He frowned. But what if she was exactly what Doucet had claimed she was—a woman who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time? If she’d really witnessed those murders, Zabat could kill two birds with one stone. Hell, he could even use some of that missing C-4 to blow them to kingdom come. Even if she wasn’t who she said she was, collateral damage had never stopped Zabat before.
On that cheery thought, Mike moved down the stairs and turned into the wind. He needed a way to prove to himself that Alexa was indeed a victim. Once he did, he would be able to stop second-guessing everything. Trudging through the snow, his boots breaking through the thin layer of ice, he checked around the chalet, looking for signs of sabotage. After verifying the building hadn’t been turned into a gigantic bomb, he tramped over to the woodshed where he’d parked the snowmobile under an overhang, ensuring their only way out of here was out of the worst of the weather.
He scanned the area, goose bumps running down his spine, that “someone walking over my grave” feeling, too strong to ignore. Were they being watched? Infrared, high-powered binoculars would do the trick. Too bad he didn’t have any.
Wolf howls, yips, and barks carried on the wind. Snow and sleet didn’t bother the large predators. Now that the sun had set, they were on the hunt again, and it sounded as if they were coming this way. Wolves shied away from men and moving snowmobiles, but if the Ski-Doo broke down in the middle of nowhere, he and Alexa would be easy prey. He might be able to shoot a couple, but he’d never get them all before they attacked. Maybe that was part of the trap, too. If they stayed here, Zabat’s boys got them. If they left, the wolves did. Damn, he hated the no-win scenario.
Over to the left of the woodshed, the weight of the snow and ice had uprooted a twelve-foot pine tree. If he could find a hammer and a hatchet, he might have an edge after all.
Half an hour later, he returned to the house, his hands stiff, red, and raw. With luck, he wouldn’t need to fire his gun for a while. With his stinging right hand, he turned the knob. The heavy wooden door didn’t budge.
Damn it.
She’d locked up after him. If she was working for Zabat, she could leave him out here to freeze his ass off.
He knocked. “It’s me. Open up. We haven’t finished that dance lesson. I still can’t do the Hokey Pokey.”
Crap. That wasn’t the password.
“Il fait chaud.”
He heard the lock mechanism move, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Okay, so he wouldn’t freeze his balls off tonight. What was taking her so long?
“Alexa?”
“It’s open.” Her voice was low and slightly muffled.
Not waiting for her to change her mind, he stepped inside, secured the door, and removed his borrowed coat. He blew on his painful hands and rubbed them together. He’d been outside more than an hour. No wonder they hurt.
“We’ve got freezing rain out there now,” he said, turning around. The room was empty. “Where are you?”
“In here.”
He followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen. “I still can’t see you.”
She wheeled herself out of what must be a pantry, a tin of pea soup in her lap. If looks could kill, he would be dead and buried. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“You didn’t have to test me,” she said. “Despite your low opinion of me, I’m not stupid.”
He lowered his gaze. Maybe she was an innocent party here. Time to eat some of that humble pie he hated. “I know that, Alexa. I wasn’t testing you. The truth is, I forgot for a minute that we’d changed it. Things aren’t what I expected here, and to tell you the truth, it’s knocked me off balance.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t ready to take her at face value, but for now, he would give her the benefit of the doubt.
“You think this is what I wanted?” she snapped. “I thought I was safe, and now . . . ” She turned her head away.
“You have every right to be angry. I had no right saying what I did. I could give you a dozen excuses, blame it on the concussion, but it wouldn’t help. I’m sorry. That being said, I still can’t understand why anyone would think you would be safe here, especially in weather like this. You wouldn’t survive out there on your own. How could Doucet or Callaghan possibly believe you could protect yourself? Damn it, you can barely walk.”
“Don’t waste your time telling me what I’ve already realized,” she stated bitterly, setting the can on the counter and pouring herself another cup of tea. “It’s peppermint tea. Do you want some?”
He nodded. If nothing else, it might warm him up.
She poured a second cup and left it on the counter before picking up her own.
Leaning back in her wheelchair, she raised the mug to her lips and sipped the hot brew as if it were a magic elixir capable of fixing everything.
Lord, how he wished it could. He set his drink down on the table and dropped onto the chair he’d occupied earlier. He wrapped his cold hands around the cup, savoring the heat.
“Look,” he started, letting go of the mug to push his wet hair off his face. “I’m not usually such a cold-hearted bastard and can generally keep my big feet out of my mouth. It’s been the week from hell, and I’m tired, which isn’t any excuse for my behavior. I may have come on a little heavy. How about a truce? Can we start over?”
“I’ve been a little prickly myself,” she admitted. “It’s been difficult, and what you said about Callaghan . . . I may have overreacted, too. Since it appears we’re stuck with one another for the foreseeable future, I accept your apology.”
She held out her hand, and he shook it, feeling heat flood through him at the contact.
Pulling her hand away, she reached for her mug.
“You should’ve worn gloves,” she reprimanded.
He nodded. “Yeah, that was another boneheaded move on my part.”
He sipped the hot tea, letting the brew warm him from the inside out. While Alexa O’Brien had secrets, they couldn’t be any worse than his. If she was who she said she was, she’d been kept here like this deliberately. Callaghan hadn’t been her handler; he’d been the warden of this prison. So why had he given her a gun?
“Alexa, can I see your weapon for a minute?” he asked.
She frowned.
“I’ll give it right back, I promise. Here, you can hold mine if it makes you feel better.” He pulled the gun out of the holster and handed it to her.
“It’s a lot heavier than mine.” She set the weapon down on the table, pulled her gun out of the waistband of her too-large jeans, and handed it to him.
The Glock 26 looked and felt real, but it wasn’t. This was one of the best prop guns he’d ever seen. It had fooled him. In fact, it was a real gun in every sense of the word, but it could only fire blanks—bullets without projectiles inside.
“There’s something wrong with it, isn’t there?” she asked. “Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your face.”
“It’s a prop gun, Alexa. You can feel the difference in the weight.” He pulled out the magazine tube and extracted a bullet. “This is a blank.” Picking up his own weapon she’d set on the table, he did the same thing. “And this is a bullet.”
What little color she had drained from her face. “So I’ve been defenseless all along?” She swallowed and bit her lip. “Why? What did the RCMP hope to gain by making me think I was safe when I wasn’t?”
From her pallor and trembling hands, it was easy to see that, to paraphrase Dirty Harry, he hadn’t made her day. So she wasn’t part of the ruse—she couldn’t be—but something still didn’t fit.
Alexa O’Brien was an assignment, nothing more, but something about her had gotten under his skin. Otherwise he wouldn’t have attacked her like that. Considering how easily she set him off, he needed to stay focused. If he allowed her to distract him, they might not get out of here alive, but right now, he needed her faith and trust.
“I’m not so sure Callaghan was working for the RCMP. Everything about this place i
s wrong in terms of protecting a witness, and if he gave you this gun, he knew it didn’t work.”
It was time to give her some semblance of control. She was his backup, after all. Standing, he walked over to his bag and pulled out his second weapon.
“This is a Nano 9mm.” He handed her the smaller gun. “I want you to have it. The safety’s in the trigger just like the Glock. It’s small and compact, and if you shoot someone with it, you’ll do damage.”
“Thanks. Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
Since he really didn’t know the answer, he let the question slide. It was his job, but it was more than that. “While I was outside, kicking myself in the ass for being such a jerk, I did some thinking. I’ve been off my game lately. I let those guys get the drop on me the other night, and even though something about this assignment didn’t feel right, I let my obsession with Zabat cloud my judgment. The last time I did that, people died. That isn’t going to happen this time. We’re in trouble, and not just because of the weather. The safest plan is to scrap everything I had organized and start from scratch.”
“I don’t understand.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if by doing so she could keep him away. “Do you mean we’re going to just stay here and wait?”
He shook his head, further dislodging his hair. “That isn’t an option. As soon as the storm eases enough to travel, we have to go. We can’t wait for it to stop and potentially give them time to get here. We don’t have the manpower to defend this place.”
Wolves howled in the distance, and she shivered. “The dogs must’ve gotten loose again. They’ve been in the area the last couple of weeks. Callaghan said to ignore them, but they creep me out.”
“Those aren’t dogs, Alexa. They’re wolves. I came across a fresh kill on my way here.”
Her skin took on a green hue, and with a trembling hand, she raised her mug and sipped.
“You say they only showed up a couple of weeks ago?” he asked.
“Yes.” She chewed her lower lip. “Assuming you’re right and this Zabat and his men are after me, if we use the snowmobile to leave here, would wolves pose a problem?”
“While we were moving? No. Besides, we could outrun them.” Barely, but she didn’t need to know that. The fact they’d only been around a couple of weeks didn’t sit well with him. Hadn’t he questioned their presence here? Like most animals of their breed, eastern timber wolves were territorial, always on the move, covering a good 10 percent of their territory each day. If she’d been here more than three months, she would’ve heard them before. Why would someone relocate a pack of wolves in the winter?
“I see. So where are we going, and how will we get there?” she asked. The lady had gumption; he would give her that.
“The fact you don’t have a vehicle is a real problem.”
“But you mentioned using the snowmobile, and if the wolves aren’t a problem . . . ”
“Not to go all the way to Perth,” he corrected. “To get back to Saint Sauveur and rent something, but if they’re watching this place, which I suspect they are, that’s where they will be. Driving more than two hundred miles on the back of a Ski-Doo isn’t something you’re ready for, and realistically speaking, neither am I. I’ve been thinking about this place, the mole, and everything you’ve told me, and I keep coming up with more questions than answers. There’s only one way in or out of it, since the patio doors in the back room lead to an enclosed deck a good twelve feet up. If you can’t go down the front stairs, you sure as hell can’t jump off that deck. I didn’t even see a ladder.”
She huffed out a breath. “Maybe you’re making mountains out of molehills,” she answered crossly. “I’m officially dead, and while this place may be a little old-fashioned, no one’s going to look for me here.” She paused and frowned. “You know, that could explain why Callaghan gave me a fake gun. I asked for a weapon when I first arrived, and I was as nervous as all get-out. He knew that, and rather than saying no, he placated me and gave me one that wouldn’t hurt him if I panicked and shot him by accident.” She sighed. “Once I testify on camera in front of the judge, the chief inspector will give me a new identity, and this will be all over.”
He stared at her and burst out laughing. Could she really be that naïve?
“Who told you that?”
“The woman from Doucet’s office who took my statement,” she said, her voice suddenly less confident and composed.
“I’m sorry, but she was selling you a bill of goods. You’ll have to testify in open court. The accused has the right to face his accuser.”
Her hand holding the mug jerked, and she gasped. “No, you’re lying.”
“Believe me, I’m not. I don’t know what else you were running from when you stepped in this, but you’ve been in danger from the moment you agreed to testify.” He kept his voice firm.
Her eyes widened and her teeth gripped the edge of her lower lip, the sight of which chipped away at the wall he was trying to build between them. Their relationship had to remain professional, but, more and more, Alexa reminded him of the last woman who’d needed his help, the one he’d failed.
“If you’re right, why haven’t they come after me before this?” she asked.
He forced his eyes away from her pale lips.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I would’ve. I hate loose ends, and you’re a huge one.” His answer was cold, but it had to be. Distancing her was for the best. “It’s possible they’ve been too busy. Someone wanted you in this weird environment for a reason. I don’t know what or why, but I don’t like it.” He sipped his tea, giving himself a minute to organize his thoughts. “Zabat’s organization had a big score in the works, one that needed all of their attention, and, incidentally, the one I screwed up for them the other night. He may be mad at you, but he’s royally pissed at me. Sending me here to look after you gives Zabat the opportunity to get rid of all of his problems once and for all.”
“But why kill Callaghan?”
“I was told someone murdered him. I have no proof it actually happened. What I do know is someone wanted me here with you, and here I am. Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, standing and pacing the room like a caged tiger. “My job is to protect you, and I’ll do it or die trying, but while I trust my partner—Henri’s a hell of a detective and I don’t believe he’s implicated in this, and my captain’s a stand-up guy—I don’t know the rest of the people on this joint taskforce Doucet mentioned. Who’s to say the mole isn’t RCMP? My coming here was the chief inspector’s idea. For all I know, he could be the one in Zabat’s pocket. I have only his word that someone else is involved as well.”
“You’ve got to be exaggerating,” she whispered. “No mobster can be that influential.”
“Zabat can. He’s a brilliant businessman with more connections than O’Hare Airport at midday. If he’s not calling the shots, whoever is has to be even more powerful.”
“My God, how can we hide from people like that?”
“It won’t be easy. We have to disappear without a trace, at least until we can figure out what’s going on.”
“How?” she snapped at him, her color high once more. “I may hate the fact, but the truth is, I’m in a wheelchair. I can’t just walk out of here and disappear, blend in with the crowds, or do whatever else you have in mind. If I thought I could, I would, but like it or not, I have physical limitations. People like Zabat have to be stopped. If you’re sure he’s going to have you killed, leave me here and go. Save yourself so that you can bring that bastard to justice. It’s your best chance to do it, right? You only have Doucet’s word someone’s after me. With you gone, maybe they’ll leave me alone like they have.”
“Leaving you here isn’t an option, Alexa. If Callaghan is dead, you would soon starve to death if you didn’t freeze first. That’s too big a gamble. We’re in this together.”
“Fine. Have it your way. Whether I like it or not, I have to assume you’re right, but make no mistake, once we
get away from here, I will have a say in where I go and what I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be alone.”
“Go. I’m going to have another look around in here. If I decide to go outside, I’ll come and get you.”
She nodded and wheeled herself down the hall.
As soon as she was out of sight, Mike jumped up and began searching the interior once more. Just because he hadn’t found a bomb on the outside didn’t mean there wasn’t one on the inside. She was right. Disappearing would be a lot harder for her than for most people. He just had to come up with a viable plan. To do that, he would need help, and he knew exactly where to get it.
Chapter Seven
As soon as Alexa reached her sanctuary, she closed the bedroom door. Getting out of the wheelchair, she crawled onto the bed and curled into the fetal position, pulling Benji into her arms and hugging him to her as if he could somehow protect her. When Dad had given him to her all those years ago, he’d called Benji the “man” in the family, the one who’d look after her while he was gone. Well, Benji was the only “man” who’d never let her down.
Eight hours. How was it possible for everything to go from bad to worse in such a short period of time? Having to testify in open court would paint a bull’s-eye on her. There would be no way to keep the truth from Richard, and once he found her, she would pay dearly.
She’d planned each step so carefully, and yet within days, everything had gone wrong. How had Zabat known she’d identified him? Until Mike’s arrival, she hadn’t even known his name, and she drew the sketches almost two months after the incident. The most she’d said was that she would recognize the men if she saw them again. Had that faint threat of being identified been all Zabat needed to hunt her down?
She sniffled and sat up, dropping the doll back onto the bed. Benji couldn’t help her now. What if Callaghan was the mole? Hadn’t Mike said it was a joint RCMP SQ taskforce? Callaghan had selected this safe house. Sure, he’d given her a choice between this house and an apartment in Pointe Claire, but that was just a few miles down the road from where she’d been shot. The idea of hiding there was ludicrous. As Zabat’s inside man, he could’ve kept her here like a rat in a trap. It was amazing how easily she’d been tricked into believing all was well, even when deep down inside, she’d known something was off. She simply hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. As long as she’d pretended everything was fine, there was hope that it was. Now reality was setting in.
No Good Deed Page 8
