Chapter Twenty-One
KILLION WARMED A can of soup on the stove while Audrey got out the remaining bread rolls. What had happened in the bedroom earlier had shaken his foundations. He’d known he’d been missing out over the years, but that connection had damn near blown his mind.
Suddenly she lunged for the TV remote, and he turned to see what the problem was.
“Billionaire industrialist Gabriel Brightman was found dead in his home last night in what police are saying are suspicious circumstances. Police want to question Dr. Audrey Lockhart”—there was a photo of Audrey, smiling this time—“who was a friend of the family and is wanted for the murder of her graduate student in Colombia last week. It’s not known how Lockhart got back into the United States. Police are also looking for another man, named online as one Patrick Killion, although his identity hasn’t been substantiated.”
His image flashed up wearing his burglar gear. Fucking great. National fucking news.
“His exact involvement isn’t known.” Except to everyone he’d ever worked with, and everyone he’d ever manipulated or conned, or put away. Fuck. He closed his eyes until he heard Audrey gasp. She didn’t seem to understand his world had shattered, and why would she? He’d never told her a damn thing about his job or his mission. But he didn’t need a pity party. He just needed this damned thing over and the bad guys stopped.
Her parents were on TV, begging her to give herself up before anyone else got hurt. “Please, Audrey, we know something terrible must have happened to make you do this.”
Condemned by her own family. That had to suck.
Her hand rose to her throat. “Maybe I should give myself up. Give you time to find evidence against Devon or whoever did this.”
“The cartel can reach you just as easily in the States as in Colombia, chica.” God, he was pissed.
The camera panned out and Devon stood there looking rumpled and devastated, his arm around Audrey’s sister, his hand resting on a little boy’s shoulder as the woman held the kid in her arms.
Could they be wrong about the guy? Sure. But it felt right in a way Audrey had never felt right. And the motive was old as the hills. Money. Goddamn money.
The way the newscaster spun the story made it sound like Audrey was so insane with jealousy over her sister dating her ex that she’d gone on some kind of killing spree.
Audrey stood beside the table staring vacantly at the screen even as they moved on to another story. “No one is going to believe Devon is guilty without a confession, are they?” she asked quietly. He didn’t answer. “And there’s no way he’s going to give it up when he’s so close to having everything he ever wanted.”
“Money?”
“Power.” She nodded. “His dad made him work his way from the bottom up through the company and live off a normal employee wage. Devon resented the hell out of his dad for that. Gabriel said it built character.”
Killion snorted. “Hence him getting involved with the cartel. My guess is he’s using his dad’s business to smuggle drugs around the world. The company has facilities in Colombia I take it?”
“Yes.” Audrey bit her lip. He knew she’d put together the rest of the puzzle. “Do you think he’s the person who shot Rebecca?”
Killion put his hand around the back of her neck and drew her to him. “Is he the right size and shape?”
She rubbed her arms and nodded.
“Then, yes. Probably.”
He watched the anger build in her features as she remembered her past history with the fucker.
“He pointed a gun at me and pulled the trigger. Then he comforted me at Rebecca’s funeral and I cried on his shoulder. He knew all about the sting operation the cops were setting up with the undercover police officer.”
“Which is why he never touched you,” Killion suggested. “No one was supposed to know the identity of the person with Rebecca when she was killed. If he’d made a move on you it would put the killer firmly within her circle of family or friends. A random mugging would turn into a personal assault. Cops would have been onto him.”
“And now he has some professional assassin working for him.” Despair filled her eyes. “We’ll never get him to confess. He’s super smart and knows his way around computers—”
“I ever get the asshole alone in a room, I can make him talk,” he promised.
She stared at him intensely for a few moments, but he didn’t think she was seeing him. She pulled away, paced the floor, eyes focused inward as her teeth gnawed her lip. He loved watching when that brain of hers went into action.
“We have to kidnap him.”
He blinked. “Are you nuts?”
“Why?” Her eyes glowed almost lavender. “You did it to me. Let him think the CIA is onto him and that they’ve whisked him off to a Black Camp facility.”
He just stared at her. His innocent biologist had turned into a strategist.
She put her hands on her hips. “If we don’t get to him first the assassin might decide to get rid of him, too. Then no one will ever believe me.”
Killion frowned. “A confession drawn out under those circumstances will never hold up in a court of law.”
“So what? You said you couldn’t prosecute him for the murder you thought I’d committed anyway. You just need to know it was him, correct?”
True. Assuming he could get Devon to confess to what he’d done, it didn’t matter whether or not he’d received due process. The president had ordered Killion to find out who was behind the vice president’s murder. What they did once they discovered who the mastermind was had always been a little murky. Killion wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. Nor had he ever disobeyed orders.
“Shake him up. Get him to confess and tell you the name of the assassin.”
He ladled them each out a bowl of soup. “The CIA isn’t allowed to operate on US soil or against US citizens.”
“Now you’re following the rules?”
He laughed. Brightman had to be involved, but who the hell had done the deed? He was no closer to finding the assassin than when he’d staked out the Amazon Research Institute a millennia ago. “Look, we know it’s Brightman—”
“No, we don’t.” Audrey slipped into lecture mode and damn if it wasn’t hot. “We only suspect, the same way you suspected me and Gabriel.”
The reminder he’d been wrong stung, as did her lack of faith. But she was right.
“He thinks he’s smarter than both of us.” A vertical line appeared between her brows. “Doesn’t that piss you off?”
Well, duh.
“So we get him to confess, find out who his accomplice is and take them all down.” She shook a spoon at him like it was a sword. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss the crap out of her, but kissing would lead to other things, and they needed to figure out their next move.
“You’ll still have the cartel gunning for you.” He hated to burst her bubble. “You can’t just go back to your old life if Devon confesses. And there’s that whole wanted-for-murder thing down in Colombia.”
Her lip trembled even as she took her place at the table. “I was kind of hoping the CIA might help me with that.”
He leaned over and ran his knuckle down her cheek. “I’ll do what I can, you know that.”
She swallowed tightly and nodded. Maybe she did understand the stakes here. Considering what had happened to her life, she should.
Kidnapping Devon might work, although rendition of an American citizen on home soil was walking all over the constitution. The president might not back him up if they were caught. The alternative was sitting here while the net closed around them. Equally unpalatable. These people had killed Crista, the VP, Gabriel Brightman, and had set Audrey up to take the fall as well as tried to kill her on multiple occasions. They weren’t messing around.
A knock on the door had his heart hammering as he pushed Audrey behind him, grabbing his pistol from its holster. Shit. “If it’s the cops you go with them and call FBI Agent Lincoln Frazer. Don’t say anything else to them.” He rattled off a number he knew by heart. “Lincoln Frazer. Don’t forget that name.” He’d fucked up this whole mission right from the start.
The knock came again.
Killion checked the window and the wave of relief that rushed through him almost knocked him to his knees. Logan Masters and Noah Zacharius stood on the steps, grinning at him like a couple of fools.
He opened the door and Logan pushed past him. Noah followed and smiled at Audrey in a way that set Killion’s teeth on edge.
“Saw you on the news. Thought you might need a bit of help.”
Killion crossed his arms. “Yeah? And how’d you find us?”
“Your pal, Parker. Stuck a tracker on the bike and gave us a call.”
“He hired you?” asked Killion. Even after what happened at Gabriel Brightman’s mansion, he hadn’t been one hundred percent certain of the former CIA agent. Now he was ready to kiss him on the lips if he ever saw him again.
“He tried.” Masters grinned and punched Killion on the arm as he helped himself to Killion’s soup. “We’re officially on vacation.” The Brit gave him a shit-eating grin.
Noah went over to Audrey. “Hey, you look better.” He held out his hand. “We met before, but you might not remember. I’m Noah.”
Killion put his hands on his hips and made himself stay put. No point getting territorial. And if that little voice in his ear said his career was already over so what the hell was the problem with pursuing Audrey, he was ignoring it. He had enemies. He wouldn’t bring them to Audrey’s doorstep when she’d already endured hell.
Audrey smiled back at Noah, and Killion’s heart both expanded and contracted at the same time—not the most pleasant experience. “I remember. You’re the one who swore you didn’t look when I was naked.”
“Unlike some people,” Noah said slyly, throwing Killion a look.
Audrey laughed. “Well, he did save my life a few times. I owe you all a massive debt of gratitude.”
Noah opened his mouth to say something that would definitely be crude. Killion pointed at the guy. “One word, and I will kill you with my bare hands.”
Noah laughed and bent forward to kiss Audrey on the cheek. “There.” Audrey looked tiny beside the guy. “All debts are paid. Nothing I wouldn’t do for a kiss from a pretty lady, or for you, you big, ugly, jealous jackass.”
Killion felt his throat swell because Noah had been poking at him for sport, not to be a jerk. He usually gave as good as he got but recently he’d lost his sense of humor. A feeling of shame welled up inside him. “You don’t know what we plan to do yet,” he said gruffly.
Noah shrugged and sat down and started eating Audrey’s soup. “If it wasn’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. Every day’s a gift, mate. Let’s not waste it.”
* * *
THE BEST HOPE for success was doing what your enemy least expected. Devon Brightman and the assassin thought they had Audrey and Killion where they wanted them—demonized and on the run. They were taking the fight back to the bad guys.
Killion sat in a white van in the intriguingly named Billy Goat Strut Alley around the corner from Devon’s downtown Louisville apartment. It was dark and people were going about their business like it was a normal day.
The four of them were kitted out in jeans, graphic T-shirts, and sneakers. Logan had cut Killion’s hair so short he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, and provided Audrey with a short wig of bleached blonde hair with a pink streak.
Killion and Logan both wore Bats ball caps pulled low over their features to evade surveillance cameras without looking suspicious. They were only a stone’s throw from the Louisville Slugger baseball field.
Logan was staked out on top of a building with a clear view inside Devon Brightman’s apartment. Their target was alone. “He’s leaving his apartment, exiting the door now.”
Audrey checked her watch. “Right on time.”
According to Audrey, Devon usually walked to a Mexican restaurant on East Market Street and cut through this alley to get there.
“He might not keep to his usual routine if he’s supposed to be mourning dear old Dad,” Noah chimed in. Killion had filled the guys in on everything except the identity of the original high profile target. The three wise monkeys approach to life meant they didn’t ask.
“He’ll go out. He can’t cook worth a dime,” Audrey said with certainty, “but he might go somewhere fancier.”
“Then we pick him up afterward.” Killion looked at her and willed her to have faith in his ability to do his job.
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Hey, you know Gómez’s brother is doing time in a US federal facility?” Noah said suddenly.
“Off topic, but yeah?” said Killion.
“I asked around as to how he was picked up. Anonymous tip. Cartel had some big meeting arranged up in the hills around Bogota and the local policía swooped in and cleaned house.”
“And?” Audrey asked impatiently.
“Raoul was supposed to be there, but his car broke down on the way to the meet and greet. This was about four years ago.”
“When Devon was visiting me?” Audrey asked.
“Couple weeks after.”
Killion grinned.
“I don’t get it,” Audrey said, looking between them.
“You don’t have to,” said Killion. He’d just figured out how to get the cartel off Audrey’s back.
Noah winked at him.
“He’s coming out the front entrance.” Logan’s voice was tinny over the radio. “On foot. Alone. He’s rounding the corner. Heading for the alley.”
Killion put the van in gear. Noah and Audrey both pulled masks over their heads.
He drove forward. He could hear Logan’s progress back to street level. The plan was working.
A cop car went past the west end of the alley.
Killion swore inwardly, but didn’t panic. He’d done this a hundred times, but never while a wanted man, and never on US soil.
“He should come out just over there.” Audrey pointed to a small path that cut between buildings.
Killion drove slowly and got to the opening just as Devon Brightman reached it. Killion stopped and waved the guy across in front of him. Then he heard the side-door slide open.
Noah jumped out, moving explosively, and stuffed a bag over Devon’s head. He dragged him backwards, flinging him into the back of the van while Audrey shut the door. Brightman flailed his arms and legs in every direction, lashing out, muffled cuss words filling the interior.
Noah sat on him as Audrey prepped a syringe.
“Watch his feet,” Noah warned gruffly as Devon tried to lash out.
Audrey nodded and slammed the needle into Devon’s ass, pressing the plunger home. As soon as Devon went slack, Noah went through the guy’s pockets, found a phone, then a second one. He placed both cells into a box with a signal jammer. It meant they didn’t have communications either, but it might be for the best.
Killion drove around the block and picked Logan up at a traffic light. He pulled away from the curb. If he was wrong this time he had no idea how the hell he was going to explain himself to the President of the United States. They’d probably all lose their jobs and would be lucky to escape doing hard time. But for the life of him he couldn’t think of a viable alternative. He caught Audrey’s tremulous smile in the rearview and felt the sides of his heart crack wide open. God help him if he failed.
* * *
TRACEY SAT ALONE at a table at Devon’s favorite Mexican restaurant. She checked her watch. Devon was late, but that wasn’t unusual. Everything was going perfectly. The grieving son. The betrayed ex-lover. The press was eating out of Devon’s hand.
She checked her watch again.
She’d purposely worn a black suit so on the surface this looked like a business meeting rather than a lovers tryst. Her underwear was anything but business though, and she’d unbuttoned her shirt as much as was legal.
She sipped her water impatiently. Where the hell was he? She should have picked him up. Maybe someone from the media or police had delayed him? Maybe that stupid bitch Sienna was crying on his shoulder again. She should just arrange another overdose and put the Lockharts out of their misery.
A horrible thought leaked through. What if he’d stood her up?
Her mouth went dry. The people she’d killed for this man, the people she’d fucked—including his father on a couple of sad lonely occasions. No, she assured herself, he’d been delayed, that was all. She dialed his number again, but this time it didn’t even ring. It went straight to voice mail. She frowned and tried his burner cell from hers. The company said the number was unavailable.
Her mouth turned to ash. She sat for a few moments staring at her half-eaten bread roll. Then she jerked out of her seat and left, climbing into her BMW Z4 Roadster and driving away without looking back.