Trust No One (10 page)

“Wanna bet?” Obviously she realized he couldn’t offer her any assurances as she continued, “If I do this one job, there’ll be another, then another. No. Unh unh. Not going to happen.”

“You at least know how Tasha thinks.”

“You’re right there. And if she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be found. Just leave her alone and she’ll show up when she’s ready.”

“Leave her alone and she’ll come home, wagging her tail behind her . . .”

MJ’s face screwed into a scowl. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“From Little Bo Peep—the nursery rhyme. You might know your fairy tales, but you’re lousy with nursery rhymes.”

“Angel’s not old enough for them. The book I have doesn’t have pictures.”

“Little Bo Peep lost her sheep–”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll skip the rhymes, thanks.” MJ looked at a clock on the wall. “And now it’s getting late. . .”

Ben stopped playing nice. He’d known it would come to this. “You have no choice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t take no for an answer. Jeff won’t let me. You have to help us find Tasha.”

“And just how do you think you can make me? Hold a gun to my head?”

“Would that work?”

MJ made a rude noise. “What do you think?”

“Didn’t think so.” Ben took a breath and plunged on. “Jeff gave me a better weapon. Angelina.”

MJ’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Her pie plate hit the coffee table with a hard clanking sound that made up for her speechlessness.

“Vista is helping you push the adoption through faster than normal. They will pull back the help, make things more difficult, possibly stop the process al–”

She sprang on him in a flash. Had him by his shirt, jerked him close. He’d known she would. He didn’t defend himself.

“No,” she said in a soft controlled voice, one more deadly with its very control. But he was trained, too, and it would be a tough fight if she followed through. She knew it. He could tell.

He held her gaze and spoke quietly, “I’m only the messenger.”

She shoved him away and slumped into the couch, banging her head against the stuffed cushions as if she was trying to knock out the image of what faced her. “That son of a bitch.”

The very forlornness of her response tugged at him. While he’d chosen Vista as an employer once he was out of the military, he realized she’d never had a choice in her occupation. Ed began training all three children for the business as soon as he’d given them a home. Ben understood her reluctance to be forced back in, even for a brief time.

“It won’t take long. We’ll bring someone in to watch Angelina, or maybe Tex’s wife--”

“No. She’s going.”

“We can’t take a kid with us.”

“No ‘we’ to it except for me and Angel. You aren’t going. You’re just the messenger,” she echoed his words back to him.

“I can’t let you go alone.”

“You want Tasha found, you will. You think she’s just going to pop up if I have another agent in tow?”

“Orders. Either I go with you, or I’ll stake out your place and follow you.”

“What? I’m suddenly untrustworthy? After all I’ve done, all I’ve sacrificed?”

He didn’t understand it either. “Just speculating here, but you aren’t officially on payroll. You might take the kid and run.”

“You could be using me to find her so you can take her out.”

“Always that possibility, true.” Though he didn’t have that order, no assurance he wouldn’t get one.

She tossed him a disgruntled look that told him what she thought of his theory. “Why’s Tasha killing these guys?”

“Just now wondering that, are you?”
             

She ignored him and continued speaking, more to herself than him. “What’s Jeff know that I don’t? Is he afraid Tasha’s going to convince me to join her, or is it something else?”

She narrowed her eyes, and suddenly turned her sharp gaze to him. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Only the dead guys had no obvious connection to each other except they were all politicians. Jeff didn’t seem to know much more either.”

“And you believed him?”

“Of course not. But it’s not my job to question.”

“My gut tells me he knows something more. Or at least suspects.”

“Like?”

“Like were they all senators at the same time? Did they serve on a committee together?”

“Possibly.” Ben shrugged. “No doubt there’s questions that need answers, but I’m not supposed to solve the mystery. You’re supposed to do the brainwork. My orders are to go with you and bring Tasha back, regardless of her motivation, and I plan on following orders.”

She stared at him, anger radiating toward him. He imagined she was envisioning strangling him or something equally lethal.

“I’m not Keith, MJ,” he said quietly, taking a risk thinking the memory of her last assignment was holding her back from working with him. “And the safety of the world doesn’t rest on this assignment. I won’t betray you.”

“Just because you say so, I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Shoot me if I’m lying.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Does that mean–”

“Yeah, you can tag along. We can act like we’re dating. I doubt Tasha’s kept tabs on me to see if that’s true.”

“When are we leaving?”

“I’ll have to talk to Tex.”

“Give him a phone call, and we’ll head out in the morning.”

“No. I’m not going to call tonight. He and his wife are at the Christmas play rehearsal. And I have a valve job to finish tomorrow.”

“See you after work then.” Ben left the apartment, and opted for the stairs to relieve the tension of the evening. Traveling with a baby. He’d rather face a bullet.

Instead of going to the elevator, he turned to go down the back stairs. Though MJ had agreed to have him travel along, Ben made a planned stop in the parking garage looking for her car. He’d been in the business long enough to know better than to trust anyone as well, although his lesson hadn’t been as harsh as MJ’s.

He found her car, pulled the little device out of his pocket, slipped it just under the back bumper. That taken care of, he headed into the night air, to the front of the building where his truck was parallel parked curbside.

Darkness dropped the temperature sharply, and he zipped his jacket. The glowing street lamps showed the street was deserted. No doubt the town rolled up the sidewalks at sundown.

Ben unlocked the door on the dinged and rusty old Ford truck, dreading the next coming days. He opened the door, stepping to get in when a searing pain pierced his arm. He mentally registered the shot before he heard the “thump” sound of a silenced high-powered rifle.

He dove into the truck, scrambling for his pistol in the glove compartment.

A movement in a window in MJ’s apartment caught his eye. He aimed, ignoring the pain and blood he felt running down his arm. When an image came into focus, he realized it was MJ. Holding a gun.

Damn. Had MJ shot him?

Chapter 6

MJ, tempted to sink into a chair, sighed with relief instead. The emotions pummeling her in Ben’s presence left with him. Not allowing any time to dwell on her feelings, she pulled her focus to what she needed to be doing for this unplanned for—unwanted—trip. She went to her safe, unlocked it, and pulled out her Sig Sauer P220 she’d bought to replace the one Keith stole. She had no reason to use it other than the shooting range, but leaving after work tomorrow meant she needed to prepare tonight.

Chances were slim she’d fire a single shot, but she wouldn’t consider going on any assignment, no matter how tame or routine it promised to be, without–

A sound like glass shattering outside made all thoughts freeze. A brief pause and then her feet moved before she formed a conscious thought to go to the window. Automatically, she killed the living room lights, and habit had her slipping the bullet clip into her gun.

No doubt there was a good explanation for the sound she heard. Something non-threatening. Ben’s presence in town had simply thrown all her alarm switches to sensitive hair trigger. The whole idea of going back to work may have made her jumpy. But there was an old saying that had saved many operative’s lives: Better safe than sorry.

A look outside the window confirmed Ben’s red clunker truck still parked out front. But the street light revealed his once intact windshield was now riddled with a myriad of lines running through it, resembling something Angelina might have scribbled on paper. Chunks of glass, here and there, were totally missing. MJ dropped the curtain and pivoted away from the window, processing what she’d seen. Had some kid thrown a rock? Not likely. Then what would shatter his windshield like that? The answer seemed obvious, but why would someone shoot at Ben?

Standing beside the window with her back to the wall, this time she inched the curtain away with her gun and peeked out to scan the street below.

Where was Ben?

She zeroed in on him, lying across the front seat, his gun out and aimed. . . at her! She dropped the curtain back in place. What was going on?

MJ processed all she’d seen. Someone shot at Ben, and for some reason he thought the shooter was her. From his angle he’d be unlikely to hit her even if he fired, so MJ inched up and took another look. This time she swept a broader area with her gaze, and although rusty from years out of the business, her brain still managed to process the scene with practiced thoroughness. She took in the silent downtown of two and three story buildings, the parking spaces vacant in front of each business as her building was the only one used for apartments.

All looked quiet and silent until...

There. Across the street at the old State National Bank building. Movement at a second story window. A flash.

Adrenaline spurting through her veins like hot motor oil, MJ dropped down to the floor again, flattened on the carpet. When no bullet came zinging through her living room window or wall, she peeked out once more and this time the truck was pitched off balance. The back tire once full of air was now slowly sinking into the ground.

Shit, someone was really after him.

He must’ve concluded the same thing and realized it wasn’t her. He clambered out of his truck, on the apartment building side and scrunched down, using the full sized F150 truck as a shield from the shooter with high ground advantage across the street.

MJ knew the chances of a wild shot going through the apartment building and hurting someone innocent was remote. The shooter was obviously a professional. Still she was glad Angel was in the back bedroom in case the shooter turned his attention to her apartment.

Damn Ben for bringing trouble to town. And damn Jeff for sending him. And damn Tasha for killing those old coot senators—whether they needed killing or not. Damn them all.

Grimly, MJ held the curtain away just enough to peek out. Ben was safe...phone at his ear. “Texas When I Die” began to play from the diaper bag by the door. She dug out her phone, not even wondering how he had her unlisted number.

“I need cover.”

“Got it.” She cracked open the window enough to fit the gun barrel through.

“You see the target?”

“No one specific, just the direction.”

“I’m gonna make a run for the front door. Don’t shoot unless you see someone moving on me, don’t want to attract attention.”

“I need a high-powered rifle for that distance anyway. You okay?”

“I’m hit, but I’ll live.”

The situation was grim, deadly even, but calm slipped over her like old, comfortable coveralls, helping her keep a level head. “Wait. You don’t need to be out in the open. Get in your truck, drive–”

“Drive? The truck’s gotta flat.”

“It’ll still drive, and you’re just going around the corner to the garage entrance. The code is 321.”

Ben nodded, then crawled back into his vehicle. Before he started the engine, he took a moment to wrap something around his hand and punched out some of the windshield glass. Obviously the safety glass was too riddled to see clearly. The process only took an extra few seconds, but still she held her breath until he drove slowly out of sight crouched low behind the steering wheel. Now, she breathed. It was best to get his truck off the street anyway—that busted windshield and flat was bound to raise questions if anyone saw it.

She watched, but no more shots went flying in Ben’s direction. And no one had seemed to notice—hello, what was this? Just what they didn’t need, one of the local cops turned onto the street. And stopped a block down to talk to some man, who came out of the shadows of a store front awning where the local AA held their meetings. The man took a puff on a cigarette as he approached the squad car.

So was the cop offering encouragement to a recovering alcoholic, or had the man seen something and couldn’t wait to blab?