Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  Kane pushed off from the wall and walked over to him. With Blair on the floor in the corner and Kane—though not a particularly large man—standing over him, Blair looked pathetic.

  “The girls were a trap. I let you capture me to find out why. I took my escape, but circled back and heard you and your men talking about my brother. Why?”

  Blair’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he processed the information.

  Jack could deck Kane himself. He hadn’t known he’d intentionally let himself be grabbed. You don’t do that without backup! Kane couldn’t have known whether Blair had been given a kill order. He didn’t know if they might have incapacitated him. Drugged him. Shot him. Tossed him out of a fucking airplane.

  Sometimes Kane made Jack crazy.

  Kane’s arm came out so fast that if Jack wasn’t expecting it, he would have missed it. Kane punched Blair in the face. If he hadn’t checked his swing, the bones from Blair’s nose would have shot up into his brain. But as it was, Kane knew exactly what he was doing. Blair’s nose was smashed, he was in pain, but he would live.

  Blair started blubbering as blood poured from his face.

  Kane pulled Blair’s phone from his pocket and pushed his shaking thumb on the button to decode it. There was no reception here, but Kane scrolled through recent calls and texts. He frowned. Showed the phone to Jack.

  Jimmy Hunt was in his contacts. They’d had extensive contact two years ago, then intermittent contact since—apparently through a surrogate. Kane went through more carefully.

  “What’s going down?” Kane asked.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you!” Blair said, his nasally voice pained.

  Kane put his fist up and Blair screamed, then started choking on his own blood. He spat out blood, coughed, spat out more. Kane watched.

  He didn’t ask again.

  Blair began to sob. He put his head down on his knees and cried like a baby, muttering, though Jack couldn’t tell what he was saying.

  And still, Kane waited him out.

  “He’s escaping from prison, okay?” Blair finally said. “Sometime today. I don’t have the details. I don’t know when.”

  Hunt had been transferred to a prison in Texas, according to Megan. Beaumont wasn’t far from Houston, but what did that have to do with Sean?

  Sean was in prison in Houston.

  Could he be in the same prison? Jack couldn’t imagine how that would be possible. Sean was in jail, downtown, awaiting arraignment.

  Hunt was testifying in federal court. He might be kept in the same jail …

  Kane was doing his stare down, but Jack realized that Blair might not know exactly what was going on. He had some facts, but not all the details.

  “Sean Rogan,” Jack said. “Spill. Now.”

  “He’s the guy who stole all their money two years ago, that much I know. I was told to grab you,” he said to Kane, “to make him comply.”

  The way he said it, Jack believed him. And it made sense.

  Sean was in jail.

  Unless …

  Jack walked out. Kane followed.

  “I need to call Megan. Don’t kill him.”

  “He planned to transport me, probably to Hunt.”

  “Why set it up like this?”

  “Because we’re weaker here than we are in the States.”

  “This is about the money Sean siphoned off from the Hunts—that money is long gone, in government coffers. Sean can’t get it back,” Jack said.

  “Sean can get money for Hunt,” Kane said. “It doesn’t have to be their money.”

  Sean’s hacking skills came in handy, but now they put him at great risk.

  “We have to get him locked down.”

  “Sean isn’t going to help even if he thinks I’m in trouble,” Kane said. “I trained him better than that.”

  “It might not have been about you. Sean has other vulnerabilities. Nate is out of commission because of the drug bust, Brad is missing, and Lucy is likely in Houston because of Sean—which puts her at risk, even with Patrick watching her. It also means Jesse is vulnerable. Even if they can’t get to Jesse, if they get to you Sean might believe they also grabbed Jesse, and he’ll have no way to verify.”

  Kane clearly wasn’t confident in Jack’s analysis, but he nodded.

  Jack pulled his sat phone from his bag and called Megan. It took her several rings to answer.

  “Jack?” she said. Her voice sounded rushed and far away.

  “We have information that Blair has been in communication with Jimmy Hunt and that Hunt is planning an escape.”

  “Hunt escaped this morning and took Sean with him. One corrections officer dead, the other wounded—but he made a statement that Sean shot and killed his partner. The police think that Sean orchestrated the escape, there’s a manhunt, and they’re interrogating Lucy right now. Kate Donovan is on her way here and I hope she can take over the investigation, because this is a mess—I heard that a cell phone was found in Sean’s cell and the Houston computer system was hacked to put Sean on that specific bus.”

  “Blair knows that Sean is the one who took the Hunt money two years ago, which tells me that Hunt wants it back. Kane was targeted as leverage or revenge. Where is everyone right this minute?”

  “Lucy is here, with her lawyer. Patrick is in the lobby. I only got here ten minutes ago.”

  “Nate?”

  “I don’t know, specifically. He has a lead on the missing DEA agent.”

  “Who’s with Jess?”

  “I don’t remember his name. Lucy said he’s SWAT and she trusts him.”

  “Leo Proctor,” Jack said.

  “That’s it.”

  “Keep your phone on. I’m going to get more information.”

  He ended the call. Kane had listened, he didn’t say anything, but walked back into the house.

  Jack followed.

  Kane stood in front of Blair, who was a mess. “Where were you supposed to deliver me?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know. I was waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Hunt to get out of jail and then he’d tell me.”

  “On this phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll wait.”

  He paused.

  “Mexico, right?”

  Blair nodded.

  “And he planned to grab my brother on the way.”

  “He … I…”

  Kane took a step toward him and Blair cowered. “What are you hiding?”

  “Your brother isn’t coming here. Hunt said someone else wants him. I don’t know! I swear! All I know is that Hunt said he’d be down here twenty-four hours after the breakout and that I had better have you tied up with a bow.”

  Kane walked out. Jack followed. “We need him alive,” Jack said. “He can confirm Hunt’s escape plan and clear Sean.”

  “Only the escape plan. No one knows what happened in that bus except Sean.”

  “Sean would not kill a cop,” Jack said.

  “Not all cops are good cops.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s one survivor. He’s corrupt.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Kane didn’t say anything.

  “You’re thinking they needed someone on the inside.”

  “More than one inside. And we sure as shit didn’t find all of Nicole Rollins’s contacts. But why grab Donnelly? Other than revenge.”

  “If that’s the case, they already killed him.”

  “They might need him.”

  Jack wasn’t as confident as Kane that Brad Donnelly was alive. He hoped, but he didn’t think so.

  “I think,” Jack said slowly, “that Brad was grabbed solely for revenge, as you said. He killed Nicole in the SWAT raid. That would be enough.”

  “Then we would have already found his body,” Kane said. “Blair knows more.”

  “Agreed.”

  Kane went back inside.
r />   Jack didn’t follow.

  Sometimes, it was better not to know how his friend got the information he did.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  GULF OF MEXICO

  Sean looked for every opportunity to escape, but he was tied up and at least two men watched him at all times.

  He couldn’t see where they were going, but they’d turned left—south—about a quarter mile from the breakout site and had cruised steadily between fifty and sixty miles an hour. If they were heading south, they’d hit the Gulf pretty quickly.

  He was right. He could smell the change in the air, and then the van veered to the right and the road became bumpy. The driver was forced to slow down, but Sean felt every pothole in the road.

  He listened as best he could, but Jimmy Hunt wasn’t talking much. No one was talking much. The tension in the van was thick, and he wasn’t surprised. There would be a manhunt for them, and because a cop was dead, it would be put together fast. The guard Sheffield might be able to delay it, but not for long … as soon as they didn’t arrive at the prison, or didn’t check in on the radio, or if someone monitoring their GPS knew they had stopped, or if a driver on the highway saw the whole thing and called it in … law enforcement would be looking for them. They’d have access to helicopters, dogs, every state and federal agency.

  Fifteen minutes tops, Sean figured, and they’d already been driving for thirty.

  Hunt had changed in the van—he now wore military khakis and a black T-shirt. But Sean was clearly a prisoner, standing out in his bright orange jumpsuit with HDOC stenciled on the back.

  Hunt and his people had a plan. Timing mattered because Hunt kept asking about their ETA. He was texting someone almost constantly. When Sean opened his mouth to ask a question—sort of akin to “are we there yet”—he couldn’t get more than a word out before one of Hunt’s goons backhanded him.

  The van turned right again, then a sharp left, slogging through gravel, and then they traveled a deeply rutted dirt road. But not for long. A minute later, the van stopped, the driver slammed the vehicle into park, and turned off the ignition. “We have to jam. Cops on scene, they’ll close off the ports in minutes.”

  Ports? Where the hell were they taking him?

  “Haul him out, boys,” Hunt told the men watching Sean.

  One opened the back of the van while the other took a rope and wound it around Sean multiple times, binding his arms against his sides. They pushed him out and he fell onto hard-packed dirt. The blinding light made him blink rapidly, he could barely make out where he was. But he heard gulls and the sound of the ocean; they were at the Gulf of Mexico.

  Two men pulled him to his feet and pushed him along. He tried to drag his feet, but he just fell, and they hauled him up again.

  Hunt was leading the way. The second time Sean fell, Hunt stopped, turned around, and kicked Sean in the side. “Don’t fuck with me, Rogan. You don’t want to make me mad. You’ve already been a pain in my ass, and when this is over, I’ll enjoy watching the bullet hit your skull.”

  Two goons pulled him up again and held him tight as they crossed the lot to a dinghy on a rocky beach. There were no people around—why? It was a Saturday in April. He squinted to see better in the bright light. This wasn’t a full beach. There was some sort of barrier at the edge of the lot. Maybe they’d blocked it off for privacy; maybe it was closed for another reason.

  The boat could only fit four people; two of the men stayed behind.

  “Dump the van,” Hunt ordered, “and get back to San Antonio. Elise has been on her own for too long, and when she starts to make her own plans, she fucks up. If anything happens to her, you are both dead, understand?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Sean was pushed down into the bottom of the boat. Hunt climbed in and kicked him. “Stay down,” he ordered.

  Water soaked through his jumpsuit. The two goons pushed the boat off the shore, then jumped in and started the motor. They headed out to sea.

  Sean peered over the edge. If he threw himself off, he would drown. He was tied so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. He might be able to swim, even with the ropes, but they’d catch up with him. Shoot him or knock him out.

  Maybe death would be better than this.

  No. Alive, you have a fighting chance. Alive, you can think, plan, plot, get out of this mess. There’s no coming back from dead.

  He laid back down and looked at the bright sky through half-closed eyes. In minutes, they slowed down; a shadow cut across their dingy. Sean arched his neck—they had come upon a larger boat—practically a yacht. Hunt boarded first, then the two men lifted Sean on to the deck. One boarded, the other took the small motorboat back to shore.

  But it wasn’t just Hunt and his goon. Sean could hear other people on board. Voices. Footsteps. He couldn’t make them out, not what they said or where they were going. Hunt’s man and another grabbed Sean under the arms and dragged him down into the hull. They tied him to a support post and left without ceremony.

  Less than a minute later, the engines roared to life and the boat picked up speed.

  He was so screwed.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  HOUSTON, TEXAS

  As soon as Megan arrived in Houston, she stuck by Lucy. Patrick was working his own angle to get information about the escape, and Megan was the rock Lucy needed.

  Of course she was solid, she was Jack’s wife.

  They were in a private room at the jail. The media was gathering outside, and Lucy had seen early reports—Sean’s name had been released and her phone had been ringing constantly. She’d dismissed all the calls. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about what was happening. She could hardly believe it was happening at all.

  “Houston FBI wants to talk to you,” Megan said, handing Lucy a bottle of chilled water.

  “No.”

  “I think you should, if only to tell them you know nothing.”

  “I don’t know anything!”

  “This is a difficult situation, but anything you know may help bring Sean in safely.”

  “What I know is that Sean has been kidnapped by Jimmy Hunt and he’s in grave danger.”

  “But he’s not dead, that is a plus.”

  “For how long? Megan, I can’t—” Lucy stopped that train of thought. She couldn’t think about what-ifs, not now.

  Megan said, “Hunt wants Sean for something. Sean is the smartest guy I know. He’s going to find a way out.”

  Felicity came in and closed the door. Lucy introduced her to Megan. “We should talk alone,” Felicity said.

  “Anything you can say to me you can say to Megan.”

  “With all due respect, she’s an FBI agent.”

  “And my sister-in-law.”

  “She doesn’t have any privilege.”

  “I trust her. And my other sister-in-law is on her way. I need them working on this.”

  “Kate Donovan. I know.”

  That surprised Lucy. Word did get around fast.

  Felicity continued. “Houston FBI is up in arms that the national office is sending in someone to take over the investigation. They don’t know she’s your sister-in-law, however, so we’ll keep that to ourselves until they discover it on their own.” She paused. “She’s not related to your husband, right?”

  Lucy shook her head. “My brother’s wife. Kate is one of the top cybercrime experts in the FBI. She teaches at Quantico. She can look at the data from the phone they found in Sean’s cell and prove he didn’t do anything. And what about his prints? Did they dust it for prints?”

  “They’re doing everything, Lucy.” Felicity looked at her phone. “The SSA of Violent Crime is taking point on this. His name is Steven Pierce, he’s been in the Houston office for more than ten years. He wants to talk to you.”

  “I know Steven,” Megan said to Lucy. “We’ve met several times over the years. You can trust him.”

  “No, I can’t,” Lucy said.

  “Talk to him,” Felicity s
aid, “and I’ll make sure Sean’s rights are protected. I promise you that.”

  Reluctantly, Lucy agreed, and hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

  Steven came in alone, which Lucy appreciated. She already felt completely overwhelmed after Banner and his partner had talked to her earlier. After introductions, Steven sat down and said, “When was the last time that you spoke to your husband?”

  “Yesterday late afternoon,” Lucy said.

  “Did he give you any indication that he planned to escape?”

  “He didn’t plan to escape.”

  Steven stared at her. It didn’t faze her. She’d interviewed more than a hundred suspects, an FBI agent wasn’t going to get to her.

  The Houston cops did. You need to be focused, Lucy.

  She knew that the FBI would want to bring Sean in alive. Houston PD, she wasn’t so certain. So she needed to trust Steven Pierce—up to a point.

  Steven shifted gears. “Where would Sean go that he feels safe?”

  “If he can escape Hunt, he’ll call Rick Stockton, assistant director of the FBI, and arrange to turn himself in.”

  “Does Sean have any friends in Houston? Anyone he trusts?”

  He did, but Lucy wasn’t going to share that information and bring a SWAT team into someone’s life. Patrick was already talking to everyone Sean knew; better him than her, in case the police had her phone tapped.

  “You’re focused on the wrong thing, Agent Pierce,” Lucy said. “Jimmy Hunt planned this escape. He took Sean against his will. Find out where Jimmy Hunt would go, who he associates with in Houston. Find his daughter Elise and ask her where her father is.”

  “We are following all leads,” Steven said. “I’m trying to help you. I don’t want anyone hurt. I’m doing everything in my power to bring your husband in alive.”

  That blunt statement stabbed Lucy in the gut so hard she had to pause before she could speak.

  “And I’m telling you right now, Sean will do everything in his power to free himself and turn himself in.” She wasn’t a hundred percent certain of that. Sean might run if only because he feared for his life. But for now, she was sticking to this. “Multiple people helped Hunt break out. Talk to the corrections officer who lied when he said Sean killed a cop. Sean would never kill a cop. Talk to the people Hunt was in prison with, whom he associates with, who would take a job from him. He ran a major drug smuggling operation for years, he infiltrated the DEA, he has people on his payroll, and if you don’t focus on that, you’ll never find them and Sean will be dead!”