My Spy: Last Spy Standing (16 page)

The only thing worse than being called a hero and put on a pedestal was being a failed hero.

And here he was again. The old darkness came back all at once and hit him hard. The thought of another failure paralyzed him. Bree meant more to him than he’d admitted, even to himself. And she was a split second from a bullet.

She looked at him with nothing but trust in her eyes. And at long last, in her eyes, he found himself. Not the overly tough guy he played to avoid pity, not the scarred mess he hid from others, but something truer and better.

His mind cleared.

“Hey.” He lifted his hands into the air, but hung on to his weapon. “Nobody needs to die here.”

The man holding Bree kept swearing, crying now, but Swenson looked interested. He shifted his weapon to his buddy. “You let her go.”

As soon as Bree was free, he would shoot the guy, Jamie was pretty sure. Then there’d be no one to point a finger at him. Jimenez was gone, either lying low someplace or dead. Swenson would have nobody to testify against him.

“Everybody, put down your weapon,” Jamie said in his best field-commander voice. “Let the deputy sheriff go.” He shifted so he’d have a better angle on the guy who held Bree. She was not going to get hurt here, dammit.

“I have the right to defend myself in a home invasion,” Swenson yelled.

His goon flashed a confused look at him. Swenson tightened his finger on the trigger.

He was going to go for it. And since he wasn’t a professional, chances were pretty good he’d hit Bree by accident.

Jamie had to act first.

If he shot Swenson, the other guy would be startled and might pull the trigger on Bree. Which meant Jamie had to take him out now.

Straight in the middle of the forehead was his only option, or he might twitch and squeeze the trigger before he died.

One, two, three. He held his breath, so even that wouldn’t interfere with his aim, brought his hand and weapon down and shot at the bastard.

Unfortunately, Bree, having correctly read Swenson’s intentions to make a move, did some self-defense maneuver at the same moment. She jerked forward with a sharp cry then dropped herself to the ground, which jostled the man as he grabbed for her, so Jamie’s shot went into his shoulder.

The man shot at him as Bree rolled away behind the cover of an ancient recliner, even as Swenson shot at his own guy.

Jamie ducked behind the couch, hitting the lawyer in the arm on his way down. He couldn’t go for a kill shot. They needed information from the bastard, dammit. He pulled his backup weapon from his boot and popped up long enough to throw it toward Bree, then flattened to the floor as a hail of bullets came at him.

Bree must have caught the gun because the next thing he heard was her yelling, “Freeze! Pebble Creek P.D. Drop your weapons!”

Jamie came up for another shot at Swenson just as the young gangbanger squeezed a shot off at Bree. Dammit, it was like the O.K. Corral in there. She shot back, springing up, but got hit, the bullet knocking her on her back.

Something snapped inside Jamie.

“Drop your weapons! Drop your weapons!” He rushed forward, yelling at Swenson. He was ready to put a hole in his head if he threatened Bree in any way.

The gangbanger was dead, he registered, lying in blood next to the other one. Bree had gotten him even as he’d gotten her.

Swenson shot at Jamie, missed, and then Jamie was vaulting on top of him, bringing him down, smacking him hard to make him go still.

“Bree?” he called back as he disarmed the man, flipped him, then handcuffed him.

“Bree?” He could turn back at last.

She was still on her back. His heart stopped.

But then she moved and sat up slowly. “That hurts.”

And he could breathe again.

She was shaking her head and rubbing her chest through the Kevlar that had protected her.

“Man, I hate this part. It’s going to leave a bruise, I know it.”

He went over to her and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s finish this.” She strode straight to Swenson.

“You have the right to remain silent.” She read him his rights while Jamie went to check on the bodies, checking pulses to make sure the men were as dead as they appeared.

Bree was back in cop mode, calm and matter-of-fact, pulling the lawyer to his feet, efficient as always while Swenson whined about the bullet that had gone through his arm, tossing out words like “police brutality” and “liability” and “legal protection.”

She didn’t let him rattle her one bit.

Man, she was hot in action.

Jamie wanted her. And it wasn’t just the adrenaline rush.

He wanted her forever.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s take him back to the station.”

He straightened. “Sorry. My team will want to talk to him first.”

She narrowed her beautiful eyes at him, then relaxed her stance and gave a blinding smile that had his heart beating double. “I’m sure you agree—”

“Don’t even try the sweet-talk thing. It’s a matter of national security.” Four SUVs tore down the driveway as he said that, all belonging to his team. He hoped they impressed his point on her.

“Fine.” She didn’t look happy, but she handed Swenson over. “I can be reasonable. How about we share him?”

“Make you a deal. You can have him when we’re done with him.”

She was still smiling at him. “We make a good team.”

Yes, they did. They were good together in every way. He needed to think about that instead of running away from it. But not now.

Mo, Ryder, Keith and Shep were jumping out of their cars and came running.

Chapter Fifteen

“I want the Coyote,” Jamie told the man in the interrogation room.

The small space was hot, the air-conditioning cutting out from time to time. Swenson was sweating.

He had been protesting up a storm, demanding his rights and barely taking a breath. “I’m injured. I need more first aid than your idiot buddies handed out. This is the United States of America, not a third-world country. Who the hell are you, anyway? I’m going to be suing every single one of you for this unbelievable treatment. Count on it. You’re going to answer for this.”

He claimed he didn’t know the two hit men at the farm. They were intruders, he’d said. He insisted that any shots fired by him had been fired in self-defense. If any bullets had come near Bree or Jamie from his gun, that was by accident. He was scared and he wasn’t good with weapons.

“When are you going to let me go?” he demanded.

Jamie shook his head. “This is how it goes. I’m asking the questions here.” He said the words slowly so Swenson would understand. “We’ll stay right here, in this room, until you give me what I need. It’s as simple as that.”

“I have rights. I know the law. I want a lawyer.” Swenson shot him another outraged look. He had quite a repertoire. He could have made a career on the stage. His acting ability had probably come in handy in the courtroom in the past, but was gaining him nothing here. He stomped his feet as he said, “I have the right to know what I’m being charged with.”

Jamie drew his lungs full and let him have it. “Aiding and abetting terrorists.”

That shut the idiot up.

He paled a shade. A moment passed before he fully recovered. “You’re all crazy. I want my lawyer. I demand legal representation. That is my right as an American citizen.”

“You’ll find the procedures are different for a terror suspect. What do you know about the Coyote? When was the last time you saw him?”

Swenson shot to his feet. “We live under the rule of law in this country. I have rights.” Apparently, he still didn’t understand the kind of trouble he was in.

“Too bad you didn’t remember those laws when you were breaking them.”

“Do you understand who I am? I’m a prominent attorney in this county. I have friends who are judges and politicians.”

Jamie stood, too, running out of patience. “Do you understand how little I care? Do you know how many good men I’ve seen ripped to pieces overseas by our foreign enemies? And then here you are, an American, and you’re betraying your country? Want to know how I feel about that?”

He braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, his voice cold as he said, “I’m not a great fan of traitors. So here are your choices. Do you want to leave here alive or in a body bag?”

That got through to the man at last. His shoulders dipped, his words losing that tone of outraged superiority as he dropped back onto his chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about terrorists. I swear.”

“Yet you work for a man who’s setting up an operation to smuggle terrorists into the country. How far are you involved with the Coyote?”

More sweat beaded on Swenson’s forehead.

“Look,” Jamie told him. “This is about the last chance you have to be smart here. You don’t want to further align yourself with him by protecting him.”

The man swallowed hard and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The indignation on his face was replaced by worry lines and fear.

“All I know about is the counterfeit money. I swear. I didn’t have a choice. When someone like that sends you a message that he wants your help, you help,” he rushed to say, eager to speak now. “I want a plea bargain. I tell you about the money, you drop any charges that have to do with terrorism. There’s no way you’re going to pin that on me. No way.”

He jumped up, but immediately sat back down again. “I want to cut a deal.”

Jamie flashed him a dispassionate look. “I think you’re under the mistaken impression that we’re negotiating here. I want to know everything you know about the Coyote. Let’s start with his real name.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Where does he live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here is a hint. You’ll fare a lot better if you prove yourself useful to us. So let’s try again. What do you know about the Coyote?”

The man stared at him, his entire body tight with tension, desperation in his eyes. “He tells me what he needs through messengers who come then disappear.”

Jamie waited. “Solitary confinement,” he said after a minute.

“What?”

“You give me that bastard and I’ll arrange that you don’t go into the general prison population.” Meaning he might have a chance to survive the first week.

Swenson stared at him. Shook his head, but then almost immediately said, “Okay. Solitary confinement.” He drew a deep breath. “I know where he’ll be Monday morning. He needed to have something done. Medical. I hooked him up with a doctor friend who doesn’t always keep patient records.”

Somebody who was willing to take bullets out of criminals and gangbangers, most likely. What did the Coyote want with him? With the kind of money he had, he could have afforded the most expensive Swiss clinics. But the
why
wasn’t as important as the fact that they finally had a straight link to the bastard.

Two days from now.

With enough information, they could set up an op to grab him. They would have enough time to make him talk, enough time to set up a trap for those terrorists.

For the first time in a long time, Jamie relaxed a little. The lack of progress over the past couple of weeks had gotten to them all. But now they had some actionable intelligence, finally. “Start talking.”

This was it. They’d finally caught a break, and they were ready for it.

* * *

B
REE
LOOKED
UP
as Jamie walked through the door at dinnertime. He looked about as happy as she’d ever seen him. He wore blue jeans, a black T-shirt and his ever-present combat boots that she’d learned were fitted to his prosthetics to provide him with extra stability. He’d left his cowboy hat in his car. He was carrying a shoebox full of cookies.

“You bake?”

“Very funny. It was a gift.”

“From a woman?” She hated the jealousy that bit right into her.

“I sent a young couple into the witness protection program today. She was grateful, that’s all.”

Just as long as they weren’t going to see each other again. She took the box he offered and set it on the counter. They looked great—a bunch of different Mexican fiesta sweets.

“Any progress with Swenson?” she asked. “I want him when you’re done with him.”

“That won’t be for a while yet. He’s talking.” He watched her for a second as if wanting to say more, but then he didn’t.

Fine. She knew what kind of work he did. He’d never be able to share everything with her. She was okay with that. She understood it.

“We found the van that pushed your car into the reservoir,” he said. “DNA evidence will link it to the two goons Swenson had at the farmhouse with him, I’m pretty sure. Ballistics already linked one of their guns to the bullet that killed Eleanor. Jason Tanner wasn’t lying about not being the one who shot through your window.”

She stared at him, various emotions mixing inside her. Jason’s parents were in town and had made an appointment with her for tomorrow. At least she didn’t have to tell them that their son was a killer. The family had suffered enough already, so she was happy for that.

Jason needed meds and to be in a facility where his movements were monitored. Mental illness wasn’t a crime. He needed the kind of help he wouldn’t be able to get in prison.

“So the men who shot Eleanor are dead. How do you feel about that?” Jamie asked, watching her.

“Good.” While Jason had her sympathy, those two killers definitely didn’t. They’d known what they were doing. They’d gone after her to stop her from investigating the counterfeit money business.

Jamie nodded, then looked around, up the stairs. “Where’s Katie?”

“Over at Sharon’s house for a sleepover. It’s Sharon’s birthday. Katie is not big on sleepovers, but she wanted to try. If I get a call in the middle of the night, so be it. I want her to have as many normal experiences as possible.”

“She’ll do fine. She’s a sweet girl,” he said. “How was your day?”

“All party and cakes. Mike had his retirement shindig.”

“Liked his fishing pole?”

“You bet. I thought he might sneak out of the party to go and try it. It’ll keep him out of Bertha’s hair.” Bertha was nearly as excited about the pole as Mike. She grinned.

Talking to Jamie like this felt nice: sharing their day, just being together without being in mortal danger.

He was standing in front of the living room window, which had finally been fixed, the late-day sunlight outlining his body—tall and wide shouldered. The man was pretty impressive, prosthetics or no prosthetics.

“A hero returning from the day’s business.” She said out loud the words she was thinking.

But instead of taking the compliment in the spirit in which it was offered, he frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m nobody’s hero.”

“You’re mine. And I’m sure there are plenty of other people who feel the same.”

“You don’t know anything about my past.”

“I know you’ve seen hard times. I know you risked your life for others.”

“People died because of me.”

“They shouldn’t have plotted to attack our country.”

He shook his head, a haunted expression coming over his face. “Innocent people.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She believed that with everything she was. He was good to the core, and honest and honorable.

“A whole family,” he said. And then he told her a story that made her heart bleed and had her blinking back tears.

“The bastards went slow, made them scream. For days. And they would stop, they told me, if I gave them the location of my unit.”

“They wouldn’t have,” she told him.

“I know. They meant to kill them from the beginning, to teach the rest of the village a lesson. And yet, I—”

“You couldn’t have done anything to make a difference. If you’d given up information, more people would have died.”

He rubbed a thumb over his eyebrow. “Sure, that sounds all reasonable and logical. Except in the middle of the night when I’m startled awake because I’m hearing their screams.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I never told that to anyone before, not even the shrink at Walter Reed,” he finished, and stood aloof, as if not sure how she would react.

She wanted to rush into his arms, but she wasn’t sure if he would want it. Last time they talked about things between them, each had been adamant that there could be no relationship, nothing beyond the professional. Yet it was too late. They were friends, at the very least.

And more. If she said she felt nothing beyond friendship, she would be lying. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Tanner is in jail. You have Swenson. His goons are dead. I no longer need a bodyguard.”

“You never really needed one. I know you can handle pretty much everything yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jamie?”

He smiled. “I kept coming because I like being here with you.”

Her heart rate picked up.

He looked at her, turning stone serious in a split second. “Do you want me to leave?”

Her heart sank. “Do you want to leave?” Then she laughed out loud. “I can’t believe I just asked that. Could I sound more like a high school girl?”

The smile came back onto his handsome face. “I definitely don’t want to leave.”

“Good.” She drew a deep breath. “Not that I have the faintest idea what we’re doing here.”

“We’re having a relationship.”

They were? “I didn’t want a relationship.”

“Me, neither. But I stand my ground even when I’m scared. Not that I’m scared. I’m just saying, in case you are.”

“Really? You’re going to play the ‘who’s chicken’ card? Now who sounds like a high school kid? Where’s the mucho-macho stuff?”

He came closer, caught her by the waist. He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can show you my manly ways. If you’d like.”

“So you want me to ask for it? You think you’re so hot you can make me beg? That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” she teased him, giddy with happiness that he was here and she was in his arms, that they had a whole night in front of them.

His gaze focused on her mouth. “I just want to stop you talking so I can kiss you,” he said as his lips descended on hers.

He kissed so good. So unfair. How was she supposed to think and come back with some snappy response? Her knees were going weak; her brain was getting rapidly scrambled as he tasted the seam of her lips then teased his way inside, claiming her mouth fully.

She melted into his arms. There were times to be tough deputy chick, but this wasn’t it. Her entire body tingled. She felt so incredibly good. Giddy, happy. She wanted this. She wanted him. She wanted more with every passing second.

When she was past all reason, he pulled back. Just enough to look into her face. He kept his strong arms around her waist.

His intense gaze held hers. “Why don’t you want a relationship?”

“Oh, sure,” she said weakly. “Ask questions when I can’t think.”

“I thought about it on the way over. I don’t want this just to be a casual thing.”

Nothing about Jamie Cassidy was casual.

“It’s that...” she started to say, then stopped to figure out how to word it. “I’m pretty busy with work on the average day. And now we have sheriff’s elections. Katie doesn’t like change. If I ever got seriously involved with someone, I picture it as someone with a steady schedule and a stable job.” She drew a deep breath. “Someone who might take care of Katie if something happens to me in the line of duty.”

His arms tightened around her, his voice rough as he said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you. That’s an order. Do you understand?”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

His eyes narrowed.

She narrowed her own right back. “Your job is more dangerous than mine. As little as I know about it, I figured that much out. So if I can put up worrying about you all day, you can put up with worrying about me.”