A shadow fell over her. She looked up and her mouth fell open when she saw Special Agent Jed Brennan looming over her. Her lack of make-up and limp hair tied back in a severe ponytail made her feel self-conscious, which was ridiculous. He hardly cared what she looked like.
“Where’s Michael?” he asked.
She pointed to where he was racing halfway up the steps of yet another slide. “Why?”
Brennan’s shoulders drew back and down as he looked up at the ceiling in relief. She turned sideways on the lounger. What was going on? Why was he here? He wore a thick, wool coat and it was so hot in the pool, perspiration already dampened his brow. A five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. He shrugged out of the coat and sat on the lounger opposite. Their knees brushed. Vivi jumped.
“How did you know where to find us?”
He slanted her a look. “FBI, remember?”
“But here,” she insisted, “at the pool?”
“Reception rang your room. When you didn’t answer I decided to search the public areas. Michael’s eight so I figured this was a good place to start.” Agent Brennan nodded toward the viewing window. “I saw you through the window from the lobby. That hair of yours is hard to miss.”
She smoothed it self-consciously, but he wasn’t here to talk about her hair. He held her gaze, those eyes of his so dark brown that she couldn’t tell where pupil met iris. But there was something in his gaze that made her uneasy, some unspoken tension. A shiver of fear moved over her. “What is it?”
He pressed his lips together as if considering what to tell her.
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” she warned.
The light in his eyes dimmed. “I’d like to know which guy treated you so badly that your first thought is always that someone is going to lie to you.” He leaned forward. “Right now I’ll tell you why I’m here—which is probably because I’m a paranoid, federal officer who’s seen too much of the bad stuff, and this is probably a massive overreaction on my part.”
She gripped her knees. She’d thought this was over but from the tight cast of Brennan’s mouth she was wrong. “Tell me.”
“Did you see the news on the TV?”
She shook her head.
“They showed a clip of Michael drawing a likeness of some TV reporter from memory?”
“We filmed the piece this morning.” She didn’t understand. “They showed that? Even with everything that happened in the mall today?”
“Yeah.” Brennan nodded. “Then they linked his photographic drawing ability to the fact he was trapped inside that store with those terrorists today.”
The blood leeched from her brain. Oh, God. She turned toward where she’d last seen her son. Stood. Started scanning the pool, searching the slides, but didn’t see any trace of him. Where the hell was her son? Where was Michael?
***
Jed touched Vivi’s arm. “Hey, he’s probably at the top of a slide waiting his turn.” But he couldn’t see the kid and after everything that had happened today he was starting to worry. “Stay here.”
He strode around the poolside. He may as well have told the sun not to shine because Vivi ignored his order and started jogging around the other side of the pool. It was a big area, lots of little alcoves and interlocking slides. He looked around for a lifeguard and noticed three of them bending over a guy wearing a red t-shirt. He jogged over. One of the girls was crying, another was calling for an ambulance.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I found Ray unconscious.”
“Blow the whistle,” Jed ordered. He had a bad feeling about this. When they hesitated, he flashed his badge. “Empty the god damned pool!”
One of the young women blew the whistle about a second before he was about to grab it out of her hands and do it himself. They started getting the kids out. But he still didn’t see Michael. A horrible feeling descended. That he’d messed up. He’d been so busy chatting up the pretty mother he’d forgot to protect the kid. Amateur. Asshole. He spotted a flash of green at the bottom of the pool and his heart stopped. But it was too big to be the body of a kid. Then he realized exactly what he was looking at. He threw off his suit jacket and handed the nearest lifeguard his weapon, toeing off his shoes and socks at the same time. He took a running dive into the water, cold flashing over his skin as he arrowed into the deep end of the pool.
It took an eternity to reach the man holding the little boy beneath the water. Jed punched the man in the head and then grabbed him around the neck and yanked him off Michael. The kid didn’t swim to safety, he just floated lifelessly away from them. The would-be child killer wheeled and slithered around him until Jed was the one being choked. Jed shoved him hard backwards into the wall, desperate to break away and reach Michael and get him to the surface.
A tsunami of bubbles erupted around the boy and a flash of long, red hair. Vivi was there, dragging her son out of the water.
He turned his attention back to the dirt bag who’d sunk low enough to try and drown an eight-year-old boy. Spots danced in front of Jed’s vision, but this guy had been under for much longer and was hurting for oxygen a hell of a lot more than he was. Grimly he held onto the fucker. Tighter when the guy finally started to panic and tried to head for the surface. Jed could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and deliberately calmed his mind, slowed his pulse. Sniper training took over and his body relaxed despite the adrenaline and testosterone that cruised through his bloodstream. The look in the other guy’s eyes was worth every second of dealing with his own discomfort. He waited and waited until the guy finally inhaled and started choking. Suck it back, asshole. Then Jed dragged him to the surface and let the lifeguard haul him out onto the side. He got himself out of the pool and fished handcuffs out of his saturated pants pocket. Snapped them onto the terrorist scumbag even though the lifeguard protested as he tried to perform mouth-to-mouth.
Jed retrieved his weapon. He wasn’t worried about this guy. You couldn’t drown a cockroach. On cue the bastard started coughing and spewing up water. Jed strode over the where Michael Vincent lay pale in his mother’s arms. He was conscious and shivering uncontrollably. Her eyes were red-rimmed, from chlorine or crying he couldn’t tell.
What a fucking day.
He crouched down and put his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers, wishing he didn’t feel personally responsible for this whole damn mess. “He OK?”
She swallowed and nodded, looking fragile and exhausted and battle-ready all at the same time. Admiration for this woman kept growing—forget the fact she was beautiful, she had a backbone of steel; she’d been through hell but she didn’t wallow in tears. She was a fighter.
He grabbed a large, thick towel from a pile stacked on a nearby table and wrapped it around her shoulders, feeling her stiffen at the contact. “It’s OK, Vivi.” He ran his hand up and down her back wanting to reassure her and make her feel safe even though he knew better than to make promises. “Everything is going to be OK.”
Jed looked at the lifeguard who’d been knocked out. He seemed to be coming around. Jed retrieved his jacket and shoes from the damp floor and pulled out his phone. He was cold, wet, but damned happy he’d reached Michael in time. He called the local office. “I got one of them attempting to drown the Vincent boy in the hotel pool.” He gave some details over the phone, just enough for them to know exactly where he was and what to do.
The hotel was only a few miles from the Minneapolis Mall and it took less than three minutes for a couple of feds to show up. Vivi and her son sat clinging to one another, shivering uncontrollably. Michael was crying soundlessly. Something about that mute grief twisted a knife in Jed’s heart.
He handed the terrorist suspect into custody while one of the other agents picked up the guy’s belongings from the locker room. The would-be killer wasn’t allowed to get dried or dressed. Jed hoped the guy’s balls snapped off on the way to interrogation.
Jed grabbed his coat and Vivi’s bag from the lou
nge chair. Turned to find her watching him. There were questions in her frank blue gaze. Big questions about what happened next. Questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Come on.” He herded them out the door, through the lounge and into the elevator. Inside, he slipped his gun out of his holster. “Which floor?”
“Eight.”
“Which room?”
She reached into the side pocket of her purse and handed him a key card. He looked at it. 801.
He led the way, made her stay back while he did a rapid search of the room. It was empty. He figured these guys had people scouring all the local hotels and had gotten lucky. Chances were the guy under arrest had notified his cronies and they’d be on their way over, but they had feds and cops covering every floor and exit. His colleagues were staked out on all the nearby roads, watching and waiting for a bunch of bad guys to arrive on the scene. Even so he didn’t intend for Vivi or her son to be here if anyone slipped through the net. “Get dressed. Quick as you can.”
“What about you?” she eyed his wet clothes.
Thankfully his overcoat and feet were dry. That would have to do. “I’ll be fine until we can get to the local field office. I have other clothes in the car I can change into there.”
She started drying her son’s hair, but he put his hand on her waist and nudged her aside. “I’ll help Michael. You get dressed.”
Her pupils flared in an instinctive reaction to his touch, something animalistic that no one could control. He felt it too and it pissed him off. He did not want to get his job tangled up with emotions. Not this time. They all had far too much to lose if he didn’t bring his A-game to the field.
Then her expression shifted to surprise—which pissed him off even more. As if no one had ever offered to help her before. She nodded, suddenly as mute as her son, grabbed a handful of clothes and went into the bathroom. Jed stripped the kid, dried him, and pulled dry clothes on him. He rubbed himself down as best he could with a towel, ignoring the discomfort of his own wet skin. He wasn’t about to wander into work wearing a robe. He’d never live it down.
Next he packed the Vincents’ belongings. Stuffed everything he found in the drawers and wardrobe into the medium-sized suitcase—pausing for a second over the scraps of silken underwear in the top drawer. A knot of something uncomfortable tugged inside him. These bits of colored satin reminded him she wasn’t just a victim, she was a strong, beautiful woman whose life was about to take another nosedive after a seriously shitty day. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t like it. And he really didn’t like knowing it was this particular redhead who’d been caught up in this web of hatred and cowardice that put her and her son in danger, and that he’d played a part in it. Because now it was personal and he didn’t like that either.
This was what his boss was always warning him about. Personal was when you let people get too close, and it ended up screwing with your perspective and objectivity.
Not gonna happen this time.
Michael lay curled up in a ball on the floor. Jed threw everything he could find in the case without folding it. They had to get out of there fast.
Vivi came out of the bathroom looking more like her former poised, assured self. Her hair was slicked to her skull emphasizing her pale features, and tied back in a braid. She frowned at the case, then went back in the bathroom and came back zipping a toiletries’ bag. She tossed it in, then swept a hand under the pillows for night clothes and a stuffy that she pushed into Michael’s arms.
“Put his shoes on for me, will you?” she asked him.
Jed nodded.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her pack up her laptop and charger, then ease her feet carefully into winter boots—fresh spots of blood stained the thick socks she wore, but she didn’t slow down to deal with it. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
She eyed him distrustfully. It seemed to be her default mode. They had that in common, but he was law enforcement. What was her excuse?
“Is there a Mr. Vincent I should contact?” Shit, he hadn’t even thought about it earlier. There hadn’t been any need. She didn’t wear a ring but it didn’t mean she wasn’t married.
“No Mr. Vincent.”
The fact he was glad about that was a really bad sign. Emotional distance—remember?
“You’re going to freeze outside in this snowstorm.” She eyed him like he was an idiot. So much for lusting after his manly body.
“Not a lot I can do about that right now. I’ll be fine until we get to HQ.” He closed the suitcase and tugged Michael to his feet. Bent down and looked the boy in the eye. “I know you’re wiped, kid. You’ve beaten bad guys twice today and no one deserves a break more than you do.” He searched the kid’s face but he was zoned out. Jed didn’t blame him. “All I need you to do is get to the car, then I’ll do the rest. OK, buddy?”
Michael didn’t answer but he did take a few steps toward the door. Good enough. Vivi put her coat on while Jed helped Michael. She took the boy’s hand and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, her laptop bag already slung over her shoulder. Self-sufficient. Efficient. Alone. Even holding her son’s hand Vivi Vincent looked very much alone.
That thing tugged inside his chest again.
Terrorists. Danger. Focus.
Jed pulled out his handgun, placing his hand on Michael’s shoulder before carefully opening the door. Waiting for the elevator was one more pulse pounding moment in a day full of adrenaline rushes. They got out at the second floor and walked to the end of the corridor and down the stairs, heading to a side entrance nearest where he’d parked his car. Vivi stalled. “I need to check out.”
Jed shook his head, hand on her lower back urging her forward. “Don’t worry about it. We’re hoping to trap anyone who might be after you.”
Her eyes bulged and her throat rippled as she swallowed repeatedly. Shit, he hadn’t meant to spook her more than she already was.
“How did you find me?”
“Tracked your credit card activity.”
“Can the bad guys do that too?” Her eyes narrowed.
“I doubt it, but possibly.” Depended on who they had on the inside and Jed was betting they’d had someone on the inside at the Minneapolis Mall. Hopefully they didn’t have anyone inside the police department.
She fished her cell out of her pocket. “Can they track this?”
He flashed his badge at the uniform who stood at the outside door, then covered Vivi’s hand with his. She was freezing but it didn’t stop the skin-on-skin connection zapping along his nerves with a jolt of something hot and ill-timed.
“Turn it off but leave it in your pocket for now. Let’s get to headquarters where they can figure out a plan and I can get changed.” Because walking around Minneapolis in wet clothes in December was asking for frostbite. “Maybe the feds can use your cell to set another trap for the bad guys and end this thing.”
“And if they don’t?”
He didn’t want to think about that.
Her lips pinched. Blue eyes piercing in their intensity. “You won’t be staying with us, will you?”
Michael’s eyes shifted toward him, just enough for Jed to know the kid was listening to every word and that his answer mattered. “I don’t know where I’ll be yet, but I won’t just abandon you.” He’d thought he was way too experienced to make promises he might not be able to keep—obviously not. He gave Michael’s shoulder a squeeze and opened the door and walked into the frigid winter chill of the first major snowstorm of the season. Hello, Minnesota.
“We’re going to be stuck in protective custody, aren’t we?” she shouted over the howling wind.
“For now.” Christ, he was going to freeze to death before he reached the frickin’ car. He took the case from Vivi’s fingers and tried to shield her and Michael both from view and the wind. He scanned the parking lot, searching for the bad guys, knowing they could be anywhere. Goddamn it. This was the USA. None of th
is stuff was supposed to happen here.
Yeah. Which was the point these fuckers were trying to make. Welcome to the rest of the world.
***
Pilah’s heart raced as she sat in her little, blue Ford Focus in the hotel’s huge parking lot, engine running to try and keep warm as the thickening snowstorm turned the whole world white. The heater blasted out hot air but her hands and feet were numb with cold. She wasn’t used to such harsh weather. Her mother—a beautiful, blond American—had lived in Florida. Her parents had divorced when she was ten and her father had taken her back to the Eastern plateau of Syria without any objections from her mother.
She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother and didn’t want her daughters to go through the same experience.
After leaving the hospital, Pilah had gone home to find a man called Abdullah Mulhadre camped out in her living room. She’d surprised him. The cold light in his eyes had scared the crap out of her. At first she’d thought he was there to kill her, to tidy up any loose ends, but as time wore on she’d relaxed her guard. They’d spent the afternoon watching news of the attack, monitoring the growing swell of outrage. Then the feature on the boy had aired and she’d rushed to the bathroom to throw up.
She couldn’t believe she’d made such a terrible miscalculation and let the child live. She’d been blindsided by the scale of her mistake. Abdullah had followed her to the bathroom and she'd had to confess she couldn’t remember exactly what they’d discussed in the toy store and the boy might have overheard something.
He’d struck her.
Her cheek still stung, and she touched it gently. She hadn’t told him she’d seen the child at the hospital. The man would have killed her on the spot for not eliminating the problem. Abdullah gave her the creeps. She shivered. Most of the men she’d been involved with recently gave her the creeps.
“Why did you get involved with these people, Adad?” she asked her dead husband angrily, wiping the condensation of her breath from the windshield. Of course he didn’t answer, too busy hanging out with vestal virgins while she tried to figure out a way to save their children. “You always were a damn fool.” Her eyes dampened. Fool or not, she’d loved him.
Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) Page 6
