Dangerous Impostor

by Virginia Smith

  “What the—”

  The goon guarding Caleb didn’t finish his sentence. Amazed, Brent watched as the big man sprang into action. In the space of a few seconds, Caleb reached backward, snatched the gun with one hand, and at the same instant hooked his arm around the man’s neck. He gave a mighty jerk forward, and the goon sailed over his back and landed with a crash on the floor at his feet. Caleb lurched forward, delivered a stunning blow, then leaped toward the shattered door.

  Brent didn’t waste time. Instinct took over. He sprang up from his chair, at the same time twisting his body around backward toward the man behind him. Pain exploded in his injured ribs and snatched his breath, but he didn’t spend time thinking about that. As he twisted, he locked his arm and delivered a blow to the gunman’s hand with his elbow. The gun went off as it skittered across the carpeted floor, and his ears rang in the aftermath of the blast. Acting on instinct, the man shot a terrified glance toward the firefighters and his buddy on the floor, and whirled. Brent was after him in a minute and caught up within two steps. He extended his hands and used the force of his body to shove the guy hard into the wall. His head hit with a painful-sounding thud. Stunned, the man bounced back into Brent’s waiting arms.

  “What is going on here?” The firefighter’s angry bellow echoed nearly as loudly as the gunfire. “Where’s the baby?”

  The question served to still all action in the room for a second. Brent and the man he now held by an arm twisted behind his back—a move he learned from watching cop shows on television—both turned to face him. Caleb emerged from behind the abused front door, Boyd Jarrell’s pistol in one hand and his other arm hooked around Jarrell’s throat. Jarrell’s face was an ugly shade of purple, and his eyes were beginning to bulge.

  Gaines recovered his tongue. “Good work, men. You’ve arrived just in time to help us apprehend these criminals and take them into custody.” He slid a badge case out of his pocket and flipped it open.

  “He’s lying.” Brent shoved the man he held into the room. “We’re not the criminals, they are. They were getting ready to kill us.”

  The firefighter inspected the detective’s badge, distrust still etched in deep lines across his forehead.

  Gaines awarded Brent a nasty smile. “Nice try, but these men aren’t going to be taken in by your lies.” He turned to the firefighter. “Call the Las Vegas police to verify. I’ll give you the direct number to my division. They know all about tonight’s bust.”

  “Don’t do it, man. These slime buckets are on the Cicalo payroll. They’re either going to put you in touch with another crooked cop, or directly with their Mafia boss.”

  Caleb’s deep voice resonated with composure, though how he managed it Brent didn’t know. His heart was pumping adrenaline through his veins with the force of water through a fire hose.

  That the firefighters had heard of the Cicalo gang was obvious by the apprehensive look that dawned on their faces.

  “Again, nice try.” Gaines adopted a superior sneer. “It’s these men who are on the Cicalo payroll.”

  One of the firefighters standing just inside the doorway spoke to the one who was obviously in charge. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe we ought to call 9-1-1.”

  At that moment, a figure slid around him in the doorway and entered the room.

  Lauren!

  A wave of relief rocked Brent to the core. He drank in the sight of her like a dying man savoring the water of life. Her clothes were dingy with dirt, her hair disheveled, black streaks smudged one side of her face, and she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. When she caught sight of him, the smile that leaped onto her face shone like a beacon that could light the darkest night.

  Then she turned an imploring look up to Tony. “Please don’t do that. I’m very sorry I lied about the baby. I wanted to make sure you took these men by surprise. My friends are telling the truth. These people are members of the Mafia, and they’re trying to frame me for murdering two men. That’s why I called you instead of 9-1-1. We don’t know who in the police department might be involved.”

  Tony didn’t appear convinced by her plea. Furrows gouged his brow as he studied her.

  Then he caught sight of Jarrell.

  Brent watched as he registered the similarity between the two. The man’s eyes moved as his gaze bounced back and forth between them. Then Caleb, with a smile, placed a ham-size hand on the top of Jarrell’s head and ripped the blond wig off.

  Tony’s mouth dropped open.

  Lauren pulled a cell phone from her pocket and offered it to him. “I recommend the FBI. There’s a man named Agent Lawson in Washington D.C. who is probably expecting a call. The national hotline number is on my call log.”

  Brent wanted to laugh out loud. Good girl!

  Apparently Detective Gaines didn’t plan to wait around for the FBI. Moving with surprising speed, he made a dash toward the kitchen, away from Tony and his team. The firefighters couldn’t move as quickly, weighed down as they were by their heavy gear and equipment.

  Brent shoved the man he held toward the nearest obstacle, the chair in which he’d been sitting. He had time to see the guy fall forward over the chair back before he dashed after Gaines, but he wasn’t quick enough. The detective reached the back door before he could stop him.

  When the door opened, he was met with a wall of fire.

  Lauren sat on the couch between Brent and Caleb, watching as federal agents handcuffed Gaines, Jarrell and the two crooked cops. Feds swarmed over the house and yard, and blue lights flashed in an almost peaceful rhythm through the open front door.

  A clean-cut man wearing a crisp white shirt and slacks detached himself from Tony and another pair of firefighters in the kitchen, and came to stand before them.

  “Everybody here okay?” he asked.

  Beside her Brent winced and fingered the bandage around his abdomen with a ginger touch. The paramedics had said he had a broken rib and needed to go to the hospital for an X-ray to make sure that was the only damage. They were waiting until the FBI released them.

  “Yeah, we’re okay.” His brave smile looked a little pasted on from this angle.

  “Good. We’re going to get you an escort to the hospital to get those ribs checked out, then they’ll bring you downtown to join your friends. We’ve got a long list of questions we need to get through.”

  Lauren edged a touch closer to Brent. When she’d seen Gaines and Jarrell enter Caleb’s house, she’d feared she would never see Brent alive again. Thank goodness she’d been wrong. Now she didn’t ever want to leave his side.

  “Can’t I go with him?” she asked.

  The man considered for a moment. “I don’t see why not.” He jerked his head toward Gaines and the others, who were being led through the front door. “Processing those four will take a while anyway.”

  “What’s going to happen to them?” Caleb asked.

  The federal agent shook his head. “That’s not for me to say, but I sure wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. Jarrell is staying closemouthed, but Gaines has already started to sing. Even gave us the name of his Cicalo contacts. Apparently the guy thinks he can cut a deal, but there’s no way he’s going to avoid prison time over this.” An ominous shadow darkened his features as he stared after the detective. “I’m afraid he’ll discover there are almost as many loyal Cicalo employees on the inside as out.”

  Lauren didn’t bother to suppress a shudder at the thought of the detective’s fate in prison.

  The agent looked back at her. “He said something about some missing money.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “There’s a little left. It’s in a duffel bag in the backyard. I’m afraid I used the rest as kindling.”

  Brent’s jaw dropped open. “You burned fifty thousand dollars?”

  “Not all of it,” Lauren told him with an innocent smile. “I kept a couple of bundles in case it needed to be used as evidence
or something.”

  Caleb’s deep, rumbling laughter filled the room.

  “Thanks for leaving us something to go on.” The agent’s tone was so dry a match might have ignited it.

  “Here’s something else to go on.” Brent lifted an arm, his movements cautious, and pointed at the desk in the corner. “On that computer you’ll find more data about the Cicalos’ online gambling ring than you know what to do with. Hundreds of thousands of bets totaling millions of dollars. The data is encrypted, but I saved the code on the hard drive where your tech folks can find it easily.”

  A smile spread across the agent’s face. “This is exactly the break we’ve been looking for. The folks in the organized-crime unit are going to do backflips over this.” He instructed one of the other agents to secure the computer, then turned back to Brent. “Let me go see if the paramedics are ready for you yet.”

  He disappeared in the direction of the front yard.

  Caleb leaned forward and peered at her, his eyes narrow. “You set my house on fire, sister.”

  The mock anger in his voice failed to chastise her, because she saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “Only your porch,” she replied. “And only to save your life.”

  “What made you decide to set a fire?” Brent asked. “Why did you think you could trust the Las Vegas Fire Department?”

  Lauren looked at her hands in her lap. She couldn’t explain why. There had been no angelic appearance, no flashing arrows pointing the way. But the decision had felt right.

  She shrugged her shoulders, feeling a little shamefaced because of her earlier outburst. “I prayed for guidance,” she said simply. “I think God answered.”

  Caleb placed a strong arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Well done, sister. Well done.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and heaved to his feet. “If I’m going to be spending time downtown answering questions, I’d better see about securing that broken door. Otherwise my good neighbors will clean me out.”

  He strode after the FBI agent, leaving them alone.

  Lauren turned on the cushion. She searched Brent’s face, drinking in his features like a thirsty sponge soaks up water. Tiny lines creased the skin on either side of his mouth. He shifted his weight, and when the movement caused him pain, the creases deepened. Her heart twisted with sympathy.

  “Are you okay?” She gestured toward his bandage.

  “I’m fine, thanks to you.” His hand rose, and he grasped a lock of her hair. “You burned your hair.”

  “It’ll grow back.” She was incapable of tearing her gaze from his. “I thought I would never see you again.”

  His fingers released her hair, but he didn’t lower his hand. Instead, warm fingers brushed her cheek. “Did the idea bother you?”

  The strength of their locked gazes intensified. Wordlessly, she nodded.

  “I thought I’d lost you, too.” His whisper fell like a feather between them. “I don’t ever want to lose you, Lauren.”

  His eyes drew her closer. When his fingers slipped around to the back of her neck, she felt a gentle pressure as he pulled her forward. An intense joy flooded her heart, while her insides vibrated with the meaning of his words.

  He loves me, too!

  “You won’t ever lose me.” Her promise caressed his soft lips in the moment before they touched hers.

  EPILOGUE

  “I can’t believe this is the way we’re spending the night before your wedding.” Mason pulled a picture off the wall of Brent’s tiny living room and added it to a big box near Caleb’s feet. He leveled a disgusted glare at Brent. “Most guys go out and party the night before they click the lock on the old ball and chain.” He blanched as he realized what he’d said. His gaze shifted to Lauren. “No offense intended.”

  “No offense taken,” Lauren assured him. She’d long ago forgiven Mason for suspecting her of being a black widow. He’d had plenty of reason, after all. The Cicalo gang had done their job well and almost got away with it.

  “I’m not interested in what most guys do.” Brent’s arm slipped around her and pulled her to his side. “Tomorrow, after this woman has my ring on her finger, that’s when I’ll party.”

  Laughing, she dropped the piece of newspaper she’d been ready to wrap around a dish and nestled close to him. “You two have no idea what you’re in for,” she told his friends. “My father and stepmother have gone all out for the reception.”

  Brent nodded. “Lawrence Bradley doesn’t do anything halfway, especially when it’s for his only daughter.”

  Lauren’s mind ticked over tomorrow’s elaborate arrangements. It really might be an embarrassment of extravagance. Hiring the famous chef Ambrose to cater a formal dinner for three hundred people was expensive enough, but the list of well-known entertainers scheduled to perform after dinner was just plain mortifying. Even Brent had no concept of the extent Daddy had gone to to make sure his daughter’s wedding was an event on the scale of a celebrity’s.

  Caleb finished unscrewing a shelf on the entertainment center and leaned it against the wall. “All I can say, sister, is there better be some good food if I have to wear a monkey suit to get it.”

  She laughed at the big man. “Don’t worry. The food will be great.”

  “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you coming all the way out here for the wedding,” Brent told him.

  Caleb set the screwdriver down and crossed the room in two strides. He plunged his hand into the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and sank into a sitting position on the floor.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he told Brent. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for nine months, from the minute I first laid eyes on you two. Of course, I didn’t know you were going to put me to work packing and moving you when I got here.” He tossed a handful of white puffy kernels in his mouth.

  A short break sounded good. Lauren tugged Brent toward the couch and then settled in beside him. “If Brent weren’t so busy at work, he would have gotten his stuff packed up long before now.”

  “Can’t be helped.” He leaned forward and grabbed his soda can from the table. “My team’s been working overtime to implement a new security system for the Sterling Foods computer network. It just went live a couple of days ago.”

  “Just in time to free Brent up for our honeymoon.” She smiled at him.

  Her job had kept her busy lately, too. She’d only been with her new company for four months, but Becky, her new boss, had proved more than understanding about the upcoming wedding and honeymoon trip.

  Mason sealed the flaps on the box at his feet, then sank to the floor beside Caleb. “Just so everyone knows, I’m still bitter about missing all the action in Vegas. Next time you discover an illegal Mafia gambling operation, give me enough notice to fly out there, okay?”

  Brent and Caleb laughed, but the idea of any further connection with the Mafia sent a shudder rippling through Lauren’s body.

  Brent took a gulp from his can. “You might not have been there, but we couldn’t have done it without you, buddy.”

  “That’s right. We made a good team.” Caleb gave a satisfied nod. “We nailed a bad cop, exposed a dangerous impostor and cleared Lauren’s name. It took all of us to do that.”

  Brent’s arm tightened around her. “That’s right.”

  Mason’s hand, loaded with popcorn, stopped halfway to his mouth. “You know what? You’re right. We do make a good team.”

  His thoughtful tone drew their attention.

  Caleb eyed him, brows low over his eyes. “Yeah, so?”

  “So, why break up a good thing?” Mason spoke slowly, putting the words together as he fleshed out his idea. “You have no idea how often innocent people are falsely accused of a crime.” His gaze slid to Lauren. “Not all of them are as lucky as you.”

  The back of Lauren’s neck prickled as she glimpsed where Mason was heading. “Go on,” she said.

  “So, why don’t we do something ab
out it?” The flow of his words gained speed as his excitement grew. “We could work together to help people who are falsely accused.” He looked at Brent. “You’ve got the technical skills to help us crack codes and hack systems, and find anything we need on the computer. And I can ferret out all kinds of information. Plus, I know all the tricks an investigator needs to know.”

  That was true. Brent had told Lauren about Mason’s background, how he used to be a law-enforcement officer back in New Mexico, but quit the job and moved here to Atlanta when his wife was murdered.

  “What about me? What’s my role?” Caleb glared sideways at Mason. “And if you say I’m the muscle-bound thug who keeps the bad guys in line, I’ll smack you upside the head.”

  “You could be the spiritual adviser.” Lauren was only half teasing. Caleb’s strong faith and wisdom had certainly taught her how to listen to God’s guiding nudges.

  She felt Brent’s muscles tense. Mason’s excitement was contagious, and Brent had caught it. He leaned forward and pointed a finger in Caleb’s direction.

  “No, you’re the contact guy. The people you see every day know things we have no access to.”

  “But they’re all out in Vegas.”

  “Not true,” Mason said. “You lived in Atlanta all your life. You’ve been working with scum for years, first as a jailer here, and then as…” His hand waved vaguely and dismissively in the air. “As whatever it is you do now. Surely you picked up some contacts along the way.”

  Caleb’s fingers stroked his jaw with slow, thoughtful movement. “I do have a few contacts among the lawless and less fortunate, now that you mention it. And I’ve been thinking about coming home to Atlanta. My mother isn’t getting any younger, and I’d like to be close by in case she needs me.”

  “There you go.” Mason jumped to his feet, unable to stay still another minute. “We can call ourselves the Falsely Accused Support Team. FAST for short.”