Coming to Colorado (6 page)

After he’d cleared the airports, he checked the train logs. That would be less accurate, since the security was less stringent. While he was running the search on
Amtrak’s
system, he started looking for other robberies. The guys had already driven away, and Duff and Grant were back in the room. Grant came over and glanced over his shoulder.

“What are you searching for?”

“More robberies.” Billy stared at the screen, wondering if he was seeing it correctly. “Okay, so I’ve been going through petty theft reports, and it looks like Craig has made a few mistakes. He was much more reckless in Virginia and up through DC. Then I think he got some medical help.”

“I’ll check the hospitals. There’s a bunch, but we have to start somewhere,” Zander said.

“Hey, drop that,” Marshal said. “I found him in New York.”

“I’m checking the airports and flights,” Zander said.

They reorganized quickly, all of them jumping on the new information. Billy’s eyes were tired, his brain aching as he pulled up another window, searching for anything they could tie to Craig. There was so much information to plough through, and finding the man in New York would be damn near impossible.

“Hey, we’ll figure this out,” Grant said.

“It’s exhausting. We’ve been looking for almost twenty-four hours without any real breaks.”

“And we’ll keep looking because that’s what we do,” Grant said.

Billy nodded and turned back to his computer. He decided to take a look at gun shops. At some point, Craig would arm himself. That Craig wasn’t headed straight for Colorado was troubling. Maybe they were wrong, and were following a bad trail, but he hoped they were on the right track. After about thirty minutes of searching, Billy came across a news article on a robbery outside of a gun store north of New York.

“Hey, I think I found something. A vehicle was stolen outside of a gun shop north of New York City.”

“Oh shit, do you think it was Craig?” Grant asked.

Billy related the article, not reading verbatim as he sent the other guys a link to the site “The owner of the store gave a description of the guy, Leroy Vincent, who purchased a rifle the day before. Leroy wasn’t a local, and the owner didn’t like him. The next morning, his car was gone. The description matches what other people gave in Virginia.”

They were quiet as they read the article. Billy searched for more information on the car, like license plate and VIN number. When he found the information, he shot everyone a note.

“I’ll start searching for hits on traffic cameras for the license plate,” Grant said.

It was amazing the way the guys operated, flipping tasks and switching to new priorities as they found information. He’d never worked with a group of men who could move so quickly. In the Army, he’d met some sharp men, but this group was the best of the best.

“Hey, I found something,” Marshal said.

They all stopped what they were doing and turned to Marshal. “Don’t make us wait,” Duff said.

“Sorry, I was just reading more of the article. The stolen car was found in Boston two days ago. We should contact the pilot and ask them to fly into Boston instead of New York.”

“I’m on it,” Duff said.

Now they were getting somewhere. Billy started checking flights out of Boston, making sure that Craig hadn’t booked himself a seat on any of them. They’d only know for sure that it was Craig once they had men on the ground. It could be just some random idiot who jacked a car and took it for a joy ride, or it could be one of the most wanted men that America would never find out about because he was too dangerous to expose to the general public.

Chapter Seven

Davis checked his six for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. After the shooting, he’d walked around the city, searching for a place to stay. For the moment, he thought he was safe. Earlier in the day, he’d stopped at a roadside vendor and bought a ball cap, pulling it low to cover his hair. When he’d been sitting outside the coffee shop, he’d been wearing a wig. Now, his naturally dark hair was loose, falling below his ears and almost brushing his collar. How many people actually knew what he really looked like? Fuck, he was going to go crazy before he found a place to spend the night. He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen. When he’d received the package for this mission, he’d not second-guessed the information and took the request at face value. Now it seemed like everything was fucked up. He needed someone he could trust. The one man who wouldn’t let him down was his dad, but could he put his dad in this type of danger? For now, he wouldn’t chance it.

After another hour or so of walking around, making sure he hadn’t been followed, Davis chose a cheap hotel. The place wouldn’t ever win any awards and probably had its last remodel about thirty years ago when he was a preschooler, but it would do for his purposes. The hotel had one room that was dorm style, and a couple of private rooms. He chose a private room knowing there was no way he’d sleep in a room with other people.

Davis thought about calling his dad again, but first he needed to check his house. He logged onto the hotel internet and did a few tricks to make his location untraceable. After he felt good about his connection, he logged onto his home security system and checked the infrared camera he’d hidden in the ventilation system. It showed that there’d been no activity in the last twenty-four hours, but that could change if he went home. For some odd reason, though this mission was easy, danger surrounded him. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the bruise from diving to the pavement earlier. He was lucky that all he got was a bruise. Being targeted sucked. He easily could have been lying in a morgue tonight instead of sitting in this crappy hotel room. Thoughts of death made him think of his dad again. He had to come clean with the man. Duff may not support him, but Davis had to start a conversation with him.

With his device in hand, he tapped the phone icon, and thought about calling Duff. Talking to his dad would be tricky. He couldn’t do a phone conversation, not yet, so he texted Duff instead.

Hey, I know I owe you a phone call but I’m in Boston on work. I may need something later. Once this is done, I want to come out there to talk.

He thought about deleting the text instead of sending it, but he really needed to keep his options open. Duff might be the only way he would survive this week. Until he could figure out what had gone wrong, he needed to have Duff’s ranch as a backup plan.

Davis checked the time and saw that it was still early. His stomach rumbled and pain radiated from his belly. Hunger clawed at him, and there was no way he could wait until morning to eat. After the shooting, he’d skipped lunch, and now he was feeling the lack of food. Normally, once he’d found a place to lay his head at night, he’d check in with his handler, but the thought sent a wave of fear through him. He needed to be in a safer environment, a place where he knew the score, before he sent a note or called. Somehow, either his contact was compromised, or the man had turned on him.

He shut down his computer, stowing it in his bag before he checked the room to make sure the windows were secured. He stepped into the hall and glanced over his shoulder. No one was near. The stairway was empty, and he saw no one else before he moved out onto the street. Davis was fairly sure he was safe for the time being, but that could change in the blink of an eye.

Exhaustion was wearing him down. Food and sleep would help. Then he’d figure out a plan that would keep him from getting killed. Questions still plagued him, and he knew he wouldn’t feel safe until he figured out what had gone wrong. Somewhere, somehow, something had gone sideways, leaving him unprotected. Now, he just had to figure out who was after him and how to fix the situation.

*~*~*

Leaving the military had been easy for Ryan. The first morning he woke thinking he’d regret his decision, but the disappointment never came. Then it was three weeks and he was still happy. After a month, he’d begun working for a friend, cleaning kayaks at Community Boating on the Charles River. The job was nice as far as jobs went, and as an added bonus he hadn’t been shot at once, but boredom had started to set in, leaving him unsure how long he’d be able to stay. The big bonus that kept him at Community Boating was access to their kayaks. After work, he’d sometimes take one out onto the river, paddling across to the Cambridge side or going a few miles up river just to see what was happening. He enjoyed being on the water. The calming effect was amazing, allowing him to let go of some of the more scary events that had happened while he was deployed. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if he’d skipped the military. Back before he’d joined, he’d not had a good plan for his life. Once in, he’d taken to their rules. But being in the position he’d been in, seeing some of the stuff he’d seen, had left him jaded.

When he’d moved to Boston, he’d thought of spending his money and getting a nice place, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d stay. The apartment he rented was cheap. The area was okay for him, but there were some sketchy parts just around the corner. One benefits to where he lived were the restaurants available in the area. Cooking for one was overrated, and he ate most of his meals out at restaurants, though he was trying to eat at home more often. Eventually, he’d find a place to settle down and start cooking for himself in a cool kitchen that would make him want to stay in, and possibly he’d have a partner to share meals with. Who was he kidding? He’d never really been relationship material, and he wasn’t sure anyone would have him with the quirky ways he’d developed in the Marines.

Boston was Boston. Hard and gritty, the people full of a
can-do
spirit mixed with plenty of
fuck–you-very
-
much
that left him oddly cheered and humbled at the same time. People worked hard and played harder. They took their boating seriously, feeding his glee for being on the water.

After work, he rode his bike to his place, carrying it upstairs to his second floor apartment, stowing it on the patio. People were nice here, for the most part, but his bike would be gone if he left it downstairs. He still hadn’t purchased a car since getting out of the military, and living where he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d purchase a vehicle anytime soon.

The place was still new to him, and Ryan stopped in the middle of his den to admire the way he’d decorated. He turned around slowly, taking in the few pieces of art he’d bought since leaving the military. Not that he’d spent a lot of money. He preferred photographs to paintings. During his first weekend here, he’d bought a couple of photos of Boston that made him happy and hung them where he could easily see them. He’d spent years living with other men cramped together in tents, or worse, shipping containers turned into barracks, having to put up with their shit and mess. Being alone, with no one else taking up his space, was nice for a change, though it would be cool to have someone special.

He opened his refrigerator and groaned. There was hardly any food. He needed to go grocery shopping but he hadn’t wanted to leave his apartment over the weekend to do the task. Now, he was down to a bit of coffee, some crackers, and a breakfast bar he had to save for morning. He checked the menus he’d snagged from the local restaurants, settling on the Italian place around the corner. After he finished eating, he could stop by the small grocery down the block and pick up food for the week.

Since moving to Boston, he hadn’t really gotten lonely. There were a couple of times he’d wanted a warm and willing body in his arms, but for now he enjoyed the peace of being alone in the evenings. Twice, when he was horny as hell, he’d hooked up with college guys. One of the guys was used to the fuck and leave type of thing, and Ryan had enjoyed the sex, but he’d not wanted anything more. The other guy had been searching for someone to pop his cherry. When he figured out the guy was a virgin, Ryan had almost bailed, but the dude had begged him to finish the deed. They’d spent the night in a small hotel room, Ryan going slow, teaching the guy all of his tricks. He’d enjoyed the experience, but the kid wasn’t his speed. After that, he’d decided that his hand was enough entertainment for the time being, and it didn’t demand anything in return. What he really wanted was a man who had been around the block a few times, someone who wasn’t insecure about who he was, or afraid of what he wanted. If he couldn’t find that in a man, he didn’t really want anyone else. Maybe in a few years, he’d really start searching for someone who matched his requirements and wanted to settle down, but for now he wanted his options open and his evenings free. Like tonight, he’d go to the restaurant, sit at the bar, maybe flirt, maybe not, and he’d come home alone, fall into his own bed, and sleep until he woke. He wasn’t going into work for a few days and would use the time to try and figure out what he really wanted in life and where he really wanted to live.

The walk to the Italian place gave him time to start his thinking about the future. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing and turned the corner, running right into a man with brown hair and dull eyes. The man was a little shorter than Ryan, and if looks could kill, Ryan would be dead. He mumbled his apologies as he steadied himself to keep from falling. His hand landed on the guy’s waist by accident and the dude’s jacket pulled free, revealing a Glock in a shoulder harness. Ryan backed away quickly, giving more apologies and hurrying up the street. Shit, he knew guys carried pieces, but that man had been way too intense. He glanced over his shoulder before entering the restaurant, seeing the man sticking around at the end of the block. A sickening chill ran up his back, making him wish he wasn’t so suspicious of everyone. Not every strange man he ran into was looking to kill.

Ryan shook off the encounter and took a seat at the bar, ordering a glass of red wine. He looked around, taking in the people in the place. There were two people working as wait staff, the cook, and three tables of couples. Then there was the guy at the end of the bar with sexy scruff and sharp eyes. The guy took in everything and yet he looked like he was only focusing on his drink. When the stranger’s gaze fell on Ryan, a shiver snaked down his spine, leaving him tingling.