“What’s this?” he asked as he turned on the phone. A little dot was moving along the private road heading out of the neighborhood.
“I learned my lesson the last time and put a small GPS dot sticker on the inside of her dress. Follow her and get her back.”
Lizzy climbed into the driver’s seat of the van and tossed a second phone to Dalton. “I also tagged Sebastian.”
“They’re moving deeper into the neighborhood,” Dalton said as he watched the dot move. “Go!” he yelled at Grant, who didn’t wait to jump out of the van.
Grant slid the gun into his waistband at the small of his back and took off down the street. Contrary to belief, it would be easier to steal a car from behind a gated driveway than not. People felt safe behind gates and tended to not lock up like they should.
Grant hopped the first gated driveway he found. A plum purple Bentley Continental convertible was parked in the round driveway near the front door. Even better, he didn’t need to break glass.
Grant leapt over the door and slid into the front seat. He let out a silent whoop when he saw the key fob in the cup holder. He pressed the brake and pushed the start button, and the Bentley’s V8 roared to life. As he waited for the gate to slide open, he looked at the map. Anthony was speeding east, about to get onto Interstate 5. The gate opened and Grant peeled out the driveway. Unlike Anthony, he didn’t have a way to get past the blockade. Grant smashed his hand against the steering wheel when he was stopped in a long line of cars by police and DEA as they looked for Manuel Hernandez.
Time slowed to a crawl as one car was finally cleared and allowed through. Grant thought his heart would explode as he tried to keep his cool. He grabbed the fake military identification and the car registration.
He put his cell phone on his lap and dialed Alex.
“What’s up, dude?”
“I’ve just stolen a car and have to get through a checkpoint.”
“Duuuude.”
“Can you help?” Grant asked, agitated.
“Duh. What’s the car owner’s name and registration number?”
“Stein, Cecilia,” Grant said, spitting out all the information Alex would need to find her.
Another car cleared the checkpoint. Grant had three more cars and then he’d be on the spot. As Alex did his thing, Grant stared at the dot on the phone. Anthony had gotten on Interstate 5 and was already turning onto Interstate 10 heading east toward San Bernardino. At this time of night and with sirens, Anthony was able to put miles in between them with every minute Grant was stuck waiting to get through the checkpoints. As the minutes ticked by, Valeria was slipping farther and farther from his grasp.
“You’re set. You’re married to Cecilia now. Just got married last Saturday. Nice, she’s the daughter of a producer. Of course, she’s nineteen so you kinda look like a cradle-robber. But whatever, dude.”
“Thanks, Alex.” Grant hung up and took a deep breath as the next car went through. It about killed him, but twenty minutes later he finally pulled up to have his car checked.
The officer looked at his ID and the registration. “These don’t match up,” he said suspiciously, shining the mag light into Grant’s eyes.
“It’s my wife’s car. We were just married last week. What’s going on? I was at my in-laws’ house.” Grant motioned back the way he’d come. “And can’t get home now.”
The officer looked at him again, not believing the story. “I’ll be right back. Search the car,” he ordered the officer on the other side of the car.
“Pop the trunk please,” the officer ordered as the one with his fake ID and car registration walked to the police barricade. Grant opened the trunk and prayed Cecilia didn’t have any drugs or weapons in her car.
The officer checked the trunk, opened the glove box, and used a mirror to check under the car. With every second that ticked by, Grant battled for control. He had to get to Valeria. The second that dot stopped moving, he knew she would be dead.
After ten minutes the officer walked back with his ID and registration. “Here you go. Just had to confirm the marriage since you aren’t listed on the registration. Congratulations, now move along.”
Grant gave the man a smile and a nod and slowly drove through the barricade. The second he was out of sight he pressed the gas and took off. Anthony had over a thirty-minute head start on Grant and he was flying.
* * *
“Dammit!” Lizzy cursed and slammed her hand against a beautiful wood patio table. Lizzy and Dalton had driven halfway through the neighborhood trying to follow Sebastian, Manuel, and Roland, then right before the checkpoint for that end of the neighborhood became visible, they had turned into a driveway.
Lizzy had followed, but a gate had been in the way. She’d left the van in the drive, and she and Dalton vaulted over the gate only to watch a helicopter lifting off from the backyard with Sebastian in it. They’d sprinted around the back, but the helicopter was already flying away.
“The fucker betrayed us! He helped Roland and Manuel escape. Ahhh!” Lizzy screamed as she balled her hands together. “So help me, I will kill him myself.”
“So let’s follow him. He doesn’t know he’s being tracked. Get me to a helicopter, and we’re good to go,” Dalton said calmly. After all, being a PJ was synonymous with calmness under pressure.
“First we have to get out of here.”
“I’d advise driving straight out the back.”
“What?” Lizzy asked, looking around the backyard. There was a pool, a privacy fence, and a basketball court, which is where the helicopter had landed. “There’s nowhere to drive.”
“Right through that fence,” Dalton told her, holding up his phone. “We go through the fence, onto the neighbor’s driveway, and we’re on Hobart Boulevard. No checkpoint.”
Lizzy looked around. It would be a tight fit between the trees, but it was doable. “Can you get the gate open?”
Dalton just smiled. “Help me tip over this statue.”
Lizzy looked at the large nude stone woman lining the drive. There were five of them on the side of the drive farthest from the house near the gate, all sculpted in different poses. “Why?”
“See this slight indent in the driveway’s concrete? It’s the trigger line for the gate. It’ll open when a certain amount of weight is put on it,” Dalton explained.
Lizzy looked at the small indent running in a straight line across the width of the drive and up at the statue. If they pushed her over, she’d land on the indent, open the gate, then she could walk out and drive the van through.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Lizzy said as she and Dalton moved behind the statue.
“Just put your hands right on her feet.” Dalton instructed. Lizzy looked up at the stone feet at chest level. She put both her hands on one foot and Dalton put both of his on the other. “One. Two. Three.”
They pushed with everything they had and the statue slowly slid off its base. They strained, bending their knees to put more force behind the push until the nude woman teetered on the edge of her pedestal and fell.
The statue slammed into the ground, breaking an arm and sending it rolling away from her. Lizzy looked at the statue and then at the gate as it slowly began to open. She didn’t wait to marvel that it actually worked. Instead, she took off up the drive and jumped into the van. In seconds, she was driving through the gate and into the yard in order to get around the fallen statue.
Dalton got into the passenger seat and put on his seat belt. “There’s a sightseeing helicopter tour company a couple miles from here. Turn right out of the neighbor’s yard to get there.”
Lizzy angled the car into the backyard and around the pool. “Ready?”
Dalton nodded and held on. Lizzy floored the gas as the old van shot forward. They hit the privacy fence and Lizzy’s foot was momentarily knocked off the gas pedal as she was flung forward. The seat belt caught and sent her slamming back into her seat.
“Pool,” Dalton said easily as sh
e cranked the van to the left, knocking the side mirror off on a tree to avoid the water. The van bounced over the decorative cement patio and plowed through a wooden privacy gate. They came to a stop on the driveway as lights were turned on in the house and yelling could be heard.
Lizzy took a breath and looked at a neighborhood street. “Okay, here we go.” She turned right and headed toward the tourist helicopter tours. “How’s Grant doing?”
“I don’t know. I’m not going to ask, though. He’s focused on saving Valeria and that’s where his focus needs to be. Turn left, and it’s five blocks up on your right.”
Lizzy made the turn and saw the big bright sign promising to show you the stars from the sky. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“Heading south.”
“Will we be able to catch them?”
“Doubtful, but we’ll be able to hunt them.”
Lizzy stopped in the parking lot of the helicopter tours. “Then let’s go hunting.”
15
Valeria cursed as the cuffs bit into her skin. Somewhere along the way she’d been zapped again and tossed into the trunk. Probably after she tried to bite Anthony’s carotid artery open. Normally this would be a good thing. There were lots of ways to escape being in a trunk. However, this time her mouth was taped shut, her arms were cuffed behind her, and her feet taped together.
It was hot, dark, and muggy in the trunk. She was on her left side, facing away from the taillights. Valeria was also lying on top of the spare tire and a couple of bulletproof vests. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel. She wondered how long she’d been with Anthony and where they were going. Her bet was back to his jurisdiction or into Mexico to be handed over to Manuel. Either way, it wasn’t good.
The car sped up and then slowed down. Valeria rolled uncomfortably from the back part of her left shoulder she was lying on to the front part of her shoulder, causing her nose to bump into the vest. What was going on? Then suddenly there was a loud bang and then there was the scraping sound of metal against metal. The tires of the car spun and suddenly she was flying as the car flipped.
* * *
Grant had driven close to one hundred thirty miles per hour since he’d gotten out of the city. He’d rejoiced when Anthony turned off the interstate and onto State Route 79. He’d sped through the mountains and along the small two-lane road on the desert side of the mountains as fast as he could. It had taken about an hour and a half to catch up to Anthony some one hundred fifty miles away on the deserted San Felipe Road. There was nothing around at night except dirt, tumbleweed, and foothills. The closest landmark they were approaching was Scissors Crossing, which was nothing more than part of the Pacific Crest Hiking Trial.
When they’d come to a straightaway and his headlights appeared in Anthony’s mirrors for the first time, Anthony didn’t do anything. Grant kept his emotions in check as he looked at the GPS dot on the phone. Valeria, or at least her dress, was still with Anthony. Grant sped up slightly to get a good look through the rear window. He only saw what he guessed was Anthony’s outline in the driver’s seat. As Grant pulled closer, Anthony sped up, but then slowed down as if allowing Grant to pass. Grant pulled into the opposite lane and slowly pushed the Bentley’s gas pedal so he could pull even with the car.
In the glow of the dash, Grant saw the sharp outline of a nose and thin face. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties and his tie had pulled loose while his sports coat rested on the passenger seat. The empty passenger seat. Grant looked into the backseat and saw nothing. Where? Grant slowed and looked at the trunk.
When Grant looked back at Anthony, a gun was pointing out the window. Grant swerved hard to the left, but the bullet ripped into his tire. There was only one way to stop Anthony now. He just hoped Valeria could hang on as he jerked the steering wheel to the right and drove the Bentley right into the side of Anthony’s car.
Grant held onto the steering wheel as metal crashed against metal. He pushed his car harder, sending the other car fishtailing off the road as Grant struggled to keep control despite having burst a tire or two. With a final ram of the crumpled Bentley into Anthony’s car, Grant held onto the wheel as smoke poured from under the hood before flames began to creep out. Through the smoke and flames, he saw Anthony’s back tire catch in the dirt and rock, sending the car flipping into the air. It all felt like slow motion. The back tire hit a low-profile rock, sending the tires closest to Grant swinging up into the air. Grant was out of his car running toward the wreck as the car settled with the tires pointed toward the sky.
Grant had his gun drawn and raced toward Anthony’s car as the front door was kicked open and a man crawled out. His face was burned from the airbag and his lip and nose were bleeding, but he was standing and he was armed.
“You picked the wrong guy to fuck with tonight, you asshole,” Anthony yelled until he saw the gun Grant had pointed at him.
“No, you picked the wrong woman to take.”
Grant watched as Anthony Gomez’s dark brown eyes processed what he was saying. He gave a small half laugh of amusement. “This is over Valeria? The bitch is dead and soon you will be too.”
The sound of grunting drew both men’s attention as a tussled Valeria wobbled to stand. The trunk had been thrown open during the crash and Valeria had rolled out as if the back trunk’s hood were a slide. Grant would have laughed if his heart weren’t so relieved to see her alive. Her wig was falling off, her breast was hanging out of her skewed top, and she was giving Anthony a death stare.
“Aye, she does look like death, but she’s mine nevertheless.”
Grant kept his eyes trained on Anthony as Valeria began a hunched bunny jump toward him. When she stopped next to him, he reached out without looking at her and ripped off the tape from across her mouth.
“Follar una carbra! Pinche pendejo,” Valeria spat in Spanish.
“Give me the handcuff keys, and I won’t let the lassie kill you,” Grant called out over Valeria’s constant stream of cussing. She was working her way through Spanish and heading straight into Gaelic.
“Who are you?” Anthony asked, not bothering to move to hand over the keys.
“Doesn’t matter who I am. It matters that you’re helping Manuel Hernandez, and you had Valeria fired from the DEA.”
“I don’t have time for this. I’m just going to shoo—”
Bang!
Anthony let out a scream as he fell to the ground. “Don’t talk about shooting someone, just shoot them,” Grant said, finally shutting up Valeria’s rant. He stepped forward, and as Anthony raised his gun to fire, Grant shot again. He may be trained to save lives, but Grant was trained to take them as well. He was an elite soldier trained to enter hostile fire and fight his way to the target.
However, a shot to the knee and a shot to the hand wouldn’t kill Anthony. Grant bent down and picked up Anthony’s dropped gun, then reached into the man’s pocket. He pulled out the key ring and walked back to where Valeria stood, shooting daggers at him.
“I wanted to shoot him.” If her arms weren’t cuffed behind her back, he figured they’d be crossed over her chest as she glared at him.
“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I?” Grant was so relieved to see her safe. The agonizing drive, the fear she’d be dead when the car flipped . . . it was all too much. He lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into it. “I’m glad you’re all right, lassie.”
“Thank you for coming after me.”
“I’ll always come for you. Now, let me get your hands free.” Grant stepped behind her and unlocked the cuffs. Valeria shoved up her skirt and Grant got a nice view of her ass.
Bang!
When Grant looked up, Anthony was leaning back against the car with a bullet to the head. A second gun was in the dirt on the ground next to his hand.
“Well, now it’s my turn to thank you. Are you hurt?” Grant asked as he bent and cut the tape from her ankles, trying not to ogle her expos
ed cheek. When he ripped the tape from her skin, she grunted with a mixture of pain and anger.
“Just stiff and pissed. I should have found a way out of this situation before it got to this point.”
“Sometimes you can’t do everything on your own. I thought we talked about this,” Grant said with a little smirk to let her know he was teasing.
“He was there with Manuel. Did you get him?” Valeria asked as she slowly stretched her neck and then her arms.
“I don’t know. I came after you. Lizzy and Dalton went after Manuel, Roland, and Sebastian. What is going on with them?” Grant asked as he pulled out his phone.
“I think Sebastian just joined Mollia Domini. They were asking him for money.”
Grant nodded. “They need someone to fund the operations since Alex shut down Manuel’s money outside of Mexico. We better duck.”
“What?” Valeria asked as Grant shoved her to the ground just as the Bentley exploded. Grant shielded her body with his as debris rained down near them. His body fit snuggly against her as the curve of her ass cradled his quickly growing erection—one he’d fought since the lass wasn’t his to have. She was in mourning, and he was a real arse for thinking of what he wanted to do with her naked body in this position.
“Well,” Grant said, sitting up and putting some space between them, “we need to start walking. My phone blew up in the car and the nearest town is seven or so miles away. We don’t want to be found here by anyone and have to explain why there’s a dead body.”
Valeria’s brow creased as she stared at him over her shoulder. She gave her head a little shake. “Then we better get going.”
Grant stood up and held out his hand for her. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up. She tucked herself back into the dress and looked at her spiked heels. “Here,” Grant said, holding out his hand for the shoes. “I can help with that.”
Shattered Lies Page 11
