Easy Target (13 page)

She smirked and started filling the sink with water, standing closer to him than usual. “I just bet you can be when you’re in the right frame of mind.”

Glancing down and trying to ignore the sexual tug, he could smell the floral shampoo she’d used. He also tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare down the front her robe. He failed at both and only managed to give her a look that was partway between scorching and pleading.

Despite the robe’s being oversized, Sassy’s generous assets were difficult to miss. She was curvy in a way that had him grinding his teeth to keep from saying anything that would lead them further into “bad idea land.” Why couldn’t he get himself under control around her?

The hell of it was, he strongly suspected that she knew exactly what she did to him. He had to get out of here for a little while, or, despite his best intentions, he’d have her on that table with the threadbare terry cloth open any second.

“I’m going to go talk with Otis,” he said.

“I’ll get my clothes figured out from what I found in the closet.”

Thank God.
Out loud he muttered, “Good.” Clothes would be an excellent start. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to strip her naked, kiss her stupid, or both.

S
ASSY BUMPED
B
RYAN
away from the sink with her hip. “I’ll take care of these.” She took a steadying breath as he stared down at her with an inscrutable look.

He said nothing and walked out the door, closing it with a decided snap. She could almost feel the perspiration popping out on her upper lip. Lord, she had to get out of this robe and put some real clothes on. Dressed this way, she was too vulnerable. Too everything.

The hot water was taking a long time to warm up, so she left the stopper out of the sink and let the water run over the dirty dishes and pan. She’d just turned to move toward Tilly’s Goodwill bag when she heard voices outside on the landing. One voice was Bryan’s; the other was someone’s she didn’t recognize.

Before she could move more than a step from the sink, the door burst open, and two men muscled into the apartment on either side of Bryan. Both held guns. Bryan stood silently between them, his face completely blank.

“What’s going on?”

The men were dressed in suits and looked official, yet menacing at the same time. When they saw Sassy, something changed in the air. She got a distinct vibe that made her extremely nervous.

There’d be no pulling of the tiger’s tail here. These men weren’t on any kind of official business; they were up to no good. And if they got their hands on her, she was sunk. Bryan wouldn’t fight them if he thought they were going to hurt her. And even if he did try, with their guns pointed at him, he wouldn’t get far.

She reached into the sink behind her and grasped the handle of the saucepan that was finally filling with scalding hot water. She swallowed a gasp as it splashed over her hand. “Bryan? Who are these guys?”

The men didn’t speak. One of them started toward her across the small apartment. When he got even with the table, she pulled the pan from the sink behind her and flung the water at his head.

The man howled as the unusually hot water splashed into his eyes. Bryan was on the other man immediately, and they wrestled to the ground. Sassy pounded her downed guy with the saucepan. It probably wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t been so incapacitated by the hot water.

She heard scuffling and grunts behind her. A shot rang out. She froze in mid-­swing with the saucepan and turned. It was Bryan with the gun. The first man was on the ground and he was dead, if the blood streaming from his head was any indication. Bryan had a bead on the second man even as Sassy was processing it all.

“Don’t move, or I’ll put a bullet through your brain, too, just like your buddy there,” said Bryan.

Sassy did a double take at the tone in his voice. He sounded so different. Not at all like the Bryan she knew. She studied him a moment. His lip was bleeding and his shirt was torn, but the look in his gray eyes had gone from brooding and sexy to turbulent and deadly.

“Sassy, I need you to get something to tie this guy up with. Find something in the closet or the pantry, okay?”

She nodded and opened several drawers but could only come up with a roll of silver duct tape.

“That’ll do.” Bryan handed her the gun. “If he fights me, you shoot him.” No one spoke as he began strapping the guy to an armchair with the tape. It seemed crazy and surreal, like something she’d see in a Quentin Tarantino movie. In a few moments he was finished.

“Why isn’t Otis checking this out? Wouldn’t he have heard the gunshots?” she asked. Otis didn’t strike her as a guy to stand on the sidelines if he heard gunfire on his property.

After the man was secured, Bryan took the gun from Sassy. “Go get dressed. We’re getting out of here,” he said.

She didn’t move. “Won’t Otis have heard the gunshot?” she asked again.

“Otis is dead. They killed him.”

Sassy’s stomach roiled as she cast a horrified gaze at the man strapped to the chair. Somehow she was able to continue speaking in a level tone. “Don’t we need to call the police or someone in law enforcement?”

God, when had she become so inured to all this?

The man in the chair cocked an eyebrow, and she felt the first spurt of anger course through her veins.

“Go get dressed, Sassy,” Bryan repeated.

The spurt of anger became a raging sea. “No, dammit. What in the world is going on here? Why aren’t we calling the police this time?”

She was glaring at Bryan when the man strapped to the chair spoke up. “Well, that might take some explaining, since I’m with the DEA, along with my dead partner over there.”

Chapter Thirteen

December 28

Noon

Mexico

T
HE AIR WAS
hot, but the breeze made the temperature almost bearable as Tomas Rivera sat beneath an umbrella outside the coffee shop surrounded by bodyguards. He sipped the iced coffee and wondered for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing here and why he’d agreed to meet Marcus Ramon.

Right now, his remaining “silent partner” was out of control, and Tomas had more to do than deal with a nephew he had never met before. Going to the U.S. to deal with betrayal by a man he’d trusted for over ten years was out of the question. But Tomas had to do something.

Then he’d gotten this phone call and felt compelled to drop everything. Was he becoming sentimental?

He’d certainly come to a deeper realization of just how alone he was in the world with Carlita gone. He was also beginning to see his own mortality with the events of the past month. That, and it had been such a very long time since he’d spoken to any of his own blood relations.

When Tomas left the Mexican Special Forces at nineteen and switched sides to join the cartels, he cut all ties. His family gladly took the money he sent the first five years. But eventually his reputation—­or his family’s piousness—­grew to the point that they asked him to stop sending any more cash. But he kept himself apprised of their lives, even if they didn’t want to know anything about him.

When his youngest sister’s son sent the cryptic message to him yesterday, he knew exactly who Marcus Ramon was. He’d known the day his favorite sister, Maria, had married a man from Texas and moved to the U.S. It was apparently a true love match, though the man wasn’t Marcus’s father.

That man had died in a car accident when Maria was still living in Mexico as an unwed pregnant teenager. He’d left her with an infant son to raise, but she’d met and married Marcus’s stepfather, who’d adopted the boy and given the child his last name. Marcus Rivera was now Marcus Ramon.

Although Tomas still kept close tabs on Maria, this call had been unexpected. And right now, he had other business to attend to. He desperately needed to be working his contacts to figure out exactly what his onetime partner was in the process of doing. Tomas had no doubt he was about to be screwed, but just how badly depended on how much information he could gather and how quickly he could gather it. He’d rather be in the U.S. to take care of things personally, but that was impossible.

So here Tomas sat. He recognized the young man approaching his table immediately. Marcus Ramon was tall, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that looked so much like his own that Tomas did a double take. While it wasn’t unusual for a nephew to bear such a strong family resemblance, Tomas, who had no children of his own, found himself shocked by the disconcerting sensation of gazing into the familiar face without the benefit of a mirror.

The young man sat across the table without preamble or offering his hand. “Hello, I’m Marcus Ramon, your sister Maria’s son.” The look in his eye wasn’t unfriendly, but it wasn’t open, either.

Tomas recognized that look, as he’d worn it plenty of times himself. “I know who you are. Why did you want to see me?”

Marcus didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. That surprised Tomas and pleased him in a rather perverse way.

“My mother asked me to come. She’d heard about your wife’s passing and wanted to send her condolences.”

Tomas tipped his head. “That is kind of her. Maria was always a sweet girl. Is she still happily married to her farmer in Texas?”

Now Marcus did look uncomfortable. He wasn’t interested in discussing his parents’ marriage.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I didn’t even know of our ‘relationship’ until a week ago. I’ve come with a request from my mother. She’d like to see you.”

“It’s been twenty-­five years, and she’s never had much to say to me before now. Why the sudden interest? Does she want some kind of mention in my will?” Tomas heard the bitterness in his own tone but didn’t bother to hide it.

He saw a barely perceptible wince in his nephew’s eyes. “No, this has nothing to do with
your
will.”

Rivera could tell by the way Marcus bit off the words that he’d have liked to add
you son of a bitch
to the end of that sentence.

“She’s got lung cancer, Stage four. Just diagnosed. She . . . waited a while before she went to the doctor. They haven’t given her much time. She’s already under hospice care and would very much like to see you before she dies.”

Rivera felt his chest tighten and was surprised at the emotion. Even now, nothing could have persuaded him to risk going to the U.S., except this.

Dying . . . Christ
. First Carlita, now Maria. God absolutely had it in for him. He didn’t allow the devastation to show as he sat staring down his nephew. He
would
go to the U.S., but only after certain precautions were in place.

“Perhaps we can work something out, but I need you to do something for me first.”

“Why would I—­” The young man stopped.

Although it was obvious he wanted to tell his uncle to go straight to hell, love for his mother kept him rooted to the rickety café chair.

Marcus swallowed and gave an imperceptible nod. “I’m all ears. What can I do for you?”

Kingstree, South Carolina

“W
HAT?
Y
OU’RE
DEA?” Bryan heard Sassy’s strangled whisper even as he cursed under his breath. The only other sound in the room was the radiator kicking on.

Dumbfounded, Bryan turned to stare at the fed, who was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Still reeling, he flipped on the radio by the stove, turned the volume up extra loud on a Hispanic station, and bent down to search the guy for wires, even though any wires would most likely have been dislodged during their brawl a few moments before. After making sure the guy was clean, Bryan led Sassy into the bathroom to have a little privacy.

By the time he’d partially shut the door, she was livid. “What is happening? I’ve not asked too many questions, but now I want to know it all, and I want to know now. Or I’m calling the police and turning myself in. So . . . talk.”

She was right to ask. He knew that. The problem was, he didn’t have answers for her yet. Nothing about the situation made sense.

The man in the hotel, the train crash, now this. God, how did he even begin to explain it? He couldn’t. He barely had a handle on his own suspicions. And if he was right about half of what he suspected, he didn’t have a lot of time to explain anything.

“Please, Sassy. Can you just get dressed so we can go someplace safe? I’m not sure how much time we’ve got.”

“Time before what?” She narrowed her eyes. “Time before someone else shows up that you have to kill?”

He ignored the jab for now, even though it hurt. Did she really think he was some common killer?

“These guys must have some kind of backup, and when they don’t report in . . .” He let the words hang, hoping she would agree to have her questions answered later. The obstinate expression on her face told him that was probably not happening.

He recognized the determined set of her jaw from years ago when Trey would try to boss her around in classic big brother style. Bryan glanced out at the man still tied up in the seat and knew that despite the salsa music’s volume, the DEA agent was straining to hear every word.

Sassy shook her head. “No way. I want answers, and I want them now before I go anywhere else with you.”

“I don’t have any answers. I’ve told you . . . everything.”

She stared up at him in the tiny bathroom with lightning flashing in her storm-­blue eyes, so close he could smell the scent of the floral shampoo she’d used. He was crowding her, but that didn’t seem to bother her, even after everything she’d told him about Bobby Hughes.

He gazed down at her, and wrong as it was, he knew that the same longing was apparent in his eyes that had been there earlier when they’d been tangled on the floor of the bathroom. She searched his face with an intensity that had him feeling that same sexual pull as before, but this time it was different, awkward for an entirely different reason.

Despite their “audience” in the other room, this felt more honest than most of his interactions with her, including what had happened between the two of them on the train, because she was no longer putting up such huge walls.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He was a perverse dog to even think it, but his body was operating under a completely different mandate.

She shook her head imperceptibly. “No,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

And that was all it took to shut down the lizard part of his brain, or at least to stop his acting on it. Whatever had been going on and whatever he’d been thinking of doing were over. He refocused on her eyes and drew her farther into the bathroom, positioning himself so that he could still keep an eye on the man in the chair but keep her behind the bathroom door and out of the agent’s line of sight.

“Sassy, I’m sorry, but I don’t have answers for you.”

“What is the DEA doing here?”

He shook his head. “No idea. But there’s a warrant out for Gavin now with some very serious charges. Someone is intent on dismantling AEGIS or, at the very least, defaming the company to the point where no one will believe anything we say. I think the DEA guy out there is dirty or being run by someone who is.”

“Who would he be working for?”

Bryan shook his head. “I’m assuming it has to do with what we’ve been looking into with the sex trafficking and perhaps even Elizabeth’s disappearance. It’s the only thing that makes much sense. But I can’t piece all the parts together.”

She nodded, her eyes no longer stormy but serious. “Where is Gavin now?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in Africa with Marissa. I’m not sure that he’ll be able to come back anytime soon. Unless he can enter the country covertly, he’ll be arrested as soon as he lands in the U.S.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“You get dressed, and we’ll get out of here. I’ll see about a car.” There was no way they could wait on Bear with a dead man in the yard, but he wasn’t going into all that.

“Can’t we just take theirs?” she asked, motioning toward the door with her head.

Bryan nodded. “We could, but if it’s an agency car, it may be LoJacked. I’ll figure something out.” He took a final look at that robe that was playing such hell with his libido and his resolve to keep his hands to himself. “I never thought I’d say this, but please, Sassy. Get some clothes on.”

He turned away before she could see his face, then added, “If we stay here much longer, we’ll be in serious trouble on several levels.”

He could feel her stare on his back.

“Alright. I’ll get some clothes and change,” she said.

He heaved a silent sigh of relief.
Thank God.

He’d figure out what was happening with her later, but as for the DEA agent, Bryan needed to know who the guy was working for now. Not knowing who and what they were up against was going to get him and Sassy killed, sooner rather than later.

It wasn’t Leland, he was sure of that. But someone Leland was in contact with?

Perhaps. And wasn’t that just scary as hell?

Bryan wanted answers as much as Sassy did, but he didn’t have the time or the stomach to do what would be needed to gather any useful information from the man strapped in that chair. For now, he just needed to get Sassy out of here.

“T
HERE’S NO
L
OJACK
, I swear,” the DEA agent murmured. “You don’t have to do this.”

With a gun in his hand, Bryan leaned over the man and pressed the barrel into the guy’s leg. “Who sent you after us?” His voice had an arctic chill.

“Don’t make me do this,” pleaded the agent. “He’ll kill me.”

Bryan shook his head. “Who sent you after us?” He repeated the question with a complete lack of emotion.

Sassy heard the words and recognized Bryan’s voice, but her skin crawled as she watched him hold the muzzle of his weapon to the DEA agent’s knee and never flinch. She’d just walked out of the bathroom in her Goodwill yoga pants, camisole, and sweatshirt.

“Why are you after us?” Bryan asked.

The agent was shaking his head. Bryan hadn’t seen her yet. She was horrified and mesmerized at the same time.

“I don’t want to do this, but you’re not leaving me any choice. I need answers. You and I both know a government paycheck isn’t enough to take a bullet to the kneecap. So tell me who sent you and why, or I’m pulling the trigger. And it won’t matter how much they pay you, you’ll be walking with a limp for the rest of your life. If you don’t bleed out before they find you.”

Sassy must have made an involuntary sound of some sort, because both men turned to her. Bryan’s gaze lasered into hers. The tension was palpable; her heart thudded in the silence.

His eyes weren’t cold, they were expressionless, as if he’d completely disconnected from his emotions. But as he stared at her they changed, filling with a new emotion she didn’t recognize right away. He turned back to the man tied in the chair before she could identify what she’d just seen.

“Get your things together, Sassy. We’re leaving now.” Bryan’s eyes refocused on the man, and he didn’t look up again. For that she was grateful.

“Okay.” She scooped her meager belongings into the top of Bryan’s pack and slid their still-­wet clothes from the washer into a plastic bag. Anxious to get out of the apartment, she picked up the backpack and headed for the door.

“Meet me in the garage,” said Bryan.

“What are y—­” She stopped herself from finishing the question.

Did she really want to know what he was about to do?

The two men from the DEA had killed Otis. They had tried to kill her and Bryan. She swallowed hard.

No, she didn’t want to know. Instead, she opened the door and moved down the stairs. The sun was high in the sky, and it was a beautiful day. But the air was so cool, her breath made small puffs of white clouds as she exhaled walking down the stairway.