The Edge of Trust: Team Edge (18 page)

Who could have found them?  And how?  This house was supposed to be
safe
.

Sanchez? he wondered, and then tossed the idea aside.  Rafe would never be this overt.

One of his henchmen?  A bounty hunter?

No.  Sanchez wanted his flash drive back and wouldn’t risk letting one of his men kill Dillon before he got it.  And no bounty hunter on earth would dare cross the SBC.

So someone else--someone on the inside.  Someone who had access, who could find out where he was in a few short hours.

And shit, the sound of gunshots being fired in a quiet, residential neighborhood
in the middle of the night
, was going to bring the police swarming all over them because whoever was doing the shooting was too stupid to use a friggin’ silencer. 

Unless...

Unless that’s exactly what the shooter wanted.  If Dillon didn’t get Sara out of here fast, the local police and all their red tape would tie them up for hours.  And that would give someone the opportunity to get close to the flash drive, and maybe close enough to kill Sara. 

Several long seconds passed, and when he didn’t hear anything, he flipped off the light, crawled on his belly toward the shattered window and pulled the drapes closed.  Then he snatched the drive from the computer and in a calm, silent rush, grabbed the map and Sara’s hand, then ran for the bedroom.  The bedroom and his weapon. 

“Listen, Sara, two things.  One, somebody besides Sanchez wants that drive mighty damn bad.  Two, gunshots tend to draw a lot of attention.  The cops are going to be here any minute now, so we need to haul ass out of here.”

“You think maybe that whoever was shooting at us at the hospital followed us?”

“No way of knowing.  But I checked for a tail and didn’t see one.”  He snatched his gun off the nightstand, automatically checked the load, re-holstered and strapped it on, stopping just long enough to give Sara a measuring look.  He had no idea how to say what needed to be said other than to spit it out, and knew by doing so, he was going to carve a plate-sized hole in Sara’s chest.  “Sanchez has your brother.”

“My--” She didn’t finish, just stood there looking like she’d taken a bullet between the eyes.  “What?  Are you sure?  How do you know?  Who called?”

“Sanchez.  I’m sorry.” Dillon jerked the duffel bag containing his clothes out of the closet, grabbed his cellphone.  “He also mentioned a package.  Any ideas on that?”

Sara looked blank for a minute before all the color left her face.   “Oh, Jesus.  Oh, God.”  She fell to her hands and knees, gasped for breath.  “No.  No, he can’t.  I have to-- We need to-- Dear God, what have I done?”  Air wheezed through her lips.

That’s exactly the question he wanted an answer to.

He opened his mouth to ask, but a quick glance at her face stopped him dead.  She looked scared.  Scared with the kind of bone-deep fear that dries up your mouth and haunts your eyes. 

Dillon wanted to comfort, couldn’t.  They had to hurry.  “We need to go.” 

She nodded, let him lift her to her feet.  Her skin was clammy and her hands trembled.  He hated what he had to say next, but despite her secrets, Sara deserved to know the truth.  This was about her brother now.  “Sanchez gave me forty-eight hours to deliver the flash drive.  That’s how long he gave me.  You understand?”

Something was in her eyes, as she faced him, something fierce and dark and cornered.

Without warning, without a single hint or reason, the ferocity came to life and she blew.  “Holy Jesus what have you done!” she screamed, as he took a solid jab to the solar plexus that left him bent and gasping.

“Me?’ he roared, getting his breath.  “I’m not the one who got my hands on a flash drive Sanchez is willing to kill for!”  He reached out to grab her, to stop this sudden assault when he suddenly took a heel to the thigh, right where he’d been shot, and the blow nearly took him to his knees.  “Stop it!  I’m just as worried as you are!”

“Worried? 
Worried?
  You don’t have a
clue
!”  She spit the words with such outraged intensity he wondered if she actually meant to do him real harm. 

“The hell I don’t!”  He’d lost everyone he’d ever loved to Sanchez, dammit, and he wasn’t going to let Sara’s worry over her
still living
brother beat the hell out of him.

“You don’t!  You can’t!” she bellowed, and tried slamming her knee into his groin.

He pivoted and, as he swept her feet out from under her, pushed her onto the bed.  “Damn it, Sara, that’s enough!  We don’t have time for this!”

Hysteria bubbled and then it didn’t.  Sara went completely limp and seemed to age right before his eyes.  He got up and pulled her to her feet.  “You know I’ll do everything I can to find Matt.  To bring him home alive and safe.”

She hunched away from him.  “I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m taking you to a more secure location.”  A place where not even God himself could find them.  “Then I’m going after Matt.”   

Her head jerked up.  “You’re not going to just dump me somewhere.” 

Oh, hell yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do
.  “Earlier tonight, it seemed like all you wanted was to get away from me.” 

“That was before we started getting shot at.”  Something ragged flicked across her features.  “Before Sanchez said he had…Matt.” 

“Any idea on how Sanchez got a hold of your brother?”

“I…”  She shook her head.  “No.”

“All the more reason to get you somewhere safe.  I can do this faster, and easier, without you.  It’s too dangerous to take you with me.”  He looked away, frustrated, worried, and grabbed the duffel bag.  “Let’s go.”

“I’m going with you.  I have to.”

Dillon let that go without a comment and turned toward the hall.  Gun drawn, he looked for any signs of an intruder, and seeing none, motioned for Sara to follow. 

When they made it to the garage, he went in first.  He pulled two sleeping bags off a shelf and tossed them into the rear of the SUV he’d switched with the Corvette on the way here.  Then he boosted Sara up into the passenger seat and quietly closed the door.  After climbing into the driver’s seat, he gave her a long, steady look.  “Get down and stay down.”

<><><>

With a deep breath, she did, burying her head between her knees, Sara got down and stayed down and wondered when this miserable night would ever end.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

“Hold on,” Dillon muttered, and started the ignition.  He shifted into reverse, hit the headlights, and a second later she heard the garage door open.  The tires screeched backward and he cut the wheel as they hit the blacktop with a thump. 

She grabbed her knees.

Dillon cursed.

Tires screeching, Dillon spun the car in the opposite direction, shoved the gear into drive, and jammed his foot on the gas.  He didn’t slow down until he got on I-5 heading south. 

Raising her head, Sara looked at Dillon, down at herself, then back over her shoulder.  No bullets, no blood.  “Dear God, Dillon, is this how you live?  What you’re used to?”

“No, I usually get shot at in other countries.  And I’m thinking I’m not the main target this time around.”

“Do you think that was Sanchez shooting at us?” 

“I doubt it.  He called seconds before the shooting started.” 

“I realize that.  But he could’ve used a cellphone.  Been right outside.”

“He’s too smart to get that close.  Besides, why barter Matt if he knew where we were?  What I think is that someone else is involved in this.  Someone who has as much to lose as Sanchez if the flash drive falls into the wrong hands.  There must be something pretty damn important on that drive because Sanchez and someone else are in one helluva big hurry to get it back.”

And if Sanchez didn’t get it back? 

Baby brokers.  Sweat shops.  Sex trade.

A bullet to Matt’s head.

Her skin crawled and she felt sick.

Struggling to maintain the fragile hold on her composure, she clamped her hands on her quaking knees.  She was so tired, so far past exhaustion she could barely keep her head up, and if it wasn’t for the fear still racing through her, she’d have collapsed hours ago.  But the fear was there, and it would be until this bleak scenario came to an end.

And what kind of end would it be?  The only thing she knew for certain was that she was not going to let Dillon dump her somewhere like a used wad of gum.  Especially not now that she knew Matt’s life, and Ellie’s, were at stake.  Whether Dillon liked it or not, that put her smack dab in the middle of things.  For now, she’d put her fear on hold and get through this with logic and determination.

No matter what Matt was involved in, he was her brother, he’d saved her life, twice now,
and she owed him. 

But, what if Sanchez killed him before they were able to return the flash drive?  And who else was involved in this?  If Matt was going to stand half a chance, she had to come clean with Dillon.   

After everything Dillon had done to save her, everything he was still doing, he deserved to at least know the truth.  She looked over at his set face and took a deep breath.  “What do you know about what’s going on with my brother?”

“I haven’t heard from him since Craig’s team put him in jail for smuggling drugs.”

“What?  My brother is
not
a
drug smuggler.”  Or was he?  He’d been on that boat with Sanchez after all.  And which was the cover, archaeology or drug running?  Did Matt work for Craig or Sanchez?  And why work for either one, he had enough money to fund his own studies, his own work in his field, he didn’t need to work
for
anybody.  And how was it that Dillon didn’t know more?  What about Matt’s relationship with Dillon’s sister?  A year ago they’d been engaged.  Had Lisa ended things?  “Are you sure?  Jail?” 

“No,” he said wearily.  “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

Something wasn’t right.  Why didn’t Dillon know Matt was working undercover as Vega?  And wouldn’t Lisa know, and have something to say about it?  Or at least have told Dillon?  True, she herself hadn’t known until she’d seen him on the boat, but she’d been gone for a year.  Still, Dillon kept up with the whole Sanchez group, so why didn’t he know?  Craig was pretty high up in the DEA.  Craig and Dillon were friends. Wouldn’t Craig have told him about Matt? 

Apparently not.  But why?  The leak?

God, how much more confused could she get?  Had Matt gone too far?  Was he really in with Sanchez?  Was Craig lying?  What if Craig was the leak? 

It didn’t add up.  In fact, nothing made sense any more.  Her head throbbed with fatigue and confusion.  “What...what about Manny Vega?”

Dillon’s face went hard.  “Vega started making a name for himself a couple of years a ago.  A short while before I got made.  He’s taken down two cartels by himself, his reputation as a ruthless killer’s been growing and for Sanchez to get him to his side must have been a real coup.  Still, he’s a ghost.  He’s working for Sanchez, and he’s the person responsible for everything that went wrong on the pier that night.”

“How was he responsible?”

“It was his deal.”

“But I thought Sanchez--”

Dillon shook his head.  “You asked earlier and I wouldn’t tell you.  I will now,”
he said, and
looked none too happy about it.  “We got a last minute tip from the DEA that a huge shipment of cocaine had just come in and the sellers were trying to unload it in a hurry.  Somehow, the buyers they had lined up got scared off.  Vega set up the buy.  Sanchez showed, tipped off ahead of time, I’m sure, that I was going to be there, and got his revenge.
 
Only he got you instead of me.”  He let out a resigned breath.  “So yeah, I blame Vega for the whole friggin’ mess.  As soon as I find him, he’s going down.”  He glanced at her.  “Why the interest?” 

Sara studied her knees before looking out the window and did a mental about face.  “Nothing really.  I just remember you mentioning him earlier.”  She’d tell him about Matt later--maybe--when he wasn’t driving a million miles an hour, wasn’t quite so upset, and when she wasn’t ass deep in fear and fatigue.  Maybe by then she’d have figured this whole mess out.  “Where are we going now?”

“Our first stop is to borrow some gear from the Naval Amphib base.” 

She sat in silence and before she knew it, they were crossing the Coronado Bay Bridge.  To her right, a myriad of lights sparkled from the airport and Harbor Island below.  As they passed through the small city of Coronado, she thought it looked cheerful and cozy and in direct contrast to the way she was feeling. 

A Victorian style hotel loomed ahead and even in the dark, the building was stunning.  The Hotel Del Coronado was like a fairytale castle, and held way too many fairytale memories.  Memories about moats and dragons and handsome, loving husbands.

“Move over, you beast.
 
You’re ruining my castle.”

“Hey, I’m making you a moat.”

“Dragons don’t care about moats, they just fly over.”

“Then I’ll make this an extra special moat.  I’ll put in
radar.”

Sara laughed and tossed her plastic sand shovel at Dillon’s backside.  “King Arthur did not have radar.”

“I think if we want him to have radar, then he should have radar.”

“But if it’s my castle, then it should be my moat.
 
And my moat doesn’t have radar.”

Dillon sighed with a grin.  “Okay, fine.  Moats are nasty things anyway.  How about one of those tinfoil helmets, then?  He can wear that and his shield and keep all the alien dragons at bay.”

“Alien dragons?”

“Aye, like me.”  He growled and hissed and rolled her over, kissed her and nibbled on her neck until she forgot about whose moat it was and melted into the sand
…

They’d had so much fun, so many happy times.

She’d believed they’d have forever.

She let the thought drift off as she sat in miserable silence, hating the fact that she couldn’t have her old life back, couldn’t let Dillon close his arms around her and hold her, let comfort become desire, and desire become hunger.  She wished she could lie down beside him and feel his strength, his heat, as their breaths mingled, limbs tangled, until control broke and the world faded away.