Dylan had cuffed the woman who was now dressed, and they left the room first.
Perez held his head high as he walked down the hall to the living room, Landon gripping his upper arm. John Graves was still lying on the floor, looking pale from loss of blood as paramedics worked on him. Agent O’Donnell stood close by.
“How bad is it?” Landon asked the paramedic as he brought Perez to a halt.
The paramedic leaned back on his haunches. “Bullet went clean through.”
Graves bared his teeth in a pained scowl, but remained still as a stretcher was brought in. O’Donnell never left his side, even as the man was loaded on a stretcher, handcuffed to it, and taken out to the waiting ambulance.
For the sake of officer safety, in case more men with guns were hiding, the agents were clear to search the house. While they checked it out, they found no sign of Alejandro Jimenez. However, they did find a shitload of cash and drugs lying out, plain to see, in the kitchen and in a back room.
When Landon and Dylan went outside with Perez, and reached the agency vehicles, Perez was put into the backseat of one of the cars. Landon and Dylan watched as the ambulance and agency vehicle left, their drivers speeding them away.
“We got two of the sonsofbitches.” Landon looked at Dylan. “You ready?”
“Hell, yes.” Dylan started toward his SUV. “Let’s get this party rolling.”
The distance from the house in Douglas to the DHS office wasn’t far. It wasn’t long before Perez was in one of the interrogation rooms. Dylan and Landon went into the room a short time later, where the man was handcuffed to a chair. Dylan leaned up against the doorframe as Landon stood in front of Perez.
“We have an eyewitness putting you at the scene of a homicide three nights ago.” Landon kept his tone and his expression controlled as he spoke. “The murder of a DHS agent.”
Perez’s expression was cocky, as if he feared nothing. “I want a call and I want my lawyer.”
“You’ve already been identified.” Landon gave Perez a hard look. “Now’s the time to start talking if you want to save your ass.”
Perez shrugged. “I want my lawyer.”
Landon’s temper flared even though he knew going into the interrogation that Perez wasn’t going to give up anything easily. “We know that Alejandro Jimenez pulled the trigger while you and John Graves held down the agent. You will get prison time.”
Perez smirked. “Give me my call.”
“Did I mention the crack we found laying around the house you were in?” Landon managed to rein in his temper. “Found your stash with one hell of a lot of cash.” He gave Perez a look of disgust. “Think your cartel is going to stand by you when you lose close to a million dollars in cash and crack?”
For the first time, Perez appeared unnerved. “Just get me my damn lawyer.”
Landon shook his head. “Even if we didn’t have anything to hold you and cut you free, you’d probably be gunned down the moment you set foot outside this place.”
Perez licked his lips.
“If you give us everything we want on Diego and Alejandro Jimenez and help us put them away, we can put you under our protection and offer you a deal.” Landon eyed Perez squarely. “If you don’t, you know you’re as good as dead as far as the cartel is concerned.”
Perez said nothing but Landon thought he saw a hint of fear before the cocky expression replaced it. “Go to hell, motherfucker.”
“If Graves gives us what we need then our offer to you is off the table and you go to prison for a long time. And you’ll be a dead man as far as the cartel is concerned.” Landon gave the man another look before walking to where Dylan stood. He glanced over his shoulder at Perez who was glaring at them. Landon added loud enough for Perez to hear, “We’ll give Perez time to consider everything.”
Dylan opened the door and they walked out of the room. “Let’s go see what Graves has to say.”
When they reached the Douglas hospital, Landon and Dylan went to the information desk and were given the location and room number for Graves.
As they walked through the hospital, flashbacks nearly caused Landon to stumble and halt. The smells and the very atmosphere of the place reminded him too much of Stacy and the night she’d died. He’d been carted away to the hospital. Stacy’s body had been taken to the hospital, too, for the official declaration of her death. For more than a year he’d told himself it should have been him that had died, not her.
A thought occurred to him. Tori had changed that. Somehow after meeting her he didn’t have a death wish any longer.
What the fuck was with him? He barely knew the woman.
It didn’t take long for Dylan and Landon to reach the room where Graves was being held. Two agents were stationed on either side of the doorway.
Landon spoke with the junior agents. “Has anyone outside of hospital staff stopped by?”
The agent to the left of the doorway shook his head. “No one.”
“Only nurses and a doctor have entered the room, all of whom had been cleared.” The other agent spoke up. “A nurse and the doctor are with Graves now.”
The nurse opened the door and came out into the hallway. Landon introduced himself and Dylan to the nurse before asking about Graves’s condition.
The woman, who looked to be in her late forties, held a chart to her chest. “The doctor is with him now. You can ask him when he comes out.”
A moment later, a man in a white hospital coat and green scrubs stepped out of Graves’s room.
“Dr. Harrison?” Landon asked.
“Yes?” The doctor adjusted his stethoscope around his neck as he looked from Landon to Dylan. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I’m Special Agent Walker and this is Special Agent Curtis.” Landon inclined his head in the direction of Graves’s room. “How is the patient?”
“Mr. Graves is in stable condition.” Dr. Harrison didn’t look as if he believed there was anything to be too concerned about. “The bullet went through his side cleanly and no organs were damaged. He’s been treated and should be discharged to DHS by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Landon nodded to Graves’s room. “We’d like to ask him a few questions.”
Dr. Harrison gestured to the doorway. “Go right on in.”
Landon and Dylan entered the room. One of John Graves’s wrists was cuffed to the bedrail. The blond man looked a little worse for the wear, his face pale and drawn. He scowled when he saw the agents, but he didn’t speak.
“We’re going to have a little talk, Graves.” Dylan stood near the bed. “And you’d better listen closely.”
The conversation went much like the one with Perez had. Graves appeared harder to break. Not that Perez would be easy, but Graves was an excessively angry and stubborn sonofabitch who also kept asking for a lawyer.
“You know you won’t walk out of this alive.” Landon eyed Graves squarely. “Diego Jimenez doesn’t like loose ends. You assisted his son in executing a federal agent, and your testimony would help get him convicted. He’s not going to let you live.”
Landon knew they were starting to get to him as Graves’s throat worked. “Fuck you.”
“I think you’re the one who’s going to be thoroughly fucked when this is all over with.” Landon rested his hand on the bar that Graves was handcuffed to. “Think fast because you don’t have much time.”
Like Perez, Graves remained mute. Landon and Dylan left the room.
“One of them will come around.” Dylan jangled his keys in his hand as they headed through the hospital’s automatic glass doors. “I’m betting on Perez.”
Landon squinted as they walked into the bright sunshine, and he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the pocket of his overshirt and slipped the sunglasses on. “I’m betting you’re right.”
Tori sat on the couch in the living room downstairs, and O’Donnell was in the overstuffed chair. The furnishings were ugly with goldish brown upholstery and dark wood coffee and end tables that were scuffed and had clearly seen plenty of use.
She’d spent some time with her clarinet, which had soothed her, but she was feeling caged now. She glanced at O’Donnell, who still had small cuts on his face from the night at the first safe house when they’d been attacked.
One of the popular reality singing shows was on TV and she thought her brain was going to explode. To her trained ear, much of the singing, guitar playing, and piano playing was so bad that it physically hurt to listen to the contestants. Granted, some were fantastic but the bad ones were giving her a headache.
“You okay?” O’Donnell asked, drawing her out of her thoughts as the commercials came on.
“I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile but it wasn’t easy. “Just going a little stir crazy. I could really use a glass of wine right now.”
“I don’t blame you for being stir crazy. I’ll get you some water.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry we don’t have anything stronger.”
He stood and headed in the direction of the kitchen then paused in the archway between the rooms. “Hey, Danson. Toss me a couple bottles of water.” He stayed in the doorway where he could keep an eye on the front door and Tori while he waited for Agent Danson to hand him the bottles.
Where was Landon? Tori wondered. He’d been gone since early this morning and it was now evening. Was it possible he wasn’t going to return today? A new ache in her chest surprised her. Why did she need to see him so badly? Was it need or want?
Both.
She leaned her head back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t know how on earth she was going to manage living in protective custody. She was getting claustrophobic. She was happy to have one of her clarinets but would love a notebook to compose in. She couldn’t find paper or a pen anywhere in this damned house. Composing and playing her instrument soothed her whenever she was upset and everything around her was in upheaval. She’d been through that plenty of times with Gregory.
Her throat worked as she thought of him. He’d been a bastard, but he hadn’t deserved to die the way he had. His intern hadn’t deserved to be murdered, either. Even though Landon told her not to blame herself, she couldn’t help the feeling that the deaths were her fault.
When O’Donnell returned, he handed her a water bottle that was icy cold to the touch.
“Thanks.” She took the bottle and unscrewed the cap before taking a drink. The water was cool and refreshing, but she really did want something stronger.
O’Donnell’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. “About time.” O’Donnell got up and went to the door.
A moment later he let Landon in. Tori’s belly flip-flopped and she couldn’t believe how fast her body reacted to seeing him. Just thinking about his kisses, and the way his hands had caressed her body, made her nipples taut beneath her T-shirt.
He met her gaze and raised a bag. “Hope you like Chinese.”
“Love it.” She got to her feet, the warm smells of the food he carried making her stomach growl. She hadn’t even realized she was that hungry.
She followed him into the kitchen that had a small dining area off to the side. He set all of the white containers at the center of the long table and she helped him open everything while Agent Claire Danson grabbed plates out of the cabinets.
After Landon took a plate of food into the living room for Agent O’Donnell, he returned with a slim bag that she hadn’t noticed before. On the outside of the bag was the name of a music store. He handed Tori the bag before sitting next to her at the table.
Her lips curved into a broad smile as she opened the package and pulled out a beautiful notebook called
The Musician’s Notebook
, with staves for writing music, tablatures for recording chords, and space for writing lyrics. The notebook was black with quotes from legendary musicians on the creative process and the thrill of performance.
“Thank you.” She almost teared up from the fact that he’d taken the time to get her the notebook. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“It was no problem at all.” He returned her smile before spooning white rice onto his plate and following that with broccoli beef. “Pencils are at the bottom of the bag, along with a pen.”
She slipped the notebook back into the bag and set it on the chair beside her. “You don’t know how badly I wanted that.” She reached for the carton of Kung pao chicken.
“If you end up going into the Witness Security Program.” Agent Danson tilted her head to the side. “You will never be allowed to perform in public again or even teach music.” She gave Tori an apologetic smile. “You won’t be allowed to do anything that relates to your current career. The cartel could find you if you did.”
Tori paused in mid-motion, her hand on the Chinese food container. She looked from Danson to Landon. “What?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard right. She was
praying
she hadn’t heard right.
A hard look crossed Landon’s expression and he glared at Danson. “If—no,
when
—we take down Diego and Alejandro Jimenez, that won’t be an issue.”
Tori’s appetite vanished. “What you’re saying is that if you don’t get them, I’ll have to go into hiding and never perform again? I wouldn’t be able to teach music?”
“That’s one of the rules of WITSEC.” Danson drew Tori’s attention back to her. “You have to take on a new career, change your name, move to a different part of the U.S., and can never be in contact with your family or friends from your old life.”