Fatal Exchange

by Harris, Lisa

  “Ironic because I’m the daughter of a former police captain with zero desire to play the role of hero, who is now sitting in this ridiculous getup, at a somewhat disreputable local dive bar simply because I happen to be the only one who can recognize a wanted—and deadly, might I add—cartel agent.”

  “While you have a valid point, I have to disagree with at least one thing.” He grabbed another fry, looking like he was on a date, not a stakeout. “I think you look rather hot in that getup, and that tattoo was definitely a nice touch.”

  “Hot?”

  “Seriously, Tory did a good job with your makeover, though I’m having a bit of a hard time getting used to you as a blonde.”

  “You’re not helping.” She tried to shoot him a mean glare, but ended up laughing. “I was looking for sympathy, not encouragement.”

  “I don’t know.” He flashed her a smile. “Like I said, I think this look is good for you.”

  “You’re awful.”

  He leaned forward. “Where would you rather be right now?”

  She made another visual sweep of the room, trying to look relaxed. Never forgetting why she was here. The man’s face was etched into her memory. “Sitting at home with a good book, dinner with a few close friends, shopping … pretty much anywhere but here. And you?”

  “I guess over the years I’ve gotten used to having to go places out of my comfort zone, as well as learning how to blend in even when I don’t feel comfortable.”

  “So why this?” She kept scanning the room, thankful that talking was helping to calm her fears. “Is it some kind of effort to save the world, or is it a sense of adventure you crave? The adrenaline rush?”

  “Both, I suppose. I started out wanting to help kids like Rafael. Kids who were going down a similar route that I’d gone down. That, and I wanted to get drug dealers off the streets because I’d seen how it had affected my family.” Mason popped the last fry into his mouth. “At first I thought I could rush in like Superman and save them all. Unfortunately, I found out quickly that it doesn’t work that way.”

  “You’ve done that today.”

  “Today’s not over. We still have someone else to save.”

  Tess.

  Unlike him, she had no idea how to get rid of the fear. “What if I was wrong? What if I don’t recognize him, or he doesn’t show up? It’s already past seven.”

  “Unless he found out about Charlie, he’ll be here.” He took her hand from across the table and laced his fingers between hers. “I know this isn’t easy, but all you have to do is give the signal when you see him, then my team will whisk you away to safety. We’re going to get him.”

  She nodded, but casting her burdens on the Lord always ended up being easier said than done.

  Movement caught her eye near the front of the bar. Two men walked in, their gazes sweeping the room as if they were looking for someone. Nervous? Angry? She gulped in a breath of air. The one on the left was the same build, same ethnicity as the man she remembered. She just needed him to turn so she could see his face …

  She let out the breath she’d been holding as he stared past her, nodded, then proceeded to a crowded table toward the back.

  “Is that him?” Mason asked.

  “No.”

  “Stakeouts are all about building your patience. He’ll be here.”

  “I don’t get it. How do you get rid of the fear—real or simply perceived—in a situation like this? I feel as if I’m drowning in it.”

  His hand squeezed her drumming fingers. “I’m not sure it’s possible to always get rid of the fear. Not completely anyway. But you focus on what you’re doing and hopefully the lives that will be saved because of it.”

  Emily could still feel the pressure of his fingers against the back of her hand as he pulled away to take a sip of his Coke. “I’m sure you’ve been through dozens of high-adrenaline situations, but the most nerve-racking my life ever gets is during a football game with our school’s rival or final exams. I’m not used to having my life on the line.”

  Mason laughed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Even seasoned cops can get flustered when they find themselves in a situation they shouldn’t be in.”

  “I keep looking around the room, afraid even if he’s here that I’ve missed him.”

  “Maybe you need a distraction.”

  Emily raised her brow in question. No matter what her sister believed about Mason, she liked him. He was attentive, strong, compassionate …

  “What kind of distraction?” she asked.

  “How about this. What’s your favorite ice cream?”

  “My favorite ice cream?”

  He lowered his head, but his smile had broadened. “Go with me on this.”

  “Okay …” The man never failed to intrigue her. Once she found the time to step back from the situation, she wanted to contemplate how he’d managed to steal more than a corner of her heart throughout the course of the day. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to take it back. “Favorite ice cream is cookie dough.”

  “Favorite kind of food?”

  “Italian.”

  “Place to travel?”

  “New York City.”

  “Interesting. I would have thought you were more of a country girl.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Not at all.”

  “Favorite holiday?”

  “Thanksgiving.”

  She felt her shoulders relax as she answered. Whatever he was doing was working. She caught the glimmer in his eye, alert to what was going on around them, yet seemingly relaxed at the same time.

  “Movies?”

  “Anything that ends with happily ever after.”

  “Biggest phobia?”

  “I thought we were talking about happily ever after.” She shot him a half smile. “Heights.”

  He wrinkled his nose. That dimple was back again. “So no sky diving?”

  “Never.” Her breathing had deepened, her pulse slowed. The distraction was working. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s your biggest phobia?” she asked.

  “Spiders.”

  She laughed. “You’ll face a bullet, but you’re afraid of a little spider?”

  “I was bit by a black widow when I was six and ended up in ICU. I’ve hated anything with eight legs ever since.”

  “Ouch. Can’t blame you for that. Okay, what’s your favorite sport?”

  “Basketball.”

  “Movie genre?”

  “Action.”

  “Pet?”

  “German shepherd. We had one growing up, but had to give it away when we moved. Someday I plan to get another one.”

  “Really? I found one online this past weekend that I’m planning to adopt once I find a house.” She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he caught her gaze. She liked getting to know him. Liked him. Liked the fact that they had things in common and how comfortable she felt with him no matter what happened to be raging around them.

  “See.” He nudged her with his elbow. “It worked.”

  “Yeah, I’m as relaxed as I can be while sitting in a rowdy pub as the only one who can ID a murderer.” She laughed and felt her cheeks flush. Her response had nothing to do with the situation they were facing and everything to do with the man sitting across from her. “But you’re right. I feel better.”

  “How about some dessert?”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “No. One thing I’ve learned in my job is to eat when you can. You never know when you might get stuck with nothing more than a stale power bar and a lukewarm water bottle.”

  “I’ll pass.” She managed to finish another lemonade, but her stomach couldn’t handle any more food. “Somehow I don’t think I’m going to go hungry in the next couple hours.”

  She eyed the now empty plate sitting in front of him—some kind of five-alarm burger packed with chilies and jalapeños. He’d devoured that after a plate of nachos, whi
le she’d barely managed to eat more than a couple bites of her shrimp platter. Unlike Mason, stakeouts and food weren’t a good combination in her book. And from the looks of it, she should have brought a bottle of antacids for him.

  He grabbed one of her fried shrimps. “They’ve got chocolate brownies and ice cream. Come on. I’ll split one with you.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll pass. Besides, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  The laughter in his eyes faded. “Can’t you wait?”

  “No.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I drink a lot when I’m nervous, and tonight I’m very nervous.”

  “Looks like you should have stopped at the third jumbo glass.” He glanced toward the back of the smoky room where a narrow hallway led to the restrooms and frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  “You have this place surrounded. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.” She caught the hesitation in his expression. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be worried tonight, remember? I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Now he was getting ridiculous. “You’re not coming with me—”

  “It’s a decision not up for debate. It’s a single-stall bathroom. You go in, lock the door behind you, and I’ll be waiting outside.”

  He signaled at their waiter to bring them a plate of brownies and ice cream, then took her hand as they made their way through the restaurant.

  She studied people as they walked past crowded tables, trying to appear uninterested. Couples sat at cozy tables or hovered around the bar. She stepped back into the darkened hall where the restrooms were located, suddenly grateful for his presence.

  He squeezed her hand, then let go, before checking to ensure the bathroom was empty. “This will all be over soon. I promise.”

  34

  Emily locked the door of the one-stall bathroom behind her, then braced both arms against the sink. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a slow breath. She’d hoped it would be quieter in here so she could think, but instead a speaker blasted music from the bar. Not that she really wanted to think. Or remember. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had yet to disappear.

  She hadn’t wanted to tell Mason that her escape from their table had been more than just drinking too much lemonade. Despite his efforts to calm her, she still struggled to breathe. Struggled to stop her heart from pounding in her throat.

  She splashed water onto her face. All she really wanted right now was to identify the man they were after so she could leave. And he would come. He had to come. Because he was their only lead to Tess. Which was why she needed to pull herself together so she could go back out there and find the man behind all of this. She grabbed a paper towel to blot her face, then looked back into the mirror.

  Emily felt her stomach drop. Felt the sharp surge of adrenaline hit. He stood behind her, his image reflected in the mirror. Hat, black-rimmed glasses, deep shadow across his jaw … But it was the eyes she recognized. His arm snaked around her shoulders, knife pressed against her throat. All before she’d had a chance to react.

  He shook his head, warning her.

  “Don’t make a sound.” The blade of the knife glinted in the mirror’s reflection. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve always liked knives better than guns. They’re quiet, while just as deadly.”

  Panic swallowed her. This was no random mugging. He recognized her. Had come for her. She could tell in the slight curl of his lips. The satisfaction in his eyes. The same eyes that were still able to look straight through her. A chill ripped down her spine. Mason had been right to be concerned about her safety. She never should have left that table.

  The window behind the stall banged in the wind where he’d entered the room. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Mason’s right outside the door, Emily. A few more minutes and he’ll come busting in here to save you …

  Nerón pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, shut the sink drain, and turned on the faucet. Emily watched the lifeline disappear under the water. So much for the distress word. The officer listening would simply think she was standing too close to the faucet.

  Which left her with one other option. To scream. But if she did that, it would still take Mason seconds to break down the door. She caught the intent in Nerón’s eyes. She’d be dead before she hit the tiled floor.

  “Your boyfriend thinks he’s smart. Another uppity cop trying to save the world. Thinks he out there protecting you. That you’re safe.” Nerón’s smoky breath against her face made her want to vomit. “At least he lets you get out and play.” Oh God, please … don’t let me die this way.

  She stood perfectly still. Needing to keep him talking. Needing time to think. “You were at the safe house.”

  “Yes.”

  The man shifted his weight. Lowering her eyes, she could just see the patch of blood seeping through his pant leg. He’d been shot and patched up. Which might prove to be her one and only advantage. Because this was no simulation. Her father had insisted she take self-defense classes. There she’d learned that no matter what they showed on television, escaping without injury from a determined attacker with a knife pressed against your throat was virtually impossible. Add to that, he had at least thirty pounds on her, and he’d killed before.

  “You play hard.” He pressed his mouth closer to her ear. “You and your friend who gave me the nasty bump on my head.”

  He slid the side of the blade against her skin. Her chest heaved, lungs ready to burst. This wasn’t Rafael, trying to save his mother’s life by holding a class hostage. This man was an agent for the cartel, who hadn’t thought twice about murdering two agents earlier today. Who would have no qualms about killing her.

  She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Nerón … or should I call you by one of your aliases. Scorpion or Rojo Fuego?”

  He caught her gaze in the mirror. “They’re good names, aren’t they. Shows the fear people have in regard to me.”

  “Maybe that’s true … Nerón … but it’s over.”

  His laugh pierced through her. “Apparently, you’ve forgotten one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That I clearly hold the advantage. Though, I almost missed you with this blonde wig and glasses. Clever. Thought you could slip in safely, identify me, and be home for supper.”

  “How did you know I was going to be here?”

  “Charlie might be currently indisposed, but he isn’t the only one in my pocket. And I can’t exactly leave alive my only witness.”

  Emily’s jaw tensed. “What do you want?”

  His lips curled into a smile. “To watch you die.”

  “Emily?” Mason’s voice sounded from outside the room.

  Nerón pressed the knife into her flesh, allowing a trickle of blood to run down her neck. “Tell him just a minute, and he better wait, because if he comes in, you’re dead.”

  She was as good as dead anyway.

  Emily forced herself to ignore the pain and the rising panic. “Just a minute, Mason. My stomach’s upset.”

  Emily stared at her reflection. He was enjoying toying with her. The trail of blood running down her neck dripped onto her white tank top. After everything that had happened today, she was about to die by the hands of the man who started all of this. A silent killing. Easy escape out the bathroom window. He’d been behind the kidnappings and murders. Behind the distribution of drugs that leaked poison into its users. Young men like Eduardo. She might not be able to stop them all, but she had to find a way to stop this one.

  Show me the way out, Jesus …

  She had to keep it together. To think straight. Mason was close. She had to find a way to communicate with him. But she still had one more question.

  “Where’s Tess?”

  “Your niece?”

  “You took her. Where is she?”

  “Funny thing is, if you hadn’t shot Charlie, I would have.”

  “Why?”

  “Charlie
was a fool. He thought he’d found a way to keep both shares of the money by taking her behind my back.”

  So he really didn’t know?

  She forced her mind to concentrate. If this was going to end, she needed to find an advantage. Something that would slow his response time. She stared at him in the mirror. He was cocky and wanted to savor her death, but he’d been shot. Beads of sweat glistened across his forehead. His hand shook. He was in pain. She had to find a way to take advantage of that pain.

  Someone banged on the bathroom door.

  Nerón glanced away. Emily reacted in that split second. She kicked his injured leg as hard as she could with her heel, while shoving his hand away from her throat. Nerón groaned and dropped to his knees. The bathroom door slammed against the wall behind them. Officers swarmed into the room, dragging him away from her. Mason threw him against the wall and handcuffed him.

  Tory pulled her out of the bathroom and into the hallway, her eyes on Emily’s neck. “Are you all right? Your transmitter went out so we decided to move in.”

  Emily could only nod. She wiped her hands against her neck, then looked down at the red stain on her fingers, terrified at how close she’d come to dying. Tory grabbed a square of gauze from a first-aid kit and pressed it gently against the cut. Someone shouted, music blared, incandescent lights above her flickered, but Emily could only think of one thing.

  Charlie isn’t the only one in my pocket.

  “Wait.” Emily stepped back into the bathroom where they were reading his rights to the man who’d almost killed her. He’d known she was going to be here. She reached into his jacket pocket, avoiding his piercing gaze, and pulled out a cheap burner phone. She redialed the last called number.

  A phone rang behind her.

  She looked to Mason, then to the source of the call. “Charlie wasn’t the only mole.”

  Russell Coates started to run, but it was already too late. Officers had him handcuffed before he could even consider pulling his gun. Emily slid down the wall until she was sitting against the tile floor, as they led the two men out of the hallway. Numbness had completely set in.

  Mason sat down beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. I’m so sorry … so sorry I wasn’t there. I never should have let you go in there.”