Cold Spite, page 7
part #1 of Cold Justice® - Most Wanted Series
The sea breeze was cool, and she shivered as she headed to the Hotel del Coronado. The old historic resort was where she and Demarco had met for stolen nights and weekends that were still seared into her mind.
She forced aside the memories.
She had no intention of reliving that illusion. The good times paled beside the bad.
The fact he’d offered to help her now didn’t negate what had happened. Helping was professional courtesy—same as warning him he might be next.
She spent ten minutes in the shadows of the large shrubs, watching the entrance and any vehicles for activity that would signal he’d betrayed her. Deciding to take a risk, mainly because she didn’t have much choice, she climbed the white painted steps. Inside the dark lobby with its impressive chandelier and heavy wooden columns, she glanced around, half expecting to hear shouts to get on the floor before being arrested for murder or leaving a crime scene or just being alive when she should have been dead. She wanted to believe Demarco wouldn’t betray her, but he’d proven himself to be an excellent liar.
Blind trust was for suckers.
She refused to be that gullible ever again.
The reception desk clerk’s expression didn’t change as Delilah walked up to the marble-topped counter. Old keys on green tassels hung behind the desk, harking back to a different era. Delilah tried not to hold her breath as the woman examined the old ID, but the smile told her the plan had worked.
The woman handed over a card for a cabana room, and Delilah nodded and walked away. Still half expecting to be arrested, perhaps inside the room, away from other guests. But nothing happened.
In the room, she sagged with sudden exhaustion. Tears wanted to fill her eyes, but she pushed them away. She’d cry later. First, she was going to help prove Joseph Scanlon had committed these crimes and put him away for good this time, even if it was the last thing she ever did.
Chapter Ten
It was a two-hour drive to Camp Peary and the CIA’s secret training facility known colloquially as “The Farm.” Cas forced himself to stay calm even as his foot wanted to press ever harder on the accelerator. Delilah was smart enough to keep her head down, at least until they got a bead on Scanlon’s location.
He’d sent her to the last place Scanlon would risk being spotted. After being Other Than Honorably discharged and stripped of his trident, Scanlon would be a fool to show his face anywhere near Coronado.
Ironically, Cas had spent more time in San Diego as an FBI agent than as a SEAL. As a frogman, he’d been based out of Little Creek, Virginia. Norfolk was a short drive south of Camp Peary.
Cas slowed as he came within sight of the first military checkpoint. He’d called ahead. To his surprise and despite the late hour, Patrick Killion walked past the guards and climbed into his truck.
They shook hands.
“Longtime no-see.”
Cas pulled over to the side of the road. “I’d say the same, but I did spot you on TV last year. That wanted poster was a good look for you.”
Killion’s teeth flashed in a sharp grin. “The end of an exemplary career. It was time to hang up my boots anyway.”
“Rumor has it you got married, but I find that even harder to believe.”
Killion huffed out a laugh. “The world has been deprived of one of its great bachelors, amigo. Or so my wife likes to tell me.” He gave a sudden frown. “I don’t think it’s the compliment I thought it was.”
“She’s a brave woman.”
Killion grunted and scratched the back of his neck. “People who say that have never met Audrey.”
Cas would like to meet her. One day.
“I’d invite you to the house, but she’s sleeping. We’re expecting a tadpole any day now.”
“Tadpole?”
“Sorry. Inside joke.” He cleared his throat. “Big tadpole. A baby. We’re expecting a baby any day now.”
Despite years of training, Cas couldn’t disguise his surprise. “You’re going to be a father?”
A wildness filled Killion’s gaze. “Yeah.” He laughed. “Crazy, huh? I’m terrified. I mean, give me a mad dash through the jungle at night avoiding armed hostiles any time—except, thinking about it, that’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”
“Your wife sounds like an interesting woman.”
“She is.” Killion’s gaze filled with something Cas had never seen on the spook before. A tenderness that cut through the embedded cynicism and ingrained bitterness. Then his expression hardened into the operative Cas knew and trusted. “Something tells me you weren’t suddenly overcome with the desire to catch up at zero dark thirty. What gives?”
“You see the news?”
“Not today. Until Audrey pops, I’m not only in charge of running the training programs here, I’m also dealing with a very grouchy pregnant woman—and I’ll deny the grouchy comment even under enhanced interrogation. I haven’t had a lot of spare time today, especially as I also had to collect batrachotoxin—”
“For an assassination attempt?” Cas joked and then realized he shouldn’t have because who the hell knew what happened around here.
Killion eyed him. “For my wife. She’s a frog biologist. She has some experiments she’s running on freshly imported specimens, but I draw the line at her exposing herself and our baby to one of the deadliest neurotoxins on earth.”
“Fair.” Cas’s lips twitched. “So you did it instead?”
“We’re still working out the logistics of her taking on a student, although with recent developments south of the border, I’m thinking she could probably start applying for faculty positions again if she wanted.” Killion shrugged. “It’s not rocket science. All that’s involved is poking a cute, but deadly, frog with a sterile swab and then putting the swab into a pre-labeled sample jar without letting it touch anything else. Like a high stakes game of Operation. The art is not scratching your nose while wearing those same gloves.”
“You’re still here so I guess it went okay.”
“Audrey oversaw from a safe distance. She’s bossy.” His lips curled into a genuine smile.
“You obviously love it.” Cas had never imagined Killion would settle down in domestic bliss, albeit surrounded with poison dart frogs and armed guards. It made something inside Cas twist uncomfortably.
“So what did I miss on the news?”
“Someone tried to kill Delilah in San Diego last night and set her up for another murder.” Cas explained the situation. “She asked for your help.” He cleared his throat. “And maybe you can get a message to her parents. They’re going to be devastated by the news especially after already losing their son. Her father might be able to pull a few strings.”
“Might be a risk.” Killion grunted. “Her old man’s suffering from dementia.”
Demarco’s brows hiked. “She didn’t mention that.” It cut him a little. Part of him still hated the guy for what he’d done five years ago, but it was becoming more and more obvious that Cas hadn’t deserved his daughter. “You think he’ll accidentally mention the truth to someone?”
“Who knows? It’s a potential problem though.” Killion scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, clearly thinking.
Cas had expected the former CIA Intelligence Officer to crack a joke, but his mouth tightened.
“How much do you think she wants to keep her job?”
Cas shot him a look. “As opposed to working for the Agency you mean?”
Killion shrugged. “She’d be good at it, and there’s no better operative than someone who’s already supposed to be dead.”
Cas felt everything inside him contract. “I can’t answer for her, but regardless, we still need to figure out who killed those people and tried to set her up.”
Killion stared out of the windshield for a full minute. “Let me talk to a few friends in the Bureau. See what we can pull together to figure this out.” He cracked the window. “But you need to bring her in.”
“Bring her in?”
Killion shot him a look. “As competent as Delilah is, she can’t handle this alone. The FBI is less forgiving than the Agency when it comes to breaking the rules. Not to mention, Joseph Scanlon might be a psychopath, but he’s a competent motherfucker.” Killion held his gaze. “If he figures out she’s alive and gets his hands on her, she’ll wish she’d never been born. I’m too old and selfish to deal with that.”
The saliva in Cas’s mouth evaporated. The thought of anyone hurting Delilah enraged him. He checked his watch. Conflict tearing him apart. “I don’t know if I have time to go get her before Montana’s memorial service on Wednesday.” He realized it was after midnight and swore. “Tomorrow.”
He hadn’t had many father figures in his life or men he looked up to, but Kurt Montana had been one of them. “If I can persuade her to stay in a hotel room for the next couple of days, I can leave as soon as the service is over. Convince her this is the only way.”
The idea of missing the service went against every grain of decency he possessed.
Killion’s gaze flicked away. “Montana was a good man.”
“He hated spooks.”
Killion huffed out a laugh. “Everyone hates spooks. Even other spooks.” He checked his own watch. “Look, I happen to know there’s a flight out of Norfolk to San Diego leaving at zero-five hundred for a SEAL joint training exercise. Even better. It flies back without personnel onboard tonight. Nineteen-thirty Pacific Time. You might not get much sleep, but it’ll get you back in time for the service.”
“I’ll need to clear it with my boss.”
“Consider it cleared.”
“It’ll be better if I do it myself.” HRT leadership did not like being dictated to by the CIA, and Cas knew better than to assume anything. “You’re sure you can get us both on the return flight?”
Killion smiled, and Cas remembered all the crazy things they’d done while infiltrating gangs and cartels in places the FBI didn’t usually venture. “Some idiot put me in charge of this place. I’ve discovered I can pretty much do anything I damned well please.”
The cold wind ruffled Cas’s hair through the open window.
“Anything I can provide you with for the journey?” asked Killion.
“Maybe a couple of burner cells? I have everything else I need in my go-bag.”
Killion nodded. “Wanna come back to the house for a couple of hours’ sleep? We have a spare room.”
“I thought you said Audrey was asleep?” Cas was startled. Killion had always been notoriously guarded when it came to his private life.
He shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting you to stick around. She probably won’t even wake up until after you’ve gone, so don’t worry about it.”
Cas nodded. “That would be good. Thanks.”
“I might have some answers for you regarding a possible task force before you leave.”
Cas reversed and headed toward the checkpoint and watched in surprise as the barrier was lifted without any ID checks or questions. The feeling of being watched crawled all over him.
He frowned.
“What?” Killion had a glint in his eye that Cas didn’t completely trust.
“Security seems a little lax, considering.”
“See that platform over there?” Killion nodded toward a wooden structure nestled in the trees.
Cas eyed it. “Looks like a deer hide.” It was hard to make out in the near darkness.
“Yeah, but it ain’t no deer they’re scoping.”
The idea of crosshairs on his skull made Cas sweat. He was usually the one holding the long gun.
“I have a signal I can give if I’m here under duress.”
“Hopefully not something you might do by rote.”
“No, but if I put an imaginary gun to my head you might want to duck.”
Cas’s hands instinctively tightened on the steering wheel.
“They’re under strict instructions never to shoot Audrey and never to shoot me should she be the one to give the signal. She’s not above trying to kill me on occasion.”
“I remember the feeling.” Cas laughed reluctantly. “You seem happy.”
“I’m the luckiest man alive and smart enough to appreciate it.” Killion’s eyes shone in the darkness as he guided Cas past the sniper position and down a narrow track between the trees. “I always thought you and Delilah—”
“Don’t.” Cas’s tone was firm.
“Just saying. I thought you were—”
“Patrick,” he warned.
“Ah.” Killion nodded sagely. “Figured.”
Cas’s throat lurched on a hard swallow. He hadn’t realized anyone suspected. “I messed up.”
“Goes without saying.”
They came upon a pretty Cape Cod style house complete with a white picket fence and the Stars and Stripes, lit up and fluttering in the brisk wind off the York River. Cas pulled to a stop and grabbed his go-bag out of the back seat. Decided to leave his rifle where it was.
“Any other safety measures I need to know about around here?”
Killion shook his head. “But I advise against going for a walk in the woods or picking up any stray amphibians while you’re on site. Come on. You can grab some sleep while I wake up a few people who might be able to help us figure this out.”
“Delilah will be pissed that I’m bringing her in.”
“Better than her getting arrested, or dead.”
“Yeah.” Those alternatives were unbearable.
Killion opened the door and waved him inside. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Delilah’s a good person—for an FBI agent.”
And Cas was the dead-last person on earth from whom she’d want help.
Chapter Eleven
Despite the cool outside temperature, Clarence Carpenter was sweating through his favorite Hawaiian shirt. He debated whether or not to take a jacket as it didn’t really go with his outfit, but he was going to the mayor’s office so he probably should, plus, who knew what this wire thing the Feds planned to attach to him looked like.
He gulped down the protein shake he’d grabbed out of the fridge for breakfast and then put his hand on his stomach as he belched. He tossed the empty container into the recycling bin and wiped his sweaty forehead.
If his boss found out he was working for the Feds, he was going to end up inhaling concrete. Hopefully, if he could give the FBI the mayor, both the FBI and his boss would be happy and leave him the hell alone.
He’d told that prick Gonzales that he was working under his own initiative and that his boss didn’t have a clue why he was so successful at getting so many lucrative contracts. He wasn’t sure the agent had believed him, but no way was he implicating Frank Bannon in anything illegal—the guy wasn’t known for his patience or understanding.
If this meet worked out, he’d tell Frank what had gone down and why, and then they’d use the situation and make sure the Feds only learned what they wanted them to learn.
A tangle of anxiety wound around his chest. He grabbed the keys to his SUV and tossed them into the air. Caught them with a determined flourish.
I can do this.
He repeated the mantra as he picked up his cell from the charger and slipped it into his back pocket. Grabbed his sports jacket off the back of the kitchen stool, just in case.
He headed out the front door to where his car sat on the drive beside the tall hedge of bougainvillea that his neighbors kept asking him to trim.
Did he look like a gardener?
He shook his head and then shimmied down the narrow gap and conceded that perhaps they had a point. Maybe he’d ask his brother to give him a hand on the weekend or perhaps hire one of the local kids who lived nearby. Get them off the street, where they shot hoops, and doing something useful for a change.
He checked his watch which glowed in the pre-dawn light. He’d organized this meet early so his boss wouldn’t wonder where he was this morning.
He scowled as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The Feds better not fuck up his career.
Frank was a good boss. But a scary son of a gun.
He put the key in the ignition and jolted as Kendrick Lamar blared out of the sound system. He winced and turned it down because the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.
He shifted forward to drag the phone out of his back pocket and toss it on the center console. Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes before twisting to pull on his seatbelt.
He sat back and, let out a little squeal as a meaty forearm came around from the backseat and grabbed him around the neck.
“What the—” The words were cut off along with his ability to draw in air.
His fingernails dug into the man’s arm and tried to pry him off as his feet scrambled. He couldn’t breathe and whoever this guy was, he was far too strong for Clarence to dislodge him. He felt his vision start to gray and slapped his hand toward the horn to get someone’s attention.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” The accent was thick and guttural.
Clarence found himself jerked violently back between the gap in the seats. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he flung his fisted hand back toward his assailant and connected with what felt like a beard. Had Frank heard about the meet with the Feds and sent someone to get rid of him?
I can explain!
He tried to get the words out, but the guy had him in an unbreakable headlock and Clarence’s lungs were burning with panic and the fierce need for oxygen.
His knees banged the steering wheel as he tried to escape but the seatbelt locked him into place. He reached back again, and this time grabbed a handful of hair and pulled as hard as he could, tearing some out.
Weakness began invading his limbs, pins and needles throbbed in his fingers which suddenly felt numb. His legs gave out. The blackness that had been creeping around his vision suddenly rushed in. He lost consciousness not knowing why this was happening or if he was ever gonna wake up.
