Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3) Page 21

While they waited for a response, he said, “I’d like to ask the guard for a helmet and bulletproof vest if that’s okay with you, Ms. Chapman?”

  A ding sounded before Sara could answer. Thankfully, it was Mario and not Baker.

  Sending my men. Fifteen minutes.

  Brent pushed the phone closer to be sure Sara could read the screen too, then he said, “The gear is just for added protection if you agree?”

  Sara read the text and then closed her eyes and nodded. Her lawyer said, “Let’s get the gear quickly so Sara can go home.”

  “Will do.” Brent jumped up to ask the guard for the equipment and to kill some time to let Mario’s men get into place. Sara had to be terrified. But if he could get her out the front door and then safely into Mario’s hands, his job would be complete.

  He’d argue his case about not knowing who he could trust, but Baker would still reprimand him for disregarding orders and then probably send him back to his cubical in LA until the trial. Or maybe to some remote post in Alaska. What difference did it make where he worked? He had few possessions, let alone anyone to care about. He’d done just fine on his own before, and he’d be fine moving forward.

  All that mattered now was getting Sara somewhere safe.

  Chapter 20

  Sara, in full riot gear sans the shield and tear gas, stood beside Brent near the front desk while her lawyer took care of the release paperwork with Stanger. Their backs were to them, and both heads were bent down over the counter. There was no one else around in the little sparsely furnished warehouse-looking lobby. Which was probably a good thing.

  She wouldn’t be in her current predicament if it weren’t for Brent, but at least he’d kept his promise to contact Mario. She hoped she’d not need the heavy gear she wore, but was grateful for it.

  She glanced his way. He was texting with someone.

  Brent moved way too close. “Just got word Mario’s men are in place outside. We have to sneak out quietly. Now!”

  The urgency in his voice put some steel back into her spine, and she followed behind him. He was the one good at sneaking around, but luckily, she’d been wearing tennis shoes and not heels when Brent had dragged her to the station, so that helped.

  Brent stopped at the door, swiped his card, and then slowly pressed on the bar to let them out. He pushed her behind him. She wore all the riot gear, not him, so she should go first, but he held her in place as he did the scanning thing with his eyes again. Finally, he grabbed her arm and practically carried her at a full run into the parking lot and into a set of massive arms.

  “Take care, Sara,” Brent said as the big, suit-clad arms tossed her into a waiting car as if she weighed nothing. As she sat up in the backseat, the driver took off. She watched out the window as a huge vehicle drove up. The Baker guy jumped out, talked to Brent, and then pointed to the car she was in.

  Baker grabbed Brent and dragged him inside as the tank thing gave chase. “I assume you guys see that big thing?” she said to the men in the front seat. Mario’s men she recognized from the plane that’d picked up Brent and her in Show Lo.

  The driver nodded and in a perfectly calm voice said, “We’re faster and nimbler. Lay down, please.”

  Sara lay back down on the seat and let the stress of the day overcome her. Tears flowed down her cheeks that she couldn’t wipe because of the helmet.

  What had Brent told Baker? The truth? Would they try to take her back if they caught her? Brent didn’t believe in lying unless it was necessary. He’d proven to her that she wasn’t necessary to him like she’d thought he was to her.

  She closed her eyes. It wasn’t her problem anymore to worry about Brent. He’d broken her heart. It’d healed before, but maybe the damage was permanent this time.

  Everything was out of her control now. Assuming they could ditch the tank, things would progress according to her mother’s secret plan. There’d been a system in place to disappear since Sara could remember, and only a chosen few knew what the entire plan was. She wasn’t one of the few.

  The car picked up speed, and zigzagged through smaller back streets to lose the lumbering vehicle that followed. When the driver pulled the wheel hard, the tires squealed, and her head bumped against the door. The helmet dulled the impact. After fifteen minutes of her being thrown from side to side in the backseat, the driver finally said, “We lost them.”

  Relief filled her as the car continued to speed to an unknown destination. Now all she had to do was go along with her mom’s plan and all would be fine.

  Who knew how long she’d have to stay hidden? Until after the trial? A few months? If so, she’d miss her last semester of school. And the classes she needed were only offered in the spring, so it’d be a whole extra year until she could graduate as she’d planned. But for the first time, she was so utterly sad, she didn’t care what happened next. Not when the future she’d just begun to visualize with Brent was gone.

  Damn her father for ruining her life. She’d always love him, but would she ever be able to forgive him? Probably not this time. She was done being his chump.

  As the car sped along, she let her exhaustion overcome her, take her away from her screwed-up life for a few hours, and she closed her eyes to allow fate to do with her what it would.

  After too many hours to count of traveling, Sara stared at the deep blue water beneath her. Where was she? She’d been given new clothes, driven in cars, jets, boats, and now a tiny prop plane that bobbed at the slightest hint of wind. It made her stomach sick. She’d tried but hadn’t been able to eat more than a few crackers since she’d left Vegas. Probably a good thing.

  Her fuzzy brain searched for what day it was, and then it came to her. Usually her favorite day of the entire year. December twenty-fifth.

  Merry freakin’ Christmas to me.

  Or by now, maybe it was the day after? Who knew. But she’d probably spend the holiday alone in some hut on the beach or in the surrounding jungle if the terrain below was any indicator.

  What fun.

  As the plane made its approach on a grass landing strip, she gathered up the bag someone had given her along her journey. She held it tightly against her chest in case things got rough. But to her surprise, the little plane floated gently to the earth and after only one little bounce, it slowed and taxied right up to a waiting Jeep.

  “Thanks,” she said to the tall, dark-haired pilot who opened the door for her. None of the people driving her or flying her had spoken a word to her. And she wasn’t to speak either according to the escape plan, but please and thank you were engraved in her nature. She couldn’t help but be polite even though she wanted to scream in frustration at what might become of her life.

  The pilot nodded and held out a hand. He helped her walk down the wing where the arrows pointed. Then she hopped to the grass below.

  By the time she’d thrown her bag into the backseat of the Jeep and greeted the driver, the plane had started its engine and taxied away to take off.

  So much for changing her mind.

  An Asian man, maybe a little older than her, sat in the driver’s seat. He pointed to Sara’s seat belt, so she clipped in. She couldn’t help her smile. Her mother had probably made sure she’d been reminded to wear it. Her mom had made them wear seat belts even in limos. Safety first for Annalisa, but at the moment, Sara had no room to complain. Her mother’s diligence had probably saved her life.

  But is Brent okay?

  Where had that thought come from? Brent was a big boy who’d declined to go with her. He truly believed the FBI would protect him from Miller. Hopefully, that’d be true. She wouldn’t wish any harm to come to him. Maybe just a little torture in the form of being buried under piles of paperwork.

  Bracing herself for what primitive living conditions were to come as the Jeep bumped along a dirt path through the jungle, Sara said, “This is a beautiful place.”

  Her driver smiled and nodded.

  Great. Was she going to be stuck on some island where she cou
ldn’t speak the language? She muttered, “This could be a long few months.”

  “Maybe.”

  She whipped her head in his direction. “You speak English?”

  “Even managed to graduate from USC. But just by the skin of my teeth.” His big smile indicated he was teasing her.

  “Sorry. I figured I must be on the other side of the world by now.” It’d looked like Thailand from the air. They’d passed over chains of islands that appeared uninhabited. But she could be anywhere.

  “No worries.” He changed gears and started down a steep path. “I’m John. Head of security here on your mom’s island.”

  Her mother owned an island? Wow. “And where exactly are we?”

  John smiled. “Paradise.”

  Oh. She probably wasn’t supposed to know where they were. Got it.

  When they got to the bottom of the hill, the jungle parted, and a vast villa appeared. It was three stories high, built into a hill, and every level had decks that looked over the ocean. There was a long T-shaped dock with two speedboats moored beside it, but based on the length and size, it could handle much bigger craft. The sand on the beach was so white, it blinded her. Maybe not such a bad place to work on her tan and get her head straight after all.

  “I’ll show you to your suite.” John pulled the Jeep under a carport and jumped out.

  She climbed out too and grabbed her bag from the rear before he could. “Am I the only one here?”

  John shook his head. “My family lives next door. I was sent to the US as a kid to live with an uncle right before my family, who are political refugees, went into hiding. Your mom lets us live here in exchange for upkeep. You’re safe here.”

  Sara followed John into the house. They crossed a short landing and then walked down a hallway that had Travertine steps and smooth plaster walls. Far from the grass hut, she’d imagined. But then, it was her mom. She should have known better.

  When they got to the top of the stairs, they entered a huge great room with thick glass walls and killer views of the beach and the water. Breathtaking. And most likely bulletproof glass.

  John said, “And this is for you. We don’t celebrate this holiday, but we knew you did. Merry Christmas, Sara.”

  Sara turned around, and her heart jumped into her throat. A Christmas tree, all decorated, stood in the corner. It was a fake, but still. She had to be beyond tired, because the sight of the little Charlie Brown five-foot tree with garland and lights, the least beautiful thing in the magnificent room, made her want to cry. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I stocked the fridge for you. Anything else you need, just let me know.” He handed her a walkie-talkie and then led her to a large bedroom with a luxurious bath attached. “Have a rest, and then we have a surprise for you.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She waited until the doors closed behind her and then she threw her bag onto a chair and landed face-first on the soft bed. Too tired to shower or strip, she closed her eyes and passed out.

  Brent walked into his apartment, totally trashed by the search, and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. After getting chewed out for letting Sara go with Mario, Baker had offered a safe house until the trial was over, but sitting around playing checkers with another agent didn’t appeal. Miller was still on the run, and that was a personal failure, so Brent had no choice but to find him, but without the help of the FBI, who currently held his gun and badge while he was on paid administrative leave. Code for when we need your brain, we’ll call you. Otherwise, we can handle things without you from here.

  He shook his head and began the cleanup process. Anything to keep his mind off Sara and wondering if she was okay.

  He straightened couch cushions and then started cleaning up all the crap in the kitchen his fellow agents had thrown on the floor in the search for his data. Spices, cereal boxes, and cans were scattered everywhere. They’d left the fridge and freezer doors open, so all the food had gone bad too. Not that he had a ton in there in the first place.

  As he swept the floor, a knock sounded on the door. Who’d be at his door on Christmas day? Wishing for his gun, Brent laid his broom against the kitchen counter and grabbed a knife from the drawer. Then he crept to the door. When he peered into the peephole, relief filled him.

  Zach.

  Brent had to clear the lump away from his throat to greet his mentor. He’d been certain he’d spend another holiday alone, which would’ve been fine, except this time, he’d been missing the hell out of Sara. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  Zach, still built like a fit but gray-haired marine even though he had to be pushing seventy, walked in with a sack. “Everything’s closed today. Thought you could use some groceries. This place is a damn mess, Keiser.”

  “Maid’s year off. Come in.” Brent accepted the bag and placed it on the countertop. There was a bag of chips, a can of bean dip, and a six pack of beer. Perfect.

  Instead of sitting on a barstool at the messy counter, Zach picked up the broom and got busy. Brent grabbed two beers and twisted off the tops. “Cheers.”

  Zach stopped sweeping and accepted the bottle. “Merry Christmas.”

  “That too.” Brent took a long pull. “Hear anything about Miller?” He laid his bottle down and grabbed a plastic trash bag to throw all the spices, broken bottles, and the spoiled food away.

  “Nope. No one seems to know where the guy’s holed up. I hear they got most of the thugs who worked for him, though. Some that ran might take a few more days to round up.”

  Until Miller was behind bars, he wouldn’t sleep at night.

  They worked in silence for a few minutes until Zach said, “You did the right thing, you know. With Sara. I look back sometimes and wish I’d had the guts to disregard an order.”

  It was still hard to talk about her. “You have regrets?”

  Zach barked out a laugh. “Only about a thousand. Maybe everyone does looking back at a long career. I always told myself I was better off putting my job first above all else. I was a great agent, so I had to be doing the right thing. It wasn’t until I got too damn old to be in the field and they made me a teacher at the academy that I realized my mistakes.”

  “How so?” Brent tied off the first garbage bag then got started on the next.

  Zach laid the broom down and took a long drink from his bottle. “After knowing so many agents, I’d look at the kids in my classes and was able to predict with a pretty fair degree of accuracy how they’d turn out. Some were meant to be lone wolves and would make great field agents. Some were going to shine behind the scenes, some were good administrators and leaders, and then there were the few who were simply running from their pasts. The runners never admit it to themselves, just keep running, and end up screwing up their lives because of it. Like me.”

  Brent stopped cleaning and faced Zach. “You grew up with everything.” As Sara had. “An only child, the best private schools, living in the beach house. What could you possibly be running from?”

  Zach shook his head and went back to sweeping the spilled pepper from the floor. “Having stuff and happiness aren’t the same thing. At least not for me. Except for maybe my boat. She’s the love of my life.”

  So, Zach wasn’t going to share what he ran from. “Money is just a necessary evil in life. I’ll be happy when I don’t ever have to worry about it anymore. Like you.”

  “But being a slave to it carries a big price.”

  What the hell was Zach talking about? “I have a solid financial plan I’m going to stick with. You can’t be a slave to your own plans. I’m making my own choices.”

  “Whatever.” Zach polished off his beer. “It’s late. And you’re depressing the hell out of me on this fine holiday. Why don’t you come by the house sometime soon so we can talk about finding Miller? That way, you can redeem yourself. Get that precious badge of yours back. Put a smile on that sappy sad mug of yours for a change.”

  “Okay.” Was Zach being facetious? Was he really saying they shoul
d try to find Miller on their own, or was his friend trying to tell him something else?

  After Zach left, Brent took another long drink of beer, letting the bubbles slide down his throat while letting Zach’s words absorb into his brain.

  The slave-to-money comment stuck hard. He wasn’t a slave to money. He’d just been looking for the best job out of college, one that’d set him up for life. He practically lived like a pauper so that he could save for the future. Zach was wrong about that.

  Isn’t he?

  Chapter 21

  The aroma of something familiar replaced Sara’s dream about running away from an oversized chicken. Cinnamon. Sugar. Yeast. And something light and floral, like perfume?

  She cracked one eye open.

  Still in the bedroom on the island John had escorted her to earlier. Maybe he had a sister so she’d have some female companionship her age. Heck, maybe she’d go find his mom and hang out. She was through with the male species.

  Sara opened her other eye and winced at the bright sunlight.

  Three cinnamon rolls sat on a plate on her nightstand. Yes! Probably the surprise John had promised her.

  She reached out and grabbed one, still warm from the oven, and took a bite. Amazingly as good as her sister’s secret recipe. “Maybe it won’t be so bad here after all.”

  “Not even a thank-you?” Dani’s voice sounded from somewhere across the room.

  That explained the perfume. Sara sat up to be sure she wasn’t still dreaming.

  Dani joined her on the bed. “You’re wearing the same clothes you had on four days ago at Mario’s. And John says you’ve been asleep since yesterday. What’s up with that?”

  She’d slept for twenty-four hours? “I think it’s called depression. But now I’m unbearably happy because you’re here.” Sara threw her arms around her sister. “And thanks for the rolls. What are you doing here?”

  “Currently, I’m being strangled. Good to see you too, kiddo.”