Hide From Evil (12 page)

Sean walked around the gravel lot, out of the glow of the single streetlight in the center of the parking area. He wove in between the rows of trucks, finally stopping at a dark-colored Ford that, as far as Krista could tell in the dark, was about eight years old. “That was a pretty cool thing you did with your car earlier,” he said as pulled the semiautomatic out from under his jacket.

The sight of the gun in his hand sent a shock through her tired body and brain. “Don’t tell me you’re going to shoot me over it.”

His surprised chuckle was warm and rich in the cold night air. “No,” he said. Krista heard the rustle of fabric and realized he was taking off his jacket. “But I’m thinking your skills might come in handy.”

She couldn’t see him in the dark, but there was no mistaking the sound of glass crunching as he slammed the jacket-wrapped butt of the gun against a window. Before Krista could so much as gasp, he’d reached in and popped the lock on the driver’s side door and slid in.

“No way,” Krista said. “I’m not hot-wiring this car for you.”

“It’ll probably take me twice as long, and we don’t have that kind of time,” Sean said, a familiar edge creeping into his voice.

Krista took a step back. “I’m a prosecutor. I can’t commit a felony—”

“Right now you’re a fugitive,” Sean said. “And if we’re caught, we’re as good as dead. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have plans to die tonight. And since you brought this shit to my door, I figure you owe me one.”

Krista got into the car. “Slide over.” Sean stood in the open doorway and held the light as she went to work. Cold sweat beaded on her face as she popped the covers surrounding the truck’s ignition tumbler. It took only a little over a minute, and with every move, Krista was aware that she was crossing a line.

No matter that Sean was right. They couldn’t trust anyone, not even the police, and they had no other reasonable way to stay out of reach of the men who had tried to kill them. She’d heard excuses like that for years in the cases she prosecuted. Heard them and dismissed them out of hand, convinced that there was always another choice that didn’t involve breaking the law.

After a lifetime of following the rules, and over a decade of working within the system to take down the bad guys, with this one simple act she was about to join their ranks. If she did this, would she be that much different from the so-called lowlifes she’d worked to put away?

The truck’s engine roared to life, and Krista slid over to make room for Sean and stared at her hands.

Sean pulled out of the back of the parking lot, avoiding the front of the bar. “Nice work.”

Krista looked over, and in the glow of the moonlight she could see a flash of white teeth and the admiration on his face as he looked at her.

She didn’t want to think about what it meant about her that the rush of warmth at his smile went a long way in drowning out her ethical crisis.

He was silent a few minutes as he took the highway just out of town and then turned the truck onto a forest road that forked to the right. “I know this probably goes against everything you believe in, but sometimes you have to break the rules to do the right thing.”

Krista looked at the hard line of his jaw, the shift of muscles in his arm, the flex of his big hands on the steering wheel, and she wondered how many rules he’d have her breaking before this was over.

“Relax, baby, you so tense you not letting me work.”

David Maxwell stifled the urge to smack the girl across the face with her condescending smile and playfully chastising finger. He grunted and shoved her face back into his lap and closed his eyes.

But nothing, not even the half a Viagra he’d knocked back with his scotch, could get his cock to go stiffer than half-mast.

Olga…Oksana…whatever-the-fuck-her-name was right. He was too tense, his gut a writhing knot of anxiety ever since his nephew Nate’s death, ever since that goddamn crusader Krista Slater started shoving her nose in Nate’s past.

Ever since
she’d
disappeared. Talia.

Gone without a trace after escaping a brutal death at the hands of David’s own nephew. He hoped she was dead. If he ever found her, he’d make her wish she was.

But God, she’d been good. Gorgeous, smart. And completely at his mercy. Nothing like these dime-a-dozen sluts that came over by the truckload from the Eastern Bloc. The ones they got were top choice, cream of the crop, supermodel beautiful, and desperate enough to do whatever was necessary to protect themselves and their families back home.

But despite their beauty, with their empty gazes, vapid smiles, and broken English, they were indistinct, indistinguishable to the point he might as well have been jacking off into a handkerchief instead of getting a blow job.

No one could ever compare to Talia. She’d loved him at first, so much so she’d practically glowed with it. All starry-eyed idealism, thinking he was going to pull her up out of the ’hood like she was some modern-day
My Fair Lady
.

She’d soon learned how far that was from the truth. And then she’d learned to fear him, because she knew without him telling her what would happen to her and her sister if she ever tried to get away or told anyone about their relationship.

David sighed, a slight smile pulling at his face, his balls tingling at the memory. Love or fear: He still couldn’t decide what look he liked better on Talia Vega’s face.

He rolled his neck and was just getting into it when the phone on the table next to him rang. His stomach tightened as he picked up. “Tell me it’s done.”

The second’s-long hesitation was answer enough. David’s half a hard-on wilted into nothing before Richardson spoke. “They got away.”

David shoved the whore’s head out of his lap, knocking her onto her ass as he rose from the armchair. “How the fuck did they get away?” He hit the girl with a mean look and made a shooing motion with his arm. She gathered her dress and shoes and hustled from his private suite. He waited until the door clicked shut before speaking. “I didn’t expect anything from that goddamn Ruskie but I expect you to make sure these things run smoothly. I had everything set up with the cop. What the fuck went wrong?”

While a car crash would have been an ideal way to get both Slater and Flynn out of the way—a high mountain road, an unstable ex-con driving too fast, maybe trying to kill himself and take the bitch who put him away—David knew better than to bank on it working.

So he’d accounted for some contingencies, made a few phone calls, and called in a few favors to get it done. The deputy had been clear on his mission, eager to get the money to help himself out from being underwater on the shitty little house he’d overpaid on. All he had to do was take a bullet to the arm and tell everyone that Sean Flynn had stolen his gun—wounding him in the process—killed Krista, and then killed himself.

The cop would never see the money, of course, because Richardson knew not to leave any loose ends and David wasn’t about to trust anyone he hadn’t personally vetted to keep his mouth shut. According to Richardson, Deputy Armstrong had played right along, right up to the part where he took a bullet to the head.

But fucking Sean Flynn hadn’t cooperated and somehow managed to get away from one of the most highly trained men on David’s personal security detail. Richardson was a goddamn fucking former Green Beret who was supposed to make sure that shit went down smoothly and as discreetly as possible.

“I take full responsibility, sir,” Richardson said, his tone echoing back to his military training. David had to give him that—unlike most of the pussies running around today, when Richardson fucked up, he didn’t try to spout excuses. “In an effort to make the scene as authentic as possible, I neglected to cuff Flynn or Slater. Flynn got the drop on Gregor, and while I was subduing him, Slater retrieved Deputy Armstrong’s Taser from his belt. They then escaped in Armstrong’s squad car.”

David pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, feeling like the top of his head was going to blow off.

“We spoke to our contact here and they’re circulating the report that Flynn killed Armstrong and has taken Slater hostage. Law enforcement across the state is on it. Once they have them in custody we’ll be able to take care of it.”

“You better hope they pick them up soon.” Thank God for small favors. There were a lot of people as motivated as he was to ensure Slater and Flynn didn’t unwind the thread that connected him to Nate Brewster.

His phone beeped, signaling another call. He grimaced when he saw who it was. Another interested party who wanted to make sure Slater in particular was taken care of. “I have to take another call,” he told Richardson.

He disconnected the call with Richardson and clicked over.

“You told me your man can handle it.” The thickly accented voice made David’s lip curl. He could picture the big Russian, cigarette smoke coiling around his head, his light-brown hair slicked back from his high forehead. The slightly almond-shaped eyes with a flat, dead expression that reminded David of a snake.

“Yeah, well it sounds like your guy was the one who fell down on the job.”

“If you let them just shoot in the head, straightforward like, we wouldn’t have this problem. You do this crazy thing, like James Bond movie, too many chances to escape.”

David rolled his shoulders and grasped for patience. He’d explained the subtlety necessary in taking out Slater and Flynn. “I told you, now that word is out that she’s been investigating Nate more closely, if she and Flynn show up murdered, there are going to be a lot of questions.”

Karev made an exasperated sound. “And you have all this power to make sure no one asks these questions,
nyet
? You telling me maybe my business is not as secure as you say?”

“You walked away from a murder charge two days ago,” David replied. “Did you forget I’m the one who called the judge?” The Honorable Judge Terence Phillips was more than happy to throw out key evidence in exchange for having a video featuring him being serviced by a beautiful young Asian remain hidden.

“Good, so everything is clear for shipment next week? Is very important.”

“Yes,” David snapped. Damned if he was going to let this headache with Slater and Flynn interfere with business.

Karev rang off with his usual warning: “If anything goes wrong, I cut off your
`khu i
and feed it to a pig while your wife watch,
da
?”

David hung up without a reply. Karev’s threat might have been humorous if it hadn’t been dead serious. He ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing when he saw the amount that came off in his hand. He sank back into the chair, feeling tired and suddenly really fucking old.

Working with Karev was a huge risk. The guy was batshit crazy, snake mean, and loyal only to himself. But the last few years of financial turmoil, combined with his wife’s determination to buy herself a senate seat, had taken a serious toll. As dangerous as Karev was, the partnership had been immensely lucrative for both of them, and as long as that remained the case, he’d stay in bed with the Russian.

The Russians didn’t operate by any rules but their own.
If things go south, you have way more to lose than they do
, his nephew Nate had warned.
They have no loyalty and no qualms about turning on you, disappearing, and letting you take the fall
.

Ironic that Nate had been the voice of reason when he was the one to blame for their current turmoil. David went over to the desk and pulled a picture from the drawer. A brunette woman with big brown eyes smiled into the camera, cheek to cheek with a blond-haired, blue-eyed toddler as she cradled a dark-haired baby girl in her other arm.

David had lost most of his sentimentality eons ago, but his heart twisted as he thought of what had happened to the mother and children in the picture.

His sister Heather, lost to alcohol and drugs, murdered by a boyfriend who abused her and her children. His niece, Sarah, whom he’d only met once, died when she’d accidentally locked herself in the trunk of a car on a hot summer day, hiding from her mother’s boyfriend to avoid being raped.

And Nate, the sole survivor, forever twisted from seeing his mother killed and stabbing the boyfriend to death in self-defense.

He knew it wasn’t his fault—that his sister made her own bad choices, that leaving his name and his past behind was necessary for him to integrate into the upper echelons of wealth and power.

Still, he never got rid of the guilt over the fact that while he’d been making money hand over fist and marrying into one of Seattle’s wealthiest families, the money he’d sent Heather had run out and she was living in that shitty house in a desolate part of eastern Washington, drinking herself to death, dating that lowlife who ended up bringing them all down. So even though he couldn’t claim him publicly, David couldn’t turn his back on his orphaned nephew.

He’d discreetly supported him, made sure he had a place to live and money for clothes, schools, and anything else he wanted.

And when Nate’s bloodthirsty streak had reared its head, David had done everything he could to channel those urges and cover Nate’s ass the few times it had been necessary.

This is what he got for trying to do right by his nephew. Sweating bullets as he and his stepson Carl worked to cover the tracks that led from Nate to them. Doing whatever was necessary, including ordering a hit on a prosecuting attorney, in order to keep the dark underbelly of his business hidden, to maintain his hold over everyone who mattered to make sure his business—and Karev’s—continued without interference.

Chapter 7

K
rista jerked awake as the car slowed to a stop and she instinctively reached out to brace her hand against the dashboard. Her head ached and her heart thudded in her chest as for a split second her disoriented brain replayed the moment Sean’s truck came to a jarring stop against the tree.

“Where are we?” she said, blinking as she looked around the parking lot. She looked at the clock. Twelve fifty-two. She’d been asleep for only a little over half an hour, but it felt like hours.