Freezing Point (16 page)

Miguel stood at Jesse's back. “Let him go, Jesse.”

“He could have killed Casey.” Jesse considered he could blow the mission if he pressed further, except his actions were how the game was played. He, too, knew they wouldn't get another delivery boy just because he confronted Carlos.

He had to be tough. They would know something was off if he wasn't.

Carlos pressed his hands against the wall, showing his unwillingness to engage. His non-action sucked the steam from Jesse's train and he eased up, but only slightly.

“I swear I didn't touch her. Miguel told me you were with her.”

Miguel squeezed Jesse's shoulder, the familiar action coax
ing Jesse to ease off. “You're our brother now, Jesse. Carlos might not like your girlfriend, but I assured him, because of you, she wasn't a threat.”

Jesse struggled to breathe. “Then…who?”

Miguel shrugged. “I found this.”

A knife? Jesse immediately recognized it. “The guy in the parking lot. He's not working for you?”

Laughter exploded from Carlos. “You think I would stick that dog on your girlfriend? You think I would stir up trouble for us here so the police would come again?”

He had a point.

“I don't know who he is, Jesse,” Carlos said.

Jesse looked at Miguel and saw confirmation. Miguel had stuck by Jesse, trusting him, making sure Casey was safe, at least from any harm Carlos could do. Acid burned Jesse's gut.

Tonight, Miguel would find out Jesse's true identity. He swiped a hand down his face. If it wasn't Carlos who had tried to harm her…

“Casey…” he said, her name a whisper on his lips. “I've got to go.”

Jesse jogged away from his new brothers and hopped from the loading-dock ledge. Once inside his Jeep, he sped out of the parking lot and headed to the newspaper. He called his contact in Oregon.

The call went to voice mail. “Jon, I need to know Will Tannin's status.” And he needed to know who the man was talking to, but that required warrants, and this situation was completely out of their jurisdiction. McCoffey would have a fit if he knew Jesse had been working this.

C
asey sat at the desk in her cubicle at the
Orange Crossings Times
and allowed her head to roll forward. She pressed her palms against her forehead and pulled at her hair, feeling the tension in her scalp.

What was I thinking?

When she'd come in this morning after tossing and turning all night, she'd looked forward to the distraction of completing this article for the newspaper. Her plans were to finish, proving she was the consummate professional even in the face of complicated circumstances.

Complicated
wasn't the right word. It didn't come close to describing what she was going through now.

Pathetic. She was a journalist unable to think of the right word.

She stared at the story on the computer's screen. Images of yesterday's trauma scorched through her mind. Heaviness pressed against her, weighting her head and neck, the emotional and mental damage a struggle to bear.

Releasing a deep sigh, she knew, too, that she needed to speak with Danny about the camera. Right now, she had no images to go with yesterday's competition, or rather she had no images that she had taken.

Plenty had flooded into the local news station with her
picture via cell phones and other digital media—images of the fallen sculpture with the headline Frozen Space Needle Almost Kills.

She didn't even want to consider that if someone had caught everything on video it could be available on the internet.

Her image could be all over the television. Jesse had convinced her that Knife Guy, as he called him, was connected to the crime ring and that the loading-dock man thought Casey had overheard an important conversation and now he wanted her to die from an accident.

Then why stick her in a freezer and lock the door? Could that look like an accident? Things weren't tracking but her brain was so muddled at the moment, she couldn't sort things through.

One thing she knew to be true. If Tannin hadn't found where she was hiding before the ice-sculpture debacle, he would now.

Maybe she should have kept driving last night. Why hadn't she?

Danny had scolded her for coming in today, and he didn't even know the half of her troubles. Still, the sooner she completed this story, the sooner—

“At least there's some good news,” Danny said from behind, startling her.

Already on edge, she jumped in the chair and whirled it around to face him. He dangled the camera by the strap. “We have the camera back,” he said.

Casey couldn't decide whether to be ecstatic at the discovery or disheartened that she would have to look at the images now—all reminders of yesterday, all reminders of Jesse.

She reached for the camera and forced a smile. “Yeah, I don't have to buy you a new camera.”

His head came up. “Did you think I would make you pay
after what happened? I didn't want you to come in, remember? You're not looking too good. Why don't you go home? Just send me your notes, and I'll finish the article.”

“I'm already here, so I might as well finish.” Besides, being here, surrounded by people, was probably safer than being somewhere alone. “Mind if I ask how you got the camera back?”

Danny pointed at the case where it said, Property of Orange Crossings Times in capital letters. “A hotel employee found it, I think. Someone was kind enough to drop it off.”

Casey looked at it with suspicion. “What are the chances?”

He tilted his head. “I'm sorry?”

The chances that someone would be that honest. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure you don't want the day off, at least? I'll leave the article until you're ready if that makes you feel better.”

If she were a reporter worth her weight, she would be excited about all the stories she could write from this incident. Right now, she felt like she'd been reduced to rubble, and she was thankful for Danny's sensitivity. When she'd first asked him for a job, he'd contacted Eddie, her editor in Portland, who explained her predicament. Danny wanted an exclusive on her story—the real story—but after things had died down, just as they discussed from the beginning. The
Orange Crossings Times
had a story online about the Space Needle sculpture toppling, but the focus was on the sculpture and the crowd, and thankfully, not on Casey.

Casey shook her head. “Nope. I want to finish. But I do have a request.”

“What's that?”

“If I finish this to your satisfaction, can you pay me for it today?”

“Sure.” The editor studied her, concern edging his face. “I'll take care of that for you.”

Casey sagged with relief and nodded, offering a thin smile. Danny hadn't pressed her, but seemed to understand her needs, even when she didn't.

He nodded and left the cubicle. She turned back to her computer screen.

Danny Garcia, you're one of the good guys.

But then, she'd thought Jesse was a good guy. Her cell buzzed on the desk.

Jesse…

She'd ignored his repeated calls today.

Casey, I love you. Can't you see that?
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't free herself from the haunting words. Oh, how she'd wanted to hear them.

But…not like this.

How could she know if Jesse's words were true? A man working undercover who'd befriended others in the process in order to gain intelligence could not be trusted.

At least not with her heart.

Casey pushed away from the desk and stood. She turned and came face-to-face with Jesse.

At the sight of him, she sucked in a breath as her heart began to pound. Her head swam with his cologne.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. It was all she could manage to say.

Jesse didn't respond. Instead he stared her down, myriad emotions playing in his eyes. Casey held her breath, reading fear, anger, hurt and…

Love?

No, she couldn't go there. She averted her gaze. “Jesse, I…”

“Come on.” He grabbed her elbow, his touch making her knees weak. Yet she stiffened, not wanting to expose herself to any more pain.

He ushered her from the cubicle. Casey tried to resist,
but it was impossible unless she wanted to make a scene in front of the newspaper's few employees. At the moment, Jesse's presence had drawn only a modicum of attention. Still, though she allowed him to escort her from the building, she made sure he knew she wasn't happy with his surprise appearance.

Jesse's grip on her elbow remained even as they exited through the front door. As soon as they were out of earshot next to the side of the building, Casey yanked her arm from his grasp.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked with as much vehemence as she could muster. She teetered on the edge of crumbling.

“Why didn't you answer my calls?” he asked, matching her tone.

“I'm working.”

“On the ice-sculpture story? Don't you think you need to answer my calls?” He lowered his voice when a man and woman walking past glanced at him. His face was near hers now.

“I have all I need about the story, thank you,” she said, and made to leave. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

“Not so fast.” He grabbed her arm again. His words reminded her of the first time they'd met when he'd stopped her from leaving the office.

She glared down at his hand, and he slowly released it.

“What more is there to say?” she asked.

In response, Jesse stepped into the shadows of the building's corner and jammed his hands into his pockets.

Reluctantly, she joined him. “I'm listening.”

 

Man, he wished he'd met her another time. Her lush hair was pulled back in a clasp behind her head, but a lone strand hung down her face. He wanted to touch it, feel its smooth
silkiness—just like her face. She'd tried to conceal the circles under her eyes with makeup.

He'd done some of this to her, he knew, but not all of it.

“You're only working on the ice-sculpture story, right?”

Casey glared at him. “Since when do I have to tell you the stories I'm working on? It's none of your business.”

Wow, he couldn't have dreamed her viciousness would stem from his confession of his career choice last night. Unless, of course, she cared. And from that, he drew hope.

“Since you told me that you were going to prove your uncle's innocence, that's when. Casey, promise me you'll stay out of it. I can't guarantee your safety unless they think I've got you under my thumb.”

“I don't believe you can guarantee a thing. Everything that happened to me yesterday was while I was supposedly being guarded by one of your dogs, remember?”

She had him by the throat. His ears were ringing as if she was choking him.

“What's the matter? Nothing to say to that?”

I got nothing.

Jesse wished he knew exactly what was going on—who the Knife Guy was or was working for. He wasn't prepared to tell her that her Tannin was possibly behind things, after all, not until he was sure himself. Nor could he share that he didn't think Carlos and Miguel were behind the attempts on her life because she might relax, or believe she was safe to investigate and prove her uncle's innocence.

Everything was just…convoluted.

Saying nothing more was best for the moment. She would be safe at her friend's house and safe at the newspaper, as long as she stuck to the sculpture story. Sharing anything new could disturb the precarious situation further. Right now she was a fragile sparrow. He feared she'd flutter away out of his reach and into harm's way.

But there was one thing he needed to convey. “Look, we believe your uncle is innocent, okay? There's no need for you to prove anything. Just stay away from the ice company. Don't even come there to talk to me about the story.”

Her shoulders sagged. He took a risk and placed his hand against her cheek, cupping it. To his surprise and pleasure, she closed her eyes. He savored the emotional charge her reaction sent through him. He savored this moment with her—it could be his last.

Oh, how he wanted to tell her, to convince her how he really felt.

Casey, I love you…

She opened her eyes and stepped back, as though only then realizing she'd dropped the wall she'd raised. Her momentary lapse was gone. “Is that all you have to say to me? I need to get back to work.”

“That's all.”

Casey looked down at the sidewalk. “There isn't anything else you want to tell me?”

What did she want to hear? Yes. He loved her. But she wouldn't believe him, just like she didn't believe him last night. Besides, the next time he told her that he loved her—if he got the chance—would be under different circumstances. Better circumstances. “Right now, your safety is the most important thing.”

“My safety or your job?”

Jesse frowned. Couldn't he have it both ways?

“Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I want you to be safe, too, Jesse. Don't worry about me. I'll be all right.” She stared at him, her eyes searching. Her soft lips hung open, and he sensed there was more she wanted to say.

Shaking her head, she turned from him. He let her walk back into the building.

Jesse allowed his gaze to roam the street, seeking out the hidden agent who watched her.

There, just across the way. In an instant, their eyes connected and just as quickly, Jesse moved on.

 

Casey rushed through the door, putting distance between her and Jesse, though with all her heart, she wanted things to be different between them. She headed to the ladies' room and pushed past a woman leaving. Once inside, she leaned on the counter to catch her breath.

Slowly she lifted her head to peer at herself in the mirror, noting her pallid complexion and the shadows under her eyes, despite her attempt at concealment.

Should she have told him she decided to leave? How would he have reacted? At this point, why did she care? It wasn't like she could trust a word he said.

Casey hated herself for being so hard on him. He was just doing his job, wasn't he? And if he succeeded, criminals would be caught—murderers and smugglers would be arrested. The person who'd left her in the freezer to die would be arrested, too. And if Jesse didn't succeed?

Would he come out alive tonight?

A sob caught in her throat.
God, please, protect him….

The restroom door swooshed open, and Tessa stepped in.

Her face brightened then slipped into a frown. “You okay?”

Tensing, Casey stood tall and examined her reflection, brushing the hair from her face. “Sure. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

Tessa washed her hands, though she hadn't used the facilities. “You sure you don't want to talk about what's going on?”

“It'll all…”
be over tonight.
Casey caught herself before she said too much.

 

In his studio, Jesse intermittently paced the room while shuffling papers around on his desk. It had already grown dark outside. He glanced at his watch. Eight-thirty.

He checked the tiny mic in his collar again and tugged his baseball cap containing the small camera to fit snugly on his head. He slid his hands around his belt to his back where the holster was secured and kept his SIG hidden.

Though pat downs and weapons searches were part of the risk, he'd dug himself deep enough that he was beyond that requirement. He hoped. Still, they couldn't expect him to make deliveries like this without protection, could they?

The SIG would remain hidden until the moment of truth.

At ten, he would head over to the loading dock. Miguel had asked Jesse to be the delivery man, but tonight he would assist them in receiving the cash, too—the plan, to stack it between slabs of dry ice that had already been prepared.

Brilliant.

The refrigerated truck making the delivery would also carry ice cream and other frozen perishables. Jesse would drive to the border, where another driver would take the truck through.