Double Cross

by DiAnn Mills

  His superficial caring for her and Daniel was such a marked polarity of the man she remembered.

  She’d play every angle to find the truth.

  “What’s going on inside your head?” he said. “Hard to read a trained agent.”

  “This case and the countdown.” A new tactic filtered into her thoughts. “By the way, thanks.”

  “For what? Not forcing you to play Monopoly?”

  She smiled. “That too. I mean for having the guts to change.”

  “Is this part of the Laurel interrogation?”

  “What do you want it to be?”

  “The real deal.” He glanced down, then back to her. “I’ve decided money and power are not my gods. Neither are bad in and of themselves, but the way I used them was. Are you ready for the same lineup?”

  “Don’t think so. What puzzles me is why you’re risking your neck to end an elderly crime. Daniel hasn’t figured it out either.”

  “Like you, he has his doubts, especially with Vega and Breacher once on my payroll.”

  “Can you blame him?” she said.

  “No. I vowed to help prevent crime when I became a Christian. I didn’t think I’d be tested by having an old friend be the one to betray me.”

  The waters muddied, and she still second-guessed his alliance.

  He folded a paper napkin in front of him. “The way I see it, you sacrificed everything to put me behind bars, and I deserved it. I was headed down a road of complete isolation. If I hated anyone, it was you. Then I found a God I could serve, and I figured if I could forgive you, I could forgive anyone. After all, God had done that for me.” He paused. “Didn’t mean to preach.”

  “It’s okay.” She’d heard it all before. Often wished she could believe.

  He picked up the napkin and refolded it. “Then there’s Daniel, a man dedicated to protecting his grandparents. A good man. Not sure how all of this will play out with us, but we’re an unlikely threesome. I’ve stopped asking why and am trying to just be. However long I have left on this earth has to mean something. Starts with me doing my part to help you and Daniel stop Cayden’s scam.”

  “Plans for tomorrow?”

  “Prison ministry. Pastor Emerson McKee of Community Evangelical Church has the plans and funds. Who better to talk to criminals than an ex-con?”

  “Crazy as it sounds, I believe you’ll make a success of it.”

  “You think it’s crazy? Imagine how I feel.”

  “I suppose so.” Please, Morton, don’t say what’s in your heart. It complicates the case even more.

  “Got a question for you,” he said.

  “All right.” Her insides quivered. She stood and walked into the living room, processing what he’d probably ask.

  “Was any of it real?”

  Truth, Laurel. She swung to meet his scrutiny. “Remember the morning we saddled up Phantom and your horse and rode out early to see the sunrise? We watched it burst over the horizon together.”

  “I do. Had no idea the view would be so spectacular.”

  She swallowed the thickening in her throat. “That was the closest I ever felt to you as a friend. Mornings weren’t your favorite time of the day, but the ride was your idea. Not once did you complain. Neither did you have bodyguards that morning.”

  “You thanked me.” He joined her at the window.

  “I liked you then, appreciated your gesture of making me happy.”

  He smiled. “I needed to know it wasn’t all pretend.”

  She rubbed the chill bumps on her arms.

  “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? From lovers to enemies to almost friends.”

  What could she say in light of all he’d done?

  “Laurel, don’t be afraid of giving your heart to Daniel. From what I’ve learned, he had a rough beginning. Like you.”

  Uneasiness inched through her. She’d thought Wilmington only knew she’d been orphaned at a young age, but he’d revealed more that day at the prison. He had means to discover a storehouse of info. “Do you know any more about me than what’s in the records?”

  He breathed in deeply. “No. It was a plan for after our wedding, to find out who’d murdered your parents.”

  She stared at him, a dangerous man and yet something else. Change the subject. “Are your men watching every angle of the building?”

  “Yep. They follow us around like lost puppies.”

  “Armed puppies.”

  “I’m working on converting them.”

  She laughed, and it felt good. “Do you think Daniel is safe trailing Vega?”

  “Daniel’s smart, crafty. He’s supposed to text both of us later.” His phone sounded with an incoming text. “Might be sooner than I expected.” He glanced at the phone. “We have—”

  The shatter of the window’s glass crackled the air.

  “It’s a grenade!” He lunged toward it.

  12:15 A.M. WEDNESDAY

  ONE DAY BEFORE OCTOBER 15

  Around midnight, Daniel had watched Vega disappear into the hotel where Cayden and his family stayed. He loathed the waiting part of his job. A text came in from Thatcher Graves on his iPhone. Good thing Daniel carried both phones.

  Call me asap

  He pressed in Thatcher’s number. The agent responded on the first ring.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Let me begin by saying Laurel is okay. Someone tossed a grenade inside Wilmington’s condo while she was with him.”

  Stunned, he whipped into cop mode. “Who did it? Was she hurt? Is he okay?”

  “Both escaped injuries. Wilmington tossed it back. Exploded on the way to the street.”

  “All that happened in four to five seconds.” He shook his head. “Short of impossible.”

  “He claimed it was a God-thing.”

  Relief replaced Daniel’s alarm. “Anyone hurt in the blast?”

  “No, but two of Wilmington’s men are dead. One man had his throat cut, and another man’s undergoing surgery to repair a knife wound to his chest.”

  The dynamics of Laurel and Wilmington’s escape from death hit him hard. “Wilmington took a huge chance with the grenade. Could have blown him and Laurel to bits.”

  “My thoughts too. Proves he might be on the level.” With this case. With his faith.

  Was Laurel convinced? For that matter, was Daniel? “Any clues?”

  “Not yet. I’m at the hospital. Need to question the injured man when he wakes up from surgery. Providing he survives.”

  “Where’s Laurel?”

  “She’s at her apartment. More upset than she lets on. Insisted on being alone.”

  “Wilmington’s not with her?”

  “Weren’t you listening? By any chance have you heard from him?”

  “No.” Doubt about Wilmington rose.

  “When the smoke cleared at Wilmington’s place and I arrived, he took off.”

  Why would he leave the crime scene? “You’re sure he’s not at the hospital?”

  Thatcher blew out exasperation. “Wouldn’t I know that, Officer Hilton? He told Laurel he’d talk to her in the morning. Needed to visit the dead man’s family and the other guy’s girlfriend.”

  “Is the girlfriend there?”

  “Yes. She told me Wilmington had already left. Said he’d be in touch. Look, call if you hear from him. I have important things to discuss with both of you.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Just find Wilmington and call me.”

  Daniel knew exactly where Wilmington had gone. He was standing guard outside Laurel’s apartment, and if Cayden wanted both of them dead, he wouldn’t give up easily. But Vega had been with Cayden . . .

  His gut told him Wilmington and Laurel were in the middle of a trap. One the FBI had created.

  CHAPTER 62

  2:35 A.M. WEDNESDAY

  After two calls to Wilmington rolled to voice mail, Daniel had three options—wait near the gate of Laurel’s apartment until someone came in or out
, use his police officer rank, or scale the gate. If Cayden had men on the inside of the property, they’d be watching the entrance for Wilmington to show up.

  A sudden thought crossed his mind. What if Wilmington planted that grenade earlier?

  Daniel pressed in Laurel’s burner phone. “Are you okay?” he said.

  “Sure. I wasn’t hurt tonight. Why?”

  “Because you’re in danger. Cayden’s men weren’t successful, and they don’t give up easily.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Let’s team forces. I’m right—”

  “You do your job, and I’ll do mine. I’ll check in with you later.” She ended the call.

  Was Laurel sleep deprived?

  After parking his BMW a block away from the rear of the property, Daniel grabbed his weapon and silently closed the car door. He hurried along a brick wall separating the apartment buildings from the street until he reached a rear gate. He silenced his phone and relied on its vibration to alert him.

  Once inside the gate, he made his way between buildings until he found Laurel’s apartment. Crouching behind bushes, he took in the grounds. Lights were on in her apartment, the drapes open. She wouldn’t deliberately put herself out there for a clear shot.

  Suspicion crept through him, and he didn’t like where it was going.

  Had Thatcher lied to him about where Laurel had gone?

  Wilmington hid nearby. Daniel was sure of it. After what happened to Wilmington’s men earlier, the man would not risk any more lives. He kept vigil of Laurel’s apartment. Men like Cayden didn’t take defeat lightly, and with his military training, he could easily mobilize as a lone sniper. Who else hid in the dark? Vega?

  The residents had garages, but a parking area held a handful of vehicles. Two security Jeeps made their rounds on the property. Daniel stole around the empty vehicles while his thoughts stumbled over Thatcher Graves’s instructions to call him when he’d located Wilmington. Anger clawed at his logic, and he dropped beside a car to regroup.

  How stupid.

  How trusting.

  Thatcher knew Wilmington would head here. The agent was using the man to draw Cayden out.

  Find Wilmington, then regroup.

  An area several feet behind him contained a line of tall bushes that framed a swimming pool. That location was the only place Wilmington could conceal himself and keep an eye on Laurel’s apartment. Love blinded the man . . . or his plan had led to her near demise tonight.

  Daniel darted across the parking lot to where he believed Wilmington hid. The man stepped from behind a bush, but Daniel pushed him down.

  “You knew I’d be here,” Wilmington whispered. “Did the FBI send you to find me?”

  “Not exactly.” Sarcasm topped Daniel’s words. “I think we’ve been sent as bait knowing Cayden and his men would follow us. I don’t think Laurel’s here. She’d never keep her drapes open. The moment we step out of these bushes, we’ll be in the middle of a firefight.”

  “You mean they played us to draw out the bad boys?”

  “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it’s a duck.” Daniel pointed to the left. “One agent is posted behind the pool hut. Two more are in a security Jeep. If I’m not mistaken, one of Cayden’s men is on the other side of that truck to our right. Probably moves when the security Jeep drives by. Not sure about any more.” Daniel paused, watching his theory take action.

  “I’m mad enough to switch sides.”

  Discouragement rose in Daniel too, but this wasn’t the time to point fingers. After all, he hadn’t followed Thatcher’s directions. “No, you’re not. We’re dealing with people who have their own agendas. We’re the good guys. Thatcher had a plan, but I’d’ve liked to have been told before walking into an inferno.” He paused. “I was supposed to call him when I located you.”

  “Was Laurel in on this?”

  “I doubt it.” She wouldn’t have agreed. “I talked to her a few minutes ago, and I think she’s off on her own.”

  “What now?”

  “Everyone’s in place. All they need is a duck call.”

  Wilmington snorted. “I’m not walking out there to see who has the best aim. Working to find the evidence to arrest Cayden is one thing, but not this.”

  Daniel searched the area for every conceivable place someone could take cover. “The bad guys are waiting for me to join you. But they expected me to drive through the front gate. How did you get inside?”

  “Drove in when the gate opened.”

  “Were you followed?” Daniel said.

  “No idea. Can’t believe the FBI did this to us.”

  “We’re just upset because we didn’t think of it first. They have eyes on us, and I’d like to think they’d prefer we leave in one piece.”

  “Body bags aren’t my idea of evening attire.”

  Daniel chuckled. “I have an idea. Might not make the FBI happy, but I’m a little sour on Thatcher Graves right now.”

  4:45 A.M. WEDNESDAY

  “How could you have done this and not told me?” Laurel paced the floor of SSA Preston’s office.

  “We arranged the situation after you and Wilmington were nearly killed,” he said.

  “By the way, I don’t have a scratch on me. No reason I shouldn’t have been informed. When did you share the setup with Daniel and Wilmington?”

  “Thatcher handled the details.”

  “Oh, really? Let me guess the conversation. ‘Hey, guys, we’re using you as targets to snag Cayden.’”

  “They want the scammers stopped just like we do. Neither man would have argued.”

  Laurel spun around. Truth pierced needles into her heart. “‘Would’? What does that mean?”

  “Calm down. We have an operation in progress, and you can learn the details later.”

  She glared at him, the man she respected. Granted, her exhaustion spoke through her, but it didn’t stop the words spitting from her mouth. “You put Daniel and Wilmington in danger so a couple of agents would look good.”

  “Of course not.” His voice rose. “Thatcher proceeded because everyone involved agreed to the risks.”

  Laurel sank into a chair. “Then why haven’t we heard anything?”

  “You’re paranoid about this case. You’ve let your feelings for Officer Hilton and your hatred for Wilmington override sound judgment.”

  Laurel gripped the sides of her chair. “Then go ahead. Get rid of me. If I’m not doing the job of an agent, I need to be relieved of duties.”

  His face reddened. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You don’t have a clue about my real feelings for Daniel or how much I despise Wilmington or how the elderly scam is eating me alive. I will see this case to the end whether I have my badge or not.” She grabbed her purse and phones.

  Preston stared at her. “Laurel, you were and are the best agent to work with Morton Wilmington. Good judgment has always been your best trait. Fatigue and irrational emotions have robbed you of your best ability.”

  She headed to the door. “Never mind. I’m finished.”

  “You can’t leave here,” he said. “You don’t have a car. It’s dangerous to head to a potential crime scene alone. I order you to stand down.”

  “I arranged for my car to be brought here. Handled it long before you walked in. I’m not sitting around while more people are killed.”

  5:10 A.M. WEDNESDAY

  Daniel drew in a breath and filled his lungs.

  “Glad I worked out in prison,” Wilmington said, bending to grip his knees. “Not a twenty-year-old anymore. My back’s killing me, but that was fun.”

  Daniel’s wrist throbbed while Wilmington thrived on adrenaline. “You need to get out more if you thinking playing monkey over a gate is entertainment.”

  They hurried across the street away from the apartment complex, taking cover in the shadows.

  “Were we seen?”

  “The agent by the pool hut is Thatcher Graves.
” Daniel intended for Thatcher to see them. Later he’d approach the agent who forgot to mention the two awaited a trap.

  “So the FBI knows we left the scene. Now they have to figure out who and how many of Cayden’s men are there.”

  “Your car’s inside the front gate, and you have your keys. Once we have my car, we’ll park it between the two front main gates. You set off your car alarm at the front, then head to my car. I’ll wait here. I’m hoping the sound brings them out of their holes.”

  “Then what?”

  “It either works and this is over, or we help the FBI. Keep your phone on vibrate.”

  “We should go into the investigation business. Laurel too.”

  What an entrepreneur. “Not sure she’d leave the FBI. Or me, HPD.”

  “We could operate the business part-time. Work nights and days off.”

  “When did you get this idea?”

  Wilmington shrugged. “My mind never shuts down. Now that I’m sure my old Army bud wants me dead and taking the blame for his crimes, I’m on overload.”

  “I’ve noticed. You don’t sleep much either. Between the three of us, we have experience in almost every area.”

  “My point. Think about it, and we can talk later.”

  Wilmington lived from one high to another, but right now, the business proposal was on hold. Probably permanently. Once they parked several feet back from the main gate, Daniel stole to the rear. Wilmington made his way to the entrance and set off his car alarm. Flashing lights and the siren brought the early morning to life.

  A few minutes later, Daniel’s burner phone vibrated with Wilmington’s call. “The shooter’s still in place and the security Jeep is keeping its distance.”

  “Let me know the moment you see anything.” He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

  Wilmington’s car alarm timed out.

  No one exposed his position.

  The longer time ticked away, the greater the likelihood of residents emerging from their homes to head to work, increasing the number of those who could get hurt. The muggy air didn’t help his attitude, and neither did the sweat streaming down his face.