Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (22 page)

Her phone! She looked around for it. It had been on her charger, and she’d tossed it on the passenger seat. The charger was still in the dashboard. She pulled it up and the phone came with it—wet. She pressed the button. The lock screen came on, but she couldn’t get it to clear. She pressed the emergency call link in the bottom corner. Nothing. She shook the phone. Nothing!

Shit. She had to move. Now. The dizziness had mostly subsided, but blood still dripped from her nose. That was the least of her concerns.

She only had one chance to escape. She had to time it right.

She pulled herself into a crouching position, with her feet on the driver’s door. She looked at the passenger door. If she pushed it open, Jim would see it moving. But the window was up, and it would be harder to climb through the window, anyway. Still, she needed to use her strength to push the door open, which would be fighting gravity.

She wiped the blood out of her nose and mouth, wincing at the pain in her face. Definitely broken.

One. Two. Three.

She held her gun in her left hand and grabbed the handle with her dominant right, then pushed the door up with all her strength. Her arm ached, the stitches in her arm pulling as her muscles tightened, fighting to keep the door from slamming back down on her head.

She wanted to throw herself over the top of the car, where Jim wouldn’t be able to get as clear a shot. If she could just use the car as a shield ...

She pulled herself up with her left arm and almost dropped her gun. Her right arm shook as the door wanted to close on her. She didn’t dare look up the embankment, she had to do this fast, clean.

A gunshot cut through the afternoon.

She wasn’t hit, and she didn’t dare stop. She slid over the top of her car. She let go of the door and thought she’d cleared it when it slammed down on her ankle.

She heard her bone crack.

The pain was worse than the damn bullet two days ago.

She pulled her foot out, tears burning her eyes, and fell into the water, the roof blocking her from the embankment. Her right foot burned in pain, and she was standing nearly waist-deep in the river. Her left foot was sinking into the muddy bottom.

She peered over the back of her car. The glare from the sun distorted her vision—or maybe that was from the airbag. Maybe she had a concussion. Two men stood on the shoulder of River Road. The taller man was Jim.

And she recognized the other man, standing to the right of Jim.

Sergei Rykov.

Both of them held a gun.

***

“Something’s wrong,” Matt said. “Her phone is going straight to voice mail.” He looked at his watch. “She was supposed to be here five minutes ago. Something happened.”

Dean was on the phone. “This is Hooper. I need a location on an asset. Her number is 916-555-3436.” He said to Matt, “Give me two minutes.”

Matt didn’t want to wait two minutes, but he didn’t have a choice.

He heard a distant gunshot.

Dean heard it too. He jumped back into the car and Matt into the passenger seat.

It’s not Alex. Please, it can’t be Alex.

Dean pealed out of the small gravel parking lot and made an illegal turn onto the narrow bridge.

Chapter Seventeen

Jim wanted to shoot his long-time friend. “I told you, don’t shoot her!”

“She needs to die.”

“We have to find out what the feds know. Idiot!”

“You heard everything I did. What more do we need? You aren’t in love with that bitch?”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “But we’re burned, Sergei.”

“You’re burned, Jimmy. Sorry, buddy, but they have nothing on me—if she dies. You have to clean up your own mess.”

“My mess? I told you not to get into business with Hart. He’s volatile and stupid.”

“He had something I wanted.”

Sometimes, there was no reasoning with Sergei. “We have ten minutes, tops.” Probably less.

“Then get down there and kill her.”

Jim wished there was another way.

Dammit, Alex. Why’d you have to do this?

“Get out of town, Sergei. Go south on River Road, get to the safe house and stay put until you hear from me. If the feds were close enough to hear the shot, we now have eight minutes.”

Jim didn’t know what other option he had. Alex had somehow figured out he was involved with Sergei’s operation. She knew far too much for him to talk his way out. He could have explained away the schooling he shared with Sergei—but if Alex had John Black and his bitch sister looking deeper into the dead whores, there was no way he’d get out of this unscathed. He would definitely lose his job. But prison? Hell no.

He had something far more valuable that the feds would want.

“Sergei, do as I say. I’ve protected you since we were kids. I have never let you down. Trust me.”

Sergei stared at him, then nodded. “You’re the only one I do trust.”

“Run to the boathouse. Grab a clean car from the garage, drive south—do not come back this way. Go directly to the safe house. Do not call anyone. If you don’t hear from me in twenty-four hours, you know what to do.”

“What about you? I’m not leaving you to take the rap.”

“I said to trust me.”

He clapped Jim on the back. “Thank you, my friend.” Then he turned and ran down the road.

Jim sighed and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have a choice. Sergei was far too impulsive ... without Jim to protect him, he’d be in prison—or dead—before the end of the year. But that wasn’t going to be on Jim.

For twenty-five years, Jim and Sergei had been inseparable. It started the first day of high school. Sergei was an American citizen, but his parents spoke no English and he had a thick accent. Kids teased him, reminding Jim of when he was in elementary school and stuttered. Sergei was scrawny as well, and after a group of football players beat him up and left him with a broken nose and cracked rib, Jim had taken responsibility for the small, shrewd Russian kid. He’d planned and executed retribution on the football team—because they all deserved to be punished for their crime.

Sergei had dreams; he was going to take over the criminal enterprise of his uncle. And he did—with Jim’s help. Jim had dreams, and that was to always end up on top. He became a cop because having someone on the inside helped keep their illegal business safe. It was a perfect set up, everything had worked beautifully, until Sergei blackmailed Travis Hart. 

Jim had wanted to kill him.

The only way their operation worked was because no one—
no one
—knew about Jim’s business relationship and friendship with Sergei. Tommy Cordell had no clue. Neither did Travis Hart. It was a flawless organizational structure. Jim was the brains, Sergei had the contacts and capital. Sergei was the figurehead, Jim the silent partner.

And to be taken down because of three dead whores.

And one good cop.

Jim walked carefully down the steep embankment. He called out to Alex, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond. Of course not, she wasn’t stupid.

“Alex,” he said, “I heard everything you said on your phone.”

Again, no answer.

“While you were out with Travis Hart last night, I planted a bug in your apartment. When I came over, I bugged your phone. Hard to do when you had eagle eyes on me, but it didn’t take long. I know you went to see Tommy at the jail, and I know he told you shit, and I know you didn’t care because it was what he didn’t say that convinced you. You were fishing about the shooter, wanting to know why he had the same gun that had killed that prostitute three years ago when he was dead before another—fictional, mind you—prostitute was attacked.” He shook his head and almost smiled. “I really didn’t expect you to become such a great liar.”

He was almost to the waterline. He still couldn’t see Alex, but there was only one place she could be—on the other side of the car, which was blocked from his view.

“I have to admit, I didn’t realize you were working for the feds until after you moved into my house. I was taking a big risk bringing you in so close, I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I’m just reckless.” That certainly wasn’t true. He’d always been cautious, but when he was confronted with a bad situation, he always worked to get out of it. “Or maybe I wanted some of your optimism to rub off on me. Oh, you did a great job of playing the tough female cop, but at your core Alex, you’re an optimist. When faced with two choices, you will always do the right thing. Always. Even if you weren’t told what to do. That’s why I didn’t believe you when you said you could look the other way when Tommy was shaking down drug dealers.”

“Did he know?” Alex said quietly. “Was this all a big joke on me? Screwing Sergei Rykov’s best friend while everyone laughed that they were feeding me bad information?”

“Tommy had no idea about me. No one knew. That’s why it worked for so long.” He stepped to the side. A car was speeding down the road, getting closer. He didn’t want to be shot in the back. He needed to do this right, or not at all.

“Look, we don’t have much time. I’m not capable of loving anyone, Alex. But if I could, I’d love you. I pushed you that night because I knew you’d leave. If you didn’t leave, I would have had to kill you. And I didn’t want to kill you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re planning to do now? Isn’t that why you keep moving closer?”

“I put my gun away,” he said. “Honestly, Alex, if you were the only one who knew how those three whores were connected, I would kill you. Quickly, but you’d be dead. I’m practical like that. But you’re not the only one. You told Selena Black, and she told her brother. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to kill you and then hunt them down and kill them.” He paused. “I figured out that you’re working with Matt Elliott. I should have seen that a long time ago, but I missed it.” He shouldn’t have. Perhaps his affection for Alex had clouded his judgment. “I heard him come by your apartment last night.”

“Bastard.”

He laughed. “I don’t care about who you have sex with, Alex. But Elliott is connected to the feds through his sister, and his sister is married to one of those mercenary types, and if I took out Matt Elliott, those mercenaries he associates with would swoop in and take down our entire operation. I can’t let that happen.”

“If you don’t plan to kill me, why are you here? Why don’t you run? Or turn yourself in?”

A car pulled up on the shoulder above. Jim stepped deeper into the scraggly trees.

“Alex!” a voice called from above.

Jim said, “I am turning myself in. I wanted you to know why.”

Could she believe him?

“Hands where I can see them, Detective,” Dean Hooper’s voice came from somewhere above her. She didn’t dare look for fear Jim was lying and had a gun aimed at the car. Though he wouldn’t shoot her in front of an armed federal agent, would he?

“I’m surrendering,” Jim called out.

“Come up the embankment. Slowly. No sudden movements, Detective.”

Alex desperately wanted to see what was happening.

“Where’s Alex?” Matt shouted. “Is she trapped?”

“I’m okay!” she yelled. “Matt, I’m fine!” She wasn’t fine. She couldn’t walk. Her right foot was completely numb, and her left foot as buried to the knee in silt. She’d tried earlier to pull her foot out, but she could hold no weight on her broken ankle. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but throbbed painfully. She reached up to use the car as leverage, but as she started to pull herself out of the silt the car shifted and tipped towards her. She screamed, unable to move away from the unstable car.

The car fell on top of her, the roof pinning her to the bottom of the river. With all her strength she pushed at the car, but she couldn’t budge it. She held her breath, the pressure of the car almost unbearable. Her lungs burned. Her throat ached. She was going to drown. She was going to die trapped under less than two feet of water.

No
! This couldn’t be happening.

She reached her hand up and felt air. The surface was right there ... if she could get her head up just a few inches. She shifted and shimmied and almost screamed in pain as her broken ankle brushed against the car. Her other leg was trapped in the mud. She could scarcely move.

Fight, Alex. Fight!

The more she struggled, the deeper she sank into the mud.

She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and water filled her lungs.

***

Matt watched as Alex pulled herself up on the car, her head barely visible. Then suddenly the car shifted and collapsed on top of her. She disappeared from sight.

Adrenaline laced with deep fear propelled him down the embankment and into the water. The silt was thick, and his shoes sunk deep with every step. “Alex!” he called.

The current wasn’t strong, but the muck at the bottom was thick. With each heavy step he feared he would be too late. That she would drown right in front of him and he wouldn’t be able to save her.

“Alex!”

Where was she? He couldn’t see her. She was trapped under the car, but he couldn’t see exactly where she was. The car was sinking, pushing her further into the river floor.

He reached under the car but couldn’t see or feel her. He tried to push the car off her, then stopped when he realized he could be crushing her.

Her hand broke through the surface and he jumped toward it. The water reached mid-thigh, which meant she was only two feet or so below the surface.

Then her hand disappeared.

Matt reached under and desperately searched for her hand. He grabbed her wrist and she clutched him. He pulled as hard as he could, but she didn’t move.

“Help me!” he shouted. “She’s trapped under the car!”

Jim Perry was the closest. He ran into the river. “I’ll push the car, you pull her out,” Jim said. “On three. Two. One!” Jim put all his weight into the car, simultaneously reaching under and trying to lift it. “I can’t get a grip!” he cried out.

Alex’s fingers loosened from his wrist. Her arm went limp.

No!

Matt dove underwater and located her shoulders. He grabbed firmly under her arm pits and pulled.