Chase

by Sidney Bristol

  “There’s a fence line up there.” Gabriel pitched his voice low and pointed.

  She could make out a chain link fence between the trees, but more than anything, she could hear the chug of a diesel engine and the shout of voices.

  “How many of them do you think there are?” She peered through the camera lens at the largest gap, but all she could see was the siding to some kind of structure that didn’t look like a beat-up old cabin.

  “No clue. I’m going to that stand of trees there.” He gestured ahead of them and to their left. “I’ll check it out, and if it’s clear, you join me. Keep an eye open for patrols or someone wandering around out here.” Gabriel drew one of his Desert Eagles and flipped the safety off.

  Nikki’s nerves twisted inside her for a moment. She didn’t like risking the lives of good agents, but to stop the bad guys, it had to be done. For the span of a couple heartbeats, she let herself be nervous. Be human. Even though she’d faced down some truly terrible things in her life, she was still a person with fears just like everyone else. The trick was learning how to deal with them. She envisioned putting the emotion away, like she might hang a jacket in a closet and be done with it.

  She blew out a breath and pulled her SIG Sauer out, disengaging the safety.

  “I’ll cover you. Go.”

  Gabriel stared at her for a moment. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. Finally he said, “Okay,” pushed up into a crouch, and made his way slowly and carefully to the stand of trees.

  She kept her gaze on the landscape, letting her eyes relax, opening herself up to catching the slightest movement. There were times when it was right to rely on a gut feeling, when it would give her the added edge to react faster, but nothing was screaming at her to flee. She settled in, shifting until she found a more comfortable spot, and continued to wait for Gabriel’s signal.

  At long last he reached the trees and dropped down to all fours.

  Damn it. She should have given him the camera. If it wasn’t safe, if they had to make a speedy exit, this could be their only chance to get photo evidence of what was going on. Documentation was the key to building the case. It was great and all to see it for themselves, but they needed tangible evidence. Pictures. A paper trail. Catching them in the act of a crime. Something that would stick. For several long moments nothing moved, not even Gabriel.

  He flicked his fingers, curling them in a come here gesture.

  She mimicked his traveling pose, but crossed the ground faster, eager to finally get eyes on whatever the hell it was Wilson was doing way out here.

  Nikki hit the dirt next to Gabriel, going down to her belly, and pulled the camera up to peer through the viewfinder. She pointed and clicked, only waiting on the frame to focus before she shifted her target.

  “Ay, ay, ay, ay. This is not good,” Gabriel muttered.

  Nikki couldn’t agree more.

  This wasn’t a secluded fishing getaway anymore.

  “I recognize some of those trucks. I bet if we run their plates they’ll match up to some of Wilson’s people.” And here she’d hoped they wouldn’t find anything.

  The chain link fence enclosed maybe the whole property. A couple of acres at least. The trees and ground cover had been pushed back and even burned in places, either to make room for whatever it was they were doing or to remove places to hide. Gravel covered most of the space, cutting off anything living and any cover they might have had for a closer look. Several prefabricated sheds, trailers, and a couple campers were lined up in the far north corner, away from the water, in what appeared to be the bunk area. People moved all around with purpose, while others patrolled the perimeter.

  She wiped at her eyes and sniffed. There was something rotting close by, and under that, some odor she couldn’t quite place.

  In the middle of it all was two barns, set as far apart as possible. One backed up all the way into the water. If Nikki had to guess, a boat could pull up inside the structure to load or unload its cargo. The other barn was maybe a dozen yards from the westernmost fence. Several vehicles were lined up along the fence out of the way, and one van idled at the gate.

  Nikki frowned into the display.

  Right behind the van was a conspicuous . . . car. The rear spoiler rose up above the cab. It was painted a pink and purple flames motif with a handful of advertising stickers slapped on top of the paint job.

  “Anyone you know?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Gabriel didn’t sound too pleased.

  She blinked a couple more times, but whatever was in the air was particularly strong. Where had she smelled that before?

  “Is that . . . meth?” She peered at Gabriel.

  “Yeah.” He sounded even less pleased this time.

  Nikki hadn’t worked narcotics cases very often, but drugs touched almost every corner of the earth now in some fashion.

  “I bet they cook it in the boathouse. If there’s a fire, the water is right there. If they want to deliver it, the water is a good way to avoid detection. Man, they set this place up more than a week ago. They’ve been working out of here for a while. At least a month or more.”

  She cringed.

  He was right.

  How long had Wilson been working on this without anyone noticing?

  “What’s the other barn for?” She zoomed out and took a couple wide shots.

  “I’m going to find out.” Gabriel turned and put his back to the thickest tree.

  “What?” She paused in her photo taking to gape at him.

  “The fence doesn’t go all the way to the water. The patrol isn’t too tight. They aren’t wearing uniforms, and there’s enough people milling around I bet if I’m seen I can blend in.” He checked his gun once more.

  “No.” She said it before she could think through her knee-jerk reply. “There is no way to get in there unseen. This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Trust me. This is what I do best.”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you on this or undermine—”

  “This is about being smart. It’s too dangerous to try to sneak in there now. It’s the middle of the day—”

  The pink and purple car revved its engine and sent up a cloud of smoke.

  “Everyone is going to be too busy watching Hillary to notice me.” Gabriel pushed to his feet and dodged toward the water, moving with the shadows.

  Hillary?

  Nikki tore her attention from Gabriel and looked back at the car.

  A woman in painted-on jeans and a halter top hung out of the driver’s window. Even from this distance Nikki could see her impressive cleavage. She snapped a few pictures, zooming in on the car and the woman.

  How did Gabriel know her?

  Nikki clutched the camera with both hands.

  Was this someone he knew intimately? Were they some kind of car rivals?

  The urge to punch the woman’s lights out was completely irrational, but it felt good to visualize Hillary’s head bouncing off the hood of her car.

  She glanced back at Gabriel and her heart leapt into her throat.

  He edged around the last fence post right next to the water. And no one saw him. At least no one she noticed. Nikki craned her neck to get a better view, but he stepped behind a truck and out of sight. She fisted the wrist strap on the camera, willing him to come back. If he came back, she wouldn’t second-guess him, she’d listen to him, she’d do anything if only he was safe.

  * * *

  Gabriel prowled between the two box trucks. Men yelled at each other, sometimes in code. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something felt off. He reached the cabs of the vehicles and peered out.

  From this angle he could see the other barn. The big sliding door was partially pushed back. A car sat in the entrance, hood up. Most people kept a little distance from the second structure. He itched to get inside that building, but the chances of him making it inside were slim.

  The meth barn h
ad a healthy amount of traffic in and out, which was plain stupid. Labs like this were highly flammable, and prolonged exposure could produce sores and other side effects just from being around the chemical process. It would make Wilson’s people easy to pick out of a crowd.

  He stood up straight, pushed his shoulders back, and strolled out into the open. A big part of undercover work was acting like he was supposed to be wherever he was. If he appeared as though he belonged, only people who knew better would question him.

  Hillary revved her engine again. He could hear her cackling laugh over the rest of the noise as she put on the same show she’d always used. She’d been a looker once, but that was before the meth. How she hadn’t died already, either by overdose or wrecking her car, he didn’t know. It was only a matter of time until her poor life choices came back to bite her in the ass.

  Gabriel kept his focus on the barn. One foot in front of the other.

  A man exited a small door set into the wall and glanced at him, frowning.

  Gabriel gave the man a sharp nod and marched forward. He did his best imitation of Aiden’s walk, the way he held his shoulders, and kept going. The man made a hard right and headed in the direction of the bunks.

  Nikki needed evidence of what was going on here. He’d do what he could to grab something, snap a few pics with his phone, and get out of there. Whatever was going on, he couldn’t stop it right now. Not until he knew the bigger picture and what they were dealing with. One thing was for sure, this was a lot bigger than a bunch of nuts with guns wanting to teach ’Merica a lesson.

  He grabbed the door and hauled it open. A wall of putrid stench hit him. It was worse than rotten eggs. His eyes began to water and his nostrils burned.

  “Hey,” someone called.

  Gabriel glanced to his right. A man stood in the bed of a pickup loaded down with barrels of something. He was big. There was no other word for it. In dusty fatigue pants and a green T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, he was not someone Gabriel wanted to meet. Ever. A guy didn’t get that big naturally, or just for the fun of it.

  “What?” He closed the barn door carefully and turned to the truck.

  “We have to get this stuff inside. Grab that dolly.” Big Man gestured at the side of the barn.

  Gabriel strode around to where Big Man had indicated, and sure enough, two dollies sat side by side. He grabbed them both and rolled them to the truck.

  “Want to get one side and . . .” Gabriel stared as Big Man hoisted one of the barrels up in his arms, took two steps to the tailgate, and hopped down, merely grunting as the liquid inside sloshed around. Big Man set it on a dolly, pausing only to swipe his forearm across his brow.

  “Get that to Nico.” Big Man gestured at the far barn.

  A gift-wrapped opportunity to get into the barn he needed eyes on?

  “Sure thing.”

  Gabriel tilted the dolly and pushed it through the gravel. The barrel had to weigh, what, two hundred pounds? He wouldn’t say it wasn’t humanly possible to lug it around like Big Man behind him had, but it was unlikely. Hell, Gabriel was having difficulty just pushing it through the deep gravel. Despite the sealed barrel, he could still catch a whiff of something he didn’t like. It was different than the meth lab. Worse, actually.

  Big Man trucked backward, dragging the dolly and barrel after him.

  Gabriel pivoted, following suit, and found it to be marginally easier.

  “What’s in these, man?” he asked.

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Big Man replied. His eyes were bloodshot, and close up, Gabriel could see the start of sores along his arms.

  Wilson must be selling the meth to pay for this little party, and giving it to his men. Meth made people do things, unnatural things, like slinging around a two-hundred-pound barrel of chemicals.

  “Gabriel?” a shrill, feminine voice said. “Is that you, Gabriel?”

  Oh shit . . .

  Chapter Eight

  Nikki couldn’t see Gabriel anymore. He’d disappeared from view thanks to the trees and trucks in her line of sight, and damn it, what was he doing?

  She lifted up on her elbows, peering this way and that for some sign of his movements. Why did he think he had to go in there? Evidence wasn’t worth putting his life at risk.

  This whole situation was bad. Yes, they needed proof of what Wilson’s militia was doing to figure out how to stop him and what laundry list of crimes to charge him with, but not at the cost of Gabriel. She needed to get on the phone to Aiden in case they needed backup. Emery was the only person who knew where they were, but he wouldn’t know if they needed help.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen.

  “Damn it,” she muttered as the call canceled out.

  She had no signal.

  Nikki surveyed the area until she found a clump of bushes bracketed by two trees about fifteen feet closer to the fence. The foot patrol wouldn’t be by for another few minutes, and the people inside the perimeter were either too busy watching the woman in the car or were minding their own business. No one would notice her if she moved fast and kept low.

  For a few seconds, she waited and watched, but no one looked her way.

  She pushed up to her feet and crouch-ran to the clump of bushes. She hit her knees and went down to her elbows hard enough she knew she’d have scrapes.

  Gabriel stepped into view, heading straight for the meth barn.

  No. No. No.

  She cringed. They didn’t need proof of that. She could smell it. Plus, there wasn’t a cleanup crew alive who could remove all traces of the meth lab fast enough.

  Nikki went to her knees behind the shrubs and lifted her cell phone.

  Still no signal.

  Were they simply out too far? Or was this intentional? Could the militia have a cell phone jammer on-site? They weren’t regulated enough to be out of the question, and it could be one method Wilson used to keep his men under control. If they didn’t know about news coverage and couldn’t contact their families, they remained completely reliant on Wilson and his people.

  The woman, Hillary, shimmied out of the car. She grinned at someone Nikki couldn’t see. A plain white trailer, like what might be used at a construction site for an office, blocked her view. Hillary stopped and spread her arms. A man with sandy blond hair approached her. It was the way he moved that gave him away. She’d watched enough footage, seen enough pictures to be able to place him. This was who they were looking for. They’d found Wilson’s people, and now she had evidence.

  Nikki had seen enough. She snapped a few pictures of the passionate lip-lock between Hillary and Bradley Wilson.

  The two spoke, but at this distance Nikki couldn’t tell what they were saying.

  Where was Gabriel?

  She glanced back at the meth barn, but her gaze snagged on Gabriel and the biggest black man she’d ever seen dragging dollies across the deep gravel. Her stomach dropped. Was he fitting himself into this group? Had his plan changed? If he was able to get in with the militia, maybe he could tell her how to stop them. But it meant leaving him in an uncertain situation, not to mention her without a way to get out of there. She would manage somehow, but it was him she was worried about. They had no idea how the militia was organized, if he could simply slide in or what. It was too risky. She had to get him out of there.

  The grass rustled to her right. It was shorter here than it was anywhere else, as if someone had trimmed it some time ago. There were no ambient animal sounds, no call of birds. It was quiet. It was a different sound than that of the breeze or an animal. It was a slow, controlled crunch.

  Nikki went completely still. She had her camera in one hand and her phone in the other. She’d walked into a trap. There was no way for her to draw her weapon before whoever was creeping toward her could get off a shot. Her alternatives were to run, which would attract more attention; give up and be taken hostage, taking the chance she could learn something; or wait to be killed.

/>   Something swished closer. Whoever was out there was drawing nearer.

  They’d probably kill her. It was easier that way, less work. Cleanup could be left to animals and they wouldn’t lose manpower.

  Why had she moved?

  Slowly, she looped her arm through the camera strap, shifting it to lie across her back. If there was a cell phone jammer on the premises, it would block the camera upload as well. They needed to analyze these images, study them. But first, she had to make it out of there. Or at least the camera did.

  If she made a break for it, she risked outing Gabriel. Of the two of them, his was the more precarious position.

  She was in trouble. But she needed to hold her position for as long as possible.

  A shadow fell on the ground in the farthest point of her peripheral vision. She tucked her phone in her bra, praying it stayed put, and grabbed handfuls of dirt in each hand.

  The woman, Hillary, shrieked something Nikki couldn’t make out past the thunder of blood rushing in her ears. She sensed more than heard the person stalking her move into action.

  Now or die.

  Nikki pushed up to her knees and pivoted, flinging the dirt up at the man. He wore green fatigues and body armor and carried a sniper rifle. There was nothing about his gear or equipment that made sense at a glance. It was as if he were supposed to be somewhere else. At war, not in backwater America.

  He staggered back, swiping a hand across his face. Nikki took two strides toward him and kicked. He moved at the last second and she got him in the thigh with the heel of her boot. He swung wildly with his left hand and brought the gun up. She ducked and drew her pistol, her whole body pulsing with adrenaline.

  She was going to die.

  * * *

  Gabriel swung his head around. His stomach sank. Why, of all the people in Miami, was it her? It wasn’t so much her, as who she worked for. Who her brothers were. Between those two facts, Hillary could do whatever she wanted, which back when she used to run with the street-racing crowds meant drugs and booze. Lots of those.

  “Gabriel!” Hillary strode toward him, her voice too loud. The men stared, and why wouldn’t they? As far as Gabriel could tell, she was the only woman in this sausage fest and she wasn’t half bad looking, though the drugs had taken their toll.