Game of Fear (5 page)

Being a helicopter pilot, her sister obsessively checked everything, fuel and safety features alike, before moving an inch. She’d tried to teach Ashley to do the same. Apparently, the lesson hadn’t taken very well.

Ashley flipped on the blinker and pulled off the highway, the car shuddering on its last fumes. That’s all she needed, to seize the engine or something. The poor, beat-up sedan had seen better days. Now, Ashley prayed it would survive until she reached the Academy and gave it back to its owner.

She turned the ignition off and looked around. For an all-night station, the place sure looked deserted. The lights above her blinked, then flashed off, plunging the area into darkness.

Ashley froze, peering outside through the window.

Deb always told her to listen to her instincts. Right now, they were screaming that she should have stayed in town. She caught movement in her peripheral vision and slammed her hand down on the door lock, but it was too late. Someone had already ripped the door open.

The interior light flickered on. Screaming, she kicked out at the black-clad man trying to pull her from the car.

“Help! Please, someone help me!”

“Yell all you want, kid. No one around to hear you.”

She screamed as massive arms pulled her body from the car and dragged her toward another vehicle. He tried to shove her into the back of a huge SUV, but she fought him. He slammed her head against the door frame, nearly knocking her unconscious.

With a final kick, she caught him in the crotch. He dropped her to the ground and she struggled to regain her footing. His backhand left her ears ringing and blood coursed down her split lip. The man grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head close. “Stay down or I’ll hit you again, and this time I won’t be gentle.”

A blond man approached and her attacker said, “Grab her legs and watch out. She’s a wild one.”

The blond gripped her ankles and held her tight, grinning at her as they lifted her from the ground. She twisted and turned. She couldn’t let them take her.

A third man opened the rear hatch further, and they threw her roughly into the vehicle. When she tried to rise, the blond backhanded her across the face. “What did we tell you?”

She sagged. Oh God. She was going to die. She couldn’t keep a whimper from escaping.

The blond bent close, his voice no more than a whisper. “No use fighting. You’re coming with us. Do as you’re told, or you’ll die.”

“Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone—”

“Damn right about that.” He chuckled and yanked out a few zip ties from his pocket and grabbed her wrists.

“Wait! You don’t know what you’re doing. My father is in the Army and he’ll kick your ass if you don’t let me go.”

The man bound her wrists with the tie and bent closer, laughing. “Your father is in Kandahar and by the time Daddy Dearest gets here, Ashley, there won’t be a trace of you left to follow.”

Her eyes widened. “You know who I am?”

“Oh, yeah. Ashley Lansing, math prodigy, code breaker and Einstein-level genius. Accepted at the Air Force Academy at age sixteen, the youngest ever, even though teenagers your age aren’t really allowed in the military. For you, they made an exception.

“Your father is Army General George Lansing, bastard extraordinaire. Your brothers are Richard and Benjamin Lansing, also serving overseas. One sister, Deborah, an ex-Army helicopter pilot, is now doing Flight for Life and Search and Rescue out of Denver, whatever allows her to fly the most. Mother deceased, probably to escape your father. Did I miss anything you needed to hear to believe me, or do you want me to start on your bra size and color of your panties next?”

A tear trickled down her cheek. She stopped fighting.

“We know everything about you, Miss Lansing. Move against us, and we’ll retaliate against everyone you love. Starting with your adoring sister.”

Ashley went limp. Oh God. Deb.

He placed zip ties on Ashley’s ankles, then attached one loop to a hook in the floor. “That’s better. You know, I was once in your place, but I was smart and I survived. Be smart and you might make it through this alive, too. Be stupid and . . . well, let’s just say you won’t be the first person I would have to get rid of for my boss. It’s kind of my specialty. And I do love my work.”

The metal tailgate slammed, closing Ashley in the cargo space of the SUV. Her phone was in the car. She had no way to contact Deb. Would her classmate report the car missing if she didn’t show up? Would she be considered AWOL for not signing in before curfew? With luck, the police might start looking for her tonight.

Ashley scooted as far as she could, using her hands to feel her way around her. Nothing. Smooth steel. She pulled against the zip ties, but the hard plastic just bit into her wrists. She kicked the back door, hoping she could at least break the back taillight somehow.

The side door opened. The blond man looked behind. “Didn’t I hit you hard enough to make my point? It’s no use trying to escape. You belong to us now.”

The guy with reddish hair, cut close to his scalp, bent down. “You owe me for that crotch kick, and I will collect.”

He smiled at her, but his eyes were dead. He had no soul. None of them did.

Ashley sent up a prayer. Deb would look for her. Everyone would. They would find her. She had to believe that.

The third man approached on the passenger side and looked at the blond. “What do you want me to do?”

“We already went over this. After we’re gone, clean up the situation,” the leader replied. “Reset the videotape, then take her car to the bus terminal closest to the Academy and leave the note inside. The night clerk here will wake up on his own and think he fell asleep. Be sure to grab the spiked drink bottle so there’ll be no evidence.”

The blond slid behind the steering wheel. “Don’t make any mistakes. You know what happens to employees who screw up.” He paused. “I’d hate to lose you like we did Rogers.”

The guy gulped, then nodded. “Sure, Niko. No mistakes.”

The man’s eyes flared, his tone harsh. “That was a mistake right there. Never say my name away from camp.”

The guy panicked.

“Don’t worry. This kid won’t be telling anyone, but that’s your last warning.”

Niko turned the key in the ignition and the SUV rumbled to life. After shifting gears, he pulled the black Escalade out of the gas station. Ashley peered out the rear-tinted window and watched one of the station’s dimmer lights flicker back on. The place still looked closed. No one would stop.

Her eyes burned as even that light was swallowed up by the darkness.

“Where are you taking me?” She wished her voice didn’t sound so scared. Deb never showed fear. Ashley wouldn’t, either. “What camp? A militia camp?”

“Try to think of it as computer camp for prodigies,” Niko said, laughing at her question. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Miss Lansing. Your little foray into the NSA’s computer has cost us. So, when we arrive, the Warden will want your assistance. I suggest you agree to do everything he says. For your sake, and the sake of your family.”

He glanced over his shoulder, staring intently at her. “Otherwise, Ashley Lansing, you get to play with me. And I guarantee you won’t like my kind of games.”

C
HAPTER THREE

S
AMMY
’
S
B
AR SHOWED
its true colors
as closing time drew near. Raucous laughter sounded from a corner, but it barely registered. He couldn’t get Deb out of his mind, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all evening long.

“It’s showing on your face,” Hawk said with a grin. “Did you at least get her phone number?”

Damn it. She’d scrambled his brains so much he didn’t have any way to contact her. Was she listed? He’d find out once he got home. If not, he had a brother who could dig out practically any information on anyone. Family came in handy sometimes.

“Man, she must have rung your bell in your office.” Hawk chuckled. “You looked shell-shocked coming out of there. I knew I should have gone after her myself.”

Gabe grabbed Hawk’s collar. “One more word, and you’re fired. Not joking, Hawk.”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed to disturbing slits, then he blinked and the murderous gaze dissipated. “Interesting. You’re serious about her. Guess I proved my point then.”

Gabe released Hawk. “Was there a reason my brother didn’t kill you when you two were overseas?”

“Sorry, I seem to be indestructible, unfortunately. Besides, you need me for your side job. Who else is going to watch your back?” Hawk stacked some clean glasses behind the bar. “Deb will probably be back. Maybe. If you didn’t scare her off.” He turned to the next customer.

Probably best if Gabe had, though he couldn’t imagine anything intimidating Deb. Still, she’d never let her guard down with him that way before. He hadn’t been ready for the intensity simmering between them, and now he regretted losing control. Trouble was, he was in no position to start a relationship. Even if his investigation hadn’t gone anywhere yet, the whole thing could explode at any moment. If his brother Luke’s investigation held any truth—and Gabe had no doubt it did—more than a few people had died trying to bring Jeff Gasmerati down, plus whoever in the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office had hitched a ride on the wrong side of the law.

Speaking of dirty cops, three deputies strode through the door. Bad news, but Gabe forced a smile anyway. “You’re just in time for last call, gents. What can I get you?”

Within minutes, Gabe had pulled two beers on tap and sent a double shot of straight whiskey to the last cop. Menken downed it, then asked for another.

“Get a table,” he growled at his companions.

Gabe didn’t mention closing time again, even though he wanted to. His Jeffco captain, John Garrison, had told Gabe to watch these three specifically. John’s suspicions ran deep with them. A few pieces of missing evidence in their key cases and a few too many closed-door meetings with Gabe’s prime suspect, Sheriff Tower.

Everyone else in the office tried to avoid that slippery bastard, so the fact that the three musketeers, as Gabe had dubbed them, didn’t, dinged his suspicion meter.

Tower’s three deputies smelled of corruption. At one time, they’d been decent officers, but the scuttlebutt that went around the bar—and the informants who met Gabe—told a much uglier story.

Gabe didn’t want to believe they’d turned, but he’d learned the hard way that betrayal by people you’d trusted came too damn easy.

Either he or Luke would get the proof. They had to. And soon.

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t found a lick of evidence against the sheriff. The guy was Teflon. Even when the sheriff’s son, Brian, had been murdered last year amid swirling rumors about parties and meetings with Jeff Gasmerati, the local crime boss, they hadn’t touched Tower’s reelection.

Jeff Gasmerati was another matter. As a snitch, Ernie had become Gabe’s window into the organization. Gasmerati owned half of Denver, with just enough legitimate business to insulate himself from the law.

Gabe hadn’t been able to prove it, but if he were a betting man, he would say the sheriff was in bed with Gasmerati and had been since Tower was elected to fill the position vacated by the untimely death of a man who’d held the office for twenty years before him. Being sheriff in Jefferson County had turned into a lifetime job.

“Last call,” Gabe announced, checking the time again.

Most of the cops in here tonight had come for a few beers, a game or two of pool, and were now packing up to go home to their wives or husbands. The honest cops, at least.

A few more of the Blue Brotherhood had shoved back a couple of shots, disappeared with a badge groupie for a quickie, then headed home to play the Good Daddy, tucking the kids into bed. Had Patrick Montgomery been one of those?

Gabe hadn’t wanted to believe that about his father, but the longer he’d worked behind the bar, the more he’d seen what he hadn’t wanted to know.

Dirtbags, like the three musketeers, made Gabe’s stomach turn. They acted like saints in the bar, but Gabe knew better. His gaze moved from one face to the next, ticking them off his mental list. Maybe Ernie’s info tonight would nail one and Gabe could feel like a real cop again.

He glanced at his watch. “Five minutes to stools up.”

His announcement brought groans, but most finished their drinks and started bundling up to face the freezing temperatures outside.

Hawk cleared the dirty glasses and hauled them into the kitchen.

Soon the place would be empty.

H
awk’s taillights headed down the street and away from the closed bar. Gabe watched from the shadows, making sure the ex-spy was well out of sight. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his down parka.

No birds chattered this time of year. A few engines sounded from the road, the occasional horn, but mostly the streets had gone quiet in this neck of Denver.

Shifting his stance to ease the ache in his leg, Gabe searched for movement. He tried to concentrate while he waited for Ernie, but his thoughts drifted to Deb Lansing. This attraction to Deb was crazy. Could a woman with a seeming death wish and a burned-out vermin catcher with a bum leg and no dreams left, find anything in common? Somehow, he doubted it.

He’d caught her watching him on occasion. She’d seen him limp across the floor, and her eyes had flashed with pity. He wanted to shed the role he played, but he couldn’t. So he let her feel sorry for him even if it stuck in his craw.

To Gabe’s right, a shadowy figure ducked behind the trash bin. Gabe tensed and eased sideways, adjusting his stance, his hand behind him, ready to draw his weapon.

“Psst. SWAT.”

The nasal tone and familiar nickname had Gabe relaxing his fingers. Ernie.

“You’re late and I’m freezing my ass off. Hope you have something decent this time. Your last tip led nowhere. I don’t give second chances.”

Ernie nosed out from behind the bin, dragging his right leg behind him. “I was . . . unavoidably detained.”

“What happened?” Gabe asked.

The snitch shrugged. “Walked into a door . . . tripped down some stairs. Take your pick. They all work.”

When the parking lot light hit Ernie’s face, Gabe winced. The guy’s skin was a rainbow of bruises, and one eye was swollen shut. “You need a doctor?”

“No, but a bag of ice and something to eat would be good. I missed dinner . . . and lunch, come to think of it,” Ernie said, his expression full of hope. He climbed over a small snowbank, his limp obvious as he approached. “At least I can walk on this leg now. Thought I was gonna be on crutches.”

Gabe shook his head. Ernie would do anything for a buck, but he’d come through a few times, so Gabe would humor him. He kept hoping Ernie would spill something big on Gasmerati or Tower and ask for protection. Poor guy was like the town punching bag for bad guys, and one of these times he wouldn’t recover from their torment.

“Hold on. I’ll be back in a minute. Stay hidden.” Gabe retreated, making his way across the lot and into the bar’s kitchen. He grabbed a baggie and filled it with ice, then snagged the sandwich he’d made for himself and stuffed it into a paper bag.

Ernie would never come inside the bar. Said he couldn’t be seen in a cop hangout. This was already too close for the snitch’s liking.

“Here you go.” Gabe walked over to the log pile where Ernie had planted himself and handed him the ice and the dinner.

The snitch’s onyx and gold ring flashed as he pressed the baggie to his swollen eye, the purple, green, and yellow mottling his skin evident in the faint light.

He opened the bag and rammed half the sandwich in his mouth. “Thanks,” he muttered, his words garbled by the huge bite. He chewed some more, swallowed, and looked up at Gabe. “Got something good for you . . . if the price is right. This is the real deal, Montgomery.”

Gabe lifted a brow. “You said that last time—”

“I know. I know, but even I get taken in by liars sometimes. This info’s for real, from my own personal experience.” Ernie looked around suddenly. “Hey, did you hear something?”

Gabe stilled, listening for a minute. “No.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” Ernie’s head whipped
back
and forth, sniffing the air, like a rodent trying to sense an approaching cat. He bit his lip. “Yeah. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.”

Gabe went on full alert. His gut was telling him he needed this information, and he didn’t want Ernie taking off. Then again, he didn’t want Ernie dead, either. But, damn it, Gabe wanted to take down Tower and the mob bosses he ran with. “You staying or going?”

Ernie pulled a knife out of his pocket and passed it back and forth between jittery hands, his gaze still searching the shadows.

Gabe forced himself not to take the snitch down with a quick twist of an arm. Knives had that effect on him lately.

Finally, Ernie spoke again. “Guess I’m just getting jumpy. Look, I like you, Montgomery. You and your brother Zach saved my life when Tiny and his thugs came after me. I’d have been cougar food in the Rockies by now, so I figure I owe you.”

“I’m listening,” Gabe said.

Ernie scratched his nose. “You know sometimes, I . . . uh . . . courier a few specialty items for Gasmerati.”

Gabe stiffened at the name he knew all too well. And not just because of his current op. Jeff Gasmerati had been cousin to Gabe’s best friend and SWAT teammate, Steve Paretti. Gabe would love to beat the crap out of the traitor, but the guy was already dead.

Steve Paretti might have done the right thing in the end, but that didn’t excuse the lies and treachery that almost cost Gabe half of his family.

Nothing did.

“Something big’s going on,” Ernie said. “Gasmerati’s throwing around wads of cash like he grows it in his backyard.”

“Is he expanding the business?” Gabe asked, shifting on his injured leg.

“I think he’s going international, and he’s keeping it very hush-hush.” Ernie cocked his head. “Any of this worth something to you?”

“Could be.” Gabe shrugged, but his heart sped up. International meant big risks. Big risks meant big rewards, but also a chance to make federal charges stick. With luck, Gabe could nail Gasmerati and maybe even rope in Sheriff Tower and his flunkies, too. “Okay. Tell me everything and we’ll work out a price.”

Ernie looked around again, obviously nervous. “I was at Gasmerati’s building this afternoon, picking up a package to deliver. After I got it, I walked by Jeff’s office. Heard something weird, like an argument. Lots of tension in Gasmerati’s voice, so I slowed down and kind of took my time going past Jeff’s door.”

God bless the curious.

Ernie came closer, whispering the information so Gabe had to strain to hear. “Anyway, Gasmerati’s having it out with somebody on the speakerphone, but there’s another guy in the room with him. A translator, who keeps talking Russian, then repeating everything the guy on the phone says in English.”

Gabe straightened. Russian? Could Gasmerati have tapped the Russian mob? “What did you hear?”

“Something about a transfer of cash. Soon.” Ernie licked his lips. “They used the words
billion dollars
. Swear to God.”

Gabe let out a low whistle. “What else?”

“The Russian guy seemed upset about a car accident. Jeff said not to worry. He had law enforcement connections. Just then someone came walking into the hallway, and I bolted. I’ve already been on the bad end of too many fists lately for screwing up, so I got the hell out of there.”

And there was the first real proof—even if it was secondhand. Gabe leaned forward. “Did anyone mention where this accident was?”

“Yeah, near Taos. Someone found a bus that went off the road yesterday, but also spotted a car that these guys apparently didn’t want found.”

A small gasp sounded from the side of the bar.

“Ernie, get out of here,” Gabe said sharply.

The snitch’s eyes widened. “Oh God. I’m dead.” He scurried away as fast as he could on his injured leg.

Glock in hand, Gabe eased around the corner of the building.

A figure in a ski jacket hurried toward the street. Gabe raced after it. He had to know who’d overheard his conversation.

Within seconds, he caught up. Gabe spun the person around, slammed the intruder against the brick wall, then tore off the hood. Auburn hair spilled out over the jacket. “Deb? What are you doing back here at two in the morning?”