FEARLESS (7 page)

But Clive knew he could spin it, bring the arrow of guilt to point at Lara Bart. She wanted to hide her tracks and pretend to be dead. After all, she’d killed her lover Steve Wasserman and had to get out of town.

Yes, that story would work. Clive knew he could build it. First, he had to tie this off before the loose ends got any longer.

Clive admitted he’d underestimated his enemy this time. Investigative desk types rarely had this skill level. This Lara person only asked questions for a living, after all. Looked as though his intel on her was all wrong.

Clive hadn’t counted on Davis Weeks either. That guy could fight—he’d avoided a fireball and a gunfight.

Clive admired Davis’s will to live, but Clive couldn’t allow it to go on. Lucky for him, he knew where to squeeze next. Davis had a weakness for the girl. The file mentioned a brother and a work team. That was where Clive would go.

He sat up and reached for the phone in his pocket. Waterlogged and useless. Guess that meant his boss couldn’t track him down now. Breaking the phone in two, he whipped the pieces into different spots in the water. It felt good, freeing.

He glanced back to the spot where he’d seen the couple go over the side. They were out there and likely alive. He could feel it. They would not be easy to take out, but he would finish the job.

And he’d save that last bullet for his boss. No way could information on this botched hit get out. It would ruin his reputation, which meant they all had to go.

Chapter Eight

Davis stood with Lara chest-deep in the cool water and felt his muscles go numb. Hypothermia and fire were not his biggest concerns right now. No, the emergency vehicles racing into the marina parking lot held that title.

The huge light and sound show would draw attention from every direction—gawkers, news media, first responders, neighbors. They would all come running, and a helicopter was likely to show up any second. All things he didn’t need right now. Or ever, really, but especially right now.

Being caught here would mean questions. Lots of them, and many he couldn’t answer. Fingers would point and all that hard work in hiding his and Pax’s ownership of properties and vehicles, including the boat, would crumble. Then none of them would be safe.

The police already wanted to talk with Lara. Davis was determined not to let that happen, not until he knew who’d killed Wasserman and why. Then he’d handle tonight’s attacker. He’d taken two shots at Lara, and Davis would make sure there wasn’t a third. Seeing that knife prick her throat had started a revving up in Davis’s body that wouldn’t stop until the attacker was on a slab or in prison.

Holding her now helped calm some of the fury thrumming through Davis. Another night like this and the explosion of the boat wouldn’t be anything compared to the one in his head. He rubbed a hand over her arm and felt her tremble from the cold aftermath. He tried to silence the humming need for revenge, box it and control it, but the fire slammed in his gut.

While the heat inside him matched the one ripping through his brother’s boat, her skin stayed cool as she continued staring at the flames. He needed her safe, dry and as far away from violence as possible. But first they had to get by the police roping off the scene.

Maybe they’d stayed a minute too late.

Climbing up the slippery rock hill would mean crossing the main path that separated the marina building and parking lot from the dock and slips. Talk about making them a target. They’d have to wind their way unseen through crowds and cars. It was hard to imagine how that would be possible because they were soaking wet and obviously not law enforcement.

They’d be right under the lights and in the open. And if people didn’t see them, they sure would smell them. The mix of burned ash and dead fish would be tough to miss.

That left one really unpleasant option—swim under the main walkway coming down from the hill and keep moving until they could exit the marina on the far left side, away from the fire and crime-scene observers. It meant getting close to the flaming boat and passing in front of what was left of the hull. Wading, head nearly underwater through the muck that washed up on the rocks from the bay, might be the one step too much for Lara, who already looked ready to drop.

“We have to get out of here.” When she nodded, he turned her face to look into her eyes. “Lara?”

“I’m okay.”

With her hair stuck to her head and teeth chattering, she looked the exact opposite of okay, but their choices were limited here and the voices kept getting closer. “We’re going to swim—”

“What?” Her gaze finally cleared and she frowned.

He took that as a good sign. Anger meant emotion and something still clicking inside her. He could work with that.

“We’re going that way.” He pointed to his left and did a double take.

Bright white lights skimmed across the water. A ship’s horn sounded and an engine rumbled. As it got closer, he could make out fire hoses.

They were getting closed in from all directions now. With his arm still wrapped around her, he tried to maneuver over the rocks and drag her along with him. The ship’s movements sent waves crashing harder against them. At the first smack of water, she slipped out of his grasp and went under.

She came up spitting. “This is impossible.”

Wanting to shield her and limit the noise, he shifted until he stood on the outside, using his bigger body to block the floating debris and break the walls of water pushing into them. Flames shot up into the sky and floating debris brought fire closer to them until he batted them away.

Not giving her time to panic, he held her hand and brought her under the walkway. Each step felt like a Himalayan climb. The pressure of the water robbed their strength. He was bigger and just moving sucked the life out of him, so he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for her to lift her feet.

As they dipped lower, the walkway brushed against their heads. As they came out on the other side, voices rang out right above them. Diving on top of Lara, he dragged her out of the line of sight and pressed her body against his on the rocks. Sharp edges dug into his side and his aching ribs now thudded to the point where he had trouble catching his breath.

The water lapped around their still bodies as foam and charred debris brushed up against them. With her head tucked into his neck, he tried to blend their bodies into the hill separating the water from the land. When shoes hammered on the walkway down to the slips, he glanced up again.

People jogged down the floating docks. Hoses from the rescue boat in the harbor fired water into the flames. Male voices echoed around them.

They had to move.

Drawing her low in the water, he pulled her with him. Their mouths stayed closed and they moved quickly, cutting through muck and letting the dark water cover their bodies. The beeping sounds of trucks backing up and the thuds of boats knocking against the docks hid any stirring their moves might cause. Davis walked and kicked out, shoulders underwater as he ignored whatever wrapped around his legs and knocked into his ear.

All of his focus was on a less steep hill by the fishing-equipment rental shed. From there they could duck into the trees and follow the outside parking lot fence to freedom. By that time, everyone would be at the boat’s side of the lot, overlooking the water. He and Lara would be at the back and on the run.

They finally reached the space he thought would work best for an escape onto land. Glancing back, he saw a line of men with their backs to them and the flames decreasing under the shooting water.

It would take hours to get the fire under control and hours after that to control the area and sweep for forensics. With most of the attention off the water and on other boats, now three of them burning from the explosion and being devoured by the lick of orange, they had a chance—as long as the other dangers lurking in the dark stayed away.

Narrowing his gaze, and wishing he had night goggles, he did a quick search for their attacker. Davis had his gun, but because it had been submerged in water he wasn’t all that anxious to fire it. Sneaking away only to run into the attacker again would be Davis’s luck at this point.

Lara’s body collapsed against a smooth rock. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. “Never thought that would be so hard.”

“You did great.” With his hands on her hips, he lifted her, sliding her body along the hill until her upper body reached the pathway.

Every time he let go to brace his hands and steady them both, her body deflated and whatever steam propelled her petered out. With her energy depleted, it was up to him to get them both up and on their feet.

Balancing his feet against the lowest set of rocks, he bolted up, careful not to cause a loud splash. The jump pressed his body against hers and she grunted in response. But he had leverage now. Pushing and pulling, he shimmied until he brought their bodies onto the path together.

Once his elbow hit pavement, he rolled off of her to give her some air. With eyes open, he stared up at the strangely pink sky. The fire had cut through the darkness, and smoke hung on the stale air. Without a breeze, all the smoke and fire stayed relatively contained, but much more and the haze would fall and they’d start choking on the foul, gas-tainted air.

He came up on his side and looked down at her. Her pale face stood out against the dark ground. “You okay?”

She peeked up at him. “I’m ready for a few boring hours.”

“I think I can give you that.”

She didn’t say anything as she sat up and put her feet underneath her. She tried to stand but her knees buckled. She would have hit the ground again, but he caught her around the thighs. His arms trailed up to her waist as he stood. His legs didn’t feel any stronger. The muscles had turned rubbery, so he held on. Maybe they could hold each other up.

After a few seconds, two trucks pulled up and stopped in front of the far parking-lot gate. News trucks. The new visitors tore some of the attention away from the fire. That meant it was more likely someone would spot them, so it was time to leave.

With his hand in hers and their bodies crouched down, they jogged the few steps to hide behind the fishing shed. He kept his back against the wall as he tried to judge the distance to the fence and the best way to go through it.

Going over it wasn’t an option. Not in their current drained state. Not with water dripping off them and weighing them down.

He hoped the sirens got someone at Corcoran checking the marina cameras and seeing the devastation. That was his exit plan, but he had to get Lara to the fence first.

She fumbled with something in her fingers. He looked down at the bright pink band and watched her try to pull her wet hair out of her face. Her fingers were shaking and the band kept twisting.

He put his hand over hers. “Later.”

Those huge eyes stared at him. Finally she nodded and looked down as she tucked the hair tie into her front pocket.

He pulled away, ready to head to the trees planted a few feet in front of them. He jerked to a stop when she didn’t move.

He turned around, ready to give a quick and quiet pep talk. But she wasn’t paying attention. She stood with the band on the tips of her fingers and stared at the ground. Her body seemed frozen in place.

Following her gaze, he saw the shoes. Shoes attached to legs. A man facedown on the ground. None of it made sense.

“How did...?” His voice trailed off because he wasn’t sure what to ask.

She pressed both of her hands to her chest. “Is it him?”

He had no idea whom she meant until he saw the duffel bag and the cooler a foot away from that. He recognized both because he’d spent so much time watching them being dragged around. “Ken.”

“Did he get caught in the explosion?”

Davis dropped into a crouch and slipped his fingers on the man’s neck to check for a pulse. He didn’t feel anything but cold flesh. When he pulled them back again, blood stained his fingertips and the pool under his head came into focus.

“Not an accident.” This was body number three and Davis wasn’t one inch closer to understanding what was happening.

Lara’s head whipped around, looking from one end of the marina to the other. “The attacker did this?”

Had to be.
The small boat next to Pax’s had been the tip-off. That likely meant Ken was a sacrifice. Maybe he’d fought back. Davis didn’t know but he secretly hoped Ken had inflicted some damage.

Thinking about the newest needless death started a spiraling tightness inside Davis. The attacker was willing to take out anyone to get to his target. Now Davis had to figure out who that was.

When he looked up again, he noticed the car idling on the other side of the fence. It sat fifty feet away, blanketed by the dark night. Between the smoky haze pressing down on them and all the commotion in the parking lot, the car blended in. A figure slipped around the front end and stood in front of the fence.

It was hard to make out the details from this distance, but Davis knew this wasn’t an enemy. He’d been watching this figure his whole life, first as a pseudo babysitter then as a partner. Always as a brother.

Davis promised to refrain from saying, “I told you so,” but running all those contingency plans for all those years had paid off. The DIA training and leadership at Corcoran made this all possible. Smart men who knew you had to be prepared for the worst case had taught him to be ready.

And now Pax had come to break them out.

* * *

B
EN
WALKED
THE
area around the fishing shed. Crime-scene lights bathed the entire area in brightness. After two hours of fighting the flames, the fire had died down to a smoke trail. Most of the police and fire vehicles still filled the parking lot as some of those in charge spoke with the press.

So much for keeping the investigation quiet.

He’d flashed his badge and explained the fire was related to an ongoing investigation. He walked onto the crime scene and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Ben wouldn’t even have come here if not for the emergency call from the deputy. Seemed Ronald Worth had got his hands on an unredacted file that led him from Lara Bart to a man named Davis Weeks. The confidential financial statement he’d filled out for his security clearance and work through a place called the Corcoran Team listed this boat as an asset.

It all struck Ben as too neat. Too convenient.

Lara Bart seemed to be at the top of everyone’s threat list all of a sudden. Especially odd for a woman who’d sailed through her own security-clearance investigation to land a job preparing them for others.

Ben hadn’t seen the forensics on Wasserman’s house yet, but Wayne had called to let him know the deputy believed they would point to Lara and she should be the main target of the investigation. Without any real evidence or motive, people were very willing to believe she’d killed a naval officer.

Now Ben had arrived at another crime scene with a link to Lara Bart. Two dead men in one day. Either this woman had gone off the edge and was engaging in a wild crime spree, or something more sinister was at work here.

Funny how it all led back to Martin Coughlin and his NCIS appointment.

Even more interesting that he seemed to be the only one making that connection and wondering if Lara was being used.

Ben came around the side of the building, widening his circle as he scanned the area. His shoe pressed against something. He looked down, expecting to see a rock. Unless rocks turned pink from fire, this was something else.