Easy Target (23 page)

Nightshade looked slightly embarrassed, as if he might not want to hear any of this. But the record needed to be set straight.

Bryan clenched his jaw in frustration to keep from howling. “Reese Donovan wasn’t embezzling or laundering money. Did it not occur to anyone that he could have been set up by Johnson, his handler?” Challenged to keep the disgust from his tone, Bryan let the accusation sink in for a moment.

Was Johnson behind his own team’s betrayal in the Helmand Province two years ago? Bryan wasn’t sure he could think about that right now without leaving blood on the walls of the trendy bar.

“Johnson’s slippery as an eel. Unless you have him in custody already, I don’t see how it’s going to happen any time soon,” said Risa.

Nightshade puffed up in indignation, but there wasn’t any way to argue the obvious. He’d already confirmed the Justice Department’s inept handling of the matter. The meeting was over.

Marissa was quietly furious, and it was unclear how long she’d keep those feelings under wraps. She asked Bryan to follow them to the Best Western, where she had a reservation. That way he wouldn’t be trying to rent a hotel room with his face all over the television.

After checking in, she handed Bryan her keycard in the hotel parking lot and left with Nightshade. Bryan had no idea what was going on there. But by that time he was so exhausted and angry at the disaster that was the Justice Department’s ongoing investigation that he didn’t care. Maybe Marissa would shoot Nightshade and save him the trouble.

He took a shower to wash off the road grime and fell into bed, only to feel the quiet hum of caffeine overload buzzing in his veins. If he thought of what Nightshade had revealed about Johnson and Afghanistan, he wouldn’t be able to function.

It was just too much. He had to shut that shit off for now. He could always pull it out and agonize over the situation later, ’cause this was gonna be a damn long night.

Chapter Twenty-three

December 30

Early morning

W
HEN THE PHONE
rang, Bryan had slept just long enough to be groggy and disoriented. One glance at the hotel clock and he knew it wasn’t good news. No one ever called with good news at 2:00
AM
.

It was Bear. Bryan didn’t even have to hear his frantic explanation before an aching sense of unease settled and brought him fully awake.

“Sassy’s gone. I came downstairs after taking a shower and . . . a nap. The alarm was turned off, and my truck was missing. There was no sign of forced entry.”

Bryan knew without being told that she hadn’t left under duress. He didn’t know what had happened, but he didn’t believe anyone had stolen her away from Bear’s. No, Sassy was out doing exactly what he’d asked her not to—­trying to do something for Trey on her own.

Dammit.

“Was she on the computer before she left?” Bryan asked.

“Yeah. She was working on her story and . . . shit. She checked her email.” Bear’s voice was full of self-­reproach. “I never should have gone upstairs to rest. I should have known something was up.”

Bryan shook his head.
Hell, Sassy. You said you wouldn’t do this.

“Don’t blame yourself, Bear. This is what she does. Is there any way to see what she was up to on her email?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

While Bryan was waiting for Bear to hack into Sassy’s email, he started texting Marissa. There wasn’t much his boss could do. She’d pulled in all her big favors for the meeting with Nightshade.

The man had made it clear that he would do nothing to endanger the corruption case against Johnson. Helping Sassy would surely fall into that category. But Risa would want to be kept in the loop, plus she had that uncanny ability to pull rabbits out of hats.

Bryan finished the text as Bear came back on the line. “Sassy’s gone to meet Rivera.”

“What?” Of all the crazy scenarios, Bryan had not seen that one coming.

“Rivera emailed her and asked to meet. Said he has valuable information that can help her brother. She emailed him back and agreed to meet at The Hot Pot . . . about thirty minutes from now.”

Shit.
He was six hours away at best.

“And I’m fresh out of transportation,” said Bear.

Sassy had done exactly what she’d promised she wouldn’t. Bryan shook his head as disbelief morphed from disappointment to anger then dread. Was she that impulsive?
God, the woman needs a keeper.

She’d promised not to go off on her own. He understood how Rivera’s holding out a helping hand to Trey would have caused her to reconsider. But he couldn’t believe she was naïve enough to believe the man would keep his word.

Desperation made one gullible.

Gullible
wasn’t a word he’d normally associate with Sassy. Did she honestly believe that Rivera would help Trey? Or was this about getting a scoop for her story? The idea burned as his hand tightened on the cell phone.

He could see Sassy meeting Rivera to get Trey help, but the way she’d done it made him livid. He didn’t want to think about her going behind his back and stealing Bear’s truck. That she trusted him so little after everything they’d been through together hurt like hell.

You shouldn’t trust me now, either.

Damn.
That wasn’t what he’d meant last night. But he could certainly see how today, after he’d left without saying goodbye, she might have taken those words way out of context.

Christ.
He wasn’t going to think about that, or he’d make himself nuts. He needed to focus on how to find her.

Why would Rivera have come into the United States? The man was on the DEA’s most wanted list. He’d never risk capture on U.S. soil. What would motivate the drug dealer to do such a thing? The answer dawned with stunning clarity and dismay.

Revenge.

It was the only motive that would make a man take that kind of crazy personal risk. Rivera knew Johnson was the one who’d sold him down the river and killed his family: his wife, Carlita Vega, and his brothers-­in-­law, Cesar and Ernesto Vega. He’d told Nick in Skikda that he’d been betrayed by someone he trusted.

Rivera had figured it all out before anyone at AEGIS or the Justice Department had. And Rivera had made it clear that he wasn’t after AEGIS. They were “off his radar” if what he had said to Nick in Algeria was true.

So why did Rivera want Sassy now? What could she possibly bring to the table?

She wasn’t involved in any direct way except for her relationship with Trey. Bryan had left her at Bear’s believing that she’d be out of harm’s way and could work on her story. The story that wasn’t such a Hail Mary idea after all, particularly after his meeting with Nightshade and Marissa.

The answer was right in front of him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He sat and stared at the generic hotel room: the desk, the sofa, the complimentary newspaper on the dresser.

Of course.
He smiled grimly as the idea dawned.

Sassy’s news story. That was what Rivera was after. And why the man had wanted to meet Sassy.

They were so screwed.

December 30

Early morning

Washington, D.C.

F
ORD
J
OHNSON SAT
in his plush office, staring at the message on the computer screen. Tomas Rivera was here in the U.S., and he wanted to meet. But Ford had no illusions about the situation. Rivera wasn’t making a social call.

Discovery had been inevitable, and Ford was running out of options unless he took some drastic action. He knew that, even if he couldn’t believe the day was finally here. Since he and Rivera were the last men standing, it only made sense that Tomas had figured things out. Whether Rivera recognized just how long he had been played wasn’t really important.

Ford had a contingency plan that he’d been working on for a long time. He pulled up a new window on his computer screen, clicked on a map, and made note of the target before typing in the authorization codes for the launch.

He knew all about the Justice Department investigation, but that was being taken care of. When he bagged the DEA’s and FBI’s most wanted cartel leader here on U.S. soil, the investigation of Ford Johnson would simply go away. All would be forgiven.

Still, investigative news reports were not so easy to cover up. But Ford could escape unscathed
if
the AEGIS team played this out as expected. Heroes were so predictable. Loyalty was their downfall, particularly when one knew how to exploit it.

December 30

Early morning

The Hot Pot

S
ASSY TOOK A
shallow breath through her mouth in an attempt to calm her racing heart. The scent of rich leather seats, expensive cologne, and velvety tobacco combined to make her slightly nauseated.

“Miss Smith. Thank you for joining me.” The voice was smooth and slightly accented.

The driver’s door slammed, and the car backed out of the parking place. She glanced out her window as they pulled onto the highway.

A spurt of anger had her snapping out a reply with her usual snark. “It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”

She was grateful her voice was strong. She inhaled slowly and bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. She’d been insane to come alone and meet Rivera without leaving word. Right now she was just grateful the backseat was dark enough that her captor host couldn’t see the panic in her eyes.

“Ah, I disagree. You came to the diner alone, as I asked. You didn’t have to do that.” There was a grudging note of respect in his tone.

“You said this was about my brother. I’d do anything to help him.”

“Ah, yes, Trey Smith. Your brother has had quite the hard road through no fault of his own. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I’d say that he and Elizabeth Yarborough were both in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Sassy couldn’t believe she was being so waspish, but she hated this game they were playing. As if this encounter were all so civilized.

“Agreed.” Even though the car was dimly lit, she could see the man shake his head in the shadows.

“Do you know where she is?” Sassy demanded.

“No, I do not. That fiasco was all Ernesto Vega’s doing. He was supposed to dispose of her in Mexico, but he couldn’t stand the thought of it. The last I heard the girl was in West Africa, but I’m afraid the knowledge of her exact whereabouts died with Vega.” Rivera made it sound as if they were talking about a lost umbrella rather than a living, breathing person.

“Do you think she is still alive?” Sassy struggled to keep the anger in her voice to a minimum. It would do her no good to antagonize this man.

“I seriously doubt it, given the current state of West Africa. Vega had her in a brothel there for a time, and from what I understood when we spoke of her last, she was quite ill.”

“Ill? What was wrong with her?”

Rivera shrugged. “Take your pick: malaria, an STD, Ebola? I believe there may have just been too much unpleasantness for her to deal with.”

Unpleasantness?

That was the understatement of the decade. Even if Elizabeth had survived an African brothel, with its rampant STDs, HIV, and abuse, surviving the rampages of Ebola would have been impossible.

The thought of it all would normally have had Sassy in tears, but tonight she didn’t have the luxury of allowing herself to feel. She had to put the thought of Elizabeth’s horrible fate away. She’d grieve another time.

For now, Sassy had to focus on why she was here. There was no reason to play coy or beat around the bush, so she kept silent on all the unasked questions about Elizabeth and jumped straight to the heart of the matter. “How can you help my brother?”

In the shadows, Rivera nodded at her question. “I have special ‘relationships’ with some of the judiciary in my country. The judges have a great deal of latitude in the Mexican legal system. I can have your brother’s charges dismissed with a phone call.”

Her jaw dropped. She didn’t doubt what Rivera said. The Mexican court system was infamous for its corruption. Judges investigated cases themselves and were subject to bribes and intimidation by the cartels. Incorruptible judges were as rare as snowflakes in July. Cases against drug dealers were dismissed all the time.

She turned to face Rivera on the soft leather seat. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but why would you do that?” she asked.

Rivera chuckled. “I appreciate your candor, Miss Smith. You have a directness that’s most refreshing.”

Sassy pulled her old armor around her and sat up straighter. “I’m delighted that I amuse you. What do I have to do to get you to make that phone call?”

“Not much.” Rivera didn’t even bother to act as if this wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. “I just need you to kill the story you are currently working on for your editor.”

“I’m currently working on several stories. Which one are we talking about?” Her tone was light and flirty even as her stomach knotted.
How did he know?

She needed to make sure which story was at issue here, although she was certain she knew the one they were discussing. Even so, she didn’t want to tip her hand. This was familiar ground, and a game she was used to playing. The stakes were just much higher this time around.

Rivera sighed. “There’s no reason to be coy. The story about sex trafficking in Mexico and Africa. The one that speaks of the relationship between myself, Ernesto Vega, and Ford Johnson.”

“What makes you think I’m working on such a story?”

Rivera shook his head. “Please, do you mind if I call you Sassy?”

“Of course not. You can call me whatever you like,” she murmured.

“Well, Sassy, let’s dispense with the charade. I don’t like explaining myself. But I’m going to make an exception because . . . you amuse me. I have many business associates and contacts around the world, many of whom would rather not be ‘known.’ Opening that door so publicly—­for instance, with a news story—­into the private workings of my associates . . .” He let the words hang for a moment. “Let’s just say it would be bad for everyone.”

The time for game playing was long past, and Sassy knew she had to lay everything on the table here or risk Trey’s freedom. She swallowed hard. “But Ford Johnson betrayed you. Why wouldn’t you want him exposed in the most public forum possible?”

Rivera’s laugh was chilling. “Oh, don’t worry. I have plans for Ford Johnson.”

Sassy’s mind raced. Quashing the story went against everything she believed in as a journalist. But for Trey, she’d do this, and more. Bryan and his team would be abandoned, though, with zero support against false allegations in the press. She hated that.

But for now, she didn’t see a way out of it. It was Bryan’s team in a U.S. jail for a few weeks until this was all unwound or Trey in a Mexican prison permanently. She closed her eyes and made the only choice she could.

“I can stop the story.”
If I desert Bryan and the others
. “How soon can you speak to the judge about Trey?”

“I’ll take care of it immediately.” She saw his smile flash in the glow of the dashboard. Perhaps it was because he was doing something for Trey, but she wasn’t nearly as put off by the smile as she had been earlier.

She took a deep breath for the first time since she’d sat in the car. Rivera handed her a phone. “It’s clean. No one can trace it. Call your editor,” he instructed.

Sassy didn’t hesitate and dialed Howard’s number to leave a message: “Hey Howard, it’s Sassy. I’m not coming up with any more sources on that story. I’m going to table it for now, but I’ll keep digging. I’m sorry. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

She hung up and handed the phone back. Rivera stared with a raised eyebrow.

“If I announced I was dropping the story completely, he’d suspect something was wrong,” she explained.

Rivera nodded as he dialed, then began speaking in rapid-­fire Spanish. Sassy recognized Trey’s name and understood just enough of the language to grasp that Rivera was doing what he’d said he would. He was telling the judge to let Trey go.