Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (39 page)

“Look who’s talking. Aren’t we both here to help Olivia?”

“Yes, but it runs deeper with you. Six months ago, you dropped everything to help Abby. Now it’s Olivia and some dancer you don’t even know.” He studied her face. “And I suspect you do this often, ride to the rescue the moment someone else is in trouble.”

“So I like to help people. Big deal,” she said in aggravation.

Something indecipherable flickered in Trevor’s whiskey-colored eyes. “But when do you help yourself?”

Fortunately, she didn’t have to answer, because as was always the case when it came to her and Trevor, they were interrupted.

“Trev, the boss is on the phone,” Kane said, appearing in the doorway with a BlackBerry in hand. “He wants to talk to you.”

Although he looked reluctant, Trevor headed for the sliding door. Just before he reached it, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “We’ll finish this later,” he said gruffly.

Isabel watched him go, wishing she could make sense of the odd emotions fluttering in her belly. She couldn’t remember anyone ever challenging her need to help people or questioning her motives for doing so, and it bothered her that Trevor was perceptive enough to see that her motivations might run deeper than she let on.

It was official. Trevor Callaghan was definitely getting under her skin. Six months ago, he’d intrigued her, appealed to her protective instincts, triggered the urge to help him.

Now . . . well, now he just frightened her.

* * *

“Adam will stay with you and Kathleen until it’s over,” Luke said as he and Olivia sat in the waiting room down the hall from her mother’s room.

She nodded. “And afterward?”

“We’ll wait until your mom is discharged, and then bring both of you to the compound with us. We’ll figure out the next move then.”

But damn it, he wanted to figure it out
now
. When their eyes locked, Luke nearly blurted out that he loved her. Fortunately, he caught the words before they popped out. He hadn’t missed her reaction last night when he’d insinuated at the L-word. Wide-eyed, uncomfortable, a touch of dread. The idea of him loving her scared her. Hell, it scared him too. He’d been a bachelor for so long he had no clue how to do the whole commitment thing, especially with a woman like Olivia Taylor. He didn’t doubt that he could figure it out, though, if only she’d give him the chance.

No matter what she thought, he knew he could be the kind of man she wanted in her life—to some degree, at least. He’d love her. Cherish her. Make her laugh. Make her come. He’d give her any damn thing she asked for, if only to see that gorgeous smile of hers.

The only thing he wouldn’t do was give up his work. Olivia might disagree with his choices and disapprove of the danger, and hey, maybe her fears were valid. Maybe he
did
live too recklessly. But regardless of the risks, his work brought him an overpowering sense of fulfillment that he couldn’t even describe.

“I’m not a daredevil,” he burst out.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. “What?”

“I just want you to know that. You think I’m like your father, that I’m addicted to danger and don’t care about anything or anyone but the rush, but I need you to know it’s not like that with me.”

“Luke—”

“I do this work because it makes me happy. Because my skills are best used for military operations and extractions and blowing shit up.” To his dismay, his voice cracked. “I
love
it, Olivia, not because of the adrenaline high—though that plays a part in it—but because I sleep better at night knowing I did some good. That I stopped a bad guy today. Or saved a life today.”

She looked a bit stunned. “Because you couldn’t save your father?”

Pain shot through his heart. “That’s probably part of it too, at least in recent days. But I was a SEAL before I lost my dad. Saving the world is in my DNA, darlin’. I won’t apologize for what I do, but you need to know that my work is only a fraction of who I am.”

His gaze locked with hers. “You want a man you can rely on? A man who’s steady, stable, who will put you first? Well, I can be that man. I might not show up for dinner every night, but you can damn well count on me to be there for breakfast, or lunch, or some random-hour meal that isn’t scheduled. Because you know what? Schedules frickin’ suck.”

The corners of her lips lifted in amusement, but before she could respond, Sullivan stepped into the waiting room. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but we’ve gotta go, mate.”

Luke battled a wave of disappointment. Wonderful. Olivia was sitting beside him wearing an honest-to-God smile during a conversation that didn’t have the word
temporary
in it, and just his luck they had to be disturbed.

“Now?” he said impatiently.

Sullivan’s lips quirked. “Hmmm, good point. Let’s go later. Why don’t you call Trev and let him know we’ll be late for work?”

“Smart-ass,” Luke muttered.

“You asked for it.”

He gave Olivia an apologetic look. “I’ll be back later to pick you up, okay?”

Worry filled her green eyes. “You promise?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers in a tender kiss. “I promise.”

* * *

Vince paced his office at the Diamond Mine, his alligator loafers snapping against the polished parquet with each infuriated step. He’d spent the entire afternoon on the phone trying to track down Olivia’s whereabouts. Now it was eight thirty, he had to head over to Queens in a half hour, and he was no closer to finding the bitch. Make that
bitches
; Candy Cane was still out there somewhere too. But Olivia remained his primary concern.

She had disappeared. Gone like a wisp of fucking smoke. Her apartment had been empty when Rocko and Del Vido broke in last night. No sign of the mother either. The old lady’s medication was gone, some clothing too. Olivia’s things, however, were all accounted for, and the men had discovered a cigar box jammed with cash in the back of her closet.

You didn’t hoard that much dough unless you wanted to make a quick getaway. God knows he had enough cash in his safe to get him out of the country on a second’s notice. The little bitch had been planning on running away from him. From
him
, the man who’d saved her life.

The notion of Olivia plotting her escape made his blood boil. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t get in touch with Gino or Roy, the two men who were standing guard over the Dubois asshole. Their presence wasn’t required for the transaction tonight, but he could’ve put them to use tracking Olivia and Candy. Except their damn phones continued to bump over to voice mail, and the only contact he’d had with them was when Gino sent a text earlier this morning to report that Dubois was still at the Riverside house and not causing any problems.

“Should I use your lover to lure you out?” Vince muttered to himself.

Definitely an idea worth considering, though the success of that plan hinged on whether or not Olivia actually gave a damn about Dubois. And using her lover as leverage didn’t mean shit if he couldn’t get in contact with the bitch.

Vince stopped pacing and proceeded to curse up a storm. How had everything gotten so fucked up so fast? It had all been going smoothly, and the next thing he knew, chaos erupted. Olivia was gone. Two of his guys were out of touch. And the most important deal of his life was going down in an hour, but he had no desire to be there.

He’d spent an entire year wooing Olivia. From the moment they’d met he’d known she was his other half. And she’d
betrayed
him.

How could he just disregard that? How could he focus on a fucking business deal when all he wanted to do was get his hands on the woman who’d scorned him?

But how? How the hell would he find her? His men had flashed her picture at every airport, train station, and rental car agency in the city. His contacts at the police department had assured him that she hadn’t used her ATM or credit cards to book passage out of the state, which led him to deduce that she was still in Manhattan. Now it was only a matter of finding her.

As his cell phone buzzed in his hand, he brought it up to his ear with an angry “What?”

There was a pause. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” Erik Franz asked.

“Yes,” he snapped. “What do you want?”

“To let you know everything’s on schedule. The crew and I are already at the warehouse, and the truck arrives at ten. What’s your ETA?”

“I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Any word on the stripper who shot Mikey?”

“No. I’ve got men hunting her down, but it looks like everything she wrote on her job application was fake.”

“What happened to the flawless screening system you speak so highly of?”

The sarcasm dripping from Franz’s voice made Vince’s gut burn. “It evidently wasn’t so flawless,” he spat out.

“Relax. I was kidding. Anyway, I think we need to—”

Two beeps sounded in Vince’s ear. “Hold on. I’m getting another call.”

He clicked over to the other line, frowning when an unfamiliar voice greeted him. “Who the fuck is this?” Vince demanded.

“It’s Larry. Uh, from the records office at St. Francis.”

His entire body stiffened. “What do you want?”

As the other man made the purpose of his call known, Vince’s muscles began to relax, one by one. He listened carefully, a smile stretching across his face.

“Larry,” he said, cutting the man off in mid-sentence, “let me call you back in a minute.”

Without waiting for a response, he clicked over to Franz. “Change of plans,” he announced. “You’re handling this alone.”

“What?”

“You deal with the delivery. I won’t be able to make it.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t make it? De Luca wants you there to oversee everything.”

“You can oversee it for me. It’ll do you good—you can prove yourself to the big boss, show him you’ve got what it takes to head up this operation.”

Franz sounded flustered. “You’ve insisted from day one that you need to be there. What the hell changed?”

“There’s somewhere else I need to be more,” Vince said vaguely.

It was ironic actually. He’d spent his entire life climbing out of the gutter. Determined to prove his worth, to show those around him that he had what it took to be successful. To be wealthy. Yeah, wealth had always been his ultimate goal. Money meant power. Money meant everything.

Yet at that very moment, Vince Angelo had finally stumbled upon something that meant more to him than money.

Revenge.

Chapter 23

The Premiere Roast coffee warehouse was bathed in darkness, save for the exterior lights shining down on the pavement and the pale glow seeping out from the loading bay. Luke watched through the scope of his rifle, focusing on the two men standing by the double doors at the warehouse’s entrance. Both were armed with heavy-duty assault rifles. So was the man on the roof, but along with the AK slung over his shoulder, he also had a rifle set up beneath the roof’s concrete ledge, aimed at the road ahead.

Luke’s trigger finger itched, but he didn’t make a single move. The truck hadn’t arrived yet, so killing these assholes prematurely would be a bad idea, and as much as he’d complained back at the safe house, he didn’t find sniper duty as appalling as he’d let on. He genuinely enjoyed lying up here on the roof of the neighboring building, his only company the long-range rifle he’d been using for the last five years. His beloved Inga. She was Russian-made, heavier than other sniper rifles, but perfectly capable of doing the job. The guys constantly accused him of being unpatriotic for using her, but he loved this fucking gun and wouldn’t trade Inga for anything.

Liam Macgregor, his fellow sharpshooter, was positioned somewhere in the rear. With his American-issue rifle no doubt, but Luke had seen Liam shoot, and he felt sorry for the guards patrolling the back. The rest of the guys, sectioned off in teams of three, were hunkered down in the woods nearby, unable to make a move until the snipers gave the signal.

Trevor’s voice crackled in his ear. “Any sign of the truck?”

He shifted his aim and glanced at the long stretch of road to the north. “No, not yet.”

“What do we think about the four dudes who showed up earlier?” Kane’s inquiry came over the line. “Could Dane be one of them?”

“Maybe. I didn’t get a good look at any of them,” Luke admitted.

A couple hours earlier, a sleek black Town Car had parked near the loading dock. Four men had emerged; three had seemed distinctly Mafia with their black suits and olive complexions, but the fourth was a big question mark. Average height, tailored suit, a Yankees cap obstructing his face. He supposed it could have been Dane, but that only raised the question
why
. Why would Dane be present for this transaction? Was he still undercover or had he been lured over to the dark side?

The rumble of an engine echoed in the air. Through his scope, Luke glimpsed a truck chugging up the road. Premiere Roast’s logo—coffee beans overflowing from a big red mug—was stenciled on the side of the beat-up vehicle. He spotted two men: a driver with a full beard and a passenger with his head bent downward and slightly to the side, revealing a sliver of rugged profile. Dark-skinned, the swarthy coloring hinting at South American descent. Must be the Moreno cartel’s guy.

“We’ve got company,” Luke said softly.

The truck pulled into the lot and drove directly to the loading dock. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see much, but Liam speedily checked in with a visual update. “Two men getting out of the truck. Driver in a uniform. Second man looks South American. I assume it’s the cartel rep.”

Luke checked his watch. “It’s nine fifty-eight. Where the hell is Angelo?” He glanced at the road again. No cars in sight.

“Are we sure he’s not already inside?” Castle barked through the frequency. “We know four crew members are in there, plus the four that arrived in the Lincoln. Maybe Angelo showed up earlier before anyone else got here.”

“Ethan and I have had the warehouse under surveillance since dawn,” Kane reported. “The employees left at five, and nobody came near the place until the crew arrived.”