“I got them here but don’t know if I was followed,” Agnes said.
Bayley watched as the man nodded, his hand rubbing over his military short, grey hair. Something about him seemed familiar, but she could not place where she had seen him.
“I’ve got responders on their way but a wreck on the highway has shut it down and they can’t get here right now.” The man jerked his head toward the truck. “Can he do the job for now?”
Unable to hear Agnes’ response, Bayley tried to see into the truck. Ducking down, she slipped around the corner, peeking into another window, this one facing the back of the truck. Eyes wide, she gawked at the sight before her. The back of the truck was open, with what appeared to be bodies lying inside, an older man standing at the entrance.
Whirling around, her back plastered to the building’s wall, Bayley clapped her hand over her mouth, keeping the scream from bursting forth as her chest rose and fell with each forced breath. Her mind racing, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “Jack,” she gushed in a hoarse whisper, “I know I shouldn’t have, but I peeked in a window. There are bodies in the back of the truck. I don’t—”
“Bayley, we’re on our way. Get out of there,” he ordered.
She glanced back in, seeing the older man in the truck bending over a woman’s body. Oh, hell no! Disconnecting, she dropped her phone into her pocket as she rushed to the front of the building.
Nick, in the van driven by Marc, sat in the back with Blaise. Chad sat in the front passenger side, communicating with Luke. “Turn here,” Chad ordered Marc, who deftly maneuvered the van off the highway.
A moment later, Jack came over their speakers, his words sending a chill down Nick’s spine. “Bayley called. Seems the truck has bodies inside. She was cut off, but Luke’s got your ETA as twenty minutes. Can you make that shorter?”
“Got a fuckin’ accident on the highway that’s got all the lanes closed. Just got off and we’re taking backroads.”
“Get there but get there safely,” Jack ordered.
“Done,” Marc bit out, stepping on the accelerator.
Nick and Blaise shared a heart-ripping look before both gazed out of their respective windows, keeping their fears to themselves.
The side door to the warehouse opened and Bayley rushed inside, gun in hand and pointed at the inhabitants.
“Get away from her!” she shouted as she rounded the back of the truck toward Agnes and the suited man. She watched as Agnes’ face registered surprise, then anger, as she came closer. The man standing next to Agnes, his familiar face also hardened as his eyes jumped to her.
“Shit,” Agnes said, her mouth in a tight line.
“What the hell?” the rumpled man asked, his hand going to his waist.
Bayley viewed a weapon holster on his belt and, next to it, a badge. Badge. Gaze lifting to his face, she remembered where she had seen him. In a picture with Nick on the wall of the FBI building. “Harlan?” she breathed.
Harlan’s eyes shifted to hers, surprise in his as he heard his name from her lips.
“Get him away from that woman,” Bayley ordered, jerking her head toward the truck and the man still there.
“You don’t understand,” Agnes said. “He’s a doctor. He’s helping!”
“H…helping? You’ve got a truck full of bodies and he’s helping?” Bayley’s voice rose with each word. Jerking a glance to the side, she saw the man identified as a “doctor” staring at her, wide eyed, his hands raised in the air.
“We can explain,” Harlan said.
“Keep your hands where I can see them!” Bayley shouted again. With one hand holding her weapon steady, she reached in her pocket for her phone, but her fingers found nothing. Grimacing, she realized it must have fallen out. “Nick is on his way. Remember Nick? Your supposed friend?”
Harlan shook his head as he took a step forward. “You’ve got this wrong, Ms. Hanssen. You’ve got to let the doctor do his work.”
A moan came from the back of the truck and Bayley watched, heart pounding, as a woman staggered from the back, leaning on the arm of the doctor. Sucking in a gasp, she cried out, “Oh, my God! Amy Willis!”
The doctor stepped forward, letting the still-drugged woman slide to the ground, supported by the side of the truck. “Miss, I am a doctor. I’ve got to give the antidote to these women.”
“Antidote?” Bayley asked, her mind racing with a tumble of thoughts, nothing making sense.
“The girls aren’t dead,” Agnes said, taking a step forward, but halting as Bayley swung her weapon back toward her. “They’re drugged. It slowed their respiration down just long enough for me to get them into the truck.”
“Why?”
“I had to get them out. Out of that place,” Agnes cried, her face tortured.
“She’s working with me,” Harlan said. “I was supposed to bring some medical personnel with me, but they’re caught on the highway at the accident. That’s why we need the doctor to work on the women.”
Fighting to steady her breathing, Bayley glanced down at Amy Willis who, still dazed, appeared to be waking from a long sleep. Looking up at the doctor, Bayley gave a curt nod. “Fine, but I’ll be watching,” she warned.
Looking toward Agnes, she said, “Why were you in my store arguing with Daphne’s ex-boyfriend?”
“That was my brother.”
“Your brother?”
“Lazlo.”
Gasping, Bayley looked on in disbelief. “Lazlo…your brother?”
“Yes, well, don’t hold my family against me,” Agnes said. “They are why I am risking my life to save these girls.”
Blinking slowly as understanding dawned, Bayley shifted her attention back to Harlan. “Why didn’t you say anything? You could have told Nick.”
“That’s on me,” Agnes said. “I worked out the deal. I’d get the girls out and to him and then I’d disappear. I’d come back to testify against my family but, other than that, I’m gone.”
Staring at her a long time, Bayley saw fear in the other woman’s eyes. Fear…and honesty. Shooting them all a look, she said, “Nick’ll be here in a few minutes—”
“But that will be too late, won’t it?”
The inhabitants of the warehouse stared as the deep voice came from around the truck, a gun pointed at them. The man turned to Bayley and ordered, “Drop it.”
Thinking fast and furious, still, no plan came to mind and, as the man with the gun stepped toward her, he shifted his aim to Amy, still sitting propped up by the truck. With no good choice available, she placed her gun on the ground and pushed it towards him, watching as he bent slowly, picking it up before sliding it into his pocket.
Agnes looked behind her at the man with the gun and Bayley saw recognition flare in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” Agnes asked.
Chuckling, the man said, “Grigory told me to follow you. Guess he figured you were working on a deal all by yourself.” Looking at Harlan, he asked, “Who’s he?” As the man stepped to Bayley’s right, the gun still facing her, his gaze dropped to Harlan’s waist. “Fuckin’ hell! You’re talking to a Fed?”
In a flash, he moved his arm and fired, hitting Harlan in the arm. Pushing Agnes out of the way before he fell, Harlan shouted for her to get out. Twisting, Bayley shoved the man to the side, causing him to trip over a box on the floor. Agnes rushed forward, grabbing Bayley by the arm, pulling her behind the truck.
In a split-second decision, they made a run for the open door, hearing gunfire as they ran outside, ducking as they went. “Where’s your car?” Agnes whispered.
“We can’t leave them!” Bayley cried, pressing her back against the building.
Agnes whirled around, getting directly in front of Bayley. “He wants me! He needs me!” she said, pulling on Bayley’s arm. “He follows orders and his orders are to get me. I’m the one that can take my family down.”
Nodding, Bayley ran toward the woods, followed closely by Agnes. Both women jumped into the car
as Bayley fished for her keys. Starting Prissy, she had just touched the accelerator as a bullet hit the back window.
“Shit!” both women screamed at the same time.
Hitting the gas, Bayley roared away, shooting down the gravel road past the warehouse, cursing that the gunman’s vehicle blocked the way out. “I don’t know where this road leads!” she yelled.
“Me either,” Agnes said, still ducking in case more gunfire came at them. “But we’ve got to get out of here to get help.”
31
Marc skidded to a stop outside the warehouse, lights burning brightly from inside with the wide doors open. Having been warned by Jack that Bayley left her vehicle, the Saints jumped from the van, weapons raised as they raced inside, cautiously but quickly.
The laundry truck had the back open, an older man looking up at them, his face a mask of fear. Raising his hands, he quickly said, “Don’t shoot. I’m Dr. Kovenov. Don’t shoot!”
Nick observed several women slumping in the back of the truck, their drunk appearance cause for concern.
“Keep your hands where we can see them!” Blaise shouted.
Nick’s gaze swept the room, desperate to find Bayley. Unable to locate her, he turned to the doctor, calling out, “Where’s Bayley? Where’s the blonde who was here?”
The doctor’s confused expression slowly morphed into understanding. “The one with the gun?”
Blaise answered, “Yes!” as Nick’s heart sank at the idea of Bayley having to use her gun.
“Over here!” Chad shouted.
Nick and Blaise sprinted to the front of the truck, seeing Harlan lying against a box, his arm bandaged but still bleeding.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nick asked, dropping to Harlan’s side.
Before an answer came, several ambulances careened to a stop outside the warehouse. Chaos ensued as rescue workers and FBI swarmed the area, immediately moving to assist the women in various stages of drugged stupor.
Recognizing Amy Willis moving slowly, Nick rushed to her, checking that she wasn’t gravely injured. Hearing a noise behind him, he stood, allowing an EMT to move in to evaluate her. Blaise stepped up, his face full of concern.
Dr. Kovenov looked at Marc and confessed, “There were too many. I lost some.”
Marc turned and glared at the much smaller man. “What are you talking about?”
“I drugged the women to make them appear dead and as I was waking them up, one got frightened and wandered off. I couldn’t get to them all and patch up the lawman over there.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Marc growled, turning to Chad. Pulling out his phone, he placed a call to Jack, giving him the quick and dirty intel. “And we need Nathan, that tracker friend of Blaise’s. Get him here immediately with his dog.”
Harlan called out weakly, “Nick…you’ve got to get her.”
Nick stomped over, grabbing Harlan by the shirt, disregarding his injury. Several agents pulled their weapons, but Nick still held his up to Harlan’s chest. “You better start talking right fucking now. I don’t give a shit what you were involved in. Where the hell is Bayley?”
“She was here. She followed Agnes and the truck. I had a deal with Agnes to get the women out. She would testify against her family and I’d give her immunity.”
“I don’t fuckin’ care!” Nick roared. By now, the other Saints has circled around, the tension between the agents and Saints palpable. “Where is Bayley?”
Harlan’s pain infused eyes cleared, as he groaned, “Jesus, Nick. She and Agnes ran. One of the Gruzinsky’s men came after Agnes and then took off in his car after them. He’s got to kill Agnes to keep her from turning against her family. And he won’t mind taking Bayley out either.”
“Where did they go?”
Shaking his head, Harlan said, “I don’t know. But I heard cars behind the warehouse.”
Staring at the crowded warehouse, the chaos now somewhat organized with agents and EMTs handling the women and Harlan, Nick looked at the other Saints and darted out the door with Blaise on his heels.
Prissy’s headlights only pierced the dark woods so much, leaving Bayley having to lean forward in hopes of staying on the road. Agnes twisted her head, still seeing the headlights behind them. Neither woman spoke, Bayley gripping the steering wheel as Agnes clung to the dashboard, every bounce on the rutted farm road sending grunts from them both.
The gravel road had climbed upward, twists and turns making the driving difficult but, with limited visibility, Bayley had no idea where they were. “I don’t know if we’re going to get off this,” she groaned, stepping on the brakes as another turn in the road had Prissy fishtailing.
“He’s getting closer!”
“I know!”
Prissy’s tires tried to grab onto the gravel when Bayley went into another curve but this time, she was unable to stay in control. Both women screamed as Prissy slid off the side of the road,and down the ravine, landing with the passenger side pressed up against a tree.
Dazed and heart pounding, Bayley looked quickly at her passenger, thankful to see Agnes looking back at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Shaken, but I’m okay,” Bayley acknowledged. Looking out her window, she saw headlights at the top of the ravine. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Trying her door, she sent a prayer of thanks when it opened. Seeing Agnes’ door propped against the tree, she said, “Come out here.”
Agnes unbuckled and crawled across the console and followed Bayley out her door, falling next to her on the leafy forest floor. The dark night was only illuminated by Prissy’s headlights still shining a beam out into the woods. A shot zinged over their heads and they grabbed each other’s hands as they scrambled around the car and into the woods.
With a huge oak trunk shielding them from the road above—and hopefully any flying bullets—they pressed their backs against the bark, their breaths ragged.
“What now?” Agnes asked, turning her face toward Bayley’s.
Bayley, chest heaving, shook her head for a moment. “No cell phone…no gun—” Another shot pinged off the bark on the other side of the tree. “Shit! Come on.”
Bolting deeper into the woods, the two ran, tripping over tree roots and slick leaves. Unable to see where they were going, they managed to dart between thick trunks and through underbrush that snagged their clothing, attempting to get away from the danger. Stopping in another clump of trees, Bayley tried to hear if they were being chased, but their heavy breathing was all her ears could discern. Clamping a hand over her mouth to lessen the sound, she motioned for Agnes to do the same. From the distant left, she heard sounds of someone moving through the leaves.
Whispering, “Come on,” Bayley led the two deeper into the woods, their steps more measured and soft.
Nathan Washington gently led the missing woman back toward the warehouse, now lit with searchlights, spotlights, headlights, and just about any other type of light to be found. Patting the head of his bloodhound, he called softly, “Good girl, Scarlett. You did good.” With his arm around the woman, he made his way inside the building, relieved to have found her quickly and not too far from the area.
Marc approached as an EMT immediately took the woman from Nathan’s care and led her away. Several more of the Saints walked over as well, head jerks acknowledging each other. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?”
Rubbing his head, Chad said, “A royal cock-up. How’s that for an explanation?”
“It looks like it.” Nathan’s gaze moved over the swarming mass of Feds, emergency personnel, women looking worse for the wear, and a group of angry Saints.
The sound of Blaise’s voice came over their earpieces. “Need Nathan. Is he there?”
“He’s here,” Marc replied.
“Take the road behind the warehouse and get him here. Bayley’s car went off the road and there’s someone else here. We can hear shots in the background but can’t find the gi
rls.”
Glad to leave the warehouse to the Feds and have a new mission, the Saints fled to their vans, calling for Nathan to follow. With a light tug on her collar, he looked down and said, “Let’s go, Scarlett. Got another job for us, ol’ girl.”
The wrinkly brow and droopy jowls of the beautiful, red-coated hound obeyed, trotting alongside him, her tail wagging.
Crawling on their hands and knees up a steep ravine after crossing a small creek, Bayley and Agnes stopped to catch their breath in a cave-like hiding place at the base of some fallen trees. Shaking from cold as well as fear, they huddled together, steadying their breathing. Settling in, Bayley knew Nick would come for them. Other than a few nighttime critters, they heard nothing out of the ordinary for nighttime, deep in the woods. No sound of footsteps following. No gunshots.
Wiping her hands on her pants, Bayley looked next to her, trying to discern Agnes’ facial features in the dark. Her mind swirled with all the information from the last hour. “Why?” she asked, her words coming out in a hoarse whisper. She had wanted to ask more but, at the moment, the one word was all she could conjure.
“Why? Jesus, the better question would be why not?” Receiving no response, Agnes continued, “I grew up in the heart of a loving family. The little sister treated like a princess. But I always wondered what it would be like to have the respect that was given to my brothers, just because they were men.”
Both women listened again for sounds of being followed, but only the crickets filled the night. Leaning her head back against a tree, Agnes continued, “When I got older, my mother decided that I could help with the family business…in the way that a woman could help. I learned a bit about the hotel, but it was the rooms in the back that fascinated me. The other rooms held guests, but there were back rooms that only some men were led to. Always escorted. When I was fifteen, my mother allowed me to visit with her, checking on the occupants. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside.”
Celebrating Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 24
