“Keep driving. We’ll park farther up the block. I don’t see anyone out of place. Do you?”
They passed an older man walking a poodle and a teenage couple making out beside a car. The girl pulled away and hurried up the sidewalk toward the building.
“At this hour, anyone loitering in the area would definitely stand out.” GQ pulled into the lot of the apartment complex and parked in an empty slot. “The unit we want should be in the back building. We can walk through the courtyard to get to the entrance.”
“Let’s go.” Noah turned on his transceiver, stepped out of the car, and checked his holstered weapon.
They set off at a quick jog. Rounding a dumpster at the end of the parking lot, they avoided the lighted walkways and ran down a maintenance path toward the rear building. Noah stopped beside a storage shed when a woman exited the complex, head bent as she texted while she walked. Once she disappeared from view, he and GQ hurried toward the entrance.
A row of lighted buttons with numbers was aligned beneath an overhang to the left of the double glass doors.
“221. We’re at the right building,” GQ spoke quietly.
Noah nodded and bent to take a closer look at the lock. Pulling a flat case from the pouch on his belt, he selected two metal tools and set to work. Thirty seconds later, the lock clicked. “We’re in.”
Rows of mailboxes lined the well-lit vestibule. Hallways stretched to either side. Straight ahead, an open staircase led to the second floor. The thumping cadence of rap music vibrated from an apartment on their left. Somewhere down the righthand corridor, a door opened. Raised voices were silenced by a hard slam. A man, probably in his late thirties, wearing jeans and a leather jacket emerged from the hallway. He barely looked at them before brushing past to shove open the entry door.
Noah checked his instinctive move toward his weapon and ran up the stairs. Unit 221 was halfway down the hall to their right. While GQ kept watch at the top of the stairs, Noah approached the apartment. The low murmur of a male voice could be heard through the door. Quietly twisting the knob, he swore silently when it didn’t budge. Locked.
“The courier parked her car and is on foot, carrying the laptop. She just reached a coffee house near Faneuil Hall and pulled her phone out of her purse.” Wolf’s voice came through his earpiece. “We’ll give her a minute and then follow her inside, but it seems pretty certain they aren’t holding your brother in a public place.”
A ringtone came from inside the apartment. Noah pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear.
“Good. Pete knows what to do with the laptop. You can go home once you give it to him.” The voice was faint but distinct.
He signaled to GQ and drew his weapon. Once his partner reached him, he gave a single nod and whispered into his mouthpiece, “The courier’s contact is in the apartment. We’re going in hot.”
Chapter Twenty
“Are you there? Riley, did you hear what I said?”
Heart pounding, Riley disconnected the call and stared at her phone, wondering if she was a complete fool for hanging up on Detective Brasher. While she was second-guessing her decision, her phone dinged. A missed call had come in while she talked to the detective. With an unsteady finger, she touched the screen to check her messages.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall and listened to Noah’s voice. He sounded worried, but she had no intention of adding to his anxiety by telling him she might be in danger. Right now, he needed to focus his full attention on rescuing his brother.
When her phone rang again, she nearly dropped it. Juggling the cell, she checked the screen. Brasher calling her back. Letting out a shaky breath, she held down the button to turn off her phone, then walked back to the table and shoved it into her purse. Maybe he was right and her current location had been compromised. If that was the case, waiting around for the detective to show up didn’t seem like a smart move.
Besides, Noah had told her not to talk to anyone.
“I got myself into this damn mess. I’ll get myself out of it,” she muttered.
After saving her notes and powering off her laptop, she slid the computer into its case. Taking gloves and a hat from her suitcase to combat the cold, she pulled a sweater on over her shirt and topped it with her jacket. If she had to walk for any distance, at least she wouldn’t freeze.
But there was a chance she wouldn’t have to.
“Let’s go, Stormy.”
Yawning and blinking a couple of times, the dog slowly rose to her feet and stretched before jumping off the bed. Riley snapped the leash onto her collar, grabbed the laptop and her purse, and opened the door a crack. The hallway was empty—no unknown assailants waiting to attack her. With Stormy leading the way, she hurried to the stairs and ran down them. The dog’s nails clicked as they crossed the floor to the desk.
There was no sign of the innkeeper, but the golden retriever puppy burst through a doorway down the back hall and ran toward them, emitting shrill yips of excitement. Stormy stood quietly while Oscar jumped on her.
“You’re a good girl to put up with that.” With the toe of her sneaker, Riley pushed the puppy away.
“Oscar, stop!” Yvonne shuffled down the hallway, wearing a plaid, flannel robe the same shade of red as her hair and matching slippers. “Such a ruckus. Can I help you with something, Mrs. Bond?”
“Do you know if there’s a cab company or Uber driver that would take me to Boston tonight? If not, possibly a nearby bus?” She spoke up to be heard over the barking.
Yvonne’s eyes widened. “My goodness. Did you and your husband have a fight? I heard someone drive away earlier, but I assumed you’d gone out to dinner.”
“He had a . . . uh . . . a work emergency. He thought he’d be able to return tonight, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”
“Couldn’t you just stay here until morning? Maybe you’ll be a little lonely, but—”
Riley looked into the woman’s honest eyes and took a chance. “I’m in a bit of trouble. Someone’s looking for me, and I don’t feel safe.”
Yvonne pressed a hand to her chest, and her cheeks flushed. “I thought you looked familiar when you arrived. You’re the spitting image of that actress who married the prince. Are you running away from your husband, young lady?”
“Of course not! Believe me, I’m not a duchess in disguise.” Riley could barely keep a straight face, imagining the rumors her hostess would spread. “My situation isn’t nearly that glamorous. I just need to get back to Boston as soon as possible.”
“You seem like a nice woman. Very trustworthy. I happen to know the local man who drives for Uber is laid up with back spasms, but a late bus to Boston runs through Rutland.” She stopped speaking, bent to pick up Oscar, and held him against her chest. Worried frown lines creased her forehead as she stroked the puppy’s fur. “I’d like to help you, but my nephew constantly tells me my soft heart will get me into trouble.”
“I am trustworthy, and I really could use your help.” Riley was pretty certain she looked every bit as desperate as she felt.
“I don’t drive much anymore, but my old Buick still runs like a charm.”
“You’d take me to the bus station?”
“Oh, I have terrible night vision, but you could drive yourself and leave my car at the depot. My nephew will pick it up for me tomorrow. Granted, he’ll give me a lecture, but I’m used to that.”
“Honestly? I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate that.”
“My pleasure, dear. The world would be a better place if people gave others the benefit of the doubt more often. I’ll go find my keys.” With a decisive nod, she set the puppy down and headed toward the back of the house.
“Did you hear that, Stormy? No walking. I hope the bus driver doesn’t give me a hard time about you. Maybe I can convince him you’re a service dog.”
“Here you go, hon.” Yvonne returned, waving a pink key fob. “My car is in the garage at the back of the
parking lot. Head into town and make a left at Boylston Avenue. That road will take you over to Rutland. When you get to the bus depot, put the key in the hide-a-key box under the rear bumper.”
Riley took the fob and gave Yvonne a hug. “Thank you. Your nephew should be very proud of his kind-hearted aunt.”
Her trilling laugh filled Riley with warmth.
“Oh, I think he is.” She patted Riley’s arm. “Don’t worry about shutting the garage door. There’s nothing in there worth stealing. You be careful, young lady. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll tell them I haven’t had any new guests tonight.”
“I appreciate that. Oh, I left our luggage in the room since I can’t carry everything. We’ll be back to pick it up tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then. Bye, dear.”
“Bye, Yvonne, and thanks again.”
Riley shut the front door behind her with a quiet click and took a long look out over the quiet street before hurrying down the steps and around the building. She reached the garage without seeing a soul, pulled the rod out of the hasp holding the doors closed, and opened them wide. An older model green Buick took up most of the space in the enclosure. Squeezing between the wall and the front fender, she made her way to the driver’s side door and opened it.
“Hop in, Stormy. You can ride shotgun.”
The dog jumped up onto the seat and scrambled over the center console. Riley climbed in and set her laptop and purse on the passenger seat floor.
“We’re out of here.”
She started the engine, turned on the lights, and inched the car out of the garage. At the street, she stopped to wait when a vehicle approached from her left. The bright headlights blinded her as a big Hummer slowed and turned into the driveway, nearly sideswiping the Buick.
“What the hell?” Blinking to clear her vision, Riley turned right onto the street and stepped on the gas. The old car surged ahead with more power than she’d expected. When lights flashed in an arc behind her, she glanced in her rearview mirror. The Hummer had backed out of the bed and breakfast driveway, swinging wide onto the street to follow her. Within seconds, it narrowed the gap between them.
“Oh, crap.” She squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened and pressed on the accelerator. Missing the turn for Boylston Avenue, she flew through the center of town and headed straight up Mountain Road, whizzing past a church with the Hummer riding her bumper.
Where’s a cop when you need one?
Heart thumping, she glanced at the speedometer as the needle crept up past sixty. Lights ahead gave her a glimmer of hope. Some sort of medical facility. Maybe she could . . .
When she let her foot off the gas, the huge vehicle slammed into her bumper, sending her across the center line. Stormy slid off the seat, landed on her computer case, and let out a yelp. Riley’s neck snapped back, and a whimper escaped as she swerved back into her lane and passed the driveway to the clinic.
Thick forest lined the road on either side as they gained elevation. Hadn’t Noah said something about a ski area near Princeton? Sweat damped her skin as she tried to decide what to do. Her phone was in her purse, currently under her cowering dog, and she was afraid to take her hands off the wheel to reach for it.
A huge parking lot opened up to her left as she reached the summit of the hill, with some sort of lodge on one side. Low lights illuminated the perimeter of the building, but there weren’t any cars parked nearby.
When the Hummer hit her again, she let out a shriek and careened across the road into the lot. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
Terror nearly choked her as she drove toward the back of the parking area where her headlights illuminated the base of a chairlift. When the other driver cut her off, she ran the car up onto the dirt and slammed on her brakes. With a jolt, the engine died. Seconds later, the Hummer’s front grill blocked her door.
Riley threw herself across the console to open the passenger door. “Let’s go, Stormy. Reaching down, she grabbed the laptop and her purse and scrambled out behind the dog. When her purse strap caught on the door handle and jerked out of her grasp, she let it go.
Running full out, Riley fled up the hill with Stormy loping along beside her. The laptop slapped against her leg, but she kept a tight grip on the case and forced herself to maintain her pace, even as she labored to breathe. A male voice shouted something she couldn’t make out before footsteps pounded the ground behind her. A shot echoed in the night and pinged off the ground. She veered right into thick trees. Keeping her hands out in front of her in the dark, a branch slashed her face. She held back a cry.
Some distance behind, a light flashed, not the powerful beam of a flashlight, but a dim glow she guessed came from a cell phone. Faint swearing and her pursuer’s thrashing progress covered the rustles she and Stormy made as she picked her way up the hillside. When her foot caught in a tangle of underbrush, she went down hard and lay still for a moment to catch her breath as tears burned her eyes. Finally, she pressed against the ground and rose on shaking legs to stare back down the hill.
Darkness surrounded her. The moon was shrouded in clouds, emitting only a dim glow low in the sky to the west. There was no sign of the man following her, and no hint of footfalls penetrated the dense forest. Reaching down, she stroked Stormy’s ears as the dog leaned against her leg. Had she lost him?
“Maybe he went back to the parking lot,” she murmured.
She was dead certain he hadn’t left the area. In the stillness of the night, she would have heard an engine. He might have quit following her, but she could only assume he was down there, sitting in his Hummer. Waiting.
A shiver shook her. She had no way to call for help and no means of transportation other than on foot. Chances were, she’d become hopelessly lost if she kept walking through the forest in the dark.
“Damn. Damn. Damn.” Her voice broke as she sank onto the damp ground and leaned against a rotted log. “I guess we’re staying right here until sunrise.”
With a sigh, Stormy lay down next to her. Thankful to have the dog’s company, Riley closed her eyes and hoped to God Noah was safe and that he’d found his brother.
* * * *
Noah took a step backward and kicked open the apartment door. It exploded inward and slammed against the wall.
GQ entered first, holding his weapon extended as he swept the room. “Hands where I can see them,” he shouted. “Now!”
A middle-aged man wearing a dress shirt and a loosened tie reached for the revolver laying on the coffee table in front of him. A shot echoed as GQ fired. The man let out a shrill yell and toppled backward against the couch cushions. The cell phone in his hand slid to the floor as blood darkened the white material at his shoulder to a deep red. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped sideways against the gray leather.
Noah ran into the room behind GQ and knocked the weapon off the table. Stepping around the end of the couch, he laid two fingers against the man’s throat. A pulse throbbed steadily.
GQ advanced toward a closed door on the opposite side of the room and pushed it open. “Clear. Your brother’s in there, and he looks okay.”
“This asshole is definitely Andrew Murdock. I recognize him from photos.” Noah left the man’s side and hurried toward the bedroom. “Put some pressure on the wound, will you. He’ll live if you stop the bleeding. Not that I really care. And you’d better call 9-1-1, though I’m pretty sure some of the neighbors already did.”
GQ nodded. “Yeah, I hear sirens now.”
Garth was tied to a straight-back chair next to a desk with his hands behind him and a gag in his mouth. His dark eyes registered exhaustion and fear as their gazes locked. But the overriding emotion reflected in their depths was anger.
Reaching his brother’s side, he removed the gag and pulled out a pocketknife to slash the cords holding him in place.
Garth’s voice came out in a croak when he tried to clear his throat. “About damn time you showed up.”
Noah pic
ked up a water bottle sitting on the desk and unscrewed the cap before handing it to him. “Are you hurt?”
His brother gulped some of the water. “A few bruises and a knot on my skull where that asshole hit me and knocked me silly. My head aches like a mother. Otherwise, I’m just peachy.” Sarcasm rang in his voice. “The bastard who brought me here looked familiar. I think he was in the bar the night that guy asked questions about you. Anyway, he left when some dude in a suit showed up. Did he shoot at you?”
“The suit is Andrew Murdock. My partner shot him.” Noah felt his brother’s head. “The swelling isn’t too bad, but you likely have at least a mild concussion. I’ll take you back to headquarters to run tests once we deal with the police.” Noah let out a long, relieved breath. “I’m thankful you aren’t hurt worse. I’m sorry, Garth. You were in danger because of me.”
“Hell yes, I was. You damn well owe me.”
“I guess I do.” Noah slid his arm around his brother. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah.” Pushing a palm flat against the desk, he rose to his feet. “My circulation isn’t great from being tied up, but I can walk. Did you kill that smug bastard?”
“GQ just winged him.”
“Too bad. He pissed me off with his insinuations you might not give a shit if they put a bullet in me. Again, what the hell took you so long getting here?”
“Believe it or not, finding you wasn’t a piece of cake. I’m just glad we arrived when we did.” Noah led him toward the main room. “When the cops arrive, do what they tell you and don’t offer any information until we get this situation sorted out.”
“Sure. After what I’ve been through, I don’t want to get shot by the good guys.”
“No kidding. Rescues in remote jungles are easier than domestic situations. Less aftermath to deal with.”
“True that.” GQ glanced toward the door as footstep grew louder in the corridor. “Here they come. I talked to Wolf, and he said he’d call Brasher. Hopefully the detective will help straighten out this mess. Until then, get ready to hit the floor.”
Lethal Memory (A Counterstrike Novel Book 2) Page 23
