Double Cross (30 page)

2:35 A.M. WEDNESDAY

After two calls to Wilmington rolled to voice mail, Daniel had three options
 
—wait near the gate of Laurel’s apartment until someone came in or out, use his police officer rank, or scale the gate. If Cayden had men on the inside of the property, they’d be watching the entrance for Wilmington to show up.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. What if Wilmington planted that grenade earlier?

Daniel pressed in Laurel’s burner phone. “Are you okay?” he said.

“Sure. I wasn’t hurt tonight. Why?”

“Because you’re in danger. Cayden’s men weren’t successful, and they don’t give up easily.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Let’s team forces. I’m right
 
—”

“You do your job, and I’ll do mine. I’ll check in with you later.” She ended the call.

Was Laurel sleep deprived?

After parking his BMW a block away from the rear of the property, Daniel grabbed his weapon and silently closed the car door. He hurried along a brick wall separating the apartment buildings from the street until he reached a rear gate. He silenced his phone and relied on its vibration to alert him.

Once inside the gate, he made his way between buildings until
he found Laurel’s apartment. Crouching behind bushes, he took in the grounds. Lights were on in her apartment, the drapes open. She wouldn’t deliberately put herself out there for a clear shot.

Suspicion crept through him, and he didn’t like where it was going.

Had Thatcher lied to him about where Laurel had gone?

Wilmington hid nearby. Daniel was sure of it. After what happened to Wilmington’s men earlier, the man would not risk any more lives. He kept vigil of Laurel’s apartment. Men like Cayden didn’t take defeat lightly, and with his military training, he could easily mobilize as a lone sniper. Who else hid in the dark? Vega?

The residents had garages, but a parking area held a handful of vehicles. Two security Jeeps made their rounds on the property. Daniel stole around the empty vehicles while his thoughts stumbled over Thatcher Graves’s instructions to call him when he’d located Wilmington. Anger clawed at his logic, and he dropped beside a car to regroup.

How stupid.

How trusting.

Thatcher knew Wilmington would head here. The agent was using the man to draw Cayden out.

Find Wilmington, then regroup.

An area several feet behind him contained a line of tall bushes that framed a swimming pool. That location was the only place Wilmington could conceal himself and keep an eye on Laurel’s apartment. Love blinded the man . . . or his plan had led to her near demise tonight.

Daniel darted across the parking lot to where he believed Wilmington hid. The man stepped from behind a bush, but Daniel pushed him down.

“You knew I’d be here,” Wilmington whispered. “Did the FBI send you to find me?”

“Not exactly.” Sarcasm topped Daniel’s words. “I think we’ve been sent as bait knowing Cayden and his men would follow us. I don’t
think Laurel’s here. She’d never keep her drapes open. The moment we step out of these bushes, we’ll be in the middle of a firefight.”

“You mean they played us to draw out the bad boys?”

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it’s a duck.” Daniel pointed to the left. “One agent is posted behind the pool hut. Two more are in a security Jeep. If I’m not mistaken, one of Cayden’s men is on the other side of that truck to our right. Probably moves when the security Jeep drives by. Not sure about any more.” Daniel paused, watching his theory take action.

“I’m mad enough to switch sides.”

Discouragement rose in Daniel too, but this wasn’t the time to point fingers. After all, he hadn’t followed Thatcher’s directions. “No, you’re not. We’re dealing with people who have their own agendas. We’re the good guys. Thatcher had a plan, but I’d’ve liked to have been told before walking into an inferno.” He paused. “I was supposed to call him when I located you.”

“Was Laurel in on this?”

“I doubt it.” She wouldn’t have agreed. “I talked to her a few minutes ago, and I think she’s off on her own.”

“What now?”

“Everyone’s in place. All they need is a duck call.”

Wilmington snorted. “I’m not walking out there to see who has the best aim. Working to find the evidence to arrest Cayden is one thing, but not this.”

Daniel searched the area for every conceivable place someone could take cover. “The bad guys are waiting for me to join you. But they expected me to drive through the front gate. How did you get inside?”

“Drove in when the gate opened.”

“Were you followed?” Daniel said.

“No idea. Can’t believe the FBI did this to us.”

“We’re just upset because we didn’t think of it first. They have eyes on us, and I’d like to think they’d prefer we leave in one piece.”

“Body bags aren’t my idea of evening attire.”

Daniel chuckled. “I have an idea. Might not make the FBI happy, but I’m a little sour on Thatcher Graves right now.”

4:45 A.M. WEDNESDAY

“How could you have done this and not told me?” Laurel paced the floor of SSA Preston’s office.

“We arranged the situation after you and Wilmington were nearly killed,” he said.

“By the way, I don’t have a scratch on me. No reason I shouldn’t have been informed. When did you share the setup with Daniel and Wilmington?”

“Thatcher handled the details.”

“Oh, really? Let me guess the conversation. ‘Hey, guys, we’re using you as targets to snag Cayden.’”

“They want the scammers stopped just like we do. Neither man would have argued.”

Laurel spun around. Truth pierced needles into her heart. “‘Would’? What does that mean?”

“Calm down. We have an operation in progress, and you can learn the details later.”

She glared at him, the man she respected. Granted, her exhaustion spoke through her, but it didn’t stop the words spitting from her mouth. “You put Daniel and Wilmington in danger so a couple of agents would look good.”

“Of course not.” His voice rose. “Thatcher proceeded because everyone involved agreed to the risks.”

Laurel sank into a chair. “Then why haven’t we heard anything?”

“You’re paranoid about this case. You’ve let your feelings for Officer Hilton and your hatred for Wilmington override sound judgment.”

Laurel gripped the sides of her chair. “Then go ahead. Get rid of me. If I’m not doing the job of an agent, I need to be relieved of duties.”

His face reddened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You don’t have a clue about my real feelings for Daniel or how much I despise Wilmington or how the elderly scam is eating me alive. I will see this case to the end whether I have my badge or not.” She grabbed her purse and phones.

Preston stared at her. “Laurel, you were and are the best agent to work with Morton Wilmington. Good judgment has always been your best trait. Fatigue and irrational emotions have robbed you of your best ability.”

She headed to the door. “Never mind. I’m finished.”

“You can’t leave here,” he said. “You don’t have a car. It’s dangerous to head to a potential crime scene alone. I order you to stand down.”

“I arranged for my car to be brought here. Handled it long before you walked in. I’m not sitting around while more people are killed.”

5:10 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Daniel drew in a breath and filled his lungs.

“Glad I worked out in prison,” Wilmington said, bending to grip his knees. “Not a twenty-year-old anymore. My back’s killing me, but that was fun.”

Daniel’s wrist throbbed while Wilmington thrived on adrenaline. “You need to get out more if you thinking playing monkey over a gate is entertainment.”

They hurried across the street away from the apartment complex, taking cover in the shadows.

“Were we seen?”

“The agent by the pool hut is Thatcher Graves.” Daniel intended for Thatcher to see them. Later he’d approach the agent who forgot to mention the two awaited a trap.

“So the FBI knows we left the scene. Now they have to figure out who and how many of Cayden’s men are there.”

“Your car’s inside the front gate, and you have your keys. Once we have my car, we’ll park it between the two front main gates. You set off your car alarm at the front, then head to my car. I’ll wait here. I’m hoping the sound brings them out of their holes.”

“Then what?”

“It either works and this is over, or we help the FBI. Keep your phone on vibrate.”

“We should go into the investigation business. Laurel too.”

What an entrepreneur. “Not sure she’d leave the FBI. Or me, HPD.”

“We could operate the business part-time. Work nights and days off.”

“When did you get this idea?”

Wilmington shrugged. “My mind never shuts down. Now that I’m sure my old Army bud wants me dead and taking the blame for his crimes, I’m on overload.”

“I’ve noticed. You don’t sleep much either. Between the three of us, we have experience in almost every area.”

“My point. Think about it, and we can talk later.”

Wilmington lived from one high to another, but right now, the business proposal was on hold. Probably permanently. Once they parked several feet back from the main gate, Daniel stole to the rear. Wilmington made his way to the entrance and set off his car alarm. Flashing lights and the siren brought the early morning to life.

A few minutes later, Daniel’s burner phone vibrated with Wilmington’s call. “The shooter’s still in place and the security Jeep is keeping its distance.”

“Let me know the moment you see anything.” He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

Wilmington’s car alarm timed out.

No one exposed his position.

The longer time ticked away, the greater the likelihood of residents emerging from their homes to head to work, increasing
the number of those who could get hurt. The muggy air didn’t help his attitude, and neither did the sweat streaming down his face.

Headlights swung through the complex and toward the rear gate. He knelt in the bushes and pulled out his iPhone. When the driver pulled through, Daniel made sure his flash was off and snapped a pic of the license plate, but the woman behind the wheel had two small children with her.

What a waste.

Time passed and ushered in the dawn. A man dressed in black raced toward the gate. Not Cayden. Too muscular. Daniel pulled his Glock. Thatcher Graves sped behind the man, his size and gait giving him away.

“Stop. FBI!” Thatcher said.

The man spun around with his weapon aimed at Thatcher. Daniel fired at the neck, bringing him down.

Thatcher jogged to the body and examined it, feeling for a pulse. He glanced up. “He’s dead. Thanks.”

“Considering you set Wilmington and me up, you’re welcome.”

“You were supposed to call
 
—”

“Now’s not the time to discuss it. It is what it is.”

“This is your fault, not mine.”

“Right.” Daniel reined in the anger. “Who’s your friend?”

“No clue.” He grabbed for his phone. “Calling this in.”

“He wasn’t alone.”

Thatcher stood and walked to the iron gate. “We counted two.”

Daniel lifted a brow. “Where?”

“A second man took out one of the security drivers after you left. I don’t have a status.”

“MO?”

“Broke the agent’s neck. Trained.”

Daniel’s phone vibrated with a call from Wilmington. He answered. “I see a man scaling the top of the brick wall. Looks like he has a motorcycle a few yards away.”

Daniel took off running toward the BMW, keeping his phone active. “Wilmington’s spotted the other guy.”

“I’m going with you,” Thatcher said.

Daniel called over his shoulder. “You’ve got a body to handle, and I can’t wait. I’ll call you.” He turned his attention to his phone. “What’s happening?”

“You won’t like this. Laurel’s parked behind your Beamer.”

6:30 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Daniel pressed the gas to keep up with the motorcycle, a Suzuki Hayabusa, one of the fastest made. The driver, dressed in black, flew toward the 249. He wore a helmet, making it impossible to ID him. Laurel stayed on Daniel’s bumper. He hadn’t called her yet. Better to take care of the mess in front of him, then deal with the woman on his rear.

“Told you we’d make a good team,” Wilmington said. “She appeared out of nowhere while I watched the gate.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“No. I’d probably demand she go home, and she’d turn her weapon on me.” He sighed. “I’m afraid she’ll get hurt. Unfortunately my protection detail is either dead or in the hospital. Most of the guys have left since I abandoned my old business practices. That leaves you and me and maybe the FBI.”

“We’ll sort it out later. Did your man pull through surgery?”

“Yes. He’s in intensive care. His girlfriend’s with him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Told me Vega tossed the grenade. Hey, I heard a shot back there.”

“Bad guy dead. Brought him down before he could pump a bullet into Thatcher.”

Wilmington whipped to him. “Now he owes you.”

“He’s okay. Personality differences.” Daniel shook his head. “I’m mad. He wanted me to find you and then call him. I’m not an idiot. He knew where you’d gone from the hospital.”

The Suzuki sped through a red light and whipped onto 249 north.

“I have to call Thatcher,” Daniel said. “Deal with the other junk when this is over.”

“Do I have a vote?”

“It’s not about our egos. But it was a good thing he stood on the other side of the gate back there or I might have broken his jaw.” He pressed in the agent’s number. “We’re now heading up 249 toward Tomball.” He described the motorcycle. “I’ll keep you posted.” He laid the phone on his console. “If that’s Cayden, he’s done his homework. He’ll know where he’s going.”

“Special ops. He planned for every scenario. Survival and outsmarting us.”

Daniel wove into the right lane, ready to seize an opportunity to run him off the road. “At least we know he hasn’t used the bank account numbers from the life insurance apps. That must be his grand finale along with the fund-raiser. Works to make the FBI look inept.”

“Right. Gives him genius status.”

“Good call. So if he hasn’t programmed the withdrawals, then we need to keep him away from online activity.” He added pressure to the gas.

The Suzuki darted to the left. Daniel crossed over behind him. Where to now?

6:40 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Laurel kept up with the chase. She ignored a call from SSA Preston, still fuming with him not giving her all the information. Definitely her career ended. She took a call from Thatcher, who offered that he’d learned next to nothing about the chase in front of her. But
when Daniel swerved into the right lane and she had a clear view of the motorcycle, she pressed in Wilmington’s number.

“I need a little history,” she said.

“She wants to know what’s going on,” he said, obviously to Daniel. “I’ve got the go-ahead, and we’re on speaker,” Wilmington said. “Where were you?”

“With SSA Preston.”

“What are you not saying?” Daniel said. “Never mind. Why did you show up outside your apartment alone?”

“Because I realized Thatcher hadn’t told you everything. Preston insisted he wouldn’t have set you two up. But I had to see for myself.”

Wilmington snorted. “Remains to be seen. Have you talked to Mr. T.?”

“Yes. Said Daniel saved his life. I asked why you were used as targets.”

“And?”

“Claims he had no idea you’d show up there tonight. He found out Wilmington and I had reservations on a late-night flight to Paris. How very nice of Cayden to use our real names. Looks like we’ve been the scapegoats all along.”

The motorcycle sped around a pickup. Daniel chased after him with Laurel in close pursuit. “He’ll have another plan.”

“He always does,” Laurel said. “Roadblocks are in motion but with the rush-hour traffic going both ways, it’ll be slow. For whatever it’s worth, I learned something from Thatcher.”

“Is this supposed to be the grace thing?

“Sorta. Some kind of family emergency. He’s catching the first flight out Sunday morning, providing we have arrests made.”

“Excuses that almost get people killed demand an apology,” Wilmington said. “His ego’s the size of Texas.”

“Let’s concentrate on keeping up with the motorcycle,” Daniel said. “Laurel, you don’t have a partner. Why don’t you hold back until the FBI joins us?”

“Forget it. I had a choice of doing nothing or getting into trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“Preston’s not happy with me.”

Daniel gritted his teeth. “Laurel, please wait for Thatcher. You don’t have anyone covering your back.”

“I made my decision. Pay attention to the motorcycle. Not me. Run him off the road.” Laurel ended the call and raced on behind Daniel.

Where was the rider going? He seemed to fly and knew how to control the motorcycle. He veered toward the shoulder.

Thatcher phoned. She hesitated to answer, but they needed backup.

“Yes.”

“I’m ten to fifteen minutes out. Another car will be there in less time. Where’s he headed?”

“Not sure. Wilmington gave me the motorcycle’s license plate numbers.” She recited them. “The rider’s just run across the embankment to the feeder off the highway.”