Take the Key and Lock Her Up

by LENA DIAZ,

  Her stomach dropped. No, it wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. The odds had to be astronomical against two people connected to the case—Shannon and Devlin—working as “guides” for the same company when it didn’t even have an office in Savannah. Alarm bells were going off in her head again about EXIT Incorporated, but this time she wasn’t sure what to do.

  She had to speak to Devlin. She had to get him to talk to her, to explain. Earlier, she’d been so convinced he was some kind of assassin. But could an assassin hold her so tenderly in his arms, as he’d done less than an hour ago? Maybe the secrets he was hiding were something completely different. But if she spoke to him and he couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for the links between the case and EXIT, she’d have no choice. She’d have to go to Drier, and the FBI, and make them listen. Her instincts told her EXIT was involved in the abductions and murders. She just didn’t know how, or why.

  Tuck gave her a funny look. “Aren’t you going to try to convince me that EXIT is involved after all?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. I think I’m going to have to look into this on my own before we go down that road again.”

  His brows rose. “On your own? What does that mean? We’re partners. In case you forgot.”

  “I know, I know. But there’s something—” Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it like a lifeline while Tuck folded his arms, not looking happy with her at all. When she saw the number on the display, her pulse sped up.

  “Who is it?” Tuck asked.

  “Devlin. Sort of.”

  He frowned and waited while she took the call.

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “Uh-huh. Okay. Don’t lose him. We’re on our way.” She shoved her phone into her pocket. “When I got back from that fiasco across the street, I might have asked one of the rookies to keep an eye on Buchanan’s truck in the parking lot. And I may have asked him to tail Buchanan if he returned to the truck.”

  “Damn it, Emily.”

  “Come on, Tuck. I’m punch-drunk. There’s no way I can maintain a tail without being seen. Besides, you’re way better at that than me. I need you to drive.”

  He rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys.

  “HE’S TAKING US on a tour of the Historic District.” Emily clutched the armrest as Tuck took another turn. Devlin’s white pickup truck was two blocks in front of them. Tuck had maintained the tail like a true pro, passing the truck when it slowed for a turn, driving down parallel streets, picking up the tail at the next major intersection. “He must know we’re following him, but I don’t see how. You’re better at following people than anyone else I know.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

  “I’m confused. Devlin’s driving like he knows someone is following him, almost like he wants someone to follow him. But he couldn’t have spotted us. What gives?”

  The truck slowed, took another turn. Tuck continued straight, zipping to the next corner, pulling over to wait and see if the truck went down the side street. Seconds later, it roared past. Tuck waited until two more cars drove by before pulling out behind them and taking up his position again.

  Emily squinted against the bright sun, her sleep-deprived eyesight nowhere near what it normally was. “Do you have binoculars in this thing?”

  “Glove compartment.”

  She flipped it open and papers flew out onto the floor as if propelled by a spring. “Really, Tuck? Do you ever throw stuff away? How do you find anything?”

  “I have a system. The binoculars are in a small black case on the bottom right, all the way in the back.”

  She shoved her hand where he said and immediately found the case. “Huh. You really do have a system.”

  “Told you.” He grinned.

  After zooming the cheap binoculars in on the truck, which was about ten car lengths ahead now, she said, “I’ll be damned. That’s not Devlin.”

  “He’s tall, has dark hair sticking out of the edges of his baseball cap, and he’s driving Buchanan’s truck. Who else would he be?”

  She lowered the binoculars. “I don’t know. But I don’t think that’s him. Devlin’s shoulders are broader.”

  She cringed, immediately wishing she could take the words back. She shot a look at Tuck. He was staring at her, his brows raised.

  He opened his mouth to say something.

  “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t go there.”

  He clamped his mouth shut and watched the road.

  The truck turned another corner.

  “We’ve been down this street before,” Emily said. “This is a waste of time. Pull him over.”

  “So you can admire his broad shoulders?”

  “Tuck . . .” she warned.

  “Okay, okay. How about justification, though, so I don’t get fired or sued by his lawyer?”

  “I’ll make something up. If the driver is Devlin, I’ll remind him he forgot to give me the last names of those yokels in the alley. If it’s not him, we can arrest the driver for stealing the truck. Or something. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Just pull him over. Please.”

  “It’s your party.” He flipped his grill lights on and floored the accelerator, weaving through traffic and quickly catching up to the truck. The driver immediately put his blinkers on and eased to the curb.

  “Well, that was easy,” Emily grumbled.

  “Did you expect him to take off?”

  She shrugged and popped her door open, arriving at the driver’s side just ahead of Tuck.

  The driver rolled his window down and grinned. “Morning, Officer. Is there a problem?”

  Definitely not Devlin. Devlin’s shoulders were indeed broader, thicker. His jaw was chiseled, his lips firm yet sensual. His eyes were a cloudy gray. This . . . imposter . . . had brilliant, azure blue eyes that were both striking and off-putting at the same time. From the waist up he seemed stocky, like she’d expect a man on the short side to look.

  Suspicious, she leaned partially into the window and looked at the truck’s seat. She shook her head and pointed so Tuck, who was now standing on the other side, could see what she’d seen.

  “Are you in the habit of sitting on a pillow when you drive, sir?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Actually, yes. Easier on my back. Was I speeding, Officer?”

  “I have no idea. Take the hat off.”

  “If this is a strip search, let me warn you, I’m commando today.” He winked.

  She very deliberately rested her hand on her holster.

  He yanked his hat off and tossed it to the floorboard. Dark, shaggy hair dropped down to brush against his shoulders.

  “Who are you?” Emily demanded.

  He held his hand out the window. “Gage Thomas. Pleased to meet you.”

  She ignored his hand and flashed her badge. “Why are you driving Devlin Buchanan’s truck?”

  A look of dawning understanding crossed his face and he gave her a sheepish smile. “Is that why you pulled me over? Did you think I’d stolen his truck? I assure you, ah, Detective O’Malley, right? You flashed that badge so fast I’m not sure I caught it.” He leaned over toward the passenger window. “I didn’t see your badge, Officer.”

  Tuck looked amused but wisely didn’t smile at Emily. He held his badge up longer, then put it away.

  “Detective Tucker,” Gage said. “Nice to meet you too.” He turned back to Emily. “I’m just doing Devlin a favor. He got hung up, asked me to drop his truck off at his house. He was worried about leaving it in the police lot. Didn’t know if it would get towed if it sat there too long. Is that a problem?”

  “That depends. Do you have proof that Mr. Buchanan asked you to take his vehicle?” Emily asked.

  “Detective O’Malley,” Tuck said, a warning in his voice.

  “I’ve got this, Detective Tucker,” Emily said. “Proof, Mr. Thomas? That you’re authorized to drive this vehicle?”

  “So you are worried I might have stolen the truck. That explains why you t
wo were following me.”

  Tuck leaned into the window opening. “You knew we were tailing you?”

  “Of course. Spotted you back on Bull Street about fifteen minutes ago. If I’d known you were cops, I would have pulled right over. Honestly, I thought a carjacker might be after me, so I kept driving through the Historic District. I was close to calling 911 before your lights turned on. I sure was relieved that you turned out to be cops.”

  The look of disappointment on Tuck’s face was comical. Devlin had spotted Tuck following him yesterday. Now Gage Thomas had spotted him today. Tuck’s pride might never recover.

  “Proof?” Emily repeated.

  “Of course, just a minute.” He grabbed his cell phone, which was sitting on the seat beside him. He punched a few buttons, then turned it around to face her. “He texted me half an hour ago, as you can see. And the keys are in the ignition. I didn’t have to hotwire it, not that I’d know how.” He grinned again and added a wink that just upped his creepy factor.

  “Can you verify Mr. Buchanan’s phone number for me?” she asked. “I’ve been trying to reach him, but he isn’t picking up.”

  Gage rattled off the number.

  Her shoulders slumped. “That’s the same one I have.”

  Tuck crossed around the front of the truck toward Emily.

  “Don’t know what to tell you,” Gage said. “That’s the number he texted me from, the same number he’s had for years. Maybe he’s out of cell range.”

  “Do you expect to see him soon?”

  Tuck put his hand on Emily’s arm. “I think we’re done here.”

  “I have a few more questions,” she insisted.

  “We’ll ask them later, the next time we see Buchanan. Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Thomas.”

  “No problem. Have a good day, Officers.”

  Tuck pulled Emily away from the truck, back to the car. When the truck pulled away, she shook his hand off her arm.

  “Why did you do that?” she demanded.

  “Because you’ve totally lost perspective and you know it. I’m taking you home. Don’t make me call the lieutenant and have him order you to go to bed. Your tank ran out hours ago and you’re making all kinds of bad decisions.”

  “I can drive myself home. I don’t want you to have to come get me in the morning. Just take me back to the station and I’ll go home from there.”

  He gave her a suspicious glance but didn’t argue.

  A MINIVAN WAS the last vehicle Devlin would choose to drive for pleasure. But as a hiding place, it was ideal. Especially with dark-tinted windows and the middle seats removed so he could sit on the floor unseen. Add to that a black blanket covering his body to block out the light from his cell phone and the dozens of similar grocery getters parked nearby in this garage and he felt relatively secure. Or as secure as he could be with an unknown number of people searching for him—Cougar and his handler, for sure; Gage, once he joined the hunt; plus whoever had set this whole thing in motion, unless that unknown person was content to just call the shots, manipulate the system by framing Devlin as rogue, and let Gage and the others do his dirty work.

  The agreement Devlin and Gage had made this morning after Cyprian’s call meant Gage would delay going after him a little while longer. But friendship could stretch only so far before Gage had to act. Otherwise Cyprian would realize Gage was helping Devlin and would put out an EXIT order on Gage too.

  He’d been hiding here for the past couple of hours, ever since escaping through the back of the diner and leading his pursuers on a chase through the streets of Savannah. They’d come close to catching him a few times. But he’d finally managed to shake them. For now. Making sure Emily didn’t have to worry about two assassins gunning for her while SWAT escorted her to the police station had made the mad dash worth it.

  His phone vibrated. Finally. Gage’s number flashed across the screen.

  “How’d it go?” Devlin asked.

  “Not the way you’d hoped. I didn’t see anyone in the police lot. And the only tail I picked up was that detective of yours.”

  “O’Malley?”

  “That’s the one. She had another detective with her. They seemed like a team.”

  “Tuck.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t see any enforcers?”

  “Positive.”

  Devlin scrubbed his jaw, which was sporting more stubble than usual since he’d left his house in such a hurry this morning and hadn’t trimmed it up. He’d hoped his enemy—the one behind all of this—would have watched his truck in the police lot and followed it to see if it led to him. Then Gage could have snapped a photo of the man and Devlin could have taken it from there. He’d figure out who his enemy was and eliminate him.

  “Thanks, Gage. It was worth a try. You called Cyprian before picking up the truck, like I instructed?”

  “Of course.” He laughed harshly. “I’m playing this by the book, covering my ass. I can’t let him think I’m helping you. I told him that after missing you at your house I went to the station to see if you’d show up there, maybe to answer more questions from the police. I saw your truck and took it to keep any sensitive information you might have hidden inside from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “You think he bought it?”

  “I didn’t give him a reason not to. Dev? This is the last time I can help you. From here on out, I’m on mission. You know what that means.”

  “That the next time we bump into each other, we’ll finally find out who’s the better assassin.”

  Harsh laughter echoed through the phone. “I hope you find a miracle and straighten this out with Cyprian before it comes to that. Good luck, my friend.”

  “Take care.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into a thermos of water. The phone was destroyed, along with Gage’s chances of tracing it now that he was actively hunting Devlin. Even though he was using burn phones, they could still be traced, but as long as he kept his time on each call to a minimum, the risk was much lower than if he wasn’t using a burn phone.

  The overall risk of being caught, however, was not low. Enforcers all had the same training. They knew one another’s tricks. Adding Gage to the mix had been a brilliant move on Cyprian’s part. Gage knew Devlin better than anyone else. Which meant all of Devlin’s normal hiding places were off the table. He still had resources his friend didn’t know about—go bags, hidden vehicles, cash—but every future decision he made had to be preceded with a question: does Gage know about this?

  He set the thermos aside and dug out the satellite phone he had in the go bag beside him for just this purpose: calling Cyprian. Convincing his boss that he was innocent wasn’t something he expected to be able to do, though; not after seeing those pictures on his kitchen table and certainly not if Cyprian believed Devlin had abducted his favorite enforcer, Kelly.

  But that wasn’t his goal.

  His goal was to convince Cyprian that Emily wasn’t a threat. He needed to make sure that his pursuers were told to back off and leave her alone. But he’d also have to be careful how he went about it. He didn’t want to put Gage in danger by revealing that he’d helped him.

  He noted the time on his wristwatch before punching in Cyprian’s number, figuring he probably had about two minutes before his boss could triangulate his position. If any of his pursuers were close by and Cyprian gave them his location, things could get dicey fast.

  The line clicked. Let the games begin.

  “Devlin, this is a surprise.” Cyprian’s smooth voice sounded through the phone.

  “Sorry to bother you twice in two days.”

  “No bother. I’m always happy to hear from you. As a matter of fact, I need to see you. I’d like you to come to headquarters so we can talk.”

  Devlin stiffened. “That’s why I called. Some rookie calling himself Cougar cornered me in an alley a few hours ago. He said you wanted to see me. The funny thing is, he had a gun on me at the time. As y
ou can imagine, that left me with a few . . . concerns. Especially since his handler never showed himself and the two of them shot at me . . . and a cop.”

  A deep sigh sounded into the phone. “Let’s not waste time with subterfuge.”

  “Meaning you admit you issued an EXIT order for me?”

  “There’s no point in denying the obvious.”

  “Damn it, Cyprian. What exactly do you think I did that warrants an execution?”

  “You’re the Enforcer. You know the rules better than anyone. What’s our most sacred rule?”

  “Our families can’t be harmed.”

  He hesitated. “Well, yes. Of course. But after that. The most important vow each enforcer makes is to never kill another enforcer. Unless they’ve gone rogue. You broke that rule, Devlin. Now you have to pay the price.”

  Devlin’s hand tightened around the phone. He couldn’t mention the pictures Gage had shown him without revealing that Gage had helped him. “You’re talking about Shannon. I discovered her remains yesterday when I assisted a police officer who was in trouble. I didn’t know it was Shannon until late last night, when the police confirmed her identity. Did you know she’d been reported as a missing person by her family? I sure as hell didn’t. How could she have been missing for four months without you knowing about it?”

  “Careful, Devlin. It sounds like you’re accusing me of something.”

  “Ditto.”

  Cyprian laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “Touché. Shannon was on extended leave between missions. She was burned out, needed a break. I had no reason to suspect anything had happened. I assume, of course, that you’re calling to tell me you didn’t kill her. I would expect no less.”

  “She was a skeleton when Detective O’Malley and I discovered her remains. I’ve been on a mission for the past four months.”

  Harsh laughter sounded through the phone. “Good try. I’m sure the police were convinced of your alibi because of the receipts EXIT provided them. But you and I both know your mission was . . . flexible, with some downtime. If you wanted to kill Shannon, you could have fit it into your schedule. It’s not like Montana’s on another continent. Try again.” His voice shook with anger.