“Did you see the Lakers game last night?”
“They played last night? I had no idea.”
“Yeah, it was a great game.”
“Who’d they play?”
“Pistons.”
“Huh.”
Adelaide slowed her breathing out of fear she’d be heard. The thick metal bolt slid back from its locking position and the vault door swung open. She watched as both men entered the room below, studying their blue security button-down tops and black slacks.
“I didn’t think that game was until next week.”
“Nope. Played last night.”
“Oh. Hey, you doing anything tonight?”
They walked each side of the room, surveying everything, including the ceiling where Adelaide hid.
She slid out of sight.
That one looks tasty, her delusion said, its feet on the ground and circling the vault. It stared directly into a guard’s eyes, daring him to notice.
He didn’t.
“It’s one in the morning. When I’m done, I’m going home to sleep.”
“Nah, I mean like five or six.”
“Oh. No, I guess not. What’d you have in mind?”
As the guards started their retreat, Adelaide leaned forward once again, making the vent creak. She winced, pushing herself back.
The monster smiled in delight, eager to stir things up. Uh-oh.
“Did you hear that?” The taller of the two looked to the ceiling, almost directly to Adelaide’s position.
She couldn’t afford to fail this assignment. Her chance at life depended on her success. After tonight, she’d be free and she couldn’t screw it up now. She needed her last payday from Christian.
“Hear what?”
The men remained silent for a series of breaths, each listening closely as Adelaide held her breath and her monster skipped around the vault floor, singing.
Somebody’s in trouble. Somebody’s in trouble.
“Nothing. Must have been a rat.”
“Come on, if anyone broke into this room, they wouldn’t last long.”
The taller one laughed. “So you think the rumors are true?”
“Hell, yeah. Harlow Vicente has got to keep his cash somewhere.”
Adelaide listened closely, searching for a reason why the name sounded so familiar. Harlow Vicente. Before handing over the scrap of paper with the name on it to Christian, she’d stared at the letters long and hard, trying to force some memory to reveal itself.
“You think Vicente keeps his stash here?”
She listened to the door close and lock, the voices of the guards fading down the hallway. Without hesitation, she removed the grate and lowered herself into the white room. The guards would return in three minutes.
And here I thought they’d had you, her monster sneered, waiting for a chance for Adelaide to slip up. Don’t you realize how much fun we could have in prison?
A flash of blood and the sound of screams filled her ears. She licked her lips but shook the vision from her head. She didn’t have time for this.
No lasers, no motion or heat sensors. As the only room in the building constantly monitored by guards, it made her assignment easier.
You never want to have any fun, her monster whined.
Ignoring the delusion, she calmly crept to a safe-deposit box marked 2547 and began her work. Two locks, one on top of the box and one below, would need to be turned at the same exact time to open it.
Adelaide removed one key from her jacket with a gloved hand and pushed it into the top hole. The bank’s copy. The other would have to come from the client, but Christian had never asked her to steal the owner’s. The lock would need to be picked.
Removing her instruments from the case she’d concealed inside her jacket, she placed each tool inside the lock and carefully listened for the sound she wanted. She set both hands on the locks and turned, opening the box without incident or alarm.
Fifteen seconds, she told herself. She left the tools and key in their spots, emptying the contents of the box into her bag. She heard the guards speaking behind the door. Ten seconds. Adelaide left Christian’s note inside, replaced the box in its cubby, closed the door and twisted her tools to lock it. Five seconds.
The vault door bolt slid free.
She climbed the rope as quickly as she could toward the vent, throwing one leg into the shaft and pulling the other behind her, but the rope wouldn’t make it.
It took less than two seconds for the guards to notice the rope swaying from the ceiling. They screamed into their radios. Adelaide didn’t have time to replace the grate. Instead, she turned back the way she’d come and moved like hell with her monster’s song in her head.
Somebody’s in trouble.
* * *
Waiting for Christian stoically, Marcus could hardly keep a lid on his anxiety. Doubt crossed his mind as he envisioned being face-to-face with Wren for the second time. He wasn’t sure he could keep his emotions under control. The fact Wren pegged him as a cop in the first thirty seconds only added to the worry. Their first meeting had been in a public arena, but here, in Harlow’s warehouse, anything could happen.
Outside, a pair of car doors slammed, signaling the arrival of their guest and interrupting Marcus’s thoughts.
Harlow motioned the guards to open the door, his hands shaking. If Marcus had been in the same position, he’d be worried for his life, too.
Three bodies shadowed the warehouse side door.
“What are we doing here, boss?” Taigen wasn’t trying to stay quiet about his disapproval, sucking on the soda in his hand through a straw. His eyes darted over the small group waiting for them. Clearly not impressed.
Marcus had the target in his sights.
“So who is this?” Christian asked, motioning toward Marcus. He didn’t wait for an answer, moving closer to him. “You were at the track earlier.”
“Marcus,” Harlow answered, folding his arms across his chest. “He’s my bodyguard.”
Christian kept his eyes glued to Marcus. “A cop protecting a criminal. How divine.” He turned to Harlow. “I’ve got to say, Harlow, I was surprised to see you yesterday. I honestly thought she had burned you alive.”
Marcus watched as a grimace crossed Harlow’s face.
“I got out just in time, old friend. Tell me, how is my Snow White?”
“For your sake, I hope she never sees you again.” Christian motioned to the guards. Each turned toward Harlow and Marcus, frisking them. They threw their weapons and wallets to the floor for inspection. “You don’t mind, do you, cop?” he asked Marcus, picking up his wallet.
Didn’t criminals understand ID could be forged? His was. He wasn’t stupid enough to keep his real ID on him during an investigation.
“That’s a good-looking knife you have, Agent Marcus Grant.”
Marcus’s stomach twisted violently, his cover blown.
Christian picked the blade up, studying the handle and the weight as Taigen raised a gun, taking aim.
“He’s a freaking cop?” Taigen asked in disbelief. “What the hell are we doing here, Christian?”
Wren still waited for an answer.
“Marines,” Marcus said.
“I see.” Wren walked directly to him, extending the knife as he pulled Marcus’s sleeve up.
The tattoo stood out against his tanned skin, even in the dim light of the warehouse. Distrust crossed Wren’s face.
“How’d you know?” Marcus kept his composure, pushing the murderous temptation burning in his chest down with force.
“I have my own sources.”
“Agent Marcus Grant has worked for me for over a year, my friend. There is no reason for me not to trust him,” Harlow assured him.
Wren chuckled. “That doesn’t say much.” He clapped his hands and walked back to Harlow. “You have my shipment. I want it back, and if I don’t have it in twenty-four hours, I’m going to make sure you’ll never be able to light a cigarette with yo
ur own two hands.”
“There are demands to be met, Christian,” Harlow said, rolling the name across his tongue.
Marcus waited patiently, his hands bunched into fists.
Christian Wren circled Harlow, trying to intimidate the smaller man. “Do you remember everything you taught me all those years ago?” Without warning, he slammed his fist into Harlow’s stomach, causing him to hunch over and drop to the floor in pain. “You’re getting too slow, old man. The man I knew was more aware of his surroundings than this.”
Marcus watched as Harlow tried to rise, but Wren kicked him back to the floor.
Harlow’s guards moved to stop the assault, stepping forward.
Taigen responded, steering his electric blue gaze toward them. His gun followed, but only as a warning. The other guard, though, took matters into his own hands, coming for Marcus alone.
Marcus stayed one step ahead. He jerked a nearby steel pipe from the floor, rising in one fluid motion. He would use it as a bat if necessary.
“Enough.” Christian had only watched, ignoring Harlow altogether, and clapped at the entertainment. “I didn’t come here for a fight. I came for my shipment.”
Harlow staggered to his feet, holding his side with one hand.
Marcus’s adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He’d take on the entire room in order to bring Wren down, to bring him to justice.
“We wouldn’t want to be taken into custody tonight, Taigen,” Christian said. “Not with a cop around.” He turned, motioning for his staff to follow. “Bring me what I want, Harlow, and I’ll return your precious possessions.”
“Possessions?” Harlow asked. “What possessions?”
Christian didn’t respond as he retreated.
Marcus watched his suspect close the Escalade door behind him, meeting Wren’s eyes before the SUV pulled away. He ran his hands over his head. “We blew it.” He exhaled loudly, kicking the steel pipe as hard as he could.
“Well, Agent Grant, I’ve kept my side of the bargain. I got you a meeting. You are now on your own.”
“This is ridiculous. I had him!” He picked up his belongings, dashing for the door.
“Where are you going?” Vicente called after him.
“I can still catch him.” Don’t think. Act!
“Agent Grant!”
Marcus ran out the doors as hard as he could, catching sight of the Escalade as the SUV disappeared around the corner. He stopped in the middle of the street, surprised by the bright lights of other cars and tried to catch his breath. “Damn it!”
* * *
Taigen crossed the street into the bar the next morning, looking back over his shoulder as he walked.
“He seems a little paranoid,” Brent commented, stuffing another candy bar into his mouth.
“That’s his job,” Marcus replied from the driver’s seat. “He has to consider all options. You learn that in the military, too.”
For six hours they’d been tailing Taigen Banvard, never once getting the opportunity they needed.
“Didn’t you say there were two bodyguards?” His partner spoke through the caramel dripping from his lips.
Marcus handed him a napkin from the side panel of the door. “This is a new car and yes, there are two of them.”
“Why aren’t we following the other one, too?” Brent had always been a persistent but chatty bastard, reminding Marcus why he’d stopped taking him on stakeouts.
“Because the only way to get to her is through this guy.” The team waited for his order. They were losing daylight. They had to have Taigen in the cell tonight or Marcus’s new route of attack wouldn’t mean a thing.
“Looks like we got company,” a voice said from the radio strapped to his chest.
Marcus pushed the button on the side of the device and lowered his head to speak. “You got the stuff?”
“Got it,” the voice said. “Planted it.”
“Good.” He inhaled deeply, ready to ruin one man’s life in order to punish another. He started the car and spoke again. “Take him.”
“I hope this works,” Brent said, sucking his fingers clean of the sticky candy.
“It’ll work.” Marcus put the car into gear, heading back to headquarters in order to welcome his new cellmate. “It has to.”
Chapter Seven
The eight-by-eight space was standard for most holding cells. Two concrete benches accommodated the men and women unfortunate enough to land in jail, and there was a toilet on one wall and two rows of thick steel bars to hold them in.
Marcus waited on the right wall, eyes closed, his entire back pressed against the cold, painted cinder blocks. Posing as an inmate hadn’t been his first plan to get to Taigen, but it’d get the job done.
Silence pounded against his temples, the normally busy station resembling a ghost town. Other agents worked outside on cases or quietly sat at their desks with reports needing to be filed. Marcus, however, took pleasure in disobeying a direct order to inflict his own revenge.
The lack of activity forced him to think of everything he wanted to avoid: Scott’s blank expression as Marcus unzipped his body bag, the cold look Ms. Unknown had given him, the other women who’d given him the same look, Christian Wren’s immediate recognition. All had been expressions of disappointment, something he’d had too much experience with.
He’d been in the cell for over an hour, waiting for Taigen to be processed. Anxiety coursed through his veins. His fingers drummed against his knee sporadically, but just as he’d been about to give up, the steel door at the end of the hall opened. The position of the cell gave him a clear view of his new cellmate.
Muffled voices drifted down the corridor as he resumed his position on the bench.
Taigen stepped into view, then was pushed inside the cell. “This is bullshit. Just wait until I get my lawyer.” Giving no indication he was aware of Marcus’s presence, he took a seat on the opposite bench, keeping his head down. “Bull. Shit.”
Another hour passed before either spoke or moved, each ignoring the other as long as possible. Taigen ceded first, pacing from one wall of bars to the back wall over and over again.
“Got somewhere to be?” Marcus asked, keeping his head down and his eyes closed.
The sound of pacing quieted.
Marcus’s eyes opened.
Staring with an expression of confusion across his face, Taigen pointed to him. “I know you. You work for that piece of shit Mexican.” A smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. “Did he give up on you so soon?”
“Something like that.”
A full-blown smile crawled across Banvard’s face. “Yeah, that’s what you get for working with the scum of the earth.”
“You know him?” Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Taigen repositioned himself back onto the bench opposite Marcus, replicating his posture as he stared at the floor. “Harlow’s not a man you forget easily.”
“Tell me about it.” Curiosity sparked through his mind. This man would get him closer to Wren.
Taigen shook his head, unwilling or unable to answer.
Breaking the awkwardness, he changed the subject. “What are you in here for?”
“Setup.”
Marcus chuckled. “Dude, we’ve all been set up.”
Silence.
“You work for that guy. What’s his name?” He snapped his fingers, pretending to search for the answer. “Wayne, isn’t it?”
“Wren.”
“He’s rich, isn’t he?” He waved his hand toward his cellmate. “Have him hire one of his fancy lawyers to get you out.”
Again, no answer. Apparently, Taigen wasn’t a conversationalist.
“If I were in your position, I’d call him as soon as I could,” he said, setting his head back.
“Yeah, well, I’m not you.” Taigen rose again, pacing back and forth, his fingers steepled against his lips. “Not all of us can go against the oaths we’ve sworn to like you have.”
/>
He’ll let me in, Marcus told himself, watching the man patiently. Sooner or later he’ll need my help. “So what do you do for this Wren guy?”
Taigen paused midstep. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”
“Not sure what you mean.” Marcus’s pulse started to race. Had Taigen figured him out so quickly? Hadn’t he been careful enough?
Stepping closer, Taigen stood less than two feet away as he stared down at him. “What’s your angle?”
He forced a smile. “Angle?”
“Please,” Taigen scoffed, turning his back on him. “The cocaine. The bust. You’re the only one here.” His electric blue eyes found Marcus’s once again. “Wren was right. You’re a dirty cop.”
He dropped the charade. He’d been made. “Fine. I want Wren.”
Another scoff escaped Taigen’s mouth, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Impossible. A hundred undercover cops couldn’t touch him.”
Marcus didn’t respond immediately. Hope drizzled behind the man’s expression, a smile playing across his lips. There had to be a reason Taigen would hope for the takedown of his employer. Something personal. What had Vicente told him?
“It’s your sister, isn’t it?”
Seriousness overtook every feature of Banvard’s expression, his body tense. “Tread carefully, cop.”
“Listen to me,” Marcus said, his expression just as serious as Taigen’s. “I know this isn’t where you wanted your life to end up and I’m guessing your sister feels the same way. Wren is a criminal. You don’t want that for her. You don’t want that for yourself.”
Taigen turned his back on Marcus.
His chance nearly slapped him in the face. Taigen presented the only opportunity he had. He couldn’t wait any longer. People died because of Wren. People he knew. The fact Wren had pushed more guns onto the streets faster than ATF could repossess them didn’t matter. Although, when he brought Wren down, the collar wouldn’t hurt his career.
“I can help you, Taigen. And your sister.” He watched as his cellmate rubbed his head in frustration, his shoulders flexing with each movement.
Let Me Out (For Me, #1) Page 7
