Reckless Endangerment Read online

  “What am I going to do?” She reached for another wet wipe, the coolness feeling good against her face. “They’re not safe with me.”

  Devon followed her gaze. “Send the grandparents and the kid back to Colorado Springs until this is over.”

  “None of this should be happening.” She started walking toward them, her stomach still in knots and nerves shot.

  “I’ve got worse news...Callie and Gannon got married three weeks ago by the justice of the peace.” Devon stopped her in mid-stride. “Michael didn’t get moved to the top of the waiting list just because of your connections, Hope. Gannon paid a substantial sum of money to New Horizons Institute, at least according to my sources. The real question is how did he know about him?”

  She shoved her hands through her hair and looked toward the sky. “And how did he know we were working on this story before then? Go back to my loft, review that flash drive Rourke gave us, we must be missing something. I need to get to the hospital.”

  “Are you going to tell Michael?” Devon fell into step with her as they approached the Jeep.

  “Yeah, I am. He needs to know this custody threat is just another tool to stop me from leading the feds to Gannon. Speaking of the feds, why don’t you fill Agent Wulf in on our latest discovery, too? I know it’s not a crime to marry someone a few weeks ago and file a custody petition, but they should know what pieces of the puzzle we’re finding. Hell, give him a copy of the flash drive. Rourke’s dead.” It was so much easier to think about work than to think about her sister and nephew being rushed to the hospital because of some story she’d refused to let go.

  Angry, still sick to her stomach, and freaked out that she had passengers who refused to go away, she shook Agent Wulf’s hand while observing Gwen locking the car seat into place.

  “You’re never too far away, are you, Wulf?” she asked, her voice still shaky and mind distracted.

  He grinned while nodding toward Devon and Marshall. “And neither are they. You have an entourage, Shane. You’d better get to the hospital. I won’t keep you. The Colonel and I had a nice chat.”

  She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses but remained silent.

  “You okay?” Michael asked once she’d settled behind the wheel again.

  “I really hate that question,” she muttered, once again looking into the rearview mirror at Dalton with his still painted tiger face. “It shouldn’t be like this, you know. Family day...shouldn’t be like this.”

  Nothing felt like reality anymore. She felt like she’d been thrust into some crazy alternate reality.

  * * * *

  He watched her layout the picnic basket in the hotel waiting room, orange paint still visible on her forehead and chin, hair falling loose from the ponytail and muttering about everything going to be okay. Gwen and Miles returned to the room with water bottles. He knew Warren was with his youngest son who’d escaped the accident with stitches and a broken leg.

  Dalton also watched Hope with fascination filling his eyes. He’d followed her everywhere since they’d gotten to the hospital, hung on her every word, helped layout paper towels for the sandwiches. It was obvious that Hope’s star quality had captivated her stepson.

  “Hope said you need to eat.” Dalton thrust a sandwich in his lap before rushing back to her side.

  “I think he’s in love,” Miles said when he settled onto the sofa. “Do you see the way he’s following her around?”

  “I can relate.” He looked at his dad. “Thanks for staying here with us.”

  “Our family now, too.” Miles nodded without looking away from Hope and Dalton. “She’s like a human tornado. Does she ever stop moving?”

  McGee walked into the room, concern lining his face. “There you guys are. I called Devon, she told me where to find you.”

  Hope froze in motion, her eyes narrowing as she watched McGee walked toward him. Dalton did the same, even mimicking her pose of hands on hips.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked his friend, handing him the sandwich. “We lost you at the zoo.”

  “I got distracted. By the time I figured you all had left, I saw the accident. When I couldn’t reach Hope, I called Devon. How’s Becky?” McGee took the sandwich without breaking eye contact. “I heard it was a hit and run.”

  Hope glanced at her phone before sauntering over to him. “I don’t have any missed calls, new phone, remember? I doubt Devon would tell anyone where I was.”

  McGee took a bite of his sandwich without comment. Dalton crossed his arms over his chest and looked as suspicious as Hope. Michael felt like he was missing something.

  “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” he asked. “Down the hall or something?”

  With a nod, she started walking toward the door. Miles stopped Dalton from following them. She walked ahead of him, her hands stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans and head bent. He followed when she led him to the empty chapel at the end of the hallway. She sat at the edge of a pew and sighed.

  “Only six people knew about our marriage and three are dead,” she said after a lengthy silence. “Do the math.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Gannon married Callie three weeks ago, right around the time I started working on the human trafficking story.” She met his gaze in the dimly lit room. “Gannon paid to have you transferred to Denver before you were officially discharged from Walter Reed. You were brought here to be used against me...and I let it happen because I’m off my game.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and absorbed that information before answering. “And you want to know how he even knew about me and think McGee has something to do with it? That’s your thought?”

  “That’s my thought.” She twisted on the seat, put her hands on his knees and looked so sad that his heart broke just looking into her eyes. “Becky was targeted today. Devon got a text basically confessing. I did this to them.”

  “You didn’t, some evil bastard did this to them, not you.” He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her closer.

  “Dalton freaks me out.”

  “He worships you.” He smiled at her abrupt admission.

  “He shouldn’t.”

  “He’s got good taste, just like his dad.”

  “What do you want me to do? Yesterday you wanted me to drop the story, give it to someone else...I’ll do it if you still think I should.” She pressed her forehead against his, wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed her eyes closed. “Tell me what to do.”

  She’d never once in all of the time he’d known her asked what to do.

  He peeled her hands from around his neck and held them against his chest until she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Do. Not. Let. Them. Win. Understand?”

  “But yesterday—”

  “I was an idiot and I’ve admitted that already.” He pulled her closer. “Bring them down. Do what you do. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

  “But Dalton—”

  “—will be fine.”

  She grinned through the tears that slipped silently down her face. “You’ve always had my back.”

  “Not always.” He wiped away her tears with his thumb. “Gannon thinks I’m your weakness, but let’s turn that around on him. I’ll be your secret weapon.”

  “Secret weapon?” She looked shocked. “Is this the same guy who arrived in Denver a week ago?”

  “No.” He pulled her against him until she curled up on his lap. “Gannon did us a favor by brining me here ahead of time. I needed a good dose of Hope Shane to kick my ass.”

  “I love you, Colonel Cedars,” she said against his lips.

  “You must...you were ready to surrender. That’s huge.” He tasted her tears on her lips and felt his heart twist inside his chest. “Becky and Nathan are gonna be okay. They are.”

  “What if they’re not?” she asked, eyes shimmering with sorrow and lips moist. “Peter, Sarah...”

  “Don’t do that.” He pressed his fingers over h
er mouth. This is why he’d deleted that text message from her phone. She carried enough blame for things out of her control. He hated that he’d added to that over this past week with all of his taunts born from pain. “Peter was your partner. I knew that. He wanted that story as much as you did. It was a war zone. He knew the risks going in...just like I did every day.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. Sobs came hard and unexpected. He hugged her close and squeezed his eyes shut. They’d had enough loss to last a lifetime. He tightened his hold on her and crushed his face into her hair.

  “You don’t have to be so strong all of the time, babe. I’ve got you.” He held her so hard he thought he’d snap her in two.

  She pressed hard against him, her arms around his neck as if he were her lifeline. And she cried, her entire body convulsing with sobs.

  Somehow they’d make it. Hell, they’d survived a war zone. They could certainly take on real life back in the States, even if that involved taking down a weasel in a suit.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She double-checked the locks on her car before catching up to Devon who walked along the sidewalk toward the diner where they’d had breakfast Monday morning. She pulled her leather jacket tight around her to ward off the chilly night that hinted at snow.

  “She’s late,” Devon said with a frown. “She said she’d text us at nine and it’s nearly ten. I don’t like this.”

  She shrugged off the guilt she’d felt at leaving the hospital. Becky had gotten out of surgery, but was still in critical condition. Nathan would be okay. Michael had taken his family back to the loft and encouraged her to go. She tugged a yellow scarf from her messenger bag and linked it loosely around her neck. A glance over her shoulder confirmed Special Agent Wulf and his band of merry men watched them.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like anything about this story. I’m ready to call it quits,” she muttered.

  Devon stopped in her tracks and stared at her with an open mouth. “Don’t you dare say that. You? Quit on a story when we’re this close? If nothing else, I’d think you’d be out for vengeance now that they’ve made this personal.”

  “I don’t mean it.” She exhaled slowly. “I’d rather be home with Michael, that’s all. I really suck at this family thing.”

  “No, you don’t.” Devon held the door open for the diner. “You just do it your own way, nothing wrong with that. I still can’t believe Ms. Anti-Authority married a Marine.”

  “Me either.” She sat on a ripped stool and ordered a coffee. “I don’t think she’s going to show.”

  “I do.” Rat-a-tat-tat went Devon’s nails against the scraped counter top. The only two white women in the diner, they weren’t exactly blending and knew it. “We should have stayed in the car.”

  “Nope, I want everyone to know that we were here...having coffee...hanging out...not backing down.” She let her gaze roam around the room, made eye contact with a few locals who seemed uncomfortable with their presence.

  “Sending a message?”

  “Exactly, just like at the strip club only a bit more subtle.” She sipped the coffee, back to the counter and eyes on the door. “Byron Gannon...of Gannon Construction.” She slid her gaze to her friend’s. “Coincidence?”

  “No such thing.” Devon sipped the coffee before reaching for her cell phone when it vibrated. “It’s Angel. She’s giving us an address to meet her there. Change of plans, I guess. She must be getting nervous.”

  “Must be,” she muttered before asking the waitress for to-go cups for the coffee.

  Something seemed off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Then again, this entire week had been bizarre.

  They walked toward her car in unison, both lost in thought. She met Wulf’s gaze from where he’d parked several cars behind them on the opposite side of the street and, for the first time, didn’t mind being followed by someone with a gun.

  “Forward the text to Wulf,” she said as she settled behind the wheel. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  “If these people get wind of cops, we’re done.” Devon twisted in her seat and faced her. “I know these people are dangerous--I witnessed the van explosion and Becky’s not-exactly-an-accident--but the FBI isn’t exactly subtle. A few days ago you wanted to shake them...now you’re playing nice with them? You’re losing your edge...and that makes me nervous as hell.”

  She gripped the steering wheel. “When has Angel ever texted us to meet at a different location last minute? Never. She’s careful. We videotaped a lot the other day so even this last minute meeting smells rotten to me.”

  Quiet, Devon stared at her for a minute before sending the text to the agents following them. “Why are we here then if you don’t think it’s legit? To see what would happen? Like a test?”

  She shrugged off the sensation that the bottom was falling out of their little scheme. She swallowed the bile in her throat. “We need the missing link. We’re close. Maybe this is it.”

  Devon twisted in her seat to verify that the feds followed at a reasonable distance. “What’s your plan? I know you have one...you do have one, don’t you?”

  With one hand, she reached inside her bag for her worn hat and shoved it on her head. “We go in as planned. We’ll have the hidden cameras on us. Wulf won’t let us out of his sight, I’m sure of it. We’re aware, that’s our advantage. They won’t take us by surprise.”

  Devon nodded, all the while busying herself with the tiny cameras they’d attach to the lining of their coats. “I’m with you one hundred percent, Hope. Don’t ever doubt it. I know exactly what I’m getting into. We’re partners in this, no matter what happens. You’re not dragging me anywhere...I need to make that clear.”

  “Thanks for saying that, Dev.” She parked in front of the address and forced herself not to think about Michael, Becky, the nephews, Dalton or anyone she loved. Now was not the time for emotion. Now was the time for action. “I needed to hear it.”

  “I know you did.” Devon shot her a quick smile. “You’re way too hard on yourself. We’re going to be okay. You survived the Taliban, I’m sure you’ll survive some punk human traffickers.”

  “Yeah, well, I survived the Taliban because I had the backing of the United States Marine Corps.” She glanced in her rearview mirror to the sedan that rounded the corner. “Wulf isn’t quite the same thing.”

  “No, I guess he’s not,” Devon agreed with a nod toward the house. “All the lights are on. Is that a good or bad thing?”

  Located in the industrial section north of Denver, rows of houses that all resembled rotting milk cartons lined the street. Chain link fences surrounded each one, some caving in from neglect others with gaping holes from God only knew what. Dogs barked and yipped in the night. Muted music blared from down the road. The air stunk like garbage and gas fumes.

  With a nod, they exited the car with their cameras hidden in the collars of their coats and feeding to a laptop hidden beneath the passenger seat. She locked the car, looked behind her toward the sedan and walked toward the house all lit up for them.

  “She’s never once wanted to meet at a house,” she said. “She’s skittish...always wanted to be in a busy place, blend with a crowd.”

  “Except for the other day when she came to your house.”

  “And now this...” She knocked on the door and then quickly stepped to the side in case someone decided to shoot through the door. Maybe living in a war zone all those years had taught her some invaluable skills after all.

  Another knock on the door. Silence.

  “Do we go in?” Devon asked.

  She stepped back onto the lawn and double-checked the address. With a sinking heart, she feared she knew what she’d find inside and it wasn’t an eager source. Not alive anyway.

  “Not this time,” she said as she grabbed her cell phone and called Special Agent Wulf. Maybe she was being too cautious and was about to blow a story. So be it. She’d seen enough death. “This
is a set up,” she said to Wulf when he answered. “Something’s wrong.”

  “I’m right behind you.” Wulf appeared from the shadows, FBI vest on and gun in hand. Nothing subtle about that. “Knock on the door again, Shane. We’ve got your back.”

  She shook her head at his vest and met Devon’s gaze. This wasn’t going well at all.

  “You shouldn’t have let them in on this,” Devon whispered with accusation in her eyes. “You’re losing your edge.”

  She ignored her friend and walked back to the front door. This time she knocked quickly before testing the knob. Unlocked. Steeling herself for the worst, she opened the door and called out for Angel.

  No answer. Every piece of furniture had been overturned. Loud salsa music played from a back room. She stepped into the living room, senses on high alert for an ambush.

  What she saw was her source—Angel, a woman who’d escaped one country to go to another in hopes of a better life only to be forced into sex slavery—lying naked in a pool of blood. Beaten. Tongue and eyes cut out. Cell phone lying next to her.

  “Bastards,” she said as she kicked the cell phone out of the blood and read the unsent text to Devon’s number that read simply...you’re next.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Despite Dalton’s begging to stay in his new room overnight, he’d sent him back to the hotel with Gwen and Miles. It was best for them all. It’d been a long day--an endless one. Marshall and McGee lounged on the sofa, eating the last of a cold pizza and watching a hockey game.

  He stared at McGee’s profile, Hope’s suspicions whispering through his mind. He’d been McGee’s commanding officer, thought of him as a close friend. Could it be possible that he’d betrayed them?

  “You never said what’s keeping you in Denver these days, McGee. I’m sure you’re not just hanging around to babysit me. Don’t you have a job? I’m surprised you didn’t stick with the unit.” He stared at his friend, the only thought being that someone had told Gannon about the marriage. Only McGee lived to tell that tale before this week.