No Mercy (34 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

Tags: #romantic suspense

BOOK: No Mercy
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Heart thumping, Dylan took Stil water’s business card out of his wallet and dialed the FBI agent’s

number.

When she answered, he said, “I need you to meet me at Salvatore Reyes’s home. Bring the key

I found in the humidor. I think I know where the safe is.”

“It’s not a safe key.” Stil water had a frown in her voice. “Not to mention we combed that place

top to bottom, twice.”

“Trust me.” Dylan felt a flash of irritation. “I can’t go into it now. Just meet me there.”

“Give me an hour to get the key and meet you at the Reyes home,” Stil water said before

disconnecting the call.

Belle stood. “I’m going.”

Dylan considered it. Salvatore wasn’t likely to return to his home—or would he? He would want

to get whatever it was out of the safe. Dylan believed Nate, who had been certain the safe was in

Salvatore’s office.

After he arranged for Brooks and Trace to accompany them, along with Agents Jim Heber and

Clarice Lutz, they all headed to Salvatore and Christie’s home. Both Belle and Joe went with them.

Stillwater took forty-five minutes to get there instead of an hour. She tore down the police tape

covering the door and they entered the home. Clarice stood inside the doorway, Jim outside, while

Brooks took the back and Trace stayed by the door to the office.

Belle and Joe walked with Dylan and Stil water into Salvatore’s office.

“I’m hoping you’re right, Curtis.” Stil water handed him the key when they were in Salvatore’s

office.

“I’m sure.” Dylan took the key and started toward the desk as he pulled a small flashlight from

his pocket. “I’m betting Salvatore spil ed his coke when he was putting it away.” The chair was already

pushed back and Dylan knelt in the kneehole beneath the desk and illuminated the space with the

flashlight.

He ran his hands over the floorboards, which he had figured were worn from Salvatore’s shoes.

Dylan felt a slight ridge and paused as he felt it. It was thin, not much bigger than a knife blade, and

when he aimed the flashlight at it, he couldn’t see anything at first. But then he thought he saw a

slight, virtually invisible line running horizontal to the vertical floorboards. Clearly a craftsman had

been at work here if this was where the safe was located. Dylan would bet almost anything that he’d

found the safe.

He pulled out his pocketknife, flipped it open, and ran it along the vertical floorboard on the right,

where the tiny gap was slightly bigger than on the other side and the horizontal end. When he moved

163

***

the knife, it hit an obstruction. He wiggled the knife around. The way the knife slid around it, he

guessed it was small, smooth, and round. He pressed the knife against it.

A section of the floorboards started to rise.

“Holy shit.” Stil water was crouched beside him. “I think you just struck gold.”

Beneath the floorboard was a square hinged door with a keyhole. Dylan tried to lift it, but it was

locked. He held his palm up in front of Stil water. “Key.”

She dropped it into his palm. He slid the key in the keyhole and felt a click. This time the door

rose when he pulled up.

“I’l be damned.” Stil water sounded amazed as a safe came into view. “This thing would take

some time to get out of here. We’l have to get some guys down here with a torch.”

The safe had a keypad. Dylan stared at it. “Maybe it’s something simple since the safe was

hidden so well. He’s a cocky sonofabitch, so it’s possible he didn’t put a lot of effort into his

password.”

“Try Christie’s birthdate.” Belle spoke up from behind Stil water.

Belle gave him the date and he tried it on the keypad. He put in two digits for the month and

date and used the last two digits of the year. When that didn’t work, tried all four numbers in the year

then other combinations. “Nothing’s working.” He looked over his shoulder to Belle. “Do you know

Salvatore’s birthdate?”

She shook her head and frowned.

“It’s in the database we use.” Stil water took a big phone out of her pocket that was almost the

size of a tablet. She swiped it and then pul ed up information. “Here it is.” She called out the date.

Again Dylan tried various combinations but none worked. He dragged his hand down his face.

They’d have to wait for the damned torch, but even then, this one didn’t look like it would be easy.

They were running on a clock. They needed to find Christie, and maybe what was in this safe would

help.

“What about Salvatore and Christie’s wedding date?” Belle had a bit of excitement in her voice.

“He doted on her and called her his bride, even though they’d been married for some time. When I

think about it, it seemed like he thought of her as a kind of prize that he’d won.”

Dylan glanced over his shoulder again. “Do you know it?”

“Christie told me it was a June wedding and that Salvatore had gone all out. I wasn’t there of

course.” She shook her head. “But I don’t remember a date.”

The marriage certificate flashed in Dylan’s mind. It had been in Salvatore’s center drawer. “Hold

on a sec.”

Stillwater and Belle backed up as Dylan came out of the kneehole and opened the center drawer.

The certificate was still there. He looked at the date before ducking back under the desk and keying

in the numbers on the pad, using two digits for the month, two for the date, and two for the year.

164

***

Nothing.

Next he tried the same, but four digits for the year. A heavy click and the door unlocked.

“I’l be damned,” Stil water said again.

“You and me both.” Dylan used his flashlight to il uminate the contents of the safe. It wasn’t very

deep and he’d easily be able to take out items. He set down his flashlight. “Do you have gloves?”

“And evidence bags in my SUV.” Stil water stood. “I’l be right back.”

Dylan shone the flashlight in the safe as he waited. Stacks of cash, passports, what looked like

the spines of ledgers and a thin laptop. In one corner he saw a bag of white powder. Salvatore had

a bit of a coke problem, and that’s where he’d screwed up. Dylan wouldn’t have thought about the

safe being there if it hadn’t been for the traces of cocaine beneath the desk.

Stillwater returned in moments and handed Dylan a pair of latex gloves, then donned a pair

herself.

He slipped the gloves on and reached into the safe. The first things he pulled out were the

passports. He flipped through them and saw they were under various other names for Salvatore and

Christie. “Looks like he had contingency plans.” He handed them to Stil water who also viewed the

passports before dropping them into an evidence bag.

Dylan continued to pul items out of the safe. A laptop that he recognized as Nate’s, but with a

missing hard drive; stacks of ledgers—some in Nate’s handwriting; a small stash of cocaine; and

stacks of one hundred dollar bills. It looked like at least a million in cash had been hidden in the safe.

When he flipped through some of the older ledgers, he saw names of criminals he knew and

others he didn’t. The ledgers had likely been passed down because some were too old to have been

Salvatore’s.

Dylan stopped and his skin grew cold when he saw Harvey Driscoll’s name. Next to his name

was the sum of $10,000.

Driscoll.
It was likely the payout for Ben Curtis’s murder. Dylan’s dad had died for ten grand and

a family had been destroyed. Not to mention Belle’s life had altered drastically with the knowledge

when she had heard her stepfather discussing it with her mother. It wouldn’t have mattered if Ben

Curtis had been murdered for a million or more. The results were the same.

Dylan’s throat nearly closed off as memories of his dad slammed into him.

Fol owed by images of his dad’s funeral.

Dylan handed the old ledger to Stil water to bag. “Put that one in a separate bag. In it is evidence

of a payout for a murder. My father’s murder.”

Stillwater said nothing as she slipped it into another bag and marked it.

When the safe was empty, down to the last quarter found at the very bottom, Dylan backed out

from under the desk and stood. He hadn’t expected that he would find pain beyond Nate’s murder

in that safe.

165

***

Gunfire erupted from an automatic weapon.

The sound of glass shattering.

Shouts came from the living room.

Dylan grabbed Belle and took her down to the floor. He leaned over and shut the safe beneath

the desk before forcing her into the kneehole.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“Please be careful.” With a terrified expression, she grabbed his hand. “I could never handle

losing you again, Dylan. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Belle.” He loved her with everything he had. He’d never stopped loving her.

“Don’t move. I
won’t
lose you again.”

He looked at her one last time before leaving her behind.

Dylan heard Stillwater calling for backup.

“Agent down!” Clarice shouted from the living room.

More gunfire from the front and then from the back of the house, too.

Adrenaline pumped through Dylan as he peered around the office doorframe. Jim Heber was

sitting on the floor, his back to the wal inside the front door, a grimace of pain on his face. He’d made

it inside from his post outside the front door, but not before being injured. The right shoulder of his

shirt was soaked bright red with blood and he was holding his right arm to his side. He set his jaw

as he clutched his service weapon in his left hand.

Clarice Lutz crouched on the opposite side of the door, her weapon in a two-fisted grip. She met

Dylan’s gaze, her voice calm although her tone was elevated. “At least three men are in front. I don’t

know how many in back.”

More shots peppered the house.

Then silence.

The sudden silence was almost unnerving.

Like the calm before a storm.

Belle had never felt so afraid in her life. She could barely breathe and heard her blood race in

her ears as everything went silent.

The desk she was hiding beneath was at the opposite end of the room from where Agent

Stillwater and Dylan were crouched beside the door. They were focused on what was happening in

the rest of the house.

A whisper of a sound met Belle’s ears in the otherwise abnormal silence. Her eyes widened and

a silent scream rose up in her throat as she saw a bookcase swing open just feet from her.

G.I. Joe stood to the left of the desk, near Belle’s position. He went stiff as he watched the

bookcase.

166

***

Her heart thundered as Salvatore came through the entrance, his arm around Christie’s neck, a

gun to her head.

A man stepped out from behind Salvatore—the same man she’d seen watching her just days

ago. He caught sight of Belle beneath the desk and pointed a pistol at her.

Belle froze at the sight of the gun pointed at her. Her heart thundered as she stared at the

weapon.

One more man came through the doorway, one she didn’t recognize. He was compact and short,

and he had a mean look in his eyes. He, too, held a pistol.

Christie whimpered as Salvatore pushed her forward, the barrel digging into the side of her

head.

Joe snarled.

From her side vision, Belle saw Dylan whirl at the helpless sound Christie had made and Joe’s

snarl. Dylan immediately had his gun leveled on Salvatore. His gaze darted from Salvatore to the

man behind, who had his gun pointed at Belle’s hiding place, and then to the third man.

Stillwater turned when Dylan had, and Trace had entered the room at the same time.

Joe snarled again, his body in attack mode.

The look on Dylan’s face was fierce, a kil ing rage in his gaze. “Let Christie go and get that gun

off Belle.”

Salvatore stared at Dylan. “You are going to give me every single thing that was in that safe.”

“No.” Dylan’s voice was cold. “You will turn over both women or you and your two men won’t

make it out of here.”

Belle’s mind spun as her heart raced. How were any of them going to get out of this alive?

Salvatore’s smile was grim and her skin went cold as he spoke. “Give me my property and call

off reinforcements or Jorge kil s Belle now. I only need one hostage.”

Dylan’s heart had gone into overdrive the moment he’d seen Christie and had realized Belle

was in another man’s sights. A third gunman backed up Salvatore and Jorge. Dylan recognized the

man as a thug nicknamed Rat.

Dylan’s mind flashed through the options. There were none.

Jorge would murder Belle and Salvatore could kill Christie as well, if Dylan and the other agents

didn’t cooperate.

There had to be other options. Dylan had to come up with something.

Christie’s face was even paler than before, yet Dylan saw not only fear but bravery in her gaze,

too, as Salvatore gripped her around her neck.

He looked at Dylan. “You’d better call off any reinforcements on the way. Remember, if anything

happens to me, Belle dies.”

167

***

Dylan had never felt so damned helpless in his life.

Trace had managed to get between Dylan and Stillwater so that all three of them faced Salvatore

and his men.

“You won’t succeed, Reyes.” Stil water’s hard voice came from beside Dylan.

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