Secrets Collide bb-5

by Kathleen Brooks

  “I can’t go,” Gemma said distantly. “My sister needs to be buried with all the love, respect, and honor that she deserves. I can’t leave her in some city morgue.”

  “Gemma, listen to me. I’ll have someone from the agency claim your sister. She’ll be with U.S. heroes and can then be buried at a time and place of your choosing. But if I don’t get you away from here right now, I’m afraid you’ll join her. These are professionals and they won’t quit until you’re dead. I can protect you. Please, come with me.” Cy looked down and saw that he was holding her hands in his as he willed her to understand the seriousness of the situation.

  Gemma took a deep breath, her hands shook in his. “Thank you for taking care of my sister. That means so much to me. I’ll go with you,” she paused, “on two conditions.” Gemma squeezed his hands. Her dark green eyes snapped in determination. “First, you agree to tell me everything. Nothing but the truth. No secrets and no hiding anything from me. Second, you promise you’ll find the men who are responsible for my sister’s death and bring them to justice. I want them dead, but justice is what my sister would've wanted.”

  “Deal. Let’s go get your stuff.”

  Cy drove his red F-type Jaguar convertible around the block twice. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual outside the six-story apartment complex, so he pulled into a spot to the right of the entrance.

  “Can you see your apartment from here?” he asked as he put the car in park.

  “Yes. The light’s off and everything looks okay, I guess,” Gemma said hesitantly as her eyes darted to every shadow surrounding the building.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Cy pushed open his door and walked around to Gemma’s side. No one was shooting at him so he took that as a good sign as he opened her door.

  They headed into the small lobby and he waited as she grabbed her mail in the bank of boxes before pushing the elevator button.

  “Fourth floor,” Gemma told him as she got in. The soft classical music filled the small space as they rode up to her floor. “Bach.”

  “Beethoven.”

  Dammit, he was right. She could never get the right composers. The door opened and she stepped out and turned right. She walked the length of the hall to the end unit.

  “Is this it?” Cy asked as they came to a stop in front of her door.

  “No. I just stopped here for fun.” Gemma put her key in and hid her smile when she heard Cy snicker. Most people didn’t appreciate her smartass side.

  Gemma opened her door and felt the cool air conditioning hit her. Cy’s hand gently wrapped around her wrist and squeezed, silently urging her behind him. It was only then that she noticed he had a gun in his hand. Gemma watched as he efficiently went through her small apartment checking all the rooms. It sure looked like he was a professional. Of course, he could just be a really good actor. The town was full of them, after all.

  “It’s all clear. Pack whatever you need. You have five minutes and then we need to be out of here.”

  Gemma rolled her eyes as Cy went to the window and looked down at the front entrance of the building. He looked so big in her small place. He seemed to fill it, and it wasn’t his height or his wide shoulders. He just possessed an aura about him that radiated confident male.

  Gemma grabbed some food for Fred, his leash, and a bowl and stuffed them into a tote bag. She poured out the milk from her fridge and headed back to her small bedroom. The bed filled most of it and she couldn’t resist sitting down for a minute. Gia had helped her pick out the comforter. Tears welled in her eyes. It felt as if everything she knew was being ripped away—her sister, her apartment, and her comforter—everything.

  “It’ll be okay. I promise, I’ll keep you safe and find out who did this.” She heard his low voice drift over her as she looked up and found Cy leaning against her door watching her.

  “It’ll never be okay. Everything has been taken from me. What do I have left?” Gemma turned her head, not wanting Cy to see her tears.

  “You have everything left. It hurts now and it’ll always hurt. But if your sister was anything like mine, then she’d want you to experience life, love, and kids. Let me help you find these men and bring them to justice for your sister. I'll show you just how much you have left.”

  Gemma felt the tears flow down her cheeks as she listened to him. Her eyes connected with the picture of her and Gia smiling at their last birthday. Cy was right about something. She did have something left—vengeance.

  Cy watched as she wiped the tears from her face before turning back to him. With a nod she stood up and promptly bent over to dig under her bed, leaving Cy with a great view of her rear end. With a mental groan, he turned and headed out of the room.

  He picked up Fred and started looking at the pictures she had on her mantel as he waited for her to finish packing. It was obvious she was very close to her sister as he looked at pictures of them as kids, teenagers, in college, and more recently.

  “Hey.” Cy turned toward the bedroom as he heard her voice call out to him. “Can you put all those pictures in this bag? I just need to grab my bathroom stuff and I'll be ready to go.”

  Cy caught the bag she tossed at him and quickly stuffed the pictures into it. By the time he was finished packing all the pictures from the apartment, Gemma was walking out of the bedroom with a duffel bag over her shoulder. Cy hiked up the bag with the pictures and bent down to pick up Fred who was balancing on his hind legs begging to be held.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Gemma tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked around her place one last time. “I’m ready.”

  Cy opened the door and looked out into the empty hallway. Taking the lead, he walked by the stairs and to the elevator. He pressed the button and waited as the elevator came from the floor above.

  He looked at Gemma standing next to him and saw the doorknob from the stairwell turn. “Do any of your neighbors use the stairs?”

  “Hmm?” Gemma asked. She had obviously been deep in thought. The barrel of a gun coming out of the slowly opening door answered his question.

  “Get back!” Cy shoved Gemma behind him and against the doors of the elevator. He shifted Fred into his left arm and pulled his gun in one movement. The door flew open as the man scanned the hallway.

  Cy fired off a shot and hit the doorjamb. The man jumped back but stuck his arm out and fired blindly. Fred growled in Cy’s arms as he returned fire. He had Gemma smashed against the elevator doors with his body shielding hers as he tried to keep the man pinned down.

  “Come on,” he grumbled at the elevator. There was no such luck, though; the stairway door flung open. A man tried to run across the hall for cover while his buddy fired at Cy and Gemma. Cy could feel Gemma’s fingers digging into his back as she hid behind him. Every instinct he had was to keep her safe. He had never felt anything so strongly before.

  Cy reloaded his gun and fired at the man leaping for cover across the hall. He was satisfied when he heard the man scream out as his shot hit its mark—the man’s foot had been carelessly left exposed. The man hiding in the stairwell fired off another shot that had Cy pressing further back against Gemma. The bullet lodged in the wall not far from his head with drywall exploding onto him as he heard Gemma scream.

  Suddenly the elevator doors opened and they fell backward into it. Cy scrambled forward and fired some shots back into the hallway as the men sprinted toward them. Gemma banged the Close Door button over and over again as Cy returned fire. Bullets pinged off the metal doors as they slowly closed.

  Cy reached over where Gemma was still hitting the button and pushed the number two. Gemma finally stopped and they both sat in silence as the soft classical music played.

  “Chopin,” Gemma finally said in a shaky voice.

  “Handel,” Cy grinned as the elevator started its slow descent.

  The doors to the second floor opened and Cy slowly looked out. The hallway was clear. “Come on.”

  “Why are we getting off here?
Won’t they be in the stairwell?” Gemma asked as she slowly walked out of the elevator.

  “Yep. And they’ll be in the lobby, too. That’s why we’re going to send the elevator down to the first floor while we climb out the fire escape in the back of the building. You have experience with those, after all.” Cy shot her a smirk as he carried Fred to the window at the end of the hall. With a bit of effort, he got the window open. “Ladies first.”

  Cy looked back where a pale Gemma stood plastered against the brick building. In one hand she had a suitcase and in the other, Fred’s bag. She looked worried, and if he was honest, he was worried, too. He only had seconds before the men inside realized they weren’t inside anymore.

  His car was parked just a short distance away but the trouble was the man standing next to the black SUV. While he wasn’t holding a gun, the bulge of his jacket told Cy the man was definitely armed.

  “Okay. We’re going to quietly walk to the car. We should be able to get to it without being seen. By that time, it’ll be too late for them to get us. Once you get to the car, dive in and keep your head down. Okay?”

  “That’s the plan? You’re a freaking CIA agent and your plan is to just walk over to the car?” Gemma whispered frantically.

  “Yeah. You got something better?”

  “Running and hiding?”

  “Nope. All my supplies are in that car. No matter what, they’ll leave someone here as a lookout. Better to get it over with. Just like pulling off a Band-Aid.”

  “I’m starting to think you enjoy this way too much,” Gemma grumbled.

  “What? You’re not having fun. I thought this was a pretty memorable first date.” Cy winked and then grinned as her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed. Good. She wasn’t shaking with fear anymore. Anger was an emotion he could work with.

  “This isn’t a date,” she hissed.

  “You’re right. If it were a date, we’d be kissing by now. Come on, let’s go.” He tucked Fred under his left arm and pulled Gemma close to his side as he walked out of the dark shadows and into the parking lot.

  Cy kept his eyes on the man leaning against the SUV. He was looking through the glass doors of the lobby in Gemma's building. Cy’s breathing was slow and steady as they approached his car. They were almost home free when a ringing cell phone broke through the silent night air.

  Cy shifted his gun to his left hand and reached into his back pocket to silence the phone, but it was too late. The man at the SUV was already screaming out their position. “Come on,” Cy yelled, pushing Gemma toward the car as the men ran out of the lobby.

  He turned and returned fire as Fred growled, his tiny white paws wrapped against Cy’s wrist as he hung on tight. Cy used his remote key to unlock the door and shoved Gemma, bags and all, into the front seat.

  “Get down,” Cy yelled as he returned fire and ran around the car to the driver’s side, leaping over the closed door into his seat. He pushed the Start button to his sports car and let the V8 engine loose as he floored the accelerator.

  “Cy! Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me, dammit!” the voice yelled from the car stereo.

  Gemma looked around at Cy to see who was talking and saw that Fred had released his grip on Cy’s arm and was now curled up in his lap as he drove at break-neck speeds through the streets heading toward the 405 freeway.

  “Who’s that?” Gemma asked as she held onto the door when Cy took a corner at sixty miles per hour.

  “Who are you?” the voice shot back. “Cy, now’s not the time to be messing around with some bimbo.”

  “Bimbo? Excuse me, but I’m not a bimbo. I’ve been chased, shot at, and am now trying to survive this lunatic’s driving. If anything, I deserve a freaking medal. So back off,” Gemma’s shout turned to a scream as Cy shot onto the freeway at well over a hundred miles per hour.

  “Didn’t realize you’re in the car with my brother. You do deserve a medal. He forgets he’s not a racecar driver anymore . . . or well, maybe he still is. Now, Cy, we need to talk.”

  “It’s okay, Pierce. You can talk with Gemma in the car. Are you okay? You didn’t get arrested again, did you?” He took a quick glance at Gemma and almost laughed as her eyes widened before slamming shut as he zoomed around cars and trucks on the freeway.

  “I remember. I remember everything. It had nothing to do with me. It was you they were after. They kept asking about you . . . where you were and how to get in touch with you. They were planning on killing me, and then capturing and torturing you when you came home for my funeral,” his youngest brother told him in a rush.

  Dammit. That changed everything. He was no longer going to have the time he thought he would to capture Mr. X and his gang. They knew where he was and had figured out his real last name. His cover had been blown—dammit!

  “I’m on my way home and I’m bringing someone with me. I’ll be there by breakfast.” A plan was already formulating in his mind as he drove toward LAX.

  “What’s going on? What are you involved in that someone would go to these lengths to find you?” Pierce asked. Cy could see Gemma turning and looking at him with the same question in her eyes.

  “I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I’ll meet you at the farm.”

  “Okay. Be safe, bro.”

  Cy ended the call and took a deep breath.

  “What . . .” Gemma started before being cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. The number came up as Unknown and Cy figured it was his boss.

  “Is the plane ready?” Cy asked as he answered.

  “Yes,” the deep, accented Middle Eastern voice answered. “You’ll land at the private air field around eight-thirty in the morning. That is, if you can get out of Los Angeles alive.”

  “Ahmed?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “John Wolfe does not have anything on me,” Ahmed answered seriously. “Now, you seem to be having some problems with a man I am particularly interested in and I want to offer my services.”

  “I'd appreciate that. I’ll see you at the farm?”

  “Yes.”

  The line went dead and Gemma turned to him. “Who was that?”

  “Ahmed. He’s like the Secret Service for the Prince of Rahmi. He happens to live in the town we’re going to,” Cy explained as he turned off the freeway and onto West Century Boulevard heading to the airport. He followed the signs to the private jet field and parked in a reserved spot. His car would be shipped home with the rest of his stuff soon. He didn’t know how practical a sports car would be on the farm, but it sure would be fun on those twisting country roads where he grew up.

  “This is the CIA’s plane. Well, kinda. It was confiscated from a weapons dealer and we’re just using it until it’s sold at auction. We’re flying to the prince’s private runway in Kentucky,” Cy told her as he handed her Fred and picked up all the bags.

  “I got that part. What’s the plan after that?” Gemma asked as she looked up the steep stairs leading to the plane.

  “I’m still working on it.”

  “Working on it? You don’t have a plan?” Gemma stopped climbing the stairs and looked behind her to glare at Cy.

  “I believe the key will be in your sister’s notes. I won’t be able to develop a plan until I know what we’re working with.”

  “And you think we’ll have those resources in Kentucky? We should be staying here and working with the LAPD.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about resources. You haven’t met my brothers yet. Or for that matter, the rest of the town,” Cy grinned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cy leaned back in the light tan leather seat as the plane shot down the runway. Gemma sat next to him with Fred curled up in her lap. As soon as the plane leveled off, Cy turned to her and placed his hand on hers.

  “You okay?” he asked, pulling Gemma back to reality. She had been thinking of Christmas when she and Gia were just seven years old. They had been embroiled in a debate over Sa
nta Claus and Gia was determined to prove he existed. They fell asleep at eleven-thirty, but when they woke up the next morning, the cookies had been eaten and a note left by Santa telling them how sisters were the most treasured gift any girl could ever get.

  “Yes. Sorry. What?” Gemma blinked her eyes and looked out the window into the dark night sky before looking back at Cy’s handsome face. He may be edgy and slightly dangerous looking, especially with his five-o’clock shadow, but the way his warm hand relaxed her made her think he couldn’t be all that bad. He did save her life after all—twice.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, and since you’re not too happy with my lack of plans, can we take a look at what was so important that someone is trying to kill you?” Cy looked down at her purse and Gemma similarly looked down at it. Inside was the key to everything, but a force was holding her back.

  Gemma finally took a deep breath and handed Fred over to Cy. It was time to see what Gia had gotten into. She opened the large bag and pulled out the three notebooks. “What’s that?” Cy asked and pointed at the almost-Greek-looking symbol on the bottom of the cover.

  “It means one. We had a secret language.” Gemma’s eyes misted as she remembered sitting at the dinner table having their secret conversations about school, boys, and how horrible their mom’s chicken was—all while their parents looked on in confusion. It was theirs and theirs alone. She couldn’t remember when it started; they had just always had it from the time they could talk. Gemma opened the notebook and swallowed hard. The notebook was filled with their language . . . every page and every line.

  “What the hell is all that?” Cy asked as he looked at the notebook.

  “It’s all in our secret language,” Gemma said as she shook her head.

  “Can you read it?”

  “Some of it. It’s been over ten years since we talked it, even more since we wrote it. Since high school, I think. It’s going to take me a while to go through this and try to remember all the symbols for the alphabet and for certain words.” Gemma felt crushed. From what she could see, it meant nothing. She remembered some words for her name and some other random words, but not nearly enough to translate it.