Midnight Run (17 page)

A lump of fear rose in her chest. “We don’t know the code.”

“Pete Boyle told me.”

A laugh escaped her, but the sound was fraught with tension. “What if it’s been changed since then?”

“We improvise.” His jaw flexed. “Come here.”

When she didn’t move, he grasped her hand and pulled her to him. Landis wasn’t expecting him to kiss her. Not at a time like this. But he did. It was a hard, sexless kiss that touched her more deeply than it should have. When he pulled back, she saw the reckless light in his eyes, felt something quiver in her chest. “What was that for?”

“Luck.” He started for the door.

She was still thinking about the kiss when the sound of breaking glass splintered the air. Jack reached through the broken window, unlocked the door, shoved it open. “We’ve got forty-five seconds to find the alarm panel. Go.”

She barely heard him over the drum of her pulse. On unsteady legs, she followed him inside. The door opened to a tiled hall with high ceilings and muted yellow light. Landis barely noticed the exquisite architecture or the lavish furnishings. With their very lives at stake, her mind was on finding the alarm panel.

Vaguely aware of Jack disappearing to her left. Landis started down the narrow hall to her right. Beyond, she saw a refrigerator and stove, beyond a washing machine and clothes dryer. A closed door to her right beckoned. Mentally counting the seconds, she opened the door, flipped on the light. An intricate-looking panel set into the wall blinked at her with a glaring red eye.

“I found it!” she whispered. If her mental clock was correct, they had about twenty seconds before the alarm sounded.

Jack appeared a moment later. Without speaking or looking at her, he punched in four numbers. The red light continued to blink. “Look for a code written down somewhere nearby,” he snapped and started punching buttons.
“Damn it.”

Landis searched the room frantically, looking for sticky notes or a calendar on the wall, but found nothing. The tiny red light blinked at quick intervals. “What do we do now?”

Jack studied the panel, his brows knit in concentration. He reached up and flipped a switch, but his hand was shaking. The light continued to blink.

He pulled the hammer from the waistband of his jeans. “We turn it off the old-fashioned way.”

On an oath, he drew back the hammer and smashed the panel. Shards of plastic flew. A thin veil of smoke rose into the air along with the pungent smell of burning plastic. Landis watched, feeling helpless and frightened as he hammered at the panel until there was little more than a few colorful, frayed wires sticking out of the wall.

“If the alarm is wireless, we’re cooked,” he said.

She stared at the caved-in Sheetrock, the burn marks on the wall and the shards of plastic on the floor with a combination of horror and disbelief. “You’ve got a real knack for the electrical stuff.”

“I guess now would be a good time to start praying there’s no one else in the house.”

Breathing hard, Jack turned to her. Landis saw something in his eyes, then his face went ashen. “Jack?”

“Don’t look now,” he said quietly, “but we’ve got company.”

Chapter 14

T
he Rottweiler was the size of a Brahman bull. It stood just outside the utility room, intelligent eyes sliding from Landis to Jack as if trying to decide which of them to maul first. Having spent two years working with a K-9 unit, Jack could tell by the excited light in the animal’s eyes that it wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Knowing Duke, it was probably a trained attack dog. So much for getting out of this mess unscathed.

“At least he doesn’t have a gun.” Landis’s voice was high and tight with fear.

“Just really big teeth.”

“I’m sure you have an alternate plan.”

“Fresh out, honey.”

The dog crept toward them, its hackles rising.

“Get behind me,” Jack said softly. “No quick moves. No loud noises.”

Without making direct eye contact, he watched the animal’s every move. When the dog’s jowls drew back in a snarl, Jack knew it was no longer a question of if the animal would attack, but when—and which of them it would tear into first.

Once Landis was behind him, Jack positioned himself between her and the dog. He knew what kind of damage a dog could do to a person. He had no intention of either of them becoming mincemeat. “Good dog,” Jack whispered. “Good boy.”

The dog snarled. The muscles in its hind legs bunching and quivering with tension.

“Back away,” Jack told Landis. “Toward the kitchen behind you. Don’t turn your back. Don’t look him in the eye. Do it now. Nice and easy.”

The dog jumped forward, barking and baring its fangs. Behind him, Jack heard Landis moving away. He turned his head to see her slip into the kitchen. Relief skittered through him. An instant later the animal lunged.

Jack raised his arms to protect his face and throat. He knew that to survive, he must stay on his feet. But the dog was huge, and its weight sent him reeling backwards. Pain seared through his forearm when the dog’s jaws clamped down. Cursing, he shoved at the dog, heard the fabric of his coat tear. Fear seized him when he lost his balance. He stumbled, crashed into the wall, managed to stay on his feet.

In his peripheral vision, he saw movement from the kitchen. Something large and dark sailed through the air, missing the dog by inches. The dog’s attention split, followed the object. The death grip on Jack’s arm loosened. He stared in amazement as a large ham splattered on the tile floor, and slid into the utility room.

He shoved hard at the dog. The animal fell to all fours, then vacillated as if trying to decide whether to finish off the intruder or feast on the ham. Never taking his eyes from the animal, Jack backed toward the kitchen. The dog looked at the ham, then turned and trotted toward it. The instant the animal was inside the utility room, Jack rushed forward and shut the door.

“Jesus.” He leaned against the wall and looked down at his forearm. His coat was ripped clear through. A crimson stain blossomed on the fabric, but he could tell by the pain he was more bruised than cut.

“My God, you’re bleeding.”

He glanced to see Landis rushing toward him. The concern in her eyes moved him more than it should have, and for the first time since they’d gotten inside he was glad he wasn’t alone. Unable to keep himself from it, he reached out and pulled her against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who’s bleeding.”

Holding her tightly, he closed his eyes against the emotions churning inside him. God, how he wished things had turned out differently. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. Holding her just like this. Loving her. Healing her. Healing himself.

He’d thought he’d known hell in prison. Being locked away, deprived of decency and freedom and dignity. But having spent the past two days with Landis, having fallen in love with her all over again, he knew the torture he’d suffered behind bars would be nothing compared to the pain he faced when he walked away from her for the last time.

“That was a smart move with the ham, Red.” He stroked her hair, marveling at the silkiness of it against his fingers.

“Good thing I came along, huh, LaCroix?”

“You saved my butt,” he grumbled.

“It’s such a nice butt.”

“That’s my line.”

“Don’t be a chauvinist.”

He knew this wasn’t the time or place for a silly conversation, but it took his stress down to a manageable level. A moment later, he pushed her to arm’s length. “If there’s someone in the house, we’re probably toast.”

She nodded. “In that case, we’d better hurry.”

He tried to ignore the uneasiness pulsing through him as they did a cursory search of the lower level. But Jack knew if Duke or one of his thugs caught them, they wouldn’t bother calling the police. Cyrus Duke had his own brand of justice, and it was as swift and violent as a bullet.

They took the curved staircase to the second floor. Halfway down the wide hall a set of double doors opened to a study. It was a dramatic room with a leather sofa and glossy rosewood desk. Twin recliners huddled beneath a mullioned window that looked out over the pool. Books of every shape and size lined an entire wall from floor to ceiling. The smell of expensive tobacco mingled with the more subtle aromas of lemon oil and leather. A dark hardwood floor gleamed beneath a multitiered brass chandelier. The room was cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature. And Jack knew they had finally found Cyrus Duke’s inner sanctum.

“This is it,” he said.

Landis started toward the desk where a sleek computer and flat screen monitor beckoned. Without speaking she pressed the power button, then pulled out the leather chair and slid into it. “What’s the login and password?” she asked.

Jack met her at the desk and pulled the information from his memory. “The login is DUKECYRUS. Upper case.”

Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“The password is maryelaine. Lower case.”

She craned her head around to look at him. “Maryelaine?”

Jack shrugged. “I hear Duke’s a real mama’s boy.”

“Sort of makes you wonder about his mother.” She typed in the name. “It accepted it.”

The drive whirred softly. The monitor began to roll. He looked down at her small, slender hands as they rested on the keyboard and saw that they were shaking. “You doing okay, Red?”

“I’ll be a lot better once we get what we need and get out of here.”

“Another five minutes or so, and we’ll be home free.” But he hated it that she was afraid. Hated it even more that it was his fault. He shouldn’t have brought her here. Shouldn’t have put her in danger. If something happened to her he would never forgive himself.

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed. Jack started at the sound, a sense of foreboding pressing into him. He glanced at the clock on the desk and cursed. “We’ve been inside for almost ten minutes.”

“Just give me a few more minutes here, okay?”

He looked at the screen, tried to ignore the zing of nerves running through him. “Try his contact information.”

“Good idea.” She clicked the mouse. “Damn. It’s asking for an authorization.”

He searched his memory. “Type deville. Lower case.”

“Not very creative, is he?” Her fingers played over the keys. “No go.”

“Damn it.” He thought about it a moment. “Try upper case.”

She clicked more keys. “We’re in.”

Leaning forward in anticipation, he watched the contact software scroll. “Pull up the contact lists.”

“There are several.”

“Open that one.” Jack pointed to the largest of the files.

“Got it.”

A page containing names, addresses and other contact information materialized. Most of the names were unfamiliar. Several contained dollar amounts and various notes. Birthdates. Children’s names. Professional titles.

“Scroll down,” he said.

“Oh, my God.”

The hairs at the back of his neck rose. Her slender finger went to a name at the bottom of the screen.

Aaron Chandler.

The name hit him like a set of brass knuckles. Next to the name, the figure of one hundred fifty thousand dollars stared back at him. “What the hell?”

“Jack, you don’t think…”

He didn’t hear the last part of the sentence as the significance of his finding the name on Cyrus Duke’s computer hit home. Fury rumbled through him, an approaching storm promising a violent end. The sense of betrayal nearly choked him. “That son of a bitch railroaded me.”

“That’s why they killed him.”

Jack reached forward and pressed the page down key. More names. People who’d sold their souls for the likes of money, illicit favors or power.

Resisting the urge to use his fist, he hit the key again and again. “Copy it to a disk. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.” He jerked open a drawer, found nothing, jerked open another. He spotted the compact disk case, opened it and pulled out a blank disk. “Use this.” He shoved the disk into the drive. Suddenly furious, he flung the remaining disks across the room. “That son of a bitch.”

“Jack, calm down.”

“I am calm, damn it.”

Landis rubbed her temples while the disk copied. “A couple of those names looked familiar. I’m not sure when or where, but I’ve seen them before. Maybe the courthouse. County inspectors, maybe. Tax collectors. God, Jack, maybe judges.”

Leaning back in the chair, she looked expectantly at Jack. Her eyes were a kaleidoscope of emotions. Jack saw all of them. Fear. Outrage. Pain.

“I’m sorry about Chandler,” she said.

“I trusted the bastard.” Bitterness rose inside him like vomit. He knew it was an impotent reaction, but he felt incredibly betrayed. Worse, he felt like a fool. “I should have seen it coming. I’m a cop for chrissake.”

“There’s enough information here to warrant an investigation. Who knows, maybe there’s enough here to exonerate you.”

His brain absorbed the words, but he didn’t let himself feel their impact. He didn’t let himself hope. He knew all too well what it was like to have that hope yanked from his grasp.

“I want my life back.” He wanted more than that—a hell of a lot more—but didn’t think now was the time to voice it.

His heart stuttered when she smiled at him. In the depths of her eyes he saw hope and faith and the utter certainty that good would prevail over evil. Something he hadn’t believed in since the day they put him in a cage.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “This is exactly the kind of information we were looking for.”

Shaken by the emotions roiling inside him, he looked down at the computer, realized the disk had finished copying. “Let’s get out of here.”

Landis stopped him when he reached for the disk. “I want more.”

“We don’t have time,” he snapped. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Anger darkened her features. “Don’t blow this chance to save yourself.”

Ignoring her, he removed the disk from the drive and shoved it into his pocket. “We’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving until I see what else is in that computer.” Surprising him, she reached for another disk, shoved it into the slot. “I’m doing this as much for myself as I am you. Don’t try to stop me. I know what I’m doing.”

He hadn’t wanted to use force, but his instincts were screaming for him to get her out of the house. It had been foolhardy for them to come here tonight. It had been downright insane for him to have brought Landis along. If Duke caught them, he’d kill them both.

Grasping her beneath her shoulders, he lifted her from the chair. “I know you don’t believe in gut instinct, but mine is working just fine and right now it’s telling me to get the hell out of here.”

She tried to twist away, but he muscled her toward the door with relative ease. “It’s crazy to leave without seeing what else is on that computer!” she hissed.

“Yeah, well, it’s even crazier to get ourselves killed over it.”

She spun away from him, glared at him with large, angry eyes. She raised her hand as if to stave him off, but it was shaking violently. “Give me five minutes, Jack. Please. Don’t take this away from me.”

The fierceness of her expression took him aback. That she was willing to risk everything for him—her career, her freedom, her very life—shocked him all over again. Knowing he was going to regret it, Jack shook himself, stepped back. He knew it was a mistake that would probably cost him. He only hoped it didn’t cost Landis her life. “You’ve got two minutes.”

She stalked back to the computer. Jack watched her for a moment, shaken by the power of what he felt for her. “I’m going to make sure there’s no one else in the house.”

“Two minutes,” she said without looking up.

He started for the door. A couple of minutes should give him time to check on Fido and make sure there weren’t any cars in the driveway. If she wasn’t ready to leave when he returned, he’d haul her out by the scruff of her neck.

As he stepped into the hall a noise behind the door jolted him.
The dog,
he thought, and started to turn toward it. The blow came out of nowhere. The force of it snapped his head back. Pain billowed at his right temple. A starburst of color exploded in his brain. The floor bucked beneath his feet. His only thought as he went to his knees was that Landis was in danger. That it was his fault. And if he didn’t do something to rectify the situation, they were both going to die.