Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  They would be docking somewhere. He had to find the strength to make his move when the opportunity came. He stretched and the ropes tightened.

  Think!

  He couldn’t see anything; the hull was dark. His hands were numb so he started working his fingers back and forth, little stretches, trying to keep his blood circulating. It took several minutes, but he was able to move better. When he regained control of his fingers, he started feeling the knots on the ropes, trying to picture how they were tied by touching each curve. It took him a while—he relied on sight too much, he realized—but he developed a plan to untie them. He didn’t know how long he had, but he worked methodically, carefully, shifting slightly now and again.

  Thirty minutes later, the binds fell off. He shook out his arms as full feeling rushed back in. He then untied the ropes around his chest, the ones that tied him to the support beam.

  Almost free.

  The big problem were the shackles around his feet. Not only did they make noise when he moved, he couldn’t run and if he jumped in the water, they would pull him down or make it extremely difficult—and exhausting—to swim. Not impossible, but it would slow him down and they’d easily shoot or recapture him.

  He could pick the locks if he had the right tools, but he had nothing.

  Getting out of his binds had given him hope, and now he again felt lost. Dammit!

  Think, Rogan!

  The yacht reduced speed. It turned to the right, and based on the motion of the water, they were going over choppy waves. For fifteen minutes they maintained moderate speed, then the engines idled. Someone was maneuvering the boat through some sort of obstacle. Or inlet. Where they hell were they? Sean figured they’d been out on the water around three hours. How far could they have gone? Not to Mexico. If they’d gone south, they’d be past Galveston, he figured. But he didn’t know the geography well enough to know the towns along the coast. Certainly Corpus Christi, the next major coastal city Sean could think of, would have taken longer than three hours by speedboat. If they’d gone east, they’d be somewhere along the Louisiana border, but New Orleans would be hours, if not a day or more, away. There were lots of places they could dock, but no major towns. They could pull up at a private dock where there could be a helicopter or plane waiting to take them to Mexico.

  Finally, the boat stopped. Sean waited, tense. He wanted to go down fighting, but he didn’t want to die.

  Then the door above him opened and light blinded him. He closed his eyes and he heard laughter.

  “Well, look at that, he got out of his binds.”

  “I told you he would,” a voice said.

  A very, very familiar voice he hadn’t heard in two and a half years.

  * * *

  Sean stood outside Colton Thayer’s hospital room and thought about leaving. Colton didn’t want to see him. He’d refused all of Sean’s calls over the last week.

  But he was getting out of the hospital tomorrow. If not now, Sean didn’t know when he’d ever have a chance to apologize. It was one of those awful situations—Sean didn’t regret working with the FBI to take down a corrupt United States senator, but Sean really wished he didn’t have to use his best friend to do it.

  It was water under the bridge. What was done was done, and Sean just wanted to explain … or maybe not. What could he say? He had no excuse. Colton had been working for Senator Jonathan Paxton for good reasons—reasons Sean would have joined him in supporting ten years ago. But today? Sean had changed. While he understood the allure of white hat hacking, he was in love with an FBI agent and he wasn’t going to risk his freedom, or Lucy’s career, to go back to his old ways.

  And, Sean realized over time, sometimes two wrongs didn’t make a right. Sometimes, there were no winners in the battle between criminals and innocents. Sometimes people like Paxton were so corrupt, so selfish, so driven by their grief and narcissism that they didn’t care who they hurt in the process.

  But the last thing Sean wanted to do was hurt Colton. He didn’t know what he was thinking—that maybe Colton would never learn that he had been working with the FBI? That maybe Colton would never figure out why Sean had infiltrated his group?

  Yeah … that’s what he’d been thinking from the beginning, that he could walk away without his longtime friend ever knowing the truth. He’d been lying to himself, but he wasn’t going to lie to Colton, not anymore.

  He walked through the door.

  Colton was sitting up in his hospital bed. He was pale, dark circles under his eyes. The IV was still in his arm, and he had a bandage across his chest. Two bullets—one that hit half an inch from his heart. But he survived. And the FBI promised Sean that if Colton cooperated, he wouldn’t do jail time. That was something, wasn’t it?

  “Hi, C.”

  Colton was staring at him. He didn’t say anything.

  “I heard you were being sprung tomorrow.”

  Again, silence.

  “I, umm, just wanted to—”

  “What, Sean? What do you want to do? Try to justify lying to me for weeks? To me—the man you said was your best friend? The man you said had saved you and given you purpose?”

  Colton stared at him and Sean felt small and miserable.

  “Jonathan Paxton was going to kill hundreds of people.”

  “Sexual predators. Ten years ago you wouldn’t have cared.”

  “I never killed anyone.”

  “So that’s where you draw the line? Murder? Good to know.”

  “Colton, I am really sorry.”

  “I don’t want your false apology. I won’t alleviate your guilt. You came back into my life and I thought we were brothers in every way except blood.”

  “We are—”

  “No! We’re not! You lied to me, used me, for a personal vendetta.”

  “It wasn’t personal.” Except it was, in a way. Jonathan Paxton had held a crime over Sean’s head for the last six months and Sean had to clean the slate. He’d confessed to the FBI, he’d agreed to infiltrate Colton’s team and gather evidence against the senator in order to erase his own black marks.

  “You’re a selfish bastard, Sean.”

  “Paxton knew about what we did ten years ago, Colton. You told him about that, C! That’s the only way he could have known. He was holding it over my head. I didn’t have a choice! I had to go to the FBI.”

  “We all have choices, Sean. You aligned yourself with the system. I aligned myself with doing the right thing.”

  “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but they used you, Colton.”

  “You should know because you used me, too. We’re done, Sean. I never want to see you again. Get. Out!”

  Sean had left and sat in his car for an hour trying to control his pain and guilt. Would he have done it again? He didn’t know. Maybe … maybe not. Colton nearly died. Others did die, people he had once cared about—even if they later made bad choices.

  Everything Sean did he did because he thought it was right. What if he didn’t know anymore? What if he didn’t know right from wrong?

  Because the pain on Colton’s face was real. The emotional pain of betrayal. And Sean would never forget it.

  * * *

  “Colton.”

  Sean almost couldn’t speak. He hadn’t seen Colton since that day in the hospital when he went to apologize … it had been a dark time in Sean’s life, but he had no other options. Not then.

  Colton stared at him for a long minute. Hatred. Colton hated him so deeply he couldn’t even hide the emotion in his expression.

  Sean had wronged him, but Colton had gotten in deep into an illegal operation and if Sean hadn’t been there, he would have certainly been dead or spent the rest of this life in prison. But Sean had still betrayed his oldest friend, and he’d never forgiven himself.

  And clearly, neither had Colton.

  Colton motioned toward the ropes Sean had left on the bottom of the boat then said to the men with him, “Tie him up, bring him out, we’re on the clock.�
�

  He turned his back on Sean without another word.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  OUTSIDE MONTEMORELOS, MEXICO

  Jack walked over to where Kane was resting against a shade tree. It was hot, but not unpleasant, especially this high in the mountains. He handed Kane a water bottle.

  “I talked to Leo,” Jack said. “He’s bringing in someone he trusts.”

  Kane had interrogated Peter Blair and learned that Jesse was supposed to have been grabbed Friday after school. Because Lucy picked him up early, that didn’t happen—but it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Until they found Jimmy Hunt and Elise, Jesse was under house arrest. Jack talked to Jesse, made sure he understood the situation. He didn’t want to instill fear in the kid, but right now they had to be doubly cautious.

  Kane didn’t say anything.

  “We need to go back. Now.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Kane! Hunt has Sean, Jesse is in trouble, Lucy is vulnerable. And we’re down here sitting on our asses!”

  Kane opened his eyes, looked at Jack. “Hunt is communicating with Blair.”

  Jack had seen the messages. Kane had figured out the code that Blair and Hunt were using, and so far it was working, Kane pretending to be Blair.

  “I don’t care, Kane. At this point, we’re more valuable in Texas.”

  “Hunt will be here. As soon as we have the location, we’ll meet him. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Time that Sean may not have.” Why was Kane being so stubborn about this? “Are you not telling me something?”

  “Sean makes RCK a lot of money.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out why Sean. Revenge—yes, but that’s why Blair was tasked to grab me. I killed Hunt’s son. But why Sean? Money is the only explanation that makes sense.”

  “Sean’s not that liquid right now. He spent a small fortune on that panic room, which I think is overkill, and he hasn’t been taking jobs out of town.” Jack understood Sean’s paranoia. His house had been breached last summer by an elite para-military team. Jesse’s mother had been killed. Sean wanted his house to be a fortress, but sometimes you had to accept certain risks.

  “Hunt knows Sean’s skill set. I need Blair to get the information out of Hunt—the exact information about what’s going on in Texas—without making Hunt suspicious.”

  It took Jack a minute to follow Kane’s train of thought. “You think Hunt wants Sean to steal something for him.”

  “Not exactly. This operation cost a shitload of money. Blair isn’t cheap—Hunt’s been paying him for the last two years. Where’d he get the money? We wiped out his operation, the FBI seized his bank accounts, he has nothing. Someone is funding him. Blair thinks so too, but swears he doesn’t know who.”

  “You believe him.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you want to use him to get the information.”

  “We can’t help Sean or anyone until we know who’s funding Jimmy Hunt.” He looked down at Blair’s phone, which was attached to a portable charger. “He’s supposed to make contact within the next hour. I made a deal with Blair. He gets the information, he walks. He fucks us over, he’s dead.”

  “You’re going to let him walk?”

  “We just took out his core operation. No one else is going to work for him, especially when I start the whisper campaign.”

  Jack would have laughed, if he wasn’t so tense.

  Kane was going to destroy Peter Blair by spreading a rumor that he was working both sides. It would probably get Blair killed. But at a minimum, it would stop Blair from sex trafficking. Jack would rather see him in prison, but they hadn’t taken the time to build a case against him, and without evidence, he would walk.

  Better Kane’s way. This time.

  Kane stared at the phone, as if willing a message to come through, and that was when Jack realized he was more than a little concerned about Sean. He just didn’t know how to show it.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  COMAL COUNTY, TEXAS

  Elise did not like Bitch Clara. That was how she thought of her in her head—and a couple of times the nickname slipped out, but who cared? Elise was in charge. That Bitch Clara thought she was in charge was laughable. Only because Clara been living in her house for the last year. That she’d visited her father in prison. That she was older and all that fucking nonsense.

  Age had nothing on brains, and Elise had brains in spades.

  “Jimmy wants him dead and you’re fucking playing games!” Bitch Clara said.

  Elise put up her hand and moved her fingers in the blah-blah-blah motion while she mocked her. “‘Jimmy wants him dead.’”

  “You’re fucking insane.”

  She laughed. “I’m just having fun. Really, we have nothing else to do here until tomorrow so lighten up.”

  “You were supposed to fuck him up and dump him with a bullet in his head.”

  “I will. And he is fucked up. Did you see what I carved in his back? He’ll be fucked up plenty, then we’ll dump him tomorrow morning when we head south.”

  Elise was really going to miss seeing Lucy in court on Monday when she had to defend herself against the restraining order, but by then her daddy said she had to be in Mexico at the safe house because someone might have figured out she killed Mona.

  Lucy already knew because she was a psychic, but no one would believe her because she’d attacked Elise at the gas station.

  That had been Elise’s brilliant idea and even her daddy would see it.

  “Once I break out, they’re going to be all-hands,” her father said. “And there might be someone you overlooked. A witness. A camera you missed. Fingerprints. We need to be cautious, and I’m not going to lose you like I lost Tobias and Nicole.”

  Her daddy loved her, and that’s why he’d forgive her for playing with the DEA agent who killed her sister.

  “You’re impossible,” Bitch Clara said. “You’d better be ready to bolt because I don’t like this. I don’t like that you sent Donny to kill that gangbanger. He was almost caught. You had no right to do that.”

  “I have every right. Who’s paying you?”

  “Your father.”

  “Which means me. So fuck off.”

  Finally, the bitch walked out.

  Elise went down to the garage and opened the door to Agent Donnelly’s makeshift prison. She liked having her own prison. She would have to make sure she had one in Mexico so she could punish Daddy’s enemies. It would be fun.

  She flipped on the lights. He groaned, tried to move. He was hurting bad. He might just die without a bullet, but she’d put one in his head anyway just on general principles.

  Elise walked over to him. She had stripped him to his boxers because it was humiliating, and humiliating a prick like Brad Donnelly was fun. Her big brother had taught her that.

  “Alas,” she said as if she were on stage, “you only have hours to live.” She giggled. “You should thank me, Big Bad Brad, because I was supposed to kill you and dump you already. So be grateful you had an extra day on the planet. Say ‘thank you, Elise!’”

  He mumbled something she didn’t understand.

  “Aw, shucks, I know, it’s been fun for me, too!”

  She brought over a folding chair and sat across from him.

  Everything she had planned was working Perfectly. Perfectly with a capital fucking P!

  She couldn’t discount Jimmy’s advice. Her daddy was both smart and ruthless. Not as smart as Nicole and not as ruthless as Tobias. But Nicole and Tobias were dead, so being smart and ruthless didn’t really matter when you were six feet under.

  She kind of missed them. Tobias because he was fun and didn’t treat her like a baby. Nicole because she could see ten steps ahead and always knew exactly what the cops were going to do. And she was always right.

  Well, except for the day this stupid cop killed her.

  “You know, Nicole should have figured out that R
ogan was delaying, that he’d found a way to communicate with the outside. He tricked her. Her and Joseph, and they thought they were so damn smart. But now we have our own computer expert and he’ll make sure Rogan doesn’t trick us.”

  Well, he wasn’t her computer expert. He belonged to the man her daddy had partnered with. But if they were partners, that made everything hers too, right? What’s mine is yours and all that bullshit.

  “I’m not allowed to kill Lucy—which I think is stupid, but it was part of Daddy’s agreement—but she’s going to suffer anyway. You’ll be dead—I even got a ribbon to tie around your neck when I deliver you. Like, a really fucking big ribbon. And her poor husband will be dead. And the asshole who killed Toby will be dead and she’ll never know when I’m going to get her, too.”

  Elise knelt in front of Brad. “You know, Nicole thought you wanted to get inside Lucy’s pants. You had the hots for her. Did you? Did you, huh?”

  He lifted his head. His face was bruised and blood had dried on his head and nose. He looked pathetic. “Fuck. You.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you can’t think of anything else to say? So boring.”

  Her cell phone rang. It wasn’t a familiar number, but that didn’t mean anything. “Hello?” she answered.

  “I’m free.”

  “Daddy! Are you here? Are you coming?”

  “We’re still in Texas, heading to my partner’s compound.”

  “Where? Here?”

  “No, we’re heading to—” She thought she lost the call then he said, “You don’t need to know, just in case, but I’m okay. Everything is perfect.”

  “Can I come? Please? I’m so bored here, and tired of listening to Clara complain and bitch all the time.”

  “Elise, do exactly what you’re supposed to. Go to the safe house tomorrow morning as we agreed. I’ll be there sometime tomorrow afternoon; I have to collect my final payment first. You did what we agreed, right?”