The Trap (Agent Dallas 3) (25 page)

The crunch of metal on metal pinged through the silence. The front passenger’s door was open. Aaron slipped the detonator into his pocket and counted slowly—a thousand and one, a thousand and two, a thousand and go! He charged from behind the car, both hands on the Glock, and fired chest level at the dark uniform. One, two, three quick shots. The man staggered back and slammed into the van as he pulled the trigger. Aaron shifted his gaze and weapon as he ran toward the driver, firing three more shots. One round of return fire zinged past him. The windshield shattered, and he fired another round through it. But he didn’t see the driver. Had he ducked down? Or slid out?

Movement to the right caught his eye. The fed was up and running.
Shit!
He took aim, squeezed the trigger, and struck her in the shoulder. She stumbled forward. Aaron spun back toward the van. Where was the driver?

After the deafening gunfire, the scene was silent again. He jogged to the van, lungs aching from the exertion. Through the open door, he saw the driver slumped over, hanging from his safety belt off the side of his seat. Aaron put a bullet into the driver’s head for good measure, then jogged back to the guard on the ground in front of the vehicle. He put a bullet between his eyes as well, then unclipped the guard’s keys and shuffled to the back of the van. He opened both doors, pulled in some oxygen, and climbed in.

“Aaron! You did it!” Shawn beamed at him from a side bench.

The sight of his younger brother filled him with a strange joy, and he heard his mother call out
My boy!
Aaron kissed Shawn’s forehead and handed him the keys. “Get yourself unlocked. I have to check on something.”

Aaron climbed out, hoping it was the last strenuous thing he had to for a long time. Maybe ever. He pushed himself to hurry to the front of the van. The fed struggled to get up. He pulled the detonator out of his pocket.

Dallas struggled to her feet, but her head was spinning and she thought she would vomit. The pain in her shoulder burned like a branding iron that had somehow penetrated to the bone.
Suck it up,
she told herself. She breathed deeply and started to run, reaching to pull off her jacket. She had to get the damn explosive off her body.

A bony hand grabbed her injured shoulder and squeezed. Tiny white stars danced around her peripheral vision, and she blacked out for a moment. When she opened her eyes, she was on her knees again, and Aaron stood over her. “Get up and walk to the car.”

“Why? It’s over. Just leave me here.”

“It’s not over until Shawn and I are out of the state.” Aaron reached down and grabbed her in the pit of her uninjured arm. “Let’s go.” His effort was weak, and Dallas had to push herself to her feet again. What now? She didn’t want to go anywhere with the psycho brothers, but she wasn’t ready to die either.

The dead guard on the gravel caught her eye, and she cringed.
God dammit!
Could she have stopped this hijack? Not with an explosive device strapped to her stomach. But she might still have a chance to keep the brothers from getting away. She knew it was a bullshit hope and stupid hero thinking. She had to focus on staying alive. The bureau would catch the Mortlock brothers. They might be searching already.

Another man intercepted them on the way to the car. He was bigger than Aaron, but they shared the same narrow eyes and protruding brow. “Who the fuck is this?” The man in the gray prison uniform looked her over with a mix of anger and lust.

Dread filled her belly and rose in her throat. Dallas leaned forward and vomited up stomach bile.

“A federal agent with a gel-based explosive strapped to her. That’s why you’re a free man.”

Shawn Mortlock grinned. “You kidnapped a federal agent? Brother, you have redeemed yourself.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Aaron dragged Dallas to the car and shoved her in the back seat. Her shoulder burned with pain as he wrapped duct tape around it. At least the binding would slow the flow of blood. Sort of.

“Why are we keeping her?” Shawn climbed behind the wheel.

“Insurance,” Aaron said, getting in the other side. “In case the feds are looking for my car. They’ll let us get away rather than risk blowing up one of their own.”

“Then we’ll swap out this piece of shit as soon as we can.” Shawn started the engine and gunned the car toward the road.

Dallas closed her eyes, feeling lightheaded. How much blood had she lost? The wound wasn’t fatal, she could tell, but she needed medical attention. A bitter laugh died in her throat. The bomb was the real concern. Her jacket was still hanging from her shoulders, so she pulled it all the way off. With it out of the way, she could start peeling off the duct tape that was holding the explosive in place—if they didn’t look back and pay attention to her. And if Aaron didn’t tape her hands.

He glanced over the seat and said, “Don’t be stupid. I will shoot you again.”

She didn’t respond or look at him.

Behind the wheel, Shawn let out a cry of joy. “I’m free! I’m driving.” He turned to his brother and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, man. Does Mom know about this?”

“Not specifically. But I promised her I would get you out.” Aaron finally turned back to the front. “We can’t go to Mom’s. It’s the first place they’ll look.”

“I know that.” Shawn gunned the engine again.

Dallas put their banter on a back burner, hearing the words but only focusing on a few details. With her right shoulder still throbbing, she put her left hand behind her back and felt under her shirt for the edge of the duct tape. After a few tries, she found it. With slow awkward movements, she began to peel, watching Aaron’s head for movement.

Two minutes later, he turned to check, and she let her hand flop. This would take too damn long. Dallas tried not to despair. Maybe prison officials, or possibly fellow agents, were looking for them already.

After twenty minutes of traveling, while she made slow painful progress on the tape around her stomach, the vehicle slowed. “Look, another car is coming.” Shawn seemed both eager and agitated.

Dallas snapped her head up to look out the front windshield. The landscape had changed, and they were headed down a gentle, winding slope, with views of the valley below. A low cement bridge came into sight, with a dark narrow river below it.

“We’ll stop them and take their vehicle,” Aaron said. “The sooner we get out of this one, the better.”

“We can lose the hostage too.” Shawn glanced over his shoulder at her.

Dallas hoped they wouldn’t kill the other driver. They reached the bottom of the slope, and the road flattened out. The river crossing was up ahead, past a long grove of trees. She couldn’t see the approaching car, but it had to be coming. When they reached the middle of the bridge, Shawn slowed, turned the car sideways, and shut it off.

The other vehicle had just crossed onto the bridge, and the driver slammed his brakes, stopping ten feet away.

“Your ride is over,” Aaron said, looking back at her with a sick smile. “Get out.”

The explosive was still strapped to her, with only about six inches of tape hanging down her back. Dallas climbed from the car, racking her brain for ideas. She glanced over at the other vehicle.
Oh god,
a minivan with a family. “Don’t hurt them,” she pleaded.

Shawn came around the car, grabbed her wounded shoulder, and dragged her to the wall of the bridge. It was only three feet tall, but thick enough to stand on. “Give me your gun, Aaron.”

His brother didn’t respond. He was watching the minivan. “Let’s get the other people out here first. We don’t know who they are. And they might be making a phone call right now.” He held up his device and shouted at Dallas. “Come with me and don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll use you to blow them up.”

She couldn’t let that happen. Dallas hugged the side of the bridge and took a step sideways. The brothers were now standing in front of their car about five feet away.

“Let me handle this!” Shawn grabbed the Glock from Aaron.

Dallas knew what was coming next. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the pepper spray.

Shawn spun and took a step toward her, jerking the weapon up into position. She aimed the little canister at his face and sprayed, her shoulder screaming in pain. At the same time, she swung her good arm up and grabbed the wrist that held the gun.

The pepper burned his eyes and Shawn let out a loud bellow.

Dallas kept spraying with one hand and squeezing his wrist with the other, her own eyes watering with pain. Shawn started to kick, but she jumped back, pulling his arm with her. The gun dropped to the ground. Still bellowing, Shawn’s hands went to his eyes. Behind him, Aaron was coming at her.

Dallas scooped up the weapon and fired at Shawn’s head. She squeezed the trigger again, but the magazine was empty.

“You bitch!” Aaron shouted and lunged at her, the detonator in his hand.

She had only once chance to survive. Dallas spun and vaulted over the thick cement wall. She plunged down, feet first, begging the universe for a short drop. The cold air of the river rushed up to meet her, and a moment later, she knifed through the icy water. For a split second, the impact made her think the bomb had exploded and she was gone. But she kept going and her feet hit bottom. Where was Aaron? Would the explosive go off under water?

Dallas discovered the gun was still in her hand. Thank god. The family would be safe. Lungs bursting and her body frigid with shock, she wanted to push straight back up and surface for oxygen. But the river was pulling her downstream, and she went with the flow, hoping to get out of detonation range.

Agent Grimes careened down the hill. He had passed the prison vehicle about twenty minutes back, stunned to see the two guards dead and the prisoner gone. The blood on the road in front of the van alarmed him too. He’d called into the field office for help, guessed at the direction the Mortlock brothers had gone, then climbed in his car and raced after them. As he neared the bottom of the slope, he spotted two cars on the bridge. An ugly sedan was parked sideways, blocking the bridge, and a red minivan had stopped ten feet away. Two men stood in front of the sedan, and an injured woman hugged the side of the bridge. The federal UC agent.

Out of range for radio access, he touched his earpiece and called his supervisor again. “Two cars in a confrontation on Boonville Bridge. I think it’s the Mortlocks. An injured young woman is with them as well. I can’t see who’s in the other vehicle. It could be a transfer. Or maybe a carjacking.”

“Is anyone armed?”

“Oh shit. The woman is about to get shot.” Grimes pressed the accelerator and raced forward. When he came out of the curve and saw the bridge again, the woman was leaping over the side. The man in gray was on the ground, and the other rushed to him. Was that a prison uniform? It had to be the Mortlocks.

“What’s happening?” The voice in his ear had an edge of panic. Grimes had forgotten the phone call was still open.

“One Mortlock is down, and the woman is in the river. The other car is backing away.”

“If it’s safe to approach, get cuffs on the brothers,” his supervisor directed. “If it’s not safe, keep eyes on them. Another agent is ten minutes away, coming from the other direction.”

“Copy that.” At the edge of the bridge, Grimes eased his car to a stop and put it in park. Keeping his eyes on the action, he reached for the binoculars in his glove box, then pulled them to his face to bring the scene up close. The man on the ground was younger, bigger, and looked dead. Shawn Mortlock’s freedom had been short-lived. The agent who’d shot him and leapt in the river was a true hero. He hoped she survived. Grimes talked into his earpiece again. “We need a rescue boat and an ambulance for the woman who went over. She shot Shawn Mortlock first though, and I think he’s dead.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day.” A pause. “Her name is Dallas. She’s a UC specialist.”

“I’m going in.”

“Stay on the line.”

Grimes opened his car door and stepped out, but stayed behind it for a moment. The older Mortlock, Aaron, glanced over at him, then stood up. He put his hands in the air, the slump of his shoulders broadcasting defeat.

The other vehicle backed to the end of the bridge, then turned and drove away. Grimes spoke to his boss again. “The people in the other car are leaving. A red minivan. Someone needs to intercept them. We need their statements.”

Grimes moved out from behind the door, then strode quickly toward Mortlock, his weapon out front. The subject gripped something dark. “What do you have? Show it to me nice and slow.”

Mortlock held out his hand, palm up, displaying a small device that looked like a miniature remote control.

“What is it?”

“A detonator.”

“For a bomb?” Grimes swallowed hard. “Where’s the explosive?”

“Taped to the fed in the river.”

Oh shit.
“Put it on the ground, gently, and step back.”

Mortlock did as he was told. Grimes picked up the device, careful to touch only the sides. He couldn’t leave it in the road, but he would be glad to turn it over to the bomb squad. For now, he set it on the wall of the bridge.

He cuffed the terrorist without incident, keeping his eye on the downed brother. He wouldn’t trust Shawn Mortlock until his body was cold. He locked Aaron in the back of his car, found another pair of cuffs under the seat, and went back for Shawn. The man hadn’t moved. Grimes kneeled down, pulled his arms out from under him, and cuffed him behind the back.

He hurried to the bridge wall and scanned the river. The blond agent was dragging herself out of the water about a hundred yards downstream.
Thank god,
she was alive. He touched his earpiece. “Boss, you still there?”

“Yes. What have you got?”

“Dallas is alive and out of the river, so cancel the boat. But she has a bomb strapped to her, and I have the detonator. We need the experts out here ASAP.”

“They’re already on the way. The Mortlocks have an affinity for explosives, so the incident team at headquarters sent out a bomb unit. They’ll be there soon.”