Hard Target: Elite Ops - Book One (3 page)

“Ellis Colton had a gun and a permit to carry it. Something Preston would have known if he’d bothered to actually manage the case and order a background check. When SWAT broke down the front door, Colton thought someone was breaking into his house to rob him and fired back.”

“How did you get shot?”

“A freshman SWAT member got caught up in contagious shooting. Bullets that got me and one of the babies were both from his gun. Guy was torn up about the kid. Not sure he’ll ever come back from administrative leave.” Leland wouldn’t have been able to.

“And your career at DEA?” Gavin was forever the pragmatist, no matter how passionate the point of view.

“Toast. From the moment Preston ordered me to go on the raid. I should have gone up the chain of command and found someone who would listen to the facts. I didn’t.”

That was the piece giving him trouble. He hadn’t been able to reach Ford Johnson. If he’d only done it differently . . . insisted on talking with Hank’s boss, no matter what kind of high-level meetings the man was in or the shit storm it would have caused going over Preston’s head.

“What are your plans?” asked Gavin.

“I just signed my DEA resignation letter.”

“So, I’ll finally be able to hire you away from my former employers. When do you want to come to work?”

Leland shook his head even though Gavin wasn’t there to see it. “I don’t know, man. I’ve got to take some time. Get this figured out. The boot comes off in three weeks.”

Below him, the sliding glass door opened again and music roared, but only for a second before it was turned down.

“This place sucks, Mom. Why can’t we stay at the Hilton? They don’t have a pool here and there’s only Disney and news on cable. I don’t have my video games or my phone . . . I still don’t understand why you didn’t grab my stuff when you were packing. This completely blows.” The voice was unmistakably that of a teenage male. It had cracked several times during the diatribe, so he guessed the boy to be no more than thirteen or fourteen.

Jesus. Leland had given his own momma hell at that age. But she’d given it right back, usually with scathing words or sometimes the back of her hand. He braced for what he feared might be coming.

“I’ve been telling you for three years, you could have a job with AEGIS whenever you wanted.” Gavin’s voice was in his ear, pulling him out of the teen drama downstairs.

Was working for an elite executive protection and risk management company what he really wanted? He stared at the almost empty glass. He was too young to retire and too old to go back to school. Still, he’d actually felt a weight lifting from his shoulders when he’d signed those official resignation papers earlier.

A woman’s voice drifted up over his balcony. “Zach, I’m sorry you don’t like the hotel. I know this is hard to understand, and I’m more sorry than I can say that your father’s and my problems are spilling over onto you. We won’t be here long. I’ll try to figure out something about your gaming system. Just give me a little time.”

God, didn’t we all need that.

Leland let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. So she was one of those. A “Nice Mom.” Leland had prayed for one as a young child. By the time he was twelve, he’d given up praying and accepted the bleak reality.

“Are you still there?” asked Gavin.

“Yeah. Let me think about it,” replied Leland. “I need . . . a little time.”

“What’s there to think about exactly?” asked Gavin.

“So what do I do till then?” demanded Zach at the same time.

“How about we buy an in-room movie, or we could go to a theatre? That new superhero blockbuster we saw the previews for last month has just been released.” Nice Mom was cool as a cucumber.

“Yeah?” The snarl in the boy’s ’tude was checked a bit.

“Heck, we’ll do both. Let’s find a time for the nearest theatre and then if we’re up for it, we’ll order another show from the on-demand menu when we get back. It’ll be a movie marathon. There’s bound to be a cinema close by. We can grab a pizza afterward and bring it back with us.”

Nice Mom was working it—hard. Zach didn’t realize what a lucky young man he was.

“Just trying to get my head straight,” mumbled Leland into the phone.

“Why couldn’t I stay with Dad in Mexico for the weekend? I still don’t get that. They were having a party and everything,” the boy’s voice wasn’t quite as snarky now.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. I told you, the hospital called and insisted on more blood work before the surgery. I understand it’s very frustrating. How about that pizza?” asked Nice Mom.

“Dunno. I’ll have to think about it. I’ll let you know.” The door slid closed with a firm snap, and the shrieking guitars increased in volume, the bass echoing through his feet.

“I’ve got to think about it,” echoed Leland.

“You do that, darling. I’ll be right here.” Nice Mom’s words were whispered, but Leland could hear them, along with the bone-deep sigh, even from where he sat, although he doubted she realized he was above her. The music was probably too loud right outside the window. Furniture creaked on the floor beneath him as she settled into what he assumed was an equally damp seat.

“Leland? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Sorry.” Leland shut out what was happening downstairs, lowered his voice and focused on answering Gavin’s question. “I’m fine. Nothing’s going on. I’m just . . . working through this. Don’t know how long it will take till I’m back to full-speed with my ankle after I get out of this boot. I appreciate the offer, but frankly, I don’t know what I want.”

There was a beat of silence. “Okay. I think I understand.”

And the hell of it was, Gavin probably did. He had quit the DEA to start his dream company. The difference was Gavin Bartholomew had known exactly what he wanted to do when he resigned his government position. These days Leland’s life felt so out of control, he had no clue.

“This is a weird place for me. I’ve always had a plan.”

“Give yourself time. Let me know if I can help. You’ve got a job if you want it. And next time you’re on TV, show ’em your good side.”

Leland almost laughed. “Bite me. I’ll be up to see Kat in a few days. We’ll talk more.”

“Sounds good. But . . . don’t wait too long on that visit.”

The words were so matter-of-fact, Leland didn’t catch the real meaning at first. It took a moment to sink in—Kat was closer to the end than he’d realized.
Damn.

He hung up the phone with an aching soul, hurting for his friends. God, he was tired. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the bottle of single malt scotch again. He wanted to keep drinking until he felt pleasantly numb, or perhaps until he felt nothing at all.

The music under his feet kicked up another notch and the furniture below scraped across the concrete again, reminding him of his downstairs “neighbors.” A teenage boy and a single mother who were obviously in the throes of a divorce. His well-honed “stay away” tendency kicked in and he started to rise, but before he moved off the seat, he heard the distinct sound of a cell phone keypad dialing.

Years of undercover wiretaps for the DEA gave him no compunction about eavesdropping, even though some things he’d overheard on the job he’d prefer to scrub from memory. Still, he suspected this woman had no idea he was on the corner balcony directly overhead or how well the sound carried, even over the rain and the music. She obviously couldn’t hear him over the thundering beat in the room behind her.

With his orthopedic boot there was no way he could be quiet if he walked inside. He stumped everywhere these days. So he sat with his bottle of scotch and unfinished drink, wondering why he cared one way or the other.

“Hi, Sweetie, I hate talking to your voicemail. We’re here. It was crazy, but we got out on the last afternoon flight. Zach’s angry, and I still haven’t told him why we really left. I don’t know if he’ll believe me. Hell, I don’t know if I’d believe me. Thanks for wiring the cash. I think I can access my own funds, but I’ll have to be careful. Max froze our joint bank account.”

Leland listened, mildly intrigued. This sounded like a soap opera. As a diversion it certainly beat the Disney channel, and at present he knew all the intimate details about what was on cable news.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about checking Zach into the hospital. Children’s Transplant Center has security, but Max can still get to him there unless I’m with him every minute. Liz, I’m scared. And I really wish you lived closer to Dallas. Call me when you get this, okay? Love you.”

What the hell?

Something definitely did not sound right, and it was more than just a woman ditching her husband. Did the guy hit her or the kid? Was her son ill? Over the years Leland had learned he could dismiss a lot of things, but people who hurt women or children were his personal kryptonite. Thanks to his own difficult childhood, he couldn’t walk away.

The floor abruptly quit vibrating under his feet and the patio door below opened. “Mom? There’s someone at the door to see you.”

“Is it housekeeping?”

There was a non-committal answer from the boy.

“I ordered more towels. I had no idea you could use so many . . .”

Her voice was teasing, fading as she walked inside. But she didn’t close the slider. He heard a murmur of voices. A man’s low rumble, slowly rising then yelling.

“How did you find us?” The woman’s voice was louder than he’d heard it all evening.

“Watch out!” The boy was yelling. “Mom!”

Leland heard shattering glass and a woman’s piercing scream. “OH MY GOD! Stop!”

Chapter Three

M
AX STOOD IN
the doorway with murder in his eyes, holding a nine iron like a baseball bat. Anna’s throat tightened, remembering his words overheard seven hours earlier: “We won’t dump her body until the designated time . . .”

Surely he wouldn’t kill her in front of their son?

Zach remained beside her even as she tried to pull him out of harm’s way. Stunned, he appeared frozen in place, so she moved to step in front of him.

Max slapped her when she came forward. She cried out in surprise as much as pain. Her lip tore on his wedding band. She tasted blood.

“Why did you leave?” he demanded. “I can’t stand it when you disrespect me like that.” He gripped the golf club with both hands and started swinging like he was warming up in a batting cage.

Who was this man? They’d argued in the past, but he’d never before touched her in anger. This was like someone else’s nightmare.

She pushed Zach further behind her as the first strike took out their small carry-on bag. It was unzipped on top of the dining table. Clothes and toiletries flew through the air, and Zach seemed to recognize the wildness in his father’s eyes and pulled Anna backward along with him into the room away from the swinging club.

“How did you find us?” she asked.

“You know me, babe. I’ve got lots of resources.” He shoved her into the dining table and her elbow struck the edge of the wooden top, sending a lightning bolt of pain up her shoulder. Dazed, she fell back into the wall as Max attempted an uppercut with the nine iron.

Emilio watched dispassionately from the hallway. Weren’t other hotel guests hearing anything? A dining chair smashed into the wainscoting inches from her face, and the framed mirror over her head started to fall.

“Mom! Watch out!” Zach rushed to her side, attempting to catch the frame. She threw her arm up to stop the mirror’s descent, taking the full force of the toppling frame and blocking Zach at the same time. She couldn’t help but scream again as the mirror slammed into her shoulders and shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces.

One shard of glass tore through her sweater and cut her arm, but it didn’t sting as blood welled up to soak her sleeve. She looked up at Zach, ashen-faced beside her. She’d lose it completely if she let herself think about what this was doing to his heart.

Her husband was going to kill her if he could. That was obvious. She straightened from the wall to face him. “What do you want, Max?”

“I want my son. And I want
you,
too. We need to go back to Mexico.”

“I heard you on the phone in the hotel suite. You were planning to take Zach and dump my body.”

“You misunderstood.”

“The hell I did. And the fact that you just hit me, broke this mirror and you’re holding that nine iron is all a misunderstanding as well?”

“Yes, it is.
You
misunderstood!” He pounded the club into the floor for emphasis.

“Zach is checking into the hospital Monday for the LVAD procedure, or did you forget that?”

“God dammit, don’t you disrespect me. I’ll have my son back in Mexico one way or the other,” Max reared back to swing once more and a shot rang out. Shards of grout, glass and masonry flew into the air, some of it pelting Max’s bare legs.

Anna screamed again and ducked as Max’s swing went wild. He buried the club head through the sheetrock wall.

“Hey,” shouted a stranger standing in the doorway. “Drop the golf club or the next bullet goes through your kneecap.” He had a gun in Emilio’s face and another pointed directly at Max’s chest.

Max wheeled around in surprise, still gripping the club tightly, “Who the fuck are you? You shot me, you SOB. I’ll kill you.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “No, I didn’t shoot you. That was the tile and glass ricocheting, but I can and I will if you don’t drop that nine iron and step away from the woman.”

Anna’s relief overwhelmed her. Their savior was built like a professional bodybuilder with a deep voice and an accent only heard in the land of magnolia blossoms and the blues. His hands were rock steady on both weapons, and while his face wasn’t classically handsome, it was trustworthy. His dark hair was short, and he was wearing one of those orthopedic walking boots that came up to the knee.

Acting saner than he had in the past two minutes, Max dropped the club.

“Emilio,” Zach gasped, sidling up to Anna. The family bodyguard stood perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his head in the hotel hallway. “Why didn’t you help . . .” Her son’s voice trailed off when he figured out whose side Emilio was on.