Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) (18 page)

“Why would you risk helping us?” Because she knew there was a potential cost to all this. The marshals had paid the price. One of the great psychiatrists in the field of autistic research had paid the price. They all had families. People who cared about them. And they were dead.

The cost was immeasurable. Her eyes were too dry to cry. She was too wrung out to do more than shiver despite the hot air that blasted through the car.

“I already let you down once, Vivi. I promised you you’d be safe and they found you.”

She blew out a huge breath. “It wasn’t your fault.” He was doing everything he could to help them and she knew this could cost him his career. Federal organizations loved bureaucracy and this definitely hadn’t been rubber stamped by the powers that be.

He rifled through the glove box. “Here, write a list of everything you’re going to need to stay hidden for at least a week.
All
the essentials including clothes sizes. I’ll hit the stores and max out my credit card.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Jed laughed but it was a harsh sound. “The money isn’t my concern. I just want to make sure you and Michael are safe.”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can access my accounts safely.”

“When this is over.”

“ASAP,” she insisted.

“Which will be when this is over.”

“I don’t want to be beholden to you, Agent Brennan.”

He gave her a tight smile. “Stubborn.”

An unamused snort escaped. “Expensive. At least that’s what David always said.”

“David is the ex?”

She nodded.

“Well excuse me for saying, but aside from fathering a great kid, your ex is an asshole.”

“You won’t get any argument from me there, Special Agent Brennan.”

“You better start calling me Jed.” He half-turned to face her, keeping one eye on the road.

She didn’t want to call him Jed. When she did it felt intimate and about
them
, not some big international terrorist threat. It reminded her of the fact he’d kissed her. She’d almost forgotten in the shock of everything that had happened. She touched her lips.

“If we’re going to avert suspicion you’re going to have to pose as my girlfriend because otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you with me.” His eyes skimmed her hair. “And you’re going to have to dye your hair. Blonde or brunette?”

She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “What do you normally date?”

“Blondes.” He laughed.

“Then I better go with brunette.”

Their eyes met, and the air between them sizzled. “It’s just a front, Vivi. Nothing more.”

Yet the memory of that kiss and all the deep, dark, remembered longing that it had stirred refused to go away.

“I’ll tell my family the truth.”

She froze. “We can’t put your family at risk.”

“We aren’t staying with them directly, they have a rental cottage I’m borrowing for a couple of weeks.”

“But—”

His gaze softened. “It’s OK. They live in an isolated, remote spot. My family is extremely safety conscious. No one will catch them unaware or unprotected. Hell, my dad has more weapons than Quantico. Plus, my twin is the chief of police in the nearest town so we can trust him to keep a secret. In fact we’re gonna need him.”

“Twin?”

“Not identical—he’s the ugly one,” Brennan deadpanned.

The idea of having family, people you trusted at your back. Well, it had been a long time since she’d been part of something like that and it was extraordinary. Most people took it for granted and didn’t know how lucky they were. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to thank you, Special Agent Brennan.”

“Jed,” he corrected firmly.

OK, if she was going to do this, she was going to have to do it properly. Her son’s life depended on it. Jed’s family’s lives might depend on it. She flashed back to watching Dr. Hinkle get shot. Pretend to be his girlfriend? Not a problem. She just hoped Michael would be able to deal with the line between pretend and reality. It wasn’t as if she had many choices.

“Fine. I don’t know how to thank you,
Jed
.”

“That’s a start.” His smile made her want to forget what this was really about, but she couldn’t. Not when someone wanted them dead.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

P
ilah let herself into her apartment and stood for a moment with her back pressed against the door. She’d walked back and it had taken her more than two hours to get here. The smell of gunpowder permeated the old wool of her coat and the stench of death stuck to her nostrils. She couldn’t rid herself of the harsh reality that she’d murdered a woman in cold blood. A woman who’d done nothing except show some compassion for a relative she wasn’t even close to.

It was dark outside. Pilah didn’t bother turning on any lights. She wanted to disappear into the shadows. Her feet were frozen stubs, her entire body numb. Still the awfulness of what she’d done reached out and wrapped its way around her throat like a garrote.

They didn’t know her identity yet but it was only a matter of time. The Americans would track her down and lock her up forever. She would rot in a cell for decades while her daughters…

Oh, merciful heavens—
what would happen to her daughters? They would never even know her, they barely remembered her now. Sobs rose up and spilled out. Poor innocent little Dahlia, and vibrant, funny Corinne. Her life was a bloody mess. The only things in the world that mattered to her were in danger and she could do nothing to protect them.

She wanted to go to them, but she dared not leave the US, the very place where she was in the most danger.

Hot tears squeezed from between closed lids and rolled in a wide path down her cheeks.

The wail of a police siren brought her away from the door and stumbling to the apartment window. A squad car sped past below, heading downtown. Her heart slowed its panicked beat.

The news had said the cops were still looking for the little boy and his mother. That they’d somehow escaped the attack on the safe house and disappeared. He might be able to identify her…to name her. But the idea of him dying the way Marie Thomas had died clawed at her brain.

It didn’t seem right.

He was a
child
! He couldn’t even talk. Why did he have to die?

Why did everyone else have to die while Sargon sat in his safe, little idyll far from US soil?
He
was the one who’d orchestrated everything.
He
was the reason Adad was dead. Sargon had gone into their town following the bombing and recruited grieving, angry men still reeling from their loss. And he’d sent them off to fight an unwinnable war.

Adad and many of his friends were dead, but Sargon magically avoided the bombs and bullets of the conflict. Dictated the strategy away from the battlefields.

Her reflection in the window was indistinct, like a ghost of who she used to be. A pawn to be used and discarded like human trash. But maybe she was going about this all wrong.
Maybe
she should offer the Americans insider information as long as they got her children out to safety?

They had SEALS, and spies who could find Sargon and his people, and they’d be very interested to know he was trying to stir up a war between the US and Syria. That he’d organized this attack with the goal of implicating the Syrian regime. She wanted the regime toppled, but she wanted her daughter safe, more.

She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before… Except they’d lock her up and throw away the key.

Not if she bargained with them.

Terrified but excited she turned to pick up the telephone, only to stumble back in alarm.

A man sat in the shadows.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice was high pitched. The pounding of her heartbeat unnervingly strong against her ribs. She hated it and she hated him. “Are you here to kill me?”

He unfolded from the chair where he sat. “Why would I want to kill you, Pilah?” His voice was soft, but the edge to it made her want to run. He knew her name.

She went with indignation. “It’s a natural question to ask when you find a stranger in your home. Get out before I call the cops.”

He came closer, and she backed away. He was tall, and the way he moved was all stealth and darkness; his face remained shadowed.

“I do not think you would call the cops, no matter what I did to you.” He stroked her cheek and she fought the urge to cringe. He was right. She was completely powerless. His accent was almost American yet he spoke in her native tongue as fluently as she did. “You have served Sargon far better than all the others even though he underestimated you from the start.”

She jerked away, her voice thready and weak. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He moved away and picked up a box from the couch. It was a box Abdullah had left behind in a bag of his belongings. She hadn’t looked inside. He went to the window and the streetlights provided enough illumination to see the shape of a pistol. “Sargon wants you to sneak this into the hospital.”

“Why?” She didn’t touch the weapon. She couldn’t hide the uneasiness in her own voice. “Why would I do anything more until my children are somewhere safe?”

“Where will they ever be safe, Pilah?” Deep laughter mocked her. “Here, with you? Or with a man who is trying to start a war between Syria and the United States? Which of you will keep them
safe
?”

She recoiled.

They would never be safe with her in the US. If the Americans found out it was Sargon who had attacked them while trying to blame the Syrian government, they’d blow him up, along with everyone close to him. She swayed. If she tried to work out a deal with the unbelievers she would sign a death warrant for her own children.

So stupid. So naive!

She licked her lips which were dried and cracked. “If they will never be safe then why should I help any longer? What is the point? I am sick of killing and I am dead anyway.”

“It is almost over.” His touch was gentle as he smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I will make sure your daughters are taken to safety.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Pilah, you don’t know you can trust me.” His laughter was a warm, soft sound that sliced down to the bone. “But you have
no
other options and I have no need to lie. You will do this for me, otherwise the second phase of the plan will fail and everything you have done will have been for nothing. You have no choice.”

Her knees buckled, and she had to catch herself to stop from dropping to the floor. He was right. She had no choice. She would never know for sure if Dahlia and Corinne survived. Perhaps it would be better to condemn them to a swift death with a US bomb…
No
, she couldn’t do it. Some hope was better than none, no matter how futile.

She reached out and took the pistol. It was light. Almost like a toy. The man put his hands over hers. His fingers warm and smooth. “You need to reassemble it inside the hospital just before you need to use it.”

Her hands shook as he made her practice putting the weapon together.

Finally, when she’d mastered it, he wrapped his hands around hers again. “Place this with the belongings of the man you visit.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Everything inside Pilah froze. Another attack. More death and destruction. She rested the gun back in its case and gave it back to the man. “I can’t take any more bloodshed.”

“There is no one else, Pilah. Only you.” His voice got hard. “Abdullah got himself arrested. All Sargon’s men died except for one who escaped the safe house. I found him preparing to barter what he knew in exchange for immunity from prosecution. He should have realized that prosecution was the least of his worries.” The threat was more than implied. “Just one last target, Pilah. That is all we ask. Then you will be free.” He pressed the box holding the weapon into her hands.

And suddenly she understood who the target was. Knew exactly why details of the plan had never been shared. “It will never work. They will sweep for weapons and explosives.”

“This weapon is special.” She watched his lips move. Wished she could see the face of the man who sent her to her death. “They won’t be able to sense it.”

“They will check my background and find out I am not who I say I am,” Pilah argued.

“Your background cover will hold, never worry. Just hide the weapon in the bedside cabinet or under the mattress. Anywhere it won’t get noticed for a few days. Your ‘uncle’ was moved to a private room an hour ago so you will have all the privacy you need. Spend as much time with him as you can, just in case something happens unexpectedly.”

Fear scratched along her throat. “What if he wakes up?”

The man took a vial of tablets out of his pocket and pressed it into her palm. “If he starts to wake slip one of these on his tongue. Just one. It will keep him under for as long as we need him to be. But the doctors have no plans to wake him from his coma for a few more days. Sleep is the best way for his brain to heal.”

He might wish that he never woke up.

Pilah bowed her head, hiding her feelings. “Will you contact me when my daughters are safe?”

“Soon. I have to find the boy.”

No
. “The child might know nothing.”

“Or he might know something.” For the first time the stranger sounded tired. Weary.

“The plan won’t work,” she said, desperately.

A shaft of light caught the man’s mouth as he smiled. “Do not fret. The plan will work. The only possible weak link is the child and I will make sure he isn’t a problem.”

The endgame was never the mall attack; it was what happened after the mall attack. There was no way the US would ignore
this
sort of event, no matter who instigated it. It would mean war. If she failed, Sargon would take it out on her young daughters. And if she succeeded she would be dead. If the US discovered Sargon’s involvement…her children would still be dead.

She grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt, prepared to beg. “Promise me you will get my daughters safely away from Sargon. Now, before it is too late!”