Cold Silence, page 23
“To Scotty and Joe,” Nash said their nicknames loudly.
Everyone raised their beer. A bottle was thrust into Shane’s hand and he tipped it back and drank long and hard. Another wave of longing hit Shane and it was shaped in the curvy form of Yael Brooks.
His nape prickled and he looked over his shoulder. Yael’s friend Laura sat beside her new boyfriend. If Laura’s eyes were daggers, he’d be dead. The dude said something to her and they both rose to leave.
Laura came up to Shane on her way out. Went up on tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “You are an ass.”
He pulled away in surprise but she was already walking away.
Shit.
He checked his cell when it buzzed in his pocket. There was a message from Yael.
“You’re at the bar?”
He released a massive sigh. She obviously hadn’t received his message and Laura had ratted him out. But it was only for one drink and this was important.
He texted. “Raising a toast to Montana and Scotty. I left you a voicemail. Come join us. Same place as before.”
He watched the three dots appear and disappear three times and knew he’d upset her.
Damn, she had no right to be mad with him. They weren’t even properly dating. He liked her. Really liked her. But it was early days. They were having fun while he’d been making sure she was protected from a psychopath. If there was a niggle of guilt at the back of his neck because he’d been suspicious of her at first, he was damn well ignoring it.
Finally, the message appeared and he gritted his teeth before he read it.
“Sorry I missed your call. I was in the bathtub. Hope Laura didn’t give you hell. Appreciate the offer, but I’m tired and headed to bed. I’m so sorry about your friends. You deserve a few drinks after these last few weeks. Have a good night. See you tomorrow if you’re working.”
He closed his eyes and released a deep breath. Fuck.
* * *
Yael sat cross-legged on the couch in her one pair of silky pajamas feeling a tiny bit hurt and a whole lot foolish. She’d been so excited at the thought of seeing Shane again and now felt idiotic to be so disappointed.
The FBI had just had a major break in their case and she understood why they wanted to celebrate, especially HRT. She should have anticipated it. She could have blamed her embarrassment on Laura but Laura had thought she was helping her out. Her friend had texted her a photo of Shane drinking with his teammates. Yael winced at what Laura had probably said to him when she left.
Her friend had been furious but really, she had no right to be. And Shane had, indeed, left her a voice message while she’d been in the tub, inviting her to join them.
Yael could go to the bar but they were once again remembering their friends and colleagues and she didn’t want to intrude on that sort of occasion. Plus, after her hot bath where she’d shaved her legs and moisturized her entire body, she felt so relaxed her limbs were like noodles.
And she was lying to herself.
She stood up and paced. She deserved to celebrate along with everyone else. She didn’t have to sit here feeling sorry for herself all the time. Shane had invited her. Maybe it was time…
She froze in the middle of the room and stared at the drawer where she kept the only photograph she had of her family, taken before their whole world went to crap.
She’d already lived through the worst thing that could happen. Nothing could compare to losing her entire family in a single day and then being unjustly vilified for that and so many other tragic losses. Fourteen years old and she still dreamed about it every damn week. She walked over to the drawer and pulled out the silver framed photo and stared hard at the family she’d loved. They were outside and holding hands. Richie was sixteen and smiling, but when she stared at his image she wondered if she couldn’t already see the darkness shadowing his eyes.
Fifteen years of hell—of trying to make sense of his actions, his hate, of trying to atone for the unforgivable.
She’d spent years in therapy developing coping strategies but, as the sole survivor, the guilt still ate her up every day. She should have guessed what Richie had planned to do. She should have stopped him. He’d told her to stay home from school that day. She still wasn’t sure if that was so he could kill her more easily when he murdered their parents, or so he didn’t accidentally shoot her at school.
His girlfriend had dumped him a week before. He’d let alcohol and his idiot friends fuel his rage and then he’d taken their father’s assault rifle and killed their parents when they tried to stop him.
For years Yael had tormented herself, wondering if he’d gone upstairs to her room to kill her too. She didn’t know. She’d never know.
But his eyes had flashed wide with surprise when he’d spotted her in the school corridor that day. Then he’d shot the boy she’d had a crush on, killed him right in front of her—told her he was doing her a favor—before he’d strode away, shooting kids indiscriminately. And she’d run. She’d run and run and run until she’d gotten home and she’d come to a screaming halt when she’d found a police officer already there. She’d seen the white sheets covering her parents’ bodies in the garage and she’d spent the next fifteen years mourning the family she’d lost—even, secretly, the young man who’d morphed from beloved brother into evil incarnate.
She squeezed her hands into fists and forced herself to leave the photo out. Richie didn’t deserve to be loved or mourned and she wished she could still hate him the way she had for so many years. That would have been so much easier. But her parents had been good people. She touched her mom’s smile and remembered her dad’s need to outcompete the neighbors’ Christmas light display every year.
But not after that day.
After that day, Yasmine Abbott’s world as she’d known it had ceased to exist.
Yael didn’t want to disappear again. She’d paid a heavy price for a crime in which she’d been as much a victim as anyone else.
The grieving parents had wanted someone to pay though and she’d been the only one left alive.
Now Yael stared around her nice living room and felt the walls pressing in on her. Was this all she had to look forward to? Was she a prisoner of her own making? She wanted to take a chance at a new start. She wanted to live.
She ran upstairs.
She was done hiding from the past. She wanted to make the most of this new exciting world she was part of now. Make the most of the opportunity Alex Parker had given her. She wanted the chance to get to know Shane better, even though it was bound to end in heartbreak. Maybe it was time for a little risk in her life. Maybe it was time to stop being so afraid of every damn thing.
She dragged on her best underwear and clean jeans and a form-fitting red shirt that she knew looked good with her black hair. She ran back downstairs and was about to pull on a pair of socks and her boots when her alarm started beeping. Someone had entered the cameras’ field of view.
Was it Shane? Her heart gave a little flutter.
She stood up to check the monitor when the sound of gunfire shattering the large window off her deck had her ducking down behind the kitchen island, her heart clenching painfully in fear.
Oh my god.
What was happening?
Was this real?
Who was this? Why would anyone attack her?
She knew she had to move. But as bullets flew and glass shattered around her living room, she was too scared to risk it. It felt like that day at the school…
Get off the X.
That was what Shane had said to her once before.
He’d meant move. Run.
She lunged for the keys to the SUV and raced out the back door into the garage, ignoring a sharp pain as broken glass sliced into her bare feet. The sound of gunfire tearing up her home never let up.
How long would it take the security firm or police to get here?
Too long.
She sprinted into the garage, slamming the door behind her. Popping the locks, she jumped into the black SUV. The door into her house opened and a man dressed completely in black stood in the entranceway. He was wearing one of those Scream masks just like Evi1Geni-us did when he butchered people.
Oh my god.
She was hyperventilating.
He was supposed to be in custody…how could he be here, now?
Yael dropped the keys on the floor and shrieked when the bastard started firing at the windshield.
The SUV shook from the force of the impact but the glass held.
She pressed the button on the garage door opener and scrambled around the footwell searching for the key. Then she realized she didn’t need the fob to start the engine. She put her foot on the brake and pressed the start engine button and threw it into reverse. The person kept firing and the glass chipped but didn’t shatter. Not yet. She careened out into the street and then put the SUV into drive and accelerated away, swerving madly. She didn’t slow near the guard house and burst through the barrier. Her stomach dropped at the guard’s shocked expression but he must have heard the gunshots and was already on the phone, hopefully to cops or armed security professionals. She hoped this lunatic wasn’t behind her because the guard wouldn’t last long in his flimsy structure, although he was armed.
She wanted to call for help but her phone was back in the house. She wasn’t sure where to go. Alex’s house or the bar?
Was Shane even still there? What if he changed his mind and went to her place and accidentally confronted this shooter? A pistol was no match for an automatic weapon. She hung on to the wheel like her life depended on it and headed for the bar, not paying attention to the speed limits or the warning beeps the car kept screaming at her to put on her seatbelt.
What if the bad guy followed her to the bar? The idea she might put Shane or his fellow operators in danger didn’t sit well but they were always armed and they’d know what to do. She couldn’t see anyone following in the rearview mirror and her attacker had been on foot as far as she could tell. Her heart pounded so fast she felt as though she was physically running.
She pulled up directly outside the entrance and ignored the shouts from some guy whose car she almost bumped into, slamming on the brakes just in time.
She staggered out of the SUV, leaving the door wide open and ignoring the pain in her feet as she hobbled toward the building, pushing inside and frantically searching for Shane.
And then there he was, suddenly in front of her, and she grabbed his shirt with both hands and held on tight. He lifted her up and placed her on the counter, pulled away to examine her shredded feet.
“What happened?”
“He ffff-found me.” Her teeth chattered and she was shaking so much she couldn’t spit out the words.
“Who?” Shane demanded. All the FBI people crowded around in a circle.
Panic squeezed her throat shut. “E-e-evi1Geni-us. I think it was him. He attacked my house with a gun.” She gripped him. Concentrated on his dark green eyes because they were steady and calm and she was an absolute wreck. “He might have followed me. You could all be in danger.”
22
So close. So fucking close!
Yael Brooks was one lucky bitch. He sloshed through the stream, biting back a curse as the frigid water flooded his shoes. Then he sprinted across a field on the other side, crunching through grass stiff with frost. He placed the rifle in the footwell of the passenger side of the vehicle and covered it with a blanket. He slipped the handgun onto the seat, out of sight but within easy reach.
Adrenaline had his heart hammering and he started the engine of the secondhand Subaru he’d bought in a private sale off some unsuspecting yahoo yesterday.
He drove for a while and pulled over when he was positive he hadn’t been followed.
He unzipped his jacket and pulled out the framed photograph of Yael Brooks and her family from when she was a kid. He captured the image with a cell and did a quick reverse image search.
After nothing but frustration when trying to track down this woman’s real identity over the last two weeks he was suddenly overwhelmed by the plethora of hits. Not on Yael, who looked a lot younger in the photo, but on her parents, the brother.
His hands shook.
Her brother Richie had killed twelve people in cold blood. He laughed, incredulous. Hell, she’d been tried as an accessory but managed to get off.
Anger burned through him. Why did some people sail through life without any consequences sticking to them while others—including himself—never caught a break?
As a teen he’d hacked into the Defense Intelligence Agency and posted about the vulnerability online trying to earn a little money while giving the feds a heads up that they needed to fix a potential problem. He’d ended up in prison being beaten and abused, disowned by his own parents. Didn’t matter he’d screamed for help so much he’d lost his voice. Didn’t matter how many times he appealed to his lawyer or the warden for help.
No one had heard his screams. No one had paid attention.
He’d been ignored. Hell, his parents had immigrated to the Caribbean but he was hoping for a reunion in the not-too-distant future.
The assaults had only stopped when one of the boys had died, but he hadn’t forgotten and he hadn’t forgiven.
Should he drive to his house and pick up his hardware wallets? But the FBI still didn’t know who he was, let alone where he lived. The information was buried so deep it would take a front loader to uncover. Even if cops did figure out his identity and searched the house, they wouldn’t find his secret room. He had at least a million on him and another million tied up and unconscious in the trunk.
Better to find a place to set up his next auction, which he was looking forward to. He had several places he’d previously cased that were suitable. He glanced at the photograph again and another idea formed. He looked at his watch. Time was going to be tight.
He pulled into a drive-thru for some coffee. It was going to be a long journey.
23
Out of his peripheral vision Shane was aware of members of HRT and other FBI agents peeling out to cover different positions inside and outside the bar, but his primary focus was on Yael. On making sure she was okay and prying out the information she was currently too petrified to give.
“Tell me exactly what happened.” He squeezed her arms gently. He could tell from her large pupils and ragged breathing that she was terrified and possibly going into shock. He scanned her body to make sure she hadn’t been shot but he couldn’t see any wounds beyond the cuts on her feet.
Her feet were a mess though, covered in blood and there was a scratch on her cheek, probably from flying glass.
Her teeth rattled. “I’d gotten dressed because I’d decided to come down here and meet you for a drink.”
He blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. He closed his eyes and tried to bury the fear that had flooded him when he’d seen her run in here.
“I was in the kitchen when I heard the alarm system start doing its warning beep.” She gulped air. “And I thought it might be you.”
Her eyes flashed to the people crowding around them. He thought he caught a hint of embarrassment in her expression. Did she think he might be ashamed of her or want to keep their relationship a secret from his friends when her life had been in jeopardy?
“I am so fucking proud of you, Yael.” He didn’t know if she believed him but she needed to hear it and he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
She was an incredible woman. He rubbed her arms and took the brandy that the barkeep handed him over her shoulder. Watched as she tipped back the shot and handed him back the glass.
“Someone started firing an automatic weapon through the door to the deck.”
Christ. His mouth parched as she told them what had happened. How she’d run out of her home and the fact the SUV windshield had most likely saved her life.
He was so impressed by her. She’d done everything right. And she’d been very, very lucky and could so easily have died. The punch to his gut when he realized exactly how close he’d come to losing her hurt more than the snap of his bones after falling down those stairs last month.
Novak eyed him grimly. Shane knew his boss had called it in already and there would be a team from HRT bearing down on Yael’s house as they spoke.
Her hands shook as he handed her another shot of brandy.
She drank it without arguing.
“Did you recognize him?”
She shook her head. “Mask,” she croaked.
He rested his hands on her hips but had to force himself to not hold her too tight. She was going to have bruises if he wasn’t careful. “I’m getting you out of here to somewhere safe.”
Novak slid a key into his palm and said under his breath, “Use my place in case yours has been compromised. I’m barely using it right now and there might even be food and drink in the fridge. First aid kit in the bathroom, although you should probably take her to the ER and get her stitched up.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Charlotte asked.
Shane glanced from her to Yael whose lip trembled and she looked as if she was about to cry. His heart clenched. She’d almost died tonight. He’d thought the danger was over. He’d let down his guard and failed his mission and he’d almost lost her. Son of a fucking bitch.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Yael said firmly.
“Might be a good idea,” he said easily.
She shook her head and her grip on his hand intensified. “I’m not hurt.”
He begged to differ.
Noam Levitt, one of the Charlie team assaulters, pushed him aside. He was a trained combat medic and had grabbed the bar’s first aid kit from the owner.
“I’ve got this.” He handled her feet gently, cleaned up the blood with antiseptic wipes, pulled out one small piece of glass before closing the two biggest cuts with steri-strips and superglue. Once it had dried, he dabbed antiseptic cream on her foot, then wrapped them both in sterile bandages.
