Don't Look Back

by Christie Craig

  Connor shot him a scowl. “So what?”

  Mark raised a brow and grinned. “How’s it going?”

  Connor frowned. “What? Your sex life so boring you want to hear about mine?”

  “Whoa. I wasn’t…My sex life’s fantastic. You obviously aren’t getting enough, or you wouldn’t be in such a piss-poor mood.”

  “I’m not…She doesn’t want to see me again. End of story. Let it go.”

  “Okay.” Mark gave him a look, then pulled out his phone. “I’m going to get a nearby unit to meet us at the hotel. We know the man has a gun.”

  He made the call, and when he hung up, he said, “What do you think about giving Agent Calvin a courtesy call?”

  His partner’s question was background noise to what Connor had running through his head. You’re right. I woke up thinking about you. About all the reasons why this would be a stupid idea.

  “Stupid.” Connor glanced at Mark. “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t think I should call him?” Mark asked.

  “The sex was fantastic,” Connor said. “And yeah, I screwed up, but I apologized. I told her I said a bunch of stupid stuff and that I wanted to date her. She doesn’t even seem mad anymore. And she likes me. She ate my breakfast. Do you eat someone’s breakfast if you don’t like them?”

  Mark shrugged. “I guess not.”

  “And it wasn’t because I fed her that bite of pancake, because I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me, then she just cut me off.” He slammed the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Mark said under his breath.

  “What?”

  Mark rephrased his comment. “I mean, women can be hard to figure out.”

  “No, shit!” Connor said.

  “But I’ll tell you this. Most of the time, they’re right. They think this shit through.”

  Connor slammed on his brakes at a light. “You’re saying she shouldn’t see me?”

  “No. I’m saying that she has a reason to think she shouldn’t see you. You said you screwed up. Maybe she’s still hanging on to that. And if you understand her reasons, then maybe you can convince her that you didn’t mean to…to give her that reason. That you deserve a chance.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Most guys would say flowers or chocolate. But that doesn’t work with Annie. I mean, she likes them, but if it’s an apology kind of thing, you need something that matters to them. Something small, but grand.”

  “Small but grand? That doesn’t make sense.” The light changed and Connor went back to driving.

  “I mean…think of something she likes, something that she mentioned or maybe she didn’t think you knew about, or that you didn’t hear her. And get it for her. I have a things-Annie-likes list on my phone for when I screw up.” Mark paused. “Or what’s her favorite food?”

  “I don’t…She likes pancakes.”

  Mark looked down at the tampon. “You could also do something that guys don’t normally do.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “I went and bought Annie tampons once. You’d have thought I bought her an expensive piece of jewelry. She thought it was a big deal.”

  “So small but grand and buy tampons,” Connor said.

  Right then Mark’s phone rang. He checked the number. “It’s Juan.” He answered the call. “You did?” Mark glanced at Connor. “You’re kidding me? Shit!”

  “What?” Connor asked as he pulled into Bara’s hotel parking lot and spotted two black-and-white cars waiting on them.

  “Yeah, but hurry.” Mark hung up and turned to Connor. “The prints came back. They aren’t Dillon Armand’s. They are his cousin’s, Marcus Armand. He’s not using a fake passport. All this time we thought…He’s not the guy connected to Brie’s sister’s murder. She was so certain that—”

  “She was certain because he’s been saying he’s Dillon Armand. He signed into the hotel here as him. Told everyone he has ties to the clubs.”

  “Yeah, but impersonating a cousin isn’t enough to hold him on. ICE was set to arrest him for using a false passport. They can’t do that now.”

  “Shit,” Connor said. “But it doesn’t mean he’s not connected to Brie’s sister’s murder. Maybe the witness who said they saw Dillon Armand with Ronan got the two cousins mixed up? They look alike. Or maybe they are both behind it. The whole family is crooked.”

  “Everything you say is probably true. But it means we have nothing to hold him on. And as for his involvement in Alma’s murder, we can’t know for sure if he was involved. He’s not mentioned in the report, so there’s no evidence.”

  “Then we have to get it,” Connor said.

  “How?” Mark ran a hand over his face. “At least it looks as though we’ve got the Olvera case in the bag.” He looked out the window at the patrol cars. “Let’s see if we can find the phone Bara used to text Omen and bring the agent in to have a chat.”

  Connor, still spinning from the news about Armand, followed Mark over to the two officers.

  Connor spoke up. “We’re serving a warrant to search the suspect’s hotel room and are going to bring him in for a chat. He’s an FBI agent, so he’s armed. We don’t know how cooperative he’s going to be. This may go easy or it may go bad.”

  “Juan is on his way,” Mark said as his phone rang. “Detective Sutton,” he answered.

  “Yeah.” Mark frowned. “How?” Pause. “Thanks for letting us know.”

  “What?” Connor asked.

  “That was Detective Sampson. The story about Rosaria and the shooting got out. It’s all over the Internet.”

  “Shit,” Connor said. “If Bara’s seen it, he’s probably gotten rid of the phone.”

  A few minutes later, Juan pulled up, and all five of them walked into the hotel.

  After getting the room number, and a key from the front desk—just in case Agent Bara had already left—they rode the elevator up in silence. Stepping out on the fifth floor, they were two doors down from his room when Connor’s phone rang. He pulled it out and cut it off, but before the screen went dark, he spotted Brie’s number.

  Connor walked up to the door and knocked. When he didn’t hear anything, he knocked again.

  Finally, a voice came from behind the door. “Coming.”

  * * *

  Brie left a message on Connor’s phone explaining what she’d learned about Agent Calvin’s daughter. Then because she wasn’t 100 percent sure the girl’s mission trip had been to Guatemala, she went home, to search for an old email from Calvin with the information. She couldn’t find it.

  Suddenly, remembering she’d donated to a GoFundMe page for the mission, she searched for the PayPal receipt. Once she located it, she got the name of the church and checked their Facebook page. She found it. There was a post about the Guatemalan mission. It even included a picture of Calvin’s daughter.

  “Damn!”

  She drew in a deep breath and told herself it didn’t mean he was guilty. She still needed something else. Like Pablo’s phone. Suddenly, an idea started to form.

  She grabbed her keys, went into the kitchen to her junk drawer, and pulled out her old phone. She turned it on to make sure it didn’t have any juice, then grabbed a plastic baggie, and took off.

  It was ten till eight when she pulled up to the police precinct. Taking a deep breath, she got her story straight in her head.

  Walking into the building, she went straight to Mildred’s desk.

  “Just the person I was hoping to see.” The woman pulled her newspaper over. “Nickname of Alabama University. Eleven letters.”

  “Crimson Tide,” Brie said.

  “I knew you’d know it.”

  She forced a smile. “Is Connor in?”

  “Not yet. None of them are here. Which is really rather strange.”

  “What about Agent Calvin?”

  “He walked in about five minutes ago. He’s set up office in Conference Room A. It’
s—”

  “I know where it is. Thanks.”

  As she headed that way her chest grew heavier with each step. Was the man who’d brought her into the FBI, the person she’d grown to respect and admire, really behind Pablo’s murder and Carlos’s attempted murder?

  When she got to the door, she reached around and reassured herself by tapping the Glock that was tucked in the back of her jeans. Taking one deep breath, she knocked.

  Even if he was guilty, he wouldn’t hurt her, she told herself.

  * * *

  Connor went through the suitcase again as Juan walked back into the hotel room. “No phone in his car.”

  “It’s not here either.” Connor slammed the top of the plastic suitcase.

  “He could have ditched it when he didn’t hear back from Omen,” Mark said.

  “Yeah,” Connor agreed, but he really wanted that phone. Really wanted substantial proof.

  Right then Agent Bara stormed into the room, followed by one of the uniformed officers. While Bara had been less than happy when he’d opened the door to their search warrant, he’d handed over his gun.

  “What’s wrong?” Bara snapped. “Disappointed? I told you I didn’t have a second phone.”

  “Let’s go down to the precinct,” Connor said.

  “What the hell do you think you have on me? Whatever it is, you’re fucking up. I didn’t leak information on the Sala case and I sure as hell didn’t hire anyone to shoot Agent Olvera!”

  “And you don’t know a Kevin Omen either, do you?” Connor snapped, then studied the guy’s expression, hoping to see a flash of guilt. Or maybe a flicker of fear that he was caught.

  The man flinched, but Connor couldn’t call it guilt or fear. Of course, the guy could just be good at hiding shit. He’d met a lot of skilled liars in his time.

  “What does he have to do with this?” Bara asked.

  Connor didn’t expect Bara to deny knowing Omen, that was too easy to disprove, but the genuine surprise in his voice sent a shot of acid to his stomach. They had the wrong man.

  * * *

  “Come in,” Agent Calvin said from the other side of the door.

  Holding the baggie with the phone inside, she opened the door and entered the room. “Hey. I was hoping one of the APD officers was in here.”

  “No.” His gaze lowered to what was in her hand. “Why?”

  “I needed to give them something.” She lifted the baggie.

  “What is it?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he stood up. “Is that Pablo Ybarra’s phone?”

  And that was exactly why she was here. There was no way he could know about this phone. No way. Unless he’d been the one to call it eight months ago.

  Her heart took a nosedive. “Yeah. It came in the mail this morning. I…uh, don’t know what’s on it. The battery’s out.”

  “Give it to me. I’ll have it checked out.”

  “That’s okay. I already told the guys I’d hand it over to them.” She didn’t even know why she was pushing it, except…

  “Just give it to me,” Agent Calvin said. “Now, dammit!”

  She’d never been afraid of this man. Even now as his six-foot frame came toward her, it wasn’t fear bubbling in her gut. It was betrayal, bitterness, and a deep sadness. The kind that robbed you of trust in human kindness.

  He tugged the bag from her hand. She lifted her eyes, and before she considered the wisdom of it, the words left her lips. “Did they threaten to kill your daughter? Is that what happened?”

  For just a second, she thought she saw shame in his eyes. But then it was gone.

  After blinking, he squared his shoulders and said, “They said they’d kill her if I didn’t turn over the information. If I didn’t take your CI out. They sent me pictures of her in Guatemala. Until you have children you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Then that’s what you should tell the cops.”

  He shook his head. She reached for her gun the same time he did. But she was quicker. “Don’t do it.”

  His hand remained tucked under his coat. “I can’t go to prison.”

  The trigger against the pad of her index finger felt cold. “You had Pablo killed. You ordered a hit on Carlos and on Rosaria. Do you know how hard it is for me to wrap my head around that? I respected you. I trusted you.”

  “I tried talking Carlos into dropping it. He wouldn’t. I didn’t want him to die. I tried stopping him.”

  “And Pablo and Rosaria? They didn’t matter?”

  “The Sala family insisted Pablo had to die. And Rosaria was the reason Carlos started looking into the case again.”

  “Drop your hand from your coat.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Agent Calvin,” Mildred’s voice came from behind the door.

  Brie’s gaze shifted to the door for a fraction of a second. That’s all it took for Calvin to grab his gun.

  As her eyes cut back, she saw the barrel of the gun being pulled from the lapel of his jacket. Her finger began to depress the trigger—but she hesitated one second too long.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’m sorry.” His words had barely reached Brie’s ears, when the gun swung up under his chin and exploded. Blood and white matter sprayed all over the ceiling. His body, already lifeless, fell back on the table with a dull thud.

  She sank to her knees. A scream lodged in her throat. Air trapped in her lungs. Tears filled her eyes.

  She heard the loud crack of the door being swung open and slammed against the wall. Heard voices demanding, ordering. But the words were lost to her, she couldn’t look away from Agent Calvin’s body splayed out on the table.

  Someone knelt beside her. Her gun was pulled from her hand.

  More voices surrounded her. “Her gun hasn’t been fired. He shot himself.” Words echoed all around her.

  “Brie.” Her name rang out above the noise. Someone had her hands in theirs. “Come on. I got you.” The words murmured in her ear: deep, soft, caring. Her mind and heart rejected the tenderness. She’d just seen a man violently blow his head off.

  She studied the person talking. Connor.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  She shot to her feet. When he moved in closer, she waved him off. “Stop!”

  He motioned her toward the door. “Come on.”

  She looked back at Agent Calvin, his eyes still open. The top of his head was gone. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth as a sad sound leaked from her lips.

  Connor’s arm came around her shoulder. She let him guide her out. He moved her into the hall, where a crowd of police officials gathered.

  “Move back,” Connor ordered and an opening appeared. He moved her across the hall to another door and gently nudged her inside.

  He pulled a chair out and turned it away from the table.

  “Sit down.”

  She felt her hands, her knees, her heart trembling. “I’m okay.”

  “Please sit down.”

  She dropped into the seat. He pulled another chair over and sat down, facing her.

  Meeting his eyes, she said, “He shot himself.”

  “I know.”

  He sat there, silent, just looking at her for several minutes. “I saw a phone in the baggie. Is that Pablo’s phone? Did it come in the mail?”

  “No. It’s an old phone of mine. I…I realized he wouldn’t know about the phone unless…unless he was behind everything. So I wanted to see how he’d react.” She had to swallow to keep her voice from shaking. “He asked if it was Pablo’s phone.”

  “Did he admit to hiring Omen?”

  She nodded. “They had his daughter.” Calvin would still be alive if she hadn’t gone in there. Guilt started to build until she remembered Carlos and Pablo. She pushed it back down, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

  “His daughter?” Connor asked.

  She took in a deep breath. “I left you a message.”

  He frowned. “We were bringing in Bara
.” He reached for her hands. But she was afraid his touch or any sort of empathy would bring her to tears. She pulled them back.

  He acknowledged her withdrawal and dropped his hands in his lap. “Do you need something to drink?”

  “No. And please stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Coddling me.” Her throat tightened.

  “I’m not—”

  “Can you…I want to be alone. Please! I need a little time.”

  He walked out. Brie pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her calves. She closed her eyes, but when her mind replayed the shooting, she forced them back open.

  Less than thirty minutes later, the door opened. She expected it to be Connor. It wasn’t.

  Eliot walked in. Brie stood up, and he pulled her against him.

  Her throat tightened; her eyes stung. She clung to him for a few seconds, before drawing back. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah. I just keep thinking about his family.” Her chest tightened. “His daughter is going to blame herself.”

  “He made a lot of mistakes that got him here, Brie. None of this is on you.”

  “I know.” And she did. This wasn’t her fault. But fault or not, she felt grief for the man she used to know. “Connor called you?” she asked.

  He nodded. “He was worried about you.”

  “Well, I’m fine now. Someone raised me to be tough.”

  “Tough maybe, but you’re still human.”

  “Yeah, there is that.” She inhaled. “How’s Carlos?”

  “Really good. He’s responding to questions now. Shaking his head yes and no. The doctors are taking out the tube this afternoon.”

  “Good. I’ll go and see him when I’m finished here.” She looked back at the door. “I should go. They’re going to need a statement from me.”

  “You need me with you?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I promise. You should be sleeping. And tell Sam he doesn’t need to stay at the hospital. At least this part of this debacle is over.” Brie considered Rosaria—this meant it was over for her, too.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Brie said.

  Connor walked in. His gaze went right to her. He had a piece of paper in his hands. “You should see this.”