Breaking Away (50 page)

For the first time Will frowned, as though he found her question a little uncomfortable, and the barrel of the gun drifted away from her to point at the dashboard, giving her a moment’s respite. “All I care about is getting the hell out of here before the cops start looking for me. And you and Joy are going with me.”

Joy wasn’t going anywhere with this psychotic bastard.

He renewed his focus and redirected the pistol at her. “I’m not going back to jail, Sam. You’ve caused me a lot of trouble. Cost me a lot of money. It’s time we were together again and stopped all this.”

She remained silent, biting back the words she wanted to say despite the fear. But she agreed this time it would stop. She couldn’t live like this anymore, and Joy wasn’t going to, either.

Her thoughts strayed to Tim and she tried unsuccessfully to cut them off. He’d given her such a gift. He’d loved her with kindness, respect and passion. He hadn’t seen her as a victim, but a fighter, and he had encouraged her to think of herself in those terms.

He was strong. He’d move on. And despite Grace and Chaney’s faults, they’d take care of Joy.

Twenty minutes later, when they pulled into the driveway at the house, she parked the car and got out.

“Try anything and I’ll shoot,” Will warned from the other side of the car.

She looked across the top at him, anger and resolve settling deep and hard inside her. “Fuck you, Will.” Leaving her purse in the car, she stalked toward the front porch.

She unlocked the door and stepped into the living room. Will crowded close, shoving her forward. The beep of the alarm waiting to be reset sounded loud in the empty house.

“Take care of it,” he demanded, pointing at the console with the gun.

Sam took her time punching in the code, waiting until the last minute before hitting the enter button.

“You’ve learned some bad habits since we’ve been apart,” Will said. He slapped her, and she staggered back against the wall.

Never again.
She’d promised herself.
Never again
. With a screech containing six years of pent-up rage, she came back at Will with her fist, hitting him in the throat as hard as she could.

Will gagged and grabbed his neck, half bending. Sam raised a foot and kicked downward into his knee, hyper-extending it. He went down, catching himself with one hand, the pistol still gripped in the other.

She pivoted and ran. The sound of the gun’s report seemed to echo through the house. A hole appeared in the sheetrock inches above her head. She dodged into the hallway. If he caught her now, he’d kill her. She rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, shot the bolt at the bottom into place, then the top. She hit the panic button above the light switch with her palm. As if by magic, a hole appeared in the solid wood door eye-high, then another, lower. She flinched back and dove into the bathtub and out of the line of fire. Although she was safe for the moment, adrenaline pumped through her system, dulling the ache in her face, neck, and arm. Warmth trickled down her side. She pressed her fingers against it. Pain pinched her and her fingers came away red. She’d been shot.

Will yelled from the other side of the door. “I’m going to kill you, Sam.” He lunged against the door. The wall shook.

CHAPTER 37

T
he car’s brakes squealed as Flash turned the van onto the residential drive. Agent Barnett gripped the handle above the door. “What’s the rush?”

Flash didn’t bother to answer. Adrenaline pumped through him, ramping up the tension in his muscles. He had the edgy feeling he’d experienced during the mission that had started this whole cluster-fuck. And he’d learned to pay attention to it. Something was wrong. Where was Sam?

His cell phone rang. He thumbed the screen and answered it without looking at the number.

Sherry, one of the girls who monitored the system said, “The panic button just went off at Mrs. Cross’s house. You told me to call you anytime it happened. The police have been notified.”

“I’m on my way.” He hung up and spoke over his shoulder. “Better grab onto something, Cooper.” He shoved the phone into his shirt pocket and floored the gas pedal.

“What the hell, Carney? Slow the hell down,” Barnett barked.

“There’s an issue at the house.” Sam was over an hour late. It had to be Cross. How long had he had her? If he’d hurt her, he was going to take the son of a bitch apart with his bare hands.

“My girl’s psycho ex-husband. I was expecting her at the hotel. I haven’t heard from her for the last hour. The panic button at the house has been activated. I installed it for her when I first moved in to the apartment next door. Cross has a history of stalking, beating, and harassing her. Been jailed several times for it. He’s a narcissistic personality and completely unstable.” He described the floor plan of the house succinctly.

“Jesus, Carney. You’re a fucking trouble magnet,” Barnett muttered. “You can’t go into the house. Cooper and I will handle this.”

Like hell. He wasn’t standing outside and twiddling his thumbs while Sam needed him.

Barnett’s phone rang and he listened for a moment. “Hold your position. We’re pulling in now. Cooper and I will deal with this. You need to wave off the local police.”

“Gilbert?” Cooper asked.

“Not yet. Agents just arrived to take position and realized someone’s in the house. We need them ready in the garage and apartment,” Barnett said, pulling his weapon. Flash took the drive on two wheels, slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop. He bailed out of the van, pulled his weapon and ran toward the house. He leaped the steps and was at the door ready to enter when Barnett ran up on the porch to join him. Cooper disappeared around the side of the house to cover the back.

Flash waved Barnett away from the door and pushed it open. He secured his Sig in the two-handed grip that was second nature to him, and rushed into the living room in a crouch, his steps measured and quiet.

A meaty thump sounded in the hall. Flash strode to the hall entrance. Cross was backing up to get another run at the bathroom door.

“Back off, Cross,” Flash ordered, sighting him with the pistol. If he pulled the trigger, Sam’s worries would end, but he would have killed Joy’s father.

Will’s head jerked up. He threw up his hand and pointed a Glock 9 mm pistol at him. Instinct kicked in and Flash dove to the side of the hall and flattened himself against the wide wooden support framing the opening.

“Federal officer,” Barnett yelled, “Drop your weapon.” He took a position on the other side of the hallway, his Sig trained on Cross.

“Fuck you,” Cross bellowed his face red from exertion, his breathing heavy. “She’s my wife, Navy boy. Mine! You’ve fucked her for the last time.” Spittle flew from his mouth. He pulled the Glock’s trigger. The bullet gouged into the wood support Flash had taken cover behind.

Barnett fired, striking Cross in the shoulder. He staggered as blood blossomed at the right side of his chest, but he didn’t go down. “Put the fucking gun down,” Barnett shouted.

“I’m not going back to jail,” Cross said, his voice almost calm. He turned his gun on Barnett and the agent fired again, hitting him in the chest. Cross’s knees buckled and he crumpled face-first onto the floor.

Flash moved forward, lending Barnett backup.

Barnett kicked the Glock toward him, then bent to check for a pulse. He shook his head. He pushed his mike and announced what had just taken place as he walked toward the master bedroom. “I’ll go let Cooper in through the back.”

Flash rushed to the bathroom door and saw the bullet holes in the wood for the first time. God, what if she was hurt? Dead? Dying? “Sam.” He couldn’t seem to get enough air to project his voice. “Sam, honey? It’s Tim. Can you open the door?”

“He’s bent the bolts you put in. I don’t know if I can pull the bottom one up.”

Weak with relief at the sound of her voice, Flash leaned against the door. “We’ll get you out. Are you hurt?”

“Only a little.”

His anxiety spiked, and his voice rose. “What do you mean a little?”

Pitt and Russell appeared from the master bedroom with Cooper and Barnett. Cooper’s face was crimped in a pissed scowl. “Appreciate the added security, Lieutenant. By the time I got the door open, everything was over.” She eyed Cross’s body.

A squeaking screech sounded from the other side of the bathroom door and a thump. The door swung open, though the bottom dragged against the tile. Her skin, white as cotton, her freckles standing out, Sam trembled visibly. Flash dragged her into his arms and held on. Her blouse clung to his arm, tacky with something wet and he jerked back. “Are you hit?”

“I think it’s just a graze.” She pulled her blouse up, exposing a gouge in her side. Her gaze fell on Will Cross’s body lying in the hall. She froze for a second. “Did you?”

“No. One of the agents.”

Pitt put his hand up to his ear mike listening and announced. “Gilbert and two men are pulling into the drive.”

Agent Cooper stepped forward and took Sam’s arm. “Come with me, Mrs. Cross, and I’ll bandage that for you.”

Flash nodded. “I have something I have to do, but I’ll be right back, Sam.”

“We’ll have two parabolic mikes on you at all times, Lieutenant. Anything they say will be recorded.”

In other words, he wanted him to get Gilbert to admit as much as he could.

Flash drew a deep breath, checked his weapon, then held it close against his leg. He took the first step toward the front of the house. Fifteen minutes and all this would be over. He remembered thinking the same thing the last time. Sweat ran down between his shoulder blades.

The sound of a car door slamming sent a spike of adrenaline through his system and his heartbeat sped. He took a deep breath to offset it, opened the front door and stepped out on the porch. The three men paused in their progress toward the apartment. Flash kept the gun down, but allowed them to see he was armed, as he could see they were.

“Stand down, Lieutenant. We’ve come to negotiate.” Gilbert said, his tone almost congenial. “I think you’ve met agents Ballard and Harrison.”

“So they
are
agents?” Damn the FBI and their misinformation.

“Yes. Ballard got a commendation for being injured during the attack on Agent Dobson.”

Dobson lost his life, and one of the men responsible got a fucking medal for it. Jesus. That was wrong on every level.

“He and Harrison want their identification back.”

Flash wrestled back his anger and attempted to go along with the program Gilbert was manipulating. “That can be arranged…depending.”

“On what?”

“They apologize for trying to kill me.”

“Since you shot both of them, I’d say what happened was a draw.” Gilbert’s amiable expression flattened to become deadly serious. “You know why we’re here.”

“You want your money and artifacts.”

“And I have something you need in return.”

Flash raised his brows. “What?”

“Your freedom. The penalty for desertion is pretty steep.”

This was getting way too real. “Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve been AWOL for ten months. That could add up to ten years.”

Every time he thought it, it was like a punch in the gut. Hearing Gilbert say it out loud cut deep. “I might have an interesting story or two to tell for a deal.”

Gilbert tilted his head. “If you lived to tell them.” His gaze turned toward the house. “We know about the woman and little girl who live here. Since her car is here, I assume they’re inside.”

“Leave them out of this, Gilbert.”

Gilbert smiled. “You return the money, the artifacts and Agents Ballard and Harrison’s identification, and I’ll forget where I found you—forever.”

If this were a real deal, would he take it? He couldn’t forget about the scenario Gilbert had outlined for him. Was there a grain of truth in it? Were the artifacts being used as a get-into-bed-with-a-cartel card? If he agreed too quickly, Gilbert might grow suspicious.

“There’s three of us and only one of you, Carney. You might take one of us down, but the other two will kill you, then we’ll move on to the woman and little girl.”

With a resurgence of rage, heat exploded in Flash’s face. The man had truly crossed over to a darker side in the past ten months. “You’ve got a deal.”