Secrets Collide (Bluegrass Brothers) (7 page)

“This isn’t a date,” she hissed.

“You’re right. If it were a date, we’d be kissing by now. Come on, let’s go.” He tucked Fred under his left arm and pulled Gemma close to his side as he walked out of the dark shadows and into the parking lot.

Cy kept his eyes on the man leaning against the SUV. He was looking through the glass doors of the lobby in Gemma's building. Cy’s breathing was slow and steady as they approached his car. They were almost home free when a ringing cell phone broke through the silent night air.

Cy shifted his gun to his left hand and reached into his back pocket to silence the phone, but it was too late. The man at the SUV was already screaming out their position. “Come on,” Cy yelled, pushing Gemma toward the car as the men ran out of the lobby.

He turned and returned fire as Fred growled, his tiny white paws wrapped against Cy’s wrist as he hung on tight. Cy used his remote key to unlock the door and shoved Gemma, bags and all, into the front seat. 

“Get down,” Cy yelled as he returned fire and ran around the car to the driver’s side, leaping over the closed door into his seat. He pushed the Start button to his sports car and let the V8 engine loose as he floored the accelerator.

“Cy! Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me, dammit!” the voice yelled from the car stereo.

Gemma looked around at Cy to see who was talking and saw that Fred had released his grip on Cy’s arm and was now curled up in his lap as he drove at break-neck speeds through the streets heading toward the 405 freeway.

“Who’s that?” Gemma asked as she held onto the door when Cy took a corner at sixty miles per hour.

“Who
are
you?” the voice shot back. “Cy, now’s not the time to be messing around with some bimbo.”

“Bimbo? Excuse me, but I’m not a bimbo. I’ve been chased, shot at, and am now trying to survive this lunatic’s driving. If anything, I deserve a freaking medal. So back off,” Gemma’s shout turned to a scream as Cy shot onto the freeway at well over a hundred miles per hour.

“Didn’t realize you’re in the car with my brother. You do deserve a medal. He forgets he’s not a racecar driver anymore . . . or well, maybe he still is. Now, Cy, we need to talk.”

“It’s okay, Pierce. You can talk with Gemma in the car. Are you okay? You didn’t get arrested again, did you?” He took a quick glance at Gemma and almost laughed as her eyes widened before slamming shut as he zoomed around cars and trucks on the freeway.

“I remember. I remember everything. It had nothing to do with me. It was you they were after. They kept asking about you . . . where you were and how to get in touch with you. They were planning on killing me, and then capturing and torturing you when you came home for my funeral,” his youngest brother told him in a rush.

Dammit. That changed everything. He was no longer going to have the time he thought he would to capture Mr. X and his gang. They knew where he was and had figured out his real last name. His cover had been blown—dammit!

“I’m on my way home and I’m bringing someone with me. I’ll be there by breakfast.” A plan was already formulating in his mind as he drove toward LAX.

“What’s going on? What are you involved in that someone would go to these lengths to find you?” Pierce asked. Cy could see Gemma turning and looking at him with the same question in her eyes.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I’ll meet you at the farm.”

“Okay. Be safe, bro.”

Cy ended the call and took a deep breath.

“What . . .” Gemma started before being cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. The number came up as Unknown and Cy figured it was his boss.

“Is the plane ready?” Cy asked as he answered.

“Yes,” the deep, accented Middle Eastern voice answered. “You’ll land at the private air field around eight-thirty in the morning. That is, if you can get out of Los Angeles alive.”

“Ahmed?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get this number?”

“John Wolfe does not have anything on me,” Ahmed answered seriously. “Now, you seem to be having some problems with a man I am particularly interested in and I want to offer my services.”

“I'd appreciate that. I’ll see you at the farm?”

“Yes.”

The line went dead and Gemma turned to him. “Who was that?”

“Ahmed. He’s like the Secret Service for the Prince of Rahmi. He happens to live in the town we’re going to,” Cy explained as he turned off the freeway and onto West Century Boulevard heading to the airport. He followed the signs to the private jet field and parked in a reserved spot. His car would be shipped home with the rest of his stuff soon. He didn’t know how practical a sports car would be on the farm, but it sure would be fun on those twisting country roads where he grew up.

“This is the CIA’s plane. Well, kinda. It was confiscated from a weapons dealer and we’re just using it until it’s sold at auction. We’re flying to the prince’s private runway in Kentucky,” Cy told her as he handed her Fred and picked up all the bags.

“I got that part. What’s the plan after that?” Gemma asked as she looked up the steep stairs leading to the plane.

“I’m still working on it.”

“Working on it? You don’t have a plan?” Gemma stopped climbing the stairs and looked behind her to glare at Cy.

“I believe the key will be in your sister’s notes. I won’t be able to develop a plan until I know what we’re working with.”

“And you think we’ll have those resources in Kentucky? We should be staying here and working with the LAPD.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about resources. You haven’t met my brothers yet. Or for that matter, the rest of the town,” Cy grinned.

CHAPTER SIX

Cy leaned back in the light tan leather seat as the plane shot down the runway. Gemma sat next to him with Fred curled up in her lap. As soon as the plane leveled off, Cy turned to her and placed his hand on hers.

“You okay?” he asked, pulling Gemma back to reality. She had been thinking of Christmas when she and Gia were just seven years old. They had been embroiled in a debate over Santa Claus and Gia was determined to prove he existed. They fell asleep at eleven-thirty, but when they woke up the next morning, the cookies had been eaten and a note left by Santa telling them how sisters were the most treasured gift any girl could ever get.

“Yes. Sorry. What?” Gemma blinked her eyes and looked out the window into the dark night sky before looking back at Cy’s handsome face. He may be edgy and slightly dangerous looking, especially with his five-o’clock shadow, but the way his warm hand relaxed her made her think he couldn’t be all that bad. He did save her life after all—twice.

“If you wouldn’t mind, and since you’re not too happy with my lack of plans, can we take a look at what was so important that someone is trying to kill you?” Cy looked down at her purse and Gemma similarly looked down at it. Inside was the key to everything, but a force was holding her back.

Gemma finally took a deep breath and handed Fred over to Cy. It was time to see what Gia had gotten into. She opened the large bag and pulled out the three notebooks. “What’s that?” Cy asked and pointed at the almost-Greek-looking symbol on the bottom of the cover.

“It means one. We had a secret language.” Gemma’s eyes misted as she remembered sitting at the dinner table having their secret conversations about school, boys, and how horrible their mom’s chicken was—all while their parents looked on in confusion. It was theirs and theirs alone. She couldn’t remember when it started; they had just always had it from the time they could talk. Gemma opened the notebook and swallowed hard. The notebook was filled with their language . . . every page and every line.

“What the hell is all that?” Cy asked as he looked at the notebook.

“It’s all in our secret language,” Gemma said as she shook her head.

“Can you read it?”

“Some of it. It’s been over ten years since we talked it, even more since we wrote it. Since high school, I think. It’s going to take me a while to go through this and try to remember all the symbols for the alphabet and for certain words.” Gemma felt crushed. From what she could see, it meant nothing. She remembered some words for her name and some other random words, but not nearly enough to translate it.

“Don’t worry,” Cy said as he placed his hand on her knee and gave it a slight squeeze. “You’ll remember. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help, but I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do.”

Gemma looked up from the notebook and over where Fred had curled up in the crook of Cy’s arm and fallen asleep. She felt the pressure of needing to remember the secret language pressing down on her. She needed to think about something else. That’s when she remembered the phone call from Cy’s brother. “Wait. Didn’t your brother say you were in danger at home?”

“I was. That’s what I’m trying to figure out—how my cover was blown.” Now it was Cy’s turn to look distant as Gemma could see him thinking.

“Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding who you are.” Gemma watched as he slowly turned to look at her. “Well, you’re not. You gave me your name right away. It would be easy for someone to make a couple of calls to find out where you were born.”

“I didn’t use my real name.”

“Cy isn’t your name?” Gemma asked. Who was he then?

“Cy is my name. But my last name isn’t Davidson. It’s Davies. That simple little switch was easy to remember and enough to hide my identity. The CIA provided me with such a deep background and documents that it would be impossible to trace me back to my real identity. Instead of being from Keeneston, I was from Louisville. There were even yearbooks at the high school with my real high school pictures in them.”

“And you have no idea who the people are who were asking about you at home?”

“Oh, I have a very good idea. They’re the same guys who are after you.”

“Me? Why would they want both you
and
me? That doesn’t make sense. Wait. Were you in the alley for a reason tonight?” Gemma buried her head in her hands. “Oh God, you
are
an axe murderer.”

“I’m not an axe murderer. The guys who are after you are the same ones after me. See, one of my brothers is the sheriff of Keeneston. He busted a dog-fighting ring recently. When I looked into it, I connected it to a group known for trafficking kidnapped women. When I dug around further, I connected it to a group that sells weapons and everything else on the black market. They’re real bad people. I've caught a couple, including a group trying to sell chemical weapons out of Russia just a while ago.

“The only connection I've found is that these men all have a Roman numeral X tattooed on their wrist. The boss man, Mr. X for lack of a better name, has never been caught on camera at any of these fights, trades, or deals. No one knows a name, a description, nothing. But Mr. X is powerful enough to have many connections in governments and law enforcement all over the world.” Cy leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees as Fred crawled over the seat and back onto her lap.

“It sounds as if he has enough power to find out who you are. Could've been someone at the CIA even.” Now this was something Gemma could think about. Her investigative reporter side jumped to attention and she wanted to know more.

“Yes. They could have. I think it was Russia, though. With the threat of a weapons sale, I dug around a little more than normal and really pushed some contacts. I must've thrown up a red flag somewhere. I was so worried that the bust wouldn’t go down, I beat the other CIA team members to it. They could have followed me afterward and have seen who I was.” Cy rubbed his hands over his face as Gemma’s thoughts raced forward.

“Then why are we going to the one place they've been looking for you?” Gemma drummed her fingers on her sister’s notebook as she thought about the situation.

“They’re not there now. Ahmed will have taken care of that. Also, as you’ve pointed out, my cover is blown and it could've been by one of my own. Keeneston is the only place I can think of where I can trust every single person.”

“Who is this Ahmed? And how can you possibly trust the whole town? That’s just naïve.”

“I might not have mentioned all there was about Ahmed in the car. Yes, he’s the prince’s head of security. But he’s also one of the most feared and respected soldiers and interrogators you’ll ever find. Shoot, he’s a legend at Langley and he’s only a couple of years older than I am. That should tell you something right there.”

“And you’re trusting this guy?” Gemma knew her eyes were round, but this was just too much.

“Yes. He’s very good friends with my family and I’ve worked with him before. My sister was testifying in a large corruption case and he was guarding the other witnesses. But, he’s not the only one there. My older brothers were all in the military and the town as a whole is the nosiest group of people you’ve ever met.” Gemma didn’t smile along with Cy.

“Then how can you trust a bunch of gossips? I mean, I should know. I do it for a living.”

“They only gossip about what’s going on in town. I’m telling you, the town will be our biggest protector. They have an information network—well, a church phone tree—that is better than any government agency could ever dream of. The added benefit of a town so small is that we’ll know the second someone who isn't a resident comes into town.”

Cy couldn’t help but feel excited to be going home. It had been too long and there was definitely no one he trusted more to help him than his family: three brothers in Special Forces, his sister-in-law, Annie, a former DEA agent, and his brother-in-law, the head the FBI’s Lexington office.

“If you say so. Have you come up with a plan yet?” Gemma teased.

“Yep. Find them before they kill us.” He may have sounded sarcastic, but that was really his plan. Sometimes simple was best.

“You should get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” Cy heard his voice soften as he fought the urge to pull a blanket over her. She had handled today well, but he knew from experience it was the quiet of the night when the nightmares struck.

“You’re right.” Gemma gave a little smile and pushed her seat back. The large seats allowed her to roll onto her side and look out the window. She heard Cy move and then the overhead lights were turned off.