Chapter 7
—Damn it.—
“I’m pretty sure I picked up a tail on the way back,” Leighton said quietly into his phone. He was in the bathroom of the Presidential Suite with the shower running. He’d done a scan for bugs and other electronics and was certain he wasn’t being listened to, but he was still taking extra precautions. Right now more than ever they had to be careful.
“Did you get a good look?” Colt asked.
“No. Just a feeling I’ve had before. Could be nothing but my instinct tells me otherwise. And I didn’t get that feeling until I got close to the actual casino.”
“Well, you did go out with Kuznetsov’s niece. He or someone who works for him could be keeping an eye on you. But…do you need to pull out?” Colt asked, his tone deadly serious.
“I think if my cover was blown, I’d know.” He’d already thought about it and he wanted to stay put. “I don’t want to pull out yet. I want to scout the casino floor again at least one more night, see what we can pick up on cameras. Gage still hasn’t completely infiltrated their system.” And Leighton didn’t think Kuznetsov would stop running women simply because his niece had stumbled onto a small portion of his operation. No, the asshole would just get smarter about it. Kuznetsov liked money too much.
“All right. We’ve all got your back regardless. And if something happens, I have no doubt you’ll be able to fight your way out.”
Leighton half laughed. “Glad you’ve got so much faith in me.”
“So how was lunch with her? Did you get a better feel for her?”
Leighton wasn’t certain how to answer that. He decided to go with the truth, however. “I really like her.”
Colt was silent for a long moment. “Like her, like her? Or…”
“Like her, like her.”
“You’re serious.” Colt’s tone was neutral.
“Yeah. I kissed her. And I can tell myself that it was all part of the job but I’d be lying. You have a right to know. I’m not going to screw things up but I am seriously attracted to this woman. It took me by surprise. I…didn’t expect any of this. Flat out, I just like her. After hearing the recording today, it seems pretty clear she’s not involved with her uncle’s operation. And she volunteers at a suicide hotline.” He felt like a fool for letting his emotions get entangled but he wasn’t a damn robot, and Lucy Carreras had gotten under his skin.
Colt let out a rough sigh. “This isn’t the end of the world. Maybe it’s a good thing. Because we might need to use her as an asset.”
Leighton’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the thought of using Lucy at all or even thinking of her as an asset. He understood this op was about more than him and his wants and needs, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Lucy was more than an asset.
“Are you going to be able to handle yourself?” Colt asked, continuing.
“Yes. She’ll be working tonight and busy. I’ll avoid her as much as possible as I scope the place.”
“All right. Be careful though. I’m going to have Gage see if he can figure out who was tailing you. Maybe he’ll pick up something on some CCTVs.”
“Sounds good.”
As soon as they disconnected, he turned off the water to the shower and scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to get it together. Tonight he had to be on his game, to be Spencer Johnson, not Leighton Cannon.
Because Leighton had too much baggage.
* * *
“I’m second-guessing myself wondering if we should have pulled him,” Colt said to Skye as they stepped into the barely lit kitchen of Michael Atkins’s house.
At this point, they knew that the guy was likely missing—either of his own volition or not. He and Skye had sat on the guy’s house for the last couple hours and hadn’t seen any movement inside or out. No one else had approached the place. They’d checked his mailbox, and he hadn’t checked his mail in the past eighteen hours. Which could mean nothing at all. He could be lazy, but after he’d been fired all his credit cards and his cell phone had stopped all use. And he hadn’t checked his email or social media.
It was the cell phone that made the team suspicious. Because the guy could just be lying low somewhere and paying cash. But not to use his cell or social media at all? Nah. Going on the guy’s past cell phone record, the thing had been glued to him. He texted practically all day and night long.
So they were going to see if they could find the guy. Because one of two things had happened. He’d gone on the run because he was worried that one of Kuznetsov’s men would kill him for being discovered by his niece—or he was already dead.
“I think Leighton’s fine,” Skye said, opening up Atkins’s refrigerator. New, stainless steel, huge and filled with…beer. And nothing else.
“Why are you so sure?” Colt trusted her to be more objective than him because she hadn’t known Leighton forever like him. And she was usually pragmatic about things regardless. His wife didn’t put up with bullshit.
“He was honest about his feelings. He didn’t try to hide anything from us. He was open about being attracted to her—and there was no reason for him to have told us other than to simply be straightforward. I trust that kind of honesty. And I trust him. He might have baggage but let’s be real, we all do. I think he’s got things under control.”
“Always so wise,” Colt murmured.
“This is true. I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you.” Though her back was turned to him, and she had on a ski mask, he could practically hear her grinning.
Shaking his head, Colt stepped onto a kitchen chair and started opening the higher cabinets. Atkins lived in a shotgun-style house that was long and narrow, in a more than decent neighborhood. They’d had to be careful about breaking in, and had been sure not to be seen by neighbors. Which always took some finessing. Nosy neighbors and dogs were often better security systems than cameras.
All the drapes were closed but there’d been a couple lights left on inside. So they hadn’t touched anything. Gage hadn’t been able to find a record of a security system and they hadn’t seen one, but in case there were video cameras, they’d decided to completely cover themselves from head to toe. Ski masks, gloves, the whole works. They’d even put in contact lenses to change their eye color. This was definitely not their first rodeo.
“All this stuff is new,” Skye muttered more to herself than him.
He’d noticed the same thing. All-new kitchen appliances and furniture, and a big-ass flat screen mounted on the living room wall above a fireplace that hadn’t been used in ages. Everything was all shiny, though the place seemed mostly unused. Or maybe that was just because the guy was a bachelor. It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t neat and tidy either.
If there was one thing the Marine Corps had instilled in Colt, it was to keep his shit together and organized. He snorted when he pulled out a box of Frosted Flakes and found a wad of cash rolled up in the bottom. Taking it out, he pocketed it.
“Stealing now?” Skye’s tone was teasing.
“One of my lesser sins,” Colt said. “We can add it to the fund for Maria.” Because they were going to rescue her. Or at least he really hoped so. And there was no doubt she was going to need money to relocate with her mother and family—and that she’d likely need counseling. Considering her family wasn’t swimming in wealth and had little or no health insurance, he figured they were going to need monetary help as well.
When the crew did jobs, they didn’t do the bare minimum. Now wouldn’t be any different.
“I like the way you think,” she said, digging through Atkins’s freezer. Then she let out a snort as she pulled out a bag of jewels. “Man, this guy is really not creative. He hides his shit in the most obvious places. Seriously, why not get a safe? Amateur,” she muttered, shutting the freezer door and shoving the bag into her back pocket.
As she shut it, they both heard a loud knock on the front door, followed up with, “New Orleans Police, open up.”
Oh hell. Atkins hadn’t been reported missing. Or Colt wasn’t aware that he had. He’d just been fired from his job in the early hours of yesterday morning. Technically he wouldn’t be considered missing anyway. So why the hell were the cops here at one in the morning? Gage was on the comm with Leighton—who was at the casino right now—instead of them. Skye and Colt had decided to do this job solo since it had seemed easy.
They’d worked together a long time, even before they’d been married, so they didn’t need to say a word as they fell in step together. It was time to run.
Moving soundlessly, they headed toward the back door even as there was another knock on the front door. Colt just barely slid one of the blinds covering the window in the back room and peered through the slit. There was a guy in uniform, a patrol officer, leaning against one of the fence posts, talking on his radio—not looking in their direction.
The cops were prepared…for something.
He looked at Skye. There was pretty much one choice at this point. Run. Good thing they were always prepared.
She nodded once as he put his hand on the back door.
“Open up or we’re coming in, Atkins,” the voice from the front shouted. “Now!”
Yeah, they needed to move. Colt opened the back door silently, looking out onto the back patio.
No matter how relaxed that cop was, he saw the movement as soon as Colt reached the edge of the porch.
Colt moved like hellhounds were after him, jumping off the porch and rushing the guy. He felt like a jackass for doing it but there was no way around it. Fist raised, he punched the guy even as the man started to reach for his weapon.
Skye was right with him, grabbing the Taser, then yanking the man’s sidearm out and completely disarming him. It all happened so fast—though the guy got in a solid punch to Colt’s ribs as he shouted, “Back here!”
Sucking in a breath, Colt took the pain as he slammed his fist against the guy’s jaw.
The man dropped even as they heard shouts of alarm.
Neither he nor Skye responded. They simply sprinted across the backyard, putting distance between them and the fallen man.
“Stop and put your hands up! New Orleans Police!”
They didn’t pause as they jumped over the back fence, racing through the neighbors’ backyard.
He doubted the cops would be stupid enough to shoot at them in a residential neighborhood but they needed to disappear. Fast.
The key to getting away in a situation like this was disappearing in the first five minutes. Ten, tops. Because if law enforcement decided to put up roadblocks, it would be a hell of a lot harder to escape. Not impossible, and they’d escaped from worse situations in foreign countries. But it wasn’t fun.
Heart pounding as they raced alongside the back neighbors’ house, he and Skye made a sharp right as they hit the next block over.
They’d already had an adaptable escape plan in place so they knew exactly what they were going to do.
Timing was simply key. They needed to get to their getaway car before they were spotted.
Their shoes pounded against the sidewalk as they ran down the lamplit street. A couple walking their dog shouted in alarm as they raced by. Two people wearing ski masks and running was definitely not a good look. Two cars whizzed past, an SUV and a Jeep. Neither slowed.
As they reached the end of the street, he glanced back to see a man in a suit pursuing them. The guy had to be a detective and not a patrol officer. He digested all of that information in milliseconds as he and Skye rounded the corner, veering around a cluster of college-aged girls wearing tiaras, boas and beads in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Rude!” one of the girls shouted after them.
Yes! Their car was waiting where it should be. Skye palmed the keys and jumped into the front seat, starting the engine before he’d even made it into the passenger side. She gunned it, tearing away from their spot right as that cop rounded the corner and Colt slammed the door behind himself.
“He’s on his radio,” Colt said even as they sped away, putting more and more distance between them and the detective. “He’ll get the plate.”
“Too bad they’ll be looking for the wrong vehicle,” she said, glee in her voice.
He snorted softly as she took a hard right at the next stop sign. Moving swiftly, they jumped out of the crimson-colored muscle car and slid into their other backup vehicle. The real getaway car.
A four-door, gray sedan that was boring as fuck. The window tint was just dark enough that people could see movement inside but not anything important. Like faces.
“That’s how you do a getaway right.” Skye ripped off her ski mask as she pulled away from the curb.
He did the same, glancing behind them automatically, but no one was in pursuit. He could hear sirens in the distance, and maybe they were for him and Skye. But maybe not. New Orleans was a busy city.
They passed a Catholic church as she said, “Did you get a good look at our pursuer?”
“No. But he was a detective if I had to guess, only because he had on a suit.” And as far as he knew, patrol officers wore uniforms.
Colt was just annoyed that he hadn’t been able to get a better look at the guy. But he was sure that Gage could find out who had been at Atkins’s house.
And more importantly, why.