Special Assignment

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “I know you made a copy. Where is it?”

  Of course he knew. Mike had explained everything when he’d asked to use Grady’s cabin. Details shuffled into place in her mind. “You killed him, didn’t you? You killed Durgin? And Kardascian, too.”

  His expression didn’t change and he didn’t bother to deny the charges. “If you want your clothes, answer.”

  “And Lila Strotsky, too?”

  “No. Not Strotsky.” He bit off the words, as if it angered him that she would believe he’d killed someone he hadn’t.

  So he had killed the others. She thought about how Grady had appeared so concerned after Mike’s father was shot. “How about Mike’s dad?”

  Behind Grady, the behemoth shifted his bulk from one foot to the other. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. He looked just like Mike.”

  “Shut up,” Grady barked over his shoulder. He focused dispassionate eyes back on Cassie. “Where’s the copy?”

  She glanced around the dark room. The flash drive was still in the laptop. Where had she left the laptop?

  “Pull her out of the bed.”

  The wiry man’s hand tightened. He started to pull.

  She scrambled to hold on. “Wait.”

  He paused, his hard eyes digging into her.

  She’d sent the coordinates to Evangeline. And PPS had other copies of the disk. What did it matter if they got hold of her laptop? “It’s in my laptop. It’s on a flash drive.”

  “Where’s the laptop?”

  Cassie tried to think. Mike had brought the laptop, her BlackBerry and her clothes inside after they’d made love the first time, while she’d waited for him to return to bed. “It’s in the cabin. I’m not sure where.”

  Grady waved a hand to the man on the bed. “Stevens, go look.”

  Focusing a disappointed look at the spot where the sheet covered her chest, he thrust himself off the bed and left the bedroom.

  A shiver shot up Cassie’s spine. Stevens. One of the Dirty Three. She’d guess the hulking silhouette behind Grady was another of the corrupt cops. So where was the third? And where was Mike?

  She had to think fast. They could take the flash drive if they wanted it, but she had to figure out a way to get them to leave Mike and her unhurt. “PPS is sending some agents. They’re on their way right now.”

  “Really?” Grady’s expression didn’t change. His face wasn’t angry, wasn’t alarmed, wasn’t anything. It was just…dead. Void of any feeling whatsoever. “I find it hard to believe you’d be waiting for PPS agents to arrive by lying around naked in bed. Unless they aren’t coming here on business.”

  The hulk behind him chuckled. He shifted his weight. Light from the window reflected off a dark shaved scalp.

  “Mike was supposed to wake me up…before they arrived.”

  “Lawson won’t be doing any waking anymore, that’s for sure,” the cop behind Grady said.

  A muscle twitched in Grady’s cheek. “Shut up, Fisher.”

  Her chest squeezed. Something had happened to Mike, then. Something bad. A sob worked its way up her throat. She choked it back. She had to stay calm. She had to think. If there was a way she could get away from them and find Mike, maybe she could help him. Maybe things weren’t as dire as Fisher wanted her to believe. Maybe Mike was still alive.

  He had to be still alive.

  She had to think of something…fast. “I already deciphered the disk.”

  Grady’s features seemed to darken. “What was on it?”

  Her heart lodged in her throat, beating hard enough to make her choke. “I don’t understand. Don’t you know what’s on the disk? Weren’t you trying to kill me to keep me from finding out?”

  “We were paid to keep you from finding out,” Fisher blurted. “But that doesn’t mean they told—”

  Grady held up a hand, cutting him off.

  Cassie’s mind raced. So they didn’t know. They’d just been paid to stop her, to kill her. Paid by whom? The Russian mob, as Mike had worried? Or someone else? Someone Grady was hoping to double cross or blackmail with the contents of the disk? “Who are you working for?”

  “You really think I’d tell you?” Grady raised his arms to shoulder height. He held a pistol in his fist. “What was on the disk, Cassie?”

  She struggled to breathe. She’d played this wrong. All wrong. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. If she told him, he wouldn’t need to keep her alive. But if she didn’t, would he shoot her? Would he kill her right now? Just as he’d killed Mike?

  No.

  She forced herself to draw air into her lungs. One breath after another. She couldn’t accept that Mike was dead. She wouldn’t. He had to be alive. “Let Mike and me go, and I’ll tell you what was on the disk.”

  The wiry cop who had grabbed her shoulder walked back into the room. “Found it.” He lifted up the black case that held her laptop.

  Grady smiled, but instead of the gap between his teeth making the gesture endearing, it gave him a malevolence that stole Cassie’s breath. “Guess I don’t need to ask you. Guess I can just look it up myself.” He holstered his gun and snatched the laptop from Stevens. Laying it on the foot of the bed, he unzipped the case.

  Behind him, the hulk raised his weapon, keeping her in his sights in case she tried anything.

  Another cop stepped into the room behind Stevens. The third member of the Dirty Three, no doubt.

  Grady glanced at him as he opened the laptop and turned it on. “Rodriguez, you find his body?”

  Blood pounded in Cassie’s head. His lips had formed the words “his body.” She was sure of it. Oh, God, was Mike really dead?

  “He went through the railing when you shot him. Looks like he rolled down the incline and into the gulch.” Rodriguez shook his head. “No way he survived that fall. Not with a bullet in him.”

  A trill of hope rippled up Cassie’s spine. He hadn’t found Mike’s body. He didn’t know for certain that Mike was dead. She grasped that thought and held on. There was still a chance, a chance both she and Mike could get out of this. “I wasn’t lying about PPS agents coming. They’re probably on their way right now.”

  Grady ignored her, all his attention on the computer’s screen. The glow of Cassie’s Rocky Mountain wallpaper reflected blue on his face.

  “Evangeline promised they’d be here by daybreak.”

  “Shut up,” Fisher said, twitching the gun as if to remind her he held it.

  Grady looked up from the computer. “What’s your password?”

  Her password. Of course. He couldn’t access the files in her computer without it. She still had the upper hand. “I’ll give it to you only if you leave Mike and me here.”

  “Mike Lawson is dead. You heard Rodriguez.”

  “Then you shouldn’t mind leaving him.”

  Grady shook his head. “Maybe not. But do you really think we’re planning to let you live?”

  A cold lump balled in the pit of her stomach. No. She didn’t. They’d tried to kill her before. Now that she could identify the four of them, they’d kill her for sure. But still, she had to try. She had no alternative. “I won’t tell anyone about any of this. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  Fisher’s big shoulders moved in a laugh and Rodriguez joined in.

  Cassie held on to the panic whooshing in her ears and bubbling under her skin. She couldn’t let it break free and carry her away. She had to think. “You’re going to have to believe me if you want the password.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “The agents are on their way.” She nodded to the window, to where the slightest yellow glow rimmed the ridge to the East. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

  “No one is coming for you, Cassie. You know it and I know it.”

  She swallowed into a dry throat.

  “But I’d be an idiot to kill you in my own cabin. I have another place in mind. A place where no one will ever find your body.”

  She shivered, giving in to the trem
or claiming her. So this was it, then. They had probably killed Mike and now they were going to kill her. “You’re too late. It’s all over. I already sent the deciphered data to Evangeline.”

  Grady looked up from the computer, his brows low. “Then a couple of us will just have to pay a visit to Evangeline this morning. I’m sure our employer won’t mind if Evangeline Prescott disappears. Now get out of that bed.”

  Cassie gripped the sheet. There was no way she was standing up naked in front of these men. If she was going to die anyway, she had nothing to lose. “Go to hell.”

  “Get her up,” Grady said to Rodriguez and Stevens.

  The men closed in on her. Stevens grasped the blankets, ready to rip them off her body.

  Cassie set her chin. They might strip her naked. They might kill her. But that didn’t mean she had to give them what they wanted. “Wait. I’ll tell you. Just let me get dressed.”

  Grady grinned and held up a hand, signaling the dirty cops to stop their assault. “Fine. What’s the password?”

  “Rachmaninoff.”

  He shook his head. “The composer? You’ve got to be kidding. You really are a brainiac, aren’t you?”

  “Throw me my clothes.”

  Stevens picked up her jeans and sweater from the place Mike had stacked them when he’d cleared their things off the deck. “Would you look at this?” He held up Mike’s belt, the holstered pistol attached. He slipped the belt over his shoulder and tossed Cassie’s clothing on the floor far enough from the bed that she’d have to slip out from under the sheets to retrieve them.

  Bastard.

  Taking a deep breath, she threw back the covers and climbed out. Cold air intensified her shiver. She could feel the creeps’ eyes all over her. She struggled into the clothes as quickly as she could, forgetting about bra and underwear.

  At the foot of the bed, Grady typed in the password. He hit the enter key. “What the hell?”

  Cassie couldn’t keep the spiteful smile from her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. Instead of the password that opens the files, I must have given you the one that encrypts the whole system. How silly of me.”

  Grady made it around the bed in two seconds flat. Reaching her, he drew back his arm and plowed his fist into her jaw.

  Cassie’s head snapped back. Her head rang. Her vision narrowed, swimming with darkness. She sagged against the edge of the bed, then slumped to the floor. She needed to warn Evangeline, but she didn’t know how. She couldn’t even stand…or think. Copper filled her mouth. Blood oozed sticky and hot from her split lip and chin.

  Through her fog she could feel Fisher, Stevens and Rodriguez surround her. Their hands grabbed and lifted her. Then the prick of a needle stung her arm and the world went totally dark.

  MIKE THOUGHT he’d heard somewhere that death was quiet, peaceful and pain-free. But judging from the agony screaming through his body, he’d been horribly misled.

  He tried to lift his head and get a look at the rock outcropping where he’d finally landed. The dark skeletons of aspen just starting to leaf out clung to the side of the mountain all around him. He lay on his side. A clump of trunks protruded behind his back, no doubt responsible both for stopping his descent and the ache in his spine. He had no idea how long he’d been here. At some point in his tumble, he’d blacked out. And try as he might, he couldn’t see the cabin in the darkness.

  No, not the darkness. The first glow of dawn.

  The gentle blue light that preceded sunrise lit the slope and reflected off the light snow that had fallen overnight. Trees surrounded him, etched shadows against the snow and masses of rock.

  So time had passed. But not too much.

  The events before his fall jumbled in his aching head. The force of something hitting him. The crack of wood as the railing gave. The report of a gun.

  He was still alive thanks only to the Kevlar vest he’d slipped on. The vest he’d decided to wear only because he was cold.

  He was even colder now, but at least he was alive. And whoever had shot him was up there at the cabin.

  Whoever had shot him? Hell, he knew who’d shot him. He’d known since he read that article in the paper about Officer Kale. The same person who had tried to kill Cassie and then covered his tracks. The same person who had shot his dad, then shown up at the hospital offering sympathy. The same person Mike had gone to for help and shared detail after detail about the case.

  His partner.

  Anger kindled inside him, growing until it burned hot. Anger and desperation.

  Up in the cabin, Cassie curled in bed, unable to hear the gunshot. Unable to hear an intruder.

  Fear gripped his chest. Adrenaline spiked his blood. He had to reach Cassie, before it was too late. She’d brought him so far. Given him his life back. She was relying on him. And God help him, he wasn’t going to let her down.

  He leaned forward, rolling from his side to his chest, then levering himself up onto his forearms. His head spun. His stomach retched. He breathed slowly, getting hold of his nausea, willing his balance to return.

  He must have hit his head in the fall. Likely he had a concussion. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Cassie. Except saving her. Being there for her.

  Not letting her down.

  He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to hands and knees. Rock bit into a cut on one of his shins. Pain washed through him, bringing back the nausea.

  He pushed on. Putting one hand and knee in front of the other, he moved up the steep slope. Slowly. Too slowly. The sky pinked, washing the mountain with a warm glow, though the air was so frigid he could see his breath.

  But the frigid air and dusting of snow no longer kept him cool. Pain and exertion heated his body like a furnace. Sweat trickled down his back and chest and stung his eyes.

  He reached the edge of the rock outcropping and moved onto an expanse of grass and gritty dirt. Trees clustered, their roots finding purchase in the soil. He negotiated around clumps of brush and located an area of softer dirt, vegetation washed away and soil eroding from rains and melting snowcaps from above. His fingers slid into an indentation. He looked down at a squat footprint, an oversized cross between dog and cat.

  Mountain lion prints.

  He shivered, trying to move faster. He sure as hell hoped he didn’t run into the originator of those tracks. His gun was in the bedroom where Cassie slept. And though the animal wasn’t likely to attack a man under normal circumstances, it would be able to sense that he was injured. Hell, it would be able to smell his blood from the cuts and scrapes that he felt covering his body. If it was hungry enough or had young nearby, he would be hard-pressed to protect himself.

  He kept crawling, moving up through the washed-out area. His heart pounded with the stress. His lungs ached. But eventually he could see a dark shape behind the trees on the ridge above.

  The cabin.

  But he hadn’t made it. Not yet. The slope up to the cabin’s balcony was the steepest, and from where he crawled, it seemed to reach straight up into the sky.

  Grabbing the trunk of an evergreen, he pulled himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He fought it back. If he wanted to reach Cassie in time, he had to move faster than he could on hands and knees. He had to be able to stand, to pull himself up that slope.

  He moved from tree to tree, pulling himself up on the trunks. He was still moving too slowly. The sun had peaked over the horizon and was now climbing in the sky. His only hope was that somehow she’d awakened. That she’d gotten to safety. That she’d found a hiding spot.

  Or that she’d picked up his gun and shot the bastard.

  He reached the logs bracing the balcony. Stopping at the base of the stairs, he strained to hear over his own heartbeat and the morning songs of birds.

  No voices. No movement.

  He moved slowly up the stairs, waiting for another bullet to come screaming out of the forest at any moment. Waiting for the force of the impact to send him sprawling back down the moun
tain.

  He made it to the balcony. Flattening himself against the log wall, he inched along the outside of the cabin until he reached the door.

  Gathering himself, he gripped the knob and pushed inside.

  Again, he waited for a bullet. A sound. Anything. Again, nothing happened, nothing moved. He strode for the bedroom. The place where he’d last seen Cassie. The place where he’d left her curled in peaceful sleep.

  He pushed open the bedroom door. He focused on the rumpled bed.

  Empty.

  His chest seized. He scanned the room, looking for any sign of what had happened, anything that might tell him where Cassie had gone. His belt was gone from where he’d draped it on the back of the chair. The gun holstered to it gone, as well.

  The second time he’d lost his gun this week.

  The Kevlar he’d brought for Cassie was gone, too. And her clothing. He could only hope she’d awakened. That she’d figured out something bad was going down and had slipped out before Grady had found her.

  Grady and, no doubt, the Dirty Three.

  He combed the empty room, his gaze freezing on a spot near the bed. Something dark stained the plank floor. His throat grew thick. Despair drilled into his chest. He bent down, head spinning, and touched the spot. His fingers came away sticky. He held them to his nose and inhaled the copper scent of blood.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cassie came out of the sedative they’d given her with a fuzzy head and the dank scent of the grave permeating her senses. Although she knew her eyes were open, darkness surrounded her completely. She lay on something hard. Rock, most likely. And walls rose steep on either side, as if she’d been buried alive.

  Oh, God, where was she?

  Steel handcuffs bound her wrists behind her back. She lay tilted to one side, the press of her weight making her arms numb with lack of blood flow. She tried to lift her feet, to see how high the ceiling of her prison was above her head, but her legs were shackled, too. She settled for lifting both as high as she could. Almost numb from cold and lack of circulation, her feet scraped a ceiling of rock that seemed to angle to a point.