Hit and Run (Moreno & Hart Mysteries)

by Allison Brennan

  “On your feet,” Derek ordered.

  Sean shouldered his pack. “They said no prisoners.”

  “On your feet!”

  The kid stood grudgingly, proving he knew at least some English. Sean shot Derek a look before taking the prisoner by arm and propelling him toward the stairs.

  Derek’s mind reeled as he looked at the papers strewn about the floor. He scooped up every scrap and checked the safe again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then threw his bag over his shoulder and raced upstairs. All the windows rattled as a Black Hawk swooped overhead en route to the landing zone. He glanced in the courtyard just as their EOD guy ducked out. He’d been setting the charge on the ordnance, and the look on his face told Derek it was about to blow.

  “Hey, what are you doing here? Haul ass!”

  Boom!

  Derek dropped to his knees as the house shook. Chunks of debris rained down from the ceiling.

  “Come on!” Derek yelled.

  They sprinted outside where the last member of their team was holding security by the door. A few neighbors’ lights had come on. People peered through windows and leaned out from doorways.

  “Vaughn, where the hell are you?”

  It was Luke’s voice over the radio, probably already at the LZ, which was a vacant lot at the end of the street.

  “We’re half a click away.”

  They double-timed it toward the landing zone, pushing the prisoner ahead of them.

  “We got company,” Cole said over the radio as a truck screeched around the corner. It was a shit vehicle, but it was packed with armed men and had a .50 cal machine gun mounted to the roof.

  Derek grabbed Sean’s vest and yanked him out of the road. He pushed him down the alley leading to their alternate exfil route.

  “Vaughn, report! Where are you?”

  “Almost there.”

  The street smelled like sewer water. Trash swirled in the rotor wash as they neared the waiting helo.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  The gunner on the truck let loose with the .50 cal. His buddies with AKs were well out of range, but that didn’t stop them from spraying bullets.

  Derek rounded the building just in time to get a mouth full of dust. Mike was lifting the doctor into the chopper. Hailey had a SEAL on each arm and they were practically carrying her, but she tore away from them and made a sprint for it. She flung herself onto the helo and about a dozen hands reached out to pull her inside. Luke and Mike jumped in behind her.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  Derek and Sean ducked and sprinted while several teammates aimed over their heads and returned fire. The prisoner reached the helo first and Mike pulled him aboard.

  Rat-tat-tat-tat.

  Sean crashed down behind him. Derek turned and hauled him to his feet.

  I’m hit.

  Noise drowned out the words, but Derek could read his friend’s lips and the panicked look in his eyes. Derek heaved him over his shoulder and stumbled forward. Bullets peppered the helo’s sides as Luke jumped down and helped lift Sean inside.

  “Go, go, go!”

  Derek grabbed the outstretched hands of his teammates as they seized his pack and yanked him aboard. His boots were barely inside when the Black Hawk lurched off the ground and lifted into the sky.

  # # #

  Copyright 2015 Laura Griffin

  Enjoy this excerpt from COMPULSION, the second book in Allison Brennan’s Max Revere series.

  I.

  Nine Months Ago

  Sweat beaded on Adam Bachman’s forehead. He told himself the lights up ahead were just emergency vehicles because of the accident. No one cared about him or this car.

  But it wasn’t his car.

  He had another problem. The girl was starting to move in the trunk.

  Everything had gone wrong from the beginning, but he didn’t see it right away. Because he was focused on her, the pretty blonde. The way she looked at him and he knew she was worthy. She saw him – the real him – and that gave him a thrill unlike the others. When she looked over at him at the bar, she smiled a little smile, like they shared a secret.

  Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe he’d made a mistake picking her. Why had the drug worn off so quickly?

  Except it wasn’t quickly. He’d been stuck in this traffic jam for thirty minutes. Only one lane was open, and cars were backed up. It was summer, people wanted to get out of town, but it was Tuesday, not the weekend, and so the accident must be pretty bad for them to only allow a couple cars through at a time.

  The girl kicked the trunk as the car rolled closer to the emergency vehicles. Then Adam noticed the two cop cars. They must be here for the accident.

  If it was just a terrible accident, why was his heart pounding?

  Be quiet, girl. Just. Be. Quiet.

  The drugs usually kept them out for two hours. Enough time to drive to his handpicked location. To revive them. To watch them die. Sometimes, it took hours. Preparation and practice to get everything just right. There was a fine line between life and death. Uncovering that exact moment, right before their very last breath, wasn’t science. It was art. Every person was unique. It’s what made his process so interesting, so provoking. If he made movies, he’d win awards for his precision and care.

  He’d made mistakes, but he’d cleaned up his mistakes. The last two had been perfect. First the boy, then the girl. And he’d thought this girl would be just as satisfying. More perfect.

  He rolled closer to the police cars. They waved cars through, barely glancing inside.

  Okay. Good. Stop sweating.

  Why would they be glancing inside at all? Did they suspect something? Habit because they were cops and all cops were suspicious by nature?

  There was no way these cops knew anything about the girl in the trunk. He’d only grabbed her forty-five minutes ago. No one even knew she was missing. His process was perfect; no one had ever been reported missing until they were already dead.

  This girl had been very chatty at the bar. She lived in Baltimore. She’d come to the city—alone—to visit her boyfriend. She stayed with him one night, but nothing was the same.

  “People aren’t who you think they are,” she’d said.

  He had agreed. She’d read his mind.

  She stayed in a hotel on her daddy’s credit card for a few days while she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Enjoy the city. Visit a couple museums. Eat good food.

  He couldn’t lose. Not after five perfect murders.

  The trunk was silent, but he still didn’t relax. Three cars remained in front of his. They each slowed to a roll, were waved through, and then disappeared onto the bridge.

  He rolled, slowed, and one of the cops waved him through. He pressed the gas pedal.

  A piercing scream came from the trunk.

  He froze. He wanted to press the gas to the floor, find a hole to drive through, keep going until he drove off the bridge. Ending his life, and the life of the girl in the trunk.

  Maybe they hadn’t heard her.

  He glanced at the two cops. They were walking quickly toward him. Their guns were already in their hands.

  “Sir! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

  Instead of fleeing, Adam put his hands on the steering wheel and forced himself not to cry.

  II.

  Present Day

  “Tenacious bitch!”

  Maxine Revere stood in the doorway of Ben’s office while he finished his conversation with the New York City district attorney.

  Max took the D.A.’s verbal attack as if it were a compliment. After all, she had a love/hate relationship with him. In fact, she had a love/hate relationship with most of the people in her life.

  “Yes, she is,” Ben concurred, putting his finger to his lips as he leaned over his speakerphone. “I’ll give her the good news. Thank you, Richard.”

  He pressed the off button before the DA could change his mind—or Max could give him a piece of her mind.

>   Ben’s huge grin threatened to swallow him. He jumped out of his chair and squeezed her arm as he grabbed his blazer off the coat rack.

  “I don’t know what you said to him, Max, but it worked.”

  “It was as much you as me,” she told her producer. She’d played hardball with Richard and Ben played Mr. Nice Guy; between them, they got exactly what she wanted. An interview with Adam Bachman, the twenty-seven year old bartender on trial for five murders.

  “You’ll have twenty minutes,” he said as they walked to the elevator. The Maximum Exposure offices occupied half the eighteenth floor of a skyscraper on the Avenue of the Americas south of the heart of Times Square. “Make them count.”

  She didn’t respond to his comment, too energized about this interview to be irritated over Ben’s habitual lecture. She’d been maneuvering for time alone with Bachman ever since she figured out that the missing person’s case she’d been investigating since last summer followed the same pattern as Bachman’s killing spree.

  Max was covering the trial for the station’s news programming. She’d been NET’s on-site reporter for several high profile trials. NET wasn’t CNN or FOX, but they were making a name for themselves. They’d exclusively been an Internet news show until three years ago, shortly before Max joined them. Now, while 75% of their programming related directly to up-to-the-minute news, they featured several original daily, weekly and monthly programming including Max’s true crime show Maximum Exposure, which Ben produced. She liked that NET was independent and run by a close-knit family who all had sharp business sense.

  “No cameras,” Ben said as he pounded the down button several times, as if the repeated motion would make the door open faster. “But you can record it.”

  “And that makes you mad,” Max said. She was teasing Ben, but he’d have done the same to her. Max didn’t care half as much about the visual, not with this case. She’d been fighting for this interview for too long to quibble over the details. Months of talking — with the D.A., the defense lawyer, cops, the victim’s families, everyone she could get access to, but not the killer himself.

  Until now. Exclusive. Just her. One-on-one, pen, paper and an audio recorder. An old—fashioned interview. Because, as the DA had said, she was a tenacious bitch.

  “Get him to agree to go on camera after the trial,” Ben said. He peered at his reflection in the shiny metal elevator doors and adjusted his tie. Such a Yuppie, she thought. “A follow-up after he’s convicted.”

  Max glanced at Ben as the elevator doors opened and interrupted his preening. “Innocent until proven guilty,” she said as they stepped inside. They were the only people. The doors swished closed behind them.

  “You don’t for a minute believe that bastard didn’t kill those people.”

  She’d seen some of the evidence, enough to believe the prosecution had a solid case. But she was a reporter first and foremost; she wanted the truth out, no matter what. And while her instincts told her New York’s finest had caught the right guy, anything could happen.

  “He’s not going to admit his guilt to me the morning his trial begins,” she said. “I’ll push for the follow-up, but these twenty minutes were hard-fought.”

  “If you wanted it you could get it,” Ben mumbled.

  She laughed. “I love that you have such confidence in me.”

  “NET will be set up to do a live interview with you during the court’s lunch break,” Ben said. “What happened the first morning of the Bachman trial, yada yada, then again when court recesses for the evening. They’d like you to post comments on your Twitter feed.”

  “No can do—I told you the judge’s rules.” The judge had met with lawyers and reporters Friday afternoon about trial conduct. While court was in session, there would be no social media posts from inside the courtroom or the reporter would be banned for the duration of the trial. Commentary would be allowed only during official court breaks. “No electronics inside at all. If you need me, call David or Riley.”

  “Where is Riley?” Ben asked. He sounded irritated, but it was his usual demeanor when he couldn’t immediately order someone to do something. Though he hadn’t liked Riley Butler when Max first hired her last month, the Columbia grad quickly earned her way into his good graces. Ben cared about two things: competence and speed. He expect the job to be done well, and to be done fast. Riley had picked up on that immediately and ingratiated herself with Ben in less than a week. A new record.

  Max just wished her right hand man David felt the same.

  “I sent her on an errand. I’m picking her up on the way to the courthouse.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Isn’t that cutting it close?”

  “It’s important.” She had Riley doing a bit of undercover work with Bachman’s former friends and neighbors. She didn’t want to go into the details with Ben because he didn’t like that she’d been sending Riley out into the field. Ben felt an office assistant should be in the office assisting. Max countered that an office assistant should be assisting in whatever needed to be done. If said assistant could take care of basic footwork, that gave Max more time with research and interviews—and more time to write.

  The elevator doors opened. They stepped out and headed toward the exit. Voices echoed in the cavernous lobby, so Ben lowered his voice. “Are you going to ask him about the partner?”

  “Of course.” She caught Ben’s eye. “Why?”

  “I kind of told Richard that you weren’t pursuing that line of inquiry,” he said, clearing his voice at the end.

  “Why would you say that? You know that’s the primary reason I wanted this interview.”

  “I thought you wanted to find out if he killed the Palazzolo’s.”

  “I know Bachman was part of their disappearance; I want proof. And you damn well know that I’ve been working on this killing pair theory for months.”

  “When you’re not flying down to Miami to annoy your ex, or flying off to California to screw your lover.”

  “Screw you,” she said. Sometimes, Ben acted like the little brother she never had. “You had no right telling Rich I’d dropped that theory. I’ll ask Bachman whatever I damn well please.”

  COMPULSION coming out in hardcover, ebook, and audio in April, 2015

  Also: NOTORIOUS, the first book in the Max Revere series, is available in hardcover and e-book now, and in mass market December 30, 2014!

  Book Lists and Bios

  Laura Griffin's Book List:

  http://www.lauragriffin.com/books/

  BEYOND LIMITS (2015)

  FAR GONE

  EXPOSED

  SCORCHED

  TWISTED

  SNAPPED

  UNFORGIVABLE

  UNSPEAKABLE

  UNTRACEABLE

  WHISPER OF WARNING

  THREAD OF FEAR

  ONE WRONG STEP

  ONE LAST BREATH

  About LAURA GRIFFIN:

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Laura Griffin started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. She is a two-time RITA Award winner (for the books SCORCHED and WHISPER OF WARNING) as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award (for UNTRACEABLE). Laura currently lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book.

  For more information, visit Laura’s website: http://www.lauragriffin.com

  Allison Brennan’s Book List

  allisonbrennan.com/books

  Coming in 2015

  NOTORIOUS (mass market, January)

  COMPULSION (April)

  UNTITLED LUCY #9 (Summer)

  NOTORIOUS

  DEAD HEAT

  COLD SNAP

  STOLEN

  STALKED

  SILENCED

  IF I SHOULD DIE

  KISS ME, KILL ME

  LOVE ME TO DEATH

  CARNAL SIN

  ORIGINAL SIN

  CUTTING EDGE

  FATAL SECRETS

  SUDDEN DEATH

 
; PLAYING DEAD

  TEMPTING EVIL

  KILLING FEAR

  FEAR NO EVIL

  SEE NO EVIL

  SPEAK NO EVIL

  THE KILL

  THE HUNT

  THE PREY

  About Allison Brennan

  New York Times bestseller and award winning author Allison Brennan has written twenty-four books and numerous short stories. She lives in Northern California with her husband Dan and their five children. You can learn more about her books at http://allisonbrennan.com.