Sean said to Kane, “I can’t believe you doubted me.”
“When it comes to your kid, you’ve been paranoid.”
“Justified.”
“You haven’t let him go two feet outside of the house.”
“Your point?”
“Security is smart; sitting on the kid now? Not so smart.”
Sean considered what Kane was saying. “Did he say something to you? Is he bored?”
“Curious,” Kane said. “He doesn’t know why you don’t go to work.”
Sean snorted. “I explained to him—I took a big job before I got him, I have another lined up in August.”
“It’s not the same as how normal people go to work.”
“Like Carson Spade? Who laundered money for the drug cartels?”
“Don’t bite off my head. He knows about the trust fund you set up for him. I know you have money, but you have to be running on fumes right now.”
“I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, but if I get tight I can get a loan. I own two houses and a plane. And Lucy has a regular paycheck and benefits.”
Why was Kane concerned about his finances? Sean wasn’t seriously worried. He knew he could make money if he had to. Maybe taking a job he didn’t particularly want, but he could if necessary. He’d do anything he had to for his family.
“I opened Jesse’s eyes up today. We spent a few hours at the boys’ home.”
“How’d he do?”
“I think he was surprised. Jesse’s a smart kid, but until last year he was sheltered.”
“Some people want to shelter their kids from the bad shit. You’ve done a pretty good job sheltering Jesse.”
“That makes no sense. I told you—”
“Yeah, and that’s a good thing. But Carson Spade is an asshole and I don’t particularly like his wife, either, and you won’t say word one about them to the kid.”
“Madison is his mother.”
“Who lied to him. Why does she get a pass?”
“She doesn’t. But I’m not going to talk shit about her around Jesse. How could he respect me if I throw her under the bus?” Sean hesitated, then said, “He knows what went down. I don’t have to spell things out.”
Kane grunted.
Sean didn’t know if he was doing anything right, but at this moment, he knew that Jesse was in danger, and if Kane was right—that someone hired Domingo to keep tabs on Jesse and Sean—then Sean needed to prove that it was Carson Spade. He was 90 percent certain he was right.
But that lingering doubt—that the marshals’ threat assessment missed something—had Sean on edge, and he’d stay there until he knew the truth.
Nate said over their coms, “He’s leaving. Whoever he’s supposed to meet is a no-show and he looks pissed off about it.”
“Follow,” Kane said. “We’ll have a little discussion with him outside.”
Kane and Sean exited Nate’s truck and hid in the shadows until Domingo approached his car. Kane stepped into view.
“Fuck,” Domingo said. He turned to go back into the bar and walked right into Nate. “You—you’re one of them?”
Nate made himself a wall and Domingo was forced to turn and face Kane. Sean stepped into view.
Domingo recognized him. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Who hired you to follow me?” Sean said.
Domingo looked confused. “The job just came through channels. You know.”
“Which channels?” Sean said.
“I can’t tell you.” He was agitated. Worried.
“You will tell us,” Kane said, dark and serious.
“Really, what are you going to do, kill me?”
“Jail.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“We have friends.”
Sean pulled out his phone and said, “One minute more, I call a buddy with SAPD. I tell him anything, he’ll believe me. We go way back. He’ll keep you on ice for the weekend. Give your life a rectal exam. We’ll find out exactly what’s going on. If you doubt it, then you have no idea who you were hired to fuck with.”
“It’s a legit PI! Watch and report. No bullshit, I swear.”
“Name.”
He was sweating. “Come on, come on, I didn’t hurt anyone!”
Sean was close to belting the guy. “Name!” he demanded.
Domingo looked from Sean to Kane and back to Sean. “I—I—”
Sean glared at him.
Domingo was sweating. “Look, it wasn’t a big deal.” He turned to Kane.
Kane just stared.
“Fuck. Fuck! Okay, okay. It’s all legit, okay? Bart—”
A crack cut through the night and Domingo’s chest turned red. Before Sean could react, Nate and Kane had their guns out. Kane pushed Sean down as Nate dove for cover.
Domingo had been sniped right in front of them. He stepped back once and slumped against the wall of the bar, his eyes dazed.
A car squealed down the street and disappeared from view. How the hell had they missed a gunman?
Sean crawled over to Domingo. He wasn’t going to make it.
“Bart who? Domingo? Tell me!”
“Va-Vas. Vas. Quez.”
He labored for breath.
Bart Vasquez? Sean didn’t know him.
“Hired. Just a j-j-job.”
Blood dribbled out of the corner of Domingo’s mouth.
Nate said, “An ambulance and police are on their way.”
“Go,” Kane told Sean.
“No!”
“Go home now, Sean. I got this.”
“I can’t let you both—”
“Nate is a fed. But Jimenez gave you this guy’s name. You can’t be anywhere around here. As far as you’re concerned, you told me and I confronted him here. He was shot and killed by a sniper.” Kane looked at Nate. They were still squatting behind Domingo’s car.
“Black American sedan, tinted windows, license ended with six-seven-seven-zero. I couldn’t make out the letters.”
“Damn good,” Kane said. “Dammit, Sean, get out of here before anyone sees you and you’re stuck.”
“Modified Remington 700,” Nate continued. “My guess, anyway. Could be an M24, easy enough to get one if you know where to look.”
“I concur,” Kane said.
Sean didn’t want to leave his brother to clean up this mess, but he didn’t really have a choice. “Be careful. The sniper could come back.”
“Go,” Kane ordered.
Reluctantly, Sean left before authorities arrived.
He tried Lucy as soon as he was away from the bar. She didn’t answer. He tried Jesse. No answer.
His heart skipped a beat. It was after nine at night; they should be home by now. She would have sent him a message if they were going to a movie or something.
He sped up. He heard sirens, but they weren’t coming from the direction he was headed. Through his phone, he logged into his home security system. Lucy hadn’t come home. It had been set at one thirty that afternoon—when he’d left with Jesse for the boys’ home.
Something had happened. He knew it before he got a call from an unfamiliar number on his cell phone.
“Rogan,” he answered, forcing his panic down.
“Sean. It’s Lucy.”
“Where are you? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“We were run off the road. We’re both fine—your Mustang is not.”
His heart thudded. “What happened?”
“Black truck, Ford F-250 with a camper shell. I originally thought it was an SUV, but it broadsided me and I saw the shell. They’d been following me, I did evasive maneuvers and was heading to the closest police station … they hit the car and we went off an embankment. We’re fine. I want Jesse to go to the hospital for X-rays though. Just to be safe.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the scene—it happened fifteen minutes ago.”
Right before Domingo was killed. Same team? Dual attack? Something complet
ely different? Sean hated that he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on.
He said, “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sean called Madison. He didn’t want to make this call, but he had to. Jesse was her son. He looked over at Lucy. She approached, rubbed his arm, kissed him. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
She’d been hurt, too. She had a cut on her forehead, and her nose and jaw were bruised as if she’d been in a fight. He wanted to punch someone. Instead, he squeezed her hand, then kissed it. As soon as Madison answered, he turned away. He had to focus on this conversation, not think about almost losing both his wife and his son.
“Hi, Sean,” Madison said. “I’m surprised you’re calling. I thought for sure you were avoiding me.”
He had been. But not for the reasons she thought. Now he had no choice. He had to talk to her.
“First, Jesse is fine.”
“Why wouldn’t he be fine? What happened?” Panic filled her voice.
“There was a car accident. We’re at the hospital just as a precaution. He’s getting X-rays, but the doctor doesn’t think that anything is broken. He has a swollen nose from the airbag in the car.”
“You’ve always driven too fast! Always, Sean. Dammit, were you racing? Racing with my son in the car?”
Did she think that he was seventeen again?
“Lucy was run off the road,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I think your husband hired someone to do it.”
He shouldn’t have said that. Why had he said that? He was a total idiot.
“I want to talk to my son now.”
“I’ll have him call you as soon as he’s out of X-ray,” Sean said. “He’s fine, Madison. He didn’t want me to call you, but you need to know.”
“Damn straight I need to know! How dare you accuse Carson of anything. He’s been working hard to prove that he’s changed. He’s doing the right thing. This has been hard on all of us, but especially Carson. What have you been telling Jesse? Are you attacking my husband? Is this why Jesse won’t talk to him? Are you filling my son’s head with lies?”
Sean snapped. Lucy reached for him and he knew what she was going to say so he walked away.
In a low voice Sean said, “Carson Spade laundered money for a violent drug cartel, and he only stopped because he was caught. I don’t care how hard any of this is on your fucking husband, he got off easy. He should be spending the next fifty years in prison, instead he gets fucking three years’ probation!”
“Don’t—”
“I’ve never said word one to Jesse about Carson, but our son is not an idiot. He knows the truth.”
“How dare you!”
“Jesse will call you later.”
He hung up. He was shaking. He was so angry and scared; he knew he’d just lost all visitation rights with his son.
Lucy came over and hugged him tight. “Sean.”
“I could have lost you. I could have lost you both.” He blinked back hot tears. He wasn’t a man who cried often. He remembered twice. The first when he buried his mother. The second when he thought Lucy was going to leave him when she found out he’d lied to her.
The thought that he may have lost both his wife and his son tonight terrified him.
“They didn’t want to kill us.”
“You don’t know that!” He was trying to get his emotions together but he was falling apart.
When he saw Lucy and Jesse sitting in the back of the ambulance, he had been a rock. He’d hugged them, talked to the police, surveyed the damage, called his insurance company. But now, now that he knew they were safe, he was on the verge of exploding.
He let Lucy walk him over to a plastic chair in the waiting room outside X-ray. He felt stiff and awkward, and he didn’t want to let her go.
She held his face in her hands. Her head had been bandaged, and her nose was swollen. She had a bruise on her neck from the seat belt—it went under her blouse. It would be black tomorrow.
He leaned in and kissed her as the tears fell.
She held him and he worked on getting it together. For Lucy. For Jesse. They were okay. They were alive.
Someone had to pay for this.
“Sean, I think whoever hit us wanted to scare us, not kill us. They had time to come back and finish things, but they left long before I heard sirens. It felt like a warning, a show of force.”
“The guy who followed me on Wednesday—he’s dead.”
“Dead? How?”
“Someone shot him outside a bar at about the same time you were run off the road.” He would tell her everything about their conversation with Domingo later. “Kane told me to leave because Jimenez gave me information he shouldn’t have. And now Domingo is dead.”
“Jimenez gave you the information because he thought you needed it to protect Jesse.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“For you, it is. It has to be. You didn’t kill him.”
“He was hired by a PI. But the way he described it, I don’t think the PI even knew what he was doing. He was a hired gun, too. To keep tabs on me? Jesse? But then—you’re run off the road. Why would Carson want to hurt Jesse?”
“You don’t know that Carson is behind this.”
“He is!” He swallowed his temper. “Who else?”
“I don’t know.”
“My gut tells me Carson wants something—but I don’t know what! For me to send Jesse back? If I thought he was in danger, I’d never send him where I couldn’t protect him. But Madison is livid, and I don’t blame her. He might get exactly what he wants. I can’t lose him, Luce. He’s my son.”
The thought of losing Jesse was as debilitating as the thought of losing Lucy. He loved them both so much he couldn’t think.
“Sean, we’re here,” Lucy said. “We are fine. You need to focus on what you can control. You accused Madison’s husband of something atrocious. Running her son off the road. Might not have been the thing to say under the circumstances, especially since we don’t have any proof.”
She was right. He’d reacted, he hadn’t been thinking. “Oh God, Luce, what have I done?”
“We’ll fix it. That’s what we do, right? But we have to get to the bottom of this—whether it’s Carson, or someone who wants to send Carson a message.”
Again, Lucy was right. Maybe Carson had nothing to do with it, but was it a warning? Because Carson knew more than he told the feds? That would make sense, too. Someone sending a message to Carson to keep his mouth shut.
Why not just kill him? If he was a threat, it was safer if he was dead. That’s how the cartels generally operated. Unless he had something they wanted.
Maybe it wasn’t a cartel. Maybe it was someone else. Carson had been a lawyer for nearly two decades, he had other clients. What had the feds done to investigate them? Sean was pretty certain nothing Carson Spade had done professionally had been legal.
“Mr. Rogan?” a female voice said.
Sean and Lucy stood, hands entwined. The doctor stood in front of them.
“I’m Dr. Natalie Blair,” she said.
“Where’s Jesse?”
“Flirting with the nurses, I’m sure.” She smiled. “He’s fine. Broken nose, but there’s not much to do for it other than tape it up. It’s very common in car accidents like this. He’ll be sore—he has bruises across his chest from the seat belt, and a mild concussion. I told him he should stay overnight, but he was adamant about going home. Are you familiar with concussion protocols?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “I’m EMT-certified.”
“Good. Just talk to him every two hours, make sure he’s coherent, call me if he complains of any sharp pains or if his head feels worse than a bad headache. I’d like to see him on Monday for a follow-up. Light activity, he probably won’t feel like running a marathon tomorrow, but walking and moving around is good. If he experiences double vision, bring him to the emergency room.” She handed Sean a card. “If
you have any questions, call my service, they’ll track me down.”
“Thank you. He’s really okay?”
“Yes. He was worried about you, Mrs. Rogan. Did you have X-rays?”
“Nothing is broken. Not even my nose. And I’ve had a concussion before; I don’t have one now.”
“I’ll keep an eye on both of them,” Sean said.
“I’m a pediatrician, but I think you should go see your doctor just to make sure.”
Lucy didn’t like hospitals or being fussed over. “I promise, if I feel any worse, I’ll call my doctor.”
“I need to sign the paperwork to discharge him, but you can go down the hall to the right and the nurse will direct you to Jesse.”
“Thank you,” Sean said, relieved.
He took Lucy’s hand and walked as fast as he dared down the hall.
Lucy was worried about Sean, and not for the first time. She had rarely seen him so scared. He had always been a rock, always been strong—which helped her be strong. Now she needed to be his rock, because he was facing fears he didn’t know he had.
They found Jesse lying down on a hospital bed.
He sat up as soon as Sean and Lucy walked into the room. “Can I go?”
“We’re just waiting for the doctor to sign you out,” Sean said, trying to put on a brave front.
Jesse stared at Sean. He saw what Lucy saw: the intense emotion that was clouding Sean’s usual mischievous and cheerful expression.
“They said nothing was wrong. Except my nose. But it’ll heal straight, she said, as long as I don’t mess with it.”
Lucy smiled. “You’re going to be fine.” Lucy glanced at Sean, but he was still staring at Jesse as if he didn’t know what to do. “Besides,” she said, “a crooked nose is attractive to girls.”
“I’m sorry,” Sean said suddenly.
Jesse frowned. “What?”
“You were safe, and now you’re not because I wanted you with me.”
“Sean,” Lucy said. She knew exactly where he was going with this, and this wasn’t what Sean wanted to do. “We all need a good night’s sleep.”
“Maybe you should go home.”
“I don’t want to go home. I want to go to your house.”
Jesse was on the verge of tears. He didn’t understand Sean’s pain and guilt, and Lucy had to fix this.
Too Far Gone Page 17
