Untraceable (28 page)

“Roger that.”

Nathan jumped out, popped open the trunk, and started grabbing up gear. “You any good with a shotgun?”

“Who isn’t?” Hodges picked up a 12-gauge and tested it in his hands. “Sure you don’t want it?”

“I want a hand free.”
To help Alex.
“Anyway, I’m better with a pistol.” Nathan shoved a few extra magazines in the pocket of his jacket. He grabbed the Kevlar vest lying beside the tire iron and held it out to Hodges.

“No way, man.”

“Take it. Courtney’s expecting.”

Hodges stepped back, clearly surprised. “How did you—”

“People tell me shit.” Nathan shoved the vest into his hands and slammed shut the trunk. “Now get rid of that white shirt and let’s go.”

Hodges leaned the shotgun against the bumper and quickly swapped the white Oxford that stood out like a beacon for the black Kevlar vest.

Seconds later, they set off at a brisk jog for the gate. It hung at an angle on one of its hinges, obviously broken. But if this place was some sort of command outpost or distribution center, there still might be guards or security cameras hidden around.

Once through the gate, they moved off the gravel driveway and cut through weeds and scrub brush in the direction of the house.

Snick.

Nathan’s shoulders tensed, but he kept moving. Someone was behind them.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A voice. Not Coghan’s.

At the sound of it, Coghan let go, and Alex slumped forward. Her neck burned. Her body quivered. She clutched her knees to her chest and tried to get her breath back.

“What the hell is this?” The voice was in the room now. Alex turned her head and saw a man. Light reflected off the top of his head. The parking lot guy.

Coghan picked up his beer and took a swig. “Just taking care of business.”

Another figure stepped into the room. Tall. Suit. Female. The blonde from the weight room.

Alex shook her head and tried to clear it. She needed to
concentrate
. Sharpen her senses. Her situation was changing, and she had to find an advantage.

The woman’s gaze swept to Alex, and her eyes bugged. “Have you lost your
mind
?” She turned to Coghan. “That’s Nathan’s
girlfriend
!”

Nathan. Her chest constricted.

“This is between me and her.” Coghan pointed his beer bottle at the woman. “You two just pick up your money and get out of here.”

“Like hell! We’re accessories now!” She turned to the bald man. “I didn’t agree to this. He’s out of control. First New Orleans. Then the hooker. This is crazy—”

“Shut up.” The bald guy scowled at the woman. “She’s already here. We deal with it. Then we leave.”

Alex inched closer to the drainpipe. She turned her attention to the handcuff. It was loose, but not loose enough to slip her wrist through. Maybe she could unscrew the pipe somehow.

“I’m leaving.” The blonde turned on her heel, but Coghan stopped her with an arm across the door.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Whoever was following them was about fifteen yards back. Nathan kept the pace up as he signaled Hodges. When they reached the next clump of brush, Nathan darted in front of a cedar and circled back.

A tall black shadow had stopped in the middle of the path.

Nathan charged him from behind. He landed with an
oof
on the ground, and in seconds Nathan had him on his stomach, a gun pointed at his head. “Police. Hands up.”

Silence. Then the unmistakable slide-and-click of a shotgun shell being chambered as Hodges stepped out of the shadows.

The man lifted both hands off the ground. Nathan jerked a pistol out of one of them and tossed it into the grass, where Hodges promptly retrieved it.

Nathan leaned close, wanting to keep the noise to a minimum. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Relax, I’m a cop,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that means shit to me right about now.” Nathan did a rough pat-down and came up with a wallet, which he handed to Hodges.

“Name,” Nathan demanded.

“John Holt. I’m a Texas Ranger.”

Nathan glanced up at his partner, who was checking the wallet with a small tactical flashlight. Alex had mentioned a Holt. Hodges turned the light on the man, studied his face for a second, then gave a nod of confirmation.

Nathan stood up. The ranger got to his feet. Hodges returned the wallet, but kept the weapon tucked in his waistband.

John Holt’s gaze shifted from Nathan to Hodges. “Who are you guys?”

“APD,” Nathan snapped. “And we’ve got a possible hostage situation, so tell us something useful or get out of our way.”

Holt’s gaze narrowed on Nathan. “Who’s the hostage?”

“Alex Lovell.”

The man cursed. “Coghan has her?”

“Yes. And we don’t have time to explain, so either—”

“Property’s surrounded on three sides by a six-foot fence. Gate’s broken. Fourth side is lakefront. There’s a second-floor deck with a boathouse under it, but no boat.”

“How do you know?” Hodges asked.

“I got here fifteen minutes ago,” Holt said. “Tailed a woman—”

“Who?”

Holt paused. “An assistant district attorney. She’s been under investigation.”

He was talking about Nicole.

“That’s not all,” Holt continued. “Looks like a crowd tonight. I saw four vehicles parked in back, three pickups and a BMW. I counted three guards milling around the kitchen, all armed with submachine guns. Everyone’s busy. Looks like maybe a meth lab in there, and I’m guessing from the guards they’ve got some cash laying around, too. I took one look at those AK-47s, called for backup. ETA twenty-five minutes.”

“You see Alex or Coghan?” Nathan asked.

“No.”

Hodges pulled the ranger’s weapon from his waistband and returned it.

“Stay or go, it’s up to you,” Nathan said. “But we’re not waiting for backup.”

“She’s right.” The bald guy fisted his hands on his hips, and Alex blinked at him. A
badge
. Clipped to his belt. That’s where she’d seen him—he’d been at the crime scene earlier tonight with Nathan.

Oh God. Who
wasn’t
involved in this? Was Hodges part of it, too? What about John Holt? Alex’s stomach clenched, and she wanted to puke.

They were arguing back and forth now. Alex swallowed the bile in her throat and forced herself to listen.

“You let me worry about her.” This from Coghan.

Baldy turned and glared at Alex.

“This is a business.” The woman jabbed a finger at Coghan. “This isn’t about
you
. This isn’t about your slut wife, or your personal vendetta, and I will
not
be made an accessory—”

Smack!
Coghan backhanded her, and she dropped to the floor. Blood trickled from her nose. She gaped up at him, shocked.

“Christ, Craig.” Baldy now. “What’d you do that for?”

“Both of you, fucking stay out of this! This is
my
show. Take your money and get out.”

“It’s not that simple,” Baldy said. “Melanie’s talking, Craig. Don’t you
get
that? Everything’s compromised. And our prints are all over this place. We need to clear out, torch it, and hit the road. You stick around and draw this out, you put all of us at risk.”

The woman wobbled to her feet and steadied herself against the shower. No one offered her a hand. Was she APD? A fed? Alex looked for a weapon, a telltale bulge under the suit jacket. Maybe if Alex could get the woman on her side—

Pop!

Shrieks filled the room. Alex ducked for cover under the sink.

Gunshot.

Nathan tore through the scrub brush, heart thundering, trying to throw together a plan. AK-47s in the kitchen. No one manning the front, which meant it was probably locked tight. Nathan plunged through the darkness, dodging trees and bushes, sprinting in the direction of the house as his heart jackhammered inside his chest.

The house came into view. Two-story. Limestone. A light glowing inside, illuminating a tall foyer and a curving staircase.

“Go around back and monitor the guards,” he told Holt, who was bent over now, gasping for air. “Hodges and I’ll take the front. We’re way outmatched, so if anyone tries to escape, just let them go unless they’ve got Alex.”

Holt took off jogging toward the back of the house while Nathan and Hodges sprinted for the front. Ducking low, they rushed up to the door. Locked.

Nathan heard a scream that chilled him to his bones. He threw his shoulder into the door. No use.

“Sounded like it came from upstairs,” Hodges said, racing for the nearest window. He jabbed the shotgun butt against the pane. Glass cascaded to the ground.

“Cover me,” Nathan ordered, and ducked inside.

The bald guy lay facedown on the tile, in an expanding pool of blood. The woman had backed herself into the corner, as far away from the corpse as it was possible to get without melting into the wall. She stared at Coghan, bug-eyed and terrified. She was hyperventilating.

Coghan pointed his gun at the woman. “Sit your ass down and shut up.” Then he swung the gun toward Alex, and her stomach did a free fall.

The blonde bolted for the door. This time, Coghan ignored her.

Alex’s mouth went dry as she stared into the gun barrel. She held her breath. She curled tighter. The
clink
of her handcuff echoed through the room.
Like shooting fish in a barrel.

He stepped back until he was standing in the doorway. He smiled slightly. He lifted the gun.

“Good-bye, bitch.”

Pop!

Alex’s ears rang and she waited for the pain to come. It didn’t. Footsteps stampeded outside the room. More shots. Shouting. A familiar voice—

“Oh, Jesus.”

She opened her eyes and was stunned to see Nathan drop to his knees beside her.

“Are you all right? Are you okay?” He tried to pull her up, into a sitting position. Metal rattled, and his attention veered to her wrist, handcuffed beneath the sink. Then his gaze swept over her, and seemed actually to
see
her for the first time—the bloody knees, the bruised arms, the raw, red burns.

“Alex?” He brushed her hair out of her eyes and searched her face. “Alex, talk to me, honey. Are you okay?”

She nodded, still stupefied by the fact that he was
here
beside her, when moments ago she’d thought her life was over.

“Where’d he go?” Her voice sounded like a croak.

“I took a shot at him from the stairs, and he ran. Hodges went after him.” He put his Glock on the floor now and started stripping off his jacket. “We have to get you out of here.”

“Uh-huh.”

He settled the jacket over her, and she used her free hand to clutch it to her chest. It was wet, but it was warm, too, from his body heat, and it smelled like him.

He bent his head down and peered up under the sink. “Shit, it’s metal.”

“I tried to detach the pipe.” She’d spent five minutes frantically trying to unscrew the joint while Coghan had gone for a beer. “No luck.”

Nathan flipped onto his back and reached up. All his muscles strained as he tried to twist the joint.

More shouts sounded downstairs. Doors slammed. In the distance, she heard a car start.

And then she caught a smell.

“It’s stuck,” Nathan said from under the sink. “I need a wrench. Or a handcuff key.”

“Do you have one?”

“It’s on my key chain, back at the car. I left the keys inside in case Hodges needed it before I did. God
damn
it!”

He sat up again, looking flushed and frustrated.

And Alex’s stomach flip-flopped as she put a name to the smell.

“Nathan … I smell smoke.”

He went still. “Shit, you’re right.” Then he rolled to his feet and crouched beside her.

“Don’t leave,” she said. She grabbed his arm with her free hand, but she already knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her, and her heart filled with terror. He picked up his Glock and folded her hand around the grip. “If anyone tries to hurt you, shoot ’em dead.”

“But what about you? You need a gun.”

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

She wanted to grab a fistful of his damp T-shirt and beg him not to go. But instead, she bit her lip and watched him stand up. Her heart squeezed as he rushed for the door, and she realized it was now or maybe never.

“Nathan, wait!”

He turned around.

“I…” She blinked back the tears and forced a smile. “I love you.”

His eyebrows shot up with surprise.

“You know, just for the record.”

He looked serious now, more serious than she had ever seen him. “I promise you, Alex. I’ll be right back.”

And then he was gone.

The house was in chaos—doors slamming, people yelling in both English and Spanish, cars peeling down the driveway. A punk-assed kid armed with an AK-47 sat at the base of the stairs beside a can of gasoline. Shit, were they burning the place? Destroying the crime scene?

Nathan needed another exit. He darted down a dim hallway, following the same route Coghan had taken when he’d raced off.

Nathan had hit him. He was almost sure of it. At the very least, he’d nicked the son of a bitch with that potshot from the top of the staircase.

The potshot that probably had saved Alex’s life.

A back stairwell. Bingo! Nathan raced down to the landing, turned the corner, and smacked into Hodges.

“Shit, you’re hit!”

Hodges was pale as death and using the banister to pull himself up the stairs. Blood had soaked through the thigh of his slacks and was dripping from his pant leg.

“Get everybody out,” he gasped. “They’re torching the place.” Sweat poured down his face as he tried to climb the next step.

“Alex is handcuffed up there. Quick, where’s your key?”

Hodges reached for something, then started to slip as he lost his grip on the handrail. Nathan caught him.

“Right… pocket,” Hodges said.

Nathan dug his hand in the pocket, hoping he wouldn’t poke the bullet wound. He pulled out the key chain, and it was slick with blood.