Hidden Agenda (7 page)

“Maybe I'm not just anyone.”

Michael didn't miss the look she shot her brother. There had been something familiar about her the first time he'd seen her. He searched his mind for the connection, but still couldn't find one.

“Besides being a reporter, who are you? A family friend?”

“Something like that. My mother and he were . . . friends.”

“How close of friends?”

Her gaze dropped, and he wanted to let her off the hook. But too much was at stake. He needed to know the truth.

“Listen, Olivia, we've both been through a lot today. I wasn't lying when I told you I'd been working for Valez as an undercover cop. And as for the situation we're in right now, I'm sorry you were dragged into this, but like it or not, we're in this together. Which means we're going to have to help each other.”

Ivan put his hand on her shoulder and nodded when she looked up at him. “Tell him. Tell him the truth.”

Olivia turned away, jaw tensed, mouth tight. Then she whispered, “He's our father.”

Michael leaned forward, not sure he heard her right. “Your
father
?”

Her voice took on a new resolve, as if she were tired of slamming her head against a brick wall and needed another way around. “She was his mistress, though he never called her that. No matter who Antonio Valez really is, I'll always believe he loved her. We lived in a house he paid for outside of Atlanta and saw him a couple times a year.”

“But you didn't know who he was?”

“No. Not until now.” Tears glistened in her eyes as he waited for her to go on. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket
and slid it across the top of the vinyl seats. “I need to show you something.”

Michael took the phone, surprised at her change of heart. “You've decided to trust me?”

“Do I have a choice? As much as I don't want to, I believe you. A couple of weeks ago, I started receiving emails from an address I didn't recognize.”

“What kind of emails?”

“The sender wanted me to look into Antonio Valez. They started out by claiming he wasn't just a real estate mogul but was laundering money for the cartel.”

Michael started reading through the message that was on the screen. “Why involve you?”

“I don't know. I assumed it was someone who knows he's my father. Most people don't know my story, though I suppose it wouldn't be impossible to trace if someone tried.”

“How many more emails are there?”

“Five.”

“Did you go to the police with this?”

“They were unsubstantiated accusations. I tried to trace the sender, but wasn't able to come up with a name.” She reached for the bottled water Ivan had brought her, unscrewed the top, then took a sip. “This is crazy, isn't it? You went to that house to prove my father's guilt, while I went there to prove his innocence. But what I need to know is, what happens now? I'm pretty certain that by now he knows that his children just escaped with the man he'd planned to kill in the morning.”

Michael finished the last of his energy bar, trying to sort out the information she'd just given him. “We can go to my family. Valez doesn't know my real name, and he shouldn't be able to connect me to them. At least we'd be safe until we can figure out what to do next.”

“Ivan?” Olivia asked.

Her brother nodded.

“Okay.”

She turned off the dome light and started the car, then eased out of the rest stop, heading toward Atlanta. All he could do was hope he'd just made the right decision to trust her, knowing she was thinking the exact same thing about him.

O
livia grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the shelf and dumped it into the small plastic basket she carried, while Ivan put gas in the car. Thirty minutes from Atlanta, with the tank almost on empty, they'd decided they had no choice but to stop at a convenience store.

Just like she'd had no choice but to trust the man sitting in the backseat of her car.

She glanced down the aisle, willing her nerves to settle down. Except for some upbeat Christmas song jingling in the background, the store was quiet. Because most people were spending Christmas with their families. The only other customers in the store were a woman debating on a brand of cough syrup and an older man chatting with the cashier at the front counter about the weatherman's prediction of snow tonight. Neither seemed interested in her.

Michael had instructed her to drive around the block several times before pulling into the gas station, just to be sure they weren't being followed. But even that extra precaution had done little to erase her worry. They could have missed something that would put all their lives at risk.

She scanned the top shelf until she found the antibiotic cream she'd been searching for. No matter what doubts still lingered,
she was worried about Michael. It was a gamble to not take him to an emergency room, where they could patch him up and ensure nothing was broken, but he'd insisted that doing so could leave a trail to follow.

She grabbed a box of bandages. She'd taken a first-aid class a few years ago, and while she might not be ready to apply for a job at her local hospital, surely she could temporarily patch the guy up. Because she'd finally accepted he was right. Until they knew exactly what was going on, they couldn't afford to take any chances.

Handling the situation on their own still seemed foolish, but at the moment she wasn't sure they had another choice. If he was right, she had no idea whom to trust. They needed to stay under the radar, because it wouldn't matter anymore that Antonio Valez was her father. They'd crossed the line and there was no turning back.

The automatic doors at the store's entrance opened. Olivia peered around the end of the aisle as she put her last item into the basket. The older customer was on his way out the door as another man walked in out of the cold wearing a heavy coat and beanie cap. His gaze shifted from the counter to her, then back to the counter again. Her stomach tightened. The man shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for the back of the store. She didn't recognize him as one of her father's employees, but something didn't feel right.

She shook off the thought, still trying to convince herself that there was no way they could have been followed. They'd been careful. But what if they'd missed something? Her father's men knew Michael was gone. And they knew she and Ivan had rescued him.

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to dump the basket and run. They should never have taken the risk of stopping here. But Michael needed the medicine and was counting on her.

She finished her shopping by grabbing a six-pack of cold Sprites from the refrigerated section along with a couple boxes of granola bars, then went to wait behind the woman, who was still checking out.

The man in the beanie moved to the aisle behind her, studying a rack of magazines. Olivia's mind whirled. Michael had said that her father didn't know his real name, but her father had resources. What if her father was able to connect Michael to his family? What if Tomas assumed they would return to Atlanta? Maybe they should drive south a hundred miles and hole up in a hotel for the night while Michael rested and she and Ivan figured out what to do.

The woman in front of her was arguing with the cashier over a sale price. Olivia felt her heart speed up and her palms slick with sweat as she fought the urge to throw the basket down and run out the door.

She glanced back at the man in the beanie. He was still there, his gaze focused on the cashier. Ms. Cheapskate finally handed over the disputed quarter and headed out the door.

Olivia laid her purchases on the counter and forced herself to smile at the Asian man as he rung up her items.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, smiling back.

She glanced up at a camera above the counter while the cashier began scanning her items. She drummed her fingers against the counter, willing him to hurry. She'd already taken too much time. She glanced behind her, looking for the other man. The aisle where he'd been standing was empty. Where was he?

The cashier was asking her a question. Something about a lottery ticket?

She looked back at him. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

“I was just asking if you'd like a lottery ticket . . .”

His voice trailed off. She heard footsteps behind her a moment
before someone grabbed her and pressed something hard against the back of her head. Her knees buckled.

The cashier held up his hands.

“Open the cash drawer—”

“I can't.”

“Then I'll shoot her.”

Olivia fought the instinct to pull away and run. But if she did, she had no doubt the man would shoot her. She caught the reflection of his profile in the round mirror above the counter. Thin face, scruffy beard, piercing eyes beneath the beanie . . . She was unsure if he was high or simply desperate for cash.

How had today gone from terrible to this?

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut.
God, please . . . please don't let things end this way
.

Michael sat hunched down in the backseat of Olivia's car, ensuring he was out of view of the store's cameras. Stopping here might have been necessary, but it was also a risk. And Olivia and her brother had already risked too much for him. Once Valez found out what they'd done, he would no doubt send his men after them. Michael knew he couldn't call his sister. Not yet. Phone calls, credit card use, surveillance cameras, all could potentially be traced back to them.

He tried to stretch out his legs in the cramped backseat, while trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his side. Clearly, he'd played the game too long. All he wanted to do right now was hole up in some quiet hideaway, watch the snow fall, and heal from his injuries, both physical and emotional. It was funny—he hadn't expected that the emotional toll of an undercover assignment could be so completely overpowering. Knowing that at any moment friends might turn against him. Knowing that
every time he slipped deeper into his role, he was that much closer to never being able to get out.

As Ivan finished refueling the car, Michael shifted his gaze toward the front entrance of the store. He leaned back, wishing he had a clearer view of the cashier. He wasn't sure what it was, but something felt wrong. He reached across the front seat and opened the glove compartment, hoping he'd find what he needed inside.

Good girl. He pulled out the Glock and clicked off the safety.

His focus shifted back to the store. A minute ago, a woman had walked out, which meant there was only the cashier, Olivia, and a young man wearing a beanie left inside. He'd watched the man as he'd entered the store. Maybe it was his imagination, but there'd been something off about the guy. He'd seemed edgy. Nervous.

Michael shifted in the backseat until he could see the man through the window. He was at the counter, holding a gun against Olivia's head.

Michael jumped out of the car, ignoring the pain. He held the gun behind his leg and tapped Ivan on the shoulder to get his attention. “Get into the car. I'll pay for the fuel.”

A moment later, the bell sounded as the glass doors slid open and he walked into the store. Pain radiated through his side, but he pressed forward, taking in everything around him.

He stopped eight feet from the man and held up the Glock. “Drop your weapon.”

The younger man's hands shook. “Forget it.”

Michael had been trained to handle a crisis. Push the man too hard, and he might end up shooting Olivia or the cashier. Don't push hard enough, and an already volatile situation could quickly turn deadly.

“Let her go.” Michael kept his voice low and steady. “It's not
worth it, trust me. You don't want anyone to get hurt. Walk away now before that happens.”

“No.” The man pointed his gun at him, hands shaking, the fear evident in his eyes. “This was just supposed to be walk in and walk out with the cash. No one was supposed to get hurt, but now—”

The man's gun fired. Michael fired back, hitting him in the side. Olivia screamed as the man dropped to the floor.

Michael slapped fifty bucks onto the counter, a burning sensation spreading through his arm as he grabbed Olivia's hand. The police would be here in a matter of minutes. “Give me the keys. We need to get out of here. Now.”

She handed him the keys, grabbed the bag of groceries, and hurried outside with him.

At the car, Michael slid into the driver's seat. As soon as Olivia's door was shut, he peeled out of the parking lot. His heart had yet to stop racing as he turned onto the interstate entrance. “Did you recognize him? Is he one of your father's men?”

“I've never seen him before.” She pulled her seat belt across her chest and stared straight ahead. “Maybe it was just a random robbery?”

“Did he say anything about following us?”

“No, nothing. He just . . . just wanted money. Why?”

“I'm not sure it matters. What does matter is that our faces are going to be plastered all over the news, and you and Ivan and I will officially be connected.”

“And my father will discover your real identity.”

Michael felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He never should have let them drag themselves into this. Never should have let them risk their lives trying to save him. He might be dead, but they wouldn't be running for their lives.

“Michael . . .” Olivia's fingers grasped the edge of his sleeve. “He shot you.”

“No. He missed.” He put a hand to his arm, surprised when he pulled away and found his fingers covered with blood. “It's nothing. Just a graze. I'll be fine.”

“Nothing? As soon as the adrenaline wears off you won't say it's nothing. Pull over.” She reached for the grocery bag she dumped onto the floorboard in front of her. “Your face is pale, your hands are shaking. Let me at least bandage your arm before you bleed to death in my car. I bought some bandages and a few other basics back at the store.”

“We can't afford to stop. If we're being followed—”

“We're not being followed. It was a random robbery.”

“Maybe, but it won't take the police long to put all of this together.”

But whether or not he wanted to admit it, he knew she was right. He took the next exit, then pulled off into the back of an empty parking lot. A minute later, he leaned against the hood of the car and eased off his shirt, shivering as much from the pain as the cold.

Olivia ripped open the package of bandages. “You're lucky, it is just a flesh wound. He could have killed you.”

Michael winced as she pressed the gauze against the wound, not allowing his mind to think about what could have happened. “You act like you know what you're doing, Ms. Nightingale.”

“Funny. I can't say that I've ever dressed a gunshot wound, but I've taken a few first-aid classes. You're going to need to see a doctor, but this will have to do for now.”

He smiled at her as she finished securing the gauze with strips of tape. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

She reached up to brush a snowflake off his nose, distracting him for a moment. But there wasn't time for distractions. Not now.

“We can't stay here long,” he said.

“Then where do we go?”

“This story is going to hit the news, and my family will find out I'm alive. They'll start asking questions down at the police station, and Valez will be able to make the connection.”

“And he'll know where to look for us.”