Coming to Colorado (10 page)

“Same here,” Ryan said.

Davis tried the door handle, finding it locked. He’d learned long ago that the easiest option was usually the best path. Sadly, the owner hadn’t left him with any easy options. Davis looked around, wishing he had his backpack. With his pack, he’d have a set of picks that he could use to open this deadbolt, but he wouldn’t need the door opened if he had his bag—that was the rub. He breathed out slowly, letting his frustration go.

“Locked?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, it’s locked.”

“Just a minute. Let me see if they...” Ryan ran his hands along the wall, moving further down the alley.

“Hey, don’t go—”

“Found it.”

“What?” Davis moved closer to Ryan.

“Lockbox. They probably have multiple people who need to get in but they don’t want to give the key out to everyone.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Davis wanted to kiss Ryan, but he held back, settling on watching the man in action.

Ryan turned the box over in his hands. “Looks like we’ll need to figure out the code.”

“The easiest code is usually the best place to start.”

Ryan looked up, catching Davis’s gaze. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could see the ghost of a smirk on Ryan’s face.

“So tell me, what do you think would be the easiest?”

“Well, it’s obvious that one, two, three, four is the first place to start, but I bet they set it to nine, eight, seven, six.”

“We’ll see. At least there isn’t an alarm on this thing.”

“True,” Davis said. They tried both sets of numbers and both failed to open the lock. “Fuck, that sucks.” They both stared at the box, neither of them saying a word.

“What next?” Ryan asked.

“What’s the phone number to this place?”

Ryan pulled out his phone and the screen lit his face. Davis was struck by how handsome he was. The man was beautiful. “Let me look.” Ryan typed some information into his phone and smiled when the screen changed. “Last four are five, seven, six, four. Let’s try those.”

Davis wanted to pull the box from Ryan’s hands and put in the number, but he waited patiently, watching as Ryan spun the dial for the last number. He pulled on the top metal bar and it clicked open.

“Hell yeah.”

Ryan held up the key. “We’re in.”

“Awesome. Let’s go.”

Davis took the key and slid it into the lock, happy when it turned. Before opening the door, he drew in a deep breath and held it. “Here’s to hoping they don’t have an alarm.”

“If they do, I’ll stay out here, you go grab the bag then we’ll book it.”

“Deal.”

Davis pushed the door open, waiting a beat for a siren to go off. Nothing happened. “It might be a silent alarm. Let’s go in, get the bag, and leave.”

“Sure.” Ryan followed him in, staying close. They moved quickly through the kitchen to the bathroom, using the flashlight on Ryan’s phone. Once in the bathroom, Davis climbed up on the toilet lid and popped the ceiling tile. He reached up where he’d thrown the bag, or at least where he thought he’d thrown the bag, but didn’t find it. He glanced to Ryan, worry filling him.

“Fuck, I can’t find it.”

“Maybe it’s deeper in than you thought.”

Davis reached up again, this time stretching, grabbing hold of the strap. “Found it.” He pulled it down and passed it to Ryan, trying his best to ignore the weird feeling floating through him as he handed his computer to another person. His life was on that computer, and there were secrets stored in the files that no one else could ever have access to.

“We should move,” Ryan said.

“Any reason?” Davis asked as he repositioned the ceiling tile.

“Just a bad feeling. Let’s get out of here. We’ll find a coffee shop and refuel. We can figure a few things out once we have the opportunity to sit down and relax.”

Davis stepped down and took the bag, wondering if Ryan was for real. He’d trusted him because he’d felt trapped last night. In reality, he should have told the guy to go fuck himself, but he’d accepted the man’s help and now he liked having him around. He was going soft, and soft wasn’t good for a man in his type of job.

They moved to the back door, pausing before they opened it. Davis feared that someone was on the other side, waiting. Exhaustion was starting to pull at him, and he needed a break. Once he got some coffee, he’d find a hotel where he could crash and not fear being tracked down.

“We’ll figure this out,” Ryan said.

“Once again, I’m wondering why you’re helping me.”

Ryan shrugged. “You’re a nice guy.”

Davis blew out a quick breath, the derision thick. He’d fooled this man, just like he’d fooled everyone else. Having a normal guy, one like Ryan, help him was humbling. He’d bet Ryan never had to kill anyone.

“No, I’m not, not really.”

“We can debate our badness levels later, for now, let’s get the key back in that lockbox and head out.”

“Sure.” Davis pushed the door open, and a bullet slug slammed into the metal doorjamb beside his head. He jumped back and pulled the door shut, turning the lock.

“We’re fucked,” Davis growled.

“Do you think they have the place surrounded?”

“If it’s the cops then yes, other people, no.”

Ryan led him to the front of the store, the hand on Davis’s back felt reassuring. The more time he spent with this man, the more dependent he became on him.

“The cops wouldn’t have shot first. They would have made demands and only fired after we stepped outside. Whoever targeted me yesterday, tracked me here.” He shook his head, trying to figure out how they knew he was here. “Maybe the dude put a GPS tracker in my bag, or the person waited and the noise we’d made outside drew his attention.” No matter how Davis sliced it, they were screwed.

In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren. As it drew closer, his panic increased. He wasn’t going to freak-out. He’d done this too many times to lose it. People shot at him. It sucked, but he could get through this. No way would the person expect them to exit out the front door.

“We have to make a break for it. The cops will be here in a few,” Ryan said.

“You could stay, tell them I set you up, kidnapped you, forced you to do this.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not abandoning you right now.”

“We’re under fire. We could die.”

“Not the first time I’ve been shot at. Let’s roll.”

Davis huffed out a breath and twisted the lock on the door then pushed it open, ducking out of the restaurant with Ryan right behind him. He didn’t wait to see if the door closed, or if anyone else was around. He moved fast up the sidewalk, turning at the next street. More cars were out, and a few pedestrians were walking by, the city was waking up, allowing them to start to blend in.

“Do you think the shooter is following us?” Ryan asked.

“No clue. He doesn’t know I have help. He probably thinks I’m alone.” They crossed a street then turned right before hooking a left. “Fuck, we need to get out of the open.”

“It’s a little after four, the subway isn’t running yet.”

“Where are we going to go?” Davis glanced to Ryan, hoping the man had a plan, because at the moment, he was drawing a blank.

Chapter Eleven

Roger shifted in the seat and moaned. He hated sleeping in a car. His muscles and joints always loathed him afterward. Something had brought him out of the depths of sleep, but he wasn’t sure what. Blinking into the dim streetlights, he tried to make out what was happening. It was a miracle that no cops had stopped by to roust them. Two guys sleeping in a car didn’t usually go unnoticed on city streets, but he guessed they’d gotten lucky.

Mike moved beside him, his arms spreading as he stretched, almost hitting Roger’s face.

“Morning,” Roger grumbled.

“Fuck, I hate sleeping like this.”

“We need coffee,” Roger said.

“Damn straight. I want to freshen up. What time is it?”

“Too damn early.” Roger glanced at his phone, groaning. “Four, it’s four in the fucking morning. Seriously, I need a bath and a warm bed.”

“And Grant?”

“Fuck, don’t even go there. You got anybody you’re sleeping with?”

“No, I had some fun while I was on my vacation, but most of the time I spent at the ranch taking care of the livestock.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You didn’t venture far.”

“Didn’t want to. Everything I need is at the ranch, and I don’t want a relationship, ever.”

Roger sat up straighter and rested his hands on the steering wheel, trying to stretch his back. “Something’s going down.”

“How can you tell?”

“Something woke me. Not sure what, but I don’t like it.”

Mike leaned forward just as a loud pop blasted to the left.

“Oh shit. That sounded like gunfire,” Roger said.

“Crap. You were right, something’s going down.”

Roger felt for his pistol before he opened the car door. Mike was around the car beside him before he took a step. Roger nodded to the left and Mike tilted his head to the right. They parted and moved up the street, searching for what they hoped was Craig.

Roger’s heart thundered and his stomach twisted. This could be it. Few people were out to witness their movements, and they were always careful. If they found Craig now, they could easily disappear down an alleyway and no one would know where they’d gone. He’d just be another dead body in the middle of a busy city. Duff would dispatch people to rig the evidence and clean up their trail. They’d get away with it, and Craig would be gone.

It was frightening how much power they had. If any of them were less than honest they could really screw people over, but somehow Duff had gathered a group of men who would never think of doing what they were doing without good cause—except Craig. But that’s why they were on cleanup duty now, and they would get the mess with Craig cleaned up.

A door opened on Mike’s side of the street, and two men exited the building, heading the other way. Roger glanced to Mike then rushed over. The sound of sirens grew closer.

“Think that’s Davis?” Roger asked.

“No clue. You follow that pair, and I’ll see if I can find Craig.”

“He’s dangerous. Be careful, cops are coming.”

“Always.” Mike turned down an alley, disappearing from Roger’s sight. He was about a quarter mile behind the two guys, and he’d have to rush to catch up. But rushing drew attention, and that was the last thing he wanted.

They’d walked for over ten minutes, and he still hadn’t caught up with the two men. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was chasing a bad lead and should turn back to help Mike. If one of the guys in front of him was Davis, he needed to stick close. Roger hadn’t gotten a good look at either man since it was still dark out. His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen, seeing a call from Mike. God, he hoped Craig was dead.

*~*~*

Mike moved quickly down the alley, hoping he wasn’t walking into a trap. Craig wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. It was disgusting that Craig was still alive. The man had caused so much trouble.

A noise sounded up the alley and he froze, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. The cops were getting closer and he didn’t think even Craig was dumb enough to stick around. The seconds ticked past, and the sirens had grown so loud he couldn’t hear anything else. He moved forward, winding down side streets and away from the sirens. He was separated from Roger, alone in the dark and hunting dangerous prey. This was why he stayed at the ranch. This made him feel alive. He turned down a main street, and four cars passed him. Up ahead, he saw a taxi stop for a guy about Craig’s height and build. Another car approached, the headlights shining on the cab and the man getting in. It wasn’t Craig. The guy was dark skinned, and his nose not at all like Craig’s. The skin tone could be faked, but not that much. On the ranch, they had access to facial prosthetics, but he doubted that Craig had been able to hook up with anyone who could supply what he needed to alter his facial features after escaping prison.

Mike kept walking, hoping he wasn’t going the wrong way. He was lost. This was one of the most fucked up missions he’d ever been on. Of course, since they were hunting Craig it would be fucked up. The man had twisted so much, almost wrecking everything they’d built, leaving them near devastated.

He saw a figure about a block ahead of him and sped up, hoping to catch the guy. The cops were behind them, and though more people were on the streets, heading to God only knows where, he’d still kill the bastard if it turned out to be Craig.

Mike ran when he could, staying as quiet as possible. The man still had no idea he was being followed, or at least he gave no indication. As Mike drew nearer, he slowed, preparing for an assault. Two steps, then another two, and he was close enough to attack in ten quick steps. Now he was sure it was Craig.

The guy turned a corner, and Mike halted, knowing that if he followed around the corner, Craig would be right there waiting for him. But it was Craig, and he had to get him. He pulled out his phone and dialed Roger, but shoved the device in his pocket before speaking. He was about to rush forward when Craig came back around the corner, pistol raised.

Fear flashed but training took over. Mike ducked then moved forward. The blast from Craig’s weapon rang in his ears. Pain raced down his back and arm, but he ignored it. He was still moving, and he wouldn’t stop until Craig was lying in a pool of his own blood.

Mike wrapped his arms around Craig’s legs and swept him off his feet, picking him up before dropping him to the ground. Mike slammed down on top of him, his elbow jamming into Craig’s sternum. He heard the whoosh of air from Craig’s lungs but didn’t stop. The man had to die.

They both scrambled, his fingers searching for a place to grab onto to get the upper hand. It wasn’t a smooth fight, and there weren’t any clean hits or good punches. They were both flailing, neither one coming out on top. They rolled to the left then to the right. He heard sirens coming closer. He didn’t want the cops involved before Craig died. They’d only mess things up. Craig couldn’t get put back in jail. He’d find another way to escape, another way to come back and torture them. Mike’s friends at the ranch, and Duff, his mentor, meant too much to him. Even if he died on this mission, he had to take Craig out.