Silent Pursuit (18 page)

Joseph parked across the street, hiding the car from the view of the group home, yet positioning so that he could see it from the driver's seat. Ian turned to Gina. “Stay put, please?”

Worried dark eyes stared up at him. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

She turned to Joseph. “You, too.”

He nodded his promise and the two men turned to head over to the man in charge of the team in place. Strategically placed members stayed out of sight but within range of the house.

Joseph spoke up. “All right, how do you want to handle this? You know the guy—I'll follow your lead.”

“I honestly don't know that talking to him is going to get us anywhere. Is anyone else in the house?”

“Just the director.”

“Do we have a negotiator on standby?” Ian took the binoculars from Joseph and tried to see into the house. Closed blinds blocked his view.

“Yep.”

“All right.” He tossed the binoculars aside. “I say let's wait until they come out and get in the truck. Let him think he's getting away clean. I definitely don't want to get into a car chase with him, though, so we need to make sure we can get to him before he tries to go anywhere.”

“We need to separate him from Jimmy as soon as we can.”

A female SWAT team member approached with more equipment. “Here. This will allow you to hear everything going on. The other five houses on the cul-de-sac are on lockdown. No one's getting on or off this street. We've been instructed to go on your command, sir.”

Ian thanked her and shoved the earpiece in. He looked at the truck, sitting innocently in the driveway, and wondered how long they had until Mac decided to leave.

“What if we dismantle the truck?” he suggested to Joseph.

“Can you do it without being seen?”

Ian pushed his sleeve up, ignoring the pulsing throb still emanating from his wounded arm. “That's the question of the decade. It's right in front. If he walks out that door…”

“Yeah, you're a sitting duck.”

 

With the car window down, Gina could hear every word the men said as they discussed their strategy. Antsy, wishing there was something, anything, she could do to help, she watched the house for any sign of movement. Then she saw Ian sneaking toward the truck.

She reached for the door handle, wanting to shout at him to get back where it was safe. But she bit her lip and slid from the car to stand beside it. Positioned just right, she had a better view of the situation. And she would be able to stay out of trouble as she'd promised.

The door to the house flew open, and Gina gasped as Ian froze, ducking low behind the truck he'd not yet managed to disable.

“No, not going,” the young man yelled over his shoulder as he stomped down the front steps. “My home—this is my home. Not going right now. Sorry.”

Mac followed close behind, as did the director of the house. A Mr. Gibson, they'd been told. Gina saw Ian and Joseph exchange a glance. They hadn't alerted the director to what Mac was planning, worried that he would act out of character and tip Mac off. The fifty-something man was saying,
“Jimmy, wait. I'm sure your dad means you're just going away for a while. Not forever.” He looked at Mac. “Right?”

Mac ran a hand over his short cropped hair. “Yeah, right, Jimmy, just for a little while.”

Jimmy stopped, then asked in a choppy, stilted voice, “Then why do I have to pack all of my clothes?”

“You don't. Just bring a few shirts and pants, then.”

Jimmy seemed to have to stop and think about that one. “But it's almost Christmas. I have to help wrap the presents. Have to help, Dad. Can't leave now.”

“Jimmy…”

“Go away, Dad. Come back later.”

“I can't, Jimmy. I need you to come with me today. Now get in the truck. I'll let you change the gears.”

That seemed to tempt the boy trapped in an adult's body. He paused and his eyes lit up. “Drive and Reverse?”

“Sure, buddy, sure. And even Neutral if you want. Just get in the truck, all right?” Desperation stamped Mac's face.

Gina saw what Mac couldn't see. Ian was trapped on the passenger's side. If Jimmy walked around to get in, he'd see Ian—and bring attention to his presence.

But maybe Joseph could move in fast enough to grab Mac before Jimmy said anything about Ian.

Jimmy finally shook his head. “No, I want to wrap the presents. That's important. My job. I want to stay here.”

Mac looked ready to chew nails. Mr. Gibson placed a hand on Mac's arm. “Maybe we should all go back inside and wait until Jimmy calms down a bit. He's upset right now and if you try to push him, you know what's going to happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do and I don't have time for a temper tantrum.” Mac's nervousness seemed to increase, his movements agitated and quick.

“Come on,” Mr. Gibson encouraged.

“No, I've drugged him before—I'll do it again. We've got to get moving.”

Gina felt sick, wanting to burst from her hiding place and confront Mac. Drug him? Mr. Gibson didn't think much of the idea either if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Ian said something into his radio and shook his head. Telling them not to shoot Mac, she thought. He was too close to Jimmy.

Jimmy stomped past his father, and Mac reached out to grab his arm. “Get. In. The. Truck.”

“No.” Jimmy jerked his arm from Mac's grip and stumbled away.

“Jimmy, you don't know what you're doing.”

Ignoring his father, Jimmy rounded the side of the truck and stopped, tennis shoes squeaking on the concrete. “Who are you?”

I
an stared at the young man, his mind clicking at warp speed on how to handle this situation.

He placed a finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence. Jimmy cocked his head, his anger fleeing in the surprise of Ian's unexpected presence.

“What'd you say, Jimmy? What are you looking at?” Mac's voice came around the side of the vehicle, and Ian did the only thing he could.

He rolled underneath the truck.

The SWAT team waited, Ian knew, for his order. But there was no way he wanted to utter the command that would result in Mac's being shot in front of his son.

Not if it could be avoided.

If it couldn't…

“Jimmy, what are you doing?” Mac demanded.

“The man.”

“What?” Impatience now dripped from Mac. “Get in the car, boy, or I'm going to give you a shot.”

Ian cringed. He'd heard how afraid Jimmy was of needles.

“No!” the boy shouted. “No shots. Shots bad.”

“Then get in the truck!”

His voice barely above a whisper, Ian spoke into his mic, “Get the son out of the way.”

“I got him.”

Ian swung his foot out from under the truck and connected with Mac's ankle. The man hollered as his leg went out from under him. He went down—hard, his head smacking the side of the truck.

Jimmy's frightened yell barely registered as Ian rolled from under the vehicle to confront an enraged Mac. Blood ran down the side of his face from the gash on his cheek. Ian rolled once more, landing faceup and ignoring the pulsing pain from his arm. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mac's boot coming toward his head, and he ducked and lunged, grasping the swinging foot and twisting.

With a yell, Mac landed on the hard concrete one more time.

“Dad! Dad!”

Ian heard Jimmy's frantic holler for his father and knew one of the team must have him. He didn't have time to check. Mac came at him, fists clenched. The man swung and clipped Ian in his wounded shoulder.

Pain radiated and he lost his footing but managed a solid punch to Mac's uninjured cheek before stumbling to the side, fighting to get his breath. “I've got a clear shot,” he heard in his earpiece. “Permission to…”

“No,” he gasped. “Don't shoot him.”

Mac spun toward him and Ian braced himself. Using his good arm, he pulled a Taser from his back pocket and held it out of sight. He'd grabbed the nonlethal weapon at the last minute, praying he could use it as an alternative to deadly force. “Stop, Mac. Don't do it.”

The man weaved on his feet and shook his head. “I won't survive in jail, Ian. Let them shoot me.”

“What about Jimmy?”

Regret flashed briefly; then he said, “He'll be fine.”

“Give it up.”

“Not a chance.” And he lunged.

Ian stood stock-still and waited. At the last minute he whipped his arm around in front of him and let Mac run full tilt into the Taser.

Mac jerked, surprise twisting his features as his body went stiff, then fell to the ground.

And it was over.

Breathing hard, Ian looked up. Gina stood across the street, hands against her mouth. Slowly they dropped to her side. Police rushed in to cuff Mac before he regained his senses.

Jimmy still struggled against the hands that held him. Joseph had grabbed him as soon as Ian's foot had knocked Mac off balance. He'd kept Jimmy facing away from the action so he couldn't watch what was happening.

Relief flooded Ian. At least Jimmy wouldn't remember the vision of his dad having a Taser used on him and being handcuffed.

Once Mac was in custody, Gina slowly made her way through the chaos that now filled the street and the front yard of the house. She stopped in front of Ian. “Are you all right?”

“I think so. Are you?”

“You scared me…again.”

“I thought you were going to stay in the car.”

She shrugged. “I stayed out of trouble. Let's let that be enough.”

He felt a smile curve his lips. Yes, she had stayed out of trouble. He had a feeling that might be a rare event. Ian held out a hand.

That was all the invitation she needed. She didn't hesitate,
but threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug and nearly squeezing the breath from him. He grunted. “You're stronger than you look.”

Gina let go and looked up at him, tears hanging on her lashes. He lifted a thumb to catch the wetness that clung precariously. “Hey, what is it? I'm fine. You're fine. The bad guys are wrapped up tight. Mac's going to jail and…”

“Masterson!”

Ian looked up. Mac sat in the back of the cruiser, defeat shouting from his slumped shoulders to his bowed head. The officer getting ready to shut the door paused and looked over at Ian as though asking what he should do.

Ian walked over to Mac. The officer stepped back and allowed Ian some room. Placing a hand on the roof of the car, he leaned over the open window. “Yeah?”

Mac lifted his head and stared at Ian with flat eyes. “I'm a dead man, you know.”

Ian felt Gina walk up beside him. Anger flooded him and he shot his former commander a snarl of disgust. “Better you than her.”

Mac's gaze flickered only momentarily to Gina. “It was never personal.”

She snorted. “Well, it sure felt personal. Excuse me if I don't say, ‘Don't worry about it. It's all right.'”

Mac nodded. “Fair enough.”

Shifting to allow Gina to see in a little better, Ian placed a hand on her shoulder. Mac still stared at him, so Ian asked, “You have something else on your mind?”

The man cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah. You know I don't have any family left.”

“Right, you mentioned that.”

Mac's eyes went to the door of the group house, where
his son had just been taken inside. “Jimmy doesn't have anyone now.”

Ian narrowed his eyes and wondered if this was going where he thought it was.

Mac blew out a sigh. “Will you check on him every once in a while? Make sure he's all right? Make sure—” his throat bobbed “—they don't get to him?”

Gina placed a hand over Ian's and he looked at her. She nodded. “It's not his fault his dad is…who he is.”

“Yeah,” Ian promised. “I'll do it.” And he would. Jimmy didn't deserve to suffer for his father's actions.

Mac nodded. No words of thanks passed his lips.

Ian slapped the hood of the car and the officer drove off.

Gina slipped an arm around Ian's waist and he squeezed her shoulder. “Let's get out of here.”

G
ina settled a gently snoring Stefano in his crib and turned to Marianna, signing, “He's so beautiful.”

Marianna grinned, her dimples creasing her cheeks, dark eyes dancing. “I know,” she signed back as the two walked from the room. “He's such a great baby. But I don't want to talk about him.”

“You don't?” Gina feigned shock.

“No, I want to know about you and Ian.”

Gina figured that's what her sister wanted to talk about. She sighed. “He's a good man. I like him.”

“I think you more than like him.” Marianna's hands moved fluently, grace in motion.

Gina grimaced. “Okay. I like him—a lot.” And she'd told him so before he left. He'd kissed her goodbye with a promise to return.

Her sister swatted at her, and Gina grinned as she ducked. They made themselves comfortable on the couch and Marianna started to continue her interrogation when the lamp on the end table started flashing in a smooth off-and-on flicker.

Marianna answered the door, the specially rigged doorbell doing its duty for the deaf person inside.

Catelyn entered and Gina gave a mental groan. She was trapped. Signing and speaking at the same time, she accused without heat, “This was a setup.”

Catelyn smiled and also signed while speaking, “Not really. I know Ian had to leave for a mission almost as soon as he was done filling out the paperwork on Mac.”

Sympathy flashed on the other woman's face. “I know, but I have some information to share about the microchip you found.”

“Did you find out what was on it?”

“I did.”

Eagerly, Gina leaned forward. “Well?”

Catelyn slid onto the sofa and Marianna took the chair in the corner, where she'd have a good view of the conversation. Catelyn said, “All kinds of names and dates, transactions, future meetings, etcetera. If he admitted he lost the chip, he'd be dead meat. As a result, the authorities are running stings left and right before everyone finds out they have the information they have.” She gave a wicked smile. “The good part is, Esteban Rodriguez didn't tell anyone he lost that little chip.”

“Was Mac specifically named on there?”

“Yes, along with Robbie Stillman and Bandit McGuire.”

Gina shuddered at the memories. “I'm just glad it's all over.”

“Now, let's pray Ian is home for Christmas.”

 

Ian stared down at Mario's grave, thinking about two men he'd once admired. His heart thrilled that Mario was in heaven with the God he'd known all his life but had just accepted as his Savior shortly before his death.

But he couldn't help the sorrow stirring in his soul at the thought of Mac's future in jail. But the man had made his
choices in life. Unfortunately, he'd caved to greed, the lure of money more powerful than the ethics he'd preached as a young commanding officer.

Gina came to stand beside him, her gaze on Mario's marker, her question about another man. “Why did he do it, Ian? What made him change? Mac used to be a man I respected so much. I never would have imagined him turning into such a monster.”

Ian placed an arm around her shoulders and brought her close to his side. He'd made it safely home the night before. She snuggled up against him.

“I don't know, Gina. I guess when we get so caught up in the things of this world, we forget it's only temporary. That we're here on this earth for such a short time.”

“I know. You're right, of course. I just…” She shook her head. “He killed Mario. He called him back here, set up that training exercise and rigged that bomb to explode.”

“Yeah, he did. And he actually set us up a few days ago when he met us out on the road. I should have put it together then.” He shook his head in disgust. “But all I could think about was getting that information Mac was bringing about Mario and getting you to safety. Instead, I made us sitting ducks.”

She sucked in a deep breath and blinked back tears. “Don't worry about that. When you trust someone, you can be blind to other things.” She changed the subject. “Will Jase get in trouble for digging around in the files to get that information for us? The stuff that was on the chip?”

“We didn't ask him to do that.”

“I know. I think he felt guilty for taking those pictures of Mario and that woman and accusing Mario of being unfaithful to me.”

“Probably, but he'll heal in time. As long as no one knows he messed with Mac's computer, he'll be fine.”

She gazed at the clouds. “I'm glad Mario's finally at peace.”

“Me, too.”

Ian gave her one last squeeze and said, “Are you ready to go for a little drive?”

She looked up at him, curiosity chasing the shadows from her dark eyes. “Sure, where to?”

“Well, it is Christmas Day.”

Gina laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I'm aware of that, thank you.”

“And your house is bare.”

She blinked in confusion, and he laughed. “Come on.”

 

Two hours later, surrounded by the scent of pine and cold, Gina gasped, laughed and threw the ax down onto the snow-encrusted ground. “You're crazy. I can't do this.”

“That's because you have to stop laughing,” Ian said. “Who can chop down a tree while giggling?”

Good-natured humor made his eyes twinkle in a way she'd never seen before. It made her heart sing, her blood hum, her stomach flip somersaults. “Then you do it. You keep cracking jokes and expect me to keep a straight face. I can't do it.”

He shook his head in mock disgust and picked up the ax. Three more whacks and the tree started creaking. “Timber!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

And Gina cracked up again. “Thank goodness there's no one here to laugh at you.”

“No, I get enough of that from you.”

With efficient movements, he picked up the tree he'd tied up mummy-style before cutting, and hefted it to his shoulder, wincing only a little at the reminder he was still healing.

Gina sobered a bit, then grinned as he stomped to the
truck he'd purchased two days earlier. He settled the tree into the back, then walked over to open the door for Gina.

She climbed in and he rounded the front to get into the driver's seat. Ian started the truck and sat there, letting the warm air blast from the heaters. “What do you think about my job, Gina?”

“What?”

The serious turn of his thoughts startled her.

He looked at her. “My job. Is it something you can live with?”

She frowned, sighed and bit her lip. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to tell you why I left the unit and I'm feeling a little—insecure. If I knew that you could live with what I do, it would make…what I want to say…um…a little easier.”

“Ah. Well.” She looked away for a moment.

He squirmed. “What does that mean?”

“It means after Mario was killed, I made a promise to myself.”

Dread coated his stomach. “What was that?”

“I promised myself I would never again love someone with a dangerous job. No more Rangers, no cops, no firemen, not even a schoolteacher.”

“I see.” So he'd lost her. He'd never really had her and he'd already lost her. Pain shafted him.

“And then I met you—again,” her soft voice caressed his wounded heart, easing the hurt, making him sit up and pay attention to what she was saying.

“What are saying, Gina?”

“It means I know why you left the unit.”

All movement ceased. “Oh.”

“Mario told me on the DVD.”

He frowned. Surely he would have remembered that part. “Where was I?”

“On the phone trying to save our lives.”

“Right.” His heart thudded against his ribs. Throughout this whole ordeal, he'd been getting vibes and signals that she cared for him, wanted to grow closer to him. But now she seemed impossible to read, her face not blank but carefully neutral.

And she knew why he left the unit.

 

Poor guy. She wasn't stringing him along on purpose, she just wanted to make sure she said the right words. Excitement tingled in the pit of her stomach at what she saw developing between them. “I loved Mario.”

He winced but nodded, understanding flashing as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know you did, Gina.”

“But not like I love you, Ian.”

He was still nodding, but all of a sudden he stopped. His eyes latched onto hers and he searched them. He was wondering if he'd heard her right, so she smiled—a shaky parting of her lips. “Yeah, I said it.”

He blinked. “I didn't dream it?”

She laughed. “No, Ian, you didn't dream it. I love you.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you decide that?”

“The day we were at the farmhouse looking for the microchip.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. He needed a shave but she didn't care. “Mario said you left because you fell in love with me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

Tears filled her. What had she done to deserve this man? “I'm sorry.”

He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. “I love you, Gina Santino.”

“And I think I have more respect for you now than ever before. I can't think of another man who would put his career on the line, alienate his best friends and go through what you must have gone through to keep your integrity.”

He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked away. She saw the glint of tears. “I had to. I love the Lord more.”

Gina threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a mind-blowing kiss. Ian sighed and transferred his kisses to her nose and her eyes and finally settled back on her lips.

When he pulled back, he looked down at her and shivered at the love shining there. He said, “You're precious to me, I just want you to know that. I won't take your love for granted.”

Speechless, she nodded, then found her voice. “And I vow to do the same.”

“We fought too hard to stay alive and reach this point to mess it up.”

“Absolutely.”

He kissed her again, his gaze longing, wistful—joyous. “Now, are you ready to go decorate a tree?”

She giggled. “Sure.”

They arrived at her house right after lunch with only one stop for a burger and fries.

Pulling in the driveway, Ian climbed out and Gina did the same. Clapping her hands against the cold, she looked at her small house. All evidence of trauma had been erased. Christmas lights blinked from her gutters, and two lighted mechanical reindeer grazed on the brown grass. The snow covering the mountain where they'd cut down the tree hadn't
made it down to the city of Spartanburg. No white Christmas this year.

Gina hurried to open the door while Ian pulled the tree from the back of the truck. He carried it through the door she held open for him.

“Thanks.”

With a grunt, he set it into the tree stand Gina had set up in the corner next to the window.

“You're right. My house is bare. I decorated the outside a bit but not the inside. I just didn't feel like it, I guess.” She laughed. “Normally I have everything done a few days after Thanksgiving. It seems a bit of a waste to decorate on Christmas Day.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked up. “A waste? How do you figure?”

She shrugged and handed him the scissors. He cut the rope holding the limbs in place. The branches sprung free with what Gina would have sworn was a sigh of relief.

“I don't know. Aren't you supposed to decorate a month or two before?”

Laughing, he said, “So we're starting our own tradition.”

A shiver danced through her. Building traditions with Ian sounded wonderful.

“You got the lights and the ornaments?” he asked.

“Right here.”

She handed him the string of lights first.

“I like your family,” he stated.

“They like you.”

He stopped again and looked at her. “Are you sure you don't regret selling the farm?”

She paused in her efforts to untangle the last strand of multicolored lights and smiled. “No, I don't regret it. Mario
was the last of his family. A donation in his name to the people fighting crime in Colombia? Yeah, I think that would make him very happy. It was the right thing to do.”

He pulled her close for a quick hug. “I'm glad.”

Clearing her throat, she asked, “So, are you ready for the ornaments yet?”