Always Been Mine (26 page)

“You’ll live,” Gabe said curtly after wrapping several layers of tape over the bleeder. He checked the man for the Fuego tattoo and found none, so he must have been telling the truth. “Who ransacked this room?”

“The Fuego big boss—Ventura and another guy.”

Gabe knew how Ventura looked from the pictures the Iron Skulls provided. “Describe Ventura’s companion.”

“Listen,
hermano
, I told you too much already.” With the bleeding stemmed, Johnny was thinking coherently again and not running his mouth. “I’m sure they’re having this place watched.”

“I thought you said they’ve disappeared.” Gabe got to his feet and started pulling out the drawer of the dresser, dragging the furniture forward to also check the back.
 

“I just know. Look, I’m lucky they didn’t kill me—”

“Why would they? I’m sure you store shit for them, don’t you?”

Johnny didn’t say anything.
 

Taking out a switchblade, Gabe moved to the desk and started poking at the corners for hidden compartments.
 

“Description of the man?” He repeated as he eased under the desk. “Don’t make me repeat that question for a third time.” He tapped his knife at the edge of the desk, his warning not lost on the Latino guy.
 

“He . . . He was dressed well. In a suit.”

“What?” Gabe emerged from under the table, sat up, and stared hard at Johnny.
 

“He had dark hair, and skin. Not too tall.”

“Was he Latino? How old, you think?”

“Hard to tell. He didn’t have an accent. He’s around mid-thirties.”
 

For a minute he thought it was Senator Mendoza. “Was he heavy-set? Thin? Any scars?”

“He was wearing a coat, but he’s definitely not fat. I don’t know of any marks on his face.” The man sighed. “I don’t look at them, you know. They come in and do their shit. The less I know, the better.”

Gabe got to his knees and peered underneath the space between the claw foot dresser and the floor. Having trained in clandestine ops with Ryker, he knew how the man operated. He tapped under the base of the dresser and noticed the thin plywood bulging on the right corner.
 

Bingo.

He inserted his knife at the corner and dislodged the piece, revealing the edges of a stash of papers. Gingerly pulling them out, Gabe’s brows shot to his hairline as he read the contents of the documents.

Getting back to his feet, Gabe slashed the duct tape bindings and released Johnny. “You’re coming with me.”

*****

Gabe kept his eyes peeled as he waited for Johnny to lock up the doors of the dry cleaners. There were a few people milling around who immediately looked away when they saw the pair of them. Cloverleaf was known for violent crimes, so Gabe guessed that a form of self-preservation for those who lived here was to ignore the happenings and keep their mouths shut.
 

When they got into his pickup, Gabe took out his phone and made several calls. First was to Dr. Ryan, the second was to the sketch artist who had worked with Beatrice earlier. He told them to head to BSI. Lastly, he called Beatrice.
 

“I’m on my way back,” Gabe said when she answered.

“Did you find anything?”

“Interesting stuff. I’m also bringing in someone who may know what Redrook looks like.”

Silence for a beat and then, “Do you trust him?”

“Not sure yet, babe. It’s all we’ve got right now.”

“If he pans out, that’ll be some breakthrough.”

“Yeah. I’ve got some documents your dad needs to look over. Can’t talk about it on the phone.”

Beatrice dropped off for a bit while she spoke to someone. It also sounded like she was outdoors.

“Beatrice?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m about to head out to a meeting with Zach.”

“What?” Gabe snapped. “I told you to stay in the fucking office.”

“Don’t worry, Ed’s coming with me.”

“I don’t give a damn if you have an entire security entourage,” Gabe snarled, starting the truck and steering out of the space. “I told you to stay put.”

“Things have just gone to crap, Gabe. Zach and Nate had a confrontation earlier today. The senator got involved, and he’s thinking of canceling the BSI contract. Travis is over there smoothing things out right now.
 
The senator told Zach to go cool off. I’m taking care of Zach,” Beatrice said.
 

“Jesus Christ, not one day and Reece got into trouble?”

Beatrice laughed briefly, though not really with humor. “Don’t let his easy personality fool you. When Nate’s got a hair up his ass, he could push your buttons.”

Gabe couldn’t agree more, remembering the many times the man irked him and made him jealous.
 

“Where are you meeting Zach Jamison?”

“Coffee shop at the corner of O St. and 35
th
.” Beatrice told him the name.
 

“Okay, text me Ed’s number.”

“Will do. I gotta go.”

Gabe ended the call and looked over at Johnny. The man was quietly staring out the window, his face lined with pain.

“We’ll have someone look at your leg,” Gabe said.

“For what? I’m dead anyway.”

“You have any family around here?”

“No. In Florida.”

“You might want to visit them, lay low for a while.”

Johnny sighed. “I have a business, you know.”

“Yeah, right. You probably make more using your business as a front,” Gabe said. “It’s only a matter of time before they tie up loose ends and circle back to you.”

Johnny remained quiet for the rest of the trip.

*****

Beatrice entered the coffee shop in Georgetown and spotted Zach Jamison immediately. She hadn’t met him outside the senator’s office since she visited his hospital room after the junkyard ambush.
 

He stood when he saw her, his face looked grave, unhappy. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drifted behind her. Seeing Ed, his mouth tightened.
 

Ed escorted her up to the table.

“Zach.” Beatrice held out her hand in greeting. Zach already knew Ed because he was the team lead on Senator Mendoza’s security detail. After the two men exchanged handshakes, Ed excused himself to scope out the area and vanished into the background.

“Everything all right, Beatrice? Where’s Sullivan?” Zach asked after a server came by and took her order.

“He had somewhere else he needed to be.”

“I hope I didn’t needlessly drag you out if you’re in danger,” Zach said anxiously. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine. Just precautions. It happens sometimes with this job.”

“Is it because of our contract?’

“No.” Beatrice was uncomfortable with the questions. “Speaking of the contract, what happened between you and Nate?”

“He’s getting too intrusive to the point of offending some of our supporters,” Zach huffed indignantly.
 

“He’s been there a day,” Beatrice reminded him. Actually, less than a day.

“Well, he’s already gone and interrogated one of the senator’s visitors from the Colombian government who oversees exports.”

“Was the man on an advance dossier given to the security team?”

Zach pressed his lips together.

“Zach?”

“With the trip coming up, we’ve had an influx of dignitaries from South America. Our staff is overworked,” the Chief of Staff defended. “So no, he wasn’t. But Reece overreacted.” Zach’s eyes bore into hers. “Is there a threat you’re keeping from us, Beatrice? We’ve already beefed up security after the junkyard incident. Why was Reece suddenly inserted into the senator’s detail without an accompanying re-assessment? You even have Shephard guarding you. I understood when it was Sullivan, but now . . .”

He let his words trail off and flipped his right hand in an irritated gesture. She also could have imagined a slight sneer curving Zach’s lips.
 

She wished she was more prepared for this meeting and had formulated a standard answer. Good thing a server brought their coffee and pastry orders, which gave her a few seconds to compose her reply.

“No different threat than was assessed after the junkyard ambush,” Beatrice said. “It’s just that the Senator’s trip to South America is approaching; I did warn you that we would ramp up security leading up to the trip and the addition of personnel is fluid up to ten. Also, I’ve been hearing dissent with regards to the Immigration and Border Security bill, which goes to vote after the senator’s trip. That’s still two months out, but you can be sure those in opposition will take action before then. BSI can never be too careful.”

Beatrice didn’t like the way Zach’s eyes scrutinized her, as if stripping her defenses to get to the core of her lie. Her answer was weak at most, too generic, but was valid.
 

Zach’s phone buzzed. He checked it, his face tightening. When his eyes returned to hers, they were so chilly; she felt a shiver snake up her spine.

“Is everything all right?” Beatrice asked. “Was that the senator’s office? I know Travis went over there to talk to the senator.”

“I know he did,” Zach said. “I told Senator Mendoza we couldn’t have a man like Reece on our security team and we’d have to shop for a different company if BSI insists on including him. This is why I wanted to talk to you. I like you, Beatrice.” The way he said her name sparked a deadly sense of déjà vu.

. . . so you had no idea, poor Beatrice.

She ignored the ringing in her ears and took a sip of coffee, trying to concentrate on Zach’s words.

“You’re astute, smart, and capable,” he continued. “Surely you can recommend a different security firm.”

“You were the ones set on BSI. I was recommending a different company.”

“My point exactly,” Zach purred. “You knew our needs more than we did. We should have listened to you. Reece is too inexperienced to handle the complex day-to-day activities of our office.”

Beatrice bristled at the obvious dig at Nate. At that moment, she despised Zach Jamison. Nate may not have an impressive resume like Travis, but that was only because he had worked clandestine missions for the CIA, missions he couldn’t list as accomplishments. She valued her clients, but she loved her BSI boys more and would protect them like a lioness defending her cubs, even if she lost business.
 

“Nathan Reece is an invaluable member of BSI,” Beatrice said carefully. “From what you’ve told me of what had transpired, I can only conclude he was doing his job. Your assessment of Nate’s skills is different from mine. BSI’s track record speaks for itself. Foreign and local dignitaries all have glowing reviews of their services. If our basic beliefs about what is crucial security for the senator are different, I’m not your person. Trust goes both ways, Zach. If the security team can’t trust the person they’re protecting to do what they’re told, then a working relationship is not possible.”

The Chief of Staff’s expression turned more remote; gone was the charm that Beatrice was used to.

Her phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Gabe.
 

Her stomach bottomed out.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Gabe perused the document in front of him while he waited for the artist to finish the facial composite of the man Johnny saw with Ventura. It was a long shot because the last time Johnny saw them was around a week after Ryker’s demise. Dr. Ryan stepped out of the room, her eyes zeroing in on Gabe. She was not pleased.

“I gave you my number just in case Beatrice had issues, not to call me for your own problems,” the doctor said sternly.
 

“This guy may lead us to who abducted Beatrice,” Gabe replied.

“That’s what you told me on the phone and the only reason I came. Don’t make it a habit, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Can’t promise that, Doc,” Gabe grinned.

“Save that charming smile for Ms. Porter. It’s not working on me,” the doctor said dryly, but amusement twinkled in her eyes. “Here’s a prescription for antibiotics and pain meds.”

Just then, Travis and Nate walked into the office.
 

“Doc? What are you doing here?” Travis asked.

“Sullivan here had someone for me to patch up,” Dr. Ryan replied. “I gotta go. See you around, Travis. Give my regards to Cat.”

After the doctor left, Travis turned to Gabe. “What’s going on?”

“Everything squared away with the senator?” Gabe asked.

“Yes,” Nate replied. He and Travis wore identical frowns as they regarded Johnny in the conference room.

“Are they keeping you on?”
 

“Nate’s out,” Travis said, “but I told the senator I’m a hundred percent behind what Nate did.” Travis paused. “Why am I telling you this? It’s none of your business.”

Gabe shrugged. “Beatrice is in a meeting with Zach Jamison right this moment. I was curious.”

“Are you telling us what’s going on?” Travis looked pointedly at Johnny. “Who the hell is that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t tell you Travis, Nate,” Em came up behind them. “Both of you were busy with Senator Mendoza, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Juan Rodriguez, otherwise known as Johnny,” Gabe said. “I had some intel about Ryker’s hideout in the Cloverleaf District.” The other two men stilled. “I found where he did his executions, which were really medical tests.”

“Damn,” Travis muttered. “Let’s go to my office.”

“Can’t. Need to keep an eye on Johnny.”
 

Travis looked at Em, who understood and returned to the reception area out of ear shot.

“Speak,” Travis prompted.

“These documents hold the technical information on the virus.” Gabe held up the stack of papers recovered from Ryker’s room.

“How is it different from what we already have? Porter said they’ve typed the genome.”

“Yes. But here”—Gabe held up the paper—“it states it’s inert when in powder form. It’s transformed into a liquid evaporate by a careful ratio of the indicated compounds. Ryker experimented on five test subjects. It’s all there.” Gabe handed the paper to Travis, with Nate looking grimly over his friend’s shoulder. “Everything from time of exposure to time of death.”