Chasing Shadows (24 page)

"Just a few loose ends to tie up," she said with a smile, remembering Chase and those ridiculous toy handcuffs.  The guy was an idiot, but a charming idiot who could make her laugh.  And romantic too—those things he said about his parents.  It'd been a long time since she'd met a guy like that.

"Carson said to tell you that there were some problems with the audio on the bug in Gianotti's garage last night," Glenn went on in a voice that told KC he and Carson were in on it together.   "About ten minutes were lost.  Just wanted to let you know."

"Thanks."  She owed them both, big time.  Once this was over, she'd find a way to make it up to them. 

"Anytime, KC.  Everything is all right, isn't it?"

"It will be as soon as this deal goes down."

"See you soon."

"I'm on my way to pick up Neil now."  She hung up and let the phone drop into her lap.  

Strangely, she wasn't worried at all.  She knew she should be, she was jeopardizing her career by allowing Chase to drive away with those weapons.  Weapons she was responsible for.

He'd offered no proof that he was who he said he was, that they were indeed on the same side, but KC felt certain he had finally told her the truth.  It was there in his face, in his body language—she could find no more deception in any of his actions since he'd confided in her.

Was that enough to risk her entire operation and future with the Bureau on?  KC cranked up the radio and grinned.  Yes, yes it was.  Chase Westin was one of the good guys, she was certain of it, could feel in it in every fibre of her being.  He would never betray her.

Lucky bumped the truck over a rutted dirt road, praying that it led somewhere, anywhere near civilization.  

Pennsylvania was worse than being on the moon as far as finding any discernable signs of life or better yet, a telephone.  The only thing he'd spotted since escaping from the office in the mineshaft was a bunch of trees, tons of snow, and a few deer.

The road came to a fork, and he took the one that seemed to head downhill.  Anything to get off this godforsaken mountain.  

Of course the last three roads had looked promising as well until they led him into dead ends.  Did these people ever hear of the quaint idea of using signs?  At least in DC, you might be mired in traffic but you knew where you were.

He squirmed, uncomfortable in his burnt orange Nomex jumpsuit.  Damn thing itched like hell, but it was better than running around in the snow in his boxers.  He'd found a few of the coveralls wadded up and stiff with mildew outside the office, this was the smallest of the bunch and it seemed designed for Paul Bunyan rather than Lucky's lanky frame.  

At least the jumpsuit was better than the boots he wore.  He pushed aside the memory of returning to Fergus' body and peeling the boots from the dead man.

Who cared about the inconvenient details?  He was alive and kicking, ready to rock 'n roll, nail the Preacher's ass.  

He held the steering wheel between his knees as he shifted down, his left hand still wasn't working, just twitched with pins and needles every time Lucky tried to use it.  And even when he didn't.  

Focus, Cavanaugh.  Got to find a phone, a telegraph, hell, a smoke signal would do at this point.  

First, he needed to call Rose Prospero, have her get a team up here to go after The Crusade and the power behind the throne.  Then, he needed to get to Chase, make sure he was safe.  

After that he could dwell on luxuries like comfortable clothing, getting warm, and maybe getting his arm checked out by a doctor.

Once he found a way out of this damned wilderness.

Bright sunshine beckoned in front of him as the road opened into a clearing.  Lucky stopped the truck.  Wow, an actual paved road, would wonders never cease?  

It was two lanes, unmarked with no guard rails.  Could lead back to the mine for all he knew, but what the hell, it was a semblance of civilization.  He tossed a coin mentally and turned right, bumping the truck onto the uneven pavement.

A huge black-winged bird screeched and dove from the blue sky, heading directly toward Lucky.  He hit the brakes and the bird skidded past the truck, shooting into the woods where it was lost from sight.  

Lucky cursed under his breath, reversed the truck and laboriously turned around.  He wasn't superstitious, not really, but he decided that a bird that big didn't come from anywhere near civilization.  Better to head in the opposite direction—it was only logical.

He looked in the rearview mirror, saw the enormous bird spread its wings wide as it flapped down onto the road.  The bird strutted in the middle of the pavement as if daring Lucky to change his mind.  Lucky gave the bird the middle-fingered salute and hit the gas.

Man, he wished he were back home.  This was no place for a city boy.

CHAPTER 35

Chase jogged down Main Street to the only outside payphone surviving in Coalton since the cellular revolution.  The glass walled box stood in front of Coalton Drugs where Old Man Sinderson could keep an eye on any would-be vandals.  He called Deacon first.  

"Westin, where the hell are you?"

"Main Street.  My brother and I had a fight, I took a walk, lost track of time."  The last part was true, at least.  "Can you send one of the guys to pick me up?"

"I'll come myself," Deacon told him.  "I thought you promised me your brother wouldn't be a problem."

"He won't, not anymore."  Chase hung up.

His next call was to Rose.  It took Theresa a few moments to patch him through and when she did, there was the background noise of a helicopter.  "Any word on Lucky?"

"Chase, where the hell have you been?" Rose asked, mirroring Deacon's words.  "No trace of Lucky, but we've been checking on your brother's cell phone."

"Don't worry.  Jay witnessed Bruno killing someone and the Feds were here to shepherd him into the witness protection program.  They picked him up this morning, he's safely out of it."

There was a pause.  "Chase, Jay's phone came from a RICO investigation that has nothing to do with Gianotti.  No one from the FBI who was associated with it is anywhere near you.  And the agent in charge of the operation was killed after his cover was blown."

Chase thought at first he heard her wrong.  He certainly could not have heard her correctly. "That's impossible.  I just left the agent—"

"Do you have a name?  Did you see the credentials of any of the agents or marshals?"

Chase felt the muscles between his shoulder blades spasm, pain lancing down his spine.  This was impossible.  It couldn't be true.  KC wouldn't do that to him—

Unless she was a better actress than even he had given her credit for.  An icy splinter of doubt twisted its way into his heart. 

She knew everything about Chase, what did he know about her?  He didn't even know KC's real name, had never checked the credentials of the men he'd handed Jay over to.  

Good God, had he just sat by and watched his brother walk into a trap?

"You must be mistaken," he finally said, although he knew Rose didn't make mistakes like that.  He slumped against the side of the phone booth, ignoring the cold sweat that enveloped his body.  Was Jay dead?  

No, whoever had him would keep him alive until Chase gave them what they wanted.  If he only knew what the hell that was.  

"We found no active investigations in your area and no mention of Jay's name in the files we accessed.  I didn't want to risk blowing your cover by making official inquiries."

"Why would anyone work so hard to take Jay?" he asked.

"I have no idea, but we'll keep working on it.  Billy and I are in the air, on our way there now."  

Chase came to his senses and gave her KC's cell phone number.  Maybe Theresa could work more of her magic.  

"If you can," he told her, "block that number entirely.  I'll deal with her myself."  

He also described for Rose the two "marshals" and their car, cursing himself when he couldn't even remember the full license plate number.  He'd been so preoccupied with dealing with KC.  It didn't matter that she'd been holding a gun on him at the time, he should have looked out for Jay.

Chase hung up and buried his head in his hands.  Why?  Why would KC take Jay?  She couldn't be working for either Bruno or The Crusade—they would come after Chase directly.  It didn't make sense.  

Unless there was some third party involved, someone intent on taking the weapons and who knew it would be Chase driving the truck away from the meeting.  

He slammed a hand against the back of the phone booth, shaking the entire structure.  It did little to reduce his desire to howl in frustration, to reach out and throttle whoever was responsible for placing Jay's life in danger.

KC had been the perfect distraction—too sexy to ignore, too smart to doubt.  She told him to watch his back, just hadn't bothered to mention that she was the one busy plunging the knife into it.

The honk of a car horn interrupted his thoughts, and he jerked his head up, put his game face on as Deacon pulled up to the curb.  

Chase hoped KC did show up at the meet.  He'd show her exactly how messed up her karma could get when she jeopardized Chase's family.

CHAPTER 36

KC called Neil from her house as she crammed bites of cold pizza into her mouth.  After everything that had happened during the night, she was starving.  

"Can you come over to my place?" she asked.  "We need to talk."

"I can't right now.  I've got to go somewhere with my dad in a few minutes."

"Please," she dropped her voice, made it sound low and husky.  Wasn't hard since her throat was currently clogged with mozzarella.  "You're the only one who can help me."

"What's wrong?  Is it Jay's brother again?" Neil's voice sounded worried.  "He's mad about last night, isn't he?"  

"I'm scared, Neil."

"I'm on my way."

KC finished gulping her pizza and unlocked the kitchen door for Neil.  This wasn't going to be easy, but she had to keep him away from the meeting.  She would show him the evidence against his father and if that didn't convince him, she'd lock him in the basement.  

Hell, her career was already heading down the garbage chute, what was one more busted rule?  

There wasn't any time to come up with something more conventional, the meeting with Gianotti and Dinkum was in an hour.  She still had to change, grab her body armor and gear, and get into position.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it on the fly.  "KC, it's Jared—"

Then it went dead.  She turned it over in her hand, puzzled.  The battery was low but should still have had some juice left.  Jared had sounded excited and there had been a lot of noise in the background.  Had something gone wrong?

She plugged the phone into its charger and tried again.  Still dead.

Neil rushed in, no coat, wearing only a Steelers sweatshirt and jeans for the quick sprint between their houses.  "What happened?" he asked breathlessly.  "Where's Jay?"

"He's gone," she told him, hoping that the flip-flops her stomach was doing were only nerves.  But she was getting a bad feeling about all this.  A real bad feeling.  

She had to get Neil to safety, fast.  Then she could check on Jay and the Marshals.  "I need to show you something."

Before she could say anything more, the kitchen door burst open and two men ran in, guns drawn.  One immediately tackled Neil while the other came for KC.  

She aimed a swift side kick to his groin, and he went down.  She pivoted, one hand in the process of drawing her Glock when she froze.

The second man had Neil in a choke hold, a semi-automatic aimed at his head.  "Relax, sister, or Junior here's gonna regret it."

KC feigned fear and raised both hands, backing away until she came up against the counter.  Damn it, who were these guys?  Had Gianotti somehow found out, sent them after her?  No, they wouldn't threaten Neil if they were his father's men.  Maybe they were with Dinkum.

"Who are you?" she asked, making her voice sound shrill and frightened.  She couldn't let them find the guns on her—they would be impossible to explain.  "What do you want?"  

If she could reach her cell phone, she could hit the panic button and turn the microphone on.  But it was on the counter behind Neil.

Neil's face was turning a dusky purple as he gasped for breath.  The man on the floor groaned and struggled to his feet.  

KC backed away from them both. Her only exit was blocked.  If she could get the basement door open, she could barricade herself downstairs, but by the time she got through the door, Neil would be dead.

Neil began flailing his arms, one last desperate struggle that knocked the cell phone and its cradle to the floor.

"Don't damage the merchandise," the man she'd kicked said, his words coming in quick breaths.

The bigger man dropped Neil, who fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.  KC rushed to his side, deciding that the safest thing would be for her to stay in character.  

As she pretended to comfort Neil, she pressed the panic button on the phone.  Then she almost panicked herself as she realized that if Dinkum suspected her, Chase was as good as dead. 

Damn it, she'd warned him his plan wouldn't work.  She only wished she had a better one.

"You almost killed him," she cried, cradling Neil's head in her lap.  

"I oughta kill you, bitch!"  The man she kicked yanked her to her feet.  He shook her so hard her teeth rattled, then looked at her.  "Hey, you're Westin's girl, aren't you?" 

KC smelled sour whiskey on his breath as he leered down at her.  

"Yeah, he was bragging how he did his kid brother's girl.  Said you were a fine piece of ass."

She turned her head as he leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue brushing over her clamped lips and onto her cheek.  His fingers dug into her arm as his other hand roamed down her side, then traced along the waistband of her jeans.