by Nancy Mehl
“They’re after that flash drive,” Mark said harshly. “They will torture you until you tell them where it is. Since you don’t know, eventually they’ll kill you, but not before you beg to die.” His eyes searched her face. “I won’t allow that to happen to you.” He grabbed her arm. “If you leave this house, I’ll follow you.”
Mercy sighed. He wasn’t strong enough to protect himself—or her. He’d only get himself killed. But she could tell he’d meant every word he said. He would follow her until he dropped.
Jess clutched his side, trying to act as if he weren’t in pain. “And I’ll go too. You can’t go out there alone.”
“So we all head out into the snow, you two collapse, the bad guys take our house, and we’re left outside. Then we freeze to death.” Mercy looked back and forth between them. “Great strategy. If you’re trying to get us all killed, that is.”
“We know that,” Mark snapped. “But just like you can’t leave Tally without assistance, we can’t let you go out there alone. Instead of acting like the Lone Ranger, why can’t the three of us come up with a plan to rescue Tally? Don’t you think that would be a lot more effective?”
A voice inside Mercy’s head argued against Mark’s suggestion. Of course, it made sense, but there was an overwhelming sense of alarm that kept pushing her forward, trying to force her into charging ahead without caution. Was it her stubbornness or was it instinct? At that moment, she couldn’t tell. If she waited too long, and Tally died, she would blame herself for the rest of her life. And to be honest, she wasn’t sure what the remainder of her life would look like without him. If it would even be worth living.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven in the morning. A new day. She walked over to a window and looked outside. The sky was still overcast and it remained windy, yet it didn’t seem as strong as the day before. Maybe the weather was finally improving and help was getting nearer. Could she spare the time to talk to Mark and Jess and attempt to hatch some kind of plan? Should she tell them about the flash drive? She stared at the two men, who were ready to risk their lives for her and for Tally. Perhaps it was time to take a chance, to trust them with the truth.
“All right,” she said, “let’s try to come up with some way to rescue Tally. But I can’t give this a lot of time. I’m convinced he doesn’t have any to spare.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I have something to tell you that could change everything. First, I need another cup of coffee.”
Mark waited as Mercy went to the kitchen to grab a mug. What was she planning to share? There was a part of him that wanted to tell her to be quiet. He couldn’t vanquish the fear that she was getting ready to make them vulnerable. And that could be a huge mistake. The last thing he wanted was for Mercy to stop trusting people, but he was fairly certain they were in immediate danger. He wanted to let it play out so he could be certain. He worried he might be making a mistake, yet if he put a stop to things too early he might not get all the information he needed to keep them all safe. Right now, he desperately needed Mercy to trust him.
As he waited he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to tell her again that he loved her. He’d slipped once, but he couldn’t do it again. Not just because of the situation they were in. There was more to it than that. He was still keeping secrets from her, which left him feeling guilty. Was it better for her not to know everything, or was honesty more important? He wasn’t sure anymore.
For some reason he thought back to the day he discovered God. Another deputy Marshal had asked him to church, and for some reason Mark said yes. To this day he wasn’t sure why. When he walked into the building, he felt something he’d never experienced before. And when the people began to worship, Mark encountered a real, living God. A God who loved him. Who had a plan for his life. He was never the same after that. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to find himself. To like himself. He might not be the smartest person in the world, but he knew one thing. If he sold his soul for anyone or anything, he would slip back into the abyss he’d found himself in after Audrey died—and he’d never be the man Mercy needed. Or the human being he was destined to be. He prayed for Mercy every night, still hoping that God would work a miracle and bring her back to him. But so far, that prayer had gone unanswered.
Just then she came back into the room and sat down in a chair across from him. As he looked at her, he realized he could never make her more important than God. If there was any chance they could be together someday, he’d have to keep his priorities straight. Only God could bind their hearts together.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” Mercy said matter-of-factly. She went on to explain how she’d found the flash drive in the lining of her jacket. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know right away,” she said, “but I just wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t really know you, Jess, and I needed time to think. So now what do we do?” she asked when she finished.
Mark’s hand went to his gun. He was ready for what he was almost certain was coming. And he wasn’t disappointed.
“Now you hand that flash drive over to me,” Jess said, pulling out his gun and pointing it at Mercy. His face was twisted into a cruel smile.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“I don’t think so,” Mark said, raising his gun and aiming it at Jess.
Mercy couldn’t believe what was happening. “Mark?” she said.
“It’s okay, Mercy.” Struggling to his feet, Mark faced Jess. The two of them stood pointing their weapons at each other as if they were in some kind of Old West showdown. It was obvious to Mercy that Jess’s injury had miraculously healed.
“I don’t think it’s okay, Mark,” Jess said. “I really don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. My father will insist on it unless I give him that flash drive.”
“And just who is your father?” Mercy asked.
“Ephraim Vargas,” Mark said. “I’m guessing you’re his son, Angel. Am I right?”
For the first time since he’d pulled his gun, the man Mercy had come to know as Jess looked a little unsure of himself. “How do you know that?”
“Just a lucky guess,” Mark said. “As we said earlier, gangbangers are incredibly unreliable. No self-respecting cartel would send them out alone on an important assignment. I had to ask myself how I would handle this situation. If I were them, I’d use someone I trusted to oversee the operation. We know Ephraim won’t get his hands dirty, so who else would he send? I could only come up with one answer. His next in command. His son, Angel. We already knew you were working with Darius Johnson.”
Angel laughed. His demeanor had changed dramatically, and Mercy couldn’t understand how she’d ever thought him attractive. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked Mark.
“It wasn’t until he came back without Tally that I began to put two and two together. If I’d told you then what I suspected—”
“You were afraid I’d give it away.”
Mark nodded. “I know how much Tally means to you. I felt I needed to let things play out until I was certain—and until we had the truth. I was concerned your love for Tally would make it impossible for you to wait for the answers we needed. I hope you understand.”
Mercy didn’t want to admit it, but Mark was probably right. She wasn’t sure she could have held it together. She might have decided to beat the truth out of Angel Vargas.
“I’m so glad you cleared that up,” Angel said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Now take off your holster and gun, Mercy, and kick it over here.”
The last thing she wanted to do was remove her gun, but she was afraid he’d shoot Mark so she followed his instructions. Angel scooted her holster closer to him and then shoved it under the couch.
“So is Batterson really behind all this?” she asked. “He’s the only one who could have pulled it off.”
“Not that I owe you an explanation,” Angel said, “but no, Batterson had nothing to do with it. We made an offer to someone close to him, and t
hey got us the information we needed.”
“But the file . . . I mean, Batterson told us to meet you here.”
“Actually, Batterson told you to meet Jess Medina at a location two miles from here. My friend in Batterson’s office changed the address, and I became Mr. Medina. You were supposed to trust me enough to tell me where the flash drive was. But now things have changed.”
“But your reactions,” Mercy said with a frown, “they were exactly right. Just the way someone in law enforcement would respond.”
“I had a cousin in the LAPD,” he said.
“Sounds like he turned out better than you,” Mark said sharply.
Mercy saw Angel’s eyes widen and his free hand clench in anger. Mark had hit a nerve. Maybe there was still a way to reason with Vargas’s son.
“Depends on which side of the family you ask,” he said bitterly.
“What about the real detective from LA?” Mark said. “Where is he?”
Angel spit out a derisive laugh. “Let’s just say he’s on ice, okay?”
“You killed him?” Mercy asked.
“It was for the greater good. A sad fact of life, but there it is.” Then, looking at Mark, Angel said, “By the way, I don’t believe in lucky guesses. Explain to me how you figured out who I am or . . .” He moved his gun until it was pointed at Mercy’s head.
Mercy frowned at Mark. Why hadn’t he taken the shot? He could have easily taken Angel out, but if he fired now, Angel’s finger might twitch enough to get off a round, and she’d be dead. Yet Mark didn’t look concerned.
“You said a couple of things that didn’t make sense,” Mark began. “They didn’t register at first. You called Darius Johnson D-Money.”
“So?”
“Darius is the only one who called himself that—besides a few of the people in his posse. He just recently started using it. It’s not a well-known nickname. No one from LA would know it.”
“Maybe you mentioned it.”
Mark shook his head. “No, we didn’t. And then there’s this place. It’s close to the description, but anyone who raises horses would have stables and a corral. I know Batterson was probably scrambling for a location, only he wouldn’t have used this place—or he would have described it differently. And one other thing. Maybe you know all the right lingo, but you’re not comfortable carrying a gun. I noticed you’re not used to a holster, and you don’t keep your piece near you at all times. For those of us in law enforcement, our weapons are like part of our bodies.”
“Too bad you didn’t figure all this out when it could have helped you.”
A slow smile spread across Mark’s face. “Who says I didn’t?” He winked at Mercy. “You’re not the only one who has a backup plan.”
Mercy stared at Mark as confusion washed across Angel’s face. Hope leapt inside her when she realized Mark wasn’t the least bit worried.
“I don’t need either one of you,” Angel said. “I only need the video.” He quickly swung the gun around and aimed it at Mark. “This conversation is over.”
Mercy dove for Angel’s arm, trying to keep him from firing, but she was too late. He pushed her away just as he pulled the trigger. But instead of hearing a shot, the only sound was a click. Angel looked surprised and pulled the trigger again. Another click.
It only took a few seconds for Mark to rush over to Angel, grab him, and push him to the floor. He stood over the stunned man, his gun pointed at Angel’s head. “I removed all the ammunition from your weapons while you were in the shower,” he said. “You won’t be shooting anyone today. And I’ll kill you without a second thought if you ever point a gun at this woman again.”
“There’s no way you can win. My people are out there. They’ve got Lieutenant Williams, and nothing will stop them from getting that flash drive. Trust me, if you want to see your friend alive, you’ll give them what they want.”
“You’re wrong. We’ll stop them.”
Angel shook his head. “You can’t save Tally. Not without their help.”
Mark nodded at Mercy. “We need to secure him. I put the bag with our gear in your bedroom earlier. Can you get some handcuffs?”
Mercy hurried off to her room, found the bag, and pulled out a set of handcuffs. She also rounded up a belt and two scarves. When she got back to the living room she found Mark and Angel still in the same position.
“Cuff him,” Mark said. He noticed the scarves and belt in her hands. “I think we need something stronger than that to hold him. There’s some rope downstairs.”
“Right.” Mercy strapped on her holster, went over and took Angel’s empty gun from his hand, then stuffed it in her belt. She started to handcuff him, but then had an idea. “Mark, let’s secure him to the stair rail. It’s sturdy enough to hold him so he won’t get away.”
Mark walked to the stairway that led down to the basement. After checking the handrail, he nodded. “Right here,” he said, pointing to a spot where the banister was bolted firmly to the wall. “I don’t think he can loosen this.”
Mercy pulled out her gun. “Over there,” she said, gesturing toward Mark. “And hurry up.” Angel swore under his breath, but he didn’t fight her. Once he reached the stairs, Mark pushed him down.
“Right here,” Mark commanded. Angel sat on the step Mark indicated. “Don’t go until I’ve got him secured,” he told Mercy.
She gave Mark the handcuffs with one hand while she pointed her gun at Angel with her other.
Mark put a handcuff around one of Angel’s wrists, threaded the other cuff through the banister and secured his other wrist with it. Now there was no way for Angel to escape unless he was able to pull the banister from the wall—and that wasn’t likely.
“Let’s get the rope anyway,” he told Mercy. “I want to make absolutely sure he can’t get loose.”
“Before you go,” Angel said, “you should know your partner is keeping secrets from you. You really shouldn’t trust him.”
Mercy looked at Mark. “What’s he talking about?”
“He’s just trying to rattle you,” Mark said, his voice low. “Don’t pay attention to him. Just get the rope. We need to find Tally.”
“Okay.” She ran downstairs and found several lengths of rope. Unsure of what Mark wanted, she gathered them all together.
As she worked she couldn’t help but think about what Angel had said. Was Mark really keeping secrets? She felt ashamed for even allowing the question into her mind. Mark was right—Angel wanted to divide them. Get her to question her partner. It was his way of trying to weaken them. But as she carried the rope upstairs, she wondered if there might be a nugget of truth in what Angel had said.
“I don’t believe it.”
Richard Batterson had served as director of the Eastern District of Missouri’s U.S. Marshals for eleven years. In that time he’d seen a lot of things. He’d had to deal with problems people wouldn’t believe. But until recently he’d trusted the people he worked with. In fact, he had more confidence in them than in all three of his ex-wives. Of course, there had been a few problems. People who had to be disciplined. Even a couple who had to be removed. All in all, though, his deputies were loyal. Dedicated to the service—and to him. A few months ago it became clear they had a mole in their midst. He’d hoped it was someone outside his office. Not anyone close to him. So the information that was handed to him from Deputy Marshal Liz Dent left him dumbfounded.
“I’m sorry, Chief. I found this in the dumpster outside. It’s real.”
“Why in the world would you crawl into a dumpster, Dent? I don’t understand.”
Her eyes widened as if surprised by his question. “We heard there was a mole. Several of us have been searching for the leak.”
“No one was supposed to know. How did word get out?”
He noticed the edges of her mouth quiver. “I guess you trained us too well, Chief. It’s hard to keep secrets from your deputies.”
He rolled his eyes and let an exaggerated sigh escape
his lips. He actually appreciated her comment, even though some secrets were actually meant to be kept. If this information had gotten to the wrong person, it could have been disastrous. “So something made you suspicious and you decided to jump into the trash?”
“I wouldn’t say I jumped in,” Dent said, this time allowing herself a small smile. “Derek helped me climb inside. I offered him the honor, but for some reason he declined.”
“I imagine he would.” Batterson shook his head as he stared down at the crumpled documents lying on his desk. “If these had been shredded the way they were supposed to be—”
“We’d never have discovered the truth. I think our mole began to suspect someone was watching. She decided to get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible.”
Batterson groaned. This betrayal felt incredibly personal. How could someone so close to him—someone he’d done so much for—do such a thing? He racked his brain for an answer, but nothing about it made any sense.
“Okay. I’m going to the conference room. I want to talk to her. Give me about fifteen minutes to prepare.” He pointed at Dent. “And be cool. Don’t tip her off before she’s secured. Running after perps is something I don’t do anymore. I’m too old for it.”
Dent nodded. “Got it, Chief. Fifteen minutes.” She walked out of his office, leaving him alone with his bruised feelings and deflated ego.
How could someone on his own team help the cartel? Their partnership with local gangs was destroying major parts of the St. Louis community. People were dying right and left. The Marshals were dedicated to protecting the public. Knowing that someone he was close to had aided their destructive attack on his city made him want to throw up.
Batterson made several copies of the papers on his desk and then locked up the originals in one of his desk drawers. No one could get in there. He had the only key, and he kept it with him at all times.
He squared his shoulders and tried to prepare himself for what lay ahead. After taking a few moments to gather his thoughts, he left his office and walked down to the conference room. Dent and another deputy stood outside, guarding the door. He nodded at them and went inside where he found the person responsible for throwing away the recovered papers slouched in a chair. Her head hung down, and she didn’t look up when he came in. Obviously she knew why she’d been rounded up and taken to the conference room. He stood for a moment and stared at her, then slowly closed the door.
