Читать книгу Copy That - ХеленКей Даймон, HelenKay Dimon - Страница 7

The driver opened the door and slid out of his seat. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked the four steps to the sidewalk. The fire crackled around them and more people gathered as the wailing sirens drew closer.

The man lowered his sunglasses but gave the flames little more than a quick glance. His unblinking attention focused on Jeremy as his eyes narrowed. “Garrett?”

Through a haze of pain, radiating from his side and screaming through every cell, Jeremy conducted a visual check of his own. He detected two weapons under slight bulges and assumed there were at least twice as many hidden beneath the other man’s out-of-place black jacket and dark jeans.

The combination of the heat, fire and heavy clothing would melt most guys in a matter of seconds. Not this one. Not a drop of sweat on him. The cool cockiness almost convinced Jeremy without verification that this was one of Garrett’s men. Almost.

“I’m his brother.” Jeremy left his badge in his back pocket, since his face made his connection to Garrett clear. “You?”

“We need to leave.”

“No way am I getting in that car,” Meredith whispered under her breath as she inched her way to Jeremy’s far side.

He understood. Smart women stayed on constant guard. They didn’t trust men they didn’t know and they certainly didn’t get into cars with two strangers. He appreciated the fear, even admired her smarts, but she still didn’t have a choice. Until he knew what was going on and who had launched the attack, he planned to stay close.

First, he had to confirm the identity of their driver. Danger pulsed all around them without adding more.

“Westfield 78.” The man said the prearranged security code.

The tension strangling Jeremy’s shoulders eased. “Durham 72.”

“Excuse me?” She looked from one man to the other. “Are we just saying random words?”

Jeremy fought off a smile for the first time since this whole mess started. “An old high-school basketball score.”

Her eyes bulged. “Is now the time for that?”

The man nodded. “Joel Kidd.”

Jeremy knew the name. Garrett never talked about his operations, only the team he’d handpicked and admired. His success depended on being surrounded by loyal men who could fight, then blend into their surroundings for a quick getaway.

Joel glanced in the direction where the house had once stood. “Tell me Garrett’s not in there.”

“He isn’t.” Jeremy inhaled long and deep in an effort to bring his heartbeat out of thumping range and focus his thoughts.

“Hostiles?”

“Two in the house. One definitely went out in a ball of fire because he was unconscious. Unconfirmed on the other. Could be more on the scene.”

A fire truck raced around the end of the block and headed right for them. As it sped up, Joel’s detachment faded. “Authorities are here, which means questions. We need to leave.”

Meredith frowned. “If by ‘authorities’ you mean police, then no. They’re the good guys.” When neither man said anything, Meredith’s frown deepened. “Right?”

Joel opened the back door. “Get in.”

Meredith pivoted, her body facing away from him as if ready for flight. “Not to sound like I have trust issues, but no.”

“You know me.” Jeremy waved Joel off when his hand shifted to his hip. Jeremy knew what that meant. “It’s safe.”

One nod or an eyebrow lift and Joel would render her unconscious. Jeremy preferred to have her permission for this trip. It would make whatever came next much easier if she trusted him. He also hated the idea of taking a woman out even if it qualified as the safest way of extracting a potential victim.

“I know your brother, not you. And it would appear I barely know him.” She sneaked her third peek at the police car stopping a house away.

“Same thing.”

“Not quite.”

Joel shoved his glasses back on his nose and dropped his hands to his sides. “I can put her in the car.”

She whipped around to face him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing good.” Which was why Jeremy refused to use that option.

She inched her feet back, edging closer to the people gathered behind them. “You’re not making me feel more confident.”

“Until I know what’s happening here, I want you protected,” Jeremy said as he continued to scan the area for easy exits and potential threats.

She nodded. “The police are right over—”

“Protected by me. Garrett would kill me if I did otherwise.” Jeremy put his hand on her elbow before she could bolt. He pulled her toward the car in a tug he hoped appeared to bystanders as more concerned and loving than covert. “And we need to go now.”

She shifted her weight to her heels and skidded to a stop. “Are you running from the police or something?”

“I’m a different kind of law enforcement. Border Patrol. And I’m trying to get us out of here before the guy who set off the explosion finds us.”

Her body went limp at that. “You think the guy from the front door is still alive?”

“I’m not willing to wait around and find out.” Jeremy took advantage of her momentary shock and crowded her against the side of the car.

His body blocked her view of the house and, more importantly, the police’s view of her. Using his weight and height advantage, he pressed against her until she lifted her leg and slipped onto the seat.

Joel’s mouth kicked up. “Nice move.” He jumped into the driver’s seat.

Without Joel’s shoulders blocking the view, Jeremy saw the other end of the street. Spied the man standing behind a trio of neighborhood wives who were still holding a bottle of wine and glasses as they hovered in a yard three houses down. It was the same man who’d triggered the blaze.

The roar of the car engine as it turned over bolted Jeremy into action. “Hold up.”

“I never agreed…” She followed Jeremy’s gaze, peeking over the seat in front of her. “What’s wrong with you? What do you see?”

“The bomber.” Jeremy already had the door open and his feet on the ground.

She grabbed his sleeve. She weighed all of 130 pounds and she trapped his elbow in a deadlock. “Don’t you dare leave this car.”

“He’s headed between two houses near the end of the street.”

“And you are not leaving me alone—” her gaze flicked to the back of Joel’s head “—here.”

Joel eyed her in the rearview mirror. “I won’t hurt you.”

The churning in Jeremy’s gut revved up when the bomber ducked behind the house.

This time she dug her fingernails into his arm. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen enough woman-abducted-and-left-in-pieces-in-a-box television specials not to take your word for it.”

Jeremy knew he could rip his arm out of her grasp, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to lose his one lead either. “Not sure what to say to that, but—”

Her second hand joined the first and she started tugging him back into the car as he looked around. “No.”

One of the policemen herding the crowds onto the sidewalk picked that moment to look up. His gaze zeroed in on the SUV and Jeremy knew his time for an explosive run had passed. Scram now and he’d have the police following.

Jeremy ground his teeth together. “The guy is getting away.”

“You’re the one who insisted on dragging me along with you, so now you’re stuck.”

Joel barked out a laugh. “Guess she told you.”

Jeremy took one last look at the policeman. He waved off the woman talking to him and reached for the radio on his shoulder. Jeremy knew the drill. The officer would run Joel’s license plates. Then who knew what would happen.

“This car yours?” Jeremy asked as he closed the door again and leaned back in his seat. He winced over the ripping sensation in his side but pushed the pain out of his mind.

“It’s registered to a company.”

“A real one?”

“On paper only.”

Meredith surrendered the death grip on his arm but didn’t let go. “That’s comforting.”

Despite his fury over losing his prey, Jeremy agreed with her sarcasm. “Drive around the corner and I’ll see if I can find our guy on the next block.”

“You’re still not leaving this car.” She mumbled the comment as she stared at his profile.

Jeremy tried to remember the last time he’d let a woman’s begging derail a chase. Then it hit him…never.

ELLIS MARTIN SMOOTHED his fingers over his mustache. He’d had the thing for almost thirty years, since he graduated from college. The small action soothed him. In this case, it kept him from exploding all over his new and supposedly brilliant assistant.

His throat ached with the need to scream, but Ellis fought back the rage. “I’ve run out of patience.”

“I understand, sir. But—”

“Stop there.” All the impressive grades in his Ivy League education hadn’t taught Andrew Hare the common-sense business principle of knowing when to shut up and listen. Ellis decided the younger man had better learn quickly or he’d have one of the shortest tenures in the Defense Intelligence Agency ever—four days.

Counterintelligence demanded a steep learning curve, and so far Andrew had spent most of his time repeating instructions. Book smart, maybe. Capable of reading reactions and completing difficult tasks? Not so far.

“Excuse me, sir?”

And he said excuse me far too often. “Hill has been out of contact and running for a week now. I’ve had enough. You bring Hill back here, now. In pieces if you have to.”

“We have a problem.”

“That’s not a sentence I want to hear.” Ellis leaned back in his big leather chair. He wrapped his fingers around the arms to fight off the urge to strangle Andrew. Human Resources hated that sort of thing.

“I know, but—”

His nails dug a little deeper. “I want results, not excuses.”

“Our man just got to the scene. He says the place is on fire.”

“What?”

“Witnesses said they heard a loud bang. An explosion. The windows blew out and the fire raced out of control almost immediately.” Andrew talked so fast the sentences ran into each other.

Ellis glanced over his shoulder. If his office had a window, if any of the offices on this floor had one, it would be right behind him. Instead, this part of the suite consisted of interior rooms. No one could look in, and thanks to a list of security procedures, no information got out. Or that was the theory.

“It was a gas leak.” He’d said the response enough times for it to become automatic. The cover worked well enough for him to have the appropriate form in his desk and an electric-company official on speed dial.

“How can you know that?” Andrew asked.

Ellis wondered if the idea of on-the-job training was such a good idea after all. From now on he’d insist on hiring the guy with street smarts and a B average over the one with the shiny résumé that appealed to a hiring committee worried about recruiting the best on-paper students available.

“Within a week we will discover the cause. It will be a gas leak. I can guarantee it.”

“I see.”

Ellis seriously doubted that. “Where’s Hill now?”

“Gone.”

With the news of the explosion, Ellis had started analyzing his options, but all of that slammed to a halt with this latest development. Every breath of air sucked out of the room until the dark-paneled room closed in like a prison cell. “Hill went up with the house?”

“I don’t…”

Ellis stood up, every muscle in his body snapping to life. “Either say what you need to say right now or I’ll transfer you to a field office in Alaska and find someone else to do your job.”

Andrew cleared his throat. When he spoke again, gone was the nervous newbie who shook enough to rattle his teeth when he talked. This time his voice rang clear and deep as his shoulders pulled tight into military attention. “Our guy on the ground is hearing reports about Hill getting away.”

“How?”

“In a car. He had help.”

“Who?”

“Unclear at the moment.” Andrew gave his report and checked his notes, suddenly acting like a seasoned pro. “Someone who drives a car registered to Foxtrot Enterprises.”

Ellis didn’t need to look up the name. Hill had created the corporate entity as part of his cover. Ellis paid the monthly lease on the car every month from the budget for Hill’s team.

“So, inside help.” An internal debate waged in Ellis as to whether that was a good or bad thing. Garrett alone was lethal. Operating with his dedicated team made him unstoppable.

“It would appear so, sir.”

“Keep in mind nothing is ever as it appears with Garrett Hill. We trained him to defy expectations, so confirm every detail before you take it as gospel.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“You have an hour.”