Hide From Evil (27 page)

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he said with a firm squeeze of her hand. “What happened to her wasn’t her fault, and it sure as hell wasn’t your fault.”

Krista shook her head. He was never going to convince her. “Whatever. But do you get now why I shouldn’t be shocked that he’s up to his neck in all of this?” Hell, for all she knew, he knew who was trying to kill her.

Yet she couldn’t get the memory of her father’s devastated face in the news footage out of her head.

He was capable of many things, but he wouldn’t stand by and let her get murdered, would he? She swallowed thickly, tears stinging her eyes.

As though reading her thoughts, Sean said, “Maybe we should talk to him. If he knows that people he’s working with are behind all of this—”

Krista shook her head. “I’d like to think his loyalty would be with me, but I can’t take the chance that it’s not. We have to find another way to get to the truth of this.” She stared out the window for a few minutes, wishing she could call on Mark, depend on his wisdom and connections to figure it all out. But whoever was after them would be keeping an eye on Mark, as they were no doubt watching Cole and Megan. They would expect them, once backed into a corner, to reach out.

They’d hit a dead end, and for the life of her, Krista couldn’t see a way out of it without endangering the people she and Sean loved.

“Who is Talia Vega?”

At Ibarra’s question, Krista’s head snapped up from the files on Karev she’d taken from her father’s place.

“She was the star witness during my trial,” Sean said, and though he kept his gaze locked on Ibarra, she felt a guilty flush rise in her cheeks. “Why?”

“It looks like she received several deposits from JD Partners over a period of four years,” Ibarra said. He’d left his mountain fortress shortly after she and Sean had, and started poking around in JD Partners’ money transfers again as soon as he’d arrived.

Sean strolled over to get a closer look at the screen. “What do you know? She got fifty grand the day of my conviction.” His green eyes glittered as his expression hardened.

Fresh shame coursed through her at the thought of how thoroughly she’d been played, and the horrible consequences that had on Sean. “I was supposed to have a meeting with her about two months ago, but Nate got to her first. I wonder if this was what she was going to tell me.”

“Then why the hell haven’t we been talking to her?”

“We can’t find her,” Krista said, exasperated. “She disappeared from the hospital and no one has seen her since. The last I heard, she and her sister were in Canada, but after that there’s been no trace.”

“You think they got to her, finished what Nate started?” Sean asked grimly.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. But if we can find her…” Krista paced. “There was a guy, Jack Brooks, who worked security with her at Club One. He was the one who convinced her to talk to me, and he showed up at the scene with Cole when Nate took her and Megan…”

Sean’s hands clenched into fists as though he was imagining closing them around Nate Brewster’s neck.

“Anyway, I tried to get in touch with him, but he’s another brick wall. He worked with these guys in California, Gemini Securities—”

“I know those guys,” Ibarra interjected. “Family business. Head of it is a former Green Beret,” he said to Sean.

“Jack contacted them to get Talia’s teenage sister Rosario someplace safe. That was the condition of Talia giving me a statement—we have reason to believe she initially testified against you in order to gain custody of Rosario from foster care. But when I called Gemini’s offices to find out if they had any information about Talia and her sister, they shut me down and told me that if I wanted any information I’d need a warrant.”

Ibarra stroked his chin. “I’ve worked with them before. Let me see if I can pull any strings.”

He picked up the phone and placed the call, but it was clear from the side of the conversation they could hear that Ibarra wasn’t getting any further than Krista had.

“Danny says he can’t help. All of their client information is confidential.”

“I don’t suppose you could find a way into their files?” Krista felt dirty even asking the question, but desperate times…

“Hell no.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed a conscience!”

“With people I like and respect and hope to continue working with, hell yes, I have a conscience,” Ibarra said, offense written all over his darkly handsome face. “And even if I didn’t, their tech security specialists kick my ass all over the place,” he said, the admiration clear in his tone. “With the systems she’d have in place, Toni Taggart would sniff me out before I even breached the firewall. However,” he said as Sean let out an irritated grunt, “he did let it slip—likely on purpose—that Jack has been doing some work for them here in Seattle and might have some pertinent data if we manage to track him down.”

“Let’s go find Jack Brooks then,” said Sean.

It was a little easier said than done. Jack Brooks didn’t exactly have his info posted on his Facebook page. But with a little digging Ibarra was able to get the info for Brooks’s last known residence, which was the Lake Union Marina where Jack rented a houseboat.

At this hour in the early evening, the parking lot was about half full. Many of the boats were probably used only recreationally, and many of those who lived here full time were most likely at work.

“Good, he’s not home,” Sean said when he noticed that the parking spot that corresponded to Brooks’s slip number was empty.

“Why is that good?” Krista asked. “The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we have a chance of making any sense of this.”

“Like you said, he wasn’t interested in talking to you before. He sees us coming, he’s likely to bolt.”

He started to climb out of the car.

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t think we’re going to wait in the car?”

Krista sighed and followed.

He quickly scanned the parking lot, which didn’t offer much in the way of security. A couple cameras were mounted to light posts, but they were the stationary kind that maintained the same angle. Anyone who noted their position could easily avoid getting captured on camera.

He led Krista around to the far end of the parking lot, well out of range. The ramps down to the houseboats were accessible by locked gates, but nothing a basic pick couldn’t get past.

Krista’s head darted around like a bird’s.

“Quit it,” Sean hissed under his breath as he slid the pick into the lock.

“What?”

“Keep still.”

“I’m keeping a lookout.”

“The only person I’ve seen is two docks down, and as long as you don’t keep scurrying around like you have something to hide, I don’t think they’re going to pay us any attention.”

“Sorry, I’m still not used to this whole ‘acting casual while we break the law’ thing,” she whispered. “And in case you forgot, if someone calls the cops, they’re not going to be on our side.”

“Thanks, I got that about three years ago.” A faint
click
, and the metal gate swung open.

He took Krista’s arm and led her down the dock. She managed to shrug off the nervous air, pulled her shoulders back, and strode down the walkway to Brooks’s place like she had every right to be there.

Sean did a quick sweep to make sure no one had taken any notice of them and then checked the front door. Locked with a sturdy dead bolt, which was doable but would take time. He was pretty sure there was an easier entry. “Stay here,” he said. “I’m going around the back.”

“Be careful,” Krista said unnecessarily as Sean slipped into the space between Brooks’s place and his neighbor. Sean had no desire for a dunk in the fifty-degree water, so he was careful as he balanced himself along the edge of Brooks’s boat and skirted his way around the back.

Like all of the other places, Brooks’s house featured a water-level patio extending out from the main living area, accessed from the interior by glass sliders whose flimsy locks posed no challenge.

Brooks hadn’t even bothered to upgrade the easy-to-subvert latches with sturdier bolt locks.

Interesting.

He ducked inside and let Krista in through the front door. She stepped into the foyer, slipped off her shades, and looked around, her darkened brows pulled into a V above her small nose. “Does it strike you as weird that a guy in the security business doesn’t have any kind of serious security himself?” she asked, echoing Sean’s thoughts. “Or have I spent too much time with Ibarra?”

Sean gave a little smile. Ibarra was definitely on the extreme side, but thank God he had their back. “It is a little weird,” Sean said, but he had an idea of what might be going on.

He’d seen it in a lot of the guys in his company. When you entered the Special Forces, the military spent hundreds of hours and millions of dollars turning you into a highly trained fighting machine. When you saw regular combat, even if it fucked you up, it was easy to get a little addicted to the adrenaline rush of the fight, the intense surge you got from being in a situation that meant life or death for you and the men fighting beside you.

So when you were sent home and tried to resume civilian life, it was hard for a lot of guys to settle into the regular day-to-day of life in America where, for the most part, life was pretty cush and a firefight wasn’t likely to erupt outside your front door.

It was why so many guys ended up working private security, some domestic and a lot overseas, doing contract work that paid a hell of a lot better than the army and put you virtually right back into that life, but without the pesky rules and bureaucracy. A lot of people thought guys did it for the cash—and no doubt it was good, but most did it because on some level they were still itching for the next fight.

Sean suspected Brooks had some of that going on. Granted, he hadn’t hired on with an outfit like Blackwater or another firm that would have sent him right back onto the front lines. Instead, the work he’d chosen focused on stopping any violence in its tracks. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still itching for a fight.

If he was worried about someone coming after him for meddling with Talia Vega, it didn’t show. Instead of tucking tail and heading out of town, he’d stayed put behind a pair of flimsy locks a five-year-old could pick with a bobby pin.

It was like an engraved invitation. Brooks was just waiting for someone to come mess with him.

He shared none of this with Krista. She was already jumping around like an exposed nerve. No need to ratchet her paranoia up any higher. As they waited for Brooks to show, Sean kept himself on high alert.

Krista nervously perched on the edge of Brooks’s couch. “Now that we’re here, maybe we should wait outside,” she said. “I met Brooks only once, but he doesn’t seem like a guy who will react well to finding us waiting in his house.”

“What, you think I can’t take him?” Sean asked.

Krista rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t even speculate—all I’m saying is that if we want him to cooperate, maybe surprising him in his house isn’t the best plan.”

“I get what you’re saying, but better to get him in here than risk him spotting us and taking off before we get a chance to talk to him.” And right now, the element of surprise was their only slight advantage.

A soft
thud
sounded from the back of the house. Shit. Maybe they’d lost their advantage after all. Krista’s eyes went wide as Sean pulled the Glock from the back of his waistband and pressed himself up against the wall. He motioned for Krista to stay silent and directed her to the small alcove by the front door, which Brooks used as a doorless hall closet.

Wait here
, he mouthed. She nodded, eyes wide as she burrowed silently between two huge jackets that hung from metal hooks.

Sean slipped into combat mode like it was a second skin as he crept silently along the wall, waiting for Brooks to round the corner. Like Sean, the former Green Beret had years of training drilled into him that allowed him to ghost in and out of places undetected. Despite his size, Brooks didn’t make a sound as he came down the short hall, and it was only a slight disturbance in the air that alerted Sean that he was about to round the corner.

Brooks scanned the room, gun gripped in both hands as it followed the path of his gaze. Sean took two silent steps back and raised his Glock.

Sean knew the second Brooks sensed his presence, and in that split second he shoved the muzzle of his gun into the back of Brooks’s neck. “Drop yours,” Sean said.

Brooks grunted and did as he was told.

“Kick it.”

The gun skittered along the hardwood.

“My name is—”

Before Sean could finish, Brooks whirled around and launched a fist into the center of Sean’s chest. Sean jumped to the side at the last minute, taking the blow in the meat of his pec instead of dead center. A blow that, delivered with enough force, could have stopped his heart in his chest.

Still, Brooks’s fist landed with considerable force, enough to make him grunt and loosen his grip on the Glock enough so that when Brooks’s next blow landed against his wrist it was enough to send the gun out of his hand and across the room.

“Brooks, I just want to ask you some questions,” Sean said as he blocked a blow to the face.

Brooks wasn’t interested in what he had to say. His sole focus was on beating the shit out of the guy who had dared to invade his home.

It took all of Sean’s concentration to keep Brooks from pounding the shit out of him, and within a few seconds the adrenaline kicked in. They were well matched in size and skill, and soon Sean had nearly forgotten why he was even here, he was so caught up in the rush of the fight.

Brooks swept out with his leg and Sean jumped back, barely avoiding being taken to the ground. Brooks rushed him, slamming him into the wall with enough force to knock the wind from him and crack the plaster. Sean could see the heel of Brooks’s hand rushing to his face and quickly ducked his head.

Shit, if that blow had landed it would have sent pulverized bits of bone straight up into his brain.

Fucker was seriously trying to kill him.