Getting the Edge: Betrayed Book 1 (14 page)

Brandon ignored him and instead pulled out a picture of Mandy and a hundred dollar bill. “What room?” he asked coldly.

The young man picked up the hundred and pocketed it. “First floor. Room 10.”

“Key?” Brandon said, holding out his hand.

The boy put a card-key into his hand. “But I didn’t give you that.”

“Of course not,” Brandon said. “Who else didn’t you give her room number to?”

“A guy a while ago. Said he was her boyfriend,” the boy said quickly. “And he was, like, a cop or something. I had to.”

Brandon was instantly on alert. “Why do you think he was a cop?”

“He flashed a badge, man. I gave him the room number. He said he’d arrest me if I gave her a heads-up.”

“Do you have security cameras?” Brandon asked.

“Nah, they’re just for show. We don’t get much crime out this way.”

Brandon nodded, and left the office, shaking his head.
A cop? It was a cop all along?
Brandon felt sick as he jogged to the room the boy had given him a key to. He stopped to the side of the door and listened.

“I won’t call him again. Kill me. You can’t make me—” The rest of the words were cut off with the sound of a fist striking flesh.

Brandon drew the gun and kicked in the door, gun aimed. “Let her go and put the knife down,” he snapped.

The man spun around and took a step toward Brandon, the knife in his gloved hand raised to strike.

A quick look at Mandy showed she wasn’t moving and as much as Brandon wanted to shoot the bastard, he wouldn’t unless given no choice. He needed answers—and this might be his only chance to get them. “Drop it, or lose your arm,” he snarled.

“I don’t think so, Walsh.” He spun around and raised the knife again, obviously intending to stab Mandy with it.

Brandon didn’t hesitate. He aimed the gun for the bastard’s right shoulder and fired.

The man spun around and moved toward him. “The next bullet goes in your brain. Drop the knife!” Brandon snarled, meaning every word. Answers be damned. He’d been intending on killing Mandy. He was beyond livid.

“I’m dead anyway,” the man snapped, and moved toward Brandon.

Brandon noted immediately that the man couldn’t lift his right arm, and he smiled. He wouldn’t have to shoot him again, after all. He shoved the gun in his jeans again. “Come on,” he taunted, using his hand in the typical gesture to draw someone in.

Brandon saw his eyes widen, then narrow. Brandon charged, kicking his leg behind the knee of the killer’s leg, then punched him as hard as he could in the chin. He heard a satisfying crunch as the man crumbled at his feet.

Brandon disarmed him quickly and used the rope he found in his pockets to quickly tie his hands behind his back. He kicked the knife across the room—careful not to touch it.

The killer had gloves on, but it was still possible it would have prints on it.

Ignoring the now unconscious man, Brandon moved to Mandy, who was just now regaining consciousness.

“No! You can’t be here. Run, Brandon, he’s here!”

“Shh, he’s out. You’re safe, Mandy, you’re safe.”

Mandy was shaking her head frantically. “No, we’re not safe. Go, Brandon. Leave now! The police will come!”

“Yeah, they will. That’s why we’re going to be gone. How badly are you hurt?” He looked at her, but didn’t see anything but bruising on her face. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

“What all did you bring? I need to get you out of here quickly,” Brandon said.

“Nothing. Just my purse,” Mandy said, pointing to the table. “I just brought my purse.”

Brandon grabbed her purse. “What did you touch? Anything in the room?”

Mandy shook her head. “I was too tired. I just slept. I—I might have touched something in the bathroom, but I gave my ID to the lady when I checked in last night.”

“Then let’s go, Mandy. Hurry.”

Assuming she’d obey him, he turned his attention back to the groaning man on the floor. He pulled off the mask. “Who the hell are you?” Brandon demanded, his voice as cold as ice.

“You’re dead, Walsh. You’re both dead. But then, so am I,” he retorted, closing his eyes.

Brandon hauled him roughly to his feet. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked again, digging his fingers into the wound on the man’s shoulder.

The man winced, but said nothing.

Brandon shoved him onto the bed on his stomach, searching for his ID. He’d shown something to the kid in the office, after all.

He pulled out an ID case with a badge and photo. He had been out of the loop too long to know if the badge or ID were legit, though they showed the man was a detective with the same department Brandon had worked for. It certainly looked real—which didn’t necessarily mean a thing. “Okay, Harry Gallager, you’re coming with us. I need answers, and we can’t stick around here.”

“Mandy,” he said sharply. “Go get the car. It’s around back. Hurry.” He tossed her the keys.

Mandy nodded and left the room.

When they were alone, Brandon pulled Gallager to his feet. “Are you a cop, Gallager?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “And as a convicted felon, you’re on your way back to prison. You can’t own a weapon, Walsh.”

Brandon smiled, but it wasn’t a smile that would have calmed anyone. “Do I really look like I care? The only reason you’re still breathing is because I need answers.”

“You got answers. We know Wilson told you everything,” Gallager snarled. “This isn’t over, Walsh. You’re finished, and so is your bitch.”

Brandon drew back his fist and slugged Gallager in the cheek hard. “You’ll pay for every bruise you put on her, Gallager. I promise you that.”

He heard the car pulling up and looked out the door. The boy from the office was watching with wide eyes.
Shit.

“Let’s go, Gallager,” Brandon said, dragging the man from the room. He shoved him in the back of the car.

“I called the cops,” the teen said. “They’ll be here pretty quick.”

“Mandy, come here,” Brandon said gently.

Amanda climbed from the driver’s seat and stood next to Brandon.

“This is what this jerk did to this young woman, kid. Make sure you remember that when the real cops come,” Brandon said. “We’re not the bad guys here.” He pointed to the back seat. “He is.”

“But he had a badge,” the boy said, his voice shaking. “Lady, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Mandy said automatically.

“Go on back inside, kid. We’re leaving. Sorry about the door.” He turned back to Mandy. “Get in, Mandy. We need to go. Now.”

Mandy nodded and scurried to the other side of the car.

Brandon realized that Gallager’s car might give him some kind of clue, and decided to take it, too. “Mandy, are you okay to drive?”

“Yes,” she said, pausing with the door open.

“Drive his car, follow me. Understand?” he said, his eyes on hers.

“Do you have his keys?”

Brandon had emptied his pockets when he’d taken the ID case out. He tossed them to her. “Stay right behind me.”

There was only one other car in the lot, and it was parked next to Brandon’s. She climbed in and started the engine.

Brandon climbed in is Mustang and pulled out of the lot quickly, Mandy following behind him.

He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Gallager glaring at him.

“I’d suggest you get her out of my car,” Gallager said sarcastically.

“Oh, and why is that?” Brandon asked. They’d been on the road for only about twenty minutes. He wouldn’t feel even a little safe until they were much further away.

“Because it has a bomb in it,” Gallager said.

Chapter Seventeen

Brandon pulled over, his heart racing so hard, he could feel it throbbing even in his head. Why the fuck would there be a bomb in the car?

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t take the chance that Gallager wasn’t lying. Not when Amanda was alone in the car.

He jumped out of the car and ran back. Mandy had pulled in behind him. He opened the door and snatched her out of the car and backed away.

“Go wait in the Mustang,” he said. “And not a word to that ass, okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “But what’s wrong?”

“He said that this car has a bomb in it. I can’t take the chance that he’s not telling the truth.”

“Then get away from it!” she shrieked. “We need to get out of here.”

“Go, Mandy. Get in the car and drive a bit up the road. I need to see if there really is a bomb, and how safe it is. I can’t leave it here.”

Mandy started to argue, but his glare stopped her. She went to Brandon’s car and drove away, stopping a few hundred feet ahead.

Brandon looked through the interior of the car. He didn’t see a damn thing other than a computer on the passenger seat. He grabbed that, and then checked the glove-box. The car was registered to Harry Gallagher.

He pocketed the registration. Nothing else of interest was there. He pulled the keys from the ignition and then wiped down the prints he or Mandy might have left, before pulling the latch to check the trunk, praying the trunk wasn’t wired to go off.

Somehow, though, he sensed that if there was indeed a bomb, that it wasn’t meant as a booby-trap for someone who got near the car. He was betting his life on it. Literally.

Though, he couldn’t imagine why Gallager had told him about it.

In the trunk, he found a small box. Inside was what was obviously a bomb, but it didn’t seem to have a timer on it. He wasn’t a damn bomb tech. He had no idea how to defuse it—or what would set it off.

When he’d searched Gallager, he’d also found a phone. He used that phone and dialed the police, giving them the location of the car and informing them that it looked like it had a bomb, then tossed the phone in the trunk after wiping it down.

The old cop in him just couldn’t risk someone being hurt.

He left the trunk open, but drove the car off the road enough that it wouldn’t be easily spotted. With the phone in the trunk, though, the police would be able to find it and defuse the bomb safely.

When he was as sure as he could be, he ran up the road to his Mustang and opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Drive, Mandy. Get us the hell out of here.”

Mandy didn’t question him for once, and did exactly as he said, pulling out on the road. “How long do you think we have, Brandon?” she finally asked.

“Till what?” he asked.

“Don’t you think they know where we are now? It’s pretty obvious to me that they do,” she said, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

“We know,” Gallager said with a sneer. “Do you really think you’re going to get away?”

“Then why did you tell me about the bomb, Gallager?” Brandon asked.

The man grinned. “We want you two together.”

Before Brandon could reply, he heard the blast. They were too far away to have it impact them, but Brandon could see the smoke and flames from his mirror.

His heart raced. Gallager was right. They were being watched. “Pull over, Mandy. I’m driving.”

Mandy pulled over to the side of the road, and they traded places. “We need to dump this car and get the hell away from here,” he muttered, almost to himself as he pulled back onto the road.

“It won’t matter, Walsh. We aren’t going to stop coming after you. You have nowhere safe to go where we won’t find you,” Gallager said.

“Brandon, drop me off. It’s not really you they want—it’s me,” Mandy said softly. “Get back home and get your life back.”

Brandon just gave her a glare, but turned his attention to Gallager. “Who blew up the car?” he demanded.

“I’m not telling you shit, Walsh,” he said with a sneer.

Brandon felt them watching—someone—somewhere. He swung the car around and headed back toward the little town they’d just left. Cops would be everywhere—but maybe that was his best chance to keep Amanda safe.

“Where are you going?” Mandy asked, frantic now. “We can’t go back there! There will be police everywhere!”

“Yes, there will. We’ll turn this guy over to them. At the very least, they’ll be able to get him for assault,” Brandon said, glancing in the mirror to watch Gallager.
Why doesn’t he even seem to care?

“It’ll never stick. You’re the one with the record, Walsh. Believe me; your little lady there will tell them what she’s told to tell them—just like she did before the last time,” Gallager taunted.

Mandy spun in her seat and slugged him as hard as she could in the nose, then shook her hand.

Brandon chuckled, despite the situation. “You forgot to hold your thumb out. Didn’t I teach you better than that?” he asked.

“Shut up, Brandon,” she muttered beneath her breath, cradling her hand.

“Is it broken?”

Mandy shrugged. “It’s worth it if it is,” she said.

Brandon groaned. Another hospital visit was not on their list. He pulled over. “Let me see,” he said gently.