Facing Evil

by Kylie Brant

  “Tonight.”

  * * * *

  There were worse things, Cam decided, then spending a few hours getting reacquainted with a man who—under the worst circumstances—had somehow become a friend. He and Matt Baldwin had formed an unlikely bond two years ago. And knowing the odds they faced when they hit Moreno’s gated property south of LA made their re-acquaintance seem like a moment out of time.

  The rest of the team had taken different flights, all heading to LA. He and Baldwin had flown instead to Phoenix, where a car with Iowa rental plates had been waiting for them. Moreno’s orders had been for Matt to personally deliver Cam alive. It was a sure bet the cartel boss didn’t mean to keep him that way.

  Small talk was better than dealing with the adrenaline that spiked every time he considered the enormity of their task. And it was easy enough to fall into the banter that had marked his and Matt’s relationship from the beginning.

  “The Cubs? Are you still chasing that pipe dream?” Matt chuckled. “You’d have to time travel to find the last time they won the Series.”

  “Cubs fans are loyal,” Cam retorted good-naturedly. “Something you A’s fans wouldn’t understand.” His gaze sharpened when Matt pulled over on the shoulder. And he became a bit more aware of just how deserted this stretch of highway was.

  “There’s loyalty and then there’s insanity. Remind me to teach you the difference some time.”

  Cam looked at him as the car stopped. He’d been the one to convince Harlow, who in turn had convinced his superiors, that Baldwin could be trusted. But right now every argument they’d lodged against the man came hurtling back to him.

  He was all too aware that the biggest risk to this entire operation was the possibility that Matthew Baldwin was playing both sides against the middle. Gaining the feds’ trust so he could set them up for his boss.

  Tension rapped at the base of Cam’s skull. “Run out of gas?”

  “No. This is where we start working on our story.”

  “Which is?”

  Baldwin gestured at him. “Moreno isn’t going to believe I took you without a scratch on either one of us.”

  His muscles relaxed a fraction. “You’re probably right.” He got out of the car, followed Baldwin a short distance from the road. “Just remember you owe me.” The words were barely out of his mouth before the other man sent a right hook to Cam’s jaw. His head rocked back. Touching his face gingerly, he said, “I saved your life, I didn’t kill your dog. Try not to act like you’re enjoying this.”

  “I promise.”

  It was hard to believe the man’s sincerity when he was grinning hugely. “C’mon, he’s going to expect me to look like you put up a…” His chin snapped up from the force of Cam’s uppercut. “Ah…” He spat out blood. “I see you’re getting into the spirit of things.”

  Five minutes of brawling could do a lot of damage, Cam reflected later, after he inspected his face in the mirror clipped to the visor. One eye was already swelling and blood dribbled steadily from his nose. He eyed the other man balefully. Felt a measure of satisfaction that he looked as bad as Cam did.

  Matt was cleaning himself up. Caught Cam’s gaze on him and shook his head. “You’ll be more convincing appearing like that.”

  The fact that it was true didn’t make Cam any happier about it. He wiped his face on his denim shirt. Figured the smear of blood could be window dressing. Then stopped, aware the other man was staring at him. “What now? If you’re thinking knife wound, forget it.”

  “I’m supposed to be delivering the man accused of being a federal informant to Pablo Moreno in less than an hour. I can’t drive up with you seated in the front seat of my car.”

  Blowing out a breath, Cam got out again. Went to the rear of the vehicle and waited. The other man approached him with a length of rope, and made short work of tying his wrists behind his back. Baldwin clicked the fob and the trunk lid rose. Resignedly, Cam climbed in.

  The other man stood there looking at him for a moment. “You’re taking a helluva risk.”

  “So are you.” The words were true enough. Cam just had to bank on the fact that Moreno wouldn’t kill him on sight. After that, his odds improved dramatically.

  But Matt…Moreno held his wife and child. If the mission were successful… the drug kingpin would have a long reach, even from prison. Baldwin and his family would be on the run for the rest of their lives. If it failed, the feds would suspect Baldwin had betrayed them. He’d be the target of every DEA agent in the western United States.

  As the lid of the trunk closed, Cam reflected that he’d still take his odds over Matt’s.

  An hour and a half later, however, lying on the tile floor of one of Moreno’s garages, he was reexamining his earlier assessment.

  The drug boss was prowling a slow circle around him. “You did nice work, Matthew. You’re sure this is the one?”

  Matt was leaning against the trunk he’d just pulled Cam out of. “I’m sure. He’s a state agent from the Midwest.”

  One Italian loafer drew back, and Moreno’s foot slammed into Cam’s ribs. The oxygen was driven from his body. He gasped and wheezed for air.

  “You have his credentials.”

  “Right here.”

  There was a moment of silence while Moreno presumably studied Cam’s badge. “Hang on to this for now.”

  “I can give you information.” It was a struggle to draw enough air into his tortured lungs to even form words. “I spent a lot of time undercover. I have access to federal informants…who feed the feds details about your operation.

  Moreno crouched down to look at him. “And you will give me all those details. Then I will still kill you. Slowly. And with great pleasure. Because that’s what I do to bastards who…betray…me.” His final words were punctuated with more kicks.

  As from a great distance he heard the man say, “Secure him. I’ll deal with him after tonight’s shipment.”

  Cam was dimly aware that he was being lifted up. Shoved back into the trunk. And when he caught a glimpse of Matt before the lid closed, it was like looking into the face of a stranger.

  * * * *

  Sophia used the peephole, then pulled the door open with amused exasperation. “You two don’t have to feel like I need a babysitter. Baxter’s dead. The danger is over.”

  Jenna Turner and Beckett Maxwell walked past her into the house. The sheriff was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and was carrying a pizza large enough to feed a small village. Jenna wore a white denim skirt that showed off her mile long legs.

  Sophia’s interest was piqued. She’d never seen the woman in anything other than pants before.

  “See, I told her that.” Beckett was already setting the box down on the breakfast bar and going to her cupboards to rummage for plates. “But Red insisted. She figured you’d be lonely.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jenna said, “I made the mistake of mentioning to him that I planned to stop by, and he insisted on tagging along. At least he made himself useful and paid for the pizza.”

  “See,” Beckett said with a wink. “I am good for something.”

  With a wry smile, Sophia reset the alarm and went over to join them for a slice. Any diversion from her constant concern about Cam would be welcome. There would be no word until the mission was over. And the wait was excruciating.

  Now she could sympathize with what he had gone through when she’d been taken by Baxter.

  The only difference was that he’d been able to do something about it. Sophia was stuck just knowing enough about the details of the mission to agonize over its risks.

  After they’d stuffed themselves, she allowed them to bully her into a card game. It was worth it just to watch the dynamics between the two. Sophia had long suspected that the sheriff was more than a little enchanted by the female agent. And after several hours with them, she was fairly certain that Jenna’s feelings toward the man had undergone a thaw. The thought made her smile.

  It was nearly midnigh
t when Jenna looked up from the cards in her hand. Frowned. “Do you hear something?”

  “That’s the sound of my heart breaking,” Beckett joked. “You’re a shark. I’m cleaned out.”

  “I told you that Blackjack’s my game.” But she slid off her stool, went to the drawn blind on the window in the kitchen and looked out.

  “We’re all still a little paranoid.” Although, Sophia admitted as she rinsed out the wine glasses and put away Beckett’s empty beer bottle, she was a lot less jumpy with company here than she’d been when alone. She’d taken to carrying Cam’s letter opener with her wherever she went, even to bed. Which made her feel vaguely ridiculous, if a smidgeon safer.

  Clearly unconvinced, Jenna went to the garage entrance, unlocked it, and disappeared through it.

  Sophia looked at Beckett, who shrugged. But he got up and followed the path Jenna had taken. Found her on all fours, looking beneath Sophia’s rental.

  He squatted down next to her. “You won’t find me under there.”

  She swatted at his leg and rose. “I know it’s crazy, but I keep hearing noises.” Rolling her shoulders impatiently, she turned to go back into the condo. With a quick and sneaky tug on her hand, Beckett pulled her into his arms.

  “And I thought you were just trying to lure me out here to take advantage of me.”

  His embrace was just a little too comfortable, Jenna decided. She was notched between his slightly splayed legs. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh. “I thought I already had.”

  He nodded soberly, his face lowering to hers. “So it’s only fair that I return the favor.” His lips moved over hers persuasively. Teasingly. And Jenna recognized just how much trouble she was in when she slid her hand into his hair and dove into the kiss. Hidden depths. She’d always suspected that Beckett possessed them. As their mouths twisted together she had the distant thought that she’d like to explore all his secrets. One by…

  The rest of the thought was lost as the shrilling of Sophia’s security alarm split the air.

  * * * *

  Moreno’s distribution system was diverse. Each faction of the cartel was responsible for funneling drugs to a different part of the US. The pipeline of drugs intended for the Midwest depended on a network of tunnels that stretched from the Mexican border to the southern desert of California. Trucks would emerge from the tunnels at varied points, carrying their load on highways headed to hub areas in Chicago, Kansas City, Omaha and Des Moines.

  The subterranean area was a beehive of activity, especially when a shipment was being dispersed. Workers loaded trucks, interspersing the drugs with more unremarkable cargo.

  Along one side of the tunnel were cells, complete with bars and an elaborate security system. The drugs were locked in the cells until they were shipped. Occasionally an employee who got greedy was held in one, too, until Moreno had the time and inclination to make an example of him.

  “Are you loco? What are you doing bringing him here?”

  Matt Baldwin pulled Cam to a stop when they were approached by the security guard. They hadn’t expected to go unnoticed. “I’m under Mr. Moreno’s orders to find a secure place to hold a high value guest.”

  “But not here!” The man gesticulated wildly. “Not in the middle of this!”

  “Yeah, well you want to suggest a more secure place?” Baldwin kept his hand close to his weapon. “Or perhaps you want me to tell Mr. Moreno that you refused to allow me follow his orders.”

  The man didn’t like it, but neither was he willing to take the chance of displeasing a man who considered beheadings an educational tool. Muttering in two languages, he led them to an empty cell and punched in a code. The cell door swung open. Cam exploded into action, a man battling to avoid certain death. “Help me with him!” Baldwin shouted at the guard, who stepped in to assist. Together they muscled Cam into the cell, where his struggles forced them all into the corner next to the door. Out of sight of anyone passing by.

  Then Matt pulled out a knife and slit the man’s throat. When the body went limp, he laid him almost gently in the corner of the cell.

  Cam stripped the man of his weapon and peered out into the main area. The bustle of activity continued, the noise level reminiscent of any busy warehouse or dock. Only the cargo differed.

  “Okay, let’s have them.”

  Matt dug the wrapped package of tiny GPS transmitters from his pocket. Gave four to Cam and kept three for himself. Baldwin would have used the fourth at Moreno’s compound. Then he passed him a set of earplugs, which Cam put in the pocket of his shirt. “Front or back?”

  There was more activity at the front entrances and an increased chance of detection. But in the end the decision was a no-brainer. “Front,” Cam said. “I’m not sure I recall where all the exits are.”

  Matt nodded. Turned to precede Cam out of the cell and then hesitated. Looked back. “Remember the stakes. Everything depends on this. Everything.”

  Everything meant Baldwin’s wife and child. Cam could appreciate the sentiment. He knew all too well what it was like to gamble it all for a loved one.

  The other man left the cell and disappeared. Cam drew a breath. Followed. Two years ago when he’d infiltrated this operation, he’d spent more time than he cared to remember working in this area. There would be perhaps eight people assigned to supervise and another fifty to load the trucks. They would all be strangers to him. The others had been swept up in the raid that his Intel had helped make possible.

  He was counting on the fact that no one would be that well acquainted with all of Moreno’s employees. The fact that he was inside the highly secure area would give him a certain degree of latitude.

  Until someone noticed that he wasn’t working and wondered what the hell he was up to.

  Adopting a purposeful stride, he headed for the entrance of tunnel number one. He stepped aside as a truck lumbered in, then slapped a hand beside the huge armored door as it was closing again. Without looking back, he continued to the next entrance. The small GPS transmitter was no bigger than a thumbnail and would affix to any surface. The signal could be detected through stone or steel, giving the feds pinpoint location accuracy.

  The rest would be up to them.

  Entrances one, two and three went off without a hitch. It wasn’t until he was walking to the fourth entrance that things got totally fucked.

  He saw the supervisor’s attention shift to him as he went by. Braced himself. The man shouted a command in Spanish. Cam kept walking. Given the noise level throughout the area, the supervisor might believe he hadn’t been heard. But Cam didn’t fool himself that the man would back off. He just needed to get to a more private area for the confrontation.

  He turned a corner filled with rows and rows of boxed blankets that would serve as the decoy cargo on one of the trucks. Felt the expected hand fall on his shoulder and swung around, a big smile on his face, as if in greeting, at the same time extending a hand to tug the other man off balance against a row of stacked boxes.

  Cam pulled his weapon and shot him through one of the cartons. One bullet to the heart. Propped the body against the wall and arranged some others to hide it, then grabbed a few more of the boxes to carry with him.

  The box of blankets had muffled the shot but not completely silenced it. Two men came to investigate, looking around curiously. Cam held his breath, hoping like hell they didn’t start poking around. If the body were discovered, the mission would be compromised.

  But someone called to one of the men and he turned away. The other lingered a while longer, but eventually left the area.