Best Laid Plans (25 page)

“What are you scared about? What do you fear?”

She swallowed. With a rough voice she said, “Jack asked me the same thing.”

“And what did you say?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I told him.”

“And now?”

She didn’t say anything and tried to shift away from him, but he held her tight.

“Lucy, tell me. You know, don’t you?”

A small cry escaped from her throat and she turned her face into his chest.

I never wanted you to see me like that.

It was what she’d said when she was hysterical. And then it clicked.

“Oh, God, Lucy, no.”

He pulled her head up to look at her face. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her face flushed. And still she was shaking.

“Lucy, listen to me. I’ve never watched it. Never. Not even one second. We both know what happened to you. And dammit, I will never let it come between us. I love you.
I love you.
We’re going to figure this out.”

“You make me feel. And sometimes, I don’t want to.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“This last year, the nightmares were gone. I thought forever. I no longer felt like I was teetering on the brink of the abyss. Before you, the only thing that mattered to me was justice. Fighting for others. When I helped people, when I saved victims, I was on the right side of sanity. I don’t think anyone knew how … tightly I was wound. Maybe you did…” Her voice trailed off.

“Lucy—”

She continued. “But the nightmares are back, and they’re worse. I feel so helpless again, because there is still so much pain and suffering and I can’t stop it.”

“Of course you can’t. To put that weight on your shoulders will suffocate you. You’ve done more in a few years than most people do in their lifetime. Michael is alive because of you. Toby. The other boys.”

“Not all of them.”

“That’s not on you!” He didn’t want to yell, but how could she blame herself for not saving everyone? That was insane.

“I know, but…” Her voice trailed off. Lucy, the expert in holding back her emotions, was truly one of the most compassionate and empathic people he’d ever met. But the intensity of her emotions made what she suffered so much worse, hence the need to shut everything down. The battle inside tore her apart. Sean ached for her.

Sean let her head fall back to his chest and she started to relax. It was what had happened in Mexico two months ago that had instigated the nightmares, but it wasn’t because of the boys that she had them. It was because she feared that Sean would see her as a victim.

He’d never watched the video that the bastard Trask had live-streamed for the perverts who paid to watch Lucy be raped repeatedly. Her brothers had seen parts of it while they’d searched for her, and maybe that contributed to Lucy’s anguish. She’d gone through therapy, but someone like Lucy was good at playing the therapy game, giving the counselor what she needed to hear.

But tonight she’d told him the truth. She didn’t have to go into the details; neither of them needed to hear them. It was the conclusion that mattered: that Lucy’s fear was about how Sean saw her.

“Mona Hill knows about the video,” Lucy suddenly said.

Sean tensed. He tried not to, but he couldn’t control his reaction. Lucy froze in his arms. “What happened?”

“She didn’t know, not until she saw me.
I never forget a face
, she said. And I knew. The truth was in her eyes.”

That Sean could remain calm was a testament to his maturity. Because he wanted to kill Mona Hill. And after what he’d learned while digging into her past, she deserved to die.

“I won’t let that woman—I won’t let anyone—hurt you.”

“I have to face the truth.”

He didn’t like the monotone in her voice. “What truth?”

“That people who know me will see it. And when they do, they won’t be able to hide the truth in their eyes.”

“Lucy,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll cross that bridge
if
we come to it. Together. You are not in this alone.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The last thing Brad Donnelly wanted to do was visit his former partner, but Ryan and Lucy were right: if anyone other than the killers knew about the mass slaughter of Trejo’s remaining gang, it was Nicole. He needed to get it out of the way, so he arrived at the jail before eight Tuesday morning.

Former DEA Agent Nicole Rollins was being held at the Central Texas Detention Facility while her lawyers and the AUSA negotiated the terms of her guilty plea. It had been an arduous process because initially the Department of Justice had wanted the death penalty, and that would require a trial. Nicole was being charged with multiple counts of accessory to murder, bribery, abuse of authority, attempted murder of a federal law enforcement agent, conspiracy, facilitation of drug trafficking, and more. They still hadn’t uncovered every crime Nicole Rollins had committed during her fifteen-year career with the DEA.

The last time Brad had seen Nicole was the day he was kidnapped by Sanchez nine weeks ago. When he’d called his boss last night and asked for permission to talk to Nicole about his current case, the first thing Samantha Archer said—even before reminding him he wasn’t cleared for field duty—was “You really don’t want to see that cold bitch.”

Nicole had been part of Brad’s team. He was the SSA, he was responsible for his people. When Nicole had transferred into his unit three years ago, he’d liked that she was seasoned, calm, and sharp. She was also unemotional, which Brad appreciated because he sometimes became too involved in his cases. So he found himself asking for her backup more than other agents’.

He’d trusted her. And she’d handed him over to Jaime Sanchez on a silver platter, knowing that Jaime intended to torture and kill him.

Fortunately, it didn’t take Brad long to convince Sam that Nicole might have valuable information. Sam concurred that Nicole probably wouldn’t talk to anyone else. She wasn’t doing much talking now, which was also holding up the process. Still, the DEA wanted her close to home, so to speak, because cops in prison never fared well—even when they were corrupt DEA agents working for known drug lords. She was also being kept isolated, because she knew far too much about undercover operations. They were extracting assets and changing procedures on every operation of which Nicole might have had knowledge. It took time, especially in a government bureaucracy.

A guard escorted Nicole into the small meeting room in handcuffs. She’d attempted to escape shortly after being transferred to CTD and, because she was well trained in hand-to-hand combat, the prison had determined that she would only be allowed out of her cell in cuffs.

Prison could change people quickly, but Nicole hadn’t changed much at all. Aside from no makeup, shorter hair, and the orange prison jumpsuit, her blue eyes were still intelligent and she still looked physically fit. Maybe even more so.

Brad stared at her, refusing to break eye contact first. The pain of his torture, of Nicole’s betrayal, ate at him, but he still held her eyes. It was a testament to her mental fortitude—and lack of remorse—that she didn’t look away.

The guard sat her down and locked her cuffs into the ring on the table. “If you need anything, Agent Donnelly, just let me know. I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Thank you,” he said with a brief nod.

When the guard had left, Brad said, “The last known associates of Jaime Sanchez were murdered two nights ago. Who did it?”

Nicole gave him a half grin. “No. We don’t start with what you want. We start with what I want.”

His jaw tensed. “And what would that be?”

“Conversation.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll go back to my cell.”

“You have no rights.”

“Last I checked, prisoners have a lot of rights.”

“Not you. You’ll sit there until I tell the guard to take you away.”

She laughed. “So dramatic, Brad. Really. Ask me something else.”

“I have nothing else to ask.”

“The first time you’ve come to visit me and you don’t have any other questions? All business? I don’t think so.”

“This isn’t a visit, Nicole.”

She tilted her head. “You want to know why.”

“There is no justifiable reason for what you did. People died, Nicole. Agents. Children.”

Her face was blank. Sam was right. Nicole was a cold bitch. She’d pushed Brad and he reacted, reminding him that Nicole understood him better than he understood her.

“I guess I have a hard time believing you did it for the money,” Brad said, his voice a low growl. “But unless you tell me otherwise, it was all done out of greed. You’re a fucking sociopath.”

Her lips turned up ever so slightly. “So, you know why I did it. The money. The thrill. The adrenaline rush! Mostly, the money. That’s not what I was talking about. You want to know why you didn’t see it coming. How you could be so blind. So
stupid.
So it’ll never happen again. Trust me, Brad, it will. You think your house is clean? It’ll never be clean.”

Nicole glanced down at his hands, which were clenched on the table. She smiled and leaned back, victory shining in her cold eyes.

She was deliberately baiting him. And it worked. He felt the anger burning inside him, and he wanted to hit her. God help him, he wanted to beat that smirk off her face.

“There is absolutely no incentive for me to tell you anything,” Nicole said. “I’ll never see the outside of a prison—unless, of course, I manage to escape.”

“You won’t.”

She shrugged. “I’m not scared of the DEA or the DOJ. You can’t hurt me.”

“Whoever took out the rest of Sanchez’s gang killed a kid. An eight-year-old boy.”

“There’s no future for these children. You have such a bleeding heart, you think that anyone can be saved. Haven’t you learned better by now?” She laughed. She was enjoying this, whatever
this
was. A conversation? An interrogation? A game? That’s what it felt like to Brad—that Nicole was playing games with him, with everyone. He was a pawn, she was the master chess player.

“Wake up, Brad,” she continued. “The war on drugs? It’s over. They won. You either join them, or keep tilting at windmills until one of their bullets pierces your skull. Don’t you realize that our focus on stopping them raises the price of drugs and increases the violence? But they will continue to bring in heroin and cocaine and marijuana and pseudoephedrine, and for every shipment you stop, every gang you shut down, three more spring up. Grow the fuck up, Donnelly. Get out while you’re still breathing.”

Brad had to stop letting Nicole steer the conversation. “I suspect,” he said slowly, “that with Sanchez and Trejo dead, Tobias was attempting to solidify his organization. Because he was weakened, another player went after him. He’s done. Every one of Sanchez’s associates is dead or in prison.”

“You will never understand because you have no vision, Brad.”

“Then explain it to me, Nicole! What don’t I understand?”

She stared at him for a long minute. He was losing it. He’d planned on being completely calm, in complete control, but she’d goaded him, and he’d let her. He forced himself to breathe slowly to calm his pounding heart.

“Only because I actually feel sorry for you, I’m going to explain one thing. Tobias isn’t scared of you. If someone took out Sanchez’s people, Tobias let it happen. Two nights ago? If Tobias was at all angry about it, you would have already seen a bigger bloodbath.”

“Who is Tobias?”

She smiled. “So that’s what you really want. You want Tobias. I’m certainly not giving him up to you—even if I could.” From her tone, Brad realized she knew far more about Tobias and his operation than anyone else. She might imply she didn’t, but it was clear she enjoyed keeping the information to herself. “I’m not loyal to you or the fucking DEA. You go ahead and charge at those windmills, but watch your back while you’re sitting on your high horse. You fuck with Tobias, he’ll fuck you back twice as hard. You might want to tell that rookie you have the hots for to watch her back, because she pissed off the wrong person.”

For a minute, Brad didn’t know what Nicole was talking about.

“Lucy?” he asked.

“You want to screw her so badly.”

“You’re insane.”

“I know you, Brad. I know you better than you think I do. That rookie five years ago who Jamie Sanchez iced? Don’t think I don’t know that you were sleeping with her. That’s why you went all psycho anti-rookie. Guilt. Guilt is a powerful motivator, isn’t it?”

Brad didn’t say a word. The past haunted him, the mistakes he’d made, the people who had gotten hurt because of it.

How does she know about Rebecca? We weren’t even working in the same city.

But he didn’t ask. She knew a lot of things, and that made him wonder if she was corrupt long before Vasco Trejo caught her on camera killing a drug dealer and stealing his cash.

“And I’m pretty sure you’ll feel just as guilty if serious, sad, pretty little Lucy Kincaid gets whacked because of your obsession with going after a man who has more power behind him than you can possibly know. And that’s all you’re going to get, Brad.” She stared at him. “Of course, if you can convince the powers that be to put me into witness protection—on
my
terms—I’ll give you everything you want, and more. But Sam Archer put her foot down. She thinks I know nothing of value.” Nicole smiled widely. “She is so very wrong.”