Don't Let Go (6 page)

A woman knelt over a flower bed as Lance pulled us up to the curb. The brakes squeaked, and she looked up, raising a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A slatted straw hat obscured her face, but I got the impression of a slender, graceful form. I stepped out of the car, and Lance did the same, both of us careful to shut our doors softly, the noise barely disturbing the soothing strains of a large wind chime. The white wraparound porch presented a picturesque view of domestic tranquility.

So this was Carlos’s prostitute. Or was she his mistress? Girlfriend? None of the words seemed to fit her. She was pretty in an understated way, not at all the sort of woman I’d imagined consorting with a major criminal. But then, looks could be deceiving. I was a testament to that. She and I both had a petite frame and pale, milky skin that contrasted sharply with thick brown locks. It made men think we were innocent. In both cases, apparently, they were wrong.

The screen door twanged, and a man appeared. Before we could reach Mia Palermo, he stood in front of her. This was in the files too. Her husband. A former FBI agent. Did he know what she’d done? Who she’d done it with? He must have. And yet here he was, standing in front of her, protecting her from unexpected FBI agents. I knew that stance with innate recognition. He’d do anything to keep her safe; he’d take a bullet for her. It was love.

“Ms. Palermo,” Lance began.

“Martinez,” the man corrected, none too kindly. “You can address her as Mrs. Martinez, if I let you address her at all.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. I could tell he was annoyed at the man’s brusque tone, but making the guy mad would get us nowhere.

“Mr. Martinez,” I said. “If you could spare a minute of your time. We’re from the local branch—”

“I know where you’re from. I could smell you a mile away. What I don’t know is why you’re bothering me.”

Bothering
her
, he meant. His broad shoulders almost blocked her from view. My heart clenched at the show of protectiveness, of possession. What would it feel like to have someone love you like that? To have them know all your worst secrets and want you anyway?

“We’re working the Laguardia case, sir, and it’s vital that we speak with Mrs. Martinez regarding any information she may have on the matter,” Lance said.

I stared at him, a bit surprised that he’d be so insistent when he was so laid back in the office. Then again, this was probably his first piece of fieldwork, even if it wasn’t strictly sanctioned. It made sense he’d want to make the most of it.

“She’s already given a statement,” Martinez said curtly. “Several.”

“The pages on her are mostly blacked out,” I murmured.

Martinez raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze falling on me. “Then you don’t have high enough clearance. So I have to ask again, why are you here?”

I decided to answer honestly. “If things go well, we’re going to confront him soon. I’d like to know what we’re up against, so my partner and I don’t get killed when we do.”

Martinez’s gaze switched back to Lance. He looked him down and then up again, clearly unimpressed. Between the two of us, we weren’t an extremely imposing team. But then, Lance wasn’t really my partner. Hennessey was.

And he’s going to be pissed.

Damn, I wished I weren’t going behind his back like this. I still felt a niggling resentment that he’d turned on me in Brody’s office, that he hadn’t given me a heads up if he’d been planning to ferret out information. But it didn’t make sense to berate him for that if I wouldn’t give him the same level of trust.

Martinez sighed, and I could see we’d won him over. Maybe it helped that we were such a ragtag team. We clearly needed all the help we could get.

“Ten minutes,” Martinez said. “So ask the important questions first, because I’m cutting you off a second longer.”

The woman, Mia Martinez, peeked around the man’s shoulder, an amused expression on her face. “Now that you’ve negotiated for my time, could I make one small request?”

Something flickered in Martinez’s face at her words.
Negotiated for my time
could have a different, darker meaning in Laguardia’s circles. Had she been pimped out? Passed around? If so, it would make sense she’d be sensitive to things being decided for her. But if Martinez regretted his heavy-handedness, he didn’t show it. He’d do anything to keep her safe, I realized, even hurt her.

Martinez murmured for her ears only, but I still heard him say, “You don’t have to talk to them at all, if you don’t want to. I can send them away.”

“No,” she said. “I want to. They should know what they’re going to be facing. But…only the girl. Okay?”

“Done,” Martinez said.

She sent Lance an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, just that—”

Lance cleared his throat. The tips of his ears turned pink. “You don’t have to explain, Mrs. Martinez. Our goal as agents is to make you comfortable.”

Right out of the student handbook, kids.

Mia led me to a picnic table in their backyard. We left the men up front for what I imagined included a lot of glaring and posturing. In the shade, I got a better look at Mia. She was younger than I’d expected. I pictured the file…she would be twenty-eight, with wide eyes and porcelain skin that hinted at twenty.

But her eyes told a different story. She could have been ancient for all the weary knowledge in her eyes. It was a strange juxtaposition, one I recognized from Hennessey. I wondered how much they had in common. Another pang of guilt hit me. He should be here with me, interviewing her right now. He would know the right questions. Unlike me.

“Mrs. Martinez,” I began.

“Mia,” she corrected. “Please. I’m not so formal among friends.”

She was putting me at ease, and it worked. A slight blush heated my cheeks. She was really far too subtle for a guy like Laguardia, except she’d stayed with him for so many years. And then I knew what to ask.

“How did you meet Laguardia?”

She slanted me a look, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. I kept my expression still and open, because I
was
sincere. Unlike Hennessey, I wanted to understand the man behind the proverbial
Wanted
poster.

“He picked me up off the street,” she said finally. “I was young. Too young. He gave me food, clothing. Medical attention. Education. I would have died out there, starved or been beaten to death by a guy three times my age. But he took me in.”

He sounded like a saint. But we both knew better. “And he had sex with you.”

She nodded, unsurprised at the dark turn of the conversation. “He had sex with me. At the time, it seemed fair enough. Like payment. Nothing is free on the streets.”

“You said
at the time.
How do you see it now?”

“I’m not sure…” Her lips pressed together. “You’ll probably think I’m romanticizing it, and maybe I am, but I felt like we understood each other. It’s not easy, in that life, to open yourself up to someone, to become vulnerable. Even sex isn’t always intimate.”

“But between you it was?” I couldn’t hide the doubt from my voice.

“Between us, everything was intimate. And nothing was. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better. I recognized the same darkness in him as I had in myself.” She paused, twirling a leaf on the knotted wood table. “Did you know my father sexually abused me?”

The question flashed through me, a painful burst of light in the dark, even though I’d known that already. It was hard to imagine that on top of whatever abuse she’d suffered with Carlos. It changed a person, to look evil in the face at so young an age. I should know. But maybe they weren’t so different, flipsides of the same coin. The criminal and the victim. The aggressor and the defenseless. One couldn’t exist without the other.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

“We had that in common.”

Surprise lifted my eyebrows. “You mean Carlos? He was abused?”

A nod. “You know, I’m not saying that as an excuse, either for him or for me. We made our choices. But it leaves its mark on you, even when you think you’re over it. I don’t think he would have been capable of a regular relationship.”

I couldn’t help but ask, softly, “And you?”

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t call my relationship with Tyler conventional. And I still have problems, being…what’s the word? Fatalistic. That’s what Tyler says. I get sort of detached, go through the motions. It drives him crazy, because he wants me to be present, you know? But we work on it together in counseling.”

I tried to imagine the gruff, uncompromising Martinez in a therapy session and failed. But he must have a softer side he showed Mia. That part I could imagine. She had a quiet, nonjudgmental way about her, as if I could tell her anything and she wouldn’t be shocked. And she wouldn’t reject me either. It was seductive in a way that cleavage and hooker boots could never compete with. Carlos Laguardia had more discerning taste than I’d have expected.

She leaned forward. “I’m telling you all this because if you’re going after Laguardia, you have to understand he’s like a dog who’s been kicked too many times before. If you get close, he’s going to lash out at you.”

“I see,” I murmured as an uncomfortable realization settled over me. Laguardia would have every reason to lash out at us. We
were
going to kick him
,
figuratively. Literally too, if Hennessey was serious about wanting Laguardia dead.

I remembered watching
Lady and the Tramp
as a kid, where the dogs ate spaghetti by candlelight and viewed the pound as a jail. There was something chilling in the realization that I was the dogcatcher in this scenario. I was one of the good guys, but only depending on the story. Told from another perspective, I was the villain.

Her eyes grew distant, as if she looked into the past. “The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t mean well. Whenever possible, he would try to do the wrong thing, the cruel thing. It became a point of pride for him. And then…well, it tore him up inside. It split him into the man and this other type of being. Like an animal, but smarter, more cunning.”

“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

She cocked her head. “Who?”

A flush heated my cheeks. I felt stupid, as if I’d been trying to talk down to her. I knew that she’d dropped out the first year of high school, that she’d run away to escape her father’s abuse. And ran into Carlos instead. She didn’t seem to regret it. Instead, she seemed oddly loyal to him, protective as she warned me away.

Her expression was guileless and curious.

“It’s a play,” I said. “There was this doctor who wanted to find a way to remove the evil parts of man. He experimented on himself, but all he ended up doing was splitting himself into two parts. The good man and the evil one.”

“He can’t be both anymore. One or the other.” A mournful glint entered her eyes. I suspected this was a play she had witnessed not on the stage, but in real life.

I nodded.

“And how did it end?”

“The good doctor grew more and more unstable.” In fact, there was a female character, a prostitute. It felt a little pointed, as if it were about
her
. And by the end, the evil Mr. Hyde had killed her. In his grief and to protect all others, Dr. Jekyll killed himself. These types of stories often ended in death. I cleared my throat, thinking of a lie. “Then he came up with another potion to put himself back together again.”

That wasn’t really the way it ended, and Mia smiled sadly. She wasn’t fooled. She might look sweet and innocent, almost perpetually childlike, but she had seen the worst side of humanity. She’d lived among the Mr. Hydes of the world and somehow escaped to this domestic idyll.

I stared at her with a growing sense of surrealism. We looked alike. Dark hair that shone in the light. Porcelain skin. The similarities ran deeper than that. We both had crazy, fucked up fathers. Only, mine had hurt other children. Hers had hurt
her
, so looking at her was like an alternate reality version of myself. This was what I’d be if things had been different.

She was beautiful, with an air of contentedness, so it wasn’t a bad option, really. Except things hadn’t always been good for her. Bad things had happened in her past, with her father, on the streets, with Carlos, and I knew that from reading more than her file. All those blacked out lines, those top-secret words. And the past she couldn’t quite forget.

Her eyes held shadows. Hollows in her eyes, empty spaces carved out from moments I could only guess at. Emotional scar tissue, and no amount of her husband’s love or protection could ever erase it completely.

By the time Mia and I returned to the front of the house, Lance was conversing seriously with Tyler Martinez. About Carlos, probably. It hadn’t really occurred to me that the ex-agent could have as much valuable insight as Carlos’s former girlfriend. That was smart of Lance. Capable, too, that he’d swayed someone initially hostile to talk to him.

“Did he tell you anything?” I asked on the ride back, looking at his side profile.

He shifted gears as the light turned green. “Not anything we can use. He warned me away. Said Carlos would do things on his own terms. Always has, always will.”

“That’s about what Mia said,” I admitted.

Depressing advice from two people who had been steamrolled by Carlos once upon time. And they’d managed to escape and build new lives for themselves, so they knew what they were talking about.

If I were smart, I’d take their advice. I’d back off Carlos and find some smaller fish to fry. But this was my assignment, my career. This was my
purpose
, and I couldn’t leave it alone any sooner than Carlos could stop being a criminal. We were at cross purposes, he and I. One of us had to lose, and even knowing it would be me, I couldn’t stop trying.

Lance was quiet for the rest of the drive, a thoughtful look on his face. He was young. Around the same age as me, but he
felt
young. He looked it, too, with angular features almost too big for his face and hair that tended to flop in his eyes by the end of the day. His body was gangly, though strong.

I could see the building blocks of a handsome, well-built man, but he wasn’t fully formed yet. He needed more bulk and he needed more experience—at least, for my tastes. I’d always been attracted to older men. Even knowing it was due to daddy issues didn’t diminish it. The body wants what it wants. And the heart yearns for acceptance, something Lance’s innocence could never really provide.

His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. “Just keep your eyes open.”

My eyebrows rose. “Okay…that sounds like a threat.”

He grimaced slightly. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence you’re on this case.”

First Hennessey, now Lance. I was surrounded by conspiracy theorists. But that didn’t mean they were wrong.

I bit my lip, thinking. “Did Martinez say something about it?”

A pause. “He said you could be sisters. You and Mia, when you were coming back around the house. That you looked alike.”

Jesus. There were a hundred reasons I was on this case. No, there was only one reason.

If only I had someone to confide in. I wanted to spill my darkest secrets without facing condemnation. I needed to lay out all the pieces and have someone talk me through it. I had to believe the jagged pieces fit together, if I knew the proper order.

My thoughts went to Hennessey. Could I trust him? At the very least, I should tell him about this visit to Mia. Then if he didn’t flip out…if we continued talking…no, I couldn’t trust him. That course had been set a long time ago. It hadn’t even been my decision.

When Lance pulled his car to a stop, I got out and murmured a quick goodbye. He waited until I got in my car before leaving the parking garage himself. We were both supposed to head home, along with the rest of the team. Relax, recharge. Be in top shape for the bust tomorrow.

So why was Hennessey’s dark sedan in the space next to mine?

Without thinking too much about my decision, I got out of my car and used my badge to enter the building after hours. The atrium was a large space with sleek glass walls. Etched into the marble floor were the scales of justice, ominous and weighty. Exhausted-looking agents headed for the exit, blindly crossing the scales of justice, trampling them. The building was never really empty, and there was always something going down on one case or another.

I had to pass my cubicle, and Lance’s, on the way. They both sat empty, of course. Unimpressive spaces for the rookies. Really, no part of the building looked glamorous or shiny the way they did in the movies. We were more about budget restrictions and safety protocols.

At least, we had been, until Hennessey had arrived with his high profile case and planned tactical maneuvers. He was the closest I’d ever seen to the romantic ideal of a law enforcement officer, all honor and intelligence. But even though I believed in him, I wondered if there was a dark side. How far would he go to see Carlos behind bars? Would he shoot first and ask questions later? Would I?

The sparse temporary office Hennessey had been using was empty, but the light was on, indicating he hadn’t left for the day. The sound of voices lured me farther down the hall, toward Brody’s office. As I got closer, I could hear the menace underlying both masculine voices. A thread of worry wound its way through my body, touching off a rapid heartbeat. This building saw its share of bravado and male posturing, but this was sharper.

I stood in front of the door. Someone spoke angrily, in a burst I couldn’t comprehend. The other person responded something about a fire, and going down in flames—though whether that was a hypothetical inferno, I didn’t know.

I knocked. The voices quieted.

Brody’s voice. “Come in.”

Pressing inside, I saw Hennessey standing by the window, looking out. Even in the small office, he’d found the place with a view. The tense lines of his body spoke of his frustration. Brody also had a pissed off expression, but then that was pretty much normal. He wore his cynicism like a second skin. I had only ever seen him earnest once before.

“Sorry,” I said, apologizing for the intrusion. Even though I’d done it on purpose. If it was about the case, I had a right to know. And if it was about me…well, I should know that too. “Is there something I can help with?”

“Yes.” Brody nodded. “We’ve received intel that the drop is going to be made tonight. We’re going to have to move quickly to catch them.”

From the side of the office, Hennessey made a hiss of frustration. “And work blind, since we don’t have time to get the snipers in place.”

“We have good men. Sorry,” Brody added to me. “And women.”

Hennessey shook his head, his displeasure evident in the hard set of his face, the metallic fire in his eyes. “If we can even get all of them in. If they answer their cell phones and get their asses into the office in the next hour. If they haven’t been drinking or a hundred other things that could keep them from being alert.”

Brody’s eyes darkened. “I’m sure you’ll adjust the plan accordingly. You
are
the lead of this operation.”

Hennessey snorted in derision. “Right, which means you override the most important decision. And if I step down, you’ll do it anyway, and the whole thing will be a clusterfuck.”

“It’s your decision,” Brody said placidly.

Hennessey pointed at him. “If we lose an agent, this is on your head.”

“Don’t lose sight of the objective, Hennessey.” Brody’s eyes glittered. “We’re here to nail Carlos to the wall, and how are you going to do that if he comes and goes before you’re even in position? He’s moving now, so you move now.”

Hennessey stared at him coldly, and I held my breath. I half expected him to tell Brody to go fuck himself. At least then he wouldn’t have the professional responsibility of said clusterfuck. But finally he gave a short nod and headed into the hallway.

I stood to follow him, but Brody cleared his throat. My eyebrow rose. An unspoken challenge filled the room as I waited for my boss to speak. As I waited for him to give himself away.

He paused, as if deciding how much to say. “It’s important we move on this guy now. Now, before he goes underground.”

Curiosity pierced my frustration. “Sir?”

Leaning forward, he spoke lower. “What I said before, about the unrest within his organization, it’s getting worse. And fast. They’re either dying or disappearing, like rats running for cover.”

“And you think Laguardia might go underground?”

It was an interesting idea, that he might go someplace we’d never find him. Undercover. He’d never pay for his crimes, but technically, if he stopped committing them, that would at least be an improvement. Still, it wouldn’t reflect well on the Bureau for him to slip away—again. Besides, criminals usually needed to keep committing crimes due to whatever compulsion had led them to start.

Brody’s voice dropped to a murmur. “This isn’t public knowledge yet, but Daniel Fuentes, the guy you interviewed?”

My eyes widened. In my mind, a snapshot flashed of a genial Santa Claus in an orange jumpsuit. The image skipped ahead to the soulless blank stare.

“He’s dead,” I said, already sure. “How?”

“Apparent suicide.”

Apparent.
“You doubt the conclusion?”

“He was in his cell, alone. Surveillance shows no one went in or out except for the guard who discovered him. And there were no special calls or letters leading up to the event.”

“So it’s a suicide.”

Brody’s expression showed doubt. “The timing is suspicious…your recent visit with Hennessey…the upcoming raid. It’s a hell of a coincidence.”

And Hennessey didn’t believe in coincidence.

Was it possible Laguardia had somehow gotten inside? I didn’t see how. Maybe Fuentes had been so scared that Laguardia
would
find out that he’d done the deed preemptively. Or maybe he was just fucked up in the head.

What do you remember?

Three little girls in Tijuana.

Brody’s expression hardened. “You understand your role here.”

The question hit its target, right where it hurt the most. I was the rookie. I was the little girl who turned in her father. I was the guy wearing the red shirt in the sci fi show, only serving one purpose and destined to die.

“Understood,” I said tightly.

He nodded. “Dismissed.”

I followed after Hennessey, confused and frustrated. I didn’t even know what to think about Fuentes. I wasn’t sorry he was dead, but if Carlos could reach inside maximum security, we were pretty well fucked.

And the other part, my role. Yeah, that was coming through loud and clear. The rookie. The throwaway. Because I’d never escape my past. Hennessey was still in the hallway when I caught up to him, which meant he must have been waiting for me. He gave me a sideways glance as we continued together.

He muttered under his breath, mimicking Brody’s words. “He’s moving now, so you move now. Is that supposed to be some fucking law enforcement wisdom? As if I don’t have an arrest list a mile longer than he could ever hope for.”

Despite the tension of the moment, I had to crack a smile at the blatant competitiveness. In a way, Hennessey was so high above me, so competent that I idolized him. It helped to see him, at least in this moment, a little petty and a lot human.

He glanced at me, his lips twitching. “What are you laughing at?”

I shook my head, my smile fading. “Is it going to be bad? The bust?”

His sigh gave me the answer. “There’s always a chance that shit goes wrong. Sometimes we lose an agent. It happens.”

Only then did I remember his other rookie partner…who had died.

In the conference room, he began rifling through the papers. We’d need to reevaluate our blind spots without the snipers in place—and we’d have to do it fast.

He spoke without looking up. “Call everyone on the team. And screen them. If someone has taken so much as a Benadryl, they’re out. Everyone comes in clearheaded or not at all. If I have to walk in there by myself, that’s what I’ll do.”

“With me.”

“What?” he asked absently.

“I’ll be there with you.”

When he looked up, his eyes were smoky. Something was there, just behind the mist, but I couldn’t read him. “Right,” he said finally.

I tried to ignore the unease that pooled in my stomach as I left to make the calls. Thankfully, with the time still early evening, most of the team was available to come in immediately. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach Lance at all. His number went straight to voicemail, as if his phone were off. Frankly, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t play a pivotal role in the original plan, and considering his rookie status, that likely wouldn’t have changed in the rushed new plan.

So what the hell are you doing here?
But I didn’t have an answer for that.

It took me most of the hour we had left to organize everyone’s new assignments. The cubicles and conference room, which had been empty, now bustled with agents. Some prepared to work from the office or in the van to help coordinate. The ones going in suited up in bulletproof gear.

I hadn’t donned my gear yet, not wanting the encumbrance before I had to. There was no time to change clothes, so I was stuck in a blue dress shirt beneath my standard suit jacket and skirt. A black T-shirt and black cargo pants were laid out on my bed at home, useless now. I wasn’t sure what to do about that, but I was too busy to worry about it. At one point, literally running to get schematics from one end of the office to the other. It hurt on my two-inch heels, even with the fancy insoles I used. Everyone was running around. All our carefully laid plans were out the window, left only with this. Hennessey had been spot on when he’d predicted this would be a clusterfuck. We hadn’t even left the building and it already was.