Hide From Evil (36 page)

He whirled on her, her cavalier response to the potential threat to Megan snapping the final thread on his temper. “I could give a fuck what happens to any of us,” he yelled, “but I won’t leave my sister vulnerable.”

“I understand—”

“No, you fucking don’t understand,” he yelled. Krista’s eyes got wide, and even though some logical part of his brain knew she didn’t mean anything by it, he couldn’t stop the fury from spewing out. “All I wanted—all I want—is to be left alone, to pick up what’s left of my life. I never asked to be dragged into any of this, and my sister sure as fuck didn’t either! You almost got her killed once because you locked up the wrong guy. I don’t want her anywhere near this!”

It was like that time when he’d gone after the prison guard, like he’d stepped outside of himself and couldn’t stop what was happening even though he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He could see himself: face dark with rage, the vein pulsing in his forehead, his mouth pulled into a snarl.

And Krista, the woman who had turned to him so trustingly, whose pain he wanted nothing more than to erase, was looking at him, her eyes wide with hurt, and worse, guilt.

The room was dead silent. “We can send Megan to my folks’ place,” Ibarra said, stepping warily between them. “They live right down the road from me outside of Sandpoint.”

Krista retreated to the opposite corner of the room and kept her gaze locked on the floor. His own guilt was a fist in his gut, but he didn’t know where to start to undo the damage. For now, he needed to focus on Megan and keeping her out of this. “She’ll be safe there?”

“Safer than she’d be with us, and no offense, Cole, but safer than she is with you right now. You know they’re looking hard for you but no one knows I’m in on this.” He turned to Sean. “Trust me, Sean. I designed their security system myself, and it’s as bulletproof as my own. She’ll be okay there.”

Sean wasn’t totally sold, but Ibarra did have a point. No doubt Maxwell’s minions were trying to track down Cole to either find out if he was helping them, or worse, get to Megan to use her to flush out Sean. Megan would be safer someplace that no one would even know to look.

“What do you think, Cole?”

“You trust this guy, Sean?”

Sean looked up and caught Ibarra’s stare.
Trust.
Such a simple word, with so much weight. It could be lost forever in a heartbeat. He dropped his gaze. “He’s helped us stay alive and off the radar so far. That has to count for something.”

Sean listened quietly as Ibarra gave Cole the details on the quickest way to get Megan out there. “My dad will get a huge rush out of this. He was military police before he took over the ranch and he can still kick major ass,” Sean heard Ibarra say. “Megan will be in good hands, I promise.”

Sean looked up and saw that Ibarra was still staring at him and nodded in silent acknowledgment.

“Who else can we count on, Cole?” Krista said in a tight voice.

“With the chief and so many others compromised, we need to play this really close,” Cole said. “My partner, Petersen, is rock solid, no doubt. And Jorgensen too—he’s going to want in on this after the shit they pulled with Jimmy Caparulo’s suicide.”

“Only two people you can trust in the entire department? That’s pathetic,” Krista bit out.

“I’d call Agent Tasso—he’s local FBI, Sean. My gut tells me he’s okay, but I think this Maxwell shit shows us we can’t really be sure about anyone.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Krista said, almost but not quite managing to kill the tremor in her voice. “I say we call Brooks too. He’s a wild card but he gave us Talia Vega, who gave us everything.”

Sean nodded. “And I get the sense he’s still beating himself up over not being able to stop Nate from getting to her. I think he’ll be more than willing to do his part to take these fuckers down.”

They quickly went over the game plan with Cole and then got in touch with Brooks to bring him up to speed. As predicted, Brooks didn’t take much convincing. They went over the list and decided who the primary targets were and how they should make contact, and once Cole confirmed the others on board, Ibarra started to send video clips out over an encrypted network.

As he looked at Krista, tense and fragile as she hovered over Ibarra’s shoulder, Sean’s anxiety ratcheted up a few notches.

I could give a fuck about what happens to any of us.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Not when it came to Krista. “You should go with Megan,” he said abruptly.

Both Ibarra and Krista looked at him, confused.

“This could get really ugly. If you go with Megan, you’ll be safe.”

He didn’t even realize how important that was until he had said the words out loud. Feeling protective was nothing new—that was part of his makeup. Added to all the old stuff bubbling to the surface, what he felt for Krista was new, different. Almost too intense to put into words, this bone-deep, terrifying knowledge that if something happened to Krista, if she got hurt, or God, he didn’t even want to think about it, killed on his watch, it might be nearly as bad as losing Megan.

He was starting to care for her. No, scratch that. Was falling—he cut the thought off before it could fully form and he gave himself a mental shake. On top of everything else, it was too much. No way he could go there, not now, if ever. If he even tried to scratch the surface, it was going to send his brain into permanent overdrive.

The best solution was to just get her the hell away where he knew she would be safe.

Krista shook her head. “Absolutely not—”

“It makes the most sense,” Sean said, cutting her off. “Everyone else is a cop or a trained soldier. You’ll just get in the way.”

He knew he’d used the wrong approach even before her mouth pulled tight and her nostrils flared. But it wasn’t like he could tell her the truth—that as impossible as it seemed, the idea of losing her was enough to push him straight over the edge.

“I may not have the training you guys do, but I think I’ve managed to hold my own. You don’t have to worry about me. Like you keep reminding me, I’m the one who dragged you into this mess. So if anything happens, it’s on me, not you.”

“Krista—”

“Shut up. This topic is closed. I started this and I’m going to finish it.”

After a fitful night’s sleep, Krista spent most of the next day doing whatever she could to help carry out their plan to stake out the delivery site and do the bust when the deal went down. Now she listened, stomach in knots, as Cole went over the plan one more time to make sure everyone was crystal clear on every single detail. She was strung tight, like a rubber band stretched so far it would snap at any moment.

“We’ve tapped into the security system monitoring the shipping lot,” Cole said, “and Ibarra has placed additional surveillance equipment around Maxwell’s warehouse.” With Maxwell’s influence so deeply felt in local law enforcement, they knew they needed incontrovertible evidence of what he was up to.

Sean stood across the room, his mouth grim behind the goatee. He’d barely said two words to her since she’d flat-out refused to join Megan in her mountain hideout. She’d been circling around him like a nervous cat, unwilling to brave the tension emanating off him in waves to try to break through the fortress he’d built around himself.

What good would it do to talk, anyway? Despite the passion, tenderness, even admiration he’d shown in the last few days, fundamentally his feelings hadn’t changed.

Had it been only yesterday that she thought for one fleeting moment that maybe he returned some fraction of the feeling she had for him? Now he’d shut down, cut himself off from her.
I could give a fuck what happens to any of us. All I wanted was to be left alone.

It shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did.

How had she, usually so levelheaded and by the book, gotten so carried away over a man who would have happily lived his life never setting eyes on her again?

She didn’t think she’d ever know the answer to that question, and it wouldn’t do her any good to miss details of Cole’s plan because she was moony and distracted over Sean.

She kept quiet, absorbing the intricacies as Cole went through each step. “We should have major backup and a SWAT team involved,” Krista muttered even though she knew that wasn’t possible.

Their plan wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of working if they broadcast through the Seattle PD that they were planning a bust at Maxwell’s shipping lot in the next twenty-four hours.

Instead, it was a team of seven: herself, Sean, Ibarra, Brooks, and the skeleton crew from the Seattle PD homicide department consisting of Cole, Petersen, and Jorgensen against a crew of who knew how many Russian thugs and cutthroat guns for hire.

The odds were so not in their favor, but they didn’t have any choice but to push through.

“Petersen, Jorgensen, what’s happening on your end?”

“Karev’s still at his restaurant,” Jorgensen’s voice said over the speakerphone. He’d been tailing Karev, while Detective Petersen was keeping tabs on Maxwell.

“Maxwell’s still at the fund-raiser,” Petersen said, “but they just started serving dessert, so it’s probably going to wrap up pretty soon.”

Krista looked at the clock. It was nine o’clock on Tuesday night. They’d spent hours strategizing and, not knowing when exactly the delivery would happen, had been monitoring Maxwell and Karev’s movements since midnight the night before.

Now everyone was tired and jumpy from too much caffeine and amped up to finally get this thing over with.

With only three hours left in the day, it had to be soon.

“All right, then, call us back with an update—” Cole started to say but Jorgensen cut him off.

“Wait—Karev’s on the move. He’s heading to his vehicle with three of his men.”

“Maxwell too,” Petersen said. “He’s leaving the event. He’s with his wife and stepson. Looks like they’re arguing. She’s pissed. Okay, stepson is dragging her to a separate vehicle. Valet just pulled up in a Mercedes and Maxwell’s getting in. He has three guys with him as well.”

“Seven against eight,” Brooks said quietly. “I’m liking these odds.”

“Let’s load up,” Cole said. “Petersen, Jorgensen, you have everything you need?”

“Yep,” Jorgensen said. “We have our full gear, including vests.”

“That reminds me,” Cole said, catching Krista’s eye. “I dug up an extra one that should fit you.”

“Good,” Sean said, and Krista told herself not to make anything of the unmistakable relief in his voice.

So he was happy she’d have a Kevlar vest that fit instead of one of Ibarra’s oversize flak jackets that would weigh her down and become a liability if there was any running to do. That didn’t mean he regretted a single thing he’d said.

It didn’t change the fact that as soon as this was over and Maxwell and Karev were behind bars, Sean was going to walk away from her and never look back.

Metallic
clinks
and
clicks
filled the air as everyone geared up. Between Ibarra, Brooks, and Cole, along with the weapons Sean had poached from their would-be assassins, they’d amassed quite an armory.

The others gathered up at least one handgun apiece as well as the larger assault rifles along with round upon round of ammunition.

She accepted the pistol Cole offered, along with the belt and several extra magazines. It felt heavy and foreign as she checked the clip. Even though the safety was on, she handled it gingerly as she slipped it into the holster.

“We need to get moving. We’ve got a fifteen-minute advantage on them if they head straight to the shipping lot and we need the time to get in position,” Sean said as he slipped another clip of ammo onto his belt.

The others nodded and headed to the door. Krista trailed behind, struggling to hook a Taser onto her belt.

“Let me.”

Krista looked up, startled as his big hands covered hers.

“You need to clip it like this.” He hooked the Taser in one of the loops. “Now make sure you can get it off and back on quickly, and get your thumb on the trigger as you pull it off. And don’t zap me,” he said almost as an afterthought.

It was the first time he’d spoken directly to her in nearly two days, and now he was so close that the heat of his breath, the scent of his skin made her a little dizzy.

“And I saw you having a little trouble with the Glock.” He reached for the gun and she tried not to flinch as his hand brushed her waist. She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip. She was holding herself together with dental floss and Scotch Tape at this point, and she was afraid the slightest touch would blow her into a million pieces.

He slipped it in and out and wiggled it around in the leather holster and then slid it in and out a couple times to make sure it came out more easily. “Keep it unsnapped,” he said, flicking his thumb over the little strap at the top. “Now practice reaching for it.”

“Sean, we need to go. You said yourself—”

“And I need to know that if anything happens, you’ll be able to keep your head and get your gun out,” he said harshly. “It’s going to be even more awkward once you have your vest on.”

She jerked the gun out, took up her stance, and slid it back in, more smoothly this time.

He rubbed his hand over his face, obviously unimpressed with her technique. “You don’t have to go tonight. You can stay back here—”

She drew up, insulted. “I know I’m not exactly Dirty Harry, but I can handle a gun and you need me as another set of eyes on the scene if nothing else. I know you think I’m selfish and ego-driven, but I’m not so selfish I’m going to hide back here and leave you short a woman.”

“Damn it, it’s not about you being selfish. It’s about you being safe!” he shouted. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “If anything happens to you—” He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, she saw fear in their green depths. For her. And along with the fear, something dark and stormy that looked a hell of a lot like regret.

“Look, if anything happens and this starts to go south, I want you to run like hell and find a place to hide, okay?”