Locke and Load (12 page)

He leaned back and studied the man he’d discovered was a former Navy SEAL once commanded by Jameson Knight. “What happened?”

“Lisa is a former NIO, too—”

“Lisa?” Cage sat up. “Nikki had a friend named Lisa that used to stop by when we lived in Miami.”

Gentry nodded. “Probably her. She and Nikki have known each other for over a decade. They went through basic together.”

Shit. The pretty hazel-eyed brunette was a spook, too?

“What happened with her and Rojas?” Jersey prompted as he handed them each a can of iced tea before resuming his seat in front of their surveillance equipment set up on the table.

“He found out she was there for Nikki, so he abducted her, intending to let his Russian mobster friend have her.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” The former SEAL drew in a breath, then let it out slow. “I nearly went out of my mind, even after we took Rojas down.”

“After?” Cage asked, cracking open his can before he took a drink.

Sam nodded. “She had a bruise on her cheek, and a bloody lip, but her eyes…” The man’s jaw clenched and unclenched before he continued. “Her eyes were clouded with something, a memory, an instance, she won’t share with me. And with good reason. If I could revive the Russian bastard, I would, so I could kill him all over again.”

Cage’s chin lifted. “Does this mean you’ll have no problem with me killing Rojas?”

“Nope. None at all,” Sam replied, then scratched his temple. “But I’m not sure you’ll have that luxury. Brooke has been gunning for the Colombian for two years now.”

He set his drink on the table and stood. “Then why the hell didn’t she kill him back then?”

“She wasn’t there. She was stuck flying the helicopter that air dropped me and the commander into the pacific.”

“Oh, damn. I bet she hated that.” Jersey grinned.

“I don’t care who kills the bastard, just as long as he dies,” Cage admitted, stepping around the table to pace away some pent-up aggression. “I don’t want Nikki living in fear anymore, and I refuse to be the fucking pawn Rojas uses to control her.”

Sam rose to his feet and nodded. “He’s going down. Permanently. We already have clearance.”

He halted and thrust a hand through his hair while relief eased the stiffness from his shoulders. “Good.”

“And once the mission is over, you and Nikki can safely resume things.” Gentry lifted his drink in toasting gesture.

Pain, sharp and intense, squeezed his chest tight. “No. We won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because looking at her will be a daily reminder that I failed her.”

Sam reeled back. “Failed her? How?”

“For years, I doubted her when I should’ve saved her.” Something he could never forgive.

Would
never forgive…on top of the guilt of having been the reason she’d suffered.

If only he’d known.

“Ah, Cage, that’s just bullshit,” Jersey grumbled. “No man would’ve done anything differently. Give yourself a damn break.”

His mirthless bark of laughter echoed around the room. “Who’s going to give Nikki a break when the bastard haunts her in her dreams? When she cries out in the middle of the night because of the nightmares he’s already imprinted in her mind?”

Sam set his can down and stared right at him. “Then be her hero. Be the man who gives her something good to dream about instead.”

Cage sucked in a breath. Could he? Would it be enough?

“That’s what I did with Lisa. And now we’re married, and she’s carrying my child.” The former SEAL’s broad chest puffed out further. “I can’t tell you what that feels like, Cage, other than it’s the opposite of the hell you’re
both
dwelling in right now.”

God knew he wanted that life with Nikki. It was the reason he’d given her a ring four years ago. But so much had happened since then.

Too much.

“Look alive, ladies,” his partner quipped, pointing to the computer monitors. “Nikki and Pryor just arrived at the outdoor café. It’s show time.”

Pushing aside his inadequacies and guilt, he made room for the doubt crowding his mind. “I don’t like using Nikki as bait.”

“Me either, but you try arguing with a determined woman.” Sam snorted. “Make that two determined women. The boss and I didn’t stand a chance this morning when Homeland informed us Rojas wanted to exchange the anthrax for Nikki, or he’d release it in public.”

He knew. He was there. His heart had dropped when he’d first found out, and hadn’t returned since. He’d followed her out of the interrogation room to find everyone in Rivera’s office talking to Pryor. Rojas had contacted the agent and had threatened to release the anthrax if Nikki wasn’t returned to him, along with safe passage to Columbia. The bastard would do it, too. He had a ruthless reputation that kept his competition at arm’s length. No one doubted the threat.

Nikki had immediately agreed, and Brooke had backed her up, then the two were out the door before anyone could blink.

“I know. It’s how I got ordered to hole up in this damn room with my partner as a babysitter.” He muttered a curse. “It’s not right.”

“True, but it frees Nikki up to do her job, and Cage,” Sam said, his gray gaze boring into him, “she’s really good at her job.”

“I just want her being really good at being safe.”

“As long as you’re tucked away, she will be,” Jersey chimed in.

A reminder he could do without.

Sam’s phone beeped, and Cage watched as the man pulled it out and glanced at the text on the screen. “Okay.” He nodded. “That’s my cue. I’ve got to take up position.” His gray gaze bored into his again. “I’m not going to bother to tell you not to worry, Cage. I’ve been in your shoes and know it’s not possible. But if you want Nikki to remain safe, you have to stay in this room, no matter what you see. It’s the key to everything.” With his hand on the doorknob, the former SEAL gave them a quick nod, then left the room.

The only thing stopping Cage from following suit was the promise he’d made to Nikki to remain out of sight. It took all of his willpower not to give into the fury simmering under the surface, whispering to him to find Rojas and rip him apart limb by evil limb.

“Aren’t you going to watch?” Jersey asked. “Nikki and Pryor are at the outdoor café, having a drink, waiting for Rojas’s men, as planned.”

Great.

His stomach knotted tighter than his chest. “No.”

“It’s all right,” Delaney reassured. “Brooke and Knight, and now Sam, are all somewhere in the area with their high-powered rifles while Homeland and the CDC wait close by.”

Thrusting a hand through his hair, he stared to pace again. Normally, he loved the adrenaline of an operation, or a good take-down. But this…this was different. It wasn’t his case. He wasn’t involved.

A snort raced up his throat.
Christ.
He’d never been
more
involved. More invested in his life. He hated that they were gambling with Nikki’s wellbeing in order to bring the case to closure. A case he had to fucking sit out.

He sucked down the rest of his iced tea, then crushed the empty can with his hand before tossing it in the trash as Jersey’s phone started to ring.

A quick glance at the monitors told him nothing was amiss. 

“Don’t recognize the number,” his partner said before answering. “Delaney.” He stiffened and held his gaze. “Wilson. Where are you? What the hell’s going on?”

Wilson?

Adrenaline and alarm flooded his gut. An ongoing search had yielded no sign of the detective in days. No word. No body. Nothing. Now, all of a sudden, he calls?

“Whoa. Slow down. Cage is fine. His phone’s broken. Are you okay? We found blood.” Delaney frowned. “Overheard who? Where are you? How are you calling?”

Cage circled, doing his best to resist the urge to yank the phone away from his partner’s ear, a surge of admiration flooding his veins at the man’s ability to think quick on his feet. Not revealing that Cage had a burn phone, or giving out the number, was a good move. So were the questions he was asking.

“Yeah. I know where that is. Lay low. Wilson? Dammit. Wilson?” Jersey glanced at his phone and cursed again. “We were disconnected.”

“What did he say?”

“That he didn’t have much time. Get some guys over to the hospital. He overheard them talking. They’re going to try to finish off Hutchins.”

“Shit.” He swallowed the rest of his outburst. “Overheard who?”

“Some Spanish guys.”

He muttered another curse. “Rojas.”

“That’s my guess.” Delaney nodded. “He didn’t see any faces. They kept shining a light in his face when they came in.”

“Where is he? Is he hurt?”

“His leg was nicked by Prochaska’s men. He said the Czech’s were the ones who shot him and Hutchins, then these other Spanish guys showed up and shot Marek and his men.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t know, and he’s not sure why they want Hutchins dead, but are keeping him alive. They patched him up, but he was having trouble walking on his leg.”

“Whose phone was he using?”

“The guard’s that he overpowered. But he can’t get out. He’s in an inside room with no windows, and there are three armed men between him and the outside door.”

“Does he have any idea where he is?”

“Some warehouse.”

Shit. “Only about a thousand in the area.”

“Yeah, but I know which one.” His partner’s smile turned smug.

“You do? Where? How?”

Delaney pointed to the computer screen. “I’m betting it’s that warehouse right next to the café Nikki is at.”

Suspicion mixed a vile cocktail in his stomach, causing it to churn. “How do you know that?”

“Because I could hear that mariachi band playing in the background.”

Son-of-a-bitch…

There was one on the video screen.

“So what’s the plan?” Delaney stared at him.

“You keep your eyes and ears on that screen. I’ll conference call Knight and Rivera and fill them in.” As he talked, he dialed, and within two minutes, all parties were on the line. “Make sure more officers are sent to guard Hutchins.”

“Any movement on the screen?” Knight asked.

“No. Nothing’s happening on the screen,” he replied.

“Just stay put and keep watching,” Rivera ordered. “Let Knight’s people handle Wilson and the warehouse.”

He clenched his jaw.

“You hear me, Burnett?” the captain barked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Yes, stay put. This will all be over soon,” Knight reassured before hanging up, followed by Rivera.

With both parties disconnected, he slipped the phone back in his pocket and slammed his fist into the table.

“So? I’m guessing you got the ‘stay put’ verdict?” Delaney lifted a brow.

“This sucks.”

His partner nodded as he glanced back at the screen. “Shit.” Delaney suddenly sat up. “Rojas’s men are taking Nikki and Pryor to the warehouse.”

Cage rushed closer, heart pounding so hard in his chest he expected it to drop onto the table next to the keyboard. He gripped the table as he watched the Columbian grasp Nikki’s arm in a similar manner while tugging her from the café.

Phone in hand, he was around the table, texting Knight as he headed for the door, knowing if he called, the astute agent would no doubt hear him leave the hotel room.

“So I guess we’re ignoring orders and jumping into the mix?” Delaney asked from behind.

With both feet.

“I am.” Nikki needed him, and he damn sure was going to be there for her this time. “You don’t have to,” he called over his shoulder. “This is most likely a trap.”

“I know,” Jersey said. “But you’re my partner. I’m going with you.”

Cage nodded, wanting to believe the man meant his words, but at the moment, he didn’t trust anyone.

Not Wilson. Not Delaney. Not Gentry.

Just Nikki.

She was his main concern as he opened the door and stepped into the hall. The hair on the back of his neck stood up a little too late, and he wasn’t quick enough to duck before something connected with his skull and knocked him to the floor. Pain radiated fast and fierce, and his last thoughts were of Nikki before darkness set in.

“C
age? Cage. Wake up, man.”

The urgency in Jersey’s tone cut through the pounding haze in Cage’s head and he forced his eyes to open.

“Thank God.” Delaney blew out a breath. “I thought maybe these goons hit you too hard.”

He blinked the room into focus as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Two armed men stood near a closed door, while Wilson and Delaney were on the floor next to him, leaning against a wall, both bleeding from cuts to their temples. The air was thick and musty and did little to help his stomach rolling in unison with the waves he could hear lapping nearby. They must be in the warehouse by the café. The faint sound of the mariachi band confirmed his suspicions. With luck, Knight and Sam were close, too.

Still not a hundred percent positive the two detectives weren’t playing him, he decided to proceed with caution, and cleared his throat. “Nikki?”

Delaney shook his head and blew out another breath. “I don’t know.”

“Cage, I’m sorry.” Wilson shifted closer, and pain tightened the lines around his mouth. “I didn’t know it was a trap. I should’ve known. That guard went down too damn easy. They wanted me to contact you. I’m sorry.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I should’ve known better.”

A guard strode close, gun raised, arrogance twisting his face ugly. “Stop talking!”

Delaney raised his hands. “Calm down, Columbo. We’re just filling our friend—”

A whack to the jaw with the butt of a riffle cut Jersey off.

“Shut the fuck up!” The guard glared down at them.

Unsure if it was all an act, and hating himself for doubting his partner, Cage wasn’t stupid enough to pass on the opportunity of taking out the guards. He lunged, ramming his shoulder into the man just below his knees. The guard hit the floor hard, sending the riffle skittering a few feet away. But the sudden movement increased the pounding behind Cage’s eyes, slowing him down too much to defend against the other advancing guard. With Delaney still recovering from his sudden blow, and Wilson’s gunshot leg hindered his speed, Cage couldn’t fend off the whack to his back that sent him to the ground next to the downed guard. About to reach out and grab his attacker’s legs, he stilled when the door swung open and several men entered the room.

“Enough!” A man wearing a pair of white, Italian leather loafers strode close. “I have plans for him.”

Rojas.

Rage, sudden and swift, energized Cage’s body, cancelling his pain and ruling his movements. He glanced to confirm the newcomer’s identity before he came up swinging, landing several punches to the arms dealer’s face, throat, and gut, catching the bastard off guard. The sound of a gunshot echoed off the walls a second before white, hot, burning pain sliced clear through his left arm and knocked him back.

“No!” Rojas grabbed the gun from his man and hit him with the butt. “I said I have plans for him. Why the hell aren’t they restrained?”

The guards immediately rushed forward with zip ties. Cage swung with his uninjured arm, but between his aching head, and gunshot wound, his attempt to resist was pathetic. Wilson lasted two seconds longer than him, but Delaney managed to land a few good punches, even wrestled one guard to the ground, before two more jumped in, hitting and kicking him into submission.

“Get them on their feet,” Rojas ordered, withdrawing a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his white suit. “You are not a disappointment, Detective Burnett, although you do look a little different up close compared to the view from my riffle scope.” The smug son-of-a-bitch smiled down at him as he wiped his bloody face.

Cage swallowed back a curse and held the man’s gaze.

“It is nice to finally meet you in person, so I could thank you for helping me to keep Nicole in line,” Rojas continued. “You have been such a great help. Without you, I would never have tasted her sweetness. And she does taste sweet, does she not?”

“Sick bastard!” Cage launched forward, but the laughing man stepped out of the way, while his guards yanked him back. A shooting, hot pain shot up to his shoulder, and neck, and stole his breath.

The arms dealer continued to gloat. “Yes, indeed I do owe you a lot. You are the reason she’s my wife, well you, and an unfortunate child from the local village. But, that’s all history.”

“Why Nikki?” Delaney spoke up. “Sure she’s beautiful, but there has to be more. Why have you been so obsessed over her?”

Rojas walked to Jersey and nodded. “You are very astute.”

Cage was grateful for the respite. He was talking himself out of passing out, and kicking his mental ass for doubting his partner. Delaney was obviously drawing Rojas’ attention on purpose, so Cage could get himself under control.

“About seven years ago,” Rojas continued, “an investigation into my affairs led to the arrest of several of my known business associates, and that caused me millions of dollars. I couldn’t very well let that go unpunished. Could I? No.” The arms dealer shook his head and rocked back on his heels. “It took me years, but I tracked down the intelligence officer in charge of that investigation, and well...she was just too exquisite to kill. So, I devised a different form of punishment, and the rest you know.”

“Yeah, you hide behind your men and their guns. You’re nothing but a pathetic coward who has to use extortion to get his way.” Cage knew angering the unbalanced man was a risk, but he didn’t give a shit.

Rojas just laughed. “If you’re trying to get a rise out of me, save your breath. I am the winner here. I am in control. I have everything I want.”

Not for long.

The crackle of a radio flittered through the air. One of his men spoke lifted the device to his mouth and spoke in Spanish, then stepped close. “They’re here.”

A smile tugged across Rojas’ mouth. “Then let’s move this meeting into the other room so the good detectives can witness my reunion with my wife, and of course, help me make her do my bidding.”

Even though struggling amped up the pain in his arm, Cage wasn’t about to just walk out of his own accord. Apparently, Delaney and Wilson concurred because all three of them fought against the restraining hands that pushed and yanked them into the large, open area of the normally bustling export warehouse. Today, the big brick building was eerily quiet and empty, with the exception of Rojas’ armed men. A handful stood around the abandoned floor of silent conveyors, while two held posts on the balconies overlooking above.

Exactly where he’d hoped Knight and Sam would be by now. Surely the men had had eyes on Nikki and were following her location. Things were going south fast. She needed help.

Now.

And, dammit, he hated that it wasn’t going to be him. He was fucking shackled, and bleeding, and absolutely useless to her.

Where the hell was her back up?

C
onscious of the public and innocent lives around her, Nikki allowed Rojas’s men to lead her and Agent Pryor from the café, the rendezvous apparently taking place in the nearby warehouse.

Nikki steeled herself against the revulsion racing up her body at the thought of seeing Rojas again. Or being near him, letting him touch her and kiss her as she knew he was bound to do.

But this time, things were different. This time Cage was safe, and she had backup. Sam and Knight had eyes on her and would no doubt enter the warehouse via the ocean on the south side. The monster could only play with her a little bit, just until Agent Pryor got his hands on the anthrax, and she knew the threat to the city at Rojas’ hands was over.

She could do this. She
would
do this, do whatever it took to take this man down for good.

“Ah, here comes my beautiful wife now.” Rojas stood grinning with a crowd of his men in the middle of the floor.

Fresh bruises reddened his cheek and a jaw, while specks of dried blood clung to his chin. Although her curiosity sparked at his somewhat disheveled appearance, the sight of his smug expression, and dark, leering gaze made her want to run.
No
. It made her want to do what she was capable of…kill him. But, despite what he’d done to her and what she’d witness him do to others, Nikki held her need for retribution at bay. There was much more at stake here. The anthrax and safety of the public.

“It has been too long,
querida
, but I did not come empty handed.” His grin broadened.

She’d seen that evil grin too many times. This wasn’t good. After calculating the time since she and Pryor had gotten up from the café table, she estimated only ten minutes had passed.

Sam and Knight had had eyes on them, and would’ve had to reposition once she’d entered the warehouse. The plan had been to wait until Brooke showed up in the chopper, but she and the others were prepared to do what they must if things escalated beforehand.

“I brought you three gifts. A detective trifecta,” he said, stepping aside with a flourish to reveal her worst nightmare.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up.

Detectives?

Oh…God…no.

Nikki’s heart dropped to her feet, then lodged in her throat when a bleeding Delaney, along with the missing Wilson, met her gaze, followed by a battered, bruised, and bleeding…Cage?

No…this wasn’t happening.
He can’t be here. Not here…

He was supposed to be safe. In a non-disclosed hotel room. Not beat up and bleeding from an obvious gunshot wound to his left arm. Her chest squeezed real tight. How had this happened?

“Ah, I do believe you know these men,
querida
, do you not?”

She turned to face him, quelling as much emotion as possible. “You know I do. I’ve been helping them solve a murder.”

“I know.”

“Why are they here? This has nothing to do with them?”

“But it does…in a six degrees of separation kind of way.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?” Then she sucked in a breath and narrowed her gaze, her whole body tense, hating what she was about to ask. Scared to death of his reply. “Did you kill Detective Johnson just to get me down here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted all three detectives stiffen.

“No, and that’s the beauty of it,” Rojas replied, twisting in a circle with a damn grin of his face. “Had I known it would’ve given my men access to you, then I certainly would have, but alas, I did not. It was like the anthrax—a gift that dropped into my lap, so to speak. An associate of an associate of mine spotted you on the docks last week, and that set things in motion. I have to say, you really made this too easy,
querida.”
Rojas laughed, the sinister sound making her stomach roll.

Or
was it from the feel of the finger he was now trailing down her cheek?

“You and I will not be parted again.” Anger darkened his face, removing all civility from his features. “And you will pay for all the months of hell I have endured in that prison. Starting now.”

A second later, she found herself crushed against him, enduring her own hell as his mouth crashed down on hers. Bile rose up her throat at frightening speed. She thought she was done with this…would never have to deal with his touch anymore.

But she’d also expected him to manhandle her today, and had already prepared herself enough to get through. She had to. He had Cage and the anthrax and, until it was handed off to Homeland, she was at his mercy.

But she didn’t have to play nice.

She bit down on the tongue invading her mouth, the taste of his blood a mild consolidation.

His painful gasp as he stopped his assault and pushed her away—?

…now that was priceless.

“Bitch!” He swiped at the blood from his mouth, then backhanded her, the force of the blow stung her face and sent her to the ground.

She hit the concrete, her left elbow and hip reeling from the impact.

It was so worth it.

“Nikki!” Cage thrashed, trying to shake off the two guards holding him down as he glared at Rojas. “You bastard!”

The monster laughed. “That’s nothing compared to what I will do to her later when we are alone.” He pulled a blood-stained hanky from his pocket to remove more of the blood.

The origin of his bruised face suddenly became clear.
Cage.
Cage had done that to him. Satisfaction warmed her body at the thought of the monster enduring some pain at the hands of the man who’d unknowingly been a pawn in his sick game.

“But now, I have business to conduct.” Rojas turned to the agent standing silently aside. “You are from Homeland?”

“Yes.” Pryor come out from the shadows, and glanced down at her as he walked close, a flash of anger skittering through his gaze before his mask of indifference returned. He switched his attention to Rojas. “And I have delivered Ms. Locke as you requested.”

“Very good.” Rojas nodded. “And the chopper?”

“It’s on its way, now that I had a location to give,” Pryor answered like they’d rehearsed with Knight earlier.

The agent was told to promise Rojas anything he wanted in order to get the Anthrax. Except…the chopper
was
real
and
on its way—with Brooke piloting.