Cheating Justice (The Justice Team) (20 page)

Mitch was back.

The truck door wrenched open and Brice hopped in. Caroline snapped her head to the window and wiped her drippy eyes. Silly girl.

Brice fired the engine. “Maria is locked in. Said she’d call me when she wakes up. Now, I’m going back to her place. Who’s coming with me?”

Chapter Fifteen

Mitch left Brice to search the first floor and he took the second. Caroline’s instincts had always been spot on. If she had an inkling that Maria was hiding something on the second floor, he bet odds she was correct.

If only he knew what he was looking for.

Maria might not admit it, but she knew her brother was into some bad shit. Most likely she wasn’t hiding anything per se, only covering her brother’s ass.

The second floor had two bedrooms and a bath. Maria’s room matched the flashy JLo look she’d worn the previous day. The bedspread was black and purple zebra stripes with sparkly beads. The nightstand held a lamp with a fur-trimmed shade.

He visually scanned the contents of the chest of drawers and nightstand, checked under the bed and between the mattresses. Nothing caught his eye or seemed out of place. She had a black desk with a laptop, but he left that alone initially to search the second bedroom.

That room was sparse and done in neutral desert shades…brown, drab green, and more ugly ass brown. Definitely gave off a masculine feel but if Jesse had been sleeping here, the guy had left little behind. A few shirts hung in the closet and two pairs of shoes sat on the floor. There was no dresser and nothing under the bed. The only items in the nightstand were a TV remote and a pack of condoms.

He was in the bathroom checking the medicine cabinet when he heard Brice’s footsteps coming up the stairs at a fast pace. “Dude, we gotta roll.”

Mitch met him in the hall. “What’s up?”

“Ethan texted me. Something happened. He’s freaked out but refuses to talk over the phone.”

“Let me guess, another meeting.”

Brice’s eyes were lit with anticipation. “He said there’s a skatepark near the mall. Two miles south. Said to meet him by the mural.”

Mitch and Brice left the house empty-handed. Whatever Maria might be hiding was still safe. And Caroline wouldn’t be happy.

The skate park was busy for a weekday and music blared from a large boom box one of the dozen teenagers had set up on a picnic table.

“Shouldn’t these kids be in school?” Mitch asked as he and Brice searched for the mural, winding their way around the half pipes and other outcroppings and staying out of the way of the skateboarders. There were murals all over town done by local artists, but this one seemed to be hiding.

Brice pointed. “Maybe they’re not in school anymore. There. The mural’s on the other side of that concrete wall.”

Mitch took his word for it, following him past a bench. Sure enough, they rounded the corner and there was the mural of a mermaid. A seriously hot mermaid with blonde hair and…
don’t go there
. Going there only brought memories of Caroline naked on the lake shore.

Brice elbowed Mitch. “There’s Ethan.”

Yes. Ethan. Standing under a pinyon tree next to the mural of the hot mermaid. He wore a Diamondbacks ball cap and skipped pleasantries. “What the hell did you guys do?”

“Do?” Brice asked.

Ethan paced a few steps away, turned and came back. His eyes darted around, scanning the area. “The New Mexico U.S. Attorney ring any bells?”

Mitch exchanged a look with Brice. “What about him?”

“He called the ATF Special Agent in Charge this morning—my boss’s boss—wanting to know who this ‘blogger guy’”—he made air quotes—“was and how the hell did he get a report on a sealed case. Everyone from the taskforce, including the U.S. Attorney’s brother still here in the New Mexico ATF office, got a tongue lashing. Oh, and a little bird inside the office told me the ATF SAC and my boss went behind closed doors for a while. Supposedly they were on the phone with an FBI Special Agent in Charge in Washington, asking him what he knew. That had to be Tommy’s boss at the FBI.”

“Shit,” Mitch said. “Donaldson.”

Ethan put his hands on his hips. “It gets better.”

“What?” Brice was smiling like the shit about to rain down on them was the best thing that could happen. Mitch knew the feeling. They were kindred spirits in not caring how they shook things up, just that they did.

Ethan gave Brice an aggravated look. “This Donaldson? He jumped on a plane today to meet with my boss and the ATF SAC. All the higher-ups who put the taskforce together. Shit is going to hit the fan big time.”

Both Ethan and Brice looked at Mitch. “He was probably planning to come here anyway. He knows Caroline is messing with this and that she accessed one of the databases from the hotel.”

“What do we do?” Brice asked.

“The same thing we’ve been doing. Lay low, keep digging. We knew we’d ruffle some big feathers when we started this.”

Ethan raised his hands in the air. “I’m out. I’d like to help you guys, but my ass is on the line here. I’m one of the only ATF guys left in this office who had any involvement, and mine was only finding Tommy’s body. They have to know I’m the one feeding you information. I can’t risk my career. I have a family.”

Mitch reached out and shook his hand. “You’ve done enough. We appreciate it.”

Brice and Ethan exchanged a handshake and a man-hug complete with slaps on the back before Mitch and Brice headed back to the truck.

“Where to now?” Brice asked, his tone sounding slightly defeated.

It was one thing to bring chaos down on your own head, another when the chaos started thinning the ranks.

Mitch watched a kid landing an Ollie. “We need another set of burn phones.”

“I just bought the ones we have this morning.”

“I know. Just in case. We’ll switch ʼem out. And I want to go back to Maria’s and have a look at her laptop.”

6:56.

Caroline checked her text for typos, then read it again. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU BOYS?

No typos. Perfect. She punched the screen and sent the message off to Brice. They’d been gone almost five hours. Not that they hadn’t checked in. They had. Once. Three-and-a-half hours ago to tell her Ethan wanted another meeting. Since then, radio silence.

So Caroline sat in Maria’s sedan, continuously checking her surroundings while Maria’s motel room door stayed perfectly, quietly…shut. Not a peep out of there. Caroline supposed, after a fourteen hour shift, the woman could still be sleeping. Five hours—in sleep time—wasn’t that much.

Five hours sitting in a car doing nothing? That was a lot.

Still, as the sky darkened, and her bladder filled, Caroline wondered about the brilliance of talking Mitch into leaving her alone. Food she could live without for a few hours. A bathroom? Not so much.

Her phone whistled and she hit the little message envelope. ON OUR WAY. HAD TO MAKE A DETOUR FOR MORE PHONES. MITCH IS PARANOID AND WANTS TO SWITCH AGAIN. YOU OKAY?

Phones. Excellent. Paranoid or not, switching couldn’t hurt. Considering Mitch had crushed the phone her father had given her.

I’M FINE. ALL QUIET. SEE YOU IN A FEW.

She set the phone down, shifted in her seat, and glanced out the driver’s side window to the main road. Rush hour traffic had trickled to a car every ten seconds, but headlights were steady and the road well lit.

The parking lot on the other hand, was in desperate need of ten or fifty more street lamps. Hadn’t the owners ever heard of parking lot safety?

She lifted one hip, slid her sidearm from her holster, and set it on the console for easier access.

Just.

In.

Case.

Pressure in her lower belly made her wince. “Watch that door, Caroline,” she muttered. “Forget your bladder.”

And hunger. Forget the hunger.

She shot Brice a second text—BRING FOOD—and tossed the phone on the passenger seat.

It would delay them a few minutes, but her body was most definitely crashing. The second they got here, she’d bolt into the office and use the restroom. Then she’d eat. Mitch had better remember to super-size her order.

He wouldn’t forget. Not after all the time he’d spent harassing her about her ability to pack away food and still stay at a healthy weight. What could she say? Tapeworm?

Headlights flashed in the rearview. Couldn’t be them. Not that fast. She set her hand over the gun, ready to arm herself if necessary. She kept her eyes glued to the mirror, waiting. The car swung left out of the parking space in the row behind and exited the lot. Caroline let out a small breath. So, maybe she was a little edgy.

Her phone whistled and she leaned over to reach for it.

Smash.

Broken glass rained down on her, tiny flying knives slicing across her bare forearms where she’d rolled up her sleeves then dropping into her lap. Caroline gasped, the horror and shock paralyzing her for a few seconds until a hand—a man’s hand—reached in from the driver’s side window.

Fight.

Trapped in the seat by the console, Caroline jerked sideways and smacked, connecting with bare skin.
Gun
. Console. She reached for her weapon, but the man’s hand came at her again and she lurched sideways, knocking the gun with her elbow to the floor.

Son of a bitch.

Plan B.
Door.
If she could shove the door open, she’d buy time and maybe get a look at her attacker. She grasped the door handle and yanked. Nothing. Locked.

That relentless hand came at her again and she smacked at it, shoving her attacker away. Next time she’d bite. Or scratch. Whatever it took. She craned sideways hoping for a look at her assailant over the door frame. No chance. Too tall.

“Relax, bitch,” the man said.

“Screw you.”

A second man laughed.

No, no, no. A wicked hissing filled her head—
focus
—and she sucked in air because no, absolutely not. She would not die in a crappy motel parking lot for a crappy reason she didn’t fully understand.
I’m in trouble.
With her training, she might be able to fight off one man. Two? Gotta try. She hit the lock button, yanked the handle, and threw her weight into the door.

Barely any movement. Not with two men blocking the other side.

Get a look at them.
She leaned left, looked up, but the only thing she saw against a starry night sky was the giant fist coming at her.

Boom!

Caroline’s world went fuzzy. No pain. Just…fuzz. Her vision floated, every colorless edge suddenly vibrant and flexing and she moaned a little.

The door opened and she sagged left.
No.
It couldn’t end this way.
Get up.
As much as her mind willed it, her body gave in and dipped left again. One of the men caught her and the second man laughed again as her head looped and looped and looped and noise from outside, cars and birds and voices, mingled into a pot-luck of sounds all coming together and forming nothing but
rowwwr, rowwwr, rowwwr
over and over again. She gave her head a small shake.

The pot-luck cleared for a second.

“Hey!” another male voice shouted. “Police are on the way.”

Police.

“Shit,” one of her attackers said.

“Leave her. No time.”

Something flashed. A light? Or did she make that up?
Don’t know.

Didn’t matter. Again she lifted her head, but it lolled forward, hanging there. Dead weight. She closed her eyes. A nap. That’s what she needed.

No sleeping.

Yelling startled her and she opened her eyes, followed the sound, her vision blurry. The clerk from the office ran toward the car, his longish blond hair flying behind him. He’d saved her.

From what?

No telling, but later, she’d thank him. That’s what she’d do.

Caroline sighed.
Just a little nap.

And then, finally, darkness came.

Chapter Sixteen

“Maria? Can you hear me? Come on, Maria. Talk to me.”

Something poked Caroline’s cheek.
What the hell is that?
She moved her head sideways and pain ripped through her jaw, lashing at the bones in her face. Dear God, that hurt.

“Maria? Wake up, Maria.”

Female voice.
Where am I?

“Maria?”

“Not. Maria,” Caroline said.

Something touched her eyelid and—yow—sudden brightness blinded her.

“Cut that out,” she mumbled, smacking at the offending light.

“Welcome back. My name is Hillary. I’m going to check you out. Okay? Do you remember what happened?”

“Oh, hey,” a man said. “She’s not Maria. She’s Caroline Foster and she’s FBI. Just found her badge in her briefcase.”

In a rush, the fog in Caroline’s head cleared and she came fully awake, her eyes darting left and right. Where was she?
Maria.

Directly above her a blonde woman stared down. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Hillary. We’re going to get you fixed up.”