Trust No One (Vista Security)

by Diana Layne

  “Out of the car, ladies.”

  MJ’s mind stuck on the thoughts Tasha’s words provoked. Had Jeff known Keith was going to steal that nano information? Had Jeff known he was setting up MJ to die? Why?

  Did Jeff have some sort of illegal . . .

  Black ops, perhaps?

  How long? Had he known when he partnered her with Keith? Had the love Keith professed been a farce from the beginning?

  The implications were startling.

  MJ met Tasha’s eyes. Tasha had a knowing look that indicated she understood where MJ’s thoughts had gone.

  At the moment, MJ felt like sucker had been plastered on her head once again. Perhaps, it wasn’t Keith who had sensed MJ was ready for a relationship, but . . . Jeff?

  Did that man have the warped mind necessary to play with people’s lives like a game?

  Well, duh, obviously if he had been involved in the Senator Plot. If Jeff were involved, he’d been playing her as nothing more than a game piece for a big chunk of her life.

  And yet . . . here was Keith, what was his connection? Just another dispensable game piece?

  And then, MJ knew. It wouldn’t matter which of them died; either way Jeff had a plan to come out on top.

  Tasha climbed out of the car first, stretched her long limbs. Keith took time to appreciate the view, but made sure he stayed out of Tasha’s reach should she make a sudden move.

  When MJ exited the car, she asked, “Jeff running late?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  MJ moved over to stand by Tasha, who stood where Keith had indicated with his weapon. “Don’t play dumb,” MJ said. “We know Jeff’s behind everything.”

  “Whatever feud you two have going with Jeff, I don’t know and I don’t care. I agreed to do this, because I have my own agenda.”

  Odd thing for him to say. “Okay, I’ll bite. You agreed to do what, exactly? And what’s your agenda?”

  “I agreed to kill you both, of course. Not hard to do since you tried to kill me.” He turned to Tasha. “Though I have nothing against you personally. It’s just business.”

  Tasha only raised an eyebrow in answer.

  “You were going to kill me before,” MJ reminded him.

  “Back then it was business with you as well.”

  It’s business, baby.

  “And now?”

  “Now, it’s personal.”

  “Because I nearly killed you?” Damn, she wished she’d done a better job.

  “No, that was business. It’s personal now because of our baby.”

  The air sucked out of MJ. It took her a moment to recover. “Our . . . baby?”

  “Why so surprised? Did you think because her father was dead, she had no father?”

  “No, she’s not ours,” MJ protested, still unsure how he could consider he was the father. “She’s mine.”

  “It takes two to tango, baby, and this brain injury you gave me didn’t make me forget we did the deed.”

  Disbelief and confusion made her brain sluggish. He thought . . .

  “Who told you she was yours?” Tasha jumped in while MJ was still processing Keith considered himself a father. “Oh, never mind, stupid question, Jeff did, of course.”

  It clicked together then, and MJ wanted, needed to hear the answer. “You were the one trying to kidnap Angel?” she demanded.

  “It was a simple plan. Kidnap our child, and bring you running, and then kill you.”

  A simple plan all right. It worked quite well for Ben, MJ thought bitterly. And now here they were. With Keith. Too ironic to contemplate that both men in her life had her figured so well.

  “Jeff played you. Angelina is not our child.”

  Tasha added, “Don’t you wonder why Jeff wants us dead?”

  “Really none of my concern, I do what I’m paid for. No scruples at all.”

  And wasn’t that the truth.

  He turned to MJ. “As for the baby, why are you denying it? Wouldn’t you prefer for her to be raised by her father if you’re dead?”

  “Not if the father was you, not in a million years,” MJ spat. “But you’re not her father. She’s adopted. Your gunshot took out all my baby-making equipment.”

  Stunned silence met her announcement. Keith looked confused, and then regretful. Compassion from him? She must be imagining things. Had he had some wish to be a father she hadn’t known about? And yet, what had she really known since all he’d presented was an illusion.

  Why would Jeff had perpetuated such a lie, wouldn’t he know MJ would tell Keith the truth? “Did Jeff tell you she was ours?”

  Keith didn’t answer, but it was clear his thoughts had gone in the same direction as hers.

  “He knew I’d tell you the truth, he knew you’d be madder than hell. Obviously you liked the idea of being a father and I never knew. But Jeff knew.”

  “He doesn’t intend for you to survive,” Tasha pronounced flatly. “He knew we’d tell you the truth about Angel, and you’d be mad. But it doesn’t matter. Because he doesn’t plan for you to live.”

  Keith laughed. “And how does he plan for me to die?”

  Tasha shrugged. “Us?”

  Keith laughed harder. “You two women? Against me and my gun?”

  “I dunno,” MJ said. “One woman took out two men and severely wounded another with nothing more than a hoof knife.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’m aware of your capabilities. Don’t think I’m going to be so stupid to underestimate you twice.”

  “Maybe Jeff has an unfortunate fall off the top of the cliff planned for you then?” MJ suggested.

  “When is Jeff going to be here?” Tasha asked.

  “Who said he’s coming?” Keith countered.

  “What are you waiting for then? Kill us already.”

  MJ shot Tasha a look. She wasn’t ready to die yet, thank you very much. However, having worked so closely with Tasha these last couple of days, MJ realized Tasha had a plan. And it didn’t involve dying.

  Chapter 29

  Or at least MJ didn’t think it involved dying. But Tasha seemed suddenly tired of the chatter. The last words she spoke still hung in the air. Keith simply stood staring, obviously taken aback at Tasha’s boldness, when she made an even bolder move and lunged for his gun. He and MJ reacted simultaneously. With no time to aim, he pulled the trigger and the gun exploded. At the same time MJ brought her hand down in a hard chop on his wrist.

  The .45 clattered to the hard dirt. But Tasha dropped to the ground, sinking to her knees.

  MJ kicked Keith hard in the stomach. He bent double in pain. She followed with a slamming kick to the back of his head. He dropped as hard as Tasha.

  “Take that,” MJ said, “as payback for our jaws.”

  She snatched up the fallen weapon in case Keith recovered before she expected. She shoved the gun in her waistband before turning to the fallen woman.

  Blood poured from Tasha’s lower chest. Memories from her own wound close to that area, made MJ stiffen with resolve. Tasha would live, she would be normal. She wouldn’t suffer more than she had already from these bastards who stole so much from them both.

  Tasha was still breathing. Shallow whisper quiet breaths. At least there was no sucking noise, the bullet missed her lungs, and God willing, anything else vital. “Stay with me, Tasha. I’m not the best field medic, ask Ben,” she muttered inanely. “But you are not going to die, do you hear?” Gently, she rolled Tasha to her side. The bullet had gone through. A bullet that caliber, at such a close range left a big hole. Tasha was going to need medical help fast or she would bleed out. She only had minutes.

  Adrenaline shot through MJ. She stripped out of her jacket, then tugged off her sweatshirt to use as a compress. Wearing nothing more than her sports bra, not even feeling the cold, she used her teeth to start a rip in the shirt and tore it in half. She folded the pieces into squares. She needed something to hold them tight.

  Tasha was wearing the kind of ath
letic sweats that had an elastic waistband and the long tie threaded through. MJ untied the string at Tasha’s waist and pulled it free from her pants.

  She took one improvised pad and laid it under Tasha’s back, threaded the string around her body. Then MJ laid the pad on the front wound and tied the string tight. She added extra pressure to the front wound. At the rate Tasha was bleeding the pads would soon be soaked. She needed medical attention fast.

  Tasha’s beautiful complexion took on a death pallor. MJ knew she was losing her friend, the woman raised as her sister. One more loss. Although they hadn’t always been as close as they could have been, MJ didn’t want her to die.

  There was nothing she could do. The trip down the mountain wouldn’t be quick enough to save her.

  At that moment, MJ heard a helicopter in the distance. She paused to listen, thinking it odd to hear one at dusk. She knew there were Air Force bases in Oklahoma, maybe they were running a training mission. Having decided that, she turned her attention back to Tasha.

  MJ had to get her to the car. “This is going to hurt like hell if you wake up,” MJ told the still unconscious Tasha. “So stay asleep.” MJ took an arm, pulling Tasha upright, planning to throw the woman over her shoulders in a fireman hold. That was the only way MJ could carry such dead weight. She cringed at the dead weight thought.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not writing you off yet.”

  Tasha’s eyes fluttered open before MJ could heft her onto her shoulders.

  “Can you ever follow directions, woman?”

  Tasha gasped.

  “Yeah, it hurts like a son of a bitch, I know,” MJ said. “That’s why I told you to stay unconscious.” Like Tasha had a choice in waking up or not, stupid thought there, MJ. But she swore she felt the scars from her own healed bullet wound throbbing in sympathy, and knew what pain that bullet hole was causing.

  “MJ, watch out,” Tasha breathed, her voice barely audible.

  “What–” MJ half turned, catching sight of Keith out of the corner of her eye, a rock in his hand.

  She tried to lay Tasha back down without dropping her and move out of Keith’s range at the same time. She didn’t make it.

  Keith brought the rock down. She twisted. The rock slammed into the back of her neck instead of her head. Still, god damn, it hurt like a bitch. She sank on top of Tasha, pain throbbing through her, vision blurry. She felt herself fading out again, and fought to stay conscious this time.

  Keith shoved her over, obviously looking for the gun to finish them off. MJ caught his arm, struggled, calling on deep reserves of strength to hold him off. She would not let him win.

  At that moment, a helicopter rose up over the mountain, hovering in the air near them. Keith and MJ both turned to look. Ben stood in the open door of the hovering helicopter, preparing to jump out.

  MJ recovered faster. She was still woozy, but she managed to pull the gun free and point it at Keith. Before she could pull the trigger, he knocked it away. She brought her feet up and onto Keith’s chest. She shoved. Keith launched backwards, fell to his butt, then surprisingly executed a very nice back roll.

  As he scrambled to his feet, MJ rolled to her knees, pausing on all fours, head hanging, willing her vision to clear. Ben jumped out of the helicopter before it landed and took off after Keith who was half running, half stumbling to the car.

  “No,” MJ shouted. Force of will propelled her to her feet. “He’s mine.” She scooped up the .45, took off after Keith. “Take care of Tasha.”

  She fired two shots at Keith. One went wide, one hit him in the leg. Limping, he managed to climb into the car.

  She heard the engine fire as the ignition turned over. He put the car in gear, and spun out the tires driving straight for her. He was too close. Going too fast. She didn’t have time to aim.

  A split second decision. Shoving the gun into the back waistband of her pants, she stood steady while he drove straight for her. She had no doubt he would run her down.

  At the last second, she jumped, slamming her body on the car, grabbed the edge of the hood by the windshield wipers.

  “Move, MJ, let me get a shot,” Ben yelled.

  “No. He’s mine,” she screamed. No way would anyone take him out but her, she thought grimly. She could only trust herself to clean up her mistakes.

  Keith jerked the steering wheel, right, left. Her feet went flying the way of the car, but she held a death grip on the hood.

  Finally, he gave up trying to knock her off. He threw the car in reverse, backed up until he found a place in the narrow road to spin a 180. Using the time he took to shift back into drive, MJ pulled the gun out of her pants. When he floored the gas pedal again, she nearly lost her grip.

  “MJ! Let me get a shot.”

  She tried to bring the gun around. She. Had. To. Shoot. Him. She strained her muscles. She couldn’t hold steady.

  “MJ! Trust me!”

  She was losing her grip.

  “Jump. I’ve got a clear shot,” Ben called. “Please, MJ. You can trust me.”

  Trust. She had no choice. She took a deep breath. Let go and jumped.

  She rolled down the hill, scrambling to stop herself. She thought she heard a shot. When she finally stopped, she paused to breathe and let the pain subside before she struggled to her knees.

  Ben still had his gun held in firing position. She swung her gaze to the car. Keith was slumped over the steering wheel, the car crazily jerking on the road until it careened off the mountainside.

  Bruised, cut, feeling blood drip into her eye, she staggered to the edge, watched the car bounce down, then explode into a fiery ball at the bottom.

  “Goodbye, Keith,” she said. “This time for good.” She sank back to her knees, the adrenaline draining from her body. Exhaustion poured through her. Her muscles shook. She didn’t know if she’d have the strength to ever walk again.

  And then Ben was there. His brown eyes locked onto hers. By her side, pulling her to her feet. She sagged against him. He had come for her.

  He swung her into his arms, carrying her like a newborn. Or a bride on her wedding night.

  Where did that thought come from? Her brain was misfiring obviously.

  “Tasha?” MJ questioned.

  Ben met her look with a sober gaze. “The medics from S&R are with her. She’s pretty bad.” He carried her toward the helicopter so she could see for herself.

  The men placed Tasha on a gurney, an IV already started. MJ buried her head onto Ben’s shoulder, whispering a little prayer for Tasha.

  Yes, Tasha had killed those men. But she was a trained killer, that’s what she knew. In Tasha’s mind, killing those men would have been justice. Well-deserved justice.

  MJ couldn’t find fault with Tasha’s logic.

  * * *

  “We’ll have to get another ride,” Ben told her as the medics loaded Tasha into the helicopter.

  MJ looked around the peaceful wooded area, a setting for so much violence only moments earlier. Already, as the helicopter lifted, the surroundings seemed to be spreading peace and tranquility. She realized she was falling under some sort of hypnotic spell. She twisted, silently asking to be set down. Maybe she could come to her senses then, stop having fanciful notions.

  Ben let her slide to the ground. When her feet touched the dirt, she immediately felt more like herself. Shaky, sore, yes, but not so fanciful.

  “Is there another ride?” she asked. “I’d hate to have to walk all the way down.”

  Ben cocked his head, listening. “Yes, I believe I hear it now.”

  MJ listened as well, heard the distinct sound of a car. She turned and looked at the road. No sign of the car, but she distinctly heard the motor struggling up the steep incline.

  “Who is it?”

  “My sister.” He took her hand and led her closer to the road.

  “Sister. You really have sisters . . .”

  “Five of them, yes.”

  “That boggles my mind,” she said, s
lowly shaking her head. “And this would be the cop one?”

  “Yes. She’s a detective.” And at that, the sister under discussion drove into view in a dark blue Crown Victoria.

  Ben opened the front passenger door and indicated MJ slide in. “Scoot over,” he said, and when MJ scooted over to the middle seat to sit next to his sister, he slid in beside her.

  How crowded and cozy, MJ thought.

  “That’s my sister,” Ben said as the way of introduction. “This is MJ.”

  “I’m Dana,” she said. “Since my brother obviously forgot my name.”

  “With so many of you, it’s easier to just say sister.”

  Dana shook her head and tossed a glance at MJ. “Damn, forgive me for saying so, but you look like hell.”

  MJ’s hand went to her face. “I imagine I do.”

  “And you say I’m the tactless one,” Ben commented.

  “I’d say a stop at the hospital is necessary for you to be checked out.”

  “I need to go anyway, my . . . sister is there as well.” MJ realized this was the first time she’d referred to Tasha as a sister and meant it. The last few days they’d grown so close.

  “Gunshot, right? I was listening to the radio.” Dana pointed toward her police scanner. “Bad?”

  “It appears very bad.”

  “I’m sorry. Are you close?”

  Ben sighed. “I’m sorry, it appears the whole family is tactless and rude.”

  “I think it’s nice,” MJ said and turned to answer Dana. “Just recently, yes, very close.”

  “I’m afraid you’re gonna be a bit delayed, though. There’s some man at the bottom waiting, claiming he’s your boss.”

  Jeff. MJ and Ben stared at each other then.

  Dana pulled to a stop, and before she even turned off the car, Jeff was at Ben’s door, opening it.

  He looked past Ben. “You’re all right,” he said to MJ.

  “Unfortunately for you.” Anger pounded through her. She knew this man was responsible for the destruction of her life. But damn it, she had no proof, and for now it looked as if he’d walk away unscathed. Without proof, she wouldn’t take action.

  Jeff put on a good act of looking innocent. “I have no idea what that means.”