Hunted (14 page)

Just as he lifted the bolt cutters toward the bicycle chain, he heard the slider to the balcony open and someone else stepped outside. Carlos froze and tipped his head back, straining to hear what was going on. He could barely hear them, but there was no mistaking the deep timbre of a man’s voice.

He pressed his lips together, hesitating. He didn’t have time to deal with the complication that came with subduing another person, and he had no idea who this guy was. If he had to kill him to get what he wanted from Zoe, it would be that much harder to hide the evidence and clear himself if he was ever questioned about it.

Dammit to fucking
hell
.

Compelled by the sense that Leticia was slipping away from him with each passing second, Carlos put the cutters in position and sliced through the chain holding the gate shut. He quickly reached out to catch the loose ends, wincing as one of the ends clanged against the wrought iron. He stilled and listened intently, and this time an unmistakable female moan of surprised pleasure floated down to him.

The sound jolted through him, making him hard as he remembered all the times Leticia had made a sound just like that for him. A wave of anger and desperation rose up and he lowered the cutters. He unwound the chain, reached for the latch, and the burner phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him.

Shit!

He put the cutters away and grabbed the phone, knowing it could only be Gill, and that it was important.

She’s close to her cousin. Sealed military record, listed as FBI agent but can’t find details. Flight records show he’s in town right now though. Thought you’d want to know.

The security conference.

Even as he thought it, sweat broke out all over his body. Top people from every important agency in the U.S. and a dozen other friendly countries were here to meet about things like global and homegrown terrorism, the war on drugs and the illegal immigration problem currently plaguing the country. Carlos knew some of the attendees personally.

Another moan came from the balcony, muffled this time.

He mentally cursed. He was pretty sure Zoe wasn’t fucking her cousin up there right now, but this entire situation was way more complicated than he’d originally thought. This added worry about her cousin—whoever he was, a sealed military record meant he was likely Spec Ops trained—no, he’d have to come back. Get her when she was alone.

Coming here had been risky. Sure as hell that guy upstairs with her right now wouldn’t be leaving for a long while, if at all. He had to abort the op.

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he peeled off his gloves and zipped his backpack shut, then hurried back down the street, choosing a different route. Halfway up the street he paused to look back at the balcony. He couldn’t see anyone and there was no light up there, but he had no doubt Zoe was still getting busy with her nocturnal visitor.

That bitch had cost him the love of his life.

His fingers clenched around the strap of the backpack as he turned away and walked to the end of the block. He would make her pay for what she’d done. And if Leticia escaped because of this lost time, he’d kill Zoe for it.

He’d give it one more day. This time he’d have her followed or do it himself, grab her when she was alone and vulnerable, probably once it was dark. Then he’d get everything out of her and make her suffer for everything she’d cost him.

****

Zoe woke to find herself alone in her bed, noticed the light seeping through the edges of the blackout blinds and immediately rolled over to look at the clock. Almost seven. She vaguely recalled waking when Clay got up from the daybed. Without a word he’d gathered her up, quilt and all, and carried her into her room. She’d been too sleepy to appreciate it fully at the time, but now the ultra-romantic gesture made her smile.

He’d even lain beside her in the dark and she’d slid back to sleep, still having every intention of waking him up with her hands and mouth exploring that delectable body. Unfortunately he wasn’t here.

She sat up, pushing the hair out of her face, a slight throb in her cheek. “Clay?”

No answer.

The purple robe she’d had on last night was still loosely draped around her body. She got up and tied the sash securely around her waist before leaving her room. The bathroom and guestroom doors stood open and she didn’t hear any sound from the kitchen. She stopped in the hallway, a sense of disappointment washing over her. He hadn’t just up and left, had he? After last night?

She checked the kitchen just in case, but there was no note. He wasn’t out on the balcony, either. Snagging her purse from the newel post, she took out her phone. No texts.

Pushing aside the growing annoyance, she headed to the bathroom. She had to get ready and go to the shelter to meet with Leticia. She’d just have to worry about Clay later.

She was in the middle of stripping when she heard his voice call out.

“Zoe?”

Her heart leapt. “In the bathroom. Be out in a sec.” Fumbling to get the robe back on, she hastily ran her hands over her hair before cracking the door open, all the while berating herself for being so excited that he was still here.

She opened the door to find him standing in front of her wearing his jeans, and nothing else.

Her mouth went dry, her toes curling into the hardwood floor as she took in the sight of that magnificent torso displayed before her in all its naked glory, gilded by the morning light streaming in through the sliders leading to the balcony.

The muscles in his arms, chest and abdomen were taut and delineated, marred only by the five or six inch incision bisecting his lower abs where the surgeons had gone in to repair his ruined discs back in June. A gorgeous black-inked tribal tat marked the left side of his chest, flowing over his pec in a series of intricate lines and swirls. She wanted to trace every line with her tongue. She’d felt that body up against her last night, and those arms had caged her so tight as he’d rocked her world with nothing but his fingers and a few hot words.

Managing to drag her gaze back to his face, she found her voice. “Where’d you go?”

He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by her blatant perusal of his body. But why should he, when he looked like that? “Was gonna grab us something to eat from the diner I saw down the street. But then I found this.” He raised his hand and for the first time she noticed the T-shirt in his grip, and her bicycle chain wrapped up in it. “Someone cut it in half last night. I used the shirt to keep from contaminating any prints on it.”

Frowning, she stepped forward to take the bundle from him. The cut edges of the chain looked clean, telling her it had to have been some kind of tool. She looked back up into Clay’s face and rubbed her hands over her upper arms to ward off the sudden chill. “Did they come into the courtyard and try to get in the house?” It alarmed her that somebody had tried to break in last night while she’d been home.

He took the shirt and chain back, set it on the kitchen counter. “Don’t think so, it was still wrapped around the gate. Ever had anything like this happen before?”

“No, but I’ve only been here a couple months.” And suddenly she felt a lot less safe here alone.

He folded his arms, muscles shifting in a display of latent power. “Kind of coincidental that someone would randomly try to break in last night, right after you helped that woman, don’t you think?”

“I…don’t know. He couldn’t have followed us. You were there and you didn’t see anyone.”

“No,” he allowed. “But if he’s as connected as the woman says, he could have traced you through your phone.”

Zoe had pondered that for a minute yesterday before dismissing it as something dreamed up by her overactive author’s imagination. Now that Clay seemed to be concerned too, she realized she might be in more danger than she’d thought.

“I’ll get a new one today.” And she was never going out again without her pepper spray. She might even have to carry the pistol locked in the gun safe in her closet. Tuck had insisted she get it years ago and had taught her how to use it. She hadn’t been to the range in forever and now she regretted the lapse.

He nodded. “Good. And what about the woman?”

“I’m supposed to meet her at the shelter this morning. Try to help her figure out what to do from here.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I tried to convince her to let me get Celida to help her, but she’s too scared to trust anyone.”

His eyes searched hers, and she saw a warmth that hadn’t been there before. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I can’t just abandon her and her son. Not now. I’ll make her see reason today, explain the near break-in and get her in contact with Celida. Trust me, I don’t want trouble any more than she does.”

Clay nodded. “And we’ll get Celida to find someone who can tap into the CCTVs in the area. See if we can find out who cut the lock.”

“Good idea.” Man, usually she wrote this kind of stuff, not experienced it firsthand.

“And I’m going with you to the shelter.” She opened her mouth to argue but he held up a hand. “I won’t go to the house itself, but I’m not letting you go there by yourself, especially now.”

She wasn’t about to argue with that. “Okay. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

He surprised her by reaching out and sliding his thumb across her lower lip, setting off an explosion of heat deep in her abdomen. “No need to thank me for that, raven.” Before she could respond or even part her lips to lick at his thumb, he dropped his hand and indicated the bathroom with a terse nod. “Get ready and I’ll take you over.”

After scrubbing herself in the shower and wishing they had time for Clay to join her there, she dressed in a black, halter-style dress with a sequined skull on the front of it and did her hair up in a French knot at the back of her head. Teeth brushed, makeup on, she exited the bathroom to find Clay at the kitchen sink, drinking a glass of juice. He’d put his shirt back on, much to her chagrin.

“You’re phone rang a couple times while you were in the shower,” he said, and downed the last of the juice.

She hurried over to her purse and checked her phone, saw the owner of the shelter had called. Not good. Zoe called her back and asked what was going on.

“She’s gone,” Diane said simply. “We convinced her to stay long enough for her and Xander to eat breakfast, then she took off. Something about her ex being close, that she could feel it, and nothing we did or said would change her mind. She left a sealed envelope for you though. I opened it,” she added in an apologetic tone, “but only because those two need protection,
now
.”

Zoe agreed. “What does it say?”

“Okay, there are four lines. First one says C, B, period. Then K, A, A, E, A, L.”

“Hang on,” Zoe said, rushing to the kitchen to grab a pen and paper and write it down. What kind of code was this?

“Second one starts with what looks like a minus sign, then E, L, period. Next is L, K, O, C, L, A.”

“Got it. Third?”

“B, E, vertical slash, L, H.”

This didn’t make any sense at all. “And the fourth?”

“B, O, colon, B, B. That’s it. Do you know what it means?”

“I don’t have a freaking clue,” Zoe muttered, rubbing her forehead. It looked like total gibberish. She stared at it for a long moment. Was it initials in there somewhere? The boyfriend’s maybe? She felt Clay come up beside her, and turned the pad she was using so he could see the letters as well as the ideas she had scribbled down and crossed out as she dismissed them.

“I think it’s Black Horse,” he said in a low voice.

Zoe lowered the phone and looked up at him in astonishment. Black Horse? “What?”

“Black Horse. It’s a code sometimes used by the military, dating back to Vietnam, and each letter in the words signifies a number between zero and nine. Usually to give map coordinates. So this first line reads three, zero, period. Four, two, three, one, two, four.”

He paused, studied the letters a moment longer and nodded in certainty. “They’re map coordinates, but in decimal form. In the military we used the Military Grid Reference System. I’ll need to convert these into degrees, minutes and seconds. Hang on.” He punched something into his phone, brought up a website and entered the numbers.

“I think her dad was in the Air Force.” He or somebody like him must have taught Leticia this. Zoe was impressed, and really freaking worried. Secret codes? Map coordinates? This situation was obviously far more dangerous than she’d imagined, and she’d already imagined it was bad.

Clay nodded as he did the conversion, eyes fixed on the phone. “There we go. So the first number is latitude and the second is longitude. She’s gotta still be pretty close to New Orleans, which means the latitude is north thirty degrees, twenty-five minutes, twenty-two-point-five-one-four-three seconds. Longitude is west ninety-one degrees, eight minutes, forty-six-point-seven-two-two-three seconds.” He wrote them down in degrees, minutes and seconds for her.

“Holy crap,” she mused as Clay opened some sort of navigation ap. “Where is that?” Those were some pretty damn precise coordinates.

She raised her phone back to her ear as he punched the numbers into the program and showed her where the point for the coordinates was on the map. “Nairn Park in Baton Rouge,” she said in disbelief, to herself as much as Diane. “It’s right off I-10 and my…my parents live close to there.” Oh god, her
parents
, she thought with a sinking sensation in her gut.

“Third line must be a date, and the fourth looks like a time,” Clay said before she could say anything more, writing down the numbers from the rest of the message. “September fifteenth, oh-six hundred hours.”

“She wants me to meet her there, tomorrow at six am,” Zoe murmured, astonished. How the hell had Leticia come up with this idea? What if Zoe hadn’t had Clay or one of the others here to help her figure out what the message said?

“Do you know why she’d go there?” Diane asked.

Zoe swallowed, a heavy weight settling in her stomach. Obligation and responsibility. And guilt. It had been stupid of her to share such personal information with Leticia, but she’d never expected it to come back and bite her in the ass like this. Lesson learned.