Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (40 page)

Luke experienced a pull of unease. Why wasn’t Angelo here? He’d told Olivia he had a big meeting on Tuesday night. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t show up for such an important transaction. And according to Isabel, De Luca always sent a high-ranking member of the family to supervise new investments.

Needless to say, Angelo’s absence had everyone rattled.

The creak of metal sounded from the vicinity of the loading dock. “Door just opened,” Liam said. “Four men, heading to the back of the truck. Driver’s unlocking it.”

“Shit,” Trevor swore. “We can’t wait for Angelo. We need to go in while they’re distracted with unloading the crates.”

Luke muttered a curse of his own. This entire raid had been about busting Vince Angelo, so if the guy wasn’t accounted for, what were they even doing here?

Sullivan must have read his mind. “If Angelo’s AWOL, why not abort?” the Australian demanded.

“We don’t know that he’s not here,” Luke said in frustration. “He could be the guy in the Yankees hat. The height and build are a match, and the tailored suit is Angelo’s trademark.”

But the guy’s body language had been different, damn it. Angelo walked with his shoulders high, carrying the smug air of superiority, while the man in the cap had been slouching. Then again, that could be Angelo’s way of trying not to draw attention to himself.

Isabel’s calm voice entered the mix. She was on Trevor’s team, and hadn’t said much during the entire exchange. “Dane could still be there,” she pointed out.

“Blondie’s right.” Castle’s voice this time. “We can’t walk away now, not if there’s a chance the missing agent is inside.”

“Team leader?” Luke prompted.

“We go in,” Trevor announced. “Two objectives—find Dane, nab Angelo. If Angelo’s inside, this could be the Feds’ only chance to nail him, so don’t let the son of a bitch get away. Snipers, you ready?”

Luke lowered his head to the scope. “Ready.”

Liam’s voice joined in. “Ready.”

“All right, let’s do this thing,” Trevor ordered.

Taking a deep breath, Luke tracked the movements of the man on the roof. As he locked in on his target, his finger curled over the trigger and squeezed. The bulky guard went down without a sound, bullet between the eyes. Rapidly rotating the rifle barrel, he took out the two guards at the front door. One shot. Two.

“Clear,” he murmured.

“Clear,” Liam echoed a second later.

“Let’s move,” Trevor said.

The next ten minutes were total agony for Luke, making him take back his earlier thoughts about sniper duty and serving as a glaring reminder of why he hated it so damn much. Being left out of the action
sucked
. He had no fucking idea what was going on, but he could hazard a guess based on what he saw and heard. As heavy footsteps and shouts echoed in the night air, he watched Castle’s team swarm the loading dock, saw the Town Car sag as Liam blew all four tires out.

Heartbeat steady, Luke put the coffee truck out of commission, taking out the tires. A lucky absconder might succeed in driving the thing for half a mile before the rims collapsed, but there’d be no permanent getaways.

The sound of gunfire rang in his ears. The men inside the warehouse must have opened fire, but the din was too deafening to decipher. Shouting, demands, more gunshots.

Adrenaline spiked in his blood. His body itched for action, but he forced himself to wait patiently, to gaze through the scope and make sure nobody was fleeing the building. Castle’s team had successfully gained control of the loading dock, judging by Castle’s harsh command for everyone to get down on the ground.

Inside was another story. Luke heard Sullivan’s distinct Aussie accent yelling for someone to take cover, and then the clamor of bullets clapping out of an assault rifle cracked through the radio. There was thumping, more shouting, another round of gunfire, until second by second the noise died, leaving nothing but the sound of his team’s steady breathing in his ear.

A blur of movement flashed in his peripheral vision. He swiveled his head in time to see a panicked male flying out the front doors in a mad sprint. Brave fellow was attempting to make a run for it, only to get tackled from behind by Ethan, who launched himself onto the runaway’s back, got him on the pavement, and brought a knife to his throat. A moment later, the escapee was hauled to his feet and ushered back into the warehouse.

Luke waited for a report. It finally came when Trevor grunted and said, “It’s done.”

“Angelo?” Luke demanded.

“No sign of him.”

A muffled thud echoed through the frequency, followed by more commotion.

“Son of a bitch,” he heard Trevor mutter, and then a new voice joined the mix.

“Thank God you’re here!”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but the others must have because the radio went eerily quiet. An instant later, Trevor’s low voice said, “Luke, get in here.”

Oh yeah, he definitely didn’t like the sound of that.

With a burst of energy, he abandoned Inga and dashed toward the cable he’d used to scale the roof. He slid down with lightning speed, unholstering his Glock as he raced toward the warehouse. When he stumbled through the front doors, he halted, taking a moment to orient himself. The place was huge, littered with pallets containing crates of coffee with the Premiere Roast logo stamped on them. Forklifts and ladders filled up the space, and as he navigated the tall aisles toward the source of the action, he nearly tripped over the crumpled body of one of the Italian goons. Head shot. He passed three more bodies on his way, two crew members and another goon.

The team was in position by the loading dock, weapons drawn, faces hard as stone. Against one wall, five men were down on their knees, hands tied behind their backs with plastic cuffs. He instantly recognized the driver and the Colombian from the truck. The remaining trio consisted of the third goon and two of the crew who’d been unloading the truck.

No Angelo.

Luke stifled an irritated groan. After all this bullshit, Angelo hadn’t even made an appearance. But why? What possible fucking reason could that bastard have for skipping out on his own business venture?

And why did Luke get the distressing feeling that it had something to do with Olivia?

Tamping down his growing worry, he ignored the five hostages and walked over to Trevor and Kane. Their backs were turned, weapons pointed at a man whose face Luke couldn’t make out. The man in the Yankees cap. As he approached, Kane stepped aside to give Luke a better view.

Narrowing his eyes, Luke studied the man. “Take off the hat,” he ordered.

“I’ve been trying to tell them, I’m not—”

“Take off the hat.”

The cap came off and he found himself staring into a pair of metallic gray eyes belonging to a lanky man in his early forties. He moved his gaze over the man’s face, the square jaw, faint wrinkles around a thin mouth, familiar angular features. Longish black hair fell onto the man’s narrow forehead, and the black wool suit draped over his lean body looked mighty expensive.

Luke glanced at Trevor. “Did I miss the part where you checked his ass?”

The team leader shook his head, amused. “No need to. He just waltzed up and introduced himself.”

“Huh. Well,” Luke said, lowering his gun, “then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Special Agent Dane.”

Chapter 24

“Dane here claims that he’s an innocent bystander,” Trevor said dryly.

Luke studied the DEA agent, taking in the man’s tired features and tight mouth. Dane was looking around the group with a resentful expression on his face, as if he couldn’t fathom why there’d be so many guns pointed at him. Every now and then his gaze darted toward the five men lined up against the wall, but none of them met his eyes—they were on their knees, heads bent as Castle and his men loomed over them.

The rest of the team stood guard by the open door of the loading dock, where the truck had been partially unloaded. A few crates bearing the Premiere Roast emblem were scattered on the cement floor; one had been pried open and a plastic-wrapped brick of matte white powder was visible, sitting on a bed of coffee beans. Sullivan kept an eye on it, though it was unlikely the hostages would spring free and make a grab for the H.

Luke turned back to Dane, assessing, wondering what to make of the agent’s presence amid this incredibly illegal affair.

“He dove for cover when we came in,” Kane spoke up, looking disgusted.

“Because I didn’t want to get killed,” Dane snapped. “My neck’s been on the line from the second I agreed to take this freaking assignment. I begged Lewis to pull me out, but he wouldn’t sign off on it.”

“Is that why you faked your death?” Luke asked.

“It was the only way, damn it.”

“I see.”

“Look, I was in too deep, okay? And these guys are smart. I had enough evidence to nail them on the drug smuggling, but my handler said it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.” Dane made a bitter sound in the back of his throat. “Lewis wanted the entire organization out of commission—drugs, guns, gambling, the whole fucking shebang. He set up a joint task force with the bureau, fucking glory hunter Lewis.”

Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Truth was, he didn’t give a shit why Dane was here. He was more concerned with why Angelo
wasn’t
here. Worry gnawed at his gut as the thought settled in.

“Angelo and De Luca were on to me,” Dane went on, panic lacing his tone. “I pleaded for an extraction, but Lewis refused.” His eyes became wild. “And then it was too fucking late. They found out who I was! Someone sold me out and told them I was a Fed. But I managed to convince them that I’d turned.”

“How’d you do that?” Trevor asked dubiously.

“By proving my loyalty,” Dane said, his mouth set in a fatigued line. “I did shit I’m not proud of, all right? But it was the only way to stay alive. I convinced Angelo that my bosses had sold me out, abandoned me, and that I wanted to be a permanent fixture in the organization. I persuaded him to help me fake my death, told him that if they thought I was dead, the DEA would forget about me and abort the operation. They wouldn’t risk sending in another agent if they thought the outfit had rubbed me out.”

Luke sighed. “Yet here you are, greeting a shipment of heroin with welcoming arms.”

“I was biding my time,” Dane said miserably. “Playing along until I could find a way to skip town.”

Kane chuckled. “And making a nice profit in the meantime, huh?”

“It wasn’t about profit! I was trying to save my own ass! Do you know what these assholes would have done if they thought I was looking for a way out?”

“Bullshit!” a heavily accented voice spat out.

All eyes swung toward one of the hostages, the Colombian with the enraged face. The man jutted his chin at Dane and made a disgusted noise. “This partnership was his doing. He’s been dealing with us for years, and he’s the one who brokered the deal and brought De Luca in on the action.”

Dane’s cheeks reddened. “I did deal with the cartel—I spent two fucking years in Medellín trying to bring those bastards down. It was before I got assigned to infiltrate De Luca’s crew. But I didn’t broker anything.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what went down,” Trevor said with a shrug. “Your buddies at the agency have already been alerted and they’re on their way. You can straighten this out with them.”

Dane nodded grimly. “Fine.”

Trevor turned to Castle. “Put him with the others until the Feds get here.”

Castle hauled the agent by the arm, and although Dane followed the mercenary willingly, an unsettling feeling washed over Luke. His gaze zeroed in on Carter Dane’s gray eyes. As the man stared back, time seemed to stand still, and Luke instantly recognized Dane’s expression—it was one belonging to a man who knew he was defeated.

A man who had nothing to lose.

“Wait—” he started, but in the blink of an eye, Dane’s arm shot toward the gun sticking out of Castle’s waistband.

Luke was just raising his Glock when something hissed by his ear. Next thing he knew, Dane yelped in pain and gaped at his hand.

Everyone followed his gaze and stared at the sleek bone handle of the hunting knife lodged in Dane’s palm.

Stunned silence descended on the warehouse.

“What the . . .” Trevor began, then trailed off.

Shrugging off his surprise, Luke turned around to see Ethan lowering his arm.

The rookie met his eyes and offered a sheepish shrug. “I’ve been practicing with Abby.”

There was a soft chuckle from Trevor, a grin from Kane, and a grunt from Castle, who shot Dane a look reserved for terrorists.

“Try anything else and I’ll put a bullet in your head,” Castle snapped. Then, without an ounce of compassion, he ripped the knife out of Dane’s hand, eliciting a pain-laced yelp from the federal agent.

As Castle dragged Dane toward the other prisoners and cuffed the guy, Luke and Kane exchanged resigned looks.

“So . . . guess he was a bad guy after all,” Kane murmured.

“Looks like it,” Luke concurred

As sirens howled in the distance, he holstered his weapon. “DEA’s here. Finally.” His gaze did one last sweep of the warehouse, resting on the crates near the truck. “Heroin accounted for?” he called to Isabel.

“Yeah, and there’s a lot of it,” she called back, rising from the crate she was sitting on. “This might be the biggest seizure the Feds have seen to date.”

He glanced over at Dane, who was fuming on the dusty floor with his hands behind his back. “And to think,” Luke said lightly, “one of their own brokered the deal.” Rolling his eyes, he turned to Trevor. “Can you deal with the Feds? I want to call Olivia and make sure she’s all right.”

“And we need to find Angelo,” Sullivan spoke up from his position by the truck. “I wonder why he didn’t show.”

“Join the club,” Luke muttered.

His eyes met Sully’s across the room, and he knew the Australian was thinking the same thing—whatever the reason for Vince Angelo’s absence, it couldn’t be good. At all.

* * *

Olivia set down her cards on the plastic table one of the nurses had rolled into her mother’s hospital room. Kathleen was sound asleep in the bed. Sedated again, but her coloring looked better, and she’d gone for a long stroll through the oncology wing earlier, with Olivia hovering over her like an overprotective parent. Now they were settled inside the room for the night, and Adam, the soldier who’d been assigned to watch them, had spent the past hour teaching Olivia various card games.