Cold Case Recruit (19 page)

With a wave to the deputy, Drury started down the hall. Heading for the elevator, she spotted Brycen still standing there, hands in his pant pockets, waiting for her with wry scrutiny and taking her breath away.

“You passed the bathroom,” he said.

He seemed to know what she had done. “I lied. I went to give Avery and her father a piece of my mind.”

“I figured as much. Drury, I wish you wouldn’t have done that.” They stepped onto the elevator and Brycen pressed the ground floor button. “It does no good.”

“It did do some good. You’ve never told them you loved Kayla and grieved when she died. You let them wallow in their judgments of you until it festered into what it is now, just as bitter and hateful—maybe more so—as back then.”

“I let them?”

The elevator doors opened and she walked with him to the exit. “Enabled.”

“I did try to tell them that. They wouldn’t listen.”

“You should have tried again.”

“By the time I left Alaska, it was too late. Nothing I said would have changed their minds.”

Maybe they’d change them now, with a stranger telling them the truth. If they looked inside their hearts, they’d feel it jabbing. But they’d have to let it go, to let it outside their own private thoughts, in order to move past their loss.

“You should try talking to them again,” she said as he held the door for her, drawing her attention to his muscular arm.

“I’m not going to talk to them. They’ll just attack me again.”

She walked beside him, catching how his gaze ran down to her legs. “I don’t mean for them. For you. So you can finally put it all behind you.”

Almost to the SUV, he stopped. “It will never be behind me.”

Because he did blame himself. Drury felt terrible for him, and angrier than ever with Avery and her father.

She raised her hand and touched the side of his face, just long enough to show how much she cared and how much she’d like him to hear this. Hear it, and believe it. “Kayla’s death wasn’t your fault, Brycen.”

“Just let it go, Drury.”

She caressed his face, running her finger over his lips, letting him know how much she truly did care, and it had nothing to do with Avery and her father.

He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

Then her cell phone rang. Thinking the caller could be Junior, she took it from her pocket. Not Junior. She didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

Brycen must have noticed her guarded curiosity. He waited while the caller spoke.

“I warned you.”

“Who is this?”

“The person you’re after is Dexter Watts,” the man said. His voice sounded familiar.

“You’re the man who intercepted me at the airport,” she said as it dawned on her. “Why are you helping us?”

“He’s got a shipment coming in tonight. The boat dock at Melvin Cummingses’ place. Be there, and don’t go alone. Bring your friends from the FBI. I told you that you can’t do this alone. If you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to that.”

“Wait a minute, how do you know all of this? Why do you keep talking to me and not Brycen? Who—”

The man disconnected.

She looked at Brycen. “That man who talked to me at the airport just said there’s a shipment arriving at the Cummingses’ boat dock tonight. He gave me the trafficker’s name, too. Dexter Watts. He knew we were in touch with the FBI.”

“Dexter Watts?” Brycen said incredulously.

“You know him?”

An abrupt explosion pushed her backward and Brycen toward her. Knocked off her feet, she landed on her rear and Brycen broke his fall on top of her. He rolled off her and sat beside her, staring with her at his SUV engulfed in a ball of flames.

Brycen got up from where he’d fallen and came to her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” A little scratched from the fall but all right. She took his offered hand and he helped her stand.

Catching sight of a moving pickup truck with a man in the passenger seat aiming a gun, she yelled, “Gun!” just as gunfire erupted and the windshield of the car next to them shattered.

Brycen tackled Drury, rolling her between the car that had been struck and the one next to it. She crouched with her back against the door while Brycen took out his pistol and peered over the hood. He had to duck as another gunshot rang out.

The truck’s engine revved and grew louder. They were driving toward them!

Drury remained crouched with Brycen as they ran in the other direction, weaving between parked vehicles. At a parked pickup truck, Brycen paused to aim. He fired once.

Drury saw the passenger of the truck slump. Sickened, she ran again with him with the parked cars their cover.

Pausing once again, Brycen searched for the truck. Drury didn’t hear it chasing them anymore. Had the driver given up?

Then Brycen turned to her, his eyes sharp, hard and focused. “I need you to stay here.”

“Wha—”

“They’ve stopped and two of them are coming for us. I’ll stop them. You wait here.”

She nodded. She wasn’t armed and she couldn’t fight three grown men. But could Brycen? Apprehension churned as he ran toward the men.

Crawling to the edge of the truck, she saw him stay out of sight as the first man approached. The three had spread out, one going wide to presumably flank them while his partners came straight in and from the other flanking side.

Brycen intercepted the man coming straight for them. Hiding behind an Escalade, he moved out just as the man crept forward. One dance-like kick of his leg along with an upward chop of his arm both tripped the man and knocked his gun up. Brycen jabbed the man in the throat and that sent him down.

Checking all around her, not seeing any of the other men, she popped her head up and saw the downed man wasn’t moving. She lowered herself behind the protection of the vehicle, listening.

A gunshot cracked and she flinched. Brycen. Was he all right?” She slowly rose enough to look, seeing nothing through the parked cars.

The sound of footsteps to her left made her stifle a quick, frightened breath. She ran low around the front of the parked car to the other side, then moved slow and silent to the rear of the next vehicle.

She heard someone stepping along the far side of the car she’d just left. Squeezing her eyes shut, she debated over whether she should keep moving. Someone ran past her. She opened her eyes and saw Brycen rush the man she’d heard. He swung his gun toward him just as Brycen fired. The man jerked backward and fell.

Drury moved so she could see what was going on.

The man lay on his back and moved his gun toward Brycen. He must be wearing a bulletproof vest.

Brycen fired again, this time marking the man’s head.

Drury turned around and sat against the tire of the parked car, sickened even more. She covered her mouth and breathed deep. Brycen had methodically taken out three armed men. She wished she hadn’t seen him in action and yet understood if he hadn’t done what he had, they’d have been killed.

“Drury.”

Lowering her hand, she looked up.

Tucking his gun into its holster, he bent and slid his arm around her, lifting easily and bringing her against him.

She put her hand on his chest and hoped she wouldn’t throw up. His strong arms around her helped prevent that.

“It’s safe now, unless more are coming, which I expect will happen. We have to get out of here.”

Sirens pierced the cold. Someone had called for help.

“Who would attack in such a public place and in daylight?” she asked.

“Someone who’s not afraid to.”

She spotted Deputy Chandler rushing out of the hospital, seeing them, he slowed to a stop with a relieved blink.

Brycen kept his arm around her as they walked toward him.

“You’re okay,” the deputy said. “The staff told me gunshots were heard in the parking lot.”

Police cars raced in and parked in front of the hospital. As they began to assess the situation, the deputy started toward them.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said.

Brycen took out his cell phone. “It’s Brycen. We need some reinforcements. My SUV is barbeque and three men just tried to kill us in a hospital parking lot.”

Without hearing the other person on the line, Drury knew he spoke with Kadin. He explained what happened.

“Roger that. Ten minutes.” He disconnected with a wry smile and half-laugh. “He’s had people here the whole time.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She smiled up at him.

He looked down and over at her, still smiling. “You’re feeling better. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He warmed her heart even when the subject was violent. He calmed her. Soothed her. And made her want to get warmer with him.

A car sped into the parking lot.

“Come on. We have to talk to the FBI. Dexter Watts is one of their most wanted.” Brycen took her hand and ran with her toward the approaching vehicle.

Chapter 14

B
rycen waited with Drury in the trees surrounding Melvin Cummingses’ dock. All was quiet for now. No boats approached, none they could see. Special agents lurked nearby, out of sight, armed and ready to pounce.

The sound of a motor reached them first.

He moved so that Drury had to back against the tree, careful that they stay hidden, and even more careful to protect her. Still listening to the approaching boat, he felt her watching him. When he looked down at her face, her rapt gaze and stunning beauty arrested him. She had her hands on his chest. His body lightly against hers, he grew aware of every point that connected with hers.

Now was not the time for passion to sweep him away. He cleared his throat. “When we move in, you stay here, okay?”

“Okay.” Her gaze moved down to his lips.

Hearing the boat draw closer, he pressed his mouth to hers for a quick kiss, a promise for later. But that only heated into more. Instead of letting go and heading for the dock, he held her against him and kissed her longer, deeper. Her breaths touched his face and she answered his need.

The boat grew louder and he had to draw away. Staring into her eyes, he stepped back, his feet reluctant to comply.

With her breathless and sultry, backing against the tree and making the sight much more tortuous to bear, he glanced over at the dock and saw the boat floating toward the boathouse. A three-man crew worked to dock the vessel, one of them going down below.

When a line of women emerged from the hull, FBI agents swarmed the dock. Brycen left Drury at the tree and ran with gun drawn toward the boat.

The two on deck started firing and the agents took them down. The captain ran from the wheelhouse and the one who’d disappeared below took one of the women and held a gun to her head. The woman screamed and pleaded in Spanish.

Brycen moved along the back to the boathouse, hurrying to the front on the water side. At the end, he peered out and saw many of the women had ducked for cover on the boat. Two made it to the dock and ran toward him.

The agents shouted for the man who’d taken the hostage to drop his weapon.

Brycen covered the two women running toward him, aiming at the man with the hostage, whose attention remained on the dozen agents on land. He guided the two women to stand behind him, out of sight from the boat.

“Go to the trees,” he whispered to the women. He could see Drury peeking out from the tree. When she saw the women, she waved for them to come to her.

The women began to run toward her.

Brycen covered them again, the man shouting he’d kill the hostage if he wasn’t allowed to leave on the boat. He stood at an angle to him, the hostage blocking a clear shot.

The agents wouldn’t have much of a better shot with the slope and curve of the shoreline. Some crouched behind rocks or trees while two had made it to the boathouse. Brycen heard them rush in and take cover behind the walls.

The man began backing up with the woman. He dragged her into the wheelhouse, keeping an eye on the agents. Restarting the boat, his gun moved away from the woman’s head briefly and his arm and shoulder leaned out of the wheelhouse door on Brycen’s side.

Not hesitating, he took the shot, hitting the man in the shoulder. He yelped and the impact threw him backward. The woman screamed and ran from the wheelhouse while agents rushed to the boat.

Before the man could fire his gun, he had four pistols aimed at him.

Brycen boarded the boat, seeing the face of the first gunned-down man. Not Dexter Watts.

The next man was still alive, leaning against the bow, holding his bleeding lower left abdomen. Not Dexter Watts. The man in the boathouse wasn’t Dexter, either.

The women, there were four on the boat, clung to agents and spoke rapidly in Spanish, obviously overwhelmed by their rescue, one of them outright sobbing in the arms of an agent. He soothed her and spoke her native language, rubbing her back.

“Nice shot,” an agent said to him.

“He didn’t see me.”

“Watts isn’t here,” another agent stepped over and said.

“There are two more women up there.” Brycen pointed. “I’ll send them your way.”

He wouldn’t explain he’d head back to Anchorage and continue his search. Leaving the agents to clean up the mess, he jogged back up the slope toward Drury and the two women.

They each had long dark hair and brown eyes and wore dresses they must have been in for days.

“Gracias, señor,” the taller one said.

“They don’t speak English,” Drury said, wrapping her jacket around the shorter woman.

Brycen removed his and gave it to the taller woman. Then he pointed up the slope through the trees.

“There are people with cars waiting up there. They’ll take care of you,” he said, putting his hand on her back and guiding her in that direction.

“Gracias,” they kept saying over and over.

He followed them with Drury toward the Cummingses’ house. When he arrived, he was surprised to see agents had Melvin Cummings in handcuffs. He must have just arrived, ready to meet the crew of the boat and lock up their fresh shipment of slaves.

While Drury took the women to the shelter of a van, Brycen went to the agents holding Melvin.

“Where is your wife?” he asked Melvin.

“I don’t know, man.”

“You must know.”

“I don’t. I swear. I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Brycen gave him a sardonic frown.

Melvin noticed and shook his head, standing between the two agents with his hands behind his back. “I wouldn’t kill my wife. She figured out who Watts was and he wanted her dead. Tried to off her when I left on a fishing trip. She ran. Watts said if she came back that I was to let him know or kill her myself. I haven’t seen her since.”

“What about Noah?”

“Noah saw Watts when he answered Evette’s call. He ordered him dead. I had nothin’ to do with that.”

“Watts killed him?”

“He didn’t personally kill him. One of the men you killed did. At the hospital? They did the killing for Watts.”

So Noah’s killer was dead. Somehow that fell short of satisfying Brycen’s need for justice.

“We went over this with him, too,” the agent on the left said. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“Where is Watts?” Brycen asked Melvin.

“He was supposed to meet us here. I don’t know where he is. Someone might have tipped him off.”

“Who?” The mysterious caller who’d contacted Drury? Why would he tell Watts about this raid after helping them try to catch him? That made no sense.

They’d captured all but the most wanted.

*

Brycen showed Junior how to fly BayMax and handed the controller back. Junior took it and still struggled, so Brycen got down onto the floor with the boy. Sitting behind him with his legs wide on each side, Brycen took the controller. They’d played with dual screens, he playing Hiro and Junior playing BayMax.

“Like this. Watch.”

Junior looked down at Brycen’s hands as he moved the knobs and pressed one of the front buttons. Then he looked up at the left screen.

Putting BayMax back on the ground, he let Junior take over.

“Easy.” Junior lifted BayMax and the big red hero flew up over the platform of green and crossed the space of abyss to the city.

“Lower him down,” Brycen said.

Junior let go of the button and BayMax landed on the ground. From there, Junior ran the character along a street, turning a corner and running some more.

“You got it.”

Junior’s light laughter lightened his heart. He lifted his own controller and played Hiro on the other screen, finding a bridge and running across.

“Trouble.” Junior pointed at Brycen’s side of the screen.

Brycen triggered the nanobots and cleared the opposition.

Junior laughed louder.

Brycen chuckled, feeling it down deep. He’d only imagined what this would be like, spending time with a child...his child.
His child...

Drury stood before a chair folding laundry. She looked from her son to Brycen. She must have done that a lot while they played the game. Disconcerted he’d thought of Junior as his own, her warm smile almost made it worse. Almost. But then he noticed her. Slender and shapely, long dark hair shining with health. Beautiful. Sexy. The memory of kissing her just before they freed those women took over.

He fell back into the floating wonder of being a part of a family. He’d never felt this way growing up, the way Junior must feel with him playing a game. Brycen’s father had played with him, but the love hadn’t been there. Love for a son had been there, but not an overriding love, a family love.

What the hell was he thinking?

Love?

Seeing Junior absorbed in playing BayMax, Brycen rose to his feet, giving the kid’s head of hair a tousle. Drury finished folding the laundry. There wasn’t much, only what they’d packed to come here. She didn’t have to do his laundry, and he’d told her that, but she enjoyed the work. Something about household chores gave a person a sense of basic accomplishment. One of those necessities of survival.

“All right, Junior, time for bed,” she said, leaving the folded clothes to get her son away from the game.

“Aw,” Junior complained.

“Turn it off. Come on.”

Junior did as he was told. Putting the controller back on the TV stand shelf, he walked toward the stairs. On his way he smiled up at Brycen with sleepy eyes that had focused on a TV screen too long. When he leaned in and hugged him, Brycen froze with the unexpectedness of it. Then he put his arms around the boy.

“Sleep tight, little man,” he said.

Junior laughed. “I’m not a little man.” He ran off, a happy kid bounding up the stairs.

Drury raised her eyebrows as she passed Brycen and he wasn’t sure her pleasant smile conveyed all she felt about his interaction with her son.

He waited for Drury to tuck her son in, turning the TV to a network channel, not particularly caring what he watched. He had too much on his mind. Noah’s murder. Dexter Watts. But mostly Drury and her son.

After several minutes, she finally came downstairs. “He was all wound up.”

He smiled a little as she came to the sofa and sat next to him.

“He’s pretty taken by you,” she said.

“Yes.” He couldn’t feel bad about that, either. Junior needed someone to bring him out of his grief, to move on without his dad. The good in doing so, however, might come with a price.

She faced the television, which neither of them actually watched.

“After you find Dexter Watts, what will you do?” she finally asked.

Although she asked in a nonchalant way, her question was anything but nonchalant, or insignificant.

“I have to go back to Chicago. To my show.”

“It’s that important to you?” she asked.

Was she fishing for a reason for him to stay? “I worked hard to build it to what it is now. I can’t just walk away from that.”

Slowly, though a sign of agitation, she rubbed her hands over the jeans on her thighs. “What about what you left here?”

“I left negativity behind when I moved away from here.”

She stopped rubbing and angled her head as she looked at him. “Did you? Was it all negative?”

He turned away. He saw where she headed with this, what she intended to make him face. His show gave him a positive outlook and something good to take with him into old age. He’d have no regrets there. He had too many in Alaska.

“Working on
Speak of the Dead
is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I made a good decision going into that.”

“I agree, your show has done you good. But you ran away from Alaska and haven’t dealt with that yet.”

“I didn’t run. It was time to go.” Nothing made him feel good anymore. His job had led to Kayla’s death. Her family despised him.

“All right. You had nothing left in Alaska to keep you here. But you liked what you did here, didn’t you? Your job? Your career?”

He had. Moving here from Colorado had felt right. His career had felt right. He hadn’t made a mistake. Where had he made a mistake? He had never wondered before. Of course, he had regrets. He regretted marrying Kayla. He hadn’t felt right standing before the pastor, a feeling he’d shoved away, rationalized away. Kayla had beamed delight and utter happiness and love. He had not felt her level of joy. He’d felt anxious.

“I regret marrying Kayla.” He said it out loud, needing to. Her family had not driven him from Alaska, his decision to marry her had. Had they not married, they wouldn’t have been driving that road. The accident wouldn’t have happened.

“Because you didn’t love her or because you don’t believe in marriage?’ Drury asked, cautiously.

He’d always told himself he’d loved Kayla. But now, in this frank, non-confrontational talk with Drury, he realized he hadn’t loved her, not enough to marry her. “Neither. I thought I loved her enough. Deep down, I didn’t love her and I married her anyway because I knew that’s what she wanted. And on the way back to Anchorage, the accident happened. She died.”

“You only just now realize you didn’t love her?”

“Only just now, I admit I didn’t.” He looked at her. He hadn’t been able to face the truth until now. Admitting he didn’t love her after she died because one of his cases had gone bad would have been awful. It had dawned on him shortly after her death, and plagued him long after.

She studied his face as she considered his confession. Then she put her hand on his knee. “Brycen, do you see why your theory on marriage is flawed? You married Kayla when you knew you didn’t love her.”

“I didn’t know it then.”

“You did know. Your heart knew. You just didn’t listen or pay attention to what you felt in your heart. You married her anyway. Marriage doesn’t work for people whose hearts tell them something is off. The yin might be right but the yang lacks duality.”

Was she trying to convince him to change his mind about marriage? “What about you and Noah? Did you have duality?”

She turned away, sitting back and looking across the room in thought. At last, she turned to him again. “Yes.” Then she moved closer on the sofa. “But I never felt with him what I feel with you.”