It wouldn’t be easy. Good thing he never thought anything would be.
Crystal jabbed the air with the knife, going for Reid’s upper body, and Reid dodged it, jumping out of the way. He let Crystal pump his arm over and over, then swung into a half spin and kicked the knife out of the man’s hand. At the same time, he grabbed Crystal’s wrist and twisted until he heard a satisfying pop.
Crystal brought up his other arm and caught Reid with a stiff jab to the side of his neck and a kick to the side of his knee. Reid released and recircled his enemy, kicking the knife well out of reach, his neck aching. If Crystal had gotten him in the right spot, Reid would’ve been unconscious.
“Come closer and play,” Crystal taunted, moved forward a step and swung, but Reid ducked and got in a slam to the side of Crystal’s head, hard enough to bring the man down to the pavement. But he didn’t stay there, moved to chop the back of Reid’s knees, which buckled them. He then grabbed Reid’s calves while Reid was already unsteady and pulled his feet out from under him in one smooth motion.
Reid blocked his fall with his hands, rolled out of the way of Crystal’s grasp and kicked him hard, the blows landing against Crystal’s gut. Reid heard the groan and the sharp intake of breath and took the opportunity to leap to his feet.
But Crystal, still surprisingly limber, was up again with only a bit of a stagger. He came at Reid, and Reid propelled himself at his enemy, throwing them both into the plate-glass window of a storefront their fighting had moved them toward. An alarm began blaring before the men could disengage, a tangle of arms and legs and broken glass.
Reid was breathing hard, but Crystal’s breath came harder. His nose was broken as well as his wrist, and maybe his arm.
“Well done,” Crystal wheezed.
“Can’t say the same for you.”
Crystal smiled then, and it was so full of menace Reid felt the chill to his soul. “I’ll be back for you, Reid. And I don’t think I’m going to kill you … since you fight so well, I’ve got a real special place for you,” Crystal sneered.
“Who says I’m letting you go?” Reid asked. “Won’t take me long to break your neck.”
Crystal held up a remote. “Bomb in Grier’s car. She’s not at her hotel yet … my tracker says she’s got another three minutes. The timer’s counting down from two minutes. It’s killing me or saving Grier—which one will you choose?”
Grier. Fuck, he couldn’t risk it. Let the bastard go for now, because he believed a man like that didn’t come into a fight without backup in place.
Killing a merc was never easy—it’s why they kept their nine lives.
Crystal tossed the remote in the air and took off. Reid raced to get the timer before it hit the ground and then moved around the corner so the police coming to investigate the broken window wouldn’t bother him. He knelt on the pavement, taking apart the black plastic carefully, mouth dry, watching the clock count down too fast.
He took his knife out—it wasn’t the best tool for this, but time wasn’t on his side. He checked the wires and double-checked and, knowing this could all be a setup, cut through the yellow one and saw the timer finally stop and let out a breath when the GPS tracker showed that Grier’s truck continued to move past the three-minute mark.
He sagged with relief, his body aching and his adrenaline waning. He took a quick look around the perimeter, studiously avoiding the police activity. Crystal could be anywhere by now—and unfortunately he’d already learned Reid’s vulnerability, even before he’d put on his little show.
He headed to his motel room and checked it thoroughly for bugs—or bombs—before he took out his phone and made a quick call.
Vivi answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
He smiled a little at the true concern in her voice. For bringing his friend Caleb back to life, Reid felt like the men owed her everything—Vivi seemed to feel the reverse.
“I’m okay. I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Find out what records of mine have been pulled recently.”
“Military? I did that already.”
He paused. “No, go back sixteen years or more and look for ones through DHS and CPS.”
“Will do.”
“One more thing, Vivi.”
“What?”
“This goes no further than us. It can’t. This is personal.” It was business too, but he didn’t want Dylan or the others knowing anything about it just yet.
“I’ve got your back,” she said quietly, and he knew she meant it.
If his gut was right, this would play out much differently than anyone thought. Crystal had never been focusing on Kell, but on Reid. He’d had a feeling about that from the start, which was part of the reason he’d wanted to separate himself from the others.
He’d suspected it from the second Dylan had mentioned how Crystal liked to investigate pasts. Because none of the men knew the full truth about Reid’s—and that was something he’d rather be kept under wraps.
Even now, Reid could berate himself so easily for what had happened that night in his house. But what no one knew, not even Kell, was that the perfect family he couldn’t save wasn’t anywhere near so fucking perfect after all. But that was a place he wasn’t going tonight. Or any night, if he could help it. Lying to himself about this had become part of his life, and giving up the fantasy would rip his guts out again.
CHAPTER
13
After Teddie told her story, they both lay there, letting the weight of her confession—and its possible repercussions—settle in.
In Kell’s mind, it didn’t change much at all.
After putting it off as he long as he could, he dragged on his jeans and shirt and went to look at what was happening outside through a garage-door window.
A fucking mess. Good. No one was out there right now and that was just how he wanted it.
When he came back inside, Teddie had pulled on her T-shirt but remained wrapped in the blanket. She was still tense because of the storm but she wasn’t nearly as frantic as she’d been earlier. “Is it almost over?” she asked hopefully.
“It’s going to take a little bit longer.”
“You don’t have to break it to me gently, you know.”
“I’ll need to keep you occupied for the next day or so.”
“Shit.”
“Ah, sweetheart, you had fun today, right?” She smiled and blushed and he joined her again on the floor. “Don’t worry, okay? Can you give me that for the next couple of hours at least?”
“It’s not so much worrying. And actually, I’m not sorry to be feeling all of it,” she started to explain. “After my mom died, everything changed. My dad went right back to work. He had to and I …” She shook her head. “I went into robot mode too. It’s like I consciously shut down, and I don’t think I’ve gotten out of it since—and it only got worse after the murders. But when you got hurt, something changed …”
He looked at her.
“And then I woke up and came back to life …” She turned to him. “I liked it.”
“I scared you.”
“It was more than that.” She reached out and took his hand. He didn’t resist, although he wasn’t used to outward shows of emotion and affection either. It was a learning curve experience for both of them, for sure. “I have friends—acquaintances—all over the place. But I never really stuck around to have permanent home. You get used to that, being nomadic. Now I don’t think it’s a good thing. You’re the first person—you and Reid—I’ve had in my life who worried about me … at least as an adult. It’s nice to know there are people who’ve got your back. I’m tired of running, Kell. It seems like you aren’t. It doesn’t bother you?”
“I’ve been running in one way or another my whole life. After a while, you realize it’s not such a bad deal. At least I’m never bored.”
“But you have a place to go when things get bad, right?”
“Yes.” Now, more than ever, th
anks to Dylan and his contingency plans.
“I don’t.”
“You do, with me.” The words came out before he could stop them, but he doubted he would’ve. That meant what he said had to be true.
She blinked, hard. Her eyes got wet and her voice husky and she simply said, “Thanks. You have no idea what that means.”
He did, even though he wasn’t ready to talk about it. But her next words threatened to put an end to that, threatened to pull him someplace he didn’t want to go.
“When we were at the house in Mexico, when I talked about my family …” She seemed not to know how to finish the sentence and settled on, “Are your parents around at all?”
“No.”
“Oh. Are they dead?”
He wanted to say something sarcastic, but the way she’d lost her family … he just couldn’t. “No.”
“Did they do something bad to you?”
Again, he bit back a sarcastic answer and settled on the truth. “Very bad. I haven’t seen them since I was sixteen. Have no desire to see them ever again. I’m better off without them.”
“I’m sorry, Kell.”
“I don’t need your pity,” he practically growled at her; he couldn’t stop himself. “I survived and now I stop the bad guys. That’s what I do. I save and I kill and sometimes innocents get hurt in the crossfire. But you shouldn’t try to paint me as some kind of saint, Teddie. Your first assessment of me was probably closest to the truth.”
“You want me to stay scared of you?” She paused. “Reid told me I was smart if I was … but that I shouldn’t let that get in the way.”
Fucking Reid—when did he turn into the fucking Buddha all of a sudden? The man had never had a single, serious relationship in his life either and suddenly he was Dear Abby wrapped in Dr. Phil. “My family wasn’t like yours.”
“What? Mine wasn’t perfect—you know that now.”
“Sounds like it was pretty damned good for a long while,” he said. “Look, my parents were—are—grifters.”
“Thieves?” she asked. He nodded, and she continued, “How long were they like that?”
“My whole life.”
“So you knew that they stole things?”
“Mostly money. And yes, I knew. It was something they were proud of—they wanted me to be a part of the family business. I used to work with them,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan to, just grew up in it.”
He closed his eyes and tried to picture his childhood. He’d mostly blocked it out, to the point where all he remembered were bits and pieces of the lessons his parents taught him over the years, each one a milestone in their eyes.
Certainly, there were no birthday parties or normal parent-child time for him. He hadn’t really known that existed until he’d finally been allowed to hang out at friends’ houses, and even then, he was only supposed to be there to scope things out and report his findings to his parents to see if his friends were worthy of a grift.
“They weren’t into things like pickpocketing. They called that petty thieving and looked down on it, like what they did was so far above it.” He recalled Reid’s ability to turn his skill for petty thieving into a hell of a career, with a chest full of medals to prove it. “They went for bigger things. We were always moving. Couldn’t stay in the same spot after you’d bilked people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. The funny thing is, we never had enough goddamned money—they were always broke, so it never made sense to me. The one time I brought it up, my father split my lip and I learned to keep my mouth shut about it.”
For a while anyway, until he grew broader and taller than his father and decided he wasn’t afraid of him any longer.
“I can’t imagine any of this.”
“Then don’t.”
The house shook and, to his amazement, Teddie ignored it in favor of pulling the rest of the story from him. “You don’t trust me.”
“The story of my life has nothing to do with trust.”
“It has everything to do with it,” she said softly. “I want to know all about you—good, bad and ugly.”
Maybe if she knew, he could actually be free—she’d find out that there was no hope of redemption for him and she’d leave.
Anyone who’d want to try to make a life with him was out of their mind. Teddie had too bright of a future once this was all over to tie herself to him for any length of time.
“You said you met Reid in foster care. Did your parents put you there?”
“I put myself there.” He pulled on his clothes; he’d never felt so fucking stripped in his entire life. The wind howled and he was sure he wouldn’t mind if the house blew down around their heads.
He’d take something smaller, though, any kind of distraction. But none came. He was trapped—literally, and it was a trap of his own making.
The picture came through Dylan’s email, courtesy of Reid. Reid had taken a picture of the picture with his phone, and while the quality sucked, there was no mistaking that it showed Crystal walking through the Texas U.S. Marshals office.
“I thought all these places were supposed to have security,” Cam muttered, looking over his shoulder. He’d been pretty much connected to Dylan’s hip since Crystal had resurfaced. Riley had been too, although she’d finally relented to some sleep and had gone into the bedroom.
“People let him in anywhere. He always looks like he belongs. Between that and a wicked collection of IDs, he’s got a pass to pretty much everywhere.” Damned asshole could probably bribe his way into heaven too. “Reid thinks he’s in Mexico.”
“Why’s that?”
Dylan scrolled the email, wondering why Reid hadn’t just called him.
“Probably because you’ll yell at him,” Cam said, reading his mind again. He took the phone from Dylan and read the email out loud—the gist of it was that Crystal had called Reid, threatened both him and the U.S. marshal looking for Teddie.
“Shit.” Dylan paced the room. “I want Reid out of there.”
“He’s not going anywhere until he helps Kell with the Teddie mess.”
“You’ve heard from Kell?”
“No. Fucking too many people using satphones these days and jamming up the lines. Probably won’t have comms until the hurricane passes through. But he’s there. He’s safe,” Cam said.
“Crystal’s going to let me know where he is,” Dylan said. “That’s his MO. He wants me to chase him.”
“Are you going to kill him when you catch him this time? If not, at least let me,” Cam said, and Dylan clenched his fist. “Go ahead if that makes you feel better.”
It wouldn’t. But the ringing phone did, made Dylan grab for his cell on the kitchen counter and look at the number.
“It’s him.” Dylan flipped the phone to speaker and answered, “Crystal, what’s it this time?”
“Your friend—Reid, is it? He’s quite good. I’ve got big plans for him.” Crystal laughed. Cam was already dialing Reid on his phone, mouthing, “voice mail,” and he walked away so Crystal wouldn’t hear him leave a message.
“Did he kick your ass?” Dylan asked.
“He tried. But you know I give as good as I get.”
Dylan bit back his anger, wouldn’t let Crystal know he was causing an ulcer to form as Dylan stood there with his forehead pressed to the wall. Didn’t want to look at Cam when he returned.
This is my fault—should’ve killed this bastard when I had the chance.
No mercy was a good credo to live by for many reasons, Crystal at the top of the list. “You too chicken to come after me directly? Guess you’ve gotten soft in your advanced age.”
“Dylan, where would the fun be in coming after you first? And you know me—I live for fun.”
“Yeah, you’re a fucking barrel of laughs,” Dylan muttered.
“I’m going to make you suffer,” Crystal continued, his voice unchanged, as though he was making small talk at a cocktail party instead of threatening Dylan’s life. “You can try to catch me, but
if you find me, you still won’t have the balls to kill me. You never did, and that’s your fatal weakness.”
When Crystal hung up, Dylan needed to hit something. Didn’t worry about breaking his hand before he slammed it through the Sheetrocked wall.
The pain that flashed through his fist radiated through every nerve in his body. He cursed, hit the wall again despite the pain, maybe even tried to make a pact with the devil, before Cam got hold of him and attempted to calm him down.
When that didn’t work, he tackled him, pushing his face into the carpet.
“This isn’t helping anyone, Dylan.”
“Making me feel better.” But it wasn’t. Anger and hate curled up in a tight little ball and Dylan didn’t like that he was rethinking everything, including pulling Riley deeper into his life.
“No regrets, my friend. It’s how you always told me to live,” Cam reminded him.
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“Fuck, where’s a tape recorder when you need it.”
Grier knocked softly and Reid grunted for her to come in. He’d left the door unlocked, because whoever was out to get him—whether Crystal or McMannus—wasn’t going to be stopped by a motel room lock.
She walked over to where he sat at the small table, stood next to him.
“What happened to the other guy?”
“It was a fucking tie.” His fist hit the table hard and he winced. “Goddamned bastard.”
She ran a gentle thumb across his cheekbone. The bruise under his eye was already turning black. And then she took one of his hands in hers. “Looks that way. Was it someone from Chambers’s crew?”
He snorted. “Not even close.”
“Who did this?”
He glanced at her. “Crystal almost killed you tonight.”
She started, but she didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t mind that all that much but he reluctantly pulled it from hers. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
He went out to her truck, got on the ground and slid himself underneath and found the bomb easily, the timer frozen, showing thirty-nine seconds left.
He started to sweat just thinking about it, pulled the device off the chassis and worked himself back out from underneath the truck. He cut a few more wires with his knife before he went back into the room and put the disabled bomb on the table next to where Grier was standing.
Night Moves: A Shadow Force Novel Page 20
