“We need a clear route from Plant A to Drop...” Bones pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and scanned it before adding, “Charlie-four-niner-alpha.”
Everyone who worked for my father spoke in codes that changed frequently, and were issued on an as-needed basis. Bones—for all his strengths—had one weakness... he couldn’t memorize the damn codes. He was one of the few people Father allowed to write them down, and Bones guarded his codes like they were a matter of life and death, which, essentially, they were.
“Got it,” Tech replied. “I’m sending the navigation now. Everything’s covered.”
Confident Tech had control of the lights and eyes on the cops, I stomped on the gas and maneuvered through traffic. Lights turned green before we reached them and once we cleared the downtown congestion, the Hummer ate up the distance between us and the little blinking light marking our destination on the screen. We were less than a mile from the drop point when Tech’s face reappeared on the screen.
“You have incoming. Blue. Next light,” he said, before disappearing.
“What the hell?” I took my foot off the gas and hit the brakes.
Too late. A siren blared to life, and I’d only slowed to eighty in the sixty-mile-per-hour zone.
“What the fuck, Tech?” Bones shouted. “You said we were clear.”
The screen stayed blank, but Tech’s voice came over the speakers. “You’re supposed to be. He’s off route. I’m calling it in.”
“What do I do?” I wondered out loud. It had been years since I’d been stopped by a cop. The family spent millions to make sure such encounters didn’t happen.
“Just keep going,” Bones said.
“And go where?” We couldn’t lead him to the drop point. We could try to lose him, but if we engaged in a high-speed chase that ended badly, the pigs would search my car, confiscate the goods, and we’d rot in the can. Father could only cover up so much, and there wasn’t a rug big enough to hide the evidence in the back of the Hummer.
“I gotta pull over. Maybe I can reason with him.”
“What? No! That’s a shitty idea,” Bones objected.
“I’m working with my contacts at the station, but a team has been routed to your location just in case. Be careful, Angel,” Tech said.
I slowed the vehicle and veered to the outside lane, rolling to a stop just beyond an on-ramp. Bones reached for the gun in his jacket pocket. I also had a gun in my jacket and another under my seat, but didn’t reach for either since I had no intention of using them.
“This is a cop. He’s just doing his job,” I said, eyeing Bones’s pocket.
Bones stiffened. “And I’m doing mine. Trade me seats.”
“No. I can handle this without violence.”
I looked into my rearview mirror, watching as the cop sat in his cruiser, radio in hand.
“He’s calling it in,” Bones said.
Tech’s face materialized on the screen again. “You may have a problem, Angel. The officer has been ordered to return to the station, but refuses.”
Damn. “Tech, I need information. Who am I dealing with here?”
“I’m pulling his file now. Roger Hill, typical beat cop, no marks in his file, married, two kids, a third on the way. His family just moved here from the Denver area. That’s all I’ve got, but I’m still searching.”
The door of the police cruiser swung open and Officer Roger Hill climbed out. He marched toward us, wearing a stern glower with the same efficiency that he wore the signature tan uniform of the Metropolitan Police Force. Clipped to the top of his shirt was a lapel mic with a wire leading past his name badge to the radio at his hip. Clipboard in hand, he tapped on my window. I pasted on my friendliest smile and rolled down the window. Hot, dry Nevada air gushed in.
Officer Hill leaned forward and looked me and Bones over. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he took in our nice suits and the tricked-out Hummer, weighing it all against the orders from his department to leave us alone. He had to be wondering who we were.
“You boys in a hurry?” he asked.
I nodded. “We’re businessmen, Officer, always in a hurry. But I apologize, I didn’t mean to speed.”
His eyes hardened, telling me I’d get no mercy. “I clocked you at seventy-nine, and your brake lights were on. License and registration.”
I glanced at Bones, and we both eyed the glove box. Even if registration paperwork existed, there was no way it was in my name. My father had taught me to officially own nothing, that way the IRS couldn’t officially take it away. I hesitated, wondering if I should pretend to search the glove box or just go straight for the fake ID in my wallet.
A burst of static came over the officer’s radio, followed by a female voice with a hysterical edge. “Officer Hill, you are not on radar. Please report.”
He frowned. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to us, before stepping back and answering.
“Tech, what’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m working on it, sir. Don’t worry. The team is almost to you. Sit tight.”
The team was why I worried. I needed to diffuse the situation before they showed up.
Officer Hill reappeared in my window. “License and registration,” he repeated.
Desperate, I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. “We have this important meeting we’re late to and my car broke down. I had to borrow my father’s ride, and I can’t find his registration. Can you just write me a ticket and we’ll be on our way?”
“Officer Hill, we need you to check out a possible ten-seventy on Wedgewood Drive. What’s your status?”
Keeping an eye on me and Bones, he pressed the button on his radio and said, “I’m still at the four-thirty-eight.”
Static. Then, “Officer Hill, you are not authorized to proceed with that four-thirty-eight. You have been ordered back to the station by the chief.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyes hardening. “Your father could be the devil himself, I don’t care. Nobody’s above the law.”
“I told you, we’re just a couple of businessmen trying to get to a meeting.”
“Oh yeah? What type of business you into? Drugs? Trafficking?”
“Officer Hill, report. What’s your status?”
He didn’t even blink.
“You should probably get that.” I nodded toward his radio.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” His hand slid to his holstered gun. Sweat glistened across his forehead. “Now, hand me your goddamn license.”
I took a resigned breath and slid the ID from my wallet. Righteous anger radiated from the Colorado transfer. He was a good cop who didn’t understand how we played the game here, but he was about to get a crash course.
He studied my fake license and chuckled. “John Frank, huh? They’re not going to let me run this, are they?”
I didn’t reply. Even if they did, he wouldn’t find anything.
“You part of one of the families?” he asked.
He knew about us. Hell, he was probably some wannabe savior who thought he could bring us down. Thought the good guys would win or some shit like that. In a last ditch effort I switched tactics and tried honesty. “I’m just a man trying to save another man from making a big mistake. Christmas is coming and you have two kids and one in the oven. Am I right, Roger?”
That surprised him. His eyes widened for a second before hardening again. Maybe he’d come around after all.
“You’re in a lot of danger right now, officer, but not from me.”
He pulled his gun. “Don’t threaten me, and don’t talk about my family.”
Bones shifted. I slowly held my hand up, silently begging my friend to trust me.
I tried to pretend the Glock pointed at my face didn’t affect me and opened my wallet again, this time reaching for the bills in the back. I needed this dumbass to stand down and fall in line so he wouldn’t create a scene. “You’re a good cop, going above and beyond, so why don’t yo
u accept this token of our appreciation for your service and get back in your cruiser while you can still drive away.”
“Officer Hill, do you read me? You are not authorized to proceed with that four-thirty-eight,” the dispatcher said again. “We need you to return to the station. Now.”
I slowly withdrew seven hundred dollars, and then added another three. “Last chance. Think of your kids, Roger. Don’t you want to see their Halloween costumes? To spend Thanksgiving with them? And Christmas? They need their father. Your wife needs her husband. Nobody has to get hurt. Just take the money and walk away.”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t even glance at the cash, and I knew he was screwed. “I’m an officer of the law and not interested in your chances. Now, hand over your real license and registration before I arrest you both and impound your car.”
I sighed. “You have no backup. Nobody’s going to impound my car, and there’s no way you’re taking me in. In a few minutes a group of men will show up and they’ll... overreact to you pulling a gun on me.”
Officer Hill’s hand began to tremble.
The screen on my dashboard lost its connection. I didn’t have to look at my phone to know I had no bars. All electronics in the area were blocked. I was out of time.
“Incoming,” Bones whispered.
My rearview mirror showed a black SUV pulling up behind the cop car. Doors opened. Officer Hill turned toward the sound. Six shots rang out and Mrs. Hill became a widow.
Pockets were rifled through, keys were tossed, and then the police cruiser started up and drove away. Suits blocked the body from the view of freeway drivers as the clean up crew bagged up the officer. Someone handed me back my fake ID.
What a fuckin’ waste.
My dashboard screen lit up and Tech’s face appeared. “Get out of there, Angel,” he said. The map with our blinking drop point reappeared on the screen.
“You tried,” Bones said. “The son-of-a-bitch should have listened.”
My father’s men were watching me, measuring my reaction, judging whether or not I was ruthless and apathetic enough to lead their merry band of murderers. Shit, this was what I’d been born to do. Nodding a thanks, I slid the Hummer into gear and merged back onto the freeway. In my rearview mirror, I watched them load the body bag into the SUV. He was a good guy—a good cop—and in Vegas, nice guys didn’t just finish last... they didn’t finish at all.
If you liked the sneak peek, order Making Angel HERE!
Copyright @2017 Piper Davenport
18+ for language and sexual situations...
Is love timeless?
Does only one true love exist for each person?
Can the course of history be changed in order to save a future generation?
Sophie Ford, awaiting a heart transplant, thought she was sleeping in the arms of her beloved husband, Jamie. However, she has woken to find herself in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania 1863, without explanation as to how she got there, or where her husband is.
Taking refuge with a doctor and his family, she finds herself in a volatile relationship with their neighbor, Richard Madden. His expectations and desires become difficult to ignore, and Sophie must find a way to hold off his pursuit. She rejoices when a soldier, looking identical to Jamie, arrives. Although he claims he doesn't know her, she's convinced he's her husband and sets out to make him remember. Sophie races against time as she faces increasing pressure from Richard, who threatens their chance to reunite.
Can she break through Jamie's barriers and bring his memory back?
And once found, can their love survive living in a different century?
CHAPTER ONE
Portland, Oregon
JAMIE FORD LEANED against the frame of the solid pocket door and tried to focus on something other than the vision of his beautiful wife dozing on the chaise in the library of their historic 1870’s Victorian home. The wires of her Left Ventricular Assist Device were covered by the book laid flat over her stomach... she’d obviously fallen asleep in the middle of her read.
He sighed and wiped a shaky hand over his face, wincing as he encountered three days’ worth of stubble. He must look like shit. It couldn’t be helped. He’d managed to grab a quick shower, but shaving took more time and energy than he had at the moment.
Sophie’s condition was deteriorating, and he coveted every minute of each day he had left with her. Her doctor had decided it was time for her to be hospitalized until a matching heart could be found. She was scheduled to be admitted in the morning and Jamie didn’t know what the future held for them. He’d sold his internet company a year ago, and although he still held a seat on the Board, his CEO days were behind him.
Sophie mumbled, drawing his gaze. He swallowed hard, sending up another silent prayer that a heart would be found in time. Crossing the library’s thick Oriental rug, he pulled a chair close and sat next to her. Weight loss and shortness of breath were the only external indications she was sick, and his eyes swept over her once-voluptuous body.
He picked up the book and smiled. Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. Even sick, she couldn’t get enough of Lincoln. She was obsessed with all things Civil War, and Jamie believed the worst part for her about getting sick was the inability to travel and participate in reenactments. They’d turned down two invitations in the last year.
Lifting her hair, he stroked a golden curl. The myriad of colors, much like the ribbons of caramel taffy, slid through his fingers.
Sophie let out a quiet sigh and turned her head in her sleep. “Jamie?”
“Hi, baby.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Hovering?”
Jamie inhaled deeply, relishing the sound of her voice as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, a subtle attempt to check her temperature. “How are you feeling?”
“Hmmm... how am I feeling? Give me a dose of Dilaudid and ask me then.”
“Are you in pain?” His voice shook as he stood.
She grabbed his arm. “A joke, sweetheart. I’m sorry. No pain, just a bit groggy—and thirsty.”
Jamie poured a glass of water and handed it to her. “Are you hungry at all? Do you think you could try to eat something? Alex cooked again.”
“Is she still here?”
“No. Luke picked her up about an hour ago. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
Their closest friends, Lucas and Alexandria, were daily companions at the Ford house. They cooked, cleaned, and did anything they could to take the pressure off Jamie. The help allowed him to spend every available moment with Sophie.
Sophie rubbed her forehead. “Where’s Emma?”
“Out with Hannah. She’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Truth be told, Jamie practically had to force Sophie’s sister out the door.
“Ooh, so we have the house to ourselves?” Sophie raised her eyebrow.
Jamie chuckled. “Yes, we do.”
Sophie dragged her legs over the side of the couch and stood. Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist. “Careful.”
“Jamie, I’m fine,” she insisted. “And besides, I’d really love a shower.”
“All right, sweetheart, I’ll take you upstairs.”
Jamie lifted her in his arms. Carrying her up the narrow stairs and to their bedroom, he set her on her feet in the adjoining bathroom.
“Where’s the shower pack?” she asked.
“I have it.” Jamie helped her undress and switch over to the waterproof pack. He started the shower and waited for her to step inside.
“I’m perfectly capable of showering without you, love. Jeez, you’d think I was dying or something.” She gently pushed him away and pulled the glass door closed.
Jamie left the bathroom, but didn’t go far. He was gathering clean clothes when he heard Sophie’s soft cry. He rushed into the bathroom, somewhat panicked. Sophie could never be described as graceful, her clumsiness somewhat endearing to him, but with a heart that didn’t work correctly, this trait was now more of a concern.
> Jamie found her sitting on the floor of the shower, her knees drawn up to her chin. “What happened?”
“I felt a bit lightheaded.”
Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and reached in to lift her into his arms.
“You’re gonna get wet,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“There are worse things in life than getting wet holding a beautiful woman in my arms after she’s showered.” Sophie burst into tears. He pulled her closer. “Sophie, what?”
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and muttered, “I’m useless. I can’t even shower without feeling like I’m going to pass out. I can’t believe you’re going to have to do everything for me. You didn’t sign up for this. I think you should just leave me. I don’t want you to have to deal with me wasting away.”
Setting her on her feet, he wrapped the towel around her and then cradled her face in his hands. “Sophie Jane, who peed in your cereal this morning?”
She glared at him, fire lighting her dark blue eyes. “Apparently, the same person who gave you your sense of humor.”
Jamie smiled. “I think we need to set some ground rules here.”
“Ground rules?” she asked.
“First of all, I’m not going to leave you. You don’t get to make that decision for me.” She tried to interrupt but he held up his hand. “Second, you are not useless. Third, I love you, so you don’t get to escape. Not that you could. If you can’t take a shower without me, then it’s a sure bet you can’t run away from me.”
Sophie let out a quiet snort.
“I can’t believe you’d even think that I wouldn’t want to be here. No matter what happens, I’m here, with you and for you. Leaving you would be like losing my right arm. I couldn’t do it. Got it?”
“I’d totally understand. You know that, right?”
“In sickness and in health. I took my vows seriously, did you? It’s all encompassing. Your sickness and mine.” He smiled gently and kissed her nose. “You’re my ten-cow woman. Even at your worst, there’s nobody better for me than you. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until the very end—and even if you die before me, I’ll figure out a way to find you. Don’t ever doubt it.”
Throw Dylan from the Train (S.A.F.E. Detective Agency) Page 20
