Kill Zone: A Lucy Guardino FBI Thriller (26 page)

“Jadon,” he said. “You don’t want your aunt to get hurt, right?”

The kid—and despite his size, he was only a kid, maybe fourteen, tops—shook his head. “Just go away. Leave us alone and things be fine.”

“There’s been a lot of killing tonight,” Nick continued in that same hypnotic tone. “But I know you didn’t have any part of that.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t kill no one. All I done was shoot some windows.” The kid was practically in tears.

“We know that. But holding a gun with innocent people like your aunt and the sisters here, well, that makes it hard for people to believe you.”

“Jadon.” The middle-aged woman, his aunt, grabbed his arm. “I won’t let no one hurt you. Now do as he says and let go the gun.”

The kid nodded, his entire body trembling as he stared at Lucy. Then her Remington. Then back again at her face. “Okay. Okay.”

He thrust the Mac-10 at Nick. Lucy ran down the porch steps and reached the boy as Haddad rounded the front of the SUV. They turned him to face the SUV, Haddad standing guard as Lucy searched him, taking a chrome-plated 9mm from the pocket of his baggy jeans and a switchblade from his high-top.

“We’re clear,” she said, finally able to take a deep breath. Then she turned to Nick. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Chapter 29

Of course Jenna got stuck ferrying the three gang-bangers and her mad bomber. Along with David. Although she wasn’t sure riding in the van with a bunch of nuns and old folks was any better. At least she had her man, Andre Stone. Chalk up a win for the Postal Service.

Saint Lucy hadn’t deigned to reveal her holy vision to the grunts on the ground. Just told Jenna to follow them to Holy Trinity.
 

She followed the nun’s van up Ruby Avenue, now suspiciously empty of traffic, cars, and Rippers, to a big gothic church surrounded by an eight-foot stone wall. The van stopped before a pair of wrought iron gates, which swung open after the nun driving punched a code in a keypad.

Jenna peered up at the church. Their headlights revealed wide wooden doors arched at the top. Over them was a ledge lined with gargoyles. And towering over everything, a squared off bell tower. Charming. But she liked the thick wall behind them, not to mention the solid construction. It would take an army to break through these walls. They could hide up here until reinforcements arrived.

The van led them around to the rear of the church where there was a second small stone building. It was squat and unadorned, two stories high with a plain wooden door. Jenna parked beside the van and waited until the nuns had the old folks unloaded and had led them inside the smaller building, which she guessed was the convent. She wondered where the priests lived.

Lucy and Nick were the last out of the van. Lucy looked more uptight than ever. Nick was smiling but Jenna had no idea why. Maybe just to piss Lucy off.

Jenna got out of the Tahoe. Their prisoners were all restrained and would be safe enough with David inside. “What’s the plan?”

Lucy glared at her. Great. There was no plan. Saint Lucy winging it on almighty inspiration. Again. Same holier than thou attitude that almost got Jenna killed last month.

Nick glanced from Lucy to Jenna and back. Stopped smiling and opened his mouth to intervene, but Lucy cut him short with a glance.

“We’ll find somewhere to secure the prisoners,” Lucy said. “Then question them.”

“Question them? What about?” Jenna asked.

“Where Zapata took Raziq and his family. There’s still a chance they’re alive.” Lucy turned to Nick. “I’ll need your help. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Help with what?” he asked.

“If they know anything, I need them to talk fast.”

“Lucy.” He leaned in as if he’d misheard her. “You seriously can’t expect me to help you extract information from these men. First of all, it takes time to develop rapport, observe their emotional states. Second of all, one of them is just a teenager. Third of all, they have a right to counsel—or have you forgotten about a little thing called the Constitution?”

Way to go, Nick
, Jenna cheered silently. Nice to see someone stand up to Saint Lucy.

Lucy’s eyes closed for a moment. Funny, Jenna usually forgot she was taller than Lucy. But right now Lucy looked exhausted, tiny in comparison to Jenna’s five-ten. Her face was filthy, grime mixed with blood, that godforsaken parka stinking of gasoline and gunpowder and more blood, hair matted with sweat.
 

Then she inhaled and opened her eyes.

The power of Lucy’s glare made Jenna look away, pretend to check the straps on her vest. Nick didn’t budge, somehow faced Lucy. Lucy no longer looked exhausted or small or weak. Shoulders straight, chin high, eyes blazing. She looked fierce.

More like batshit crazy and intent on getting them killed. But no way was Jenna going to tell her that.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Lucy said in a low voice, each word measured as if she was saving her breath for something important. “I also haven’t forgotten about two young girls who should be asleep in bed instead of lying on a slab in the morgue. One of them had her hands cut off and then was burned alive. And the monster behind that also had sixty innocent civilians executed. I saw them, Nick. I was the last person who saw them. Before the damn building exploded and now their families will be lucky to take home a few scraps of DNA to bury.”

“Lucy, I didn’t—”
 

“No. No. You want to know why I need these men to talk now. I’m going to tell you. Let you decide the right thing to do. Because all I know is that Zapata has those little girls’ mother, father, and baby brother in his hands. Want to guess what he’ll do to them, Nick? Want to guess how long it will be before he starts? How about how long it will take for him to finish?”
 

Finally Lucy blinked. Jenna swore there were tears on her cheeks, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. Nick reached his hand out but Lucy spun on her heel and walked away, her footsteps jerky as if she strained to carry something heavy.

Jenna felt sorry for Nick. He was a civilian and didn’t deserve to get dumped on by Lucy’s messed up shit.
 

“You don’t have to help her,” she told him. “She’s out of control. There’s no way those people are still alive. She’s just too damn stubborn to give up.”

For the first time ever Nick glanced at Jenna with disapproval. After all their sessions together, him listening without judgment to all her dirty secrets, it stung.
 

“She can’t give up. Ever,” he said. A touch of regret crept into his voice. “Even if it means risking everything.”

Everyone
was more like it, Jenna thought as Nick sped after Lucy.
 

Jenna planned to stay right here, safe and sound behind these very nice and very thick stonewalls. No way in hell was she following Saint Lucy on another hopeless rescue mission.

<><><> 

Morgan hated feeling lost as much as she hated losing. Even worse was being lost in a neighborhood where she didn’t feel like she had the upper hand on anyone she encountered.

The major roads had been blocked, forcing her to take side roads she had no clue had even existed. She was distracted, listening to the news, alternating between Nick and Jenna’s GPS tracers, eavesdropping on their conversations, scanning the dark streets lined with terrace-style public housing units arranged around cul-de-sacs that she’d turn down only to find herself trapped at a dead end. Faces staring at her from windows, a few young men venturing out onto porches or sidewalks, knowing her for not belonging.

That she was used to. Different. Outsider. Beyond ken.

But being looked at like prey? Weak? Vulnerable? Screw that.

She finally pulled into a funeral home’s parking lot, easing the stolen Honda into the shadows behind the crematorium. She didn’t feel nervous or skittish, not like a normal person. Rather it was that electricity singing in her veins, begging for release.

Only problem? Until now in her life, release meant blood.

There had to be another way. Something that would give her the same strength and purpose Lucy had. Or Nick. Hell, even Jenna had found the guts to hang up on Morgan when there were lives at stake.

Jenna had said people needed her. That’s what Morgan wanted. To feel needed. The power of saving lives—couldn’t that be just as strong as the power of taking them?

She double-checked the GPS signals. They’d moved but were still together, just a few blocks up Ruby Avenue. She plugged the address into her nav app. Not too far, she’d almost made it without knowing. Okay, okay. She’d play the game, give this a try.

Starting the car and pulling out onto the street with a destination, she felt better. Calmer, in control.

For now.

<><><> 

“Hey, hey, hey, homes, this is RapCat coming to you live from Gangstaland. We gonna be rockin’ tonight, yo. All you Ruby Avenue Rippers out there, you are R-I-P, hear me? Y’all can go f-yourselves cuz Gangstas makin’ our move and we’re gonna own you bitches by morn. That’s right, fools. First we gonna cap yo boys, then we gonna fuck yo hos, then we’ll dance on yo graves, ah-yeah…”

Chapter 30

Nick caught up with Lucy in one of the church’s side chapels. Candles blazed in red glass votives, creating the illusion that she was covered in blood. He shuddered, shook free of the image, and went to where she sat in a pew, staring into space.

Funny that she’d run here. He was the one who made it to Mass with Megan most Sundays. Lucy found every excuse not to go—she'd lost her faith a long time ago and hated looking like a hypocrite to Megan. At least that’s what she said. There was more—with Lucy there almost always was—but even after all these years he still wasn’t quite sure what. Wasn’t sure if she knew herself.

“Long night.” He sank onto the seat beside her. She said nothing, just blew out her breath and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close.

They sat in silence in the candlelight. Then she straightened, pulling away from him. “It’s not over yet.” She pushed up to her feet just as the door opened and a Middle Eastern man in a long coat and camouflage bulletproof vest entered.

“DEA Special Agent David Haddad,” Lucy made introductions. “This is my husband, Dr. Nick Callahan.”

David nodded to Nick. “Taylor says the Escalade hasn’t moved. He has the drone over the Ripper’s HQ. Place looks deserted. We lost them.”

“So our only chance is if one of the Rippers knows where they took Raziq.”

“I say we start with Stone. Man’s nuts enough to send a bomb through the mail and turns out we have an in.” David looked at Nick and said in an accusing tone, “We know you’re his therapist, Dr. Callahan.”

“Why would you think Andre Stone had anything to do with this?” Nick had seen two men besides Jadon and the other Ripper, Maddoc, in the Tahoe but with the tinted windows hadn’t recognized Andre. “You have him shut up with your other prisoners? Let him out. Now. He’s not a Ripper and he had nothing to do with any of this.”

“I’m afraid everything points to him, Nick,” Lucy said.

“No. You don’t understand. The Rippers grabbed him off the street. Held him prisoner. Said they wanted him to kill someone—Raziq. That’s the guy they kidnapped, right?” His words tumbled over themselves as he rushed to put the pieces together and make his case without violating confidentiality. He could divulge information to prevent harm to others. No more. “They threatened his grandmother—that’s why I was at Esther’s house. Lucy, you need to get him out of there. Lord only knows what the Rippers will do to him.”

David stared at Nick like he was crazy. No matter, Lucy was listening. “Haddad. Bring Stone here. But keep him in his restraints.”

David left. Nick turned to Lucy. “I can’t tell you much—confidentiality. But I promise you, Andre has nothing to do with this. I’d stake my life on it.”

She gave him a wry half-smile. “You already did, coming here tonight. Why didn’t you tell me you were making house calls to the most dangerous neighborhood in the city?”

“Because you would have looked at me exactly the way you are now.”

“And you yell at me for taking risks.”

“I was doing my job. Just like you.”

She winced. “Guess I deserve that one. Anything else I should know?”

He almost told her about Morgan. Wasn’t sure why he hesitated. Unlike with Andre there were no confidentiality issues. But was this the best time? Lucy was in the middle of a desperate plan to find a family and rescue them before it was too late. The city was engulfed in violence. Last thing she needed was thoughts of Morgan distracting her.

“Who are you people and what are you doing here?” a man in a priest’s black shirt and white collar called out from the other side of the church. The rectory must be there, Nick realized. The priest was old, in his seventies, with shaggy white hair and five-o-clock shadow. His clothes looked rumpled as if he’d fallen asleep in them. “Get those guns out of my sanctuary.”