Breaking the Rules (58 page)

The woman was brilliant. She’d just told Izzy exactly who he had to look for—and possibly take out—before going into her apartment to revive Dan.

She was still talking. “I believe the words he said when he left were
the fucking I’m getting is no longer worth the fucking I’m getting.
”

Ah, Eed, no, don’t bring sex into it. These guys were animals, and it never, ever paid to put the idea of sex into an animal’s brain.

Unless … Damn, it was possible Eden was giving them that message on purpose.
Here’s what I’ll do to protect my family. Anyone interested in making a trade …?

The thought of it made Izzy sick. But he knew why she was doing it—for the same reason she’d given her sister’s husband what he’d wanted in trade for Ben’s insulin, after New Orleans flooded. Because there were things worth dying for, and face it, sex wasn’t one of them.

Back in the apartment, Eden wasn’t done talking. “You better leave my cell phone here for Danny. He forgot his charger, and his battery’s dead. I mean, unless you want to wait to contact him until he can get to the Sprint store tomorrow.”

Without a doubt, Eden was on top of everything. Somehow she knew not to say that Dan had lost his phone—that would have seemed too coincidental and would have sent up a signal that something was off. But a forgotten charger when visiting from out of town? That had happened to everyone.

There was talking that Izzy couldn’t quite make out, then Eden said, “That one. Leave it where he can find it.”

There was more random noise—movement—and some more conversation that Izzy couldn’t hear, something about insulin, and then …

“Quiet, both of you,” Izzy heard Jake command Eden and Jenn. “You make any noise at all as we get out to the van? And Todd will kill Danny.”

“Make it fast, Jake,” someone said—had to be Todd—clearly unhappy about being left behind.

Although dude had absolutely no clue about the raging shitstorm of unhappiness that was barreling toward him.

No doubt about it, Izzy was going to leave his boot print on the son of a bitch’s face.

But first he had to make sure he had both his cell phone and Greg’s. Because he had to ditch this car. Once he did, he could lose
the pursuing police officers far more easily—whoops, there were two cars behind him now.

Yeah, he was going to have to do this on foot. He reached over and erased the GPS device’s memory, and took a hard turn into a neighborhood that was more middle class than the poverty-stricken street where Greg and Ivette lived. He could see from the map on the GPS that this entire development was less square little blocks and more winding, looping roads. For someone with his skill and training, it was an E&E playground. Most of the houses had fences around them, but nothing that he couldn’t get over easily.

Thirty seconds after leaving the car, he’d have successfully escaped and evaded, and he’d be in the clear and on his way back to Eden’s.

He found a cul-de-sac on the map, and as he turned the corner he did a quick visual. There were no other cars on the street, no people around. There was going to be some property damage, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d pay for it—he’d be happy to—if he were still alive after this goatfuck was over.

He kept the car in gear as he steered to the left, then opened the door and rolled out onto—shit!—not a plush lawn like the yard before it, but desert-style zero-scaping. Little stones and bigger stones and yes, that
was
a cactus he’d just gotten intimate with. But he kept his mouth shut, internalizing his disbelief and pain—needles in his ass could wait while Eden could not—and kept moving silently in the darkness as the car kept on its path, with both police cars in hot pursuit.

He was over a fence and into a backyard, and over the next fence into the neighbor’s yard, too, before he heard the crash and scraping of the rental car hitting someone’s palm tree.

He heard the shouting of the police officers as they realized that he was no longer in the rental car.

And then, like the good Navy SEAL that he was, he became one with the night, and he vanished.

I
zzy couldn’t kill Todd.

The prick had positioned himself at the window of the apartment directly across the courtyard from Eden’s place. He was just sitting there—the guy she’d tried to run over in the street—watching the place, in clear view of anyone who might be looking to take him out.

And even though the range of Greg’s handgun wouldn’t do the necessary damage from up here on the apartment complex roof—Izzy would need a rifle for that—he could’ve quite easily worked his way around to that side of the building, without being seen. Then he could’ve dropped silently down onto the walkway and crept along bent over, down beneath the windowsill, only to pop up right in front of the motherfucker, and shoot him between the eyes at a far more acceptable range of about two feet.

The problem with
that
, aside from the noise from the gunshot and the inconvenience of an impending police visit, was that Izzy had no idea how often Todd was in touch with the mothership, aka Jake-the-asshole-from-the-mall. It also served them better, having Todd here, regularly reporting in that “Danny hasn’t left the building,” and “Danny
still
hasn’t left the building …”

Even though Dan would be long gone, along with Izzy, back the way Izzy had gotten in—via the living-room window that faced the street.

Greg’s cell phone shook once, and Izzy glanced down at it—it was Mark Jenkins calling him back. Izzy had already spoken with Mark’s wife, Lindsey, and had given her the rundown and had gotten
their
bad news—she’d miscarried—from her.

He answered, speaking softly, moving over to the edge of the roof that looked down on the street, where it was silent in the darkness. “Mark, man, I’m so sorry.”

“It happens,” Jenk said. “Often, apparently, in the first trimester. I really had no idea, I mean, she’s healthy, so I thought—” He broke off. “Look, we can talk about this later. Your problem’s more immediate. Lindsey got the software working. According to the computer program, Dan’s cell phone is heading south on Interstate 15. If you left right now, and you went the speed limit, you’d be about twenty minutes behind them. They’re a few miles north of the exit for Route 161. I’ll text you with an update either way—if they take it or go past it.”

“Thanks, bro,” Izzy said, still watching the street, where no one and nothing was moving. He went back to the courtyard and double-checked Todd, who was still sitting there, and still looking pissed. “I’m going in to get Gillman now.”

“Lindsey called Jules Cassidy, you know, from the FBI, and forwarded him the pictures you sent her,” Jenk reported. “He ID’d the two men as Jake Dyland and William Nathan, and trust me, you don’t want them anywhere near Eden or Jenn.”

“Too late,” Izzy said.

“Yeah, I know. Cassidy’s going to call you,” Jenk said. “He’s contacting the local Bureau, and he says don’t do anything until you talk to him.”

“He’s not, like, conveniently in town for a conference …?” Izzy asked.

“Not a chance,” Jenk said. “I think he’s in Boston.”

“So whoever he’s talking to out here—he has no clue who they are or whether they got promoted because they kissed the right asses,” Izzy clarified.

Jenk was unequivocal. “Correct.”

“Fuck that,” Izzy said.

Jenk laughed, but even that sounded grim. “I knew you were going to say that. Hey, heads-up, Linds says that Danny’s cell phone just exited the interstate. It’s now heading south on 161, toward a town called Jean with a
J
.”

“Keep me posted,” Izzy said.

“Will do,” Jenk said. “We’re picking up Lopez now, we’ll get to you ASAP, so stall if you can.”

“I can’t,” Izzy told his friend as he prepared to go over the side of the roof.

“Yeah,” Jenk said. “I knew that, too.”

Neesha was trapped.

She couldn’t get out from where Ben’s brother had hidden her, beneath the sofa, even after she heard Todd and the others leave, taking Jenn and Eden with them.

Panic made her heart start to pound and she tried pushing up against the canvas and the metal frame, but lying with her arms at her sides, as she was, she couldn’t put her shoulders into it, and it only moved a little bit. She stopped almost immediately, because the fear that Todd might’ve stayed somewhere close by, where he could look in through the living-room window and see the sofa shaking, was stronger than any claustrophobia that she felt.

And she believed what Ben’s brother Dan had told her. That if they found her—Todd and the others—then Ben, too, would die. Of course, she wanted to believe that. It was very easy to believe such an outcome when the alternative was to give herself up and face her own demise.

“Dan,” she called softly, praying that he would hear her and wake up. “Danny!”

But he didn’t answer, and she lay there in silence for what felt like a very long time, but was quite possibly only minutes.

And then, finally, she heard a sound, something scraping, something
rustling—was it Todd, coming back inside?—and she held her breath.

Except then she heard a voice whisper, “Neesha? Don’t freak. It’s me, Izzy. I’m going to open up the sofa now.”

And she started to cry, because Mr. Nelson’s men—Todd, and the others—had made it quite clear that if Izzy came back? Then Eden and Jenni and Ben were as good as dead.

But he somehow knew what she was thinking, because as he held out his hand to pull her up and out of her hiding place, he added, “It’s okay. Todd sucks at surveillance. He’s watching the door from an empty apartment across the courtyard. I went up on the roof and spotted him sitting at the window, what a dickweed—which is good for us.”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his back and shoulders were all scratched up and bleeding slightly, plus he had a huge scar on his chest. It should have made him look scary, but to Neesha, it made him seem impossible to kill, which was a good thing. He was self-conscious about it, though, and he quickly unzipped a bag that was over on the floor, and pulled out a T-shirt and slipped it on even as he kept reassuring her.

“He didn’t see me come in,” he continued. “No one did. I came through this window, on the other side of the building, down from the roof.”

She’d looked out of that window before, and it was way up high, on this second story, and she went over to it now, wiping her eyes, afraid that someone passing by would see the rope he’d used to climb down.

But there was no rope. And he hadn’t broken the window. Everything looked normal—it was tightly shut.

The only thing out of the ordinary was that he’d taken the screen off, and it was leaning against the wall, near the air conditioner. But from the street? No one would ever suspect he’d entered the apartment that way.

She wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it.

“Let’s keep that closed,” he said, talking about the blinds, and as she turned back, she saw he’d already gotten down on floor next to
Dan. “Be a good girl and get me some ice—” He stopped himself and glanced up at her, his dark eyes filled with both an apology and understanding.

“Shit,” he said. “Sorry. I bet you heard that a lot.
Be a good girl …
I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You didn’t mean it the way they did.”

“Still.”

“I’ll get the ice,” she told him, and went to do just that.

The light hurt his eyes, and his head was throbbing, and it took Dan several long seconds to remember where he was—and what had happened.

The freaky little girl—Neesha—was out of the couch and was peering at Dan over Izzy’s shoulder as the other SEAL knelt beside him.

“You’re okay,” Izzy told him as he helped Dan sit up and put the ice where it would help the most. Jesus, he was dizzy … “That must’ve been some fight—you’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

It was then it came back, and he looked around wildly, but Jenni and Eden were both gone. And Dan pushed Izzy away from him, hard.

“You can’t lie for shit, Zanella,” Dan said, “so don’t even bother. I
know
you told Eden to hit me—”

“And a fine job she did of it, too, Buddha be praised. You’re not badly injured, and you had just the right-length nap.”

“I should fucking kill you!” Danny swung for him again, but the world tilted and he had to stop and press his forehead to the floor in order not to get sick.

“You could try,” Izzy said. “But I’d like to remind you that you wouldn’t be
able
to try, if Eden
hadn’t
hit you. You wouldn’t be able to do anything. Eden’s and my goal was to make this very conversation—to kill me or not to kill me—possible. It was to keep you undead. And I mean the good kind of undead, not the creepy vampire kind, regardless of any lovely, sparkly—”

Danny lifted his head and substituted the floor for the bag of ice that Izzy had given him. “Jesus Christ, they have Jenni! Do you have any idea what those men are capable of?”

“I’m sure Jenn would agree,” Izzy spoke over him “She doesn’t seem the type to be into the whole pale, cold skin thing, not to mention the creepy stalker vibe. I’m betting she’s far more Team Jacob anyway—”

“Zanella! For the love of God!”

“And yes, I
do
know what they’re capable of,” Izzy said, “so if you’ve managed to get your eyes focusing in tandem again, and I’ve finally got your full attention, with all threats to beat the crap out of me temporarily out of your system, I’m ready to give you a sit-rep. You ready to listen?”

Dan managed a nod and a somewhat civil “Yes. Please.”

“We got one man, guy named Todd, last name unknown, watching the front door of this apartment,” Izzy said, “with orders to shoot to kill if I show up, or if you attempt to leave without clearing your movement with the boss, the big bald guy whose handle is Jake. So whatever you do, don’t go out that door. Eden and Jenn are still in transit, but we’re tracking their movement as we speak, because your amazing, incredible sister who saved your life tonight also managed to hide your cell phone up her sleeve.”