by Lisa Hughey
“We know where she is right now. It’s time,” Jillian said.
He wasn’t even sure why he was hesitating, but he was unsettled.
“No sign of Marsh.” He could hear the relief in her voice. It seemed impossible that her partner wasn’t involved with Brianna. He’d come to know her in the past few days and knew that Marsh’s defection would hurt her, but he said it anyway. “He could be inside.”
Her eyes darkened for a moment and then she nodded sharply. “I’ll take the back entrance. You take the front.”
“Let’s do it.”
They eased out of the car simultaneously, their doors closing with a quiet thunk.
“Wait until I’m in position before you go up the stairs. I’ll cover the back entrance in case she tries to bolt when she sees you.” Then Jillian marched toward the rear entrance.
The apartment itself was tiny. Almost shotgun style from one entrance to the other. Hamish had a feeling when the front door was open, he’d be able to see all the way to the back exit.
He patted his jacket pocket with the zip ties. This was the tricky part. He had no jurisdiction here. His boss would be furious. Jillian wasn’t very happy with him either.
Maybe he should be sorry he bugged her office, but he wasn’t. And because of that intel, he had begun tracing the email account that her guy Viktor had found. Brianna had taken several trips to the Dominican Republic while she worked for America’s Recovery Centers. The Caribbean was a banking haven. With a little more time, he might have been able to find the money.
He had hacked into Jill’s email and sent Kita Kim the information about Brianna’s email along with a note to follow it for a money trail. Since he couldn’t be in two places at once and he would never want Jill to attempt to apprehend Brianna on her own, he had to let go of his grip on the information.
Once Jillian was in place, he walked up to the door confidently. The lights were on in the small apartment and Hamish could see Brianna’s shadow in the bedroom. She was shouting over her shoulder at someone out of sight in the kitchen.
So there were two of them.
Jillian crept up the back steps, her heart in her throat. She prayed Marsh wasn’t here. She could see all the way through the apartment and Hamish was at the front door.
Apprehension fizzed through her bloodstream. Executing a takedown with only two agents was risky, but necessary in this case.
ALIAS had let Beatrice loose on the world to possibly hurt more people. Because the reality was women like Beatrice never changed.
She was a user.
And morally bankrupt.
Jill’s mission in life was to protect the innocent. But doing this for Hamish could damage ALIAS’s reputation beyond repair.
She was torn between her employees and clients, and Hamish’s wishes. She’d been born to serve the greater good and her brother had died anyway. Her whole life she’d atoned for that by living in service to others and protecting the weak. But now she had the overwhelming urge to protect Hamish. Somehow in the past few days, he’d become important.
There was someone at the other end of the alley and they were eyeing her, likely wondering what she was doing hovering outside the door.
Rotting food and piss overwhelmed the air.
Fuck it. Illegal entry was the least of their problems. She reached out to see if the door was open, and miraculously the knob turned in her hand. She slipped inside the kitchen while Hamish was knocking on the front door. She was so intent on Hamish, she missed the figure in the corner.
“Jill?” Marsh stood in the kitchen dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, his hair shaggy, and his face haggard and unshaven.
Her heart dropped. He was with Beatrice. And he hadn’t called her in weeks.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He glanced frantically toward the open bedroom door.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
Hamish was still banging on the front door.
“Can you get the front door, babe?” Marsh shoved Jill behind him. “I don’t want the eggs to burn.”
“You have to get out of here,” he said desperately. “Before she sees you.”
Jill hadn’t said a word. Marsh’s betrayal stabbed her in the chest like a hot poker.
“Hold yer horses.” Beatrice stomped to the front door and yanked it open.
Jill shoved Marsh out of the way and went to back up Hamish. She would deal with Marsh later.
“What do you want?” Beatrice sneered at Hamish.
“I want you to pay for your crimes.”
“You can’t touch me here, Officer Ballard.” Her tone was insolent. “You look like you got your ass kicked.”
Hamish saw Jill and nodded. “We got her.”
Beatrice whirled around. She hadn’t heard Jill, and now Marsh, approach from behind.
“Ms. Larsen.” Beatrice morphed before Jill’s eyes. “This horrible man just burst into my apartment.” But a frown crimped her face for a minute and Jill saw the evil beneath. “Although what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t supposed to have any contact with me.”
Jill just looked at her and then Marsh.
“Who is this guy?” Marsh asked from behind her.
This whole thing was a cluster fuck. “Beatrice, Marsh, go sit on the sofa.”
“Babe, are you going to let her talk to me that way?” Beatrice had propped her fists on her hips.
“Jillian and her friend were just leaving,” Marsh said.
“I don’t think so.” Jill backed up two steps and shifted so she could see everyone in her sights and she pulled her gun from its holster. “Go sit on the sofa.”
“I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding,” Marsh said calmly.
“Nope.”
Marsh was slow to move, his hand in his pocket.
“Hands out of your pockets.” Jill waved them toward the sofa. “Where I can see them.”
“What is it that you think you’re going to do here?” Beatrice said cockily from the sofa. She was completely relaxed.
“So this is him then?” Hamish identified Marsh.
“Jill, who is this guy?” Marsh’s tone was oddly territorial.
“Officer Hamish Ballard meet Marshall Adams,” Jill said tiredly. The past few months pressed in on her. All that worry, all that heartache, and Marsh had been with Beatrice Winter the whole time.
“You okay, love?”
A warmth spread in her chest. Hamish had been chasing Beatrice forever. And yet, he’d noticed she was upset and checked in on her.
“I will be.”
Marsh looked…confused. “You guys need to go. We don’t want you here.”
Jill discreetly put her hand inside her peacoat and pressed record on her phone. “What did you do with the money, Beatrice?”
For just a moment, Beatrice smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. My next paycheck isn’t until the end of the week.”
“I bet if we search your apartment, we will find drugs.” Hamish poked around.
“What are you talking about?” Marsh’s gaze shot from Jill to Beatrice and back again.
“Your girlfriend here likes to push drugs.” Jill tossed Hamish a pair of vinyl gloves.
“You’re actually selling drugs?” Marsh shook his head as if in disbelief.
Beatrice reached for his hand and held between her two palms like she was praying. “Don’t listen to a word they say.”
“What happened to your accent, Brianna?” Jill asked.
“Who’s Brianna?” Marsh asked.
“You’re done, Brianna.” Jill wanted to kick something or someone. Jury was out on whether she’d go for Beatrice or Marsh first. “Or Beatrice, or Brigid, or whatever you’re calling yourself now.”
“Bugger off.”
Marsh pulled his hand from Beatrice’s clasp.
Hamish prowled the apartment, searching for any indication that Beatrice was up to her old ways, and sure enough there
was a bag taped inside the toilet bowl. “Pretty predictable, Brianna. You’re getting sloppy.”
Marsh rubbed his palms over his thighs. “Can someone please explain what is going on?”
“Maybe you should have listened to your messages, partner.” Jill asked the woman again, “What did you do with the money?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Specifically the money you stole from the America’s Recovery Centers.” Jill glanced around the shabby apartment. “You certainly aren’t using it here.”
Marsh interjected. “The executives stole the money.”
“We’re living frugally until Marsh’s inheritance comes through,” Beatrice said defiantly. “That isn’t a crime.”
Marsh’s inheritance? Marsh already had his money. They’d used his trust fund and Jill’s 401K to get ALIAS off the ground. That didn’t make any sense.
“So move along.”
They weren’t going to get anywhere with this bitch. Maybe she’d open up once she was in custody.
“Okay, let’s take them in,” Jill said calmly.
“Take us in?” Marsh frowned.
“Sounds good. After all, I really need Brianna now.” Hamish bluffed. “I found the money.”
Jill jerked. What?
Beatrice snorted. “What money?” she said slyly.
“Right then. You won’t mind if I help myself.”
“Good luck with that.” Beatrice rolled her eyes.
“You know I work cybercrimes.” Hamish said, “I don’t need luck. I just need secure access and your password…which I know is Brigid1935.”
Beatrice jolted. “You can’t get in without me.”
“Good thing I also know how to create fake extradition orders.” Hamish crossed his arms. “You’re coming with me.”
Jill knew he was lying and still she had a moment of doubt.
“Mr. Goody Goody?” she said derisively. “You are going to steal money from someone?”
“Yeah well, my career is fucked. My brother is dead.” His voice broke. “And if I can’t make you pay, then I’m going to take the only thing you care about.”
“What?!” Jill shouted. The fierce conviction in his voice sent shiver of apprehension through her. What if she’d misjudged him? “You can’t do that.”
Beatrice blinked. Narrowed her gaze at Hamish.
“I believe I can.” He grinned. One Jill had never seen before, nearing evil. “Fuck you, Brianna.”
“I thought we were together on this.” Jill pretended to ignore Beatrice and plead with Hamish. “I trusted you.”
“You’re in the business of lies.” Hamish’s voice was cold, hard. “You should never have trusted me.”
He strode toward Beatrice, zip ties dangling from his fist.
“I have the gun.” Jill shot back.
“And you’re not going to use it,” Hamish said. “Too many pesky rules.”
Jill could see her literally switch gears. Beatrice began to toss out bribes to Jill. “You’re right. I have the money.” She ignored Hamish and appealed to Jill. “I’m willing to share.”
Jill glared at Hamish, stringing Beatrice along, pretending to think about it. “I’m listening.” She couldn’t bear to lie but she wanted to see where Beatrice was going with this.
Beatrice studied her assessing whether she was truthful or not and Jill knew she needed to sell this.
She shifted the gun to point at Hamish. “Pretty sure my reputation isn’t lily white. Step away from Ms. Winter or I may have to shoot you.”
Hamish stopped dead. And Jill verbally prodded Beatrice. “You embezzled the money from the rehab centers.”
“Aye.” Now that her identity was out, Beatrice stopped hiding her accent. “Stupid gits.”
“Why?”
“The British government found most of my off shore accounts. I was broke!” She grumbled. “I needed a new nest egg.”
“Why not just get the money that was still there?”
“I needed a new passport to get the money. I knew the British government would be monitoring the one they gave me, so I couldn’t use Beatrice. I needed a completely new identity.” Beatrice shrugged. “I had to lie low for a while.”
“Lie low by taking money from an illegal operation and then turning them in?” Hamish said incredulously.
“Well, the itch to fuck with them just wouldn’t go away…you can never have too much.” She gloated.
“Adams-Larsen gave you a new identity. Why not use it?”
“Marsh followed me.” Beatrice sighed dramatically. “It was so romantic. And I had a…separate issue.”
Separate issue? Jill decided to switch tactics. She’d come back to that comment later.
“Why did you really turn your family in?” Jill asked as if the answer didn’t really interest her.
“Men.” Beatrice huffed in exasperation. “They don’t respect a strong woman,” she said trying to appeal to Jillian’s sense of sisterhood.
“You’re right.” Jill tossed a glance at Marsh. “We are underappreciated.”
Beatrice thought she was getting somewhere. Jillian didn’t look at Hamish, didn’t want to give away that she was playing Beatrice. And Jill let her dig the hole deeper.
“Exactly,” Beatrice said with satisfaction. “We’re smarter than all of them put together.”
“So it was pure revenge?” Jill asked curiously.
“I was running the whole damn business.” Beatrice shook her head, her blond curls swaying. “But I showed them.”
“What now?” Jill asked.
“Well, since Officer Ballard doesn’t have paperwork,” Beatrice smiled slyly. “Perhaps we can work out a deal. Just between us girls. I prefer negotiating with women anyway.”
“What about Marsh?” Jill didn’t look at her partner.
“Means to an end. I needed to stay off radar until it was safe to go to Turks and Caicos and get my money.” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Men are so gullible.”
“Hey!” Marsh said.
“Sorry, darling.”
“You were using me?” He sounded calculating rather than upset.
“See. Gullible.”
“I know what you mean,” Jill said. “So is that why you targeted Marsh on that first day?”
“Among other reasons.” Now Beatrice seemed to be in a sharing mood. “I had your old boss brief me on the two of you. But I figured from the outset that he would be my best bet.”
“Show a man your tits and they’re slaves to sex.” Jill laughed.
“Quite right.” Beatrice smiled like the Cheshire cat. “When we get away from here, you and I can work out a deal.”
She was very convincing. Jill had a better understanding of how she had manipulated people. She appealed to their sense of superiority, making them feel like they were smarter than everyone else in the room. Dummies.
“Why did you sell drugs to the patients?” Hamish asked.
“I didn’t sell drugs to patients.” Beatrice chuckled. “However, I may have put them in touch with people who could help them out.”
“Wasn’t that against the terms of your court agreement?” Hamish asked.
Beatrice ignored him, bragging to Jill. “Since I was underage when I was caught, they gave me community service. So dumb. They just gave me a new avenue to find customers. But I never sold drugs again. That scared straight weekend in youth detention center was enough for me. I am never going to prison.”
Jillian hated this woman. Hated her with the fire of a thousand suns. “You never sold drugs again?”
“I never sold them again.”
“What about the drugs in this baggie?” Hamish wagged the baggie full of pills.
“Gifts for a friend.” Who then was going to sell them. She was couching her behavior on a technicality.
“I may have given away a freebie once.” She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. On the outside she appeared as an attractive fortyish woman but the rot i
n her soul came through. “As a matter of fact, I may have gifted them to someone you know. Oh, excuse me, someone you used to know.”
You fucking bitch. Jill’s hands gripped her weapon so tight, her knuckles were white. The urge to shoot her was a physical compulsion but she beat it back. They needed this damn confession.
She couldn’t look at Hamish. Couldn’t bear to see pain on his face.
“Why?” He burst out. “You offered my brother drugs. More than once.”
“Ah yes. Charlie Ballard. Such a fabulous rugby player for Scotland. I sure did Ireland a solid when he was gone.”
“But why?”
“Quid pro quo for a…friend, part of the Russians you were investigating. Apparently you were getting a little too close to their hacker and they wanted you distracted.”
Her words were going to gut him.
She had targeted Charlie because he was related to Hamish. To disrupt his investigation.
“Besides, addicts are a waste on society. All they do is take, take, take. Overdoses are inevitable.”
“He was getting better,” Hamish ground out.
“Tsk, tsk, Officer Ballard. He was an addict. He was already doomed.”
“You are not responsible for her actions,” Jill said fiercely, no longer willing to humor Beatrice.
Jill shifted her weapon and trained it securely on Beatrice and Marsh. Jill had enough recorded that they could take Beatrice in. Her confession was enough to put her away here, even if she never made it back to the UK. “Okay. Sharing time is over.”
“But I thought we had a deal.” Beatrice widened her gaze.
“I’m reneging,” Jill said.
“You cow.” Beatrice shifted on the sofa, clearly searching for a way out or what to use as a weapon.
“I’m an excellent markswoman,” Jill said to Beatrice. “I excel at the moving target drill and I haven’t gotten in my practice for this month. So don’t try it.”
Beatrice relaxed back against the ugly sofa.
“Or better yet, please do try it.” Jill grinned. And it wasn’t nice. “I need some work on isolating specific limbs.”
Chapter 15
A knock on the door interrupted the tense moment.
