Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (3 page)

She looked to the small window he’d opened, then to the cell phone. “Do you think I’ll pick up a signal once I’m outside?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Ian, I have no idea where I am or how to even find the neighbor. What if I run into an alligator or—”

“Better than what’s in the house. Just keep to the edge of the driveway and in the shadows. Turn left when you hit the road we drove in on, and run. You’ll see a mailbox at the end of the next driveway.”

“What if he’s not alone? What if there’s someone outside waiting for us?”

But what if there wasn’t? He didn’t want to risk her life by keeping her in the house. He also didn’t want to send her into the unknown where he wouldn’t be there to protect her. Now he wished he’d have brought the other gun with them. He couldn’t second-guess himself, though. Not with—

“Knock, knock.” A soft wrap hit the laundry room door. “Anyone home?”

Cami’s breath came in short, shallow spurts as she backed into the washing machine. Ian stepped in front of her, then looked over his shoulder. “You
have
to get out of here and call for help.”

Still staring at the closed door, she nodded, then wiped the tears from her eyes. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said on a quiet sob, then kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now go.”

He set his gun on the washer, then grabbed her by the waist and lifted her.

The intruder slammed on the door, which knocked a picture frame off the wall. “You’re not trying to run are you?” He battered the door again, splintering the wood doorframe. “That’s no way to treat a guest in your house.”

“He’s going to kick it in,” Cami cried, squirming free of Ian’s grip, then hiding behind him.

Knowing she was right, he retrieved the Glock, made sure it was ready to fire, then aimed it at the door. Sweat coated his chest and back. Fear and adrenaline made his heart pound hard. He hadn’t killed a man in nearly nine years, but would kill this one before he let the bastard do anything to Cami.

The man grunted when he hit the door. “You’re making this harder on yourself,” he shouted, and slammed the door again. “And really starting to piss me off. Now I might have to have fun with your pretty little actress. She was great in those shitty movies, but now
I
want to make her scream.”

“This is because of me?” she whispered. “Oh, my God, Ian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…didn’t think…”

“You know who this is?” Whoever was on the opposite side of the door knew Cami. If they were dealing with a deranged fan…he didn’t want to even consider what the bastard might do to her.

“No idea. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “If anything happens to you because of me—”

The man hit the door again, and Ian worried the next blow would knock it off its hinges. Seconds ticked by. Other than Cami’s shallow breathing and the insects chirping from outside, the house had grown eerily silent. Could the man have gone outside? Ian glanced to the opened window expecting for him to be there. When he saw nothing, he quickly shut and locked it. Aside from the windows, there was one other exit, and that was in the small guest bedroom upstairs where a deck and steps led to the backyard. If they could find a way to—

“Where is he?” Cami asked, pressing closer to his back.

“I’m still here, lover,” the man said, then scraped something along the door.

Dread crawled along Ian’s skin and he quickly took aim again.

“Since you’re anxious to be with me, and I have a meeting planned, playtime is officially over.”

A meeting? Did this mean he wasn’t working alone? Ian reached behind and gave Cami a reassuring squeeze, then whispered, “Be strong and stay behind me.”

“I will. Ian, I—”

The door bounced off the wall with powerful force. Cami cried out just as a bright light blinded Ian. Without hesitation, he fired five quick shots, hoping to God a couple of them hit the bastard. The high-beam flashlight thudded to the floor and rolled. The man staggered back, hit the wall, then slowly slid down.

Dragging in deep breaths, Ian inhaled the strong scent of gunpowder and sulfur, then slowly approached the man. The red-orange glow from the kitchen hadn’t dimmed and cast eerie shadows throughout the hall. He couldn’t tell where he’d shot the man, but considered putting a bullet in his head for good measure. He nudged the intruder’s black boot with the heel of his bare foot first, which elicited no reaction. Heart still pounding hard, his stomach filling with an odd mixture of triumph and dread, he took another step.

“Is he dead?” Cami asked, breathless and maybe a little hopeful.

“Go upstairs to the guest room with the deck and lock yourself inside,” he answered instead. What they’d experienced was bad enough, and he wanted to shelter Cami from any more horror tonight.

She touched his back as she edged out of the laundry room.

“Don’t open the door unless it’s me or the police,” he added.

“And if it’s not you?”

The fear in her voice had him turning his head toward her. Shadows and smoke caused by the flare played across her face and intensified the apprehension in her eyes. “Run.”

“No one’s running from me.”

He saw movement in his peripheral vision and pulled the trigger. “Run,” he shouted, as the intruder shifted his body and raised his arm.

Ian fired another shot, then stilled. Every muscle in his body cramped tighter and tighter until he couldn’t hold the gun, let alone himself, up anymore. He dropped to his knees with a painful thud, then fell forward. The Glock was kicked from his hand as his body jerked against the cool, tile floor. He saw Cami’s ballet-slippered feet move, watched helplessly as the ski-masked intruder stood, still aiming the Taser on him. Tried to tell her to get out, but couldn’t make his mouth work.

“Nobody fucks with me.”

Ian shifted his eyes. The intruder raised his boot. “Nobody,” the man finished, then everything went black.

Lola Tam’s Condominium, Chicago, Illinois

Wednesday, 11:56 p.m. Central Standard Time

Lola Tam pulled the apple pie from the oven. “What the—?” She looked at the bottom of the glass dish, saw that the crust was as black as fresh asphalt, then set it on the stovetop. How could the crust be burnt, yet the middle still soupy? She tossed the oven mitts on the counter, checked the directions again, and then the clock. So much for taking a homemade apple pie to Dante and Jessica’s tomorrow, it was already nearing midnight and she didn’t have the ingredients to give it another attempt. Thank God she’d bought a frozen one as backup. Since she didn’t have to be to their house until one in the afternoon, she’d bake the frozen pie in the morning and—

Her cell phone rang. Considering the hour, she rushed to retrieve it off the charger. When she checked the caller ID and saw the call was from Dante Russo, her coworker and fellow agent at CORE, she didn’t relax. Midnight calls usually equated to critical cases. Cases she’d never been given the chance to work.

“Hey, Dante,” she answered. “Everything okay?”

“No. We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?” she asked, both nervous and hopeful. Although grateful for her position as an investigator at CORE, during the past few months, she’d begun to question whether she should stay and continue to give the agency a chance, or quit and move on to a different job. She enjoyed the investigation aspect and conducting research, but had grown tired of the boring, easy assignments her boss, Ian, kept giving her. But Ian was out of town, leaving Dante in charge. Maybe Dante had an assignment for her that could help her earn the respect of not only Ian, but her fellow agents. A little excitement would be nice, too.

“You need to get to CORE. Everyone is meeting there in about thirty minutes.”

“Anything I need to know?”

There was a long pause before he said, “Not right now. I’ll fill everyone in once we’re together.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” she said, heading into her bedroom to change.

“Call Harrison for me. I want him there, too. He might need a ride, and he’s on your way.”

“Will do,” she said, then ended the call.

Fifteen minutes later she picked up Harrison Fairclough outside his apartment building. “What’s up?” he asked, climbing into her Honda Pilot. “It’s not like you to get all cloak and dagger.”

She shifted into DRIVE, then pulled onto the street. “I wasn’t being cloak and dagger. I told you what Dante told me.”

“A whole lot of nothing,” he said, then smothered a yawn. “How’d the pie turn out?”

“Don’t ask.”

“What? No apple pie on Thanksgiving?” He sighed. “That’s totally un-American.”

She grinned. Since Harrison didn’t have any family in town, he was also invited to Dante’s for dinner. “I’m bringing pie, it just won’t be homemade.”

“Aren’t you glad I suggested buying a frozen one just in case? Next time, do what I do and volunteer to bring wine or beer. That way the only appliance you need to contend with is a refrigerator.”

She pulled into the parking garage below the CORE offices. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harrison straightened in the passenger seat and stared out the window. “There’s Rachel’s car. You didn’t tell me she’d be here. God, the woman hates me.”

Harrison had taken over Rachel Malcolm’s position while the computer forensics analyst had been on maternity leave, and although the woman was given her job back, she was still very territorial. But until their boss reassigned him, Rachel was stuck sharing a desk with Harrison. Or rather, Harrison was stuck with Rachel.

“Hate’s a very strong word,” she said, killing the ignition.

“Okay, then she
strongly
dislikes me.”

She slid out of the car. “Maybe you should talk to her about this
strong
dislike.”

“That might only make her dislike me even more,” he said, walking toward the elevator.

“Sounds like you’re afraid of her.”

“Not at all. But she does have a great way of making my days miserable.”

“Buck up, buttercup.” She stepped into the elevator. “I’m sure you’ll get reassigned soon.”

“If not, I’m thinking about heading south and meeting up with my buddy.”

“What about your contract with Ian?” Back in April, Harrison had unknowingly taken part in one of the largest domestic terrorist attacks in U.S. history. Because of him, though, CORE and the FBI had been able to put an end to the mastermind behind the attacks. And because of Ian’s connections, the charges against Harrison had been minimal. He’d served a couple of months in a minimum-security prison, then had been released. Only that release had come with a catch, one that Harrison had told her he hadn’t minded. He’d signed an employment contract with Ian that basically stated Harrison owed CORE two years of his life. According to Harrison, they were two well-paid years, which had made the condition easier to swallow.

She still didn’t know all the details from that particular investigation. Considering how tight-lipped the CORE agents who’d been involved in the case had been, she likely never would. That was okay with her. What mattered was that Harrison now worked for CORE. During the past five months they’d worked together, they’d become friends. Now that she thought about it, Harrison was her only true friend in Chicago. Dante and his wife, Jessica, were great people and she loved hanging out with them, but they were older than her by ten to twelve years, and treated her like a kid sister, which she also liked since she was an only child. But there were boundaries other than age between those two. Dante and Jessica were married and had a baby on the way. They were established, had history—bottom line, they were adults. At twenty-nine, she was an adult, too. But for some reason, she still felt like a kid around them, and even her boss. As if everyone knew what was best for her, or was always trying to steer her in a direction she wasn’t sure she wanted to go.

God, she needed to get out of her head. What she really needed was to take a long, hard look at where she saw herself heading. Did she want to continue to work for CORE? She appreciated that Ian had taken a chance on her, but could she picture herself doing this job for the next five, ten or even twenty years? Or better yet, living in Chicago? She’d followed her mom to the city and had come to love it and how the people here weren’t as fake or pretentious as they were in her hometown of Los Angeles. But she missed the beach, the sun kissing her skin, being able to take a long weekend and travel down the coast to San Diego, where the weather was always beautiful.

“I told you before that I’d do anything for Ian,” Harrison answered, staring at the light indicating which floor they passed. “He kept me from heading to death row.”

“Repeatedly.” Over the past couple of months Harrison had made the same vague comment to her. “Instead of hinting around… If you want to tell me about what happened, just say it.”

“I’m not at liberty to share the details.” He cleared his throat, then leaned closer. “Unless you really want to know,” he whispered.

She grinned. “But wasn’t keeping your involvement secret part of your contract?” she asked. “And why are you whispering?”

“I don’t trust Ian or Rachel.” He nodded toward the security camera in the corner of the elevator. “She could be watching us now.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “If you’re that paranoid, then quit talking about it,” she said, just as the elevator slowed to their floor. “And you never answered my question. What’ll happen if you breach your contract with Ian?”