Chase

by Sidney Bristol

  “Hang up,” Gabriel said.

  “You want me to call the deputy director of the FBI?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. I’m Nikki Gage. The deputy director is my father.”

  “That’s rich. Hold on.” Judging by the woman’s tone, she was in no hurry.

  “What is with people? It’s a bomb threat.” Nikki held the phone away from her face.

  Gabriel grabbed the phone and thumbed the End Call button.

  “She likely doesn’t know about the first bomb. And sad to say, there are too many bomb threats these days to take them all seriously. That’s on her, not us. Still, she has to report it, it’ll get passed along, and hopefully someone is ready when we get there.”

  “Damn it. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” Nikki gripped the door and stared straight ahead.

  She’d always known there were more bad things in the world than what the average civilian was aware of. Now she knew exactly what was out there. The good guys saved the day more often than they didn’t. She just hoped that today was one of those days. That they didn’t lose anyone. That they could stop the bad guys. All of them. Even the ones that might not know what they were doing.

  Gabriel took turns at a breakneck speed and wove through traffic so fast her stomach was ready to revolt, yet it still wasn’t getting them there soon enough.

  “Can I talk now?” Emery asked.

  “Yes,” Gabriel and Nikki said at the same time.

  “Matt is handling the art fair. He’s going to keep us up to date on what they find. John, Julian, Roni, and Tori are behind you. Aiden is just leaving, so he’ll be there last. Uniforms are staying with the hostages and Madison. You’re going in first. Be careful.”

  “We will. Anything else?” Gabriel asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you considered hacking the cameras at the track?” Nikki suggested. It wasn’t ethical, but in the face of how many lives they might lose, she was willing to turn a blind eye on some things.

  “Already in. I’m focusing on points of entry.”

  Nikki didn’t mention how relieved that bit of news made her feel.

  “Okay, we’re twenty out. Check in when we arrive,” Gabriel said.

  “Drive faster,” Emery said before the line went dead.

  Nikki closed her eyes to shut out the death-defying driving, but that only made her stomach begin to do sickening flip flops. God, she hoped they got there soon. She’d had no idea how close they were cutting this investigation when she got here. It was so much more dire than what she’d thought, and she’d dragged Gabriel into this. Still, there was no other man she wanted at her side for this kind of thing. They’d faced bad things together, but never like this, side by side.

  “Gabriel?” She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “What?” He didn’t spare her a glance, not that she wanted him to.

  “I love you.”

  He glanced at her, brows drawn down.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I just thought I should say it.”

  “We’re going to stop them, mi cielo.”

  She hoped he was right. She hoped that they stopped the bad guys and got to drive off together, putting this whole crazy operation behind them. If not, she didn’t know how she’d live without him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gabriel hit Dial without looking at his phone. Ahead, several lines of cars slowly edged toward the stadium.

  “Do you have any idea how many rednecks are at this thing?” Emery grumbled something and jabbed at keys in the background.

  “A lot,” Gabriel replied.

  “It could be any of them. I know our profile isn’t necessarily redneck, but there’s so much camo out there I can’t tell the civilians from the militia. I’ve got facial recognition software running, but these cameras are shit. All I’ve got are grainy pictures and blobs.”

  “I know it’s difficult, but we really need your eyes,” Nikki said.

  “Do what you can, man. Any word from Nico?”

  “Nothing. Wait . . . I just got approval from the NSA to use their satellite.”

  The call cut off abruptly.

  “What the . . . ?” Nikki reached for the dash display.

  “Leave him. We need him focused on that satellite, especially if it can get us a better view of what’s going on.” Gabriel peered in his windows. “There’s got to be another way in.”

  They didn’t have time to go through the front gates like everyone else.

  “There. What are they doing?” Nikki leaned forward and pointed to a truck pulling off the main road into the stadium. It was pulling a flatbed with a sleek car strapped down.

  “Exhibitors. Hang on.”

  Gabriel turned on his blinker and cut the wheel, forcing his way through the two lanes on his right. The shoulder opened up, empty all the way to the turnoff. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, and the car surged forward.

  “Shit! Overkill much?” Nikki scrambled to grasp the edge of her seat.

  “Nah, I just like hearing you cuss.”

  “You bring out the worst in me.”

  “Or the best.” He flashed her a grin.

  He used the hand brake to maneuver the car in a neat ninety-degree turn. Nikki yelped and clung to the door.

  “Get your credentials out.”

  The signs for the exhibitor entrance continued to point them ahead, down a long stretch of empty road. His gut tightened. Somewhere in there, Wilson’s people were already set up, probably in a few locations. He seriously doubted they were outside somewhere. He hated how far behind their crew was. This whole op, they were nothing but ten steps behind everyone.

  A set of security staff manned a gate leading into an area that butted up against the stadium. From the RVs and trailers, it was safe to assume this was where the exhibitors parked and kept their rigs, while the show cars went out to the infield to be displayed before taking to the track to really shine.

  Nikki leaned across Gabriel, flashing both her credentials and ID out the driver’s side window at the older gentleman with a clipboard.

  “FBI. We need to speak to the head of security. Now.” She spoke with authority, but the man didn’t seem moved at all by her rank.

  “Well, I’ll get on the phone to him.” He grabbed a radio off his belt.

  “There’s no time for that.” Gabriel gripped the gearshift. “If you haven’t already heard about the bomb threat, it’s too late.”

  “Bomb threat?” The man’s brows drew down into a line.

  “Shit.” Nikki groaned.

  Gabriel punched the gas, shooting past security. Pedestrians turned to look, but no one moved to stop them. Probably because someone was always skirting security at these events.

  “There. There. There.” Nikki pointed at the archway leading through the stadium.

  A set of flashing lights and a siren blossomed behind them.

  “Well hell.” Gabriel glanced in their rearview at the cop car spraying gravel as it made the turn behind them.

  “Stop. Gabriel, stop.”

  “We don’t have time to stop.”

  He turned down a makeshift street between vehicles.

  “Fuck,” he spat.

  Two cars sat across most of the available space.

  “There!” Nikki pointed at the far side. There was just enough distance from the second car and under a gooseneck trailer for the Skyline to squeeze past.

  Gabriel kept his speed low, cautious on the gravel, and slid through, surprising at least one pit worker who turned to yell at them. Rocks flew up in their wake.

  “Where is the damn entrance?” He leaned forward, peering past trailers and trucks.

  Behind them, the cop car made it past the road block.

  “Turn right up there,” Nikki said.

  He cut the wheel hard right, going between two double-decker trailers, yards before Nikki’s proposed turnoff.

  “Gabe, God damn it!” She
pressed back into the seat.

  “Chill out.”

  The cop car hesitated before passing up the alley between trailers.

  Gabriel eased out from between the two movers and into a larger thoroughfare between the parked vehicles. The two-way traffic was steady, but he didn’t have time to wait for a break. He pulled out in front of a drifting car and slid ahead of another headed toward the track.

  He pushed past two cars before the cop car showed up behind him, too many lengths behind to make a difference as they neared the tunnel. They descended into darkness, the sound of engines and the siren mixing together in an ear-shattering cacophony. Red lights flickered down the line, closer and closer, until all the brake lights were on.

  “Come on.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

  “Calm down,” Nikki said. She peered into the rearview mirror, the reflected light casting a rectangle across her face. “Cops are headed to us on foot.”

  “We don’t need this shit right now.” It was enough to make him wish he had a badge and a uniform right now to cut through the crap.

  “Cool it.”

  He shifted into park.

  “Get to the infield on foot. I’ll handle these guys.”

  Nikki twisted in her seat.

  The cops were out of their car and progressing toward them, guns drawn. It wasn’t a good setup. He hadn’t expected that kind of a response. That was on him. Not Nikki.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Yes. Find Nico. Stop whatever it is they’re planning.”

  Nikki opened the passenger door and slithered out, keeping low and to the shadows that clung to the side of the tunnel. He didn’t spare a second to watch her or think about the danger he was sending her toward.

  Gabriel pushed his door open and stood, lifting his arms. He squinted into the light, focusing on the silhouetted officers behind his car.

  “Gabriel Ortiz,” the closest officer yelled.

  This was not his day, but they couldn’t afford to be divided between running from the cops and chasing the militia today.

  “I’m not resisting,” Gabriel said, pitching his voice over the sound of engines.

  “Are you Gabriel Ortiz?” The officer was close enough that Gabriel could see the crinkle of skin at the man’s eyes and the deep lines around his mouth.

  “Yeah, I’m Gabriel.” He frowned. Why the hell would they know that already?

  “Just got a call from a Detective Smith, said you needed an escort.” The man holstered his gun and waved at his partner, who turned around and jogged back toward the cruiser.

  “What?” Gabriel squinted. Had he heard the officer right? The engines were loud.

  As if on cue, several cars revved their engines at once.

  The officer leaned closer and practically yelled, “I said, we’re going to get you through.”

  Gabriel turned, looking back the way he was headed, searching for some sign of Nikki, but she was out of sight.

  “Get me through,” he said.

  The officer waved at someone down the line and walked ahead of Gabriel’s car. What were the chances Matt had saved their ass on this one? The detective was really proving his worth.

  Cars inched forward, pulling to the side as the cop slapped hoods and gestured with his flashlight. A couple drivers threw rude gestures, but were ignored. Gabriel didn’t know what Matt had told the older officer, but in the span of a couple moments he had the Skyline through the tunnel and onto the track. He still didn’t see a sign of Nikki.

  Gabriel rolled down his window as the officer approached on foot.

  “Thanks, my man.” He reached out and shook the cop’s hand. “Detective Smith tell you what’s going on?”

  “Said there was some kind of threat and you’re some kind of Fed.” He gripped his belt and looked down his nose at Gabriel.

  “It’s serious. You see anyone suspicious, anything strange, call it in. Also, I’ve got people headed here.”

  “I know. Smith told me. Do me a favor and tell them to wait for an escort? If I hadn’t gotten that call when I did, we’d still be chasing your ass.”

  “I’ll give you a call.” Gabriel grinned. The cops could chase him all they wanted, but in this car, there was no catching him.

  Homestead Track was a huge, asphalt oval that hosted hundreds of races from NASCAR to hobbyists. The stadium could seat a whole city, and the infield could practically qualify as a township on the big race days, yet it still boasted a pond in the middle of the infield.

  From the maps of the multi-race event, the best he could tell was that the track was being utilized in a handful of different ways. This early, most of the course was devoted to agility sports on bike, car, or truck. He rolled across the width of the track toward the infield, where all the consumer action was taking place, and likely, where Wilson’s people were going to be.

  “God damn.” He scanned the hundreds—thousands—of people. They’d not only driven in, but walked and camped. If a bomb went off there, it would be chaos as civilians stampeded for safety.

  He jabbed the dash display, scrolling back to Nikki’s phone number. In crowds like this, he’d never be able to find her on his own. Her number was still so new, he hadn’t even had an opportunity to use it. They’d been together since she had arrived, except for that first night. The drive to find her was strong, but the case had to come first. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t check up on her.

  A phone rang on the floorboard. It was Nikki’s.

  * * *

  Nikki strode down the track, heat radiating up, baking her. If she ever got out of this, there was no way she was coming back to Florida of her own free will. The heat she could handle, but the humidity suffocated her.

  Ahead, several rows of shiny trucks sat with their hoods up. They were showy, pretty vehicles, not like anything the militia had driven. But between the sleek sports cars and these, this fit Wilson’s profile better than the other events. Except he’d hit the arts fair when they hadn’t expected him to. Had she missed something?

  Men stood in lines around the trucks, kicking tires and talking. The clusters of groups didn’t fit the militia either. Those men would be dirty, probably in camo or other appropriate work attire. Their combined mission and mental state wouldn’t allow them to socialize with others, so they would be aloof, holding themselves apart a little. The people here were the targets.

  Part of her wanted to stand on top of the barricades and scream at them to all run. To get away as fast as they could. But that wouldn’t stop Wilson’s militia. She’d seen well-intentioned people do exactly what she wanted to do, and the body counts were high.

  When a crowd panicked, there was a greater chance of unintentional harm. People getting trampled, hurt in the rush to get to safety. And then there was the reaction of the bad guys to the wrench in their plans. In almost every situation she’d seen or read about, the target panicked along with the crowds and attacked without rhyme or reason.

  If Wilson thought they were going to stop him, he might opt to go down in a blaze of glory, killing not only himself, but his people and hundreds more attendees.

  She walked the line of trucks, forcing herself to slow to an almost casual stroll. Sweat trickled down her spine and around the handgun at the small of her back. A well-trained eye would spot her firearm under her tank top, but she’d at least thought to grab her credentials and shove them in her pocket before fleeing the Skyline.

  The crowd thinned out the farther she went until an open stretch of asphalt separated the drifting trucks from a course set up around the first turn at the end of the track. She held her hand up and shielded her eyes. It was an awfully long way to walk, and she didn’t want to be that up close and personal with the cars as they went through their paces, sliding sideways and around cones.

  She turned and surveyed the infield, with the press of wall-to-wall people and cars. If she were Wilson and she wanted to cause the most chaos, she’d be there. Right in the thick
of it.

  Where the hell was Gabriel?

  Had he gotten arrested?

  Nikki reached into her pocket, brushing her credentials, but no phone. She peered down, patting her pockets without luck.

  Her phone was gone. Or she’d left it in the car. Regardless, she was on her own.

  “Fuck,” she muttered.

  There wasn’t time to go in search of Gabriel. Her focus had to be on the case and stopping Wilson. She circled the lines of trucks and headed back the direction she’d come from. The traffic from the tunnel was gone, so either Gabriel’s stunt had caused more of a disruption than she’d expected, or whatever event the cars were headed to was under way. It left the track open to pedestrians strolling back and forth, admiring the lines of cars.

  Gabriel’s Skyline was still nowhere to be seen. She didn’t know a lot about cars, but she would expect his to draw attention. So where was it?

  He was a trained agent, so if he’d made it onto the track, Gabriel would go to the infield. And so would she.

  Nikki angled her path to the strip of concrete leading to the heart of activity, weaving through people. The scent of fried foods and exhaust mixed together in a totally unique fragrance. It wasn’t as disgusting as she’d expected, though after they wrapped this case up she’d want a shower for sure.

  A woman’s laughter cut through the din. Nikki glanced around, frowning. Why was that sound familiar? She swung her head left, then right, searching for the source.

  There.

  A woman had her arms wrapped around a man’s neck. She leaned in as if to kiss him. Her brown and blond locks hung down her back in heavy, beachy curls. Hell, her hair covered more of her back than the halter top did, and Nikki’s shorts were conservative in comparison. She could see at least three inches of ass cheek.

  The woman stepped back, her face in profile.

  Hillary.

  Nikki ducked behind a cluster of people and changed direction, cutting between two trucks while keeping her eyes on Hillary.

  This was the perfect setting for the woman. Why hadn’t she thought about the risk of running into her here?

  The men she was flirting with didn’t appear to be Wilson’s people, but that might not mean anything. She’d gathered from Gabriel that Hillary ran with a different circle, so it made sense.