Criminal Instinct (15 page)

Sunday
1:52 p.m.

“Stevie, Lenny, and now Sanchez.” Jonas slammed his fist on his desk. Sanchez’s family had reported him missing an hour ago.

Ray stood at the window, hands in his pants pockets, a file tucked under his arm.

“That’s three of our men in under a week’s time.” Jonas shook his head. “Our people are discreet. It’s drilled in their heads not to say who they work for, or what we do. But there’s no doubt we’re being targeted. But who the hell is behind it?”

Ray turned to face Jonas. “We know Mason and Parker are dead. Sanchez hasn’t turned up. We don’t know what kind of information they could have leaked before their deaths. I think we should stop this op. Go under for a short time—”

“Are you kidding? We’ve invested too much.”

“You pay me to protect Kara and Elliott, and the security of the operations.”

“And I expect you to do just that, but I’m not leaving this unfinished.”
I can’t
. He rose from the desk, tension bunching in the back of his neck, the set of his jaw. “If I walk away, they’ll always be a threat out there, waiting to strike. I won’t put Kara and Elliott through that.”

“There’s a mole, Jonas.” Ray threw the file on his desk.

Jonas met Ray’s eyes. “You found something.”

“It’s the information you wanted.”

“Wait, is this the information on Ana or…”

“The mole and your lady friend may be one and the same.”

Jonas flipped open the file. He felt himself go cold when he set eyes on a mug shot of Ana’s bruised face. He ran a finger across her busted mouth. Then he forced himself to scan the first two pages.

“Find her.” His fingers crumpled the edge of the report. “Then bring her to me.”

“Who’s there?”

“Ana.” She spoke softly. Hospitals seemed to require hushed voices. Quiet movements.

Paul lay on his hospital bed. Just Paul now. No more Skates. The swelling around his eyes had gone down, allowing his blue eyes to be visible through slits. He definitely looked more colorful today now that the injuries had settled in to heal. That should have made her feel better. It didn’t.

“You sleeping?”

“A little.” He cleared his throat.

“I can come back—”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.”

She shifted. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell.”

“Yeah, not the smartest question.”

“Ana…I wanted you to know, I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I should have gone straight to your place like you said. I wanted to stop being some kind of wimp, you know. Then with Doms.” A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and she struggled not to look away. “I didn’t know who else to…you were the first person who popped in my head.”

Don’t cry
. “You did what you had to do. That’s what the team is for.”

He shook his head and rubbed his temple as if the movement hurt. No more tears fell.

“Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t have to come.”

Yes, she did. “Need some aspirin or something?”

“The nurse just gave me some.” He paused. “I screwed up. I’m probably out. Sarge doesn’t forgive screw-ups.”

She thought about last night, how Sarge had turned his back on her so casually. Paul was almost right. Sarge didn’t forgive, period. “If he does kick you off the team, he’s an idiot. You got your ass beat in the line of duty. You deserve a medal.”

His forehead creased. “I didn’t keep to the contract. You break the rules, you’re out.”

“Join the club, kid.”

“Why do you call me that? You’re not so much older yourself.”

Ana’s eyebrows rose. That was the first direct question she could recall him asking her. “Street wiser, and it comes with privileges.”

He didn’t answer.

She scowled. “If it bothers you, just say so.”

“It bothers me.”

“Fine.” A long beat passed as muffled footsteps tapped behind the closed door. The small television above Paul’s bed murmured. She glanced at a pastel-striped curtain separating Paul from another empty bed. Sarge must have pulled strings to get a private room and a uniform at the door. Was the cop to keep out the bad guys or to keep one in?

“Look, if anyone blew it last night,” she said, “it’s me. I want to try to make up for it.” Not for Sarge’s benefit, but for the rest of the team. In a way she owed them for blowing their chance to keep the little freedom they had left. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she ended up being the reason the program was shut down. “But I wanted to make sure you were really okay.”

“Yeah, thanks to you, Saven and Brooks. Guess they’re not the X source, huh?”

“They’re not off the list.”

“Be careful. I’m a perfect example of how things can go bad when you’re on your own. But then again
you
know how to take care of yourself.”

Her lips curved at his dry tone. “Years of practice at survival, believe me.”

“You wanted to know why I was in SIDE.”

She shook her head. “It’s your business.”

“I know, and I can’t tell you all of it, but I do have a lot of connections and know where to get information. This may sound weird…” He seemed to blush a little.

“What is it?”

“I have a photographic memory.”

Her lips parted to say…she didn’t know what.

“Everything I see or hear, I recall it down to the color, exact wording—”

Knife…approx…5 inches, one-inch width, black rubber grip…

“It’s been like that all my life.”

First gash to-to my lower st-stomach—

“I never would have guessed, but I appreciate you letting me know. That’s something, like a gift.”

“Is it, if it helped get me here?”

“I don’t know. Just, if you need anything, text me, okay? I’m here.” She gently laid her hand across his left hand with two broken fingers. “Anytime.”

“Yeah.”

Ana looked down at their physical connection. Her brown skin against his pale skin. An emotional barrier, one she’d built herself, had been broken down between them. Something that didn’t involve race, or color, but true friendship. She’d never wanted to feel emotions for someone like this, never wanted to care, because surely caring would just bring hurt. But sometimes situations were out of your hands.

She’d learned that the hard way.

The door swung open, and Ana moved her hand away.

A middle-aged blonde woman swept into the room bundled in a fancy coat. A cloud of floral perfume tingled Ana’s nose. The woman’s make-up was understated, yet perfectly etched on her face. Blue eyes zeroed in on Paul, a falter in her arrogant expression—some kind of pain—before she blinked the emotion away.

A fleeting glance scanned Ana before the woman walked over to Paul’s bedside.

“Mom,” Paul said.

Ana’s eyes widened. Although “You got to be kidding” didn’t fly out of her mouth, it wanted to.

“We received the call from Mr. Winters early this morning. I came as soon as I could.”

Two o’clock in the afternoon. What could have kept her from her son’s hospital bed?

Paul turned his head away. “And Dad?”

The woman switched her suede envelope purse from under one arm to the other. “He had business.”

“Business. Why don’t you just say he won’t face the son he disowned?”

Whoa, too deep. Ana cleared her throat. Paul turned his head back to her, but his mother didn’t. “I’m out of here. I’ll check back when I can.”

Paul nodded.

Ana stepped out of the back entrance of the hospital, into the cold and dreary afternoon air. Her thick sweater, jeans and jacket did little to thwart the bitter wind. She wasn’t up to top speed. It had been noon before she opened her eyes. Exhaustion will do that to a person. She had wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but that wouldn’t have made her problems go away.

She‘d been surprised Sarge or Jay-man hadn’t been at her door, ready to take her to prison, but she wasn’t about to call and find out why. She’d had to see if Paul was really okay, how badly she’d dropped the ball.

From the scene in the hospital room it looked as if Paul didn’t have anyone to worry about him either. Was it a blessing his mother had come to his bedside, or more of a hurtful reminder that his family had disowned him? Ana’s mother was a distant memory. She knew her father thanks to Max’s stories about his childhood growing up with him. But when Max died, so had that brief glimpse of the man whose blood ran through her veins. The small stirring of happiness that someone had actually loved her.

At a Muni stop, she sat on the plastic bench to wait for the bus and pulled out her cell to stare at the last few numbers. Digit had called her this morning and left a voice mail.

Switch, are you okay? I’m worried about you. If you need to talk, I’m here to listen. Just call.

The truth was, she’d like to have called, to have someone to listen to her for once. Despite Ana’s reservations about having Digit as a friend, her teammate had become one with her sincere offers of help. Only it was too hard to pour out her fears, her problems, when she’d never had anyone who would listen before. And if she did, what if Digit didn’t understand? What if she turned away from her like everyone else?

A car door slammed shut, then another. Ana’s gaze veered to the source across the busy street. Two men with beefy chests stood beside a black four-door jeep. She’d seen them before at club Zero.

Jonas must have sent them. The last time he’d come to find her himself.

Bad sign?

Probably.

She didn’t know what Jonas had told them, but neither of them wore a pleasant expression—just the robot look. Straight-up men on a mission, just what she needed.

Slipping her hand toward her boot, she retrieved her switchblade and stood. The men jerked to attention, attempting to dart toward her between cars.

Ana spun on the balls of her feet and ran toward the hospital’s parking lot. Horns honked and voices bellowed from the street. She didn’t look back. Her best option was to go back in the hospital and search for a means of escape.

Her plan died when two more of Zero’s men stepped out of the hospital exit. She stopped and shifted in order to see each of her pursuers. They closed in on her like hunters surrounding their prey, with quick deliberate movements.

Four to one. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math on this one. But if Jonas thought she’d surrender easily—too damn bad. She punched the release for her blade. She wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.

Sunday
3:15 p.m.

Well, she’d fought. Her efforts just hadn’t done any good against four determined giants.

Fleetingly, Ana thought about making another run for it, but she knew they’d overpower her again. It didn’t matter that now only two men held her captive instead of four. The guy in front of her was so wide it was like walking behind a wall, while the other lurked at her back like an overgrown shadow.

They took her through the back door of the Decadent art gallery—not Zero—and entered a large warehouse that looked like some kind of storage area with boxes and plastic-covered art set about. Then they proceeded through another doorway and trotted up cemented steps.

The Wall knocked on an office door and entered when a muffled “Come in” filtered through the door.

The expansive room was uncluttered, with just a few pieces of modern office furniture. Some kind of sweet deodorizer drifted in the air, as if the carpet had just been cleaned.

Jonas sat back behind a glass desk, his cold expression passive. His powerful presence created a stirring in her chest. His hair, as usual, was slicked back into a ponytail. Both hands rested on the arms of the chair, and his gaze was pinned on her face. A black T-shirt molded his shoulders and torso, outlining the well-defined contours of his muscles. This was the first time she’d seen him in such a casual shirt. Maybe some sort of strategy? Showing off how good he looked to stop her from running away from him?

The Wall walked up to Jonas and handed over her switchblade and the two tiny tools she used for lock picking. They’d frisked her before stuffing her in their car. After they’d had a taste of her switchblade, they obviously decided not to take any more chances.

Jonas leaned forward, setting her weapon on his desk. He kept the lock-picking tools in his hand. “She put up a fight,” he said matter-of-factly. “I told you to expect it.”

The Wall’s jaw twitched. He raised a hand toward his swollen lip then dropped his arm to his side as if he’d decided against it. “It took all four of us to restrain her—”

“There better not be a mark on her,” Jonas spoke quietly.

“No. It was difficult, but she wasn’t hurt. We each took an arm and a leg.”

Ana frowned. Yeah, that had grated.

“Get yourselves cleaned up. I take it Bobby and Daniel are okay?”

The Wall nodded once. “They’re fine.”

She could almost hear Jonas’s sigh as the two walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. She squashed down the twist in her gut at being left alone with Mr. Too-good-looking-for-his-own-good. When no one was around they had a tendency to get too close for comfort.

Her
comfort, anyway.

Ana rubbed her hands over her face. The struggle with the men had tired her out and surprisingly drained her anger. Gratefully, she took a seat on a white couch that sat against the wall farthest from Jonas. If he wanted her to sit in the chair in front of him like some kid facing the principal, he would be disappointed.

He held up her tools. “Planning on using these for a specific purpose?”

“You just never know when you may need to get past a locked door. How did your muscle know I was at the hospital?”

He set down the tools, leaned back in his leather chair, watching her so intensely it seemed he was trying to probe her mind. “I figured that’s where your friend would be, and that you’d go to him. I had them wait there for you.”

“Why didn’t you just have them break down the door to my apartment? They’re big enough.”

“I didn’t want you to feel…threatened in your home.”

“You’re not serious. You sent four packs of meat to get me. Believe me, I was threatened into coming here.” She studied his face. “Or was it, in an apartment building there might have been someone there to stop a kidnapping?”