Whatever It Takes (2 page)

“If only it were that easy. I’ve been through Leo’s house with a fine-­tooth comb. He was still alive when I tore that place apart. I’m probably the reason he installed that fancy alarm system. Unfortunately, I’m out of ideas, and certain parties are getting nervous.” Daniels leaned back in his chair.

“You and the old man were close. If he had any special hiding places, you’d know about them. With the proper motivation, I think you just might come up with the answer. What do you think, Detective? Is your life enough motivation for you?” Daniels stood and scraped his chair back.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? If I’m dead, I won’t be able to find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“I’m not a trusting man, so I like to have a contingency . . . just in case. If you help me locate the item in question, you’ve got my word I’ll walk away and never look back. But if I hear so much as a whisper of a double-­cross . . . well, that’s where the backup plan comes in. You have three sisters, right? A nephew? Your parents live in Florida, but you have an old girlfriend you seem pretty close to and there’s that ex-­partner, Ty Whitlock. Are any of them worth cooperating for?” Daniels turned to face the bar.

Nate bristled. He would have slammed his fist into Daniels’s cocksure grin if the behemoth behind him wasn’t still binding his arms. He sucked air in slowly, trying to diffuse the rage that painted everything within his vision a dark shade of red.

“I’m not bluffing. I suppose it would only be fair to prove I mean every word I say. Will killing the occupants of this poor excuse for a bar convince you?” Daniels nodded to the other three men who weren’t securing Nate to his chair, and they each pulled a handgun.

Damn it!
Nate strained forward against the hands holding him until his shoulders ached with the effort. “No one needs to get hurt. This is between you and me.”
What the hell did this SOB think Uncle Leo stole that was worth the lives of three innocent ­people?

Daniels ignored him.

Nate tensed, calculating his best chance to surprise the guy behind him and get free long enough to reach Daniels before the three hired men opened fire. Clearly, he didn’t stand a chance of coming out on top in this confrontation, but he’d be damned if he’d sit here within reach of Daniels and
not
do everything possible to choke the life out of him.

Suddenly the door swung open, and a blast of cold air struck Nate in the face. As one, the armed men turned. The door creaked on rusty hinges, but only darkness and the rain-­soaked streets were visible through the opening.

“What the hell?” Daniels reached inside his suit jacket, drew a gun, and inched toward the open door.

A shadowy blur shot across the threshold, leaped effortlessly through the air in front of Daniels, and delivered perfectly timed kicks with a pair of thick-­soled army boots. The first swept the gun from his hand and likely broke his wrist. The second slammed into his chin and snapped his head back with a sickening crack. He spun around and dropped, out cold before he hit the floor.

The kid—­the one Nate had dismissed as young and inexperienced—­landed squarely on his feet, facing Daniels’s hit squad, and an eight-­inch dagger appeared in his hand. Nate’s gaze locked on the kid’s for a second. Dark brown eyes, flecked with gold, triggered a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. It wasn’t until the hat landed on his lap and all that long black hair fell down around her shoulders that Nate realized who’d just saved his ass.

“Alex Morgan . . .” He whispered the name as she advanced on the three bodyguards.

What the hell was she doing here? The last time he’d seen Alex, she’d just wrecked his car, sliding it sideways into a building, taking out the man who had a gun pointed at Nate’s head in the process. She’d probably saved his life that day, but the damn fool woman had wrecked his ’69 Mustang. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since, and he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the events of that day.

Shock cost Nate a ­couple of seconds, but the man behind him was apparently just as surprised. His grip had loosened as his boss bit the dust—­had become practically nonexistent when Alex morphed into a woman in front of their eyes. Nate easily jerked free, whipped around, and decked the guy.

He swung to help Alex and pulled up short. Two of the men were already down. One pressed a hand to his stomach while blood seeped through his fingers. The other was trying to hold together the edges of a vicious-­looking slash that extended the length of one thigh. Nate kicked their guns away as he passed by.

The third man was on his feet, backing away, hands raised in supplication. Alex stalked him, the bloody dagger held alongside her leg. Nate’s friend and ex-­partner, Ty, had warned him that she was lethal, unpredictable, and apt to respond with violent intent at the first sign of perceived danger, but Nate hadn’t really bought his story. Now that he’d seen it firsthand—­it was still unbelievable . . . if not for the blood everywhere.

Alex’s entire attention appeared to be focused on the man desperately scrambling away from her. Fearless and very much in control of the situation, she was an intimidating opponent. Nate had no doubt that the man in front of her, probably seriously reconsidering his job choices at the moment, would be dead shortly if someone didn’t intervene—­carefully.

“Alex. Alex?” If she heard him, she gave no indication. He caught up to her and gripped the wrist that controlled the dagger, just in case she couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad guys in whatever alternate reality she currently occupied.

She frowned and tried to twist free. Confusion filled her eyes, followed swiftly by realization and dismay. He could read the effort it took for her to come back from wherever she’d been. She regarded him silently for a few seconds before she gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Nate took the knife from her hand. “That a’ girl. Stay with me now.”

He pointed the blade at the man who was backed against the wall. “Don’t move.” He was fairly sure the guy was convinced that staying put was his best option. Circling back, Nate retrieved his gun, grabbed his cell phone, and called for backup.

Still carrying the bloody dagger, he scrutinized the tables until he found a soiled napkin. He scraped both sides of the blade on the crumpled paper and held out the weapon, hilt first, to Alex. “Tuck that away somewhere.” Had it been anyone else but her, he’d never have handed the weapon back. In this instance, though, he couldn’t think of anyone more capable of covering his back should the need arise.

She snatched the sleek steel dagger by its leather-­wrapped hilt and deftly inserted it in a scabbard on her hip, hidden by the large coat she wore.

He snagged Alex’s hat from the floor and was just passing it to her when he heard the unmistakable sound of a break-­open shotgun’s action. A glance over his shoulder revealed the source of the trouble. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her through the open door and ran just as Goliath let go with both barrels.

Nate swore as he realized his error in judgment. He’d been so surprised by Alex’s sudden transformation from gangly kid to someone he knew, he’d put the familiar interaction between the bartender and one of Daniels’s thugs out of his mind. Goliath obviously hadn’t been packing a weapon—­maybe he even had to slip to the back room for his shotgun—­or he’d have opened fire much sooner with a very different outcome. It could easily have been the last mistake Nate ever made.

They’d gotten out without a scratch, but Nate had a bad feeling about his partners. He sprinted down the block. Alex ran into the back of him when he stopped beside the open driver’s window of Burke’s car.

His fellow officers were both slumped in the front seat, one round each to the head, splattered blood and brain matter everywhere. Nate had to fight to keep from losing his lunch. Neither of them had even drawn a weapon—­surprised and gunned down where they sat.

It had to have been Daniels. Anything else was too much of a damn fluke. Anger boiled up within him and he no longer regretted the hasty yet thorough job Alex had done on Daniels’s cronies in the bar. In fact, the urge to go back and finish it for her was looking more attractive by the minute.

“It’s not healthy to hang around out here.” Alex, apparently handling the death scene better than he was, tugged on his arm.

She was right. Cops and ambulances would arrive in due time, but he had to get back inside and do his job. The question was . . . what to do with Alex?

What he wouldn’t give to talk to Joe Reynolds, Alex’s boss, before he turned the homicide detectives loose on her. Nate knew just enough of Alex’s history to worry about her reaction if someone pushed her too hard. According to Ty, her life as a child and young girl had been hell. Whatever her reason for showing up here tonight—­and he didn’t believe for a minute it was coincidence—­she’d jumped in to help him, saving several lives in the process. So, hell yes . . . he owed her one—­maybe more, if he was honest with himself. That her sudden appearance reawakened feelings he thought he’d buried deep had nothing to do with it. The only thing he cared about was her ability to handle an interrogation. His colleagues, investigating the murders of two of their own, would pick up on every inconsistency in her answers. She’d be lucky if they didn’t throw her ass in jail.

His protective side urged him to keep her out of it if he could, but, eventually, he’d have to produce her, and sooner would look less guilty than later.

Nate turned away from the open window and, with a hand on her elbow, drew her along with him toward the bar. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a concealed permit for that blade.”

“Of course I do. From the State of Montana, though.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not legal in Oregon.”

“That’s good enough. Let me handle that issue. You just tell them what happened. Got it?”

She nodded, going pale, obviously completely out of her comfort zone.

He slid his arm around her waist. “It’ll be okay. I promise. You’ll be a hero.” He couldn’t stop himself from tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here, Alex?”

She shrugged and her gaze focused on him. “Looking for you.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. “Hold that thought.” Nate drew his gun and pushed her back against the wall beside the door of the bar. “Stay here until I come back.” Without waiting for her answer, he jerked the door open and moved swiftly through.

There was no sign of Goliath or his shotgun behind the counter, or anywhere else in the bar, but Nate wasn’t taking any chances this time. He cleared the main room according to procedure before he stopped in the center and lowered his gun.

The hooker peeked over top the bar, recognition flooding her taut face. She straightened and pointed toward the back room. “They left.”

“How long ago?”

“Three or four minutes maybe. That creep who was doing all the talking, two of the big guys, and the bartender.” She lowered her voice. “I think he was one of them.”

Nate’s gaze swept the bar room. The two knife victims lay unmoving. Apparently, the drunk on his stool hadn’t been disturbed by anything going on around him. Nate swung back to the woman. “I think you’re right. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Savannah.”

“You stay right here, Savannah.” He quickly checked the bathrooms, the back room, and the alley before returning to the bar, where Savannah was pouring herself a drink and offered him one. He raised his hand to stop her from pouring into the glass she’d set up for him.

The sirens were closer now. Soon the place would be crawling with cops. Nate strode to the door, stepped outside, and drew Alex in with him. Blue and red lights reflected off the interior walls as cruisers raced down the block.

Alex looked straight ahead, never glancing to the right where the two wounded men lay. She pinched his arm in a death grip, and when he glanced at her face, she seemed desperate to hide the fear that widened her gold-­flecked eyes. What had her so scared? Surely it wasn’t death. If the story he’d heard was true, death had ceased to bother her a long time ago. Cops? Being locked away? That made sense, considering her history. It wouldn’t happen on his watch though.

Hell, he barely knew Alex. What was it about her that made him want to protect her? She’d laugh in his face if he suggested she couldn’t take care of herself. This crazy impulse was going to get him in trouble if he didn’t rein it in.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his side in far too familiar an embrace, but he didn’t care. She needed to know he was watching out for her. She didn’t seem to mind, leaning into him as though they held each other like this all the time.

“Savannah, this is Alex.”

The hooker reached for her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did, sugar.”

A tiny smile showcased one of Alex’s dimples.

“She’s a little nervous. She doesn’t care much for cops.” Nate figured if anyone would understand, Savannah would. Hookers had no reason to like cops either.

“Well, I hear that, honey. Except for present company, there’s not much good about them.” She turned her concerned gaze on Alex. “Don’t you worry. I’m here for you if you need me.”

Cars screeched to a halt directly out front and sirens wound down to nothing just as six guys dressed in SWAT gear poured through the door.

Nate held up his badge. “They went out the back about seven or eight minutes ago. Those two are wounded.” He indicated the fallen men.

One of the officers spoke into his radio and the next instant two EMTs with medical bags and a stretcher plowed through the door and went to work. The SWAT team cleared the back of the building and prepared to search the alley.

The next person through the door was the man Nate had been waiting for. A full head of silver hair and a well-­cut pin-­striped suit made him easy to spot at any crime scene. His boss’s gaze swept the room, and when it came to rest on him, a scowl darkened his features.

Alex tensed beside him, and Nate squeezed her arm reassuringly. Captain Gene Morris had a loud bark, but he was mostly harmless.