Bullseye (5 page)

Karina did.

In the next instant an explosion shook the car. At the same instant, she saw his body thrown sideways, into the street.

“Mason!”

SEVEN

M
ason sat on the edge of a stretcher. His shirt lay in shreds on the pavement, compliments of the EMT who stood in front of him swabbing at his shoulder with a moist sterile pad. A crowd gathered on the sidewalk across the street to gawk, drawn by the flashing red lights of the emergency workers. A couple of police officers had asked a few preliminary questions, and were now inspecting the damage to the car’s engine along with the firemen. At least the fire was out, though it had probably rendered Karina’s car a total loss.

It had almost done the same to him.

The EMT’s pad scraped across his abused skin and Mason couldn’t hold back a hiss. The pain from the burns hurt more than he wanted to admit.

The young man immediately pulled back. “Sorry. There’s some dirt in that one. I’m going to leave it alone and let the Emergency Room folks handle it.”

“No, go ahead and clean me up, then slap a bandage or something on it. I’m not going to the hospital,” Mason said for the third time.

“Yes, you are.” Karina stood directly in front of him, hands on her hips, glaring like a drill sergeant. “Those burns are going to get infected if they’re not treated properly.” Her eyes moved as her gaze swept his face. “And they’ll scar, too. You don’t want that, do you?”

When she called attention to his face, he became more aware of the burning pain there, as well. He’d lost some hair on the left side of his head, his ear stung like crazy and he probably wouldn’t be able to shave for a while, judging by the burning on his left cheekbone. Thank goodness he’d been wearing sunglasses, or his injuries might have been more severe.

He gave her a rakish grin, ignoring the pain the movement caused his damaged skin. “A scar will make me look like a pirate who’s been in a sword fight, don’t you think?”

She didn’t return the smile. “No, I don’t. Burn scars aren’t the same as sword scars. Your skin will get all puckered and you’ll look like a lizard.”

A lizard? He killed the grin. Maybe he’d run along to the hospital after all, just to let them check it out. Judging by the sharp pain every time he took a deep breath, he might have cracked a rib when he hit the pavement, but he wasn’t about to let on to Karina about that.

Another siren sounded, and a white Charger with blue lights flashing from the front grill pulled up behind the fire truck. Ah, the investigating detective must have arrived. Wouldn’t it be an amazing coincidence if the detective turned out to be—

Mason stiffened, and the movement sent pain through the damaged, burned skin of his shoulder and chest. The man who emerged from the driver’s seat of the Dodge was none other than Curt Grierson, his former police sergeant.

Standing beside his car, Grierson scanned the area and his gaze came to rest on Mason. Recognition dawned, but not surprise, which meant he’d already been given their names. He slammed his car door and crossed the distance between them with long, purposeful strides.

“When you decide to make a comeback you don’t waste time, do you, Sinclair?”

Mason forced himself to control his features, though inside he seethed with indignation. No greeting. No
How’ve you been?
from his former boss, not that he’d expected a friendly reception. Four years ago Grierson had made no secret of the fact that he thought Mason was on the take, and that his illegal activities were somehow responsible for Margie’s death.

“Well you know me, Sergeant,” he responded with forced ease, “I never could keep a low profile.”

“It’s detective.” Grierson’s lips tightened beneath his moustache. “Has been for four years now. Since shortly after you left, in fact.”

What was that supposed to mean? That getting rid of Mason had been good for his career? The jerk was baiting him. Mason dropped all semblance of politeness. “Congratulations on the promotion. Since I wasn’t available, who’d you have to frame to get that?”

The EMT packed up his gear and made a quick escape toward the back of the ambulance. Beside him Karina’s expression froze.

Mason halfway hoped Grierson would rise to the insult. Being nearly blown up left him in a bad mood, and a verbal argument with the guy who had treated him like a criminal during the worst episode of his life might be just the thing. Instead Grierson actually smiled. The expression looked foreign on his stern lips.

“Still the same smart aleck tongue, I see. What are you doing in town, Sinclair?”

“Visiting some old friends.” He sent a warning glance to Karina. No sense telling this guy anything if they didn’t have to.

“Looks like some of them aren’t too happy to see you.” Grierson’s glanced slid pointedly to the car. The blackened residue of the fire could still be seen on the raised hood from this distance.

“Oh, just a little engine trouble.”

“It was not!” Karina glared in his direction and took a step toward the detective. “My car was blown up, Detective, and Mason could have been killed.”

Great. Now she’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. Mason returned her glare with disgust. She never could keep her mouth shut when she should.

“Blown up? As in, with an explosive device?” Grierson’s eyebrows rose.

Mason didn’t bother to hold back a sigh. Being evasive with this guy, jerk or not, wouldn’t do any good. He’d get all the information he needed from the police reports anyway. And Mason wasn’t stupid enough to hold back on a police report. Especially when Karina’s safety might be at jeopardy.

“Not a device. Somebody cut a hole in the gas line right next to the catalytic converter, which was hot from our driving around town. The harder we stomped on the pedal, the more gas squirted directly onto it. I happened to be looking under the hood when the gasoline ignited.” Mason’s head went a little light at the memory. If he hadn’t seen what was happening and jerked backward at the right moment, his injuries would have been much more severe. A close call, much too close for his liking.

“What do you mean
somebody poked a hole?
” The detective’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like a faulty fuel line to me.”

“My car was not having any mechanical problems.” Karina folded her arms. “It was the man who’s been following me. It must be.”

Grierson’s head jerked around to give Mason a hard stare. “I think you’d better start at the beginning, Sinclair.”

Mason did, succinctly and with clipped words. “Karina noticed a man in a black car parked outside her apartment yesterday, watching her. Today she and I visited her brother in juvy and when we came out we found the same guy in the parking lot, surveilling her car. Big guy, arms like a wrestler. He drove off before I could get his plates. The car drove fine when we left there.” He glanced at Karina for verification, and she nodded. No need to mention the visit to Parker’s house. “Then just now we were paying a visit to a house a couple of streets over. Couldn’t have been inside more than ten minutes. Long enough for someone to mess with the gas line, if they knew what they were doing.”

Though Grierson’s expression had not changed when Mason mentioned juvy, he pounced on that detail, as Mason had known he would.

“Who’s the brother, and why’s he there?”

“His name is Alexander Guerrero.”

Recognition dawned on the detective’s face. He folded his arms and stood in front of Mason with his feet spaced at shoulder’s length. “The kid who killed his friend this weekend.”

Karina’s hot reply was instant. “He did not.”

Mason allowed a cold smile as he returned Grierson’s stare. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember, Sergeant?”

Grierson ignored the title jab. “All right.
Suspected
of killing another kid in a gang-style shooting. I’m familiar with the case, since my team handled the arrest. Or did you know that already?”

A prod for information, but one Mason wasn’t going to fall for. No way would he say anything to get Parker in hot water. Instead he fired back a snappy reply. “Really? You handled the arrest? You’ve expanded your area of expertise from innocent patrol officers to innocent teenagers, then?”

“One of my officers did.” His eyes narrowed. “Your old partner, Harding.”

Mason worked hard to keep his face impassive, and he thought he succeeded. After a long silence during which they engaged in a staring contest, Grierson cocked his head sideways, his gaze shrewd.

“You know what I find interesting, Sinclair? You pop up after several years, and suddenly we have another gang-style shooting on our hands. Don’t you find that interesting?”

A sudden and nearly irresistible anger flared, clouding any snappy reply Mason could have made. His hands tightened at his sides. He’d been completely cleared of all charges in Margie’s death, but Grierson still treated him like a suspect.

Karina thrust herself between them, fury evident in the corded muscles in her slender neck. “That’s ridiculous. Mason didn’t get here until today. The only reason he came is because I asked him for help. I knew if my brother’s fate was left up to people like
you,
” she spat the word, “who rush to believe he’s guilty without giving him a chance, he’ll be convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.”

The force of Karina’s fury dampened Mason’s. Several strands of thick hair had come loose from their binding, and stood out around her head. She looked like a feral cat, back arched, fur standing at attention and spitting mad.

But of course she’d just let a piece of information slip. Grierson picked up on it immediately. He looked at Mason over Karina’s head.

“You’re here to investigate?”

Mason didn’t answer. The less this guy knew about his activities, the better.

Grim faced, the detective raised a hand and pointed a finger in his direction. “I’m going to say this once. You stay out of this investigation. If I hear your name come up even once in relation to this case, I’ll arrest you for obstruction. Do you understand?”

Several responses came to mind, but Mason clamped his jaw shut on them. He wasn’t licensed in New Mexico, so while there was nothing to prevent him from asking questions, he didn’t have the protection of a P.I. license to back him up. Grierson could do exactly as he threatened.

He jerked a nod in acknowledgment of the warning. “But what about the tail she’s picked up? She might need police protection.”

Not that he wanted an officer following them around and reporting their activities back to Grierson. But if that goon came back to finish the job, he might not be able to protect Karina alone. Especially since he wasn’t allowed to carry a weapon in this state.

The detective’s mouth pursed. “If it turns out to be something other than a faulty fuel line, we’ll talk about it.”

With that he turned on a heel and stomped toward the car and the officers standing near it.

Mason glanced at Karina and a protective instinct flamed in him, almost akin to the passion he’d once felt. She’d let her guard down and for a moment looked so scared and alone, he vowed to take care of her. Her expression steeled as she turned to face him, and Mason checked his emotions. Karina wanted his help, but she’d never accept his protection or his passion. It was far too late for that.

EIGHT

T
he Emergency Room doors whooshed open, and Karina slipped a hand inside Mason’s arm to help him outside. The poor guy looked like a mummy, with bandages wrapped around his head, his shoulder and a wide one around his ribs beneath the spare shirt he’d donned from his overnight bag. His injuries were her fault, and she felt terrible for getting him into this mess. At least the hospital doctor didn’t seem concerned. She had loaded them up with ointment and instructions to keep the burned areas clean, and to drink plenty of fluid to replace lost electrolytes.

Mason jerked his arm away, then sucked in his breath in a hiss, his hand going to his injured and wrapped ribs. “I’m not an invalid,” he snapped.

“Of course you’re not.” Karina kept her face impassive. Pain always had put him in a bad mood. He’d refused the doctor’s offer of pain medication, though. Stubborn as ever.

They moved toward the taxicab waiting for them at the end of the wheelchair ramp. She rushed a few steps ahead and opened the door for him, which earned her a glare.

“Don’t coddle me.” His voice held an ill-tempered warning as he ducked into the backseat. “I don’t need any help.”

She bit back a sigh, and adjusted the strap of his overnight bag on her shoulder as she slid in beside him. The only thing more irritating than the sarcastic Mason was the in-pain-and-trying-not-to-show-it Mason.

When they’d given the cab driver directions to take them to the rental car place, she sat back and watched the Albuquerque streets through the window. All the things she needed to do flitted through her mind. A call to the insurance company topped the list. She carried full coverage, required since she’d borrowed money to buy the car, but how would they handle it when she owed more than the car was worth? Thank goodness Mason had offered to rent a car for the few days he would be in town. When he left, she wasn’t sure what she’d do for transportation.

But the problem of a car seemed insignificant when she thought of how close they’d come to being blown up.

She glanced sideways at Mason, and spoke in a low voice so the cab driver couldn’t hear. “I can’t believe someone tried to kill us.”

“They weren’t trying to kill us.” He fidgeted with the bandage on his left arm. “If they’d wanted us dead, there are a dozen other ways they could have rigged that car. That was a warning. They’re letting us know they’re watching.”

The seriousness of their situation washed over her again. “Who are they, Mason? What is Alex mixed up in?”

“I don’t know.” He held her gaze. “You realize that all this points toward gang activity, don’t you?”

She looked down at her hands in her lap. How could Alex be involved in gangs, and using drugs? Surely there had been signs. How could she have missed them? Guilt flooded her in a warm wave. Alex was her responsibility, and she’d failed him.

“Yes,” she answered in a whisper. “I know.”

“Hey.” The voice he used was tender, the one she sometimes remembered from happier days. He covered her cold hands with a warm one, and something stirred deep inside her. “He’s a good kid. He always was. Kids these days have a harder time than we did. Everything is so available to them. Drugs. Alcohol. They all experiment. Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him.”

Tears blurred her vision as she stared at his strong hand covering hers. “You don’t think he killed José, do you, Mason?”

“No.” The certainty in his tone strengthened her own faith in her brother. Someone else believed in his innocence, too. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m positive Alex didn’t kill anybody.” His hand squeezed hers. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Karina.”

Gratitude swelled her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She blinked away tears and smiled her thanks.

Mason removed his hand, and his voice returned to normal. “So I’ve been thinking about our next move. If Grierson hadn’t showed up, I would have stuck around to question the witnesses, see if anyone noticed someone monkeying around with your car while we were inside the Garcias’. Maybe Parker can find out something for us tomorrow.”

The taxi slowed and pulled into the car rental company’s parking lot. A short line of customers waited at the counter inside a glass-front building.

“What do we do now?”

Mason winced with pain as he shifted in his seat to pull his billfold out of his back pocket. “It’s time for supper, isn’t it?”

Karina glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The hospital visit had taken a couple of hours. “Yes, but I don’t think I can eat.” She’d barely been able to choke down anything since Alex was arrested Friday night.

“Well, I can. Being blown up makes me hungry.”

The grin he turned on her was the old Mason, the one she used to love.

The old passion stirred, trying to resurface from deep inside, to rise out of the ashes of hurt and anger that had smothered them. A sudden longing filled her. Oh, if only they could wipe away the past four years and return to those days, those feelings. Once, she had given her heart to him, and when he grinned like that, she wanted desperately to believe they could recover what they’d lost. But how could she open herself to him again? What if he hurt her a second time? She feared she wouldn’t survive.

Unaware of the turmoil that raged inside her, Mason counted out the cab fare. “Besides, I think we need to pay a visit to Casa del Sol Restaurante.”

Karina forced herself to return his grin. “The restaurant where José worked.”

“Exactly.” He handed the money to the cab driver in the front seat, and tucked the receipt into his billfold. “Grierson warned us off poking around, but he can’t fault us for going out to dinner, can he?”

* * *

The restaurant was located in one end of a strip mall a mile or so from the Garcias’ neighborhood. Mason parked the rental car in the parking lot out front and studied the building. Windows on either side of the door were darkened with blinds on the inside, and decorated with signs. Glowing blue and red neon advertised beer for sale, beside a poster of an upcoming street festival and a handmade flyer in Spanish advertising puppies for sale. The day’s special, enchiladas in red sauce with rice and beans for $6.99, was printed on a chalkboard hanging to the right of the door.

“This doesn’t look like a place that can afford to pay a busboy much,” he commented to Karina.

“No, it doesn’t.” She waved a hand to indicate the small number of cars in the parking lot. “They don’t seem to be very busy, either.”

Mason didn’t verbalize the obvious conclusion, that José must have gotten his money from somewhere other than his job at the restaurant. No sense rubbing it in. Karina wasn’t stupid. She knew what that meant. If José was selling drugs, then Alex was probably involved as well.

She turned in the passenger seat to look at him, her eyes sweeping over his face. “I wish you’d leave the bandage on like the doctor said.”

“Do you know how much attention I’ll draw if I walk around with a bandage wrapped around my head?”

“You’re going to draw attention with half your hair burned off.”

Mason glanced into the rearview mirror. The burns were confined to the left side of his head and his ear, and had singed a good portion of his hair. He’d been in the act of jerking away when the gasoline ignited on the hot catalytic converter. If he hadn’t seen the gas squirt out a second before it sparked, he would have taken the brunt of the explosion in his face.

“Maybe I ought to just shave the whole thing. Then at least it’ll be even.”

She lifted a hand and ran her fingers through the hair on the right side of his head, as though testing its texture. It was a familiar touch, and sent a tingle through his scalp. A smile curved her lips for a moment, then she pulled her hand back and looked away.

“I think I can fix it without going to that extreme, as long as you don’t mind looking like you just joined the army.”

The tingle faded, but left a disturbing sensation in Mason’s stomach. For a moment they were the old Karina and Mason. When she was in cosmetology school she’d practiced on him until he had almost no hair left. But that was a lifetime ago, before he betrayed her with another woman.

“Or maybe the police academy.”

The words, intended to break the weighted silence in the car, came out louder than he intended. She smiled again, but this time it faded quickly. He took the keys from the ignition and stuck a finger through the ring, jiggling them with a nervous gesture.

“Let’s go see what this restaurant is like. I’m starving.”

“All right.”

She leaned over to pick up her purse, and at that moment the restaurant door opened. A pair of men stepped outside and stopped on the front sidewalk.

Mason froze with his hand on the door handle. The taller of the two looked familiar. He leaned forward and peered through the windshield. More gray lightened the dark hair, but the hawk nose and squared chin were the same. What were the odds of running into Maddox
and
Grierson on his first day back in Albuquerque? This man had haunted his thoughts in the months after Margie’s death, before he’d learned to tame those thoughts and tuck them into the recesses of his mind where they couldn’t bother him. A fierce, hungry anger stirred up from the depths of his soul as the man put a toothpick in his mouth and shook hands in farewell to his companion. When he turned away, Mason got a look at his face full-on.

Yes, it was him. Russell Maddox, the owner of the fitness center where Margie had worked when she was murdered. The man Mason knew was somehow responsible for her death.