Exposed (33 page)

He glanced at his watch.

The congressman should be arriving in thirty minutes.

* * * * *

“You remember the plan?” Frank asked, as he pulled into the parking spot. He’d waited until the last possible minute to leave and still make the zoo before the ten o’clock deadline. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Geist or Sydney’s brother to recognize her, and move up the timeline.

“We’re going in as a couple. I’m to stick to you no matter what,” Sydney bit out like a petulant teen.

The slight poutiness in her voice actually reassured him. It meant she was angry and focused. Angry meant she wasn’t letting her fear rule her. Focused meant she wouldn’t take risks.

“And?”

“When I see Ian, I’m to point him out to you, but not approach him.”

“Good. And?”

“And if you spot Geist or Kormensky, I’m to take cover and do exactly what you tell me to do.” She reached for the door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “What? More rules? I’m an adult, Frank. I’m capable of using good judgment.”

“I know. Just one more thing,” he said, before leaning in to kiss her. Slow, soft, reassuring. He needed her to know he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. That she’d come to mean something important to him. That she could depend on him.

A few moments later, he pulled back. “It’s all going to be okay, Syd.”

“I really hate that name.” She smiled, stroking her fingers over his face. “Let’s go catch us some bad guys.”

Hand in hand, they walked through the entrance gate. Several families of small children were in front of them. Sydney leaned in close, pulling on his hand. He lowered his head to one side.

“What if these kids are over at the polar bear exhibit in…” she paused to pull her phone out and look at the time, “ten minutes?”

“Doyle has it handled,” Frank said, nodding at the park attendants handing out coupons and pointing to the tunnel under the road that lead to the far side of the zoo, as far from the polar bear exhibit as possible. “He talked with security and the management to arrange a special giveaway for kids, but it is from ten to eleven only today.”

“Smart.”

“Thank you,” he said, pulling her in the direction of the American animal exhibit and the blackmail exchange.

“It was your idea?”

“All of ours. The last thing we want is collateral damage if this thing goes south.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Congressman Morris Blanton nervously toyed with the zipper on the top of the backpack in the seat beside him. It contained five hundred thousand dollars, all in fifty-dollar bills.

He’d lied when he told the blackmailer it would take him an extra day to get his hands on that kind of cash. A simple call to his Cayman Island bank had put the money in his hands with little effort. Over the five terms he’d served in Congress, he’d managed to squirrel away twenty times this amount of the taxpayers’ and campaign contributors’ money. Everything had been going as planned. He’d finish his stint in office, make a quiet departure from public life and his wife of thirty years, retiring to a villa in the islands that he’d purchased a few years back.

Instead of waiting until then to enjoy the freedom money could give him, he’d let his dick do the talking. That was his first mistake.

Annabeth Kelly wasn’t the first intern he’d spent time screwing over the past decade. However, she was the first to threaten to go public if he didn’t leave his wife for her. That’s when he’d panicked and contacted Dimitri.

That was his second one. He’d assumed Kormensky would be grateful for all the efforts he’d made for him on bills throughout his term in office. Grateful enough to handle the little bitch’s disappearance without any consequences. Now he’d be indebted to the man forever.

Then the blackmailer had contacted him, and he knew he was in a mess stickier than the La Brea Tar Pits.

Now, if those images of him with Annabeth and then of her dead body in the woods hit the internet, he wouldn’t just be facing public humiliation, he could go to jail for murder.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

Breathe.

Slow it down. Get it under control
.

He could do this. Go to the bench for the meeting. Set the bag on the ground and wait for the blackmailer to hand him the flash drive and leave. Once his extortionist had the bag of money, Dimitri would take him out.

Then he could live his life with no one the wiser about what was to happen.

A sound in front indicated the safety glass of the sedan had been lowered between the front seat and the back. Looking up, he found the driver staring at him in the rearview mirror.

“We’re here, Congressman. Mr. Kormensky instructed me to let you enter the zoo first, then I’ll be about twenty feet behind you.”

“Good,” he said. Swallowing, then licking his dry lips, he pulled the blue Michigan baseball hat on his head. It would stand out in this sea of Buckeye red like a beacon, which he was sure was his extortionist’s intention.

“You have five minutes to make the drop, sir.”

“Thank you.” He climbed out of the car, grabbed the bag, and walked briskly to the gate.

He purchased his ticket and entered, declining the site map offered by one of the staff. The night before he’d memorized the path he’d need to take. The exhibit had an area where you could go inside to observe the bears in the water, but he wasn’t to go inside. Instead, he’d been instructed to sit on one of the benches nearby on the edge of the path.

Veering to his right, he wove his way in the direction of the polar bear exhibit through the crowd—which was thinning out as he walked. He forced his body not to rush, no need to give the idea he was in a hurry or panicked. That would draw attention, and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself today.

He rounded the corner and found a few tables with umbrellas near the concession stand. A couple sat at one table, at the other were two men, heavily in conversation. An open bench was farther up the path. Approaching it without looking anxious, he casually sat on one end, placing the bag of money on the ground next to his foot.

Now he waited.

* * * * *

Marv patted his pocket again. The envelope his new friend—Ian, yeah, yeah, that was his name—had given him was in there.

He watched the crowd from his position in the shade. Ian’s directions were specific. Stand at the concession stand and drink his lemonade. When a man with a Michigan hat sat on the bench, he was to approach him, hand over the envelope and grab the bag.

Yeah, yeah, he could do this.

He looked over at the bench again.

There he was.

The man in the Michigan hat.

Marv threw his trash in the can. He always cleaned up after himself. He might be homeless, but he wasn’t a slob. Then he slowly made his way over to the bench.

“Sir,” he said.

The man looked up. “Go away.”

“Sir,” he started again, removing the envelope from his pocket. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“You?” The man narrowed his eyes in skepticism, but took the envelope and felt around on it. He nodded. “There’s the bag.”

Marv bent over, picked up the bag and straightened.

A thunderclap sounded.

Before Marv could take a step back toward his friend, pain slammed into him, knocking him on his butt. Then all feeling was gone. Night swallowed him up.

* * * * *

Screams filled the air. Bodies scattered, some heading for cover, others dashing into the melee.

Congressman Blanton took two steps. A second, quieter sound rang out. He crumpled to the ground. More gunfire had the visitors in the park running in panic in all directions.

“Get down!” Castello said, shoving Sydney behind a tree on the edge of the pathway, his gun already out of its holster. She clutched at the back of his jacket, trying to pull him in with her, only to realize he was becoming part of her protective barrier. She peeked around the other side of the tree to see what was happening, it was as if she was watching all the movement through the eye of her camera lens.

“Out of the way!” Another shout. This from one of the undercover cops, running towards the two wounded men. He shoved a tourist out of the way to check on the congressman.

The tourist moved back slightly.

Something caught her attention.

The line of the man’s jaw. The length of his neck. The hair brushing the back of his collar beneath his ball cap.

Ian
.

He was hefting the bag onto his shoulder. Her selfish brother was going to get away with the money!

“Frank,” she said, pulling on his jacket.

“Did you see where the shots came from?” Frank was on his mic, talking to Dave and looking to the left, away from the park bench.

She had to stop Ian. He started towards the trees behind the concession stand, where Matt was helping someone who’d been shot.

If she didn’t do something, her brother would get away.

Without another thought, she darted into the confusion.

“Eee!” she shouted, running towards him.

Her brother stopped for a moment, then shook his head and darted behind a fir tree.

“Syd!” she heard from behind her.

Just as she turned to see Frank running after her, a shadow loomed to her left. She looked up to see a giant man pale enough to be a ghost reaching for her.

Geist.

Frank and Sydney had just walked into the perimeter of the polar bear exhibit. Without moving his head like a bobble-head doll, he let his vision scan the area. Movement in front of him caught his eye. What looked like a homeless man approached a bench where Congressman Blanton, looking odd in a Michigan hat, sat.

Not wanting to call attention to them, Frank pulled Sydney up near a shady tree as he watched the congressman and homeless man chat. The old guy handed Blanton a packet, waited then reached for the back pack.

Suddenly shots rang out.

Frank palmed his gun at the same time he shoved Sydney behind the maple tree, wedging his body in beside it to increase the barrier in front of her.

“Get down,” he told her over his shoulder, his attention on the scene in front of him.

Matt had jumped the concession bar and was helping a wounded undercover officer back into the sheltered area. To his right, Frank could see another cop, Chambers, running toward the congressman, shoving a tourist out of his way. Dave was also to the right, crouched behind a pole, looking to the left of the paved area. Frank scanned his vision that direction, looking for one of their suspects. More shots rang out.

“Do you see him?” he said into the mic that fed the others’ earbuds, ignoring Sydney’s pull on his jacket from behind.

“To your left, twenty feet,” Jake said in his ear.

He took a step forward.

“Eee!” Sydney yelled from his right.

“Shit, she’s in the open,” Dave said.

“Get back, Sydney!” Jake’s voice.

Frank twisted around and his heart slammed into his throat. Where was she going?

He saw someone running away from her. Who was she chasing?

Movement caught his eye.

Geist!
He was bearing down on her.

“Syd!” he yelled, already sprinting her direction.

She turned, then caught sight of the hit man, his hands grabbing her by the arm. “Frank!”

One step.

Two.

Another, and he leapt.

Pain seared his left leg, then his shoulder, at the same time he slammed into the man holding Sydney.

Sydney landed half on the pavement and half on the sod lining the pathway, her head slamming down on a hill of mulch. Stars shot through her vision, as a ton of human flesh landed on top of her, knocking all the air out of her chest.

An arm came over her head.

“Don’t move, Syd,” Frank said, his hot breath caressing her neck.

She sucked in air. “Can’t…breathe,” she whispered.

He moved slightly, pressing her hip into the concrete, but the pressure on her chest eased slightly—enough to take a deeper breath. The stars started to clear.

“We’ll get you out quick as we can,” Matt said, somewhere above them. “Jeez, this guy is like moving Kilimanjaro.”

“Quit bitching and shove,” Dave said.

“I’m not bitching. He’s got to be three hundred pounds of dead, and I do mean dead, weight.”

If it didn’t hurt so much to be crushed beneath Geist and Frank, Sydney would laugh at the bickering brothers.

With a few well-placed grunts, the pressure eased up and Sydney could breathe again.

“You can let her up, Frank,” Dave said. “Aw, fuck.”

“You’ve been shot,” Matt announced.

“No, really?” Frank muttered, his face hovering over hers. “You okay, Syd?”

She managed a nod as he slowly eased off her body to the side, groaning loudly. Shaking off the dizziness, she wiggled out of the cardigan sweater she’d worn and scrambled onto her knees beside him, trying to assess his injuries. Injuries he’d gotten because of her stupidity.

Matt was tying something around Frank’s previously shot left leg. A large bloodstain covered his right upper shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, as she pressed the sweater on the wound. “I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve stayed behind the tree. I thought I could stop Ian. If I’d known this would’ve happened…I never wanted you to get hurt because of…I started back when you yelled…and then Geist…”

He reached up with his uninjured hand, and grabbed her by the back of the neck, forcing her mouth to his. She held the sweater pressed tight against his shoulder, glad he’d found a way to stop her babbling. After a few moments, he loosened the grip on her neck, and she eased back to stare into the depths of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” Dave said from beside them.

“Geist?” Frank asked. He and Sydney both turned to look at the man’s inert body. Blood saturated the front of his chest.

“Dead,” Matt said at Frank’s knee. “Looks like the bullet went through your shoulder and straight into his heart.”