by Debra Webb
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Shane was so damned tired he certainly couldn’t think of a better strategy.
“Ian and I will set this operation in motion. You and Mary Jane will be safe there. I’ll give you an update first thing in the morning.”
Shane had taken a long, winding, at times totally confusing, route to get here. Two other agency vehicles had run interference, ensuring they weren’t followed to this location. Ruhl was right. They were safe here.
“I’ll be standing by.” Shane put his phone away and decided to take a shower. His body could use the relaxing heat of a long, hot shower. Then again, a cold shower might come closer to guaranteeing sleep. He couldn’t get the memory of that kiss out of his head.
A kiss, short and sweet as it was, had never affected him quite that way. But he couldn’t cross that line. He’d made himself a promise he wouldn’t let his heart guide him again. He’d gotten so caught up in worrying about his wife and the fact that she had announced that she was leaving him for his partner, that he’d gotten himself shot. He wasn’t going there again.
Not even as badly as he wanted to with this woman.
She drew him on far too many levels. Sweet, genuine and so innocent.
Any man who’d been damaged emotionally the way he had would want a woman like that. One who didn’t possess the ability to tear out his heart.
But not now…not this way.
He stayed beneath the hot spray of water until it cooled and he felt halfway human again. He towel-dried his hair, scrubbed the water from his body and then slung the towel around his hips. He unwrapped the protective plastic from his arm dressing and tossed it into the trash. They had changed the dressing at the ER that evening. He was good for another day or two.
A quick check on Mary Jane and then some much-needed sleep. As safe as he was certain they were here, he couldn’t let his guard down completely for anything more than snatches of shut-eye.
He’d taken two steps into the bedroom from the ensuite bath and he stalled.
Mary Jane lay snuggled beneath the covers of his bed. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The invitation was obvious. His body tightened instantly at the idea.
He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t a good idea.” The fact that he was naked save for the towel and that she appeared to be as well with only the sheet between them wasn’t helping. The sheet molded to the sweet swell of her breasts and he had to focus hard on doing the right thing not to reach out and touch her.
“You might be right,” she allowed. “But it’s my idea and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow wishing I’d had the courage to do what I really wanted to do. I’ve done that too many times already.”
She touched his face, smiled so tenderly that he lost his breath.
“I could hurt you,” he argued softly and without a lick of enthusiasm. “The doctor’s orders stated limited physical activity.”
She sank deeper into the pillows, drew him closer with that one small hand. “I trust you to be gentle.”
He kissed her nose…kissed her lips. “I want to. More than you can possibly know. But I can’t. Not like this.” He pressed his finger to her lips when she would have argued. “But I will hold you for as long as you want me to.” As hard as it would be to lie next to her and not do exactly what she wanted, he would do it.
She drew back the sheet and revealed that sweet naked body to him. He lost the towel and eased onto the mattress next to her.
He held her. Let her use his chest for a pillow. Let her touch him anyway she wanted…allowed her to explore to her heart’s desire…while he died a thousand deaths. But he couldn’t deny her that much.
Not for anything.
He’d let her into his already-damaged heart. He wasn’t so sure how reliable it was anymore, but it was definitely hers to do with as she pleased.
Chapter Thirteen
Mary Jane awakened to the scent of warm male flesh. She inhaled deeply and relished the smell and heat of the man lying next to her. He’d been so careful how he held her last night. He’d even insisted on sleeping to her left so that he wouldn’t accidentally bump her injury.
It was early and he was still asleep. One muscular arm lay draped across her chest in a protective manner. She wanted so to trace the ripples and ridges of well-defined muscle along his chest and abdomen as she had last night but didn’t want to wake him. And she dreaded moving. She was sore from the impact with the asphalt, and her side ached fiercely. More painkillers would be nice, but she needed a clear head.
Shane had told her about the plan Simon Ruhl would be setting in motion to lure the traitor out into the open. Sometime during the hours they’d held each other, he’d also warned her that both he and Simon had concluded that Rebecca was dead. The voice analysis had pretty much brought Mary Jane to that same conclusion. As much as it hurt, she would like to find closure on every aspect of this nightmare. She would especially like to know what had happened to her sister.
With all that had occurred and still could, it was difficult for her to wrap her mind around any of it. She had to deal with all this one step at a time. As Shane said, stay alive first and foremost and then solve the puzzling parts of her sister’s case.
If all worked out as planned, Anthony Chambers would finally get what he deserved, and whoever had betrayed her sister would get his, as well.
The idea that it could be Agent LeMire or his partner Marshal Bolton or Mitchell just seemed too incomprehensible. She had met all of these men. Each seemed quite professional and determined to bring down Chambers. Rebecca had trusted those men, and one of them had let her down.
Jason Mackey had tried to help her. From what Mary Jane knew of his background, he hadn’t done a lot of right in his life. But he’d tried to do right by her sister. That was something. He’d apparently gone so far as to hire someone to die for her…only it hadn’t worked out. How had the body ended up at the Colby Agency? That part just didn’t make sense. Were the phone calls to the agency, calls that no one remembered taking, done specifically to tie the remains to the agency?
So much planning…all for nothing. Rebecca had been betrayed by a man whose sworn duty had been to protect her and who knew his way around anything Rebecca and her friend could have hoped to plan.
The cell phone on the bedside table rang. Shane’s eyes opened. Recognition flared in those dark depths, and then he smiled.
“Morning.”
Mary Jane’s lips spread into an answering smile. “Good morning.”
“That’s my phone.”
She nodded.
He rolled away from her and took the call. “Allen.”
Moving in tiny increments, Mary Jane eased into a sitting position, grabbed Shane’s shirt and tugged it on as she headed for the bathroom. She had to figure out how to shower without getting her dressing wet.
Voilà. A handheld shower head. Excellent. She turned on the water, shrugged off the shirt and carefully went through the cleansing ritual. By the time she’d finished and reclaimed the discarded shirt, Shane was up and dressed—except for his shirt.
“Was that an update?” She tugged on her panties and jeans. Passed him his shirt, one arm concealing her breasts even though he’d already seen them, until she could get into her bra and sweater.
“Ann is on her way here.” He buttoned his shirt. “Torres’s girlfriend wants to talk. She won’t talk to anyone but me.”
“Whoa!” Mary Jane held up both hands. She knew exactly what that meant. “You’re leaving me here with Ms. Martin while you go meet Teresa?”
“That’s the only way to ensure your safety.”
“No way.” She shook her head adamantly. “If that woman knows anything about what happened to my sister, I want to hear it firsthand.”
Shane hesitated, but then, to her surprise, he didn’t argue. “All right. But remember—”
“We do it your way,” she finished for him.
SHANE SLOWED
THE CAR AS THEY neared their rendezvous point. He should have tried harder to convince Mary Jane not to come. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear the idea of allowing her out of his sight. Ann Martin was a fine investigator, but he needed to personally ensure Mary Jane was safe.
“Which one do you think it is?”
He parked in a convenience store lot and shut off the engine. “Which one what?”
“LeMire or Mitchell or one of the others?”
“I’d like to say Mitchell,” he admitted. He’d like nothing better than to nail that bastard with something. But he honestly didn’t believe the guy was capable of going that far over the line. But then, he’d been wrong before. “But I don’t think he would do it.”
“So LeMire?”
“Maybe. I don’t know him or his partner that well.”
“What about Bolton?”
Shane had known Bolton for years. He’d always been a by-the-book kind of guy. “Possibly. People change. Things happen that make them do things they might not otherwise do.” That was an angle Ruhl was looking into. Which of those four men had suffered financial setback or any other sort of trauma in their personal or professional lives, providing motivation for crossing the line?
It would sure make Shane’s life simpler if it were Mitchell. His ex might decide not to go to Denver, and then having access to Matt wouldn’t be a problem.
Shane indicated a dark sedan parked farther down the street. “That’s David James. He’s our backup. He’ll be keeping an eye out for company.”
“Do you think we can trust Teresa Thomas to tell us the truth?”
Shane hated the fear in her eyes. He wished he could make that go away. “Teresa’s afraid. Chances are, she’s going to give us something she considers negotiable. That’s usually the truth or reasonably close.” He checked his watch. “Time to go.”
Scanning the block with a keen eye, he waited for James to flash his headlights—the all-clear sign.
Done.
They exited the car and Shane took the most direct route to the sleaze-bag motel where Teresa Thomas was hiding out. He knocked on the door to room 114. Nearly a minute passed before the door opened.
“You’re sure no one followed you?” Teresa asked through the narrow crack she had permitted between the door and its frame. The chain latch remained in place, giving her some sense of safety.
“Positive.”
She removed the chain, opened the door far enough for the two of them to come inside, then she locked and bolted it.
Teresa considered Mary Jane a moment, then she looked Shane dead in the eye. “You put me in protective custody and I’ll tell you everything I know about Jason and the woman…” She glanced at Mary Jane. “Your sister.”
“I need to hear the story first,” Shane countered. “See how much it’s worth.” She might not know any more than they had already guessed. Then again, she could know everything.
She wrung her hands together in front of her. Her boyfriend’s death had taken a toll. She looked as if she hadn’t eaten or slept since hearing the news.
“I wanna make it clear first that I knew my Jose. No way would he kill himself. Somebody murdered him.”
Most likely. “Go on,” Shane said.
“Jason was head-over-heels in love with her.” Teresa’s tone was scarcely a notch above a snarl. “He knew his cousin was going to kill her. He wanted to help her. The problem was, he knew Anthony wouldn’t stop looking for her unless he had a body.” She reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table near the bed and lit one up. “He’d heard about the list, where you could buy anything, so he decided to buy someone to take her place. It wasn’t like he would be murdering anybody.” She waved it off. “The gal he hired had AIDS or something. She was dead, anyway.”
Shane kept his sentiments on the subject to himself. He needed this woman to be cooperative. “Mackey killed this girl so he could use her body?”
Teresa shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. She OD’d and he picked up her body at a specified time and location. It was all civilized like.”
Oh, yeah. Real civilized.
“Anyway, he’d already gotten the woman’s dental records and switched them for Rebecca’s.”
“How did her body end up in the building where Mackey died?”
“He made calls to that fancy PI agency. He’d ask a few questions, then hang up. He knew a guy in the band that had the Christmas gig that night. So he planned to take what was left of the body into the building in one of those big instrument trunks the band used. He’d dump it there like some kind of warning. Don’t rat on me or you’ll end up dead. He figured the police would connect the calls to Rebecca through him and would decide that she’d been murdered to keep her quiet and dumped publicly to warn anyone else who might know anything on Anthony. Nobody could prove Anthony did it, and Rebecca would be off the hook—dead. Jason would disappear with her and everybody would live happily ever after. Problem was, things went wrong and Jason ended up dead.” She shrugged, took a deep draw from her cigarette. “Evidently, there was some kind of mix-up and the remains didn’t get found until the other day instead of last Christmas the way it was supposed to happen.”
“What do you mean?” Shane asked. “He took what was left of the body to the Christmas gig?” He’d probably taken precautions to ensure the body was identified by dental records only. No way Mackey could have anticipated the building blowing up.
“He burned her…it first,” Teresa explained. “Said it was the only way to be sure no fingerprints or anything like that was left over. He wanted her identified by the dental records. He made sure she was burned up good.”
Shane resisted the impulse to shake his head at how the woman could speak of the event as if the victim had been nothing more than a disposable product. He’d make it a point to give her his thoughts on the matter once the facts were documented for legal purposes.
“As far as you know,” Mary Jane jumped in to the conversation, “the night of the explosion, Rebecca was still alive?”
Shane hated to hear the renewed hope in her voice. Each time she believed her sister might be alive, there was another letdown.
“Yeah, as far as I know. I mean—” Teresa took another puff “—I didn’t, like, see her, but Jason did.” She made one of those “dunno” expressions. “But after that day, she just disappeared.” Teresa waved her hands. “Poof. Never heard from again. Jose said nobody could figure out what had happened to her. She had to get out of here or get dead.” She eyed Shane suspiciously. “Now, do I get that protective custody or not?”
“Why didn’t you tell me or the police or someone?” Mary Jane demanded, her temper flaring now that the story was told.
“And get myself killed?” Teresa tossed back. “Look what they did to Jose, and he didn’t even talk!” She shook her head adamantly. “I wasn’t about to let them do that to me.”
Shane touched Mary Jane’s arm. “Let’s keep this cool.” He urged her with his eyes to stay calm. This wasn’t the time to send the woman running. They still needed Teresa Thomas.
Mary Jane intended to argue, he could see it in her eyes, but his cell rang and she clamped her lips together so he could take the call.
Saved by the bell. “Allen.”
“Shane!”
“Sharon?” Fear erupted deep in his chest. “What’s wrong?” He recognized the terror in his ex-wife’s voice. Combined with the idea that she wouldn’t call him unless it was bad, he had a right to be worried.
“They took Matt!” she cried. “And I can’t get Derrick on his cell. He’s not at the office. Oh, God!”
Ice formed in Shane’s veins.
“What do you mean they took Matt?” All other sensation ceased. Fear, stark and vivid, claimed his entire being.
“I dropped him off at school just like always,” Sharon wailed. “Then I stopped by the Starbucks. When I got home…I…I found Matt’s school bag on the steps. I worried at first that he’d forgo
tten it, then I saw the note.”
Instinct kicked in, propelling Shane from the paralysis of fear into investigator mode. “Sharon, I need you to stay calm,” he urged. “Tell me what the note said.”
“This is your fault,” she screamed, her voice shaking. “They took him because of you! And I can’t find Derrick.” She lapsed into sobs. “What am I going to do?”
Shane tried to slow the pounding in his chest so he could continue to think rationally. “Sharon.” He closed his eyes and struggled to hold on to his composure. “Sharon, tell me what the note said.”
“You have something they need. You’re to deliver it by noon today. The note says you have to go alone and that if we call the police—” she whimpered “—they’ll kill Matt. You have to do something, Shane! You can’t let my baby get hurt! Where is Derrick?”
“Give me the address, Sharon,” he pressed, his gut twisting in knots. “I need to know where I’m going.”
She gave him the location between sobs.
“Stay by the phone,” he ordered. “Don’t talk to anyone and don’t let anyone into the house.” His gaze collided with Mary Jane’s. “I’ll find him and bring him back to you. You have my word on that.”
Desolation swamped Shane as he ended the call.
Everyone who had gotten in this bastard’s way had ended up dead.
No matter what he had to do, he could not let that happen to Matt. Not Matt. He was a baby. Just five years old.
Shane knew he couldn’t do this alone.
He needed help.
He needed the Colby Agency.
Chapter Fourteen
Shane waited by the Ferris wheel at the Navy Pier.
The wind sliced through him like a knife.
It was 12:04.
His cell phone hadn’t rung even once.
If anything happened to Matt…
He pushed the thought way. Couldn’t bear to even think it.
Focus. He surveyed the die-hard shoppers and tourists rushing to and fro as if it weren’t freezing out. No one approached his position. His cell phone didn’t ring. Voices, conversations and laughter ran together, punctuating the grind and whir of rides and games. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy scented the chilly air, floating in off the water. To these folks it was just another day at the park.
