The Rookie: A Romantic Suspense Standalone (The Intelligence Unit Book 1) Page 12

  “Fair enough.”

  And just when Tara didn’t think she could be any more surprised by the conversation, Amour reached out to fold her arms around Tara.

  “Thanks for always having my back.”

  “Of course,” Tara said, hugging her tight. “I’ll be right here with you, all the way to the end. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

  “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to go over the plan just one more time?”

  Okay, so Tara knew she was bordering on overkill, and the wry look on Xander’s face confirmed it. But in mere hours, she’d call Amour to the stand, placing her face to face with Sansone and erasing any doubt of her identity from his evil little mind. Yes, Tara’s boss and Sinclair had taken every precaution imaginable to keep the younger woman safe—including a security detail that rivaled those of most pop stars—and more yes, Sansone had been church-mouse quiet ever since Amour had received that text threat, leading Capelli to believe that the message had been more of a lucky guess than a true concern. To top it off, Amour had been unshakably strong even during the most grueling parts of the preparations, when Tara had cross-examined her so meanly, most other people would’ve crumbled like a sandcastle on a sunny day.

  And still, Tara couldn’t shake the instinct in the pit of her belly that said Sansone was just biding his time. Waiting to strike. Waiting to hurt Amour again.

  Please, please, just keep her and Xander safe.

  Xander crossed the kitchen, putting down his coffee mug before cupping her face to kiss her, bringing her back to reality. “You know what? Going over the plan one more time probably won’t hurt,” he said. She knew he was humoring her, and God, she loved him for it.

  Blinking past the shock of the thought—where the hell had that come from?—she cleared her throat and focused on his voice, calm and steady as he said, “Okay. Here’s the plan. I’m going to leave in five minutes to meet Garza and Sinclair. We’re picking Amour up at the safe house at seven AM.”

  Tara nodded. Hearing the plan out loud, even though she knew it by heart, smoothed out her nerves, allowing her to breathe deeply as he continued.

  “We’ll take her to the courthouse, where she’ll have a private waiting room. You’ll meet us there at eight thirty to make sure everything is set—which it will be, because Isabella and Capelli will make sure of it, down to the very smallest security detail. Then, Judge Waters will start promptly at nine, and you and Amour will stick it to Sansone so thoroughly, he’ll never breathe free air again. Did I miss anything?”

  “Only the part where you’re fantastic,” Tara said, pressing up to kiss him.

  Xander smiled against her mouth. “You’re pretty fantastic, too. But if I don’t head out, I’m going to be late and fantastic.”

  “Not today.” She pulled back and pointed at the door with mock seriousness. “Go. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will,” he said, kissing her one last time before heading for the door. Even though she had a little time before she had to get dressed and head to the courthouse, she had far too much nervous energy to sit around Xander’s apartment. After a quick shower, Tara put on her lucky suit, pulling her hair into a twist and slipping into her favorite black heels.

  “You’ve got this,” she told her reflection. “After today, this will all be history.”

  She didn’t see the man behind her until it was too late to scream.

  Tara woke up with the knowledge of three things. The first was that something odd must have happened to her head, because she couldn’t get her thoughts to line up properly. The second was that her arms were equally affected, heavy and useless at her sides. The third was that she had no idea where she was, but it wasn’t anywhere familiar, and wait…wasn’t she supposed to be—

  She sat up in a rush. Or, at least, she tried to. But between the screaming pain reverberating against her skull and the zip ties around both her wrists and her ankles, she didn’t get very far.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake. As you know, I’m on a schedule, and I don’t have a whole lot of time.”

  Tara squinted through the dingy space—a basement, maybe? No, a warehouse of some kind—her glassy gaze landing on Ricky Sansone.

  Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God. “Where’s Amour?” she croaked, and Sansone’s expression hardened.

  “I’d guess that traitorous whore is probably at the courthouse with your little boyfriend and those other fucking cops. But don’t you worry, they’ll all get theirs soon enough. After they have the pleasure of having to piece together your body, of course. You’ll be amazed at how long it’s going to take them to find all of you.”

  Tara’s stomach roiled with the burning urge to vomit. “You have to know you’re not going to get away with this.”

  “Please,” he snorted, his footsteps echoing through the space as he circled around her, his suit pristine. “I’m absolutely going to get away with this, just like I’ll get away with killing that bitch and everyone else involved in this case. You see, Blaze, here, is going to wait until I’m all settled in, nice and cozy at the courthouse before he starts to torture you.”

  He gestured to a huge man in the shadows, who stepped into the light just enough for Tara to see the tattoo of a Grim Reaper on his forearm, complete with tally marks on an elaborate book underneath, by his wrist.

  Fresh fear spiked in her chest. “They’re going to miss me in court. They’ll know something’s wrong.”

  Sansone rolled his eyes as if she were a petulant child. “Of course they will. You not being there is the entire point, you stupid twat. We can’t exactly have a trial if the prosecuting attorney’s a no-show, now can we?”

  Realization slammed into Tara, making her temples throb and her skin ice over. “You made it look like you were going after Amour so you could come after me instead.”

  “Jesus, it’s about time you figured it out. I was starting to think that fancy fucking degree was wasted on you. See, I’ve known where Amour was for a while now. The trouble is, she was too well guarded for me to do anything about it without getting caught. But I knew she’d have to come out of her hidey-hole to testify, and when she did, you’d be ripe for the picking. For fuck’s sake, it took Blaze less than ten seconds to get past that lock. And everyone’s so worried about that filthy slut that no one will notice you’re missing until it’s too late. Blaze is going to gut you like the pig you are. He’ll go after Amour next, then that pregnant cop. That’ll be a two-for-one.”

  The excitement in his smile made Tara revisit the urge to be sick, and she bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could in order to keep hold of her quickly waning calm. “We won’t miss a single person who worked this case, and I promise, every last one of you will beg for death before we finally decide to deliver it. We’ll save Xander for last, though, so he doesn’t miss a single second of watching the rest of you get murdered.”

  “Please. You can’t do this,” Tara said, the zip ties biting into her skin as her adrenaline made her struggle in vain. Oh, God, she had to calm down. She had to think. To breathe.

  Interesting story. Like, thirty years ago, there was this cargo ship on its way from Hong Kong to the United States…

  She was going to get out of this. Xander would find her. He would. He’d find her and they’d keep each other safe and they’d put Sansone away, this time for good. All she had to do was breathe.

  “You’re hardly in a position to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Sansone hissed, backhanding her expertly before glaring down into her face. “I’ll be in a public courtroom when you finally bleed out, and those cops will all be dead before they can even think of tracing your murder, or any other, back to me. Have a nice life, Ms. Kingston.”

  He made it all the way to the door before sending a chilling look over his shoulder at her.

  “What’s left of it, anyway.”

  13

  “Something’s wrong.”

  Amour stopped, mid-pace, on her nine thousa
ndth loop across the floor. She was wearing a nice navy blue dress with a cream-colored sweater over it, but the look on her face canceled out all of the carefully chosen clothing and practiced calm.

  Xander forced his composure into submission. “It’s only eight twenty,” he said, looking at Garza for a reassuring nod before adding on, “she still has ten minutes, and there’s plenty of time before the trial starts.”

  “No, something’s wrong,” Amour insisted. “Tara promised she’d be here. She’s always early. It’s, like, her thing.”

  Xander opened his mouth to protest…but couldn’t. Damn it, she was right. Tara’s version of on time was always fifteen minutes early. Which meant, right now, she was five minutes late.

  And she was never late.

  Flipping his cell phone into his palm, he forced his fingers not to shake as he found Tara’s number and hit send.

  “Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Tara Kingston, assistant district attorney. I’m not available to take your call right now, but…”

  Something was wrong.

  “It went right to voicemail,” Xander said, his pulse starting to yammer at him in earnest now. “Capelli, can you ping her?”

  “Sure thing,” came Capelli’s voice through the wireless coms he’d given to both Xander and Garza an hour ago. “Wait, this is weird. Tara’s cell is still in your apartment.”

  “But that’s impossible,” Garza said, shaking his head. “She’s supposed to be here in less than ten minutes, and she’d never forget…”

  All at once, the truth hit Xander with breath-stealing clarity. The look Sansone had given Tara outside the judge’s chambers a few weeks ago. The fact that she was just as integral to the trial as Amour.

  The way he’d left her, alone and completely vulnerable in his apartment this morning, and oh, God.

  “Where’s Sansone? Right now, where is he?” Xander demanded.

  Capelli, who was set up in a state-of-the-art mobile surveillance unit around the corner, didn’t waste any time answering. “Looks like he’s in a hired car, headed for the courthouse. ETA ten minutes. You don’t think he—”

  “I do,” Xander said. How could he have been so fucking stupid? He lasered a stare at Garza. “I don’t know how or where, but we need to find her. Right goddamn now.”

  “Oh, my God, this is totally my fault.” Amour’s eye filled with tears. Her hand flew up to fiddle with her necklace, and wait…wait!

  “The tracker!” Xander bit out. “She was wearing it this morning when I left. Where is it now?”

  “Oh, holy shit. It’s in North Point,” Capelli breathed.

  Xander swung toward the door, his feet already in motion, but Garza beat him to it.

  “You’re going to need backup, my man, not to mention a ride. Now, let’s get Amour safe with Maxwell and Hale, and go see about catching a bad guy, huh?”

  Xander nodded. Now all he had to do was pray he wasn’t too late.

  Xander would give Garza this—the guy drove like a fearless motherfucker. Not that he’d been happy about being relegated to the passenger seat, or that he’d kept quiet about his displeasure. But the ride, as swift as it’d been, had given Xander a full opportunity to cement both his wits and his will.

  He was going in there for Tara, no matter what.

  And no matter what, she was coming out alive.

  “This is it,” Xander said, spotting the unmarked car where Sinclair and Hollister had just rolled up in. The four men got out, each one undergoing a weapons check that was probably as instinctive as breathing.

  “Okay, what’ve we got?” Sinclair asked, and damn, Hollister hadn’t wasted a single drop of time.

  He gestured to the thermal imaging camera he was sweeping over the warehouse, which looked abandoned, at least from the outside. “Looks like two people on the ground floor, Bravo side. One considerably larger than the other. Second person appears to be on the ground, possibly bound. Not moving.”

  Xander took a step toward the house, his heart fully engaged with his windpipe.

  “Easy, Matthews. She’s got a heat signature, which means she’s okay for now,” Sinclair said. “That could change on a dime if we fuck this up, so let’s just take a second and think this through.”

  Xander wanted to scream. He wanted to get directly in Sinclair’s face and tell him to get the fuck out of his path or get knocked over.

  But he couldn’t, because God damn it, the guy was right.

  Still, Xander wasn’t about to take any of this lightly. “Fine. But whatever we’re going to do, let’s figure it out right now, because I love that woman, and every second she’s in danger is one second closer to me doing whatever it takes to get her out of there no matter what I have to risk.”

  “Well then,” Garza said, the edge of his mouth hooking up into a smile. “Guess we’d better let the rookie kick in some doors in the name of romance. Here’s what I’m thinking.”

  Tara knew her time was up. Blaze had dragged a table to the center of the room and proceeded to pull out a padded canvas roll like chefs used to carry their knives. Only, the tools in this case looked a crap-load more sinister, with blades and hooks and—Tara bit back a whimper—two circular saws, along with a full set of scrubs and elbow-length rubber gloves.

  The only thought that soothed her in the slightest was that maybe, just maybe, she’d see Lucas soon.

  But, oh, God, she was so frightened.

  She started to tremble so hard that her teeth chattered. She had to keep it together, she had to think. Desperate, she reached into her memory, letting Xander’s soothing voice wash over her.

  On the route, the ship accidentally lost a shipping crate, like, smack in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I bet you can’t guess what was in it…

  “Time’s up.” It was the first thing Blaze had said to her, and the finality of it sent panic into Tara’s throat.

  Twenty-eight thousand rubber ducks.

  She managed to breathe. “Please,” she whispered, partly to buy time and partly because she had no problem begging for her life. “Please don’t do this.”

  “They all say that, you know. But that’s fine.” He walked over to her, lifting her up by one bound arm like she was nothing more than a rag doll. “You’ll bleed more if you struggle.”

  “Freeze! Remington PD! Show me your hands!”

  Xander’s voice rang through Tara like a spoon against cut crystal, clear and true.

  Blaze, however? Was very unimpressed. Wheeling Tara around, he pressed the blade of the knife he’d been holding against her slamming pulse. “She’ll be dead before you can pull the trigger.”

  He’d angled Tara in front of him, using her as a shield. But that didn’t stop Xander from training his gun on Blaze and saying, “And you’ll be dead before you hit the floor. Your choice.”

  “No choice.” Blaze laughed against her ear. “You won’t risk it. I can smell it on you. How scared you are for her life.”

  He drew the blade over Tara’s neck, enough pain searing through her to make her cry out.

  “Stop!” Xander yelled, frustration crossing his always-calm features. “Okay, okay. What do you want?”

  “Jesus, you weak fuck. You’re making this too easy.” Blaze shook his head. Confusion flickered through Tara’s brain—why would Xander have barged in just to give up so easily? “Put your gun down and kick it over to the corner. There you go, you pussy,” he sneered as Xander did what he’d asked. “Now get over here so I can tie you up before I give you the privilege of watching her die.”

  Tara’s mouth dropped open. But then, Blaze loosened his grip on her, lowering the knife just enough as Xander took a step forward, and Xander looked at her, his face perfectly calm as he said, “I will do anything to keep you safe, Tara. Anything.”

  What happened next was all slow motion. Xander’s gaze flickered over Blaze’s shoulder, his chin lifting in the barest nod. Bunching all of her muscles as tight as they’d go, Tara snapped her chin fo
rward, using her momentum to smash the back of her head directly into the spot where she hoped and prayed Blaze’s nose was.

  Xander lunged for her at the same moment Garza burst from the shadows and smashed his pistol into the back of Blaze’s head.

  “Remington PD! Stand down!” Garza barked. But the words were sadly unnecessary, since Blaze had gone down like a bag of bricks.

  And Tara was in Xander’s arms. Safe. She was safe.

  They were all safe.

  “Shit, babe. You’re bleeding,” he said, reaching for the scratch on her neck that—okay, ow—might be a little more than a scratch.

  “I don’t care,” she said. Dimly, she registered voices, a bunch of shouting and movement she couldn’t focus on.

  She was too busy realizing she was alive. “You really meant it, when you said you’d do anything to keep me safe.”

  “Yep. I was a total decoy. But I needed to be sure you were okay before Garza could do his thing.”

  “Oh,” Tara breathed, leaning into Xander’s embrace. “Well, yes. I’m very, very okay.”

  “Nice head butt, by the way,” he said, holding her tight.

  “Nice rescue,” she murmured.

  And then everything went dark.

  Xander looked at Tess Riley and frowned. “Are you absolutely sure she’s okay?”

  Dr. Riley gave up a laugh, which would’ve been a good sign if Tara hadn’t nearly fucking died at the hands of a madman mere hours ago. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love endure a trauma, so I’ll go through it one more time for you, Officer Matthews. Ms. Kingston sustained a blow to the back of the head, right here”—she indicated an X-ray on a large digital monitor in the exam room—“that resulted in a concussion. A subsequent MRI was clear. My very capable resident, Dr. Drake, repaired the laceration on her neck with five stitches. Dr. Drake, by the way, has excellent hands and is on his way to becoming an accomplished surgeon. Just don’t tell him I said so. Other than a few mild contusions to her wrists and ankles, Ms. Kingston is just fine. I expect she’ll make a full recovery in a few days. Provided she’s well cared for, of course.”