your pockets.”
Declan dumped Jamal’s backpack on the floor and rooted through the contents while Kenzie and Jamal checked their clothing. He didn’t need to instruct Kenzie to search her bag. She was already checking it out.
“What are we looking for?” Jamal asked as he shoved his hands inside his pockets.
“Something that doesn’t belong. Most likely it will be small and round.”
Jamal held out his hand for Declan to see the tiny black disk no larger than a fingernail. “I found a button.”
Declan took it from him and flipped it over in his palm. “That’s not a button. It’s a tracker.”
“They slipped it in his pocket at the diner,” Kenzie guessed.
“This is my fault?” Jamal’s panicked gaze bounced between Declan and Kenzie.
Declan crouched down until his face was level with Jamal’s. “It is absolutely not your fault. You did nothing wrong. We’re going to figure out what your brother’s gang wants and we’re going to put a stop to this.”
Jamal sniffed. “Promise?”
“Promise.” He gave him a quick hug and then stood. “Keep looking. There might be more than one.”
They searched through the rest of their belongings, but only found the one tracker. Declan would give it to Detective Fuller when he arrived. He didn’t think Blaze and Boomer were stupid enough to try to approach them in a police station, but you never knew with ruthless killers.
After they replaced the contents of the bags, they retook their seats. Jamal promptly fell asleep with his head on Declan’s leg. Kenzie stood up and walked away and the urge to follow her was so strong, it nearly overpowered him. She was probably going to the ladies’ room or looking for something to drink. It wasn’t like she was walking out of his life. His reaction was way out of line for someone he just met, but she threw him off kilter. He didn’t know her, but he sure wanted to.
She returned and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. She shook out a blanket and placed it over Jamal and his heart squeezed at the caring gesture. She hadn’t been looking for a bathroom or coffee, she’d gone in search of something to cover Jamal while he slept.
Totally oblivious to the swirling emotions churning inside him, she settled on the couch beside him. She lowered her voice to keep from waking Jamal. “If they tagged him at the diner, why did it take so long for them to come for us? We were at the motel all day.”
“If you injured them, they might’ve needed time to recover.” He flipped the device over in his palm. It didn’t look high-tech, more like something you’d find online or pick up at a surveillance store. “Or this might have a limited range. They might’ve had to drive around all day just to pick up the signal.”
“If we hadn’t had to come to the station to sign our statements, I’d have gotten him out of town,” she muttered.
“Same here,” Declan echoed. He glanced over at her. She looked tired but still so lovely. “If there’s somewhere you need to be, I’ve got him now. I won’t let anything happen to him.” He hated to even make the offer. He’d just met her, but he felt a strong pull towards her. He wasn’t ready to part ways.
A blush crept up her cheeks. “I don’t need to be anywhere. Is it okay if I stay with you two until these guys are caught?”
“Absolutely,” he assured her. “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. I just wanted to give you an out if you needed one.”
She nodded as if she understood but he feared he’d hurt her feelings when that was the last thing he meant to do. “Besides, it would be best if you stayed with us if they know your name.”
The blush drained from her face. “I hadn’t thought about that. Do you think they’ll come after me?”
He wanted to lie and tell her she’d be safe, but he couldn’t. “Honestly, I don’t know. We probably won’t know until we figure out why they’re trying so hard to get to Jamal. If they thought you could lead them to him…” He didn’t want to finish the sentence because he didn’t want to consider the possibility of one of the gang members getting their hands on her. He’d kill any who tried.
#
Kenzie tried not to shudder at Declan’s words. The same thoughts crossed her mind, but she tried not to dwell on them. She felt safe with him. When it was just her and Jamal, she had to be strong for him, but she was so out of her league. She took self-defense classes and could fire a gun but coming up against hard core gang members was a new experience for her. Shiloh Storm would’ve been able to handle them, but as she’d said many times over, she was no Storm.
She felt pathetic practically begging Declan to let her stay with them. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she had nowhere to go. She could head back to her tiny apartment in Tribeca and decide if she wanted to return to her old job or find a new one, but she’d always be looking over her shoulder. She’d wonder if every man she passed on the street or sat next to on the subway was after her. Would the Eighty-Sixers follow her all the way to New York City?
She glanced over at Declan as he adjusted the blanket she’d coaxed out of the young police officer manning the front desk. Declan was so good with the boy. He’d make a great guardian. She wondered if he would formally adopt him. Having met Declan, she understood Jamal’s hero worship. He was Superman and Hulk and all those things rolled into one, only better. When she first heard Jamal talk about him, she was convinced no one could live up to the hype. She’d been wrong. She was developing a serious case of hero worship herself.
He glanced over at her—probably from the weight of her stare—and smiled. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. It wasn’t his outside looks or the fact that he was incredibly fit. It was his calm competence, his unflappable strength and his unmatched abilities that drew her to him. His gentleness and compassion towards Jamal was another factor. Oh boy, she was in so much trouble here.
Rearranging herself on the sofa, she stretched out and used the armrest as a cushion for her head. Though she’d slept most of the afternoon, she was still wired from her rental car exploding, the gang firing at them and their subsequent escape, not to mention the unassuming Uber driver holding them at gunpoint. She felt physically drained. There was no safer place for them to be right now than a building filled with men and women packing heat. She let her guard down, closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Detective Phil Fuller handed Declan a cup of lukewarm coffee and took a seat on the other side of the table in a conference room. Kenzie and Jamal were still napping in the lounge down the corridor. He’d managed a few hours before Fuller arrived. Still, it was the middle of the night and his brain was foggy.
Fuller introduced him to his partner, Detective Lyons. She shook his hand and took a seat next to Fuller.
“I hear you had some excitement last night,” Fuller said. “You said you believe this is all gang related?”
“Yes. Jamal recognized the two men as associates of his late brother. They belong to the Eighty-Sixers out of Chicago.”
“Do you know what they want?” Lyons asked.
“Not a clue. Jamal’s older brother was trying to recruit him to the gang, but I don’t think that’s what this is about.”
“Do you know how they tracked you?” Fuller questioned.
Declan placed the small black device on the table and slid it across to Fuller. “They must’ve slipped it in Jamal’s pocket when they caught up with him at the diner.”
Fuller used the end of a pen to scoot it closer so he could study it. “Looks like a standard tracking device. Probably got it off the internet.” Lyons handed him an evidence bag and he scooped it
inside. “I’ve called one of the detectives who works on the gang unit.” He glanced over Declan’s shoulder as the door opened. “Here he is now. Declan Elliot, this is Detective Aaron Spears.”
Declan shook the man’s hand. Spears indicated the other man who entered behind him. “This is Detective Grady Lamb. I’ve asked him to sit in on the meeting. He has extensive knowledge on gangs in the surrounding states.”
Declan shook his hand and both men took seats across from him.
“We don’t mean to make you feel like a suspect,” Spears apologized as he settled in his chair next to Lyons. “It’s easier to talk when we’re face to face.”
“I understand.” Though he’d been in his share of trouble as a juvenile and sat across from authority figures as they grilled him, it hadn’t crossed his mind to feel like a suspect here. Technically, he was providing information. And Spears was right—it was easier to look at their faces while talking.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Fuller suggested. “Back to when you first came in contact with Jamal West.”
“A few weeks ago, I was assisting a private security company on a case when I met Jamal West. He’s a good kid from a bad family. His mother was a user and his brother was a hard-core banger trying to recruit him into the group.”
“Do you know the name of the gang?” Lamb asked.
“The Eighty-Sixers.”
Lamb nodded slowly. “I know of them. They have contacts with one of our most violent gangs, the Detroit Original Gangsters, or Dogs, as they call themselves. The Eighty-Sixers recently lost several members.”
“Yeah, there was a turf war and Jamal’s brother was one of the casualties. His mother was unfit to care for him, so his aunt, LaTonya Stanton, was appointed his guardian.” He skipped over the unimportant details, like the fact that his mother used Declan’s head for batting practice. “She moved Jamal to live with her here in Detroit. I was driving by his old apartment in Chicago yesterday…two days ago now, and it was swarming with emergency responders. I was able to glean information that his mother had been murdered. Shortly after, I received a panicked call from Jamal asking me to come get him, that his aunt was being hurt.”
Running Scared Page 8
