Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (37 page)

“What do you want?”

It didn’t surprise her that he’d detected her presence even with his back turned.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked.

He slowly faced her, the tightness in his cheeks hinting that he was grinding his teeth.

“You don’t look happy about escorting us back to your compound,” Olivia remarked.

“Gee, you figured that out just by looking at my face?” He went on before she could answer. “Seriously, what the fuck do you want?”

Setting her jaw, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “To make sure your dislike for me doesn’t affect the way you treat my mother,” she said, the cool note in her voice surprising them both.

“I don’t dislike you,” he muttered.

She frowned. “You weren’t exactly gracious when we met the other day. And I know the busted lip you gave Luke probably had something to do with me too. So, be an ass to me all you want, all right? But show my mother some respect. She’s been through a lot.”

Considering the man-of-few-words vibe he threw off, it didn’t surprise her when all she got in response was a grunt and a quick nod.

Neither satisfied her.

“Your word,” she insisted.

He let out a breath, then dragged his hand over the dark stubble on his jaw. “I give you my word that I will treat your mother with respect. Okay?”

Olivia nodded stiffly. “Okay. Thanks.” She was about to edge to the door, but the way he kept rubbing his chin was causing his wrist to jut out, drawing her gaze to yet another tattoo.

“Anything else?” D snapped when she didn’t make a move to leave.

“I, uh . . . it’s today, huh?”

His head snapped up, black eyes meeting hers. “What are you talking about?”

She bit her lip. “The anniversary of . . . of whatever that date signifies.” As she gestured to his wrist, she didn’t miss the flicker of shock that crossed his gaze.

However, it didn’t take long for the shock to transform into rage.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” he hissed. “And you’re right—I
don’t
like you. I think you’re a complete fool for getting involved with scum like Angelo, and I resent the fact—no, I
loathe
the fact that Luke almost got killed by Angelo’s goons all because you batted your pretty eyelashes and distracted the shit outta him. So I repeat, my tat—everything about me, for that matter—is
none of your
fucking business.
”

Olivia felt like she’d been physically struck, but as she watched D’s broad chest heave from each ragged breath he took, she realized he was more shaken up than angry. Had nobody else noticed the date on his tattoo? Did his teammates even know what it meant?

“Can you just leave now?” he muttered. “I promised to be nice to your mother. There’s nothing else to say.”

He was turning away when Olivia suddenly bounded in his direction.

And hugged him.

D stumbled back, but she simply stepped in again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She had no clue what had propelled her to embrace this man—all she knew was that her heart was weeping for him and her first instinct was to hold him as tight as she possibly could.

So she did. She dug her fingers into the nape of his neck, holding him so tight she herself could barely breathe. His big body was stiffer than a two-by-four, his unsteady breaths fanning over her forehead, his anger and resentment thickening the air.

And then something peculiar happened. She felt his muscles relax, felt his head drop against her shoulder. He didn’t return the hug. His arms dangled at his sides, but his body language softened, sagged with defeat.

Battling a wave of embarrassment, Olivia abruptly dropped her hands from his neck.

“Yeah, so, uh . . .” She inched away. “My mom means the world to me. Please be good to her.”

D’s face remained utterly impassive. “I will.”

“Thank you.”

She hurried out of the room and tried not to dwell on what she’d just done, but the hug had left her feeling so flustered she ended up stumbling back to the master bedroom instead of searching for Luke.

When she entered the room, she saw that the door to the private bath was closed. “Mom?” she called.

Kathleen didn’t answer. Probably couldn’t hear her over the running water.

Olivia headed for the door and rapped her knuckles against it. When her mother still didn’t respond, a tiny burst of panic ignited in her gut. She knocked once more, then turned the doorknob and peeked into the bathroom. “Mom?”

The sight she encountered stopped her heart.

“Mom!”

She dove onto the pristine tile floor where her mother lay unconscious. Kathleen’s kerchief had fallen off her head to reveal the stubble-covered scalp beneath, and one limp arm was extended in the direction of the door, as if she’d tried to grab it before passing out.

As fists of fear repeatedly pummeled her, Olivia cradled her mother’s head in her lap, then fumbled for Kathleen’s wrist so she could check for a pulse. Relief spiraled through her when she felt a vibration there.

When both D and Luke skidded into the bathroom a second later, she was still huddled over her mother’s body. She raised her head at their entrance and looked up at them with wild eyes. “We need to get her to the hospital!”

Chapter 21

“What a night, huh?” Isabel said dryly.

Trevor watched as she leaned against the railing on the terrace, her gaze fixed on the street below. They were finally alone for the first time all night and he couldn’t say he minded. Isabel’s presence soothed him, and after the chaos of the last couple of hours, he needed the peace and quiet.

Luke, Sullivan, and Olivia were at St. Francis Hospital, where Kathleen Taylor had been admitted. Sully had checked in twenty minutes ago with an update—looked like Mrs. Taylor had collapsed due to exhaustion. The anemia, fatigue, kidney problems . . . apparently tonight’s excitement had exacerbated the woman’s already fragile condition. Fortunately, the fainting spell was not an indication of the cancer returning, but Kathleen’s oncologist still wanted to keep her overnight for observation.

The trio would remain at the hospital with Olivia’s mother, while Holden and Liam Macgregor watched the Diamond Mine until Trevor and Isabel relieved them in the morning. And D . . . well, he was probably halfway to Mexico by now.

“What a night,” Trevor echoed with a sigh. “D looked ready to kill me.”

“Did you really have to send him away? I thought he was ordered to watch the Taylors.”

“He was ordered to report back to Morgan. The Taylors just happened to be going to the same place.” But with Olivia’s mother in the hospital, that plan was shot to hell. Trevor would need to arrange for one of the contractors to take over watch duty while the rest of the team dealt with this Dane mess and the heroin shipment.

“He needs to get his shit together,” Trevor added with a frown. “He wouldn’t have been an asset to this mission. His head was all over the place.”

“You don’t have to defend your decision,” Isabel said gently. “I trust your judgment.”

Warmth spread through his chest. He still wasn’t sure why Isabel had stayed rather than returning to her apartment, but he was glad she had. She’d seemed on edge all night, ever since she’d helped Olivia flee the club. Her body language was stiff as she absently watched a pair of teenagers stroll along the sidewalk.

This would have been a good time for a heart-to-heart—her shield was down, the easygoing front riddled with cracks, but before he could attempt to make the connection he wanted, Isabel’s cell phone rang.

She fished it out of her pocket and checked the display. “It’s Oliver.” She quickly answered the call. “Hey, Ollie, you got something for us?” She paused, glanced over at Trevor. “Grab a pen and paper, will you?”

He popped into the living room to get a notepad and ballpoint pen. When he returned to the terrace, he handed them to Isabel, who began making notes.

“You sure?” she said into the phone. “Yeah . . . No, this is good stuff, Ollie. How reliable is the source?” She chuckled. “Right. Sorry I asked.” She kept scribbling. “What about the truck? Right . . . okay . . .”

Trevor heard Reilly’s tinny voice, but couldn’t make out the Irishman’s words. Whatever he was saying, Isabel looked incredibly pleased. “Thanks again . . . Yeah, the money was transferred into your account a couple of hours ago . . . Definitely . . . Yep, until next time.”

She hung up. “All right, here’s what we’ve got. A freighter left the coast of Colombia earlier this week, en route to the Dominican Republic. The goods were transferred onto a cargo vessel that docked in Miami this afternoon and were being housed in a warehouse at the port until about eight p.m. this evening.” She glanced at what she’d written. “There have been no deliveries in the past week from any of the companies Holden told Oliver to check, but at nine o’clock tonight, a cargo ship came in carrying a large shipment of coffee beans—recipient, Premiere Roast.”

Trevor sucked in a breath. “That’s one of De Luca’s import businesses.”

“Yep. The coffee was loaded onto a Premiere Roast truck and is being driven north as we speak. And the Dominican cargo ship has left the port.”

“So the heroin came in via the Dominican and stashed on the coffee truck. Did Oliver say where it’s headed?”

“Queens. That’s where Premiere Roast’s main warehouse is located. I wrote down the address, but Ollie’s e-mailing me all the information as well. According to his sources, the truck should be arriving in the city at ten o’clock tomorrow evening.”

“They’re unloading it after hours, then.”

“They have to, what with a hundred kilograms of heroin in it. They’d never take the chance of unloading during business hours. And Angelo will probably bring in a separate crew for this delivery. He won’t risk any of the Premiere Roast workers catching wind that there’s more than coffee beans on the truck.”

“It’ll make it tough for us to recon the coffee warehouse,” Trevor mused. “If Angelo brings in a second crew, any intel we gather during the day will be useless. And we have no idea how many guards he’ll bring with him for the transaction.”

“I’m not sure there’ll be a transaction. Oliver said the Moreno cartel usually sends one representative with each delivery, but the cash already exchanged hands when the order was placed.”

Trevor shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. All we need to do is catch Angelo with the heroin. A hundred kilos is a massive amount. The Feds will nab him for possession, trafficking, maybe some racketeering violations, depending on what they find in the warehouse.”

“We’ll be going in blind, though,” she said slowly. “Last-minute recon means last-minute surprises. Will you call in the rest of the team?”

“I already spoke to Morgan about sending Kane and Ethan out, but we’ll need to bring in Macgregor and the rest of the contractors. The more manpower we have, the better.” He studied her face. “I assume you’ll want to be there too?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.” He cleared his throat. “It’s late. Why don’t you crash here tonight? You can take the master bedroom.”

“Where will you sleep?”

Their eyes locked for a moment. He was so very tempted to suggest he sleep with
her
, but he knew damn well that neither of them was ready for that.

“On the couch,” he said gruffly.

With a nod, she headed for the sliding door. “So it goes down tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

Olivia stepped out of the bathroom and approached the hospital bed, where her mother was sound asleep on her back. Kathleen had been sedated after grudgingly admitting that she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She was also on an IV drip, and Dr. Hopkins, the chief oncologist, had insisted on running some scans, just as a precaution.

Much to Olivia’s displeasure, Luke had arranged for the private room and paid for it, but she’d made him promise to let her pay him back. She knew Luke wasn’t Vince, that he wouldn’t use this debt as a means to control or manipulate her, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable owing money to yet another man. She’d had no choice, though. Her mother needed to be admitted, and since they didn’t have health insurance and she’d left all her cash back at the apartment, letting Luke foot the bill had been her only option.

At the moment Luke was sitting in one of the two comfortable chairs next to Kathleen’s bed, a pained expression on his handsome face. Olivia knew his injuries were bothering him, but when she’d tried to persuade him to see a doctor—they were in a hospital, after all—he’d shrugged off the suggestion like the macho man he was.

She, on the other hand, didn’t bother trying to hide her discomfort. Her side hurt from Vince kicking her, her throat was tender to the touch, and her voice was hoarse. The memory of Vince’s hands wrapped around her throat brought a trickle of fear. She’d come close to dying today. Well, yesterday, seeing as it was nearly three o’clock in the morning.

Luke could have died too during his capture, but his unfazed demeanor only reminded her of how colossally different their lives were. Yes, she was walking the path of danger at the moment, but this was a one-time deal. This was about ensuring that Vince Angelo got what he deserved, that he paid for Cora’s death.

But for Luke, this wasn’t a fluke occurrence. This was his job. He would continue to risk his life and throw himself into dangerous situations—and that didn’t fit at all with the life she envisioned for herself or her mother.

“You’re frowning,” he remarked.

She sat down next to him. He immediately shifted, slinging one arm around her shoulder. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck and sighed. “I’m worried.”

“About your mom?” He glanced over at Kathleen’s sleeping figure. “Don’t worry, darlin’, she’ll be okay. The doctor didn’t seem to think her collapse was a sign of a relapse. She probably just overexerted herself.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He rubbed his palm over her shoulder. “Then what’s worrying you?”

She twisted her head to look at him. “This. Us.”

Luke’s expression immediately became uneasy. “What do you mean?”