Читать книгу Christmas Double Cross - Jodie Bailey - Страница 12

TWO

“It’s her.” Colt switched the phone to his earpiece then turned the key in the ignition, speaking before Austin could say hello. “I had her give me a business card. We can pull a print to be sure. I’m to get in touch with her after the holiday, and we’ll see how much intel I can gather before we take her in. Once she trusts me as a runner for hire, we’re in.”

“Brent’s not going to like this.”

The muscle under Colt’s eye jumped, the place where his stress seemed to show the most. Ranger Brent McCord had once been a close friend, but this Adriana Garcia thing had fractured that friendship. McCord said the woman had once saved his life, and based on that single encounter, he refused to credit any of the evidence against her—even when it came to Greg’s murder.

Colt didn’t dispute that her actions had prevented Brent’s execution...but she’d probably had some darker, hidden motive for it. A woman who could kill so indiscriminately would only save a Ranger if the choice in some way benefitted her. Maybe she’d even planned for this to happen—for Brent’s defense of her to create cracks in their Ranger team.

“He saw Adriana Garcia five years ago for under two minutes. Not enough time to be a reliable judge of her character. Brent needs to remember to be objective.”

“So do you.”

“This woman is the reason Valentina Hernandez was killed. She killed Greg with—”

“Nobody knows the stakes more than I do, Blackthorn. Believe me.” Austin ground out the words. “But we don’t have concrete proof that Adriana killed Greg. No matter what we feel, we have to remember, innocent until—”

“Got it.”

“Loosen up, or you’re going to tip her off. Either that, or Vance is going to pull all of us and bring in another team.”

“I said I’ve got it.” Only Colt wasn’t so certain anymore. Through his whole career, his instincts had been his guide. He was known as the man who could feel danger before it happened. Now? He’d missed the fact that his best friend was a traitor. Colt dropped his head against the headrest and glared at the ceiling.

But he was right this time. As pleasant as she seemed, as soft as her eyes had gotten when she’d spun that story about her mother, as much as her supposed grief had tugged for just a second at Colt’s own, he knew they had their woman.

With a deep breath, he reached for his seat belt and tilted his head forward, movement catching at the edges of his vision.

At the back of the shopping center, a man dragged a woman toward a dark blue two-door sedan that had seen better days.

The woman twisted and fought with all she had. With a massive head thrust backward, she caught the brute in the jaw and broke free, crashing to her knees on the cracked asphalt, a dark curtain of hair falling across her face.

Recognition jolted through Colt and his jaw tightened as he ran through his options for intervening. Jump out and run for the fight without knowing what he was getting into, or gun the engine and blow in through tire-squealing smoke.

The would-be captor reached down and hauled Colt’s suspect to her feet, backhanding her so hard she fell against the open trunk of the car, where he stuffed her in the rest of the way and slammed the lid.

No time to make it on foot now.

“We’ve got trouble.” He clicked his seat belt and jammed the car into Drive, tires squealing as he gunned the engine and raced toward the man trying to take their suspect away. The blood rushed hot in his veins as he relayed what he was seeing to Austin, who called for backup.

He couldn’t let the driver get away. The team was counting on him to bring Adriana in. Professionally, they needed to know where she was stashing the drugs she’d stolen from her brother so they could keep the supply from hitting the market. Personally, he knew that only her confession could truly give him closure about Greg’s death.

At the sound of the roaring engine, the passenger leapt into the blue car as the driver whirled toward Colt and lifted his arm.

Colt instinctively ducked as a bullet ricocheted off the roof. The others went wide. He didn’t slow, aiming head-on in a game of chicken, man versus machine.

Colt knew he had more nerve than the brute stealing one of Rangers’ most wanted had ever dreamed.

Sure enough, the other man dove into his front seat and gunned the engine, whipping the car into a skid and racing down the narrow alley behind the shops toward the back service road.

This had to stop before they went too far and hit the main road, where bystanders could get hurt.

“Status?” Austin had clearly heard the hit.

“I’m right behind him.” Colt called out street names as the lead car hung a right, deeper into an older neighborhood. The highway waited on the other side.

As Colt skidded the Challenger around the corner and gunned the engine to keep up with the small sedan, the passenger leaned out the window, firing wildly at Colt.

“Are you kidding me?” He muttered under his breath. This guy was an idiot.

“What?”

“We’re in a very bad action movie here. Get me some backup before this guy kills somebody. We’re way too close to Gateway Boulevard.”

“Local law enforcement is on the way. Hang on.”

A wild shot pinged off the passenger mirror, and Colt pulled into the other lane, one eye on the lookout for oncoming traffic on the narrow neighborhood street and one on the kidnappers. His engine had a whole lot more power than the ancient beat up two-door he was tailing. If he could get closer, maybe he’d be able to tap the rear corner and spin the vehicle.

But if the car flipped, or spun and hit anything trunk first, then the woman masquerading as Danielle Segovia could be killed.

More blood on his hands.

Colt gripped the steering wheel tighter, maintaining enough distance to keep the passenger from getting a clear shot but close enough to hold his options open. If they got to Gateway where a higher volume of traffic became a factor, he could lose them. Worse, someone else could be killed.

This had to be Rio Garcia’s men, out to bring his sister in for stealing from the cartel. If they somehow managed to cross the border or they reached the airport... “Tell the LEOs to get in tight at the airport. And let Border Patrol know not to let this guy cross. If he somehow manages to get away from me—”

“They might kill her.”

“No. They want her alive. They won’t find out where Garcia’s money or drugs are if she’s dead.”

“On it.”

Think, Blackthorn. He had to stop this guy. For the past week, he’d cruised these streets, looking for potential ways Danielle Segovia could escape, planning for a moment when he’d have to give chase if she ran. Now he’d have to show his hand and use his knowledge not to capture her, but to save her.

Another bullet pinged off the passenger door. It was now or never. Punching the pedal to the floor, Colt raced up on the rear of the sedan and roared past to the next intersection, pulling the car into a skid that left him facing the other car, leaving the driver with nowhere to go except through Colt.

Another game of chicken. His heart pounded as the headlights roared closer. He held the steering wheel tight. If he died trying to save a killer...

The blue sedan skidded to the side, the driver’s door slamming into the corner of a Dumpster, sliding the massive hulk of metal backward as the car bounced to an abrupt stop.

Dust peppered the air as Colt threw open the door of the sports car and ran for the other vehicle. One look at the driver was more than enough to haunt his nightmares for a very long time. Without air bags or a seatbelt, he’d felt the full force of the Dumpster’s crushing blow.

The wavering smell of gasoline permeated the air. He was running out of time.

The passenger door hung open, the seat empty, and pounding feet raced between the two buildings closest to Colt. A trail of blood droplets led from the scene. The passenger might be hurt, but he was fast and chasing after him would take time Colt didn’t have to spare. As much as Colt would love to pursue, there were bigger things to worry about. With gas leaking from the vehicle, anything could happen before he got the woman out of the trunk.

As sirens wailed in the distance, closing fast, he reached across and pulled the keys from the ignition, then rounded the rear of the vehicle. Popping the key in the lock, he held his breath, praying that what he found inside wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

The woman lay in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. She shook uncontrollably, eyes wide with fear as she stared up at Colt. “Please...” The word rasped from a dry throat and tugged at Colt’s conscience.

Gently, Colt scooped her into his arms as several black and white El Paso police Chargers raced toward the scene, their red and blue lights flashing in the night.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his arms as she shuddered repeatedly. She was in shock. Terrified.

The ambulance hadn’t arrived yet, and Colt had to get her to the hospital. Sliding her gently into the front seat of his car, he buckled her in and shut the door, then turned to answer to the police officers who skidded to a stop in front of him. Although identifying himself as a Ranger could jeopardize his entire undercover persona, he had no choice. He had to make sure Adriana survived.

* * *

Slamming the door of the sports car, Colt stared over the top at the entrance to the emergency room where, not three minutes earlier, nurses and orderlies had rushed his suspect into the hospital.

His goal had been to keep her close during transport and to stay by her side at the hospital, but he’d lost her anyway when medical personnel refused to let him follow her. Right now, she could be making her way out some entrance he couldn’t see.

Colt slammed his palm onto the car’s roof. Nothing was going the way he’d thought it would. He should have known something was wrong before she was attacked, should have been able to sense it in the air. But no. He’d missed this attempt on their suspect’s life, just like he’d missed Greg’s treachery.

Tipping his head toward the sky, where the stars were muted by the lights of downtown El Paso, he shook his head. Greg. They’d been best friends for years. Fate, God, whatever you wanted to call it, had led them to work together on a few cases, had made them buddies. Cookouts. Football games. All of that male bonding stuff. Colt was supposed to be the best man at his wedding, which had been planned for only a few short days from today.

Now, as the wedding date drew near, Greg’s fiancée was behind bars for attempting to kill Kylie Perry.

And Greg was dead. A traitor to his country, a man who’d taken a small fortune in order to turn his head as drug runners crossed the very borders he’d sworn to defend.

Dead. At the hands of the woman who was somewhere in the guts of the hospital in front of him.

Dragging his hand from the top of the car, Colt’s finger caught in the divot left behind when a bullet had bounced off the roof. He winced and stepped back, for the first time inspecting the black Challenger. The roof had taken a couple of hits. The metal along the passenger side of the windshield sported damage, and a crack wound its way across the top of the windshield on the driver’s side.

He whistled low between pursed lips. Thought about thanking God for not letting any of those hit him. Decided against it. It wasn’t like God was paying attention anyway.

But Major Vance sure would be, and he wasn’t going to like it when Colt brought back yet another loaner with damage.

It wasn’t like he could help it. Getting involved in a shootout hadn’t been part of the plan.

Neither was losing their target.

He jogged across the parking lot, determined to find Adriana even if it meant going toe to toe with anyone who tried to stand in his way. He’d likely tipped his hand by showing off his skills in the chase and his badge to the police when he’d rescued her. He sure didn’t need her running now.

Just before the entrance, a shrill whistle echoed off the buildings. His feet slowed and his jaw set. He knew that sound. Knew who was behind it.

He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not now.

Before Colt stopped, he caught his breath and swallowed his frustration. No need to take this annoyance out on his teammates, even if they didn’t see eye to eye on this one.

When he turned, Brent McCord was almost at his side, his expression dark, his brown hair wild under his Stetson as though he’d ridden all the way here with the windows down.

Behind Brent, Ford Manning kept his gaze on the parking lot, his cowboy hat shading his face so that Colt couldn’t read his expression. He probably didn’t want to play peacemaker between his two teammates.

Colt jerked his head toward the door. “She’s inside. I’m on my way to find out where.”

“How is she?” Brent’s words were rushed, urgent. “She hurt?”

Balling his fists, Colt fought the urge to bite out a sarcastic response. “I don’t know. She was in shock when I pulled her out of the trunk, but she was conscious, coherent. The guy who stuffed her in the trunk hit her pretty hard though, and that was before that wild ride she took.”

“Was wrecking the car with her in the trunk your only option?”

That was it. Colt stepped closer to Brent, meeting green eyes at the exact same height as his own. “Would you prefer I opened fire? Took the risk of shooting her?” His voice was low, the words gravel in his mouth. Challenging Brent was another blow to his emotions, but he wasn’t going to be questioned. Not now. Not when the stakes were this high. “You weren’t there. I did the best I could. I’m sorry you’re girlfr—”

“Okay, enough.” Ford appeared in Colt’s peripheral vision and laid a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Do I need to remind you again that you’re on the same side? Or that you’re in public in front of the hospital and two of us are dressed in uniform so the whole world can identify us on social media as brawling Rangers?”

Colt hesitated half a second, then took a step back, hating that Ford was right on both counts. Bad publicity for the department was the last thing they needed. “Fine.”

Brent didn’t back down, but he did ease his stance, looking a little less like he was about to put a fist into Colt’s jaw. “Look, we have a problem.”

“From where I stand, we have a lot of problems.” Number one being their most wanted suspect was out of sight while they stood here debating her guilt.

“Enough.” Ford repeated the word, then shook his head. “I’m not the daddy of either one of you, but I’ll knock some sense into both of you if I have to.”

That did it. Colt’s mouth tipped into a grin, but it faded just as quickly. “What’s the problem?”

“Major Vance had a few of our guys track Danielle Segovia to a routine physical and was able to get a blood sample from the doctor a few days ago. We rushed it through and Lizzie just called. The DNA doesn’t match what we found at Greg’s crime scene.”

Colt took two more steps back, his hands loose at his sides. He wasn’t hearing this. If the DNA didn’t match, that meant Danielle Segovia wasn’t at the scene where Greg Gunn was killed. Or at least, that wasn’t her DNA on the scarf used to strangle him. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t kill Greg, and it doesn’t mean she’s not Adriana Garcia. With the Garcia name behind her, she can get plenty of henchmen to do her dirty work. We have that bracelet, too, the one she was wearing in surveillance videos and found right next to Greg’s body. Right there, we’ve got proof—”

“Convenient proof—maybe even planted.” Brent paced up the sidewalk away from the door and motioned for the other two men to follow.

Not this again. Colt glanced at the glass door, itching to head inside and find out where the supposed Danielle Segovia was before she vanished like smoke.

Ford jerked his head toward Brent and waited for Colt to follow.

He bristled at being treated like a bratty teenager, then puffed out a breath. He deserved it. He was acting like one.

Brent turned and pinned Colt with a hard gaze. “I still say her brother set her up. Rio Garcia wants his sister alive. She has his stash and he needs it back. If he set up Adriana, then all he has to do is watch where we go and we’ll lead him right to her.”

“He’ll have to be watching close.” Colt didn’t buy the whole Adriana Garcia is innocent thing. Brent was infatuated with a killer. “It would be hard for him to track us.”

“There’s no reason to think he doesn’t have somebody else on the inside. He had Greg.”

“Hey, now. Low blow there, McCord.” Ford’s drawl cut into the conversation before Colt could bristle and respond. Ford turned to Colt. “Ethan’s on his way over. He swept the area behind the store, and we’re waiting for a team to go into the Segovia apartment. He found her purse—she dropped it in the struggle. But he said the only ID in this girl’s wallet is Danielle Segovia. No links to Adriana Garcia at all.”

Colt wasn’t ready to believe the woman he’d hauled to the hospital babbling about her brother wasn’t their suspect. “We’ve been through this already. You and I both know how easy it is to manufacture a fake identity.” He was done here. He had an assignment and, right now, it lay inside that hospital, not out here rehashing what they already knew. “Y’all do what you have to do out here. I’m going to make sure Danielle Segovia or Adriana Garcia or whatever her name is doesn’t slip out while we’re not looking.”

Before either of his teammates could argue, he stalked toward the door, falling in behind a young kid with floppy dark hair, wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, who rushed to the counter ahead of Colt.

The kid reached for ID and passed it to the security guard at the desk. “I’m looking for my sister, Danielle Segovia.”

Colt froze. Adriana Garcia only had one brother. Rio. This kid was definitely not the cartel lord. He edged closer and glanced at the ID on the counter. Justin Segovia. The same address as Danielle’s apartment.

If Danielle Segovia really was Adriana Garcia, then who was this kid? And what did he want with her?